After all, what is reality compared to me?

You glance up from the chart you’re reviewing. Collins is standing a few feet away, arms crossed and smirking after flicking a rubber band Robby’s way.

“That’s what you get for stealing my case.”

“It wasn’t labeled,” Robby replies, not even looking up. “Can’t steal what’s not claimed.”

“I was already standing there with gloves on.”

The corners of his mouth twitch. It’s not flirtatious, just familiar. Like they’ve done this a thousand times before. Because they probably have. “Too bad, then.”

Collins rolls her eyes and walks off, but not before tossing a parting shot over her shoulder. “This is not over, Robby.”

Robby just shakes his head, eyes on the monitor. He doesn’t see the way your expression shifts.

You look back down at the chart in your hands, eyes scanning the page but not really reading. That little twist in your stomach—jealousy? insecurity?—you shove it down, like you always do. Like you’ve taught yourself to.

Because Collins isn’t the problem. You trust Robby.

But sometimes you can’t help noticing how effortless it all seems with her.

You only notice even more things from there, and it doesn’t help your thoughts.

The inside jokes. The stories that start with “Remember that time when…” The unspoken rhythm between them—quick-fire, chemistry, just enough to make you feel like an outsider in your own relationship.

You try not to care. You really do.

You tell yourself that people have exes. That it’s been over for a while. And Collins has been the nicest to you since you joined. She’s kind. Smart. Easy to like. You’re just newer to the Pitt compared to them, you won’t know all the stories.

Yeah. That’s all it is.

You exhale and let your eyes close for a few seconds. Just long enough to settle the ache behind them. Then you feel someone standing behind you. A familiar presence. You look up and find Robby towering above your chair, a soft smile tugging at his mouth.

“You okay?” He hands you coffee in a paper cup. “Feeling lightheaded?”

You smile back. “Hi.”

He brushes his hand through your hair briefly. “Take a break if you need one, sweetheart.”

“I’m okay,” You say, “Just a little tired.”

He hums a low note of agreement. Then he leans in fast, pressing a quick kiss to your forehead before anyone can see.

And just like that, the air changes.

The tension in your chest—tight and coiled since morning—loosens just enough so you can breathe. Maybe it’s all in your head after all. Maybe you’re just tired and overthinking.

Robby walks off toward the trauma bay, sipping his own coffee, and you watch him go with something tender flickering behind your ribs.

You’re at the nurses’ station, tapping in vitals and scanning for labs. A trauma just cleared and your hands are still shaking from compressions. Robby drops into the rolling chair beside you without a word. He hands you a protein bar and cracks open a water bottle.

“…Thank you?” You blink at him.

“You looked like you were going to pass out in trauma two,” he mutters, taking a long swig. “Figured I’d preempt the whole catching-you-before-you-hit-the-ground thing.”

You peel the wrapper. “Romantic.”

“I do my best.”

You smile appreciatively and watch him in silence as he analyzes the board. He hasn’t changed out of his long-sleeve jacket since this morning, the same one you’ve seen on him for… years. Faded navy, broken zipper tab, sleeves always pushed to his elbows.

The air conditioning in the ER is always too much or not enough. Today, it’s freezing. You’re pulling the long sleeves under your scrubs, regretting not wearing something thicker. You can’t hide the way you shiver for a second.

Without saying anything, Robby starts peeling the jacket off and hands it to you. “Here.”

You blink. “What?”

“You’re cold.”

“I’m fine.”

Robby doesn’t argue. Just reaches over and drapes the jacket around your shoulders before you can protest again. The warmth of it hits immediately—trapped body heat, the smell of hospital soap and something that you can only describe as Robby.

He sits back in the chair like nothing happened, eyes on the vitals screen.

“Thanks,” you say, quiet.

“Yeah.” He winks. “Looks better on you anyway.”

And you try to hide your smile.

You don’t think about it again until hours later, nearing the end of your shift, when a nurse joins you in the break room, glancing at you with a small grin.

“Well, well,” He says lightly. “The jacket lives on.”

You blink. “What?”

He gestures vaguely toward you. “Oh, just… the jacket. Robby used to give that one to Collins all the time when they were—”

He cuts himself off too late. Realizes what he’s said. “—I mean, it’s just… an old jacket. Nothing special.”

He tries to take it back, but you already heard him the first time.

Your smile wavers—just for a second—before you catch it and force a lighter tone. “Well, it’s just a jacket, right?”

“Yeah, yeah, of course.” He gives an apologetic half-laugh and mutters something to himself as he slips out of the room.

You sit there for a long second, suddenly sweating despite how cold you were moments ago. You stare down at the sleeves, suddenly aware of how they fall over your hands. Did Robby also say it looks better on her? Drape it over her shoulders? — you close your eyes, taking a deep breath. You need to stop overthinking.

It’s just a jacket. Just an old jacket. It just feels like a stabbing ‘not yours’.

You’re by the lockers, grabbing your things to go home when Robby joins you. Usually you’d wait for him to pass everything on to Jack, but he wonders why you seem like you’re in a rush today. He doesn’t say anything at first, just watches you for a second because he notices you’re quieter, doesn’t seek him out during the shift like you usually do.

“Hey.” Robby calls out, catching your attention. “Haven’t seen you in a bit.”

You glance up and offer a tight smile. “Been busy.”

He frowns when he sees his jacket neatly folded on the bench, and looks at you—you’re shaking. Still cold.

“You warm enough?”

You look down at it. “Yeah. I was gonna give it back, actually.”

Robby blinks. “You don’t have to.”

“I know,” you say too quickly. “Just—it’s fine.”

“Uh-huh.” He waits. “Did something happen?”

You shrug. “Nope.”

Robby exhales through his nose. “Okay. So I guess we’re doing that thing where you pretend everything’s fine, and I pretend not to notice that you’ve been silent all day.”

“I haven’t been—”

“You haven’t properly looked at me once since I got here.”

You bite your lip and close your locker.

“I’m not trying to pick a fight,” he says gently. “You’ve been off since this afternoon. Just… talk to me.”

You finally meet his eyes. Your voice is low, but the emotion behind it is impossible to miss. “I don’t want the jacket,” you say quietly.

That makes him pause.

He turns, brow furrowed. “What?”

“I don’t want it,” you repeat, still not looking at him. “You can take it back.”

Then he walks over, slow. “Okay… This is about my jacket?”

“A nurse saw me wearing your jacket today. And he made…a comment,” you say. “How Collins used to wear it. A lot. When you two were—”

Robby goes still.

“I didn’t know,” you continue. “I didn’t know it was… hers. Yours and hers. I didn’t know it had a history.”

“It’s just a jacket,” he whispers, hand hovering near your arm like he wants to reach out—but isn’t sure if he’s allowed.

You let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah. That’s what I told myself too.”

And then you pause for a bit, glancing up at him, eyes stinging.

“I see how you look at her sometimes, Robby,” you say, and now your voice cracks just slightly. “And I… I know you don’t mean it. I know it’s probably not even conscious. But I see it. And sometimes I just…”

You can’t finish your sentence, your throat closes.

Robby doesn’t say anything at first. His jaw tenses. He looks like he’s trying to form a sentence, trying to find the right thing—but nothing comes out.

And that silence is what makes your chest ache the most.

You sling your bag over your shoulder, tears brimming, and brush past him.

“Forget it,” you murmur. “It’s late.”

And you leave the locker room without looking back.

By the time Robby arrvies back home to his apartment, you’ve already showered, now in the kitchen preparing dinner from the takeout you got for both of you. The TV is on, volume low, something mindless playing just for background noise. You just didn’t want the apartment to be silent.

Robby steps in, keys dropped in the bowl, and for a long minute he just stands there. Looking at you. Or maybe trying to gather himself.

He moves slowly, toeing off his shoes. Walks over to you in the kitchen, and stops you.

“I didn’t know,” he starts.

You don’t respond.

“I didn’t know the jacket would feel like that to you.”

Still, you stay quiet. Not because you’re angry now—but because if you speak, you might cry.

“I’ve had it for years,” Robby continues. “Collins used to wear it a lot, yeah. We were together for a while. And after we weren’t… I never really thought about it again. It was just…my jacket.”

He runs a hand down his face, exhaling.

“I didn’t think. That’s on me.”

You glance over, slowly. He looks… wrecked. Worn down. His eyes are softer than usual.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” you say quietly.

“That doesn’t mean I didn’t hurt you.”

You pause.

Robby leans back now, still watching you. “When you said that thing earlier… about how I look at her sometimes—I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that.”

Your throat tightens.

“And the truth is,” he says slowly, “I don’t know what I look like when I see her. But if there’s even a part of you that felt like I wasn’t really with you—then I’ve fucked up worse than I thought.”

You shift, leaning against the counter next to him. “I know you don’t have feelings for her. It’s not that.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s just…” You shake your head. “Sometimes… I think you miss her. The jokes. The memories. The way you two work so well together. And I’m still figuring out where… or if I fit in your life.”

“I’m not her, Robby.” You finally say.

Robby’s jaw flexes. “No, of course you’re not. You’re you. And I don’t want her. I don’t want you to be her.”

You don’t look convinced. Robby notices the way your arms fold across your chest. Like you’re bracing for something.

He steps a little closer, voice softer.

You look up at him. Your eyes are tired. But you’re listening.

“I know Collins and I have a history. I know that must be hard to watch sometimes. But it’s not something I miss. It’s not something I want back.” He reaches out, letting his fingers graze your arm.

“I want you. The way you show up when I’ve had the worst day. The way you care about people, even when you’re hurting.” He says. “And if I’ve made you feel like you’re in competition with my past… that’s on me. And I’m sorry.”

You shake your head, trying to will away the tears. “You didn’t do anything wrong.” You repeat.

“But I can do better.”

You blink up at him, eyes a little hopeful. “I just wanted to feel like I wasn’t second,” you admit. “Like maybe… I’m not the one someone settles for after someone else.”

Robby’s face softens even more.

“You’re not second,” he says. “You’re it for me. You’re the one I come home to. The one I choose. And I’m gonna keep choosing you, every day.”

You don’t say anything, only reaching for him.

He hugs you back, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

“Thank you,” You whisper. “For listening.”

Robby lifts his head, leaving a soft kiss on your lips. “I love you, sweetheart.”

that makes dr. abbot huff out a laugh, the house call was his idea, “don’t even worry about it, i had a few appointments at the clinic this morning, but you’re my last one for the day.” he stands in front of you at the foot of your bed, white doctor’s coat stretching across his broad shoulders, thick fingers wrapped around an ipad. “and your house is actually right on my way home.” he says with a sly wink.

you had woken up that morning with a pit in your stomach regarding this appointment with your gynecologist, but it had only gotten worse when you had received a message from the clinic saying your doctor was no longer available today. but your luck turned around when a nurse called you about a dr. abbot who was able to fill you in today.

he slips on a pair of readers, looking even more handsome than when he walked through your door, before clicking around on the ipad. his steely gaze flits back to yours, his face illuminated by the bright screen. “alright, so i read the note you had left for dr. carrie when you first scheduled this appointment, but how about you explain what’s going on for me.” 

you fidget with embarrassment for a moment before remembering that he’s a doctor, he’s heard much worse than your embarrassing tale. “well, i was having sex with my boyfriend for the first time the other night-”

“first time with him or your first time period?” dr. abbot interjects.

“first time with him,” you answer as he begins poking around his ipad again, seemingly taking notes. “but, i haven’t had sex in a while so maybe that has something to do with the issue.”

“and how long has it been since the last time you have had sex?” jack inquired. 

and it was embarrassing to admit out loud to a man who seemed so confident and looked so handsome in his white doctor’s coat and tight dress pants, but you manage to answer the question, “i can’t really remember the last time.” you bite your lip in shame, your gaze falling down to the floor.

“hey, hey, “ dr.abbot coos, cupping your chin in one of his big hands, forcing your gaze back onto him. “this is a judgement free zone, i’m just here to help you with your problem.” his voice is like a balm soothing over all your anxieties. 

you fight the urge to nuzzle into the hand that’s still cupping your face, instead you give him a nod of understanding. he takes his hand away as you start speaking again. “thank you, dr. abbot, that’s very kind of you to be so understanding.” you begin fidgeting with your hands again as you continue on with your story. “when he first put his-” you looked back up at dr. abbott, floundering with how to phrase things, but all the did was give you a look to continue, “penis inside of me, it burned a little bit from the stretch-”

“do you penetrate yourself often, miss? with your own fingers or toys?”

your cheeks burn at the question, brushing a piece of hair back behind your ear nervously, “no, i don’t really do that to myself.”

 “ah, well that would make sense why a cock stretching you out for the first time in a while would hurt a little bit.” your skin heats up at the vulgarity of his words and you almost whimper at the way it makes your pussy flutter. but you try your best to pull yourself together, dr. abbot was just doing his job, he didn’t mean anything by it. “i would recommend you incorporate some penetration while you masturbate, just to make sure your pussy can accommodate the stretch of your boyfriend’s cock without causing you any pain.”

you feel dazed as you sit at the end of the bed in your oversized t shirt. since you were at home you weren’t wearing a standard hospital gown but instead dr. abbot’s nurse had advised you to wear something oversized and comfortable that would give the doctor access to your vagina. you unfortunately could feel your wetness already starting to dribble onto the fabric of the towel underneath you. 

“sorry,” he begins to apologize, “i keep interrupting, please continue.”

“the pain from the stretching didn’t last that long, though, but when he really started thrusting into me is me when the real pain began.”

“can you explain that pain for me? burning, stabbing, aching?” the doctor inquired.

“well, at first it actually felt like i was going to pee myself.”

the statement makes dr. abbot smirk, “sounds like your body was possibly getting ready to ejaculate, have you ever squirted before?”

you balk at the question, wanting to melt into the plush comforter of your bed. his gaze was sharp and cunning, never leaving your face even as your cheeks burned embarrassingly. “no, dr. abbot, i’ve never done anything like that.”

he puts his hands up in surrender, but the grin on his face does not falter. “hey, it’s a completely normal bodily reaction to stimulation.” he tries to reassure.

you take a deep breath, centering yourself. “ok, well, i felt like i was going to pee and i didn’t want to do that, so i told him to go deeper. but he started thrusting harder and deeper and it hurt, like deep and achey.” 

he nods at your explanation and moves to sit next to you, setting down the ipad he was holding beside him on the bed. he tilts his head, searching for your eyes, his gaze never wavering. “sex is supposed to be fun and pleasurable, it’s not supposed to hurt like that.”

that’s what you had always heard from people, but that never seemed to be your experience.

“but, how sex feels can also be dependent on our anatomy.” he begins to explain. “sometimes things internally may not be configured in the typical way, which can lead to pain like this if your partner isn’t aware.”

you sit with his words for a moment, “so there might be something wrong with me?” you ask, voice petulent to your own ears.

“no, no,” he soothes, one of his big hands reading over to land on your exposed thigh where your t shit had ridden up. the warmth of his palm soaks into your skin. for a split second you thought about how unprofessional this probably looked, but you really needed his comfort right now. “the positioning of your uterus can impact the placement of your cervix. if your uterus is tilted in any way it can mean your cervix is much closer to your vaginal opening which can mean some positions are more painful than others.”

his explanation makes sense and you finally start to believe that this isn’t the end of the world. “i was on my back, if that makes a difference.”

he squeezes your thigh, “it’s pretty common for women with a tilted uteri to find missionary uncomfortable.” he gives your thigh one last squeeze before getting back up to his feet and reaching for his bag that he had set at the foot of the bed when you first brought him upstairs, “but, i won’t know for sure if that’s your case until i do the physical exam.” 

you nod to yourself as he unzips his bag, pulling out a stethoscope, a tube of generic lube, and a clunky white case. you point to the object, “what’s that?”

jack almost giddily clicks open the case, revealing a tube of blue gel, and what looks to be a white remote. “it’s a portable ultrasound, it functions exactly like the larger models at the clinic and it can help me see the positioning of your uterus better.”

you hadn’t even thought about what kind of equipment the doctor would be able to bring to your home, but you were thoroughly impressed. maybe you’d have to switch dr. abbot to your primary obgyn, it wouldn’t hurt to see him more. “wow, you really thought ahead, dr. abbot.”

you can see his chest minutely puff out with pride even as he shrugs his shoulders as a show of humility, “everyone at the clinic says that i’m overprepared, so i really appreciate the compliment, sweetheart.” he flashes his teeth in a smile that makes your stomach swoop. 

you watch as he sets up the ultrasound. pulling out the tube of gel, connecting the ultrasound remote to his ipad through bluetooth, and propping it up on the bed so you both can see the screen. “alright, so to begin i’m going to have you lie back, but first-” he leans forward, grabbing a few pillows from the head of the bed, propping them up behind you to cushion your head.

you lean back and embrace the comfort of the pillows, “thank you, dr. abbot.”

“no problem, i think keeping my patients relaxed and comfortable is the most important part of the job,” he explains, reaching down for the blue gel with one hand, and the other trailing up the top of your thigh until his fingers meet the edge of your shirt. “i’m going to need to pull this up to get to your belly.” 

you hesitate for a moment before giving him a nod of permission. he deftly raises your shirt, exposing the soft pudge of your lower belly and your panties. a soft pink bikini style with little lace trim. the fabric catches his eye, “cute little panties, pick them out just for me?”

the question makes you bark out a laugh, your insecurities quickly turning into delight at the charming man in front of you. “no, dr. abbot, of course not. but with valentine’s day coming up, i’ve been trying to be festive.”

“oh, sweetheart, i figured,” he murmurs, squeezing out the gel for the ultrasound onto your skin. at your little gasp he apologizes, “sorry, it’s always a little cold.”

he makes quick work with the ultrasound, expertly moving the probe around your belly until he finds what he’s looking for. “it’s a little bit tough looking from this angle, but from what i’m seeing there’s definitely some tilting of your uterus.”

“but that’s normal, right?” you nervously ask.

he gives you a reassuring smile as he reaches into his bag again, pulling out a package of wipes. “very normal, a lot of women tend to have some sort of irregular posture with their uterus but never even notice it.” he wipes up the cool gel from your skin before wiping down the probe. 

he tucks all the instruments back in their case, clicking it shut and setting it back down by his bag. he grabs the ipad, tapping around on it, “i’ll put it in your chart that we did the ultrasound, but the real test is the physical exam. sometimes feeling is better than seeing.” 

you just nod along at his words, trusting the doctor implicitly. because why wouldn’t you? he had a way about him that just oozed not only confidence, but competency. you felt that you were in great hands and that helped to ease your nerves over this whole thing greatly. dr. abbot would surely know not only what’s wrong with you, but also have a solution for it. 

you watch him set the ipad back down on the bed and reach into his bag, which seems to have just enough room for every medical item he could possibly need. you guess it makes sense for a doctor who makes house calls, he never truly knows what he’ll need and since he’s not at the hospital he needs to be extra prepared for anything. you had to admit that it was hot, a handsome and competent doctor who was prepared for anything. 

your inappropriate thoughts come to a halt at the sound of nitrile snapping against skin. dr. abbot stood before you, his wide hands covered in blue gloves. “alright, so next up is the physical examination. i could see from your chart that you’ve been seeing dr. carrie for a few years so i know it can be a little awkward to suddenly have a new doctor examining you as intimately as i’m going to.”

you go back to fidgeting your fingers because the ultrasound was one thing, but dr. abbott getting his hands on you and seeing you fully? that was a whole different thing. but, he was a doctor, there was no reason for you to be as nervous as you feel right now looking up at dr. abbot as he towers over you. 

“i mean,” you begin, feeling that dr. abbot would appreciate honesty, “i am a little nervous.”

“just nervous?” he asks, at your answering nod he smirks, “i can handle nervous, everyone gets a little nervous when it comes to doctors.” he takes a few steps away from you before motioning to the vanity you have set up in the corner of your bedroom. a place to get ready before work or a night out. “mind if i use your stool?”

you answer without a thought, wanting to help make this appointment as smooth as possible for the both of you. “of course, whatever you need.”

he drags the stool over to where you’re still lying at the foot of the bed. your legs hang over the edge of the mattress, but your feet don’t touch the ground due to your lying position. you watch him from where you’re still propped up against the pillows settle on your stool. his steely gaze racks up your soft legs, over your panty clad cunt, tracking the stretch marks across your stomach from where your shirt is still pulled up from the ultrasound, until his gaze reaches your face.

“since this is our first time, i’m going to take my time.” dr. abbot explain gently, his voice soft and raspy. you notice how tightly he clasps his hands together in his lap, “first, i’m just going to look at you, make sure your vulva and mons pubis look healthy before i even get my hands on you, that sound good?”

the baby steps should put you more at ease, you feel lucky to have found a doctor who would go to such lengths to make you feel comfortable. but dr. abbot was a handsome man who was making you begin to squirm under his gaze. you don’t know if you’ll able to handle his gaze between your legs. and yet you still give him a nod and a smile that you hope looks genuine enough. 

“alright, so, even though i think these panties of your’s are pretty cute, they are blocking my view.” he jokes, a wry smile gracing his weathered features. 

you can feel your cheeks heating up, a flash of embarrassment making your chest tighten momentarily. he laughs good naturedly at you, though, and you can’t help but smile with him, “of course, dr. abbot.” you reach down to the lacy waistband, pulling them down your legs. you sit up a bit to pull them off around your ankles so you don’t completely expose yourself to him, lying back against the pillows. 

he reaches for your ankles, guiding your feet up onto the bed. “knees apart and feet planted firmly on the bed so i can get a good view there.” 

you feel like such a flustered, mess with dr. abbot having to remind you of everything. of course you couldn’t lay with your legs hanging off the bed. but you do as he says, spreading your knees apart and pressing your bare feet firmly into the mattress beneath you. 

“just a little wider,” he murmurs, pulling the stool underneath himself closer to the bed, his broad shoulders making a place for themselves between your spread thighs. he looks up at you, his green eyes almost endless, “there we go, good job letting me in like this.” he praises.

your eyes dart up to the ceiling at the compliment, not sure of how to even respond. instead you fist your hands into the bunched up cotton of your t shirt that’s still pushed up your stomach. you never quite know what to do with your hands even when it's dr. carrie examining you so these nerves are familiar. dr. abott keeps his promise of not touching. well, kind of.

his gloved hands are featherlight on your inner thighs, at your little gasp he drags his eyes from where they were previously locked on your cunt. "i know i said i wouldn't touch at first, sweetheart, but i have to make sure you keep yourself open for me. for the exam." he squeezes your squishy flesh underneath his fingers. 

you giggle at the gesture, the sound bubbling up your throat without permission. "sorry, sorry," you apologize, "just a little nervous still, but keep going."

"alright, but if anything changes, just let me know," he winks at you, another honest to god wink, before his eyes trail back down between your legs. you watch him take a deep inhale of breath, his shoulders dropping as he lets out a long sigh.

you don't know what to make of it, "everything alright, dr. abott?"

"yeah, yeah," he assures you, his eyes cutting back up to your's, "she's perfect, actually."

"perfect?" you question. at your pap smears dr. carrie would say your cervix looked beautiful and healthy, but she would never use the word perfect. 

"perfectly healthy," he smirks, "there's nothing out of the ordinary that i'm seeing here." 

the room goes silent for a few more moment as jack just looks. it makes you squirm, makes you want to fill the silence. "i know you say everything looks fine, but it probably doesn't help that i didn't shave." you begin to babble, "i just didn't realize how bad it had gotten and i would have shaved before you came over but i was trying to clean up my place before-"

"oh, well that's very sweet of you, but there's nothing for you to apologize for." he looks up at you, forcing direct eye contact that you want to shy away from but somehow manage not to. "i actually prefer it."

"prefer what? bush?" you ask in disbelief. 

if he weren't so charming and hadn't been so comforting to you so far you'd describe his responding smile as predatory, "you're exactly right, sweetheart," his smile lessens and he straightens his shoulders, "but my preferences do not matter, it's what you prefer that's most important. but, i will say that keeping your body hair intact is the safest way to go."

he continues, "shaving and waxing can be painful for a lot of women, razor bumps and cuts can leave you vulnerable to infection so sometimes the healthiest option is not doing anything at all." 

you've never really been one to let a man reassure you about what you do with your own body, but somehow dr. abbot's words sooth all your iinsecurities regarding your bush because shaving and waxing have always been painful for you. it helps to have the approval of a medical professional. especially one so handsome. 

"alright, on to the next portion of the exam," he lets go of your thighs, instead bringing his hands up in front of him. he holds them up for you to see. "this is when the touching begins. just outside to start, is that ok?"

his question makes your stomach flutter, asking for permission even though he's your doctor and it’s his job to touch you. "of course, dr. abott." 

he brings his gloved hands back to your thighs, following the plain of muscles until his hands are resting at your bikini line. "pubic hair is great at keeping you clean and protected, but it can also hide things like ingrown hairs and cysts." his big thumbs sweep over your mons pubis, the action pulling your skin, exposing your pussy to the cool air of your bedroom. it sends a shiver down your spine.

"stuff like that is pretty harmless,” he begins again, "but it's better that i find it now than you find it later and freak out." 

somehow he’s right, you would freak out. any time you find an ingrown hair down there you convince yourself it's something else. you feel lucky that dr. abbot is thorough. and attentive. and so, so close to the most intimate part of yourself.

you watch his eyes track every crevice and curve between your legs, his big shoulders keeping them spread when you'd rather close them. he's just so hot and he's right there, but he's a doctor whose doing his job. and you're just some pervert.

"ok then, everything so far looks good and healthy. no cysts, no ingrown hairs, nothing for you to worry about."

you breathe a sigh of relief at the confirmation, one less thing for you to have to worry about in the future. dr. carrie has such a calming energy that always put you at ease, but dr. abott has his own way. dr. carrie was like an older female friend guiding you through womanhood while dr. abott feels like one of your dad's friends that you had a crush on growing up. 

"so now," dr. abbot interrupts your thoughts, reaching for the tube of lube he had placed on the bed earlier in the appointment. 

you watch him twist the top off, piercing the protective seal. he must have dozens of tubes in his bag if he makes these kind of house calls often. your mouth twists into a frown remembering that your time with the doctor will be coming to an end soon. 

"hey, hey," dr. abbot’s voice softens as his gaze lands on the pout on your downturned lips. “i know this next step can be a little scary since i’m not your regular doctor, but i promise i’ll go slow and stop whenever you tell me to, okay?”

your frown deepens at his words. of course he would be concerned over your comfort, taking your change in demeanor as anxiety rather than disappointment that he’s just a doctor doing his job. but, you'd really rather not divulge your real feelings at the moment, "thank you, dr. abott, your patients are all lucky to have a doctor as sympathetic as you."

"oh well, that's very sweet of you, honey," his smile is so charming, "and i don't usually try to poach my colleague's patients, but if you ever want to do this again, i'd be more than happy to take you on."

"you would?"

"of course i would," he confirms, his attention going back down to his work, squeezing a dollop of lube onto his gloved pointer finger. "you've made things very easy for me so far."

his praise makes your stomach settle, forever a people pleaser you are. you have to fight the smile that threatens to stretch your lips, "well, you just landed yourself a new patient, dr. abbot." you can't hold back, giving him a toothy grin when he looks up at you with his own smirk, "but, we'll keep that between the two of-" you cut yourself off with a gasp at the feeling of cold lube on your sensitive pussy lips.

“sorry, sweetheart,” he apologizes,his sharp, cunning eyes trailing back down to where his fingers are exploring you. "the lube is always cold and i think it's better to rip the bandaid off sometimes instead of warning you."

he now has both hands stroking your folds, pulling them apart, "inner and outer vaginal lips both look good, very healthy." he comments, "now let's take a look up a little further."

one of his hands comes to rest against your mons pubis, pulling your skin, while his other hand slinks up your folds. "i'm going to pull back the clitoral hood," he explains, eyes drinking up every inch of wet skin, "and there she is."

you force your eyes shut in embarrassment, the husky rasp of his voice making your pussy clench around nothing. your eyes snap open and a gasp falls from your lips as you feel direct pressure on your clit. you look down at dr. abbot's gloved finger stroking over the swollen bud. "dr. abbot?"

your shocked voice doesn't make his movements falter, finger still stroking over your clit. his smirk is stronger than ever when he finally looks up to your face, "gotta make sure everything works, honey, you feel me touching your little clit?"

dr. carrie has never touched you like this. you know it's not right, but you would never argue with your doctor. you couldn't, even if you wanted to. you have to catch your breath, trying to clear your head of the heedy pleasure you feel at his hands, "yes, dr. abbot, of course i can feel you."

"that's good," he assures, "the clitoris functions solely as a source of pleasure, so i need to make sure it's doing it's job. was your boyfriend touching you here when he was hitting your cervix too hard?"

the question takes you by surprise and you find it hard to answer with dr. abbot’s finger still on your clit. "i don't know if he, i uh, i can't really remember," you stutter, the pressure against your clit growing stronger, dr. abott using all of his thick fingers to stroke the tender bud. "i'm sorry, it's hard to think." 

"oh well, you don't really have to think right now, i just need you to relax and i'll do all the work." dr. abbot's voice is smooth and soft, "but, your boyfriend should always be stimulating your clit.

dr. abbot leaves you speechless against the pillows, until his gloved thumb catches your clit just right and you let out a moan. embarrassment washes over you, your legs trying to close but unable to with dr. abbot's broad shoulders in the way. you bring your arm over your face, burying your flustered smile against the inside of your elbow so you don't have to look at the doctor's face.

he chuckles to himself, not unkindly, "nothing to be embarrassed about, honey, that's exactly what i wanted to hear. good response to stimulation."

you take a deep breathe, centering yourself. dr. abbot seems to be taking all of your inappropriate reactions in stride, so you will your embarrassment and anxiety down a couple notches. when you lift your arm away from your face you're met with his smiling face.

"there she is, was worried you were going to tap out on me." he jokes, "but hey, i know gynecology appointments can always feel a little bit strange, but i promise you, you're fine with me. no matter what you do, okay?"

you nod your head eagerly, greedy for his approval.

he gives you another wink, "good, now though," his hands leave your heated skin, pulling off his messy nitrile gloves. your stomach drops at the thought of this exam already being over. you relax minutely when dr. abbot gets his hands back on you, though. his wide hands and his thick fingers ghosting over the flesh of your inner thighs. "this next part can be a little uncomfortable for some people, i'm going to need to feel inside."

his thumbs sweep back and forth against your heated skin, goosebumps rising on the sensitive flesh. your eyes can't help but look at his toned forearms against the swell of your plush thighs. 

"honey?" dr. abbot's soft, gravelly voice gets your attention again. "you ready for the next part of the exam?"

you fidget with your fingers where your hands lay against your soft belly. you nod though, feeling safe in jack's care.

jack snaps on a clean pair of black nitrile gloves, the gloves somehow making his forearms look even bigger than they are. his hands are back on your skin, settling snuggly against the valley of your thighs, his thumbs sweeping over either side of your pussy lips. "i'm just going to start with one finger, okay? tell me if anything hurts or if you want to stop, hmm?"

you make some kind of noise in acknowledgement, too busy steeling yourself for the awaiting intrusion of one of the doctor's thick fingers. he continues his ministrations against your pussy lips for another long moment, though, warming up lube against your heated skin. 

you hum at the feeling, your head resting back against the pillows are your eyes shut in relaxation. he did say that keeping his patients comfortable was the most important part of his job. 

you have a thought that you could seriously fall asleep like this when he slides his first digit in. his finger is thick inside your wet walls but not enough to make you buck your hips or make an embarrassing noise. 

"so far, everything feels good, any pain?" with a shake of your head he keeps going. "that's good, this pussy should always feel good." he declares, lowly.

he slowly pushes his finger deeper inside of you, a flash of pain crosses your face as the digit meets resistance. "alright, well, not too hard to find your cervix. my suspicions were correct, the positioning of your uterus pushes your cervix closer to your vaginal opening." 

of course there had to be something wrong with you.

"hey," dr. abbot gets your attention, the pain subsiding as he gently strokes you from the inside. "trust me when i say it's very normal, many women have this same experience. i can show you how to your make your next time with your boyfriend feel much better."

you nod eagerly, "you can?"

"of course, honey, that's part of my job." he slides his finger out, resting it just outside your entrance. "i'm just going in with two fingers now, you'll be able to feel more than you would with just the one." 

the stretch of his two thick digits isn't that bad. it actually makes you involuntarily squirm against his hand, your body wanting more of him inside of you. you apologize for the actions after finally getting your hips to still against the mattress, "i'm sorry, it just feels-"

"good?" dr. abbot supplies.

"better, better than with my boyfriend." you admit into the quiet of the room. 

"hmm," dr. abbot hums to himself, eyes traveling down from your face to where his fingers are opening up your sensitive cunt. you can tell he's trying to suppress what you assume to be a shit eating grin. "well, that's exactly what i wanted to hear, sweetheart."

your stomach feels liquified at his praise, hot and heavy in your gut. but the shame and embarrassment of sharing such a moment with your doctor hits you, "he's not- he's not bad, he just, he just doesn't have the experie-"

"hey, hey," jack brings his free hand to rest gently against the fat of your inner thighs. stroking your skin like a spooked animal. "you don't have to defend him to me. actually, how about we just don't think about him right now. right now it's just you and me, okay?"

he brings his hand from your thigh to the softness of your stomach, a placating gesture. you instinctively suck in your stomach at the touch even though your stretch marks and tummy have been on display the whole time. his big hand gives your flesh a squeeze, fat jiggling underneath his fingers, "oh now, none of that. nothing wrong with being a healthy young woman," he winks.. 

you settle back into the pillows, not wanting to interrupt the doctor's work any more than you already have.

"alright, so let's get back to it," his thick fingers sink deeper into your hole until they hit that spot that makes you grimace. "again, this is your cervix and your cervix does not like to be battered by something big like my fingers." 

he adjusts his fingers, pulling back slightly before pushing up inside of you. "you're going to want to avoid that by aiming up." he emphasizes his words by pressing hard and firm against the spongey spot at the top of your pussy. 

it sends a jolt of pleasure up your spine that causes your hips to buck up from the bed. dr. abbot hadn't moved his hand from your stomach, so he uses it to hold your body down against the bed as he holds pressure on that specific spot, stroking it delicately with the pads of his fingertips. your legs, on their own accord, try to slam shut, but the doctor's broad shoulders keep them open. 

"i'd ask if it feels good, but i think i already got my answer." he remarks, his movements inside of you slowing until his fingers stop completely, "but, that is how it's supposed to feel."

with his fingers still inside of you you're able to catch a breath and try to compose yourself. "but how," you stop, your cheeks hot with self consciousness, "how can a guy, like, aim his penis like that? i get you can do it with your fingers because you can see and feel things better, but how is a guy supposed to be able to do that when he's inside of me..." you trail off, ending your rambling.

he considers your words for a long moment before answering, "i can show you that, too."

"show me? show me how to...fuck me?" 

"i'd be more than happy to give you a demonstration, it's what i'm here for," he reassures.

for you, there's nothing to think about. you still pretend to mull it over though, not wanting to seem too eager for your doctor. you bite your lip,  "as long as you're sure, dr. abbot." 

"don't worry about me, honey," he says almost bashfully, "i'm just happy to help."

you two share a smile before he looks back down to where his fingers are still buried in you. "i don't say this to toot my own horn, but to instead give you a little warning. i'm thick, thicker than these two fingers, so i'm going to add another finger to get you nice and ready for me, ok?"

this whole ordeal has rendered you speechless, dr. abbot has been nothing but assuring and confident during this whole appointment. it should scare you how much you trust him already, but aren't you supposed to trust your doctors? 

"i'm going to need you to help me a little bit. i'm going to need both of my hands for the next part and since i already know you're a little sensitive i'm going to need you to hold your legs a part for me, okay?" the hand that was on your stomach trails down to join his other at your pussy. his thumb strokes absently at your puffy clit.

that little stimulation has heat pooling in your gut again, but you fight through the fog of pleasure to grip your hands underneath either of your thighs, your feet leaving the mattress, leaving yourself completely open his gaze.

"good, good, you're great at following direction," he praises as you feel a third thick finger teasing your entrance. there's some resistance to the new intrusion as the other two fingers start slowly pumping inside of you. "come on, honey, open up for me, please."

the thumb that had been ghosting against your clit is stroking tight circles against the bud now causing your head to toss back against the pillows. you whine at the pleasure as he's finally able to slip a third finger past your tight walls.

"there we go, just needed your clit played with for you to relax a little bit more for me, good job, sweetheart." his voice is gentle almost but his words and the casual nature he says them drives you absolutely crazy. "like i said earlier, your boyfriend should always be playing with your clit."

you whine at his touch, your hips jerking up and down. trying to get more pressure on your clit while trying to get his fingers to press on that magic spot again. it's as if he reads your mind though, the speed of his fingers on your clit quickening while the pressure inside of your cunt builds up.

"oh. fuck," you whine, body overwhelmed with pleasure. "dr. abbot!"

"i hear you, honey, i hear you," he coos at your whines and cries of pleasure. his movements slow, "but, this is how it's supposed to feel, supposed to feel so fucking good."

his movements come to a halt and then his fingers are slipping out of you. you let out a confused whine as he stands up from the bed. you watch him tug his gloves off.

"remember, i told you i'd give you a demonstration of the real thing?" your memory is jogged as you watch him pull his thick, blood hot cock out of the opening of his black trousers. he was right to open you up more. he sinks back down onto the bed between your legs. your eyes are glassy as you take him in, his big hand wrapping around his hard cock, pumping it, wrist flicking over his fat tip. 

his other hand reaches further up the bed. he's pulled another pillow from the head of your bed. "here, i'm going to put this under your hips," he instructs, slipping the cushion underneath you. "that will help with the angle, when you're directly flat on your back you're more likely to hit your cervix." 

you nod your head like you're paying attention to his words, but your mind is much more preoccupied with the thick, hard cock that is getting closer and closer to your weeping pussy. it aches to be filled again. 

"i'll go slow, i promise. you let me know if anything hurts or i need to stop." at your nod of understanding he continues on, shuffling his knees until he's able to rest his cock head right on your sensitive clit. he trails his swollen tip through your wet folds, "so beautiful and perfect. i'm going to make her feel so good."

and with that declaration, he's breaching your entrance. he stays true to his words, he goes slow, letting you adjust to his girth and weight instead of just mindlessly pounding your hole like some guys would. it's the thickest cock you've ever taken, but the stretch makes your stomach flutter and your clit pulse from where it sits untouched.

"ready for me to move, sweetheart?"

"please, dr. abbot."

he smirks down at you as he adjusts your thick legs, guiding you to wrap them around his built waist. his hands rest on your hips, squeezing your love handles as he presses you flush to the mattress, completely under his control. after all, it is his demonstration, you think.

he thrust shallowly at first, slowly building up momentum. "wanna start slow, build up pressure inside of you instead of forcing it." his hands trail up your quivering sides, pushing up your shirt. "now, you tell me when you feel me against that spot so i can-"

"oh, fuck, dr. abbot!" you all but cry out as his cock slides deliciously across the sport his fingers had played with earlier. 

"there it is." he coos, a smirk evident in his voice, "feels much better this way, right?"

"yeah, fuck," you hiccup, voice hoarse and eyes glassy with unshed tears as your orgasm quickly approaches. you looks down as his hands creep further and further up your torso until he's managed to push your shirt up your chest, your tits bouncing freely with his thrusts. you uselessly try to cover yourself, "oh my god! i'm sorry, dr. abbot, i forgot to put a bra on." you whine in embarrassment.

"fuck," he bites, his eyes pulling from your chest for a moment before he looks back up at your face, "don't even worry about it, honey, this is actually perfect timing for me to do a breast exam." 

even as he sits up on his heels, his thrusts never falter and you're dizzy with it. your eyes roll back as he reaches down to stroke your clit in tight circles as his other hand gropes the flesh of one of your tits. he palpates the tissue for a moment before taking your hard nipple between his thumb and forefinger, pinching experimentally. "oh, sweetheart, that made your pussy clench around me. you like having your nipples played with, too?"

you don't answer his question, too busy bracing yourself for your impending orgasm. all the stimulation has your brain foggy, but you can still feel that urge like you have to pee. but, dr. abbot said that that was normal, that that probably meant you were just going to ejaculate. he's gained enough of your trust already to get you to fully relax in his hold. 

you look up at him with your big, glassy eyes, "i'm gonna cum." your voice is quiet compared to sound of his thrusts, his pants rumpling against your delicate skin.

"i told you this pretty pussy was going to feel so fucking good," he leans down, voice a husky growl in your ear, "you just needed someone to take their time with you-"

"jack," you whine, cutting him off.

but he just keeps going, "to learn how to make this beautiful pussy feel so good."

"jack!" you all but squeal as your orgasm rips through you, your release soaking jack's hard cock and staining his pants and the towel underneath you. your body twitches and shakes while your cunt pulses and clenches through the aftershocks. 

"there's my fucking girl," jack's voice is almost a growl as he slips out of you, taking his cock in hand so he can run his hard tip through your slippery folds.

"jack," you whine again, making grabby hands for your boyfriend.

he concedes, leaning down to let you wrap your arms around his shoulders. "'jack'? what happened to "dr.abbot’'?" he teases.

"shut up," you roll your eyes, your mind and body slowly coming back online. you don't squirt all that often, mostly because it's not something your body does regularly, but jack always has his way of pressing the right buttons. 

"neither of us broke character," your voice is almost a whisper, shocked at the both of you being able to stay so composed and in your roles. you two can barely keep a bit going for more than a few minutes before one of you breaks and you're both laughing. but, you somehow managed to keep the fantasy going a lot longer than either of you anticipated. 

his brows furrow, "did you think one of us was going to break?"

"you do not want me to answer that." you joke back, knowing that your honest answer of ‘yes, you’ would hurt hit little feelings. 

instead of a retort, he just looks at you. his eyes soft and his lips turned up in a small, content smile. "i like having fun with you."

the sincerity of it strikes you, your stomach filling with lovely warmth. "i like having fun with you, too, jack." your eyes flick down to where his legs are tucked underneath himself on the bed. "is your leg okay?"

"i'm good to keep going," he answers, his hand going back down to stroke his wet, half hard cock. 

the air inside was unmoving and thick, made only worse by the panting breath of those like you making their way to a 9-5, crammed in like sardines. all of you stood counting down your stops until you could scurry off to suck in fresh air and move your arms further than an inch at a time again.

sometimes if you got up a little earlier you’d miss the beginning of the main rush. sleepy though you would be stood leant against the bar in between the doors of the train, when you could bring yourself to get up early enough it was a lot better than feeling a stranger’s sweat soak into your cardigan. or worse, notice a handsome stranger stare at your lips only to realise it was because of the sweat building up there and not due to the urge to kiss you ravenously.

…you probably needed to stop listening to your romance audiobooks on the commute.

this morning you’d decided to stay asleep for that extra half hour, laid beneath your thin sheets with the fan oscillating as you contemplated whether your boss would believe you if you called in sick.

you’d never been great at lying, in fact you were so bad at acting you’d always been designated as unnamed background characters during your brief stint in your school’s drama club when growing up, so you knew you wouldn’t get away with selling a weak cough over a crackly line in the middle of july.

however you were regretting not trying when you got to the station and saw the size of the crowd. instead of pushing your way into through and resigning yourself to a moist, hot six-stop-ride, you waited for the next one with a significantly smaller crowd.

looking at the time you knew you’d be late, so you sent off a quick apology and explanation to your boss, cringing at the spotty signal before getting on the next train car.

you were left standing, the people ahead of you taking the few seats available without remorse, so you settled near the bar and shuffled out of the way as the last of the crowd petered in around you.

you held tight with one hand as you swayed with the movement of the train. looking down at your phone you bit your lip as you waited for the little tick to turn blue, an indicator your message had sent but it stayed grey as you moved through the tunnel. as you moved to put your phone away in your bag, the train came to a stop and sent you stumbling, unbalanced without your hold on the handrail to keep you braced.

you’d have fallen face first, sprawled between the seats, if you hadn’t have been caught by a singular strong arm flying out to hook around your chest, a firm hand tucked securely at your ribs. you clumsily righted your footing as the train doors opened and some of the other commuters swapped out for new ones, paying your trip up no further mind.

“thank you,” you said bashfully and looked up into dark, hooded eyes. you noticed her frosty eyelashes next but as quickly as you blinked to take in the rest of her, she was letting you go and exiting the train a second before the doors closed. “fuck.”

——

the stranger stayed on your mind for the rest of the day; you’d wished you’d offered more than the simple platitude of thanks in return for her saving you from complete embarrassment. you took the tube often enough you recognised your regulars, and although that was a later train than usual, you’d rather that not be the defining memorable moment of you in a group of strangers’ minds.

you kept an eye out for your faceless hero while you stood on the platform in a morning for the next week, but never spotted anyone with a tall enough stature or the dark neck gaiter she’d worn.

with an internal sigh, you soon went back to your earlier commutes to avoid the heavy traffic and resigned yourself to not getting to thank her properly.

——

it wasn’t until you were covering a late shift last minute a month later that you saw her again.

you’d gotten on the train after a twelve hour shift, feet dragging and eyes struggling to stay open when you spotted her looming over a man with a freshly shaved-in mohawk. he sat with his legs spread and gestured wildly as he spoke up to her with no care for his volume in the enclosed space. you felt exhausted just watching him; no one should be that energetic on a thursday night and yet your stranger seemed fully engrossed in the conversation, quiet as she was.

the man was scottish you assumed as you paused your audiobook to listen in nosily, but your staring must have been more obvious than you’d realised as he soon made eye contact and stood to offer you his seat.

“here, take my seat, hen. y’look shattered,” he said and stood to swap places with you. he gestured you forward and elbowed your shared friend. “simon, move yer arse a sec.”

you tried to protest before the familiar heavy gaze of your saviour turned to you and you quickly gave in and squeezed past. you hated causing a fuss in public and the train had enough passengers despite the time that you weren’t eager to play back and forth with the brazen man. and regardless, it seemed you were powerless to argue under simon’s molten brown eyes.

as you sat, you noticed she didn’t step away, just turned slightly to face her chatty friend. but she stood in a way that stopped the other passengers hovering nearby from nudging into your space when the train took a turn or knocking your bag when they shuffled by to get off at their stop. you smiled to yourself when you noticed but kept your head down.

it was sweet, even if it probably wasn’t on purpose.

you closed your eyes for the rest of the ride and when you got close to your stop, without having to say a word to her, simon moved when the automated voice announced your station and gave you space to get off the train without you having to shove and shimmy by like usual.

“thanks,” you said tiredly once more.

she pulled her mask down to flash a small, closed lipped smile and you felt your chest bloom.

sweet.

your walk home was filled with half-finished thoughts of the rugged stranger that seemed to have a soft spot for you on the tube and when you went to sleep, it was with shifting thighs and a building wetness that you were too tired to deal with.

——

when your were dragged out by friends a weekend later to celebrate your birthday, it wasn’t until you’d drank enough to temporarily rid yourself of your usual timid nature that you saw her for the third time.

you recognised her friend’s mohawk first, and your eyes drifted automatically to find the deep eyes you’d started to picture when listening to your romance audiobooks, your gaze fluttering hazily over the handsome bloke in a cap and the older man with the thick facial hair without a second thought.

“huh,” you hummed when you found her.

“buy her a drink if you’re interested,” one of your friends suggested when they caught you staring and you frowned.

“i thought we were leaving?” you asked, just as your other friend yawned and slumped in their seat, bag in their lap. you knew a taxi had already been rang.

“well then drag her into the bathroom, you’ve got about ten minutes ‘til we’re going,” they suggested and you clumsily elbowed them.

“be serious.”

they rolled their eyes with a laugh. “write your number on a napkin and have it sent over at the same time as the drink. she can call you later.”

even inebriated, your confidence could never reach such audacity, but you did owe her a proper thanks and a drink wasn’t a bad idea.

you walked to the bar and wrote a quick message on a napkin, signing it off with ‘your tube pal <3’ before cringing. the message itself was far too wordy and your writing was sloppy, but you’d already bought the drink and the bartender looked impatient so you handed it over with hot cheeks and quickly fled back to your group at the door without waiting to see simon’s reaction.

you spent enough time in the morning groaning over your headache and delicate stomach that the last half of your evening was left to be forgotten and when you didn’t see her on your commute again for another two weeks, the memory never popped forward.

——

you were stood crammed towards a wall of the tube a few weeks later, your headphones forgotten at home charging, when you felt someone press up against your back, closer than necessary even at the busiest times. they were looming, almost.

just as you were about to send an unfriendly elbow back for breaking the unspoken commuting code, the person behind you huffed a breath against your neck and spoke in a gruff hum.

“never got to thank you for the drink,” she said lowly. you stiffened when you realised it was simon behind you and when you didn’t push her away she settled a hand above yours on the wall handrail, closing you in to her space. “should’ve stuck around and said hi.”

you shrugged shyly unable to see her, your tongue unmoving, and she huffed out a dry chuckle.

“been getting on the early tubes to try and find ya,” she admitted and pushed her hips against your arse, grinding lightly. you sucked in a shocked breath and stumbled. she was packing, the hard curve of her strap unmistakable even between the layer of your twill work pants and her thick, ratty jeans.

her free hand came up to steady you by the hip and you carefully turned around in her light hold to face her, your eyes flickering to the uninterested commuters beside you as you went. the train car was as full as always, you only had the minimal space you did because of simon’s bulk and the train wall at your back.

at the sight of your blown pupils, simon humped her hips against yours again, torturously slow, pretending to hold you steady as the train swayed when she was really tugging you into her movements.

she’d pushed one knee between yours and you felt your clit throb at the attention and pressure it was unexpectedly receiving. her thigh was warm between yours where you squeezed it and her packer unforgiving where it pressed against your sensitive bundle of nerves. you shuddered, the empty ache of your pussy was sudden and dizzying and you felt a desperation for her to continue unlike any other, not even previous partners had managed to wind you up so fast.

you pushed as close to her as possible at the next stop, bunching your hands in her hoody with needy tugs and digging your nose into her clavicle.

you could pass as an overly clingy couple if anyone looked, but you shifted your leg to better spread them and make room for her between them. it could maybe pass as you being mindful of the crowded train but she knew it was because of the teasing pleasure she was bringing you.

christ what had gotten into you? you’d never done anything like this before. was it the summer heat? simon herself? had you simply not gotten off enough recently?

you looked up at her and gave in to the urge to lean in and kiss her through the patterned gaiter she wore. you didn’t care what it was that had you acting out of character, in fact you were going to take advantage of it.

she’d manage to wedge the two of you to a corner further out of sight as the crowd had shifted and changed and she exploited the new position to slip a hidden hand forward and undo your trouser’s button and zip. the sound of both lost beneath the sharp grating groan of the train on its tracks.

slinking her fingers lower beneath the stiff material simon grinned when she found her jackpot. she petted at the gusset of your panties, and as wet as you were it was easy for her to tell you were feeling eager even with the cotton barrier. she nudged the damp material aside and slipped her fingertips along your opening, spreading your growing wetness back up to your clit. when your hips twitched back, sensitive to the unyielding and sudden attention, she cooed a gentle apology and settled her fingers back at your opening, her palm settling firm against the sensitive bud instead.

she curled around you protectively, hiding you from any onlookers as you whimpered.

“you should probably grind against my ‘and to get off instead,” she suggested a little meanly. “if i move my arm how i want to, everyone’ll know what we’re up to. i’m fine w’that, but are you?”

your gaze cut nervously over her shoulder and she nodded. “that’s what i thought.” she increased the pressure against your clit slightly and your hips jerked up against it. “get movin’ then, sweet cheeks.”

your brow furrowed but you couldn’t deny the heady drip of arousal at her dismissive authority.

you readjusted your grip at her sides and ducked your head before you hesitantly found your rhythm. your lashes fluttered at the steady feeling of her palm against your clit and you quickly figured out if you tilted your hips a certain way her fingers dipped into your lush heat and the tease of being filled had your breath stuttering and drool gathering where you panted quietly against her breast.

“there y’go,” she encouraged in a husky whisper. “just like that.”

you tried to stay subtle, but eagerness won out and your thrusts jolted, pussy spasming, when she curled her fingers up unexpectedly.

“simon,” you panted. her other hand let go of the railing to pull her gaiter down with a sudden desperation and she tilted your head up to kiss you. her lips were softer than expected and thin, and she eased you into it for a moment as you dripped around her knuckles.

she kept hold of your jaw as you kissed, planting her feet as the train swayed; she preferred sucking your bottom lip into her mouth to bite over letting you kiss her back properly and held you in place when you whined and gasped into her mouth. her other move, slipping her tongue in as far as she could until you gagged and sputtered, was almost as favoured and also required her keeping you close and your face tilted up.

her pruning fingers started to pet at that soft spot inside you and you felt your knees begin to buckle. clinging to her arm you felt the muscles contract and bulge as she worked to get you to cum in the middle of your commute.

she let go of you to hold back on to the rail. her breath was hot against your cheek and you blinked blearily, unable to concentrate on anything but the feeling of her long fingers. you felt ravished and you’d not even removed a single item of clothing, hadn’t even cum yet. but you knew that was an inevitability, getting ever closer by the second.

taking the opportunity to hide your flustered face once more, you bit into the thick material of her hoody as you felt yourself clench around her fingers, humping rapidly into her hand for the extra stimulation to your clit as you came.

“mnnghh,” you whined needily, tugging her warm bulk impossibly closer until your jaw went slack and your pussy unclenched. her fingers and your panties must have been drenched. small spasms shook your jelly legs and you kept your fists held tight in her clothes as you calmed down.

“so good for me,” she cooed, cupping your cheek gently even as you stayed burrowed close.

she slipped her hand free and wiped it off on her jeans, making you groan in embarrassment as she set your pants back right. you turned your head as the train came to another stop, announcing its current station, and made eye contact with a flustered, wide eyed man. he held his briefcase close to his chest and as realisation dawned on you that oh god he’d seen everything, his eyes flickered to simon before he fled from the tube car.

your stomach dropped and you felt anxiety spread like ice in your chest.

“oi,” simon said firmly, catching your attention before the anxiety could spread. when you looked at her she ducked down for another sloppy, biting kiss, forcing you on your tiptoes to relieve the unfamiliar pain as she gnawed on you like a chew toy.

it was all thoroughly distracting.

you stared dazedly a little too long when she let you go again, only broken when someone shuffled to get an eager start for the door at the next stop. she glared and as soon as the doors opened a minute later, she tugged you along to step off, guiding you out onto the less busy street.

you didn’t recognise the area and swore when you realised you’d likely passed your stop halfway through the fantastic orgasm. you were definitely late for work.

before you could voice your concerns however she squeezed your hand frowned down at you. “think you should call in sick, come back to mine.”

“oh?” you felt your pussy clench at the offer - almost thought you could hear it - but tried to keep your face straight. she scoffed at your weak attempt to play hard to get.

“what? you’d prefer to go to work in soaked knickers, squelching at your desk all day, too busy thinking about my cock to get any work done?”

“no,” you croaked. simon had a way with words when she used them, it seemed. it was a reminder that she was still a stranger to you, but the reminder came with excitement instead of hesitance to follow her lead.

“then why don’t you tell me y’name and we can start making up for lost time, yeah?” her thumb ran gently along your hip. “i’ve had a few ideas running through my ‘ead these last few weeks i’d like to finally try out with ya.”

"Clothes off... all of them," A thick Russian accent said from the intercom. You looked up at the camera in the corner. He must have seen you hesitate, "I already paid. Don't waste my money."

It never got easier. The degradation and humiliation of stripping for strange men, being used like a toy and forced to pack yourself back up into your box till next time.  It'd been almost a year now. As you dropped your coat to the floor your anger and shame hit the ceiling. You'd trusted your ex, he promised to help you when you lost your job, when you couldn't pay rent, when you needed to borrow money. You moved to London for better opportunities now you were in some stranger's house waiting to be used. You'd lost track of how deep in debt you were to him and his 'friends'. 10k? 20k? It made your stomach clench.

"Don't cry. You'll fuck up your makeup." is what those cunts back at the club would always say before you got in the car to a client's.

Marcus, your ex, now trafficker, hammered it in that this was a very important client. Probably another criminal. A rich one at that. His house was more of a warehouse. Large, stretching for almost an entire block. Nondescript from the outside beyond the vault like door and fancy keypad, one you were given a code to on the way there. 

"Turn around," he ordered when the last of your clothes hit the floor. Checking for a wire or weapons you guessed. Knowing you were being watched like this made your skin crawl but it was better than being groped immediately on entry.

The room you were locked in was more of a safe room with steel walls and thick doors. One leading outside and the other leading further inside. No windows, just the camera, an intercom panel and a white gift box that sat on the floor. 

"New clothes in the box. Put them on."

It was a too small lacy bra and matching too small panties. A washed baby blue, all mesh so you were fully exposed. There was a loud buzzer and the door unlocked.

Inside was nice. Made to look like a palace. Wood floors covered in large red patterned rugs. The walls had large paintings you recognized from an art history class years ago. You couldn’t tell if they were real or not. The details were obscured by the darkness. There was only one light on in the hallway, a door was opened down the way. It was a maw that beckoned you toward it. 

You stood at the threshold. The living room was equally extravagant. The walls were painted a wine red lacquer, almost mirror like. The ceiling had complex molding, painted the same color as the walls. The windows were all blacked out with heavy velvet curtains. It felt cold in this room. To the left was a large bar with more bottles than you'd ever seen in your life. To the right was a large couch and projector screen. Soviet era antiques were scattered about. It felt more like a palace than a home. A palace for some dark god, one that ruled pain and death. 

"You're prettier than the photo." You jumped at the voice. He was so quiet you didn't notice him on the couch. He was big, obviously tall but muscular with wide shoulders. He had a layer of fat that only worked to increase his intimidating stature. Dark hair slicked back with a widow's peak. Stubble covered the bottom part of an aged face. He wasn't old, older yes but whatever business he was in had aged him around the eyes. Dark eyes that hid any emotion from you.

He snapped his fingers and motioned for you to walk over. He had a cigar in the other hand. The smell filled the room. 

"Good. You follow instructions. More than I can say for the last one Arno sent me." He motioned for you to spin around again, giving your ass a light spank and laughing when you yelped. "You fuck anyone else today?"

"No," you shook your head. He blew cigar smoke at you, watching the silver bisect around your middle.

"Good. I'd hate to waste more time cleaning you out. They never do a good job at that." He put his cigar in the ashtray beside him. "On your knees."

"What's your name?" He asked, making space between his legs for you. You answered softly, a lie. Never give them anything was what another girl told you. Give anything and they’ll take until there’s nothing left. Even your bones could be used to pick teeth. He held your chin between two fingers, moving your head around like a doll. "Open your mouth."

He leaned forward, looking inside you. A thumb hooked over your bottom row of teeth. It tasted like tobacco and sweat. You'd learned to hold back gags long ago. 

"I don't like girls with rotten teeth." He ran a finger over your teeth, top and bottom, occasionally pressing on one.  He frowned, "Stop shaking. I'm not going to hurt you."

A lie, most likely. Men always said that before fucking you, like they could believe you were there willingly, like they didn't pick you out of a catalogue of girls. You clenched your fists in your lap and willed the fear out of your bones. Docile thing, something to be eaten to the core. You were always good. Arno controlled his girls with an iron hand. You’d heard the beatings other girls got when they disappointed. There were clients who had girls sent to them yet never returned them. Disappointing girls got sent there. Sacrifices to the gods of gold. Arno always wore gold.

"I like girls who like you." He pulled his fingers out of your mouth and pushed your jaw shut. "I paid to have you till morning. Make it worth it."

He leaned back with a sigh, grabbing a remote and turning on the projector. A hockey game flicked onto the screen, the noise from the stadium coming from speakers you never saw. 

"Is there...uh...anything you want me to call you?" Men liked all sorts of names. Daddy, Master, Sir. Rarely creative, often repeated. Some used their real name but not many, no one wants the risk of their whore becoming too mouthy. 

He looked down at you, like he already forgot you were there.

"Sir, when you answer my questions. Kolya, when I fuck you." He undid his belt and spread his legs wider. You knew your job. He picked up his cigar again as you undid the zipper on his pants.

He laid a hand on the back of your head, pressing down your hair. "Just keep me warm for now. Don't want to miss anything."

You took a deep breath before taking him into your mouth. He was thick and uncut. Intimidating even half hard. He didn't push as you worked your throat open, slowly bobbing your head. Sometimes men would ply you with liquor, help you to relax a bit more. You wish he had. The mix of salts from precum and skin filled your senses. A hesitant hand moved to rest on his thigh for leverage. He didn't shake you off. 

You glanced up at him when you took him to the hilt. Hoping for some sign of approval, not for your ego but the sake of your security. Men in pleasure were less likely to be agitated. 

"Good job, Kotenok." He rubbed his knuckles across your cheek, gold rings cooling your skin. He let you rest against his thigh, nose tickled by his dark pubes. Cigar smoke, the drone of the tv and the blood rushing around your head started to calm your nerves. Maybe tonight wouldn't be as awful as you thought.

He thrusted lazily during every commercial break. A hand holding your head steady against his thigh. He chuckled when you gagged. Everything was in Russian so you couldn't follow the game beyond his angry or excited, more so angry, ad libs.

He finally sighed and turned off the tv. He tapped your cheek softly.

"Kotenok, I need you to make me feel better about my team losing."

He made you walk ahead of him, directing you towards his bedroom. His dark eyes dug into your spine. A step below you and still a head taller. This is what a deer feels when the wolf stalks it. 

His bedroom was dark, a single lamp sat on the side table. The walls were a lime washed white. The bed was antique, made of carved dark wood. The sheets were white silk with a matching comforter. It was unmade. More paintings lined the walls haphazardly. When you were younger you used to cut pictures from magazines and tape them up to your own bedroom walls. He had seemingly done the same. 

You crawled onto the bed, swaying your hips as enticingly as you could manage. A hand wrapped around your ankle and pulled you back to the edge of the bed. You yelped as his hips hit your ass, cock bouncing against your cheeks.

"Remember  what I told you, Kotenok?" He pulled your panties down, calloused hands scraping against your thighs. "What to call me?"

"Kolya."

"Good girl." He dragged a hand down your back, knuckles bumping every ridge of your spine. You tried your best not to fidget under his touch, not to let the chill of the air or tickle of his fingers get to you. You heard clothing hit the floor behind you. You stared ahead, picking out one of the paintings to focus on. 

A young woman stared back at you, perched in a carriage and dressed in black, a feathered hat on her head. She looked upset, like you were unworthy of looking at her and you should avoid your gaze. 

Two fingers felt around your entrance. A shiver ran down your spine. You weren't wet enough, you knew that. You clung to the comforter, waiting for pain. 

"I told you to stop shaking. I said I wouldn't hurt you." He rubbed a hand across your ass. He sounded annoyed. You closed your eyes and pressed your face against the silk. It smelled clean and floral.

There was the snap of plastic and cold fingers prodding at your cunt.

"Shhh...I don't break the things I buy." He didn't admonish you for hiding your face as he scissored you open. He was almost tender, rubbing your hip with slow circles. His fingers curved to press against that soft spot inside you, pulling soft whines from you. "There we go, Kotenok."

You were pulled back again till your pelvis was hanging off the edge of the bed, toes curling around the plush of the rug. He ran the head of his cock between your folds, nudging at your entrance. He pushed in slowly, groaning loudly as you whimpered and fidgeted. Despite the preparation it was a stretch and burn. He held you down by your hips.

"Good girl," he purred with one last push. The head of his cock bumped against your cervix , causing you to clench in pain. It only spurred him to start thrusting. Your face dragged against the sheets as he rocked your entire body. His thrusts were hard and deep, like he wanted to mark the inside of you. 

"Close your eyes and let it happen. Most of them don't last long anyways," a girl said to you early on. You didn't remember her name or face anymore. 

You forced out moans every time his hips smacked against your ass. Arching your back so he could think he was pleasuring you. There was a modicum of pleasure, chasing it was too much effort, especially with unreceptive partners.

He wrapped an arm around your waist, hand dipping between your thighs. He pinched your clit till you cried out. His chin tucked against your shoulder, pushing his full weight against you. His body was hot and the thick hair on his chest scratched at your skin. 

"I don't like liars, Kotenok." He rubbed harsh circles till you moaned and shuddered. He hissed, "Cum on my cock or be quiet."

His other hand grabbed your shoulder and hauled you back up with him. Your back still pressed against his chest. Still rubbing your clit, he hooked an arm under yours and rested it between your breasts while holding your chin and forcing you to look upwards. There was a mirror on the ceiling. He smirked at you in the reflection. You dug your nails into your thighs, tears springing up in your eyes. It was horrific and erotic and disgusting and ugly and it made you wet. Some last threads of dignity snapping under the image of him fucking you. 

"Say my name," He panted.

"Kolya...please...Kolya."

"Want to come on my cock? Beg me for it." He licked your ear.

"Kolya please...please Kolya. I want to come. Please. Kolyaaaaa!"

You watched yourself as he forced you up to your peak, clenching around his cock. He laughed harshly and smacked your pussy. He held you up as your legs failed to support you any longer. You came hard, grabbing at his arms, manicured nails digging into his muscles. You would have thrashed about if he hadn’t had such a tight grip on you. 

He growled something in Russian before biting down on your shoulder. He filled you to the brim, his cock twitching inside your still clenching pussy. His cum was a familiar warm that leaked out around his cock and down your leg. He let go and you fell face forward against the bed.

"Catch your breath. I still want my money's worth." He patted the back of your thigh. You hiccuped softly as you regained sense. Limbs feeling heavy, your whole body stretched to its limit. 

You turned your head as he sat down a carafe of water and two glasses on the side table. 

“Need any?” He asked, filling his own glass. You nodded shyly. It was the first time you really saw him naked. He had a litany of tattoos across his chest and arms, too dark to make out details but you could see angels, skulls, cyrillic writing, a fighter jet, the virgin mary and a star on each of his knee caps. Near his groin was a pentagon with letters you couldn’t make out. A gold chain with an Orthodox cross hung around his neck. A layer of black body hair covered him, darkening everything even further. 

“Thank you.” You gulped down your glass, water dribbling down your chin. He wiped it away as he took your glass.

“On your hands and knees now,” He said, pushing back his hair. You faced the woman again, glaring back at her as you presented yourself to him. The mattress dipped behind you. He said something in Russian before pushing back inside you. 

You lost count of how many times he fucked you. You were pliant and submissive, following his lead as he bent you into whatever position he wanted. He was more virile than you expected. More gentle than you anticipated with a grossness you expected. The next time you asked for water he spit his glass into your mouth. He pinched and pulled but never bent you so hard you broke. Gagging, crying and cumming but never sobbing or screaming. 

You woke up sore. Dried cum and bite marks covering your body. He was sitting in an armchair in the corner, watching you sleep. He was already showered and dressed in a silk robe. 

"You’ll shower before you leave. Scrub well." He slapped your ass before shutting the bathroom door and locking it from the outside. 

Another extravagant room. Oxblood tiles and heated floors. A large marble counter and a mirror taking up most of the wall behind it.

It was a large shower but more importantly the water was hot. Not warm but hot. You could have cum just from feeling the jets against your skin. The body wash was luxurious - sweet and woody. You scrubbed well. These kinds of men didn't want their DNA wandering all over the place. 

There was a towel left for you but no clothes and your lingerie from last night was missing as well. He did leave a cup of tea for you on the bedside table. There were painkillers too. You took it all in one scalding gulp. 

You kept the towel wrapped around yourself as you walked back downstairs. You found him through the one open door in the hall.  He was sitting at the dining table, typing on a laptop, cup of espresso cooling next to him. 

"Come here, Kotenok." He tugged your towel till it fell to the floor. He tapped the inside of your thigh till you spread them. "Don't start shaking again. Need to make sure you cleaned up well."

You bit your lip. He spread you open with two fingers, tilting his head as he inspected you. You yelped when he forced a dry finger inside you, moving it around and dragging it against your walls. He pulled it out and stared at his finger for a moment before sticking in his mouth. 

"Good girl." He nodded and got a money clip from his pocket. "I like you. I'll see you again in a week."

He handed you five hundred pounds. You stared at King Charles in disbelief. You'd been tipped before but never this much. You would have to hide it. You didn’t know where but you had to. If he kept tipping you like this it could make a dent in your debt to Marcus and Arno. 

"Thank you, sir."

"Did I ask you a question?" He didn't look away from his computer.

"No...umm...Thank you, Kolya." An offering of affection, appease the god and receive bountiful gifts. 

The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile. An actual smile. 

"If Arno takes that from you, tell me. That's your money. I paid him enough as is. Now go get dressed. Your car is here." He pointed back towards the front door.

You hurried off, afraid to go back to Marcus and Arno but also too scared of what Kolya would do if you delayed.