FF L0V3R

you were halfway through your second protein bar of the day when your phone buzzed for the fifth time in under a minute.

you smiled, shaking your head as the messages kept rolling in. you'd never seen such chaotic energy packed into one group chat but somehow, it worked. and when tiffany had added you to the thread weeks ago, insisting you're part of the girl gang now, duh, you couldn’t say no. not that you’d ever say no to her.

tiffany had been your best friend for a while now, equal parts glamour and sass, with a heart soft enough that she’d only let you see it. between backstage antics, hotel room makeup nights, and long talks during travel days, she had carved out a permanent place in your life. which made the idea of a full-on girls' trip sound both exciting and dangerous.

another ping lit up your phone.

you rolled your eyes, but your stomach flipped anyway. she always did that, said something teasing and totally normal, and yet it somehow made your heart race.

the truth was, this trip was supposed to be about unwinding, letting loose, and soaking up the sun. but deep down, you already knew: this vacation had the potential to change everything.

and something told you it would.

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the airport was madness, rolling suitcases crashing into ankles, lines that didn’t move, and naomi loudly bargaining with a starbucks barista over whether a caramel drizzle counted as an "extra topping." chaos, but the kind you’d expected. the kind you weirdly loved.

tiffany, of course, breezed through security like she owned the terminal. designer sunglasses on indoors, custom pink duffel slung over her shoulder, and not a single strand of her platinum hair out of place.

she turned to look for you, eyes scanning over the crowd until they landed on you at the back of the security line. her smile was instant. with a quick pivot, she strutted right over, ignoring the rule about staying behind the barrier.

"excuse me", she said sweetly to the tsa agent, "but i need to steal her now or she’s going to miss her skincare routine window and we cannot risk that. you’ve seen her under-eye circles. tragic."

you groaned, embarrassed and charmed all at once. "tiff, stop."

the agent just sighed and waved you through like he couldn’t be paid enough to deal with this. tiffany looped her arm through yours once you were free and leaned in close.

"you’re welcome, peasant."

"literally no one asked you to rescue me."

"but everyone wanted me to."

her wink made your face warm, and you quickly looked away, focusing on the gate signs even though you already knew which one you were heading to. seat 13b, right next to tiffany because of course she’d made sure of that.

when you reached the gate, most of the girls were already there. rhea had taken over an entire row of chairs and was pretending to nap under a hoodie. liv and maxxine were filming tiktoks. bianca was scrolling her phone while nia and natalya argued about checked bags versus carry-ons.

"you two finally decided to show up?" bianca smirked as she looked up.

"we were fashionably late" tiffany replied, flipping her hair. "some of us have standards."

naomi grinned. "standards or a crush?"

tiffany’s head snapped around. "excuse me?"

naomi shrugged, biting back a smile. "just saying you talk about her more than you talk about your makeup routine."

your cheeks burned, but you kept your mouth shut, pretending to be very interested in boarding announcements.

tiffany just laughed, her voice light but her eyes flicking toward you for half a second too long. "please. she’s just my emotional support disaster. i can’t travel without her."

you rolled your eyes. "wow, thank you so much."

the group laughed, the moment passing quickly, but not before tiffany’s fingers brushed your hand as you stood shoulder to shoulder in the boarding line.

the plane hadn’t even taken off yet, and the air between you was already charged.

and you had no idea what would happen once you landed.

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the resort looked like something out of a pinterest dream board, palm trees swaying, soft music playing somewhere near the pool, and the scent of sunscreen, coconut, and wealth lingering in the air. you were pretty sure this place cost more per night than your last three months of rent combined.

"okay, okay", liv said, spinning around with her arms stretched out, sunglasses slipping down her nose. "i officially forgive you all for making me wake up at 5 a.m. this is heaven."

"no kidding", maxxine murmured, already snapping selfies in the marble-floored lobby.

you wheeled your bag toward the check-in desk, tiffany trailing behind you. her duffel was slung carelessly over her shoulder, but she still looked like she was walking a red carpet. "this is cute", she said, tapping her long nails against the front desk while she waited for the clerk to sort out the room keys.

"i call a room to myself", rhea announced, plucking a room key from the stack like it owed her money.

natalya and maxxine paired off, followed by liv and nia, then naomi and bianca, the easy duos falling into place one by one until only you and tiffany remained at the counter. the front desk clerk glanced down at her screen again, brows slightly furrowed.

"hmm. it looks like we have one room left with one bed", she said with a polite but tight-lipped smile. "i do apologise, there was an unexpected booking error."

you blinked. "just one bed?"

the girls immediately swarmed like sharks smelling blood.

"oh my god", liv gasped, clutching maxxine’s arm. "you two are going to be roomies"

tiffany just raised one perfectly groomed eyebrow. "and what exactly is the issue? we’ve shared a bed before. get over yourselves."

you opened your mouth to protest, but she was already grabbing the keycard from the desk and tossing her hair. "come on", she said, eyes glinting. "let’s go claim our queen-sized throne."

with your heart racing and the others still snickering behind you, you followed her into the elevator. the mirrored walls didn’t help, you could see the amused smile tugging at her lips, and the way she was very clearly enjoying this.

"you know", you said, trying to sound casual as the elevator doors closed, "they’re never going to let this go."

tiffany leaned back against the wall, arms crossed, eyes locked on yours. "let them talk. i don't care."

the elevator dinged. floor four. you stepped out, luggage in tow, and followed tiffany down the hallway until she stopped at your door. a swipe of the card, a soft beep, and the door creaked open.

and there it was.

one massive, luxurious, sinfully soft-looking bed.

dead centre.

tiffany turned to you, eyes sparkling. "guess we’re cuddling, babe."

your stomach flipped.

you told yourself it was just jet lag. or adrenaline. or maybe the fact that you knew, deep down, this trip was already shifting something between you two.

and it had only just begun.

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the room felt too quiet after the door clicked shut behind you.

outside the balcony doors, you could hear the soft rush of ocean waves and faint music from the pool bar below. but inside? just the steady hum of the ac and the sound of tiffany unzipping her bag like nothing was weird about the giant bed taking up the middle of the room.

you stood awkwardly near the dresser, clutching your phone, trying not to look at the bed. or at her. but she made that impossible.

she tossed her heels into a corner and stripped off her travel jacket, revealing a tiny cropped tank top underneath. "god, i hate flying. my skin’s so dry", she mumbled, already rummaging for her skincare bag.

you glanced over just in time to see her tug her hair into a messy bun, exposing the smooth line of her neck and the delicate shimmer of her collarbone. your mouth went dry.

"i’ll, uh change in the bathroom", you said quickly, grabbing your pyjamas and ducking into the ensuite before your brain could short-circuit.

when you came back out, now in a loose tee and shorts, tiffany was already sitting cross-legged on your side of the bed, glowing under the soft bedside lamp. her skincare was done, her lashes looked unfairly perfect, and she was scrolling her phone like you weren’t standing there having a small, quiet heart attack.

she looked up and smiled. "finally. took you long enough."

you rolled your eyes, but your heart beat a little too fast as you climbed into the bed beside her. the mattress dipped, and your shoulders brushed, just barely but it was enough to send a current straight through you.

tiffany turned off her phone and let it fall to the nightstand. "you good?" she asked, tilting her head toward you.

"yeah. just tired.", you swallowed hard. "you sure you’re okay with this?"

"what, sharing a bed?" she smirked. "please. it’s not like i haven’t cuddled with you on hotel couches before."

"this is a little different."

her eyes held yours a moment too long. "is it?"

you couldn’t answer that. not honestly. not without saying too much.

silence stretched between you, warm and electric. then she shifted down, pulling the blanket over her legs, close enough that her bare knee brushed your thigh. she didn’t move away.

"night", she murmured, her voice soft, but inviting.

"night", you replied, trying not to think about how close her mouth was to yours.

a minute passed. then another. the room darkened, save for the blue light of the alarm clock on the dresser. you turned slightly on your side, facing her, and nearly jolted when you realised she was already looking at you.

tiffany whispered, "you’re staring."

"you were already staring at me."

she smiled in the dark. "yeah. i guess i was."

her hand moved under the blanket, brushing yours. barely there. fingers nudging, testing, waiting. your heart raced so hard it felt like she could hear it.

you didn’t pull away.

she didn’t stop.

your pinkies hooked. and in the quiet space between shared breath and unspoken words, something changed.

something neither of you could take back.

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the sun was merciless in the best way, blazing overhead, glinting off the water, and turning the pool deck into a glowing sprawl of bronzed skin, designer sunglasses, and fruity drinks sweating in the heat.

you were stretched out on a lounger, sunglasses on, one leg dipped lazily into the water. the other girls were scattered nearby, naomi floating in the pool on a neon inflatable, rhea half-asleep in the shade with her hoodie over her face, and liv and maxxine filming some slow-mo video with margaritas in hand.

and then there was tiffany.

She was lounging next to you, of course, in a tiny pale-pink bikini that made everyone look twice and she knew it. her hair was twisted into a sleek top knot, her lips glossed, her skin glowing. but she hadn’t said much. just sat there scrolling her phone with a little wrinkle in her brow every time someone walked too close to your side of the pool.

you didn’t think much of it, not until the bartender showed up.

"hey", he said with a grin, leaning down with a tray. "you ordered the frozen mojito?"

you nodded. "that’s me, yeah. thanks."

he lingered. just a second too long.

"you here on vacation?" he asked, his eyes not exactly sticking to eye contact.

before you could answer, tiffany’s voice slid in, smooth and sharp. "she is. with her girlfriend."

you blinked. "tiff"

but the bartender was already backing up with a polite chuckle. "ah, got it. have a good one, ladies."

he turned and walked off. you sat up slowly, squinting at her.

"girlfriend?" you asked, half-laughing, half-confused.

tiffany didn’t even flinch. "he was gross. you’re welcome."

"okay, he was just being nice."

"he was undressing you with his eyes."

you raised an eyebrow. "so?"

"so i didn’t like it", she said simply, then took a sip of her drink like that ended the conversation.

but it didn’t.

because a few minutes later, a girl, maybe mid-twenties, local, gorgeous, wandered up asking if she could borrow the empty lounger next to you. you told her yes, of course, and struck up a friendly conversation. she was funny, confident, clearly into you and halfway through complimenting your sunglasses when tiffany practically threw herself into the pool with a dramatic splash.

everyone turned. including the girl.

tiffany surfaced, flipping her hair back and flashing her brightest, fakest smile. "god, it’s hot", she said loudly. "come cool off with me, babe."

you blinked. "i'm... talking."

"yeah, i noticed", she said sweetly, her eyes locked on the other girl like a lion daring someone to touch her kill.

it wasn’t subtle. not even close.

you excused yourself from the conversation, tossing a quick "back in a sec" before slipping into the water beside her. it was cool and soft against your skin, but tiffany was boiling.

you swam up close. "are you okay?"

"fine."

"you sure? because you’re acting kinda off"

"i said i’m fine."

her tone softened as soon as she saw the look on your face. "i just didn’t want you getting hit on all day, okay?"

you tilted your head. "why not?"

her eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. her voice dipped lower. "because maybe i like having your attention."

your breath hitched.

but before you could ask what that meant, maxxine cannonballed into the deep end, soaking everyone, and the moment dissolved into laughter and shrieks. tiffany swam away, flashing a grin like she hadn’t just confessed something real.

and you watched her go, pulse pounding, your mojito forgotten on the deck.

because something had shifted.

and you were definitely calling her out next time.

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the room was dim, lit only by the flicker of the tv not that either of you were watching it. some rom-com played in the background, but the dialogue blurred into white noise against the silence between you.

you sat cross-legged on the bed, fresh from a shower, hair still damp and skin warm from the sun. tiffany was across from you, her legs tucked under her, wearing a silk camisole that clung a little too perfectly in the low light. she looked unfair, effortless and like she wasn’t even trying.

but she was quiet.

too quiet.

you glanced at her, finding her already watching you. her brows lifted like you’d caught her doing something scandalous, but she didn’t look away.

"okay", you said, heart starting to pound. "what is it?"

she blinked. "what?"

"you’ve been weird all night."

she hesitated. "i haven’t been weird."

you gave her a look.

she sighed, dragging a hand through her hair, suddenly looking vulnerable. less tiffany stratton, more tiff, the girl who stayed up late whispering with you in hotel rooms and who always offered you the last french fry without admitting it.

"i just", she trailed off, then tried again. "i didn’t like that girl flirting with you today."

you tilted your head. "yeah. i picked up on that."

"i know i was a bitch about it."

you laughed. "a little."

"but it’s only because", she stopped again, then looked at you like the next words might ruin everything. "because i didn’t want her to have something i’ve wanted for a long time."

the words hit like a soft punch to the chest.

you stared. "you what?"

tiffany moved closer across the bed, slow like she was giving you time to stop her. you didn’t.

"i like you", she said, voice quiet but steady. "i want you."

you swallowed hard. "since when?"

"since forever, probably. since the first time you took off your lashes in front of me and didn’t care what you looked like."

that made you laugh, but the tension was still crackling between you, thick and magnetic.

she reached out and took your hand, lacing your fingers together. her thumb brushed along your knuckles, slow and deliberate. "i know i’m a lot. i know i joke too much and hide behind stupid flirting, but i'm not playing right now."

you looked down at your hands, then back at her. "i’m not either."

she smiled, soft, real.

then she leaned in.

and this time you didn’t hesitate.

your lips met hers gently at first, a question waiting to be answered. but then her hand slid into your hair and the kiss deepened, slow, messy, intoxicating. like something both of you had been waiting too long for.

the kiss didn’t stop. it deepened, slow, deliberate, as if tiffany was trying to memorize every way your mouth moved with hers.

her hands had found your waist, fingers pressing lightly into your skin through the fabric of your shirt. and when she pulled you closer, you went without hesitation, your legs sliding across the bed until you were nearly in her lap.

you could feel her heartbeat against your chest.

fast. steady. just like yours.

her lips brushed your jaw, then down to your neck, a soft, teasing trail that made you inhale sharply. "tiff"

she pulled back just enough to look at you. her eyes were dark, pupils wide, her lip gloss long gone.

"you can tell me to stop", she whispered.

you didn’t even let her finish.

instead, you kissed her again, harder this time, hands in her hair, your body aching to close every inch of space between you.

she groaned softly against your mouth and tugged your shirt up, fingertips brushing skin. you helped her, lifting it off and tossing it somewhere across the room without looking. her mouth moved to your shoulder, open and slow, and the feel of her lips against bare skin sent a pulse of heat straight through you.

you hadn’t expected it to feel like this, so urgent, yet so careful. so electric and so safe.

when she guided you gently down onto the pillows, hovering above you, she paused.

"god", she breathed. "you’re gonna ruin me."

your throat tightened. "good."

her laugh was quiet, breathless before she leaned down and kissed you again, deeper this time, hips pressing into yours just enough to make your stomach flip.

hands roamed, hers over your ribs, your waist, her touch equal parts confident and reverent. she wasn’t rushing. she was taking her time, like every moment was something sacred. every sigh, every whisper, every barely-there brush of lips against skin sent sparks dancing along your nerves.

and when her fingers finally dipped beneath your waistband, she hesitated, searching your face.

"still okay?", she asked.

you nodded. "i want this. i want you."

tiffany’s breath caught, just for a second and then she kissed you like she’d been waiting her whole life for it.

and maybe she had.

what happened next didn’t feel like a game, or a fling, or a mistake waiting to happen.

it felt like the beginning of something dangerous. something real.

something you wouldn’t be able to walk away from when the vacation ended.

and you were okay with that.

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the sunlight was soft when you opened your eyes, golden and filtered through gauzy curtains that swayed slightly with the breeze. it should have been too early, but your body was warm, your skin still tingling, and the soft weight draped across your waist was enough to keep you anchored to the bed.

tiffany was still asleep beside you or pretending to be.

her arm was slung around your middle, face tucked into the crook of your neck, one long leg tangled lazily between yours. her breathing was steady, lips brushing your collarbone with each exhale, and her hair smelled like coconut and last night’s conditioner.

you moved slightly, just enough to shift the sheet, and her grip tightened immediately.

"don’t even think about leaving", she mumbled, her voice rough with sleep.

you smiled. "wasn’t planning on it."

she peeked one eye open, smirking as she caught the look on your face. "you’re staring."

"you’re in my personal space."

"you love my personal space", she teased, trailing a finger across your stomach. "don’t lie."

you rolled your eyes, but your cheeks burned. "yeah, okay. maybe a little."

she grinned like she’d won a championship.

the two of you stayed there for a while, limbs tangled, trading soft kisses and lazy touches, like the rest of the world didn’t exist. her lips found your jaw, your shoulder, the edge of your ear, every spot she already seemed to know made you squirm.

"last night wasn’t just a one-time thing, right?", you whispered, not entirely sure if you were ready to hear the answer.

tiffany stilled, then pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. "not even close."

before you could say anything else, there was a sharp knock on the door. then another.

"tiff? you alive in there?" naomi’s voice called, followed by a second knock. "we’re going down for breakfast. and before you lie and say you’re sleeping, i heard things through the wall."

you both froze.

tiffany’s eyes went wide. "she what?"

naomi knocked again. "also, I’m not saying i'm psychic, but i did tell liv this was gonna happen."

you buried your face in the pillow, groaning. tiffany laughed so hard she snorted, then grabbed a pillow and threw it at the door. "go away!"

"ooh, someone’s cranky. that afterglow must be serious."

you heard maxxine cackle somewhere down the hall.

you turned back to tiffany, who looked completely unbothered, stretched across the sheets like the smug goddess she was. "they’re never gonna let us live this down."

she shrugged, leaning in to press a slow kiss to your lips. "let them talk."

and just like that, you forgot about everything else.

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you knew the teasing would start the second you walked into the resort’s café, but you weren’t ready for this.

the group was already gathered at a long table by the windows, half finished mimosas and waffles in front of them. naomi spotted you first and elbowed liv so hard she nearly choked on her orange juice.

"well, well, well, look who finally crawled out of bed", naomi said, dragging out every word like she was narrating an awards show. "how’s your neck feeling?"

your eyes widened. "naomi."

maxxine didn’t even try to be subtle. she pointed at your collarbone, gasped, and leaned toward rhea. "is that a bruise?"

tiffany, who had just slid into the seat beside you, gave them her best fake smile. "try minding your business. or better yet, get a life."

"oh no, we’re invested now", Liv added, grinning. "you can’t spend a week slow-burning through romantic comedy tension and then not give us details."

rhea raised a brow. "pretty sure i heard someone moan last night."

bianca choked on her water.

"that was the tv" tiffany said quickly, a little too quickly.

"sure", naomi deadpanned. "was the tv also the one whispering ‘you’re gonna ruin me’? or was that-"

"okay!" you cut in, face burning. "we get it. we’re predictable. now can we please talk about anything else?"

tiffany turned to you, clearly trying not to laugh. "you’re blushing."

"you bit me", you hissed under your breath.

"and you liked it" she whispered back, smirking.

before you could clap back, the server appeared, young, tall, flirty. He handed out menus and paused in front of you with an extra-wide smile.

"and for you?" he asked, leaning in just a little too close.

you opened your mouth to answer, but tiffany beat you to it.

"she’ll have the same as me", she said sweetly, threading her fingers through yours under the table like it was the most natural thing in the world. "we share everything now."

the guy blinked. "oh. uh okay. cute.”

tiffany smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "isn’t it?"

as he walked away, naomi leaned across the table. "damn. already in the claiming phase?"

tiffany shrugged, unapologetic. "if i’m gonna ruin her, i might as well make it official."

that earned a chorus of groans and one slow clap from liv.

you groaned, covering your face with both hands.

tiffany leaned in close, her lips brushing your ear. "you know they’re gonna be unbearable all week, right?"

"yeah", you said, exhaling a laugh. "but you’re kinda worth it."

her fingers squeezed yours gently under the table. "i better be."

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later you were able to get some time on the beach. just the two of you.

the sun was beginning to set, painting the sky with streaks of orange and pink. the beach was nearly empty now, just the two of you walking along the shore, the water cool and gentle against your bare feet.

tiffany slipped her hand into yours without a word. you didn’t need words. the rhythm of your steps, the softness of the ocean breeze, and the steady warmth of her fingers entwined with yours said everything.

after a long moment, she squeezed your hand and looked over, her usual confident smirk softened into something vulnerable.

"i was scared", she admitted quietly. "of what this could mean. of losing you. of getting hurt."

you stopped walking and turned to face her. "me too."

her eyes glistened as she brushed a stray lock of hair from your face. "but i think this is worth it. worth the risk."

you smiled, heart full. "it’s more than worth it."

she leaned in slowly, resting her forehead against yours. "thank you. for being you. for being patient with me."

you wrapped your arms around her waist, pulling her close. the waves whispered at your feet, the sky blazed behind you, and for the first time, everything felt perfectly, beautifully right.

"always", you whispered.

You’d had your fair share of lovers and experienced more than a good deal of fun. With everyone in the past, climax came the same way, every single time: clitoral stimulation, and clitoral stimulation alone.

By this point in your life, you suspected your g-spot was probably just a figment of your imagination, no more real than Atlantis, Santa Claus or the Tooth Fairy.

That was, until, you met your boyfriend, Simon.

And things had only been official for a week.

You and him had fooled around a handful of times—made love, as he called it, and kissed and cuddled and occasionally dry-humped until the two of you were both panting, groaning messes—but all of this was new. Simon was still learning you, as you were him.

He finished between your tits. You came on his tongue. He fingered you to the point of tears, and you learned how to touch his sac just right to get him to blow his load in seconds. On this night in particular, you were fucking missionary, and holding hands while you did.

Lovesick puppies, Price would say. Neither one of you seemed able to unglue your lips or unlace your fingers or keep your hips from colliding again and again and again in frantic search of the other’s furthest depths. You were perfectly wrapped up, with no desire to move

Except, you needed to reach down between your bodies to actually get off. That was a minor detail.

You didn’t think the man above you would mind if you moved your touch from his, but then that grip tightened the second you tried pulling away.

“Keep it there, lovie. Like holding you like this,” he said.

You enjoyed it, too. It was intimate, and sweet, and with your hands pinned on either side of you, locked securely in his, you felt safe. You just couldn’t finish.

“But I…I need to come,” you whispered against him. You rolled your hips and felt his cock twitch inside you.

Simon grunted, then swallowed. Nodded slowly.

“Yeah. I’ll get you there. Feel this?”

He slid deeper for emphasis.

You didn’t.

You rarely did, or at least not in the way you figured you were supposed to get when something pressed there.

“I think…sort of, yeah,” you hedged your answer.

Don’t bruise his ego, don’t hurt his feelings.

This is all on me, Si, I promise it’s not you.

Cutting in over your thoughts, Simon moved swiftly. Took your hips in his big, strong hands, lifted up, and plunged his cock to the hilt. The girth of him was enough to knock the air out of your lungs, and you felt your walls stretch, sting, and weep sweet liquid warmth around that intrusion. You moaned.

“Better?” The man’s question was simple.

Before you could answer it, he was sliding a pillow underneath your backside. Sawing his long, thick, leaking cock in and out of you, he reached a new spot.

You made a face, feeling good from that but…strange.

Simon snatched your hands up again and planted them beside your head on the mattress. He thrusted steadily. He peppered kisses all over your face and your neck while the bed frame squeaked in time, and you had to dig your heels into his ass to ground yourself.

“Talk to me, baby. Can’t make it better if you don’t.”

“I—I know, I just can’t—”

At the same time, Simon tilted your hips slightly once more, and the tip of his cock kissed something soft and wet and dizzyingly pleasurable inside your body. A loud, embarrassing cry slipped out between your lips.

You wanted to clap a hand over your mouth, hating the way you’d just sounded, but your fingers were stuck to his. Simon grinned down at you, toothy and approving.

“Can’t do what, now, darlin’?”

The warm, bulbous head of his cock had found its mark, and he just kept prodding that spot, like it entertained him to do it. The fingers laced between your own constricted their grip even more, and Simon leaned down to kiss you while his cock carved a mind-numbing path. In between kisses, he praised you.

“That’s my girl. She’s likin’ it now, isn’t she?”

“Feel good when my cock hits that spot?”

“Your pussy’s fuckin’ soakin’ me, baby.”

But still, somehow, it just wasn’t quite enough.

Maybe you’d never found that place after all.

This was where most men gave up—after a few good minutes of fucking when their balls had gotten to be as swollen as stones and their bodies were aching for release, more often than not, they’d go off chasing their own high. That was when you usually started rubbing your clit, or waited for your partner to finish so they could get you off with their tongue or something.

You hated to feel like a burden, and you really despised the thought of being the reason your sweet Simon couldn’t get to orgasm. So you squirmed again.

Straining to reach down, to try and touch yourself, you whimpered, “Si, please, it just—it takes me too long—”

“Good thing we’ve got all night,” Simon replied bluntly.

Then, once again, he twisted your bodies like you were as soft and malleable as putty in his hands, and this time, he hitched one of your legs around his hip, high.

With one slow-rolling thrust and an audibly squelching sound, Simon’s cock stretched your hole to maximum capacity, and then a little more. Your juices leaked down his shaft, aiding the slide, and he stabbed in a few shallow strokes. Probing. Testing the waters, as if he were trying to find something hidden inside you.

You sucked in a breath. Simon’s gaze slid to yours.

“Let’s find that precious spot, lovie. Easy, now.”

Gently coaxing your body open, he drove a slow, measured pace. He split your cunt like it was the easiest thing in the world, delving within your wet, velvety heat to tease every contour and crevice of your pussy. His tip leaked precome. His balls glistened in your arousal and landed with the gentlest plap, plap, plaps while he explored your insides with his member.

It really was as simple as that, nothing more and nothing less than poking around. Having patience.

“S-Si,” you stammered, nose wrinkling slightly.

“What’s’at, baby? Got something to tell me?”

Like a teacher, almost, he pressed for more.

Like his cock was showing you something new about your body but he needed your help to tell him just how and where to find it, Simon took care to be kind. He smoothed a hand over the crown of your head and then cradled the back of it, one massive set of fingers splayed out against your skull and engulfing it wholly.

He still held onto your other hand tight.

Your cunt pulsed. Ached. Fluttered around him.

Stuffed to the brim, you had only to feel, and murmur:

“Higher.”

“Higher?”

“Um, to the…to the left.”

Simon tilted his hips left.

Yes.

That was just it. So close.

Almost…

Or, maybe…

“Maybe it just…isn’t there,” you huffed out, deflating. “Know you’re trying so hard, baby, but I think I can’t—”

Then Simon hit the same spot as before, only higher.

Just like you’d told him: to the left, and then…

“Oh, fuck,” you cursed. “Oh, fuckfuckfuck.”

The grin above you stretched even wider.

“There, lovie?” Simon goaded you on.

“Right there.” You nodded furiously.

A wave of pleasure swept through your limbs, from your core down to the soles of your feet. Your toes curled, and you squeaked, feeling Simon’s cock graze that soft, spongy, sensitive place—except he’d pushed in deeper. The sensation made your eyes roll back.

“Little dove doesn’t mind my pokin’ after all, huh?” Simon’s words were a tease, but you heard a strain in them, too. The second you were caught in the throes of real pleasure, your cunt must’ve clamped like a vice.

“Keep…keep pokin’, Si,” you choked out. “I like it.”

Your lover kept at it—poking from the inside.

The routine almost felt like losing your virginity all over again, together. Simon cradled your head, told you how good you were doing, how sweet you were for him, and you whimpered under his hold. Squirmed and clung to him for dear life, then kissed him feverishly.

Simon’s mouth was hard and hungry, his thrusts deep. His cock throbbed within the wet, clenching confines of your pussy, and he seemed to be going wild at the feeling. With the idea that he was driving you wild, too.

You realized as much when he whispered it to you.

“Could lose my bloody mind when you’re like this—” Another sharp, labored breath. Another shudder passing through his body when your insides squeezed. “—so why didn’t you talk? Ask for what you needed?”

Your voice was small. “Didn’t wanna be a bother.”

Your eyes were locked with Simon’s, and in his irises, you caught a shade of concern. It flared, hot as anything, then mixed with disbelief. Disappointment.

“Don’t be angry, Si, I—” you started, hurried.

“‘M’not.” Simon blinked. But he gritted his teeth, and he withdrew his cock until the head was bumping and teasing between your folds, then he shook his head. “It’s those fuckin’ pricks who should be sorry, yeah?”

The ones that you’d been with before.

You wanted to protest, insist that you were at least partly to blame, but you never got the opportunity.

Simon was back inside you in a blink.

Hitting that same spot again, and again, and again.

He grinned, the tic of a muscle in his jaw telling you that he was less amused this time around, but proud.

Vindicated.

“Well. It’s not like they’re ever gettin’ a chance in between these pretty legs again, are they, lovie?”

You nodded in agreement.

You smiled back at him, only to have that gentle curve falter a little when you felt Simon’s thrusts accelerate.

“Only thing that’s gonna touch this spot other’n my cock is my seed, splatterin’ all over your walls, right?”

When he gave a playful nip to your lower lip and squeezed your hand tighter, you knew that he meant it. The man had plunged so deep inside you that his pubic bone was now grinding against your skin, and the rest of him was buried. His balls, all full and warm and heavy with his release, rested firmly in your cleft.

And the steady, measured strokes of his cock landed with near-surgical precision on the G-spot you’d convinced yourself up until tonight didn’t exist.

Simon beamed. You were overcome with ecstasy.

“This it, lovie? This spot right ‘ere?” he cooed.

His cock bobbed against that gummy and indescribably dizzying place, causing your last moan to morph into something more akin to a shriek.

You nodded your head: “Y-Yes. Yes.”

“Feel good when I hit it?”

“Fucking perfect, Si.”

You sighed when the man bottomed out for what felt like the millionth time, and the pleasure never waned. He felt just as good now as he did when he first got in.

“Yeah? Gonna come on my cock then, pretty girl?”

“Yeah. I’m— I’m so close.”

“Go on then, love.”

And, shortly, you did.

Maybe three, four, five more stabs of his cock to your most precious, intimate place and you were unraveling beneath him, stars bursting in your line of vision. It seemed dramatic to say, but that was really what it came to—your mouth hanging open, eyes wide, gaze peering into Simon’s while he fucked you through the most intense orgasm of your life. You clung to him, and your walls spasmed again and again and again, milking the man’s release in the next few seconds. Simon shuddered and grit his teeth as he unloaded a thick, gooey load inside, dousing that spongy, body-numbing spot and then some. The two of you moaned in unison.

Your body was boneless, your head a hazy mess.

It took several seconds for your conscious mind to come back online fully, and when it did, Simon was leaning in again and planting kisses along your face.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, breath fanning hot across your skin. “My perfect girl. You did so good.”

You smiled and caught his mouth for a proper kiss.

“Thank you,” you murmured against him.

Then Simon squeezed your hand—the one he’d been holding this entire time. He lifted it gently, like he was afraid too rough of a movement might split you in two.

He turned your wrist and kissed the back of your hand, eyes locked on yours and expression soft while he did.

It wobbled, catching on an ashtray on the edge of the space, before it slowed from one face, to another, then—

Jack.

You would’ve thought a gaggle of crows had just found their way into the living room at the sound that erupted from the corner of the room.

Natalie and Toby lost it.

Natalie slapped the back of Jack’s head with a loud smack while Toby howled, kicking his leg higher over Jack’s thigh as if he needed the extra support to keep from falling over laughing. Jack didn’t look the least bit impressed. He sat there between them on the loveseat pushed into the corner, his absent sockets pointed blankly at the bottle, its tip completely motionless and aimed right at him.

You felt a pit form deep in your stomach.

Being locked in a closet with the resident cannibal suddenly felt a lot less like a fun party game and a lot more like a very bad idea.

People started whooping and cheering, especially Toby and Natalie, who were still losing their minds. Jack slowly stood up, shrugging both of them off like they weighed nothing. They tumbled dramatically into the arms of the loveseat, still cracking up and clutching their ribs as they reached for each other.

“Good luck, big guy,” Natalie wheezed, wiping tears from her good eye. “You’re gonna die in there.”

Toby pointed at you with one shaky hand, laughing so hard he could hardly sit up right. “Don’t let him eat you!”

You glanced around the room, hoping for even a scrap of mercy, but everyone else was either grimacing in sympathy or grinning like this was the funniest thing they’d seen all night. Jeff and Ben looked especially pleased with themselves.

Jack rounded the coffee table without so much as a word. His tall frame cast a long shadow over you as he came to a stop right in front, staring down with his blank gaze. The black voids of his eyes seemed to swallow the light from the lights overhead. He didn’t say anything. He didn’t need to.

Until, “C’mon.”

You nodded quickly and pushed yourself up from the floor, legs a little unsteady. Jack turned without another word and started down the hallway. You followed a few steps behind him, fingers picking nervously at the hem of your shirt. The moment you left the living room, you heard Jeff yell over the noise, “Ben. Music.”

The music rushed in seconds later—loud, gritty rock blasting through the busted speakers twice as loud as before, the bass rattling the old floorboards under your feet.

The walk down the hall felt longer than it should have. Jack’s broad shoulders took up most of the space, his steps quiet and even like a cat. When he reached the closet door, he opened it and stepped aside.

You stopped a few feet away, looking up at him. The overhead light in the hallway cast strange shadows over his face, making the black eyesockets look even deeper.

Jack gave a nod toward the inside of the closet. One of his ears twitched against his head as he spoke, “After you.”

You swallowed, nodded back, and stepped past him. Reaching up, you tugged the pull chain. The bare bulb clicked on overhead with a hum, washing the small space in weak yellow light.

It was smaller than you remembered. Way smaller. The coats hanging on the rod ruffled against your shoulders as soon as you stepped in, and the stacks of old boxes and junk left barely enough room to stand.

Behind you, Jack had to duck. He placed one large hand on the top of the doorframe and bent down to fit through, his frame nearly filling the entire doorway before he stepped fully inside. The door pulled shut behind him.

The music outside dulled to a rumbling, muffled thump.

Now it was just the two of you.

The closet felt even tighter with Jack in it. He had to keep his head slightly lowered so it wouldn’t hit the hanging rod, his shoulders almost touching both walls. You stood with your side pressed against the coats and your back shoved against the wall, your heart beating fast as you looked up at him.

He was tall—always had been—but in the cramped little closet he seemed enormous. The light overhead cast a sickly yellow glow over him, highlighting every unsettling detail. His muted gray skin, almost ashen in places, stretched tight over sharp cheekbones and a strong jaw. Pointed ears poked up through messy dark hair, occasionally flicking and twitching once he straightened as much as the low ceiling would allow. You’d occasionally catch the gleam of his sharp teeth between his lips or the flash of his claws when he moved.

He looked… bigger in here. Like the walls had shrunk just to make him seem more imposing.

And then there were his eyes.

Or rather, the places where his eyes should have been. Nothing but deep, endless black voids stared back at you. In the dim light, they looked infinite—like if you leaned in too close, you might fall forever into that darkness and never get out. It was unnerving. And strangely hard to look away from. Like all the awe and horror of a black hole swallowing a planet.

He was dressed simply in baggy black sweatpants and an oversized blue shirt that still somehow looked tight across his broad shoulders and chest. You think he tried to dress as normally as possible to offset everything else that was jarring about him… or maybe this was just all that fit his size.

You swallowed, pressing your back a little more into the adjacent wall.

“…Are you comfortable?” You fished for something to talk about.

Jack grunted, “Mhm.”

That was it.

You racked your brain for something—anything—to say, your fingers twisting together nervously.

“So… uh, how’s your night been going?” you tried.

“Fun.”

You nodded awkwardly. “The party got pretty wild after that fight, huh?”

He gave a nod.

You waited. Nothing else came. You think you could die.

You tried once more, voice a little more chipper. “You, um… you like playing these kinds of parties usually, or…?”

“Sure.”

You let out a small, nervous laugh and looked down at your hands. Talking to Jack had never been easy, but this felt like pulling teeth. The seven minutes had barely started, and the silence already felt suffocating. Jack remained perfectly still, towering over you, content to simply exist while you slowly unraveled under the weight of this encounter.

“So… what have you—”

“Calm down,” Jack cut in.

You blinked, caught off guard. “What?”

He let out a chuckle, the sound surprisingly warm. “Your heartbeat. It’s pounding so loud it’s giving me a headache. It’s gonna explode if you keep that up.”

Your face burned. You pressed a hand to your chest without thinking, feeling the frantic thud against your palm. The embarrassment made it worse.

“I—I can’t just make it stop,” you sounded exasperated.

“Yes, you can,” Jack replied simply. “You’re just not trying.”

You rolled your eyes, letting out a short laugh. “Fuck off. Quit with the weird body shit.”

Jack tilted his head, looking at your sideways. Then, in a dry, surprisingly sarcastic tone, he said, “Oh, sorry. Didn’t realize the doctor had to cut it with the ‘weird body shit.’ How many times have you come down to my room after a mission asking for painkillers again? Oh yeah… a lot.”

You stared at him, genuinely surprised. A laugh bubbled out of you before you could stop it.

“Wait… was that sarcasm? From you?”

Jack’s shoulders moved in a small shrug, the corners of his mouth pushing up just a bit.

“I have layers,” he said flatly.

“I didn’t know you could be funny.”

Jack hummed. “There’s a lot you don’t know.”

You shrug, picking at your fingers as you looked at the ground. “Maybe it’s because you’re always so quiet. People can get intimidated.”

“People are usually scared of me. Easier to stay quiet.”

The words were simple, matter-of-fact, but they landed with a strange weight in your chest that made you look back up at him.

“I’m not scared of you,” you said after a beat. It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t entirely false either.

“You’re a terrible liar,” he chuckled.

You laughed despite yourself, the sound a little nervous but genuine. “Okay, maybe a little. But not… not like that. Not the way people usually are.”

He didn’t respond right away. The music outside pulsed dully through the walls, the bass vibrating faintly under your feet. Jack shifted his stance, trying to get a little more comfortable in the tiny space, and ended up closer to you than before. The warmth coming off him was noticeable.

“You’re shaking a bit,” he said quietly.

You hadn’t even noticed. You crossed your arms over your chest and tried to play it off. “It’s cold in here.” But that was a lie. If anything, it was just below sweltering.

“Semantics.” Jack hummed, clearly not believing you. But he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned one shoulder against the wall, giving you a little more room—or at least trying to.

It got quiet again.

For nearly a full minute, the only sounds were the muffled thump of music outside and the occasional creak of the old floorboards whenever one of you shifted. Your mind wandered to the living room—wondering what kind of shit was unfolding now, who was winning at whatever stupid game they’d moved on to, whether Toby and Natalie were still laughing their heads off about you and Jack being stuck in here together or if someone else had voiced their opinions on it.

Then Jack spoke very matter-of-factly. “See? There it goes.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your heart,” he said. “It’s calm now. You did it.”

You let out a small breath, almost laughing. “Ah… I didn’t really try to do it, though. It just… happened on its own.”

Jack huffed, he almost sounded amused. “Semantics.”

You rolled your eyes. “You can’t just say ‘semantics’ every time I make a point.”

“I can,” he replied, completely deadpan. “And I will.”

“Jack.”

“Semantics.”

“Jack.”

“Semantics.”

“This is very demeaning, y’know.”

“Semantics.”

You laughed at him. You were about to tease him again when Jack suddenly let out a chuckle—wait, a laugh? Not the short, dry sound he usually made with little amusement, but something warmer that bubbled up and out of his chest. His mouth curved into a wide, toothy grin, his sharp teeth gleaming like little pearls. His eyelids squeezed shut over his sockets as he laughed, and you found the sight so odd, like pulling a curtain over some void and trying to pretend it wasn’t there.

The sight caught you completely off guard. You’d never seen him smile like that—so open and genuine, almost boyish. It made something flutter oddly in your chest.

You laughed with him before you could stop yourself, surprised and delighted all at once. “What? What’s so funny?”

Jack just shook his head, still smiling big. “Nothing. You’re just… funny.”

You stared at him for a second, still processing the expression on his face. Then the question slipped out before you could think better of it.

“Jack… are you drunk?”

It was quiet again for a beat, until Jack let out a deep chuckle. The sound started delighted but quickly turned sheepish when you asked.

“No way,” you gawked, eyes wide.

Jack shrugged one broad shoulder. “Is it so obvious?”

You shook your head, still smiling. “No, it’s just… funny. This is probably the most I’ve ever heard you talk. And you’re being sarcastic? I thought, either that or you’re tripping.”

He laughed again and you couldn’t help but laugh with him, a little stunned. You’d never seen him like this.

“I barely even saw you drink tonight,” you added, tilting your head. “How did you manage that?”

Jack didn’t answer right away. Instead, that smile on his face shifted from one cheek to the other as he looked down at you. Something about the way he was watching you made your stomach flip with nerves again.

Then, without a word, he lifted his hands.

You watched, frozen, as his large gray hands curled under the hem of his baggy shirt. He slowly pulled it up, just high enough to expose his midsection. Your eyes widened.

God, he was built. Thick, solid muscle sat under muted gray skin, abs clearly defined and right above a deep v-line etched into his just-visible pelvis. A dark trail of hair disappeared down into the waistband of his sweatpants. You felt a little dizzy just looking at him.

But then your gaze caught on something much brighter.

Tucked neatly into the waistband of his sweatpants, wrapped all the way around his torso like some ridiculous colorful bandolier, were about two handfuls of little 99 brand alcohol shooters. Tiny bottles in every color—cherry red, lime green, coconut, orange, grape—all strapped against his skin, hidden right under his shirt.

You gawked at it.

Jack glanced down at himself, then back at you, still holding his shirt up. He must have noticed you staring at the colorful little bottles strapped around his waist, because he let out a low huff of a laugh and explained, “Toby and Nat ransacked a gas station right before the party started. They stole a whole bunch of these and hid them on me. Said it was the best way to keep them from getting passed around.”

You blinked, connecting the dots. “So that’s why you three have been glued together all night.

Jack gave a small nod. “They keep sneaking me into corners or bedrooms so nobody gets nosy and asks for any. Works pretty well.”

That also explained why Toby and Natalie had been so cuddly and hysterical—they were definitely beyond wasted by now.

“There were a lot more two hours ago,” Jack added, almost wistful.

Your eyes kept drifting between the little shooters and the hard planes of his torso, the contrast between the silly colorful bottles and his gray, muscled skin making your brain fizzle out a little.

Jack huffed. “Your heart’s loud again.”

You startled, pressing a hand to your chest like that would somehow quiet it. “Sorry. I’m trying.”

He reached down and plucked one of the shooters from his waistband—a bright cherry red one. The tiny bottle looked comically small in his large, clawed hand. He held it out toward you.

You waved him off. “I’ve had enough tonight, really.”

Jack’s mouth curved into a small, toothy smile. “As your doctor,” he said, deadpan, “it’s in your best interest that you drink this.”

You let out a surprised laugh. “As my doctor?”

A low growl rumbled in his chest, all gravely, and dark, and way more effective than it had any right to be. Every hair on your body stood on end.

“Drink it,” he said, quieter this time, but no less daunting.

You swallowed, took the little bottle from his hand, and twisted the cap off. It snapped open with a tiny clicks. You brought it to your lips and downed it in one go.

It burned.

God, it burned—like liquid fire sliding down your throat, sharp and sweet and way too strong. You winced, your eyes watering as the intense wave of alcohol hit your system. You hissed sharply as it went down, immediately tossing the empty shooter to the floor. “Jesus Christ, Jack—that tastes like rubbing alcohol.”

Jack laughed, then reached down and plucked a coconut-flavored one from his waistband, twisted the cap off, and downed it in one smooth motion. His pointed ears pressed back against his head as he swallowed, and then—to your viewing pleasure—three slick, dark tongues slipped out from between his sharp teeth. They curled around his lips, cleaning what he missed before disappearing again.

You stared, a little dazed.

The words left your mouth before your brain could convince yourself that you shouldn’t say anything.

“…Do things taste better with three tongues?”

Jack paused, considering the question like it was a serious inquiry. Then he shrugged one broad shoulder.

“It feels more intense,” he said plainly. “Like the taste is tripled. Overwhelms your senses more.”

Your heart skipped a beat in your chest.

Jack’s head tilted, his ears twitching a couple times. He must have heard it, because his gaze stayed fixed on you for a long second.

“…Can I taste yours?” he asked, just barely grumbling.

You blinked. “I already drank it all.”

Jack’s mouth curved into a wonky, toothy grin. The realization hit you just as the alcohol did.

Oh.

The buzz finally crashed over you in a warm, dizzy wave. Your heartbeat suddenly felt loud in your own ears, muffled like the music outside. You wondered if this was what Jack always heard when he was around people—that constant, frantic drumming. It made you wonder what else he could hear.

He shifted his weight onto the leg closest to you, leaning in until the space between you felt almost nonexistent. His shadow fell over you immediately like a stormcloud.

“You can taste mine too,” he purred.

You opened your mouth to say something—“Um—”—but your foot caught the edge of a box next to you. You stumbled, your balance completely gone.

Jack moved faster than you could see.

One strong arm hooked under your side and hauled you upright before you could even gasp, pulling you flush against his chest. Your hands instinctively grabbed onto his arms, your fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt.

“Sorry—” you started, breathless.

Jack just grumbled. His hands settled heavy on your hips, holding you steady as he leaned down over you, his face hovering just above yours. The closeness made your heart stutter all over again.

You looked up at him, still gripping his arms. “I’m not a good kisser,” you whispered, pulling uselessly at straws to not make this seem awkward.

Jack’s response was immediate and blunt.

“Shut up,” he muttered. “Open your mouth.”

The command sent a shiver down your spine. You tilted your face up obediently, lips parting.

Jack leaned in closer. His own lips parted, and three slick, warm tongues slid out from between his sharp teeth. They brushed your lips first—tasting the area—before one of them pressed forward and licked into your lips and across your tongue.

Then he kissed you.

It was overwhelming.

The three tongues moved with a mind of their own, sliding against yours, curling around it, exploring every inch of  your mouth like they were starving for the taste of you. One licked along the roof of your mouth while another tangled with your tongue, the third teasing the space inbetween. The sensation was too much and not enough all at once, your hands moving up his arms to his shoulders to pull him closer.

A soft, surprised sound escaped you, muffled against his mouth. Jack answered with a low rumble in his chest, one hand sliding up your back to keep you pressed close while the other stayed firm on your hip.

He kissed like he did everything else—completely consuming.

You tasted coconut.

Jack pressed you back until your shoulder blades met the wall, one large hand planting beside your head while the other gripped your hip and pulled your lower body forward. The angle made your back arch slightly toward him. Then his hips rolled forward, and you felt the unmistakable, heavy shape of him pressing against your hip through his sweatpants.

You gasped sharply into his mouth and pushed weakly at his chest. “Sorry—” he slurred through a mouthful of you.

But Jack only tightened his grip on your hip and tugged you closer, grinding you against him with all the lack of resistance he had. His three tongues never stopped moving, overwhelming as they curled around yours and licked along the roof of your mouth, teasing the inside of your cheeks. You tried to kiss him back the best you could, but it was hard to keep up. Your breathing quickly turned shallow, little gasps and whimpers slipping out between the messy slide of tongues.

You’d never seen Jack like this.

He was usually so quiet, so reserved and mysterious. But right now he was surprisingly blunt, almost greedy with the things he was saying. This was probably the most you’d ever heard him talk, and you couldn’t get enough of it. The low growls, the occasional muttered curse, the way his voice dropped when he felt you react to him… it was doing dangerous things to your buzzed head.

You found yourself getting lost in those endless black voids where his eyes should be. The anxiety and embarrassment that had been clawing at your chest slowly melted away, like he was draining it out of you with every pass of his tongues and every roll of his hips.

Jack pulled back just enough to speak against your lips.

“Slow your breathing down,” he murmured, almost teasing you. One of his tongues slid across your bottom lip. “Still nervous?”

You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling tighter into his shirt.

“A little,” you admitted. Then, quieter, “Don’t stop.”

Jack made a deep, pleased sound in the back of his throat. His hand on your hip squeezed harder as he leaned back in, tongues sliding back into your mouth with renewed hunger. His hips pressed forward again, letting you feel just how hard he was against you. His lips eventually left yours, trailing slowly across your cheek, then down to your jaw. When they reached your neck, he pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss there before dragging one of his tongues along your skin. The sensation made you shiver.

His hand left the wall and came up to the back of your head, his fingers threading into your hair as he firmly tilted your head to the side, giving himself more room. He licked wet, warm stripes up the side of your neck, then sucked just below your ear.

You gasped, your hands flying up to grip his shoulders. A nervous flutter shot through your chest as the reality of who he was hit you again.

“…Jack,” you breathed, half-joking but not entirely, “are you gonna eat me?”

He paused, his lips still pressed against your neck, before he begins chuckling against you.

“If you’ll let me,” he murmured against your skin, his breath causing goosebumps to rise across your shoulders. Your knees went weak instantly. A rush of heat flooded through you so fast it made you dizzy.

Jack must have felt it, because he straightened up, pulling back just enough to look down at you. One of his hands stayed on your hip, steadying you.

“You have no idea how brilliant your anatomy is,” he said plainly, as if he was just stating a fact. “I don’t mean to be crude… but your structure is perfect. I could map every inch of you with my eyes closed.”

You let out a startled laugh, your cheeks burning. The words were grotesque and strangely flattering at the same time.

“You can’t even see anyway,” you pointed out, still laughing a little. “Doesn’t that already mean you’re doing it with your eyes closed?”

“Kinda. It’s more like I’m looking through layers of thick film. Everything’s… foggy. I don’t understand it any better than you do. I stopped questioning how my body works a long time ago.”

You grinned, feeling bolder. “I don’t think you could actually do it without seeing. So what if you went to Yale, I’m still not that impressed with you.”

Jack’s hand lifted from the wall and reached above his head, his fingers finding the dangling pull chain of the overhead bulb.

You glanced up. “What are you doing?”

“So you know I’m not cheating,” he said simply.

He gave the chain a tug.

Click.

The light went out.

The closet plunged into near-total darkness, save for the thin sliver of hallway light bleeding in from under the door. For a second, your eyes struggled to adjust. And then you saw him.

In the dark, Jack was… horrifying.

The little light from beneath the door only barely outlined his silhouette, but it was enough. He looked like something that had crawled out of the woods at night—like something that you’d see in a horror movie. You understood his reputation, the stories you’ve heard from others about the things they witnessed the demon do, but you’d never faced the reality of it until now—never gotten a full picture of what he really was. His gray skin seemed to drink in what little light there was. The sharp points of his ears angled and swiveled to bumps and creaks all around. His claws curled at his sides, clenching the air as his shoulders slumped to account for the little space, his frame hanging over you. And those empty black sockets… they looked like holes punched straight through the sky. Bottomless. Ancient. You think they’d drop off like a cliff if you leaned any closer.

If you were anyone else, anywhere else—especially in the woods at night—you would’ve screamed and ran.

But you weren’t. Instead, you found yourself leaning closer.

Jack stepped in, pulling you against him with one arm around your waist. His mouth found your neck again, hot and wet as he kissed and licked along the flushed skin.

Then he began to map you. His fingers and lips moved carefully along your skin, until he pressed a kiss just beneath your ear.

“This is your Sternocleidomastoid,” he murmured against your skin, His clawed fingers traced the muscle on the other side of your neck, following the muscles shape. “Runs from here… to here.”

He dragged his mouth lower, his lips peppering your collarbone as his fingers followed.

“Clavicle,” he said, pressing lightly on the bone. “Deltoid…” His hand slid over your shoulder, squeezing the thick muscle there. “You hold so much tension right here.”

You shivered, little gasps and sighs as he massaged and traced areas. He had to maneuver you a bit, tugging you closer to his chest as he leaned down further. His fingers trailed down your side, his digits finding their way under your shirt until you felt them along your goosebumped skin. “External oblique…” His hand slid behind your back. “Latissimus dorsi…” Another kiss, lower this time, his teeth nipping as he moved. “You’re so well-built. Everything fits together so nicely.”

Jack’s hand slid down your arm until he caught your wrist. He lifted it and pressed a kiss to the thin skin on the inside, right where your pulse beat frantically.

“Right here,” he kissed it once more. “This vein runs straight to your heart.”

You thought it embarrassing how much you were shivering.

Then he moved his head lower, trailing his mouth down to your chest. He kissed you through your shirt, before slipping his hand from your back to your abdomen under your shirt. You felt shaky and exposed and way too vulnerable.

Jack’s claws curled and pressed in just a fraction at one specific point on your side, the sharp tips teetering on the idea of pressing further.

“This is your spleen,” he said with a little smile in his voice. “If I pressed any harder… I could puncture it. You’d bleed out quickly internally. It’d be so messy.”

He let the words settle in your head.

“Isn’t that interesting?” he whispered. “One little slip… and it could all be over.”

Anxiety twisted sharply in your stomach. But underneath it, something much darker and hotter stirred. Excitement. A sick, dizzy kind of thrill that made your thighs press together.

Jack noticed, because why-fucking-wouldn’t he? His claws dragged down your skin as his hand dipped lower, slipping toward the waistband of your pants. You grabbed his shoulders tightly.

“Wait—Jack, we don’t have much time,” you warned, looking to the door. “It’s gotta be almost seven minutes.”

He stopped for a second, only to chuckle to himself and lean back in, pushing a kiss against your jaw. Then, “I don’t think you really care,” he smiled. “Your body sure doesn’t.”

You whined as Jack’s hands roamed down your hips and around to your lower back, pulling you closer with a coaxing tug that said ‘I wasn’t really asking’. The heat of his palms bled through your clothes, making your skin prickle and scorch in spots.

“Shit,” you cursed under your breath, your nerves spiking to an all time high. “We can’t do this here—”

Jack just grinned at you. “It’s not me you’re gonna have to worry about getting us caught.”

You didn’t have time to ask what he meant.

His hands slid down and grabbed your ass, squeezing firmly. You squeaked, your hips jerking forward as you gripped the front of his shirt like a vice. Jack let out a satisfied noise and moved you exactly how he wanted—strong enough that you couldn’t have resisted even if you tried.

He spun you slightly, pressing your back more firmly against the wall as his fingers worked open the button and zipper of your jeans. The fabric gave way easily under his hands, the hem of your underwear peaking through the now-open folds. With one smooth tug, he shoved your jeans down your hips, letting them bunch around your thighs. The cool air hit your exposed skin and you shivered, trying to catch the breath that was so suddenly knocked out of you. Jack stood as straight as he could and examined his meal.

“Ah… fuck—just be fast, please,” you hissed.

Jack stood as tall as the low ceiling would allow, looking down at you by the bridge of his nose. And as if you couldn’t feel any smaller, he chuckled at you.

“You sure did give in quickly,” he hummed with satisfaction.

Embarrassment flooded your face. You squirmed against the wall, refusing to meet the place where his eyes should be. “Shut up and get on with it,” you grumbled, heat crawling up your neck.

Jack leaned in closer, planting one large hand on the wall beside your head. His other hand trailed down your side, then to your hip, before his fingertips drug over your stomach until they pressed firmly just above your pelvis. You tensed. Your hips tilted forward instinctively, fighting against the awkward bunch of your jeans still caught around your thighs.

His hand continued lower, stopping just above your clit, his palm hovering over the damp fabric of your panties. He leaned down until his mouth brushed your ear. “You’re in no place to get bossy right now,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

Then he pressed one thick finger between your folds, right over your soaked panties. The fabric clung to you, and the moment his finger slid along your slit, it came away slick with your arousal. Jack kissed the edge of your jaw, peppering your skin, before pulling back just enough to look down between your bodies. A pleased sound escaped him.

“Well… this is a nice surprise,” and you could practically hear how pleased he was with himself.

You groaned in embarrassment and wrapped your arms tightly around his broad shoulders, burying your burning face into the side of his neck instead of letting him see you. His shirt smelled so strongly of his warm, crisp scent that it made you dizzy, but you’d rather hide from his taunting than pretend like it wasn’t turning you on something terrible. He could at least whisper it in your ear seductively, like a gentleman.

Jack’s finger continued rubbing exploratory circles over your clit, testing different pressures and angles to see how your body reacted. Every time he found a spot that made your hips roll or your breath punch out of you, he lingered there.

“You’re so sensitive,” he murmured, trying to sound plain, but the thrill in his voice gave away how much he was enjoying this. “Look at you… getting even wetter every time I touch you.”

“Shut up,” you whined, the words muffled against his shoulder.

“But I like it,” he hummed softly. “I like how your body tells me what you won’t.”

“Because you’d tease me,” you tried not to sound as pathetic as you felt.

Jack’s voice felt like somebody dragging a hot brand across your skin. “But you’d enjoy it, wouldn’t you?”

You didn’t answer. You couldn’t. The words got stuck somewhere between your pride and the heat scorching low in your belly.

Jack made a hum of acknowledgement, like he’d expected exactly that. His finger slipped beneath the edge of your panties, tugging the damp fabric to the side and exposing you to the air. You gripped him tighter, fearing if you’d let go you’d fall off the earth somehow.

He teased you—because why-fucking-wouldn’t he—dragging the pad of his finger along your folds, then higher up your inner thigh, then back again. But all so slow. He was enjoying how you tried (and failed) to stay still and not look desperate, your hips following wherever you felt his warm digits.

You pinched his shoulder in frustration.

Jack pinched you back, right on your upper thigh, “Impatient.”

“We don’t have time,” you nearly growled.

“Alright, alright,” he cooed.

Just as Jack’s fingers started honing toward your entrance, right when you thought he was finally going to give you what you wanted, you heard it. Heavy footsteps thumping down the hallway toward the two of you.

Your eyes flew open. Panic shot through you like ice water being poured over your head. You shoved at his chest, stumbling frantically, “Jack— I told you—”

But he didn’t stop.

Jack straightened up slightly, looking down at you like he always fucking did. His face was unreadable, but the corner of his mouth pulled up like he was amused. You tried to push his hand away, but he simply pressed forward, two thick fingers now sliding through your soaked folds and teasing at your entrance again.

“Jack—” you whisper-yelled, thinking maybe he thought you were still playing around, “we’re going to get caught—”

The footsteps grew louder, right outside the door now. Voices and laughter followed. But Jack brought his free hand up to his mouth in a little “shhh” motion, his pointer finger pressing to his lips. Then, without missing a beat, he reached beside him with that same hand and cracked the closet door open just an inch, enough for his face and upper torso to be visible while the rest of you stayed hidden against the wall and him.

Natalie and Toby’s voices burst through immediately.

“J!” Natalie called, clearly still drunk and delighted if the swimminess of her voice was any idea. “Time’s uuuup.”

Toby was laughing so hard he could barely speak, although nothing was really happening at the moment to warrant all the hysterics. “Is the poor thing still—HA—alive?”

But even still, Jack didn’t stop.

The tip of one thick finger pushed against your entrance, and before you could make a move to stop him, it pushed slowly into your aching cunt, stretching you open as you stood there, trapped between the wall and his body. You slapped a hand over your mouth instantly, eyes wide with panic and overwhelming pleasure as he sank the finger deeper, curling it lazily against your walls.

“Yeah,” Jack answered them, his voice back to its monotonous tone. “Alive. Barely.”

You clapped your hand over your mouth as his finger pumped in and out slowly, slick sounds barely masked by the loud music still blasting from the living room and their talking. Your knees trembled. Jack shifted his weight, pressing you harder against the wall to keep you upright while he casually chatted with his friends. You could see him trying to hold back a smile.

You couldn’t see Nat and Toby, but you assumed they were cheesing and standing on their tip-toes to try and get a view over Jack’s shoulder. “You didn’t actually bite ‘em, did you?”

Jack’s thumb found your clit just as a second finger tried to push in to join the first, the large digits catching on your entrance. It took shifting your hips, but they both pushed in. You could feel yourself clenching around him, having to bite down on your own hand to stay quiet.

“Not yet,” Jack finally grinned, his sharp teeth peeking out just as he curled his knuckles and massaged the inner wall of your cunt. “You shouldn’t eat big meals all at once.”

Toby wheezed with laughter. “You’re so w-weird, man. Hurry up and come out, we’re gonna d-do another round soon.”

Jack shifted his arm closer to your pelvis, the palm of his hand finding a home snug against your clit as he rubbed, curling his fingers just enough inside you to make small noises fight to escape.

“We’ll be out in a second,” Jack grinned. “We’re chatting.” The word alone sounded weird coming from his mouth, and Natalie sure didn’t miss it.

Natalie let out a loud, obnoxious laugh and slapped the wall on the other side of your head, making you jump. Jack acted like it was him adjusting, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. His fingers kept moving between your legs, massaging your soaked cunt as your slick dripped down over his knuckles. Your panties were absolutely ruined and you knew it.

He ignored her hysterics, turning his attention to Toby instead. “Hey. Remember those cases of beer you two stole? They’re still upstairs. Don’t forget them.”

It was like a starter pistol. Toby and Natalie immediately perked up.

“Oh shit, you’re r-right!” Toby shouted, already turning away. “We’re geniuses!”

Natalie cackled. “Jack, you’re a fucking genius. We’ll start another game! Take your time in there, you twoooo.”

Jack gave a small nod. “Start without us. We’ll be there soon.”

You heard their footsteps retreating down the hall, loud and clumsy with excitement, and maybe the sound of them shoving each other against the walls as they left. The second they were far enough away, Jack pulled the closet door shut, plunging you both back into near-darkness.

You immediately yanked your hand off your mouth.

“You asshole,” you hissed, smacking his chest. “I told you—I fucking told you—”

Jack just laughed, punctuating it as he curled his fingers deeper inside you. He bumped them, circling that perfect spot that made the words fizzle from your mouth.

“Did you hear that?” he leaned down next to your ear again. “They said we could take all the time we need.”

You gawked up at him, jaw dropping open in disbelief, but any protest died the moment he thrust his fingers harder, curling them just right until you felt a deep pressure in your gut. Your knees buckled. You tried to cover your mouth again, but the demon pulled your hand away.

“Jack—” you whimpered, pressing your head back against the wall to try and get some air.

He hummed in satisfaction, watching as he pumped his knuckles in and out, and in and out. “That’s what I thought,” he whispered, nipping at your earlobe.

Just when you were about to give in, when your nerves finally melted under the heat of his touch, Jack easily pulled his fingers out of you.

You gawked at him, all breathless and frustrated. “You’re such an asshole.”

He just kept grinning. “For somebody who keeps saying we shouldn’t be doing this… you sure do get upset when I stop giving you what you want.”

Your face burned with embarrassment. Before you could snap back at him, his hands moved to your jeans, still bunched around your thighs. He tugged them down with ease, and you helped him by shimmying and kicking them off when they caught around your sneakers. They landed in a heap somewhere beside you. Then his thumbs hooked into the waistband of your panties. He snapped the thin fabric against your hip, making you hiss, before dragging them down your legs. You started babbling nervously, words tumbling out without thought.

“Jack—wait, this is—this is bad—we’re gonna get caught, someone’s gonna come back and—oh my god—”

Either he didn’t hear you or he didn’t care. Your panties slid down your thighs and pooled at your ankles. You managed to kick one foot free, but the other stayed tangled as Jack placed one large hand on the inside of your thigh and pushed your legs further apart. You tried not to shiver—out of nervousness or excitement, you weren’t sure—but you gripped the bottom of your shirt like it could somehow hide you. You felt so unbearably exposed, just standing there half-naked like there weren’t people just feet away outside.

“You smell so fucking good,” he murmured. “So sweet.”

“Jack…”

“I’ve wanted to taste you for a long time,” he admitted. “Now I finally get to.”

Jack dropped to his knees in front of you.

The floorboards creaked under his weight, and you felt it in your bones—that heavy, solid presence suddenly lower, looking up at you from the most beautiful angle you think you’d ever seen. It was a terrifyingly beautiful sight. He was so tall that even on his knees he took up most of the space, his broad shoulders sitting at your waist-height. His large hands came up to grip your thighs, thumbs rubbing from your hips down toward your knees, coaxing your legs further apart. You felt like you could crawl up the wall from pure nervousness as he leaned in closer.

He started soft.

Warm lips pressed to your hip, then lower to your pelvis, peppering slow, open-mouthed kisses across every inch of soft skin he could reach. His breath was hot against you. When he finally settled fully between your thighs, his face hovered right in front of your cunt. You could feel him grinning—you could feel it.

You reached down with shaky hands, grabbing fistfuls of his messy hair to steady yourself. “Jack… please be easy,” you whispered.

He tilted his head up. “What are you so afraid of?” His lips brushed your inner thigh as he spoke, and you had to swallow your nerves.

“Your teeth…”

Jack pulled back just enough to show them off—the sharp, gleaming points smiling up at you. Then, just to be funny, he snapped his teeth together right in front of your cunt, the clack making you jump.

He chuckled. “You’re alright. I won’t hurt you.”

Before you could say anything else, Jack leaned in fully. He pressed a soft kiss just above your clit, his nose brushing against your skin. Then his mouth disappeared between your legs.

“I won’t hurt you a bit.”

The first touch of his tongue made you melt.

One thick, warm, wet tongue pushed slowly between your folds, dragging up through your slick heat and soaking in the taste. The feeling was overwhelming—hotter and more intense than you expected. He groaned at the first taste, the vibration rolling straight through your core as he licked again, like he was tasting something he’d been starving for.

Your grip tightened in his hair, a broken whimper slipping from your lips as your head fell back against the wall.

Jack’s hands slid around the backs of your thighs, gripping firmly as he angled your hips forward, opening you up even more for him. He pressed his face deeper between your legs and licked a broad stripe through your folds, dragging the flat of his warm tongue right over your clit.

It felt like a thick, wet tentacle sliding against you, like it had a mind of its own. His spit coated your cunt in a ridiculous amount, dripping down your thighs and making everything messy and obscene. For someone so stoic and quiet in his everyday, Jack was suddenly a mouthful of grunts and hungry groans against your skin. His pointed ears fluttered against the sides of his head with every lick, and his claws tugged and gripped against your thighs like he couldn’t pull you close enough.

You felt your resolve completely dissolve.

Your bones went soft, your legs relaxing as you started grinding against his tongue, chasing the pleasure with desperate rolls of your hips. Jack groaned deeply in response like he was approving the movements.

“Mhhm…” you whimpered, trying to curb your embarrassment to let him hear you. “Feels so good, Jack… feels really good—”

He made an appreciative sound and nudged the tip of his tongue against your entrance. It took some effort, but his fingers had done most of the hard work of stretching you, so your eyes rolled deliciously as his tongue breached your entrance and nudged its way inside your cunt. His tongue was longer and thicker than his fingers had been. It slid into your soaked heat with ease, warm and gummy from how wet you already were, reaching deeper than anything had before. You whined loudly, your hips jerking as he began to fuck you with it with thrusts that curled and stroked inside you.

Jack groaned as your hands gripped his messy hair, his eyelids slowly closing over those dark abysses you keep getting lost in.

But Jack was completely lost in you—eating you like a starving man, grunting and growling against your cunt while his claws dug into the soft flesh of your thighs, holding you open for his mouth. Every time you clenched around his tongue he made a pleased noise and pushed even deeper than before.

You opened your mouth to say something—anything—but the words died on your tongue the moment you felt it. A second tongue nudged insistently against your full entrance, probing and pushing alongside the first. It tried to slip in, but the angle was tight. You shifted your hips, trying to help, but Jack made an impatient growl and moved.

One of his large hands slid down the back of your thigh, hooked under your knee, and lifted it smoothly. He pushed your leg up and outward, spreading you open even wider before resting your knee over his shoulder. The new position left you imbalanced, and you had to halfway hold onto the wall and him for support.

But that was all the room he needed.

The second tongue nestled in alongside the first with a lewd plunge. You groaned loudly, your head falling to your shoulder as you felt too dazed to stand up straight. Two thick, warm tongues filled your cunt, pushing and pulling, curling and stroking against your walls in a messy, uncoordinated rhythm that somehow felt even better because of it.

“Fuck—Jack—” you whimpered, your voice breaking on every word.

He groaned in response, letting you know it felt good for him too. His claws dug into the soft flesh of your thigh as he held your leg in place beside his head. The sensation was insane. You felt so impossibly full, every inch of your cunt being claimed by him. Spit and your own wetness dripped down your thighs and his chin as his tongues worked deeper, twisting and exploring like they were trying to map every part of you from the inside.

You felt it before you could even process it—before you’d even had time to process the second one—a third tongue slipped from between his lips, sliding wetly between the other two. It nudged right up against your swollen clit, pressing and rubbing torturously well.

A violent shiver ripped through you. Your hands flew from his hair to his ears, your fingers curling around the pointed tips to get some semblance of stability.

Jack shuddered. His whole body jolted like he’d been shocked. His ears pinned flat against his head for a second before flicking wildly under your touch. The reaction was so sudden and strong that you both froze for half a heartbeat.

Then, cautiously, you started rubbing them.

Your thumbs stroked over the sensitive tips and along the soft lobes, gently feeling his cat-like ears. He tried his best to keep licking you, but kept getting caught on stiff moans.

“Jack…” you gasped. “Umm… Does that feel good?”

He nodded against you, jaw and chin bumping messily into your soaked folds. He was taking deep, loud breaths through his nose, exhaling against you. Then the most unexpected sound rumbled out of his chest.

A low, rumbling purr.

At first you thought it was just your own nerves buzzing in your head, but no—you could feel it. The vibration rolled through his chest and straight into your bones, all warm and constant, making your toes curl and your eyes flutter shut.

“Oh my god—” you moaned, your mouth falling open as the sensations intensified. It felt obscene, like his entire body was vibrating against your most sensitive places and melting your mind.

Jack was losing himself, too. His purring grew louder, deeper, as you kept stroking and rubbing his ears. His tongues moved with renewed hunger—two thrusting and curling inside you while the third flicked and sucked messily at your clit. It seemed as if he was wholly content on drowning himself in you. 

You were babbling now, open-mouthed and shameless. “Fuck—Jack, that feels—hah—oh god—I can’t—please—”

The pressure built fast—too fast. A sudden, overwhelming wave of bliss crashed over you, pulling a sharp gasp from your throat.

“Jack—Jack, I’m gonna cum,” you whimpered, scrambling to hold him tighter.

His eyelids fluttered open halfway, empty eyesockets staring up at you while you trembled. You got lost staring into them, your head spinning to a heap of mush as you felt pleasure running your veins. That look alone pushed you over the edge.

You came so miserably hard.

Your whole body seized up, thighs shaking violently around his head as pleasure ripped through you in crashing waves. You clenched desperately around his tongues, moaning loud and shamelessly as your orgasm flooded his mouth. Jack groaned at the beginning of the taste, your slick flooding his senses so quickly it made him just as delirious as you.

His tongues stiffened inside you, pressing and nudging firmly against your rapidly clenching walls, milking every last pulse of pleasure as he sucked greedily on your clit. His nose stayed crammed tight against you, his lips sealing around you as he swallowed again and again, drinking everything you so graciously were giving him.

You were loud at first—broken moans and desperate praises spilling from your lips without filter. But as the peak began to fade, it melted into soft, mewled whines and shaky groans. Your orgasm turned into a rippling, lingering current deep in your gut, sending aftershocks through your body that made your legs twitch and your hips jerk weakly against his face.

With some effort, Jack began to tug his tongues from your body one at a time, the thick muscles sliding out of you, and a mess of slick followed. Jack made sure to lick it all up, his tongues running through your folds once more, savoring every twitch and flutter like he couldn’t bear to pull away.

You gasped sharply, everything suddenly feeling way too oversensitive.

“Jack—wait, it’s too much,” your voice was hoarse. “Too sensitive—”

He made a reluctant sound but slowly retreated, his tongues slipping back into his mouth like it pained him to do so. He sat back on his knees, looking up at you. His chin and mouth were glistening with a messy mix of his spit and your slick, and those black voids stared at you with unmistakable longing.

The moment he pulled away, the leg you still had planted on the floor buckled. You slid down the wall with a surprised yelp, landing in a boneless heap in front of him. Your ankle was still hooked over his shoulder, leaving you sprawled and openly exposed across his lap.

Jack caught you instantly though, his strong hands bracing your waist so you didn’t hit the floor too hard. You panted quickly, your chest billowing up and down as you tried to catch your breath. It felt like your whole body was buzzing.

Before you could even try to sit up, Jack gripped the ankle resting on his shoulder and tugged upward. You were pulled further down until your ass rested on top of his knees, your shoulders braced against the baseboards behind you. You felt like you were folded in half. You tried to scramble upright, feeling awkward, but Jack was already catching your other leg—the one with your panties still dangling uselessly from the ankle—and lifted it smoothly onto his opposite shoulder.

“More,” he grumbled.

Your stomach flipped with panic.

“No, no, no—wait, I need a minute,” you babbled through deep breaths of air, throwing your hands up. “I can’t—you’re too much, I need to breathe—just for a second—”

But he wasn’t listening. His focus had narrowed completely. Those endless black sockets were fixed between your legs with single-minded hunger.

“I’m sorry,” was all the response you got.

“Jack—”

He handled you like you weighed nothing.

His hands gripped your hips firmly and pulled your lower half upward in one smooth motion. Your knees hooked over his broad shoulders as your head and shoulder blades slid and landed against the floor. Your body folded almost in half, completely upside down, your shirt riding up to expose your stomach and chest. His large arms wrapped around your torso, strong hands gripping the soft flesh of your sides, holding you securely in place so you couldn’t even squirm out of it if you wanted to.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured again, but there was no real remorse in it. If anything, he just sounded excited. “You just taste so fucking good… I need you to cum again. Just a little more. Then I’ll be done.”

Your head was already spinning from the rush of blood, so you had no fight in your body or your words. You gripped his arms tightly, trying to brace yourself.

“Let’s just go to my room,” you fussed, trying to get him to just take a second. “It’s way too cramped in here, we can’t—”

But every protest died on your tongue the instant you felt it.

A familiar sensation dragged up through your soaked folds in a broad, wet lick. Your legs fell open limply over his shoulders as a broken moan wailed from your throat. The new angle gave him the perfect access, angling you however he wanted.

“Oh god…”

Jack moaned as he licked again, savoring every inch of you like he couldn’t get enough. His arms tightened around your torso, pulling your hips up and against his hungry mouth.

“Fuck…” he rasped against your cunt. “Do you even know… mhnnn… how good you taste?”

Jack’s eyelids fluttered shut again, the black voids disappearing as he focused entirely on you.

Then you saw it—the absolute horror and fascination of his other two tongues slipping out from between his lips to join the one. They were sickly blue-black, glistening and drooling with spit, long and monstrously thick. They dangled for a moment before curling forward, licking up the insides of your thighs until they finally converged, forking together right at your entrance.

Through a mouthful of his own tongues, Jack mumbled against your cunt, “Jus’ hang on to me.”

You dug your nails into his forearms, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps as the three tips pressed against your pulsing entrance at once. Your hips jerked, thighs instinctively trying to clamp shut around his head, but Jack held you firmly in place. It took a little work—a slight shift of your hips, a change of the angle—but eventually, the three tongues wiggled their way inside you together.

The stretch was impossible.

You let out a keening moan as your walls were forced open wider than they’d ever been, the bulbous, wet muscles filling you as completely as they could reach. No inch of room was left untouched. The sensation of burning was so intensely good that your mind went fuzzy at the edges. Your body went limp and mushy in his hold, your legs shaking helplessly over his shoulders as he sank all three tongues as deep as they could go.

Jack groaned loudly into you, the sound vibrating through your core as he began to move them, greedy thrusts and curls that rubbed against every sensitive spot inside you at once. Spit and your own arousal dripped messily down your ass and stomach as he practically fucked you with them. 

You could barely think. All you could do was cling to his arms, your mouth open in a silent cry as he devoured you from the inside out, purring and growling enough to cause concern that he might actually be eating you.

And as if it couldn’t get any worse—or wonderfully better—Jack shifted one of his arms from your torso up to between your legs. His thumb found your throbbing clit and began rubbing slow circles over it, smearing your own wetness across the sensitive bud.

The shock of pleasure was devastating.

Your back arched hard off his lap, spine curving sharply as a silent cry tore through you. Your hands flew up above your head, palms slapping against the wall behind you for any kind of leverage. You tried to speak—tried to moan his name, to beg, to curse—but nothing came out. All the air had been punched out of your lungs. The only sounds your body could produce were the wet, filthy squelches of your cunt accommodating its intruder. You bucked your hips desperately, riding his face as much as your weak, trembling legs would allow. Every thrust of his tongues and stroke of his thumb sent white-hot sparks shooting up your spine. Your thighs shook violently over his shoulders, muscles twitching uncontrollably as you ground yourself against his mouth and tongue like you’d lost all semblance of control.

Jack’s purring grew louder, deeper, the constant rumble vibrating straight into your cunt and making your eyes roll back. He was completely lost in you, this newfound, insatiable hunger dampening his mind until all he could do was eat. You couldn’t even form words anymore. Couldn’t even think anymore.

You felt it building again—that familiar coil tightening deep in your core, winding tighter and tighter with every thrust of his tongues and stroke of his thumb.

“Ja… Ja—ck… Jaahh—” you tried to warn him, but your voice was just as useless as the rest of your body. Your hand slapped weakly at his arm, your fingers grappling desperately as panic rose.

But Jack didn’t stop. Of course he didn’t. If anything, he doubled down. Tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, spilling over and running down your flushed cheeks as the pleasure became almost too much. You managed one shaky, broken whimper of his name right before you felt it.

Little sharp pinpricks.

Your eyes flew open through the tears. Jack had pulled back just enough for you to see his face. His lips were pulled back in a growl, sharp teeth fully exposed and pressed right against your slick, sensitive folds. Not breaking skin, not hurting you, but just resting there, a deadly reminder of exactly what he was.

You almost found it shameful how quickly that ruined you.

Your eyes rolled back, lashes fluttering uselessly as your vision blurred. You saw his face, then the ceiling, then the back of your eyelids—and then white.

“I’m cumming—fuck, I’m cumming—” you blabbed, trying ridiculously hard to say nearly nothing. “Jack—I’m—oh god—”

This one slammed into you harder than the last.

Your whole body seized up, back arching violently as you came with a silent, open-mouthed cry. Your cunt clenched hard around his invading tongues, pulsing and gushing around them as wave after wave crashed through you. Tears streamed down your face pathetically.

Jack growled louder against you, the sound feral and satisfied as he drank down every drop you gave him. His tongues kept working you through it, thrusting and curling relentlessly gathering everything they could.

“Jaaaaack—” you mewled.

He finally pulled his tongues out of you with a wet pop sound, leaving you clenching around nothing. He was panting hard against your cunt, his breath hot and ragged as he licked slowly through your folds, then across your trembling thighs, cleaning every trace of your release like he couldn’t help himself.

Your legs slipped weakly from his shoulders, falling limply around his hips. For a long moment, the only sounds in the tiny closet were your shared heavy breathing and the distant thump of music as you tried to calm yourselves. Jack looked down at you, his face glistening with your slick. He stayed quiet, just watching you with those endless black sockets while you tried to remember how to breathe.

When your breathing finally evened out a little, he asked softly, “Are you alright?”

You managed a small, shaky nod.

Jack carefully helped you sit up, guiding your back against the wall. “Can you stand?”

You tried shifting your weight, but your legs felt like jelly. You shook your head, embarrassed.

He let out a low chuckle. “It’s alright.”

Jack moved your legs gently off his lap so he could stand. He turned and rummaged through the hanging coats until he found one that looked soft and long enough. Without an explanation, he draped it over your mostly naked body, wrapping it around you like a blanket. Before you could even thank him, he leaned down and scooped you up into his arms. One arm hooked under your knees, the other supporting your back as he held you securely against his chest. He bent down just enough to snag your discarded jeans off the floor.

You clutched the coat tighter around yourself. “Jack, I can’t go out there like this…”

He chuckled again, the sound warm in his chest. “Toby and Nat have everyone occupied by now. No one’s gonna notice.” He pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head. “Besides… I think a nice bath in my room could do you some good.”

You hesitated for half a second, then nodded, too tired and floaty in the head to argue.

Jack cracked the closet door open, listening for a moment, his ears swiveling around. When the coast seemed clear, he slipped out with you cradled against him, your arms grabbing around his neck. You both moved quickly down the opposite end of the hall, away from the noise of the party. Laughter and shouting echoed from the living room as you snuck up the stairs like two stowaways.

He never let his grip loosen on you for a second.

Thanks for reading! Comments and kudos are appreciated!

๑ prologue

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Pennywise

• He had bitten you too deep and realized far too late.

• Biting with you was usually different than with his victims. It was like his odd love language, a way of marking you, the clown's way of saying, "You're mine and I love you."

• But this time he slipped, his true nature coming out as he nuzzled against your neck. He didn't mean to. You have to understand, he didn't mean to…

• It was sudden, like a shark attack in the middle of an ocean. One moment he's kissing the spot and the next moment sharp teeth were embedded in the skin of your neck, sinking in, puncturing the veins.

• Whatever trance Pennywise was in quickly faded away at the sound of your scream.

• "No, no, no. My sweet, I'm so sorry. Please, no." He knew keeping his hunger in control was always going to be difficult but he had always kept it under wraps around you. That was no longer the case.

• For the first time in the billions of years the being had existed, Pennywise cried. His hand was wrapped around your throat but no amount of pressure was enough. You were gone.

• "Come back to me. I didn't mean to. Please, please."

• There's no telling how long he stayed there, laying by your body, head pressed into the cold skin of your corpse. Pennywise wasn't sure at first if he was capable of love. But as he laid there, as the days passed, he knew the longing in him was caused by one thing. Love. You were the first person he loved and you would be the last.

Michael Myers

• Why'd you have to get in the way? Why?

• Michael knew it was only a matter of time before Laurie Strode and the rest of Haddonfield would get courageous enough to come after him. It was inevitable. Spend years killing off townsfolk and eventually they would bite bake. What he never considered was you being in the middle of it. You were never apart of the equation…until now.

• They had him circled in the middle of the street, weapons in hand. They had finally grown tired of The Shape.

• You had went out looking for him, despite him wanting you to stay put in your own home.

• When you came across Michael being beaten by members of the town you foolishly stepped in, nearly throwing yourself between him and the others much to their shock.

• But you couldn't stop what was already in motion. One miscalculated swing of a baseball bat, intended for Myers, caused your vision to fade and your brain to stop.

• When Michael realized what had happened in his dazed state the usual rage inside of him swelled, powering him to stand, fueling him to end every life around him.

• Once he was finished he knelt down, picking you up and carrying you off. He wasn't ready to say goodbye.

• He spent time with your corpse, simply sitting beside you for god knows how long. He buried you in the backyard of his childhood home.

• He had seen death many times. He was the cause of many. But this one, losing you, seemed to darken his soul more.

• Until the moment of his own death you were the fuel behind every killing. When he saw others all he could think about was what was taken from him. They took you away, and for that they all would pay.

Thomas Hewitt

• It was an accident. A horrific accident but an accident nonetheless.

• There was a trespasser in their house, a lost hitchhiker that had decided they could wander into a stranger's home and turn hostile the moment they realized the Hewitt home wasn't abandoned.

• They had dodged Thomas' chainsaw and pushed you in between them and your husband, using your body as a buffer, a shield of safety, having no regard for your life.

• The chainsaw had slipped right into your abdomen. It happened so quickly that Thomas didn't have the time to stop himself before it was too late, his wound up momentum that was intended for the intruder sent the blade right into you.

• The intruder didn't get away. Hoyt had gotten to them before they even made it halfway to the driveway, shooting them in the back as they ran.

• You had crumpled to the ground, bleeding out on the hardwood floor.

• Thomas was a mess. Muffled, agonizing sobs came from behind his mask as he held you to his chest.

• "It's okay, Tommy. It was an accident. I love you," you said quietly into his chest. Your last breaths letting the words wheeze out of you.

• Despite your words, he blamed himself. He would always blame himself.

Art the Clown

• One of his victims had attacked you, stabbing both of you in a desperate attempt to get away.

• Normally you didn't join him on his little excursions but Art had insisted, silently urging you to join him. What a mistake that was.

• Getting stabbed didn't bother Art. Sure it hurt but it wasn't going to kill him. He wasn't sure anything could really put him in the ground, at least not for long. But you were different. There was no immortality to save you, no demonic forces.

• The knife had went in too deep. Far too deep for him to be able to do anything about it and far too deep for you to make it to any hospital.

• He held you, something that surprised both of you.

• He wasn't particularly sad. He didn't have much empathy and just because he kept you around didn't mean you were an exception. No tears were shed for you.

• You were his favorite though. And a wave of anger rushed over him as you bled out onto the ground below you. He was furious, angry that his favorite plaything had been taken from him, angry that you were still a regular human, angry that a filthy nobody was walking around instead of you.

• That's okay. He'll take care of it.

• The person who had killed you was found, obviously. And slain until they were unrecognizable, reduced to a pile of mushy flesh.

• As for you, you think he's going to let you go that easily? No, absolutely not. Your corpse makes a nice display in his makeshift workshop, a reminder of once was. He may or may not decorate you for the holidays…

Baby Firefly

• "Oh my gosh, what the fuck did you do?"

• Otis had killed you, think you were some "trespassing hippie" as he plainly put it.

• But you weren't. You were hers. You had came to the Firefly house to see your girlfriend, to meet her family. You weren't prepared to get a bullet in the forehead, that's for sure.

• Your corpse laid in the dirt, warming under the sun in the Texas heat.

• "You asshole! You fucking asshole!" Baby punched and slapped Otis, yelling and screaming until Rufus had to step in, pulling his sister away from their brother, despite him deserving every bit of it.

• "I didn't know! We don't let people here! Maybe mention your dating someone and this won't keep happening," Otis said, remember the other ex Baby lovers who had a similar fate.

• Baby spent the next few weeks crying, leaning on RJ's shoulder and talking about you in lengthy detail. He helped her bury you, creating a nice spot for your body right amongst the family cemetery.

• Otis gained several new scars as well because every time his sister laid eyes on him she threw something, whether it be glass cups or knives. Whatever she could get her hands on. Another normal day in the Firefly house.