The early afternoon sun beats down on the backyard as you stand a few steps from the pavilion, one hand shielding your eyes while you squint up at the string lights.

Jack, balanced on top of a chair, glances over at you. "Higher?"

You nod. " A little."

He raises the strand another inch.

You tilt your head, taking another step as you study it. "That's perfect."

He climbs down, brushing his hands together as he steps beside you.

The pavilion stands in the corner of the yard, a couple of tables stashed under it along with some chairs. White tablecloths flutter gently in the breeze, little jars of wildflowers scattered across the tables between empty serving platters waiting to be filled.

Jack had spent most of yesterday putting it all together, with the help of Robby, refusing to sit down for more than a few minutes at a time until everything looked just right.

"One more thing to cross off the list," he says.

You sigh. "Only twenty thousand more to go."

"Hey," he murmurs. His fingers find your chin, gently turning your head toward him. "Breathe. We've got this."

You take a slow breath as you look into his calm eyes. His thumb brushes along your jaw before he releases his grip.

"We need to get the drinks outside—they're ready in coolers inside the garage—but I'm gonna wait to bring them out. Otherwise, they'll get warm." His hand finds yours. "We'll fire the grill after the guests have arrived. Everything needed for that is either by the grill or in the fridge." He glances around the yard as his thumb brushes your knuckles absentmindedly. "What else do we need to do, honey?"

You take another breath, collecting your thoughts. His fingers squeeze yours gently. "Uh… The welcome drinks still need to be made. More chairs. Oh, and the snacks need to be plated and brought outside." Your gaze sweeps over the yard before finally dropping to yourself. "I also need to get ready."

Jack nods. "I've got the chairs and snacks—" He waves away your concern. "Robby'll be here any minute to help me."

Your brows pinch together. A flutter of nerves runs through you.

He steps closer, his expression softening. "You go get the drinks and yourself ready, okay? No stressing. This is supposed to be a fun day."

"Yeah… You're right."

"I usually am." He smirks and pinches your side gently. Your startled yelp dissolves into laughter before he catches your lips with his. His kiss is warm and eager, and you happily let him drag you closer.

"Ahem." Olivia's voice cuts through the moment from the open patio doors.

You freeze in Jack's arms but still allow him to steal one more kiss. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch her standing in the doorway, hands planted firmly on her hips.

"When I agreed to come by and help," she says, "I didn't realise that meant you two making out and me doing all the work."

"We are working," you reply.

"Mm." She doesn't look convinced.

You slip out of Jack's arms and turn towards her, gesturing to the pavilion. "Look."

"Very pretty," she concedes, "But I've been watching from the window. No one did any work the last ten minutes."

"Creep," you mutter.

"Please," she waves you off. "Somebody had to make sure you two actually got something done."

You stick your tongue out at her.

She rolls her eyes but can't hide the smile that tugs at her lips. "Come help me before I start looking through your closet for my sweater. I know you have it."

"It's my sweater," you shout as she disappears inside again. You turn back to Jack. "I'd better go."

He grins. "I didn't know your thieving streak went that far back."

"I didn't steal her sweater."

He shrugs as he steps closer. "Well. You keep stealing my hoodies, so the evidence—"

"It's not the same," you argue but still step into his arms again.

His face nears yours again. "Is that so?"

"Mm," you hum. You press a quick kiss to his lips, then spin out of his grip before he manages to hold on. You point at him from a few feet away. "Snacks. Chairs."

"Yes, ma'am." He gives you a mock salute.

You grin, shaking your head as you slip away to the kitchen.

The kitchen counters are a mess by the time you walk in. Half a dozen bottles clutter the island alongside empty bowls, bunches of mints, straws and more glasses than you remember owning.

Olivia is standing in the middle of the chaos, wooden spoon in hand as she stirs a huge bowl of punch.

She looks up when she hears you come in. "Finally."

"I didn't take that long," you say.

She sends you a look.

You nudge her shoulder as you pass her to wash your hands. "Cut me some slack. It's a special day."

"I'll cut you some slack after we finish these drinks." She shoves a lemon into your hand, the second after you've dried your hands, then points to the mountain of citrus fruits lining the counter. "You'd better start cutting if we wanna be done before the guests arrive."

Your eyes widen, lips turning downwards. "Damn."

"Yeah," she laughs. "You were the one who wanted to decorate the drinks."

"I regret that now," you murmur.

A comfortable silence settles between you as you work through the pile of fruit. Olivia begins pouring the punch into glasses, carefully finishing each one with slices of citrus and fresh berries.

Having Olivia here since yesterday has been your saving grace. She's so in tune with you that she knows exactly when to tease you and when to go easy. She's kept track of everything your frazzled mind has forgotten, stepping in to organise Robby and Jack whenever they needed direction. You honestly don't know what you'd have done without her.

"So," she says after a moment as she begins cutting strawberries. "How are you holding up?"

You shrug, reaching over to grab a watermelon. "I think I'm okay."

"Yeah?" She looks over at you.

You nod. You're nervous, yes—but underneath it all, you're excited. "I just want everyone to have a good time."

"Oh, trust me. They will," she assures you. "I honestly can't wait to see their faces."

You grin at her before turning your attention back to the cutting board. You cut the watermelon into bite-sized pieces, placing them in a bowl that Olivia brings you.

She leans against the counter next to you. "You know, I'm really happy for you. I know I've said it before, but—"

You blink, caught off guard by the emotion in her voice.

"I've seen you in relationships before, and yes, you were happy," she says, "but this is different. You're different."

"I am?"

"Yeah. It's a good different," she says, popping a strawberry into her mouth.

"Phew," you say, laughing.

She pushes her foot against your leg. "You know what I mean. I'm just—I'm happy for you."

You send her a soft smile. You do know what she means.

Because it is different.

You still work ridiculous hours. There are days when you barely see Jack because day shift needs help, and all you get of each other is a few minutes during handoff. Some mornings are nothing more than sleepy kisses over coffee before you crash. Some evenings are takeout on the couch because neither of you has the energy to cook.

It's so different from what you shared with previous boyfriends. It's also so much better.

It's not just the easy days. It's knowing when he needs his wheelchair and getting it without him having to ask. It's him reminding you that you've earned your job—that you're good at it—on the nights you can't believe it yourself. It's showing up for each other when there's nothing glamorous about it all.

You wouldn't change a thing about it.

"I'm happy, too," you admit quietly.

Olivia smiles as she steals a bit of watermelon. "Good. You deserve to be."

The room falls quiet for a moment as she helps you scoop all the fruit into different bowls.

"I was also," she says as she sets a bowl down, "wondering if the two of you have talked about…" She looks at you, wiggling her eyebrows. "You know."

You narrow your eyes at her. "We're barely married."

She scoffs, glancing down at the stone that glints off your finger. "I don't know anyone who's getting married twice."

You make a face at her.

"Besides, with the two of you, you never know."

"Oh, so that's how it is, huh?" You point a spoon at her. "What about you and Robby, then? How was the drive from the airport yesterday? Did you talk?"

She glares at you before lifting both hands in surrender. "Okay. Truce. You fight dirty."

"That's what I thought," you say, grinning smugly. You clap your hands as you look over the counter of finished drinks. "All done."

Olivia nods. "Just missing you, now."

You glance at your strawberry-patterned pyjamas. "I don't know—I feel like this screams 'Summer Barbeque' attire."

She huffs and grabs your arm to pull you with her. "You and Jack need to work on your jokes. He's been making the same ones all morning. We get it. It's not just a barbecue."

Through the open bedroom window, a muffled burst of laughter drifts in from outside. You don't say anything, but you notice the way Olivia's mouth pulls into a tiny smile at the sound of Robby.

She stands beside the chair she'd ordered you into, a makeup brush tucked between her fingers and an open eyeshadow palette balanced in her hand. She's already worked her magic on your hair, rearranging loose strands until every piece sits exactly where she wants it.

She sweeps a shimmer across your eyelids, tilting your head gently with her fingertips whenever she needs a better angle. It feels strangely familiar.

For a moment, you're back in college—sitting on her dorm room floor while she helped you get ready for parties. It's the same teasing, the same steady hands, the same feeling that she's got your back no matter what.

Twenty minutes later, she twists the lid back onto your lipstick. "Done," she says.

"Can I look?"

"Not yet." She steps over to her bag and returns with a pair of small blue pearl earrings. "Your something blue."

"Oh." You hadn't expected that. Warmth spreads through your chest as she helps you put them in. You catch her hand. "Thank you."

She just nods at you, then takes a step back. For several seconds, she just looks at you.

"Liv?"

Her smile wavers, and she blinks rapidly. "You look stunning." Her voice comes out softer than usual.

You swallow around the sudden tightness that has climbed up from your chest. Before either of you can get too emotional, she reaches for the dress hanging in the closet.

"C'mon. Let's get you into that dress before you make me cry."

You laugh softly as you step out of your pyjamas and into the dress. It's a white, flowy dress that you found a couple of weeks ago. It's simple enough that nobody would think twice about seeing you wear it to a summer barbecue, yet beautiful enough that it feels perfect for today. Olivia's fingers work quickly, tying the delicate bows on top of each shoulder before smoothing the fabric across your back.

When you look into her eyes, they're glistening. She blinks and smooths a wrinkle that isn't there.

"Hey, don't. You'll make me cry," you say.

"Don't you dare," she warns you. "I just spent ages doing your makeup."

"Well, you stop then," you argue, but your voice comes out hoarser than intended.

Olivia clears her throat and nods toward the mirror. "Go look."

You walk over to the full-length mirror. For a second, you just… stare. The woman looking back at you looks completely at peace. No pretending. No forcing a smile. She's just… happy.

Beside you, Olivia leans against the dresser.

"I…" You laugh softly, smoothing your hands down the fabric. "I actually look nice. Thank you."

She snorts. "Nice? You're drop-dead gorgeous."

You huff but don't disagree, turning to wrap your arms around her. She hugs you back just as tightly.

She lets you go after a moment. "Right. I should probably make myself look presentable." She nudges you toward the door. "Go make sure everything's ready outside."

"You sure?"

She nods. "I'll be out in a minute."

You step into the living room, heels clacking against the hardwood floor. The patio doors stand halfway open, carrying in bursts of conversation from outside as well as the scraping of chairs.

Just as you're about to head outside, the door slides fully open.

Jack steps into the house, a clean dish towel in one hand. He's changed into the navy polo you'd once casually mentioned brought out his hazel eyes.

He looks so handsome.

He takes one step, then looks up. Then he stops.

Completely.

The towel slips from his fingers onto the floor.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moves. His eyes travel over you slowly, lingering as though he's trying to memorise every detail.

Your smile turns shy. "Hi."

He doesn't answer. His throat works around a swallow. For a moment, he just looks at you.

"Jack?"

He blinks once, dragging a hand across his jaw. "…Hi."

You laugh softly. "Are you okay?"

He lets out a shaky breath, finally meeting your eyes. "I don't…" He shakes his head, sneaking another glance across your body. "I don't think I've ever seen anything as beautiful as you."

Heat blooms across your cheeks at the awe written so plainly across his face.

"You.." He laughs quietly to himself, still looking completely overwhelmed. "Sweetheart…" He shifts his weight uncertainly.

You close the distance. As your arms wrap over his shoulders, his hands find your waist automatically. "You really are trouble."

You grin. The nickname has followed you through almost every version of yourselves—colleagues, friends, something complicated in between, and now this.

Now love.

You lift a hand, brushing your thumb gently beneath one of his eyes. "Are you crying?"

He catches your hand, but instead of pulling it away, he presses it closer to his face. For a moment, you can see him considering a lie, but then a tear slips free and lands on your skin.

He closes his eyes. "…Maybe."

"Oh, honey." You laugh.

He laughs, too, and the sound is lighter than it usually is. He cups your face carefully, looking you deeply in the eye. "I can't believe you're mine."

You tilt your cheek into his hand, nuzzling closer. "Well, you'd better believe it soon, because I'm not going anywhere."

"Good." He kisses you softly. "I wouldn't be able to take it if you were."

Your lips part to answer, but Robby's voice booms through the open doors before you can.

"Abbot! Where should I put the chairs?"

Jack closes his eyes briefly. "…Give me ten seconds," he shouts back.

"You've already had ten!"

You giggle.

Jack sighs dramatically, but the smile gives him away. He presses one lingering kiss to your lips before he steps back. "I should probably go make sure he doesn't leave them all in one pile."

When he reaches the doors, he glances back, still grinning. Still looking at you with that expression that makes you feel like he can't quite believe you're standing there.

By the time you step back outside with the final tray of welcome drinks, the backyard is buzzing. Music drifts softly from the speakers, mixing with the chatter of half a dozen conversations. Coolers are already open, bottles clinking as people help themselves. The snack bowls are half empty, and the fruit platters already have generous gaps in them.

It's rare for healthcare workers to have time to eat without being interrupted, and judging by the speed the food is disappearing, everyone's making up for lost time.

"Oh, wow." Parker sidles up beside you, looking you up and down with an appreciative grin. "You clean up pretty well."

You laugh as you do a spin for her.

"Honestly," Trinity cuts in, reaching for a piece of watermelon. "Abbot better watch out. If he ever fumbles this, you let me know."

"Girl, get in line," Parker says, throwing her a sideways look.

You shake your head, laughing at them. You hand them both a drink.

Parker smiles. "What? I can't remember the last time I saw you out of scrubs. I'm allowed to appreciate it."

You hum, shrugging lightly. "Not that many chances to get all dressed up."

"I invited you out last week?" Trinity says.

"Okay," you concede. "Not that many days where I'm off and can get dressed up. Better?"

She scrunches her nose, but nods. Her gaze then drops to your hand where your engagement ring glints in the afternoon sunlight. She blinks. "Damn. Abbot's loaded."

You roll your eyes, but before you can answer her, Shen appears with a drink in hand. "I'm letting you know as a courtesy that I expect this to be a yearly tradition."

You raise an eyebrow. "Oh?"

He shrugs, taking a sip. "Yeah. Good food. Good company, and nobody's calling me about a patient. Only thing missing is—"

"Coffee," Parker finishes with a groan.

"That's not what I was gonna say," he says, turning to her with an affronted look.

"Uh huh."

You smile as you watch them get into their usual bickering.

Before you can linger, someone catches your arm, and the next twenty minutes disappear in a blur.

A hug from a nurse you worked with in your surgical rotation. A quick conversation with one of your old pediatric attendings. A resident from the ICU stopping you just long enough to compliment your dress before getting distracted by someone calling their name.

The backyard feels impossibly full. Nurses, residents, attendings, people from departments you only crossed paths with during rotations—somehow they're all here now, laughing together like they've known each other for ages.

Most importantly, your people are spread all over the garden. Mel sits nearby with Frank, Dennis, Perlah and Princess, all waiting their turn to hold Donnie's baby. Dana stands near the grill with Robby, Jack and Lena. Lily catches you as she passes by with her boyfriend, squeezing your arm with a smile, before heading to the corner where the other nurses sit and chat.

Jack's friends from SWAT start arriving not long after. Introductions are fleeting but still warm, and Jack's face lights up as more of his teammates arrive.

Someone compliments the decorations. Someone else asks where you found the flowers. Two of Jack's teammates stop you to properly introduce themselves, explaining that they've heard so much about you. They also try to convince you to get Jack back on tasks, which he hasn't done since that day. You tell them politely that it's up to Jack, secretly grateful that he hasn't been back.

Somewhere between the drinks and the laughter and people filling the backyard, you realise how much bigger your life has become. From being the disappointment at home, the daughter that never could be enough, to being and working with people who think you're enough as you are.

For a moment, you just take it all in.

You catch Jack's eye as your gaze sweeps over the yard. He tilts his head, asking a silent question, and you nod. You walk steadily through the crowd toward him as he mutters something into Robby's ear.

Just as you step up onto the patio, Jack clinks his bottle, the clear ringing note carrying across the space. Conversations slowly begin to fade, heads turning to you. Jack's arm wraps around your waist, pulling you close.

He clears his throat, his fingers tightening around your side for the briefest moment before relaxing again. "Thanks for coming, everyone. We know getting this many healthcare workers together on the same day is basically impossible. So…thank you for making it happen."

He takes a slightly deeper breath than usual as he glances around the yard. "Now, I know we called this our end-of-summer barbeque—"

You feel your heartbeat start to pick up. Jack's thumb strokes absentmindedly along your side, grounding you like he knows exactly what your nerves are doing.

"—but there was another reason we wanted everyone here."

Confused looks pass through the crowd.

"We've all heard the complaints," you say. "So…" You take a slow breath, a twinkle beginning to shine in your eye. "We figured we'd do something about it."

You can see Shen's frown deepening.

"We thought…maybe you'd all like to come to our wedding?"

For a moment, nobody reacts. Samira stares at you. Parker looks from you to Jack, then over at Dana, who's already smiling, clearly trying to figure out if everyone else knew something she didn't.

Trinity is the first to find her voice. "You're kidding."

And then it starts to click. The dress. The decorations. The way you and Jack had been acting about this 'party'. The realisation moves through the yard like a wave—then chaos erupts. It's a loud jumble of disbelief, laughter and cursing.

Shen is still trying to process what just happened. You catch Parker shaking her head at you, grinning wider than you've ever seen. Off to the side, Olivia is already recording the moment with a wide smile.

Robby steps forward beside the two of you after people begin to quiet down. He grins. "Shall we get to it?"

He gestures for people to move closer, and waits until everyone has settled, then he turns to look at you and Jack.

"So, I was one of the people complaining I didn't get to be there for the first wedding. I guess my nagging paid off because you asked me to officiate this one."

You smile.

Robby's smile softens. "I'm really glad you asked. But frankly, I would have been offended if you didn't—I've aged at least ten years because of you two."

"Okay." You hold up your hands as Robby laughs.

"It was worth it." He turns back to the crowd. "Because you two were always meant for each other."

"I've known Jack for a long time." He glances at him. "When I first met him, I honestly wasn't convinced anyone would ever be able to put up with him."

Jack glares at him.

Robby continues, nonetheless. "He works too much. Forgets to eat if no one reminds him. Also keeps insisting he doesn't need help when he very obviously does. Like earlier when he tried to carry seven ch—" Robby's voice catches as Jack puffs his shoulder.

Dana laughs loudly.

"Never mind." Robby's gaze shifts to you. "And then you came along." The teasing leaves his voice. "I've never seen him happier."

You glance at Jack. He's already looking at you.

"I've also never seen him so thoroughly outmatched."

Jack laughs.

"You keep him honest. You remind him to slow down. And somehow…" He smiles at you both. "…your craziness matches. You make each other better."

He turns back to you. "You were a pain in my ass when you were a resident. Headstrong. Unafraid. Always getting into trouble." He lifts a finger when your mouth opens to argue. "So damn argumentative. But you were also one of my best residents. So smart and brave. Always able to see things from a different perspective. We were lucky to have you."

You swallow.

"Now, Jack's the lucky one."

"Damn right," Jack murmurs.

Robby takes a slow breath. "So. Speaking as someone who's had a front-row seat to every stupid thing these two have done…" He looks from Jack to you. "I can't think of two people better suited for each other."

He lets the silence linger for a moment before clapping his hands together. "Right. I am, apparently, supposed to say something official." He reaches into his pocket and unfolds a piece of paper. "We're here today to join two people in matrimony—well, for the second time. We're here because marriage isn't just one day. It isn't just paperwork. It isn't even the vows you're about to hear."

He looks up. "It's every ordinary day that comes afterwards. It's the early mornings, the late nights, the takeaway dinners because you're too tired to cook. It's choosing each other over and over again. On the easy days, and especially on the hard days. Today isn't about starting your marriage. It's about celebrating it."

He folds the paper in half and slips it back into his pocket. "Now, I think that was enough from me." He looks between the two of you. "I believe you have something you'd like to say."

You nod and feel every gaze settle on you. Jack smiles, his eyes warm with reassurance.

You unfold your paper. "When we met…" You start, already laughing softly as you admit, "I tried really hard to find a reason not to like you."

Laughter sounds across the yard.

"But you just kept being nice and being ridiculously good at your job. And..." You glance at Jack as a grin spreads across your face. "Well...being really fucking hot."

Jack laughs.

"You've always been the person I looked for first. The person I wanted to tell things to. The person I wanted beside me after a difficult shift."

Your eyes don't leave his.

 "I used to think love was supposed to be the big moments. The ones people write stories about." You shake your head gently. "I was wrong. It's coffee waiting for me when I wake up after a night shift. It's the way you always know when I need a hug before I ask for one."

A smile tugs at your lips.

"It's you pretending not to notice when I steal your hoodies. It's arguing over what to order for dinner, knowing we'll end up sharing anyway. It's coming home and knowing you're there. It's laughing until we can't breathe because one of us said something stupid. It's every ordinary day somehow becoming extraordinary because you're in it."

You crinkle the paper between your fingers. "When everyone talks about soulmates..." You swallow. "I don't think they're talking about someone who completes you. I think they're talking about someone who makes you feel yourself completely."

You bite your lip. "That's what you've given me. Somewhere I never have to be anyone but myself. Somewhere that feels like home."

Jack's jaw tightens, blinking a bit more rapidly than usual.

"I know our story hasn't been... conventional." A few guests smile knowingly, assuming you're talking about the elopement they'd all heard about. Only Robby and Olivia nod with a truly knowing smile.

"But if I had the chance to do it all again...I'd do it. No hesitation."

You hear someone sniffle behind you. It sounds suspiciously much like Lena.

"I promise..." You reach for Jack's hand. "…to keep choosing you. When life is easy and when it isn't. I'll remind you to eat lunch."

Robby chuckles.

"I promise to tell you when you're being stubborn."

Jack raises an eyebrow. "When am I ever—"

You squeeze his hand, sending him a look, and he drops it. You laugh softly before continuing.

"I promise to celebrate every victory with you and help carry every burden. I promise to keep laughing with you. To keep dancing with you in the kitchen. To keep making this house our home."

"And lastly..." You smile through the tears gathering in your eyes. "I promise I'll never stop feeling lucky that somehow...after everything..." Your voice catches. "...I get to call you my husband. "

Jack lets out a shaky laugh, squeezing your hand tightly. Tears drip down his face, but he makes no effort to hide it.

"How am I meant to go after that?" he jokes, wiping his face.

He reaches into his jacket and slowly unfolds his own piece of paper. "Well..." He chuckles softly. "I should probably start by admitting I liked you straight away."

Everyone laughs as he takes a moment to gather himself.

"When people ask how we met, I usually give them the short version." He glances at you. "The real version is a lot messier and involves a surprising amount of paperwork."

You huff a quiet laugh.

"I don't think either of us expected any of this. I definitely didn't expect to fall in love." His voice softens. "But then you kept showing up. Every shift. Every conversation. Every bad day."

He shrugs lightly. "And somewhere along the way... you became the person I wanted beside me for all of it."

He folds the paper and slips it back inside his pocket, then reaches out and grabs your hands. "I like to pretend I have everything under control. I push away the things I don't want to think about. You've seen me at my worst… and yet, you stayed."

The words hit you harder than you expect.

"You love me despite it. Because of it." His voice catches. "And I don't think you realise what a gift that has been."

Now, it's your turn to cry.

"I've never met anyone who gives so much of themselves to other people. You worry about everyone. You carry everyone. You'll stay an hour after your shift ends because someone needs help. You'll pretend you're not exhausted because you don't want anyone else to worry."

He gives your hands a gentle squeeze. "I wish you could see yourself the way everyone else does." He pauses. "The way I do."

A tear drops down. Jack reaches up automatically, brushing it away with his thumb.

"You make every place feel like home." He smiles. "I don't care where we live. This house. A tiny apartment. Somewhere halfway across the country. As long as you're there... I'm home."

Robby sniffles, trying to be discreet but failing.

Jack smiles without looking away from you. "I promise..." He takes a steadying breath. "...to keep choosing us. Even when life gets busy. Especially when life gets busy. I promise to never stop flirting with you."

"Yeah, no kidding," Parker mutters.

Jack ignores her. "I promise to keep making coffee for you every day, because you still don't know how to use the machine."

You laugh.

He grins back. "I promise to hold your hand every chance I get. I promise to dance with you in the kitchen...Even though I can't dance."

"You really can't," you whisper.

"I promise to remind you that you don't have to carry the world on your own. You've got me now, too." His eyes search yours. "And I promise..." His voice breaks, and he laughs at himself. "...I promise I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make you as happy as you've made me."

You can barely see him through your tears.

Silence settles over the yard once more. No one speaks. No one moves. Looking around, you can't find a single dry eye.

Jack leans forward just enough for only you to hear. "I love you."

You smile. "I love you, too."

Robby quietly clears his throat, wiping discreetly at one eye. "I think..." He glances toward Olivia. "...it's time for the rings."

Olivia steps forward from where she'd been standing beside Bridget, carrying a small velvet box in both hands. She stops in front of the two of you with a warm smile. "I've been told these are important."

She opens the box. Nestled inside are two simple wedding bands. Nothing extravagant. Just the two rings you'd chosen together months ago, now engraved with two dates. Your fingers brush over the tiny inscription before you lift one from the box.

The date of the convention. And today.

Jack takes the second from her.

Olivia closes the empty box before looking between the two of you. "I love you both." The words are quiet enough that only the three of you really hear them.

You step forward and hug her. "Thank you."

She kisses your cheek, squeezes your hand once, and quietly rejoins the others. You barely hear Robby through the rush in your ears.

All you take in is the feeling as Jack reaches for your left hand. The gold catches the late afternoon sunlight as he holds it just above your fingertips.

He looks up, waiting, as though silently asking one last time.

You answer with a smile and a nod. Always. He slides the ring onto your finger smoothly.

You slide the ring onto his finger with slightly shaky hands. Jack's fingers fold into yours. He looks elated, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he grins at you,

You're married again.

The words "You may now kiss the bride" barely leave Robby's mouth before Jack surges forward.

For the next twenty minutes, you're fairly certain neither you nor Jack actually touch the ground. Applause, whistles and laughter erupt across the yard after the kiss. People talking over one another as they surge toward the two of you.

Dana reaches you first. She's crying before she even wraps her arms around you. "Oh, sweetheart."

You laugh into the hug. "I know."

"You sneaky little thing."

"We've been planning it for weeks."

She sighs. "I should've noticed."

"You really should have. You're losing your touch. "

"It won't happen again." She pulls back just enough to cup your face. "You look beautiful."

"Thank you."

"And your vows—" She stops, pressing her lips together as her eyes fill all over again. "You've built such a beautiful life."

"Oh no," you laugh. "Don't. You'll make me cry again."

"I'm trying."

You hug her again, feeling her laugh through the tears.

Parker is next. She shakes Jack's hand firmly before immediately pulling him into a hug anyway. "I'm happy for you."

"Thanks."

She steps back, looking between the two of you. "You've done well."

Jack glances at you, unable to hide his smile. "I know."

She rolls her eyes, but it quickly softens into a grin. "The dress should've tipped me off."

You beam at her.

Shen steps up beside Parker. "I knew."

Parker raises an eyebrow. "You absolutely did not."

"I suspected it."

"Yeah, yeah." You laugh. "You can't take credit for this one, too."

After that, the congratulations blur together. Trinity nearly squeezes the air out of your lungs. Lily's eyes are already shining before she even reaches you, mumbling heartfelt congratulations. Perlah and Princess both admit they're impressed you managed to keep such a huge secret.

You just shrug. If only they knew.

Beside you, Jack is surrounded by his SWAT teammates. They clap him on the shoulders, pull him into hugs, and give him enough grief that his laugh carries all the way across the yard.

The conversations begin blending together after that. Someone starts arguing over who cried first. Trinity insists it was Robby. Robby loudly denies it, but video evidence is quickly produced, and he ends up conceding.

At some point, Dennis ends up standing on a chair, trying to organise everyone into something resembling a group photo while at least three people completely ignore him.

You don't move straight away. Instead, you watch.

Dana is already fussing over the food despite repeatedly being told to sit down. Parker has somehow accumulated a drink and three different appetisers. Lena is laughing so hard she has to wipe at her eyes while Vivi quietly shakes her head beside her. Across the yard, Jack catches your eye and smiles, then turns back to the grill.

Olivia quietly slips beside you while Dennis is still unsuccessfully trying to direct traffic. She doesn't say anything at first. She simply loops her arm through yours. You lean your head briefly against hers.

You laugh. "I don't think this is how weddings normally go."

Olivia follows your gaze. "No." She pauses. "I think yours is better."

Ten minutes later, as you're scanning the coolers to make sure there's still enough drinks, your hip gets nudged softly. Jack stands beside you with a plate in his hand.

"Eat."

You narrow your eyes. "Is that an order?"

"It's a request." He pushes the plate into your hands. "You've had approximately one strawberry and half a glass of spritz all afternoon."

"You've been monitoring my food intake?"

He shrugs. "I'm married to you."

"So?"

"So I know exactly how easy it is for you to forget."

You smile despite yourself. "Well, what about you?"

He lifts the plate he'd been hiding behind his back. His brow lifts. "Gotcha."

You scrunch your nose at him.

His smile softens. He turns your hand over, his thumb brushing slowly across your wedding band. For a long moment he simply looks at it. "This feels different."

It does.

"Everyone was here." You hadn't realised how much it would mean to share this part of your story with them. You lean over and kiss him. "I love you."

"I love you." His forehead rests against yours for a second. The hiss of the grill interrupts you.

"You should probably save dinner."

Jack sighs. He starts walking backwards. "I'll be back." He disappears into the crowd, greeting someone who immediately claps him on the shoulder. Still, he glances back one more time to send you a smile.

Jack has just finished rescuing a couple of burger patties from Robby's questionable supervision when the two of them find themselves alone by the grill. Well…as alone as either of them can be with fifty or so people scattered around the yard.

He puts the final patties on and closes the lid of the grill, resting the spatula on the plate next to it. "Almost done."

Your laughter carries across the yard, and Jack turns toward it without thinking. He finds you standing with Olivia, both of you laughing loudly. He smiles at the sight.

Robby crosses his arms next to him and follows his gaze. "They're something else when they're together."

"Tell me about it." Jack nods. Most of last night had been spent screaming in excitement about the following day, catching up on the latest gossip, and, of course, teasing Jack.

He loves it when Olivia is in town.

Tearing his eyes away from you, he flips the lid to turn the patties. "I don't think today's really sunk in yet."

"No?"

He turns back to look at you. "I never imagined…" He shakes his head, pulling Robby into a hug. "Thanks, man. For everything."

Robby nods, clapping his back twice. "Of course."

Jack clears his throat and moves to flip the final patties onto a plate. He closes the valve, waits for the lines to clear and then turns off the knobs. When he turns back, he finds that Robby is still looking across the yard.

You're laughing at something Parker says as you steal a sip of Olivia's drink. A second later, you splutter dramatically, and Olivia doubles over laughing at your expression.

The corner of Robby's mouth lifts before he seems to realise he's smiling.

Folding his arms across his chest, Jack nudges Robby's shoulder lightly with his own. "Careful."

"What?" Robby asks, still watching.

"She'll catch you staring."

Robby tears his gaze away a little too quickly. "I'm not staring." He reaches for the tongs, unaware that Jack has already turned off the grill.

Jack just raises an eyebrow. "If you say so."

It takes all of five seconds before Robby's eyes drift back again. The tongs hang between his fingers, forgotten again.

Jack chuckles.

Robby huffs. "You're no better."

"She's my wife," Jack says, unable to hide his grin. He slides the burger buns onto a platter before glancing sideways at Robby. "What are you two?"

Robby's jaw twitches. "Shut up."

The evening slips by almost without you noticing. As the sun sinks lower, the warm string lights begin to glow around the garden, casting everything in a softer light.

One conversation melts into the next as music drifts through the yard. The last of the burgers has disappeared, and most of the dessert has already been devoured.

You duck into the kitchen in search of more ice.

"So this is where you're hiding."

You look over your shoulder, finding Robby leaned against the doorframe. He's got an empty stack of bowls in his hands.

"Jack put you on clean-up duty?" You sit down to rummage through the fridge.

"Volunteered." He shrugs, stepping toward the kitchen.

"Who are you and what have you done with Michael Robinavitch?" you gasp.

"Ha. Ha." He sets the bowls down.

You laugh, pulling open another drawer. "I think we're officially out."

"Good."

You glance back at him. "Good?"

He nods. "Means people are having a good time."

You guess he's right. You close the fridge, standing up to lean against the counter. Neither of you moves to go back outside just yet.

From here you can still hear the party through the open patio doors—bursts of laughter, the clink of glasses, and soft music.

Robby leans against the island opposite you. His brown eyes trail over your face. "You belong here."

You blink. "What?"

"With us." He gestures toward the yard where most of the Pitt is having fun. "You're family."

Your throat tightens. This is everything you'd wanted for years without quite believing you'd ever have it. Before you can find the words, you step forward and wrap your arms around him.

Robby stiffens for only a heartbeat before hugging you just as tightly. He's never been particularly comfortable with emotions, but he's always shown how much he cares in quieter ways—in the hours he gives his patients, the way he looks after his staff, the loyalty he shows the people he loves.

When you step away, he clears his throat and moves for the patio door. Without looking back, he says quietly, a smile in his voice, "See you at work on Monday."

There are orange streaks in the sky when Jack finds you standing by yourself. People aren't gathered in one big group anymore. Instead, they're scattered wherever there's room—chairs pulled together, people leaning against tables, conversations stretching lazily into the evening. Some have left for work, others heading home to get some sleep before their day shifts. It's everything you hoped for.

Santos is halfway through a story that has Princess and Perlah laughing loudly. Mel sits next to Dennis, whispering follow-up questions that he tries to answer. Shen and Parker sit off to the side watching it all with an amused smile.

A little further away, you spot Olivia sitting with one of Jack's SWAT friends. She's laughing at something he says, while Robby pretends hard not to look in their direction. He keeps failing.

"What's so funny?" Jack asks. He holds out a glass of water for you.

You accept it gratefully, and nod your head to the right.

He follows your gaze. "Ah."

"Yeah."

"That's not the first time he's been staring at her."

"Oh?"

He nods. "He thinks he's being subtle."

You look back toward Robby. "He really isn't."

Jack laughs. He turns to face you fully as the song drifting through the speakers changes into something slower.

The last of the sunlight catches in his hazel eyes, making the green seem brighter than usual. He holds out his hand. "Dance with me."

"Here?"

"Why not?"

"There's no dance floor," you say, but step closer to him anyway.

He glances down at the grass beneath his feet. "Looks good enough to me."

You laugh, letting him take your drink and set it aside. He draws you closer until one hand settles naturally at your waist. The other stays wrapped around yours, his thumb brushing over your knuckles. It isn't really dancing. Just the two of you swaying beneath the lights, more interested in being close than keeping time.

"Was it everything you wanted?" you ask.

"Even better," he says.

You look at him. His thumb traces slow circles against your back while the two of you sway.

"I love you." You've lost count of how many times you've said that tonight.

He presses his forehead against yours. "I love you, too, sweetheart."

Neither of you notice when another couple joins you. Then a second, and a third. At some point, Olivia stands, walking over to Robby and offering him her hand. He looks surprised for half a second, hesitant for another, but then smiles and takes it.

Little pockets of slow dancing appear all over the yard.

"I love this," you say. Your hands settle at the back of his neck, your fingers disappearing into the soft grey curls there.

"The dancing?"

"The people." You look around. "All of them."

Jack lifts his head to look around, then he quietly kisses the top of your head and continues swaying with you.

At last, when all the dessert is gone and most of the coolers have been emptied, guests gradually trickle out until only you, Jack, Robby, and Olivia remain.

You're collecting trays into neat piles while Jack stacks chairs nearby. To your left, Olivia stuffs paper plates into a rubbish bag as Robby makes his way around the garden, gathering empty bottles.

She catches your eye, and you raise an eyebrow, nodding subtly towards Robby. She shakes her head, eyes narrowing immediately.

You fight back a smile.

Looking around, there's still so much to be done. Cushions scattered across the lawn, empty glasses on every flat surface and enough washing up to keep you busy until morning. However, instead of tackling it now, you turn to Jack.

"Let's save this for tomorrow."

His eyes hone in on the mischievous twinkle in your eye, and he catches on quickly when he spots Olivia's glare. A slow smile appears on his face. "Yes. That sounds like a plan."

He turns toward Robby. "Couch's yours." He grins. "I hope it doesn't take out your back like it did last time."

Bait set. Now, it was up to Olivia to take it.

You laugh quietly, tugging him toward the door before either of you burns from the heat of their glares. You're almost at the threshold when he pulls you back.

"Wait. I've got one wedding tradition I'd quite like to keep." Without another word, he bends, slips one arm beneath your knees and the other around your back, and lifts you clean off the ground.

You yelp, immediately laughing as your arms wrap around his neck. "Jack!"

"What?"

"I can walk."

His lips turn up at the corners. "Despite everything, so can I."

Jack ducks through the patio doors without so much as a stumble, and continues until he's inside the bedroom. Once inside, he lowers you carefully onto your feet.

He looks at you, his eyes soft. "Hi, wife."

You smile so widely your cheeks ache. "Hi, husband."

He steps closer. You're not sure who moves first, but your lips meet in a gentle kiss. You tug him with you toward the bed, your fingers reaching under his shirt to pull it up. He obeys without hesitation, lifting his arms to help.

"I need to take off my leg, honey." He reminds you when you try to push him down on the bed.

You kiss his cheek. "Let me."

He sits on the edge of the bed. You roll up his trouser leg before carefully unfastening his prosthetic. Pressing a kiss to the skin just above the scar, you set it beside the bedside table. He makes quick work of his pants, tossing them somewhere across the room.

Then he pulls you up. You climb onto his lap, your thighs settling on either side of his.

"God, this dress…" he murmurs as he begins sliding the straps down. He kisses your shoulder softly, trailing down to your collarbone. His fingers brush against heated skin, goosebumps fluttering in their path.

He presses another soft kiss to the skin just above your boob before the fabric slowly falls down, revealing your chest to him. With one hand, he guides the other side to join the pooling fabric at your waist.

You push your chest toward him, and he takes the hint without teasing. His mouth closes around one nipple, tongue swirling before he sucks lightly.

"Feels so…" you moan, holding onto his shoulders.

"Yeah?" he hums, lifting his head to look at you. Your lips find his neck, trailing kisses up and down, before nibbling lightly at his earlobe.

He pulls back. "I'm losing my mind, sweetheart. No more teasing. Are you ready or do I need to—"

You grab his fingers and pull them under your dress. He groans when he feels how soaked you are. "Christ. Where's your underwear?"

You gesture at the ground. "Took it off when you weren't looking." You grind down on his cock, and his hips lift at the sensation. "I'm ready."

"You sure?" He looks into your eyes. "I don't mind."

Tired of his talking, you reach down to free his cock. His head falls back down onto the mattress when you glide it against your folds. Then you sink down.

The dress pools around your thighs, hiding the spot where he disappears into you, but the slick that sounds around the room is unmistakable.

Jack's eyes grow darker. "Jesus. How'd I get so lucky?"

You grin.

"I mean it," he says, his hands tightening their grip on your waist. He punctuates the following words with separate thrusts. "Luckiest. Man. Alive."

A hand reaches up to cup your boob while the other trails down under the dress. His thumb finds your clit easily, putting just the correct amount of pressure on it that gets you gasping.

It doesn't take long to send you over the edge. Jack tries to stay steady through it, but the tightening grip around his cock proves too hard to resist. He comes with a long groan, thrusting himself deep into you.

You collapse against his chest. Both of you take a moment to regain normal breathing, his hands brushing soft patterns across your back.

"I'll go get you a washcloth," he murmurs into your hair.

"Just one more minute." You nestle closer, burrowing into his heat.

"One." He relents, pressing a soft and content kiss into your hair.

The first thing you notice when you wake is the smell of coffee. Its rich scent entangling with the clean scent of the duvet sheets. You don't open your eyes, but stay there, wrapped in warmth as memories of last night wash over you.

Lights. Drinks. Jack. Vows. The ring.

You twirl it around your finger, smiling into your pillow. You got married to Jack.

Again.

But this time it was even better than last time. This time you both meant to. This time he chose you.

Married on purpose sounds a lot better than accidentally.

You hear the quiet scrape of the bedroom door being pushed open. The familiar shuffle of Jack's slightly uneven gait. The thump as something gets set down on the bedside table and the clunk of something placed on the floor.

Then the mattress dips beside you. A warm hand brushes your hair away from your face before a soft kiss meets your forehead.

"Morning, wife."

You finally open your eyes. "Morning, husband."

Jack grins at you. Sleep has left his soft grey curls sticking up in every direction.

You grin back. "You made breakfast."

"I did," he says. He settles fully down beside you. "How are you feeling?"

"A little hungover…" You glance around the room. Sunlight spills through the half-open curtains. Your dress hangs over the chair, Jack's trousers lie abandoned in the corner, and the empty ring box still rests on the dresser. "But very happy."

His hand brushes your shoulder. "Good."

You sit up, taking the cup he holds out for you. "You?"

He looks down at his coffee, then at you. "I couldn't be better."

"Yeah?"

He nods and reaches for your hand. His thumb traces slowly over your wedding band. "I meant what I said last night."

"About making me coffee every day?"

He laughs softly. "That too. But also about being lucky."

"Well. I guess we're both pretty lucky." You hold your cup up. "To us."

He clinks his cup against yours. "To us."

"And to forever." You clink your cup against his again. "Oh, and to—"

He pinches your chin with his free hand. "How about we workshop it before we try again?"

SET AFTER:

Rockstar - Brendon Park meets his match against PTMC’s fiery new attending.

Pussy Wagon - A spilled drink leads you to see a different side of your nemesis Park The Shark.

The First Time (NSFW) - Fireworks aren’t the only explosive thing happening at Jesse’s Fourth of July party.

A Loaded Gun (NSFW) - Hate sex has never been so fucking hot…

This Is Not A Love Story - Brandon tries to set a rule after a ‘sticky’ situation.

The Game - Brendon finds himself breaking his own rules when it comes to you.

Tell. Me. To. Stop (NSFW) - Jealousy is not an emotion Brendon Park is accustomed to.

Pittfest -Brendon comforts you when you fall apart after the events of Pittfest.

Is He Prettier Than Me? - Brandon gets curious when he learns you have other plans.

Confetti (NSFW) - Brendon Park doesn't do night clubs...

The Drawer - Brendon realises your relationship may be shifting when he discovers he has a drawer at your place.

Scrunchies - Scrunchies… they’re the downfall of Brendon Park.

Love Games (NSFW) - Brendon and you love to play games, especially with each other.

An Exquisite Form of Torture (NSFW) - Brendon continues to turn up the heat as he holds you captive.

Authentic - You and Jesse discuss your situationship with Brendon after you see him with another woman.

THAT Guy - Brendon is forced to face up to his feelings for you when he finds out your meeting up with an ex.

Seven Days - Seven days is far too long to go without you…

Save It - A thirty six hour shift leads to another admission about your relationship with Brendon.

Doctor Dick - Brendon’s day takes a turn when Whitaker gives him some critical information.

A Manipulative Fuck - You and Brendon discuss what happened with your ex.

The Call (NSFW) - Brendon decides to put a stop to David’s calls once and for all.

The One That Hates The Ravens - David’s attempt at revenge backfires spectacularly.

The Lovin Spoonful - You wake up to an unexpected surprise.

Delete, Block, Rinse, Repeat - A series of cryptic messages force Brendon to confront a secret he’s been keeping for almost a decade.

His Father’s Son - Brendon reflects on the past as he debates taking that first sip of whiskey.

The Cost of Dignity - Brendon’s greatest secret comes with a cost.

A Kiss For Luck - Brendon struggles to navigate working at the hospital after the release of THAT video.

The Craziest Fucking Thing - You take matters into your own hands after receiving bad news from Brendon.

Ride Or Die - You wake up to the sound of an angry blender after Brendon discovers what happened with Rowena.

Baby Shark - Once a year Brendon always ends up back at the aquarium.

Diamonds (NSFW) - A bet leads to naughty shenanigans in a five star restaurant.

The Call Out - Brendon’s focus on wedding planning is disrupted when he’s called out to the scene of a multi-car pile up.

Good Hands - Abbot reminds Brendon you’re in good hands as they proceed with the amputation.

Flayed - Brendon’s world crashes down as he learns the truth about the accident.

Ten Things I Love About You - Brendon discovers a pink envelope in the pocket of the jacket you were wearing at the time of the accident.

The Parent Trap - Brendon faces your parents, leading to a surprise revelation.

Sledgehammer - Brendon struggles to cope in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

Et Tu Marianne? - Your mother throws Brendon under the bus after you wake up from surgery.

Roses - Brendon is forced to deal with a vindictive POS when a dozen red roses are delivered to your door.

The Fucking Patient - Abbot has some harsh words for Brendon regarding your care.

Chemistry - You and Brendon finally have a moment alone to talk.

A Serial Absconder - Your habit of disappearing leads to a healing journey Brendon doesn’t expect.

The Best the Ravens Have Ever Looked (NSFW) - Brendon has a real problem with your shorts.

Home - Brendon introduces you to your new home after the accident.

The Change Up - When you struggle to reacclimate at home Brendon realises you need a change up.

The Body Pillow - Brendon and you settle in for your first night at the new house.

Rae Days - You're forced to navigate your new limitations when Brendon returns to work full time.

The Liberator - Brandon asks Abbot's for advice with a very particular problem.

Grounded - Brendon gets a surprise when his brother turns up on his doorstep unexpectedly.

Watermelon Sugar (NSFW) - Brendon uses your favourite song against you when the sex cushion comes out to play.

Suck (NSFW) - Brendon's dommy side finally comes out to play for the first time since the accident.

You’re not supposed to use the new leg for this…

That’s what Brendon wants to tell you, the problem is its pretty fucking hard when you’re leaning over the kitchen table dressed in a sheer black body suit with dozens of stars woven into it. The translucent material frames that perfect peach of an ass, making his dick pulse as he watches you rock your hips against the table, testing your new leg’s manoeuvrability.

The doctor in him wants to tell you to give it a rest, to stick to your treatment plan. You’re only supposed to spend between 30-60 minutes on the damn thing during the first day and you’ve already over done that by running out and buying the lingerie you’re currently clad in.  

The man in him though, he wants to ravage you, to bend you over that table and fuck you until you’re coming all over his cock, until you’re filled to the brim with his cum. His dick throbs in the confines of his jeans, straining against the zipper as he tilts his head, getting a glimpse of the most perfect pussy, hiding between your thighs. You glance at him over your shoulder, that wicked look in your eyes, the one that sets his blood on fire as you arch your back like a cat.

“You’re not going to help me test it out?” You pout.

The way your back curves presents your ass to him once again. He wants to bite it, leave his teeth marks in the flesh, to spank it until it’s red raw and you’re begging for him to fuck that needy little cunt of yours.

“I’m trying to be a really good boy here.” His arm wraps around your waist, his lips running up the side of your throat until his breath ghosts in your ear. “But you are making it incredibly difficult.”

“I don’t want the good boy.” You lean back against him, your back slotting perfectly against his chest as he breathes in the scent of your shampoo. Your ass is nestled in the cradle of his pelvis, his cock resting between your ass cheeks through the denim. “I want the man that makes me scream.”

He laughs into your ear. It’s a rough sound, one that reverberates through your entire body as his foot slides between your legs, his boot kicking the good one aside, spreading you wider. The prosthesis takes the weight as you place your palms on the table to steady your balance.

“You’re such a bad girl Rae.” He whispers as his fingertips trail along the elastic that clings to your ass, twanging it. The snap vibrates through the room, your pussy soaking the sheer as the light sting ignites your nerve endings. “And bad girls get spanked.”

The first hit, shunts your hips against the table. Heat blossoms through your body as your back bows, a moan tearing from your throat. Brendon’s fingers tangle in your hair, wrapping it around his fist. Your scalp prickles with electricity, the lightning shooting down your spine as he pulls it, keeping your head tilted up towards the ceiling.

He strikes again, harder this time. The groan that leaves your mouth is feral, your pussy dripping with need as his hand delves between your thighs, fingers stroking over you. “Love that you got dressed up for me, makes me feel like the luckiest man in the damn world knowing I get to have you.”

His belt clunks and you think about asking for the kiss of leather across your ass, but it’s been too long since you’ve had him, since you’ve felt the hot press of his cock inside you, his deep thrusts and powerful strokes.

Next time, you promise yourself. Next time you’ll ask him to use the belt before he worships your pussy.

“Oh God, I need you.” He mutters as his zipper slides down, the teeth parting to make way for his desperate dick. The denim scratches at your thighs as he shoves his jeans down past his hips, his underwear going along with them. His shirt disappears, tossed God knows where in his urgency. “I’ve been trying to hold back baby, but I just don’t think I can anymore.”

His fingertips tease along the sheer that covers your ass, all the way to those discreet little buttons between your ass and pussy. He unfastens them one by one, freeing the damp fabric and baring you to him.

“Tell me you need me, Rae.” He whispers, notching his cock at your entrance. Your wetness smears over the tip as he rocks slowly, barely exerting enough pressure for you to part around him. “Tell me that you need me, just as much as I need you.”

“You know I do.” Your head tips back into his shoulder, as his mouth finds that deviant little spot underneath the hinge of your jaw, his teeth marking you. “I’ve been waiting for this for so long Brendon.”

He eases into you slowly, inch by inch, giving you time to adjust after months of emptiness. He curses his relief into your hair before he pulls out, his face tilting down to watch where the two of you join as he surges back in.

“God, Rae.” He whispers, his palms framing yours on the kitchen table as he buries himself all the way to the hilt. He says there, his cock nestled against that sweet spot, savouring that moment of connection. “Noone else can ruin me like this.”

He keeps a slow, frantic pace, a targeted attack on that bundle of nerves igniting your body like the fireworks at that Fourth of July party where this all started. His hand slips down your stomach, delving between your thighs, seeking out your clit.  

He starts to draw circles, deviant little patterns that send sparks shooting through your synapses that build into stars. He keeps his thrusts steady, each one striking its target, adding kindling to those burning bundles of white-hot heat. They grow, and they grow until you’re at the precipice of pleasure, until your breath is hitched, each one punctuated with an overwhelmed whine as Brendon keeps you pinned against that table, his own body trembling, his teeth gritting as he tries to stave off his own pleasure.

You start to quiver, your entire body on fire as the ecstasy hits you in a rush, combusting under your skin with the power of a thousand suns. It’s glorious, it’s overwhelming, it’s everything you need and more as Brendon chases you over that edge, his own release spurting inside you as he climaxes with you, fucking his spent as deep as he can.

“Oh god, that felt so good...” You mutter, your head tipping forward, your hair spilling over your features. “I’ve really missed-oh shit!”

Your knee buckles, the prosthesis slipping out from under you. You almost faceplant the table but as always Brendon’s there to catch you, to keep you supported as he nudges the foot back underneath you, giving you back that pillar.

“I think we pushed it a little too far.” He says, gently turning you to face him. He pulls up his underwear and jeans, leaving them unfastened before lifting you onto the table.  “Let’s get you off you leg and I can assess the damage.”

He kneels before you, his hand smoothing over the plastic before he removes the leg with a practised ease. The relief is palpable. You didn’t realise just how much until he pops it off your stump. He’s careful when he strips off the liner, but you still wince as he gets to the bottom of the limb, his fingertips tracing over the flesh that’s been rubbed raw.

“I didn’t realise how much it hurt until now.” You say, leaning back on your palms as he rises to his feet and picks up a clean dishtowel before soaking it with warm water.

“It’s the sex endorphins.” He returns to the table and begins to clean the chaffed skin. “We were too busy enjoying ourselves to notice. You got your antibacterial cream up there?”

You reach for your prescription bag, sifting through items until you find it. He dabs it across his fingers, rubbing it in gently across the soreness on residual limb.

“Is this weird?” You ask him, fiddling with the engagement ring on your finger. “You doing this after dicking me down? Tonight was supposed to be perfect…”

He tilts his head up to meet your gaze, the crease appearing between his dark brows as he studies you. You don’t make eye contact, you just focus on that ring, on twirling it around your finger, pulling at it until it’s half on, half off.

Abbot’s words come back to haunt him.

Rae… she’s going to tell you she’s fine about the way her body has changed, and she probably will be, but it takes a minute to come to terms with it especially when it comes to sex. Things you thought worked don’t and sometimes it can be demoralising because you realise things can’t go back to the way they were.

That’s what’s happening now, because despite the fact everything being the same between you, the physicality is different.

To Brendon that’s part of the fun, you get to learn things together.

To you…maybe it hits a little differently.

“This is just another part of aftercare.” He says, pushing to his feet. His hands come to rest on either side of your thighs, caging you in so that the two of you are as close as you can be. “Tonight was perfect. I got to have outrageous sex with the woman I love for the first time…” His fingers pull lightly at the sheer of the body suit, reminding you of its presence. “She wore this filthy little thing for me. I couldn’t have asked for a better night.”

“Are you sure this is what you want?” You say, the ring still hovering over your knuckle. “Because I would understand-”

“There’s nothing to understand.” His fingers cover yours, sliding that ring back down to the place where it belongs. “You’re what I want. You always have been, you always will be.”

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

Companion piece to:

Cigars - Chicago's most feared mafia don comes home to find a surprise in his study.

Old Fashioned Manners - You return home to find Chicago's most feared mafia don in your house.

There’s lipstick on his cheek, Dom can’t stop looking at it as he stares at himself in the gold gilded mirror in his bathroom, his shirt hanging open, a strand of his usually coiffed hair falling across his forehead.

He should wash it off but the stain, it’s like a brand, reminding him of the press of your body against his as you kissed him goodbye. Your soft curves against his hard edges.

He wonders what would have happened if he decided not to be such a gentleman, if he’d kissed you the way that he had wanted to. If you would have yielded to him, or if like he suspects you’d be a force of nature, tearing the buttons off his shirt as he hiked that dress up your thighs, burying himself deep in you on that kitchen island.

He would have spent the rest of the night in your bed, his lips chasing over your skin, exploring every inch of you. Learning what made your breath hitch, your hands clutch the sheets, your back arch.

He strips off his shirt, tossing it in the laundry hamper but the mark stays, clinging to his skin the same way your perfume does.

When he steps into his bedroom, his gaze come to rest on his bed. The one that’s been empty since he killed Monica. He imagines you in the sheets, hair fanned out, skin flush and there’s a stirring in him one so strong that he ends up picking up his phone and texting your number.

I didn’t want to leave tonight…

You can always back, bring one of those fancy bottles of wine.

Tomorrow?

Actually, I was thinking tonight…

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

Companion piece to:

Cigars - Chicago's most feared mafia don comes home to find a surprise in his study.

You’re welcomed home by scent of lilies.

Flowers that have no place in your house because you certainly did not buy them. They rest on the sideboard in your open plan kitchen/dining space, a rich burgundy that reminds you of blood.

You lean against the doorframe, surveying the man standing at your kitchen island in a seven thousand dollar with the shirt sleeves rolled up and a navy-blue apron you certainly don’t own. He kneads dough on the counter, the veins in his muscular arms popping as he exudes a power that gets you more than a little wet between your legs.

“Pour yourself a glass of wine.” Dom says, jerking his head towards the uncorked bottle of red residing on the set kitchen table. There’s a crystal bowl of floating candles in the centre, each one hand carved into the shape of a lily. “I thought maybe we could talk about your proposal while we wait for the dough to rise.”

“So, you broke into my house to make dinner for me.” You say pushing off the doorframe and reaching for the wine. It’s a Pinot Noir that costs over $25k at retail because it’s from tiny 4-acre vineyard in Burgandy. You raise your eyebrows, your thumb running over the red wax seal before you begin to fill both glasses.

“You broke into my home first.” He reminds you, the edges of his eyes crinkling as he drives his knuckles into the dough. “I thought it was kind of our thing.”

Our thing…

The way he says it sends a rush of heat through your body as you carry the wine towards the kitchen island.

“The flowers…” You begin, and he looks up for the first time capturing your gaze. His eyes are warm and dark, like honey being dripped across your skin. Your teeth sink into your lower lip at the thought of that, his strong hands guiding your legs apart as he licks it off your inner thigh. His gaze fastens on the action, his pupils dilating.

“I’m an excellent house guest.” He informs you, the scar on his upper lip deepening as he gives you that salacious smile. “I always bring a gift for the host.”

Oh, you like him, really fucking like him. Those old-fashioned manners wrapped up in nontraditional values. You didn’t expect that from a man who runs the biggest crime syndicate in this state.

“So, what are you making me?” You say, using two fingers to push his wine glass towards him.

“Pizza.” He tells you as he folds the dough again, driving his palms into it. “My nonna used to make the best pie this side of Chicago, she passed it down me as a little boy.” His nonna also used launder cash and smuggle heroin through the dozens of pizzerias she owned throughout the city. She’d managed to walk away untouched when the indictment came down in the 70s, starting up her business once again when the heat died down. “I had to buy in some groceries though, I gather you’re not a stay at home and cook kinda gal.”

“I’m not.” You say, slipping into one of the stools at the kitchen island. “So, if you’re looking for a trad wife to fill that big empty house of yours…”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Trust me if that was what I wanted I have plenty of pretty young things lining up to take up the mantle.”

“I noticed.” You say, your fingertips playing along the stem of your wineglass. “I also noticed you didn’t seem particularly interested in any of them.”

“They don’t want me.” He says frankly as he rolls the dough into a ball between his hands. He reaches for the mixing bowl he’s lightly oiled before placing it inside and covering it with a damp towel. “They want the prestige that comes with fucking the Head of the Pascal Family.”

“It looks like you learned your lesson from Monica.” You remark, sipping from your wineglass. His head jerks up, that honey turning molten as he fixes you with stare makes you feel like you’re burning from the inside out. “Maybe not.”

“You know.” He states, his floured palms grasping the kitchen island, the skin across his knuckles tightening as he grips it. “That’s why you came to me about Vale?”

“Yes, I know she was his mole. That she was feeding him information on your operations to him over pillow talk while screwing him behind your back.” The words strike him like bullets, searing through his skin as he tries not to flinch. “You pretend to be the grieving widow but… we both know that her car accident wasn’t such an accident.”

“Who the fuck are you?” He snarls the words into the space between you, and in that moment you see the man from all those stories, the one that tore snitches apart by tying their wrists and ankles to two separate cars, who beat a cop to death for trying to extort him, leaving the body on the steps of his precinct. A betrayal like Monica’s, the punishment couldn’t be public like that. It was too intimate, too painful, it would have to look like an accident because anything else would mean that he was weak, that he’d let the snake into his bed and allowed himself to get bitten.

“You know who I am.” You say, swirling the wine around your glass. “And you know how I know what I know.”

He pauses, the cogs turning in his brain. You wait patiently, raising your glass to your lips as he clicks his fingers. “The sister.” His voice filled with disbelief. “The one that disappeared, the one that everyone thought the Flaconnis had burned alive in an oil drum out on the wastelands.”

“A good reason to go to war, no?” You say, your fingers hooking in the neckline of your dress, pulling the fabric away from your skin. His lips purse into a furious line as he takes in the bullet wound above your left breast, just shy of where your heart should be. “Since I didn’t want to marry, Stephen decided I was worth more to him dead. He put a bullet in me, dumped me on their land with the intention of gaining support from the other families so he could take over their territory. The only problem is he didn’t finish the job so when he went to get fuel for his little bonfire…”

“You escaped.” He summarises, his palm rubbing across his mouth as he stares at you. The edges of his lips curl up, an unexpected bark of laughter erupting from deep his chest. “The look on his fucking face when he came back to find you gone… I wish I could have seen it…”

A ghost of a smile crosses your lips as you release the fabric of your dress, covering the scar once more. “Honestly, I do too. I had enough of my own finances squirrelled away to vanish for a while, recover but now…”

“Now you want revenge.” He says, nodding his head with understanding.

“Yes. I know you do too for him turning Monica.” You say meeting his gaze. “I don’t give a shit about the rest of the organisation, you can have that, absorb it into your own. I just want to look him in the eyes as I pull the trigger, I want him to know it was me that terrorized him, that dismantled his life piece by piece.”

“What you’re asking for…” He leans over the counter, his elbows resting on it as it brings him into your proximity. You can smell the aftershave that clings to his skin. Agarwood, Turkish rose and amber. It’s a delectable scent, rich, smoky, woodsy with just the slightest floral hint to take the edge off. It tells of unspoken nights, of calloused hands roaming over bare skin, a gruff whisper in your ear as fingers squeeze your throat, raw heat driven deep into you. “…it’s going to require us working together… very closely. Things like this, they take time, planning.”

“I know.” You say conspiratory, tilting your face so the tip of your nose brushes light over his. “It’ll mean lots more wine, dinners, cigars, who knows what else we’ll get into.”

“I’ve been burned before…”

“I know.” You say earnestly, tapping the space above your heart. “So, have I. I can tell you I won’t betray you, but I know… it doesn’t make a difference, that actions speak louder than words so I… I actually have a gift for you.”

You break away, rising to your feet, returning to the purse you’ve left by the door. You dig around in it for a second, removing a black velvet box that usually used for bracelets. His eyebrows raise as you place it on the counter, sliding it towards him. He picks it up, his mouth flattening into a line as he open it, reviewing the item inside.

It’s a man’s finger, wrinkled and tanned with a huge gold signet ring attached to the base. In the centre is a polished red garnet, one that he recognises almost immediately as belonging his head of security.

“Monica wasn’t the only rat in your organization.” You inform him as he sets it down between the two of you. “Don’t worry, I took care of this one for you.”

Love Dom? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

Cigars.

The smell hits Dom as soon as he opens the door to the study inside his historical mansion overlooking Lake Michigan. Rich, deep, sophisticated. Each one goes for $136 million per single.

He stares at the woman sitting at his desk, his mouth turning dry at the sight of you. Little black dress that reads classy but dangerous, patent leather fuck me heels that almost make him bite his lip. His fingers flex, coiling into a fist at his side. He hasn’t felt much desire since Monica died, but he feels the heat searing through him as he drinks you in.

“You here to kill me?” He asks closing the door quietly behind him. Some days he thinks death would be a welcome change. He’s the most feared man in this city but his life has become a gilded cage. Stilted, dull. He craves the excitement of the early days, his wild bloody era.

You take a drag of the cigar, your sultry lips wrapping around it in a way that makes his dick twitch in his trousers. You let out a long stream of smoke, your eyes flickering to him as if he’s finally worthy of your attention.

He can’t explain why that does a little something for him, why it makes him want to get on his knees and…

“No.” Your voice light, sultry, like the opening notes to Beethoven’s Für Elise. “I’m not here to kill you. I actually have a proposition.”

“Hm.” Dom strides towards you with purpose. You don’t flinch when he arrives in your proximity, you stay exactly where you are as his palms come to rest on the ebony desk, his thumbs lightly brushing along the hem of your dress. His hips settle between your knees, pushing them even further apart. The dress rides just a little bit higher, revealing lace stocking tops that make his dick throb. “And why should I trust the person who broke into my home, and is currently sitting on my desk, smoking my cigars?”

“You have a dozen of these fucking things.” You remind him, blowing a puff of smoke into his face. He inhales it like a narcotic, wondering what it would feel like to taste it off your lips. “And we both want the same thing.”

“And that is…” He lets the words hang between you, his gaze locking on yours. Your eyes, they sparkle like stars high up in the nighttime sky, drawing him in, ensnaring him.

You set down the cigar in the crystal ashtray, your fingertips playing along the lapels of his $45,000 dollar suit, adjusting them as you lean in closer, your lips almost brushing over his,

“Well Dom.” You say his name with a familiarity that sends a wildfire coursing through his nervous system. “We both want Stephen Vale dead.”

Love Dom? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Before you join the taglist make sure to read the rules here as you otherwise you won’t be added.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

"Primary survey," Abbot says.

Parker looks up from the head of the bed. "Airway patent."

You slip your stethoscope into your ears. The patient's respirations are fast and uneven. You listen to the right, then the left. "Markedly reduced breath sounds on the left."

"What's your next step?" Abbot asks.

"Treat the breathing first. Likely a pneumothorax."

"How?"

"Insert a chest tube."

He nods once. "Good. Do it."

Without hesitation, you pull open the sterile tray as Parker preps the left side. Abbot remains just behind your shoulder. Close enough that you're aware of him. Far enough that he never gets in your way.

"Find your landmarks."

You palpate along the ribs. "There."

"That's it, Trouble," he murmurs into your ear.

You make an incision.

"Steady," Abbot says.

You spread the tissues with the clamp. His shoulder brushes yours as he leans in to watch. With one final push, you enter the pleural space.

"Go on."

You withdraw the clamp and slide a gloved finger into the opening. A sharp hiss of escaping air fills the room.

"Good. You're in," Abbot says quietly.

You sweep once, confirming the tract before guiding the chest tube along your finger and into the pleural space.

"Breath sounds improved," Parker calls, listening with her stethoscope.

You secure the tube while Vivi connects it to the drainage system. Abbot reaches in briefly to inspect the dressing before stepping back.

"Good placement," he murmurs before shifting his focus to the pelvis. Your heart skips a beat, but it's probably just the adrenaline.

The rest of the trauma goes smoothly. Parker secures the pelvic binder while you help splint the femur. Massive transfusion is activated, and the patient's blood pressure begins to climb. Once the primary and secondary surveys are complete, the patient heads to CT.

As the bed disappears through the doors, the room finally exhales. You strip off your gloves and gown before making your way back to the hub.

Abbot trails behind you. "Good work in there," he says, resting a hand against the counter beside you.

You grin. "You're a good teacher."

"Careful," he says, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You'll give me an ego."

Before you can answer, a plastic cup lands beside your elbow with a quiet thud, ice cubes clinking against each other.

You glance up, where Shen offers you an apologetic smile. "For jinxing your night. Hope you can forgive me."

You laugh. "I wasn't really mad."

"Still." He rubs the back of his neck. "You've got a rep—I'd rather stay on your good side." He nudges the coffee toward you before giving your shoulder an easy pat as he steps away.

When you turn back, Abbot is staring after him. His eyes are slightly narrowed.

"He said the Q-word," you explain.

One brow lifts. His eyes drop to the coffee.

You lift it slightly. "Want a sip?"

"No." Silence settles between you. He picks up a tablet, his thumb hovering over the screen. "...Can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You transferred to nights."

You nod, turning the lid to catch the straw. "Yeah?"

He glances toward the hallway where Shen disappeared, then back at you. "Shen works nights."

You pause halfway to taking a sip. "…He does."

"Was that part of the reason?"

You stare at him for a second, then you laugh. "Oh my God."

"What?"

"You think I switched shifts for Shen?"

He studies you for a moment before answering. "You didn't?"

You shake your head. "I switched because I wanted more trauma."

"And not because of Shen?"

You smile. "Is that what you've been thinking?"

He looks away. Something almost imperceptible loosens in his posture. "Maybe."

You look at him for a moment, tapping the plastic slowly with your fingers. "You've been thinking about why I changed shifts?"

Abbot hesitates. "…I was curious." He glances at the board before looking back at you. "I've been trying to get you onto nights for months."

You hum.

He gives a small shrug. "Then you suddenly transferred."

"And you thought it was because of Shen?"

Another shrug. "It crossed my mind."

"Well, it wasn't." A smile tugs at your lips. "But I'm flattered you noticed."

He meets your eyes, chin dipping. "I pay attention to everyone I work with."

You fight back a smile. "Mm."

His brows knit slightly as he turns more toward you. "You got plenty of trauma on days, though."

"Not like this."

"What's different?"

"The volume. The acuity."

He waits.

You shrug. "There's more trauma overnight."

"Is that all?"

You suck in your cheek. "…And the teaching."

He nods once. "The teaching?"

"Yeah."

"What about it?"

You look at him. "Well... You..." The word slips out before you can stop it. "I mean—you explain things well."

His eyebrows lift. "You switched because of me?"

Heat rushes into your face. "No—that's…"

"No?"

"That's not what I meant."

"Could've fooled me." Abbot's mouth twitches. His lips part to say something, but the slam of the ambulance bay doors cuts him off.

Across the department, Shen catches your eye and throws both hands into the air. "Sorry!"

You laugh.

Beside you, Abbot bumps your shoulder lightly. "Ready for another one, Trouble?"

You set the untouched coffee back on the counter and give him a sideways look. "With you? I suppose I could do worse."

"I know. I'm apparently a good teacher."

Rockstar - Brendon Park meets his match against PTMC’s fiery new attending.

Pussy Wagon - A spilled drink leads you to see a different side of your nemesis Park The Shark.

The First Time (NSFW) - Fireworks aren’t the only explosive thing happening at Jesse’s Fourth of July party.

A Loaded Gun (NSFW) - Hate sex has never been so fucking hot…

This Is Not A Love Story - Brandon tries to set a rule after a ‘sticky’ situation.

The Game - Brendon finds himself breaking his own rules when it comes to you.

Tell. Me. To. Stop (NSFW) - Jealousy is not an emotion Brendon Park is accustomed to.

Pittfest -Brendon comforts you when you fall apart after the events of Pittfest.

Is He Prettier Than Me? - Brandon gets curious when he learns you have other plans.

Confetti (NSFW) - Brendon Park doesn't do night clubs...

The Drawer - Brendon realises your relationship may be shifting when he discovers he has a drawer at your place.

Scrunchies - Scrunchies… they’re the downfall of Brendon Park.

Love Games (NSFW) - Brendon and you love to play games, especially with each other.

An Exquisite Form of Torture (NSFW) - Brendon continues to turn up the heat as he holds you captive.

Authentic - You and Jesse discuss your situationship with Brendon after you see him with another woman.

THAT Guy - Brendon is forced to face up to his feelings for you when he finds out your meeting up with an ex.

Seven Days - Seven days is far too long to go without you…

Save It - A thirty six hour shift leads to another admission about your relationship with Brendon.

Doctor Dick - Brendon’s day takes a turn when Whitaker gives him some critical information.

A Manipulative Fuck - You and Brendon discuss what happened with your ex.

The Call (NSFW) - Brendon decides to put a stop to David’s calls once and for all.

The One That Hates The Ravens - David’s attempt at revenge backfires spectacularly.

The Lovin Spoonful - You wake up to an unexpected surprise.

Delete, Block, Rinse, Repeat - A series of cryptic messages force Brendon to confront a secret he’s been keeping for almost a decade.

His Father’s Son - Brendon reflects on the past as he debates taking that first sip of whiskey.

The Cost of Dignity - Brendon’s greatest secret comes with a cost.

A Kiss For Luck - Brendon struggles to navigate working at the hospital after the release of THAT video.

The Craziest Fucking Thing - You take matters into your own hands after receiving bad news from Brendon.

Ride Or Die - You wake up to the sound of an angry blender after Brendon discovers what happened with Rowena.

Baby Shark - Once a year Brendon always ends up back at the aquarium.

Diamonds (NSFW) - A bet leads to naughty shenanigans in a five star restaurant.

The Call Out - Brendon’s focus on wedding planning is disrupted when he’s called out to the scene of a multi-car pile up.

Good Hands - Abbot reminds Brendon you’re in good hands as they proceed with the amputation.

Flayed - Brendon’s world crashes down as he learns the truth about the accident.

Ten Things I Love About You - Brendon discovers a pink envelope in the pocket of the jacket you were wearing at the time of the accident.

The Parent Trap - Brendon faces your parents, leading to a surprise revelation.

Sledgehammer - Brendon struggles to cope in the aftermath of everything that’s happened.

Et Tu Marianne? - Your mother throws Brendon under the bus after you wake up from surgery.

Roses - Brendon is forced to deal with a vindictive POS when a dozen red roses are delivered to your door.

The Fucking Patient - Abbot has some harsh words for Brendon regarding your care.

Chemistry - You and Brendon finally have a moment alone to talk.

A Serial Absconder - Your habit of disappearing leads to a healing journey Brendon doesn’t expect.

The Best the Ravens Have Ever Looked (NSFW) - Brendon has a real problem with your shorts.

Home - Brendon introduces you to your new home after the accident.

The Change Up - When you struggle to reacclimate at home Brendon realises you need a change up.

The Body Pillow - Brendon and you settle in for your first night at the new house.

Rae Days - You're forced to navigate your new limitations when Brendon returns to work full time.

The Liberator - Brandon asks Abbot's for advice with a very particular problem.

Grounded - Brendon gets a surprise when his brother turns up on his doorstep unexpectedly.

You’re in the shower when Brendon gets home from the hospital. He can hear the water running as he strips the jacket from his shoulders and leans over to unfasten the laces on his sneakers. His lower back twinges, the penance he pays for spending an entire eight-hour surgery on his feet. Back in his twenties he could pull that shit off and then spend the night clubbing. Now he’s in his forties, he’s starting to feel the aches and pains of his age, no matter how much exercise he does.

He hisses through his teeth as he straightens, pain shooting right up his vertebrae. The Tylenol he’s taking isn’t touching it, he needs to lie down, to re-align his spine…

He’s an old man with a bad back.

Abbot’s words about Robby flit through his brain as he thinks of The Liberator Jaz currently stashed underneath the bed, hidden because Tommy had been here when it arrived. There are somethings you just don’t share with your fiancée in front of your half-brother, the sex cushion is certainly one of them.

“I suppose it couldn’t hurt to give it a try.” He tells himself, sneaking a glance at the closed bathroom door. You usually do two shampoos and one conditioning cycle, then you have to dry yourself and get back into your wheelchair. That should buy him a little personal time with the sex cushion.

It takes him a second to nudge it out from underneath the bed with his foot. His jaw clenches as he bends down to pick it up, teeth grinding against the pain of the stretch. He sets the cushion down on the mattress, trying to figure out the best position before he turns it upside down, so its flatter edge is at the top, the curved part at the bottom.

He lies down, rolling it along the small of his back to find the right position. He lets out a low groan as he feels several of the bones pop, releasing the pressure in his spine as he flexes his hips back and forth.

“Should I be concerned that I just walked in on you air humping a sex cushion?” Your voice breaks through his momentary relief as he turns his head to look at you. Your damp hair falls across the white t-shirt of his that you’re wearing as you pat it dry with a hand towel.

“This really isn’t what it looks like.” He informs you, his hips arching as more vertebrae pop.

“Yeah, ok.” You toss the towel into the laundry hamper before setting the break on your wheelchair. He watches as you transfer yourself onto the mattress alongside him, your fingertips skating over the edging of the sex aid. “Is it as good as it looks?”

“You want to try?” He asks, lifting himself off The Liberator, inviting you to experiment with it.

His back is already in a much better state than it was when he walked through the door. He can see why Robby and Jesse may have invested in one of these, especially outside of the bedroom.

You shimmy into his previously occupied space, lying back, settling yourself on the cushion. You tilt your hips back and forth, arching with the motion of the cushion and it reminds Brendon of nights back in his condo, him sitting in the chair at the end of the bed as he watched you writhe in his sheets fucking your fingers exactly the way he told you to.

“If we were to…” Your blush is adorable as you fumble for the words as he pointedly ignores the erection pressing urgently against the zipper of his jeans. The poor thing has had bluebells since that hand job you gave him in the hospital. “How would it work?”

“Can I show you?” His voice is husky, twinged with a deep yearning as he awaits your answer.

You nod shyly and he climbs onto his hands and knees, caging you in. His blue eyes are a tempestuous ocean, the tide drawing you under as he crawls along the length of your body like a predator, situating himself between your legs.

His hips meet yours, tipping the cushion back, elevating them so that the length of his throbbing cock is nestled right against that needy pussy. He guides your thighs around his waist, the space below your knee hooking just underneath his ass, drawing him closer. His palm grasps your waist, squeezing lightly through the thin cotton, thumb tracing soothing circles as you stare up at him with eager eyes, hair fanning across the pillows.

“So, we can do it with me above you like this so I can get a good thrust-” Your breath catches as he demonstrates, the motion sending a delicious burst of electricity crackling through your nerve endings. “Or…” He drapes himself over you, his skin like liquid fire through his waffled henley as his mouth lingers in your proximity, so dangerously close. “…we could try something like this which I think is a lot more intimate.”

Your hand cards through his dark strands as his nose trails along yours, his lips a gentle tease as they brush over yours, not quite kissing. “And if I flip it over?”

“I can fuck you doggy style. Pull your hair, spank that sexy ass of yours.” He murmurs the words like an unspoken promise, rocking his pelvis against yours as he supports your limb by holding it in place against his hipbone. “Or we can take it slow and do something a little like this from behind, my hands pinning yours to the bed as I fuck you like the night I proposed.”

“What about oral?” You ponder with purpose and he gives you that wicked grin, the one that speaks of wild nights and deviance. “How would that work with the cushion?”

“Let’s find out, shall we?” His mouth leaves a heated trail down your throat as he drives a knee between your thighs, the rough denim caressing your clit like a filthy kiss.

“Fuck.” You drawl, your head tipping back into the pillow as he grips the fabric of the t-shirt in his fist, yanking it up so that he has access to that pretty dusting between your legs.

“Oh, I’ve missed her.” He mumbles against your inner thigh, the five o’clock shadow that lines his jaw scraping across your tender skin. Your knees settle over his shoulders perfectly, the angle of the cushion presenting you to his demanding tongue. He licks a long strip from slit to clit making you buck up against him unbidden. “I think she’s missed me too from the way you’re leaking all over my tongue.”

This shit, it’s what Harry Styles wrote that stupid song about, the one you’ve been playing in the kitchen everytime you make dinner together. His lips ghost over you, a flutter of butterfly kisses that touch everywhere but the place you desperately want.

“Don’t tease.” You plead, your fingers threading through his hair, grasping at the roots. His scalp lights up, a pulse of need resonating through his entire body as his restraint snaps. He delves in like a man starved, thumb stroking over that naughty pearl as his tongue plunges inside you.

You cry out at the action, thrusting his face even deeper into your cunt and he moans, the low hum vibrating right through your pussy.

“Do that again.” You command.

He repeats the motion as you clench around his tongue, the tune to Watermelon Sugar emitting from low in his throat as you hit the crescendo of the chorus. The rapture tears the breath right out of you, your cum soaking his face as he revels in your first orgasm since the accident. His tongue is forced out of you by the spasm but like the good boy he is, he cleans up the mess he’s made, licking up every drop of that sweetness as you fall back against the pillows, your arm thrown up over your face.

“Was that fucking Harry Styles?” You accuse, trying to stifle your laugh as his mouth nips at your inner thigh playfully.

“That is between me and this gorgeous pussy.” He informs you, using his fingers to slap your clit, eliciting another moan.

“You’re fucking terrible.” You grasp his pillow from his side of the bed and hit him with it. He catches it before you can do it again, wrenching it from your grasp, catching a glimpse of your infectious grin.

He was worried that this might be a little too much, that you may feel overwhelmed but that is clearly not the case if you’re assaulting him. He hurls the pillow onto back towards its rightful place before gently guiding your legs back onto the bed. He eases The Liberator out from underneath you, tossing it off the mattress to strip and wash in the morning.

“So how do we rate our new toy?” He asks you, planting sultry kisses up along your waist. “I think it’s a solid eight when it comes to oral.”

“We’ll need further testing before we can grade properly it but for now….” You reach for your phone on the nightstand.

“What are you…” He catches a glimpse of your screen as he collapses into the space next to you. “Is that a spreadsheet?”

You slap the phone down on your chest, your cheeks flushing as he starts to laugh. “I’m not pissed, I just… I have one too.”

“You do not!”

“I promise you I do.” He informs you, realising his phone still resides in the pocket of the jacket hanging up in the hall. “I started it last night when you and Tommy where binging Widow’s Bay.”

“I want to see.” You demand and he props his head up on palm.

“You aren’t even going to let me bathe in after glow.” He pouts mournfully, pulling a sad face. “Must I be a slave to your whims?”

The pillow is back in your hands, and he fends off the attack by capturing your wrists and dragging you on top of him instead.

“Five minutes.” He lays out his terms, nudging your nose with his. “Five minutes of cuddle time, and then you can see my spreadsheet.”

“Fine.” You agree, settling against him, your stump draping over his thigh as he wraps his arms around you, cradling you lose. “You get five minutes, and I hope to God there’s colour coded tabs.”

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