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laetitia and ellie are single after both left two very long and serious and not so great relationships, and going on all the dates they missed after all these years. harlow just finally asked the girl she had been seeing for a couple of months to be her girlfriend. and cleo just got back from a trip to florence, where her boyfriend asked her to marry him.

they were all talking about how great their partners are, showing cute pictures and sweet text messages, all while you kept quiet.

cleo, ever observant, notices your quietness and calls out your name. “what about john? he seems like a nice guy.”

you nod way too fast. “oh, he’s great!” and he truly is. john is sweet, caring, also very observant. always knows how you are feeling before you even say anything. he never skips the mandatory “date of the week” that he promised you when you first started dating, even if he only has one day off. he cooks, buys you flowers almost every week and is always feeding your sweet treat addiction.

the only “problem” is how you show your love. you have to scroll far on your camera roll to find a somewhat normal picture of you together, most of them are taken on 0.5, either shoved up on each other’s faces or you at your worst. the last couple of messages you exchanged was him sending you two pictures of minions, one of them cuddling in bed and another one of them kissing, captioned with “us ❤️”.

“john is the best partner i’ve ever had.”

“home already?” john asks as he closes the book he was reading, opening his arms and legs to engulf you in a full body hug when you lay on top of him on the couch.

“yeah, we are all old and tired.”

“how was it? c’mon, tell me.” he demands after he kisses the top of your head.

so you tell him, talk about everything that happened tonight. john laughs, quips about a topic or two, but it’s when you tell him about how different their relationships are to yours that he gets serious.

“well, our love language is memes and existential dread. did they say anything about it?”

“oh, they loved you baby. they had a blast with our pics and the memes. harlow even said i finally found someone who matches my freak.”

“really?” john asks with a happy tone of voice. he sighs when you snuggle closer to him and kisses where his jaw ends and throat begins.

“yeah. and i wouldn’t have you any other way.”

You: No problem. I’m resetting it. So your new temporary password is…

Jack: Okay, thanks.

You: Please try it.

Jack: … yeah, that works.

You: Great.

Jack: Thanks.

You. You’re welcome. Good night.

(Your phone rings a couple of weeks later, at 5:21 a.m)

You: Helpdesk, Senior Application Manager speaking. How can I help you?

Jack: I can’t find my patient.

You: Um, that sounds more like a problem for security.

Jack: No. I mean in my patient list.

You: Okay, let’s have a look. Please give me your workstation number. I connect to your desktop remotely and try to find the problem.

Jack: (gives you the number)

You: Okay… hm… ah, okay, yeah. Do you see the little funnel icon at the top of your patient list?

Jack: Yeah.

You: It’s blue.

Jack: Yeah.

You: That means you have a filter applied.

Jack: … I didn’t put a filter in.

You: Well, someone put it in there.

Jack: It wasn’t me.

You: Okay, I’ll remove it. And, see - your patient list is back.

Jack: Oh, yes, thank you.

You: Good night, Dr. Abbot.

(A couple of weeks later your phone rings at 11:24 p.m.)

You: Helpdesk, Senior Application Manager speaking. How can I help you?

Jack: The system won’t let me sign my note.

You: Oh, Dr. Abbot, right?

Jack: … 

You: What’s the error message?

Jack: It only tells me some cryptic text that doesn’t make any sense.

You: Okay, wait, what’s your workstation number again?

Jack: (gives you the number)

You: Ah, yeah, okay, I see. You haven’t completed a mandatory field. Um, yes, there in the bottom right corner. You have to scroll a little to see that.

Jack: What? Where?

You: Right here? Do you see where the cursor is?

Jack: Ah. Yes. Now I see it. Thanks.

You: No problem. Anything else?

Jack: No.

You: Okay, have a good night Dr. Abbot.

Jack: You too.

(A couple of days later your phone rings again at 1:12 a.m)

You: Helpdesk, Senior Application Manager speaking. How can I help you, Dr. Abbot?

Jack: Um. How do you know that it’s me?

You: Sixth sense. And caller ID. Also - you only ever call when I’m on call.

Jack: I do not.

You: Well, you do. The evidence is on my side.

Jack: Hm.

You: How can I help you?

Jack: Yes, there’s this dropdown that’s making trouble…

(A couple of nights later.)

You: Personal Helpdesk for Dr. Jack Abbot, how can I help you?

Jack: (laughs) Wow.

You: (smiles) Caller ID.

Jack: I figured. Well, I can’t print.

You: Is it showing an error?

Jack: No.

You: Is there paper?

Jack: Yes.

You: Toner?

Jack: Yes.

You: Is the printer turned on?

Jack: Of course it’s turned on.

You: Can you look at the printer name you’re sending it to?

Jack: Where do I see the printer name?

You: Usually there is a little label on the back of the printer.

Jack: Okay, wait, yes I found it. … Oh.

You: Wrong printer selected?

Jack: Wrong printer selected.

You: (smiles) Good night, Dr. Abbot

(The next call comes a week later at 6:12 a.m)

You: Dr. Abbot?

Jack: Yeah, hey, sorry. But there’s something that’s bugging me all night.

You: Well, we can’t have that. Tell me.

Jack: The latest update broke something.

You: What did it break?

Jack: I can’t find the function I use every day.

You: Which function?

Jack: The one that checks medication for interactions.

You: But I tested that one after the update. It’s still there.

Jack: I can’t find it.

You: Yeah, I think they moved it from the bottom left to the top right.

Jack: But… why would they do that?

You: I guess because people complained that they couldn’t find it.

Jack: It was perfect down there.

You: Nothing in life is permanent, Dr. Abbot.

Jack: Are you mocking me?

You: A little.

Jack: And that’s called helpdesk.

You: (laughs) Anything else?

Jack: No, thank you. Have a good night.

You: Well, I think that ship sailed.

Jack: (smiles) Then have a good day.

You: You too, Dr. Abbot.

(The next call comes two weeks later at 9:21 p.m)

You: How can I help you, Dr. Abbot?

Jack: I guess we can bury Dr. Abbot. I talk to you more often than to my family. Call me Jack.

You: (laughs) Okay, fine, Jack - how can I help you? I’m a little startled because you usually only call after I’ve already had my first portion of REM sleep.

Jack: You see, I forgot my badge at home.

You: Okay?

Jack: So I have to log in manually.

You: Yes?

Jack: And it’s not working.

You: Okay but don’t you have like a girlfriend or a wife who could bring you the badge to work?

Jack: Um. No.

You: Oh, okay. Well, um, what’s not working with the login?

Jack: It says my password is wrong.

You: Are you sure you’re entering it correctly?

Jack: Yes.

You: Caps Lock?

Jack: It’s off. I pressed it.

You: You sure?

Jack: Yes. I’m forty-nine years old and attended university. I know how to switch off caps lock.

You: Okay, I’m connecting to your workstation right now. (...) Okay, Jack.

Jack: What?

You: You’re caps lock is switched on. Can you please press it again.

Jack: Huh.

You: And then try to enter your password again.

Jack: … I’m in.

You: Excellent.

Jack: … thank you.

You: You’re welcome. You know - if you keep calling me in the middle of the night and making me fix your mistakes like that I’m starting to think you’re flirting with me.

Jack: I’m not.

You: I’m just saying.

Jack: You wish.

You: Good night, Jack.

(The next call is a week later at 1:54 a.m)

You: Jack-

Jack: Before you say anything - I think this time it’s really broken.

You: Yes. The entire documentation system is down. We’re already trying to fix this.

Jack: Oh. So… I was in the right to call?

You: This time? Yes.

Jack: … ha.

You: Stop sounding so smug. That’s still eight to one for me.

Jack: You’re keeping score?

You: Obviously.

Jack: I’m getting better.

You: I’ll call you when the system is back up. Hang in there.

(25 minutes later.)

You: Jack, good news. We’re back up.

Jack: Great. Wait, I’ll try to log in. … … Yes, I’m in.

You: Everything working?

Jack: Yes.

You: Phew, great.

Jack: Thanks for the call.

You: You’re welcome. Anything else?

Jack: Um. Yes, there’s one thing actually…

You: Yes?

Jack: It’s not about the documentation system.

You: Okay?

Jack: Um, yeah, I.. um… it’s more like… I was wondering if you’d like to… I mean only if you’re interested and… I mean it’s probably a little weird because your job is to help people… but I can’t stop wondering…

You: Jack. Are you trying to ask me out?

Jack: Um. If I were to do that… would you say yes?

You: I would.

Jack: Oh. Great. Yes.

You: Coffee after your shift?

Jack: Yes, please.

You: Okay. Now I need to get back to work.

Jack: Me too. But the printer is looking funny to me tonight so maybe I’ll call you again later.

and it is a good dream, it is. john, your boyfriend, and you are on a secluded beach somewhere in cape cod, getting toasty under the warm sun. the warmth feels so good on your skin, a welcome contrast to the cold air the AC has been blasting all night long (blame the unbearable pittsburgh summer). a smile spreads over your lips when you feel john’s skin against yours, lips touching, the wet trail of saliva carving a path from your chin to the valley of your breasts.

it is maddening.

the feeling only gets worse when his soft digits run freely around your body; a light squeeze to your bikini clad breast, followed by a harsher one that makes you moan into his mouth, a bite on your neck synchronised with a pinch on your waist, john’s fingers making their unhurried way across the soft of your stomach to where your pink and orange bikini is tied together, torturously pulling on the strings to undo the knot, even more torturously so making his way down to your drenched heat.

once, twice, three times john circles his index and middle fingers against your clit and–

da-da-da-da

the iphone’s annoying “radar” ringtone shrills around the room, making you jolt awake and scramble to get the device on your night stand, dropping it once before clumsily sliding the “slide to stop” button to the right. 

it is your weekly alarm, meaning the sun is about to rise, that five in the morning has arrived and it is time for you to wake up. 

or it would have been if it were a normal friday.

after carefully coordinating your days off, you and john were finally able to have a three day weekend off together. 

you curse under your breath, silently praying and hoping that your slip up didn’t wake john, as it was a rare occurrence for the man to sleep so soundly at night. 

you turn back to your previous spot and try to get cozy again, fluffing and hugging your pillow tighter and covering yourself with your downy duvet, when a pair of toned arms, the ones you love so much, circles your waist and brings you close to a shirtless chest. 

“mornin’.” john rasped out.

“good morning, baby. sorry i woke you up.”

“it’s okay.” he soothed your worries, hugging you tighter and kissing the nape of your neck. the action makes you moan softly, and john is quick to let you know how pleased he is that his move got a small reaction from you, with a smile against the same smooth skin he had just kissed. “did you sleep well?”

“mhm.” you yawn. “i was having a really good dream before the alarm scared me awake.” you move a little in his arms, trying to find a more comfortable position, only to feel something rather… sturdy against the bare part of your ass. it makes john groan and you stifle a laugh, pretending to not have noticed his very obvious morning wood. you circle your hips once again to add a bit more fuel to the fire, and john grabs your waist gently to stop you. “what about you?”

“i passed out.” john laughs. “what were you dreaming about?” 

“we were on a beach.”

john tightens his hold on you, bringing your body impossibly closer to his and, automatically, you rub your ass against his cock again, with more precision this time. the shuddering breath the both of you let out is a bit pathetic, but nothing you aren’t used to. he sneaks a hand inside your sleep shirt, the touch oh so familiar, running over the expanse of your tummy and stopping right under your right breast, where his thumb is now rubbing against the sensitive skin there. “yeah?”

there is something about john’s touch that acts like a tranquiliser on you, it calms your nerves when you are angry and turns you into putty in his hands when the both of you are horny. it is exactly what it is doing to you right now. 

“mhm.” you nodded. 

“which beach, baby?” john asks. the arm he has around your clavicle tightens, making you straighten up and giving him enough leverage to bring the same fingers that were playing with your underboob, to the gusset of your drenched panties. you moan a little harder this time, move your ass a little gawkily trying to get some friction. john woke up in a mood, and it is always so frustrating when he does so because he knows how to work you, knows how lazy your brain is when you have just woken up, how annoyed you get when he has the gall to “huh” you, to force you to go on when your brain is still trying to form a coherent thought. and he did it just now. 

you groan. “the one i sent you the tiktok of.”

“what is it called?” john prodded, punctuating his question by finally getting his fingers inside your underwear. you tried to answer, but the feel of his fingers going up and down, up and down, from your crying hole to your clit, made you stutter and lose your train of thought. john chuckled. “herring cove, right?”

you nod. 

“tell me about your dream, love.”

“we–we were at the beach. j–just us and– god, FUCK!” john slid both of his index and middle fingers inside your heat at the same time. and even with as wet as you were, it was a tight fit. it wasn’t an unbearable pain, john was always careful to never hurt you, but the ache that came with the intrusion was more pleasurable than anything. “go on, baby”

“it was just u–us at the beach. it was so, s–so good. warm and not his awful heat we have right now. i had that p–pink and orange bikini you like so much and we were– we were– john, please!” his fingers are working inside of you, not thrusting in and out like some dudes always insisted on doing, but massaging that sweet spot that makes you see stars with lazy intent.

it is driving you crazy. 

“we were what, honey?”

“we–we were making out and it felt so, so good, so real. shit, j–john, i’m gonna c–“

your orgasm washes over you softly. and it feels so damn good. your skin is buzzing, that static feeling only the mix of oxytocin, dopamine and serotonin can give you when it runs through your veins, giving you that same floaty feeling you had when you were dreaming minutes ago. 

it is ridiculous how john is the only man that has ever made you feel this way. yeah, you have had others before him, had a boyfriend here and there, random one night stands that you refused to think about because taking your clothes off lasted more than the act itself. 

but with john? it was like a whole new world had revealed itself for you.

you met him through a friend of a friend. laura and you had met for your monthly drinks and yapping session. not even thirty minutes in, caleb, laura’s friend, showed up with his cute friend and greeted her. introductions were made, you moved to a bigger table and, next thing you knew, you had a date with john shen the next saturday. what a weekend that was. (yes, weekend.)

the orgasm made you greedy, you had to have john inside of you. your arms are still constricted by his, body so tightly held together by him that you can’t turn around. as usual, john reads your mind, or maybe you beg, your mind is so foggy with a primal need that you are not sure. all you hear is the shuffling fabric of his sleep shorts, his free hand lifting your right thigh, followed by the blunt head of his cock breaching your cunt and teeth and tongue against your shoulder. 

“fuck.”

“shit.”

you moan in unison. 

john starts a slow and deep pace and it is fucking annoying. not because it is bad, no, never is, but because it is hitting where you need him to from the first thrust. and you know it seems counterintuitive, but you like it when it takes a bit longer to get it right, like to chase the feeling and prolong the act. 

“you feel so good, baby.” he murmurs in your ear and you try to answer him, give him one back and tell him he feels the same, but the only thing that leaves your mouth is a pathetic moan. he chuckles on top of you. 

“hey, look at me. give me a kiss.” john orders, softly. his thumb presses a little harder against your cheek, just enough to turn your face back to his. you crane your neck and john meets you halfway, in a messy kiss that he has to make it right on his own, since you have already hit a blissed out state that only deepens each time the tip of his cock hits your swollen g-spot. 

you can feel it creeping. the tips of your fingers are numb and you are pretty sure your thighs are starting to tremble. john isn’t far behind, he has let go of the leg he was holding and turned both of your bodies face down to the mattress. you tuck your face on your pillow, grab the edge of your mattress so hard that your knuckles whitens. 

john is spewing what you assume to be a string of curses on top of you and has lost control of his hips; the once slow and deep thrusts have turned into an unruly staccato rhythm that has turned your brain into mush. 

your second orgasm hits you like a freight train. it doesn’t sneak up on you and washes you softly like the first, no. it explodes, makes your vision white out and you a little deaf in your ears. slowly, you realise john has reached his peak too when you feel his cock twitching and the warmth of him emptying out inside of you. he keeps riding out both of your orgasms for five seconds or five minutes, who knows, but it becomes so unbearable you push him out. 

john tries to bring you close to him, but the aftershocks of your orgasm are so strong that the contact is almost painful that it makes you whine, and he knows to let you have a second for yourself. 

sometimes, an orgasm hits you so strongly that a simple kiss feels unbearable. you cried the first time it happened with john, and the poor guy was so worried he had hurt you that he panicked and got into doctor mode. you still laugh about it years later. 

john stretches and gets up, makes his way to the kitchen and comes back gulping down a tall glass of water, also carrying a twin one for you in his other hand that he sets in your nightstand. 

he finds you laying face up, staring at the ceiling like it is the most interesting view in the world. john tests to see if you are back on earth with a kiss on your forehead and a whispered “are you ok?”, to which you nod “yes” back. 

he doesn’t give you much time for anything else, only a “john, i’m still sen–sensitive. holy fuck!” after he makes himself comfortable between your legs, grabs your thighs and licks a strip up your cunt. john eats you out, better yet, cleans you up like his life depends on it. it is maddening, it is dirty and pin pricks are starting to stab your skin again. 

“john, baby, i can’t cum again.” you sob and push him away. 

he rises with the most proud look on his face you have ever seen, and a mixture of both of your spents on his chin. 

“what has gotten into you today?” you giggle. 

no, seriously. you have gotten two earth shattering orgasms and an out of body experience and it is not even fucking five-thirty yet. 

“honestly,” john says and lays back on his side, this time pulling you in to lay your head on his chest. “i was also dreaming we were having mind blowing sex on a beach. thought it was some divine signal or whatever.”

you burst out laughing. “to fuck me until i pass out?”

he shrugs and says “i don’t know.” in that mumbly voice he does sometimes. “you haven’t drank your water.”

“i will.” you yawn. 

“what do you want for breakfast?” john queries. 

“i could go for that cream cheese salmon bagel from down the street.” you yawn again and continue “but right now, i think we should go back to sleep.”