in the loop🫧

After a summer of dealing with constant noise, partying and clutter, you finally had the house to yourself. 

There was a calmness that seeped into your pores, radiating out through the grin that just would not leave your face. You flitted around aimlessly, feeling the beginning of fall breeze blowing through the open windows, listening to your favorite playlist on the TV speakers. You had spent too much time listening to Jeremiah blare Future so loud that it probably scared the fish out in the ocean. Jeremiah was on vacation with his guy friends, and Conrad was gone for the weekend at some sort of drab, boring conference. Isabel was living what seemed to be her best life in Paris, clearly soft launching some beautiful French man as her new beau. She had briefly been with both Conrad and Jeremiah, but neither worked out and you were happy to see her thriving, as one of her closest friends. You would sleep in the spare room (or in her bed) after many drunken nights spent on the beach, waking up to Jeremiah’s signature pancakes, the only good thing about him you thought. There were a few good things about Conrad. He was exactly the type of brooding, smart, snarky man that you had let ruin your life time and time again. Apparently you had kissed him once, but the both of you were too drunk to actually remember any of the feelings associated with the moment. He made occasional flirtatious comments towards you, always drawing in a slew of completely false rumors that you two had slept together. You certainly were attracted to him, but it never felt like the right moment to act on it.  You headed upstairs to throw on your smallest bikini, realizing your summer tan was fading and feeling the urge to take advantage of the spectacular weather. After slipping into the periwinkle triangle top and thong bottom, you heard rustling coming from one of the rooms.

How could that be possible? You thought everyone was away this weekend, and it wasn’t like Cousins was particularly famous for having robberies in the middle of the day. You tip-toed closer to the sound and realized it was coming from Conrad’s room, through his door that had been left ajar.

You didn’t mind that Conrad was home, you figured he just forgot to mention he had come back from the conference early. It would be fun to ask him to join you on the beach, you thought.

You opened the door.

“Conr- OH FUCK!”

You covered your mouth in shock and pressed your body against the wall outside his room. When you peaked in, you were met with Conrad, boxers around his ankles, laying on his bed gripping his throbbing dick. A sight you were fully, and entirely unprepared for. He must have also thought no one was home. What do you even do now? Go apologize? Walk away and bury yourself head first in the sand?

While thinking of a plan- you started to hear noise again.

Soft, labored breaths coming from Conrad’s room. The bed creaking ever so slightly. You heard him spit in his hand.

Clearly, Conrad did not need an apology.

“Fuck,” you heard him moan quietly. That sound alone was enough to send shockwaves through your skin. The house was not cold, yet all of a sudden you could see your nipples piquing through your bikini top.

“Mmm,” he moaned slightly louder this time, as if he knew you were still out there, listening. A damp feeling beginning to grow between your thighs.

You poked your head around the doorway, met with a sight that felt more intimate than sex itself.

There was Conrad, completely naked. He was stroking himself pretty quickly, running his thumb over his tip, his breath hitching every time it passed over. His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead ever so slightly. His glistening chest a sign that he had been at this for a while- maybe edging himself until he felt it was the right moment to let go. That seemed like a very Conrad thing to do.

He arched into his own touch, reaching his other hand down to cup his balls, earning a much louder groan from his ever-so-slighty parted lips.

He was a complete mess on his own bed- pleasuring himself and clearly loving every second of it. You could tell it wasn’t shameful for him, the way he was stroking his (unsurprisingly) large, cock. He was using the precum leaking from the tip, slicking up the base and starting to move his hand faster and faster. You had never looked at him like this before- studying his every move in this extremely vulnerable state. His eyes were shut intently, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he was imagining to get himself all worked up like this.

Was he thinking about you in the pool after you had six margaritas and your bikini top was barely hanging on?

Was he thinking about the dress you wore out to dinner one night- tight, short and blue, cupping your ass and barely covering your muscular thighs?

Was he thinking about the time you forgot to lock the bathroom door and he walked in on you in the shower- his gaze lingering slightly before he apologized?

He opened his eyes and noticed you in the doorway.

“Fuck, I’m sorry.” you said breathlessly, starting to slink away.

“Don’t go,” the words a barely audible breathy moan.

You turned back, standing in the doorway in your miniature bikini, watching Conrad’s eyes drink in every curve you had. They were low, lidded. Nothing innocent or snarky about him in this moment, no. This was pure, unadulterated lust. You could tell he was undressing you in his mind, his eyes now trained on the thin of fabric of your bikini top pulled taut around your hard nipples.

You smirked, quickly flashing him watching as he came completely undone. He whined, his hand moving rapidly, expertly, bringing himself right to the edge as he gazed at every exposed inch of you in his doorway.

Conrad Fisher was jacking off not just to the thought of you, but to you standing right there in his door. You bit your lip, loving every second of seeing him like this, and hating the thought that you enjoyed it this much.

This was wrong, filthy, nasty and horny in a way you never saw yourself participating in. It was voyeuristic, watching one of your best friends writhe around naked on his own bed, cock dripping as he stared at you.

You did not fucking care about any of that in this moment.

He moaned out your name, throwing his head back but keeping his eyes on you. His legs shook, cock twitching in his hand as he spilled all onto his stomach. His chest heaved, his blushed cheeks a sign of his own exertion.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

You weren’t even expecting him to say anything. You had already turned around to leave without ever speaking of this again. You turned back, seeing a glint in his eyes and a smirk plastered across his face.

“What a fucking shift.” Jack sighed, leaning back against the lockers and stretching his arms above his head. It was a terrible day, Samira knew that. But right now she wasn’t focusing on the blood that had splashed all over her, the vomit she had to clean up or the fact that she hadn’t eaten anything. She only noticed the gap between Jack’s scrubs. That little sliver of exposed skin, a tease, a temptation, making her mind go places it probably shouldn’t be at work. “Something wrong Samira?” She snapped back into reality, wondering if he had noticed her lingering gaze. Did she linger? Oh god. This was her superior. She took every opportunity to cover night shift, was this why? Was she really just telling herself it was “to expand her skillset”? “No, sorry. Just thinking about the shift too.” Samira and most of the other ER staff went out after a particularly hard shift one night. She had been standing at the bar, alone. She struggled to connect with her coworkers, she was polite, but that was about it. Surface level. That night, as she was standing there sipping on a lemon drop, she felt a weight press on her lower back. “All alone?” Jack was the only one she ever felt she could talk to beyond just pleasantries. She had probably trauma dumped on him more than she would like to admit during some of her worst moments, but he always had a listening ear and wise advice. “Just thinking,” she replied softly, noticing his hand’s position was not moving. All she could think about was if everyone else had eyes on this interaction. What could they be thinking? “We could talk together somewhere else,” he leaned in and whispered, his upper lip grazing her ear. She shivered, with anticipation or fear, she wasn’t sure. “I’m just so tired, I’ll probably just head home.” “That’s alright, I’ll see you another time.” Should she have done that? Should she have accepted his invitation? Fuck.

And now here she was again. Telling Jack she was “thinking.” “I mean hey, we can go think somewhere together. If that would help?” Jack said, a hint of unexpected shyness in his tone. “Where were you thinking?” “Mine?” The answer Samira wanted, but not the one she expected. The car ride there was quick, quiet with a buzzing tension circulating between driver and passenger. She noticed how clean everything was, almost sterile. A corny ER stereotype she hadn’t quite expected out of Jack. The sun was rising. It felt like the one singular time she actually went out in college, the jarring nature of hearing the birds and seeing the sunshine, knowing that things had, or were going to occur far from where the sun shines. It was a brick apartment. Decorated with dark oak and industrial furniture. “Good taste.” she chirped as she gazed around. “In furniture or…?” Her cheeks were already getting hot. She’s been here for all of 30 seconds. He wordlessly opened his bedroom door, coaxing her inside. The bed was neatly made, with more pillows than she expected. Were those for him or his guests? He took his scrubs off quickly, exposing taut back muscles. He turned around, a gray happy trail snaking down his chiseled stomach. Chiseled quite well for his age, Samira thought to herself. The sun was shining, casting a soft light over his hardened features. It made him look, and feel more vulnerable. Was it the sun or was it the fact that he was standing there in nothing but plaid boxers. He stepped closer to Samira, inches away from her face. She was literally still in her scrubs. What. “What are you thinking about now?” “Your cock inside me” Is what she wanted to say. But it felt like there was a barrier pressing on her lips. A fear that wasn’t letting her be the sexual being she knew she could be. “You” The only word she could get out. It didn’t take long before her black lace bra was placed neatly on the dresser, her scrubs folded in a pile next to them. And yes, Jack Abbot was fucking the living daylights out of her. She felt him in her guts, an experience she was going to have a hard time forgetting. Her lower back was propped under a pillow, making every stroke feel like complete, pure ecstasy. She clawed into his arms, her red manicure accentuated against her tight grip on his massive bicep. “This is exactly how you like it, isn’t it?” His voice was rough, thick with lust that dripped all over her, enhancing each sensation even more every time his words met her ears. “Yes, fuck yes please.” She didn’t mind begging. She liked letting go of control in bed, letting someone else be in charge. She spent so much time in her life being the organizer, constantly worrying about what comes next. The only thing she had to worry about with Jack was, well, cumming. She was thrusting her hips into him at this point, wanting to feel him as deeply as she could. She had never felt this way before, wanting someone to just completely overtake her, mind and body. His dick was hypnotic.

Pure euphoria coursed through her as he pinched both her nipples and twisted, hard. Just how she liked it.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum,” he groaned.

He kept his fingers twisted onto her nipples, pinching harder as his body tightened and his hips moved at a pace that was almost unbelievable.

It was like electricity shooting through her chest, each nerve coming alive with the way his rough fingers felt against her tits.

Her eyes closed, her curls cascading over her face as she moaned out his name and felt herself pulsating through each drop of his cum. He threw himself down next her, sweat beading on his brows.