Blogs and Frogs

“Why are you doing that?” you ask. 

“You’re soft,” he replies with a shrug, like your question was pointless.

Soft. Not your favourite word. It makes the corners of your mouth droop, and you try to catch his hands to stop him from prodding at you any further. 

Jack looks at you incredulously. 

“Hey.” He grabs your fingers. “Stop that. Let me.”

He continues pawing at you like a cat, practically making biscuits on your stomach. 

“Are you… are you, like, subtly trying to tell me to lose weight?” you ask. Worry taints your voice. 

Jack’s head whips up to stare at you.

“What?” he questions. “No. Why?”

“You’re poking me and calling me soft,” you answer.

“Jesus, bunny, I’m—no. I meant… I like touching you because you’re beautiful and soft and warm, like… just like you should be,” he explains quickly.  

You frown a little—a mix of disbelief and discontent. 

“Bun, c’mon,” he murmurs and grabs hold of your chin. “I mean it. You’re beautiful. My most beautiful girl.” 

His fingers mush your cheeks together, propping up your lips for him to kiss. You can’t help but giggle, which in return makes him smile.  

“That’s better,” he praises gently. “Haven’t I been loving you enough?” 

He rubs the tip of his nose against yours, then waits for your answer while his eyes bore into you. 

“No, of course you have,” you mumble.

It’s true. You really are nothing short of spoiled in that regard. 

“Hm,” Jack muses. “I’m not so sure.”

With that, he starts peppering the softest of kisses from the corner of your mouth to your jawline. Like a thousand little butterflies, he nibs tenderly at your neck. 

“Sweet babygirl,” he murmurs. “So gorgeous and she doesn’t even know it, hm?”

You almost roll your eyes. It’s not that serious, you want to say.  But then he kisses your collarbone, and one of his hands slips under your shirt, grazing the lace of your bra just slightly, and every word of protest dies down before it can even spill out.

“Jackie,” you gasp. 

“Uh-uh,” he replies, barely lifting his mouth from your chest. “Shh… let Daddy take care of you.”

Somewhere between the twentieth kiss and the third hickey, he had taken off your shirt and bra. Kissed your nipples one by one, then down your ribs to your belly. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he whispers as he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your sweats and panties, then drags them down to expose every inch of your skin. The cool air hits your skin, causing goosebumps to erupt all over your tummy. 

While Jack discards his own clothes in no time, you reach down to take off your frilly white socks, but he stops you.

“Sweet pea,” he says softly. “If I wanted you to take ‘em off, I would’ve done so myself. Keep ‘em on.”

You smile sheepishly and nod. 

“Sorry, Daddy,” you murmur.

“Nuh-uh, no apology needed,” he replies.

He kisses the top of your head before he climbs onto you, your legs making room for him easily. His hard cock throbs against your core as he leans down to kiss you breathless, his tip almost painfully red. You wonder how long he’s been hard and how you didn’t notice. 

Despite that, he doesn’t enter you yet.  Instead, Jack folds you in half like you weigh nothing, hooking your legs over his shoulders easily. You squeak slightly, feeling utterly exposed at the new angle. 

“Pretty,” he whispers, then kisses your ankle just above the cuff of your sock. 

With one hand, he guides himself to your cunt, but not without sliding his cock through your wet folds first. He bumps himself against your clit twice, smiling when breathy whimpers fall from your lips. 

“Daddy,” you plead, “No teasing, please.”

“Oh, but it’s my favourite thing to do with my favourite girl.”

He smirks as you pout, then swipes his tip through your folds again, eliciting a soft moan from you. 

“I know that’s right,” he murmurs. “Let me hear you, baby.”

Then, without warning, Jack aims his cock at your opening and feeds you the first few inches. You gasp, your fingers curling into the thick sun-kissed skin of his biceps. 

“Easy,” he mumbles.

His fingers find your clit as he slowly buries himself to the hilt, watching your mouth fall open. He starts with little circles, practically no pressure, but your reaction is imminent.  Pleasure blooms through your core, and you gasp out another breathy “Daddy.”

 “You’re being so good,” he whispers. “Making the prettiest sounds for me and looking so beautiful at the same time.”

His weight keeps you folded in half as he slowly withdraws his cock from your cunt until only the tip of him is enveloped by your tight heat.  You can’t help it as you clench around him, your walls fluttering around him. 

“Fuck,” Jack grunts, “Oh, you’re killing me. Do that again, bunny.”

You can’t control it—it just happens as he thumbs at your clit, making you gasp and tighten. 

“Good fucking girl,” he whispers and thrusts back into you.  

This angle has him hitting spots you didn’t know existed. His tip bullies your cervix with every roll of his hips, forcing husky moans out of you. 

Every time you clench around him, he groans like it hurts. 

“Fuck, bunny,” he whispers. 

There seems to be only one solution: the next time he feels your cunt strangling his cock, he whips his head and quickly kisses the thrilly hem of your sock to keep him from cumming on the spot.  

Despite the late hour, the waiting room had been packed and any glance your way felt like something intrusive and prodding. You had been fully ready to wait the whole night before you could be seen but after your vitals had been taken and triaged, the doctor had pushed you to the front of the line and into the next available room.

So here you sit, the paper beneath you crinkling every time you squirm and try to find a far more comfortable position before giving in entirely and leaning over to your side. You support yourself with your elbow and try to ignore the prodding pain in your backside.

"Good evening, I'm Dr. Abbot, what seems to be the problem?"

Your stomach drops; just your luck that the doctor assigned to help you fish out your newest toy is panty-dropping handsome. A silver fox through and through, he looks downright delectable with those large freckled arms that seem to be bursting through those black scrubs. If it had been any other day, you might've turned on the charm, flirt your way to a dinner date or more.

But it's 1:37 AM, you have a fuzzy, bunnytail plug stuck inside you and you're desperate to just get home without your asshole gaping.

"Um." You glance at the iPad in his hand, hoping that whoever saw you first recorded it in your chart so you wouldn't have to repeat yourself. But the handsome doctor is waiting patiently. "I have something… stuck inside me."

"Ah. I'll see what I can do. Roll over for me, sweetheart."

The night shift always brings on the weirdest cases that after all his years of working, nothing could phase him at this point. Seeing you, looking so uncomfortable and startled on the exam table, ranks so low on said weird cases that he misses the note Crus had left on your chart and went right in on the usual greeting.

"… what seems to be the problem—?"

Butt plug lodged in anus, patient reports mild pain and heavy discomfort.

Jack rereads the sentence a few times before he looks up at you. Pretty albeit shy, your cheeks flushed and your gaze seemingly land anywhere but him. When you listen and roll over onto your stomach, he swallows the instinctive 'good girl' that threatens to spill from his lips.

He tugs on a fresh pair of gloves, strengthening his spine and fortifying the usual mask of professionalism he wears. You're laid out on your stomach now, the blankets of the exam table tugged down to right below your ass. Before he could ask you to lift your hips, you do so on your own, knees spread apart.

Face down, ass up.

He swallows thickly as he gently nudges the seam of the hospital gown apart at your spine. What greets him has heat boiling in his gut: a fuzzy pink, bunny cottontail buttplug nestled right in between your asscheeks.

"Alright, I'm gonna touch you back here, see how deep it's in there before we try extraction," he murmurs. You whimper when he gives an experimental but gentle tug. "Is there any stinging sensation?"

"Nuh-uh," you mumble into the pillow.

Jack swallows again as the cottontail plug gives beneath his grip, his other hand pushing your left asscheek aside. "Let me know if I pull too hard, alright?"

You nod and he sees the way your moves against the pillow.

"Words, please."

Your thighs clench as you fight off the simmering heat that your frustratingly hot doctor starts with those two simple words. "Yes, I will." An honorific sits behind your teeth (daddy? sir? whichever, it seems to fit him regardless of what you use) but you swallow it down.

Meanwhile, Jack tries to ignore the tell-tale sheen between your thighs, keeps his gloved hands where they need to be. His mind races through horrific, bloody accidents of the week prior to keep his other head from wandering. "Good," he mutters.

Silence falls between you two as Jack gently adds medical-grade lubricant, apologizing at the cool temperature of it against your heated skin. After a few rotations of the plug, you clamp your teeth around the hospital gown to stifle any wayward moans.

"Mm—" You whimper anyways and Jack stills. "I'm okay—! Just, uh— is it almost out?"

Jack clears his throat; he's grateful you can't see him or the creeping blush up his neck. "Almost. I gotta take it slow to avoid any possible injuries."

The thought makes you lightheaded but you ground yourself back into reality before your mind can start jumping to worst case scenarios. "That makes sense."

He twists the plug and a flare of arousal blooms in your core, more pleasure than pain now. "So," he clears his throat again, an attempt at normalcy. "What do you do for work?" He mentally pats himself on the back at the inane question, hoping it'll be enough to distract you as he attempts at another tug.

You squeak anyways as your ring of muscles expand at the widest part of the plug. Jack adds more lubricant. "This," you manage to say.

Jack's dick gives a willfull throb but he forces it down with the degloving case from the night before. "O-Oh?"

"I… stream? I'm an adult streamer, oh fuck—!"

Your ass is gaping slightly as Jack inadvertently tugs the whole plug out with little warning, an involuntary reaction from your reveal. "Shit— sorry, sweetheart. Don't move—"

The silicone toy hits the metal tray beside you in a dull thud, the fluffy end of it peeking above the lip of the tray, while you feel his gloved digits gently probe around the ring. "Just making sure there aren't any abrasions, any cuts or irritation before we finish up here." He sees your head nod against the pillows so he continues on with his examination.

Your ass is firm beneath his touch. Pilates, maybe. Or strength training. His jaw clenches as he forces his mind to the present again, resumes the exam before carefully covering you up with the hospital gown again. "You're all good, sweetheart, you can turn onto your back now."

A part of him feels a sick sense of satisfaction at the way you squirm from the easy use of petnames. He's always been a natural flirt, that roguish charm that calms patients enough for him to diagnose, but it's a touch more fun when it works on someone as pretty as you.

"Thank you, Dr. Abbot."

But the gentle cadence of your voice cuts through him and shame trickles in like molasses. When did he turn out to be such a perv? Maybe the night shift is getting to him. He clears his throat, assuming his professional stance, but your smile turns wicked and there's something mischievous in your gaze that he can't quite place.

"Really, I can't thank you enough," you say as you carefully roll over to settle in an upright position. "But, um… is it possible if I can keep the toy?"

He lets out a little laugh and nods. With his hands still gloved, he retrieves a plastic bag from one of the cabinets and places the toy in before handing it to you. "'course you can. Just make sure you prep yourself better next time."

Jack nearly winces at the crass statement but you reward him with a bemused giggle. "Don't worry, I learned my lesson. It's a good thing I'm testing it out first before a stream. It'd be so embarrassing if I got it stuck inside me while I was live," you share and he tries not to look too eager as you share more about your unorthodox occupation.

"Do you… do that often?" The question falls flat and he makes up for it with an embarrassed chuckle, discarding his gloves in the nearby waste basket. "Jesus, tell me if I'm overstepping here."

You laugh again and Jack's positive he isn't as funny as you make him to be but he'd gladly make a fool of himself if he got to hear that sound again. "You're fine. Trust me, I've heard worse."

"What if I want to be the best you've heard?"

Your brow rises up in mild surprise. "Was that a line, Dr. Abbot?"

"Maybe."

"It's not very good."

"It's also 2 AM, sweetheart."

You cross your arms, tilt yout head to the side and it feels like he's being taken apart. "Do you make it a habit to flirt with your patients?"

"Just the pretty ones— oh, yikes. Yeah, that one was bad," he concedes with a light laugh. "I may be a flirt, but you're trouble. Now… think you can behave while I go grab your discharge papers?"

Your smile is saccharine sweet. "Of course."

He chuckles and shakes his head, nudging the door open with his hip before he exits. The rest of the evening goes by routinely: you sign off on a few papers before changing back into your clothes. Dr. Abbot is nowhere to be seen until you're walking towards the exit, your gait a tad bit crooked, and he's leaning against the counter by the nurses' station.

"Thanks again, doctor."

The wink you give him nearly stops his heart, your easy demeanor returning now that you aren't battling the embarrassment of having a butt plug stuck inside you. When the door shuts behind you and the chaos of the emergency department resumes around him, Crus Henderson cackles behind his chart.

"What?" Jack frowns.

The smile Henderson gives him is downright sinister. "You're not slick, old man."

"It's fine." Shen materializes beside him with an obnoxiously loud slurp of his perpetually full iced coffee. "Technically, she isn't your patient anymore. And Crus and I won't tell."

"There's nothing to tell—!"

The two share knowing grins before walking off. "Sure, Abbot. Sure. Wait 'til you're off to look her up though."

Jack splutters. "I'm not going to look her up—"

In the quiet of his bedroom, Jack looks you up.

The sun's already filtering through his window blinds and it feels like some social transgression to be searching up porn during the day. But he's showered and clean with his prosthetic off, tucked under his covers and leaned against his headboard. The cursor's blinking up at him, taunting him. He doesn't even know where to begin but he's got your full name, wonders if it's enough to even catch a trace of you on social media.

He types your name in anyway on instagram and his breath leaves him in a rush when your profile sits at the top of the search results. Your profile pic is innocent enough, smiling brightly, but upon further inspection, your shoulders and collarbone is exposed right where the photo is cut off; an implication that you've got nothing on below the edge of your profile. Once he manages to tear his gaze away, his eyes snag onto the amount of followers you have. Four million. An impressed whistle escapes him as he starts to scroll.

Your photos are still pretty tame, nothing more risque than a bikini shot of you at the beach. To anyone that isn't regularly watching adult streamers, you look like any other influencer of the modern age. Wholesome photos of you are attached as well, displaying your interests and hobbies that has Jack falling deeper and deeper into your orbit.

It's nearly noon when he realized he may have spent the previous hours just looking up your social media sites. One thing that did stick out like a sore thumb (aside from your jaw-dropping photos) had been the lack of use of your real name. He understands the reasoning, knows its for safety especially with the kind of career you're in, but the affectionate nickname you use for yourself and what your subscribers use has a lick of jealousy flaring in his chest.

Dollface. Doll. Dolly.

He scrolls back up before the little monster in his chest grows and a nondescript url catches his eye, the hyperlink sitting pretty beneath your bio. Before he could secondguess himself, he taps it and his phone brings him out of instagram and into his browser app where your website loads on his screen.

While Jack isn't some tech-savvy genius, he's confident enough to say that your page must've been done by a professional. Summer pastels greet him, a variation of your profile pic on instagram (more skin, more sultry—) sitting on the top left of the screen with 'DOLL'S CORNER' splashed on the top of the page and a drop down menu that he decides to explore later.

It's arranged like some sort of blog, your most recent status marked as eight hours ago where you're complaining about some ache. He bites back a smirk before he scrolls down your older posts. There's many videos, ranging from 'get ready with me!'s and 'shopping hauls' with pretty thumbnails, but the one that steals his attention are the ones that are grayed out — almost pixelated with a pink heart-lock graphic in the center.

[ UPGRADE YOUR TIER LEVEL TO ACCESS THIS VIDEO! ♡ ]

His thumb hovers over the lock-graphic before he gives in.

The screen loads and he's taken to a new page, marked by different tiers and different price points.

BESTIES — free! access includes: - get ready with me - weekly vlogs - shopping hauls SWEETHEARTS — weekly subscription. ($) - everything besties has to offer! - short-form lewd content - locked photos from the vault - audios LOVERS — monthly subscription. ($$$) - everything sweethearts and besties has to offer! - midnight live-streams - personalized short-form videos - personalized audios

Jack blinks twice. He continues to scroll before he catches a three-day free trial for all the paid tiers. He bypasses it and taps a single month purchase for access to the LOVERS' vault (after creating a profile and naming it simply with his initials). His dick stirs in his pajamas as the screen loads before it confirms his payment.

All the grayed-out videos are unlocked but rather than an aesthetic thumbnail with pretty collages like your free content, they're blurred out images of you within the video — enough to imply exactly what's going on in each one.

He scrolls on to see another video of you trying on outfits, specifically lingerie. Figuring this is as close as it'll get to dipping his toes in the metaphorical pond of your NSFW content for now, he hits play.

The video starts off with your pretty face adjusting the camera before you settle back on a white rug, surrounded by opened boxes. You greet the camera and it feels like a blow to the gut to see you in your element. If he thought you were pretty in the emergency room, under the garish lighting of the bright fluorescents, you're a goddamn bombshell with perfect makeup and flattering lighting.

As you address the camera, he begins to wonder how exactly you could be an adult streamer when you have content like this until you bring out the haul for the video. White ivory boxes detailed with cream ribbons, baby pink boxes wrapped nicely with ebony lace and tulle. He catches a name on one of the boxes: La Perla.

Jack shifts in his seat, bats away the creeping guilt of watching a young woman try on lingerie, but the charge was confirmed on his card already; it's too late for regret.

(He fears there isn't any regret in the first place.)

Fortunately for his heart (or unfortunately for his twitching cock), you had edited the videos to cut through the actual process of changing into them and rather just show off the full sets.

You didn't seem to have a preference for color, each piece ranging from a monochromatic black to butter yellow lace. Either way, you look gorgeous in all of them and Jack isn't ashamed to admit he's about to blow in his boxers, untouched, at just the sight of you in lingerie.

When the video ends, he replays it but makes it a point to keep his hands out of his pants for now. Instead, he drops a like and a simple comment:

@.swatdoc. — You're magnificent.

Confident in the anonymity of his profile, he puts his phone away to finally catch up on sleep.

Across the city, your phone buzzes with a new notification as you have breakfast on your island counter. Despite the waves of engagement you get on your content, you still keep the notifications on and the newest one brings forth a flutter in your stomach. Compliments are a nickel apiece when it comes to your career but the simplicity of this one and the lack of crudeness that follows steals your attention.

You take a bite of your food as you tap the notif, bringing on the new account profile. While most are kept blank, this man has a profile pic of his back facing a gorgeous sunset. Despite the fact his face is unseen, you recognize those salt and pepper curls.

In the following days, Jack begins to make it a habit to check on your daily statuses. You don't post daily on instagram but you post stories and he enjoys your little activities, likes how everyone seems to be so kind to you. It makes him wonder if your followers are aware of your evening activities, of your content tucked safely away behind a paywall.

Even in the comments section in both the SFW and NSFW side of your content, he realizes you've amassed a loyal following comprised of women that it nearly hides the lewd and desperate remarks from your male subscribers.

@deathreverse : that top is gorggggg!!! ♡

@pearlessance : your makeup is stunning, drop a routine next babes!!

@enam3l: absolutely obsessed w you!! ♡

@mariasont: that shade of pink suits you BEAUTIFULLY

In your last NSFW video, it's you in bed, a thin blanket draped loosely along your frame. There isn't an intro like your lingerie haul, just getting right into it as if the viewer catches you in the middle of the act: your hand sliding beneath the fabric, the camera shaking slightly as you rearrange your position to lay back against the mountain of pillows.

Jack's mimicking the position on his day off, his own back cushioned against his headboard as he watches in rapt attention. His readers are sliding off his nose but he adjusts them as he hits the volume increase button twice. He wants to hear you, addicted to the way you sound so sweet whimpering around your fingers.

Obsessed with the way your moans can sound so goddamn endearing.

He doesn't let the video play on, his hand still sitting obediently above the waist band of his sweatpants as he tries to catch his breath. He scrolls onward instead, stops at a tamer video of you shopping at a boutique.

@.swatdoc. — Gorgeous as always, bunny.

The cursor blinks as he secondguesses the petname. No one's called you anything other than 'doll' or 'dolly' or some iteration of baby or babe. Bunny's innocuous enough, Jack decides, and taps 'comment'. It'll be an inside joke for himself, for the evening you may as well tipped his world upside down when you'd come into the pitt for a stuck bunny buttplug. You get thousands of comments a day, the likelihood of you recognizing him is abysmally low.

The little pep talk he gives himself soothe the minor anxiety spike as he continues to scroll on, amusing himself with the way your bright personality seems to shine through even with the nasty videos that has his cock twitching to life.

He distracts himself with the comments section instead of exiting the video.

@.deathreverse — jesuuus christ, ur so fucking hot

@.deathreverse — let me rip that gorgeous top off you plsplspls

@.pearlessance — let me make your moans my ringtone and i'll never miss a call

The women commenting are far more entertaining to read through, the creativity of it all always taking him aback, despite the usual stab of jealousy. At this point, his parasocial streak of possessiveness is something he's learned to ignore, to let sit beneath a layer of faux indifference.

He's just a fan now among millions, he'll bask in the anonymity your popularity affords him.

You might be obsessed with your most latest subscriber. A Mr. Swatdoc with the silver curls.

Realistically, it may be the hot doctor that had seen you through the most mortifying ordeal of taking out a buttplug at two in the morning but the profile pic doesn't give you much and his profile is blank aside from his chosen screen name (swatdoc) and his age (48).

Regardless, your heart does a funny little twist whenever he appears in your notifications (only on your SFW posts, interestingly enough) whether it's a like or an extra tip but your stomach drops when his newest comment adds a new petname.

Bunny.

You sit up in bed when the notification comes through. Gorgeous as always, bunny. The fucking bunny, cotton-tail buttplug. The same one that Dr. Abbot had all but talked you through it as he gently removed it from your asshole. You glance up to see the damned toy sitting on your dresser right across from your bed, mocking you.

The bed dips beneath as you shift your weight, rolling around in bed as you reread that goddamn nickname over and over again. Bunny.

As your eyes bore into your screen, your phone buzzes.

[@.swatdoc liked your vlog!]

[@.swatdoc commented: Can't get enough of you, bunny.]

A sudden wave of confidence (or perhaps impulsiveness) washes through you and you tap his comment. And in quick succession, you like his comment and tap on his profile. Then his inbox. And finally:

doll : doctor abbot???

Jack drops his phone like it burned him. He sits up, nearly kicks off his blankets in his chaos as his heart falls right out of his ass. He didn't even know there was a messaging system on your website but there it is, that red notification bubble on the top right. He taps it and there's the chatbox.

He contemplates on lying, on playing dumb but he respects you far too much to lie to you. A heavy sigh escapes him as he resettles back into his bed and his cock sheepishly sits limp against his inner thigh.

swatdoc : How did you know it was me?

doll : i'd recognize those silver curls anywhere ♡

Huh. The little heart emoticon blinks up at him, maybe even glows. His cock gives a hopeful twitch.

swatdoc : Let me get this right. You aren't weirded out by me finding your website?

doll : you pulled my buttplug out of my ass, doctor. i think we're even.

swatdoc : Sounds fair.

doll : i do want to ask, strictly as a survey yknow, just to make sure i'm reaching subscriber satisfaction expectations. but is my nsfw stuff not hot enough?

swatdoc : I don't know how to answer that.

doll : you aren't liking any of my nsfw videos…….. am i not your type?

He can imagine it, that wry little grin when you tease the camera, makes him want to fuck it out of you—

swatdoc : Just trying to be respectful. Or as respectful as I can be given the circumstances, sweetheart.

doll : i think you're super respectful, i see the tips you've been leaving….. thank you btw ♡

swatdoc : You're welcome, bunny. doll liked your message!

The activity light near your name goes off and he figures you might've logged off. His thumb drags up the screen to exit the page, sets his phone down and attempt at sleeping. But in the midst of his dark bedroom, there's a stirring in his gut that he can't seem to shake. An itch he needs scratching.

Time fluctuates, slips through his fingers as he finds himself on a popular porn website, the light of his phone illuminating his hazel eyes. He scrolls and scrolls past countless videos, the thumbnails made to entice anyone in his position, and yet frustration starts to grow larger than the lust that's been simmering beneath his heated skin.

None of the actresses look like you.

The thought floors him and he pauses when he finds a woman with a similar body type as you, wears her hair the same way you do. Her moans are a bit too pitchy but he punches the volume down and when his hand slides beneath his sweatpants, he doesn't feel guilt. And when he cums, it's your name spilling from his lips.

"You seeing anyone?"

Jack doesn't look up from the iPad as Robby settles in beside him, ready to take over for day shift as night shift starts to filter out. "What are you talking about?"

"Y'know. Dating? Getting out there? 'cuz Peaches has someone—"

"Not interested, brother, but I thank you for your service." Jack smiles but it's forced, halfway towards a grimace, and places the iPad down with a little too much force. He stomps off to the locker room. Robby and Dana watch his retreating back before they share a look.

"What's his problem?" Dana mutters, her glasses sitting low on the slope of her nose.

Robby chuckles and shakes his head. "No idea."

The truth is— Jack does have a problem. That problem is you.

He thought he'd been good, kept his hands to himself when he gets to his usual routine of stalking your website, and lets his fantasies run wild when he switches over to another porn site to find an actress that looks like you.

But then you had kept texting him, messaging him on your website that the line he's drawn between staying respectful and admiring you from afar against his baseless desire of wanting to fuck you 'til you cry is starting to blur. Of course you have no idea of this line, no clue of the existence of the boundaries Jack's made for himself.

You have no idea that Jack wants more than a physical interaction with you and he has no idea how to ask you out without coming off like a complete pervert.

doll: dr abbot?? swatdoc: You know you can call me Jack, sweetheart. doll: take me out first then i'll feel comfortable enough to call you whatever you want.

Jack nearly shortcircuits at your reply and he fights the urge to hide his phone, shove it in his pocket to deal with later. It'd just look too suspicious and with Shen's eyes on him, he knows he'd blab straight to Lena who'd definitely gossip with Dana. While Dana's known to keep a secret, anything involving him and a potential partner is a surefire way for her to tell Robby.

swatdoc: You mean it, bunny? doll: spending time with you? of course ♡

Jack chuckles and swipes his palm across his stubbly mouth, absolutely incredulous at your gumption.

swatdoc: I meant a date. Not just one night. This old man isn't built for casual. doll: okay old man. take me out to dinner then ♡ it'd give me a chance to redo the first impression you have of me swatdoc: I think it was a perfect first impression, bunny. doll: you saw my ass, of course you thought so!!! swatdoc: I was actually enamored by your charming personality. Your ass was a bonus. doll: … flirt. you're smooth dr abbot. doll: so when's our date? swatdoc: My next day off is in a couple days. How's saturday night looking for you? doll: i'm free !!! gonna come pick me up? swatdoc: If you're comfortable with it, I'd love to. So, saturday at 7? doll: i trust you ♡ and yes, i'll see you then.

He gets a text from you the following day (you'd admitted filching his number from the profile he's made on your website) and after a brief facetime call to prove your identity, he receives your address with a playful tag of: don't be late, dr. abbot.

Saturday's only a couple days away and yet he's fidgeting. He's got a night shift to get his mind off things but even Lena can see he's distracted. While he managed to wave away his colleagues' concerns, he wonders if he's the only one this anxious or nervous for the date.

[ Doll updated her status! ] — 2 secs ago. — Butterflies. ♡

A wave of notifications flood your phone despite the simple status update but you couldn't care less— not when you've got every possible combination of a date outfit laid out on your bed and nothing looks good. You have time, of course, there's nothing stopping you from going out shopping but the extra options might just exacerbate your indecision.

A pitiful whine escapes you as the paralysis of all your options land you flat on your back atop your mattress, clothing wrinkles be damned.

Whether or not the both of you are ready, Saturday evening arrives quickly.

The only information Jack had given you about the date aside from taking you out for a nice, classic dinner was to 'look nice'. As charming and handsome as he is, you resent the fact that he's like every other man his age: allergic to details. Somehow you manage to put on something simple but flattering, a black cocktail dress with a hemline that skims above your knee and a sweetheart neckline that teases your cleavage along with a bold, red pair of stilettos. Pairing it with a matching clutch, you deem yourself ready after a final swipe of lip gloss across your pouty lips.

"Here we go…" you murmur to yourself. Just as you dab at your lower lip with the pad of your ring finger, your doorbell rings. Seven on the dot.

Your heels click against the floor as you open your door to be greeted with Jack in slacks and a navy blue button down… as well as a bouquet of your favorite flowers. You gasp first, greetings momentarily forgotten in favor of taking the offered bouquet for a sweet sniff. Jack's compliments die on his tongue when he truly sees you, nose buried in the petals.

"How'd you know these were my favorite?" You ask as you step back, head tipping to wordlessly invite him in as you seek out a vase.

"I watched your vlogs," he shrugs with a shameless little smile. "I picked up a few details."

Maybe he shouldn't be as stunned as he is now — he's seen you in various states of dressed and undressed at this point — but you've truly left him speechless when you had opened the door, wearing that little black dress that hugs your body perfectly.

He's grateful that you notice the flowers first, cooing and gasping at the curated arrangement rather than noticing his thunderstruck stupor. It gives him a moment to clear his throat, admire the way you smile at the bouquet.

"You look divine," he murmurs as he follows you inside, watches you putter around your open space kitchen to place the flowers in water. And maybe it's his ego that's got him this taken by you; knowing that perhaps only he alone gets to see this side of you, bashful and charming. When you blush at his compliment, he feels like the king of the world.

"You don't look so bad yourself," you tease with a playful wink, taking his offered hand as he leads you out the door.

Jack's a gentleman when he helps you into his car, glancing aside momentarily when your dress rides up upon seating. He's a gentleman when you make it to the fine-dining restaurant ("Heard the new executive chef just received two Michelin stars!" you share excitedly), opening doors for you and keeping a respecful hand at the small of your back. He pulls your chair out for you, too. Perhaps the bar is in hell but you're undoubtedly impressed and giddy, basking in his undivided attention as you wear your heart on your sleeve for the rest of the evening.

"… and they all looked at it like it was something alien. It was a fax machine—!" Jack laughs, regaling you with the infamous July 4 analog nightmare from hell at the pitt. Dessert is lain between you two, half-eaten and momentarily forgotten as the two of you had been lost in conversation. He'd been worried that he might gross you out or bore you with his job as an ER physician but you had asked and prodded for more gory details, nose scrunching adorably when he explained what a degloving was.

"Okay, fax machines are basically obsolete," you counter with a giggle, lips parting as he feeds you a bite of cake. He waits patiently for you to chew before you continue on. "No one uses them anymore!"

Jack shakes his head in mock disappointment before you return the favor and feed him a bite from your own fork. "Sweetheart, these are vital skills!" Something warm flutters in his chest when you reach up to absentmindedly wipe away a bit of frosting from the corner of his lips, your painted nail skimming across his skin with the movement.

"How about this, I'll call you on the off chance I'll ever need to use a fax machine," you say dryly. A chuckle escapes Jack, low and grumbly that it has your thighs clenching together beneath the table.

"Sure. Or call me whenever, I'll always answer."

The ease of his flirting never fails to make you flustered and Jack capitalizes on it whenever he gets the chance. Like clockwork, you giggle and glance aside, a pretty blush on your cheeks as you look anywhere but his eyes. It's a wonderful side of you that he's steadily growing obsessed with. Yes, your online persona in your SFW space is charming and enchanting while you're essentially a succubus — sex incarnate — when the sun drops low.

But this is you, unabashedly you, and Jack can't get enough of it. He wants more than what you probably expect from him, a warm body to occupy his bed (judging from the stories you've shared about past experiences), and he's ready to go above and beyond to prove to you that he's willing to do whatever it takes so that he could call all of you his.

"Hey, how are we doing? Dessert's good?" The head-of-house manager of the restaurant cuts in seamlessly; he seems to have a good sense of when to enter a conversation.

You smile brightly and Jack nods. "It's delicious, thank you. Every dish has been fantastic," you gush.

"Wonderful, that's what I like to hear," the manager crows before he straightens out his tie. "You two are a beautiful couple. Are we celebrating an anniversary?"

Now it's Jack's turn to get bashful. "Uh, no, a first date, actually."

The manager looks taken aback but he bounces back with a low chuckle, two hands on his chest in subtle apology. "If it helps, the chemistry you two have is undeniable. Truly. But anyways, I came by to ask if you two would like to join us in the garden party out back or maybe a nice little kitchen tour?"

Your eyes shimmer with excitement and Jack gives a yes, offering his hand for you to take. The manager smiles and claps once. "Perfect, let me take you to where the magic happens."

After meeting the famed head chefs and even sampling a few of the desserts at the pastry station, you're positively glowing as the two of you step out to where a small get together of other guests mingle by picnic tables. A few guys that may be the line cooks are handing out beer and soda, giving off a more relaxed vibe than the one inside. It's pleasant and when you feel a chill, Jack's draping his jacket along your shoulders without a word.

"Thanks," you hum, eyes fluttering as you take in his warm and musky cologne that seeps in from the collar. He chuckles and places a hand on the bottom of your spine.

"Of course," he murmurs then tips his head to wear the drinks are being passed around. "Did you want any—?"

"No, I think I'm stuffed. Did you…?"

Jack shakes his head and the nerves from before the date nearly come back in full force. You aren't naive, you know what kind of expectations your job gives people whenever you go on dates. While Jack's been a gentleman the entire evening, you can't deny the fact that him being a subscriber to your NSFW content does skew the way he must see you.

The drive back to your place is quiet and calm, your hand folded delicately in his as he drives. He walks you to your door but much to your surprise, he doesn't step past the threshold.

"I had an amazing time," he says first, his lined eyes crinkling as he gives you a warm smile. "I'd really like to see you again."

You nod, leaning against your doorway as you realize his hand has found yours again. Your joined fingers sway slightly. "Me too. I… I really liked tonight."

He smiles wider as if you've erased any doubts he's had. "Good. I'll, um. I'll let you get some rest. I'll call you when I get my next day off, alright?"

"Yeah, sounds good."

"Great." And with a smooth and unhurried motion, he leans in for a kiss to your cheek, chaste and sweet. "By the way, I want you to know I'm all in. I'm not trying to waste your time or make you think I'm here for the physical aspect. I like you, sweetheart. Truly."

And with a final pinch of your chin, he steps away and bids you good night before walking off. Later that night, you realize you haven't stopped smiling until you climb into bed, alone but completely content.

When morning comes, Jack sends you a good morning text before he cleans up around the house, settle in before his shift later that evening. He doesn't check his phone 'til noon and when he does, he sees a text back from you and a notification from your website.

[Doll just posted a video!] — 3 hours ago.

His stomach drops. While he truly has no issue with you continuing your camgirl career, something twists inside him at the thought of you getting off the night before without him. Is it that feeling of missing out or is it the fact that he hadn't been there to fulfill that need of yours?

Regardless, his heart is pounding when he taps the notification. The video loads and a breath of relief leaves him in a rush.

[New video!] Get un-ready with me! — Skincare Routine.

He chuckles and leans against the kitchen counter, turns his phone sideways to see you fill his screen in the same dress from the night before. You must be in your bathroom, he notes, as you relay your steps carefully to your audience.

"I know everyone will be asking but I just came back from a wonderful dinner. Food was absolutely divine, I'm already considering going back soon. But…" A bashful smile curls onto your lips and Jack's beaming. "The company was even better. Anyways— moving onto the foam cleanser…"

Your routine ends after you apply your serums and creams, signing off on the camera. The comments section pop up immediately.

@.mariasont — your skin looks so good but you look GLOWINGGG

@.pearlessance — were you on a date?? that dress is fantastic!!

Jack chuckles when he sees that you've dropped a like on that commenter about a date but nothing more. Fan the rumors without confirming anything, looks like you're a tease in more ways than one.

Unable to help himself, he scrolls down his contacts and taps yours. The phone rings once, twice, then—

"Jack?"

"Hey, sweetheart. Is this a bad time?"

You sound a tad bit out of breath but you reassure him nonetheless. "No, no, you're fine. What's up?"

"Well, I—" He interrupts himself with a shy laugh. "I don't know if it's too soon but I'd like to take you out again. My next day off is next week on Friday."

"Oh!" You sound positively pleased and Jack can picture you biting your lower lip to hide that smile he's obsessed with. "Yeah, I can make that happen. Are we doing dinner?"

"No, I was thinking of visiting the aquarium this time around."

"The aquarium…"

He bites back a grin, can picture the excitement simmering beneath the slight trepidation of your words. "That's right. Unless there's something else—"

"No, it's perfect!" You cut in with a little giggle. "Jack, did you watch all my vlogs?"

"Of course I did. And it truly can't be that much of a hardship to learn how much you love the place when you've got vlogs of you there nearly every month," he teases. "But if it's something you like to do on your own—"

"No, no, it's fine, Jack, I'd love to." He can hear the way your voice softens. "I can't wait."

"Alright, it's a date. I'll see you next Friday, sweetheart."

Friday doesn't come fast enough this time around. You've got an outfit bought and ready to go, a simple skirt with a blouse that you might've picked to match his eyes. Jack's on time yet again, two PM on the dot, and while he still keeps his hands to himself, he basks in the way your hand constantly seeks out the crook of his elbow.

You regale him with fish facts throughout each wing of the aquarium and he watches with besotted eyes when you basically glow at the sight of the jellyfish. Conversation ebbs and flows and he's pressing soft kisses into your hair like he can't quite help himself.

By the time you've both made it back to his car, he helps you in while placing the massive jellyfish plushy he bought you at the gift shop onto your lap. It's silly and absolutely wholesome.

It's made you undeniably horny for him.

You appreciate it though, you see how he's gone above and beyond to show you that he wants a relationship out of this. He doesn't expect you to be 'easier' because of your job as a camgirl nor does he think he's entitled to anything more than a kiss on the cheek because of what you show online.

And it's making you want him so bad that you feel like the pervert in this situation.

At your doorway, he's got a hand on your waist this time and your arms are draped loosely around his neck while still holding onto the jellyfish plush that's dangling behind his back.

"Today was lots of fun," you say first, nearly chest to chest with him. He nods, feeling the way you shiver when his thumb rubs circles against your hip bones. Above the fabric of your shirt.

"It was," he agrees as he basks in the sweet scent of your perfume. This close, you're practically intoxicating. "I enjoyed the little fish facts too, didn't know my date was a lovely encyclopedia—"

Your eyes roll playfully at the teasing jab, exaggerating your movements as you unwind your arms to step out of his embrace. "If you hate me, just say so—"

"Now hold on, I never said it was a bad thing," he chuckles and you let out a quiet squeal when his grip tightens, pulling you back into his arms. "Thought it was cute."

"Sure you do," you tease back and you realize he's pulled you even closer now. His voice is a rumble, low and gravelly as the distance between your lips is beginning to diminish.

"I do." He murmurs, his nose brushing against yours. "This okay?"

You nod, throat bobbing. "More than okay," you whisper.

His gaze drops from your eyes, back to your lips, before they close the distance. Your heart thunders in your chest as your arms tighten around his neck to pull him lower. He goes easily, smiling against your lips. He doesn't deepen it, though, just steals a handful of more feather-light kisses that elicits a string of giggles from you, your foot popping up and your back bending slightly backwards as he dips you and showers you in affection.

Eventually, he reluctantly pulls away but not without giving you one more kiss. "Have a good rest of your evening, sweetheart," he murmurs. "Make sure you lock the door behind you, yeah?"

You nod, sighing dramatically as you lean against the back of your door as he steps out to the hallway. "I will. Can I see you again soon, Jack?"

His poor little heart thunders wildly at your adorable expression, half-pleading and half-fond. "Of course, princess. Maybe we can do something like this again, maybe a museum or that fair?"

You perk up with a nod. "That sounds like fun."

"Good. I'll see you soon, darling."

You sigh dreamily and blow him a kiss before shutting the door. You lean against the paneling and groan into your hands.

In the silence of your apartment, you wail— "Why won't he fuck me?!"

The time between your last date to the aquarium to your next one at the museum, you and Jack continue to text. Whether it's you giving him advice for a dish he's making or asking his opinion on which top would look well for a brunch you're attending with your girlfriends, the conversations never slow nor do they ever bore.

And in between those texts, Jack is happily gorging himself on your content while only getting off on actresses that hold resemblance to you. It's twisted and he knows it's wrong but he pictures your face in the shower sometimes, thinks of the way your teeth sink in your plush lower lip as his hand tugs at his cock.

You, however, hold no qualms as you drive the dildo deep in your cunt on late evenings, whimpering for the camera you've got set up. You always make it a habit to just plead, whine and beg more than you might naturally would with a partner, but when Jack's on your mind, you have nothing to exaggerate; you just get way more vocal as you think of his strong hands on your waist. The way he had commanded that kiss without being overbearing.

That kiss alone had wrung out three orgasms from you without the camera on.

Maybe it should've been enough to tide you over but as you start your usual midnight livestream the evening before your next date with Jack, a new title spills past your lips in the throes of your first climax. It shouldn't be a surprise at how easily the name comes to you, especially with how natural it seemed for Jack to take care of you—

"'m cumming, daddy—!"

The pings on your laptop nearby that you use for monitoring the chats go wild, the bell ringing that signified the amount of tips that just flooded your inbox from the title alone. You slump over as you catch your breath from where you've been riding your suction dildo, whining softly to yourself as the toy slides out of you. Your inner thighs are quivering as you lift your gaze to the laptop screen.

"Thanks for stopping by," you croon to the camera before shutting off the stream.

Across the city, Jack palms at his bulge, mouth slightly agape as he tries not to cum in his sweatpants like a teenager. "Fuck."

"I didn't really take you to be a museum kind of guy."

"I'm not. Not really… My friend's fiancée recommended it to us, thought we might like the new exhibit," Jack shrugs as he keeps you near with a hand around your waist. The new exhibit had garnered a sizable crowd and the last thing he wants is to lose you. Especially since you seem preoccupied with the information pamplet, both hands holding it open to read while relying heavily on Jack's firm hand. He likes it, the thought of you trusting him so readily.

You hum in acknowledgment before peering above the page. "The map says the new Caravaggio exhibit is that way… I think." Jack chuckles and peers over your shoulder, both of his hands firmly on your waist. You hold the pamphlet up higher for him.

"You aren't wrong," he muses as he reads over the map. You swallow nervously, you can feel the heat of his body seep against your backless top, the way his voice gets all low and gravelly when he's talking just to you. "It's past the abstract wing. Can you fold that up for me, sweetheart? I wouldn't want you to trip over your feet if you can't see where you're going."

You nod instinctively. "Yes—" You swallow back that title that sits at the back of your throat whenever Jack gets so… passively dominant. "Yeah, of course."

He chuckles and lets his arm fall along your lower back, a hand at the dip of your waist as he leads you towards the exhibit. The entire time as you two parade around the wing, Jack keeps you close. It sparks a light in your core, your inner thighs clenching with need when he unwittingly turns on your desire to be taken care of. But he seems so unbothered by it, humming to himself as his thumb slips beneath your blouse to rub your skin while he reads the information beside the painting.

The two of you are admiring Caravaggio's Narcissus when something comes to mind. "Why'd you call me 'bunny'? In my comments?"

He glances down at you, taken aback by the sudden question. "I… thought it'd be nice to have a nickname of my own for you. It reminded me of our first meeting."

A fond smile curls upon your lips. "Why haven't you called me that since we started dating?"

Something fond crosses over Jack's face, leaves as quickly as it came. His hand squeezes your side. "I didn't think it was appropriate. Thought it might make you uncomfortable if I called you that in public."

"I liked it. Like it. I still do," you trip over your words with a flustered smile. "It's like our own little inside thing. Um—no pun intended."

Jack chuckles and that wide smile he gives you has you pushing against your toes to press your lips to his. He hums fondly, nips at your lower lip. "Alright, I'll keep that in mind, bunny."

You kiss him again.

For the next couple of months, you start to see Jack regularly. Dinner dates (whether it's at the first restaurant he's taken you to or he cooks for you at his place) or movie nights, or even him just coming over to unwind after a long shift. Your posting schedule doesn't shift, only rearranges itself to make room for Jack.

A month in, you'd sat him down and tentatively but firmly told him that you wouldn't be stopping just because of your dates. Jack had accepted it without question, took it as if it was what he expected in the first place.

So you continue your usual schedule. Vlogs and short-form content for your SFW socials and full streams for your NSFW audience. Suggestive photos to tide your subscribers over 'til the next full video.

Jack, on the other hand, looks positively giddy with himself. Sure, he's cumming in his fist nearly every night but he's determined to make sure you know that he wants more with you. Fuck. He sounds like a broken record but he's obsessed; the last thing he wants is his dick to ruin this for his heart.

But his good mood is translated into his night shifts, cracking jokes even with angry patients. It has Shen watching over in confused concern, always taking a double-take when he has the chance. Parker and Crus decide that it's just Jack going through a new wave, a new fixation that's probably tiding him over.

Or a girl— but that's Robby's problem to mull over, not theirs.

They get their chance when Jack's scheduled for a double (something he makes up to you with another extravagant VIP dinner the day before), dropping a hint to their chief that their night-shift attending's been weird all week.

The ambulance bay doors slide open in a 'whoosh' for Dr. Robinavitch, passing by Javadi who's talking to Trinity about making mutuals with some big-shot on her Tiktok and Dennis catching up with Perlah about his weekend, to get to Jack in the locker room.

"So. Shen's said you've been weird."

Jack chuckles lightly, throws his stethescope around his neck, and shuts his locker. "I'm seeing someone."

Robby startles. "Oh. That's— brother, that's great."

"What, didn't think I'd admit it so quickly?" Jack grins and pats his shoulder as he steps around his friend.

"No, not really." Robby follows him out, tugging on both ends of his stethoscope. "I'm happy for you. What's her name?"

"Nah, that's all you're getting out of me, Robinavitch."

The sun's setting as Jack turns the page on the novel he's been reading to you. You're sitting between his legs and your back against his warm chest, stretching out on the gingham blanket you've brought as the two of you find cover beneath the large tree.

Today's date had been completely spontaneous. When his schedule had been unwittingly cleared up, he had driven straight to you to take you out for a late lunch picnic at the small fair that's set up for the weekend. With the sandwiches finished off and you'd run off to buy cotton candy for the both of you to share, Jack had fished out a novel in his back seat to pass the time and enjoy the nice weather.

His hand is absentmindedly rubbing your exposed thigh, the skirt of your sundress riding up just enough for him to explore the smooth skin. His cheek is pressed against the top of your hair while you absentmindedly trace shapes atop his jean-clad thighs.

"Feelin' restless, bunny?"

"Hm?" Jack's question draws you out of your stupor, so content in his arms that it takes him a few attempts to get your attention. "No, just… really cozy."

"Yeah?" He presses a line of kisses down your jaw and neck, eliciting a soft squeal from you. Jack would've continued showering you in kisses but he grunts, reluctantly pulling away to rub at his aching prosthesis.

You frown. He's mentioned losing a limb before, knows that he wears a prosthetic leg, but you've never seen him this uncomfortable. "Jack, we could head home if it's hurting—"

"I'm fine—"

"Jack." He pauses and turns his attention to you, your brows furrowed and your lips in a line. "Come on, we can just take it easy at your place. You said you're more comfortable in your crutches, right?"

"Yeah." You can see when he finally gives in, his shoulders rounding out as he presses a kiss to your shoulder. "Yeah, alright. Let's go."

Once the both of you get to your feet, you hold out your hand. "Gimme the keys, I'll drive to give your leg a break."

"I don't think so."

"Jack."

"Bunny."

It takes a second but he concedes there too, pulling you in by the shoulders for a swift kiss to your lips. "You're lucky you're cute, sweetheart."

Jack's place is almost as familiar as yours now. He watches you saunter around his place, dropping his keys into the dish bowl on the table by the door, place your things on the loveseat before rummaging through his fridge for a beer.

When you reach him where he's seated on his couch, prosthesis set aside to hand him a beer, he gently tugs you onto his lap before popping the tab open for your can first. "Thanks," you hum, taking a sip while he opens his. His arm is strong around your waist and the easy strength he holds for you, the possessive touch he's got whenever you're near... it sparks a flicker of heat inside you and as you turn, straddling his lap to kiss along his jaw. His scruff is rough against your glossy lips but it only has you mewling.

"Bunny…" he groans as his large hand splays along the expanse of your back, supporting your weight while you tip back just enough for him to place his beer behind you on the coffee table. His eyes flutter shut, basking in your sweet kisses, as temptation guides his hand lower to cup your perky ass. It's your moan, drawn out and desperate, that pulls him out of the heat that's settling thick in his head. Reluctantly, his hands rise back up and an indignant whine spills from your throat—

"Jack, why won't you fuck me?"

He nearly chokes on his spit at your question and when he looks up, you look adorably put out, lower lip jutting out. Your gaze is glassy, lips kiss-swollen. His thumb comes up, presses against your mouth to drag down your lip slowly. "Bunny, why do you think I won't fuck you?"

"You— you've only ever kissed me. You've only liked my non-sexual content. You—"

"Baby," he shushes you gently, releases your lip to cradle your jaw. "It's not that I'm uninterested in you. Trust me— I am. I just didn't want you to think this was all some ploy to just get you in bed with me."

Another whine rises up within you. "But it's been months, Jack."

"Sweetheart, I wanted to make sure you know I was serious. It wasn't just for you, but for me, too. Had to make it known to you that I'm here for the long haul," he murmurs and when you nod in understanding, his lips find yours for a kiss that's got you clenching your thighs. Your back arches back when he leans further in, lips parting to let his tongue probe against yours.

"Gonna… mm— fuck me now?" You pant against his mouth, lashes kissing the tops of your cheeks when his lips drag down your neck to mark your collarbone with marks.

His chuckle is raspy against your skin. "I'm gonna make love to you, bunny. Come on—"

"Why not here?" You whimper, giving your hips a slow roll against his. You can feel his bulge, stiff through his jeans, against your panties.

"I'm not having you on my couch, darling. Not for our first time. We can defile the rest of my house later."

You giggle as you reluctantly get to your feet, knees nearly knocking together while Jack goes for his crutches. "Do you promise?"

"I promise," he chuckles, following you into his bedroom. His mouth goes dry, easy dominance deflating momentarily when he watches you crawl onto the center of his bed, your sundress hemline rucked up to reveal the pretty white lace panties you've got on beneath. His eyes follow the fabric, disappearing in between your ass cheeks, before they flit back up when you turn and lean against his headboard.

You're in your doll mindset now, your hands dancing across your body to give him a show. But while your videos are choreographed, almost clinical to a certain degree to entertain an audience, Jack sees the way your hand trembles just before you drag the neckline of your dress down, tempting him to just rip the fabric off you.

But he's a patient man, understands that this is just as much for you as it is for him. He can see the way your arousal heightens with each teasing touch. "Take it off for me, bunny, just for me."

He must've said the right thing because a broken moan spills from your lips, nodding as you cross your arms and drag the hem of your dress up to reveal a matching bralette to your panties. The bed dips beneath his weight when he joins you, settling down onto the mattress just as you toss a leg over to straddle his waist again.

"Ah, shit," he hisses when he glances down, sees the way the fabric of your panties are nearly translucent with your slick. His hand creeps down to rub your swollen clit through the damp fabric, tilting his head back up to watch your reaction. He doesn't shut his eyes when your open mouth drags along his cheek, a poor approximation of a kiss as you shut your eyes to savor the way his fingers deftly tug the panties aside to dip within your folds. A pathetic moan escapes you. "This all for me, bunny?"

"Mhm, yes—"

"She's drippin' just for me, fuck," he chuckles as his middle finger teases your entrance, enamored by the way your hips rock clumsily against your palm. "Mm, look at that."

It's filthy, the way Jack leans back against the headboard with his head ducked down to watch your cunt practically suck in his fingers, his other hand keeping your panties tugged aside for his viewing. "Please, I wanna feel you," you beg, voice hitching high in a way he's never heard before.

"You sound so sweet for me, bunny," he murmurs as he redraws his fingers from you, tasting you with a voracity that makes you even wetter. "You've been so good for me, pretty girl, don't worry… I'll give you what you want."

And while Jack sounds so benevolent, your lips finding his in a grateful kiss before you're scrambling off to lay on your back under his guidance while he undresses next, it's all a facade to conceal the way he's barely able to hold it together now that he's got you: heart, soul, and now body.

He settles on top of you, lips finding your shoulder for a brief moment of sweet affection despite the filth that's fallen from his lips from earlier, and makes a home between your thighs. You might've teased him for picking missionary as your first time, giggle at how insistent he is on keeping things old fashioned despite your unorthodox relationship, but then the tip of his cock prods against your entrance, mouth dropping slightly as your head falls back against the pillows— he's huge.

"Ngh— Jack…" you whimper as the stretch leans more towards pain than pleasure at first, eyes shut as you feel Jack's lips skim across the side of your neck. "S'too big…"

His chest rumbling, he chuckles in your ear, nips at your jugular. "Don't worry, bunny. I can make it fit."

Lust and adoration intertwine in your core as he pushes deeper, your walls adjusting for his girth while your nails dig into his freckled shoulders. After what feels like an eternity, Jack's fully sheathed in you, pressing kisses along your brow and temple.

"So fuckin' tight—" he grunts, attempting a shallow thrust that has you two moaning in unison. "You ready for me, bunny? Gonna start movin'."

You feel absolutely full, can feel Jack in your gut, but you nod, legs hooking around his waist. "Ready," you manage to say, releasing one shoulder to cradle his jaw for a searing kiss. He pulls out and thrusts in without hesitation, his lips parting for his tongue to taste yours. The two of you make out like teenagers, sloppy and uncoordinated, while his cock drives into you slowly, your body shifting higher up the bed until his hand comes up to cradle the top of your head before it hits the headboard.

He swallows your moans with a grunt of his own, tasting your desperation with each rock of his hips. But when his lungs start to burn for oxygen, he reluctantly pulls back only to be rewarded with your vocal cries for more. He's heard your noises before, almost four million people have, but he's never witnessed you like this, so gorgeously needy on his cock, your moans more like broken whimpers and hiccups interlaced with his name. So unbelievably vulnerable, laid out just for him.

It has him driving his cock even deeper into you, eager to hear the way your mouth sounds around his name whenever he hits that specific spot.

"No, no, no— don't get shy on me now, bunny," he coos, dropping a hand to cup your cheek to guide your eyes on him. "You sound so sweet for me, let me hear you…"

His words elicit another gasp of his name as one particular thrust has you seeing stars, the coil in your core tightening as his hand comes down to rub your clit in time with each rock of his hips. He can feel his own climax but he keeps it at bay, laser focused on your own pleasure.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck… Jack—!" You wail as the coil snaps, his cock buried to the hilt before he fucks you slow and deep to carry you through your climax. With you taken care of, he chases after his pleasure next, hips snapping against yours in a brutal pace that has your toes curling in sweet ecstasy.

His forehead drops to rest on yours, breaths mingling while his own moans pitch into a needier grunt, veering into whimpers while he talks you through it. "Feels so fuckin' good, bunny… s'like your pretty cunt was made just for me… oh fuck— she's just sucking me in," he pants.

The string of dirty talk kickstarts something inside you and you feel that familiar tightness in your core, hiccuping moans bubbling past your kiss-swollen lips as he drives his cock deeper. "Jack— 'm… hah— gonna cum—!"

"Yeah?" He huffs, a cocky half-grin in his lips as he drags his scruffy jaw along your cheek. "Gonna give me another, bunny? Come on… gimme one more," he coos while his pace starts to falter, losing its steady rhythm as he gets closer and closer to his own edge.

When you cum for the second time, he's quick to follow right after, your convulsing walls eliciting his own release right into your waiting cunt. A part of him panics — he didn't wear a condom nor did you say anything about being on any kind of contraceptive — but he feels your heels dig into his lower spine to keep him from moving. The concern still sits at the back of his mind but he lets himself get lost in the sensation of finishing inside you, his thrusts slowing to a halt before carefully laying on you.

"Holy shit," you breathe out, a blissful smile on your lips with your eyes fluttering shut. When Jack pulls out, you offer a slight wince but curl onto his chest as he rolls over onto his back. Your head nestles onto his pec, his arm winding around your bare shoulders. When you turn your head to kiss his freckled collarbone, he chuckles and squeezes you gently.

Jack hums wordlessly. Basking in the moment, he lets himself sink into the warmth of you beside him. There really isn't any need to talk for now and the both of you would've been content to let the moment settle in…

Had it not been for your growling stomach.

His laughter cuts through your embarrased whine, rolling over to hide your face into his chest completely. "Don't laugh—" you pout but he just jostles you gently, gets you to look up at him where he can kiss your nose.

"Stay here, I'll clean you up first," he promises and rolls out of bed. Grabbing his crutches, he heads over to his attached bathroom for a warm, dampened towelette. He cleans you between the thighs, gentle and careful as he drops a kiss to your knee. "About earlier—"

"I'm clean," you interject. "I don't have any partners and I'm on the pill."

He nods, relieved as he tosses the towelette into his laundry basket. "I'm clean, too. I haven't… not since my late wife."

Your smile is heartachingly tender. He's spoken about his late wife before, wears the ring on a chain close to his heart, and how he and his therapist have decided that he's in the right place to move on.

"We can both get tested if you want," you offer. "I don't want anyone else but you."

It's an invitation to a conversation he's been waiting on for a month now and he dives right in. The bed dips as he sits at the edge, a warm and calloused hand on your thigh. "I only want you, bunny. That's not ever gonna change." He cups your jaw, warm and possessive in a way that'll never fail to light a fire in your heart. "Can I be yours, sweetheart?"

You nod with a giggle bursting past your lips. "Yes—! Of course, yes," you swoon with your arms around his neck, his hand releasing your jaw in favor to hug you 'round the waist.

"Yeah?" His pretty crows' feet deepen when he smiles at you, chuckling when you nod again with an eager bob of your head as you gently scratch at his scruffy jaw. "Gonna go steady with me, bunny?"

A laugh escapes you, nose scrunching up at his dated language. "Always and forever, old man."

Although the months you've spent with Jack before the both of you made it official had you feeling like cloud nine, the next following weeks could only be properly labeled as the honeymoon phase now that you're officially his girlfriend. With Jack's night shift schedule and your unorthodox posting timelines, the two of you manage to make it work.

Speaking of work, you had been adamant that because he's your boyfriend, you had no plans on stopping the camgirl site and told him so the morning after. Jack had blinked and nodded as if it'd been something he had already expected. His only caveat was that you'd at least make your new relationship status public knowledge to your subscribers whether it's as simple as a status post on your website. You went above and beyond by posting a selfie with Jack's arm around your neck, his bicep smushing your cheeks while you grinned dopily at the camera.

While your followers had fawned over your new man, occasionally posting faceless boyfriend pics of Jack, you made sure to keep his identity secret as your highest priority whenever he'd make some sort of cameo in your SFW videos.

"Babe, you gotta stop jumping in the frame, I'll have to edit you out—!" You laugh in your most current video, holding out the camera high and up just enough to capture your hand crooked around Jack's arm as the two of you walk the aisles of the farmer's market.

He chuckles and dutifully stops ducking his head. "Just move the camera when I kiss your cheek, bunny. And even if my face shows, I thought you could just slap on an emoji or something on my face when your assistant edits them."

The camera captures the way you look up, a playfully deadpan expression on your features. "You wanna put more work on Francine?"

"You're right, I'll behave."

The clip ends there and the views skyrocket, nearly matching your most infamous videos on your NSFW side. It's gotten so popular that Victoria's talking about it during work hours, in awe of the fact that she's mutuals with you despite the fact that she's gone viral on Tiktok herself.

For once the pitt has a handle on chairs and triage, allowing Victoria to show Dennis her newest editing style, inspired by Doll's Corner. He perks up, recognizes the voice through the walls of the apartment he shares with Trinity.

"Oh, I think Santos is also subscribed to her," he grins.

Victoria frowns. "Subscribed…? Her website's free, Dennis."

Trinity walks past before circling back. "What's free?"

"Oh, um— Doll's corner." Victoria holds out her phone, displaying your instagram profile. "She has her own website but Dennis mentioned that you're subscribed to her…?"

"She avoids her SFW content, probably because it'd feed the parasocialism since Doll seems to be exactly her type," he grins, always eager to have something over his lovable but prickly roommate.

"She's not my type, she's just hot—"

"Hold on, what do you mean SFW content? Isn't all her stuff SFW…?" Victoria cuts in, eyes wide as she scrolls up and down the webpage. Trinity snatches the phone and taps the top right menu button of the page, scrolls towards the 'PRICING' tab before offering the phone back.

Dennis interrupts. "She doesn't really advertise her adult content, it's more of a… if-you-know-you-know situation. You're cool with that, right?"

Victoria swallows, goes through the 'free' content of your camgirl side while her mind races with the blurred and suggestive content, before nodding with a wide-eyed grin. "'Course I'm cool with it. Just— I didn't expect it. Yeah, I'm cool. Dennis, are you subscribed—?"

"No, no—" Dennis startles with a flustered laugh. "It's not really my thing, but I know Dr. Ellis had found her account too. She's popular."

The youngest MS4 merely nods and wanders off, looking very scandalized. Dennis and Trinity watch her go before shrugging, unaware that the true reason why Victoria's so shocked is that she had suspected Doll's newest boyfriend might be Dr. Jack Abbot.

Your SFW content views continue to skyrocket (especially the shortform video where you had Jack flex his bicep for the camera before placing a piece of dessert on top, eating right off his freckled arm before he's pulling you out of frame for a kiss).

There's already been a few questions asking if your boyfriend (lovingly dubbed as Mr. Doll by your subscribers) would ever participate in your content. You haven't gotten around to answering them, leaving them untouched as you post your usual photos and videos for your loyal subscribers.

The truth is, you aren't even sure how to bring up the topic to Jack nor would you know how to figure out the logistics of including your boyfriend without jeopardizing his identity. But the problem is solved a week later where you're in your bedroom, filming a toy haul with a new PR package from a sex toy company.

You're in the throes of your orgasm, nothing on but a bunny tail plug nestled in your ass while you ride a massive silicone pink dildo with some device that literally creampies you. You've got your back to the camera, the cute plug front and center, when your knees drop and you bottom out on the toy with a final moan.

You'd been so lost in your 'review' that you didn't realize Jack had come by early, leaning against the doorway with a dark little grin that you've come to associate with 'playtime'.

"Havin' fun, bunny?" he asks, the camera picking up on his voice sounding like velvet over gravel.

Your giggle is breathy and sweet. The camera captures the way your neck arches, looking over your shoulder to meet Jack's eyes who stays firmly out of the shot. "Mhm, I am."

"Did that thing… finish in you?" When you give him another resounding giggle and nod, he shakes his head with a fond chuckle. "I'll give you five minutes to catch your breath before it's my turn, sweetheart."

When you'd given the video to Francine, your assistant, to edit, she had sent over the last clip where Jack had come in and asked if you wanted it out. Deciding that it seems safe enough to keep since he's not even within the frame and that people have heard his voice before, you told Francine to keep it in.

Later that night, you receive an tsunami of positive comments, most of them fawning over the way Mr. Doll seems to adore you even while making content for the rest of your depraved audience.

@.pearlessance: holy shit HIS VOICE???

@.deathreverse: i bet he talks you through it omfg

@.mariasont: i just KNOW your man is fine

@.enam3l: give us one audio file of him cumming PLEASE

You're wrapped up in Jack's arms later that evening, your back settled against his chest as you read over the comments with him. He's got his strong arms around your middle, lazy kisses pressed to your bare shoulder as the cold edge of his readers bump along your jaw.

"You're stealing my fans, Jack."

"No, they like the way I make you flustered, bunny. There's a difference."

"Maybe," you hum as you swap apps to your instagram, scrolling mindlessly before you pause. "Jack?"

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

"Would you… want to be in my cam videos? Just as your voice," you clarify with a shy smile. The curve of his smile is pressed against your neck.

"I'd be honored," he croons. "Maybe you could play with yourself for the camera, let me talk you through your orgasms."

Your cheeks burn, thighs clenching as you rub them together. "Mhm."

"Use your words, bunny."

"I'd like that a lot, sir."

That had been a new revelation. You've called Jack 'daddy' jokingly outside of the bedroom before, just something to steal his attention whenever you're particularly needy (whether it's for something sexual or not). And while he liked it, judging by the fond and flustered grin on his lips, he had sat you down and told you what title actually does it for him.

Sir.

It never did anything for you, thought it might've been too simple or even too formal to ever be used in bed, but it fits Jack perfectly. An older man with his experience and status along with a natural inclination to dominance doesn't need something as desperate as 'daddy' to insert control in the bedroom.

"Good girl," he rasps and takes your chin to turn your head, planting a heated kiss onto your lips. "How about we pick a day for it, hm? Put it on your calendar."

When you nod again, he chuckles and nips at your lower lip. "Can we do it now?"

Despite your eagerness, you and Jack had decided on a Sunday evening the following week, opting for a pre-recorded video rather than a live show.

Like always, you've got your tripod set up at the foot of your bed with you front and center. You have mood lighting set up, nothing too garish and bright and classically 'porno' but rather something warm to get you comfortable. The only difference is Jack seated behind the camera, manspreading like it's his fucking job in those grey sweats you've moaned about a week ago.

"You ready, baby?" Jack's voice is caramel sweet but you know it'll dip lower when he hits the record button. When you give a nod, he reaches up to press the button.

The red light blinks at you but Jack clears his throat. "Eyes on me, bunny."

Your gaze is magnetized to your boyfriend's, feeling deliciously exposed with the way his eyes drink you in. Tonight, you've got on a lingerie set he had bought just for you: a babydoll pink bralette with a matching thong and garters. In the hollow of your neck is a delicate, cursive 'j' on a chain.

"You look gorgeous, sit up for me, sweetheart. Let the camera see your new outfit," he drawls lazily and your eyes drop down to his large hand, gripping his bulge through the sweats.

The camera captures the way you look behind it, your gaze unfocused and your cheeks flustered, but you never disobey sir's words as you sit up on your knees. Your hands dance along the lacy straps, brushing across the sheer panels that hold up your tits. Jack's attention is fixed on you, his teeth digging into his lower lip as he strokes himself through his sweatpants.

"That's it, bunny. Play with those pretty titties for the camera," Jack murmurs.

He continues to take the lead and it's almost alarming at how good he is, how easy it is for you to completely forget you're still filming. He eventually has you propped up against your mountain of pillows, knees bent and thighs spread out.

"Add another finger for me, bunny."

You've already got two in, your middle and your ring finger, while your other hand is groping at your exposed tit. "Sir, I can't—"

"Sure you can, pretty girl. You've taken my cock, haven't you?" Jack chuckles meanly, his hand tugging at his cock now. Your eyes are locked on his length and he capitalizes on it, rubbing his thumb across his tip.

"Yes, but—"

"Come on, bunny, one more. You can do it."

The camera captures the way you whimper, gasping around nothing when you add your index finger into your sopping cunt. Even the lighting catches the shine of your slick against your inner thighs; Jack's got you edging yourself and you're ready to beg.

The stretch burns in the best way, not in the same breadth as Jack's cock, but enough that it has you plunging your fingers so fast that it sounds lewd against the camera.

"Can I cum, sir, please—" You choke out, hand beginning to cramp from the speed and angle you have that Jack notices it immediately. If you've been a bit less preoccupied with your own impending orgasm, you would've noticed that your boyfriend had been staving off his own climax, gripping the base of his length until he's finally given you permission.

Behind the camera, he continues to talk you through it but his voice isn't as measured, it's strained and a tad bit pitchy — his tell-tale sign that he's about to cum soon.

"Cum for me, bunny, let me see you make a mess on yourself," he coaxes and once you take the final fall, he's quick to follow, white ropes of his release painting his thighs and the floor beneath. "So fuckin' hot, Jesus Christ—"

Your cramping hand drops from between your legs as you slump against the pillows completely, legs splayed out for the camera to watch the way your clit throbs from the overstimulation. Jack tucks himself back in and takes the camera, detaches it from the tripod mount to approach your bedside.

"Let's see the mess you made, gorgeous," he murmurs, his voice wrecked as he props a knee up to hover above your overstimulated frame. You giggle up at the camera, taking his free hand (the same one that had been wrapped around his cock moments ago) and gently lick the traces of his release clean off his fingers. He curses under his breath before he affectionately pinches your chin. It elicits a soft laugh from you and the look you give him beyond the camera does something to his chest, a word that tastes something sticky sweet (and maybe starts with the letter 'L'), that he suddenly wishes this part is just for him.

But he moves lower, the camera panning down to where your panties are tugged loosely aside where your puffy, slick cunt is on display. It's lewd and nasty, the way his free hand strokes through your folds before he's bringing up his fingers for a taste. The satisfactory moan he lets out sends a thrill up your spine.

His hand travels to the swell of your thigh, to your hip where he tugs your panties off. The camera jostles as he shoves the soiled, lacy fabric into the back pocket of his pants, before he pulls away.

"I think your fans earned enough of you. Say goodbye, bunny, it's my turn for a taste."

The last thing the camera sees is a wave of your hand before it's set aside roughly, filming your ceiling and capturing the way your giggle melts into a breathy moan before the video and audio cuts.

—

"So when are we meeting the lucky lady?"

The sun sits high as Jack lounges on the roof on a chair that he's brought up a few months back. Robby had brought his own chair a week later, pleased to see his best friend behind the railing this time. The two are relaxing, stealing a few moments of solitude before handoffs are completed.

"Not yet," Jack grunts as he takes a sip of the pressed juice you've packed for him. You've been given a massive PR package of some health brand and he'd been willing to take half of the crate off your hands. "Soon."

Robby gives him a sidelong glance. "Are you ashamed of her or somethin'?"

"No. No, definitely not. I just want to keep her to myself a bit longer before you and Peaches poach her off me." Jack chuckles. "Relax, brother. I'll bring her around soon."

"Alright, I'm holding you to that," Robby chortles before he gets to his feet, back cracking while he stretches. "Go home, Abbot."

Before, Jack would've kneedled, maybe dragged his feet a bit longer to keep from returning to an empty house. He's always craved company, even moreso at the passing of his late wife. But this time, he grabs his backpack and rucks it over his shoulder, offering a casual wave of his hand.

"Ain't gotta tell me twice. I got a pretty girl waiting for me at home."

—

Later that evening, Victoria Javadi's sitting outside on the benches with the rest of day shift, drinking a beer she hopes would taste better after every sip. After turning twenty one, she still didn't see the appeal of drinking beer but after her sneaking suspicion that her night shift attending might be dating the influencer she's admired for so long, she realizes she might need it.

Her thumb punches the 'low' volume button on the side of her phone as she pulls up your tiktok account. Your account has only grown since you've started including your mystery man; the tiktok trends that center around playful pranks or cute videos snipped from longer vlogs with your partner are the ones that hit a million views first.

She takes a deep breath and taps your most recent one, a clip that looks like it had been cut from your last get-ready-with-me vlog, judging by the outfit you have on. You greet the camera as usual, holding out two different purses before leaning this way and that to get all angles of your outfit. Your attention is stolen, however, when the voice of 'Mr. Doll' cuts in from behind the camera.

"You ready, sweetheart?"

You pout, your gaze looking beyond the camera. "I don't know which bag to bring."

"What do you need a bag for?"

"My lip gloss…" you reply sheepishly and a throaty chuckle from Mr. Doll follows, soft and fond.

"The second one, bunny. Come on, let's go."

The video loops and Victoria lets it play before her thumb rewinds the video back herself, listening to that voice before her gasp gets caught in her throat.

Mr. Doll is Jack Abbot.

—

In another apartment across the city, Trinity takes advantage of the empty home and hunkers down in bed. It's a guilty pleasure, she knows, but with the stress of residency along with Garcia's emotional unavailability, she figures a bit of her wage going to one of the most hottest camgirls couldn't be the worst vice in the world.

She scrolls through the paid content of yours with a soft sigh, sinking deeper into her mattress before opting for one of the newer POV content. It's a new series you've started, something that kicked up in popularity from a couple weeks ago when your partner had taken the camera to film you himself after he talked you through your orgasm.

Trinity hasn't had the chance to check it out herself, a bit hesitant considering the POV shots may ick her out if she actually sees a penis when she's been thinking of inserting herself as the viewer on top of you. But curiosity kicks in as she plays the most recent one, heat simmering low in her core as it starts out with you undressing as always, straddling your partner this time as he films you from below.

"I can feel you—" you gasp, your hands braced on the stomach beneath you as it pushes your tits together. Your hips roll, sinfully smooth while the strap of your sheer tanktop drops off one shoulder. It keeps falling, revealing a single breast, but you pay it no mind, too busy dry-humping the body beneath you.

"You're soaked for me, bunny… am I gonna feel you through my boxers?" The man grunts and something tugs at the back of Trinity's mind, a sick sense of deja vu or familiarity. She ignores it, eyes straining to try and focus only on you.

You giggle. "Maybe… can't help it, daddy gets me so wet—" You pause, eyes wide at your little slip.

"'Daddy'?" The familiar male voice repeats and the camera catches the man's hands travel up, sliding between the valley of your breasts to curl around your throat possessively. A ditzy grin spreads across your lips, eyes nearly rolling back as you lean your neck forwards into his palm.. "Is that my name now, bunny? Want me to be your daddy?"

The video plays on but Trinity couldn't focus, not when horror sets in alongside disgust and mortification when her brain finally places where she's heard that voice before. Once it clicks, she gags and pauses the video, tosses her phone across the room as full-body shudders wrack her whole frame.

When Dennis comes home late, it's to find Trinity on the couch, spacing out with a security blanket swaddling her prone frame. Panic sets in and he rushes forward, his fist rubbing her chest out of habit tp see if there's any response to pain—

"Ow, fuckin' quit it—!" Trinity snaps, smacking his hand away as she glares up at him.

He lets out a sigh of relief before crossing his arms. "What the hell happened to you? Was it Garcia—"

"No." A haunted look passes over his roommate's eyes. "Worse. I think I found Dr. Abbot's girlfriend."

—

With your six-month-iversary fast approaching, you and Jack are running out of excuses to keep putting off the inevitable 'meeting of the friends' ceremony. Your own friends are eager to meet the older man that's been starring in most of your content and Robby's starting to threaten break-ins and impromptu dinners if he doesn't get to meet the woman that's made his best friend so happy.

It isn't that you're scared Jack's friends and colleagues won't like you or that he's ashamed of you— it's just the fact that the two of you are becoming grossly codependent, refusing to let the other one out of each other's sight for too long. Inviting friends into your circle would only lessen the amount of time you two have for each other and the two of you would much rather prefer extending your honeymoon period first.

Unfortunately, the decision is taken out of yours and Jack's hands when you wake in the morning to an abnormal amount of bleeding. Your period's supposed to start soon but with the sudden heavy flow and the sharp pain in your abdominal, fear licks up your spine.

Something isn't right.

You carefully bring yourself out of Jack's bed, whimpering at the massive stain you've left, before hobbling over to your phone. What awful timing— your actual doctor boyfriend isn't in to check you out himself but rather he's stuck at the ER working a double.

With the amount of time you've spent with Jack, he's ingrained it into you to always listen to your body, to get help rather than attempting to self-diagnose or to undermine your pain level, so you call 9-1-1 with a shaky voice.

When the operator confirms that an ambulance is on the way, you remember to add one final thing: "Can you take me to PTMC, please?"

—

"Female, mid to late 20s, heavy vaginal bleeding and sharp abdominal pain. Reports of nausea and vomiting with a fever of 102 degrees," the EMT barks out, pushing your gurney through the ambulance bay as the cacophany of the emergency department greets you. When the ambulance had arrived at Jack's place, you'd been barely able to stand upright, chills racking your frame.

Your mind is fuzzy, the fluorescent lights above you spinning like soup while you're pushed into an available room. A couple of nurses trail after a doctor, a penlight flashing in your eyes as said doctor introduces herself.

"Hi, I'm Dr. King, are you taking any kind of birth control or—"

"My IUD," you whimper, eyes squeezing shut as you try to fight through the pain that seems to steadily increase with each passing moment. "Is it—I heard it can be displaced?"

Fast paced conversation erupts around you, swapping differentials and possible diagnoses before scissors are cutting through your pajamas to reveal your bloody panties. A hand presses against your upper abdomen, a gentle palpating movement that tears out a cry of pain from you.

"Order a CT," a doctor barks. "Can't do much until we see what's going on in there."

Dr. King nods and promises to take care of you after you've been pushed some painkillers to tide you over until it's your turn. As you get wheeled off, she notices a delicate cursive 'j' tattooed right above your hip bone.

—

After some time, you're dressed in a hospital gown, waiting for your CT results as the painkillers they've given you keep the pain at bay for the meantime. Your phone sits in your lap, screen on to your text thread with Jack. You know he's somewhere in the department, most likely saving lives, but your texts are unread and it's gnawing at the pit of your stomach.

"Hi," a voice calls out and it's a sweet looking young man, around your age as he rubs in the hand sanitizer. "I'm Dr. Whitaker. We have your CT results and it looks like a displaced IUD. Did anything happen recently or…?"

Your cheeks burn bright red. "Um. Rough sex, I guess?"

Dr. Whitaker's face colors red as well. "Oh—! Um, well, yeah. That'll do it. The CT scans revealed some slight perforation in your uterine lining so we'll go ahead and get that out for you, it'd be a minor procedure so you'll be up and walking in just a few hours."

"Great, thank you," you sigh in quiet relief but as you ponder something, Whitaker sticks around, like he knows you've got a request. "Um, is there a Dr. Abbot in?"

He nods. "Yeah, he's one of my attendings. Has he treated you before?"

"No, actually—"

"Bunny—?!" The curtains slide open and Jack rushes in, concern choking up his syllables when he sees you looking slightly gaunt and exhausted in a hospital gown. Dennis' eyes widen as he steps aside; he's never seen his attending look so disheveled and unkempt. "What happened?"

"Jack, I'm fine, it was my IUD," you explain, looking up while he checks over your vitals. "It… got displaced. I wonder whose fault is that." Your dry tone has Jack looking sheepish and Whitaker looking everywhere but the both of you. It's already taken all of his professionalism to keep from reacting when he recognized you as Trinity's past obsession. She still wouldn't say why she unsubscribed until he realizes the secret boyfriend is Dr. Abbot.

"Sorry, sweetheart," Jack murmurs into your hair as he kisses your forehead. "I'll make sure they'll bump you forward so you can get out of here faster."

You nod and your lower lip juts out, slipping into that sweet mindset that Jack can't get enough of; cotton candy delicate and adorably delectable. "Promise?"

"Yeah, I promise, bunny." His voice takes on that gravelly tone that you've become obsessed with and when you tip your head up, he closes the distance and kisses you briefly.

At that moment, the curtain slides open again. "Whoa— sorry for interrupting, folks." You pull away, fiery cheeks on display, to see another taller doctor enter. "Dr. Whitaker, can you go help Dr. Santos in Central 13? I'm Dr. Robinavitch, you can call me Dr. Robby. You must be the infamous 'Bunny'."

Jack groans and playfully hides his face into the top of your hair as the name registers as your boyfriend's best friend. You smile prettily and offer your hand to shake when Dr. Robby approaches, giving your name instead. The man seems nice but only Jack has the privilege of calling you 'bunny'. "It's nice to meet you, Dr. Robby."

"Just Robby," he insists before he flips through your chart. "Looks like you're up next for the laparascopy. Do I wanna know what happened?"

Your blush deepens. "No, not really. This is an awful first impression."

Robby chuckles, scratches the back of his head. "It's not so bad, all things considered. But now that I finally have both of you here, what do you say to dinner with my partner and I? She's been eager to meet you."

You give Jack a sidelong glance. "Who else did you tell about me?"

"Nearly everyone," Robby cuts in while Jack gives a shrug.

"I didn't give details. I just liked talking about you, sweetheart. That so bad?"

A pleased smile curves upon your lips. "Not at all. I love how obsessed you are with me," you tease. Your boyfriend's eyes roll before patting his friend's chest.

"Alright, come on. Let's get her rolled into the OR so I can take my girl home."

—

As promised, recovery goes by swiftly and a new IUD is put in place. Discharge is expedited when you're dating one of the attendings and soon, Jack's coming into your room with a fresh set of clothes from his locker.

"I liked those panties," you huff as you step into Jack's black sweatpants, leaning against the bed as he kneels down to roll the legs up for you.

When he stands to full height, he helps you into the faded 'ARMY' sweater. "I'll buy you more, bunny." He tugs you in by the waist to steal a few more kisses. "Just glad you're okay. You almost gave me a heart attack when I saw your name on the board."

"Sorry," you pout as Jack sweeps a thumb across your cheekbone. "I tried texting but I—"

"No, baby, you're fine." He hushes you with another soft kiss. "It's good you came in when you did. Come on, I'll take you home."

His arm is thrown around your shoulder as he guides you out through the ambulance bay. The both of you are lost in your own little world, exchanging soft laughter and playful kisses, that you don't see the haunted look in Santos' eyes as she scurries out of the way or Javadi watching in the way someone can't look away from a car crash.

When the ambulance doors shut, Dana leans over the counter to address Robby.

"That the girlfriend?"

"Sure is."

An amused grin curls onto the nurse's lips. "I think I remember her. I see where the nickname 'bunny' comes from."

"What's it mean?"

"I'm not saying a damn thing, Robinavitch."

Everything shifted one Fall night. Trinity was supposed to be out on a date, so you and Dennis desperately retreated to his bedroom. You were careless not to acknowledge that the door didn’t fully shut. Dennis had teased and edged you for an hour on the couch alone; if Trinity knew, she would’ve murdered you both and forced you to get a new couch. Now, you’re naked, sitting fully on Dennis's lap with his cock deliciously nestled inside of you. You grind your hips, loving how your clit rubs on the blonde patch of hair on his pelvis. Dennis lets you use him to your pleasure as he sucks bruises on your chest and plucks your nipples into his mouth.

Grabbing onto his shoulders, you begin riding him properly, moaning at the sensation of his cock nearly sliding out of you completely before he fills you back up. “I love your cock, Dennis, love how it’s all mine,” you pant into his ear. You lean your head back in pleasure when he bucks up to meet your pace, but as you open your eyes, you notice the door slightly open and green eyes peering in from the shadows.

“God, Baby,” Dennis moans when you unconsciously clench around him, grinding in his lap. It shouldn’t turn you on to have your friend watching like a peeping tom, but in your lust-filled haze, it thrilled you. Like a peacock you spread your feathers, you arched your back just a bit more, undulated your hips seductively, and made sure she heard about how good Dennis was pleasing you.

Trinity is frozen by the sight. It’s so fucking wrong, but she can’t tear her eyes away from the scene in front of her. Her date stood her up, so she stopped at the convenience store to get snacks and food to share with you and Dennis when she inevitably hijacked the TV to play Love is Blind.

She mainly looks at you, enjoying yourself in the throes of pleasure. For the first time, she also sees Whitaker in a different light. There’s curiosity bubbling up along with guilt. She’s not upset she got stood up. The sick part of her is happy about it because she got to see that spectacle. The logical part is begging her to stop and look away, it's wrong in so many levels. She eventually listens, tearing her eyes away, leaving the apartment again with a soft click of the door like she never came back early.            

You debate on not telling Dennis, what good will it do? You promised him full honesty, though, and this should be a warning to be more careful. “Hey, Den,” you softly speak. You’re still naked in his bed, head resting on his chest as you trace patterns on his pale skin. The door has been closed for a while now.

He’s drowsy, but still he hums in acknowledgement, brushing your arm with his hand in a soothing manner.

“Trinity might’ve caught us red-handed,” you blurt out, picking yourself up with a hand to his chest.

“Don’t worry, I replaced the sour patch kids.” Dennis misunderstands your worry, thinking back on the other day when you ate the sour candy. Trinity is very serious about her Sour Patch Kids, often arguing with Whitaker when he dips into her stash.  

“No, Den, earlier when I was…riding you,” he blushes with a smile, remembering, “Yeah?”

“Focus,” you huff, slapping his chest, “We accidentally left the door ajar, and I caught her looking at us mid-action.”

Dennis' smile falls, sitting up. Cortisol levels rise, and his heart races with worry and embarrassment, “Why didn’t you say something?”

“One, my judgment was clouded because you were hitting the spot, and two, I thought she would leave, but she just stared. She was probably in shock seeing his sweet country boy acting all innocent,” you try to come up with an excuse.

“You were the one riding my cock!” Dennis shoots back.

“Yes, but you were the one to tease me for over an hour!” You point at him with a pout.

Dennis sighs and grabs your pointed hand to kiss your finger. He thinks about it as logically possible, “It was probably an accident, and she definitely left cause she hasn’t made a single sound all this time. Do you want me to talk to her?”

Trinity always has something playing in the background. Music, reality TV, old reruns. The woman can't stand the silence in her apartment. She would never admit that having Whitaker live was a way to help with the stillness in her apartment.

You shake your head, declining his offer. “I think it’s best if we just forget about it. If she brings it up and curses us out, then we own it. Let’s not make it a big deal; we’re all adults. I’m embarrassed, and she probably is too.”

“You’re right. You’re always right,” he grabs your wrist, pulling you to him and kissing your swollen lips. You moan into the kiss, giggling when he places his hand back on his half-erect dick. He’s still a man on his day off with his very naked, hot girlfriend next to him.

“If only they knew you’re really trouble, Dennis Whitaker,” you click your tongue, chastising him. Your grip on him unrelenting.

“They wouldn’t believe you,” he moans, tilting his head back and giving you the perfect opportunity to leave a pretty mark on his neck and ruin his reputation just a bit.

Dennis is a man of science, so it’s logical that he would conduct an experiment. Something didn’t settle right with him when you told him Trinity stared. Not that she just caught you, but she stopped and stared. She’s one of the sharpest in the ED, always jumping on surgical opportunities and incoming traumas. Diagnosis and management spilling from her lips in seconds. It seems strange she would be in that type of shock by a simple act of lust between him and his girlfriend. Hell, she’s the one always starting raunchy conversations to make him blush.

Weeks later, Trinity hadn’t made one joke about the situation. No snarky remark. No humiliating comment. It was not addressed once and that was strange. So Dennis left the door cracked open to see if it would happen again. Trinity casually mentioned she had a headache and retreated to her room. He knew she would come out to look for some ibuprofen any time now. Not telling you about his plan, he swoops you over to his bedroom, seducing you and promising he’d be quiet.

He wanted to be proved wrong. It was all an accident, and Trinity decided that she wasn’t going to humiliate him for once. He had been mortified about Trinity catching him in the act, but the longer he thought about it, the more his perspective changed. He didn’t know what it was, but the prospect of being watched excited him as well.

It started organically, making out, tongues sliding as hands explored bodies they’ve memorized. In a few moments, your panties were off, and Dennis was two fingers deep in you, talking you through it. “You hear how wet you are, baby?” His voice was quiet, raspy, his tongue licking his lips, wishing they were on you instead. Sinful squelching filled the room; it would make a pornstar blush.

“Dennis,” you gasp, trying to hold his wrist, get him to ease up before the knot in your stomach dissolves.  

“No, baby, come on, you can give me one like this,” he says, mouth pressed to your cheek as your hair clung to your sweaty skin.

“I want your cock,” you moan, you wanted to cum with him inside you, filling you up. His fingers were great, but you were craving so much more. You needed his weight on you, your legs wrapped around his hips and his cock spreading you open till there wasn't any more space.

“You’ll get it after you cum on my fingers. I promise.” Dennis kisses your jaw.

He had forgotten about his experiment until he noticed a slight change in the shadows. It was momentary but enough to catch his attention. Discreetly, he looks over, and there she is again, Trinity. He gives her a chance. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty. She doesn’t flinch. Dennis catches his lips on yours, kissing your cheek till his lips are on your ear, “You’re going to show her how good I can make you cum?”

“Denny!” You cry out, but it’s enough to have you spasming. His fingers are abusing your sweet spot repeatedly. The sound of his hand slapping your skin is getting louder. Dennis makes a show of taking his fingers out and bringing them up to the light, where she can also see, pretending to observe your arousal before he brings them up to your lips, where you greedily suck them clean.

He doesn’t exactly know why he does it. It’s like he has something to prove after years of insecurity. After years of being seen as less than by many people. Dennis wanted to be seen as capable in all aspects, including pleasing his girlfriend.

Trinity is gone moments later.

On a casual coffee date, you bring up the idea to Dennis. If she’s so captivated by you guys having sex, why not have her join once? She’s probably lonely. Yolanda really did a number on her. She needs the confidence to go back out there, and perhaps you and Dennis can give it back to her by making her feel wanted and sexy and like being too much isn't actually too much.

“I don’t know,” Dennis grimaces, playing with his half-empty coffee cup. “Trinity doesn’t seem like the type to be in that scenario, especially with me in the mix.”

“All that Peeping Tom energy has me thinking the opposite,” you say thoughtfully, then you reach for his hand. “Also, maybe she teases you so much because it’s a habit. From what I know, you’re not the same person she first met three years ago."

“Would you really be open to a threesome with Trinity?”

“It wouldn’t be my first time with a girl, and it’s Trinity. It’s no secret she’s hot,” you shrug, drinking your matcha that admittedly tastes like grass, “I don’t know. That time she caught us, both times, it…turned me on.” You admit the last part as your ears and face warm up. You’ve always been open with Dennis, and there’s no one else for you but him, but it would be fun to have an adventure like a threesome.

“I felt like I had something to prove, and it made me feel good,” Dennis admitted as well, playing with the lid of his coffee cup.

“Have you ever felt any attraction for Trinity?”

“First time I met her I thought she was attractive—and mean—but finding out she liked girls I just locked it up and never thought about it again…until now.”

“So should I ask?” You ask, not wanting to cross any boundaries without Dennis consent. This is his roommate and coworker. If you don’t approach it carefully, you could fuck everything up.

Dennis was too curious now. The idea is eating at his brain; it’s no good that you appear to be so into it as well. “Subtly, ease her into it in case it’s all a big misunderstanding.”

“Thinking about it is turning me on,” you confess with a shuddering breath, looking out the big display window.

Your boyfriend is silent for a split second before he bursts out. “Want to go to your apartment?” He was also feeling a certain tightness in his jeans.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here,” you mumble, picking up your purse and throwing away the matcha cup.

One night Dennis has a shift in the ED, you knock on Trinity’s door, bags of food in your hand. The door opens not a minute later, and you lift the bags with a smile, “I got Thai.”

“Since when do you knock? I thought Huckleberry gave you a key?” She says curiously, but is grateful at the sight of food. She was just contemplating what to eat, menus scattered on the coffee table.

“It’s common courtesy, Trin,” you chime, taking out the containers as she looks for plates and utensils.

Comfortably, both of you settle on the worn couch that has seen too much and put on a movie. Challengers plays in the background, the scene where Zendaya kisses both boys playing.

“They are so out of her league,” Trinity comments, washing down the food with a Coke Zero.

“It’s somewhat realistic. If all three were hot, it would be a different kind of movie,” you muse, eyebrows wiggling.

“Have you ever had a threesome?” You ask, staring only at the screen. It’s not odd for you to talk about sex; it’s a normal conversation between two friends of the same sex. Especially when Trinity used to be very vocal about her sex life.

“In Uni,” Trinity grins, remembering those nights of wild parties and lots of alcohol. She admits she got out of control for a while there.

“Was it like strictly women, or did you dabble with guys?”

“I knew who I was by the time I got to college, still, a guy would slip in there now and then,” Trinity blushes with a cheeky smile as she takes another bite of the food, remembering those days.

“Trinity! You naughty girl,” you exclaim, pushing her shoulder.

“Dennis and I were thinking about it…” You say it shyly to gauge her reaction.

“Having a threesome? You and Huckleberry? Now, that’s shocking.” Trinity snorts as the movie plays. A moment passes before she says, “Who would you even ask? Oh my god, are you making a Tinder profile to look for a third? Can I see?”

“Ew, a stranger? No thanks,” you grimace before your eyes flick to her and then back to your food, “Actually, I was thinking about you.”

Trinity chokes on a piece of chicken. You run over to her, slapping her back and handing her the can of Coke Zero. Trinity goes absolutely red in the face, both from choking and your offer. “What the fuck? Are you trying to kill me?” She wheezes, holding her chest, her eyes are wide as she stares at you, bewildered.

You offer her an innocent smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Sorry, I didn’t realize you were mid bite.”

“Joke's not funny,” Trinity whines, leaning back on the couch to calm her heart. She doesn’t think much of the question or why you’re asking her specifically.

Your quiet voice makes her snap at you, “I wasn’t joking. It’s an honest question, Trinity.”

Trinity's mouth opens and closes, not knowing what to say. From you, she can understand the question, but does Huckleberry know?

“You can say no. It won’t change anything between us. I won’t be offended. It’s totally low stakes,” you offer her a way out, nervously fiddling with your rings.

“Why me?” Trinity asks, mind still reeling at the bomb you dropped, not knowing she would be in deep shit with the next thing you say.

“Well, Dennis and I noticed how recently you’ve been watching us in some quite intimate moments,” you blush, looking at her through your lashes, avoiding direct eye contact.

Trinity nearly turns green, nausea forming in the pit of her stomach, “W-What are you talking about?” The tone of her sentence is higher than usual.

“Hey, it’s okay! We were careless and left the door open; if anything, it’s our fault. Still, we couldn’t help but notice that you were…enjoying the show so to speak,” you purse your lips to hide the nervous smile threatening to break out.

“I-I don’t, no, I didn’t mean to,” Trinity stutters, hiding her face in her hands, refusing to look at you. "I swear it's not what you think. I'm not some sort of pervert." Except, she kinda is.

“Trinity, look at me,” you urge her, grabbing her hand to pry it off her face. She barely meets your eyes, “We’re ready to forget about it if you are. We just thought you might like to have some fun. You’ve been struggling since she-who-must-not be-named hurt you, but if it doesn’t sound like fun, then it’s not, and we move on, and we never talk about it again. You’re a really good friend, and I don’t want that to change.”

“I have to think about it. Let’s just finish the movie,” Trinity clears her throat, piping up ten seconds later, “Wait, the movie choice was a device to bring up a threesome?”  

“It worked, didn’t it?” You say sheepishly.

“You’re sneaky and terrifying,” Trinity mumbles.

The rest of the movie plays quietly with no more chatter to drone out the noise, and the food is left untouched. When the credits roll, you decide to go home to give Trinity the space to process and think of a decision. It’s only fair, you bid farewell with another reassurance and apology, squeezing Trinity’s hand goodbye. You take it as a good sign that she didn’t kick you out instantly.

Trinity just about has a panic attack when you leave. She leans against the door and curses herself out. She’s so fucking stupid. Why would she think you and Huckleberry wouldn’t notice? She really didn’t mean to be a creep, but something about the two of you just caught her attention. It turned her on in a way she hasn’t felt in a long time. Fuck. FUCK. How dare you just suggest a threesome? With Huckleberry? Dennis Whitaker? Can his catholic guilt even handle that? Is it all a plan to turn her straight?

Trinity thinks he must have had a traumatic brain injury because finding you hot is normal; she’s always voiced how attractive you are, but to find her roommate attractive as well is a new low for her. She didn’t even realize she felt that way until she found Huckleberry sucking on your tits. He was different around you, more confident, and confidence has always been something that she’s found attractive.

She can’t go through with this. She won’t, it’s totally insane. Also, since when does Whitaker want to fuck her? A girl does a nice thing, and there’s a man wanting to fuck them. Except, it’s Whitaker, and he’s not that type of person. Trinity tosses and turns most of the night, barely sleeping a wink. Her alarm is futile in waking her up because she’s already awake when it starts vibrating and ringing.

Her morning routine is automatic. Get dressed, make coffee, pack the backpack, and slip on shoes. A dance she does every morning. Walking into the Pitt and seeing all of the occupied seats brings her peace. She can do this; this is her job, and she’s damn good at it.

Leaving her stuff on her locker and changing into the mandated scrubs, she joins the rest at handout. Whitaker gives her a tired smile, acting as if his girlfriend didn’t just do one of the most fucking brave things in the world. She ignores him for the rest of the handout, and he approaches her after with a tired look, “Careful with the kid in 8, he’s a screamer,” he tells her, expecting a laugh at his expense. When she doesn’t respond and scans her badge to enter the system, he frowns.

“What’s up with you?” He frowns, poking her shoulder, knowing well he shouldn’t annoy her too much before she explodes. Trinity whips to glare at him, “What’s up with me? What’s up with me? Last night your girlfriend dropped a fucking bomb on me,” she whispers as she looks around to make sure no one’s listening in.

“What?” His face twists in confusion. “You found out she doesn’t like Love is Blind?”

“She what?” Trinity gasps again, “You’re both trying to kill me.”

“Trinity, I just worked a 14-hour shift. Just tell me.” He wonders what has Trinity in such a state. His girlfriend and her get along like two peas in a pod.

Trinity surveys the room again before she pulls him to whisper in his ear, “The fucking threesome.”

Dennis pales, “Oh, that.” He’s doomed. Yup, he’s moving in with you by the end of the week.

“Yes, that,” Trinity hisses, sitting straight when Robby appears.

“Whitaker, go home and sleep. Santos, trauma incoming, you’re with me,” he states, expecting Trinity to be right behind him when the door slides open with a gurney and a blood-soaked patient.

“So, is that a no?” He scrunches his face in confusion.

“It’s an ‘I’m thinking about it still’ because what the fuck?” She whispers-shouts at him, avoiding a man in a wheelchair and finding a pair of gloves on the wall.

Dennis is too tired to stay hung up on the fact that you chose last night to tell her and didn’t prepare him, knowing he would be going home to Trinity. He changes and picks up his bag before heading home and crashing. He’ll worry in the afternoon when he wakes up.

Trinity puts her head down and tries not to think of your proposition. She works all day, focusing on her patients and the traumas that come in through the sliding doors. Her focus is shifted when she sees Yolanda Garcia flirting with one of the new nurses; something twists in her stomach. Hurt. That woman has ruined Trinity. She took something that Trinity had cherished for so long. Turning in the opposite direction, she continues working, the awareness that she's changed has her considering your offer, for real.

Her charts are done when the handout comes back around. Whitaker walks in much more refreshed, his eye bags not as severe as this morning. There’s a coffee cup in his hand that she’s confident he must have gotten with you before his shift. He stands nervously next to her during the shift change, shifting his weight and twiddling with the badge.

“Relax, Whitaker, I don’t bite,” she tells him with a smirk, “Or, I guess you’ll find out soon enough.”

Whitaker looks horrified, not expecting that answer, but then he clears his throat and nods. “I’ll take that as a yes.” He shoves the thought of Trinity biting him deep down. The ED is not the time or place. Perhaps, later during his shower.

From an outside perspective, Trinity looks cool, calm, and collected, but inside she’s shitting herself. She can’t believe she said yes to a threesome with you and Whitaker. What has the world fucking come to? She lowkey expects to see pigs flying when she walks out to the dimming sun. Fishing her phone from her pocket, she texts you a simple:

TrinTrin

Alright, let’s do this. You only live once 8:05 pm

You take charge of planning everything. It doesn’t happen instantly; rather, it takes three weeks for your schedules to align. You pick a bar to meet up in, and from there, all three of you will head to Trinity's and Whitaker’s apartment. You figured she’d be more comfortable there than in your place.

You set down the drinks on the table: a vodka cranberry for Trinity, a beer for Dennis, and a gin and tonic for you. You all three stare at each other with nerves that have been festering for weeks. Excitement is mixed in with the shaky hands and fleeting glances. You’ve been fantasizing about this for weeks, Dennis, a testament to that.

“Just to check in,” you begin asking both roommates, “You’re cool with his right?”

“I never thought I'd be in this position, but yes,” Trinity says, tipping back her cup, “Huckleberry?”

“What she said,” he says, his throat dry from nerves. It’s not like he’s been intimate with many women, and bringing another person to your bed is daunting, even if he’s been looking forward to it.

“Breaking the ice here,” you speak, looking at Trinity, “Why were you watching us have sex?”

Trinity chokes on her drink and glares at her as Dennis pats her in the back, “You really have to stop with the questions when there’s food or liquid around.”

You roll your eyes, “Answer the question, Trinity, and don’t say because the door was open.”

Trinity scoffs when her snarky response is shut down, “Why should I?”

“Considering we’re going to have sex after this, it would be nice to know what about us caught your attention,” Dennis replied instead of you.

Trinity looks down at the table and shrugs, “Listen, I really don’t know. The first time, I had just gotten home after being stood up and heard a noise, so I went to investigate to make sure Huckleberry here wasn’t dying and then—.”

“Then what?” He prompts, urging her to keep talking.

Trinity glares at him, poking her tongue in her cheek in annoyance, “I saw you with him, and I thought you looked beautiful, and I knew it was wrong, but I couldn’t tear my eyes away. I enjoyed seeing you both together, it’s a different side of the two of you, and I was attracted to it.”

“I liked that you were watching.” You add, offering an olive branch. She doesn’t have to be ashamed of it. “Not that I’m telling you to keep sneaking on us.”

“Aye aye, captain,” Trinity says, offering you a tight-lipped smile. “Whitaker?”

He’s gotten more comfortable with expressing his deep, dark desires thanks to you, but it’s odd to include someone else. Fair is fair. Everyone is opening up. “I kept the door open on purpose. I knew you’d come around, and I wanted to prove it was not an accident.”

“Shit, never could’ve imagined,” Trinity blows out her cheeks with an exhale, “We’re all a little fucked aren’t we?”

“It’s why we’re friends,” you beam, putting your arms over their shoulders to bring them together in a hug.

Your confessions did break the ice. After a second drink, you walk over to the apartment. That’s when Trinity’s hands start to shake; she feels like the odd one out, and it made her nervous. Trinity stands by Whitaker’s door, unsure of her next move. She’s a step closer to the past, both physically and literally. You and Dennis share an intimate kiss, your hands splayed on his shoulders, reaching to tug on the hair in the back of his neck. He’s been letting it grow out into this faux mullet, and you love it for that exact purpose. Dennis presses one hand flat on your back while the other palms your ass.

There’s a soft moan on the back of your throat that has Trinity taking another step forward. Yearning, wanting that closeness. Breaking from the kiss, you smile at her and beckon her over with a tilt of your head. Another step forward, and yet she’s still holding back. You untangle yourself from Dennis, approaching her and cradling her cheek with your hand. “This okay, Trinity?”

Trinity nods, “Yeah,” pressing her forehead against yours, noses brush, and suddenly you’re kissing her. Her hands plant themselves on your hips, squeezing. A testament that this is real. She’s not dreaming anymore. Dennis comes up behind you, kissing your shoulder, observing how his roommate kisses his girlfriend. His lips trail up your neck, feeling your pulse thrum with excitement.

“Is she as good as she boasts?” Dennis has listened to Trinity boast about how good a kisser she is for years. She’s constantly tying a cherry stem into knots to prove a point. Today, he’ll learn if it’s true.

The kiss breaks with a string of saliva between you, and you nod, staring into Trinity’s eyes, pupils blown out, green eyes nearly black. You brush your thumb over her plump lower lip. “She has the right to brag.”

“Didn’t realize all my boasting made you curious,” Trinity says, her eyes briefly flicking over to Dennis. There’s something there she’s reluctant to explore.

You laugh and kiss her again. It’s sloppy and messy, her tongue gaining the confidence to explore your mouth. Dennis's hand explores your skin, undoing the zipper of your dress, allowing it to fall to the floor. His hands stumble with Trinity’s, and it’s like a shock to his nervous system.

He cups your bra-covered breast as his palms glide down your stomach. Fingertips lightly dip into the waistband of your panties, teasing, creating anticipation. Soon, his fingers search for the proof of your arousal, and he quickly finds it. It's warm and sticky, clinging to your skin and the fabric of your underwear.  “She’s so wet,” he tells Trinity, who breaks the kiss to find his hands already touching you. You moan against her lips when his fingers trace over your clit.

He takes his fingers out, glistening, and brings them to his lips. He sucks on them, looking straight at her. “You should’ve offered to our guest first," you scold him.

“She’ll have the chance,” Dennis says, and Trinity can’t help but notice how it’s going raspier, lower.

“Are you okay with that, Trinity?” You ask to include her as she simply stares, overwhelmed by the situation. You’re clearly testing the waters, giving her a chance to back up again.

“Yeah, yes,” she breathes, with a soft nod of her head. Lust is quickly invading every cell in her body; it clouds her judgment, making her impulsive.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes,” you suggest with a hum. Dennis takes a step back as you tug on her shirt, prompting her to raise her arms. You trace the outline of her breast and smile.

Next, the chunky belt she wears with those tight jeans. You caught Dennis checking out her ass earlier today at the bar. Trinity laughs, almost embarrassed at how she has to really shimmy out of them, but you enjoy it. It’s real.

Dennis sits back on the bed, leaning on his hands as he watches. Trinity's gaze flickers to Whitaker. She’ll be damned, she never expected to be doing this. Somehow, the table has flipped, and it’s him and his girlfriend corrupting her.

“You’re so pretty, Trin,” you gasp, kissing her lips briefly, then her cheek, down the slope of her neck, to her shoulder, where you teasingly push her bra strap. “Let’s get this off.”

You cup her breast with your hands, feeling their weight and how her nipples harden with your touch. Your fingers roll her nipple, and Trinity moans. “They’re sensitive,” she tells you. This situation has turned her lower abdomen into a molten pit. She’s now shaking both from nerves and arousal.

You touch her thighs and ass, admiring how firm they are. Years of hard work in gymnastics are paying off. You wonder how flexible she still is. When you brush the pale scars on her thighs, she tenses. “It’s okay, I got you. Nothing to worry about,” you reassure her, kissing her cheek. It serves to steady her as she reaches to touch your skin.

Lastly, you hook your fingers on the skimpy panties she decided to wear, snapping them back against her skin. The purple lace contrasts with her fair skin. “These are cute.”

“You can borrow them if you want,” she raises an eyebrow, trying to come back onto her sarcastic confidence.  

“Hear that, Denny?” Looking back at your boyfriend, he’s discarded his shirt, and his hand is visibly pressing on his cock, “Think they would look good on me?”

“I’m more of a visual learner,” he responds, eyes taking in a nearly naked Trinity Santos. His pupils dilate at the vision of his girlfriend and roommate touching each other. His cock throbs almost painfully in his pants. The air in the room is suffocating him in a good way, pushing pheromones into his lungs.

You push the flimsy garment down her legs, and she lets them fall, pushing them away with her foot. You kiss her again, and slowly she begins to relax. You grab her by the waist so she’s flush against you. The skin on skin has her tingling all over; she swears she feels her arousal on her thighs now.

“Let’s get on the bed, yeah?” You grab her hand, leading her to the bed. As she kneels on it, you return to Dennis, kissing him. Trinity can’t help but notice how firm his grip on your body is, without an ounce of uncertainty. She can understand why you’re so hung up on him. Being touched like that is addictive.

Whitaker swiftly unclips your bra, a sign he’s done it hundreds of times, and pulls off your panties. It’s calculated, measured. He doesn’t just pull them down; he pulls you to him with them, dragging them on your skin. His kisses down your chest, catching a nipple in his mouth. You moan and catch her staring. “He’s really good at that.”

Trinity has to touch herself, or she will combust into flames. Her fingers tentatively slide down her stomach and between her legs, just a touch. You watch her with a wicked smile, undoing Whitaker’s jeans and taking out his cock. Trinity gasps as she shamelessly looks down to look properly for the first time. The first time he’d been balls deep in you.  

She can’t say she’s ever thought about Dennis Whitaker’s penis, but it surpasses her expectations. He’s blessed to have a good-looking one. Good length, maybe an inch above average, perfect girth to have her squeezing her thighs. A bead of precum forming on the tip.

You grab his hair and pull him away from your chest to join Trinity on the bed. Dennis watches you go with one last squeeze to your ass. He’s still trying to find his place in this threesome. Playfully, you push your friend down, and she laughs, getting into it. You lean down to kiss Trinity, your thigh between her legs, your breast pressed against hers as your hand caresses her warm body. She moans when her clit drags against your skin. “I like hearing you moan. I want more,” you whisper, kissing down her body. Trinity's body is a mix of soft and firm, and you’re enjoying learning that fact as you kiss her soft stomach.

“No,” Trinity shivers, her hand running through your scalp.

“No?” You tilt your head, stopping your descent, lips pressed on her lower abdomen where a healthy layer of chub has accumulated.

“I believe I was promised a taste first.” Her eyes pierce into yours, and she smirks at your surprise.

Your cheeks heat and nod, kissing her stomach one more time before sneaking a glance at Dennis. He’s watching the interaction fully concentrated, his skin turning pink. Your mouth has already been watering at the prospect of eating her out. You would have your chance, you’d make sure of it, but who are you to deny Trinity? It's all about her getting her confidence back, right? Getting on your back, Trinity kisses your neck, softly sucking on the shell of your ear as she looks over to Whitaker, who has a hand around himself. His strokes are sporadic, unrushed.

Trinity’s fingertips draw a straight line from your sternum to your mound, lightly tracing. Still, looking at Whitaker, she spreads your legs and his eyes instantly flick down to your slick center. Trinity huffs, amused as she settles between your legs, bending at the waist to get a taste.

Whitaker chokes a moan at the crude pose in front of him. His wide eyes are trained on his roommate's pussy as it spreads for him. The sight is compelling, he stands next to you guys on the bed, hand reaching to dance on the skin of her back. They go up the back of her neck, down the curve of her back, until he grabs a hold of her ass.

Trinity shivers at his touch, her skin on fire. You run your fingers through her hair, encouraging her to keep going. You were all about touching her first, and she declined. Now, she’s distracted by your boyfriend, but surely not so much as to forget how to please a woman.

She sticks out her tongue and licks a fat stripe up your slit, taking a raw taste of your essence. Trinity quickly goes for seconds and thirds, zoning in on the sensitive nub atop. “Ah, Trin,” you gasp, back arching, but Trinity has a good hold of your thighs. She continues her torturous ministrations until she finally starts sucking your clit, smooth tongue caressing the underside. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you chant, closing your eyes tight.

“Trinity, making you feel good, baby?” Dennis appears at your side, cupping your cheek as you nod, “So good.”

“She likes it when you use your tongue to tease her entrance,” Dennis tells Trinity, who, for once, is quick to listen. Her mouth was sticky with saliva and your juices.

“Oh,” your eyes roll, reaching for Dennis, urging him down to kiss you, swallowing every moan and plea that threatens to fall from your lips. You always did have an oral fixation.

His hand finds yours, and he pushes it down to his pelvis, where you grab his cock. You’re torn between the two of them, flushed face looking down at Trinity, who is focused on your pleasure, ass up in the air, and hand on Dennis’ length, which you pump as he moans, forehead knocking against yours, and hips tittering against you.

Dennis has one hand on your tit, squeezing, and Trinity on the other. You catch her gaze as she gives you a wink. With a wicked smile, she parts your slit with her fingers. You feel the pressure of her fingers threatening to slide in; you’re needy, nodding for her to go ahead. Dennis watches attentively.  

It slides right in wet and warm. A second one quickly follows, “I never thought I’d be knuckle deep in your girlfriend, Huckleberry,” Trinity boasts, watching how you’re taking her fingers so well. You’re good at keeping your legs spread for all to watch.

“Don’t get used to it,” Dennis quips, rubbing a hand on your abdomen comfortingly.

You’re too busy chasing that pleasurable sensation to intervene, undulating your hips on her fingers. “I can tell why you like her so much. Doesn’t she sound so pretty?” Trinity says when you moan her name.

It makes something tick in Dennis, but he has no time to explore it. “Shit, babe,” Dennis hisses when you squeeze a little too hard on his cock. It only makes him harder.

Trinity is slow at first, feeling, analyzing until she curves her fingers to find that spot and offer real pleasure, “Right there,” you suck in a whine, hips bucking.

“Right there, baby? Like this?” Trinity talks you through, curving her fingers over and over. Beckoning your orgasm closer and closer.

“Just like that? Don’t stop.” Your hand reaches for Dennis. You needed something to ground you, to stabilize you. Dennis leans next to you, both arms resting on the bed. He tilts his head, watching you bite your lips, eyebrows furrowed. “You’re going to cum over Trin's hand?”

“Yes, please,” your head turns to look at him, pleading as if he has a say. He could have a say, but he lets Trinity have her fun. Some lines haven’t been crossed yet.

“So polite,” Trinity is smug as she speaks, her confidence trickling in little by little. There’s a stubborn short strand of hair covering her eyes. Whitaker reaches out without thinking, tucking it behind her ear. “Go on,” he rasps.

Trinity bites back a comment about him acting bossy and ducks down again to suck on your clit. She doesn’t quite understand how Dennis bagged such a woman like you. You can’t stay still as you reach for that precious orgasm Trinity is promising. Dennis helps you, pressing a big hand on your abdomen while the other holds your thigh, giving it a squeeze. He has a first row seat to Trinity’s work. Dennis doesn’t mind the lack of attention; just watching his girlfriend and roommate has him leaking.

You give a silent scream, tensing, your legs shaking, before you relax back on the pillows, panting, a smile breaking out as you look between the two of them. Dennis lies next to you, kissing you with Trinity joining your other side, grabbing your chin so you kiss her instead. Dennis kisses down your neck, sucking on your perked up nipple. His hand dips between your legs, exploring. Your hips jerk lightly when his finger tips brush your sensitive clit, then he traces over your messy hole, wet and clenching, and slides two fingers in. Promptly retreating and smearing it on your chest as he rolls your nipple between his fingers.

Trinity keeps noticing how possessive he seems to be of you, even though he agreed to share the bed. It's carefully measured, the good kind.

There’s a pause. A moment of reprieve as you gather yourself. Dennis and Trinity lock eyes before looking away, still too reluctant and shy despite being at their most vulnerable. “Having fun there?” Trinity says lightheartedly, finger dipping lightly on your belly button, which makes you tense and breathlessly laugh.

“Just a little,” you muse, sitting up in bed as you throw her a look over your shoulder, “But now I’m eager to reciprocate, and you can’t stop me.”

“Sure, you don’t need a minute,” Trinity bluffs, knowing she just rocked your world.

“I can multitask,” you chastise her. You’re slotted between her legs, kissing her pouty lips. Your eyes lock, and she gives you an easy smile. You’re glad she eased into it fairly quickly.

You go slow, taking more time than Trinity thought you would. You make a deal of kissing her sweaty skin, memorizing every centimeter of it. Your lips suck on the spot on the swell of her left breast, a light red mark blooming that will purple by the end of the night.

Your fingers touch her scars, and instead of feeling embarrassed, she simply watches you admire them and kiss them. Then, the inside of her thighs, going as far down as her knee, all while Dennis pets your back, the arch of your lower spine, he grabs your hair away from your face when you kiss her pubic mound, admiring the landing strip she shamefully did for you, both of you. She panicked a couple of days ago. Typically, she doesn’t care; a trim is more than enough, but then she started doubting herself, which, no pun intended, landed her on a landing strip.

“Be patient with me, it’s been a while,” you mumble shyly, kissing the crook of her thigh, lightly licking at the spot.

“You’re, um, you’re doing great so far,” Trinity reassures you, the anticipation making her antsy.

She should’ve known you were trouble. Your lips kissed all around her thighs, mound, pussy lips, except where she needed you most. Your sneaky self was teasing her. You topped it off with a small kiss to her clit, which did nothing but have her voice a small complaint in the form of a whine.  

Finally, you start tasting her, all while looking up at her with eyes full of mischief. “Ah, baby, what?” Trinity keens, fisting the dark blue sheets on Whitaker’s bed. You sucked and licked till she dripped on your bed, and only then did you really stimulate her clit, pushing back on the hood, “Holy sh-“

A big, strong hand came to her knee when she tried to close them around your head. She looked indignantly at Huckleberry, her eyes tracing up a strong, veiny hand to bulging biceps, and her pussy clenched. You stifled a laugh, knowing exactly the effect he was having on her. The fact that Trinity shared a fair amount of nights with men, but she strictly preferred women, still didn’t mean she was fully immune to their charm.

You insert two fingers into her warm pussy, and an embarrassing moan spills from her lips, completely whiny and pathetic. She covered her mouth, but the hand on her knee moved to her wrist. Dennis shook his head, lightly chastising her.

“I don’t believe it’s been that long for you.” Trinity is baffled by your oral skills. For someone who mentioned not having done this for years and not regularly either, you’re quite talented.

“What can I say, it’s like riding a bike,” you smile, biting your lip.

You take your time with her, memorizing in equal measure what has her pressing against you and jerking away from stimulation. You bring her to the edge only to bring her back down by kissing her thighs. You’re enjoying the experience of edging Trinity. Of having her beg for you to make her cum and then have her whine out your name when you decide not to. You liked being in control of someone like Trinity.

Trinity’s voice nearly goes raw. “Whitaker, do something about your girlfriend before she kills me,” she tells your boyfriend, a truthful plea as you edge her one more time. Her legs are shaking.

You roll your eyes at her but continue. Dennis, who had been sitting back, admiring how you please his roommate, stands to come behind you. Seeing Trinity like this has him aching for some pleasure of his own. His hands grip your hips as he lines his cock against your pussy. You gasp as he pushes in inch after inch. You’re so wet from eating Trinity out, you need no preparation to receive his length. “There we go, baby,” Dennis grunts.

You moan his name against Trinity’s pussy, which makes her gasp and inch slightly closer to you. She wonders how Whitaker fucking you will get her to cum, yet she’d be a hypocrite if she didn’t admit it was doing something for her. Huckleberry isn’t built with tons of heavy muscle, but he keeps in shape, strong arms and shoulders, pecs lightly defined with a lean abdomen, and the fucking cock that hangs from him. No wonder you go dumb when he starts giving you deep thrusts. “Come on, baby, make Trinity cum.”

“Not yet,” you whine, sloppily making out with her cunt. You enjoyed having the girl who loves control under your hand.

“You want to cum you have to make her cum first,” Dennis promises, slapping your ass to prompt you. Trinity is surprisingly honored that he’s defending her in a way.

You don’t respond, getting a better hold of her thighs as your lips wrap around her puffy clit. Your fingers promptly return, trying to keep the same pace Dennis has you on. The sound of skin slapping, along with the squelching of her pussy is erotic. Trinity leans fully back, teasing her nipples and squeezing her breasts. Your moans send ripples through her.

Suddenly, Dennis stops. He leans over you to whisper in your ear, “Go on, baby, make Trin cum all over your fingers. Make her feel good, just like she did to you. I promise you’ll get to cum on my cock after.” Had Trinity not been so pent up, she would’ve gasped.

You’re selfish in the sense that you’re needy and would do anything for an orgasm. With the opportunity for one seconds away, you nod with glassy eyes. Dennis keeps slow, shallow thrusts as you pick up pace and relocate her sweet spot to bring her over the edge quickly.

“I’m so close,” Trinity nearly sobs. Every push and pull had Trinity sucking your fingers in. Dennis pets your hair as you do, supervising that you do as told. Finally, you add more pressure and Trinity titters over the edge, tensing up and nearly screaming out from the pent-up pleasure. You slow your fingers, carrying her through, soft kisses over her pulsing clit. “Oh my god,” she gasps, fisting the bed sheets.

“Just me,” you hum, with one last kiss to her thigh. “Are you okay?”  

“I think so?” She hasn’t orgasmed like that in what seems like forever. Her toes and fingers are tingling for some reason. Propping herself up on her elbow, she catches how you straighten up, wet fingers sliding out of her, and Whitaker takes your hand, pulling it up to his mouth so he can clean them off and taste Trinity for the first time. He maintains eye contact through it all. He’s come so far from the homeless med student he used to be.

Trinity’s head is in a daze as she watches him suddenly start fucking you properly, deep and fast. Your eyes close with pleasure. He holds you upright, hand coming to your clit to run over it with tight circles that have you gasping. She’s transfixed with the way your tits bounce with each thrust and the way you moan and smile into it, enjoying the controlled attention to your body. Finally, she hears Whittaker’s grunts and gasps as he fucks you, clearly enjoying it. It’s not what she expected, but it’s pleasant. Her pussy, still twitching with the aftermath of an orgasm, drips at the sight.

“I’m gonna cum, Denny,” you gasp, turning your head to catch his lips in a kiss, his tongue slipping past your lips.

Four deep thrusts and pressure on your clit have you gasping. You bend forward, and Dennis carefully places you down right where he picked you up, between Trinity's legs. Your chest heaves with heavy breaths falling from your lips, but still you smile at her.

Dennis is too concentrated on not cumming, but thoroughly enjoying how your pussy molds against him. There’s a ring right at his base from your arousal. Carefully, he pulls out, and you whine at the sensation. He lovingly thumbs your clit, admiring how your hips jerk from overstimulation.  

You climb over Trinity to rest atop of her, her chest rising and falling against yours, and kiss her pouty lips. “Did I do okay?”

Trinity raises an eyebrow, “I don’t think you need me answering that.” Her hands naturally come up to rest on your back, thumb swapping back and forth. “I gotta thank Huckleberry over here, or you would still be torturing me.”

“But it’s fun,” you sing, playing with her hair, brushing the ends of it on her collarbone.

“Your definition of fun is different from everybody else’s,” Dennis says, playfully spanking your ass.  

“Hey!” You exclaim, swatting his hand away. “You haven’t complained.” Dennis chuckles and shrugs, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“You know Trinity,” you say in a tone that means trouble. Trinity hums, cupping your cheek. She wants to kiss you again. “We haven’t made Dennis cum yet.”

It’s an offer you’re making. There’s an unspoken tension in the room. Dennis and Trinity have barely interacted. When you first thought of a threesome, you believed all three would have equal participation and interaction. Dennis is not going to push for it—despite wanting it— but you will for him. “Do you want to give it a try?” Dennis shuffles next to you, a brief movement that reveals his shyness.

Trinity’s eyes widen as she takes in your words. Her breath was stolen away. “We can end here, no pressure. I’ve had fun, and I want you guys to be comfortable. I just thought I’d throw it out there, but if you think it’ll strain your relationship, we should stop here.” You make it clear that Dennis and Trinity are in control, too. You might’ve taken the reins at first, but you won’t be the instigator who will force something unwanted.

Trinity angles her head to look at Whitaker, and maybe it’s the dim lighting or the nudity, but in that instance, he’s not the same person. She wants Whitaker to have sex with her. She’s curious about how it will feel and whether it’s as good as you make it seem. More importantly, she knows he won’t hold it against her or make it weird afterwards. He’s one of the people she trusts most in this world.

“I want to try,” Trinity says, and Whitaker’s eyes widen. He didn’t expect that, sure, she joined them in bed, but he thought she’d be put off by the idea of a man fucking her.

You beam at her answer, “Yes? You want him to fuck you as good as he does me?”

Trinity nods more confidently this time, sitting up along with you. You turn to your boyfriend, who has been silent his whole time, “What about you, Denny? Don’t you want to fuck Trinity?” You know the answer, you knew it since he decided to make his experiment before he had admitted it to himself. Men are easy to read.

“Come on, Dennis. You have to admit how pretty our Trin is,” you purr, kneeling between the two of them in the bed. You touch her breasts, rolling her nipples between your fingers till they are erect. You continue down to her pussy, “She’s still so wet, and her cunt is so warm, I know you’d like it.”

Trinity moans when your fingers dip to swipe over her clit. She decides to look at Huckleberry then, his chest heaving as he watches. His eyes have darkened, and he has a bruising hold on your thigh. She lands on his cock and moans at the simple thought of having him inside.  

You redirect your attention to poor Trinity, who has been painfully teased tonight, “Right, Trinity? You’ve seen how good he fucks me; he’s really talented, and it’s shaped so perfectly. Look, it’s the perfect length and heavy, don’t you want to be fucked by something other than silicone? Where you don’t have to do all of the work?”

The tension is too high, breaking suddenly with Dennis and Trinity smashing their lips in a rushed kiss. It takes a moment to be processed, but within seconds, Dennis melts into the kiss, slowing it significantly. You push on their backs so their fronts are pressed flush. Trinity feels his cock pressing on her lower abdomen, warm, heavy, and throbbing. You take her hand on his shoulder and guide it down, encouraging her to touch him.

Dennis is going to hell. This is a different level of sin and impiety. He’s been consumed by lust, and he refuses to go back. Dennis's hands feel big against her skin as he presses them on her back. She’s surprised when he licks at the seam of her lips and opens her mouth. Soon, she remembers who she is, licking the roof of his mouth instead. Her nipples are pressing on his front, and he gathers the courage to palm one of her breasts, squeezing and testing.

He breaks the kiss with hooded eyes and rediscovered drive, kissing down her cheek to her neck. Just as his mouth finds her nipple, his fingers explore her cunt. Trinity hates that you were right; he was good at it. He sucks at her breasts, teeth grazing, squeezing, teasing, but never biting. His tongue soothes over her nipple right as it begins to be overwhelming. It has her reaching a hand to the back of his head to pull him closer.

Dennis grabs the hand wrapped around him and pushes it back; he doesn’t need it. He’s far too focused on Trinity and what he can do for her. He gives a throaty moan at the patch of hair atop her cunt and the smooth slickness of her clit. You lean your head on her shoulder, saying dirty things that she hadn’t even thought of. It has her bucking her hips on Whitaker's hand.

Dennis took advantage of the product, his fingers curious as they poked and prodded. Index and middle finger parting her lips, rubbing the sides of her clit, and lightly dipping into her hole that weeps for him. Dennis straightens up after leaving a light marked on her right breast, opposite to yours. He looks at you for confirmation. Confirmation that you’re okay with his doing this. You smile, silly, it was your idea, or you wouldn’t have brought it up.

Dennis cups Trinity’s face, giving her one short kiss and then another, before he pushes her back to lie on the bed. He’s having trouble recognizing this is the same Trinity that works with him in the ER. Hair loose, skin exposed, skin blushing.

You give her a kiss of your own, spreading her legs to present her to Dennis, you have her bend her legs, folding them upwards, so she’s completely exposed to him. Still flexible. Dennis kneels right between them, touching her legs, giving them a reassuring squeeze. For a moment, he hesitates, aware of the line he’s crossing.

Trinity observes and notices how his cock is leaking for her. Glad she’s not the only pathetic one in this situation. You’re the only one holding on to your dignity. “Go on, Denny, don’t get shy now,” you lightly quip. You were excited to witness your boyfriend fuck his roommate.

The hesitation dissolves into nothingness because right in front of him is a gorgeous woman, wet and spread for him. Dennis splays a hand on her tummy, touching her, warming her up, and Trinity’s hand comes up to clutch his. “Start slow.” She’s nervous; it’s been a long time since she’s been with a man, and quite honestly, she’s forgotten how different or similar it might feel. Not to mention Huckleberry is surprisingly well-endowed.

Dennis nods, but before he slides his cock inside, he leans down to kiss her. Sweet Huckleberry, the sensitive boy, Trinity thinks not wanting to admit to herself that it helps her relax, too. She jumps when he rubs his cock through her folds, making it slick as he notches his cock on her entrance. You watch entranced by it all; you were a filthy liar if this wasn’t turning you on immensely. You wish you had your dildo to fuck yourself while you watched your boyfriend fuck another girl. Trinity Santos at that.

Slowly, he inches in until he’s buried to the hilt. Trinity hisses and gasps. “Okay?” Dennis asks Trinity through gritted teeth. “How does it feel, Trin?” You follow up, caressing her cheek.

“Fucking full—fuck.” There is an ache deep in her, besides the stretch of his cock on her gummy walls, and Whitaker is going to take care of it.

“It’s okay, he’ll take it slow, right, baby?”

“Yea-,” he curses when Trinity purposefully clenches around him. She’s so fucking warm and snug around him. He’s been pent up too long. He needs to control himself. The last thing he needs is to cum before he makes her cum, and you know that.

Santos would never let him live it down.

You reach to the tight circles on her clit, telling Dennis to start fucking her. He starts off slow, gauging her reactions. “Don’t worry, Huckleberry, I won’t break,” she moans, getting cocky.

Dennis has heard her moans before tonight coming through the walls, but hearing her moan his name live and clear did something to him. Made him feel in control, powerful, like he could do anything. His hands plant themselves on her soft curves, giving him the leverage to push deep.  

Trinity forgets about being shy as she moans at the sensation of his pelvis smacking against the most sensitive areas. The slickness between the adding another thick layer of stimulation.

You stop rubbing her clit to give her some reprieve. A moment to be purely in touch with Whitaker. Trinity couldn’t close her eyes for long; she had to pay attention to everything going on. She had to look at Whitaker as he took charge of her body.

“Tell him how good he’s making you feel.” You order Trinity, licking your fingertips and pulling gently at her nipples. Her body reacts to your touch by milking Dennis's cock.

“Making me feel good, Huckleberry,” Trinity mumbles, biting her lips when he gives a particularly hard thrust.

“Try again, Trinity, you can do better than that,” you lightly chide, holding your hand on her sternum. Gentle pressure that grounds her.

Trinity is overwhelmed, her eyes watering with each earth-shattering thrust, “I love the way your cock is fucking me, Huck-“

“No, Trinity, that’s not his name,” you say firmly, gripping her chin to look at you for just a moment, “Look at him and tell Dennis how good he’s fucking you,”

“You gotta be kidding me,” she puffs, face turning redder.

“If you don’t, I’ll tell him to stop,” you threaten, looking over at Dennis. You don’t think he’s quite involved in the conversation between you and Trinity. There’s a layer of sweat on him, making him look very handsome. “He’ll listen to me.”

You’re proven wrong when Dennis adjusts his hold, hiking Trinity’s hips higher. It’s a position you know well, and that will get Trinity to say his given name. “Ah,“ Trinity gasps when he adjusts her position, hitting that spot nearly perfectly. Her ass off the bed, atop of his thighs as he pushes right into her spongy spot. “D-Dennis!”

Dennis bites back a smug smirk, “Yeah, Trin?”

“You’re fucking me so good, fuck, please make me cum, Dennis,” Trinity begs, finding his hands and clutching onto them. She’ll have bruises tomorrow.

You lock eyes with Dennis and smile, nodding, you pick yourself up from Trinity’s side and kneel behind your boyfriend, wrapping your arms around his waist, encouraging him to make her cum. You throw in dirty comments while kissing his shoulder blades, your voice offering him a familiarity he’s so obsessed with.

Trinity is holding tightly onto his arms, begging and mumbling things you don’t quite understand. Dennis cock is messy with their arousal, Trinity’s clit swollen, ready for release. He feels when she’s close by how her thighs shake. Putting her out of her misery, he rubs her clit to make her cum around him.

“AH!” she screams, “Yes, yes, yes,”

Dennis grunts, ”Fuck, you’re choking my cock such a pretty, tight pussy,” Her walls clench and the small gush that flows around him has him ready to bust. With sheer will and a slight pull from you, he pulls out, and you pump his cock so he ejaculates over Trinity's stomach.

Dennis slowly relaxes, leaning back on his haunches and softly releasing Trinity from the tight hold he had on her hips.

They are both breathless, muscles going slack as endorphins and oxytocin flood their bodies. Dennis slowly lies back in bed, exhausted but pleased. You step back between Trinity's legs, leaning down to lick at Dennis spent on her skin. You lick all of it, swallowing most but leaving some in your mouth as you search for Trinity's mouth, where you pinch her cheeks for her mouth to open, as you let some of it drip down to her mouth before you kiss her and force her to swallow.

“Fuck me, you'll be the death of me,” Dennis groans, watching.

There’s a lull where you all pick yourselves back up. The post nut clarity of everything you did settling in. You giggle, and both look at you weirdly, “That was so much, much. I gotta go pee though,” you chirp, standing and leaving the room.

Trinity and Dennis are left alone in the bedroom. The realization of what they did settled in the silence.

“We’re good, right?” Dennis questions.

“Yep, Yup, this changes nothing, Huckleberry, don’t worry,” Trinity blurts instantly, going back to the nickname he’s had from the first day they met.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” He timidly asks, reverting to the person she's always known. Sweet, caring, and slightly insecure Dennis.

Trinity laughs, not out of mockery but disbelief, “You don’t get to ask me that after you fucked my brains out.”

Dennis' eyes went wide, but a small, pleased smile broke out on his face. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“I really didn’t expect you to be so…” She tries to express what she’s trying to with her hands, but comes up short.

“So what?” He questions, raising an eyebrow, already waiting for a backhanded compliment.

“Dominant, I guess,” Trinity presses her lips together, further adding, “That sounds bad, I just mean that you’re firm and easily take control. In a good way!”

“You thought I’d be pushed around all aspects of my life,” the accusation is there, yet he says it so casually.

“Well, no, I guess not.” It’s not confident by any means. “You stopped being like that after intern year.”

You come back into the room, a large t-shirt covering your frame. “You guys debriefed? All good?”

“Yeah, we did. Did you have to put on clothes, though? We’re still vulnerable here,” Trinity waves over her and Whitaker, who are still very naked. She should’ve known you left to give them the space to talk. You’re hyper-aware like that. It’s something she likes about you, you know when to pull and push.

“Take it off and come join us, we’re not ready to get up yet,” Dennis calls out with a flick of his head.

“You guys just want to look at my tits,” you mumble, but comply and get back on the bed.

Dennis is right in between the two of you. Flinching when you decide to poke his side, prompting Trinity to do the same. He halfheartedly scolds you both, flinching when you try to tickle him again. A soft conversation arising as you and Dennis reassure Trinity that she's hot and smart and capable and everything someone with good taste could wish for.

When morning comes, everything falls back into place. Trinity retreats to her room to complete her rehearsed routine before work, and you take off for the gym with a kiss on his lips.

Everything settled comfortably. No awkwardness. You, Dennis, and Trinity fell into the good old routine. You even went with them to the bar a couple nights later to find Trinity a date, which went very successfully. The way Trinity carried herself was different, relaxed and confident. No more thinking about Garcia or the hateful words she spewed.

Their erotic night is only brought up once, months later. “I never properly thanked you for that night. It really helped.”

Dennis is deep in charting when Trinity brings it up. It takes him a moment to register what she means. “Oh, no problem." His face heats up, vividly remembering that night.

Trinity can’t handle the serious atmosphere, so she does what she does best. “You’re lucky you got to her first, Huckleberry.”

“Or what you would’ve dated her?” Dennis scoffs, leaning back on the chair.

“Hell yeah,” Trinity exclaims, “A girl that hot and talented,” she whispers, ducking down to make sure no one hears.

“I don’t think so,” Dennis shakes his head with a grimace.

“I wouldn’t be so confident she was dripping for me,” Trinity purses her lips, typing in an order for a patient.  

“I’m confident in my abilities to please her.” His voice is steady and confident, and he looks away from Trinity to continue his charting.

Trinity flicks her hair over her shoulder, waving him off, “Okay, I wouldn’t get too cocky.”

Dennis takes a beat, deciding if he wants to respond to that. “No? I kinda remember someone going ‘Oh Dennis, fuck yeah, make me cum, yes yes yes.’”

Trinity thanks whatever god exists that the ED is loud and everyone is busy. “HUCKLEBERRY!” She exclaims, raising a hand to slap whatever part of him she can reach first, but he’s already running, grabbing a tablet from a nurse.  “I’ve created a monster.”

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That's when your life changed forever. A few days after your wedding, you tried to run. TItus? Oh, he's strategic, and the chase made your heart pound against your ribs as your feet matched your heart. Your breathing ragged. You were oh so close to the wood line when you felt a hand over your mouth, his body crashing into you as he pulled you against himself. And the second time? You began to feel that need and want... the taste for being chased like a rabbit running away from a sly fox. Titus knew. Oh, deep down he knew. He caught the slight smirk on your lips right before you ran as fast as you could out the door of your chambers through the estate. He didn't rush. Oh no, the chase was too fun to rush. He slowly put the cigar down into the crystal ashtray before standing and straightening his shirt. Now? You both were prepared for the chase. Titus nodded toward the door with a menacing look as you stood from the bed. "Run", he simply stated. So you did just that. It was pretty dark out as you made your way across the grounds; your lungs burning as you ran. Once you looked over your shoulder and saw Titus hot on your trail, you ran faster into the woods surrounding the Danforth estate. Your calves burned badly, and your lungs stung as you kept struggling for air. The sound of a twig snapping under the pressure of Titus's boot grabbed your attention, causing you to cover your mouth to muffle your labored breathing. "Come out, come out, my pretty pet... Don't do me like that. We both know you enjoy this as much as I do. Surrender, and I won't destroy that pretty lil pussy of yours, yeah, cupcake?" He gave a smug tsk-tsk as he watched you take off running again... The hard way but it didn't last long. Never does with Titus. His large hand grasped at your top, causing you to fall; his weight following you down to the ground as a growl escaped from deep within his throat. He nipped at your jaw and licked at your neck as you squirmed beneath him. His hand gripped your jaw, the wedding band cold against your flushed skin, and made you look up into his hazel eyes. A smug look on his face. His cock was hard and throbbing through the tough material of his dark grey-green cargo pants. His hips rutting hard against your ass. Breathless sounds left both of you as his free hand intertwined your fingers and pinned them to the ground, leaves poking at your skin. Grass and dirt soft against your skin. A soft whimper erupted from you as he began rutting harder, pressing sloppy kisses along the column of your neck up to your jawline. His panting raspy and full of need. You pressed back against his thick erection eeever so slightly... but he felt it. A snarl escaped him as he gripped your throat roughly; his other hand gripping your hand tighter. "Thought you could escape me, kitten... fuck... But I always catch you. Don't I? Want daddy t' make you feel good?" "Yes~," you whined. Titus growled impatiently as he tore at your pants, shoving them and your underwear down to your knees before the sound of metal clinking and rattling blessed your ears. You began to drool, feeling the precum of his hefty cock smearing against your thigh as he pushed his pants down more and he began dragging the tip of his cock through your folds. He groaned loudly, keeping one of his hands firm against your back to hold you down as he pushed his cock into you, barely passing the tip, before pulling out and pushing in again. A smirk grew on his face as he then snapped his hips forward hard, knocking the breath out of you. Tears pricked your eyes and clouded your vision; your throat grew tight.

“Ti-Titus~!” Your words shook with sobs of pleasure as his hips continued with a painfully delicious rhythm. His girth stretching you perfectly. Titus grunted and moans as he held you close; peppering kisses all over your face.

“S’beautiful, bunny. My pretty girl is so beautiful when she cries… love making you cry.” He gripped your jaw, then shoved his ring and middle fingers into your mouth, gagging you a bit as he fucked harder. Drool poured from your mouth and ran down his wrist, eliciting a guttural groan from deep within his chest. He snarled, biting and sucking hickies onto your beautiful skin. You didn’t know what was wetter. Your mouth from drooling so much, or your pussy as his heavy sack slapped against your sweet cunt and thighs from how hard and fast he was fucking you. And before you could cum? He was quickly fixing your clothes and pulling you toward the estate.

Titus had you tied down to the altar. Your eyes rolling back as his middle and ring finger curled deep inside of you. Before you could orgasm, he yet again stopped and pulled them out and shoved them into your mouth. His cock slid into you and began abusing your tight little hole. Whimper and sobs shook your body from the need for release. With his free hand, he dragged the sacrificial dagger down your body, making you shudder, and he held your mouth open with his fingers and spat into your mouth while fucking you harder. Your vision went white as you orgasmed hard. Your juices gushed out onto the altar. Screams of pure extasy ripped from your throat as your pussy milked him. Titus groaned as he buried his face into your neck as his hips stuttered, spilling into you deeply. "My beautiful princess. So full of me now. Mr Le Bail witnessing the breeding of what will be my heir. You'll be so fucking beautiful pregnant with my children." He panted as he brushed your hair back out of your face, as it stuck to your sweaty skin. "And tomorrow...? We will do this again, my love." ~ For my babes @dandydilfdiddler @tourturedmuse