9000 yr old Bog Witch

There was a lump in Andrew's throat that he couldn't seem to swallow. His eyes zoned out, looking down at the shower drain while water sprayed from above. He looked beautiful like this— sunset hues beaming through the bathroom window, setting his otherwise auburn hair ablaze into a fiery red, droplets glistening as they traveled down his defined torso, and his freckles much more prominent than usual. However, ogling your boyfriend was far from enjoyable with his current state. 

"Andrew?" you call out. It had been a long day for you and all you wanted was to finish it off with the comfort of your boyfriend and his home. 

Nothing. His hazel irises lackluster, breathing abnormally sharp, and entire body rigid. You ached in desperation to shake him from his daze. Peeking your head into the bathroom doorway, you weigh your options. Instead of speaking, you slowly step towards him.

Similar to how an individual might approach a stray dog, your feet softly pad towards the shower. The second your hand swings the foggy glass door open, Andrew flinches at the sound. It looked instinctual when his hand went yanking a towel to cover his crotch. Once recognition washes over,his jaw goes lax, but the tension remained dormant in his body. A comforting smile spreads across your face as he shuts off the water with a stiff motion. 

"Didn't mean to startle you…you didn't come to bed last night," you mention gently. 

It had become a ritual for the two of you. After a long week of errands, work, personal affairs, and simply adulting, you liked to dedicate your weekends to spend time with Andrew. He so Friday's consisted of you going straight to his place, having whatever he cooked for dinner, and then sleeping together in his bed. So for you to have fallen asleep alone, and then to wake up to find that he never came to bed at all was…alarming to say the least. 

Andrew's brows furrow and then unravel, not responding right away. He was sensitive when it came to the routines that he had; sleeping no exception. The only sound for a long moment being the last couple drips from the faucet. The silence, you've come to learn over the course of your relationship, is a form of self regulation for the older man. 

"Didn't wanna…bother you. You looked comfortable," he finally mutters. 

"Sweetheart, it's your bed," you giggle. "How would you be bothering me?" you question with a tilt of your head. 

Andrew's jaw flexes in discomfort, and he shifts to wrap the towel around his waist; making an effort to keep his penis covered. This doesn't go unnoticed by you, but you decide not to mention it. You settle on reaching out your hand to thumb at his cheekbone. 

"I was dirty," is all he says, averting his gaze even though he was leaning into your touch. 

"That's okay…you could've come to bed anyways, or we could've slept on the couch like last time. I don't mind if you're a little worn from the day," you jest. 

"No." he blurts "I'm dirty…I'm not…I'm not clean," he mutters shakily. 

You look down at his hands and they're about as shaky as his voice. In an attempt of comfort, you reach to place your hands over the rough, trembling ones before you. The second skin contact is made, Andrew violently rips his hands away, turning his face away. 

"Hey…Sweetheart…you're not dirty. I promise you, you're not okay? You just showered, you smell perfectly fine, I'm sure you scrubbed yourself thoroughly like always. We can get your old soap if you'd like," you suggest, attempting to cradle his face once again. He brushes your hands away, causing you to raise your hands in surrender. 

"No! This…this isn't about some soap. You're not…you're not listening! I'm dirty! I am dirty!" his voice climbs in volume the longer he speaks.

With wild eyes, his spine jolts up and begins pacing frantically. All his body seems to be capable of doing is shaking it's head no and pacing the same pattern within the small space of his bathroom. The way he clings that towel to his pelvis causes one of your brows to raise. 

"Baby-" you begin, but that pet name he was all too familiar with stirred him up further. You didn't realize your mistake as it fell from your lips, but the damage was already done. 

His nails now dig into his arms repetitively, causing deep crescents to litter his forearms. He mumbles the same words:Baby, Smurf, No, and Stop under his breath over and over in no particular order. He seems to be speaking to himself more than you. Those hazel irises of his become consumed by his pupils erratic pulsing.

"Shit sorry, Sweetheart…yeah good job…just keep looking at me, okay?" you whisper, an attempt to ground him. 

Those hazel eyes met yours as his pacing slows, now staring wide-eyed and desperate, silently begging you for guidance. For help. You have to grab at your thighs to prevent yourself from reaching out and holding him. 

"Yeah…there you go," you repeat with a nod.

Andrew then nudges his face into your chest with a whimper. Your hands hover uncertainly, not knowing if it was okay to touch him yet.

"M'sorry…s-so sorry I yelled," he apologizes as he nuzzles his face into your neck now. "Hold me…" he pleads while his burly arms squeeze around your torso, cheek flush against the slope of your shoulder, and his nose nuzzled into the side of your neck. 

"I know…I know…talk to me, hm?" you hum, finally holding him and running your fingers through his damp curls. 

"Don't patronize me," he croaks, yet he can't seem to let you go. 

You lightheartedly roll your eyes and huff out a sigh. This was a reoccurring dilemma where you would attempt to comfort Andrew, and he would interpret it as you mocking him. No matter how many times you reassured him, whenever the man was wound up emotionally, he fell back into old patterns. It was a belief instilled by the Cody matriarch that was about as reversible as a stain in a white tee shirt; it may never go away, but there's a chance it'll fade overtime. 

"Andrew…" you huff exasperated. 

He sniffles once and his grip on your waist becomes bruising. 

"Sorry…" he whispers, realizing what he said. 

"Will you talk to me? I'm getting worried," you press. 

He peers up at you through his wet lashes with the most adorable pout painted on his lips. Your heart fluttered at the sight and you could not resist brushing away a stray tear with your thumb. The gesture causes him to bashfully look away. Then, he rises to his full height, pulling away from your embrace. He looked so…small. Using such a word to describe the eldest born Cody seemed like an oxymoron. Yet, with him standing before you: eyes glossy, bottom lip wobbling, and face flushed, you couldn't ignore the innate desire to nurture him. 

With you, he felt like his identity of Pope Cody was an alter ego. With you, he was plain old Andrew. That's why the thought of sharing his murky past terrified him. He feared that the more you learned about his history, the quicker you'll run away from him. The quicker you'll run away from Pope; the unsettling, atypical weirdo that scared the shit out of people. He just wanted to be your sweet Andrew and nothing more. He would choose being a nobody over a Cody if it meant he could lead a life with you. 

"You love me?" he asks shyly. His face uncertain, but the way he was vulnerably laying out his heart made you believe that some part of him trusted that you cared for him. And Andrew's trust didn't come easy. 

Without hesitation you nod, cupping his freckled cheek in your hand. Carefully cradling his face with the fragility that you feared he may break if not held correctly. Once you press your lips light and lovingly to his forehead, you answer his question. 

"Wholeheartedly," you confirm. 

Suddenly, Andrew reaches for the tucked part of the towel wrapped around his waist. His movements are sluggish and hesitant, but there's a spark of determination in his eyes that really captures your attention. You provide the space he so desperately needs to reveal what has been buried for decades in the darkest parts of his subconscious. And when he freezes after barely untucking the towel, you're not sure what the shaken man is trying to convey. You suspect this is his way of trying to address your lack of a sex life. Except, you told him that you didn't mind going slow, especially since prison impacted his libido. 

"Sweetheart…I told you it's okay…I know you're not ready to have sex yet-" you begin, but he raises a hand, signaling for you to pause. You bite your tongue and nod for him to continue. 

Your eyebrows raise in curiosity as his towel slowly falls down his hips. The immediate thing you notice is how unusually bare below his navel is. It's flawlessly smooth and naked of any pubic hair. Mentally, you rationalize it as another manifestation of Andrew's particular nature. 

Then, he reveals his manhood and your hand immediately flies over your mouth. His shaft looked almost grotesque; littered with these round, discolored bumps one may mistake as an infection of sorts. Your brows furrow, and before your brain can formulate a theory as to what you're looking at, he brings your train of thought to a halt. You saw the way his bottom lip was already beginning to wobble, and how any second he might burst. 

"Cigarettes…" he chokes out before clearing his throat. "When I was little…every time she would put them out…w-wet myself," he grunts through strained breaths, tears pooling in his hazel eyes. 

Something overtakes his body and he practically collapses. You attempt to catch him, but in the end, his weight takes you both down. With all the strength a woman of your stature can muster, you pull him into your arms and Andrew lets out cries so pained, you can only assume he's been holding them in for years. With a heaving chest, he gasps for air in between sobs and tears freely flow down his face, the hot tears dropped along your arms and neck. All you can do is cradle him into your arms on this cold floor and pet his oh so soft coils, scratching his scalp every few strokes. 

"Oh my…" you whisper. "What did she do to you, Sweet Boy?" you ask earnestly. 

Your motherly tone seemed to evoke more sadness from the man. He let out a squeak that you could only imagine is what little Andrew sounded like crying for help. 

"M-made me…sit in my wet diap-pers…t-touched me-" he chokes out with the occasional hiccup, then an un-involuntary whine slips out. "Would use m-me…my m-mouth" he adds breathlessly. He attempts to say more but lets out a strangled noise as if speaking physically hurt him. You shush him soothingly and pull his head closer to your chest. His ear pressed against your welcoming chest, and the sound of your heart beating seemed to calm him. 

"Just breathe…" you lull him. 

Eventually, after many guided deep breaths and whispered affirmations, Andrew manages to recount the horrors of his childhood. He tells you of the horrific routine Smurf put him through: him wetting himself due to overwhelming anxiety, the witch of a woman making him sit in his filth before she would violate him, and then putting out her cigarette on his genitals as punishment for "getting too excited". It absolutely horrified you. It angered you. Most of all, your heart felt overwhelmingly heavy. You were devastated. The thought of your Andrew experiencing that. Your Sweetheart. Your loving, thoughtful, and loyal Andrew being exploited when he was a wee little boy made you sick all over. You had to fight the tears that threatened to fall at the mere idea of that small boy being taken advantage of. 

"Oh my goodness…" is all you say. 

You rub at his back, pulling the towel back over his trembling figure. 

"I know that…that it's gross and that…I know that it'd probably get in the way so…" he utters, sounding humiliated. 

"Andrew…nothing about your body could ever disgust me. You're only human. I love even the parts of you that aren't pretty, okay? You deserve to feel good in every way," you reassure him with a firm kiss to his temple. 

He lays there, unmoving, except for his back rising and falling with each breath. You continue to pet his head as he clings to you. He seems to zone out for a long moment, and you just patiently wait for him to come back, ignoring the ache in your lower back. 

"I hate my body," is all he says after a long while. 

You continue rubbing his back, letting out a hum to encourage him to continue. 

"It's never…clean. No matter what I do," his breath shudders on the last word. 

His eyes widen and he curls in on himself. His face begins to trembles and tears pool in his eyes again. His nails resume digging crescents into his forearms. 

"I…I just want to be clean. I try…I scrub and I rinse and I scrub and I rinse and nothing. Nothing! NOTHING!" he shouts, slamming his palm against his forehead repeatedly. 

He begins to scratch at himself, streaks of red puffing up along his skin. Your arms snake around his torso and you hold him as tight as your body will allow you to. The tears you've been keeping at bay finally slip out, struggling to keep up your strong front for him. More pained cries escape his lips, writhing in discomfort. You see him restraining himself from abusing his body, hands awkwardly contorting. 

"Sweetheart…I'm right here…I'm right here," you whisper, nuzzling against his temple.

He nods shakily before turning to bury his face in your chest again. 

Eventually, his breathing evens out and he pulls away, loosely hugging his knees to his chest. With eyes full of resentment, he stared between his legs at his flaccid phallus lying on the tile floor. There was a slight snarl on his face as he silently criticized his organ. You kneel in front of him, placing a gentle hand along his calf, rubbing up and down. 

"Is this what it was about?" you ask, and when he doesn't respond you elaborate. "Your…scars…is this why you didn't want to have sex?" 

"It's part of it…" he says after a moment. "Prison killed my sex drive…but I didn't really have one to begin with. Sex has always been…weird for me. I do it because I'm supposed to. It's like…everything else I do. I do what I'm supposed to," he mumbles, speaking in that unrhythmic cadence of his. 

"Well…do you ever want to have sex?" you ask. 

"Of course I do…you like to have sex so," he begins. 

"No, don't think about that. Without thinking about what I want, do you ever want to have sex?" you probe. 

"I don't know," he admits slowly. 

As the words fell from his lips, he seemed shocked they escaped. It was as if it was meant to stay as a thought. 

"Well that's okay. I don't want you to ever do something you're not comfortable with for the sake of me," you assure him. 

"I'd do anything for you though," he confesses. 

"Sweetheart…I know you would, but I never want to exploit that. I would never take advantage of your trust, but I need you to let me know when you're uncomfortable." you explain, pushing his curls back. 

"I…It's not that I don't like it. It feels good, but I just…I'm used to prostitutes I guess. It's always for something…" he mutters. 

"For something?" you repeat. "How do you mean, Sweetie?"

"My brothers or…Smurf…pay women to do it. I haven't really…been with many women. Not intimately. They always make me do stuff…" he complains. 

"Hm…like they tell you what to do?" you question, brushing back his curls again. 

He shrugs and a long pause is all you get in response. You realize he's told you as much as he's wiling. 

"Alright, Sweetie," you sigh. "Can I see something?" you whisper softly, hand hovering over his back. 

He nods weakly. You pull back the towel to really take in his battered manhood. It was just awful. The welted, raised skin, the discoloration and hyper-pigmentation. Simply looking at the site made your skin crawl. Yet, despite all the scars of abuse that littered his privates, your attraction didn't waiver. With the look on Andrew's face though, all he could seem to do is wallow in self disgust. 

"Hate it," he repeats, voice now hoarse.

Your heart broke further when he nuzzled his cheek against your thigh. The man who maintained such a stoic front was now baring his true self to you, and as painful as it was to watch, you were humbled that he trusted you enough to fall apart like this. It was so human in a way that was raw and ugly; something you could only admire if you truly cared for an individual. To love them at their most vulnerable was an act that could only be executed by love. 

"You're beautiful, Andrew," you whisper. "This doesn't change how good I could make you feel…if it's something you want I can make it happen," you coo, grazing his bare thigh with your nails. 

The hairs on his body began to raise. Your touch excited the man, how could it not? With the feeling of arousal though, disgust always came with it as well. For Andrew, the two things went hand in hand. The very act of sex was the most primal thing in his eyes. He'd seen it in the many nature documentaries he's watched. To Andrew, sex was something animalistic. It was something people simply do to channel their primitive instinct to reproduce. 

"I feel so gross…" he whines, and it scratches at a certain part of your brain. 

He then hides his face in your belly, and that sparks something in you. This desire— no, this absolute need to protect him. 

"The tingling, the heat…I just…think of what she did and I feel disgusting," he mutters. "Clearly my body wants it though," he grumbles, looking down at the semi that formed from your touch. 

"Hey, none of that," you tilt his chin to look up at you. "This only happens if and when you want it to. Your body is just a response system, it doesn't speak for you. You either wants this or you don't, and I'll love you the same either way, alright?" you say. 

"I…" he begins before letting out a sigh and nodding. 

"I need words, Big Boy," you say softly.

Andrew doesn't even want to begin addressing why that pet name causes his cock to stir. 

"I want you. I want it," he whines. 

"Want what? I'm not a mind reader, Sweetheart," you tilt your head. 

"Want your hands on it! I want you to touch me, but be gentle please," he whimpers out the last of his sentence. 

Your pupils widen at how pathetic he has become. It's utterly adorable. Tears prick at his wide puppy eyes, his bottom lip pink and puffy, nose flushed red, and blood rushing to his shaft. He looked so vulnerable, so weak, so innocent, yet so sinful. Slowly, your nails graze his pectoral before traveling downwards. This ignites a burning in his nether region, and a choked whine vibrates in his throat. You lightly graze his navel, then the base of his shaft before gently wrapping your hand around it. With pursed lips, a thin, clear string of saliva drips from your mouth and onto his cock. He lets out a hiss as you stroke him once. 

"This okay?" you purr. 

All he can do is nod and let out a whine, gasping out repeated ah ah ah's as you stroke him faster. Pre begins leaking, glistening as it dribbles down his tip. With every stroke the skin on his tip rolls back, sheathing and unsheathing his cock head. 

"I didn't know you were uncut," you tease. 

He looks up at you, desperate for validation, it seemed. 

"Is it okay?" he asks with wide eyes. 

"More than okay. You're perfect," You smile at his eagerness to please.

He grunts, eyes squeezing shut when your grip tightens. 

"I-it's so sensitive," he cries.

Your hand immediacy pauses. 

"Do you want to stop?" you ask worriedly. 

He shakes his head frantically, hips bucking upward to follow your hand. 

"Keep- keep going," he grunts. 

You let out a laugh before continuing your ministrations. 

"So bossy," you giggle. 

He mutters out a half hearted "sorry" as he rolls his hips up to meet your hand. God, he couldn't remember the last time he was touched by another woman intimately. He was so used to transactional sex that this, the love in your touch, made him feel like a fucking virgin all over again. The way your hand was moving wasn't just to make him finish, no your were dragging it out for him. You wanted him to ride the wave of pleasure, not just climax as quick as possible. 

"L-love you so much, so fucking much, fuck," he gasps, clinging to your forearm with a steel grip. Hips bucking ferociously. As much as he was enjoying this, it felt too good for him not to chase his orgasm. 

"I love you too, Big Boy," you coo. 

And it was those words that made him let out a pornographic moan and spurts of cum shoot out his cock. It was obscene really, the amount that came out. It's as if he hasn't touched himself in a long long time. With tears streaking down his pick flushed face he whispers "iloveyou iloveyou iloveyou" over and over like a mantra. 

So he was a crier when he came. Cute.

"Goood Job Sweetie," you praise, petting his hair.

Andrew just curls up timidly, cuddling as close to you as physically possible. He was spent, covered in his sweat, and cum painted across his tummy. Your heart fluttered at the site of him sniffling, his body trembling with every sucked in breath. Andrew, your Andrew who hid himself from you for so long, let you make him feel good. When he finally sits up, it's to nuzzle his face into your neck, hugging you like you slip between his fingers if he doesn't. 

"Sweetheart wait-…geez you got yourself all over me," you huff, not annoyed, but inconvenienced. 

He nuzzles into your neck further, his climax now smeared all over your shirt. His apology a weak "sorry". You let it slide considering how distressed and pent up he was. Letting him bask there in your lap, despite his weight crushing you, seemed like the least you could do for your frazzled boyfriend. After a while, you shake him slightly. 

"C'mon, let's get you cleaned up," you guide him up to his feet, ushering him back to the shower. 

"Yeah…" it comes out raspy, so he clears his throat. "Yeah okay," he nods.

Once he stands up, you can tell he's still shy, still hesitant, but no longer hiding his body from you. That inch of progress is enough for you to feel like maybe, just maybe, the scars that Smurf left on his heart weren't permanent. And for Andrew, he was starting to think that maybe he wasn't as damaged as he was made to believe. 

so he can't help the surge of panic that surges through his body like a lit match when, a month after he's been out, he's out to lunch with you when he runs into his cellmate, vin.

"so, you must be the missus. huh?" he teases in snarky voice, his eyes raking over you in a slow perusal that makes andrew's blood boil hotter than the flush across his skin, his fist clenching to stop himself from lunging at him.

"the missus?" you ask, laughing a little as you glance at pope. your laugh dies down when you notice the intense look he's giving this guy and the red splotches across his neck. your attention is pulled back to whoever this random guy is when you hear your name come from him. "uh, yeah. that's me. sorry, do i know you?"

"oh, i'm sorry. i guess i ruined the surprise," vin lips his lips, nodding toward your hand. "guess popey here hasn't popped the question. just confused. he wouldn't shut up about you in there, only talked about getting back to his girl. he kept talking about finally cuffing you up when we were inside, just thought he'd do it pretty quickly after getting out. still just the girlfriend, then?"

"o-oh," you stutter out, your face flushing as you glance back at andrew. his face is pinched in that way it does when he's trying to calm himself down, remind himself to breathe. his focus on his cellmate doesn't break until he feels your fingers ghost down his arm. when he finally looks at you, your stomach turns at how quickly his expression softens.

you always thought there was something between you and pope. the first time you came to a cody party, you weren't at all prepared for how overwhelming it'd be. you had been hanging around the cody's for almost two months now after meeting deran at one of adrian's local surf competitions. it was also the day you accidentally walked in on him and adrian being... intimate. you reassured deran that you didn't care, you already knew about adrian being gay and you never told anyone about him so his secret would be safe with you, too.

the night of the party, you made it about an hour before deran completely ditched you to jump off the roof with craig into the pool, the activity quickly becoming competitive between the brothers. you decided you were over it before wandering inside, quickly isolating yourself in the one room you knew no one would find themselves in: andrew "pope" cody. you hadn't expected to find him there already, sitting rigidly on his bed, facing the window. his head snapped over toward his door when you opened it, his posture loosening when he noticed it was just you.

"you okay?" he asked quietly, his voice strained from not using it.

"s'too loud out there, and deran ditched me. i don't know anyone else." you walked further into the room, climbing into pope's bed after toeing your shoes off. "do you mind?" you suppressed your smile when he shook his head with no hesitation. he wordlessly grabbed a shirt and a pair of shorts from his drawer before tossing them at you.

"change." he demanded softly, frowning before adding, "please. outside clothes."

since that moment, you and pope had grown attached to the hip. you came over even without deran just to spend time with pope, which confused him at first considering you two mostly just either sat on the couch in silence of laid in his bed after you changed into his clothes. surely you had more fun with deran. but he never questioned you, afraid you would take it the wrong way and stop coming over.

but you didn't realize pope thought of you as his girlfriend. not that it bothered you.

"popey was a little loopy most days in there. was he talking out of his ass about his pretty, young thing?" vin interrupts the look between you and pope, bringing you back to the present.

"if pope said i'm his girlfriend, then that's what i am," you say easily, giving his hand a squeeze. he squeezes your hand back, tugging you a little closer toward him.

"well, s'nice to meet you, sweetheart," he gives you a wink, his gaze returning to pope. "give me a call sometime, pope. we've got some things to catch up on," he says pointedly, shoving his hands in his pockets and walking away, his shoulder brushing past pope's.

"vin was my cellmate," he offers quietly. "told him, everyone about... well, you. i-i'm sorry."

"for what?" you say softly, one of your hands coming up to brush through pope's steadily growing hair, the curls starting to take form again, much to your delight.

"you're not mad?" he frowns, his brows furrowing when you shake your head. "you're not gonna tell deran?"

"why would deran care?" you say, laughing a little.

"he's your actual boyfriend. i would care."

"what!" you shriek, rearing back in disbelief. "deran is not my boyfriend."

"he isn't?"

"pope, if deran was my boyfriend i'd be an awful girlfriend. i used to sleep with you in your bed. i'd sneak out of his room to sit with you on the couch whenever i did pass out in his room. i've thought about you everyday that last three years you've been away." you sidle up closer to him again, reaching over to grab his other hand so you were holding both of them. "if i'm anyone's girlfriend," you shrug, giving him a sheepish smile, "i'm yours."

"yeah?" he mumbles, letting you maneuver his hands to wrap around your waist, fighting the urge to pull you flush against him when your arms come up to wrap around his neck.

"yeah," you mumble back, leaning in to kiss his cheek. "now," you continue, your lip still pressed against his skin, "let's go get some lunch." your lips press against his cheek one more time before moving to hover just above the corner of his mouth. "i'm starving."

biting your bottom lip, you moved your gaze upward, watching his side profile as his head leaned back against your sofa’s backrest.

leaning in, you pressed your lips against the side of his neck. pope’s shoulders tensed at the wet feeling of your tongue pressed softly against the side of his neck; a small laugh left your lips. “do you mind hickies?” you murmured, pressing your head against his shoulder as you curled up to his side. he’s always been a particular guy who liked things a certain way, after all.

a shaky breath left his lips before he shook his head slightly, “no.” he shuddered.

a small smile curled on your lips before you leaned closer, earning a sideways glance from pope as he met your gaze, then found himself looking at your glossy lips. taking the opportunity, you pressed your lips desperately against his own. pope let out a heavy breath against your lips before he moved his hands from his lap; his touch was warm against your skin. one large hand pressed against the nape of your neck, keeping you close while he kissed you with a desperation that bordered on manic.

his other hand moved to press against your heavy breast, thick fingers digging into your soft skin as he groped. fingers occasionally rubbed against your hardened nipple, making you mewl against his lips.

your hand continued to work up and down his cock while his warm tongue pressed against your own. his saliva warmed your mouth messily before you pulled back with a pant. saliva kept your lips connected for a brief second. pope looked up at you, the blue of his irises practically hidden behind his widened pupils, his heart pounding against his chest while a warm feeling in his lower belly made his skin feel feverish.

his shirt was undone, its buttons rendered useless as the fabric remained open, exposed only to your hungry gaze.

“you taste good.” you whispered, keeping eye contact with him.

his jaw clenched as the fingers against the back of your neck clenched, tugging on your hair. you moaned, which made his hips twitch in return, his pelvis rolling against your hand before you pulled it away. a sudden chill hit the sensitive skin of his cock as your hand wasn’t pressed against it anymore.

“what are you doing?” he rasped out.

“spit on it.”

there was a pause that came after your words as he glanced down at your cupped hand under his mouth.

“what?”

“you heard me.” you teased.

pope’s shoulders were tense, his cock throbbing achingly at the lack of touch. furrowing his eyebrows, he hesitated for a brief moment before leaning closer and spitting into your open palm; the warm, wet feeling that came from it made you hum. he stared at you, waiting for your next move with widened eyes, his gaze pleading in a way he would never admit out loud. you stared into his pretty eyes. he looked so desperate for your touch, and not wanting to make him any longer, you moved your palm to your lips before spitting on it too.

his saliva mixed with your own before you moved your hand down to his cock. wrapping your hand around his girth and stroking as eagerly as before, you felt the wet slickness of saliva coat your hand and his shaft alongside his pre-cum.

this earned a whine from pope’s lips, a mumbled curse leaving his lips before he pulled you back into another kiss by the back of your neck. his lips were warm against your own, and while your hand remained pumping his cock, his grip on your neck didn’t loosen. instead, he pulled you even closer. his other hand moved shakily from your breast to cup the side of your face. his touch was soft, yet heavy, as he kissed with more vigor than before.

pope could let you jerk him off, he could let you pull the strings, but he sometimes likes to remind you that the person in power in the situation was always him.

your stomach fluttered at the firmness of his hold, even if he had to pull away to breathe. his hand found its way back down to your chest while you pressed kisses on his cheek, down his jaw, following the muscles of his neck before you paused against his pulse point. a soft breath left your lips as you felt the soft pitter-patter of his pulse before you pressed your lips against his skin, this time working to mark him up properly. making sure that any lingering eyes would be met with the obvious sight that pope wasn’t up for grabs.

pope let you, leaning his head to the side to give you more space to work on. the hand that rested on your neck gently traced down to your back, while the other moved to rest against your waist as he pulled you closer to his body.

he said your name, his voice shaky as the knot in his belly tightened harder and harder.

you could feel the throbbing of his cock against your hand, which only encouraged your touch. you worked to stroke his cock faster, making his breathing heavier as choked moans left his lips.

licking up his neck, you moved away to watch his face while you pumped your fist up and down his dick. your eyes were half-lidded, hyper-focused on each twitch of his face as his eyebrows furrowed upward, a crease appeared between his brows while his lips parted slightly. pope panted, feeling his stomach clench, his abdomen tightening while he rolled his hips against your palm desperately.

“fuck,” he choked out.

tightening his hold on you, he squeezed. the aching knot inside him finally snapped. with a jolt, pope’s body locked while his hips shuddered desperately, ropes of warm, sticky cum coating your soft skin as he gasped out a groan. a mess of incoherent words left his lips as he felt you firmly, yet slowly, pump his cock.

pope’s cock tensed and twitched against your hand. you continued to stroke his cock to help him ride out his orgasm. feeling the warm feeling of his cum making a mess over your hand, you hummed before finally pulling your hand away from his slowly softening dick.

his breathing was quick and rapid, his back leaning fully against your sofa. pope’s brain felt hazy in the aftereffects of an orgasm; only god knows how much he needed it.

moving his gaze over to you, a tired breath left his lips as he watched you lick his sticky cum from your hand. his face felt hot, though there was a visceral feeling of discomfort at the mess that your hand had become, with the mixture of saliva and his semen; he almost wanted you to go and wash your hands before touching him again. though, another part of him seemed too blissful to act on it.

“you’re a lot more eager than i thought you would be,” you hummed.

pope craned his neck up to look at you.

“yeah? is that a bad thing?” he said, voice soft.

you shook your head, a small smile curling at your lips. “no,” slowly you pulled away from his hold and moved to straddle his meaty thighs. pope blinked, looking up at you in a daze before his hands slowly moved to grip your plush hips.

“you’re not done though, right?” you teased, moving your hands to his freckled chest before pushing his shirt further apart, wanting to remove it.

his adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, but pope found himself shaking his head.

instead, he pulled himself up, moving to press his lips against yours as his hands found their way to your jaw. he let out a small groan into your mouth before he moved your body down to rest on the couch. pope kept his lips pressed against yours as he found himself crawling above your body, pulling back only to pull his shirt off and tug his denim pants down properly before moving to press his lips against your neck.

It's one of his favorite parts of the day: waking in the early hours of the morning and rolling over to watch you. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the vague flutter of your eyelashes, all the little movements when you would shift to get comfortable. It was also inevitable that watching his lover do something so natural would make his body react. At first he fights the urge to do anything, you're sleeping and it's wrong. But you agreed to it before and always loved when he touched you. So he lets his calloused hands slip under your clothes, squeezing and lightly pulling at your flesh.

He's whispering apologies as he tugs off your pajamas, sliding under the blankets and between your legs. Pope eats you out like it's his last meal, dragging his tongue through your folds and suckling on your clit. Your sleepy little moans and the way your hips grind up toward his mouth is just encouragement. He's kneading your thighs like a kitten while his face stays buried between your thighs, tugging your legs shut enough to squeeze his head. It ends with him pressing reverent kisses up from your sex to your hip bones.

Now that you're properly soaked he's finally tugging down his boxers and shuffling around to toss them off the bed. Leaning down to whisper sweet promises against your cheek as he presses home. Nudging himself into you as he presses one of your legs up and down to the bed to keep you open for him. Pope's thrusts are controlled—slow and even—doing his best not to wake you up. Though his best effort is in vain as his thrusts grow sloppier and rougher in his eagerness to be closer to you.

By the time you wake up he's whining, his face pressed into your neck as he slams into you. Choked off moans falling from your lips as you squirm under him. Pope sobs, "I'm so sorry, so sorry..."

He strokes your sweaty hair back and out of your face, "I-I couldn't help it. You just feel so good! Do you feel nice? I felt you cum earlier, lemme—lemme help you cum again"

Now that you're awake he's able to lift your legs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. Pressing sloppy kisses to your lips as he tangles his hands in the pool of your hair spilled across the pillows.

Finally, his hips are starting to stutter, pretty tears rolling down both of your faces as he rubs his nose against yours, "You're so perfect. Taking me in your sleep like that...you tasted so good creaming all over my mouth. Were you dreaming about me?"

pope wrapped his large arms around you, pulling you back as he shot daggers at the other man, pressing a kiss to the side of your head. "calm down. lena, let's go," he called, voice cracking a little bit as he opened the door to her room. you tried your best to calm yourself down in front of her, watching as she quickly pulled her shoes on and came to grab your hand. she didn't even look at her own father, just staring up at you to make sure that you were alright. he led you both out to the car, hand rubbing your back as he opened the doors for both you and lena. "what happened?" lena spoke quietly from the backseat once pope finally got in, his hand reaching over to hold onto your hand as he began to drive. "nothing lena, everything's okay. how about we go to the park?" you hummed, composing yourself before turning around to flash a smile at her. she only smiled back, giving you a nod before staring out the window. your gaze turned to pope, staring straight ahead at the road as he held your hand tightly. you could see his eyes were glossy, like he was on the verge of crying which broke your heart.

once at the park, you let her go out to play, leading pope to sit down at a bench where you both could keep an eye on her. "you okay?" you spoke softly, finally turning to look at him. he stayed quiet for a moment, eyes staying on lena. you let go of his hand, moving it up to rest on his jaw before turning his head to face you. a few tears left his eyes as he finally looked at you, both hands moving to cup his face. "you mean what you said?" he mumbled, his voice barely audible as you held his face, thumb moving to swipe his tears away as the fell. you sighed softly, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. you leaned forward to press your lips to his gently, squeezing his face before pulling back to rest your forehead against his. "of course i meant what i said. you will be an amazing father," you mumbled, rubbing his cheeks with your thumbs as he continued to cry.

"he mows my yard, what happened to your face?" you asked, moving to reach a hand up to gently touch the bruise, pope yanking his head away at your touch. you furrowed your eyebrows, watching as he approached jared. "your lawn services are no longer needed. thanks man," he mumbled, moving past jared to make his way into the house with your daughter. you mumbled a quick thank you and apology to jared, slipping him the $10 bill you had stuffed in your pocket before rushing to follow him inside. "andrew what happened?" you asked again as you shut the door behind you, watching as he sat sunny down on the floor to play before turning to you. "i'm going to get some of my stuff out of the car. don't know why you wouldn't have me mow your yard," he spoke again, watching as your eyes immediately went to the mark on his face every time you looked at him. he hated that you noticed. he didn't want you to worry about him.

he was quiet as he moved things from his car and into your house, just a few duffle bags of things before finally bringing his surfboard in. "put it on the back porch, i don't want it falling and breaking something in here," you spoke softly as he looked at you as if to question a place for it. he just nodded, moving out back before he made his way back in. "i'm going to make lunch. come talk to me when you are ready," you spoke quietly to him, giving him a small smile as you watched him sit down with sunny on the ground. you knew she probably hit him. you doubted it was one of his brothers that did it. it broke your heart to see him with any sort of marks on him, a sight you saw all too often when you were together. you hadn't even heard him come in the kitchen as you continued to think, putting a small lunch together for the three of you.

"she hit me. that's all. it's no big deal," he finally spoke, his low voice causing you to jump a little bit. it was hard to find words to put together to say to him, your heart aching at the quiet tone of his voice. you stayed silent as you plated the lunches, setting them on the table. "we will talk about this after lunch okay?" you spoke out, voice cracking as you smiled up at him. all he did was nod, sitting down at the table as you went to grab your daughter. your lunch together was quiet, besides sunny's constant babbling and pope talking quietly back to her. you would catch yourself staring at him every so often, pope just staring back causing you to look away every time he caught you. "i'll lay her down for a nap then we will talk," you finally said, moving to clean sunny a little before carrying her up to your bedroom. the sound of him cleaning up downstairs was all you could hear as you sang softly to your daughter, rubbing her back as she finally fell asleep.

"she's asleep. are you ready to talk about this?" you asked finally as you made your way down the steps to where he was now sat in the living room, laying on his back and staring at the ceiling. he just sighed, moving his legs a little so you could sit at the end of the couch. he noticed your hesitation, raising an eyebrow before throwing his legs across your lap once you got comfortable. "why did she hit you?" you spoke, breaking the silence because you knew he wouldn't be the first to talk. he usually was never the first to talk about how he was feeling. "because i told her i wasn't coming back," he shrugged, finally looking over at you. you frowned a little, your hand instinctively moving to rub his leg. "i know you, andrew. what did you say to make her do that?" you pushed more, pushed like you always did.

he closed his eyes for a moment, his hands moving to rub across his face before looking back at you. "will you play with my hair?" he asked, almost like he was scared. he never was one to be anxious around you. whether it was flirting, touching you, begging to get your pregnant again. but now it was different. he was scared to ask you to touch him. you chewed on your bottom lip as you looked at him, thinking if you were going to give in. and you did. you did a slow nod, pope moving quick to flip around so his head was now in your lap. you could see the tension melt from his shoulders as he buried himself in your lap, your fingers immediately moving to run through his hair. "she was talking bad about you. doesn't matter what she said. no one talks bad about you," he said quietly, the corner of your lip twitching to an almost smile.

it stayed like that for a minute, pope laying in your lap as you ran your hands through his curls. your head moved to lay on the back of the couch, eyes closing. you were so... calm. you always felt so safe around him when things went to shit. "i don't want her hitting you anymore. you run into her and she talks about me, walk away," you spoke softly, eyes still closed. he let a soft chuckle out, shaking his head. "not happening. told you no one talks bad about you," he mumbled, your eyes immediately opening to look down at him. you removed your hands from his hair quickly, reaching to squeeze his jaw and force him to look at you. "i mean it, andy. don't want our daughter seeing you with a fucked up face," you spat, him only staring straight into your eyes. "you're really sexy when you're all stern with me," he mumbled, a stupid cheesy smile spreading across his face.

you couldn't help but laugh, letting go of his face before nudging his head to get off of you with your thighs. "not even going to give me one little kiss? c'mon im hurt," he spoke, showing those puppy dog eyes at you. you laughed again as he moved to sit up, his face right in front of yours. "you haven't earned that yet. you take me out on a proper date again then maybe ill think about it," you mumbled, moving his face to the side so you could press a small kiss to the bruise on his cheek. the smile that spread across his face was the biggest one you had seen on him in so long.

“once sunny is up from her nap i’m going to take her to my sister’s. i have to work,” you spoke, finally pulling away to stop yourself from falling into him even more. you could see the slight annoyed look that appeared on his face, his eyebrows furrowing. “you don’t need to work. i have money. and i can watch my daughter,” he spoke immediately, watching as you got up and began to pick her toys up that were scattered around the living room. “i like work,”you lied straight through your teeth, “and i don’t need your money. it’s smurf money,” you mumbled as you shook your head, his hand grabbing your wrist to force you to turn around.

“do you not trust me to watch my daughter?” he asked, his tone shifting into a more irritated one. you sighed, pulling your arm from him. “you have never stayed alone with her for that long, andrew. i trust you, just get worried is all,” you spoke softly, arms crossing over your chest. his annoyed expression turned into an almost pleading one. all you could do was close your eyes tightly before dropping your head. it’s just one night, what could go wrong?

he turned his head slightly to you before back to the pancakes he was making. "making breakfast. there's coffee ready. why did you sleep on the couch?" he spoke with a raised eyebrow, turning to watch you make yourself a cup of coffee. it was only 7:00 in the morning, why was he up so early. you just leaned back against the counter as you watched him, sipping every so often at the mug in your hands. "why are you up so early?" you questioned, ignoring his question as you moved to the sink to wash some of the dishes he had dirtied. he was quiet. you could tell just by the expression on his face that he was trying to think how to tell you he had to go. "unbelievable," you mumbled, turning back to wash the dishes. "i will only be gone an hour max. just need to get some more stuff from smurf's. i won't tell her i am staying here though i'm sure she has already figured that out," he spoke, setting the plate stacked with pancakes on the counter before moving to stand behind you at the sink. you could feel his hands hovering over your hips, hesitating to touch you before his body gave in and he grabbed your hips gently.

it made you melt but you were quick to push that down at the sound of smurf's name. "you're not even going to wait for your daughter to wake up?" you mumbled again, drying some of the dishes before moving away from him to start getting plates out for breakfast. "i am going to wait till she is up, yes. again, will only be gone for an hour, i promise," he spoke, hand reaching to rub your side gently as you began to plate the pancakes for the two of you, setting one off to the side for your daughter. it was hard not to fold with his hands on you. when you were still together he always had to have a hand on you. touching your back, holding your hand, playing with your hair. "stop touching me, andy. just because you live here does not mean we are together," you sighed, starting to hear your daughter talking to herself in the baby monitor. he couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle, grabbing the baby monitor before you could as he made his way towards the stairs. "andy? been a while since i heard that. i must be getting closer then," he winked, which only caused you to smile and blush as he went up to get your daughter. as much as you wanted to give in and let him love on you, you had to set your boundaries. you had to let him know you were serious.

you ate slowly, the smile still on your face as you heard pope talking with your daughter as he changed her before they both made their way down the stairs. "tell your mommy she looks beautiful," he murmured softly in your daughter's ear as he put her in her booster chair, leaving a soft kiss on the top of her head as he moved to grab her plate from the counter. she had spoke at an attempt at the word 'beautiful', giggling as it made you laugh. "you're so beautiful, sunny girl," you cooed, eyes drifting to where pope stood cutting up the pancakes for her. god he always looked so good in the morning. he caught you staring as he set the plate in front of your daughter, shooting a wink your way before taking a seat on the other side of your daughter that had a blush creeping across your cheeks. "when are you leaving?" you spoke, swallowing your final bite of food before getting up to put the dish in the sink. "i will wait till she is done eating," he said, hand reaching to push some of the curls from sunny's forehead. all you could do was hum in response, nodding a little as you began to clean up the kitchen. it still irritated you to no end that he was leaving, going back to the place you wish you could forbid him from forever.

he could practically feel your annoyance from across the room, planting a kiss on the little girl's head before coming to stand across from you in the kitchen. "i promise it's only an hour," he spoke, finger reaching to poke your side as you washed the dishes. "i have heard that before. one hour. then one hour turns to two hours, then three, then four," you spoke, getting quieter the longer you went on. all he could do was sigh, nodding a little. you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, wanted to trust his word, but your trust wasn't fully there yet. "when i get back, let's go do something. you can't stay cooped up in the house all the time," he suggested, grabbing sunny's plate once she had finished. all you could do was shrug, pulling sunny from her chair to clean up her face. "yeah we will see," you mumbled, moving past him to take her back upstairs to the bathroom so you could clean her. you could feel a headache creeping up just from the thought of him not coming back as you started the bath, your daughter sat next to you on the bathroom floor.

you hadn't even heard him come in behind you, fully dressed but without his bag. if he wasn't going to come back he would have taken his bag. "i'll be back soon," he spoke, reaching down to pick sunny up and press kisses all over her bare tummy as she squealed loudly. you didn't even turn to face him as he sat sunny back down, his large hand coming to rub a piece of your hair that was sticking up back down. you just hummed in acknowledgement, pope pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "one hour, andrew," you mumbled when he had finally pulled back, moving to set your daughter in the little seat in the bath tub. "one hour," he confirmed, hand stroking your hair again before he made his way out of the bathroom. "don't get your hopes up," you kept mumbling to yourself as you bathed her, trying not to have a high expectation that he would be back when you had asked him.

pope on the other hand was determined to prove you wrong. prove he could listen to you, and be there for you and your daughter. as soon as he stepped into smurf's house, he was already irritated. there in the living room sat his brothers and mother, all of them turning to look at him. "done playing pretend? we have shit to get done today," smurf spoke, pope shaking his head as he began to make his way to his room. "i'm not in for today," he called back to them, shutting his door behind him once he was in his room. he could hear his family speaking from the living room, but he only drowned it out as he began to load his bags with all of his clothes. he refused to turn around as he heard his bedroom door open, continuing to stuff everything into his suitcases. "you moving in with her?" smurf spoke from behind him, moving to now sit on his bed as she eyed all of his bags filled with clothes. "got my own place," he shot back, barely audible. he watched as she moved to grab the photos off his bedside table of you and sunny, a snicker leaving her lips. "you think you are capable of being a full time father? you have barely spent any time with her. you weren't allowed to spend any time with her," she egged him on, pope reaching to snatch the photos from her hands before shoving them in his bag. he continued to stay quiet, knowing he would probably explode if he said anything else.

"how are you going to make money? you both gonna live off her waitress paycheck?" she snorted, seeing how her words were getting to her son. you worked nights most of the time, sunny staying with your sister before you would be back to pick her up in the late evening. pope hated you working there. hated that they treated you terrible, hated that they underpaid you, hated the men that would flirt with you thinking they would ever have a chance. "i have money. don't worry about me. and don't talk about her," he hissed finally, a finger pointing in his mother's face. she couldn't help but laugh again, slapping his finger out of her face. "you are pathetic. don't come crying back here when she kicks your ass to the curb. she wants money, not you andrew," smurf stood, looking him up and down before moving out of the room. all he wanted to do was grab her by the back of her head and slam her to the ground, but he knew his brothers would be up there and on him before he could do too much damage. he couldn't do that to your and your daughter.

you hadn't stopped checking your phone since he left, counting down the hour to see if he would live up to his word. the anxiety filled you the closer and closer it got to being the end of the hour. you forced yourself to go out into the front, you and your daughter sat on the sidewalk fumbling with chalk as the lawn guy you hired mowed your yard. you needed as many distractions as possible to keep your mind from the inevitable. when your hour timer finally ran out and you didn't see pope, your heart broke a little. maybe timing him wasn't the healthiest thing, but you didn't care. you felt your eyes began to water as you sat watching your daughter scribble on the sidewalk, trying to sneakily stick the chalk in her mouth before you would snatch it away. you had zoned out at this point, a hundred thoughts going through your mind but one stuck out more than the others.

andrew cody couldn't keep a promise even if his life depended on it.

pope's brows crease at the memory. he remembers how well that had worked: his mother had really sold the "frightened lady caught in the crossfire" act. and he knew you were quite the actor, considering how sweet you could be towards smurf despite your disdain for her, and how easily you could fool any wayward cops into thinking you had no knowledge of the goings on inside the cody compound.

"that could work," he mumbles as he works through it in his mind. "you get there early, wait in line to cash a check or two…"

"right," you agree, a soft smile forming on your face. "you bust in all scary, wave a gun around, put me in a chokehold…"

pope listens as your voice turns a little breathy at the idea. he can picture it going off without a hitch now.

"alright," he grits out eventually. "listen carefully, here's what's gonna happen…"

it's just after half past ten in the morning, and you're at the bank. you lingered at the side for a while, pretending to be very interested in a business checking account pamphlet, before it was time to join the queue. your pulse kicks up just a tad. any second now…

the door busts open with a loud thud and you jump, just like everyone else, before you hear sharp yelps and shrieks.

"EVERYONE DOWN, ON THE GROUND, NOW!"

it's pope's voice, muffled slightly behind his ski mask. you almost obey him out of instinct before he grips you by the arm and pulls you to his chest. he smells so comforting, like his favourite lemon verbena detergent, but you remember to struggle convincingly.

"stop!" you cry out.

"you shut up," he hisses back. with a grunt, pope slings the crook of his elbow around your neck, pushing just hard enough to make you gasp.

it's a gasp that convinces everyone else in the bank that you're currently struggling for air, fearing for your life, but pope knows it means you're incredibly turned on.

"mornin'," he mumbles gruffly against your temple, and you can feel the way he hovers for a milisecond, fighting the inclination to press a kiss there.

to really sell it, pope lifts his gun and presses the cold metal of the barrel to the place where he'd just had his lips. you hear multiple people gasp. your panties are soaked.

"any of you move, and she gets it," he bellows, and it echoes through the unnatural stillness of the bank. you whimper, forcing tears to your eyes as you let your knees buckle slightly.

"you okay?" pope whispers almost imperceptibly against your ear.

"harder," you reply through a sniffle.

at that, pope tugs your body upwards, hauling you upright. "stand up," he commands. "hands behind your back."

you obey, your wrists clasping against your lower back. you take the chance to clutch at the edge of his shirt, tugging pope impossibly closer. he exhales, then walks you over to the nearest teller.

"empty it out— quickly," he orders. the teller's gaze momentarily flicks between pope's masked face and yours. your eyes are scrunched shut, your mascara running, your chest heaving with laboured breaths. she empties the register without an argument.

he goes around the rest of the registers the same way, using your innocent, terrified, whimpering face to get the cash he needs. pope drags you out of the bank with his gun still pressed to your head. you make sure to end your performance with a little kicking and screaming and a performatively loud "what are you going to do to me?" before he hauls you into his car.

he peels out of the parking lot, and the drive home is fast, tense with anticipation. pope pulls off his mask and his auburn curls are gloriously messy and damp with sweat. your thighs press together, both from the sight of him, and from the rush of the job.

pope clenches his jaw as he drives, and then when you're finally safe behind the gates of the cody compound, he rumbles out a "… bravo. you did good."

he tells you to go wait in his room while he brings the duffles of money in, and you don't waste a second before stripping yourself bare, the thrill of the heist still thrumming in your veins. besides, it had been a while since the two of you had had sex, and what better occasion to fuck for than a successful heist?

soon enough, you're riding pope into the mattress in broad daylight. it's barely noon, and you're grinding your hips deep into his as you grip his wide shoulders. you have a lot of adrenaline to use up.

"that— was— fucking amazing," you pant as you bounce on his cock.

pope's breathless too. he has one of your nipples in his mouth, the other cupped is in his thick palm. his free hand is squeezing an ass cheek as you roll on top of him.

he pops his lips free of your breast, still glistening with spit, as he gazes up at you, his hazel eyes wide and pleading. it's a wild contrast to the fearsome expression he had plastered on just hours ago.

"not— ah— wasn't too rough?"

"not nearly rough enough," you breathe out in reply, pressing his cheeks together in a hand.

"you shoulda slapped me when i talked back, like i told you to, that would've sold it so much better."

pope grunts in acknowledgement, and his eyes fall shut at the idea. not of slapping you, but of how much more ravenous for him it would make you for him afterwards. his cock twitches where it's nestled deep inside you.

‘andrew, can you–’

‘andrew, how do you–’

‘andrew–’

you’re an extraordinary woman. everyone likes you, you have a good job, a normal childhood with a loving family, you have friends, and own a nice place in a safe neighbourhood. but truthfully, you could be naive and so so innocent. 

or, you only acted like this with pope — big, strong, capable man who’d do absolutely anything for you. ask for anything and you’d get it the next day.

he knew you were still a virgin, you’d admitted it to him that one time he dropped you off after a date, and you were making out in his car. it was obvious with the excessive way you gasped when he maneuvered you to his lap with ease. you were vocal — moans, whimpers, whines — pope wanted to record your noises in secret so he could make himself cum to it anytime he pleased. 

you were getting much louder as he touched you in places you’d never been touched intimately before, he’d touched you everywhere — except where you were drenched the most. you snapped out of your lustful haze when he flipped the back of the fabric of your dress up. before things got more heated, you forced yourself to pull away from his delicious mouth. 

pope thought you looked positively sinful — the bows in your hair had come loose, your pupils blown wide, your lips were shiny with his saliva instead of your lipgloss, one of the sleeves of your dress had come off, exposing the smooth skin of your shoulder. 

“i– i haven’t–” you started. you looked away, you could feel the heat of embarrassment gradually growing from the base of your neck. “i really haven’t done it before.” 

jesus. you couldn’t even say the ‘sex’ or ‘fuck’.

he reassured you that it’s fine, that you two didn’t have to do anything you weren’t prepared for yet.

he noticed that you’d left a stain on his jeans after he watched you climb up to your apartment. he couldn’t help but give it a little sniff before he dropped it into the washing machine along with his other clothes. 

pope guessed that you were humping on something, maybe a pillow? a toy? no, you wouldn’t even walk past a sex store without getting embarrassed. but, he knew you must be thinking about the other night when he had you sitting on the tops of his thighs. 

he could tell your movements were sloppy and out of rhythm, your pace was too fast like you’re in a rush to cum. were you really that pent up? 

he was getting harder the longer he sat there, he didn’t want to jerk off in his car and make a mess. that’s disgusting. 

he cussed himself out for not following through on the plan of breaking into your home and planting a bug. he wanted to hear what you sound like when you pleasure yourself. do you say his name? do you call out for him and beg for him to come and help you? poor thing, you don’t even know what you’re begging for. 

however, he decided to wait until you finally invited him into your space. he’s not that sick. he’d let you tease him for now. for now, he would be a good boyfriend for you — yes, a good boyfriend as he stayed rooted to his parking spot and continued palming his bulge.

“would you like to come up? with me?” you asked so quietly anyone could miss it, but pope always paid attention to you.

he raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, you had no idea how long he’d been hoping for this to happen. it’s happening, he’s going to have you — in one way or another. 

when you didn’t get a response from him, you rushed to add, “i– i want you t–to spend the night. . .” you were feeling brave. you wanted to feel his touch again, you wanted him closer. most of all, you needed him to ease the ache down there. 

“okay.”

you watched as he took in your room — it was painted with pastels, decorated with lace and frills, shelves of trinkets and cute little figurines, bed filled to the brim with stuffed animals and other weird critters — he wondered if you’d ridden them too. 

your room smelled sweet as you, like freshly baked pastries and there were notes of caffeine as well. he’s addicted.

you nervously wrung your hands together, craving for his approval. your boyfriend was a stickler for organisation and cleanliness, you hoped you did a good job. 

“what do you think?”

pope turned to face you, he bit his bottom lip — you got a small peek of his crooked front tooth, a tiny smile appearing on his face. adorable.

“i like it, sweetheart. it’s very. . . you.”

you exhaled a breath of relief. “oh, thank goodness! i spent hours tidying up.” 

“soooo–” you started again. “do you wanna wash up then–” 

“then we head to bed.” he interjected, and seemed apologetic. . .enough. “sorry– we had a long night, didn’t we? and you spent the entire day cleaning up the place, right?”

you deflated a little bit, disappointed. you wanted him to continue where he left off that time before you ‘rudely’ interrupted him. but he’s right, you are tired. 

you changed into your babydoll nightie and put on some knee-high socks. you walked out of the en suite and stopped in your tracks to find pope in bed, he’s naked waist up, and only in his boxers. 

wow. you gulped, the action didn’t help much to soothe the sudden dryness of your throat. he’s so fit. oh my goodness, those thighs. the main subject of your desires for the past few nights.

pope snapped out of zoning out when he felt your presence. he had to mentally command himself from adjusting his dick in front of you. maybe if he didn’t move, you wouldn’t notice the lump that had grown there. 

you’re quite the little minx. you had no idea what you’re doing to him. he’s a bad man, because he shouldn’t be finding you so fucking sexy right now. perhaps, when you felt more comfortable being more intimate with him he could ask you to get naked but leave the socks on.

he subtly fixed the comforter of the bed, hiding himself in the process. he patted the empty space beside him, “come to bed, sugar.” 

you didn’t know pope didn’t sleep much, if he did he’s a very light sleeper. he deliberately didn’t succumb to it this time, though. he waited for more than half an hour to make you think he’d fallen asleep.

what he didn’t know was that you hadn’t fallen asleep, either. you were just pretending to be, hoping that sleep would take you at some point, instead of thinking about how horny you were at that moment.

but you were too nervous — your attractive, buff boyfriend was right beside you, and you’d soaked through your panties.

he’s lying on his back, and you were on your side, faced away from him. you suddenly felt him move, turning to your side as well. he nestled his body snugly against your back, the warmth of his skin made you feel hot all over. you almost squealed. you felt a solid sensation held against your ass. 

then he adjusted his position again, he slotted a strong thigh in between your legs. he pressed the muscle firmly onto your clothed pussy. oh my god – please stop. no! i’m so wet! 

you’re so turned on but this was so wrong. he’s unconscious! you made a move to distance yourself away but pope caged you in with his arms, trapping you. 

he clenched his quadricep muscle, as if stimulating you. you bit back a whimper, you didn’t want to wake him up. then he did it again, and again and again. 

you tried really hard to quell your cries of pleasure, you bit your lip so hard until it hurt. you covered your mouth with the palm of your hand, but it’s too much. he just kept going, you thought he wasn’t aware of what he’s doing — maybe he was just dreaming. 

eventually, you lost the battle within you and started to rub your pussy on his thigh with gusto — your mind was clouded with pent up sexual frustration. the real thing was so much better. 

you were already climbing toward your peak faster than you expected. you weren’t thinking straight anymore as you missed the part where pope freed you from his arms and gripped your side with a harsh hold, encouraging you.

your hands scrambled across the bed, searching for purchase. you felt something fluffy — one of your stuffed animals (it still smelled faintly of your pussy) — you decided to grab it and use it to cover your face to mask the sounds coming out of your mouth. 

you bit the toy after one last roll of your hips. you were breathing hard and heavy, you shut your eyes in an attempt to calm yourself but you were so exhausted you surrendered to sleep.

you didn’t hear the low sigh pope released, you didn’t feel the stickiness of his semen coating your ass cheeks. ♡

* * May 12, 1995 * *

The beat up black pick up slows to a halt, overlooking the vast beach. The engine along with the old rock song fuzzily playing over the radio gets cut short as Pope settles back in the driver’s seat, smiling a bit at the view in front of him, keys hanging in the ignition but turned off.

They’d made it just in time to catch the sunset.

In the passenger seat sat a girl he never in a million years thought would agree to be his. But here they were, two months into dating, and his hands would still get sweaty when near her.

Y/N Y/L/N.

The smartest girl in all of Oceanside Viking’s High School. The girl who was going places.

Pope was honored just being a pitstop in her life..

“Andy. You weren’t joking. It’s so pretty up here..” Y/N gushes as she sits up more, her bare feet still tossed happily across his lap, nails painted his favorite shade of blue. A symbol of her love for him, honestly.

“You like it?” Pope asks to make sure, heart skipping a beat at the idea of doing good by her.

That’s all he really wanted.

She smiles warmly, nodding as she settles in to watch the sunset before remembering. "Oh! I actually wanted to tell you." She begins as she plays a bit with her thumbs, barely able to contain herself the longer he watches her with those beautiful brown orbs of his, the sun hitting them just right to make them gold..

"I got in!” She blurts out while giggling. Pope is shocked for only a second before letting out a breath of pure pride for his girl. “You're looking at a future doctor of Oceanside, baby!" She playfully jokes as she leans forward more to touch his cheek.

"No shit..” He laughs, actually laughs, and it makes Y/N smile wider. It’s rare when he does laugh out loud, so each crack of that is joyous for the young girl.

“Holy shit, Y/N. I told you that you’d get in..” He states, having never doubted his girl. She’s always been smart. Hell, she was class president from ninth grade all the way to eleventh. This year, she’s vice president.

She tells Pope it’s cause she wants to ‘cut back’ and enjoy her senior year, but.. Pope knows his overachiever has no real plan of that..

"I got in..” Y/N repeats, breathing out like she can finally settle, grinning so wide her cheeks might actually start hurting.

Pope finally reaches over, cupping her face tenderly. His thumbs brush along her cheekbones, brown eyes searching hers like he's trying to hold onto this moment forever. He’s always trying to hold on..

"I knew you would. I told you that you would." He can’t help but repeat. It’s true though.

He never doubted her for a second.

Pope dropped out of school in the ninth grade, but Julia was constantly trying to share new things with him whenever she could, just to keep him sharp. He had met Y/N when she was Julia’s tenth grade science partner.

He was stunned by her from that moment on, but he never had the courage to talk to her till two months ago when he saw her at the skatepark he frequents.

She’d been there with her after-school environmental group, planting a tree. Julia had called her over, much to Pope’s panic. She had made a joke about Pope itching to teach someone how to skate a half-pipe, but that she was too scared. She encouraged Y/N to be his ‘student’. Pope couldn’t walk away because Baz held him in place.

That was the beginning of the end, really.

While Julia and Baz snuck away, Pope and Y/N spent almost all night at the skatepark together, actually getting to talk more than when Pope would stare at the back of her head in fourth period history..

Y/N giggles softly, resting her forehead against her boyfriends to truly enjoy this moment. "I haven't even told my mom yet.” She notes gently, voice softer now that their lips are so close.

Y/N’s parents were never really home. As much as Pope hated it, that’s kind of why Y/N enjoyed going to his place everyday. Smurf was a.. Colorful character, sure, but at least she was around.

That was Y/N’s logic at least..

“Congratulations on being the first person to know..” She continues, a slight tease to her voice as Pope smiles more, pulling her into a soft kiss that’s more like a tender peck.

When he pulls back, he’s smiling just as big as before. "A fucking doctor..” He says it like it’s already happened.

Pope saw bright things for Y/N. She just wishes he saw the same for himself..

She sighs, excitement buzzing through her. It was the perfect set up. The college was real close to town, a 45-minute drive to campus, so she didn’t have to leave Pope, and it was her first choice anyways.

“It’s gonna be great. Especially because then I can help your..." Y/N pauses a bit, realizing something was about to leave her mouth that really shouldn’t. Pope catches on quickly though, eyeing her.

“Help… Who?” He asks slowly. She shifts a bit in her seat.

“Y/N. Help who?” Pope asks again to clarify, making her sigh softly.

“Help… You and your family.” She tries to keep it at that, but he stares her down. “On your… Jobs.” She clarifies only then, voice low and soft as she watches him carefully.

Not because she’s scared he’ll lash out and hurt her, but because they’ve talked about this before.

And Pope has stated firmly that coming over for spaghetti on a random Thursday night is one thing, but actually hanging around his family? That’s a big no.

But it’s too late to go back on the admission. The words hang in the air as the sun fully sinks below the horizon.

Y/N can feel the shift before she sees it clearly on his face. The smile has fully faded without a trace, replaced with a look of… Well, the best word to describe it is.. Lost.

Pope’s hand moves from her face now as he finds his spot in the driver side only, her feet still on his lap as he stares at the steering wheel.

"Y/N..." He begins finally, breaking the thick silence after what feels like minutes.

His voice is quiet. Controlled. Pope never wanted to scare Y/N. Even when angry or overwhelmed, he’d rather draw blood from biting down on his tongue than have her see him like everyone else does..

The truck feels smaller suddenly, the moonlight shimmering over the vast ocean that can be seen from over the pier.

“Andy..” Y/N sighs softly.

“We talked about this…” He continues over her soft voice. He doesn't look at her. His jaw works, a muscle ticking in his cheek as he has a staring contest with the steering wheel.

“Can you just.. Look at me, Andy. Don’t.. Freak out on me." She tries again as she reaches over to grab his hand that’s lulled at his side.

Pope doesn't move. He didn’t react. For the longest time, he sits there, trying to let it all wash through him. Finally, he shakes his head. "Don't freak out..” He repeats her words with a low, humorless chuckle.

Finally, he turns to look at her. His eyes unreadable, that damn wall firmly in place now.

He can practically see it. See her slipping away. He just wanted these two things separate. He wanted his family on one side and Y/N on the other.

But Pope can never get what he wants..

“What do you mean by.. Jobs?" He asks quietly, bracing himself.

"Your..” Y/N sighs. “Your mom told me. Everything. The jobs you guys do. All the heists.” She admits softly. Pope would be vague about so much of his life that when Smurf came to get Y/N from his bedroom during a sleepover at around 2am, it.. Well, it was like when the devil held out that apple for Eve…

Pope shakes his head in silent disbelief. Months of being vague, of telling half truths, of sneaking around. Of trying to shield Y/N from seeing who he truly was. All of it went down the drain as he slept. As he let his guard down.

“Baby..” Y/N whispers, moving her hands up a bit to his bicep, just in hopes of pulling him back. “She said it can be dangerous, Andrew. And… That it'd be good having a doctor on call for some under the table stuff." She explains the gist of their conversation that night just last week.

Y/N had let it all sink in right there at the kitchen table. Smurf was holding gold in front of her. Gold in the shape of a spot in this family. A spot next to Pope.

Forever.

It’s silent once more as Pope turns his head, his free hand reaching up to rub at his bare chin, eyes quickly glancing along the starry sky as he tries to wrap his head around his mother’s game.

She always had a game..

"She told you." He whispers, mind racing. Why? Why do that?

"She said it'd be good having someone you all can trust. For when things go wrong. And I.. I agree.." Y/N defends softly, watching Pope closely as she rests her chin on his shoulder now, fully watching the tense jaw of her lover.

“When things go wrong." He repeats it like he's finding a bitter humor in the words. Always with the dramatics, his mother. He laughs a short, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Fucking Smurf." He mutters, his thumb pressing against his own lips as a way to possibly self-soothe.

It works better when it’s Y/N’s thumb on his lips though…

“Baby. Look at me..” Y/N whispers, trying to reach for his chin and physically turn his face only for him to quickly push open the truck door and get out.

Y/N watches with a frown as he walks to the end of the wooden pier they were parked on for this view. It had been abandoned a while ago, and Pope has been using it as a lookout for almost a year now.

His back is to her as he leans against the wooden railing. The nighttime ocean breeze catches his curls making him pull up his hoodie.

After slipping on her flats, Y/N gets out of the car as well. The salt air hits her nose, a sharp and cold reminder that this should be a fun night. It’s their anniversary today for crying out loud. Two months down to the hour..

She approaches him carefully, stopping a few inches away just to watch him.

"She's been planning this.” He says. He can’t prove it, but he knows. "Since you came to the house. Since I first showed that I liked you. She saw you and she started figuring out how to use you." His hands grip the railing tighter. The feeling of guilt is heavy on his shoulders as Y/N frowns, moving a bit closer now.

"And I don’t care if she is..” Y/N tries.

“I do!” Pope snaps, turning to face Y/N now. “I told her to leave you alone.” He states as Y/N tries talking over him only to be crumbled by the boom of his agitated tone. “I told her that you were off limits." He ignores her words until she finally yells.

“I want to help, Andrew!” She stomps her foot, growing mad herself at his tunnel vision. He can’t see the bigger picture.

“It’s hell, Y/N!” Pope shouts right back, letting go of any self control in this moment. Y/N stiffens a bit at his tone, but she doesn’t back away. “You wanna be in hell?!” He continues, tone raw and wall down. This is the real him. How he really feels.

“If I’m with you? Then yes!” She argues back, unapologetically as she basically gets in his face, no care over their height difference or the fact that his eyes look as dark as the ocean behind him.

The silence settles, only kept from feeling too heavy by the constant crash of the waves below them.

Pope’s shoulders settle finally, his face breaking from his stone cold expression to… His fear.

“You don't get it." His voice drops, quiet and hoarse. "You don't get what you're saying. You're..” He can’t speak when her hands find his face. He looks at her with a mix of guilt and worry.

"You're good, Y/N. You're good. And this life..” He shakes his head, eyes turning a bit glossy at the mere thought. "It eats people like you." He whispers, wanting to stay strong, but his hands find her waist when she presses against him.

"Then don't let it get me..” She says as if it’s that easy.

“Don’t give it the chance, Andrew.” She continues, holding his gaze as she moves on her tiptoes, forehead finding his as her arms wrap around his neck. "Stay with me." She whispers against his lips.

His lips.. That tremble only a bit as his grip on her tightens.

"I can't lose you..” He whispers. "You're the only good thing I've got."

Y/N hums as she pulls back only slightly to really look him in the eyes. “Then be with me. Stay with me. And I’ll always patch you up.” She whispers. “I don’t care about anything besides you.. And me. That’s all I want.” She states.

*

*

*

* * June 14, 2016 * *

“Ma’am, this is an active crime scene..”

“My nephew is in there!”

J looks up from his staring contest with the couch when he hears the voice he’s only ever known for birthdays and holidays.

Aunt Y/N

This morning was already morphing into a blur. One he hoped would soon go pitch black. One he hoped he’d never remember fully again. The cops step aside and in the doorway she appears.

When he called, he was only 50% sure she’d show up. It was rare when he saw her outside of those brief moments.

“J..” Y/N breathes, letting the teenager rush into her arms like he used to when she’d show up at the door with presents before leaving after hushed and somber words with his mother.

She holds him close, gripping him tight as he hugs back. “It’s okay. I’ve got you. We’ve got you..” Y/N sighs as she braces herself for what is to come..

The ride back to the house is silent. Walking into the house… That is a complete 180. Y/N leads J through the chaos of the home and to a room at the very end of the hallway. “I had 16 hour shift yesterday, so.. I’m sorry about the mess..” She mutters as they get into the bedroom that is completely clean. Almost.. Untouched.

“Is this… Your room? I don’t wanna put you out..” J begins quietly, looking around only to find a few things that show she shares this room. The man in the wedding photo that’s framed on their nightstand looks… A little familiar, but he can’t put his finger on it.

“Trust me. You’d be bringing some life into it. I take the couch every night..” Y/N mutters, voice soft. What’s the point of a marriage bed if her husband isn’t here to share it with her?

“Get settled in. I uh.. I’m gonna tell everyone you’re here..” Y/N says after a moment in order to change the subject a bit. She steps out of the room and covers her mouth to keep from getting physically ill. She’d spent so much energy on trying to get Pope and Julia back on speaking terms.

It had been an average night in the Cody residence. Y/N had been showing off the dress she’d wear for graduation, practicing her speech when Smurf walked in. She called a family meeting, and right in that living room, she said that money had gone missing. She’d made it very clear who she assumed it was.

She had looked Pope in the eye. “Either Y/N.. Or Julia.” She had made the choice sound so simple. And without saying words.. Pope’s eyes had drifted to Julia. The fight had lasted all night. Not between Pope and Julia or even Smurf and Julia. No. After Julia was physically kicked out, Y/N and Pope fought all night. But he was stone on his decision. Smurf felt someone had to go.. And he’d never pick Y/N.

And Smurf knew that..

After that, the guilt kept Pope back from ever reaching out. The hurt kept Julia from doing the same. But Y/N refused to let it go, going to visit during any birthday or holiday she could, and always making sure J and Julia stayed in the loop anytime her number changed. In case they needed anything.

Walking to the kitchen, Y/N finds her balance against the dining table. She knew tomorrow she’d have to visit Pope. She’d have to tell him. She just didn’t know how. Outside she can hear the rowdiness of a pool party and rock music on the stereo. Rolling her shoulders, she stands up straighter just as Baz walks into the kitchen with a happily buzzed Craig.

Y/N averts her eyes from Baz, moving to the fridge for some water. “Can I get?” He asks, always finding an excuse to make conversation. Y/N makes a show of slamming the fridge shut, walking away from it with her own bottle. He sighs as Craig snickers.

“You gonna keep this up for how long?” Baz asks finally.

“Until you realize you’re a piece of shit.” Y/N states simply as she stares him down.

“Cops were coming, someone had to leave-“ Y/N cuts Baz off from the same story.

“No one believes that story but you!” She snaps as Craig shakes his head in slight amusement while slipping past the tense showdown to get another beer. “And anyone who does believe it is just as fucking stupid as you.” She finishes sharply.

Before Baz can fully argue back, his eyes drift to just behind Y/N, lips pressing together in slight surprise. Y/N looks over too, sighing as she sees J standing there. “It’s okay. Come here..” She assures. He slowly walks over to her.

“You remember your uncles? Craig, Baz. Deran is outside. Uh.. And.. Grandma Smurf is-“ Y/N is cut off by Smurf.

“Right here.” She says, smiling warm as she walks right over to J to fully embrace him.

Y/N stays close..

*

*

*

“What are you doing in my room?”

The question was fair enough. Three years in prison had resulted in Pope wanting only two things the minute he stepped into the loud Cody home.

A shower being one.

And Y/N being two.

And yet, as he entered his bedroom at the end of the hallway, what stood amongst the bittersweet memories but a teenager in swim trunks. The young boy stammered and barely managed to get a word out when arms wrapped around Pope from behind.

“Baby!” Y/N gasped, jumping on her husband in astonishment. Either she’d finally lost her mind from lack of sleep, or the Andrew Pope Cody was in her grasp once more. If it was the former, no one better pinch her.

Hoisting up his wife, his head nuzzles into her neck before he can help it. All he needs in this moment is her scent, and from the way she’s clawing at his shoulders to stay attached to him, he definitely doesn’t need to worry about that shower. She doesn’t seem to care.

J watches, a bit thrown off over his sweet aunt being the wife to… A man who looks like he could kill him and then eat a sandwich afterwards..

As if realizing his slight alarm, Y/N finally settles herself a bit to look at J. “This is your uncle Pope, J. I-I’m sorry. He.. I guess he just got out today..” Y/N mutters, quickly trying to wipe away tears as Pope looks over at J.

“You just ruined my surprise..” He mutters, staring J down as Y/N goes back to hugging him.

Pope had no intention of mingling after that. In fact, he wanted everyone besides Y/N out of the room immediately. Craig joked loudly about them needing time to catch up, but.. They really did just need time to catch up.

And by ‘catch up’, they meant laying on their sides and facing one another like they used to do when they were teenagers.

His eyes are shut and for the first time in three years, he has no urgency to open them again. To be aware if his surroundings. He knows where he is because he knows who he’s with. Chest to chest, Y/N moves her thumbs over his forehead and temples before slipping them lower to his cheekbones.

Tracing his face. It always worked to soothe him. And now more than ever, he needed this. Smurf had told him yesterday over the phone.

Y/N could try to understand what the hell was wrong with that woman, but she was an ED attending. Not a psychologist.

Pope had roughly kicked out the rest of the world, slammed the door, and then laid like this with her as he let it all out. After a few run-ins with the law and seven years of marriage, he knew in front of him was a woman who’d rather cut out her own tongue before she ever told any of his secrets.

“Baz been enjoying being second in command?” He mutters after a long moment of silence between the two. He had no more tears left to shed for Julia. It’s clear he could use the change of subjects right now as his wife snorts humorously.

“Focus on settling in right now, Andy. You can see the mess tomorrow..” She mutters as he finally looks at her. Really looks at her. A soft frown plays on his lips.

“You been sleeping? I told Deran, I.. I told him to watch you-“ She cuts him off, a gently hand moving to rub his chest.

“I’m a grown woman, Andrew..” She reminds, wanting to leave it there. In reality, sleep had been the last thing on her mind. She watches the guilt seep back into his eyes though.

“I got sloppy..” He finally says.

“Andrew..” Y/N mutters, not wanting to talk about it.

“I just.. We couldn’t have both gotten caught-“ Y/N cuts him off sharply.

“Yeah!” She huffs. “That’s why I spent three anniversaries with you in a spare prison room for two hours only.” She finally lets some of the anger slip. She sighs, realizing it’s all still just under the surface..

All the pain, frustration. Laying below her skin was all the lost time of those three years, the family they were supposed to start, the house they were supposed to buy. All of it, frozen in her veins..

She gets up from the bed to sit on the edge of it and Pope frowns a bit deeper, slowly sitting up as well. “Y/N-“ She cuts him off again.

“You know what, Andy?” She whispers as she turns to look at him. “The next time a job starts going south?” She grabs his chin. “You make it home to me.” She says bluntly as she looks him in the eyes, not kidding around. “You already did your time.” She mutters.

Pope presses his lips together at the implication. What making it home would consist of. He wasn’t a selfish person. But Y/N was. This life had set that up on her shoulders. Selfish got you what you wanted, and all she wanted.. All she was promised if she stepped into this world.. Was Andrew Cody.

He watches her for a moment before giving a singular nod that’s extremely slight. He’s given his word. And somehow, even in this life, his word meant something.

Slowly, both lay back down in the bed, deciding to leave the stresses of yesterday on the bedroom floor. Snuggling against his chest as he lays on his side, arms around her head, she’s enclosed around just his scent. His heartbeat. His lips find the top of her head as she sighs, finally enjoying her space in this home.

“You still like it in hell?” Pope mutters against her hair, voice quiet as he recalls a conversation had two months into their relationship. One that confirmed Y/N was willingly stepping into his world. Her hand finds his shirt, absentmindedly playing with a button as she looks up at him.

“Are you still with me?” She lets the question speak for itself as she looks him in the eyes. No answer is given. It’s not needed. His lips find hers in the very next second. A silent confirmation that the clock is officially ticking again. The house, the family, the memories. All of it is in reach once more as she blindly unbuttons his shirt..

Pervy!Titus who obsessively watches you like a hawk. Watching your every move. Who you interact with.

Pervy!Titus who is obsessively protective of you. He will kill for you.

Pervy!Titus who practically eye fucks you. He looks forward to ripping your pretty dress off of you when you’re alone.

Pervy!Titus who can’t keep his hands to himself. His will always find a way to touch you in public. Whether he “accidentally” gropes your ass when no one’s looking. Or his hands find their way under your dress at the table during a family dinner. He also presses his hard cock against your ass purposely teasing you as he passes. He gets so hard that you can still feel him through his trousers.

Pervy!Titus who is possessive and loves to mark you. He admires his handy work afterwards.

Pervy!Titus who makes you strip, and touch yourself so he can watch.

Pervy!Titus who fucks you hard. Hand on your throat as he fucks you. Hands gripping your thighs leaving bruises. Roughly squeezing and sucking your breasts also leaving bruises.

Pervy!Titus who fucks you in his car.

Pervy!Titus who drags you off to the bathroom to fuck you at a family or business gathering.

Pervy!Titus who fingers you under the table.

Pervy!Titus who loves to eat you out any chance he gets.

There was a man at work. There always was. If it wasn’t at work, it was someone at the club when you went out with your friends. Some dude who bothered you enough to the point that your frustrations slipped into your nightly debrief with Titus, curled up in the sheets and talking about your days. 

“He’s just so annoying,” You sighed, tucking one of Titus’ curls away from his face. “Today he purposefully let the freezer lock behind me when I know I kept it open.” You were a chef in the resort’s kitchen. And while you had gone to the most prestigious culinary school in the country, your coworkers sometimes treated you like you were a nepo hire. Even though you were hired before you got with Titus. 

“That’s not annoying,” He huffed, eyes narrowed and mouth pinched. “That’s attempted murder.” You rolled your eyes.

“S’a bit dramatic, don’t you think?” Titus made a disagreeing noise. He brought your hand down from his forehead and pressed a kiss to your knuckles.

“Nothing’s too dramatic when it comes to your safety.” You couldn’t stop the stupid love-struck smile that curved your lips. He was dramatic. But he was sweet. An idea bloomed in your mind. At the beginning of your relationship, you made it clear that you didn’t want to use Titus as your enforcer. You didn’t want any special treatment just because you shared a bed with the man who was technically your boss. But it was your coworkers who started casting sideways glances. If they wanted to treat you differently, then maybe you didn’t mind bending your code a little. Your gaze flicked to his lips and back to his eyes.

“Do you think…you could maybe…talk to him?” You proposed cautiously. Titus’ eyebrows raised. 

“Talk to him or talk to him?” He clarified. “Because you know Ursula made me promise-”

“Not to hurt the staff, I know,” You sighed. You removed your hand from his and his lip pouted slightly. “It’s just that I’ve tried to put him back in his place, but it's just not working.” You leaned your face closer to his, breath ghosting over his lips, and you saw his mouth part with anticipation. “I’d be so grateful if you could help.” You let your voice drip with honey at the phrase. A phrase that held a deeper meaning, that both you and Titus were familiar with. A special reward. His breath quivered and he licked his lips. 

“Okay, yea,” He whispered, pupils blown in the low light and intimate setting “Yea, I’ll talk to him.” You smiled and kissed him. But when Titus ran his tongue over the seam of your lips, trying to deepen it, you pulled away. 

“I’ve gotta get up early tomorrow,” You explained and he made a pitiful noise when you rolled over. “Goodnight. I love you.” 

“Yea, whatever.” He grumbled. In a few moments, you were slipping into sleep to the chorus of Titus’ soft snores.

Work the next day was fine. Dinner service at the resort restaurant went without a hitch, besides a lady demanding her steak was still undercooked even though the chef struggled to cut through it to prove it was brown on the inside. You were in bed, enjoying the way the silk of your nightie slipped along your bare skin. You were scrolling on your phone when the doors to the bedroom opened. You looked up to see Titus, hair slightly mussed and coat ruffled. His fists rested by his side. You gasped when you saw the flecks of blood and swelling around each knuckle. You climbed out of bed and rushed to him. You took his hands in yours and he let you examine them, turning them over to check if the blood was coming from any cuts. They weren’t. You looked up at him with a question in your eyes. Titus was fighting down a smirk. 

“I talked to him.” He explained simply. One of his hands slipped from your grasp and ran along your ribs. It settled heavy on your waist. His thumb rubbed circles on your abdomen. You smiled at him and kissed his cheek, muttering your appreciation into his ear. Your hands grabbed the lapels of his coat and you walked back to the bed slowly, pulling him along and never breaking eye contact.

“How did he take it?” You asked, slowly undoing the buttons and pushing the wool over his shoulders. 

“He took it.” Titus snorted. “Don’t think you’ll have to worry about him anymore.” You gave him an inquiring look. His head tilted softly. “He’s getting a new job. Still alive. Promise.” Your mouth curled with a grin and you rubbed your nose into his neck. A few soft kisses were placed to the underside of his jaw.

“Ursula’s not gonna be happy with you.” You murmured against his throat. 

“Yea, I kn-oh.” He croaked as your tongue licked a stripe up the side of his neck. He pulled you closer to him instinctively. You felt his cock grow increasingly harder with each nip and kiss to his throat. You pulled away and took him in. His eyes were half-lidded and his pupils were wide with desire, consuming the hazel irises you memorized every fleck of. His bottom lip trembled with each heavy breath. You clicked your tongue at him.

“I haven’t even touched you and you’re already gone,” You cooed, running your thumb over the ridge of his cheek. “Are you gonna be able to handle your reward?” He nodded enthusiastically, but you weren’t done teasing. “I don’t know-”

“Please,” He begged, grip on your hips tightening so hard they’d be sore tomorrow. His voice was broken and filled with need. “Please, I know I can.” His eyes were huge and round with pleading. His breaths were uneven.

“Okay,” You soothed “It’s okay, I believe you.” Your hands cupped his face and he let out a needy groan. It was impressive, actually, how fast you could turn the head of a satanic cult into putty between your fingers. “You ready?” He nodded so hard his cheeks bounced and you gestured for him to get on the bed. He wasted no time, taking off his vest so that he was just in his undershirt and slacks. Titus laid down on his back with his knees up and feet planted into the mattress. He reached out for you, fingers trailing up the inside of your knee. You slapped him away when he got to the hem of your silk nightslip. You crawled on top of him and his hands guided you until you were hovering over his face. He groaned when he saw your pussy on display, no underwear in sight. He leaned up and pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, taking a deep inhale of your scent. “What do you say?” You encouraged him.

“Please sit on my face,” He responded immediately, licking his lips “Ride me and use me to get off.” You smiled and caressed his cheek.

“Gonna be good for me?”

“Yea.”

“Let me know if it’s too much and you need a breather, okay?” You always told him he could stop at any time, and Titus always rolled his eyes. He didn’t care if you suffocated him. Genuinely, he would rather stop breathing than have you deprive him of this. You peeled off your gown. You wouldn’t be able to see him beneath the fabric once you descended on him and you wouldn’t be having that. You lowered yourself slowly, but Titus was impatient. He yanked you down on top of him, earning a little yelp from you. He didn’t tease you, immediately plunging his tongue into your cunt. He licked at your insides like a mad man, groaning at your taste and sending buzzes of pleasure through your core. You let tiny gasps and moans slip from your lips, nonverbal praises that Titus was taking care of you. 

You settled into a rhythm quickly, rolling your hips so that his tongue pressed against your favorite spot while also catching his nose on your swollen clit. Titus ate you messily, tongue occasionally slipping and spreading your juices all between your legs. You pulled back slightly to give him some air, but he shook his head and whined, chasing after you and tugging you back down. He was lost in you. Blissed out and pussy-drunk with closed eyes and eyebrows turned up. He whimpered and whined into your cunt with every swipe of your folds against his nose. You felt his torso jump when he involuntarily jerked his hips into the air. You looked back and saw him straining painfully against his pants. His zipper bulged and you saw the outline of him twitch. One of your hands tangled in his cinnamon sugar curls, tugging harshly. Another buck of his hips. Your other hand found his thick cock, rubbing him through his pants. He groaned against you and lifted his hips to meet your slow strokes. You could tell he wouldn’t last much longer. His tongue and hips both moved erratically. The sight of him fucked-out beneath you caused your own orgasm to catch behind your navel. 

“Cum with me, baby,” You ordered, though your voice was more pleading than demanding. He came with a whimper against your cunt, a high pitched noise that pushed you over the edge to your own release. Your hips stuttered against him and you tossed your head back, gasping for breath as your orgasm tore through you and soaked Titus’ face even further. You stilled after a few moments, but Titus still had a death-grip on you, holding you in place on his mouth, tongue still inside you and absorbing any aftershocks. His nose was free and he took deep inhales through it. The puffs of his exhale fanned around your sensitive clit and you let out a shuddered breath of your own. “Were you a good boy for me, Titus?”

He nodded weakly against your thighs, eyes still closed. His heart pounded against his chest and he looked exhausted, but content. You looked over your shoulder. A wet patch seeped through the crotch of his pants, sticky white ropes contrasting with the expensive black fabric. You licked your chapped lips and gave his overstimulated cock a generous squeeze. He grumbled against you.