🌸💗 PadI 💗🌸

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"… what seems to be the problem—?"

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

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

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

Face down, ass up.

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

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

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

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

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

"Words, please."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Thank you, Dr. Abbot."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Maybe."

"It's not very good."

"It's also 2 AM, sweetheart."

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

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

Your smile is saccharine sweet. "Of course."

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

"Thanks again, doctor."

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

"What?" Jack frowns.

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

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

"There's nothing to tell—!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Dollface. Doll. Dolly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@.swatdoc. — You're magnificent.

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

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

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

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

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

@deathreverse : that top is gorggggg!!! ♡

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

@enam3l: absolutely obsessed w you!! ♡

@mariasont: that shade of pink suits you BEAUTIFULLY

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

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

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

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

@.swatdoc. — Gorgeous as always, bunny.

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

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

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

@.deathreverse — jesuuus christ, ur so fucking hot

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Bunny.

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

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

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

[@.swatdoc liked your vlog!]

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

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

doll : doctor abbot???

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

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

swatdoc : How did you know it was me?

doll : i'd recognize those silver curls anywhere ♡

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

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

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

swatdoc : Sounds fair.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

None of the actresses look like you.

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

"You seeing anyone?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, I think I'm stuffed. Did you…?"

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

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

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

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

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

"Yeah, sounds good."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Jack?"

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

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

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

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

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

"The aquarium…"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's made you undeniably horny for him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'m cumming, daddy—!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You kiss him again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Feelin' restless, bunny?"

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

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

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

"I'm fine—"

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

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

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

"I don't think so."

"Jack."

"Bunny."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Mhm, yes—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Had it not been for your growling stomach.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's not my type, she's just hot—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

@.pearlessance: holy shit HIS VOICE???

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

@.mariasont: i just KNOW your man is fine

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

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

"You're stealing my fans, Jack."

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

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

"Yeah, sweetheart?"

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

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

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

"Use your words, bunny."

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

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

Sir.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Add another finger for me, bunny."

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

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

"Yes, but—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

"So when are we meeting the lucky lady?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

"You ready, sweetheart?"

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

"What do you need a bag for?"

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

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

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

Mr. Doll is Jack Abbot.

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

Something isn't right.

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

"No, actually—"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"That the girlfriend?"

"Sure is."

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

"What's it mean?"

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

That was until you started popping up all the time. You’d knock at his door in the morning, asking him to accompany you to breakfast at the hall or the Tipsy Bison.  You always asked Ellie too. But in those moments, as you leaned against the doorway with your arms crossed, in jeans that fit you perfectly and a gun holster at your hip,  with a smug smile and a raised brow, he felt as if you were only speaking to him. 

You wanted his company.

Joel had the urge to ask you if he could help around Jackson more, he's sure he could do what Tommy does, maybe even do it better. But since he's so new, they have him working around town, gauging his skill sets. You already knew he was destined to be a patrolman, maybe help with construction and expansion of the town in his free time. 

You would see his similarities to Tommy, definitely. Respectful and yet demanding respect in return. Although you knew Tommy was capable of great violence, it seemed like Joel was more willing to submit to it. 

His gruff and closed off personality served as a warning. He was warming up to the town though. You like to think you were a great help in that.

The clatter of plates and cutlery clang around the hall consistently. You pick at the eggs and sausage, chewing slowly and sipping from your mug of coffee as you listen to the conversations around you. Your mind was wandering. 

Joel nudges your elbow resting on the table gently with his. You shrug and sigh. 

"Tommy's busy in the mornings, either on patrol or helping build something."

He hums as a response, fighting the urge to bring mouthfuls of food into his mouth to eat it all quickly. Instead, he places his fork down and passes a hand over your shoulder empathetically. 

“Well that’s… Tommy.” He struggles with finding the right words for people in need of emotional support. He’s more of a man of action. Of course, you would never expect to discuss negative details of your relationship to Joel. They were brothers. 

His attempt did lighten up your mood though. 

Ellie had no shame, she wasn't paying attention. You patted the back of her hand whenever you noticed her scarfing down her food. 

"You'll get a stomachache, babe," you scold softly, a hint of a smile on your lips. Joel looked at you appreciatively when she slowed down. She never listens to him, unless it was serious. It seemed as if a gentler approach was needed. Something he didn't think he could provide either. 

Ellie had just finished eating, so quickly you hadn't even finished your own plate. You watch as she drapes her coat over herself, practically bouncing with energy to meet up with her new friends. Joel's expression softens when he sees the way you stare at her, a knowing look on your face, an eyebrow raised. 

"Be careful, don't go running around by the gates‐"

Ellie says nothing, pursing her lips and wincing as if she were ready to ask for leverage. Joel straightens up and gives her a pointed look. You were part of the council, along with Tommy. Technically, you had power to kick anyone out of the town. Everyone knew you would never do that. 

Despite the friendliness, the authority stayed prominent in your role in town meetings, even among your council members, most notably with your husband. 

Ellie sighs and responds in a bored tone.  "I won't. Promise."

You hum, skeptical. You had seen her the other day, along with her group. They were always up to something, most of the time just causing slight annoyances to the townsfolk. They were good kids but had low survival instincts.

You worry about her, as if you were her own mother. Joel is taken back to the night you had come over for dinner, Tommy busy being part of the patrol that evening. Ellie had confessed to you first about her crush on a girl she met in school. 

"She's so fucking cool. She has all these tattoos‐"

Joel was washing up the dishes, Ellie was showing you around her bedroom, explaining every detail and knick knack, having stopped to explain a sketch pinned to her cork board.

"You have a crush on her?" you had asked simply, accompanied by a teasing grin.

She was nervous to discuss this aspect of her life, admittedly. To express it openly, if at all. Her face fell, growing paler by the second. She didn’t know how to bring this up in a conversation, especially not with Joel. 

"Don't tell him..." She winces as she says it. It felt awkward even thinking about it with you. You cross your arms and narrow your eyes as you hear a shift from outside the bedroom. Joel must have come up the stairs, used to being quiet in his steps. 

It had broken his heart. An axe pressing down the side, twisting and pushing so hard he thought he couldn't breathe for a second. 

"I won't," you reply, smiling softly at her. 

The beating organ in his chest seemed to plummet to his stomach.

"But..." you had pushed her hair back, pulling her to your side, your hand squeezing her shoulder and arm reassuringly, "That man cares about you so much, he would rather die than make you feel as if he didn't."

Ellie had told him in passing a couple of days later, then asking how to ask girls out, her eyes flickering from where he stood and the hallway every few seconds. 

Of course you were there, sipping from one of his mugs, enjoying the coffee he had offered to share with you.  He smiled at you so gratefully you thought another man was staring at you.  He’s sure if you hadn’t reassured Ellie she would have never mentioned a thing.

It was sweet, watching him try to explain how to impress a woman, turning to you for help but only being met with a shrug and a smirk. You liked watching them communicate, live, just be.  He really did care about her like a father, a good one, even if he asked too many questions about this mystery girl named Kat.

You were starting to see her as a daughter too, although you don't think you'll ever confess that to anyone, not even Tommy.  If anything the closest thing you could be with Ellie is her aunt.

You sigh when she leaves the dining hall in a rush now. You briefly glance down at your lap, feeling your disappointment flare in your mind once again at waking up to find out you were going through your cycle that month.

…

A month ago, Tommy had told him how you were trying. He finally felt safe enough and sure of the town's own wellbeing. He was starting to look towards settling down. With you.

Joel got quiet after that conversation, letting him talk on and on about how you two were reorganizing your home, gathering supplies for the baby or babies if you were lucky enough. Tommy had winked at that, a smirk firmly planted on his face mentioning offhandedly that he remembers their uncle having twins, as well as their grandparents having a pair as well.

Joel had excused himself afterwards and you had caught him at the door of your house just as he was stepping out.

"Hey, Joel," you had greeted, pulling him into a hug. 

You wrapped your arms around him tightly, your hands sliding up his sides and onto his back, accidentally going under his jacket. Your chest was flush against his, he could feel your breasts squeeze and compress against him. 

He reciprocated all too willingly, you gave a surprised chuckle as he squeezed you close. His chin rested against your head for a second, he caught a whiff of your aroma, a hint of lavender from the soap an old woman makes and sells at the butchers from animal fat and herbs. 

Tommy must have bought you some. He swallowed thickly and kept you at an arm's length. 

"Mrs. Miller."

You chuckle, he'd call you that and it would sound as if he himself had given you the name to keep. You vaguely remember the time a newcomer had asked where your husband was, Tommy sitting right next to you. 

You gave them a weird look, then they clarified, "Where's Joel?"

Tommy had chuckled it off, ignoring your growing frown. It was funny to him, but it wasn't to you.  He hadn't thought of the implications of the misconception like you had. It had become a running joke, one you didn’t really appreciate as much as the rest. 

When you thought about it, you and Tommy are only ever together at night, when he is done with his day. Most of your activities now included fucking or sleeping. It felt as if you barely even spoke a full conversation nowadays. 

You had glanced inside the house and a glimmer of hope filled you as you saw Tommy. 

"How are you?" you ask, your attention visibly diverted elsewhere but at Joel. You glance back at him, in front of you, smiling politely at your brother in law, hoping he might leave soon. 

Joel nods, pursing his lips, hating the way you had stepped back and your warmth left him, your hands resting on his forearms so that you could have a small courteous chat before he left.

"Good,” he purses his lips and sucks in his teeth. He had half a mind to tell you to mind your manners at your indifference. 

“Heard you were thinkin' of adding a Miller to the family."

Your face scrunches in what looks to be embarrassment and some form of annoyance.  Tommy loves to go around town and run his mouth, you glanced behind Joel to catch Tommy leaning against the doorway, you narrowed your eyes playfully before your face fell a little, seeing that he had his boots on along with his pack on his shoulder, ready to leave again.

You focus back on Joel.

"Yeah, hopefully. It's taking a bit."

You look down to the ground, trying to hide your disappointment.  When he turned back, he could see Tommy's own look of slight despair. Your relationship was at a strain, despite himself, he started to find elation in his heart at the fact.

Especially when you started to talk to him about it. 

…

"How are you?" Joel muttered, still sitting next to you at the hall, an hour after Ellie had left. A question was echoed back to you for once, since you always wanted to know about everyone else's day.

You nod, followed by a small "Good," which he didn't believe at all.  He reaches a hand across the table, and he wonders how Tommy never understands why people mistake you and Joel for a couple. You flip your hand, slowly as if you were hesitant. Your fingers twist together with his tightly in confidence.

"Is it Tommy?"

You sigh, breathing out shakily and attempting to smile and brush off the sadness that envelopes you.

"It's not… he's working. I know I shouldn’t be selfish- it's just, I wish he would stop playing hero so much.”

You sigh.

“It just feels as if he's not here with me anymore."

Joel knew all too well how Tommy gets when he sets a goal. He came all the way to Wyoming from Boston all by himself for god's sake. He tends to leave his family behind. Joel would never. Especially not if he had a wife at home, ready to build a family with him in a prospering community. 

You look around the room and find that only you and Joel were there. No food was being served at the moment, not until lunch. You finally let yourself break.

Your eyes fill with tears, your lips start to wobble and you try to hide your face with your hand. 

"I just‐ I feel so lonely sometimes."

His arms go around your shoulders, you’re enveloped in his scent and warmth. Shivers go down your spine. When was the last time Tommy had held you this way? His head atop yours, squeezing you tightly and pressing you against his chest as he cradles your head. It's been too long. 

"Hey, darlin'. I'm here, it's okay," he whispers. He pulls back to see you so broken, so beautiful and vulnerable. He hates the way his heart beats wildly at the hopeful way you look up at him with half lidded eyes.

"You're not alone, baby. I'm right here with you."

He looks into your eyes deeply, his hands cupping your face. It was wrong, he knew it was. It should be Tommy in his place, he shouldn’t have started leaning in, his eyes shouldn’t have flickered to your lips, prompting you to do the same.

Something desperate had built in your chest, aching to be released.

You grip him by the lapels of his thick jacket, pushing yourself to meet his lips with your own eagerly. He reciprocates with a deep groan, as if he had been holding it in since the day he met you.

You don’t stop when he has coaxed your mouth open, his tongue sliding past your lips and caressing your own. You don’t stop when you give a high whine, feeling your core pulse at the way his hands travelled to your waist, dipping into the denim of your jeans to grip the fat of your hips.  

You don’t stop when your hands run over his hair, feeling the roots and lightly tugging.  But you realize his hands were different, his lips and his hair weren't what you were used to.

You stop when you realize you weren't kissing Tommy. Your husband. The man you wear your ring for. 

You push away quickly, leaving Joel leaning towards you as if he couldn't get enough.  He genuinely couldn't, your taste was intoxicating, the feel of your body against his so intimately made his mind blur.

“Shit-Joel-“

He attempted to kiss you again, but you leaned further away, standing and shaking your head in shock.  He watched you leave, rushing to put on your jacket, taking big strides.  

You glanced at him one last time as you passed by the window, catching his stare, how his mouth hung open and he licked his lips when you had stopped slightly only to continue forward, flustered.

One thing was for sure, as he watched you go to the stables, shaking your hands vigorously and slamming the doors forcefully, you were like a drug to him.

…

You had acted as if nothing had happened, you hadn't gone to his house for dinner, you hadn't invited him to get breakfast with you and you haven't been alone with him since. 

It was just a kiss, he thought.  A kiss and he lost you for who knows how long. He watches you closely when Tommy invites him over for dinner, how you talk to Ellie most of the night, how you keep a hand on Tommy at all times like a message. 

You were Tommy's and you wanted him.

He could see through the facade easily. He wonders if you think of the kiss often. If you imagine Joel instead of Tommy when he fucks you. He thinks of you often, almost every night when he jerks his cock in his fist, imagining your whines and whimpers, how wet you must get and how you crave touch so intensely. 

He imagines you under the layers of clothes you wear, how he would peel them off slowly, make you squirm under his gaze.  Some nights your stomach is as it normally is, soft and healthy, others it's swollen, so much so your breasts rest atop it like a shelf. 

He likes those nights, when he imagines himself giving you the baby you wanted, which Tommy seems to be lacking on. He'd stave himself off, letting go of his cock or squeezing so tightly his orgasm is lost.  He'd have a vision in his mind, your big puffy tits in his mouth, sucking at a constant rate to get your milk going down his throat and falling heavily into his stomach. 

He wanted to be full of you, satiated by what you provide.  He wanted you to be full of him.  Fucking twins. You had told him the other day, before you had started avoiding him entirely, how twins run in your family.

Two beautiful babies. Healthy and chubby because you two would take care of them with so much love and care. Beautiful babies he would watch grow and become beautiful people.

He would hug you goodbye and it would make your skin crawl, in a good way, debating by the way your breath hitched and goosebumps would spread over your arms. 

What really made him know you felt a thrill go down your spine was the fact that you smelled different. 

Joel had dropped off a gift for you as an apology, soap. Milk and Honey. Tommy delivered it right to you after they had done a patrol together, not knowing its true intention. You even sent a half hearted note in thanks back to him, of course Tommy serving as the middleman. 

You smelled so warm now, homely. Motherly. 

…

You started feeling sick a couple months later and the next few months were filled with celebrations and gatherings all for the growing Miller family.  He started seeing you more often, his desires increased tenfold. Each time he would see you, your belly would be slightly larger, your body softer but your eyes were starting to dull.

Tommy's appearance was becoming less and less prominent and you would be surrounded by mothers and parents, elderly and children, all trying to ensure that you were doing well. 

Your eyes only ever brightened when Ellie was around, which wasn't often anymore.  She was growing into a young adult and to be completely honest she didn't find anything worth talking about with you anymore, not since your condition had impeded you from riding on a horse comfortably, let alone help patrol or keep up at the stables. 

It felt as if everyone was slowly starting to avoid you.  At least the people you cared for. Tommy picks up any job and task he could get his hands on, and Ellie is off with her friends, worrying the whole town.

Recently, they had made their way out of Jackson, taking some of the horses from the stables without telling anyone. You remember the look on Joel's face when a patrolman found them out and drinking alcohol, he was so red and his brows were so furrowed deep he looked cartoonish. 

Your heart had warmed at his sigh afterwards, shaking his head and most likely having counted to ten in his head to keep in his anger. A pat on the back is all he did, telling her to go to school and that when she came back they were going to discuss some things.

His eyes connected with yours afterwards, catching you staring and for the first time in a while you kept your gaze steady. Your hand had gone to the now prominent swell of your middle, wondering how Tommy would have reacted to the very same situation Ellie was in. 

Would he shout and scream or would he collect himself and give a stern warning? Now that you thought of it, he didn’t really interact with children all that much. Joel was so patient with children, Tommy had told you about Sarah, how Joel had stepped up to be a single parent and was amazing at it.  

Tommy talks to Ellie, you suppose, but that was because Joel would bring her around all the time. Would he even be a good father?

You stop yourself before you could think about it more. Thinking about wanting Tommy to be like Joel was mean. This was his first time being a dad, Joel had already done it before.  It wasn't fair to judge so quickly, especially if the baby wasn't even in his arms yet. 

But wouldn't it be nice... you imagine Joel with a baby in his arms, swaying ever so slightly, smiling down at the bundle of warmth. Then he would look at you, his eyes softening when you smiled softly at the scene. 

In that moment, as Joel smiles at you and you smile sheepishly back, he took it as a sign that he could get close again.

Joel isn't the type of man to let an opportunity go to waste.

...

You waddle, you waddle now, and it was exhausting. There was no one to complain to, no one to even talk about these problems you have been dealing with because Tommy was tired too. 

He would come back home, finding you half asleep with a book in hand on the rocking chair he had been able to get by trading with a grumpy old man arguing about which was worse, back pain or a seven pound baby weighing down on your hips. He had barely spoken a word before he went up to shower and ultimately go to bed for his morning shift.

He didn't hear how you shifted in bed, trying to find a comfortable position, how sometimes you would wake up nauseated and puke when he was still asleep. He wasn't even there when you felt the first kicks, when you had dropped your laundry basket to the floor and stood in shock when you had finally felt something shift. 

The event was announced in passing, a comment about having felt the baby, and it was shrugged off, a passing hand at your shoulders and a peck to your lips before he left.

It was disheartening and disappointing. Things were so good before, then you had asked to build a family with him and you regret it now. You had just gotten married and you were so desperate for how things were before the outbreak that you didn't realize how hard things would be to even get ready for such a monumental step in your life.

Tommy wanted you to be as safe as possible. He wanted the baby to be as safe as possible. According to him, the only person tasked with being able to complete those goals was him. He was taking the lead in patrols, taking the lead in council meetings and interventions, oftentimes taking your place and not even calling you in for a hearing. 

‘You’re pregnant, you can't be walkin’ much. The stress will hurt the baby, let me take care of it.’ 

You were hoping to talk about it in the evening when you knew Tommy would be home. He had taken a morning and night shift, having midday to rest. You hope it meant you would see him more, to stop thinking about other men in his stead.

A bell from the door startled you, and when your head turned sharply to the clock by the wall your heart started pumping with joy. The door opened and Tommy was met with a bright smile. 

The hug had made him take a step back, almost losing his balance from how you threw your whole body in his arms. He held you as tight as he could, slightly swaying and sighing from the way your head fell almost perfectly into the warm junction of his neck and shoulder.

Your bodies radiate happiness, your minds turning blank at each other's touch. His hands gripped yours tightly when you had started roaming, your lips already working over his exposed neck after a few seconds of inhaling his deep musk. 

It's been months since you've been this close and your body needed some release.  You were already wet, your pussy clenching at the thought of him taking his jacket and flannel off and exposing his broad chest and shoulders in the tight thermos you knew he wore all the time to keep from the winter's cold. 

You held in a moan at the taste of his skin, your tongue peeking from your lips teasingly and your hand moving to the front of his pants that you felt slowly becoming firmer with each passing second. 

You groaned in frustration when he had stopped you, pulling back to look in your eyes, his brown orbs full of playfulness and slight disappointment. 

"Joel and Ellie are going to stay awhile, we can't right now, honey."

It took a minute, you were licking your lips, shifting uncomfortably as he stepped back and let go of you. Then a couple feet from your front porch Joel Miller comes striding in, a small, soft smile on his face as he trudges up the steps, carrying a pack with him. 

"Mrs. Miller," he greets, humor in his voice. Your eyes narrow at his confidence as if you hadn't made every move to not be in his presence alone for the past few months.

Tommy's hand caresses up and down on your arm, trying to soothe the mounting disappointment and discomfort at his arrival. His hand gently sweeps over your belly as he kisses the side of your head. 

"The generator doesn't work, tried to fix it, but looks like something's off with the wiring."

You eye Joel and Tommy, squinting between the both of them in disbelief.

"I- I know I haven't asked the woman of the house yet." He chuckles nervously, expecting you to chuckle with him. You just stare, his face falls slightly, "But I had already offered them the guest rooms and a Miller always keeps their promises."

...

Tommy learned how to cook for you.  It was rough the first few times, when he would give you either burnt food or half cooked and raw meats but with each dinner he had gotten better. Staring at his back, you watch him gathering ingredients from cupboards, turning to ask if you knew where certain things were and smiling when you just motioned with your head in annoyance.

You stand with your back against the kitchen island, sighing loudly from the company. You remember the night he proposed, he pulled his hair in a bun, like he did now to cook, and wore an old dress shirt. He found a record player, brought it home and played some slow songs.  His eyes looked so deep into yours that night, it felt like you fell in love all over again.

Tommy turns to you, crossing his arms and giving you that gigawatt smile and it feels as if your chest was starting to combust, the memory of that night suddenly coming to fruition again.

He doesn’t want you to be upset at him. He misses you too. So much. He takes a step towards you, his hand reaching out-

"Can I?"

Joel's chest blocks your view, you stand up straighter. He didn't ask again when you looked up at him in confusion, his hands already at your stomach, roaming. His fingers prod at the end of your shirt- Tommy's shirt, and pulls up to reveal a sliver of the skin of your stomach.

"Your niece has been growing," Tommy adds after a few seconds, going back to focusing on the stove. He was oblivious to the way you shifted on your feet uncomfortably.

"Niece? You think it's a girl,” Joel asks, looking down at you, his brow quirked.

"Know so, I can feel it," Tommy responds.

Joel smiles softly when you do, glancing behind his shoulder, to look Tommy with a lovestruck look. Tommy deserves a good life; he just hates that it had to be with you.  Maybe if you weren't already together when he arrived, he would have swooped in and taken you first. 

Maybe then he would be the one telling Tommy that his niece was growing in your belly instead of the other way around. He turns to you.

"Have you gotten any cravings yet?"

He stares down at you, his eyes moving to your lips and staying there. Tommy couldn't see the glint in his eye, the way his thumb moves in circles on the skin of your belly, slightly pushing up your shirt further. 

"No, not yet,” you respond quietly.

You swallow thickly when he hums, it vibrates from his chest to yours, you throb at the feel of his warm palm, riding up your stomach, the smirk of his lips widens.

"It'll happen soon enough, makes you crazy I think, especially now when you can't have what you really want."

The shake of your head makes him chuckle, you glare at his shoulder. 

"I'll give her whatever she likes, she's never been without, not with me around."

You purse your lips, quickly finding the irony in your husband’s words. Joel barely turns his head when speaking back to him. He hums again, considering his words.

"You sure?"

Tommy glances back for a second, confused, not quite catching on, still focused on the pieces of steak on the stove. Joel's hands start to drag down lower, moving to your hips, his thumb at your hip bone and digging closer into the front zipper of your jeans, held together with a hair tie. 

"What cravings we talkin' about?" Tommy’s voice was unsure, as if he had caught onto something suspicious. Your breath stutters, Tommy's head turns from where he was cooking at the pan. 

"I don't know Tommy, maybe I'll want some ice cream."

You interrupt, seeing Joel's eyes squint and his mouth purse.You weren't sure he was going to say what he wanted to, but you knew it was on the tip of his tongue. He was bold and it made you anxious.

"Maybe some pickles with the ice cream,” you reiterate, attempting to lead the conversation to a lighthearted end.

Tommy laughs and Joel frowns when you step away, moving to get a glass of water from the water jar on the kitchen counter. With a kiss to your head, his hands still busy on the sizzling pan and wooden spoon, Tommy chuckles.

"I'll get you all the pickles you want, darlin'."

He winks and swats your ass gently, you scoff, swatting his arm. What concerned you was the fact that Joel had scoffed along with you. Tommy laughs, pointing at Joel with his spoon. 

"Sorry, can't take my hands off my lady, maybe you'll get what I mean soon, since you got all them women pecking at your feet."

You expect the conversation to end there, you almost sigh in relief at the seconds of silence afterwards.

"I got my eyes on someone, I'm sure you'll like her Tommy."

"Oh really?"

"Yep."

"Can I meet the lucky gal?"

"I'm sure you already know her since y'know, you've been here longer and it's a pretty small town."

Tommy smiles. He was happy for his older brother, finally settling in. He glances at you beside him, knowing that you had a big part in assimilating him into the town. You glance behind you as if you knew something he didn’t. 

His heart swells at your close friendship. He had hoped his brother would have accepted you and the other way around, especially with the stories he had told you about his past. 

You knew everything about Joel and he had told Joel everything about you.

"I'm sure I do,” he responds seconds later, arching his brow in your direction.

Your ears burn hot, you don't dare turn around, knowing Joel was grinning right at you.

Lunch was awkward, Tommy had sent you both to set up the table and you had tried to hide your displeasure despite the way Joel's hand on the small of your back made you want to jump out of your skin. 

It wasn't horrible, it was a good feeling, especially when he had made you sit down while Tommy finished up, massaging your shoulders, then moving down to your lower back, his fingers grazing over the top of your ass.

A moan had escaped you accidentally, making him stop his movements momentarily and continue with more vigor over the stiffness of your muscles. 

"Such pretty sounds coming from a pretty mama," he mutters. 

"Joel-“

“It’s ready!”

You shift away a little too quickly, standing and facing Tommy at the doorway. Your hiss from the ache in your back, the sudden weight pulling you down. Tommy immediately goes to your side, urging you to sit back down, barely noticing how close Joel had been seconds before. You eat in relative silence, the dinner lasting longer when Ellie had come in, just coming from her friend’s house. 

You only had a few moments with Tommy the rest of the evening, he held you, swaying in the middle of your bedroom, about to put on his boots to leave for patrol. It was always nerve racking, watching him leave now, especially since you used to accompany him all of the time before and now you physically couldn’t. At least he had Maria looking after him. But the worry was still ever present.

“Just a few days and we’ll have the house to ourselves.”

You nod against his chest, gripping his waist tightly. He cups your cheek, feeling your hands shake, trying to keep yourself from crying. 

“Hey, I’ll come back, I always do, yeah?”

You nod again and he frowns at your lack of eye contact. His lips soften you some, coaxing your mouth open, making your legs turn to jello at the feel of his hands gliding over your body and pushing you to sit on bed.  Your shirt comes off quickly, and he stares in amazement, for the first time in a while seeing your breasts bare. 

“They’re bigger, honey.”

You huff a short laugh, watching his hands hesitantly cup them, squeezing and making your nipple bulge from between his fingertips. You moan, your lips parting, your thighs shifting.  He looks mesmerized, his tongue flicking outward, his knees shifting closer to you. You spread your legs, already unbuttoning the front of your makeshift maternity jeans, his torso already slotting against the insides of your thighs. 

You smell good, he’s been able to get some scented oils for you, mostly for your growing body, to help soften your skin. The things that he’s given up to make sure you were well off.  It made him miss these moments with you.  He was still amazed at how much the baby had grown. 

Then his eyes started flickering, moving to the side as his eyes narrowed. The clock was glaring at him, making him groan in irritation and startling you. He stands, picking up your shirt and helping you put it on.

“Gotta go…”

You barely reciprocate the kiss before he leaves.

…

The stomach makes things more complicated. Your balance is off, you could barely see your toes and you weren't as flexible as before.  Your arm had to curve to even reach your pussy, which normally shouldn't have been a problem since you had Tommy around. But you were aching, you barely had any time alone with him and considering Joel's generator had decided to stop working entirely when your schedules were finally aligned you don't think you ever will.

You groan in frustration, your head pressed against the pillows and your eyes closed shut to imagine his scent, his taste, the softness of his hair. You move your hips, imagining his thrusts, your hands running down his bare chest and counting all of the freckles and marks on his skin whenever you rode him.  You missed his cock, uncut, thick, hard.

You moan even without touching yourself, imagining him on top of you, his lips at your throat, his teeth biting at the skin of your neck. You didn’t think to lock the door, or pay attention to the way the wood creaks.

"So beautiful…”

You stop your movement, not being able to sit up quick enough and cursing yourself when all you could do was cover yourself with a thin blanket from the side. You stare at him, standing by the door, watching and walking in slowly only to close to the door. The bed dips when his knee connects to the mattress, crawling towards you in your shock.

“He doesn’t take care of you does he?”

You scowl, glancing at him and the door.

“Joel, what are you doing?” you hissed.

His hands reach to cup your face.

“Let me. Please.”

Your eyes were swollen in unshed tears of frustration, your hands were shaking in nerves. He imagines he’s in his home, and you were laying on his bed, naked and so damn horny you could cry. He kisses you softly, cupping your face unexpectedly and dipping you to lay down again.  You lean into it helplessly, feeling your hands grasp onto his shirt and grip so tightly it twists. You were the one to take it further, to make sure he stood still when your tongue started dipping in between his lips.

You were so desperate for touch, for any sort of skin on skin that you had momentarily lost yourself, moaning into his mouth, swallowing his groans down and pressing your hands wherever you could to feel him against you. Your hormones were going insane, raging through your body in pulses of pleasure when you sat up again only to push him down and straddle his lap.

His hand runs over your stomach, pressing slightly on the newly formed firmness. 

“He hasn’t touched me, not since…”

You motion to your stomach and press further into his chest.

“He’s depriving you, needy thing. You needa cock in you every night, don’t ya. Need cum to fill you to the brim.”

Your hands grip onto his shirt tightly, unbuttoning the front and revealing a white undershirt. You make him groan, teeth nipping harshly at his bottom lip and grazing down his jaw and throat.

“You make me feel good, Joel,” you whispered. Your body was a mess of hormones, you were already dripping by the time his fingers pressed your underwear to the side, making you gasp onto his neck.

There was barely any resistance at his cock, entering you quickly in a thrust.  The mattress creaks with each press of your hips, your belly kissing his with each undulation. Your breasts bounce and for a moment his eyes are stuck on the movement, your head thrown back and your hands tightening over his shoulders as you raise your thighs and slap them down again. His hand cradles your belly, his thumb running over your folds and grazing your swollen clit.

He’s amazed by the growth of your stomach, each time.  He pretends it’s his, you do too, even if for a moment.

“You're so full of me, sweetheart.”

His cock was stuffing you repeatedly, stretching you wide every time you bounced and your cunt met the base of his shaft. You arch your back, your hands leaning back on his thighs. His head leans forward and his mouth reaches the peaks of your breasts, tongue flicking your nubs in time with his suckles. 

“Does Tommy fuck you like this?” He murmurs against your skin.

Your eyes widen, you gasp when he bites down lightly.  You clench tightly, the thought of your husband finding you fucking his own brother made your body stiffen and tremble. 

“N-not anymore.”

Your wetness covered his lap, smothering the insides of your thighs in slick. His hands grip your hips tightly, lifting you and pressing you harder than your pace. Your body stiffens, your head filling with a pleasant and euphoric fuzz. 

“So fuckin' tight, so wet-“ he groans, “how could he resist you, mama?”

Your back hits the mattress, despite the initial discomfort of having your legs spread to either side of your chest, your knees meeting the sides of your breasts, the press of his hips against yours makes your body turn soft and pliant. 

The bed creaks, the frames slamming against the wall.  Your breath leaves you in puffs, his body over you and his lips attached to your neck, leaving a thick trail of spit from your chest to lips. His hands entangled in yours, his groans next to your ear.  You couldn’t think of anything else but him, anything but the way his cock slid into you, making your slick squelch against each slap of skin.

“Tommy doesn’t know the first thing about taking care of a family,” he groans.

He stills, making you whine, your pussy tightening and your hands gripping over his strongly.  His head lifts, staring deeply into your eyes, one of his hands cupping your stomach, his thumb smoothing over the gravid swell soothingly.  He whispers promises on your lips.

“I’m going to take care of you. You and the baby.”

His thumb presses hard against your clit. You whimper, closing your eyes tightly, nodding lightly.

“Gonna give you more, as much as you can give me.”

He gets lost in your face, brows furrowed in pleasure, lips wide open in ecstasy.  His hips move slowly, the tip of his shaft meeting your lips and sinking in, building you further into your climax. He closes his eyes, grinding his pelvis against yours, feeling your legs start to shake, your moans getting higher in pitch. Louder.

You gargle a scream when you lose yourself, making him groan against your chest, holding in a growl at how tight and wet you had gotten. His cum spurts inside you, you groan from the feeling, missing the heat that warms you. You pant, delirious and wiping at your forehead as your legs start to relax, almost cramping from the position he had put you in.  His arms wound themselves around you, mouth open in exertion. 

You chuckle, almost forgetting how much older he was compared to you.  His chest is in sync with yours, his hands roam around your belly when you turn towards him, leaning your heavy stomach against his soft one. The pressure on your back is relieved and you sigh deeply, head burying into his shoulder.

He chuckles, pressing his lips on the side of your head and for a second you thought Tommy was beside you, caressing your stomach in circles, breathing in the scent of your hair.  Your finger had stopped tracing patterns on his chest when you had felt a mole on his collarbone, pausing at the unfamiliarity.

Then your heart leapt from your chest, you felt as if you couldn’t breathe. You sit up quickly, tears already springing in your eyes at the man beneath you, sitting up with you to hold your face in his hands.

“What’s wrong?”

You almost scoffed, but you shake your head instead. Your heart drops, Ellie, the bed was banging against the damn walls, you had screamed for god’s sakes.

“Oh god- Ellie- she must have heard everything-“

“She’s not here, she’s with a friend tonight.”

That didn’t stop the tears from falling.  You had deceived your husband, you fucked his brother.  You were disgusted with yourself, your actions, the thoughts you had been fighting for months now.

He grips your face tightly, hearing you mutter Tommy’s name over and over again in a quiet whisper, trying to push yourself away from him. He surprises you with his lips against yours, he swallows your gasp, pulling you impossibly closer. Your lungs burned, your head cradled in his hands, his eyes closed tightly willing you to stay put.

You hate how you reciprocated, feeling your heart thump quickly in affection, something you used to only feel with Tommy.

…

Joel was with you every night, waiting until Tommy had left, when Ellie was in deep sleep or gone off with a friend.  Sometimes he would take you in the morning, which was becoming an even more common occurrence. 

You smile more often, you haven’t felt so doted on in what felt like a year. You didn’t need Tommy anymore, not when Joel was always with you, taking jobs around town now, mostly at the stables and with the cattle where you were usually set to supervise.

His presence was accepted by you again, you were practically at the hip, Ellie tagging along every now and then, sometimes giving you a strange look when he would sit too close and his hands would twitch to yours when you were walking.You’d always ignored it. All of Tommy’s time was at work, and when he didn’t have anything to do it would be spent with Joel.

Your sudden indifference to his attention made him worried. It was wrong, wanting your wife to be miserable when you were gone, but so was he.  Tommy hated every minute apart from you and now that he saw you so content with the situation, a complete change from your sad looks and tired but grateful gazes whenever he came home to you, he knew something must have happened.

He confides in Maria and she gives him hours off, reassuring him that the whole community was willing to help him and his wife raise their child. And that meant keeping them safe from whatever was outside Jackson’s walls. 

She felt pity for you both but Tommy was one stubborn man, he didn’t want anyone else’s help, claiming it was unfair to the other members of the commune. She could see the strain, how most of your pregnancy was spent alone.

“There’s an event… tonight…”

Maria raises a brow, eyes full of mirth. She turns to him with a small smile on her lips.

“Everyone will be there, I’m sure you could surprise her there.”

He nods slowly, his eyes flickering as if already imagining how he would swoop you off of your feet.  A smile rises on his face, his chest fills with excitement.

“Dancing?”

Maria chuckles. She gives him a look.

“What kind of monsters do you think we are? Of course there’ll be dancing.”

He smiles so wide his teeth seem to glimmer in the moonlight. 

“Shower before, I doubt she’ll be too happy about your stench.”

He scoffs, his horse trotting ahead to make it to the settlement quicker. She watches on, his slumped shoulders now straightened and his chest puffed. He glances behind him gesturing for her to hurry it up.

…

You and Tommy used to attend these things all the time. There was cause for community celebrations all of the time.  Even if the same songs would keep playing, and at times there was the same foods and beverages being served, Tommy had always managed to bring you out to dance. It was always exciting. 

Now you’re here with Joel and Ellie, Joel nursing a beer, and Ellie talking your ear off.  His hand was on your thigh under the table, occasionally moving over your belly and rubbing. Your hand would caress over his forearm, fiddling with his sleeve, tightening whenever you had caught yourself throwing your head back in laughter. 

You lay your head against his shoulder, chuckling along to whatever comment he had responded with before sipping his beer smugly. Ellie had been bothering him about his love life, commenting on how much of a loner he is, hanging around a fifteen year old and a heavily pregnant and married woman. He had eyed you, a smirk in place. You shoved your elbow into his ribs and he winced.

The door had opened to the hall and he turned, minding the way you laid your head against his shoulder, your nose pressing against the fabric of his long sleeve shirt.  His face fell, and his hand patted your thigh, caressing over your stomach one last time before shifting away. He wasn’t hiding anything for himself, if anything he wouldn’t mind the whole world knowing you were his, but you would. 

You still loved Tommy, the yearning was still there and when he saw him standing at the doorway, his eyes roaming around the hall, he knew you would go to him. You turn to where Joel’s gaze was directed, your eyes brightening. Tommy shouldn’t be in town. His shift should have ended in a couple hours more.

“Tommy,” you whisper. 

Joel’s hand meets your back when you attempt to stand, taking in a sharp inhale from the sudden exertion.  You were wearing a maternity dress Tommy had found during one of his patrols. It was early in your pregnancy and you had joked about dreading the day it would actually fit.

You wave him over, and his face brightens in a smile, striding over to the table quickly.  His hands move to your waist, his body slightly hunched to lift you against him as he hugs you tightly. Your head buries itself in the curls kissing his neck, your hands landing on his back.

“Hey darlin’, missed me?”

You had pulled him down for a kiss and those around you had fawned over quietly at the scene. You two were the success story. You were the model for a new life in Jackson. Everyone knew of the two council members who would shamelessly flirt with each other, who had developed their relationship among the work of helping the community. 

The rest of the night he was clinged to you and in turn you to him.  He had asked you to dance and Joel had protested, saying you shouldn’t be on your feet too much, and you would only get achy.  It had only stopped Tommy momentarily, until you had dragged him to the floor in a slow song. 

Joel helped you off of the bench, his hands on your lower back and Tommy’s hand on yours. Their eyes connected, and he threw a look of confusion in Joel’s direction, especially when he noted his barely hidden scowl.

You lightly sway, Tommy’s hand holding yours over his heart. 

“I’ll make it up to you,” he whispered against your ear.

His eyes were filled with ardor, one of his palms roaming to the curve of your ass. His head buried itself next to yours. You only slapped his shoulder, kissing his cheek when he groaned playfully.

Your head lays against him, you inhale his scent. The song was slow, enough so that you didn’t have to leave the interlocking of your bodies, looking as if you were just standing in a hug. Your arms move under his pits and over his wide back, his arm wraps over your waist, a hand over your bump protectively.

Members of the community stare at you both, some smiling in his direction, others nodding. They could see how much happier you are, how you smile so pleasantly against his chest. It brought Tommy pride, showing off his pregnant wife.  He did that.  He put that baby in you. You were his beautiful wife. He was so lucky and he had been so close to losing everything.

“I’m sorry.”

Your head rises, looking up with brows arched in surprise.

“What?-“

“I know I haven’t been here, for you, for the baby.”

His eyes well with tears, he looks down on you with a sad smile.

“Maria gave me some time off- well not some- a lot.”

He cups your face, your eyes widening at the affection.  This is what you wanted, for the longest and now you have it.  

Why do you feel your heart sink? Not at the fact that he was going to be around longer but at the fact that you had to let Joel go. You glance in his direction, he was turned away, Ellie still talking to him about something passionately judging by the way her hands move frantically. 

He would be fine, you thought, he had his own family.

You smile brightly, the brightest you have in a while and Tommy’s heart expands. It was almost as if Joel could sense your eyes from a second before. His heart plummets to the floor, you were stomping all over it, you and Tommy. He watches Tommy kiss you delicately, your hands gliding up to the back of his neck to keep him there. You moan against his lips, deep and throaty from the way his tongue swiped over your bottom lip.

“Missed you, baby.”

You rest your forehead against his, feeling his warmth closer than ever. You hold him tighter, resting your head against his shoulder when you pull yourself up against his chest.

“Missed you too,” you mutter.

The last thing you see before being dragged away, your coat being placed over you in a rush, was Joel’s deep frown, staring until you had made it out the door.

You ignored it.

…

Your legs shake, thighs jiggling with each shift. Tommy was underneath you, his lips smacking, savoring your taste and his hands on either side of your hips helping you stay up and balanced against his face.

“Mmmh fuck baby, haven’t been taking care of this pussy in months. She’s so goddamn needy.”

Your hands tighten over the headboard. You nod, moaning out his name when his tongue flicks up to your clit. Then his hands tighten over you, pressing you against his face, not letting you up.  His head swivels from side to side, his tongue out and his nose rubbing against you relentlessly. He makes you grind on him, and you lose yourself.

“Joel,” you moan.

His hand loosens slightly, your body freezes for a moment, and for a second your heart stops, beating wildly afterwards when he had continued with more fervor.

You had forced your mind to blank, focusing on the way his tongue flicked over your clit repeatedly, tonguing your slit afterwards and pressing his nose up to pull your hood from your sensitive nerves. You think of the way his cock is probably throbbing, aching in his jeans, straining against the zipper. He rubs almost too harshly against you, and you cum with a surprised yelp.

He licks up the mess slowly, helping you come down in waves. He lifts you gently and when you try to reach for his crotch, wanting to palm him he stops you. He helps you lay down afterwards, minding your shaking thighs and your sweat soaked skin. He stares for a moment, getting lost in your state. You give him a questioning look.

“Did you-“

He’s at a loss for words. He swallows thickly and tries again. 

“Did you say someone else’s name- just now?”

You pause, you stop breathing for a moment. You had hoped he missed that, that he would dismiss it quickly.

“You said Joel.”

You shake your head slowly, wiping at your forehead, flicking the sweat from your brows.

“I said oh.”

It was said so confidentially, it sounded genuine and his eyes immediately softened in guilt. How could he accuse you of such a thing?The bulge that was at the front of his pants was now gone. You sigh.

“I’m sorry if I ruined the mood-“

“No. No, it’s fine, I just uh- I shouldn’t have been thinkin’ of my brother when I was between such pretty legs.”

You chuckle, your face warming but not at the vulgarity of his words or his try at a joke but at the fact that he had been so close to the truth and you were such a great actress. You feel a great shame when he joins you for a bath, helping you lean back against his chest and caressing over your skin with a sponge.  As if he could wash away the past weeks when you used his brother to feel good about yourself.

You cling onto him, and he savors it, not knowing that your over affections came from guilt.

Coincidentally, the same week Tommy had managed to fix Joel’s generator, now having enough time to look it over. Joel and Ellie were now gone. Now you and Tommy could finally have some time alone despite them coming over every so often, Joel more than Ellie.

…

“Gonna give you more, look so pretty like this, stretched out on my cock and swollen with my baby.”

Sometimes Joel would invite you over for breakfast, he could afford the food now, especially since he’s taken some shifts for patrol lately and the pay was always good. He loved having his meals with you, especially before Tommy’s shift ended and his began. His belt buckle clinks loudly with each thrust, his hands fisting your dress tightly.

The breath is pushed out of your lungs each time his cock plunges into you. You moan wantonly, head lolling between your shoulders.  Your palms almost slide off the kitchen island, your legs spread wide from where you stood. You whine when he slows, closing your eyes tightly, honing in on his grunts and the sound of your ass meeting his pelvis.

He grunts loudly and his warmth fills you. His head meets your shoulder, his breath wet and hot on your exposed skin. His hand moves to grope over your breast, you lean back against his body, breathing heavily, cunt still throbbing from your loss of release.

“Fuck, baby, made me finish early, got you squeezing my cock so tight.”

He slips out of you and you groan, his spend sliding down your thighs. His fingers place your panties back, tapping against your mound and pulling his hands away when you buckle forward only to smooth down the skirt of your dress.

“I could take care of you another way, sweetheart.”

He pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around your waist, cupping your belly and holding the weight in his hands. You relax further against his hold, sighing in slight relief. Your eyes wander around the room, and your back straightens, you gasp, eyeing the clock.

“Tommy’s almost home.”

“Jus’ a few minutes, promise.”

“Joel-“

He turns you in his arms, his hands roaming over your sides.

“One more taste, please.”

You lick your lips in contemplation and before you knew it he was guiding you to sit at the dining room table.

He was kneeling, hidden under your long summer dress. Your breasts had looked amazing in them, you were developing a bigger cleavage and you had decided to show it off. You looked so pretty sitting down in the recreational area, smiling during conversation, a hand on your bump, running circles over the soft fabric of your dress.

You lean back on the chair, you could see his head from beneath, a lump at your front and with the lacy ends of your skirt delicately splayed on his broad back. He was going slow, taking his time, hovering his mouth over you so that you would squirm in impatience.

“Joel, please.”

How could he ignore your whines, the way your hips twitch to his mouth. He eats like a man starved, ever since he first arrived he ate as if his meal would be swiped from under his nose at any second.  He feels that way with you, waiting for Tommy to take you away, only having you when he was gone. He yearns to keep you, to just cup your face and kiss you at any given moment and not in the confines of a locked room.

He still didn’t understand why you didn’t let him, he was obviously a better choice for you, he could be a better father than his brother, a better husband. Your back arches, your palm smoothing over the head covered in fabric. His nose nudges your clit repeatedly, his tongue laying flat against your slit, the tip running over the insides of your cunt. He could barely breathe but he didn’t care.

He drags you forward, the back of your shoulders meeting the back of the chair. You stare up at the ceiling, trying to keep your breaths in line. He kisses up the insides of your thighs, shifting on his knees every so often.  He was deliberate in taking his time and you chuckle when he continues again, slurping and licking to his heart’s content.

You glance out the window, mouth wide open, sweat collecting on your brow and eyes so hooded it looked as if you were on the cusp of a moan. 

There he is. Your husband, watching with cold eyes, his pack on one shoulder and a rifle on the other. He always comes in from the backyard. How could you forget? 

Your eyes widened, you slapped the head between your legs and the chair scratches against the floor from how quickly you shifted away.

Time seems to slow for you, you refused to answer any of Joel’s questions, your body already shaking and tears falling down the sides of your face. You stare at the floor, hearing the doorbell resound around the house. Joel ignored it, his eyes frantically roaming over your face.

“Did I hurt you? What-what happened?”

The walls shake from how hard Tommy pounds at the door.  You seem to collapse over yourself, standing quickly and lifting up your underwear after taking a breath.

The knocks continue, each time getting louder. He calls out your name, yelling at you to open. 

“Open this goddamn door!”

Your breath catches in your throat, you choke on a sob as Joel stands, opening the door hard enough for it to slam inside. 

You could briefly catch the hint of betrayal in his eyes. He stares at Joel for a few moments, his mouth open in shock. Then his face changes to a look of realization. All of these months wondering about the looks, the sudden happiness while he was gone. 

Deep down he felt shameful. Was he not enough for you? Was his older brother better than him? His face twists in indignation. It makes your stomach turn. You’ve only seen him like this once before. On a patrol where you had confronted a hoard of infected. 

One was on top of you, your knife having been skidded across the floor from a fall moments before. In the span of a second, you could have been bitten, your neck ripped to shreds. 

He thought he lost you. He wanted to rip the world apart. It felt that way too now. 

Tommy’s hands make it to the lapels of Joel’s jacket before you could even push past the doorway, pulling him out to the porch and down the steps.

Their faces were inches away, practically snarling and snapping like bulldogs. You watch, your legs stiff, as Tommy pushes him on the chest, screaming in his face and glancing in your direction every so often. Joel barely reacts. Tommy directs a dirty look towards you and your heart sinks.

“Is that even my baby? How long has she been spreadin’ her legs for you?”

You gasp, hands pressing to your bump protectively. Joel finally reacts, his own hands pressing against Tommy’s chest and pushing him back a couple feet. He points an accusing finger.

“You watch your tongue, boy, I won’t let you talk about her that way.”

Tommy scoffs, voice rising.

“You’re sleepin’ with my wife!”

“Someone has to!”

You rush down the steps when Tommy swings, already having straddled him on the ground by the time you reach their wrestling forms. He slams a fist down Joel’s face. You yell out. 

“Tommy, stop it!”

He grunts, ignoring your yells. He was reaching for the rifle now dropped across the ground and covered in snow. 

“Tommy stop-“

You reached for his shoulder, Joel’s face was already split, his teeth covered in his own blood. Tommy pushes you away and you fall on your ass, yelping and slipping from the snow.  He stops almost immediately and Joel pushes him away, crawling towards you.  The fabric of your dress was getting wet, your legs starting to sting and numb from the cold.

You weakly push the rifle away and it thunks against the wooden fence, far away from either man. 

You sit up with a groan, the impact of the ground making your hips ache. You keep your head down when you stand with Joel’s help, neighbors having come out of their homes from the commotion. Tommy stares as if he wanted to help, his hands twitching in your direction.

“Get inside.”

“Joel-“

“I said get inside.”

You follow his command, but not before lifting your head to catch Tommy’s stare, his eyes narrowed and flickering from your stomach to your face. Joel spits red on the snow inches away from Tommy’s boots. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but you kept your gaze out of the window, catching Tommy’s eyes moving to the house every so often. He leaves with a scowl and Joel’s heads inside with his shoulders slumped.

You tend to his face, his hand at your bump, not leaving it even when you had made him stand to make him take a bath. You fall into his arms that night, staying in his room and sobbing the rest of the day, knowing that you had just lost someone you loved.

…

"The baby's yours..."

His eyes flickered to his hand tightly fisted at the table and back to you, sitting down in front of him, scared out of your wits and rubbing small frantic circles over your stomach.

"That's not‐ I know."

He ignores the tears falling from your eyes, he sighs.

“I know she’s mine. I do, sweetheart.”

His softness made you sob, your palms covering your eyes and your lips quivering to keep in the sounds of your cries.

“I’m sorry, Tommy.”

You sit in silence, until you catch your breath. It’s been a few days and you had decided to go back home, alone. Joel didn’t even know you were there.  He didn’t want you to see Tommy anymore, claiming he didn’t deserve you and that he could raise the baby all fine with you. You still wanted Tommy in your life, in your child’s life.

“I think it will be best if you move over to Joel’s for now, I… I need time.”

You wanted to cry again, to heave yourself off to bed and just collapse into the mattress. You just nod solemnly.

“When the time comes, I’ll be there for her, for you. I love you, and I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”

He chuckles sadly, his eyes watering and threatening to spill. He reaches for your hand, standing and kneeling to kiss the side of your head one last time before he went to work, leaving you to pack up.

“I love you too,” you murmur.

He hums, nodding against you before inevitably letting go.

…

"So... you and Joel."

Small town gossip doesn't escape anyone, even in the post apocalypse. If the teenagers somehow knew, you don't doubt the adults did too. You stay quiet, festering in your guilt and embarrassment. She was going to find out eventually, you’ve been staying over for a few days now, you were sitting on the porch to their backyard at the moment.

"I mean, you could move in with us... he's kind of already like a dad..." To me, she might have added, she's not quite sure she'd ever specifically call him that outwardly though.

"Might as well complete the nuclear family, two kids and two parents. Could get a dog too..."

You fight a chuckle, she's been on and on about wanting a dog recently.  Even in a serious conversation she brings it up.  What really piqued your interest was the fact that she had included you in her nuclear family, the other parent. 

It tore your heart in two and stitched it back up again.  She saw you as a mother figure, maybe even your unborn child as a brother or sister. Your face falls, thinking of Tommy, how he had told you he needed time.  You have doubts on whether or not he would love the child, it's not like there were any paternity tests anymore. He might think Joel was the biological father. Why would he believe a cheater anyway?  Why would Joel even care about the kid either, knowing the truth of their paternity?

"The kid's not his..."

"I'm not either," she snaps at you. But he still cares about me like his own. You could see it in her eyes, she was stern, not wanting to leave any doubts in her argument. You sigh not wanting to intrude in anything, not wanting to get into a family when you didn’t know the outcomes of the one you had just put in pause.

She rests her head against your shoulder, watching as Joel works on the small garage she was going to call home soon. Joel wanted to get the baby’s room ready. Ellie offered to move out. He was excited.

You didn’t have the heart to tell him about the conversation you had with his brother.

--------------------

Taglist: @aurorawritestoescape @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascal @mirandablue1

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs help motivate me and other authors! FYI ☺ Cucked is one of my favs but I think I kind of want to leave it as a one-shot. Let me know what y'all think.

"Can't take anymore," you whimper, breathing hard, legs slightly parted as Joel runs a heavy hand over your thigh. He hums, leaning back in the chair beside the bed, fully dressed expect for his belt undone and cock out, already thick in His hand.

"That ain't not true, baby. I know that pussy. She'll take more."

You whine softly, flushed and soaked, your whole body twitching when his thumb brhshes your inner thigh.

Then the front door opens and slams shut.

Boots. Footsteps. And then-

"Joel? You home?"

Tommy.

You try to close your legs but Joel grips your knee and spreads them wider. "Let him see," he drawls. "He's earned it." Your heart pounds as tommy appears in the bedroom doorway, face streaked with dirt and sweat from patrol.

He freezes when he sees you. Spread, open, flushed, slick and aching, while Joel strokes his cock slow beside you.

"Jesus Christ..." Tommy mutters, eyes wide.

Joel just chuckles, looking between you and his younger brother. "Shes been a mess all day," he says casually. "Cried on my cock twice already. Thought maybe you'd like a taste." Your breath catches, the hungry in Tommy's eyes is obvious.

You shiver as he steps closer, the heat of his body making your thighs twitch. "You sure?" Tommy asks, voice rough. "You want me to-"

"Shes alrwsy soaked," Joel cuts in, not even looking at you as he fists himself slowly. "Can't stop drippin'. Go on. Take your time with her." You meet Tommy's gaze, chest rising and falling.

Tommy kneels at the edge of the bed, his big hands curling under your thighs as he pulls you gently toward him. "Sweet girl," he murmurs, kissing your inner thigh. "Look at you.." he noses along your folds, inhaling deeply before dropping his tongue up your slit.

You cry out, legs jerking, already too sensitive but tommy groans like he's starved, like you're the only thing he's ever wanted.

He takes his time. Tongue slow and wide. Lips gentle. Hands stroking your hips like you're something precious. Bjs mouth is soft, worshipful. Nothing like Joel's rough, greedy rhythm. And get, it makes you shake.

"Shes already twitchin'," Joel says low, his voice heavy with arousal as he watches from the chair. "You ain't even gotten started yet."

Tommy groans against you, lapping deeper. "She tastes so fuckin' sweet," he says, mouth shining. "Can't believe you been keepin' this to yourself." Joel chuckles, lazily stroking his cock as he leans back. "You think I'm gonna share often?" He mutters. "You better enjoy it while it lasts." Tommy does. He feasts on you, slow at first, gentle flicks of his tongue then deeper, firmer strokes as you writhe beneath him. Your hands curl in the sheets. Your body arches. You moan until your throat's raw.

Joel jerks himself slowly, eyes never leaving your soaked pussy and Tommy's mouth working between your legs.

"Fuckin' hell,' he rasps. "Look at you. One little tongue and you're already losin' it. Can barely speak."

"Joel," you cry, breathless. "I- I can't-"

"Yes, you can," he growls. "You'll come fo him, and then you'll come again for me."

Tommy hooks his arms under your thighs, pulling you deeper against his mouth and moans low as your back arches and your hips buck.

His tongue dosent stop, not even when you start sobbing, not even when your thighs clamp around his head.

He holds you don't gently and keeps eating you. Joel watches with a darkz hungry gaze, his cock twitching in his hand. "That's it," he groans. "That's my good girl."

You shatter, again and again, the pleasure rolling through it. He dosent come up until your hips are shaking and you're whimpering from the intensity. "Could stay here all night," tommy pants, resting his cheek against your thigh.

Joel grins. "Go ahead."

And Tommy does,

Over and over.

You lose track of how many times you come, three? Four? More? Your voice is gone. Your thighs ache. Your pussy's sore and soaked and glistening under the low light. Joel stands finally, fjsting his cock as he comes closer. "Move over," he growls to tommy. "I wanna come on that pretty little pussy."

Tommy pulls back, lips swollen, face wet, watching with hooded eyes as Joel strokes himself fast, staring straight at your wrecked body. He grips your thigh, moaning loud as he spills himself across your slit, thick white streaks painting your skin.

"Fuck, fuck- look at her," he growls, his body shaking. "So fuckin' good. Made for this."

You're trembling, lips parted, eyes dazed.

Tommy leans over toy and brushes your hair back gently. "You okay, baby?" You nod faintly, still whimpering as Joel lets go of her leg.

Frankie barely has any time to plop down onto the couch, let alone remove his heavy work boots before something white flashes in front of his face. There’s a rustling sound too, though his ears are slow in processing it as exhaustion pulls his shoulders down in a slump against the worn and soft cushions. He blinks twice before his eyes can focus on the curl of your hand around a pamphlet.

Manicured and designed nails shine and glitter, telling him how you spent a good chunk of your day and a smile lazily takes over his lips as he pictures you excitedly talking with your nail tech and friend about too much and so fast while she works to create the design. He hopes you had a good time, you deserve it.

The loop of writing is a little blurry so he reaches up to grip your wrist and pull it back just enough to read it- snapping back to the present as best he can.

“An orchard?” His voice dips in confusion, the activity of the day making him a little sluggish not only physically but mentally. He wishes his work wasn’t so demanding, that he doesn’t juggle two jobs to maintain your shared lives, but he does to ensure the comfortability of a certain degree while saving up to get a house- apartment living on the base only good for so long and there are plenty of younger couples that would benefit the starter place better than you both.

“A peach orchard!” His gaze travels up your arm to your wide, giddy smile and he feels warmth blossom in his chest. God, he loves you.

He wants to keep that smile plastered on your face, but the issue is time.

He just promised his boss the upcoming weekend for an important tour. The owner of the company is checking in on their routes, wanting to fly along for each of the five they offer to access the scenery and time frames. Being as skilled a pilot as he is, especially with a helicopter means that he’s offered exclusive trips first before the others in the yard. A high-end tourism company that does sky tours of Florida coast and Everglades for those seeking out the sights without being ankle deep in them. It’s his side gig, being on motor pool for the base his one, set hours to instruct the newer recruits. He sighs, rubbing his thumb over the pulse point in your wrist were he still grips you gently.

“Bebita, I-“

“Oh,” Your face evens out, disappointment swirling momentarily behind your eyes before you tamp down on it. The emotion getting the better of you for a split second. Smile calming but remaining in place. “That’s okay, trips bring in good money for the savings account!”

Before he can say anything else, you’re moving gracefully across the living room and into the kitchen. He both hears and smells you finish up dinner, plating it up and setting the table before you call him into the adjacent room. His heard aches in his chest, lungs struggling to pull in a full breath as he knows he just disappointed you…again.

You’d made his favorite, knowing the week is getting to him, even with another day left to it and then now a fully booked weekend. So sweet, so kind, so understanding- he loves you so much for how much grace you lend him.

He makes sure you know that as you both shower together after dinner, his broad body crowding yours in the small space. Curling around you where he can, pressing against you where he can. Reveling in the feel of you against him, the softness of your skin, the scent of the suds bubbled up on it, the way he’s allowed to see you like this.

And when you both retire to bed for the night, the application of lotion onto your shoulders and back turning into him pressing his hard on into the backs of your thighs and you wiggling your hips in a way that was definitely more desperate than teasing…

✦✦✦✦

Frankie~!” Your voice singsongs through the apartment the second he steps inside. He’s greeted by it and the smells of something utterly fucking fantastic you’re pulling out of the oven when he appears in the doorway to the kitchen. A wolf whistle makes you startle a little, his long-time friend and found brother Santiago, standing just behind him and peering over his shoulder at the sight of you bent over to retrieve a steaming pan from the rack the culprit for the sound.

A string of Spanish flows from you, admonishing the smirking man as you place the glass pan on the counter to cool, close the oven, and turn around to place your hands on your hips- all while keeping on the chunky oven mitts. They have snails on them, which doesn’t help the intimidation that you try to enact on them in the slightest.

“We brought dinner?” The unapologetic man offers as he holds up a large paper bag with said take out. it rustles with his little wiggle, the twine handle dangling from his fingers. All Frankie does is watch with a soft heart and even softer gaze as his friend walks into the kitchen. You don’t move save to slightly pucker your lips to kiss the man in greeting, brows staying furrowed to make those little lines on your forehead. Frankie just watches as your eyes follow him when he leans in before moving to the table and begins to dig everything out.

“How was your day, sweet girl?” Frankie steps into your personal space and presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull your attention away from his friend. He preens as you melt into him, those damn snail oven mitts coming up to rest on his chest. His chest rumbles as laughter sounds from him, his eyes bouncing from them to your own. Your pout is too cute, he swoops low to kiss your nose.

“It was good, baby, just did a little cleaning around the house when I got back.” You’d gone ahead and visited that orchard you were so excited about. A quiet conversation between the two of you transpiring yesterday evening when you brought it up. Frankie busy with his drills and teaching at the base, Santiago too. Both of them starting a curated course on managing their teams and following protocol while traveling abroad on missions something given to them for the season.

Today was the first day, hence the homemade desert.

It's the beginning of summer, the reason for you having so much free time. School is officially out for break and summer sessions begin in a handful of weeks. Community college is something you pride yourself on being able to teach, allowing that gap to be bridged for those figuring out what they want to pursue and a cheaper way for people to knock out their general education credits.

But you always feel a lightness when a semester ends, that reprieve allowing you some time to yourself.

“Wanted to actually talk to you about maybe not picking up a third summer session.” Your brows now furrow further, guilt glittering in your eyes as you admit to what you’ve been thinking for some time now. Frankie works so hard, he’s so tired when he comes home every day and you are too but you want to add to the savings account too…You just need a little bit of a lighter load.

“My day was good too,” Santiago speaks up from where he’s seated himself at the table with a beer, the can hissing as he opens it and takes a soothing gulp. “Trainees were a little slow going but got them where they needed to be by the end.”

You kiss Frankie chastely before detangling yourself from him and going over to the man in question. The food spread out on the table is all your favorites from an infusion place, sides and appetizers aplenty while there’s a burger each as well. The smell is wonderful paired with the fresh cobbler cooling on the counter. Ice cream in the freezer to scoop on top when it’s time.

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you lean down and squeeze tight. Kissing his temple with an exaggerated wet sound. “Proud of you, Santi.”

“All I wanted to hear, honestly.” He smiles, genuine but big as he pats your arms around him.

“Since when do you need words of affirmation, primo?” Frankie teases, watching the two of you across the table. The comfortability you two have with each other, the respectful but loving way his long time friend interacts with you. The way you eat it up but also don’t let him get away with too much. A perfect balance.

“What? It’s not like we all got a sweet girl at home waiting for us, would it kill you to share a little.”

“Yes.” He deadpans, taking his seat at the table and popping open his own beer. Reaching over, he refills the glass of wine you were nursing with the bottle retrieved from the fridge. “Now let’s eat, I’m starved.”

“Amen to that,” You chirp, taking your own seat and digging in.

✦✦✦✦

It takes weeks, but Frankie finally gets a weekend off from touring. He’s pretty sure you’ve given up on him actually taking you because you took down the pamphlet from the calendar by the front door. That hurt, he’ll admit.

He’s determined to make it happen for you, this trip out to the city limits and orchard you were so excited to tell him about when you returned from a solo trip as soon as you were able to during a weekday.

Frankie takes in the beautiful scene, the interior of the welcome stand and gift shop filled with wooden barrels of peaches that have already been picked. Shelves lined with jars of jam and pickled items gleam in the sun filtering in through the open side of the building. He’s turning to take in the sight of you amongst it all but his gaze hooks on the person behind the checkout counter that you’ve ambled up to.

“Back again, miss?” The teen greets you warmly, his whole face lighting up in a way that Frankie knows all to well. The boy has a crush on you, for fucking sure.

“Hi, Dio, yes!” You beam at him. Frankie supposes that he could possibly, maybe, sort of resemble what he looked like at that age. Tall, lanky, long limbs. Chiseled jawline, big hands, large doe eyes. If it weren’t for the whole…tame goth thing the boy’s got going on. Faded black denim overalls, a shirt with the orchard’s name on it underneath. Dyed hair that’s a little too gelled, smudged eyeliner that make the brown of them pop, rings and piercings that shine in the sun.

“Ooo, you got the pretty lady to call you by your weird little nickname,” his twin ambles up beside him and Frankie literally falters. Now that is exactly what he looked like as a younger man. To the tee, in his plain white shirt and baggy flannel, work boots and lived in jeans. God damn, you totally clocked it. “Way to go, Shane.”

“Shut up, dude.”

“Two today?” The twins’ eye up Frankie as he stands beside you, back rigid and lips pulled down a bit as he regards them. Friendly. They are so friendly with you. As are you, with most people you encounter but this…this seems a little too friendly. And he has a hunch that he’s pretty sure he knows exactly why.

“Yes, please.”

“We’ve got a group going out in about ten minutes, if you can wait around?”

“Of course, Frankie and I will just go and take a look out front in the meantime,” You grip his arm with both of yours and plop your chin on his shoulder, looking up at him with such an earnest expression. His heart stutters as he looks down at you, the glitter of your eyes, of your earrings, of the ring he put on your finger just last year when he asked you to be his.

“That’s a real pretty dress, miss.”

“Like the pattern,” Ricky lilts, though he’s not teasing in the slightest. The small peaches with green leaves scattered on the white fabric. Thin straps, scoop neckline, corset like midsection with satin ribbons that secure in the back, and a skirt that flows down to your knees.

“Oh, thank you!” You swivel in place a bit, the skirt flaring out to display the pattern a bit more, soft smile on your face as you recall walking into the bedroom to see it laid out with the note for today’s activity in Frankie’s scrawl. He’d gone out to get coffee and pastries to enjoy on the drive out and left it for you to find after your shower. “My fiancé got it for me!”

✦✦✦✦

You know how it happens, because it’s your dear Frankie. But you aren’t exactly sure of the logistics in this particular case. But if you were to ask him later, he’d just say ‘you took me to an orchard and I watched you prance around lookin’ pretty in that dress of yours’. Or perhaps something along the lines of him staking his claim on you despite the ring on your finger and his hand on your waist. The attention of two doting twins pushing the man’s patience to the edge and tunneling his vision. But does the why really matter?

You’re about to follow behind Ricky when the basket in your hand lurches, spilling all of the fruit you and Frankie picked all over the ground. You whip around with narrowed eyes to find Frankie holding out a single finger.  Those damn, sexy sunglasses hiding his mischievous eyes from you. But his mouth curls up on one side as he whispers a quiet, gravelly, “Oops.”

All coherent thought flies from your mind when the last person of the group disappears behind a row of trees, errant chatter going along with them and Frankie pounces- literally.

Your breath wooshes out of your body as your back meets the ground, arms curled around you only doing so much to cushion you. You knock his hat off on the way down, hands scrabbling onto his curls as you try not to squeal. Whatever sound you did make, he ended up swallowing down as he greedily kisses you over and over.

“Fuck, sweet girl, you look so good out here,” He growls, letting up a smidgen to get up on his knees above you, using a hand to cup your face and brush a thumb over your cheek tenderly.

“Deserve good things, nice things. Always.”

He moves down, down, down.

Lips and scruff and tongue dancing along your legs. Inching higher and higher up them until he’s licking at the damp gusset of your underwear.

“Already wet for me?”

“A-always,” You manage to croak as he hooks two fingers underneath the fabric and pulls it down and then off. It goes into his back pocket for safe keeping as he caresses your dripping slit with greedy touches. His other hand reaches for something but you’re too focused on his eyes, the brown of them nearly gone as his pupils blow wide for you.

The cool, sticky juice being squeezed from the fruit and right onto your sensitive clit shocks you, has you gasping like the air all around you is useless. All you can see is the drips of it from his fingertips, the center of his palm as the flesh of soft fruit is squeezed, droplets racing down his wrist and then he’s pressing the fruit to you, smearing it all around your parted slit and diving in to taste them both, together.

He savors the flavors he’s combined, swiping the flat of his tongue through your folds from entrance to clit in one long stroke. Gathering your natural juices along with those of the fruit that he drizzled over your slick, mouth desperately collecting them like his favorite treat that might be taken from him in an instant. His tongue is like fire against your cunt, the muscle firm as it laps hungrily at your folds, exploring every inch of you for the thousandth time. He groans nuzzling his face deeper into your pussy, his scruff scratching your inner thighs in to create delicious friction just like the tickling grass along your bare skin.

“Fuck, like this you taste better than I could have ever imagined,” His moan is so deep is vibrates through your entire body, rattling your ribs in which your heart thuds, tongue dipping into your hole to collect the slick gathering there.

He huffs in air through is nose, mouth working against you relentlessly. It is simply primal, practically animalistic the way he licks, sucks, nips at your pulsing cunt. Your back arched almost completely off the ground, hands fisted in the dirt and moans slipping from your lips unbidden. Dirt and grass between your fingers, working underneath your nails, just to prove further how much Frankie has you lost in the feel of his touch and the pleasure he’s stirring in your body. He’s the only man to get you out of your head so completely when it comes to being physical. He makes you feel so safe, so cherished, so taken care of. Enough so that your brain checks out even here in the middle of an orchard in broad daylight for him to do as he pleases.

He alternated between circling your clit in tight little circles with the tip of his tongue, and suckling on it, lips wrapped snug around the bundle of nerves. Your body was hot, your legs trembling as the coil in your core wound tighter. One hand moving to grip his soft curls, the hair between your fingers as you tug at it, his trademark cap knocked to the ground.

He moans at the sensation, the sharp almost stinging feel of your hands in his locks going straight to his cock. Heavy and hard, trapped in his jeans where he kneels between your legs. Another groan, raspier, more desperate, right into your fluttering cunt, the vibrations enough to drive you right to the edge.

“Fuck, right there, mmm- ah!” You gasp, sitting straight up and clutching tight to his damp hair. Dirt and grass tangle in it, neither of you aware.

“Cum for me, bombon, let me have it,” Frankie’s words are muffled and rushed, his lips swollen head bowing back down to suck your clit harshly, teeth grazing it just the littlest bit harder than he normally would.

His command is simple and you do, white hot pleasure courses through you, body contorting, legs squeezing his head between your thighs as you ride out your orgasm with undulating hips. You feel like a live wire, your nerves alight while Frankie keeps a gentle pressure on your clit, drawing out your release as long as possible. Making you feel like an exposed hot spot that needs the extra attention just in case. Making things feel just that much better.

He’s good at that, making you feel like the most special person in the world.

Especially with his head between your legs.

He sits back a fraction, face dripping with your juices and his saliva and the sweet shine of fruit juice. There was a gleam in his eye as his thumb replaced his mouth, rubbing soft circles against your clit. A high-pitched whine escapes you, overly sensitive and begging for reprieve. That damn smirk returns to his face even as his knees begin to go numb on the unforgiving ground when your head pops up, eyes narrowed and barely open in an attempt to glare at him. All you manage to do is look like you’re pouting.

He can’t help but chuckle.

Which just makes your face pucker up even more.

He takes pity on you and leans in for an all-consuming kiss.

You moan into it, body completely overwhelmed and welcoming the feel of his lips against your own.

Nails rake through his hair, catching on his ears, his scruff as your hands move to cup his jaw. He feels warm in your hands, he feels like yours.

The world tilts, as Frankie begins to kiss down your neck and collarbone once again, your head knocking back just so. But this time, his hands grip the skirt of your dress tight and urge you to flip over onto your knees. With your hands planted firmly in the dirt, your knees digging little divots into it as well, you turn to look over your shoulder just in time to see Frankie undo his zipper and pull his jeans open. The bulge there makes your mouth water, knowing the feel, the taste, the weight of it on your tongue by heart now.

He's leaking at the tip as he brings his cock out just enough to palm himself. A few pumps of his rough hand before he’s slowly filling you. It’s almost too much after his mouth, the girth so much, but in the best way. You wiggle your hips to fit him better, an obscene squelching sound flitting into the air as you do so. His breath hitches, his grip on your hips tightening as his nails nearly bite into you. As soon as he’s flush, his chest lays over your back and he nips at the back of your neck in an attempt to tame your movements.

But you’re not having any of that.

You grind back on him, full of him and feeling a second peak fast approaching.

“Fuck, you-you, s-slow-,” Frankie’s pleas break as his hips begin to move of their own accord, almost. Meeting your movements on instinct, his body working ahead of his overwhelmed mind, already worked up beyond thought.  

As soon as he takes a deep breath and catches up, he begins to thrust into you hard and deep. The slap of his hips against your ass dulled by the fabric still about his frame.

Stars erupt white at the edge of your vision, hands digging into the dirt once again. Knees spreading wider to hold yourself up against the heavy weight and movement of him against you. It’s quick and dirty, his seed spilling as his cock pumps inside. The heat of it filling you so sweetly. You moan out brokenly as your own orgasm takes over, clenching every muscle of yours so tight that your mind goes blank.

Your breath punches out of you as Frankie wraps his fingers around the corset ties at your back and pulls you up flush against his chest. You clench around him and he pulses in response, impossibly deep. You choke on the groan that has no air to release.

“It’s okay, bombon, just breathe for me, c’mon now.” Frankie coos, nuzzling his nose along the side of your cheek. All you can manage is a pathetic squeak of a response as you try to breathe, the feeling of his still hard cock filling you up and your combined release leaking around him to splatter on the ground between two sets of knees distracting in a dangerous way.

“Inhala,” His chest expands against your back, filling with air in a way he expects you to follow. You do, stuttering at first as your body hums with residual pleasure and the feel of his pressed to you nearly completely. “Exhala.”

You follow that command to, body relaxing as you do. His chest and stomach clenching and unclenching against you, but it’s the feel of him deep still, twitching ever so slightly deep inside that makes your breath catch on the exhale.

Your muscles clench around him, drawing a deep almost tortured groan from him in that delicious rasp of his. Completely involuntary as your body thrums and feels almost as if your blood is on fire as the pleasure still courses so hot through you. The come down taking its sweet, sweet time.

A few more inhala, exhalas and you both seem to regain a normally breathing pattern that isn’t panting and writhing against each other.

“Ahí vamos, nena, lo estás haciendo muy bien,” Frankie peppers chaste kisses along the damp skin on the back of your neck.

Grass tickles gently at your skin, sprouting goosebumps in the wake of sensation as Frankie lowers you to the ground to lay flat out on your front. He eases your knees together as he slowly slides out of your warmth, which pulls a low whine from you at the loss.

“Shh, bebita, I’ll be back with you soon, don’t you worry about that, okay?” He soothes as his large hands pet and pat at your overworked body, making sure your dress is righted and the underwear he tore off in such a haste earlier are slipped back up your legs and secure around your hips once again.

Frankie Morales is a gentleman, through and through.

He takes care of you and he takes care of you.

His hands help you find your balance on your knees, then your feet as you both stand back up from the ground. You pout at the sight of the peaches you carefully and diligently picked scattered around you both along the ground. The basket toppled over on its side, some of them safe inside the whicker still but downed nonetheless.

“You could’ve simply asked me to hang back, you know?” You bend at the waist to pick up the poor fruit but he reaches for you again, calmer this time.

“In front of all those people? Naughty girl.” His toothy grin edges on salacious as he curls a hand around your waist and pulls you up against his chest. “Wanted me to announce my intentions to eat you out to all those people, baby? In front of those two twins who are enamored with you?”

“Frankie…” Heat flares in your middle at his words, the notion almost too much to even think about let alone talk aloud about. But here he is, teasing you in that dark, deliciously deep voice of his right after he smeared fresh fruit all over your cunt and fucked you right in the dirt. It’s enough to make you dizzy, so you grab onto him for some stability. Flat palm on his chest, one wrapping around his bicep, head swimming with the way he’s behaving.

He seldom becomes almost feral like this, insatiable like this. But when he does? It turns your insides into goo and makes your heart race, turns your thoughts into mush and all you can muster up to think is his name like a chant. Body honed to his so completely, so implicitly.

It’s thrilling.

“Know they like you, hmm?” Frankie husks in your ear, his mustache tickling the sensitive shell, nosing at you like a dog in heat. “Gave ‘em a lil twirl in that pretty dress ‘a yours and everything.”

You shiver despite the Florida sun shining down on you both.

The attention is nice, you’ll admit. But not for the reasons that Frankie might think. It’s not because he’s away at work so much, or his new class that pulls him away for longer hours, or the tours he feels obligated to take on the weekends. It’s certainly not born of some telenovela trope of a lonely housewife seeking fulfillment where she can, nothing as primal as that.

You love Francisco Morales.

More than he’ll ever know. His low moments not allowing him to completely comprehend the devotion of your heart and soul to him. 

It’s because they seem genuine in their focus on you, as…conceited as it sounds. You interact with so many people in your line of work. As they do, you’re sure. Customer service and teaching both have such high interaction percentages. People don’t even see workers or professors as individuals at this point, but more as cogs in a machine that they are working with in order to achieve something.

They see you.

Just as Frankie did in that bar so long ago, once upon a time. Through the haze of smoke and crown of bodies dancing to the thump of too loud bass. His friends cajoling him into approaching you to ask you to dance, for your name, to buy you a drink. Anything, if it meant he would stop staring and actually do something about the way his attention was caught.

He did and you’re forever grateful that he did.

His eyes connected with yours, anchoring you for life from that moment on.

The ring that sparkles on your finger and the way your heart beats for him is a testament to that.

That’s why you entertain them. The connection is real, human. It goes beyond a simple visitor among hundreds and thousands they see in a season and you in a semester. Just like Frankie had been more than a stranger in a bar that fateful night you crossed paths.

“You’re mine.” His hips brush yours just before he captures them in a passionate kiss. The taste of peaches and you and him blending on your tongue as you melt into his hold. 

✦✦✦✦

The twins’ focus is sharp like a laser as you and Frankie blend back into the group of people milling about around the front of the welcome area. Even as they diligently help people weigh out their pickings and choose things from the shop displays and hold up polite conversation about everything and anything.

“How was this trip out, miss?” Ricky dives into his typical small talk, though his eyes catch on the green and yellow stains on the skirt of your dress that are certainly not a part of the pattern. 

“Oh, the best one yet!” You smile sweetly at them, body humming and practically glowing from the time spent in the sun…and from the pleasure still flowing through your veins. Frankie, likewise, offers them a cheeky grin as he taps his card onto the reader to cover the tour and the calculated weight of the basket’s pickings. Dio hands over the bagged up peaches, the tote bag with the orchard’s logo on it heavy in his grip.

There’s a glint in his eye, though he ignores his twin’s direction completely. He’s too busy eyeing the blades of grass that have tangled in Frankie’s curls when your hands were clasped in them. Another tell tale sign of exactly what the two of you were up to while everyone milled about on their way back to the stand.

“The totes on the house, repeat customer and all that.” He can’t help the uptick to one corner of his mouth, Frankie notices it and the tips of his ears redden despite his earlier enthusiasm.

“You spoil me, thank you, Dio,” You tut happily, while exchanging a few more pleasantries with the twins. Frankie takes the laden down tote from you and slings it over his broad shoulder just as you both begin to walk the path back toward the car.

“Dude they totally did it.” Ricky says lowly, watching as the two of you go.

“Oh, I know, she was fuckin’ glowing.” Dio smirks, recalling the way Frankie’s eyes traced your body every time you reached for something just out of your reach during the day.

“You think they’ll be back?”

“Yup.” The pop of the ‘p’ echoes around the now empty welcome center, the twins alone and watching Frankie guide you down the small path toward the parking lot with a hand on your lower back. They both break out into laughter when his hand sneaks lower to squeeze at your ass, making your head whip up toward him before looking back over your shoulder to see them both staring straight at you.

All you do is offer them a wink.

Turning back around, your own arm snakes around Frankie and delves into his back pocket to give him a squeeze back. His shoulders rise up nearly to his ears before they relax. Caught off guard by the return in teasing treatment for a moment, but then he goes along with it.

The twins do what they can to smother their laughter.

From then on, they think you’re they’re favorite visitor. Ever.

✦✦✦✦

The following year, vows are exchanged amongst the peach trees. Santiago helped Frankie to rent out the orchard as a venue for the wedding and reception. The twins miraculously absent during that ordeal, as they went through the event coordinator.

As everything mellows, the band playing on and people dancing- that’s when Santiago clocks the twins sitting around you and talking animatedly. The fading light of day playing off of features that look a little too familiar from a time so long ago as they shift and hands fly about as words are exchanged. The easy flow is obvious even from such a distance across the makeshift dancefloor and reception set up. They’re admiration of you so palpable and something that he recognizes on a similar, weathered face that just so happens to be standing beside him, the culprit nursing a beer.

“Primo, those twins totally look like you when we first enlisted.” Santiago slaps a wide palm over his friend's shoulder, jostling him and making the liquid in his bottle foam up along the sides.

“Don’t want to talk about it.” Frankie shrugs his best man’s hand off his shoulder, keeping his gaze on the trio you make up with the two in question across the way.

Santiago’s booming laugh echoes loud into the sky where stars are just beginning to twinkle, which draws your eyes up- your beaming smile and the pretty white dress you don making such a perfect sight.

Taglist! I don’t normally use this for drabbles but i haven’t used it in a while.. Thanks for all of your love and support!!

@nutbutterjellie @biagaloree @justaprettyprincess @fuzzyfawnnn @katalinablossom @aria1108 @girlymoviegal @mrs-miller03 @dugiioh @tomtohee @wand-erer5 @pinterestwhore145 @hystericalanduseless9 @politeolive @severlysentientnova

****

“Another finger? Is that alright, sweetie?” With your heart pounding in your ears, Joel’s raspy voice seems both close and far. You nod and mumble a shaky ‘yes’ before he inserts a second digit into your lubed up asshole. You moan, Joel growls, both at the same time. Your boyfriend curses under his breath.

“Hooooooly hell,” you exhale against the pillow, clenching bedsheets with your clammy palms while Joel’s scissoring your tight ring open. “This … it’s amazing.”

Joel pulls his fingers out of you and chuckles yet it comes out strained. You know it takes everything from him not to whip his cock out and fuck you right now. Jack seems to feel it, too.

“Dad, maybe that’s enough?”

“No.”

“No!”

Your yell drowns out Joel’s reply. Your cheeks burning, lust clouding your mind and overtaking your body, you lift your head off the bed and glare at Jack.

“Mr Miller needs to… we need to learn what to do next. Right?”

Jack crosses his arms, his lower lip sticking out.

Completely disregarding his son’s suggestion to stop, Joel nods at you and asks Jack as if it’s some depraved sex ed class.

“She’s nice and ready now. What's next?”

Jack blinks at his dad, a mixture of frustration and confusion plastered on his face. He shrugs. “I fuck her.”

“Wrong!” Joel sits up straight and gives him a disappointed look. “Son, the most important thing about anal is consent.”

You drop your head back on the pillow and nod with the ‘obviously’ expression meanwhile Joel continues.

“Even after you did all the necessary prep, you ask her again. And if she says ‘no’, you stop! Got it?”

You watch Joel in the mirror, his bushy brows furrowed, two obsidian eyes piercing Jack. He’s not fucking around.

“Yeah.”

“Huh?”

“Yes, sir,” Jack mumbles. He looks so pitiful now you get scared of your pussy turning into the Sahara so you hastily move your eyes to the mirror with Joel’s reflection in it.

You watch and feel your boyfriend’s dad lean down to you. His hot breath fans your naked back, sending chills down your spine, as he asks,

“Can I fuck your ass now, baby?”

Your voice is wanton and needy, you’re almost drooling onto the bed, as you reply, “Yes, Mr Miller.”

****

Nobody look at me. If you want to be tagged (you freak), leave 🍑 in the comments😘

You’d never considered yourself jumpy. Living alone had never bothered you. The quiet cul-de-sac sat on the edge of town where nothing exciting ever happens. The loudest disturbances were usually kids kicking footballs or Mr. Harris mowing his lawn at eight in the morning. Your neighbour, Joel Miller, fit right into that peaceful routine. He wasn’t particularly social, but he wasn’t unfriendly either.

If your garbage cans tipped over in the wind, he’d silently set them upright. If your car battery died, he’d already be halfway across the driveway with jumper cables before you’d even finished sighing. He spoke in that deep Texas drawl that somehow made even complaining about the weather sound comforting.

You wouldn’t call the two of you friends, just friendly neighbours. Until Wednesday night. 

You found yourself standing barefoot on your front porch at eleven at night staring across the short stretch of driveway separating your house from Joel Miller’s.

You almost laughed at yourself. The age of you and you’re frightened by a few strange noises in the garden. Still, your hands trembled as you wrapped your cardigan tighter around yourself. Someone had been in your backyard, you were sure of it.

The knock barely left your knuckles before the porch light brightened. A deadbolt slid back, door opened and Joel stood there in faded grey sweatpants and a navy T-shirt, his salt-and-pepper hair going in all directions. The concern arrived before the words did. “You alright?”

Nothing came out.

His brows pulled together. “What happened?”

“I…” You swallowed. “I think someone’s in my backyard.”

He looked over your shoulder toward your house. “You see ’em?”

You shook your head. “No, but I heard someone.”

“What’d you hear?”

“Footsteps, mumbles.” Your voice shook despite every attempt to steady it. “Ive heard it a few nights now.”

Joel opened the door wider. “Come inside.”His tone wasn’t forceful, it simply left no room to argue.

The warmth of his house wrapped around you almost instantly. He locked the door behind you before guiding you toward the sofa. “You want some tea?” You nodded. He disappeared into the kitchen, the familiar sounds of a kettle filling and cupboards opening somehow grounded you. It was normal. Comfortingly normal.

Joel returned with two steaming mugs before crouching beside the coffee table. “You stay right here.” He was up and leaving before you could stop him. “What are you doing?”

“Gonna have a look.”

Your eyes widened. “No. What if someone’s actually there?” 

“I’ll be alright.” His mouth twitched into a faint smile. “—they’ll wish they picked on somebody else’s backyard.”

You couldn’t help smiling back, but it disappeared almost immediately. “I’m being serious, Joel—I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine, darlin—just stay put.” He pulled on a canvas work jacket hanging beside the door. “You lock this behind me.”

“I really don’t like this, Joel.”

“I know.” He rested a reassuring hand briefly on your shoulder. “But I won’t be long.”

Twenty minutes felt like two hours. You sat listening to the old clock in Joel’s living room, jumping every time the house creaked. When the front door finally opened, relief flooded through you. Joel stepped inside, wiping mud from his boots against the mat. His jeans were streaked with damp soil.

“Well?”

He sighed, “Yeah…” Your stomach dropped. “What did you find?”

He shrugged over his jacket, throwing it on the couch. “Your flowers’re all trampled.”

You closed your eyes. “I knew it. Damn it…”

Joel stood above you, adjusting his belt. “But I didn’t see anybody. Maybe it was a real heavy raccoon lookin’ for food.”

“A raccoon?”

“Yeah—big fucker.” Despite yourself, you laughed softly. “I don’t think raccoons flatten flowerbeds, they go for trash cans.”

He scratched at his beard thoughtfully. “Maybe it was somebody’s dog.” You looked into your mug. “I know what I heard, Joel.”

Joel’s expression softened. “Yeah I believe ya, Darlin.” After a long silence, he clapped his hands together. “Right, you can stay here tonight.” You shook your head quickly. “No no I can’t.”

“Of course ya can.”

You shook your head again, like it’s finalised. “No I’ll be fine. I’ll just lock my doors and have a knife ready.”

“Jesus, Girl—yeah but then you’ll spend all night wonderin’ if every noise is somebody outside.”

“…Probably. So?” Truth be told, you didn’t wanna leave, as much as you argued—your feet remained planted. 

“My bed’s clean, I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed, Joel.”

“You ain’t kickin’ me nowhere.”

You sighed. “Oh my god, you’re stubborn.”

“So I’ve been told, darlin.”

It happened again three nights later. You were sat at your kitchen table, reading the paper when you saw a flash. It was one of those things where you don’t know if you imagined it or not, but you stood and went to look out the kitchen window. You couldn’t see anything in the sea of darkness, but then you heard shuffling from just underneath your window. You heard it again and banged a balled fist against the glass. “I know you’re out there fucker!” 

More noise then you saw—undeniably—a tall figure standing now a few feet away, hidden in the shadows. 

You scream and ran out the front door and sped to Joel’s, frantically knocking on his door. He takes him a minute to answer, you push your way in and slam the door behind you. 

“Sorry darlin I was in the basement. What the hell happened?” He reached for your shoulders trying to centre you. “Darlin, I need ya to calm down.” 

You were taking gibberish, panicked. “I saw someone. I saw them Joel! Big fucking guy—it had to be a guy. And he was right by my window!” Joel pulls you in against his chest. “Okay come on now, I need ya to calm down.” He strokes your hair a few times. “It’s okay, you’re here now—safe with me.” He shushes you and kisses the top of your head. “I’ll be right back.” 

You barely let him escape the grasp you have on him. “No, Joel please don’t go. Just—stay, let’s just stay here okay?” He gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Okay, darlin.”

The two of you ended up in Joel’s bed watching a movie. You kept looking towards the window and door. Joel noticed everytime. “Darlin, no one’s coming to get you okay? I’m here—not going anywhere.” 

You lowered your head with a defeated sigh. “Well…I can’t keep living like this—being fuckin’ scared all the time. I’m gonna get some of those little security cameras, stick a few around the place.”

Joel nodded. “Now that’s a good idea, darlin’. I know a guy who’ll sort you out with a good deal if you want me to ask.”

Thank God. You hadn’t the first clue about security stuff. “Aw, thanks, Joel. You’re the best. Do I need to meet him, or…?”

“If you want to. He’ll probably just drop ‘em off at my work site, though.” He gave you a reassuring smile. “I’ll help you get ‘em set up, darlin’. Don’t you worry.”

You were so grateful to have Joel in your life. At first, having a friendly neighbour had been enough, but recently he’d become the one person you could always rely on. You rested your head against his chest. “God Joel you’re so warm.” You giggle to yourself wrapping an arm around his torso. “You won’t leave me alone will you?” 

Joel brings you in for a closer hug, “darlin, only for pee breaks.” He crosses his heart, and relaxes against the pillows. You softly hum and drift off to sleep, some little snores rattling against Joel’s chest making him laugh. “Silly girl.” 

 A few minutes later, Joel carefully shifted you off him before slipping out of bed. He padded into the bathroom, flicking on the small light above the mirror. Rubbing a hand down his tired face, he pulled out his phone and made a call.

After a few rings, someone answered.

“Hey, man, it’s me. Listen, I’m gonna need a few of those cameras for someone… Yeah—a woman. Think she’s been seeing someone in her backyard.”

The man on the other end agreed, promising to drop them off in a day or two.

“Good man. I’ll have the money for you then. Take it easy.”

Joel ended the call and switched off the bathroom light before making his way back to the bedroom.

He paused in the doorway for a moment, simply watching you sleep. His T-shirt was bunched up but swallowed your frame. The sight of you wearing his boxers low on your hips, made him go hard in his. 

He quietly crossed the bedroom, careful not to disturb you, and made his way downstairs to the basement.

Stopping in front of the washer and dryer, he rested both palms against the tops of the machines and let out a long, defeated sigh.

“Fuck me…”

He crouched down, grabbing a pair of jeans and boots from the floor. Both were caked in dried mud, flecks of soil still clinging stubbornly to the leather. “That was fuckin close” He turned one boot over in his hand, a guilty smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He rubbed a thumb over the thick layer of mud, knocking loose a few crushed daisy petals caught in the tread. One petal floated to the concrete floor. “Fuckin’ flowers…” he muttered, shaking his head, thinking he could make it through them without sinking and crushing them more.

He chuckled quietly to himself, remembering the way you’d yelled and bolted for his house, and him barely making it back in time before you knocked. “Ya cut it fuckin close, Miller.”  

He scrubbed a hand down his face and sighed, unbuckling his belt and dropping his pants to the floor. He pulls out his phone, searching through it and places it down onto the dryer. the screen showed a picture of you, sitting at your kitchen table playing with your hair, moments before you witnessed Joel’s accidental flash. “No darlin, you weren’t imagining it.” He chuckles to himself. “Stupid fuckin flash.” 

Joel spat into his palm and drew in a slow, steady breath, his jaw tightening as he stroked his cock. “Fuck…” he muttered, his voice rough and low. His eyes slipped shut for a moment, his head tipping back thinking of you and your sweet mouth sucking him off. A crooked smile tugged at his lips despite himself. “So fuckin’ hot—fuckin slut…”

His breathing grew heavier, frustration and longing twisting together in his chest. He scrubbed a hand over his face with a quiet groan, as he grew closer and closer to tipping over the edge. He imagines you kneeling before him, big teary eyes, mouth full of his cock—thanking him for being your saviour.

“Yeah baby just like that.” He grunts low as his stomach tightens and cums—it landing on his phone. “Fuck—me—“ His body sputters while one hand rests on the dryer. “Fuckin hell.” He lets go of his softening cock still dripping cum for the tip. 

Joel wipes his brow, sweat dripping at his temples. He leans down and brings up his pants and tucks himself back in. He picks up his phone— giving it a much needed wipe—trying to focus on the name to call. The phone rings. 

“Yeah?” 

“Hey it’s Joel. Got one for ya if ya interested. Gonna have to give me a week or two to wear her down though.” 

The voice chuckles down the phone. “Joel you’re a cold bastard. She hot?” 

“Yup. Fuckin gorgeous figure, pretty face, pretty smile. And I bet she makes some sweet ass noises.” 

The voice laughs again, “well let me know when you’re ready—send me some pics of her in the meantime. Clothed, unclothed. Bikini. In the shower. Then we’ll talk.” 

“Sounds good. I’ll get ya the pics in a few days. Gotta be careful.” 

“Understood” then the line went dead. 

Joel cleaned himself up, putting his muddy jeans in the washer and he’ll finish the boots tomorrow. He wants to get back to you. And speak of the devil…

“Joel?” Your voice sounded so small, frightened coming from upstairs, he barely heard you. 

“Yeah, I’m here.” He heard the creaking of the floor as he goes towards the stairs, “I’m coming, darlin—don’t worry.” You stood at the top of the stairs, playing nervously with the hem. “Where did you go?” You asked sheepishly. 

“Sorry, darlin—had to sort out some laundry while it was in my head. Come on, back to bed.” He shooed you playfully, giving your thigh a small tap. “You gonna be a good girl, f’me?” 

You give him a shy smile and as you turn to walk back, the floor disappeared. “Whoa. Fuckin hell, Joel—put me down.” 

“Nah, we’ll get there quicker this way, baby.” 

You preen at the name, maybe turning a little pink as you rest your smiling face against his neck, “thanks, Joel—you’re just the best.” Youve put him on a pedestal, and Joel was eating it up. 

This was going to be so easy. 

And today is just one of those days. He’d spent the night tossing and turning, trying to massage away a kink in his neck that persisted well into the afternoon. But he hadn’t had time to complain or think too much about how excited he was to crawl back beneath the sheets, because the northernmost barn was falling to pieces. 

So, not only was he functioning half empty from the start, but the work today was also strenuous. Sawing raw timber to the perfect length, sanding down the sharp edges, hammering nails into plywood. A full day. 

And when Denise had stopped him on his way home, waving him down with a glass of freshly squeezed lemonade in hand, she’d given him that bright, hopeful smile and said, “Little Sammy ran that damn bike into the back door again. Would you mind fixing the hinges?”

His back ached and his knees were creaky, but Joel soon found himself knelt on Denise’s porch, screwdriver and fresh nails in hand.

It didn’t take long, but it did take every last scrap of energy that remained inside of him.

Joel’s house was always quiet. Too big for him, really. Ellie was in the garage already, lights still on, up too late when she had early patrol the following morning. But Joel didn’t have it in him to remind her how important sleep was. Not when he was running on fumes himself.

So he dragged those tired, old bones inside. Kicked off his boots and jeans right at the door of his room, hung his flannel over the back of the chair at his work bench, and let out a long sigh as he climbed beneath icy cotton sheets.

He’s half asleep, eyes closed and muscles sinking into the mattress, when he hears it. 

The click of the latch on the unlocked front door. The creak of your careful steps as you climb the stairs.

Joel feels you before he sees you. Too exhausted to pull himself out of blissful almost-sleep. The mattress dips beneath your weight, limbs outstretched, seeking him out of instinct. 

This isn’t the first time this has happened. Not the first time you’ve found yourself peering out of your window next door waiting for him to get home. Not the first time you’ve ended up in his bed or in his arms.

And Joel knows he should put a stop to it—you’re too young, too sweet, too…good. 

But he’s too worn out to fight his impulses. He’s tried for months to keep his thoughts pure when you cross his mind, but it’s been a losing battle from the start.

Especially when you’re like this. Warm and soft, pressed up against his side, wearing an old t-shirt he’d let you borrow the night before and not much else. A comfort that feels more like home than this house does.

The tips of your fingers tickle his forearm, rousing him just enough that he lifts the heavy limb so you can crawl right into his embrace.

Joel holds you tight. He always does. Biceps big and strong around your shoulders. He holds you like he might lose you tomorrow, because there’s a part of him that fears one day you’ll wake up and see something you don’t like. 

He worries you’ll begin to see him for what he is; old, weary, tired. Not even half the man he used to be. Not half the man you deserve.

But for tonight at least, you still wear those rose tinted glasses. Pressing sweet kisses to his face; his nose, his forehead, his cheeks. Nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, making cute, whiny noises at the back of your throat. Like you’re desperate, unable to get close enough despite every inch being pressed against him, leg hooked over his hips. 

You find a comfortable position and still beside him, letting out the same sort of long sigh Joel did just moments ago. But you don’t sleep—your breathing doesn’t even out, your muscles don’t go slack. 

Joel knows what you need. Long before your hips tilt, before you press your center against his thigh, before you whisper his name in the dark. 

“S’okay, sweetheart,” he murmurs, voice deep and dark and sleepy. “C’mere.”

He reaches over and brackets his arm around your waist to drag you on top of him, your center already warm and wanting.

It’s starting to get out of hand, he knows. Starting to become a routine. But Joel doesn’t have many sweet thing in his life, not anymore, and he finds you near impossible to resist. “I’ve got you,” he says. “Take what ya need.”

You lay against his chest, ear pressed right over his heart. Joel kisses the crown of your head when your hips begin to tilt, rubbing yourself against the steadily growing bulge beneath the thin fabric of his boxers.

Soft, wanton sighs leave you at the sensation, and even with a barrier still between you he can feel your clit pulse against the underside of his cock. 

Needy little thing you are. But Joel doesn’t mind—he likes the feeling. Of being needed, wanted. Especially by a girl as sweet as you.

You grind on top of him for a while. Not seeking release, not yet. Just feeling the hard warmth of him beneath you, savoring the weight of his big hands stroking softly up and down the expanse of your back. 

He can feel your arousal growing with each pass, wetness slowly seeping through his boxers, slick and sticky. Joel nudges you gently with the tip of his nose, the prickly hairs of his mustache tickling the side of your face. “C’mon, sweet girl. Let’s get this shirt off, hm?”

When you nod, you pull yourself up tiredly. The movement is slow and thick like molasses, so Joel uses the last of his energy to help you. 

His hands find the hem of the oversized t-shirt and pull it upwards, over your head to be discarded on the floor beside his bed. It leaves you completely naked, bared for him in more ways than one. 

In an instant, you fall back against him, breasts pressed up against his chest. Your skin feels cool against his, smooth and pillowy. “S’warm,” you mutter, rubbing the side of your cheek against the coarse hair that litters his chest, graying in some places.

Joel’s cock throbs beneath you, but he doesn’t pay it any mind. He just lets you settle back down and allows you to rest. His hands wander, though, the way they always do. 

Sliding down your back, over the sides of your thighs, thumbs massaging gentle circles. He strokes his fingers gently back up to your shoulders and then brings them down your arms, smiling when he sees goosebumps rise in his wake.

When they settle back at your hips, his touch is a little more eager. Kneading at the softness, inching over the curve of your ass until that’s all his hands are filled with. 

Joel loves touching you. Not just suggestively, but intimately. He loves feeling the closeness and the trust you put in him to take care of you, to keep you safe, to make you feel good.

He massages the supple flesh, holding you close, until his need for you begins to grow teeth, gnawing at his psyche. 

Joel knows he shouldn’t. He knows that. 

But he’s just so tired, and you’re so soft. Gentle and kind. And you make him feel loved—something Joel Miller has not felt for a very, very long time.

He guides you with his hands gripping at your curves, sliding your slick cunt over his aching cock. His breath feels hollow, stuck in his lungs.

When he lifts upward, just a little, enough to provide a little extra pressure, you mewl in response. 

Joel is quick to soothe, shushing softly into your ear. “Shh, you’re alright. Hang on, sweet girl. M’right here.”

He knows what you need. It’s become a nightly ritual at this point. You come to him seeking connection, seeking the comfort of an older man. Most nights you just need to be held, to be nurtured, to be loved the way you deserve. 

But other nights, Joel knows you need a little more. A connection that runs a little deeper.

He reaches beneath you, hooking his thumbs in the elastic band of his boxers and tugging them down his tired legs. Just enough to free his cock, already hard as stone just from your proximity. 

Joel pulls your forward, up his torso, giving himself room to line his length up with your entrance.

He slides in real easy.

You’re already soaked, dripping with arousal. And the moment he’s fully seated inside you, stretching you real wide, filling up your belly, you let out a breathy whine.

It feels right, being here like this with you. It feels like coming home. 

Joel moves you slowly, guiding each roll of your hips, slowing you down when you try to pick up the pace. 

There’s no rush. Not here, not with him. He’ll get you there. He’ll get you what you need. What’s the sense in hurrying through it? 

He wants to savor it. The feel of your sweet, soft pussy, clenching and leaking around his length. The way your stuttering breath tickles his skin. The way your hands grip him harder and harder, holding him impossibly closer.

He wants to savor the way you love him. 

“Gimme a kiss, baby,” he whispers in the dark.

You turn your head, just enough so that he can press his lips to yours. In this, too, Joel moves painfully slow.

It’s not a claiming, it’s an exploration. His lips move against yours, memorizing the feel of them, the shape and the taste. He slowly licks into your mouth, tongue gliding against yours, breathing in your exhalation. 

The building coil around his spine is anything but slow, however. He loves being here with you maybe a little too much. He loves you a little too much. 

Joel thrust upwards, keeping a steady, unforgiving rhythm while he slides his hand between you. His fingers search blindly for your clit and he finds it in seconds, circling those slow, tight circles around the pulsing nerves. 

Your sounds grow louder, release building. The sound of your joining echoes in the empty room, slick and wet and feverish.

He knows your close when you start manually breathing—lungs stuttering, chasing the delicious relief that only he can provide.

“You got it,” he encourages. “S’right there, baby. Give it to me.”

Your eyes stay locked to his, lips parting on a jagged moan. You don’t say anything; no warning, no begging. You just feel it, feel him, moving deep inside you, fucking you through it. 

“That’s it,” he says, voice all soft and warm the way it only ever is when he speaks to you. “There you go.”

He doesn’t stop until you find the natural rhythm of oxygen again, until the shaking in your thighs relents to an easy tremble. 

Joel feels that white-hot coil beginning to spool within himself, and pulls out of you with just enough time to shoot thick ropes of cum over your pubic bone.

He thrusts the underside of his cock through your syrupy folds, a gentle rocking until he’s spent. He somehow finds the energy for a few extra thrusts, smearing his release over your clit.

You don’t move an inch, and Joel doesn’t want you to.

Instead, you just lay there on top of him, sticky mess between you, your head resting delicately on his chest. 

When you reach up to card your fingers through his graying hair, Joel feels his muscles go completely slack, tension bleeding from his weary bones.

“M’sorry I woke you up,” you say, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “I know you were tired.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Joel says, and he means it. “I’ll always have time for you."

The cold November mud stuck to the soles of your bare feet as you sprinted through the trees. It felt like a million icy daggers were stabbing into your lungs while you whimpered and wheezed. But you couldn't stop. Mr. Miller said this would be “fun.”

──── ୨୧ ────

You'd been so bored in the small wooden cabin he built off the river, trying to find anything to amuse yourself. Sewing, cooking, cleaning, reading; it all ended the same. You'd stare out the window, daydreaming about the life you wish you had.

You'd read about girls who went to college, lived in big cities, had boyfriends. Mr. Miller was certainly not your boyfriend. No matter how many times you'd woken up to soaked panties, whimpering his name before you even knew you were awake. But he wasn't your father either.

He had found you a few years prior, you were only fifteen at the time. Your camp had been overrun by infected and you were the only survivor. On your own for almost six months, you collapsed one day near the icy river. Joel had been out hunting as he usually is, not hesitating to pluck you from the frozen water and nurse you back to health. He told you that your skin was as blue as the sky, snow clinging to your eyelashes, barely breathing. From that day forward, he vowed to take care of you as his own. He'd never let you starve. Freeze. Want for anything.

But you were nineteen now and in many ways, still as little as the day he found you. You were naive to the horrors of the world, only five when everything fell apart. Your parents did a good job of protecting you, allowing you to hold onto that childlike whimsy. It was a blessing and a curse. Joel didn't enjoy having to teach you how to take down an infected, seeing your fear as you cried. You wouldn't even look at him for two days after. That nearly broke him.

Joel always tried to see you as nothing more than a roommate . A companion. But he couldn't deny the way your curves had filled out your clothes the past few years. The tiny moans that would escape your sweet mouth as he slept next to you. He cursed himself each time his pants grew a little tighter when you'd bend over to grab firewood. He wouldn't be the one to take your innocence. He really tried.

But one day, you finally caved.

It started as any other day did; Mr. Miller left at the crack of dawn to find food for the week, you tossed and turned in bed due to the loss of warmth, eventually rising and preparing to clean the cabin. But everything was already wiped down, all the game secured in the freezer, laundry washed.

You couldn't stand another day staring out the window wishing for fairytales. You were going to talk to Mr. Miller when he returned today. Tell him you're done. That you needed more. So, when he busted into the cabin covered in snow and dead leaves, you were sitting at the kitchen table with your rehearsed speech practically falling off your tongue.

You expected him to be angry, tell you no. And you'd yell back that you're an adult and you don't need him anymore. What you didn't expect was what happened next.

“Looks good in here, bunny.” Joel flashed you a smile as he sat his gear down in the living room, crossing the floor in only a few steps as he made his way to the fridge.

His musky scent filled your senses as he passed you, a strand of your hair blowing back behind your exposed shoulder. Joel would always nag at you to wear more layers, mostly so he could shove down the dirty thoughts. But it was warm enough in the cabin that you didn't mind walking around half naked. Besides.. it was Mr. Miller. He's basically raised you these past few years.

“Thank you, sir.” You could taste metallic on your tongue from how torn up your cheek was, your teeth gnawing on as you picked at your raw fingers.

“Got a deer for the week, not too bad. We gotta start rationin’ soon before it gets too cold out to hunt. Maybe I should build another freez-” Joel paused when he finally laid eyes on you, shaking like a leaf, holding onto the dining table for dear life. “What's wrong?”

“Nothing, sir. Just- could you sit down? I wanna talk to you.” You gestured to the seat across from you, sitting down yourself.

His brows furrowed, worn eyes crinkling as he sat down with hesitation. The last time you sat time down like this, you told him the story of how your camp was overrun. He remembered how you cried, choked on your sobs as you told him of your father’s demise. He held you all night, even brought out one of his old records to soothe you.

“Scarin’ me, bunny. Talk to me.” Joel's hands laid flat on his jean clad thighs, big brown eyes as dark as his leather jacket.

“I've been thinking lately.” You took a deep breath, smoothed out your white lace dress in an attempt to compose yourself. It didn't work. The room started to spin as you looked him in the eye. “I wanna leave. I wanna take the trip to Jackson.. on my own. You've been putting it off for years, Joel.” Your posture slouched when you saw the way his jaw clenched at the name.

He didn't speak at first. He needed to think. The only reason he put it off for so long was because he knew you couldn't survive that trip. States away, it would take weeks. Months. You were too innocent, too weak, too helpless. He'd never put you in harm's way if he could help it.

“Leave?” Joel readjusted in the old creaky dining chair, huffing and letting a dark chuckle slip past his pursed lips. “You wouldn't last a goddamn hour out there on your own.”

Your timidness and anxiety slowly morphed into soft anger, fists clenched under the table. Your cheeks flushed as you snapped back at him. “I’m not a fucking child, Joel! Even if you treat me like one, I’m not. I don't need you. I need more than this stupid cabin in these stupid woods!” The tears that pricked at your lashes pissed you off even more.

Joel’s brooding expression quickly turned into one filled with amusement. “Oh? Is that so, bunny. Hm..” He stood slowly, standing there statuesque as he stared down at you. All of his morals seemed to fly out the cabin window as he stepped closer to you, his hand falling to cup your cheek while he kneeled down in front of you.

“We’ll see about that. Get up.”

──── ୨୧ ────

So, there you were; running for your life half a mile from home. You cursed him in your head as your bare feet continued to ache, sticks and rocks digging into your heels. He was a sick and twisted man…why were your thighs sticky from your pooling slick?

“Run, bunny, run!” Joel wasn't far behind you, his knuckles were white from the tight grip on his shotgun. He had no intention of using it. But he needed to scare you. Show you the dangers he'd spent the past four years protecting you from. He ignored the way his jeans hugged his growing bulge, keeping on after you.

His voice rang through your ears as you picked up the pace, cutting through a small group of pine trees. “If you win, you leave. But if I win, bunny..” Joel didn't elaborate any further. And you wouldn't admit to the excitement that pulsed through your veins when you took the first step out the door.

You stopped when you reached the last tree before a huge clearing to catch your breath. You never had to run like this; for your freedom. Your heart was pounding out of your chest, throat scratchy from the harsh winter air. Snow began to fall.

“Gonna get cold out here, babydoll. Come on out.. come home.” Joel's knees cracked with every step, his body growing too old for this kind of shit. But he didn't care. All that filled his mind was the thought of his reward for catching you.

You peeked out from the right side of the large pine, seeing the coast was clear to take off again. But just as your leg propelled forward, you felt rough, calloused hands wrap around your waist. You shrieked out, fighting against him to no avail. He won.

“Seems you weren't fast enough, bunny. Such a shame.. you were so close.” He scooped you up in his arms before you could protest any longer, securing your legs around his waist as he walked the two of you back home..

In the back of your mind, you knew you wouldn't win. Yet you let him chase you anyway. Part of you liked it. The other part was terrified. If you ever did want to get away.. you couldn't. The worry was gone soon enough, though, the scent of his musk stained flannel soothed you as he carried you into the warm cabin.

Joel didn't bother taking off any of his gear before taking you to the bedroom. He tossed you down on the bed, your body bounced up and down on the rusty springs with a squeak.

“J-Joel..?” You barely completed your thought before his hands were on you again, snaking up your thighs and resting on your hips.

The sensation pulled a choked gasp from your raw throat, your hips bucked up against his grip as you pushed at his shoulders. “Joel, what are you doing?!”

“Stop callin’ me Joel, sweetheart. Jesus, you're freezin’.” His harsh rasp turned soft as he continued caressing your trembling body, his heart nearly gave out when a whimper escaped you as he brushed his thumb along the hemline of your cotton panties. You were an angel. You were his.

“You know why you're soaked right now, baby?” He held eye contact with you as he climbed on top of you, resting between your thighs as he breathed in your sickeningly sweet scent in between your neck and shoulder.

Shivers shot up and down your spine as his lips grazed your soft skin, it felt like fire burning you. You couldn't find the words to speak, too stunned to even move. You'd dreamt of this moment plenty of times before. But you never expected it to happen. You never expected Joel to want you the way you need him. Because no matter how bored you get, how stuck you feel; you would always need Joel Miller. You shook your head “no” at him.

“Oh, poor girl.” Joel’s fingers trailed down to your chest, taking your pebbled nipple in his hand and rolled it between his index and thumb. “It's because you're worked up. So damn worked up, you got mad. And that's fine, bunny.” He gripped your jaw roughly, forced you to look up at his unwavering authority. “But if you ever try to pull that shit again.. I will chain you up in the kitchen without thinkin’ twice. Got it?”

“Y-Yes, sir.” Your body responded for you before you could even register what he said. His hands on your body had your brain turning to mush, your legs spreading slightly for him out of instinct. He gave you a look of approval before he brought his face close to yours, his lips brushed up against your reddening cheek.

“Gonna be a good girl? Tell me if ya’ wanna stop?”

“Yes, sir.”

That was all Joel needed to press his lips to yours, kissing you softly as he dragged your dress over your head. You laid mostly naked under him, aside from your panties that were see-through at this point from your arousal. “Oh, bunny. Been thinkin’ ‘bout this for so long.” His calloused fingers snaked down to rest on top of your clothed core, a guttural groan escaped him. “Seems you have to.”

“E-Every night. I dream about you..” You didn't know where the sudden honesty came from, and you immediately regretted saying anything when he looked up at you with a raised brow. “Is that so? Knew those sweet moans were for me, baby.”

He couldn't hold off any longer, his erection bordering on painful as his zipper dug into his sensitive tip. Joel's lips latched onto your neck, sucking and biting softly until you were marked as his. He left a trail of red and purple marks down your chest until he reached your breast. His large hand enveloped the other as he wrapped his lips around your nipple and sucked lightly, swirling his tongue to soothe the sting.

You were squirming beneath him, pulling at his messy salt and pepper curls as you panted. It was unlike anything you'd ever felt before. Joel’s warm breath soothed your icy skin while you grinded up into him looking for any sort of friction. You were throbbing, clenching around nothing as your feet rested on his back.

He finally released your over sensitive nipple with a pop, smirking down at you while he growled. “Be patient, bunny. Gonna take my time with ya’. Be nice and gentle.”

Joel’s scruff scratched against your soft tummy as he kissed down to the pink lace that lined your panties, taking them between his teeth as he pulled them down to your shaking thighs. The rush of air that blew against your aching cunt had you fighting the urge to scream, your legs spread fully now as you beamed down at Joel needily. “Please.. please, sir.”

“Don't gotta beg, sweet girl..” He reached his hand up to your face and pushed his thumb in between your lips, gathering saliva off your tongue. He thought about how you'd look with those pretty, soft lips wrapped around his rock hard cock. Not today, he told himself.

He brought his, now lubricated, thumb down to your swollen clit. He chuckled as you jumped up off the bed, his free hand resting on your hip bone to hold you down. “Just relax, sweet thing. I gotcha..” He started rubbing slow, tight circles on the sensitive nub as you whined and thrashed under his harsh grip. He'd never seen something so beautiful.

“N-Need more.. need you inside..” You clawed at him, grinded into his thumb as you felt yourself already nearing the edge of your orgasm. You'd never cum before. You'd tried on your own, but could never get it just right. Joel did. He knew exactly the pace to set, where to touch.

He gazed at your leaking hole as he quickened his circles, rubbing up and down your waist as you fell apart underneath him. “There ya’ go, honey. Such a good girl.. cummin for your old man.”

You were shaking, twitching softly every few seconds as you came down from your high. You thought that was it, that was sex. So, when he licked a long stripe from your quivering hole to your overstimulated clit, your whole body jerked. “Jo-” You had half the mind to correct yourself. “S-Sir, what're you.. oh my god.”

Your hands rested in his hair as he wrapped his lips around your throbbing clit and teased your entrance with his index finger. “Shhh, trust me. You're safe here. Safe with me, bunny.”

Your body was jello under him now, your legs fell apart and your head tilted back against the pillow as he licked and sucked at you like it was his last meal. It nearly sent you into a second orgasm as he pushed one finger into you. He groaned against your cunt as it sucked him in, spitting on your clit and watching it drip down to your hole as he pushed more inside of you.

“Gotta stretch you out, bunny. Gonna fit this whole cock in ya..” You quivered and moaned obscenely as he began thrusting in and out of you softly, pressing quick kisses to your clit. You nearly saw stats when he added a second finger. He sat up, holding you tighter as he fucked in and out of you while he unbuttoned his flannel.

Once he was undressed down to his boxers, he took his fingers out of you with a groan, shoved his fingers in his mouth to lick up all of your arousal. You tasted so damn sweet.

Tears threatened to fall from your lash line as he positioned himself between your thighs, grinding his clothed bulge into your soaked core as he leaned down and kissed you once again. “This okay, bunny? Wanna.. feel you. Goddamn.” He cupped your blushed cheeks, peppering kisses over your face. He'd dreamt about this for months.

You wrapped your arms around his biceps, pulling him closer to crash your lips against his. “Yes, please. Please.. daddy.” Your eyes widened as you surprised yourself with the name.

And that was it. That broke him.

Joel's boxers were across the room in an instant as he grabbed your hips, pulling you up against him as his tip nudged against your worn clit. “Yeah, baby? So needy for daddy’s cock.. I’ll give it to ya’.. hold on, bunny. Daddy’s got ya. Oh, fuck..” His head tilted back against his shoulder blades as he thrusted just the tip of his leaking cock into your warm, tight cunt.

You could tell he was huge just from that, you hissed out quietly and held onto him tighter. As you looked into his eyes, you knew you could trust him. You'd always trusted him. Just in a different way, now.

“Relax, babygirl. Gonna.. holy shit.. go slow.” He inched in slightly deeper, letting you adjust. It took him five full minutes before he bottomed out, grunting and moaning when he felt his balls hit your ass.

You'd never felt so full before, your walls squeezing his length as you gasped and moaned into his ear. You whined something that sounded like “please” before he pulled out almost fully and thrusted back into you. You swore you could feel him in your stomach, your legs flew up and wrapped around his hips as he set a slow rhythm.

“So good for me. Takin’ this cock. It's all yours, baby.” Joel moaned deeply as he continued fucking you harder, bringing his hand up to hold your face. “And you're mine. Say it. Tell me you're mine.” He smirked as his balls slapped against your ass, a mix of precum and slick dripping down onto the bed between your thighs.

“I’m y-yours, daddy. Forever. A-All yours.. don't stop. Never stop.” Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you felt your second climax nearing closer. “G-Gonna.. daddy.. I need to pee.” You clawed at his arms, not able to hold in your whimpers and moans.

“Ohhh, sweet baby. Come on, girl. Cum on this dick. Squirt on daddy’s cock. Come on.” Joel struggled to hold in his own release as he lifted your leg up, bringing his hand down to rub your clit again as he fucked you deeper than before. You couldn't protest anymore before you were screaming, your cries echoing off the cabin walls as you squirted all over your thighs and his length.

“Good fuckin’ girl… take my cum. Take my fuckin’.. ohhh..” Joel grunted as his thrusts became sloppy, his grip bordering on bruising as he painted your tight walls white with his warm seed. Rope after rope. Years of tension finally gone. Into you.

He collapsed onto your trembling body, breathing heavily as he held you closer and kissed every inch of you he could reach. “Did so good for me. My perfect angel.”

You both groaned in unison as he pulled out, his body falling to the side of you as he tucked you in. Joel enveloped you, your back to his chest as he rubbed down your waist and kissed the back of your head. You'd never felt safer than you did at that moment. All you could think of was Joel. His touch, his scent, his voice.

You realized how stupid you were to want more. Because all you needed was right there. Joel Miller was, and is, everything you will ever need.

he bends to pick the pieces up, tossing them into the pile of already cut wood. you’d like to say that prepping the cabin for winter is going really well. joel would say otherwise. although the two of you are flying through the checklist, you spend more time making him go pink at the cheeks with all your unabashed admiration than actually getting anything done. not that he minds, he's good at what he does, efficient. which is what's making your attention that much worse for him, and you. 

like now, for instance. you can't help but stare at his ass, those jeans antagonise you, offensively form-fitting. you gulp, and you think he can hear it from where he's standing because he lets go of the axe, leaning it against the stump he works on. his hands come up to his hips, thumbs hooked into the belt loops as he looks at you properly this time, a knowing head tilt in tow.

“d’ya need me?” his question is unbelievably kind, devoid of any teasing. he’s ready to drop everything and you can see it in his eyes. you almost feel bad, almost being the keyword.

you push yourself up, palms braced at your knees, and lug over the piece of wood, dropping it near joel and turning to face him. this close you can see the sheen of sweat on his face and forearms, the way areas of his shirt have dampened in the heat.

“this is the last one, then i want you upstairs.”

his spine straightens imperceptibly to the firmness in your words, “yes ma’am.”

you lean up and kiss him on the jaw before heading back inside. the stairs creak as you haul yourself up them, fingers smoothing over the banister when you round the corner. you shrug off the flannel you have on–joels flannel–and sit at the edge of the bed, toying with the hem of your tank top you wore under. 

before you know it, joel is by the doorframe, one arm crossed over the other. a small smile breaks out on your face and joel mirrors it, walking over to where you’re sitting. he pushes a stubborn strand of hair out of your face, tucking it behind your ear. his hand settles over the nape of your neck, tilting your head back. the sight of him, tall, broad, in front of you sends a little shudder through you that you try to ignore. 

“you okay? you were a little distracted out there,” he asks, mildly concerned.

you curl a few fingers behind his knee, the warmth of your skin seeps through the denim of his jeans. “can you blame me?” 

he chuckles, a bashful tint dusting over the highs of his cheekbones. joel prompts you up with a small chuck of his head and two fingers hooked under your elbow. when you stand, he pulls you into a kiss, light and easy and entirely not enough to pull an embarrassingly needy sound from your mouth, but still, it does.

your lips part for a breath, exhaled into each other's mouths. he is so warm, it exudes off him in waves and doesn't do much to quell the heat building in you. it's just a kiss, he's just kissing you. joel moves to do it again but you hold him back, conflicted palms braced over the hard planes of his chest. 

“god, you’re making me feel crazy,” you scoff. he’d be concerned with the rapid rise and fall of your chest if he didn't know you better, but he knows you so well. 

“yeah, darlin’? what's got you so worked up?” 

you can tell he's talking just to talk now. he knows what, why. so he doesn’t expect an answer from you when he dips down to kiss at your neck, lightly chapped lips working over the area just below your jaw. his beard scratches your skin in a way that feels deliriously good.

you hum, absent-minded, threading your fingers through the hair at the back of his head, curling your fist into the strands. you hold him there, and knowing him, you’re also succumbing yourself to a glaringly obvious mark on your neck. you don’t mind, not when you’re out here on your own. hell, you’d let him mark you up everywhere.

the hand not occupied with tilting your head to his liking sneaks down to your waistband. joel pops the button, easing your jeans off. you let your impatience get the better of you and slip your panties off too, kicking the clothes off to the side. he laughs into your neck, sending a vibration down your spine that has you pulling him closer.

he doesn’t touch you, though. not yet. 

“up,” his murmur is a soft command, accompanied by his arm hooked under your ass. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and pull yourself higher, crossing your legs over his hips. joel clambers onto the bed, carrying you to the pillows.

when he drops you down, he doesn’t part from you, only trails his lips lower. the spot on your neck blooms in soreness, a light tingly sensation that you relish. joel moves lower, settling between your legs with a satisfied hum. he pushes your thighs apart, sweeping his eager gaze over your cunt. his eyes fixate on the glistening pool at the centre.

“messy girl,” he coos, turning his lips to your inner thigh. “all that for me?”

“mmh-yeah.”

“haven’t even touched you yet,” joel chuckles at how small your voice goes. god forbid a girl gets shy. 

his tongue peeks out from behind his lips, licking a firm stripe up your entrance to your clit. his mouth seals over the sensitive bud and sucks, just the way you like.

“jesus, fuck!” you cry out.

joel groans into your pussy, enamoured with the sight of your arched back and your head thrown in pleasure. his hand pushes your top up to paw at your breasts, a large, warm palm settles heavy over one, squeezing the flesh over the material of your bra.

the layers madden you. you frantically pull the tank off, fingers shaking trying to unclip your bra. when you get the garments off, joel is extremely happy, and he shows it by pushing two fingers inside you.

the abrupt stretch pushes a loud moan out of you. you like that you get this out of the cabin, the noisy vulgar freedom that the isolation rewards you. he takes it as an incentive to add another finger, still intently licking over your clit. 

“there we go, baby,” joel rasps. “gotta get her nice and stretched for daddy, yeah?”

“uhuh,” you keen with a nod that's pathetically enthusiastic.

he makes a noise, like he’s in pain, you know he's anything but. the term slips out occasionally. a freudian slip, maybe. regardless of whether he means it or not–in the heat of the moment, it tends to drive you both up the wall. a quiet murmur of it when he’s buried deep and he can't help but blow his load. neither of you dwell on it. 

joel huffs a dazed fuck and doubles down on his efforts. the calloused pads of his fingers rub up persistently without remorse, it sends an audible squelch around the room. you’re increasingly getting closer to your peak, it pools, hot and viscous in your belly, limbs growing heavy and sinking into the mattress. 

you’re so close–and maybe you’re your own worst enemy–but you need to have him inside you. now. so you reach down, fingers curling around his wrist to stop him, fighting every nerve in your body that wants to finish. joel pulls away, face pulled into a puzzled twist that quickly turns to something smug and knowing when you sit up to desperately remove his clothes.

you tug the collar of his shirt over his head, momentarily blinding him with fabric before moving onto his jeans. you undo the belt buckle with a resounding clink and his jeans and underwear are shoved down his thighs before he crowds back over you. 

god. he's beautiful and solid above you. the lingering smell of sweat trickles off his body, it makes you squirm under him, a restless pull urging you upwards. you’re met with his hard-on, slipping through the mess in your folds.

joel gives himself a tug and then lines up with your entrance, pushing into you with a low moan. he’s always a stretch, the girth of him causing you to wince. he softly kisses the tense furrow of your brow till he’s buried to hilt. 

“so deep, y-you’re so–” you whine through gritted teeth.

the smile that spreads across his face is shit-eating, you’d wipe it off if you had the wherewithal to do anything but lay there and feel. “yeah but ya take it so good, don't you honey? always take me perfectly.”

joel gives a shallow thrust, barely drawing back to push in further. his tip nudges at your cervix and you want to scream. you settle for digging your nails into his shoulder, pain sparks under the crescent shaped indents that you leave and shoot right down to his dick. 

he leans down to drag the tip of his nose across the edges of your face, planting barely there kisses as he goes. it's tortuous, the rate at which he pounds into you but is seemingly unaffected enough to blanket you the way he is. he loves you so much.

your thighs strain as he pushes them higher, reaching unfathomable depths inside you. joel grunts, in effort and in agony, as you clench around him, face tightening as he tries to keep his rhythm. you can feel him in his entirety, the ridges of his cock rubbing against your walls, the drag of a protruding vein doing nothing but driving you closer to release. the coarse hairs littered above his cock rub against your clit and your teeth sink into your lip, hard. call it instinct. he’ll have none of that.

he presses a thumb to your chin, pulling your lips apart, “aw, angel girl. feel good?”

“yeah, so good. mmph–fuck me so good, baby,” you whimper, words pushed out through desperate moans, high and rampant.

he chuckles, low and pleased, “y’always make such good sounds for me, should fuck you more often so i can hear this all the time. sweet little pussy can't help herself either, can she? so wet, she's soakin’ me.”

“joel,” you gasp at a particularly meaningful thrust, anchoring yourself to the moment. it hits you without warning, a spark set off by the obscenities still flowing out of his mouth. whatever he was saying was beyond you now, a comforting familiar murmur as your orgasm washes over you. you hear the tail end of a good girl as you come to again.

“keep going,” you whisper. you hold his face between your hands, looking at him through the daze. his features shine out like a beacon, you push the hair out of his face. unobstructed, your eyes trail over the faint tan, sunkissed, over the high points of his face, the result of how much he's been doing, how much he still is. 

“you are so, so wonderful, so good at everything you do, i don't know how you do it,” you murmur, gaze drenched in reverence. 

joel tries to speak then, eyes glazing over, to give himself a moment before you continue. to compose himself before the back of his neck grows too hot to handle, he has to hold it together otherwise he cant fuck you like he wants. it's not often the praise gets whirled back at him.

“need you to cum, joel,” you sigh. “fill me up, please.”

the quiet please does him in. his hips stutter, messy and impetuous as he chases his high. the peak crashes and he spills into you with a shout, muffled over where his lips press to your forehead.

you wrap your arms around his shoulders, casting your hand over his back, rubbing in soothing strokes. he flips over with a tired huff. you’re lazily draped over his body, face smushed in his chest.

“i mean it, y’know,” you mumble. joel has to strain his ears to hear you, because you aren't making any effort to move. “you’re so capable, i can't handle it. i can barely control myself from shoving my hand down my pants around you.”

“hey, i’m not complainin’,” his voice rumbles under your cheek, stupid and smug.

you give him a hard poke in the stomach, to which he winces at, and then you continue. “all that being said, i think you’re just neat.”

he's smiling so hard that his cheeks hurt, he's glad you can't see him and tease him about it. “right back at’cha, sweetheart.”

I get home after a long fucking day. Crosby's been breathing down my neck. We still haven't managed to catch another one of the Cali cartel godfathers after months of chasing ghosts. Feistl broke some agreed-upon rules again and almost screwed over the entire DEA because of it. Just a shitty day all around.

And the cherry on top? She's not home tonight. Usually when I get back, she's here. I hear her softly humming along to one of those songs she likes that drive me insane. Then she comes to greet me, and from that moment until I fall asleep, she's basically a clingy little koala that won't leave me alone.

But you know what? I fucking love it. Except tonight isn't like that. She had to leave overnight for work. No, I'm not thrilled about it.

Cali has their fingers everywhere. They know about every little thing that moves in this goddamn country, and they especially keep an eye on people connected to the American embassy. That's why I always send one of my agents with her. Just to keep an eye on her. Nothing more.

Thankfully it doesn't happen often, and most of the time she's here in Bogotá. But today, of all days, the one day I actually need her. Need her laugh. Need all the stupid random bullshit that comes out of her mouth.

When I walk inside, all that greets me is silence and darkness. I toss my keys into the bowl on the dresser, shrug off my jacket, loosen my tie a little without taking it off completely. I try to distract myself at first. I turn on the TV just for background noise. I stand in the kitchen going through some files I brought home from the office. Doesn't help.

My thoughts keep drifting back to her. To yesterday. To the way she was packing a few things into her suitcase. Running around the apartment in those ridiculous little shorts that barely cover her ass. The kind that always give me a perfect view of her legs and the bottom curve of her cheeks. Just thinking about watching her lean over that suitcase yesterday makes my cock twitch. Fuck.

At one point I grabbed her by the hips and pressed myself against her until she could feel exactly how hard I was. Sometimes I swear being around her turns me into a horny teenager who can't keep his dick under control. I couldn't help it.

She just laughed. But then she started deliberately wiggling her ass against me, pressing herself right against my crotch. And that was the end of that.

I unbuttoned my pants, shoved them down just enough, pulled out my hard, throbbing cock, pushed those stupid tiny shorts aside and realized she wasn't wearing a damn thing underneath. That alone nearly drove me out of my mind. I pushed into her without another word and she let out a little gasp.

She was already soaking wet. She always is. Perfect. Tight. Wet. Mine.

Jesus Christ. Just thinking about it makes my groin tighten and my cock start responding. Fuck. I need her right now. After a day like this.

I drop heavily onto the couch. On the coffee table, I spot one of her hair ties. I'm always finding her hair ties all over the apartment. That's nothing new. Tonight, though, it gets under my skin a whole lot more. I pull a cigarette from the pack sitting beside it and light up. Maybe that'll get my mind onto something else.

But then I remember this morning. And not just the part where she said goodbye at the door, smelling like vanilla and shampoo. I remember what happened before that.

The way the blanket shifted and woke me up as she slipped underneath it, moving down toward my hips. She rested her hands on them, and then I felt her lips wrap around my morning hard-on. She gave me one hell of a blowjob before I was even fully awake. Sucking me, licking me, like her life depended on it.

At one point I couldn't take it anymore and pulled her up toward me.

She understood immediately. She climbed on top of me and, with a soft sigh and those half-lidded eyes she gets when she's turned on, lowered herself onto me.

I just watched my cock disappear inside her. Watched her ride me. Watched the way she rolled her hips, finding exactly the angle she loved.

After a while, with her wrapped so tightly around me, holding me inside her, I couldn't take it anymore. I started thrusting up into her, digging my fingers into her perfect ass to help her move faster. And then I came so hard I saw stars.

While she tightened around me, her own orgasm tearing through her body, I was completely gone. She was shaking above me, breathless, and I couldn't look away. God, I loved it. Perfect fucking morning.

And suddenly… I don't even realize I'm doing it at first. My palm slides over my cock. Through my pants. Because I never bothered taking them off. So now I'm sitting here like an idiot with a hard-on trying to punch its way through my slacks while I think about the way she took me this morning.

The way she wrapped herself around me. The way she felt. The way she smelled. Like sex. Like her.

I wet my lips. My hand keeps rubbing the bulge that's getting impossibly hard. Jesus Christ. I'm not really about to jerk off on the couch like some desperate asshole. But fuck. This hard-on isn't going anywhere.

I don't think about it for long. I crush the half-smoked cigarette into the ashtray and reach for the phone. I know exactly which hotel she's staying at in Cartagena. I booked it myself.

When the front desk answers, all I have to do is give my name. The receptionist sounds like she already knows who I am and transfers me to her room without any questions.

She picks up on the second ring. "Hello?"

The second I hear her voice, my cock practically loses its mind. "Cariño, it's me," I murmur.

"Oh, Javi. I wasn't expecting you to call." I can practically hear her smile.

"Not happy to hear from me?" I tease.

"Actually..." she drawls lazily. "I was about to read, so... you're kind of interrupting me, sir."

I smile against the receiver, my hand still resting over my cock, which somehow feels even harder just from hearing her voice. "Hmm. Then maybe I should let you go..." I say slowly, squeezing myself through my pants. "...so I don't keep you from your reading." A quiet breath leaves me.

And somehow I can feel her attention sharpen. I don't know how. She's hundreds of miles away and all I've got is her voice through a phone line. But somehow I know she realizes I'm not calling just to chat.

"Javi...?"

"Mhm?" I'm not even trying to hide the quiet groans anymore. My cock throbs hard beneath my pants as I gently squeeze the tip through the fabric with my palm. I'm trying to recreate her touch.

The way she teases me under the table during those boring dinners with embassy politicians just to completely ruin me. Just because she likes teasing me. Because she finds it funny. Every single time, she wraps that little hand around me through my pants, giving me slow squeezes while I have to sit there pretending nothing's happening.

But at home… when we get back… I never let that little brat get away with it. I always make sure she remembers exactly why you don't do shit like that in public.

She always ends up sighing into my ear, moaning while I fuck her hard. Completely under my control. But we both know that was her plan from the beginning.

As I think about it, I already know that whole "I'm not jerking off on the couch like a teenager" idea is officially dead. This ends one way. A groan slips out before I can stop it. I hadn't meant to make a loud sound. But fuck. There's no holding it back.

"Oh... you're thinking about me, Javi?" Her voice is different now. Not innocent. Not playful. Serious. Lower. A whole octave lower.

Exactly the way it always gets when I'm taking her. When I'm buried inside her. When my hands are on her. When we’re fucking. Her voice always drops.

Maybe you'd think a guy like me wouldn't notice something like that. But I fucking notice. And I fucking love it.

I don't answer.

So she keeps going. "Do you miss me?" she whispers. "Tell me how much you miss me." She's not really asking. She's not pushing.

And suddenly I'm reminded how goddamn much I love her. How she always knows.

"Tell me what you miss most right now, Javi..." She sighs softly, and I hear sheets rustling through the phone. Sounds like she's getting comfortable in bed. Like she's lying back. Like she's getting ready to touch herself too.

Fuck. I know it. I know exactly where this is going. "I miss you, cariño," I say, sinking further into the couch.

"And what else, Javi...?"

"I miss those ridiculously short shorts I fucked you in yesterday."

"Mhm..."

"You wearing them right now, baby?" I whisper.

"I am."

"Will you take them off for me?"

She doesn't answer. But I hear the sheets move again. A few seconds later she hums softly. "They're off, Javi."

Just imagining them sliding down that perfect ass makes my cock somehow get even harder. If that's even fucking possible. "You lying down, cariño?"

"I am. And..." she pauses. "Those shorts were the only thing I was wearing."

I swallow hard and let my head fall back against the couch.

"So now I'm just lying here… completely naked… and there's nobody here to do anything about it, Javi." She says it with that mock-offended tone she uses when she's fishing for exactly the answer she wants.

"What exactly would you want me to do if I were there, baby?" I ask, playing along. My cock twitches so hard it's practically demanding to be let out of my pants.

"I'd want you to see how wet I am, Javi..." Her voice drops even lower. "I'd want you to find out just how wet your little slut is for you."

Fuck it. I unbutton my pants, pull down the zipper, and slip my hand inside my boxers, wrapping my fingers around my cock. Hot. Hard. The vein running along the shaft pulses wildly beneath my grip. Fuck. "Baby... spread your knees for me... nice and wide..." My voice catches as I pull myself free from my pants. "Touch yourself for me. Be good and let me hear you, baby."

Finally. Out. My cock stands painfully hard, a bead of precum glistening at the tip. I haven't been this worked up in a long time. And that's saying something considering we fucked last night and again this morning.

"Hmm... I'm wet, Javi..." Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts. "Really wet... exactly how you like me."

"That's my good girl." I murmur into the receiver. "So fucking perfect. Getting wet just from hearing my voice, huh, bonita?" As I say it, I picture whispering it directly into her ear.

Picture my hands on her. Picture my fingers testing just how wet she is. My thumb rubbing slow circles while my fingers tease her, making her squirm.

The image is so clear in my head it's almost torture. Somewhere along the way I realize I've started stroking myself. Slowly dragging my hand along my hard cock. Working the head. Thinking about something completely different than the couch I'm sitting on. "Put your fingers inside yourself, mi amor," I order quietly.

"Mhm..." The sound she makes tells me immediately she already has. "I'm doing it, Javi..." she breathes. "Two fingers... and I keep wishing they were yours." A soft moan follows. "Yours are better."

"Yeah, cariño..." My grip tightens. "I know exactly what you like."

Her breathing catches.

"Exactly the spot that makes you arch off the mattress."

Another quiet moan.

"Lift your hips for me, cariño. Give yourself what you need."

Hearing her like this only makes everything worse. Or better. My stomach feels hot. Wave after wave. My hand keeps moving. Slow. Faster. Slow again. Then faster. I'm trying not to finish too soon, even though I'm already dangerously close.

"Javi?" she whispers.

"Yeah, baby?"

"If I was there with you right now..." Her words keep breaking apart between breaths. "...I'd touch you."

I close my eyes. "Yeah?"

"I'd wrap my hand around you..." she continues softly. "And make sure you could feel exactly what you do to me."

The image hits me like a punch. My hips jerk upward on instinct. Fuck. That's my problem. My imagination works a little too well. And the second I picture her hand on me, I know I'm completely screwed.

"I love your hard cock, Javi..." She keeps talking like she knows exactly how fucked I am. Like she can feel every hot wave rolling through my body. Like she knows my cock is twitching in my hand. Knows how swollen the head is. How badly it wants to be buried inside her beautiful pussy. Because somehow, despite knowing she's miles away, part of my brain still hasn't accepted that I'm not getting inside her tonight.

That all I've got is my hand and her voice. Don't blame me. Ever since we started living together, we fuck practically every day. So yeah. This situation fucking sucks. Still… what she's doing to me over the phone isn't bad. Enough? For one night, maybe. Bad? Not even close.

"Cariño... I want you to grab a pillow and put it between your thighs... rub yourself against it... pretend it's my cock rubbing against your sweet little pussy..." I whisper, completely drunk on what her voice, her moans, and my imagination are doing to me.

I hear rustling. Then muffled sounds. Like she's got the phone tucked against her shoulder. Like she needs both hands free. Like she's grinding her pussy against that pillow exactly the way I told her to.

And I can hear it. Or maybe I just think I can hear it.

At the very least, I can hear her moaning. Loud. Sweet. The same way she moans when I'm moving inside her.

Fuck. I want her. I want her so fucking badly.

"Javi... ahh... I... this feels so good... like you were..."

"Shhh, baby..." I murmur. "Take care of yourself... like I would."

For a while there's nothing but her moans coming through the line and my own rough groans as I squeeze my balls and try not to come too early.

But fuck. My whole body keeps jolting with pleasure. My cock feels like it's going to split open from wanting to be inside something.

"Javi..." Her voice comes through again. "Tell me... would you want me to suck your cock?"

Fuck.

"Would you want me to lick the tip... lick up every little drop... and take you so deep my lips would be brushing the base of your cock?" Her words break apart between moans. "And... fuck... you know how much you love that, Javi..." She's stopped trying to control herself. And somehow that only makes her sound hotter. Maybe that's exactly why she sounds so fucking hot.

"Cariño, fuck!" I press the head of my cock hard into my palm and squeeze. It's nothing compared to how it'd feel in her mouth. Or her pussy. But fuck. I'm wrecked. I don't have much longer.

"Javi, stroke it for me, please..." she whispers. "Like you're fucking me."

And after that… I don't remember much.

Just her moans. My own groans. The way my hand starts moving faster. The wet sounds coming from my own pleasure. The rustling from her side of the line as she moves faster and faster across the bed.

"Javi..." Her voice cracks. "I'm gonna... fuck... I'm gonna come..."

"Come for me, baby. Come for me. I want to hear you. I want that pussy coming just for me," I groan. "That's my good girl. You're so fucking beautiful when you come..." Fuck. I know I'm not gonna last much longer.

And then she's gone. Moaning. Crying out. Completely losing control. And I know her pussy is clenching around nothing while her orgasm tears through her. I know she's soaking wet. I know she's grinding her hips up wildly.

And it's that image, more than anything, that finally pushes me over the edge. My cock starts twitching violently. Heat surges up from my balls. I stroke myself once. Twice. And then I come with a loud groan. "Fuck, baby..."

Drops of cum land on my shirt. My tie. I don't give a shit.

I was planning on wearing that damn tie tomorrow too, and now I definitely can't because there's cum all over the fucking thing. Jesus fucking Christ.

My cock pulses hard as I ride it out, squeezing it in my fist the same way I'd be buried inside her tight pussy while it clenches around me.

After a few minutes… "Javi?" Her voice sounds distant. Tired. Satisfied.

"Yeah, baby?" I breathe out and finally let go of my cock. Half-soft, it drops against my stomach while I'm sunk deep into the couch.

"That was... wow."

I let out a tired laugh. "Hmm. You trying to tell me a pillow is better than me?"

She laughs. "No." A pause. "I'm saying the combination of your voice, my imagination, and what you're capable of doing to me over the phone should probably be illegal, agent Peña."

I smirk. "Hmm... I don't think either of us gets to complain, cariño." I reach for a cigarette and light it. Fuck. That was really good. Way better than I expected.

"So..." she teases. "My work trips aren't going to torture you quite as much anymore?"

I roll my eyes and take a drag. A cigarette after sex, even phone sex, is the best thing in the world right after the sex itself. I swear. "No." I chuckle and blow smoke toward the ceiling. "I still prefer having you here. With me. Under me. On top of me..."

"Hey, you pervert..." she laughs. "You're awful!"

"And you still love me." I say it like it's nothing and take another drag.

"Hmm... I do." Silence settles between us. "I wish you were here, Javi."

That one hits me right in the chest. Because yeah. I'd rather have her here too. Curled up against me. Warm. Satisfied. Perfect. Her soft skin against mine while we fell asleep together. Me wrapped around her. Her tucked against my chest. "Tomorrow at this time we'll be together again, baby." I tell her without letting her hear how fucking much I'm looking forward to it.

"Okay."

"Okay."

"So... goodnight, Javi," she whispers.

"Goodnight, mi amor."

The line goes dead.

I finish my cigarette, crush it into the ashtray, and run both hands through my hair. And I already know that tomorrow… tomorrow we'll make up for tonight.

But the biggest thing I know? I'm not looking forward to seeing her just because of the sex. It's because this apartment is so fucking quiet without her. And so is my life.

Thank you so much for reading ♡

💌 @idknananchimaybe @theeverodriguez @mothmanuwu @pascalispunkbr @reasonablyluminousquill @justmasblack @indiegirlunited @saralovesjoelmiller @picketniffler @canonisoptional @katyispunk @daltoncharm @kirsteng42 @borinquenasoy @cuteanimalmama @negramurguera @senoratess @misstokyo7love @suestormnotcheatingversion @lizette50 @grxnde-dwt @harriedandharassed @somedayheaven @ningaispunk @ladyofmidlo72 @bardot49 @scarlettval2 @goonersquad101

you're immediately fussy and grumpy at being woken up just to be pawed at. "nooo," you grumble.

he hums with amusement at that whining, the way you sound all groggy and bitchy and adorable. he knows you can get cranky when he wakes you up so early, but he can't resist the urge to rile you up right now. he squeezes the bare skin of your side, the one that he knows is a little ticklish. "come on, princess, wake up for daddy."

"whyyy?" you whine, burying your face in his neck as your legs kick in frustration.

"'cause daddy said so," he rumbles against your ear before nipping gently at the shell of it with his teeth. "he wants your sweet pussy right now."

"why now?" you whine again, petulant and overtired as you writhe in his arms.

"because i've been waiting for this all night," he seethes, his patience with your protests growing thin. his hand drags up to pinch at the soft curve of your ass through the fabric of your panties before adding gruffly: "... and 'cause i know my little one likes it when her daddy tells her what to do."

and it's true. you can't really deny that at all, that you're loving this as much as he is. "... okay," you acquiesce limply.

"good girl," jack practically growls, triumphant and impatient, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and yanking them down your thighs. "that wasn't so hard now, was it? bein' all bitchy for no reason, lemme show you what i want." his palm smacks against your bare ass once, making you yelp, before sliding between your thighs with a deep groan.

"goddamn," he mutters as his thumb drags between your dripping folds, the wet squelch louder somehow in the dim room. "why the fuck were you bein' such a brat n puttin' up a fight? you're beggin' for me."

"daddy," you whine, overstimulated already.

"yeah?" jack rasps, watching your face closely as he finds your clit with his thumb, rubbing slow circles over that sweet little spot. "you like it when daddy touches you like this? when i tease my angel 'til she's all messy and needy?"

you huff, kicking against the mattress in indignation. "i'm tired!"

your little kicks just make his grip on you tighten. "yeah, you're tired," he agrees as the edge in his voice darkens into a hypnotic command. "but you're gonna be a good girl and make daddy feel good right now. okay, baby?"

you huff again irritably, feeling a protest form in your throat. jack knows that sound, the way your shoulders tense as you get frustrated, the way your pretty little mouth starts to pout out into a sulk. his hand tightens on your hip.

"hey," he snaps, his tone suddenly rougher, more authoritative. "i asked you a question, little one. you gonna be a good girl for daddy and let him have that sweet pussy?"

"...yeah," you mumble back reluctantly, and that's enough for him. his thumb immediately drags down your slit and nudges at your fluttering cunt, just teasing, before sliding back up to your throbbing clit.

"there's my girl," he mutters as he feels just how wet and sensitive you are for him. his other hand grips your chin to tilt your face up toward his. his gaze is dark, prideful. "now keep them pretty eyes on daddy while i make 'em leak."

jack loves the way you look at him with those wide eyes, all needy and submissive and obedient. he's obsessed with you. your hips begin to rock into his touch, and when you let out those soft, sleepy, shy moans of not daddy, but dada, he grins.

"you gonna make a mess for dada?" he coos, his thumb still circling your achy clit as his eyes burn into yours. he is so madly in love. he leans in close, his lips so close to yours that his breath brushes against your mouth as he speaks. "you gonna make dada proud, little one?"

your whole body shivers. he's making you feel so good that all you're capable of replying is a whimpered "mmmn..."

he lets out a huff of a breath that's almost a laugh as his thumb speeds up, mercifully bringing you closer to your orgasm.

"use your words, baby," he murmurs, the roughness gone from his voice, replaced by something more tender as your body start to shake. "tell dada if you're gonna make him proud."