bambi

Jack’s sassy gf! who is the only one allowed to call Jack old (she means it affectionately), that's her old man okay! If you hear someone make a comment about him when the two of you are out on a date. You spin on your heel so fast, hair flipping as you spin, more than ready to fight a bitch. “What was that?”

Jack’s sassy gf! that walks with a natural sway to her hips that hypnotizes Jack when you speed walk ahead of him whining out — “You’re going too slow baby” He catches up soon after and swats you lightly on the ass for the comment before grabbing your hand.

Jack’s sassy gf! that knows how to get her way when she’s pissed Jack off with her attitude one too many times. “Come on old man, please” you plead, looking up at him through your batting eyelashes, running your hand down the bulge in his pants. He hisses through his teeth and squeezes his eyes shut knowing you’ll get what you want.

Jack’s sassy gf! who is a brat about 24/7 so much so it is a little exhausting for Jack to keep up with her and correct her. It’s his fault for spoiling you so much. 

Jack’s sassy gf! who is rather blunt and it surprises him sometimes, never holding back from telling him how something makes you feel. 

Jack’s sassy gf! who loses all her fight and sass when he has her spread out under him, fucking into her leaking pussy. “S’ too much Jack!” you whine and all he can do is tsk and shake his head — “Where’d all ya’ sass go princess? Huh brat? Got no comeback’s for your old man when he’s fucking you dumb?” you can only babble and shake your head, clawing at his forearms that pin your body down.

Jack’s sassy gf! who after losing a fight with jack about something will continue to mumble her argument under her breath. You just know you’re right and it’s very hard to listen to Jack, you don’t accept being wrong.

Jack’s sassy gf! that has been stopped short of making snarky comments in public multiple times by Jack. He will butt in to stop you by derailing the conversation, or he will squeeze your hand a little tighter than normal so you get the message. You do normally make Jack let out a little chuckle at some of your comments but sometimes it’s not the right time.

Jack’s sassy gf! who is baffled when he dishes it right back to her. “Where’s all this sassy coming from old man?” you scoff and roll your eyes as you continue what you were doing. “You must be rubbing off on me Princess” he shakes his head. If he is a little more sassy than usual after a while of dating you while at work, no one seems to make a comment about it. Probably because they’d like you to not bite their head off.

eventually you two end up dating, and you feel like you’re rescuing him from this insanity he came from.

you end up pushing for him to get a morning and evening skincare routine, often forcing this intimidating older man to do little face masks and test new rituals with you.

dragging him to the gym in the mornings and training for very different reasons.. pope is practically breaking his fists while you’ve hit minute 40 of the fasted cardio + pilates duo you’ve been doing for years

you’re very aware and focused on your own mental health, and you finally convince pope to do the same. it’s no secret he’s a little fucked up, but you’ve accepted every part of him, even the bad ones. you help him find a good therapist and work through all the bullshit he’d gone through growing up.

treating sex as the most intimate and soft time with him, he’s allowed to cry, he’s allowed to feel. you hold him and comfort him during these vulnerable moments and eventually it gets so much easier for him to relax and genuinely enjoy sex.

sunday resets where he comes over and helps you clean, you dust and he’ll scrub the floors. you let him organize whatever he wants to in your little apartment. you’ll get a few loads of laundry done and he’ll fold it. it becomes such a sacred and perfect routine between the two of you.

today was undoubtedly one of the hottest indiana has ever seen. and of course, with the luck that your and your friends had, the AC at the squawk went down last night. you and robin had stood outside with flashlights in hand as steve fumbled with the fuses and plugs and such for an hour. no luck.

which meant for the station had an entire night to incubate with the blazing heat. walking in this morning felt like you had literally stepped into hell.

irritated was a massive understatement. you were hot, annoyed, bloated and puffy from your incoming period, extremely irritable, and exhausted all at once. it made for the worst combination in a situation like this.

and steve… oh bless him. he was just trying to be the supportive, sweet boyfriend in a time like this. and he was certainly in an affectionate mood— one where he was all soft and just wanted to cling to you at all times. the two of you had been practically cooking in the heat of the sound booth as you played each tape robin had requested and his idea of passing time meant touching any prt of you possible. and fortunately enough for her, she was out at the gas station grabbing some more ice for your water bottles to help cool you all down.

once you felt the uncomfortable beading of sweat form at your hairline, you stepped out and into the small living area, reaching into the fridge for some sort of snack. you could hear footsteps approaching.

steve slid up right behind you, his chest pressing against your back and his strong arms winding around your hips to hold you close. he buried his face in the crook of your neck and peppered sweet kisses to the skin there. “you smell so good, honey,” his voice a low, deep rumble that typically would make you melt.

but today, you just felt like a ball of raw, explosive nerves. you were so overwhelmed and hot and every single touch— even from steve— brought you closer to your break of overstimulation. the heat of his body against yours didn’t feel romantic like usual, it felt suffocating.

you stiffed and wiggled away from him, shoving his arms off of you in the process with a sharp, frustrated huff. “steve, seriously? get off,” you snapped, not even looking back at him as you closed the fridge and moved to the pile of unorganized records.

he blinked, frozen in the same position as he watched you aggressively shove the sleeves back into their intended place. he looked at you with these big, soulful eyes that made him look exactly like a kicked puppy. “i just wanted to be close to you,” he spoke softly, sounding genuinely hurt.

ten minutes later, he’s sauntered back in to find you on your knees, still organizing records. he leaned down over your shoulder, lips brushing the shell of your ear and his hands squeezing at your hips affectionately.

“stop touching me!” you snapped, practically jumping out of your skin to create distance between the two of you. “can you just leave me alone for a second? it’s a hundred degrees in here and i feel like i’m fucking melting. just… stop!”

steve visibly deflated as he stepped back. he didn’t get mad— he never really did the whole ‘angry’ thing with you— but he looked utterly defeated. he stood there for a moment too long, hands twitching at his sides uselessly, staring at you as if he couldn’t understand why his love was being completely rejected.

“i’m just trying to be sweet,” he whispered, his tone sounding small, guilty, and hurt.

you didn’t even look up from the records. “yeah, well your ‘sweetness’ is making me want to scream right now. just give me some space, steve.”

that was his breaking point. the kicked puppy look shifted into something much deeper. a flicker of tiredness behind steve’s eyes. he had spent the last four hours trying to be the most affectionate, attentive, and understanding boyfriend in a situation like this to lighten your sour mood. even ignoring the uncomfortable drip of sweat from his skin just to put your comfort first and all he got in return was snarky remarks and sharp shoves.

he sighed, a long, heavy sound that signaled a change in his mood. he didn’t move towards you this time. instead, he stepped back and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall to watch you for a moment. the warmth in his gaze never vanished, but it was now tempered with a new simmering frustration.

“right. space. got it,” he said, his voice losing that sweet, playful edge and instead becoming dull and flat.

he didn’t try touching you anymore, just stood and watched you with that quiet, disappointed intensity. he wasn’t mad or upset with you, he was just tired of being the punching bag for your changing hormones. the silence that filled the room was suffocating and heavy. for the first time all day, the lack of his touch had felt suspiciously loud.

after another hour of organizing, the two of you were back in the stuffy control room, the space feeling even smaller with the stifling heat. the air was stagnant and the only sound heard was the low hum if equipment and the muffled tune of the song through the headphones.

steve was slouched back in the chair beside yours, entirely too comfortable and his legs spread too wide. his jean clad knee was pressed up against yours, attracting even more heat to your skin. he was playing with a rubik’s cube and failing miserably. after another minute or so of turning it endlessly, he dropped it down onto the desk and let his hand idly wander over to your bare thigh before he could even realize he was doing it.

you picked it up by his finger and tugged him off, letting his hand fall back into his own lap.

he looked at you then. the tight line of your clenched jaw, the way your brows pinched towards each other out of irritation, how your arms crossed over your chest like a physical wall you’ve just put up. he felt that familiar sting of rejection immediately. but he wasn’t ready to give up, not yet. he truly believed that if he could just make you smile a little, if he could crack the shell of your bad mood, everything would revert back to normal.

he shifted a little closer, practically trying to conjoin by your sides, completely ignoring the fact that you’re both almost sweating through your clothes. he leaned in, his voice dropping down to a playful, teasing whisper that always managed to make you giggle.

“you know,” he murmured, a small, hopeful grin tugging at the corner of his lips. “i’ve heard the best cure for a bad mood is a very handsome boyfriend. and lucky for you, i’m right here. free of charge.”

he punctuated the end of his joke with a soft nudge to your shoulder. that alone would’ve been enough to make you crack a smile.

except you didn’t. instead, you sighed and rolled your eyes. “shut up, steve,” you retorted, your voice cold and sharp. “you’re not being funny, you’re being annoying. please, for the love of god, just stop talking and stop trying to touch me.”

the grin vanished instantly. his face fell as he recoiled back slightly as if the words hit him like a physical blow. he looked at you, his expression shifting from hopeful to genuinely bewildered. he wasn’t just feeling like a punching bag anymore, he felt like there was a real resentment towards him. he was trying everything— the sweetness, the humor, the patience— and you were treating him like he was a complete inconvenience.

the door to the booth swung open to reveal robin with two iced coffee’s in hand. “hey, so i got the ice and figured i’d get us something cold to—“ her gaze darting between the two of you, noticing the hard line of steve’s clenched jaw and the way your body was radiating anger. she took note of the immediate tension simmering in the heat of the room. “yikes. did someone die in here orrrr…”

steve didn’t answer, he just looked at her desperately for some kind if support, and then back to you. he tried one last time, a tentative, barely there brush of your hands.

that was the final straw. you pulled away like you’d been burned. “i can’t do this. i can’t deal with you right now!” you snapped, so incredibly overwhelmed and overstimulated that you could seriously just break down and cry right here.

steve’s hand stayed suspended in the air for a heartbeat before he slowly pulled it back. the soft, pleading eyes were gone. the tiredness was too. it shifted into something much colder and harder now. something much more assertive. he didn’t say a word to either of you, just stood and grabbed his keys from the small rack by the door with a sharp clink. “we’re leaving.” there was no room for argument.

the ride home was suffocatingly silent. his hands were practically white-knuckling the steering wheel the entire ride home. he didn’t touch you once. the lack of his hands on you, which felt like an annoyance an hour again, now had the air in the car feeling ominous and heavy.

the moment you guys were in the apartment, the cool air hit the two of you like a truck, yet the tension was still boiling. steve didn’t let you get settled, instead, his hands were on your waist with a firm grip as he guided you into your shared bedroom and shut the door behind him with his foot. it made you gulp.

he was on the verge of breaking. he turned you towards him and stepped back to create distance between the two of you. “alright, you done with your little tantrum now?” he asked, his hands on his hips like an angry father. “you gonna tell me what your problem is now? i have spent the last eight hours trying to be the best boyfriend i could possibly be. i’ve been sweet, i’ve been patient, i’ve tried to make you laugh— and you’ve just been treating me like shit all day. like i’m something you have to tolerate.”

“i told you, i’m just hot! you’re acting like i’m some big villain for not wanting you all over me when it was a thousand degrees in there,” you shot back, though your voice wavered slightly under the intensity of his gaze. “all i asked for was some space!”

steve let out a sharp, mocking laugh, his eyes darkening. “space? you didn’t want space. you wanted a punching back.” he stepped forward into your space, his presence suddenly overwhelming. “it was never about you being hot or wanting space. it’s about the things you said to me and the way you spoke to me.” before you could react, he pushed at your shoulders, not hard enough to hurt but enough to make you fall back. your bottom hit the bed, your palms flying by your hips to keep you upright.

he didn’t give you even a second to breathe. he stepped between your thighs, cornering you against the bed with his large frame hovering over you and blocking out the rest of the room. he reached down, his fingers gripping your chin firmly as he tipped it up so you were forced to look at him.

the sweetness was completely gone, now replaced by a smoldering, dominant heat that made your stomach feel all tingly. he looked so devastatingly hot right now— his hair slightly messy from the day, his eyes narrowed and piercing. he looked like he was done playing nice.

“you’ve been acting like a little brat all day,” he said, his voice dropping to that low dangerous purr that vibrated in your chest. he gave your chin a little shake, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip in a way that was demanding and possessive.

a small, mocking smirk played on his lips, his gaze scanning your face as if he was analyzing every bit of your stubbornness. “you think you can just be mean to me all day and then… what? go to bed like everything is fine?” he clicked his tongue and shook his head. “i don’t think so.”

he leaned in closer, his breath slow and controlled as it hit your skin in warm bursts. his scent was intoxicating from this distance. the grip on your chin tightened just enough to remind you who was in control. “say it,” he commanded, his voice dropping to that familiar octave that was nothing but raw and assertive. “apologize for being so mean to me today.”

even with steve looming over you, clearly in full control, you couldn’t help it. irritability was still humming through your body. you rolled your eyes and tried to pull your face away from him. it was no use. “i’m not apologizing,” you muttered, your voice still laced with that stubborn, snooty tone. “you’re just being dramatic.”

steve’s eyes flared, a dark, dangerous glint flickering behind them as he stared at you. he didn’t argue, didn’t plead. instead, he let out a deep guttural chuckle that sent chills down your body. “dramatic? of honey, you have no idea how dramatic i can be when i’ve been pushed.”

before you could snap back, he was lifting you in one fluid motion and flipping your position so he was sat at the edge of the bed with you straddling his thighs. one hand wrapped around the column of your throat— not squeezing, just resting— while the other tangled in your hair and pulled you into a searing kiss.

you gasped against him in surprise as he tugged on your roots to tilt your head back and gain more leverage over you. the force that he kissed you with was borderline predatory.

it was hungry and messy and completely uninhibited. your mouths moved together with a wet, slapping sound as your tongues tangled in a frantic battle for dominance. steve tasted like strawberries and the gatorate he’d been drinking at the station, a mix that made your head spin. he groaned deep in his throat, a vibration you could feel in your own chest he sucked your lower lip into his mouth, tugging on it hard before letting it snap back.

you fought back, hands roaming across his chest and neck, pulling him in closer as if you were trying to merge your bodies into one. you bit at his lower, a sharp, playful nip that drew a long hiss from him. he responded by deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping across the wet cavern of your mouth, claiming every corner and tasting every inch. his hands moved down to your hips, rolling them into his own.

the sounds each of you made were primal— wet, sloppy noises of tongues sliding against tongues, punctuated by deep ragged breaths for air that you both forgot you even needed. every time you broke away for a second of oxygen, it was only to snap back together with even more intensity, your lips bruising each others in their haste.

steve’s hands left your lips to fumble with the buckle of his belt, quickly shoving his jeans and boxers down to his knees and freeing himself while sucking on the pink muscle of your tongue. he was painfully hard already. he gave himself a few slow strokes while his free hand pulled your shorts and panties to the side, running his tip through your leaking slit.

he pushed into you with a devastatingly slow thrust, hands coming back to rest on your hips to keep you flush against him. you pulled away to let your head fall back in overwhelming fullness. he was fucking loving it.

he smiled up at you with that stupid cocky grin, knowing he was pressed right up against your cervix, making you go completely soft on him. “yeah? this was all you needed? just had to get you all dumb on my cock?” he teased before leaning forward to suck deep purple marks into your skin. “ready to apologize yet?”

you bit down on your puffy lip to suppress a moan, your stomach tensing every time he’d readjust the slightest bit. the stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, but you could surely feel the building pressure from the lack of warming up.

he took your silence as your answer, nodding slowly with that sly grin pulling at his lips. “got it. you still wanna be difficult then?” he asked, pushing up even further into you. your nails dug into his shoulders as you whimpered, feeling impossibly full. “that’s fine, honey. have it your way.”

“fuck you, steve,” you tried to snap out, instead, it just sounded like a pleading beg.

he smiled at you like he’d just received the best invitation of his life. “oh baby,” his hands moved to grab handfuls of your ass, holding you up just slightly as his voice rumbled. “i will.” his fingers dug into your skin with a bruising force as he thrust up into your sopping cunt with a violence that knocked the wind out of you. he buried his cock so deep inside that it felt like he was trying to reach your soul.

“you just can’t help yourself, can you?” he mocked, his voice dark and triumphant as he watched you absolutely eat this up. “you want to be all mouthy and bratty, but you fuckin’ love it when i take over, isn’t that right? love when i put you in your place?”

the moan that spilled from your lips was borderline pornographic as he fucked you with a slow, punishing rhythm that made you feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your gummy walls. he moved his hands to your hips, forcing you to take every single inch as he steered your body to meet his thrusts.

it was embarrassing how fast you could feel the coil in your stomach twisting tighter. he just looked so sexy like this— all dominant and messy and dark. you’d rarely seen this side of him.

every single punch of his mushroom tip against your cervix was a declaration of his ownership. he was driving into you with everything he had, his breath somehow still so slow and controlled while you were falling apart above him.

he began to pick up his pace rapidly, relentlessly pounding up into you. your eyes stung with tears as he stretched you out so perfectly, pulling you down to meet each thrust just to push himself deeper inside of you.

“that’s it, baby. fuckin’ take it,” he gritted through his teeth, his voice strained and raw. “feel every inch of me. want you to remember exactly how it feels when i’m the one in charge.” smack. his hand landed heavy against your bottom, making the unshed tears gush down your cheeks as the pleasure became overwhelming.

he moaned loud and unapologetic at the feel of your cunt squeezing him. “you’re so tight,” he groaned, his cockiness returning full force. “you love this, don’t you pretty girl? you love it when i stop being all sweet and kind and just take what i need.”

you couldn’t even scream. the only sounds coming out were little broken whimpers and cries as he hit that certain spot over and over again while you clung helplessly to his shoulders. “oh! mmph! i’m sorry, stevie! fuck, i’m— i’m sorry! please! oh god, please!”

steve let out a low, triumphant sound, but he didn’t stop. instead, he slowed down just enough to let the friction build, his eyes hooded and shimmering with something you couldn’t make out. he leaned in, his lips grazing your jawline, but he didn’t kiss you. instead, he let out a quiet hum.

“what was that?” he mocked, his voice a teasing and arrogant purr. he leaned in further, letting his lips ghost over the shell of your ear. “i didn’t hear you, sweetheart. are you sorry for being a mean little brat to me? are you sorry for treating me like trash all day?”

he didn’t wait for an answer from you. he began to pull out, slowly, agonizingly, until he was almost completely gone, only to drive right back in with a devastating, slow-motion punch. he wasn’t just fucking you anymore, he was claiming you. pushing deep into your guts, forcing you to feel every single inch of his cock as he stretched you open.

“god, this pussy’s so tight, honey,” he groaned, his voice now a thick, sultry drawl. “so fuckin’ pretty. just look at how she’s gripping me… she’s practically begging for it.”

he gave you a slow, deliberate roll of his hips, making you gasp and arch into him as he stretched you wide. he sounded and looked completely enamored by your body, but his teasing edge still hadn’t left. it was a reminder that he knew exactly how much power he had over you in this moment.

“it’s such a shame, really,” he whispered, his voice dripping with mock sympathy and he stared at the way your lips stretched around him. “it’s too bad you’ve been such a brat today. truly a tragedy.”

his hands slipped under the hem of your shirt to hold you waist, pulling you even closer to him as his cock pulses inside your warmth. “i would’ve loved to get my mouth on her,” he purred, his voice suggestive and dangerous. “i would’ve spent hours between these pretty legs, eating you out, tasting every single inch of you until you were shaking and cryin’ for me. i would’ve made you lose your fuckin’ mind on my tongue.”

he felt your core clench around him desperately, a needy spasm at the mere thought, and he chuckled a dark, cocky sound.

you're shy. shy and unexperienced.

you're quiet. especially during sex. you don't moan loud, doesn't beg and doesn't whine and whimper. most jack can get out of you is a few sighs, hands gripping the sheets and teeth digging into her bottom lip or his shoulder.

she doesn't initiate sex. doesn't ask for what she wants — and not because she doesn't want it, but because she cannot mutter the words. but jack would always know, the way your cheeks would heat up, flushing pink all the way down to your neck and chest. he'd always cave and make sweet love to you, and he'd be especially thorough, always making sure to get you to cum.

but after a while, he grew tired of this. jack wanted everything. everything from you. every sound, every moan, every whimper. he wanted it all. it was his personal mission now: get you to lose your mind.

jack has you on your back, spread out on the middle of the bed. jack himself is on his stomach, between your thighs. and he's been bullying your cunt with his thick fingers, plunging them deep, dragging them out on your soft walls.

but not a single loud moan from your lips yet.

your pussy lips are puffy, swollen and red from the stimulation. jack doesn't let you cum just yet. he'll get you close enough, until you're clenching and writhing, then stop it all.

"aw, look at you, baby," he coos at your pussy, using both middle fingers of his other hand to spread your folds for his gaze.

"jack," you whisper, so desperate. by now, you're leaking all over his hand, the insides of your thighs all slick and messy.

"c'mon, sweetheart, you can do better than that," he says. but his resolved has changed now.

the thrusts in his fingers, deep and harsh, curling them just right against that spongey spot. you gasp, your hole clenching hard.

jack doesn't stop, bringing you to the orgasm quickly. your back arching off the bed as your thighs close around hir arm. "nu-uh, baby. keep 'em, open," he says.

"jackie, it's too much," you whine when he keeps drilling his fingers into your cunt. well, that's a first.

"i know, baby. i know. but you can give me another one, can't you?" he mocks, bringing his face down to give your clit a little lick. "just one, honey. yeah?"

you nod, and, oh, poor you.

your second orgasm builds up quickly, your pussy squeezing at his fingers. "c'mon, sweetheart. you can be a little louder for me, mhm?" he hums, watching your body squirm and writhe on the bed.

you shake your head, the idea of making noise making your heart beat so fast in panic. what if you sound weird? what if you're too loud? what if he doesn't like how you sound—

"i can see you overthinking," he says. "get outta your head alright, honey. you don't have to sound like a pornstar. i just wanna hear you, okay? just wanna hear my best girl. how good i'm making her feel."

"jackie," you whisper, pouting at him. the sheets beneath you grow a shade darker with your arousal that keeps dripping out of you.

"little louder, baby," he asks you.

you can't. it's like a physical weight on your neck, making it impossible. the words won't come out.

jack sighs, and for a moment you think he's disappointed. but no, he is determined. he will make you louder by the end of the night.

his lips seal around your clit, suckling at it, swirling his tongue around. he groans when your hand grips his hair. he keeps torturing your clit with his mouth, toying with it, and his fingers keep hitting the spot that makes you see stars.

that second orgasm leaves you reeling, your mind going fuzzy. you're starting to make some noise — a few mewls, whines, but not nearly what jack wants. he wants you loud. wants you to bed for what you want.

"you wanna be my good girl, don't you, honey," he mumbles, licking at your folds, pulling the soft flesh between his lips. you nod desperately from above and he smiles.

so he doesn't stop. you're sensitive, he knows that. your poor pussy must be feeling raw after two back-to-back orgasms he pulled out of you. too bad, he doesn't care. unless you tell him to stop — and you haven't —, he doesn't care.

"jackie, jackie, jackie—" you whimper, tears building up behind your eyes.

"there's my sweet girl," he chuckles against your cunt, the sound rumbling through you. "little louder, baby. i'm an old man, my hearing isn't what it used to be," he winks at you from between your legs. he's playing with you and you know it.

the familiar sensation of your orgasm building up is back, making you clench and squeeze at his fingers. jack groans at that, his hips bucking against the bed. he's humping the bed like teenager, and not the fifty year old man he is.

"jack, stop, stop," you say, swatting at his forehead. "i gotta… i…" you stammer, eyes rolling back.

"what?"

"it feels like-like… i gotta go pee," you say.

"mhm," he hums. pretends to think about it. "no," he says, diving back to lap at your weeping cunt in time with the thrusts of his fingers.

"what— jack!" you moan, and this one is loud, your back bowing off the bed in a pretty arch.

"that's okay, sweetheart," he says. "just this one more, okay? then we're done, honey. i promise," he kisses the insides of your thighs. every time his fingers thrust into you, your pussy squelches, wet and loud. "you have the prettiest cunt, you know that. the prettiest i've ever seen," he kisses your folds again.

"jack, no…" you cry out, desperate, because you're about to make a mess.

"it's okay, sweetheart. it's normal, yeah? it's just your body reacting. nothing to be ashamed of," he calms you down.

eventually, it's too strong to hold back. you sob, your thighs clenching around his head and you come.

Still, he couldn't figure out why you were always at their house. Smurf wasn't good company, obviously, though she tolerated you just barely. Mostly because you kept to yourself. She knew you wouldn't blab to anyone about the Cody's jobs or that you never intended on going against her.

You were just there.

And no one complained, because you were like a fresh breath of air. You smiled and within two minutes you'd have J smiling too. You stayed around a lot, but never for too many days. If you went over, you were there for a long time, but the moment you disappeared, you were gone.

There seemed to be no specific reason for it. You seemed to be just overly concerned that you were being too much and bothering people. He knew you were a lonely girl, but he was also aware that your fear of being too much overpowered your grave sense of loneliness that you were never able to hide.

It was a bad habit of yours, always apologizing, even for existing seemingly. Craig had shot you numerous perplexed looks, never having heard this many sorry come from one person ever. But Pope knew he liked it, enjoying the fact that someone saw him as important enough to feel bad for him, that he was worthy enough to receive the sweetest girl's ever apologies.

Pope on the other hand, hated it. He hated the word sorry, and he especially hated it coming from you.

Whenever you apologized, whether it was accidentally brushing his arm while you were in the kitchen, or speaking, what you thought was, for too long, Pope would shut you down. And he'd always do it in a cold tone, knowing that was the most effective way to stop you completely from ever uttering that word around him again.

He knew his voice would startle you, not expecting Pope who was always kind to you, to speak to you that way.

His plan worked, and you started biting your lip hard the moment the word slipped out. You'd look up panicked, and that would usually be enough for him. He'd shot you a dry look, bored even. And you'd shake your head and mumble, 'I take that back.' and he'd drop the look immediately, resorting to his normal soft look that he always wore around you.

The word didn't completely disappear from your vocabulary, but now you uttered it almost never when he was around, and it made Pope feel less worried about being in your presence.

Everyone adored you and sometimes he hated it. It worried him that everyone felt the same adoration he did for you, that somehow you'd never pay attention to him. Given his brothers were much better at being affectionate, it made him feel like he was behind. Like it was a competition to be your favorite brother, and he was last, not even having started the run, because he didn't know how to. That the moment Craig brought you into the house and introduced you, a starter pistol went off, and everyone started running.

It didn't stop him from seeking you out all the time. Whenever the question 'Where's Pope? popped up, the answer was the same. With you. Always with you.

Mostly, because you followed him around. When he'd reject your offers to sit with you on the couch at parties, you'd get up and follow him.

There the two of you would stand somewhere and observe the party together, both with the same repulsed expression. For him, it was the dirt and the carelessness, for you it was the loudness of it all.

When you caught Pope in front of a dark TV, staring at himself in the reflection, you'd tap his shoulder softly. Just two taps, never wanting to overwhelm him. "My car's making weird sounds," you'd say softly, and he'd get up and help you.

Sometimes you'd tell him something was broken in your home, and he'd drive to your place without a word. You'd always try to drag out his stay, offering him cookies (because you were absolutely terrible at cooking) or offering sodas.

Sometimes, he'd catch you looking around the room nervously, looking for new problems he could fix. So he'd grumble out a "Sink sounded weird earlier," and you'd smile so wide, it was like the sun came out from behind the clouds.

Things like this made him doubt everything.

Maybe you didn't dislike him as much as he thought, maybe he did have the potential to be your favorite brother.

But then he'd watch you light up when Deran would tell you he finally figured out how to make your favorite mocktail. (Obviously, you never had to pay a cent. If not for Deran shaking his head as you handed him money, then it was Pope who paid for everything you ate and drank.)

Even Craig offered to teach you how to surf. The shy expression you always wore around Pope would disappear and your smile would be so radiant Pope wouldn't be able to look away, never having gotten the privilege to see such an open expression from you.

Things like these made Pope doubt everything, consider that maybe the shy expression was just your uncomfortable one, that when you needed help at home, it was simply because you needed help and nothing else.

He knew Deran and Craig were absolutely terrible at fixing things, and he feared that, just like everyone else, you too viewed him as a tool, something to use and throw away. That he was just waiting for the throw-away part, and that it was coming sooner or later.

But he couldn't help but have all his worries vanish into thin air, whenever you decided to grace him with your big thankful eyes and an even wider, dazzling smile.

The first time he felt like too much for you, so much he wanted to run away, was when you joined him in the garage.

You softly knocked against the doorway. "Andrew?" you always said his name so sweetly, it made him want to record it and listen to it like a lullaby until he fell asleep, which didn't happen much these days.

He looked up at you. "You're awake." He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. It was pitch dark outside, and he figured you were asleep in the living room.

You shook your head. "Couldn't sleep." you smiled softly, your eyes telling him to please drop it. He did, turning his head back to what he was working on.

You stepped closer, and he could smell the perfume that he loved so much. Before he knew it, you were towering over him, lightly brushing up against his shoulder. "What are you working on?" you titled your head, staring down at whatever it was you were looking at.

"Part of the car. Stopped working last night," he replied in a low voice, not raising his head, even though he really really wanted to see your pretty face.

You glanced around, spotted what you needed and sat down. You pulled the chair closer to him, setting your elbows on the table in the process. "Mind if I watch you?"

Pope glanced at you, and his eyes darted all over your face, trying to gauge what exactly the point here was. You seemed sincere, so he hummed.

You laid your cheek in your palm and watched him. Your big eyes stared at his hands with so much interest, they started to tremble a bit.

The silence between you was filled with the sound of an owl and the ticking of a broken clock somewhere in the garage.

Five minutes must've passed by now and Pope had never understood until now how silence could be nice even with someone else in it. It wasn't like he couldn't feel your presence. No. He knew you were here, but he enjoyed it. More than enjoy, he craved it. He wanted to stay in this little room forever, hearing nothing but your soft breaths and the sound of you tapping your foot restlessly on the floor.

He didn't hate the silence like when he did with Smurf, who sat with him in silence at breakfast and watched him eat.

No, he loved the feeling of your soft eyes watching him work, knowing he was good at what he did, and that you were admiring him.

"You're not tired?" you asked after a while, careful not to be too loud, not wanting to disturb his work.

"No." When Pope looked up, he met your eyes immediately, like you'd been watching his face rather than his eyes, and your lips lifted into a flustered smile.

Embarrassed, like you'd been caught. He wasn't sure what it was, but he almost felt the need to gloat about it. Sweetest girl he knew was caught staring at him.

Stupid.

He looked away again, almost in shame, because how dare he think that you were admiring him. You were sleepy and he was awake. That's it. Had Craig been out here, you probably would've joined him too. He was nothing special.

"S'nice watching you," You brushed a hand over your face, rubbing your eyes tired.

Pope looked up, because surely he'd misheard, but you shot him a sweet smile, soft hair falling over your shoulders as you rubbed your eyes, hard, again.

People couldn't even stand to utter his name, and you were telling him that he was nice to watch. Like his presence was worth acknowledging. Like it was something good, like his presence wasn't to be feared, like he didn't hear the rumors in town about how people feared the thought of him.

Horrible, awful Pope who hit and hurt people, who made a mess of people and things, of everything.

A kind girl like you liked to watch him in the middle of the night doing things that his brothers called weird, made them shake their heads as they looked away in disappointment and shame, wishing they'd had a normal brother, one more like them.

He must've stayed quiet for too long, because you froze. "Sorry, did—did I say something wrong?" nervously, you toyed with your heart necklace.

"No—No you didn't." Pope shook his head quickly, eyes darting back down to his car part. His fingers twitched nervously. "You should try to sleep." And he could sense he'd said the wrong thing, because your eyes widened for a second, and worry overtook your face.

"Oh—right, yeah you're right." Stumbling over your words nervously, you stood up, and Pope regretted it.

He hadn't meant this. He was just trying to tell you that he appreciated your kindness, but surely he wasn't that interesting. "I meant— it's not healthy to stay awake," he managed out, eyes darting back up to your face and back down. "It's not good for you." he managed out nervously.

You looked down at him, and you stood there for a bit, before sitting back down slowly, understanding he didn't want you to go. "Yeah— I know." You toyed with a bolt on the table, rolling it in between fingers before you looked back at Pope who was still watching you. "Craig keeps yelling in his room about his video game, and Smurfs still awake by the Pool." You dropped the bolt. "It's distracting."

"You can sleep in my room," Pope said, and given your reaction, it wasn't exactly something you expected him to say. But it made sense to him. "You can't hear Craig in there."

You stared at him, your eyes wide, making them bigger than they already were. "You want me to sleep in your room?"

Pope wasn't sure what was so confusing. It wasn't like his room was bad. Sure, it was a bit empty, but he took care of it, it was clean. He pushed the car part away, getting up from his chair. "I'll get you new bed sheets," and then he just walked out of the garage. You stood in the empty garage, mouth open, before you scrambled to follow him.

To your luck, Smurf was fast asleep, bottles of alcohol next to her, and you hurried to follow Pope. Inside, he led you to his room, grabbing clean bed sheets out of one of the closets in the hallway, before walking into his room.

You stood in the doorway watching Pope fix the bed for you. Were you dreaming? Was Pope actually fixing his bed for you?

You looked down and pinched your skin. "Ouch." you muttered to yourself. Not a dream, officially and definitely not a dream.

Pope turned his head to you. "You need pajamas?" he asked, but you shook your head.

You never took, unless you were outright suffering and Pope's eyes slowly darted down to the goosebumps across your skin, which were visible even with just two night lights on.

You were wearing a simple white lace tank top and California nights weren't exactly known for their heat. Even Smurf outside, was sleeping with at least two blankets. He turned, opened a drawer and grabbed a hoodie. When he handed it to you, you didn't take it.

"Is that yours?"

Pope nodded, almost worried. "I—You can have one of Deran's if you want."

"Nope, I—I'd like yours." you managed, grabbing the hoodie and letting it swallow you whole. It was warm, and it smelled nice, so very nice. You couldn't help the way your head just lowered a tiny bit, letting yourself smell how nice Pope's scent was.

Pope had already looked away the sight too much, and was now awkwardly staring down at the bed, fingers twitching nervously at his sides. "Okay, have— have a good night."

In all of your years of living, you'd never been this bold before. You weren't even sure what overcame you. Your hand reached out, and you grabbed Pope's bicep lightly before he walked past you.

You felt him freeze up, eyes locked onto your hand around his bicep, and you had to resist the urge to squeeze, to test how really hard and warm his bicep was. "Will—" you bit your lip, already regretting starting the sentence. "Don't you wanna sleep?"

"I have to work." His eyes flickered back down to your soft hands around his bicep.

You had pink polish on with brown polka dots. It was sweet. He'd seen you paint them once, you'd even helped Lena with hers. Lena had been so happy, and hadn't stopped talking about you the entire afternoon after you'd gone home. He had been glad to know that someone else felt about you the way he did.

You dropped your hand, disappointment flickering across your face. Pope's eyes darted around your face, noting how close you were but also how you were still trying to find your words. He waited.

"I'd like you to stay," you phrased it so sweetly, the way you always did, but for the first time you told him what you wanted. There was no if it's okay with you, you don't have to, no it's okay.

No, you straight up wanted something from him and God would he be stupid if he said no to you.

His eyes darted back to the bed and his eyes stayed there for a while, thinking. "I have to turn off the lights in the garage."

"I'll wait here!" You looked like you were about to start bouncing up and down from excitement.

Pope watched you for a second before turning and walking down the hallway, wondering what on earth led him to commit to this.

Meanwhile, you were in disbelief, palm to your mouth, as you muttered. "Oh my god. Oh my god." Oh my god, you were going to die. You glanced at the bed, deciding to get in now, before you were stuck in the awkward moment of having to argue with him about what side to take.

You pushed back Popes clean blue covers, slowly settling down in bed, and god was it was warm and soft. And it smelled nice.

You pulled the hoodie sleeves down over your wrists, nervously squeezing your eyes shut. You couldn't believe he'd agreed to this.

Pope walked back slowly, boots thudding on the floor until he stood in the doorway looking at the top of your head. Not to seem like a creep, he didn't linger, quickly stepping in. He could feel your pretty eyes watching him as he grabbed a set of fresh boxers, shirt and a towel.

"Gonna take a shower, won't take long," he said, barely looking at you. The sight was too much for him to handle.

"Okay," you said softly, eyes following him until he was in his bathroom.

You passed the time by opening every drawer of his, checking out what he had in there. Barely anything. You sighed, Pope wasn't much of a talker, so you'd hoped you'd find out more about him in his room.

He wasn't joking when he said he wouldn't take long, because just as you were checking out his bottom drawer, he showed up. You shut the drawer with the loudest bang! possible before scrambling back into a horizontal position, embarrassed.

Pope's eyes darted down to the drawer before lifting to your embarrassed expression. He was more endeared by anything. Any other person and he would've gotten suspicious, but you were toying with his sheets nervously, avoiding his eyes, and he knew you'd just been curious.

He'd caught you walking around the house, staring at every picture more than once. He was more than aware of your curious nature.

He brushed a hand through his curls as he walked to his side of the bed, and you lifted the sheets for him.

You somehow managed to still surprise him with your small sweet gestures. He'd lived his whole life in Oceanside, and with his reputation, people had stopped granting him kindness, even as simple as receiving a thank you.

He felt so endlessly grateful that one person on this earth was able to be kind to him, that maybe he wasn't as evil as he thought, that there was a chance for him. That if someone like you looked at someone like him and thought he was worth it, worth spending your time and sweetness on, he might actually have a chance in life.

He slipped under the sheets, and you dropped them, making the warmth hit him all at once. He liked to sleep on his side looking at the wall, but it felt almost insane to miss out on seeing your pretty face all night, so he stayed on his back, view narrowing to the ceiling.

You, on the other hand, turned to your side, palm under your cheek. "Your bed's soft." You whispered, and he turned his head to you, eyes darting away shyly when he noticed your intense stare. He figured his bed was nice enough, almost relieved it was up to your standards. He'd been worried in the shower that you'd make some excuse, and he'd come out, looking like a wet puppy, to an empty bed.

"What?" he asked after he felt you stare for a little more.

"Your curls are nice," you whispered. "Always wanted to tell you that, but was too scared."

"Of me?" It just slipped out of Pope's mouth. He didn't want to know the answer to that question.

"What? No." Confusion was written all over your face, your lips curling into a frown. "I'm just— it's a weird thing to say. That's all."

Pope stared at you. Not scared of him. You weren't scared of him. ’S'not weird." He held your stare for a while until his nervousness overtook his entire body, leading him to glance away again, eyes focusing back on the white canvas above him.

"Thanks for dinner tonight."

Smurf hadn't been up for it for some reason and Deran or Craig didn't care, so Pope had made food just for you. You hadn't even told asked, and maybe that's why he made it, because he knew you never would.

He turned his head, happy you were giving him an excuse to look at you. "D'you like it?"

"Loved it." you smiled softly. "You could be a professional cook."

Pope's mouth almost lifted into a smile at that, but then you scooted closer, and he froze up. His arm, which had been resting on the side of the bed, almost touching your stomach now. You were so close, he could see how pretty your eyes were up close.

They had always been his favorite part about you. When Craig had first introduced you, Pope knew his brother had warned you about him, told you he was crazy and weird. His brothers did that with everyone they brought to the house, and their friends would always eye him weirdly, and he'd never be given the chance to show them that he was capable of kindness. That he could be as normal as they wanted him to be.

But you, you, had smiled, lifted your hand in a wave and looked at him in a way that no one had looked at him in years. Soft, kind, and open-minded.

He stared at you, and you stared back, and then you slowly lifted your hand.

"Can I—?" you whispered softly, and he was startled by the fact that you asked, so he nodded.

People never asked before they touched him. The only touches he received were involuntary ones from Smurf, or punches from his brothers and strangers. Never ones from sweet girls that asked before they settled their hand softly at his temple, toying with one of his curls.

The bottom half of your hand touched his cheekbones, and you brushed over his hair, thumb catching in a curl. He watched you, eyes big, before finally turning to his side, deciding that he'd make it easier for you.

He saw the smile you suppressed, absolutely delighted that he was so open to you touching him.

He took a second to absorb and analyze the expression. His hazel eyes darting all over your face, looking for any lie, that this was just a game to you. That maybe you'll look at him in the morning with pity in your eyes. But your eyes were glowing, and even with his insecurities choking him when he was with you, he could tell that no lie was in your eyes.

"They're wet," he provided you with the most unnecessary information, already wanting to smack himself for pointing out such an obvious thing.

You just hummed, too distracted to be touching his hair to focus on his awkwardness. You looped a curl around a finger, thumb brushing right above his eyebrow.

Your eyebrows were furrowed like you were studying his hair, but he knew you weren't as relaxed as you seemed. Your breath was going quicker, he could feel it against his face. He could smell your perfume, something floral and vanilla and felt the need to press his face into your hair and just stay there.

Your eyes traveled back to his face, and you observed him, before your hands went back down to his bicep. "You can relax," you whispered. "I won't do anything you don't want me to."

Pope stared at you, hazel eyes wide, never once leaving your face. "You have to sleep too."

"I will." Your hand already back in his curls. He let the feeling of your warm hands overtake every other feeling. Every sense of fear, insecurity and worry.

As much as he knew you wanted him to, he couldn't sleep. Whether it was because of his nightmares or because of you being here, he wasn't sure. His eyes continued to track your face, and it didn't take you long before you let your hand drift from his hair to his cheek, brushing your thumb lightly over his cheekbone one first and last time, before dropping it back in between you.

Your eyelashes fluttered lightly like a good night to him before you closed your eyes. Pope let himself watch you, let himself feel the phantom feeling of your hands. Your perfume continued to linger, and he wished his room would absorb it forever, that every time he walked in, he'd smell your perfume. He knew his bed would smell like you for at least the next couple of days now, and he hoped so desperately that the next time you came over to the house, you'd sleep in his bed.

it's late when sammy comes home, the house is dark except for the living room where you left a lamp on for him. he's tired. today had been one of the more stressful ones, a case got out of hand and when they finally got that over with, he had papers waiting for him on his desk. safe to say he was eager to finally get home to his wife.

sammy finds you asleep, as he expected, in your bedroom. but what he didn't expect was your clothing—or lack thereof.

there you were, sprawled on your navy sheets, topless. from where he stands, sammy takes in the image of you; on your stomach, your bare back in the open, one leg hiked up. and listen, he's just a man! he's not exactly sorry that he can't keep his eyes off your ass, clad in just your underwear.

just like that, sammy decides he isn't tired anymore.

he really shouldn't be surprised. you've been complaining the entire week about the heat, been taking showers like twice a day, and wearing less and less clothing as you walk around the house. he guesses tonight you've finally had enough of it. and fuck, was he grateful.

he gets on the bed slowly, crawling to your side, and lays his hand on your back, lets his fingertips slide up your spine and watches as you shift a little at the touch. pressing soft kisses on your shoulder, he gently turns you over on your back. he smiles as you hum, aware of his presence now.

“hey, honey.” he mumbles on your skin.

“hi, sammy.”

he presses his lips on yours, sighing as he finally feels you again, your soft lips, your hands on his cheeks—feels he's home again.

“missed you so much today.” you whisper against his mouth.

“yeah?” he hums. his lips move lower, starts to trail kisses from your jaw to your neck. he shifts so that he's more ontop of you, covering you with his weight, tits pressing up against the fabric of his shirt and the stiffness in his pants rubbing on your thigh.

“sammyyy, it's hot.” you whine, he was practically a blanket of heat on you.

his hand runs up and down your waist, the coolness of his wedding band a contrast to the warmth of his palm.

“i know, honey, 'm sorry,” sammy cooes, “how 'bout a cold shower together after, hm?”

his tongue on your neck sends a shudder through you, “okay.”

“atta girl.”

moving his head down, you gasp as he takes your nipple into his mouth, hand flying to his head to bury your fingers in his curls.

“fuck, baby,” your back arches into him, seeking more, his hand playing with your other breast.

sammy pulls off with a wet pop, eyes meeting your own as he shuffles down between your legs. “so gorgeous, y'know that? my gorgeous wife, sleeping all pretty and naked in our bed, christ, you drive me crazy.”

“you knew what you were doing, honey, didn't you?” he says as he kisses your thighs, ignoring the place where you desperately need him, “knew i was gonna come in and see you like this, and you were gonna get what you want.”

“no, i promise! it was hot!” well, maybe you knew what you were doing, but sammy didn't need to know that.

“y'don't have to lie, you know i know when you do. i'll give you anythin' you want, won't even make you wait.”

pulling your panties off, sammy hooks your legs over his shoulders. true to his word, he doesn't make you wait any longer. his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt before fully burying his head between your thighs to devour you properly.

“fuck, sammy!” your head hits the pillow, back arching off the bed while he groans into you, his tongue coming up to your clit, flicking and swirling on the sensitive little nub.

sammy's hands leave your thighs to find yours, pulling them off the sheets you were fisting to intertwine your fingers with his. the act makes your heart warm.

with how hard you're squeezing your thighs around his head, you're surprised he's still breathing. but sammy's not letting up, instead he doubles down, his mouth is making a mess on you, both his spit and your wetness smearing everywhere.

he's moaning against you. in the midst of your pleasure, you barely notice the way sammy's humping his clothed cock against the mattress. you just look so pretty and sound so sweet, he can't help it!

“feels so good, sammy, ngh-”

it doesn't take long for that coil inside you to tighten and threaten to snap, not when your husband was devouring you like it was the last time he'll be able to taste you.

you almost scream when he slips two thick fingers inside you, curling them and pressing into that spot that makes you see stars. “im so close, please, please-”

“yeah, honey?” he murmurs against your pussy, “y'know what to do, don't you? if you wanna come,”

the death grip you have on sammy's fingers was surely cutting off circulation. “can- oh fuck! can i come, please, sammy, please?”

“good girl, honey, yeah you can come” he moans before sucking your clit into his mouth, fingers fucking into you faster.

you come with a loud cry of his name, hips lifting off the bed and thighs shaking, sammy keeps his fingers moving as the high washes over you.

and they don't stop.

“baby- too much, it's too much!” you whimper as the overstimulation creeps in.

you try to close your thighs around his hand but he beats you to it, the hand that was previously holding yours moving to force your leg down on the bed.

“nuh-uh, pretty, you're gonna gimme one more, okay?” though his voice is gentle, the command is there, and there's no way around it.

keeping the pace of his hand, sammy is over you again, mouthing at your chest, your neck, and up to your lips, tongue breaching in to meet yours.

you're moaning into his mouth, barely kissing back, as his fingers keep fucking into you, almost painfully now, but despite that, it still feels so damn good. sammy knows that, sees the way your hips move, chasing him.

seeing the tears threatening to spill from your pretty eyes has him grinding his cock into your thigh.

“come on, sweet girl, you can do it, can't you? i know you can 'cause you're my good girl.” he cooes against your lips.

the second orgasm crashes in with little to no warning.

sammy swallows your cries and whimpers as you come around his fingers for the second time.

“fuckkk, there ya go, honey, that's it..”

when he finally takes his fingers out, you're twitching and panting, eyes closed as you come down. you miss the way sammy takes his fingers into his mouth, sucking your juices off.

opening your eyes again, you grow aware of the sweat covering your body, wincing as you feel the dampness of the sheets under your back.

“m'all sweaty now” you grumble.

your husband chuckles, brushing his nose against yours, “m'sorry, honey.”

he plants a soft kiss on your lips and removes the stands of hair that stuck to your forehead due to sweat.

“Hey!” said Samira falling at your side at the counter.

You were still too distracted by the two to even tear your gaze away and look at her. “Hey.”

Samira followed your eyeline. “You're staring, you know that?”

You nodded.

Robby rubbed at the side of his face as his cheeks flushed, Noelle shifted her weight onto her other heeled foot- apparently getting herself comfortable.

“Who is that, again?” asked Doctor Mohan.

“Noelle. She's from insurance.”

Samira nodded. “Noelle from insurance. Annnd do we like Noelle, from insurance?”

At that you realised just how transparent your glares might have been.

“Oh, you know,” you mumbled, finally looking back down to your tablet that had grown dark in the absence of movement. “It's our job to like everyone.”

Santos passed by you then, dropping herself down into your favourite chair in exhaustion. “Not everyone.”

“So we're all having a great day, I see,” you commented, sarcastically. However the sardonic tone of your voice was over-saturated with a loud laugh.

Your head practically snapped up to see Noelle laughing at something Robby had said. Even his face was scrunched up at his joke. You watched as Noelle's hand darted to his bicep, playfully hitting him in a way that could only be recognised as flirting.

You watched as Robby looked down to her hand on him and then he looked up, finding you and finding your watchful gaze. Only then did the pink in his cheeks subside and the wrinkles of amusement die.

“Didn't they have a thing before you and him got together?” asked Santos.

You sighed. “Yes, they did, thank you, Trinity.”

“Hey, just trying to be helpful.”

“Save it for the patients,” you said.

Robby took one step in your direction but you'd already dismissed yourself from Santos and Mohan, walking the ward like it was a battle field.

But you could hear your boyfriends heavy boots close behind you.

“Don't do that,” he said, calling after you.

“Do what? See a patient?”

“It's not what you think,” he said.

“Of course it's not,” you said, trying your best to be indifferent.

You knew about Noelle and Robby's history, just as you knew about his and Heathers, and his and the pathologist from upstairs, and the one from ortho. You knew and you understood, heck you'd even been around to joke about with Landon. Robby's famous seven-week itch.

Rumour had it before he finally got to hold your hand and kiss you whenever he liked he'd been trying to nail you down for years, but you weren't sure how much you believed.

It had been nine months, maybe closer to ten since you and Robby had officially started seeing each other. It was the real boyfriend-girlfriend deal where you could call each other at any moments of the day, could get take out together and discuss the boring things together.

Yet, you did none of that.

Robby and you didn't talk.

You fucked- but only each other. You worked on cases together- strictly professional. On the days where you were desperate there was an on-call room Robby could book out and steal time away with you.

But you didn't remember the last time you'd laughed like that with him.

“It's not,” said Robby again.

“Of course it's not.”

Robby sighed, falling closer behind you. “Well, it doesn't really sound like you believe me.”

“I believe you,” you said. “Do I believe Noelle...”

“Oh, c'mon,” Robby chuckled, like the very idea of them was ridiculous. Like the two of you didn't begin where they ended. “You seriously gonna be hung up on that?”

“Don't,” you warn, shaking your head.

You reached for an exam room door, where a sixteen year old boy was complaining of migraines but Robby grabbed your wrist and stirred you away.

“You wanna argue, not here,” he said.

“I don't want to argue.”

Robby led you out to the ambulance bay. Any nurses stealing a couple minutes of peace quickly diverted back in and even ambulances seemed to divert away. He let go of you, standing away and folding his arms over his chest, defensive. “So come on, tell me.”

“Tell you what?”

“You're mad because I was talking to Noelle- about a case, might I add,” he said. There was nothing soft in his tone, nothing that calmed your nerves on edge. He said it all like it was a joke that he already knew the punchline to.

You rubbed at your temple. “You can talk to Noelle about cases, of course you can-”

“- Oh, thank you, glad I have your permission,” he chuckled.

“Can you just not be a dick about this, for once!” you snapped.

Robby's brows rose to his head, almost shocked at your snap at him. He held out his hands. “Okay, I'm not being a dick.”

“You are, and it's like sometimes you don't even realise.”

His hands were worn with the mornings patients and you could see the stress he tried to hide away as he wiped up and down his face.

You took a deep breath. “Robby, if you don't want this to work out all you have to do is say.” You said it, un-sure if you even meant it. Un-sure that you could ever go back to who you were before meeting Robby, let alone sharing in his life. In the small moments grabbing take out together and eating it on his sofa. In the mornings where you both naturally woke up early enough to just admire each other before you had to get to work.

Robby chuckled dryly, hands on his hips. “Oh my god, all of this because I spoke to another woman?”

“Because you laughed with her like you haven't with me for weeks!” you argued.

For once, Robby was silent.

You told yourself after the seven week mark that it would be any day now, that he'd tell you you were better off friends; colleagues. Every day and week it didn't come, every month he got more comfortable in your bed you figured you'd easily get rid of him in your life as easily as you welcomed him.

Now you stood across from him in the early morning light of the ambulance bay knowing if he left you now you'd never get back on your feet again.

“I see the way Noelle looks at you, how the others from upstairs do to,” you begin.

Robby shook his head, something earnest in his gaze. “They're not- they don't-”

“- I know, I know,” you said, cutting him off with a grimace of a smile. “ ”I know you don't love them, Robby. I'm just not sure you love me either.”

As un-cultured as you were with your own relationships you weren't sure when the right time to say I love you was. You knew Santos had said it to Garcia drunk one night and woke up with regret pinning her to the bed. You knew Dana and Benji had said it to each other a week in. You knew you loved Robby before you even kissed him.

Robby looked down to his boots, shaking his head. “That's not fair.”

Your heart pinched. “I know I love you, Robby. But I can't watch all these woman over you and-and wonder.”

“Your insecurities are not my fault!” Robby snapped.

You knew he didn't mean it, or hoped he didn't. You knew in the very small arguments you'd had that he spoke without thinking and came grovelling back.

Maybe it was worse this time because you knew it was the truth. You knew these women- his ex something's- didn't get to see Robby in the early mornings and be the last thing he spoke to at night. You knew Robby wasn't inviting them into his self, but he wasn't pushing them away either.

They'd all been quick, snaps of bands on wrists. You were supposed to be something more.

Maybe you weren't.

Biting on the inside of your cheek, you felt the familiar burning in your chest, rising up to your neck.

“Okay.” You held yourself tight, heading past him and to the doors that were already welcoming you back.

Robby was hot on your heels, quicker even as he pushed himself ahead of you. “No, no, no- hey- wait, no I-I didn't mean that.” His eyes were wide, hands held out in front of you, not quite clasped together, pointing to the sky but pleading none the less.

“We shouldn't talk about this now, Robby-”

“- I- we... honey, please.”

He stood in between you and the doors. Beyond him you saw the chaos of the room, the charts being passed, the labs being reported. The world still turned.

Robby's hands fell to your shoulders, rubbing up and down your arms. “Let me- jus' let me-let me-”

“Hey! You two!”

Robby didn't jump apart from you, he squeezed your arms tighter as the two of you looked back to Dana who rushed out, wisps of grey hair falling around her. “What is it?”

“There's been a crash down the docks, all hands on deck!”

You thought you knew chaos, having seen all sorts of terror and oddities in the Pitt but the scenes at the dock were nothing like it. A complication with a boat, an explosion- small enough- rattled ferries and had them crashing into one another like terrible scene of dominoes.

Heck, you weren't even sure if the docks were safe to be standing on.

There were fire trucks and ambulances that didn't just respond to PTMC but Presby too. Police were corning off the area, talking to any witnesses but everyone blurred in one as you weaved in and out of them.

You'd been sent as an emergency respondent thanks to how level-headed and sturdy you were in the Pittfest. You still remembered how Robby nominated you as well as Whitaker to go with some from surgery, his eyes dark on you, a trusting nod passed before you were handed a jacket and pushed into an ambulance.

You'd already pulled a sheet over three bodies, one of them too small for your liking.

“Any for me?” asked a first emergency responder, you think his name was Spencer, catching it in the rig you caught a ride in. “We can take two.”

“Yeah!” you yelled and led him away. “This guy, approximately in his thirties, head lack to the right, needs to go to surgery immediately. This woman, late twenties, lost consciousness, possible pelvic bleed but she's stabilised, need's a ultrasound.”

“Got it!”

You'd gone through almost all the gloves you had in your pockets. There was blood seeping into your scrub uniform at your knees. You'd forgone your coat to a little girl who took an ambulance back with her mother, trembling from the cold.

A steady, firm hand settled between your shoulder blades.

“How you holding on, Slugger?”

Your heart soared in relief when you recognised Jack's voice, felt his steady hand and saw his easy smile in the middle of all the pain.

“Jack, thank god. Are you here with your team?” you asked, eying the uniform he was in.

“Yeah, we came to secure the area, doing everything I can to help,” he said, the two of you nudging your way through the people, stepping over the rubble and pools of water or blood. “How you holding up?”

“Lost three,” you told him.

Jack looked down at you, the weight of his gaze always heavy. “And how many you saved, huh? Focus on that number.”

The wind picked up, sending a chill over your bones.

“Hey, where's your jacket?” asked Jack, a frown taking over his features.

You chuckled. “Probably half way to Presby by now, think we've handed off all the traumas PTMC can take.”

Jack tutted and shook his head aside. “I reckon they've got one more in them.”

You didn't know how you and Jack had got so close, somewhere along the lines of hand-offs and covering night shifts you just always gravitated toward each other, working well and saving lives. Every daring procedure you'd taken was with him over your shoulder only for him to go and boast about you to Robby later.

Jack led you to Robby, for that you always had to be thankful.

“Hey! I've got a guy seizing over here!”

With your case in hand the two of you rushed off.

The man seemed middle-aged with no obvious wound to him as you and Jack took either side. The man was at the edge of the docks, the crashing of the waves fighting against you as you worked to stablilse him.

Jack steadied him. “Check if there's any medication on him! It might be a disorder!”

You checked, coming up empty pocketed. You fumbled in your bag and tried your pockets before finding the vial and clean needle. “Pushing diazepam!”

With five cc's in his seizing slowed to dull twitches.

“We need a back board and neck brace,” said Jack, looking around to try and flag down anyone.

Nobody was catching your eyes. This close to the water you were out of the way of most of the chaos.

“Go!” you told Jack. “I'll stay with him, make sure he doesn't sieze again.”

Jack's brows pinched together for a second. “You sure?”

You nodded. Your hands remained on your patient, feeling his tremors and already timing his pulse with your watch. “I've got it, go!”

In hind sight you should have thought about the implications. You'd been grabbed and yelled at and spat at in the ED by less sever patients but once you'd been attacked by a man who just woke up from a seizure, dazed and confused and naming you his enemy.

Robby had never been so close to murder.

It took weeks for the bruises to go down, for your hand to heal properly from the fall and you were on bed rest for a week.

You knew what it meant to be alone with a patient, but sometimes you supposed it couldn't be helped.

The diazepam should have helped- you've seen it help- but soon enough the man started twitching, slow at first, before it started to fit and his whole body moved.

He was a strong man. You weren't.

“It's okay, sir- sir!” you threw your weight against him to hold him still, wonder what you can do to stop him biting down on his tongue with the little equipment you had.

The man was mumbling to himself, thrashing violently.

“C'mon Jack, c'mon-”

It only took a wide sweep of the mans arm to send you hurtling back and crashing into the icy water.

The sky was darkening by the time Robby counted off his thirtieth patient of the day. Twenty-five of them had been from the incident at the docks. Only one he couldn't save, two sent up to the OR.

He counted the patients, counted the hours that ticked by, counted every ambulance that came by not carrying you. He'd expected you back by now, expected to have a little piece of mind with seeing you back in his eyeline.

Robby's heart was being squeezed progressively as the day went on, ever since he'd snapped and said words he never even meant.

Every second, passing from patient to patient and tearing off gloves to replace them with clean ones he checked his phone for any update from you.

Nothing.

You must have been busy down there.

But just three ambulances ago Whitaker returned saying he lost sight of you practically immediately.

So where the hell were you?

“Hey, Dana-” he called, rounding on the nurses station.

She looked as dishevelled as he felt, wisps of hair, dark circles under her eyes.

“Can you get a hold of transport, ask where the hell is my resident.”

“I just got off the phone with them, Robby-” she reached over and placed a hand on his, the one that had been tapping relentlessly. “She's on her way in now.”

Before Robby could even wonder why Dana had to hold his hand to tell him, why her eyes were glassed over and her voice trembled to tell him the doors bust open.

“Robby!” Jack yelled out.

He turned, catching sight of his old friend, the greying hair damp and sticking to his skin. He was half dressed in SWAT gear, his jacket discarded and bits of tinfoil falling from his shoulders. Jack was set over a gurney, hammering down on a chest and going in for CPR the old fashioned way.

“What happened? You fall in-”

Robby got to the other side of the gurney and breath caught in his chest.

“She's been down thirty- thirty-five minutes, I dunno, man,” said Jack as he continued hammering down on your chest.

It was you. Blue in the face and eyes closed, droplets of water at your lashes. Your hair was turning to ice fanned out underneath you. He'd been running his hand through your hair just that morning, had he not. There was a blanket, maybe two, thrown over you but your body only reacted to the thumping Jack delivered on your chest, pinching your nose to breath down your open mouth.

This morning you'd been warm, so warm, with a leg thrown over his hips in attempts to keep him in your bed. And he'd been close, so close to burying himself in your warmth.

He didn't even have to touch you to know you were cold.

“I found her- in the water- pulled her out-” gasped Jack as he continued compressions.

“What do you mean in the water?” asked Robby, surprising himself by how calm he sounded.

“She- she fell, or-or something, I dunno man-”

“You don't know?” he snapped. “Why isn't she bagged?”

“We ran out,” said the paramedic pushing you in.

“You ran out?!”

“Robby- Robby!” Dana's hands were on his chest, keeping him at bay before Robby even knew what he was going to do.

Robby shook her off. “What's open?”

“Trauma two just got cleaned up-”

He grabbed the gurney and pushed you into the room. The weight of Jack on top of you trying to save your life squeaking the wheels against the floor not long wiped from blood. Robby was aware of other voices, of people wondering if that was Jack and was it... no... it couldn't have been.

The doors closed behind a team of people all teaming in, stuttering when they saw you.

“Hook her up!” ordered Robby, ignoring any protocol of gowns and gloves. If he was going to get you back he was going to feel the beat of your heart under his palms. “Jack, move!”

Jack slowly climbed down and Robby jumped up next, quickly taking over compressions.

He remembered kissing down your chest, hiding himself there on mornings he wanted to steal away five minutes, pulling the covers up past the two of you. How he was breaking ribs to keep you alive. “Somebody get a bag on her, now!”

“She's- she's been down a long time,” said Jack, catching his breath.

Robby thumped down on your chest, kidding himself with the dull flutter of your eyelashes, knowing it was only through the force of his hammering down on you. “She's alive.”

“Jesus, Jack, you're as cold as ice,” said Dana from somewhere behind Robby.

“I'm fine,” he dismissed. “Robby, you shouldn't be working on her, brother.”

Others in the room stopped, hearing that.

It was protocol family waited outside, that if family or friends ever came in demanding help the same DNA did not attend. They were too emotionally clouded. To invested to think straight. The last time Robby found himself in this situation: blood pumping in his ears, chest tight was trying to save Jake's girlfriends life.

He'd failed.

The only person to pull him back from that was you.

There'd be nobody if you didn't pull through. He'd be left in that pedes room, never to leave.

“Robby!” Jack tried again.

“Shut up and get me some warm saline!”

“Oh, no,” said Jack, walking around till he was on the other side of your gurney. “No, I'm not going anywhere.”

Robby was still pressing his hands down on your chest when Jack reached over, past the bag they'd finally clamped over on you, and stroked back your hair.

“We're gonna get you through this,” he uttered in an oddly tender moment.

“We need to get a central line in her,” said Matteo.

Jack looked at Robby. “Brother.”

“No.”

“You have to move, we need to get a line in her.”

Robby knew that. He knew so much as a doctor, as chief attending. But he couldn't stop, he physically couldn't bring himself to.

“Robby, man, you gotta let go.”

“I can't... I can't... I can't...” he said. The only thing keeping him sane was the one, two, three, four count in his head, was the cold feeling of your flesh under his hands. “Push three milligrams of epi.”

Jack huffed in frustration, probably the only thing keeping him warm. He marched around your bed to his side. “Robby, so help me god I will drag you out of here if you don't let her go!”

“I can't!” he yelled.

It was selfish but Robby had some how convinced himself he could be selfish with you. He could hold on tighter in the mornings and let you go for the rest of the day. He could watch patients get close to you because he knew it was him who got to kiss you. He could hold back the worst parts of himself to keep you, no matter how much it tore him apart to push you away on the days he wanted to be closest.

No, Robby could never let you go.

If you ever tried to leave him, he'd hold on tighter.

Robby dropped his voice low. “I can't.”

Jack took in a slow breath, a gentle hand on Robby's bicep. “Okay. Okay. You don't have to let her go... but to save her you have to move aside.”

A monitor somewhere in the room beeped.

Slowly, Robby moved from your chest.

The people swarmed you. Someone cut into you, getting a central line in on your other side.

Robby stayed where he was, a hand holding yours tightly as if he could squeeze his own life into yours. He cried- maybe loudly- at the feel of how cold you were.

“What's her temp?” asked Jack.

“Eighty.”

Robby looked up to the monitor reading your vitals. “That's- that's too low.”

“We're getting her warmed up.”

“Get the warm saline.”

“We are.”

Robby leaned over you once the line was placed, brushing back your hair and trying desperately to ignore how cold you were. “You're not dead, you're not,” he said, low for you. Your vitals may have been saying different. “You're not dead.”

“Doctor Robby-”

“Please,” he begged with trembling lips. “Please, don't do this to me.”

A monitor sung low and dry. The classic song of a flatline.

His head jerked up.

Jack caught his stupor and pushed him from you, sending him into Dana's ready hold. “She's going into V-fib!”

Dana held Robby. Physically she wasn't strong enough to hold him back but Robby wasn't strong enough to fight against her. “Robby... Robby, c'mon, let's wait outside.”

He was shaking his head.

“Panels, charge to three hundred!” called out Jack.

Dana had just managed to push him out the doors as he shouted clear!

Through the glass Robby watched your body jerk but not respond.

“Please, please, please,” he uttered. His back hit the nurses station, his knees giving out as he slowly slid and sank to the floor.

“Okay, okay,” muttered Dana, falling with him and holding him there.

The Pitt seemed to stand still at the sight of their boss, white faced and hands trembling, brushing back his hair. Noise travelled quick, that it was you in the bed, ribs breaking from compressions, chest hurting from the shock.

Robby's hands clasped in front of him, his star of David chain clenched in his hands. “Please.... she can't do this to me, please.”

Dana tugged on his body, bringing him in closer. With her sharp gaze she pushed everyone else that dared try and get closer away. “C'mon, Robby, she's strong, you know that. And stubborn like hell, huh?”

Robby nodded along with her words, un-sure if he could believe it.

“Charge again, three hundred, let's go!” called Jack, rubbing the panels before everyone backed up. “Clear!”

There was a small beep, a pick up in the line.

“There! Resume compressions!”

“Doctor Robby!” Santos ran up, her gown like a cape around her. She slowed to a stop in front of the two slumped. “Dana. Dana, is it- is it true, is it?”

Robby looked up, tear stained cheeks red.

“Yeah, kid,” said Dana, sadly.

Santo's jaw trembled before she shook her head in resolute, saying one simple word. No. Then she stormed into the room.

Robby knew you favoured Santos and somewhere along the way Robby had come to look for her when an interesting case came in. He came to favour the way you smiled at Santos when she did things right and Robby searched for any smile he could get from you.

So, he pushed himself up on shaky legs and followed her in- back into the chaos that was your room. The blankets had slipped from your body in the shocks and he desperately tried to hold himself back from fixing them.

“Doctor Abbot-” said a nurse or a intern or someone in the room. “It's been thirty minutes.”

“Hold compressions.”

Robby knew it was to check your pulse but he winced when they paused, when your body didn't respond.

“Still asystole, resume compressions.” Jack caught Robby's gaze.

He'd seen that look on Jack's face. Had seen the hopelessness and the devastation at losing a patient not only in his face but in his own reflection. “Don't-”

Jack lowered his head. “Robby.”

“No, Jack, her temp is not up! She's cold,” he said, walking back around the room. He rolled his shoulders back, pulling on gloves. If nobody else was going to save you he would. “She is not dead! She's not- She's not dead till she's warm and dead! Push another round of epi!”

Matteo jumped at the chance.

Jack stood by Robby's side. “Just... prepare yourself, okay? She's been down a long time. She might not come back from this.”

Robby glanced back at him. “She will.”

“And even if she did-”

Robby cut him off. “She will.”

They couldn't send you up to the OR- there was nothing surgical to do. They couldn't send you to the ICU- you weren't stable. They could work on you for hours, in the pitts of hell.

Robby didn't stop Jesse from compressions but he leant over you, leaning his lips into your forehead. “You'll come back, you have to come back.”

“What's her temp?”

“We're up to eighty-eight.”

“When was our last epi?”

“Ten minutes ago.”

“Push again.”

At some point Santos pushed her through the crowd, taking compressions from Jesse who she deemed weak-armed.

“Doctor Santos-” said Jack, the only one seeing this for what it was. A disaster. One more emotional person in the room wasn't going to help. If you woke you might just choke on tears from them all.

“I can do it,” she argued, nodding to the night attending. “I can do it.”

Santos was as stubborn as you. If anyone might have been able to beat her heart into beating, it would be her.

Robby leant over you. Robby could feel your skin cold against his lips and he pet back any bit of you he could reach, trying to warm you. He caught Jack's tired gaze, his lifeless stare like he was already grieving you. “I never told her I love her, Jack.”

“Get an APG,” said Santos.

Jack clasped his shoulder. “Tell her now.”

Robby looked back down to you, past the bag pushing your breath, through Santos keeping your heart beat. He kissed your forehead. “I-” he chocked on the words. He couldn't remember a time where he'd said it and meant it like he does now.

He knew Jack was giving him a way out. He knew Jack was giving him the chance to live with no regrets.

But Robby would regret not dying with you if you didn't make it.

There was a silence throughout the room, not even the beating of a monitor keeping him sane.

Robby's hot tears hit your cheeks.

“Temp?”

“Up to neinty.”

“Halt compressions.”

Santos paused.

Nothing.

Then a shrill beeping.

If Robby thought it was life he was going to be souly mistaken.

“She's in V-fib again!”

Robby backed away, tucking his head down to his chest as he watched Jack get the panels, rub the gel on.

“Charge to three hundred- clear!”

Your body jolted again, blankets slipping down your bare body and Robby suddenly wanted to cover you, wanted to pull every tube keeping you alive out and just hold you. Warm or cold. He just wanted to hold you.

“Again, charge. Clear!”

There was a silence. Maybe you were so angry at him you were proving a point by dying. You were a good swimmer. Why didn't you swim?

Everyone in the room paused, seeming to wait for someone to call it.

Jack looked at Robby.

“No,” he said, pushing past everyone.

“Robby-” interjected Jack.

He snatched the panels from Jack. “Charge again, three hundred-”

“-Robby-”

“I said charge again!”

The room was heavy as Jesse moved to do so, charging them up.

“Clear!”

Your body jerked again, violent. Your face remained peaceful, Santos remained off to the side, waiting for orders, waiting to know. Everyone else was looking to each other, silently deciding who would be the one to drag Robby away from your body.

“Wait- there!”

In the middle of them all there sat a pick up in your heart.

The room jumped into discussion about how to carry on, about how to keep the momentum going while Robby pressed his stethoscope into his ears and the other down on you. He listened, catching the beat of your heart.

“She's warm, she's warm and she's alive,” said Jack with a smile.

You were dreaming. It was a sweet sort of thing.

It was a warm body blanketing you and hands holding you. It was lips you knew pressing along you and drawing out pleasure. There were three tiny words spoken into flesh.

It was Robby, his head laid upon your chest in your bed and mumbling the words, tracing every letter over your ribs. When you reached for his hair, when you tried to say the words again you coughed up water instead. You clawed at your throat. You chocked in panic-

Then there was a beeping bringing you out of sweet dreams.

“Hey, hey. Honey? Honey, can you look at me?” a warm hand was running over your head, pushing back your hair. “Open your eyes.”

You tried to. They felt heavy. Sleep heavy.

But someone was coaxing you through it, holding your hand and brushing back your hair.

“Yeah, there we go... there we go, hey.”

The lights were bright, almost painfully so as they blared in your eyes. It took you a couple blinks to get them right but when you did there was a dark shadow looming over you, blocking out the lights.

There was the ragged pull of a beard and the slope of a well known nose.

You breathed in and smelt burnt coffee and hand sanitiser. “Robby?”

He smiled, crows feet at his eyes. “Hey, honey.”

You pushed up your arm, finding it oddly weak like it had been weighted down. You found an IV down in your arm. The white lights... the white walls and the IV all made slow sense.

“Wh-what?”

“Easy, easy.” Robby grabbed at your arms, holding you. He helped you sit up, reaching over and plumping your pillow and holding you there.

Only when you heard the monitor calming down and felt the pain lessen did Robby let you go, perching close on the bed next to you and grabbing your hand again.

“What happened?” you asked, finding your throat parched.

Robby sighed, pulling your hand into your lap. “There was an accident at the docks. You went with the responders to help. Your patient had a seizure and...”

You remembered the dock, the wind cold and the yells. You remembered Jack was there and the patient, he was seizing. “What happened to him?” you asked.

Robby stared at you, a small shake in his head as his brows pinched together.

“The seizing, the patient.”

There was a small look of disbelief, a soft smile creasing his chapped lips.

“What?”

His smile turned sharp with affection as he looked down. Your hand, engulfed in his, was pressed to his lips. He stayed like that as the scenes played in his head and the smile slowly started to fall. “You were brought in, your body temp was eighty. Jack was- was doing compressions. We- we had to shock you, so much, you don't- ” Robby sighed out a shaky breath. “You don't know what it was like.”

The dock, the bodies, Jack. The bite of cold water like a thousand daggers piercing into your skin. You had gasped for breath, limbs flailing.

It had felt like dying.

“Oh.”

You rubbed at your chest, pain blooming.

“You might be a bit burnt, from the shocks. And we were- we did compressions for a while so you broke a rib,” he said, chocking down a cry.

You squeezed his hand. “We?”

He nodded, chin tucked into his chest. His lips were pursed.

You'd seen Robby cry before, in shades of red face and clenched palms and always trying to hide it away. But you'd never seen him try to hide away as much as he was now. Your hand escaped his hold, caressing down his cheek.

“Robby.... hey....”

His lips puckered to your palm, pressing a kiss there. His palm was large as he held your hand up to his cheek.

“Hey,” you cooed.

Robby glanced up at you. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry.”

“It's okay.”

“No, no it's not, it's not okay,” Robby took a shaky breath and scooted closer. His arm came over you, bracing himself on the bed. “You almost died.”

You searched his eyes but only found pain and defeat. He looked tired. Really tired. “But I didn't.”

“That's not the point,” he said. He brushed back strands of your hair, kept petting it down in a way you guessed comforted him more. “Jack was doing compressions for almost an hour. Your temp was down the whole time. We shocked you four times. Four.”

Robby's voice broke.

“You almost died and the last thing we did was argue.”

You didn't know what to say to that. The words I'm sorry were already rising and like he sensed it, Robby gave a small shake of his head. “Yeah... probably wasn't the best timing.”

“We're never arguing again, you understand?”

You smirked, wrapping your fingers around his wrist. You could feel the race of his pulse. “Give us a week.”

“No,” said Robby. “Never.”

Something sour tasted it your mouth.

“Because we- are we, broken up?”

“No. No. We are not,” he said sternly.

You let out a breath. “Good. Good. I'd have hated to wake up from near death to that.”

“I should have listened to you,” he uttered. “Noelle is nothing, everyone else is nothing, nobody means anything to me, only you. Only ever you. And I am never letting you go again, ever.” He kissed your hand again.

You smiled at him. “What if I need to pee?”

“You can hold my hand.”

“And on mornings where I have really bad morning breath?” you teased.

“That doesn't happen, you know that,” Robby smiled.

Without any arguments left you gave up, sinking into your sheets with a shiver.

Robby frowned. “Are you cold?” he was up at once, pulling at the covers over you and the blankets. He was all but tucking you in as you laid there, taking it.

“Robby.”

“Yeah?” he hummed.

You tugged at his arm, pulling him down.

“What are you- what are you doing?” he chuckled, lightly.

“I'm cold, you're a human furnace, hold me.”

Robby was on the verge of complaining even as you pulled him down on the bed. He grunted at the squeak of the bed, was careful of the monitors assessing you. He squeezed in, pulling the rail back up as you curled up to the side to give him space. “These beds are not made for two.”

“You'll have to get onto the attending about that,” you teased, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah, first thing tomorrow.”

“Meh, I can persuade him, if you like.”

Robby smirked. “He'll do whatever you say.”

His arm slung over your shoulder and rested there, holding your body into him till your head was on his chest and you could feel the beat of his heart. It was just like you dream. Of comfort and warmth.

Robby said your name in a whisper.

You looked up at him to see his eyes screwed shut before releasing them.

“I...”

You watched the move of his lips. “Robby, you don't have to-”

“No, I want to,” he said. Robby's hand was careful as he cupped your face.

“You don't have to say it just because of what happened.”

“I'm not, believe me, I'm not,” he said. “I love you.”

It was the words you wanted to hear, the words you needed to know, the very thing to finish off your dream.

“Robby-” you interjected.

“I love you,” he smiled, grinning wide at you. “I've said it now, I don't think you'll get me to shut up.” There was fake remorse in his voice, a feigned sort of sorry.

“I can think of a few ways.”

Robby's lips were warm and giving as you puckered your up to his, kissing him slow. If you lost your breath kissing him it'd be a hell of a way to go.

Robby smiled against your lips. “That might work.”

His body half rolled onto yours, the bed creaking in protest. Only when your monitor warned of you losing breath did he pull away and check the machine.

“Get some rest, Robby, you look like you need it,” you said, kissing his cheek slow.

There was fight of protest in him that quickly gave up.

Robby looked up at you, wide eyed. “Can I stay?”

You nodded.

“I love you.”

The words he'd given you, the words he'd never forget to say. The words he'd spoken and would never take back.

--🩷--

You were so nervous. You'd tried on three outfits, thrown them all on the floor in tears, then picked the first one anyway. A nice summer dress to match the LA weather and some low converse sneakers, with understated soft make up and your hair tonged into gentle waves. Lowkey but pretty. You were meeting Sammy at a dive bar before meeting his his coworkers for the first time.

Sammy met you outside. He was in his Ray Bans, which he tucked into his black suit jacket pocket when he saw you coming. Sammy straightened, loose black suit over black shoes, slightly baggy white shirt with the top few buttons undone and a thick black tie. His shirt was a bit tight over his tummy and it drove you wild.

Sammy ran a hand through his auburn curls and grinned as you approached, his eyes lighting up his soft, round face. 'God, you look beautiful,' Sammy breathed, holding you close against his chest before pushing you gently to arm's length. 'Wow,' Sammy whistled slowly through his teeth. His rough voice was low and gruff. 'You look so fucking beautiful in that dress. Twirl.'

You twirled, giggling and melting under his adoring gaze. Sammy's eyes dropped to your legs where your hem brushed halfway down your thighs. 'Fuck,' he breathed, pulling you close again, and began to give you a sloppy kiss. Sammy's tongue licked into your mouth, uncoordinated and wet on your chin, as his fingers dragged up the outside of your thigh. 'Baby,' he moaned into your mouth. You squirmed and tried to wriggle out of his grasp. 'Not on the street!' You giggled, even as he pulled you back roughly into his arms. 'Officer.'

'Uhhh say that again,' Sammy growled, his eyes darkening, and bit your lower lip. Hard. 'Officerrrr,' you purred. His large, meaty hand squeezed your ass cheek tight. 'We should just go home now,' Sammy kissed you again, softly against your lips. 'I need you.'

'What about your coworkers?' You asked, 'I didn't get all dressed up for nothing!' Sammy's brow furrowed. 'You got dressed up for me,' Sammy groaned. 'C'mon, baby, I need you.' 'You'll have me,' you smiled, running your hands through his hair and tightened your fingers, scratching his scalp. 'Unnfghh,' Sammy moaned into your mouth, 'please.' You loved feeling so wanted by him, he was coming undone without you even doing anything yet. 'Later,' you promised. 's-sorry... ' just can't help myself.' He followed you inside, one hand resting possessively on your ass.

--🩷--

It was going so well. You already knew Nate, and he helped you blend seamlessly into the group. Sal took you under his wing and challenged you to a game of pool. You'd never played but you wanted to join in.

'Sammy?' You asked, turning round, Sammy was close by, eyes already focused on you. He had watched with a swell of affection as you laughed with his friends, proud at the patient but sassy way you dealt with Dewey, even when he was an asshole. Sammy had never felt this way before, this primal need to have you over and over. 'Yes, baby?' 'I've been challenged to a pool duel,' you laughed.

'A pool duel?' Sammy snorted, eyebrows raising. 'I'm playing against Sal,' you explained. Sammy was half-listening, his eyes dropping to your soft, painted lips. 'Can you show me how to play? My whole reputation rests on this,' you told him solemnly. 'Of course!' Sammy stood quickly, dropping his beer against the table. Any excuse to be close to you. He couldn't help himself, he had never been so turned on by anyone in his life.

You were close enough to see his beautiful, freckled face as he leant in and gave you a kiss. As Nate made puking noises and you began to pull away, face hot and self-conscious. Sammy's face chased after yours a few inches. He ran his tongue over his bottom lip before biting down on it, eyes looking up to the ceiling. 'C'mon, Sammy,' Sal barked. 'Are we playing or what?'

'What,' Sammy mumbled in response but, when you tugged impatiently on your hand, followed you anyway. As Sal racked up and went first, you followed suit and your shot was awful. 'Sammy,' you whined. 'Okay, I'm here, baby.'

'First, you need to improve your stance,' Sammy stood close behind you, and tried to suppress a sigh as his tummy pushed against your back. His fingertips ran up the outside of your thighs again, thick finger pads dragging against your sensitive skin. You squirmed as his hands reached your waist and he kept his big hands on your hips. One pressed into the bottom of your back and bent you over the table.

Nate snorted and averted his eyes respectfully from the view down your summer dress. As you lined up to take your shot, Sammy drifted his hands down your arms, still pressed tight against your back, and helping you take your turn. You managed to pot one. Granted it was a red, not your yellow, but you were so excited anyway.

'Good job!' Sammy praised you. 'You're doing such a good job.' 'I potted the wrong one,' you giggled, jumping up and down anyway, brushing between Sammy's hips. Sammy walked you to your next lineup, keeping his body pressed against yours, his warm breathing close to your ear. He enjoyed bending you back over the pool table, enjoying your involuntary sharp inhale. The fact everyone knew that you were his girl, the possessive exhibitionism of it, thrilled Sammy. 'Who needs soft porn?' Nate asked, swigging his beer and rolling his eyes. 'What are you talking about?'' Dewey crowed. 'This is fuckin' great!'

Sammy's squishy, round tummy was pressed against your back, his chest flush against your back. Sammy tried to hide a smell of your neck, inhaling shampoo, perfume, and you. Every time you jumped up and down in celebration, you were grinding against his cock. Sammy felt it beginning to twitch. 'Uhhh.... y-y... you're doing so fucking good.' Sammy mumbled into your ear, his praise tumbling out of him like a moan. You potted a yellow, not hearing him, and wiggled in celebration, clinking your drink against Sal's.

Sammy's cock twitched again, pressed against your thin summer dress. He tried and failed to stifle a whimper. 'Baby, you have to stop,' Sammy murmured in your ear, his voice rough and scratchy. 'Stop what?' You whispered back, confused. 'Thiiiis,' Sammy moaned, running his hands up and down your thigh.

You half-turned, laughing, and looked over Sammy's face. You adored those sparkling eyes with soft laugh lines around them, and the way the sun doesn't always reach into them. His aquiline nose nuzzled into your forehead. 'You just turn me on so much,' he whimpered. You kissed him, chaste because you were very much aware his coworkers were looking. 'Mmf,' Sammy moaned, trying to kiss you again.

He was semi-hard now, and was starting to worry that the hem of your dress was going to get caught and be held up by his cock. He wanted to stay hidden behind you until it went down so his friends didn't see, but there you were bending over the table again. You backed up to take your shot and his cock brushed the thin material between your ass cheeks. 'Hnngh,' Sammy whimpered, biting his lip. It felt so fucking good.

'Dude,' Nate laughed, ''think you need a time out.' 'Wha-', you twirled around fully, standing at the same time, and you felt a stiff pulse against your hip. Sammy was beetroot red, and mumbled something about needing more his beer. Retreating, he sat down on his stool. You could see he was visibly turned on, a stubborn tent in his pants which he tried to adjust. Nate snorted. 'Alright, alright,' Sammy nodded, hands held up in defeat and swigged his beer.

'Like a dog in heat,' Nate murmured into his drink. 'Shut the fuck up,' Sammy smacked his arm. Sitting across the table did little to help; the neck of your dress opened a little to reveal the plump contours of your tits. The ones he desperately kneads when he's fucking you. The ones with sensitive nipples he brushes his fingertips across until they're hard for him. The ones he flicks, tweaks and twists until your jaw drops open.

Sammy was starting to sweat, and desperately tried to turn his whine into a cough, pushing his hard-on down. The friction of his hand, palming against his thigh, made it worse. 'You're seriously embarassing yourself now, dude,' Nate shook his head, laughing. 'Let the poor girl play pool. Let's down some shots.'

--🩷--

You stumble up the steps whilst Sammy fights with keys in his pocket. His face is furrowed a little as he concentrated, plump lips pouting, and the smell of aftershave and whiskey rolled off him.

When he finally won the hard fight with the keys, you both fall in, giggling. The shots had given Sammy a little bravery. He took hold of your hips so you faced him, squeezing your waist. His eyes grazed across your body, finally settling on your mouth. You looked up at him with big doe eyes. 'Urghhh... Why are you always doing this, sweetheart?' he whined.

You had no idea what Sammy meant. 'Umm... what are you talking about?' You asked, eyebrow raised. It sounded like too many shots of JD talking.

Sammy pressed you up against the wall, bracing behind your head. 'Baby, you're so beautiful,' he whined, bringing your hands above your head and pinning them there with one meaty hand. Sammy leant in, pausing inches from your face. You made a soft moan and that was all he needed, kissing your open mouth.

They were slow, deep and intimate. You felt electricity sparking along your spine, and a heat pooking between your legs. Sammy sighed softly against your mouth, his lips soft and tasting of whisky. He gently bit down on your bottom lip, and when you opened jaw to moan, Sammy pushed his tongue inside your mouth. He swirled his tongue against yours, licking across the soft muscle with the flat of his. He groaned into the kiss, pinning your hands tighter against the wall. You push your chest against his, rubbing your tits against his plush chest. 'Fuuuuuck,' Sammy breathed. '... s'what I'm talkin' about.' You pulled away in confusion. As you started to reply, Sammy stepped forward, pressing his body weight fully against yours, trapping you against the wall. His knee pushed your legs further apart and he pressed his knee between your thighs.

'You know exactly what you're doing to me,' his face looked pained, and you genuinely had no idea what he was talking about. 'I'm not doing anything!' You replied. Sammy leant on his knee and gently pressed upwards against your mound, just a little, catching your breath.

'You are,' Sammy whined, 'you need to stop playing with me.' You planted small kisses along his sensitive neck, sucking under his ear. 'Look at you,' Sammy groaned, leaning into your hair and inhaled, shuddering with pleasure. 'Pressing against me when I'm teaching you to play pool, grinding your ass against my cock...'

'Sammy, I didn't do any of that to play with you!' You shook your head desperately. 'Making me hard in front of my friends...' You looked up into his eyes, his gorgeous baby face. Sammy rolled his bottom lip under his teeth. 'You do it to yourself,' you laughed.

''just turn me on so fuckin' much,' Sammy whimpered, 'I'm always hard around you. It's hard to keep my hands off you, especially when you look like this and you bent over like that.' You're flattered and flustered, unsure what to say to the compliment, but Sammy doesn't give you time. 'You must know what you're doing... you torture me! Skin so soft....' Sammy runs his hand up your silky thigh, 'Lips so kissable...' Sammy leans into you and licks across your bottom lip, 'Pussy so wet for me, shit.' Sammy slid his fingers across your damp panties and inhaled sharply.

'Sammy,' you breathed, your hands still trapped above your head. Sammy's frustration began to build, and you could feel the outline of his thick cock pressed insistently against your inner thigh. The tip of his mushroomy head drooled into his boxers. Sammy whimpered with a quiet desperation to be inside you. 'Please take me out of my pants.'

The room's silence was only broken with your heavy breathing as Sammy let your arms drop, and the metallic sound of Sammy's belt buckle falling open.

Sammy let out a wounded groan as your finger tips danced slowly along the waistband of his boxers, through his short auburn pubic hair. You slipped your hand over his boxers and felt the smear of pre-cum across the soft cotton. Sammy's cock pulsed under your hand and he groaned pathetically. 'Uhhh... baby, please...'

Before you have chance to slip your fingers under his boxers, Sammy's meaty fingers wrapped around your wrist. Holding you there, he backed you up into the bedroom. As he guided you inside, he kicked the door shut behind him with his foot.

You let him whine in your ear, like a wounded little dog, before he gently pushed you down onto the bed. Your hand falls from his pants as Sammy climbs on top of you, holding himself up by his forearms but caging you inside. His face was red and he was panting heavily. 'You're just so fucking beautiful,' he wrapped his lips around the spot he knew was most sensitive on your neck. You melted beneath his touch.

Sammy kissed down your neck until he reached your collarbone and gently sucked along it. He knew it would mark you, showing the world that you were his. He whimpered louder than your moan, and he pressed his hips against yours. The metal of his open belt buckle caught across your clit as he moved, and you cried out. 'Baby, I'm so uhh s-sorry,' Sammy reached down and wriggled out of his suit pants. He ran his fingers over the cotton of your panties making soothing sounds, gently rubbing it better. He felt the slick from your want as he slid his fingers across you. Sammy was starting to come undone.

'It's okay,' you whispered, moving into his fingers. Sammy's meaty hand covered entirety of your warm cunt through the material. 'Oh shit,' Sammy groaned, ''is what I mean.' He pushed his boxers down as well, pushing your panties to the side. 'Baby,' you moaned, and sharply inhaled as Sammy slipped his cock between your pussy lips. His cock was so large, only half-wrapped by your folds, and he started to push up and down, fucking against you. Sammy groaned as your wetness slathered his cock, the fat head pressing up against your hard clit, over and over. 'Sammy-' you moaned, grasping Sammy's hair. 'Does it hurt? Did I hurt you?' Sammy sounded concerned, but he pressed his full body weight into you anyway, his round, squishy belly spreading against yours.

'The metal?' you asked. 'Mhmm,' Sammy was getting breathless, his face flushed red. 'No, it felt good,' you whispered. Sammy hissed, his mouth crashing into yours. It was rough and messy, and you could see Sammy's eyes were glazing over.

Sammy pushed himself down, moaning at the absence of your warm cunt wrapped around him. He tucked himself back into his pants and knelt onto the floor. 'What are you doing?' You asked, trying to look down. Sammy rustled through his pants and freed his belt from the loops.

He wrapped his thick arms around your thighs and pulled you closer to the edge of the bed. Your eyes widened as Sammy produced his belt and lay it against you. The cold metal almost stung, your wetness sliding easily all over it, as Sammy pressed it between your folds. He gently tugged upwards, the warm leather following after to soothe the bite of cold metal, slithering against your hole. You groaned, your head tipping back. Sammy placed the metal buckle on your mound, pushing the hood of your clit back. Sammy groaned in anticipation as you tugged harder on his hair. ''m gonna make you feel so good, baby.' Sammy hovered over your cunt, his warm breath against your skin as he hummed. 'Oh fuck,' your toes curled at the framed exposure Sammy possessed.

Sammy gave an experimental lick of your clit. You moaned in pleasure as Sammy's tongue gently circled around it, swishing his tongue against the wetness in soft circles. 'Fuck... you taste so good.' The metal moved and the coldness pressed against the sensitive bundle of nerves making your back arch from the bed. Sammy moved the buckle back, pressing his lips against your clit, and began sucking on it gently. 'Fuck... don't stop...' you panted, suddenly teetering on the edge.''wanted... do.... all night...' Sammy panted against your slick skin.

'Oh Sammy... shut up,' you whined. 'I'm so close,' your eyes fluttered. ''can't help.. fuck... t-taste...so good.' You wrapped your hands around Sammy's head and pressed him deeper into you so he'd stop talking and losing the rhythm on you. You couldn't stop yourself from grinding against his face as the tension in your tummy reached every inch of your body. Sammy began suckling on your clit, nursing from you again and again and again... 'Fuck... I'm cumminggg,' you moaned, back arching from the bed. Sammy didn't stop as waves of pleasure rolled through you, muscles softening and cramping, vision blurring white.

Sammy looked up at you, panting hard. Your slick covered his chin, and the metal outline of the belt buckle was imprinted on his face. He gently lifted it from you, strings of your wetness stretching between. 'Oh my god,' you moaned. Sammy went straight back to your cunt, licking up all your wetness. 'Sammy... am s'sensitive!' You tried to crawl up the bed, away from him, but Sammy held your hips in place. He buried his face further down, nose between your folds, as he licked and ate and kissed your cunt until your stomach was coiling tight. 'I can't,' you panted. 'Yes you can,' Sammy's lips spoke against your skin, before pressing back down into your wetness and humming, his tongue spelling out his name on your clit. Your second orgasm washed over you, and you felt your cum covering Sammy's face. He didn't stop, still eating away at you until you wiggle away.

''Can I touch you? Please?' Sammy begged, climbing on top of you. His rock hard cock pulsed in frustration against his stomach. 'Been s'good.' 'You've been so good,' and pulled him closer, licking his neck. Sammy groaned, reaching down and pressing the tip of his meaty cock against your hole. Your pussy fluttered on reflex, swallowing the tip of him in. 'Mmm, no...' Sammy shook his head. 'Stop... hnnngh - won't last.' He pulled out, before desperation took over him again. He pushed his head back in with a pop! and then slowly dragged it out again. You were writhing underneath him. 'Sammy,' you whispered, heat blooming in your lower tummy, 'more. Please.' ''can't... I'll cum too soon,' Sammy whimpered, pushing his cock instead through your wet folds. You moaned as your slick covered his cock, helping it to slide upwards and the fat mushroomy head pushed against your clit. 'Fuck,' Sammy was breathless, 'you're so fucking wet for me.' He began to rut against you, pounding against your clit. Humping against you like a dog in heat. As your breath began to hitch, Sammy stopped. You cried out in frustration.

''need you more,' Sammy slurred, twirling you round, so he was sat against the headboard. He pulled you into a straddle on his lap. Sammy's hands settled on your hips, ready to guide you. You leaned in and Sammy sloppily returned your eager kiss. He thrust his hips upwards and entered you fully for the first time on accident. You both moaned, and Sammy went dead still, filling you to the hilt. His grip on your hips tightened enough to leave black finger marks tomorrow, but he was beyond caring. 'You're so beautiful... 'n so fucking tight,' he groaned. Sammy began pounding upwards into you and you were breathless. His thick cock was stretching you out, almost painfully. Sammy would normally start with one or two fingers at least to get you ready to take him. The pain made your stomach flare. 'Uh... uhhh... huh,' Sammy grunted each time he bottomed out.

You kept a tight grip on his shoulders to steady yourself, your pussy fluttering at the merciless onslaught. 'Don't... don't do that,' Sammy panted. 'Stop or I'll...'

He lifted you, needing a second to stop his cock from quivering. Sammy shifted his hips so he was leaning forwards, his knees raised to keep you in place. The spot his head was bumping against made your heart race and your muscles began to tense. 'There?' Sammy asked, knowing it was the spot you really needed him. 'Just there,' you nodded. Sammy leant forwards and you moved to kiss him, but he turned away last minute, hovering his face along your jaw and then slowly down your neck. 'Sammyyyyy...' you whined, desperate for his usual affection.

'There...' Sammy grunted, his face screwed up from trying not to blow his load inside you already. 'Need you... want me li-like shit I want you.'

'I do-,' Sammy took the opportunity of your mouth open to drool onto your tongue. You felt butterflies as he pounded into you. You held your tongue open to show him his saliva pooling on your tongue. Sammy couldn't help himself, he was smashing against your face, swallowing his spit and giving you nasty, wet kisses. You tried to stop your eyes from rolling back as you twirled your tongue around his, biting down on his bottom lip.

Sammy focused on leaning you back against his knees and you looked down, watching his cock disappearing inside you and pulling out again. You could see a thick ring of your cum sticking to Sammy's pelvis, splattered into his pubic hair, plastering it to his skin. He pressed down on your lower tummy where he was filling you. Sammy tipped you forwards until he was hitting the spot you really needed, the one you can't reach with your fingers.

You lifted your hips up and down, meeting Sammy's halfway and grinding against him. Sammy let out a low gutteral sound, his hands still squeezing into the skin of your hips to help bounce you up and down into him. 'Shit... you feel so fucking good.'

The obscene noises of skin slapping against skin and his cock being milked by your wetness echoed in the room. You would be humiliated if you weren't so turned on.

'I'm gonna - hnnngh,' Sammy let out a wounded sound, around shallow breaths. You scraped your nails down his chest, drawing out a broken whimper from him. Your fingers danced over his sensitive nipples, and Sammy's balls tightened. You kissed along his jaw, sucking the sensitive spot he loved just under his ear. Sammy let out a strangled groan and his thrusts became sloppy.

'Mmmmf,' he groaned, eyes rolling back into his head and his jaw falling slack. You continued suckling on his neck, feeling his racing heart under the soft skin, and tasting the salt of his sweat. ''m gonna...'

Sammy used your hips to thrust sloppily into you, and you knew he was seconds away from spilling into you. Every time he buried himself inside your soaking wet, tight cunt he grunted and his muscles twitched. 'm gonna fi-fill.... fi-fi-fill yo-, oh fuck, 'm cumming....' Sammy pulled your body close to his and held you tightly against his chest as his hips gave a thrust... and then two more.

Sammy let out a whimpery, wounded sound as he buried his face in your hair. You felt his cock throbbing deep inside you and you tightened your pussy muscles around him. 'Hnnngh fuck,' Sammy whimpered, his cock twitching inside you and let out a spray of hot, thick cum. It kept pulsing, wave after wave milked from his cock and hosing down your gummy walls, filling you with his cum like a fountain. Sammy groaned into your shoulder and you gently pulled his jaw until he was looking into your eyes. Sammy whimpered and his hips bucked again.

You began to kiss him, very slowly. This kiss was deep, intimate, as Sammy slowly kept grinding into you. His cock was starting to soften but Sammy wanted to make sure he fucked every drop of his cum deep inside you.''love you so much,' he moaned against your mouth.

Sammy shifted down the bed, auburn curls damp against his forehead, carefully making sure his cock never left you. He pressed you down on top of him, his thick arms protectively squeezing you tight. Possessing you. Claiming you. ''love you too, Sammy,' you whispered, trying to stay as still as possible to prevent his softening cock from slithering out of you. Sammy reached down to where you joined and scooped up the cum sliding down your thighs into his fingers. He began fucking his fingers back deep inside of you, beside his soft cock. The feeling of two, then three, fingers slowly pushing into you, scissoring inside you to cover every inch of your womb, was incredible. You felt so bloated; your stomach full of Sammy. His fingers dragged up and down the side of his soft cock as he slowly fucked you with them.