thank god fish aren't into cash...

"Wish you could be back here with me right now huh, boys?" You pout as your fingers slip past the hem of your shorts, fingers now slipping through your folds and your slick covering your hand as you pace circles around the sensitive bundle of nerves.

"Jackson- " you moaned softly as you slip a finger in and begin pumping. The noises that filled the backseat would make even the toughest of men blush. And that, it did.

Healy adjusts himself in his seat, his face growing redder by the second as his cock strained against his jeans and hands white knuckle grip the steering wheel. He can barely keep his eyes on the road as they dart back and fourth between the rearview mirror trying to catch a glimpse of you.

You insert another finger with your attention now focused on Holland, head careening against the headrest looking at him with half lidded eyes and a devious smirk on your lips.

"mmmf- fuck March- look how wet I am for you-"

"Jesus, fuck- sugar I'm lookin'-" He twisted around in the passenger seat to face you, palming himself through his slacks when he reached back to run a hand up your thigh. Clicking your tongue, you quickly swat him away and a groan leaves his lips.

"Ah... No touching, Hol-" Healy hit a pothole and your fingers curled reaching that plushy spot just right, simultaneously cutting off your own attempt to tease Holland. Muttered filth escaped through gritted teeth as you arched your back, bucking into your hand.

"I'm gonna- woah oh shit-"

Healy quickly turned the car into the next alley he saw and your butt flew back down into the seat. You quickly grip on to the oh shit handle giggling as you brace yourself from sliding across the seat at how quick he suddenly whipped the car.

"Aw Jackson-" you coo'd at him, pitch teasingly higher as you say his name-"you're that desperate for me?"

"Yeah, well-" Healy throws it in park and turns to you, both of their eyes now met with the shit-eating grin on your face, "you're making it hard not to be with that show you're puttin' on back there, pretty lady."

You couldn't help but laugh at how fast the two of them left the car.

The door clicks open and the cool night time air made its way quickly down south sending shivers across your body as your fingers leave your soaked cunt.

Healy extends a hand and you graceously accept- a small thank you leaving your lips as he lifted you up and out with his other hand at the small of your back.

He lifts your hand to his lips and places a tender kiss on top. "Oh such a gentleman-" Red flushed across your cheeks as he began moving his lips along the back of your hand, peppering kisses, gruff beard scratching and leaving goosebumps in their wake.

"Anything for you, sweetheart-" He replied in a low growl and your knees felt weak.

He pecked at the tips of your fingers before inserting them into his mouth, humming, tongue swirling around your digits as he cleaned off the slick on your fingers. Holland could only watch speechless, stroking his cock as he watched his partner clean you up.

"Good boy, Jack."

If looks could kill, you'd be guilty with multiple charges the way you flashed a baiting smile at the two.

Next thing you knew your shorts were pooled around your ankles and Healy was behind you one hand on your shoulder; fucking into you so relentlessly your eyes rolled back as your body washed over with euphoria, mind halfway gone to the stars.

Holland cupped a hand under your chin and his thumb wiped away any tears that escaped past your lashes as you ran a stripe along the vein underneath his cock.

"F-fuck- you're such a good girl for us, babydoll-"

You hum as you wrapped your lips around his cock, hollowed your cheeks and begin bobbing your head with Healys rhythm.

Ken is smiling when he pokes his head around the door. He’s always smiling when he’s looking at you. Sometimes you’ll walk into the kitchen after he’s already been awake for an hour and find him looking sadly at the TV. The moment you make yourself known he always breaks into a grin which won’t leave his face for the rest of the day.

“Hey! I was hoping we could do boyfriend-partner stuff today,” he says, flopping chest-first onto the mattress next to you and immediately kicking his legs in the air. You’ve explained multiple times over that it can just be partner-partner stuff, or even just partner stuff, but he seems to be attached to the word boyfriend. Wears it like a badge of honour: yeah, he’s YOUR boyfriend, and everyone should know!

“I’d love that, baby, but we gotta go easy today. I’m a bit tender.”

“Oh.” He cocks his head to the side. “Did I massage you too hard last night?”

“It isn’t that. If anything, you can massage me harder, if you want.”

"Ooo," he says, excitedly, then his brow furrows again. “Then what is it? Tell me! If it’s a guy I’ll fight him for you.”

You’re pretty certain Ken has never been in a fight in his life, or at least one which didn’t contain contemporary dance. 

“I’m on my period.”

A beat.

“We talked about this, yeah? I’m menstruating, Ken.”

He nods, slowly, the meaning of the word coming back to him.

“Well, why be ‘menstruating, Ken’ when you could be… Kenstruating men?” 

He looks at you and wiggles his eyebrows as if he’s just said the smoothest pickup line anyone’s ever thought of. You burst into laughter. It’s total nonsense, but when he says that kinda stuff with so much sincerity it’s so charming. 

"What did you have in mind?" you relent.

"Well, you said orgasms can make your cramps better, right? I remember, I'm a good listener."

"You sure are," you agree. He traces ever so lightly over your stomach, tiny little hearts from his fingertips into your skin.

"What if I helped you come?"

He wants to help you come about every problem. Nothing worth watching on TV? No worries, he can help you come. Didn't find pants in the size you wanted? It's okay, he can help you come about it. Pizza's gonna arrive five minutes later than expected? Well, do you know what he can do in those five minutes...?

This time, though, he might have a point. Yet you still find yourself hesitating.

"Are you sure, Ken? None of my previous partners have been... super enthusiastic about that idea at this time of the month." Not even the couple of girls you've dated, which had been a bitter pill to swallow, as you were happy to help them when the scenario was reversed.

Ken looks at you with total sincerity when he says, "every partner you've ever had has been a coward."

Can't argue with that. When he tugs hopefully at your comfy sweatpants, you lift your hips so he can slide them down along with your big, unflattering period undies. With any other person, you'd feel self-conscious. Not with Ken. Never with Ken.

It's not a pleasant sight, you can't imagine, but he drops a kiss to your navel as he gently pulls your lips apart. He inspects the blood which gathers on his fingertips before slowly sliding between your folds, tenderly beginning to rub your clit.

"Oh, shit," you groan, getting lost in the combination of pleasure and aching. The former soon overtakes the latter as his thumb swipes over and over where you need it to, gentle waves of ecstasy rolling across your body. Ken has his chin propped up on one hand and looks at you like you're a miracle.

"Inside?" he begs, eyes huge and full of reverence. You nod, and he slowly eases a finger into your sore cunt. It makes you suck a breath in through your teeth but he works you slow, pumping and crooking exactly how you like it until he feels like you can take another without issue. When the second slips in to join the first, you're sure his hand must be coated in blood. He doesn't care.

"My menstruating darling baby angel..." he hums, and you laugh a bit before it turns into a moan. "Can I use my mouth?"

"It might not taste good," you manage, as he hits the exact spot you need him to, buried in your tender walls.

"You always taste good," he states, as if it's so simple, as if it's a fact, and you're pretty sure you gush over his fingers. You groan and tangle your hand in his hair before shoving his mouth to your cunt.

He eats you out as if every time might be his last. The crimson mess of your pussy doesn't phase him at all, instead he buries himself against you and begins to fuck you with his tongue. It makes you gasp, every little movement magnitised by the sensitivity of your period, and when you automatically try to wriggle away he gently holds your hand to keep you still. Not an instruction, not an order, just a request. So you stay put and allow him to loop that arm around your thigh in order to keep you flush to him.

His fingers rejoin his tongue and he's fucking you so beautifully, every little movement in tandem, and when you look down he's coated in slick and blood -

Yeah, you come.

It blooms over you and a physical ache is relieved, like Ken is the orgasm fairy of period comfort. You flop back into the bed and he peppers your thighs with wet kisses.

"Good?" he asks. You shoot him a wobbly thumbs-up.

"Five stars."

“Out of…?”

“Five, baby.”

"Yippee...!"