hopelessly hopeful

You sigh when you look through your peephole, sliding the cover shut. You lean your forehead against the door, contemplating what to do. 

It's raining outside, the sound of it hitting your glass window making it hard for you to think. But you have to be strong. 

You can't do this again…

“Andrew.” You say to him through the door. “You shouldn't be here.”

“I know.” He tells you. “But I have nowhere else to go...” 

That's how he always gets you. Because Pope knows the moment you open the door, you will let him inside. 

You have yet to turn him away.

And he doubts you will this time. 

You saw how soaking wet he was from the rain. 

He walked all the way to your house, like he always does. 

You don't see his car in the driveway. That's because if it was, you'd tell him to drive home. 

But he knows you're too kind to make him walk home in this weather. 

You've always been too kind. It's the only reason you allowed yourself to get wrapped up with a man like Pope.

You open the door, staring at the way he's drenched from head to toe with rainwater. You peer outside, hoping your neighbors are all asleep so they won't see this. 

“I-I don't want you bringing in all that water.” Your voice is shaky from the nerves. “Can you take off your clothes? I-I'll bring you a towel.” 

“Okay.” He goes to take off his shirt but you stop him.

“Wait until I-I'm back.” You quickly run to your bathroom and grab a handful of towels, bringing them to the door. “Here.”

Pope loves how shy you are, your eyes trying their best not to look at him as he strips his clothes off. You've seen him naked before but you act like it's the first time every time. He finds it adorable. 

He dries his upper body first before pulling off his pants and wrapping the towel around his waist, covering himself up. 

“Do you have anything for me to wear?” Pope knows you do, but he likes asking because you get all flustered. 

“Y-Yeah.” You still have a few of his shirts, the ones he told you that you could keep since you liked wearing them to sleep. 

You don't have any pants for him though…

He wrings out his clothes on your porch before stepping inside with them. He goes straight to your bathroom, where the washer dryer is, and tosses his clothes into the machine. 

You meet him there with a shirt, which he puts on, but only after he's sure you've gotten a good look at the cuts on his chest. 

“What happened?” You're foolish for asking. It's like opening the flood gates. 

“Got into a knife fight at Deran's bar. Came right here after.” He lifts the shirt up to show you the few slashes that are healing up. Thankfully they aren't deep. 

“Andrew, you can't keep…” You try to put up a boundary but the words don't come out. 

“You can drive me home when my clothes are dry.” He knows that isn't what is going to happen, though. He's sure you know exactly how this night will go. 

How it always goes. 

“This is the last time.” You say, even though you don't believe yourself. 

You watch Pope lick his bottom lip when his eyes trail down the length of your body as he says, “we can do what we did last time.” 

You shake your head. “We can't, Andrew. Not this time—”

Your words get caught in your throat when he steps closer to you, his body only an inch away from yours. Heat radiates off of him. You try not to let his proximity sway you. Like it always does… 

“You should go take a shower.” You turn your head away from him, not meeting the desire in his gaze. “You'll get a cold if you don't.” 

“I will if you look at me.” 

You know what he's doing. You know his game. 

But you turn your head back, your eyes drifting up to his, to the lust in them. 

Pope steps forward. You step back. The two of you maintain this rhythm until your back is pressed up against the wall. 

“Don't.” You plead, quiet, scared. 

Your body shakes when you feel his hand cup your jaw, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. 

“It'll feel good.” He says as he leans forward, his lips nearly touching yours. “Just let me make you feel good. Then I'll leave.”

“Andrew, we broke up.” You remind him since it feels like he forgot. “Months ago.” 

“Do you need to be my girlfriend for me to go down on you?” Pope asks, his words causing your stomach to do flips. “I like making you cum. Just let me.” 

“You didn't come here just for that.” You shake your head at him, trying to stay strong, trying not to let him influence you, even though you can feel how wet you are between your legs already. 

“You're right.” Pope whispers against your lips, his warm breath teasing you with every word, “I came here to fuck you.” 

“No.” You put your hands on his chest, pushing him away. “Not tonight. Not…ever again. It's over, Andrew. I-I can't do this anymore.” 

“It's just sex.” He says for your sake. 

For him, it's much more than that but he doesn't care if he's just a body for you. At least that means he's something to you. 

He'll take that. He'll take any role in your life you're willing to give him, as long as he gets to stay in your life. 

But you keep pushing him away. “It isn't and you know that. Please, go take a shower and then I'll drive you home.” 

“You care that I might get sick but you want to pretend that you don't care about me anymore?” 

You bite back a sigh. “It doesn't matter how I feel. We broke up. It's over.” 

You never stopped caring about him but…Pope was overbearing with his love. He loves you too much. More than you can handle. 

You couldn't breathe at all. He was constantly trying to monopolize you, to keep you from spending time with anyone except for him. You needed space. 

But he doesn't want to give it to you. 

He'd rather die than be apart. 

Pope can't stand that you won't let him love you. 

“You love me.” He states because he knows it to be fact. 

“I do, Andrew.” You won't hide it. “But we're bad for each other. It's never going to work out between us. I'm sorry but you have to stop doing this. You're only hurting yourself more.” 

Pope opens his mouth to rebuttal but then you hear your phone vibrating in the living room. You slip out of his grasp and go over to grab it, picking it up. 

He can hear that it's a man on the other line but he can't hear what the guy is saying.

Only your replies and your soft chuckles. There are no nerves in your voice when you talk to whoever this guy is. “Sorry, I haven't been looking at my phone. Yeah, eight works for me. I can drive myself. Stop, you're too sweet. I'm good, I promise. Okay, fine, you can. I'll text you my address. See you tomorrow.” 

You hang up and Pope sees the way you're smiling at your phone as you text that guy your address. 

Why are you giving some fucking guy your address? 

You flinch when Pope snatches your phone out of your hand, sifting through your text messages with this guy. “Hey! Andrew, give me my phone back!”

“Who the fuck is this guy?” He can see that you only started talking to him a few days ago.

“My new coworker.” You don't need to explain yourself but you do anyway, knowing how Pope can get. “Everyone at the office is getting drinks tomorrow night and he offered to be designated driver.”

“Is that why you don't want to fuck me?” He's starting to scare you, like he always does when he gets jealous. “Are you planning to fuck him?”

You're speechless because why does he think he can ask you things like this anymore? 

“Answer me.” He demands, raising his voice, making you feel small. 

“Andrew, you're scaring me.” You decide to just say outright, hoping that it'll knock some sense into him. 

But it doesn't. He doesn't care if he scares you. 

He is scary. 

And you knew that from the beginning and still fell in love with him. 

So Pope doesn't understand why you're acting like this isn't one of your favorite feelings to feel. You've always gotten off better when you were afraid of him. Especially these last few months that the two of you have been broken up. 

You've never cum that hard before when you and Pope were dating. 

You'd never admit it but you love him when he's like this. 

Pope just needs to remind you how good he can make you feel. 

“Am I scaring you?” His voice lowers, rumbling, causing goosebumps to form on your skin. “Or am I turning you on?” 

He steps closer to you and you trip backwards, dropping down on your ass onto your couch. He smiles down at you, at the fear in your eyes. 

“Should I tie you up like last time?” Pope likes how you shiver at his question. “Do you remember how much you liked being tied up?”

“I-I didn't.” You lie because you don't want to admit it. 

“You've always been such a bad liar, baby.” Pope steps away from you, going to your storage closet. 

You can't let him do this. You can't—but your body won't move. You're frozen in place, watching Pope as he rummages through to find the rope he bought a while back. It's a beautifully soft black rope. 

The sight of it shoots so many conflicting feelings inside of you. Your body remembers what happened the last time. Your mind fears it. You don't know how to feel…

“Please don't do this.” You beg him, blinking back tears. “Please, Andrew.”

“Then either you get back together with me and we make love or I tie you up and make you cum until your body doesn't react to anyone else but me.” He pulls the rope taut with his fists, the threat apparent. 

“That's not fair.” Your lip quivers when he takes a step towards you. 

“Life's not fair, baby.” He hovers above you. “Now make your choice.” 

“We are not getting back together, Andrew.” You can't deal with this kind of possessiveness forever. 

But it seems like you don't get a choice. “Fine by me.” 

Pope grabs your wrists and you barely put up a fight. You never do. You don't like to fight. He easily wraps the rope around your wrists then your forearms, tying a secure knot in the center. 

You look up at him, pleading once more. “You don't have to do this. Just forget about me. You'll find someone else—”

“I want you.” He yanks you up to your feet by the rope. “And you want me. I know you do. I know your body does, at least.”

Pope drags you to your bed, shoving you onto it. He quickly climbs over you to tie the remaining rope around your bedframe, keeping your arms held above your head. 

“Should I tie your legs up this time?” He hadn't the last time. He liked watching you squirm but maybe this time, he wants to see you wriggle in place. 

“No, please don't.” Your words don't get through to him at all. 

You can't stop him from grabbing more rope and tying your ankles to your bed posts, spreading your legs wide open in the process. You don't move because it's useless to do so. 

You're completely stuck now. 

“You know what.” Pope looks at his leftover rope. “Let's tie up more of your body.”

He wraps the rope around your neck, your chest, your stomach then down to your thighs, pulling it just tight enough that you feel it through the fabric of your sleepwear. 

He debated for a moment if he should cut you out of your clothing first. But seeing you like this, with all that lovely friction rubbing against your skin with every slight movement, he decides this is the better choice for now. 

“Do you remember what happens next?” He asks you but this time, you don't answer. 

Because the answer is torture. That's what's coming next. 

Pope opens your bedside drawer, pulling out the toys he bought you to play with together. He knows how much you enjoyed it when the two of you would. You enjoy it even more now that he's been tying you up then using them. 

“The fun thing about ropes…” He grabs the wand toy, pressing the large silicone head against where your clit is beneath your pants. “They help keep things like this in place.” 

Pope flicks it on the moment he tucks the handle into the ropes digging into your thigh, holding the toy in the perfect position as vibrations roll through it. You pinch your eyes shut, the sudden rush of stimulation unbearable. 

You can't escape it either. It gets worse the more you try to move. You feel it more prominently when you attempt to adjust yourself, to move away from the sensation but it presses down harder on your clit, flooding your senses with that steady vibration. 

“Andrew, please turn it off!” You cry out, not wanting to cum from this but the tension is coiling so much in your core. 

“Tell me you want to be my girlfriend again.” He won't stop until you do. 

“I can't.” You shake your head, thrashing from how much you want to cum but can't allow yourself to. 

“Then I guess you're stuck, baby.” Pope gets up from the bed and leaves for a moment before coming back with a switchblade. “I'll get you a new set of pajamas later.”

“No, don't—” You have to hold yourself perfectly still as Pope cuts a line straight down the center of your body, from your neck to right between your legs, tearing the fabric beneath the blade. Then, he takes his hands and rips the fabric apart, exposing the middle of your body to the cold air. 

The wand is pressing down right on your clit now and you explode, unable to contain yourself with the direct stimulation. It only gets worse after the first orgasm. Your body has had a taste for the pleasure already, which makes it more susceptible to it. 

Pope grabs your phone and unlocks it, opening your camera app so he can take a video of you cumming again. “Your pussy is begging to be filled, baby. Want to see the way it's clenching around nothing?” 

He sits next to you, putting your phone in your face, playing the video, making you watch yourself cum. The humiliation of how that alone makes you cum again kills you inside. But it makes Pope very happy. 

He loves how depraved you are. How much you like being tortured. His little masochist. He wishes you wouldn't pretend like you don't love his sadistic side. 

You love how toxic and fucked up he is. Even though you shouldn't. 

You've tried to convince yourself over these last few months that you deserve a normal relationship. One where the two of you can have sweet vanilla sex and cuddle after and talk about mundane things, instead of the rough fucking and thrilling heist conversations you have with Pope. 

You knew you should've never got involved with him. Why did you let yourself fall into the trap that is Pope? 

Because you've never felt this good in your life. Or this loved. He loves you so much. 

You'll never experience a love like this ever again. 

He wouldn't let you experience it with anyone else but him. 

He has you in his grasp. He knows this. 

But you're still denying it. “Please turn it off, Andrew. I don't want to cum anymore…”

“Then don't cum.” He says with a shrug, pulling off the towel he had around his waist. He settles it underneath you and smiles when he catches your eyes on his cock. 

Pope keeps your eyes on him, pulling off his shirt, letting you stare at the body that is the object of all your late night fantasies. Then, he wraps the shirt around your eyes, blinding you…

“I'm going to take a shower now, like you asked me to.” He whispers in your ear. “Try not to cum too much without me.” 

That proves to be impossible. Because you've lost track of time. You can't see a thing. You can't move. You can only feel the vibrations bullying your clit over and over again. They feel so much stronger because your entire body is focused on the feeling. 

“Andrew, please come back.” You cry out, the overstimulation causing so much wetness to pool between your legs, soaking the towel he left behind. 

Little do you know, Pope has been back for a while now, just staring at you. He loves staring at you. You have no idea he's there, freshly showered, stroking his cock to the sight of your body trembling all over. 

He's sure the rope has dug beautiful marks into your skin by now. He can't wait to see them. But he is patient. 

He knows you'll break soon. 

You always do. 

But this time, he's going to need a guarantee that you'll be his again. So he's not going to say a word until you cave.

All he needs to do now is to make you cave. And that's easy. 

You feel the mattress sink beneath you. “Andrew? Is that you? Are you—”

You let out a gasp when you feel two of his fingers thrust inside of you, curling against that spot right below your clit, pressing up against the vibrations. 

“Stop, stop, don't—” Your toes curl and your back arches when your orgasm floods your senses, wet sounds filling the air. His fingers fuck you through the orgasm, making it more unbearable, the pleasure engulfing you. 

Pope doesn't stop. He never listens to you when you beg him to. Because he knows you like being forced to cum. You've always been so shy about how much you like having sex. He always has to coax you into it, so you'll finally let go and enjoy yourself. 

You fall faster than you should this time. “Please, just fuck me already. I can't handle this torture anymore.”

His fingers slow. He turns off the vibrator, moving it off your clit. You expect to feel him climb on top of you but he just pulls his fingers out. Then, the weight on the mattress lifts. 

Pope's not on the bed anymore. You tug at your restraints, confused. 

“Andrew?” You don't know where he went. “Come back. Please come back.”

He loves the look of panic you have. He doesn't need to see your eyes to know you're anxious and confused. 

You feel the ropes binding your ankles loosen and you're able to move your legs again. But you still don't feel him anywhere nearby. 

Where did he go? 

Why is he stalling? 

What is he waiting for…

You know exactly what he wants. His end game. He's going to keep you tied up like this until you say it. 

“Untie me and I'll be your girlfriend again.” You say, finally giving in. 

Pope smiles at you, so very happy now. It only took you a few months to realize you were never going to be able to leave him. 

So you might as well enjoy being his forever. 

The ropes drag off your body and you can rest your arms again. They're sore from having to hold them up for so long. You go to pull off his shirt from your eyes. 

When you do, you see Pope at the edge of the bed, completely naked, waiting for you to strip. He doesn't have to tell you to do it. He knows you'll listen. 

You pull off your clothes until you're completely undressed, laying there waiting for him. He climbs on top of you in an instant before his lips land right on yours, kissing you so softly. Like you're truly his everything. 

And you stop fighting it. 

You lace your hands in his hair, pulling him in closer to you, kissing him back, moaning when you feel his cock rub up against your sensitive clit. 

“Please fuck me, Andrew.” You don't want to wait any longer. 

“Flip over, baby.” He watches as you do exactly that. “Good girl. My lovely girlfriend.” 

You bite down on your pillow when you feel the tip of his cock push past your entrance. He always fills you up just right, sinking in so deep that your eyes roll back in your head when he hilts. 

“I'll go nice and slow.” He says as he rolls his hips, grinding up against that spot by your womb, purposefully torturing you. Because he knows you don't want it slow.

You want him to be rougher. You want him pounding into you until you see stars in your vision and can't walk for days. 

That's why you tell him, “I want my boyfriend to fuck me harder.” 

You muffle the sound you make when you feel his cock throb inside of you at your words. Pope has missed being your boyfriend. 

“My girlfriend is greedy for a good fucking, isn't she?” He starts to pick up the pace, his cock ramming into you exactly the way you want him to. “Let me hear you scream your boyfriend's name, baby.” 

His name leaves your lips over and over again as he drives his cock into you until you're barely able to speak anymore. When he's sure you're about to lose it, Pope grabs the wand, turning it back on and pressing it right up against your clit while he fucks you harder.

“Andrew!” You shout, your orgasm hitting you so hard all of a sudden, “wait, you can't—”

You're clawing at the sheets under you, your body convulsing from the vibrations. Tears stream down your face from the intensity, which only ramps up with how fast he's fucking you. 

You burst completely when he cums inside of you, his release triggering your own. You're squirting all over his cock and it doesn't end, not even when he pulls out of you because he keeps the wand pressed up against your abused clit, forcing you to cum until all of his cum has dripped out of you. It's only then does he release you from the torment.

You collapse onto your bed, your thighs covered in his cum and your own. Every breath you let out is heavy, your chest rising and falling so rapidly, you feel dizzy. 

Pope lays you onto your back, leaning down to kiss you before saying, “close your eyes, baby. Relax for a bit. Then we'll go again.” 

You're barely able to catch your breath by the time he's hooking your legs over his shoulders and going down on you like he said he wanted to earlier. Your hands find his hair like it's second nature and he groans when you tug on his soft curls. 

“I love it when your pussy is begging to be touched.” He dips three of his fingers inside of you, spreading them wide, his eyes fixated on how swollen your clit is. “Ready for more yet?” 

You nod, letting yourself drown in the feeling of his lips gently sucking in your clit while his fingers curl inside of you. He knows your body a little too well, coaxing an orgasm out of you so quickly. 

In your daze, he asks, “can I tie you back up?” 

His eyes trail all over your skin, mapping out where he wants the rope to go. You swallow, your nerves settling back in. 

You're going to be helpless again if you agree. 

“Not my arms.” You compromise because you're still sore from holding them up earlier. 

“Alright.” He nods, kissing your thigh gently. “Just your legs then. I'll keep them wide open for me.” 

Pope has you bend your knees, then he wraps the rope around each of your legs, securing them tightly. You couldn't close your legs even if you tried. 

It's embarrassing being so spread but he stares at you with so much desire in his eyes that you shake away the humiliation. 

He goes back to ravaging you with his tongue but this time, he is focused on holding you right at the edge. He likes how your body desperately wants more friction but your legs can't move, can't press together to give you that satisfaction. 

Only he can and he revels in that. 

“Beg for it, baby.” He wants to hear it from your lips. 

“Please make me cum.” You plead, your lovely voice like music to his ears. 

He dips his fingers back into you, fucking you with them until you're panting and screaming from your release. He basks in that beautiful glazed over look in your eyes, the pleasure completely ruining you. 

Pope is already hard again so he climbs back on top of you, grinding his cock up and down your pussy, coating himself with your slick before he slips right back inside of you. He holds your thighs apart, pinning them down to the bed as he fucks you into the mattress. You pull him down to kiss you and he smiles against your lips, glad to see you so eager again. 

“I love you.” He says the moment he cums inside of you again. 

“I love you too.” You say back, even though you know this is not the right decision to be making.

Because once again, you've found yourself wrapped right back into Pope… 

And maybe you'll learn to be okay with that.

Since there's no escaping his love. 

a/n: lowkey i had no clue how to end this so I figured getting back together with toxic pope seemed like the smartest decision, whoops!

NOW: THE END, 2017

Your eyes flutter open, adjusting to the soft morning light spilling through the curtains. Andrew is already awake, propped slightly on one elbow, watching you.

A sleepy smile tugs at your lips. “Hi,” you murmur, your voice still thick with sleep.

A small smile appears on his face. “Hey.”

For a moment, neither of you says anything. You stay tangled together beneath the blankets, enjoying the quiet. The world outside can wait.

“How’d you sleep?” Andrew asks softly.

After everything that happened yesterday, you’d expected a restless night. You’d thought the bruises, the cuts, and the memories would keep you awake for hours.

Instead, the second your head hit the pillow, exhaustion won and with Andrew beside you, you’d felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Safe.

You let out a quiet laugh. “Better than I thought I would.”

“Yeah?”

You nod against the pillow.

“How’re you feeling?”

You shift slightly and immediately regret it as soreness pulls through your muscles. Bruises ache beneath your skin, and the cuts still sting when you move.

“My body’s sore,” you admit with a wince. “Everywhere.”

“Yeah,” Andrew says quietly. “I figured.”

His hand slides slowly up your back, warm and steady against you. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead before resting his brow against yours, his eyes closing for a moment.

"I'm sorry," he whispers. "For everything... for last night. I never wanted any of this to happen to you."

He swallows, the words catching before he forces them out.

"I know you told me you loved me last night, but..." He hesitates, the words clearly costing him. "If you want out—if you don't want this anymore... if you don't want me... this life..." He swallows hard. "If you changed your mind....I'd understand. I..."

You don't let him finish. You cup his face and kiss him. When you pull back, your forehead finds him again.

"I didn't change my mind," you whisper. "I'm still here aren’t I?”

His eyes search yours, like he's trying to make sure you mean it that you're not saying it because you're hurting, or because you think it's what he needs to hear.

“Angel…”

“Andrew…I’m not going to pretend I like it,” you say honestly. “What you’re around… what comes with it. I don’t. But I’m here anyway.”

Your voice steadies as you go on.

“And I’m not asking you to change everything or pretend it’s not your life. We were already figuring out how to keep me out of it before. We were doing okay.”

You swallow, fingers still lightly curled against him.

“I know you wouldn’t pull me into something on purpose,” you add. “And I know I’m going to end up knowing more than I want to sometimes. But I also know you’ll do your best to keep it away from me.” you finish quietly. “And that matters to me.”

“I’m not asking you to be okay with it,” he adds. “I’m asking if you’re sure you want this… with me. Knowing all of that…”

“I’m with you,” you say softly.

“Yeah?” he asks quietly. His thumb traces once over your knuckles again, slower this time. “You’re really sure?”

“I’m sure,” you say “I wouldn’t say it if I wasn’t.”

“I love you” he whispers. 

His smile only grows. The room falls quiet again. Neither of you makes any move to get up .For now, wrapped in warmth and the quiet comfort of each other's company, the rest of the world feels far away.

You study Andrew for a moment, almost afraid that if you blink, the moment will disappear. He leans in and kisses you. You smile against his lips as the kiss deepens

"Uncle Pope!" Lena's voice rings through the room as she barrels through the doorway.

You and Andrew spring apart so fast it's almost comical, both of you scrambling upright.

"Lena!" Andrew says a little too quickly, trying to sound completely casual.

He looks toward the doorway and finds not only Lena but Craig, Deran, and J standing there, all wearing expressions that range from amused to outright entertained.

Heat floods your face. If the mattress would have swallowed you whole, you would've gladly let it. "...Morning," you mumble. 

“Sorry to uh, barge in on you two,” J says, shifting slightly in the doorway. “But someone—” he nods toward Lena, “decided she needed Uncle Pope immediately.”

Lena looks between the two of you, completely oblivious to the awkward silence hanging in the room.

“Uncle Pope, I missed you,” she says brightly, already climbing onto the bed. She settles herself in his lap and wraps her arms around him in a tight hug.

Andrew softens instantly, one hand coming up to steady her as he hugs her back. Then Lena pulls away just enough to look at you and her expression changes. Her eyes land on the bruises scattered across your arms and the scrapes on your face.

"What happened?" she asks, her expression instantly turning worried.

Andrew's smile fades. "Angel was in an accident," he explains gently. "That's why I had to drop you off at the babysitter's yesterday."

Lena's attention snaps back to you. "Are you okay?"

You offer her a reassuring smile. "I will be"

She studies you for another second, seemingly satisfied, before her curiosity shifts gears. "Were you guys sleeping?"

Andrew nods. "Yeah, we were just resting” 

Lena tilts her head. "Are you guys dating?"

Craig, Deran, and J snicker at the question, each of them quickly trying to hide their amusement.

Andrew glances at you for the briefest moment before looking back at his niece. A small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he reaches for your hand, lacing his fingers with yours. 

"Yeah," he says simply. "We are."

Lena's eyes go wide. "Really?"

"Really."

A huge grin spreads across her face. "Does that mean she's my aunt now?"

Craig loses his battle with composure, laughing outright. "The kid doesn’t waste any time."

Deran shakes his head "Jesus, Lena."

J snickers. 

Andrew lets out a quiet laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not exactly," he says. "It's... a little more complicated than that…”

Lena frowns as she tries to make sense of it. "Oh."

The disappointment lasts all of two seconds. "Can she still come over?"

Andrew’s expression softens right away. “Yeah,” he says. “She can still come over. If she wants to.”

Lena’s attention snaps back to you in an instant, eyes lighting up again. “Will you come over?”

You don’t hesitate. “Yes. Of course I’ll come over,” you tell her gently.

“Hey—are you hungry?” Andrew asks.

“Mhm,” Lena nods without hesitation.

“How about we make breakfast?” he suggests.

That’s all it takes.

She’s up in an instant, scrambling out of bed and darting past everyone like she’s been waiting for permission to launch herself into the day. “Breakfast!” she calls over her shoulder as she runs out of the room.

Craig lets out a laugh, already moving after her. J follows close behind, shaking his head like he’s trying not to smile too much.

Andrew chuckles under his breath, watching them go.

Before he gets up, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to your lips quickly, then pulls away with a faint smile and heads after them.

Deran doesn’t follow. Instead, he stays. He crosses the room and drops down onto the bed beside you, stretching out like he’s making himself at home without asking permission.

The mattress dips under his weight.

Deran settles in like he’s got nowhere else he needs to be, one arm hooked behind his head as he stares toward the ceiling. The noise from the kitchen starts to build already, opening, Craig’s voice carrying, Lena bouncing between questions like she can’t decide which one matters most first.

“How are you doing?”

“Feeling a lot of things,” you admit honestly.

He nods slowly, like he understands there isn’t just one answer to that.

“I’m not gonna give you a whole speech..I’d like to tell you things will get better,” he says after a beat, voice steady but careful. “It’ll get easier to manage eventually. Things don’t exactly go away, though. I think you know that…” He pauses, then adds, softer, “But either way… you don’t have to deal with it alone. You’ve got us.”

A small silence settles between you.

“Yeah,” you say quietly. “I know I do.”

“We’re here. We get it… as sad as that sounds. I mean…I'd prefer we didn’t all have shared expertise in this kind of thing. But,” he continues, more grounded again, “it does make it easier to show up for each other. When it counts.”

You reach for his hand and squeeze it.

“I love you guys,” you say quietly.

His expression shifts at tha —something softer, a little caught off guard, but not in a bad way.

“I don’t know how you could,” he admits after a beat, honest in a way that isn’t self-pity so much as disbelief.

You shake your head slightly, eyes still on him.

“So,” he says, a little too casually, “you and Andrew.”

You let out an immediate laugh, shaking your head. “Oh, stop.”

“Ew—yeah, gross,” he says at once, like the idea alone is offensive enough to erase from his brain. He even scrunches his face, shaking his head. “I don’t need that image in my life. Ever.”

That pulls a laugh out of you real this time, unguarded. 

From down the hall, the house is anything but calm.

Lena’s laughter cuts through the first high, breathless, followed by Craig shouting something that sounds like an accusation and a defense at the same time. Andrew’s voice rises over both of them, sharp with frustration, and J’s in there too, arguing back. 

“Come on,” you say, sitting up. “Let’s go help in there before they burn something down.”

A loud beep cuts you off before he can answer.The smoke alarm fully loses patience with everyone, its shriek filling the house in seconds.

“Already did,” he mutters, 

From the kitchen, Craig’s voice carries over the noise. “It’s fine—turn it off, it’s fine!”

“It is absolutely not fine!” Andrew snaps back.

J says something you can’t quite make out over the alarm, sounding offended and defensive all at once, and Lena just keeps laughing—fully entertained by the chaos. 

Deran pushes himself off the bed, shaking his head as he walks toward the doorway with you.

When he reaches the hall, he stops for half a second at the sight—smoke drifting up near the ceiling, everyone talking over each other, the kitchen in total disarray.

He lets out a slow breath.

“That…” he says simply, gesturing loosely toward all of it. Then he looks at you.

“You’re stuck with it. Us. All of it.”

A small smile tugs at your mouth.

“I know,” you say.

And this time, it doesn’t feel heavy at all.

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You wish you didn't have to move in with your uncle. 

It's a bit dramatic to say you hate Jack Abbot but…you have never really liked him. 

He's just a family friend, someone who happens to show up to the parties your family gets invited to. He usually never goes to these outings but whenever he does, he always singles you out. 

You have no idea why. Maybe it's because when you were younger, you said that you had an interest in medicine and someone in the family introduced you to Jack, since he's a doctor. 

Even though you have long since pivoted away from medicine, it seems like he is hyperfixated on you despite everything. 

And now, you're stuck living with him…

It's supposed to be temporary. Just for a while, until you get back on your feet since you got kicked out of your house. 

Jack had heard what had happened and reached out to you. You never expected a text from him.

You never should've agreed.

But you couldn't say no to the prospect of no rent and living closer to your college campus. Plus, Jack gave you his credit card for any purchases, like groceries or stuff for your room. 

You told him that you won't buy too much since you don't plan on staying. You wanted to get an air mattress to sleep on until you found your own place but Jack insisted that you get a nice mattress and bed frame. He would help you move it when the time comes.

Though, will Jack let you move out now that he finally has you in his house? 

Definitely not. 

You're so silly for even thinking he would but you seem rather oblivious to how attracted he is to you. You don't react to his casual touches or his direct flirtations. You brush them off as symptoms of his carefree personality. 

If anything, you dislike him.

He knows you do.

He doesn't understand why you do, but he would be a fool not to recognize how often you try to avoid him when he's home.

The only time you can't avoid him is when it's time to sleep. And that's only because he refuses to help you put together your bed frame until he has a day off but he has been “too tired” on his days off to want to do it and he won't let you do it on your own. He got a rather difficult to assemble bed frame that requires two people to put together.

Jack did this on purpose, so you would have to sleep in his bed with him for as long as he can stall out the assembly because he won't let you “dirty the nice mattress by putting it on the basement floor”. He has a shitty couch, more like a tiny loveseat, that can't possibly be comfortable to sleep in. You have tried, several times, to see if you could but you always resorted to sleeping in Jack's very plush, king-sized bed. 

It's like he purposefully made his bed extra comfy so you can't help but sleep so well there. 

Even though sometimes you wake up with him tucked in behind you after his night shift, his arms wrapped around you. You've talked to him about this but he claims he isn't doing it on purpose. According to him, he is fidgety in his sleep because of his PTSD. 

That's why you can't fight him on it. 

Jack knows that, deep down, you're a sweet girl with a big heart. You never make him feel bad for having a physical disability. You are open to helping him with his prosthetic if he ever needs it. But he doesn't like to ask because he wants you to rely on him, not the other way around. 

Like the way your body is slowly craving his touch. 

You aren't conscious of it because Jack only touches you after he's certain you've drunk some water from the cute water bottle you always drink out of right before bed. He adds a pinch of something that renders you immobile until you wake up. 

Only a pinch because he wants you to still be able to feel the orgasms he gives you. He just doesn't want you to wake up and ruin his fun.

You've been having the weirdest dreams. It doesn't help that you wake up wet between your legs and occasionally with Jack's hard cock pressed up against your ass. He's fast asleep so you know it's not on purpose but it makes you so uncomfortable because of how big he is. 

Though, it makes you more uncomfortable that your mind wanders to how it would feel inside of you. 

Thoughts you shouldn't have but your body aches for it. 

Like your body has felt it before… 

But that can't be possible. 

You've never even had sex before. 

Not that you know of. 

Jack has had sex with you plenty of times by now. He's cum inside of you too. He always fingers you until it all spills out so you don't notice it too much when you wake up. He administered the birth control shot in your sleep a while ago to prevent a random pregnancy.

If he wants you pregnant, Jack will get you pregnant. But for right now, he needs you to want him first. 

Something that's proving to become more and more impossible everyday. 

Your body wants him. He has trained it to desire him. But you don't want him. 

He overheard you saying as much over the phone to some guy you've been “seeing”. You don't know that Jack has your phone wire tapped so he hears every phone call you make. He specifically pays attention to the ones you take when you go out on a walk in the neighborhood to avoid him hearing you complain about him.

“It's not like he does anything weird but my uncle just gives me the creeps sometimes.” You sigh as you round the block for the fifth time during this conversation. “I don't know if I'm making it up in my head but I swear, it feels like he's…watching me.” 

The guy you're talking to provides you with no comfort because he's not looking to hear you complain. Jack knows exactly what this guy is looking for when he comes to you. 

He stalked him for enough days to piece together that all that guy wants to do is get in your pants. 

And that's a place reserved for your uncle. 

So, against his best wishes, Jack simply has to take care of the issue. 

A few days later, there's a knock on the front door. 

Jack is cleaning his shoes, a routine he does whenever he wakes up a bit early before his night shift, so you go to answer the door. 

You look through the peephole and furrow your brows, confused. 

“Who is it, dear?” Jack asks and you try not to physically cringe at him calling you “dear”.

He refers to you as “his dearest niece”, something that still gives you the creeps but you elect to just ignore it and blame it on the fact that he's an old man.

“The police.” You open the door for them. 

The two officers ask if you live at the house and you nod. “Is there something I can help you with?” 

“Apologies, ma'am, but we just need to ask you a few questions—oh Jack!” The officer recognizes your uncle and you nearly flinch when you feel Jack's arm wrap around your shoulder. “Is this that niece you're always talking so fondly of? I knew this house seemed familiar.”

“You've only ever come over here drunk so I figured you must've had trouble recognizing it.” Jack says so casually, throwing in a light laugh before asking, “anyways, what seems to be the issue with my niece? Did she get into some trouble?”

He squeezes your shoulder playfully but you don't like the way his fingers dig so hard into your flesh… 

“We just wanted to ask her some questions.” They show you a photo of the guy you were talking to, who ghosted you a few days ago. “Do you recognize him?” 

You explain everything to them, since they ask about your last conversation with that guy. You tell them that the two of you barely know each other and that he's someone who asked for your number in class. That is a trend that the police officers are noticing because they reveal to you that you aren't the only one he was talking to. That much you figured but it stings a little hearing it put so bluntly…

“Is everything okay with him?” Not like you care but the police have to be here for a reason. 

Jack doesn't like that you ask that. He thinks you're asking because you care. He tightens his grip on your shoulder unconsciously. 

The tension remains when the officers tell the two of you, “we found his body this morning. Been dead a few days.”

“Oh fuck.” You can't believe it. Maybe he didn't ghost you after all… “How did he die?”

The officers look at each other. They probably shouldn't disclose it.

But then Jack pushes for the answer, since he's curious how much the cops know. He was going to snoop around during his next SWAT shift but this is a little easier. 

Officers love to gossip with people they think they can trust. 

“Must've been bad if you're questioning my niece.” Jack fishes for it without asking directly. 

“It was pretty brutal.” The officer Jack is friendly with admits. “Guy got all of the blood drained out of him. He had to have been alive when it was happening, according to the medical examiner.”

Jack can feel you tense up at that so he waves the officers away, “you're scaring her. If you don't have any other questions, I think you should give her some space to mourn her classmate.” 

The officers apologize and then head out, telling Jack that they'll see him next time he's on shift. 

He shuts the door and turns to you, seeing the way you've gone completely still. 

“Are you alright?” Jack cups your face with his hands, bringing you up to look at him. “You're trembling.” 

“I-I…I've never had someone I know die before.” Especially not someone your age. “And he was murdered…”

Jack should've killed him sooner. You're allowing him to touch you so easily right now. Could he have had you all this time if he had just scared you a little? 

He wraps his arms around you, pulling you in close to him, hugging you as he gently rubs your back. He comforts you and you accept it because you are genuinely freaked out. 

“It's hard so take your time to grieve.” Not too long but he'll let you grieve since you've never had to before. Plus, it is his fault you feel this way right now, since he killed the guy. “I'm here for you if you want to talk about it. I've had plenty of people I know die.” 

“I don't know how you do it.” You seriously don't.

Your uncle sees people dying almost everyday. It's one of the reasons you decided against medical school. You aren't mentally strong enough for that. 

“Lots of therapy.” He pats your head gently, speaking softly and kindly. He might not get another chance to draw you into him so he needs to make it count, “do you want to see a therapist? I can pay for it.” 

You shake your head. “I'll be okay, Uncle Jack. Thank you though, I really appreciate it.” 

You hug him back, grateful to have the support. He holds you close, wishing this moment could last forever. 

Since then, you aren't as annoyed when you feel him spoon you in his sleep. You find his touch oddly comforting now, even though you shouldn't entertain the idea of it. 

You can't live here forever and you definitely can't keep sleeping in the same bed as your uncle. 

Your dreams keep getting filthier and filthier…

You imagine Jack on top of you, pounding into you furiously, shoving you deeper into the mattress, grunting, groaning, cumming hard while he says your name on repeat, filling you with hot ropes of cum deep inside that feel real. 

You wake up with your fingers in your pussy, wet with your slick, and Jack's arms securely around your waist. He has no clue you had such a raunchy dream about him just now.

And you have no clue that it wasn't a dream at all. 

Jack did pump his entire load inside of you, having been pent up all day long at work from thinking about his niece's tight pussy wrapped about his cock. You've been swallowing him up so easily lately. You might not need the prep anymore. 

But he still makes sure you cum a few times in your sleep before he starts fucking you. He may be fucked up, but he isn't that greedy. He likes seeing you cum, your body convulsing uncontrollably when your orgasm hits in your sleep. 

If only Jack could see the same sight while you're awake. 

He hasn't crossed that line yet. 

He hadn't planned to.

Until he comes home from work today and you aren't sleeping in his bed like you usually do.

You're always asleep at this time. You're supposed to be. He is certain he drugged your water before he left. 

But you didn't drink from your water bottle today. You actually put it in the dishwasher because you figured it needed a clean since the water had been tasting a little funky lately so you washed it and drank from a glass instead as you spent hours putting together your bed frame in your bedroom, which is in the basement. 

You had found a video online on how to assemble the exact bed frame Jack got you but with only one person. It took an extra hour to accomplish but you no longer have to sleep in Jack's bed anymore. 

Meaning you will, hopefully, stop having wet dreams about him…

You fall right asleep once you've put the mattress on the bed securely and washed up for the night. You can finally sleep with a locked door between you and Jack, which is how it was always meant to be. 

But Jack can't stand it when he tries your doorknob and it's locked. 

Because now, if he unlocks it to fuck you in your sleep, you will know. You put a piece of tape on the door, so if it breaks, you can prove that Jack broke into your room. 

It's something you had to do because your parents would come into your room at night to snoop around your stuff. It's why you got kicked out because you confronted them about it with evidence and they didn't like how “ungrateful” you were. But you didn't like how fucking weird they were being, sneaking into your room. 

Something you figured would eventually happen with Jack…

And Jack debates throwing caution to the wind because he wants to fuck you so badly. 

He had grown used to using your perfect pussy as stress relief after a long night shift. He feels like he's being denied a basic need of his. 

But he is too smart to give in.

He needs to plan something to show you that you belong to him. 

And it starts by trapping you in your room.

You wake up starving so you go to unlock your bedroom door to grab some food but it won't open. 

You pound on the door, shouting, “Uncle Jack! Are you there? My door is stuck!”

You try pushing it a few times but it won't budge. 

It's like it's still locked.

Because it is, from the other side, with a biometric lock…

Your eyes glance over to the tape. 

It's ripped. 

That means Jack was in your room. 

You dart around the room with your eyes, noticing now that the room has no windows. 

Isn't that a code violation?

But it's in the basement so…

You hadn't thought about the room much and you were so tired after putting your bed together that you just went right to sleep. 

You're thankful that you have a working bathroom but that's all you have. 

There's nothing but clothes in your room. You don't have your phone. You don't have your laptop or your school supplies. 

What the fuck is going on…

Are you—

You start frantically pounding on the door, screaming, “Uncle Jack, let me out!”

No response. 

You are fucking trapped in here. 

Jack likes seeing the way you panic. He installed a few cameras to watch you like you're a pet he needs to monitor while he's away.

You should've known better than to disobey him. He told you to wait until he could help you put the bed frame together. 

Just because he was purposefully putting it off doesn't mean you should've went out of your way to do it yourself!

Truly, this is all your fault. 

All you had to be was his good girl. 

But you just had to be difficult. 

So now, of course he has to punish you!

All of a sudden, you hear your uncle's voice coming out of a speaker in your walls, “you don't get to leave until you apologize for not listening to me.” 

“Excuse me?” You can't believe this! “What the fuck is your problem, you fucking freak!”

Jack sighs, tired of your attitude.

Then, all of a sudden, you feel an electric shock around your neck and you yelp! 

“What the fuck—” You finally perceive the thin collar around your neck, tugging at it. It won't budge. “Did you put a shock collar on me, asshole?!”

He shocks you again and you wince. It doesn't really hurt but it stings, like someone's slapping one of those weird plastic wristbands around your neck over and over again. 

“Stop!” You plead because you don't like the feeling.

“Apologize to me.” Jack is stern with his tone. 

“I'm sorry.” You tell him. 

“For what?” He wants a full apology. 

“I'm sorry I didn't listen to you and put together my bed without you, Uncle Jack.” You brace yourself to get shocked in case your apology isn't good enough but thankfully he doesn't. 

“Get on your knees.” He instructs.

“W-What?” You are definitely not doing that. 

“Get on your knees at the door and wait for me or else.” He makes his threat very apparent. 

Jack watches how reluctant you are. You obviously don't want to do it, which only makes it all the more delightful when you finally submit. 

You kneel at the door, waiting for him, your lips all pouty. He wants to shove his cock into that pretty mouth of yours right now. 

But he'll have to hold back. 

Though, it's difficult to when he opens the door and you're staring up at him with so much fury in your eyes. 

“Did you seriously fucking lock me—” You're interrupted in the middle of cussing Jack out by him slamming the door shut behind him, locking it. “What the fuck is your—!”

He hits the button on the remote and you are immediately shocked much harsher than earlier!

“Stop, stop, it hurts!” You cry out and Jack hits the button again, stopping it. 

“Are you going to be a good girl or not?” He asks you, standing over you. 

“Please take the collar off.” You can't wear this any longer. 

It feels like it's burning a hole in your neck… 

“I asked you a question.” He hovers his finger over the button and basks in the fear that strikes in you. 

“I-I will be.” You swallow your pride. “Just please take it off.” 

“I will.” Jack says, his eyes locked on yours. “In a week.”

“What?!” You can't wear this thing for a week!

“If you can be a good girl for a week, then I'll take it off. But the moment you do anything bad, we add another week. Understood?” 

You want to scream at him. You want to beat the shit out of him. 

But the collar is metal. No unlocking mechanism. Specially made. 

Jack is the only one who knows how to unlock it. And it can shock you much worse than the low levels he has been hitting you with. 

You can see it in his eyes. He wants you to disobey him. He wants you to give him an excuse to keep that collar on you longer.

You can't let him win. 

But you need a guarantee. “Do you promise if I'm a good girl to take off the collar?” 

“Yes, dear.” And as a sign of good faith, he kneels down in front of you and pops the collar off, to prove that he can. “You can go without it while we're in your room. But you're putting it back on if you want to leave. The door won't open otherwise.”

Jack invites you to try to unlock the door. It won't budge. Then, he walks over and snaps the collar back on you and suddenly, the door can be opened. 

“In case you get any ideas.” He whispers low in your ear, causing shivers to go straight down your spine when he reveals, “it'll shock you hard enough to kill you if you try anything, like run away or tell anyone about it. I wouldn't risk it.” 

“I won't.” You know he's being serious. 

Only a crazy man would lock his pseudo-niece in a basement and put a shock collar around her neck. 

And you won't provoke a crazy man.

You just need to survive whatever he has in store for you for the week. 

Then, you'll be free. 

But the perversion starts sooner than you thought it would. 

It starts at breakfast. 

Jack makes you sit on his lap while you eat. You have to pretend you don't feel how hard he is beneath you as you scarf down your food because you're so hungry. You have to ignore how his hands are resting on your thighs, sliding up and down, making you feel so small given the sheer size of his hands. 

“My niece eats so well.” Jack says against the shell of your ear before nipping at it with his teeth. “Did that food taste good?” 

You don't understand why you're getting wet from this. You shouldn't. You should feel fucking disgusted. 

You can't let your discomfort show so you answer, “yes, Uncle Jack. Thank you for cooking for me.” 

“Look at me.” He has you turn and face him. “Kiss me if you're really thankful.” 

“W-What?” You stammer out. 

Why would you kiss—

“Kiss me or I'll add another week to your training.” He threatens and you stiffen up. 

Then, you lean in and kiss him on the cheek. “Thank you, Uncle Jack.” 

“Straddle my lap facing me.” He snaps at you to do so. 

You listen, even though you don't want to. You feel so icky having your chest pressed against his, with his hard cock pushing up against you. 

He cups your face, making you look at him before he leans in and kisses you. You don't want to kiss him back.

But then he says against your lips, “don't make me do it.” 

And you kiss him back right away.

Jack smiles against your lips, kissing you nice and sloppy. You hate it. You hate it so fucking much. 

Because your body is getting hot all over. 

You don't get why you're reacting to him. Your pussy is aching to be touched. It doesn't help that he keeps grinding his hips, making you fully aware of how big his cock is, how good it would feel buried deep inside of you. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. You can't be thinking this. 

You can't—

“You're so wet.” Jack's words are warm on your lips and horribly degrading. “I can feel you soaking my sweats.” 

You look down. There's no way… 

You are that wet. You can feel your slick through your flimsy sleep shorts, the fabric doing nothing to keep in how turned on you are.

You shouldn't be this attracted to your uncle! 

Something is going on. There has to be an explanation… 

“Uncle Jack, what did you do to me?” You're scared of whatever this is. 

“I didn't do anything bad to you, dear.” He gives you a kiss on the forehead that provides no comfort.

“But you did something.” You want to know what it is. 

“Do you want me to show you what I did?” Jack would be happy to. 

You bite your lip, nervous. 

What are you about to get yourself into if you agree? 

But you have to know…

“Okay.” You say with a nod. 

Jack stands up then, carrying you by your thighs. You have to cling onto him as he takes you to his bed, dropping you on the edge. 

You prop yourself on your elbows when you see Jack kneel down in front of you before tugging off your shorts and underwear in one swift motion. 

You should tell him to stop. Yell at him to get away from you. Not let him spread your thighs apart and—

Your eyes roll back in your head when his tongue swirls around your clit perfectly. Too perfectly. He knows exactly the right pace, pressure, rhythm to get you close to an orgasm. 

Then, he stops right before you get there. You squirm in his hold, his hands holding your thighs apart so you can't rub them together and make yourself cum. 

“Does my niece want to cum?” Jack asks then drags his tongue along the length of your slit, making your whole body shake with need. “It looks like you do.” 

“Uncle Jack…” Why do you want him to make you cum? 

This is the same guy that literally just put a shock collar on you and locked you in your room!

“What do you want, dear?” He flicks your clit once, as a tease. “Use your words. What do you want your uncle to do for you?”

You can't feed into this. You can't! 

This is wrong! 

But your pussy is throbbing. You're desperate to cum. 

You want to so badly… 

“I want my uncle to make me cum.” You tell him before covering your face with your hands, hiding how embarrassed you are. 

You can't hide for long. Because Jack starts ravaging you with his tongue, playing with your clit exactly the way you need him to until you're screaming and moaning into your palms, cumming hard. 

Jack loves it. Loves finally getting to hear you be vocal. You're awake and enjoying his touch, albeit with a touch of humiliation. 

He leans into it for your sake. “My niece just came so hard on my tongue. Do you like how I'm going down on you?” 

You nod into your hands, unable to admit it out loud. It feels too good. Your body is still reeling from that first orgasm that you aren't ready for him to dive back in and start sucking on your clit.

“Wait, Uncle Jack!” You cry out when he thrusts two fingers inside of you, the wet sounds filling the room. “Stop, stop, I'm going to cum again!” 

He nearly chuckles at that. How cute. You have no idea how many times he can make you cum before your body is unable to take it anymore. You're barely at your limits. 

Jack can push you to the very edge, make you cum like crazy. And he needs to, now that you're awake to fully react to it. 

His cock wants to burst out of his sweats when you squirt on his fingers the moment he curls them inside of you just right. He loves that bashful expression on your face, so full of shock that you came that hard. 

“How was that, dear? That must've felt amazing.” Jack pulls his fingers out of you so he can taste you. 

You watch him in such a daze, not understanding how he knows your body so well. 

Like, how does he know that his cock can fit so easily inside of you? 

You can't even process it quick enough. Jack just climbs on top of you and then sinks his cock inside of you. He hilts without any resistance from you.

And you cum so hard when he does. 

The moment the tip of his cock kisses your womb, you cum all of a sudden, just like he trained you to. 

Your pussy wraps around his cock so well. Jack knows exactly how to thrust inside of you to get you gasping for air. 

“Uncle Jack, what's going on!” You're so confused because you shouldn't be taking his huge cock this easily, especially not your first time ever having sex. 

“We're having sex.” He states the obvious, rolling his hips against yours, making your whole body shudder in response. 

“B-But it's my first time.” Isn't it supposed to hurt? 

“It is your first time.” Jack tells you. It's your first time awake, so he's not technically lying. 

“But your cock is—” Your words are cut off by a moan when he pounds into you deeper all of a sudden. 

“You like your uncle's cock, don't you?” He keeps up his quicker pace until you're squirting all over his cock with every thrust. “That's it, dear. Cum lots for me.” 

He doesn't have to tell you to. Your body is well trained already. It's just your mind that's growing fuzzy from the pleasure you're finally experiencing while alert. 

By the time Jack finally cums inside of you, you're a fucking mess on his bed, your body still convulsing and cumming even after he's pulled his cock out of you. 

And it only gets worse when he tells you, “you're due for your birth control shot but I don't think I'll give it to you.” 

“Uncle Jack…” You're having a hard time processing what he must've done to you in your sleep. 

“If you're a good girl and you aren't pregnant by the end of the week, I'll administer it.” He lays down beside you, patting your head. “But only then.” 

You look up at him when his hand slides from the top of your head to cup your cheek, the warmth of his palm disturbing given how comforting it feels. You shouldn't lean into his touch. 

So, you lean into his lips instead, when he presses them against yours and you don't stop yourself from kissing him back. 

You reason it's because you have to. You obviously don't want to kiss him. You don't want him to pull your body close to him and hold you. But he does and you submit. 

Jack smiles against your lips, liking the lack of resistance. No matter what happens this week, his goal is to make it so you can't live without him. 

Because he can't live without you. 

You're unsure if you're lucky that it's spring break this week. It's probably good because then you don't have to explain to your classmates why you're wearing a scarf when it's warm outside. But it's bad because your uncle takes the whole week off so he can continue his slow torture of your body. 

To test just how far you'll let him go, Jack has you on a leash now in his house. 

When he tells you to sit, you sit. Usually on his lap or at his feet while the two of you watch TV in the living room. He always has you on his lap for meals. You don't even remember when he started resting his cock inside of you while the two of you ate. 

But you do remember how hard you came when he played with your clit as you were trying to cut up the food on your plate. 

Now he does it every meal...

“Aren't you a spoiled pet?” Jack teases you more, pinching your clit, making you jolt in his lap, driving his cock deeper into you. “You should focus on eating.” 

You hate when he tells you to focus. It means he's going to edge you to the brink of insanity. And now that you're aware of the kind of pleasure he can give you, it truly is torture to have to hold it in. 

Jack likes edging you, though. Your pussy tightens up around him, squeezing him so desperately, wanting to cum so badly. He finds it amusing. He never thought he'd have so much fun with a pet before. 

“Finish your plate, dear.” Jack slides his other hand to your lower belly, kneading you right there. “You need fuel if you're going to have pups, you know.” 

There's something so degrading about the way he's treating you like a dog. But you have to listen. 

Because it's only when you're a good girl that he breeds you like an animal.

Jack shoves your plate across the table once you're done to clear space. Then, before you can have a moment to brace yourself, he slams you down onto it chest first and starts pounding into your pussy from behind exactly how you need him to. 

The orgasms that always roll through you when he has edged you then finally lets you cum has you shaking, your legs wobbling, your knees buckling, your body barely able to hold itself up. 

Jack has his hands firmly gripping your hips as he fucks you through your orgasm, reveling in how easily you cum on his cock over and over again. He loves the sound of you moaning his name. You don't tell him it's too much for you anymore. You just take it like a good girl. 

“My dearest niece loves being bred by her uncle, doesn't she?” Jack smiles when your pussy tenses up at his question and then you burst, squirting all over his cock in response. “You're dripping onto the floor. We'll have to get you some puppy pads, huh?” 

As if this isn't humiliating enough… 

From that moment forward, any time Jack fucks you anywhere that isn't in bed, he lays a puppy pad down and makes you fully aware of how hard you've cum every time he touches you. And you aren't allowed to complain because you need to make it through this week. 

Just a few more days of him fingering you over a pad until you're squirting onto it. Just a few more days of him fucking you until you see stars and your womb is full of his release.

Just a few more days of him kissing you so softly, telling you how beautiful you are, cuddling you in bed, taking care of you like you really are a pet he adores. 

Just one more night and you'll be out of this collar. 

And then Jack will know if he has broken you or not.

“You've been very good, dear.” He pats you lovingly on the head while you're kneeling at his feet by the couch. “Just a little longer.” 

You chew on your bottom lip, not sure if you can last much longer...

Jack has you sitting on a puppy pad with beads in your ass and a vibrator buzzing on the lowest setting in your pussy. You want to cum but you can't. He turns off the vibrator every time you get close, like he does right now. But this time, he pulls it out of you, leaving you hollow inside.

“Get on all fours and turn your ass towards me.” He says with a snap and you listen like he's trained you to. “Good girl. I love seeing you wag your tail.” 

The beads that are tormenting your ass have a fluffy tail attached to the end of them. A tail Jack likes to grab a hold of and tug, popping a bead out of you just to watch you shake your ass. You nearly cum when he shoves it back in past your tight ring. 

This has been his favorite show to watch. You, naked, on your hands and knees, edged to the brink of insanity, your pussy aching to be filled with his cock until you cum as many times as your body will allow you to. 

Now, Jack wonders how much you like being his little pet. 

So, he slides his hand up and presses his finger over the biometric lock. Your collar comes right off then, much to your surprise. There's still a night left but he's taking it off early…

Then, Jack tells you, “you've done so well, dear. You're free to go now.” 

What? You turn back to look at him.

Your uncle gets up from the couch, going into his bedroom to put the collar away somewhere safe, leaving you there on all fours, wondering what you're supposed to do with yourself when you want to cum already. 

Are you allowed to cum? 

You're unsure.

Your body…doesn't know what to do. 

You need Jack to tell you what to do...

Wait, what! No, you don't!

You're not his pet. You don't need to wait for him to tell you what you can or can't do. 

So, why are you still waiting for him to come back? 

Fuck. You're fucked. 

Because why are you crawling to his room? 

Why are you happy when you see him smile when you get there? Why are you kneeling by his feet at the foot of his bed where he has been sitting, waiting for his pet to find him?

You're past the point of humiliation.

That's why you let him pat you on the head and say, “I knew you were a good girl.” 

And the slick between your legs grows in response. 

“Do you want your reward for being so good?” He pats the spot next to him. “You know what to do, dear.” 

You scramble onto the bed quicker than you intend, heat flooding your system when Jack laughs at how eager you are to get on all fours for him. He stands up then, pulling his clothes off until he's completely naked too. 

You try not to moan too loudly when you feel the tip of his cock gliding along the length of your wet slit, gathering your slick up so he can tease your throbbing clit. 

“Will you keep being good for your uncle?” Jack asks you and you nod right away, filling him with delight. “I need you to rub your clit but you can't cum, okay? I'll be right back.” 

Your fingers are on your clit the moment he moves away from you and you rub yourself until you're so close to bursting. That's when Jack comes back with the vibrator he had in your pussy earlier, handing it to you. 

“Turn it on when I tell you to.” He instructs and you nod, placing it against your clit, shivering with anticipation. 

Though, that might just be your reaction to him putting a new collar around your neck. A soft leather one, with a leash that he has wound around his fist. He yanks it back just a tad, as a test, and you nearly cum when he cuts off your air. 

Jack has really messed you up, hasn't he? 

“Don't cum until I kiss your womb, okay?” He waits for you to nod and then chuckles when you do so very eagerly. “That's my good girl. You'll get to cum a lot once I do, I promise.”

You don't hold in the moan when you feel Jack finally push his cock into you. But he is torturing you now, purposefully keeping his thrusts shallow so you're left clawing at the sheets, your body so tense that you could explode at any moment. 

“Please, Uncle Jack.” You finally allow yourself to beg. You haven't all week but since he doesn't have the shock collar on you anymore, you plead to him. “Please fuck me.” 

“I am fucking you, dear.” Jack knows he's tormenting you because you're wriggling, needing him to go deeper. “Tell me exactly what you want your uncle to do to you.” 

And it's like all the dignity you have left completely erodes away when you tell him, “please breed me, Uncle Jack.”

“My niece wants me to put a baby in her?” You can't see the devilish grin on his face but you know it's there. 

“Yes.” You answer and then repeat that word over and over again the moment he rams his cock inside of you and you're cumming all over him, your body bursting completely. 

“Turn it on now.” He commands and even in your daze, you know to listen. 

You flip on the vibrator and the vibrations hit your clit at the same time as the tip of his cock grinds against your womb and now you're squirting uncontrollably. 

“I should've made you lay down a pad if I knew you'd cum this much.” He says with a chuckle, liking how lost you are in your orgasm that you aren't even processing his degradation. “What a cute pet I have, wagging her tail for me.”

Jack wraps your tail around the same hand holding your leash and with the single tug, a bead pops out of your ass as your collar chokes you. You're swimming in a sea of stars, your vision going dark when you can no longer breathe. 

And the pleasure doesn't cease… 

He pulls out another bead, choking you harder, watching your body spasm beneath him, your pussy milking his cock beautifully. 

“Good girl.” His voice is soft and gentle compared to how harsh his actions are, keeping you from the air you need to survive. “Cum nice and hard for me, dear.” 

He shoves the beads back into your ass, the sudden rush of pressure winding you, the release of your leash allowing air to funnel back into your throat but it's caught there by how intense your orgasm shoots through you.

The sounds you're making aren't even human anymore. Just mumbles and whimpers and whines and cute little attempts at babbling his name. 

You've dug your nails into his sheets now, tearing into them as Jack puts his hands back on your hips, digging his nails into your flesh for leverage so he can slam every inch of his thick cock as deep as your body will let him go. The rhythm in which he's fucking you has you losing faith in your mind, in your ability to reason things through.

You're so far gone now. 

So consumed by your uncle. 

That when Jack asks you, “tell me you want to keep being my dearest pet and I'll keep breeding you just the way you like it.” 

Your mouth moves before your mind can stop it, “I want to be your pet, Uncle Jack.” 

“Flip over.” Jack slides his cock out of you, chuckling with amusement when you pout at him for leaving you feeling empty. “Come on, dear, I'll be inside of you again soon. Quickly now.” 

You lay down on your back and he pulls you until your legs are dangling off the edge of the bed. 

“Hold your knees up for me.” He takes the vibrator from you so you can pull your thighs as close to your body as you can. “Good girl. I can play with your tail this way.” 

Your eyes widen when his hand wraps back around your tail and his other hand holds the vibrator back on your clit. He smiles at the fear and excitement in your face. 

What a precious pet he has. 

The moment Jack slams his cock back inside of you, he tugs the beads out of your tail. Then, when he pulls his cock out of you, he pushes your tail back into place. All while the vibrator abuses your swollen and overstimulated clit. 

“Here, dear.” Jack sees the way you're biting down on your lip to stop yourself from screaming and grabs your leash. “Bite down on this instead.”

He stuffs as much of the leash into your mouth as he can until you're choking yourself from holding it in your mouth, your collar tightening around your throat. 

“You're going to cum so nicely now.” Jack moves his hand back to your tail. “Just focus on being a good pet niece for your uncle.” 

You've lost count of how many orgasms he forces out of you with this all consuming rhythm of his. The beads in your ass, the vibrations on your clit, the rough pounding of his cock against your womb, it's all too much.

And everything you've ever wanted. 

Almost everything. 

You spit the leash out of your mouth to beg, “please kiss me while you cum, Uncle Jack.” 

That almost ruins his rhythm but he catches himself before he seems too shocked. Then, he flips off the vibrator and yanks your tail completely out of your ass. Every bead popping out of your body sends shockwaves through you that distract you from him suddenly grabbing your face and kissing you, his hips rolling against yours at a harsher pace now. 

Jack is fucking you into the mattress like he has many times before. Only this time, you're fully awake for it. Only this time, you're kissing him back while he does it. 

You like how happy he is, smiling against your lips, groaning and grunting your name, telling you how perfect you are, how glad he is that he trained you so well. 

“My dearest pet niece.” He breathes against your lips, looking into your eyes with such affection. “Are you ready for your uncle's cum?” 

You nod, nuzzling his nose with your own playfully, acting so cute that he doesn't want this to end. “Please cum deep inside of me, Uncle Jack.” 

“I will.” He says before his lips are back on yours and you cum with him the moment you feel him fill you with that warmth you've grown addicted to. 

You're both left panting like animals, kissing in between breaths, unable to part from one another. Jack adores how you cling to him, holding him against you, wanting his comfort after getting fucked so hard. 

“I've got you, dear.” He pulls you onto your side so he can rub your back. “Take your time to cool down and we'll take a nice bath after this.” 

You smile happily into the crook of his shoulder, since you like taking baths with him. You like that you don't have to pretend that you don't like it anymore. 

You don't have to pretend you hate him anymore.

There's nothing wrong with enjoying life as your uncle's pet. 

He taught you that it's a good life to live. 

a/n: I wrote this bc I put together a new bed frame a while back and I needed a treat like a good pet deserves! 

They were together for a decently long time, they started dating when you were 18 and fresh out of highschool. Making it until your last year of medical school before they ended things. Which made starting your clinical rotations at Robby’s hospital just slightly awkward.

But now you’re 26 and a second year resident in the PTMC ED. However, things were still slightly awkward between the two of you. This was mostly in part because your mom had cheated on him. But the other part was the fact that you had been harboring a massive crush on the man since he had started dating your mom. Something you had told no one but Trinity, who then told Dennis. Who then accidentally let it slip to Javadi who had been with Samira when he said it.

So everyone knew. But everyone also knew that Robby looked at you the same way you did him.

Which meant that when your clearly drunk text came through reading ‘SOS drunc hornyyyy ned ridee’, no one questioned Robby’s immediate response of being on his way. You weren’t sure who responded to your message barely paying attention to names, but you at least saw the response of whoever it was being 5 min out.

Heading out of the dingey building with your arms around your body for any type of heat you could generate you regretted the decision to wait outside. Your jean microskirt, black tank-top, and sheer lace over shirt did nothing to keep you warm. But you sure as hell looked hot. Scoring at least three phone numbers, including one coming from a bartender who’d given you free drinks all night.

And it was that same bartender who was calling your name while walking out to where you stood on the curb now.

“Hey! I saw you standing out here and figured I’d see if you wanted to head out together?” His proximity was way too close for your liking now that you were just wanting to go home.

“Oh uhm, no thank you” you attempted a step back, “a friend is picking me up, I’m sorry”

Whatever distance you gained was instantly lost as he followed closely. Even going as far as grabbing your wrist fairly tightly.

“Oh come on don’t be like that” he scoffed pulling you closer by where he held you, “you’ve been flirting with me all night. You can’t just lead me on like that and not expect me to want something”

His words had sobered you up in record time, words no woman wanted to hear when they were alone on a dark street. The only self defence ideas you had going for you was the fact someone was on their way, and four moves Jack had taught you when you picked up a night shift once.

“Hey look here buddy! I don’t owe you anything asshole-” you didn’t get a chance to finish your sentence before a familiar scent enveloped you from behind, at the same time your arm was freed from the bartender's grip.

“Touch her again and it’ll be the last thing you do I can promise you that” Robby’s voice wasn’t loud, but his tone told the man and everyone around that he wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Whatever” the bartender was quick to scoff trying to seem unbothered as he shook out his arms, “the bitch isn’t hot enough for this type of effort anyway”

“The fuck did you just say to her!”

You grabbed Robby’s arm in an attempt to stop the situation from going any further. Granted you skidded a few steps in effort but you were able to at least slow him down. But he only stopped at the sound of your soft and slightly wavering voice.

“Michael please, it’s fine I just w-wanna go home” you rarely called him by his first name, so you knew it would grab his attention.

With a reluctant nod he rested a hand at your lower back guiding you to his truck that he had left at the curb. The bright flashing hazard lights caused you to stumble just a bit seeing as you still had a slight wobble to your step. Your body seemingly not as caught up on sobering like your mind had.

Attempting to step up into the truck you felt a sharp tug on the hem of your skirt holding the material down. Now that you were out of the highly stressful situation you were able to process the feeling of confusion. You weren’t exactly sure why Robby out of everyone was here, or how he even knew you needed help getting home in the first place.

“How did you-”

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing out here like this?” His sharp words cut you off, “do you know how worried I was when that text came through, and even worse when I tracked your location”

“You still have my location!?”

“That is the least of your goddamn worries right now,” Robby was pissed that much you did know, “and then you had to go and wear nothing but see through strips of fabric out here, you could’ve gotten hurt, you almost did get hurt!”

He wasn’t truly pissed about your clothing choice, you had the freedom to wear whatever you wanted. Robby was just pissed that other people got to see you and touch you like he wanted to. Even now he was trying his hardest not to stare at the way your skirt rode up your thighs, or how your breasts we’re spilling over the confines of your top.

You were his ex’s daughter for god's sake! He shouldn’t be thinking of how your soft skin and pouty lips would feel. Nor should he think about how much better you would be than your mother. But he had, he had thought about you one too many times with his fist tightly wrapped around himself. Imagining it was your hand or mouth around his aching cock choking him down instead.

So he couldn’t help but feel a little overprotective and angry about the situation he found you in. But you didn’t bother fighting back after that, you refused to be scolded like a child. Even though you ended up crossing your arms and slouching like one in his passenger seat. Going as far as to give him the silent treatment while only looking out the window the rest of the ride. Completely ignoring him until you realized the neighborhood he had pulled into was nowhere near your own.

“This isn’t my home” you grumbled, leaning forward to put your address in his GPS. Not getting very far as he slapped your hand away

“Yeah no shit sweetheart, I know where you live and you’re staying at mine tonight”

His sentence barely finished before he pulled into his driveway, reaching over and unbuckling your belt before he hopped out. Your jaw dropped open in disbelief of his curt behavior, one you hadn’t truly experienced outside of the hospital. Pulling out your phone your thumb was poised at the uber app when suddenly your door flew open. Robby stood there with an expectant look on his face.

“I’m not getting out” you refused to move, typing his address into the phone so that you could order a ride.

“Either you get out like a big girl or I make you”

You didn’t believe his words, thinking he wasn’t going to follow through and that he would just give up. But before you could hit submit on your screen, your body was manhandled out of the seat and onto your feet. A large hand gripping your bicep as he pulled you towards his front door before you could get a word out. He all but threw through his door and up to his bedroom before you were able to find the ability to speak.

“What do you think you’re doing!?”

“Take a shower, change, bed”

“You know you’re not with my mom anymore right? You don’t have to play hero with me.” You go to walk past him and out of his room, but Robby stays rooted in the doorway as an immovable statue.

“Do not make me repeat myself kid”

“Kid, seriously? I didn’t ask for your help Dad”

You were pissed that after all this time he still only saw you as a child. A realization that made your attraction to him feel so much more humiliating. But what you failed to notice in your anger was how his jaw clenched and his pupils dilated at the name you called him. No, you were too focused on his choice of words for yourself.

So out of spite you decided to listen to his previous statement, but carried out his request with an attitude. Turning to his closet you began riffling through his drawers. Throwing pieces of clothing on the floor until you found a shirt you wanted. Doing the same with his other drawers until you found a pair of boxers you felt was acceptable.

And Robby just stood there, arms crossed with a hand pinching the bridge of his nose. He was doing his best to keep his eyes on your face and not anywhere else while you bent over. But he just couldn’t help himself when a small strip of red lacy fabric caught his attention. However he quickly averted his eyes when you straightened up and turned towards the bathroom.

Stomping the whole way into his adjacent bathroom you made sure to slam the door closed, rattling the objects on his desk. If he was going to treat you like a child you were going to give him the whole act. You made sure to take an extra long shower. One that had the water running cold and condensation dripping down the mirror, and you used all of his products out of spite (desire). You also might have poured some down the drain so there wasn’t much left.

Stepping out of the now cold water you took the towel you assumed was his and wrapped it around your body, while making your way to his sink where you used his toothbrush. The heat from the shower had helped you sweat out most of the alcohol you had consumed, making you fully aware of the situation you now found yourself in.

You were alone with Robby. Something that you had been actively avoiding since he and your mom broke up. Especially since she had cheated on him and then blamed Robby for her cheating. You never understood your mom. She had a strong, handsome, well established man who treated her well and she just let it slip away. You weren’t surprised though, she was always reckless with her choices not caring who she hurt.

You wouldn’t do that to him, you would make sure he knew how much you wanted him. So with the opportunity all but dropped into your lap, you decided to take it. Drying your hair with the towel, you look at the items of clothing you brought. A worn grey northwestern shirt and a pair of boxers. Slipping on the worn piece of clothing you chose to forgo the boxers and bra before walking out in just his shirt.

Walking out of the bathroom you saw the clothes you had thrown on the floor were already picked up and Robby was nowhere to be found. But your confusion was stopped short when he came through the door carrying Tylenol and a glass of water. An action that had you feeling slightly guilty for being such a brat.

Wordlessly he went to hand you the two objects, and to his surprise instead of grabbing them you tilted your head back and opened your mouth. Robby knew what you wanted only hesitating for just a moment before dropping the two pills in your mouth and tipping the water glass to your lips.

You kept your eyes on his the whole time, watching how his own tracked the movement of your throat as you swallowed. Tracing the path rivulets of water took with his gaze as it dripped from the corners of your mouth. With a sharp inhale of breath through his nose he hurriedly took a step back. Seeming to realize just what you were doing.

But true to your original intentions, you weren’t about to let him go. For every step he took back you took one forward. Right up until his back hit the door and he had nowhere else to go.

“W-what do you think you’re doing? We can’t, c’mon kid you gotta stop” His voice shook just slightly in questioning, rising into mild panic when you dropped to your knees and ran your hands over his body.

“Again with the kid?” You roll your eyes while lifting his shirt up slightly and undoing the button on his bottoms. Nuzzling your face into the thick patch of dark hair that trailed his soft stomach, “relax dad, moms not here anymore and I am not a child”

Pressing featherlight kisses to his now exposed skin, you watched as the bulge at the front of his underwear grew and jump at the name you used once more. Running your nose over the coarse hair, you took a deep inhale before pulling his boxers down. His heavy cock bobbed up when released from the fabric. You paused for just a moment as you studied him. He was bigger than you imagined, his flushed and angry tip was trailed by a large vein that disappeared into dense and unruly curls at his base

“So fucking big dad” Tucking the band behind his balls you wrapped your hand around him while looking up at his face.

Pressing a kiss to his cock, Robby hisses at the sensation clenching his fists to stop himself from pushing you down further. He was almost refusing to look at you, not allowing himself to give in. So you lifted his cock up, making room for you to take his balls into your mouth. Suckling the smooth skin and rolling them around with your tongue.

“Oh fuck, please” you weren’t sure what he was begging for, but you knew he was finally breaking.

Releasing his balls you dragged your tongue, broad and flat, from base to tip in one smooth motion. Running your tongue under the ridge of his cockhead, watching a shudder flow through his body.

“Did mommy ever touch you like this?” You ask wile collecting his leaking precum and spreading it over his length as he shakes his head, “no, I didn’t think so, she never took care of you like I will. I can take it, I’m a big girl now, remember?”

He opened his mouth to reply, whatever thoughts he had quickly dissipated as you finally took him into your mouth. Taking him as far as you could manage, which to his surprise was all the way down until your nose found its way tucked into his coarse hairs once more. Robby couldn’t control how his hands flew up into your hair holding you there as your throat tightened around him when you attempted to swallow.

“Holy fuck, just like that sweetheart”

His hold loosened for you to move off and take a breath, trying his best to let you set the pace. Almost releasing your hair all the way before you moved his hand back into your hair, silently giving him permission to use you.

With both hands now rested against the back of your head he started off slow and shallow. But when your hands that rested on his legs pulled him forward in a jerking motion, he understood what you were telling him. It didn’t take him long to build confidence. Hitting the back of your throat with each thrust, drool leaking from the corners of your mouth.

One of your own hands let go of his legs and came to your throbbing clit. Rubbing tight circles as your cunt clenched around nothing. Moans vibrated from your mouth and onto his throbbing cock pushing Robby close to the edge. He quickly yanked your mouth off with a curse. A small whine left your own mouth from the absence. You went to complain but his hands scooped you from under your armpits and threw you onto the bed.

“Shit sweetheart, you trying to get yourself off while sucking dad’s cock?”

He stepped out of his pants and threw his shirt to the other side of the room, you doing the same with your own. Gripping the back of your thighs Robby lifts your bottom off the bed with a renewed fervor he didn’t have before. A moment passed of Robby just taking in the sight of your glistening cunt before leaning forward and sucking your clit into his mouth with deadly accuracy.

“Oh fuck Robby! Just like that !” A cry sounded around the room as he pulled off and gave a stinging slap to your puffy cunt.

“Don’t call me Robby, not now, not after you’ve been playing out your little fantasy this whole time”

“M’sorry, p-please don’t stop!”

“Then what do we say sweetheart?” Robby caressed the back of your thighs with his hands as he waited for your answer.

“I-I’m sorry dad”

You watched with wide eyes as he smirked in approval before spitting onto your clit. Taking two fingers to spread it around, and plunging those same fingers into your entrance with no warning. The absurd squelching noise that came from where he shoved his fingers into you made your cheeks bright red.

“All this for me?” Robby’s words were followed by the crook of his fingers, as he watched your cunt greedily swallow his fingers “such a dirty girl, practically begging her dad to fuck her. What would your momma say if she could see you now?”

You shook your head playing into the idea of getting caught, Robby chuckled watching you. Leaning forward he placed his mouth on your clit once more. His beard adding a delicious friction to your already sensitive skin. The combination of his movements had your impending orgasm building at lightning speed. He was hitting a spot you could never reach yourself, over and over again.

With your toes curled and hands twisted into the sheets, an unfamiliar feeling followed the tight flutter of your walls. You didn’t think much of it assuming it was because you hadn’t been with someone in a while. But by the squirm of your body, Robby knew exactly what was happening. Doubling down in his efforts he was the only one not surprised by the rush of fluid that coated his tongue and beard when your orgasm finally took over.

You on the other hand had no idea what just happened. At the first release of your peak, pleasure had completely overtaken your senses and ability to process your surroundings. So when you felt an obscene amount of wetness soak your thighs, all you could do was let out the most pornographic moan you had ever made. Mouth babbling nonsense as Robby kept fingering you. Not stopping until he felt your cunt relax around his hand.

Slipping his fingers out he set them into his mouth and licked them clean, savoring the taste. You however, were already halfway fucked dumb laying silent on the bed in an attempt to catch your breath. But before you could fully get comfortable Robby gripped your hips and flipped you onto your front. Arching your back as he manipulated your knees under you. Feeling his fingers trace your sensitive and overstimulated flesh your body tried to pull away.

“Ah ah ah, you’re the one who wanted to be treated like a big girl, but after only one orgasm you’re already falling asleep?” he chastised your behavior as you struggled to keep your eyes open, “gotta stay awake if you’re going to prove you can take it”

“Please d-dad, I-I can d-do it” your words were hiccuped and sluggish as they left your lips.

“Then take a nice big breath for me sweetheart”

Notching his cock at your cunt, as soon as he heard your lungs fill with air Robby pushed the entirety of his length into you. Smirking at the sound of that same air leaving your lungs at the impact. You had never felt so full before. He was bigger than any other partner you’ve had and you were struggling to hold onto your sanity.

Robby, noticing your intense focus, pulled back until only his tip rested inside you. Letting you catch a false sense of security before thrusting his cock back into you. Doing this a handful of times before creating a consistent deep and brutal pace.

“Feel so fucking good baby,” the new endearment slipped from his lips, “so much better than your mom, taking me better than she ever could”

Your cunt clenched at his words, choking his cock as he bullied it through your walls. His thick cockhead pressing against your cervix with each thrust, almost painfully so. But you were determined to show him that you could handle it. Robby knowing just how much you wanted to prove yourself pushed just a little harder than normal.

With one hand at your hip and the other pressing between your shoulder blades, he created a deep arch in your spine. Your noises were muffled by the mattress with every thrust, but just when you were starting to get comfortable in this position Robby once again effortlessly maneuvered your body. This time ending up on your back once more, but this time with both legs hooked over his shoulders.

Barely getting a breath in before sinking himself into your heat. This new position had you swearing that you felt him in your stomach. Low moans clawed their way up your throat as words were unable to form under the sheer pleasure that filled your body. Each snap of his hips sent a lewd reverberating smack throughout the room as his balls hit your bottom

“Would you look at that, poor thing can barely fit me but you’re doing so well sweetheart” his tone was slathered in honey but still slightly condescending.

You didn’t understand what he meant until he set a hand at your lower stomach, as he pressed down just slightly there was an increase in the pressure you felt as he fucked up into you. Peeking your eyes open you saw what he was so mesmerized with. A fairly prominent bulge was puffing up in your lower stomach with every single movement.

Throwing your head back, you reached a hand down placing it on top of his. A moment later you felt his pace pause just a moment and the stretch of your thighs pulled as he leaned over for just a moment. Eyes screwing shut while his cock pressed against the deepest part it could reach as you heard him grab something. You didn't think much of it before he resumed his movements, restarting at a rougher pace.

“Tell me how good you feel right now” Robby’s voice rattled around your otherwise empty brain.

“S’good, feels s’good”

“Now tell me, fuck, whose the only one who can touch you like this from now on”

“Y-you dad, o-only you” the clench of your cunt began building as your second orgasm crept up. Robby angling his hips to bullying that one spot he knew would have you waking the neighbors.

“That’s right baby, and your gonna let dad fuck a baby into you aren’t you? Give your momma a grandkid with her ex”

A resounding ‘yes please’ came in a high pitched mewl, as his words were paired with the start of a thumb circling your clit at the same pace his cock was moving.

“Open your eyes and say it to the camera baby”

Your eyes flew open watching how he moved the phone from where it had been recording the slick movements of his cock up to your face. That was the exact moment that your body decided to tip over the edge. Seizing up every single moral you could’ve possibly held onto and threw it out the window.

“Yes please, I want dad to give me a baby so bad!” Your sentence was spoken straight to the camera as he zoomed in.

He held it there for just one moment before setting it to the side while still recording. Grabbing your hips with both hands he brought your hips back to meet his thrusts. Your mouth hung open in a silent ‘o’ as his motions prolonged your orgasm. You were on the verge of tears when he finally let out a graveled grunt.

“Fuck baby! That’s it keep squeezing just like that ” he pressed forward bending you in half before seizing your lips with his for the first time that night. You felt the white hot ropes of his cum coat your walls as he lets out his own noises, letting them get swallowed up in your kiss.

Pressing himself deep as his hips continued with shallow thrusts, lips never leaving yours. Swiping his at the seam of your mouth you opened up, tasting the slight tang left over from yourself on his tongue. It was a long time before either of you came up for air. And an even longer time before he shut off the recording and went to grab a warm damp cloth from the bathroom.

After cleaning the both of you up, Robby settled in beside you promising to talk more in the morning about what this means. He made mention of how he didn’t deserve you, how it was wrong for him to do this and he should be the better example. Shushing his doubts, you told him that no one would have to know. The two of you fell asleep not long after that.

However, you had woken up at around 3am to the sound of soft snores leaving Robby's lips and the low volume of the tv in the living room. Getting an idea you sat up you searched for his phone. Unlocking it you saw how the old man didn’t have a lock on it, so you didn’t feel bad when you rifled through his photos and sent yourself the video he took.

Robby didn't want to re-count the harshest things he'd said to you that night, pulling out any card he could think of to upset you. Why? Because he had been upset. Because you were there? Because you'd been doing everything you could for him to love you and damn it but it worked.

Robby fell in love after promising a casual fling with you.

Now, two years gone by without you in his bed he was reaping the fruits of his labour.

He loved you too late, you left him too early. Something of that kind of tragic thing.

“Morning, Cap!” Dana greeted as he walked in through triage.

He offered her a pulled smile, tight in his cheeks.

The only person who might've had this date marked in their diary was Dana. She kept track of all his bad days.

“If you want I can start you of in north four, got a kid wheezing?” she offered, following him around as he dumped his bag at his work station, peeling back his coat and hanging it over his chair.

“Trying to get your money's worth with me?” he asked, trying to tease.

“Trying to distract you,” she said, honestly. “It's gonna be a tough day today.”

Robby huffed out a laugh. “It's always a tough day.”

Typically it took hours for Robby to make his way to the lounge. Maybe he'd steal five minutes around noon to raid the cupboards for something to keep him going, fill up a water bottle and leave it on his desk not to be touched till it was too late. This morning he'd roused late, had no time to make himself a coffee to go and if he was gonna get through the day he needed a coffee.

Pushing open the door it proved a hard fit as a group of doctors and nurses lingered around the table.

“Woah- woah, we seeing patients in the lounge now, huh?” he asked. “What happened to being doctors?”

The crowd dispersed and he found you in the middle of it all. You pushed yourself up from the table and the crowd parted for you and Robby like the red sea.

“Sorry, that's- that's my fault,” you said.

Robby nodded, lingering. He suddenly felt like he was intruding in his own department.

Slowly everyone began to pile out. Santos led the way, Princess and Perhlah behind talking in their native language so Robby had no idea what they were saying. Whitaker was leaving, sheepishly avoiding Robby's gaze and Samira and Javadi left next, smiling and talking about dresses for the big event.

Mel left next with a short 'congratulations' to you.

Langdon was last to leave, pausing at the doorway.

“You know, Abbey had a wedding planner, helped iron things out and got things on the cheap,” he said. “I can ask and get you her number?”

Wedding planner.

Robby knew what it meant. He went to med school- he wasn't an idiot. Yet he still asked himself if it was a friend of yours getting married. He dared not even look down to your hand.

Your mouth hung open a second before you closed it and nodded. “Er, yeah, Frank, that sounds good. Thank you.”

Langdon nodded and patted Robby on the shoulder before letting the door close behind him.

It two years Robby could count the private conversations you'd had together on one hand.

You stood at the table, hands behind your back. You weren't moving to leave.

“You're... getting married?” he asked, surprising himself with how much level he kept to his voice. There was no notes of emotion, he thought. If there was you'd be able to see through him, probably.

“Yeah. Yeah, I'm engaged.”

Robby had only heard six months ago that you and a guy up in Pedes were doing well and had apparently been doing well for a while. Somehow the information had never kept up with him. He blamed Dana, the only person to know about your no-strings-attached plan turned sour. She was trying to protect him.

He nodded. “Can I see?”

The table stood in between the two of you as you hesitantly held out your left hand.

A gold band with a sizable rock sat there like a foreign object on your ring finger. It was too flashy, he thought first, it didn't feel like you. It felt like a show on a hand.

You, he thought, were an understated kind of person. You didn't like flashy. You didn't like everybody's attention on you at once. Heck- he imagined everyone fawning over you before he interrupted was your idea of hell.

Back when the two of you had something you'd blush every time he passed too closely and whisper in your ear or stutter when he touched you as subtly as possible between seeing patients.

There was a reason your casual thing was kept secret. Robby didn't care if others knew, he'd never cared.

Robby gently took your hand, inspecting it closer. “S'real.”

You chuckled, dry. “Is that all you have to say?”

Robby watched as his thumb soother over the back of your hand, rubbing up and down. He knew that his brain had told him to do that, he was a doctor. He didn't know why or how to stop it. “S'nice. What's his name again?”

“Tom.”

Robby nodded. Slowly, he dropped your hand. “Tom,” he mused. “Tom up in pedes, I'm sure he's a nice guy.”

A guy with kids was always a sure way to win your heart. A guy who could shoe affection, for sure. More than him. He was feeling sorry for himself but couldn't find it in him to care.

“Yeah, you really sound like you believe it,” you said.

Robby lifted his shoulders in response, moving around behind you to get himself a cup of coffee.

“Are you happy for me?” he could hear the un-certainty you asked it with, as if you didn't know if you wanted to know the answer. He could picture you behind him, fiddling with the new ring on your finger, twisting it back and forth.

He was happy for you. Maybe. Even more miserable for himself. “Does it matter?”

“To me, yeah,” you admitted. “And don't ask me why, I'm- I'm not sure why I care.”

Robby knew. It was because you were a caring person, that's what made you such a good doctor, maybe too good a one. You cared about him when he didn't deserve it and still you seem to hold some sort of affection with him.

The pot of coffee grew hot in his hand and he poured it slowly, splashes hitting the back of his hand.

“Are you happy? With him?” he asked in a clipped tone, still without-facing you.

It was your turn to keep the silence. You scoffed, a little chuckle escaping you. “Yeah. I... I think I am.”

That moment of second guessing, that beat of a pause was enough to have Robby thinking you weren't. A chance. That's what was dangling in front of him like a dog with a bone.

Robby considered you, coffee in hand. “You think?”

Though he broke your heart in the end by denying you all parts of him Robby knew that in the rare moments you shared alone, you always found happiness. Whether it was on the tail end of his fingers inside of you, or tongue, or cock, or whether it was simply falling asleep in his bed after a hard shift there was always a genuine smile on your face.

You tilted your head back to get a good look at him. Your laid your hands flat on the table. “I am,” you corrected yourself.

“Then I'm happy for you.”

The coffee burnt his tongue as he took a sip and left you in the lounge, relishing in the heat.

He could pinpoint the moment things began to shift between the two of you.

Robby had been circling around you all day like a shark with a fish. For months- in fact- years it had been that way. Robby handing off a tablet to you, asking about a patient for two minutes and any plans you had for the next five to try to get you to come to his, or he yours. Everyone knew at that point what was becoming off the twoe of you.

There hadn't been any trips from other wards, like Neuro, or social services, or insurance under the pretence of following up on patients only to casually slide up next to Robby. That space, once reserved for his casual 'seven week' thing was taken up by you.

His rather serious casual fling.

The two didn't really go together and if Robby had cared to note that back then he might've been able to hold onto what you had a little longer.

“Patient in twelve?” he asked when you walked up to him, handing him a tablet.

“Waiting for a pysc consult. The woman swears she's pregnant but bloods and ultrasound show nothing.”

He nodded, trying to think of anything else to ask when all he wanted to know if you were going back to his with him at the end of the shift. You had been busy last night, said you had plans and for the first time in months Robby realised how cold and empty the other side of his bed was without you.

“Are you busy tonight?” Robby asked.

You tilted your head down. “Um, no.”

He nodded, scanning the area and wondering who would be listening in. Lucky for him Princess and Perlah, the common perpetrators of gossip, were on the other side. “So mine tonight?”

The blush that crept up your cheeks he hadn't seen since you began this thing.

“Yeah. Sure. Can do.”

Robby peered close at you, wondering what the curt response, almost clipped was for. He decided you were thinking about patients, didn't entertain any other idea.

His hand worked at rubbing your shoulder once before walking by you.

“Actually-” you spoke out, quick on his heels and chasing him down. He slowed his pace just enough for you to walk beside him. “Do you want to, maybe, get food first? I'm starving.”

It was only noon. There was plenty of time for you to get something to eat before he took you home.

“Nah,” he said casually. “I'm sure I got something I cook.”

“Are you sure you want to cook? You'll be tired, there's a place not far from yours, we drive by sometimes, it's Thai I tink.”

Robby still didn't see what you were trying to put down. Or maybe, somewhere in the back of his head he knew but didn't want it to register. He smirked to himself, thinking and leaning down to whisper in your ear. “I won't be too tired to make you come repeatedly, believe me.”

Whatever argument you were trying to make died in your throat as you smiled and kept your head low.

“Okay,” you said, breathless. “Well how about you pick me up from mine at like, nine? If we get out on time.”

Robby had never picked you up from yours to take you to his and press you into the mattress. On occasion he could fuck you in your room, have you melting into his touch in the comfort of your own home but more often than not it was at his place. You would take a long stroll to his if the shift had been bad or he'd take you on his bike you still hated.

It was only a recent thing where you started staying over at his, falling asleep after he'd ravished you. Honestly, he didn't mind it. Robby hadn't realised how much he missed waking up to someone since Jake's mom.

“Just come straight to mine,” Robby shrugged, hands in his pockets.

“I don't know if I want to eat your leftovers.”

“I'll cook.”

“I need a shower then, it's been a crappy morning, I probably smell.”

Robby leaned in subtly, taking a deep inhale. Sure there was a faint wisp of hospital stuck to you but under that there was the sweetness that always had him burying his face in your neck as he released, licking up your sweat like it was honey. “Shower at mine.”

“You telling me you can't at least pick up a woman up before you fuck her all night long?” you asked, pausing in your steps.

He paused to. The promise of all night long re-played in his head. A successful distraction on your end.

“Nine tonight,” you said before sauntering away, leaving Robby reeling.

The rest of the day he didn't get a spare moment to think about it, about why you were so insistent on going home first. He thought maybe you wanted to wash your hair or shave but stuff like that had never bothered him or you. Did you want to change? Make your self pretty for him? He wasn't opposed but any nice clothes you put on wouldn't last long and any makeup would be smeared off by the end of the night.

He caught you at some point talking with Dana, the both of you leant up against a wall in a quiet time.

You seemed stressed. Your shoulders were high, tense and as Dana spoke you. You rubbed at your forehead with the back of your knuckles every now and then but Robby couldn't see what Dana was telling you. He only watched as the older woman who looked out for everyone rubbed your arm soothingly and smiled sadly before leaving.

You didn't see him watching you as you took a deep breath, shaking off whatever was bothering you.

Robby didn't even scan around; he be-lined straight to you. “Hey.”

You glanced back at him, focusing in. “Hi.”

“What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You and Dana? You seemed to be talking, it seemed serious. Everything okay?”

You nodded, flashing him a tight smile. “Yeah. Just a tough pedes case, girl comes in after tripping on the stairs, breaking her arm but looks like there's burn marks on her arms and bruises at her hip.”

“You think abuse?”

You sighed heavily and Robby wanted nothing more than to message the tension out of your shoulders. He made a promise to himself to do it tonight. “It's hard not too.”

“Okay. I'll get someone from upstairs to come and-”

“- don't worry about it, I already called a guy down from pedes.”

Robby nodded and seconds later the two of you were moving through a trauma with perfect understanding of each other. He didn't know if it came from the understanding of bodies in a physical sense or if you really had just spent so much time familiarising yourself with each other.

But concern was brought around again when he spotted you only an hour away from the end of your shift ,standing at the counter with a man he didn't recognise.

He was dressed well, better than him, in a shirt and pants hidden behind a white doctors coat. He could see clean hair pushed back in curls, slightly longer. He was leaning on the counter over at you as if he'd always belonged there.

He was in Robby's space.

“Hey,” he said, trying to keep his voice neutral as he joined the two of you at the counter. “Can I help you?”

Robby looked between the two of you.

The guy was older than you but younger than him, a healthy stubble on his chin and green eyes. Handsome in a way most men were.

Robby caught sight of his name on the coat, Thomas something.

“Oh no, sorry, we were just talking about our pedes case,” he said with a smile.

Robby nodded, looking at you.

“Everything... okay?” he asked. He didn't know why it wouldn't be but still he thought to check.

“Yeah, yeah, course,” you said.

“Great,” said Robby.

He didn't move and neither did Thomas and you stood on the other side of the counter, shifting your weight on foot to foot.

Thomas caught the vibe, drumming his knuckles on the counter and backing away slowly. “The social care team will be down, I'll talk to them.”

“Thank you,” you said.

“I'll call you later.”

Call? Later? Robby watched Thomas walk away and he looked back at you with a soft smile.

When Robby looked back at you you were looking down at the counter.

“Whooo- what was that?” he asked, arms folded over the counter and crowding you in.

“Tom from up in pedes, I asked him to look at that little girl,” you said casually. The way you and him had been talking though, leaning in closer together had been anything but casual.

“I didn't know you knew a guy in pedes,” he said.

You lifted your shoulders in indifference, still not meeting his gaze. “Yeah we've known each other a couple months now.”

Robby waited for you to look at him, to see the frown on his face and smile at him, soothing him the way you did with gentle hands running along his forearms and a kiss to his cheek.

You did none of that.

“Is there anything I should know about the guy?” he asked, wondering if he really wanted to know.

You didn't talk at first and Robby's chest squeezed, like someone had wrapped fingers around his heart and squeezed.

You looked up at him. “We... Tom and I-”

“- Tom?” how long had you known each other to call him Tom?

“- we went on a date last night. Tom and I.”

Around the Pitt he could hear the squeak of wheels and catch the push of gurneys going by. All he could focus on was you.

A date? You hadn't said anything but then again, why would you? He'd never asked because he'd never though to ask? Everyone around the ED knew you had something going on, even patients had picked up on signals some times. He expected word had travelled past the whole PCMT about the two of you.

“A date?” he didn't mean to chuckle, looking back it probably wasn't a good thing.

You looked up at him, something hard and un-wavering in your eyes. “Well we're only casual right?”

“Yeah.” That is what he'd said.

“I can date whoever I want because I'm a free woman.”

He nodded, lips pursed.

“It's not like you probably haven't seen someone else while we're...”

Robby's tongue poked out from the corner of his mouth as he clocked his head. He hadn't so much as looked at another woman when you were there to satisfy his needs. Clearly you couldn't say the same.

In the face of you admitting your date with a guy he didn't need to tell you that you were the only one he returned home to. The only one his lips had familiarised.

“Still on for tonight?” was all he asked.

You nodded.

“Nine at yours.”

When the end of the shift rolled around Robby didn't even check in with you, he got back to his and cracked open a beer. It was already seven o'clock. Were you home, dressing yourself up? Had you wanted to go home first to fit in your call with Thomas?

The thought made him sick and the beer can squashed in his hand, spilling beer over.

At eight he was getting back on his bike and taking the well known road to yours. By half eight he was punching in the apartment code and taking the stairs two at a time to you.

Before he'd even knocked at your door he could smell the faint aromas from you kitchen and the low drum of music.

Was Tom on the other side of the door?

The thought had him knocking a little too harsh.

You paused the music on the other side of the door and swung it open.

“You're early,” you said, holding open the door for him.

“I couldn't wait.”

Robby was already pulling off his jacket as he stepped in and kissed you. He wasted no time in getting your lips to part under his, in licking your lips and getting the faint traces of red wine lying there like lipstick.

As always you hummed a little into his mouth, swinging the door shut behind him.

Robby was inclined to have you on the nearest surface but when he looked to see what it was- the kitchen island- he caught two plates and two wine glasses. His breath caught. “You have company?”

You nodded, happily. “You,” you said, dancing around him. You picked up his coat and slung it over the back of a chair before moving back around the kitchen.

Robby was stuck in an air of confusion with a half hard cock.

“I thought we could eat, before heading to yours,” you said, stirring around in pots and pans. “You like bolognese, don't you?”

“Yeah. But, you know, I ate before coming,” he lied.

You snorted. “Yeah I'm sure left over pizza and beer counts. You can eat a bit more, can't you?”

Robby looked at the plates and the wine poured. There was a couple candles he'd never noticed before lit around the place casting a dull orange glow.

You were back to stirring the pots, setting an almost perfect and strange domestic setting to the place. He was sure his place had never looked so comforting, so homely.

He approached behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and holding you into him. “I dunno,” he said, gruffly. “I think I've got my mind on other things.”

His beard scratched your neck as he dragged his lips down but he knew you relished in the burn. It had you leaning into him and tilting your neck back for more. His hands palmed at your stomach and he let his tongue lick over your pulse.

Yes, what you were cooking smelled good and yes he was hungry but he was also in desperate need of you withering under him and feeling you un-ravel with his tongue. It was what he was good at. Sometimes he thought it was the only thing he was good at.

“Robby...” your eyes started to flutter shut and Robby's hands moved up your shirt, roughly cupping your breasts and squeezing.

“Bedroom,” his lips tugged and pulled at the lobe of your ear.

“But-” you gasped, hands gripping your kitchen counter. “- the food.”

If Robby didn't know any better (which he was proving at that point in time, he didn't) he'd have almost thought you were stalling.

“How about I work you up an appetite first?” with two fingers on your cheek he turned you to look at him and smashed his lips into yours, stealing your breath and sanity.

Your fingers fumbled to turn off the hob before you turned in his hold, reciprocating his kiss and urgency. “Eat after?”

He nodded, full intending to never sit down and take a meal with you.

By midnight Robby realised there was something wrong.

Not with the chemistry of your bodies, you still moved together in perfect sync, you could still tremble on his fingers and feed into his lust with your own. You were still like two, new, young lovers discovering passion for the first time.

But afterwards you laid next to him, catching your breath before quietly dismissing yourself to the toilet, grabbing one of your old, tatty, shirts from the floor and throwing it off.

It was always good to go after sex, especially as you both preferred it without condoms. Yet after enough time in the bathroom for him to become suspicious, Robby called out.

“You OD'D in there?” he called out.

There was still nothing.

Then the sound of the sink turning on.

Robby waited, your covers pulled up over his lap, his head rested back on his arm.

You came out three minutes later and he looked at you.

Your cheeks were red, eyes glossed over and shirt hanging off your body. Usually you were never in a rush to cover up, flaunting your body around him and spiking arousal again like it was all a game to you.

Robby frowned. You seemed so small in your own room then, lingering in the bathroom doorway. “Something wrong?”

You tugged at the hem of your shirt. You moved, sitting on the edge of your bed. “I want us to go out for dinner.”

“Now?” he asked with a hardly concealed smirk. “I don't think there'll be anywhere open.”

“No, not-not now,” you said, gulping. You didn't laugh or roll your eyes at his attempt at a joke. “At some point I think we should.”

Robby knew at that point he was teetering on the edge of something he might not come back from. One wrong choice of words and he might lose you. “Why?”

You looked at him, gaze painfully blank. “Robby.... C'mon.... you know why.”

He feared he did.

He snorted, propping himself up on his arm. “What like- like a date?”

You thought about it and nodded.

When you and Robby started sleeping together outside of work he thought it was a mutual choice to keep it casual. You'd never pushed him for more and he appreciated it. With others he'd had to express his desire to keep things on the low and as casual as possible. You just got it, discreet invitations to each others house.

Maybe after a year of this non-commitment he should have expected more.

“I thought we were keeping this casual?” he said, looking down and away from you.

It was your turn to chuckle quietly. “What, for two years?”

“It hasn't been-”

“Twenty months, Robby.”

“You've been counting?” he scoffed.

“N-no I just-”

“I'm tired. Can we talk about this later?” he asked, flopping down on your bed. Usually he always found your mattress comfortable but at that moment it felt like a bed of rose thorns.

There was silence and for a blissful moment, Robby closed his eyes and thought he'd got away with delaying the inevitable.

“No, I don't think we can.”

Robby's chest caved. “Okay.” He swung himself up, back to you, switching on your bedside lamp and searching for his clothes.

“What are you doing?”

“If you wanted out, you know, all you had to do was say,” said Robby, talking over every argument you tried to make. “I thought we both understood what this was, that it was just a thing we did-”

“- yeah I did when we started but, come on,” you said, rounding on him as he buttoned up his pants. “Do you really not see this going anywhere?”

Robby didn't say anything, pulling his shirt over his head. “I've got to go.”

He got to his feet but you stood in front of him, a hand out to his chest stopping him.

“Do you see this going anywhere?”

He groaned. “My god, what does it matter?”

“It matters! It matters to me!”

“No I don't see this going anywhere!”

You recoiled like he'd hit you with a bullet.

Robby dragged his hands down his face, taking the couple seconds it brought him. “Listen, it's... it's not you-”

You scoffed, hands planted on your hips. He hated that even then, arguing with him, you looked beautiful. “It's not you, it's me, right?” you mocked.

“I'm not a dating guy, I thought you knew that!” he argued.

“I know your not, geez, I know but I thought... I just thought that after some time you'd change your mind.”

Something twisted and sour settled in his stomach, coiling like a snake.

“Did you only start fucking me in hopes I'd go out with you?”

You looked aghast that he'd even ask. He felt just as terrible for asking. But this was him, not glossed over or lost in kisses. This was what he had to offer. “What? No. No, of course not-”

“That's pretty manipulative if you did,” he said.

“I didn't.”

Robby pulled on his boots next, tying them hastily, pulling a little too tight. “If you wanna go on romantic dates you can call up that Tom guy, not me.”

“Why not you?” you asked, settling close next to him on the bed. “Robby, what is it about you that means you can't settle down?”

He considered you, frowning, creases at his eyes. “I don't want to settle down. There's nothing wrong with me.”

You face contorted as you took in everything he said, slowly digesting his words. “I'm not- I'm not saying there's anything wrong with you.”

“Well, that's kinda what it sounds like.” Robby got to his feet.

You followed, stepping in front of him as he made to move by you.

“I'm gonna go now,” he said. Never had your nights ended so abruptly. Maybe when you first started and neither of you knew if it was okay to sleep in each others bed, whether it was sneaking out in the morning or awkward talk. In the blur of it all you started falling asleep with weak libs and sweat on your bodies, you'd wake up, get coffee, get into work.

Robby supposed maybe it was his fault for letting you get too comfortable.

“Robby,” you stopped him, a hand reaching for his chest. Your shirt slipped down your shoulder. He could see the kisses he'd left there, a last memory. “Are you not even willing to try? Just dinner, that's all I ask. I don't ask for anything else.”

Robby chuckled because it was true. He'd been the needy one, the one searching you out at work, offering you the best cases and to lead the traumas. He was thinking with his dick. But he wasn't in the mood to face that then. “Sure you do.”

You frowned. “Excuse me?”

He rose his brows at you, waiting for you to get the point.

“Don't act like I've been leading this whole thing, you know that's been you,” you snapped.

“Yeah, well,” Robby gulped the bitter taste of his words. “Not anymore.”

He walked past you, shoulder brushing yours.

“Robby!” you called out, stopping him at the door.

He glanced back at you but you hadn't even moved, still facing your bedroom wall.

“If you go now you're not coming back.”

Robby looks back now, wished he'd stayed, wished he'd dropped to his knees and asked you to take him to dinner, ask you to heat up whatever it was you had cooked earlier. He wished he'd stayed in bed, promised to talk about it in the morning and mean it.

But he left and like a fool he really believed the next morning it would all have blown over, that by the next night you'd be to lost in each other to remember the argument.

You didn't so much as look at him the next day and when he tried to call or text he found his number blocked.

Robby lost you before he ever really had you.

You were packing up your last box of kitchen stuff, plates wrapped in tea towels and mugs in bubble wrap, when a soft knock at the door woke you from your meaningless task.

Tom was out at some conference for a couple days, a special committee of pedes doctors around the country. He'd asked you to go but as dedicated to your work as you were yourself you didn't. He'd only left a couple hours ago, you'd promise you'd have all the packing done to move into his down by the time you next saw him.

As a joke, you figured, he'd given it an hour then returned.

So you opened the door thinking as much.

Robby stood on the other side, head rising. He was still in his scrubs, the black of them standing out against the airy hallway of your apartment complex. “Hey.”

Two years ago it might have been a usual occurrence to find him at your door, but it died and had never been re-born.

“Robby. Is everything okay?” You thought something really must have been wrong if he was turning up at your door after hardly any contact besides what was needed when working together.

He peered at you, eyes soft with something you'd never seen. “Can I come in?”

You should have made up some excuse about Tom being there. Or just told him no but both seemed to easy to excuse. Maybe Robby knew Tom was away, maybe he wouldn't take no for an answer. Then you'd have to explain to your elderly neighbours why a man that wasn't your fiancé was outside your apartment.

Without saying anything you held the door open for him.

Robby entered just like he did all those times before. It may as well have been like nothing had changed, that two years of patching yourself up hadn't happened.

Closing your door slowly, you faced Robby standing in the middle of your place that hadn't changed, besides the boxes.

“What's happened?” you asked again, standing at the other end of your kitchen.

“Are you moving?”

“Yeah, I'm moving in with Tom. He's got a bigger place so...” you trailed off.

Maybe this was all your fault for inviting in his opinion about your soon to be wedding, about the ring that sat on your hand. The weight and gleam of it was still hard to get used to.

“How long have you been engaged?” he asked, still looking around the front room like he was trying to remember himself in the space he no longer belonged.

“It's new. A couple weeks? We had to get the ring re-sized.”

You watched him nod before finally looking back to you.

“Are you happy?” he asked.

“You've asked me that already.”

“I just want to know. Are you?”

The truth was: you weren't sure what happiness really meant. Had you been happy when you were only giving your body to Robby when you wanted him to have everything. But were you happy with Tom? When you fell asleep with him and imagined opening your eyes to Robby instead... was that happiness.

You sighed. “I'm happier than I have been.”

It was as honest as you could get.

“Are you happy?” you asked.

Robby's face broke into a smile that was anything but of joy. The lines of age showed around his grimace and his eyes. He ran his hand down the back of his head. “No. No, not really.”

So that's why he had turned up.

You chuckled. You should have known.

Robby chuckled too. “What? What's so funny?”

“Is that why you're here?” you asked. “You're miserable so you've come to make sure I join in on that?”

“Jesus- no.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Fuck! I don't know!” he snapped.

For a moment you wondered if he'd come here to tell you he'd changed. That he wanted you. That he loved you and always had but he was afraid. You'd already practised his entire speech for him, ready for Robby to just say the words.

Robby's jaw clenched and he looked up at you. “Do you love him?”

“Oh, Jesus...” you uttered, turning your back to continue packing. You taped over a side at least three times in effort to distract yourself from him.

“Do you love him?” he repeated, every word punctured with venom.

“You don't know him,” you said.

“Yeah, and I don't fucking want to.”

You glared at him. He had crept closer than before. “Tom is a good guy.”

There were hints of a smirk gracing Robby's lips.

“As if you ever cared about good.”

“I care about love.”

Robby appeared at your side, his hand close to yours without touching you. It was enough to steal away your attention, glancing at him. “I love you.”

The words were like from some fairy-tale, some old dream of yours. The kind of thing you used to imagine in your head before you fell asleep next to him, leaking him and breathing him in.

You jerked up.

His fingers were steady as they slowly wrapped around your wrist. “I love you.”

You shake your head, looking down at the hold he held in you. “You can't love someone the way you treated me.”

“I know, I know,” he uttered, standing closer to you.

However long you spent circling each other around traumas and patients, however much you enjoyed Tom, there was nothing that could replicate the warmth of Robby's body next to yours.

“The truth is...” his hand slowly wound up your arm. His mouth lowered to your ear, his breath hot. “I can't live without you.”

You remembered the times you cried after he left that night and you were resolved to never let him back. You'd blocked his number and almost threw your phone down the trash to rid temptation. Seeing him in work was a new kind of torture and when he dared ask if you could go to his and talk you couldn't even respond. You just left him standing there, hopefully stewing in regret.

You must have cried for weeks before you agreed to go on another date with Tom.

It all felt like it was yesterday with the way he stood next to your, sending shivers all over your body with the way he moved to hold you.

“Robby... we can't...”

Robby inhaled, taking a deep breath of you. When he let it out, it was shaky. His fingers moved back your hair, exposing your neck. He leant in, not kissing, but mumbling in to you. “Please. Please don't make me live without you.”

You'd thought- when Robby returned to you as you wished he would- he'd come with all these promises of being a better man, of finally taking you to dinner and holding your hand and kissing you sweetly.

Robby wasn't promising anything but what he could always give you.

On your kitchen counter you splayed out your hands and Robby looked to your hands as you did, the sliver of gold with the rock catching your eyes.

Robby shuffled to stand around behind you, cascading his arms over yours. He grabbed your hand and curled his fingers around you till your hands were hidden in his. “I love you.... I love you...”

His hand fisted in your hair and brought you into him without resistance.

You melted into him like wax in sun. You wish you could say you put up a fight but wanting him for longer than you could remember made you weak.

His lips were passion and bruising against yours as his whole body moved to cave around yours. Your arms wound around him, curling over his neck and shoulders as you stretched onto your tiptoes. He pulled at your hair and your neck fell back.

Robby dragged his lips down your skin as if he couldn't be parted from you. His tongue dragged down your neck, drawing in wet circles.

Your own hands were pulling at his shirt, clawing it up.

“Yeah, baby.... yeah...” he mumbled into you.

Your hands couldn't decide where they wanted to settle first, where they'd missed the most. All of him. Everything.

In a drag of hands and pull of hips you and Robby stumbled into your bedroom. The same bed, the same room and the same painted walls as he'd seen last time.

Robby kicked the door closed, stumbling into you again and holding your cheeks hard as he kissed you again.

You pulled off his shirt and threw it behind you, dragging your hands down the curves of his belly and feeling around for every bump and groove of him. You wanted to find any change of his and map it in your mind.

Robby's mouth opened against yours, breathing into you. “You feel me?”

You nodded against him, dropping your tongue into his mouth.

“You miss me?” he asked.

You nodded again.

“Yeah, you did, baby.”

Robby took of your top haphazardly, fumbling with it and catching it on your neck. There was a groan before the two of you laughed.

There was nothing to hold or conceal yourself from him as he lowered his mouth hot to your breast, circling his tongue around your nipple and sucking.

Your head fell back in ecstasy. “Oh my god.”

Robby moaned into you. “That nice, honey? Does that feel good?”

He switched to focus attention on the other while groping your breast.

“Feels good, Robby... so good...”

Your hands ran through his hair, nails scratching over his scalp and dragging down. You felt him shiver and groan into your chest.

He went between the two, licking, sucking and kissing while messaging them in his hands.

Leaving a trail of wetness on your chest his hands snuck into your pants and pulled down, falling to his knees with the motion. Gently, as if he was a lover, he helped you stand out of your pants.

His hands were soft on your calves, running up and down gently as his lips followed, peppering kisses.

Robby was still on his knees, only popping the buttons of his trousers to relive his own need straining. With firm hands he pushed at your hips, setting you down on the edge of your bed. “Lie back, baby, lie back.”

You practically fell down onto the bed, your legs falling open.

“Jus' like that baby, you're so good.”

It took all your strength to stop you withering. He'd not even touched you yet. Not where you needed him. Only his hands messaging the plump of your thighs.

You could feel the darkness of his gaze as he lowered his head between your legs, kissing along your thighs.

“Do you need me?” Robby taunted.

You nodded, pressing your lips together firmly.

His teeth nipped at your skin, close to your cunt. “Use your words.”

You jolted at the bite. “Yes, I- I need you, Robby.”

He chuckled, a low grumble from his throat. “Yeah you do... yeah...”

You felt the warmth of his tongue run up and down you. It was familiar and new all at once. The tingle down your skin and want in your stomach was everything you knew but it had been foreign to you since he left.

“Robby... Robby...” you panted as his tongue ran up and down slow enough it felt like torture.

He made some noise into you, watching you as he slid a middle finger into you.

“Arg! Robby!”

“You're so tight, baby,” he said, tongue flat and circling your clit. “He fuck you as good as I do?”

No, he didn't. Tom was a good guy- you meant that- but there was little passion into how he made love, it was all methodical, a perfect amount of time spent to every part of you with rhythmic moves. You'd missed the fire. The way Robby tossed and turned you around.

His finger curled into you. “Does he?”

“No,” you said quick and frantic. “No, he doesn't Robby, not like you.”

With his finger curling in and out of you Robby licked at your clit, sucking it in his mouth.

Your back arched into him. His hand ran down under you, holding you like that, keeping a feast splayed open for him. “Oh, shit!”

Robby pulled back enough to spit into you before licking all around you. “God, you're so messy, baby,” he uttered into you.

You panted as his mouth made work of you, finger gathering your wetness and spreading you all around. He groaned into you, whining too and making a mess out of your cunt as your gasped, breathless, hands curling into your sheets.

His head shook, his tongue wild.

“Robby! Robby!”

He worked in another finger, stretching you out.

“Robby, I can't- I-”

“You wanna come?” he teased, curling his fingers slowly. “Yeah, you wanna come.”

Letting go had been harder to do with the man who were supposed to marry. You could feel your release tightening.

Robby nodded into you, his nose nudging your clit. Just the way you liked. “I'll have you on my cock, I promise, not letting you go again,” he tutted, eyeing the wetness pooling between your legs. “Come for me, honey... baby, please.”

With a hard suck to your clit you let go, hand reaching for him.

He slurped up your release and found your hand, clutching. Your nails were digging into the back of his hand. He let you, gripping you hold enough to turn your knuckles white together.

When he said he wasn't letting you go, he meant it.

Robby waited till your body had finished in trembles before crawling up your body. He kissed you, feeding the taste of yourself into your mouth, tongue licking up yours. The walls of your bedroom reverberated with moans and groans and the creak of your bed as he shifted around, tugging off his jeans.

Propping himself on his heels he marvelled at you, spreading you out.

You got an eye of his cock, hard, pink, veiny and leaking with want for you. It was better than you remembered.

Robby let you look. Though you know from older times of being together Robby didn't always like when you stared. When you followed the curve of his stomach and eyed the fatness of his cock. It was only when you showed him how much you loved the size of him by riding his thigh, stomach and cock that he ever allowed you time to marvel.

He braced himself over you. “I mean it... I can't live without you.”

You shook your head.

You couldn't either.

Your hand ran up his chest, resting at his shoulder. “I've missed you. Every day... every night.”

His head fell into the crook of your neck and he kissed you sweetly there, just once. “I've missed you.”

“Robby, I love you.”

“I love you.”

Slowly he pushed himself into you, filling you with a slow push. His mouth fell open, gasping at the choke your walls kept on his cock.

“Oh shit... oh fuck... arg...”

Your head fell back on the pillow, arching up into him. “Fuck Robby.”

“Yeah... oh shit... I know.”

With gentle care he pushed in, letting you swallow him up. He braced himself on his forearms over you as you took him all up.

“God, I love you... oh, you're so perfect.”

He moved in you slowly, dragging his cock in and out of your walls.

You pushed him down onto you, kissing him. It turned sloppy quickly, as he picked up the pace.

“I'm not- oh shit- I can't hold it, fuck,” said Robby. His head tilted back, screwing up in effort.

His arm stretched out above you, gripping the headboard tightly. The grooves all but fit into his hand as he slammed in and out of you. The plap of skin on skin drummed with the headboard banging against the wall. Your bodies moved, bouncing on the bed.

“Robby! I'm gonna- I'm gonna-”

“Hold on, hold on, hold on,” he mumbled. “Come with me, come with me, just wait, just wait.”

You held onto his shoulders, hands dragging down his back. You knew it would scratch, leave angry welts but as Robby tensed, groaning, you knew he'd want it. Want more.

“Robby, please,” you begged, gaining his attention. “Please come in me.”

His eyes darkened. “Baby-”

“Please. Please.”

Your leg kicked up and wrapped around his hips, forcing him in deeper.

“Shit! Arg- fuck! I can't- ah fuck!”

As if your bodies understood each other Robby finished inside, painting your walls. You clenched around him, taking him for everything he had while you let go yourself.

Slowly his grip released on the headboard and he laid closer to you.

It was quiet as you both watched each other come down. The idea of him moving, of him getting up and leaving had your body stilling. Had him knowing.

“ Don't-”

He shook his head. “I don't. Not yet. Not yet.”

His lips were wet as he kissed you slow. He didn't push for more, just dragged his lips slow.

Your fingers entwined against the bed, the cold band of your engagement ring cold against your flushed skin.

“I mean it, I love you,” he whispered. “I'll go to dinner, we'll get a bigger place. I'll marry you. Just don't... don't leave me.”

You haven't been seen in public for over two weeks now. Titus is starting to get worried. Not that he should worry about you. You aren't anyone to him besides the occasional fuck. 

Though, he does enjoy fucking you more than he has ever enjoyed fucking anyone else. Maybe he's thinking with his cock right now. That must be it. 

It definitely isn't because he's anxious you aren't messaging him back. 

“You haven't heard from her at all?” Titus asks his twin sister, Ursula, since the two of you met at an alumni party since you went to her alma mater, albeit many years after she did, hence how the Danforths know you. 

You inherited a lot of wealth from a distant relative. You were the only one left in the bloodline to inherit it. 

You've invested a lot of that money with the Danforths, mainly because Ursula convinced you to and you didn't care about the money. 

You have so much of it. Giving some to the Danforths to invest has only increased your wealth. 

That seems to be the trend when it comes to the Danforths. 

“Do you want me to call her or something?” Ursula looks up from her phone, raising an eyebrow at her brother. She's never seen him so worked up before, which is surprising given that they shared a womb. 

“I just want to fuck.” He has been pent up recently. 

Usually, you and him go at it at least once a week, though Titus prefers the weeks where you let him stay over and fuck for another day. That normally curbs any desire he has. It's been nearly three weeks since the last time he fucked you. 

He's going nuts. 

“Don't you have other fuckbuddies?” Ursula has a long list of them, since there's no way she's getting married. Subjecting her future spouse to the wills of the Council is irresponsible. She was never one to believe in love anyways. 

“I made an agreement not to fuck anyone else without telling her first.” That is the only rule you and Titus have. 

You do not want to have sex with him unless you know he's clean, meaning he has to tell you if he's had sex with anyone else prior to having sex with you and get tested if he did. 

You honor it on your end too but in the few years that you and Titus have been fucking, you have never told him that you slept with anyone else. 

So, he hasn't either. He doesn't know why. 

He just…likes that you have only been sleeping with him. 

Titus shouldn't like it. 

It means nothing. 

But when he thinks about you fucking someone else, it makes his stomach churn in an unfamiliar way. 

Maybe that's what you've been doing for the last three weeks. 

And maybe that's why you aren't answering your phone. 

Is your relationship with him…over? 

No, it couldn't be. You'd say something to him. He's sure of it. You may keep your distance but you are a very kind person. As kind of a person as someone with exorbitant wealth could be. 

“Just tell her you're going to fuck someone else and get to it.” Ursula is tired of hearing her brother mope around and do nothing. 

This private jet could not go any faster…

The Danforths are attending a charity gala in South Korea. Titus doesn't want to go. He'd rather be fucking you. But he does know that you have an apartment in a luxury high rise in Seoul. There's a chance you're there. 

You have several luxury apartments all over the world. Traveling is the only pastime you like as a wealthy person. Experiencing other cultures, trying new foods, buying trinkets to fill your many apartments, it's all so much fun to you. 

You haven't been having much fun lately. 

You got pneumonia on your last trip a few weeks ago and have been suffering since. You're terribly fatigued and it takes all of your energy to walk from your bedroom to the front door to grab whatever food delivery you managed to order for that day. People have been texting you nonstop to the point where you've just silenced your phone and turned off all notifications. You can't deal with looking at anything until you're better. 

But it feels like you're getting worse. 

You've had doctors come over to give you antibiotics, since it seems like you have some kind of bacterial strain that's causing it, but they aren't much help otherwise. They just tell you to rest and hopefully you'll feel better soon.

Unfortunately, you're learning that money cannot buy you health. It can only buy you things that barely mitigate your symptoms, like a nebulizer and steroids. Your coughing fits have not improved and it doesn't help that you're alone right now either. 

Though, you're always alone…

You don't like to have live-in staff since you're always traveling. You have house cleaners come once a week to all your apartments but that's as far as you go for regular assistance. 

You've had to take care of yourself this whole time, which is nothing new. You've done this since you were a kid, looking out for yourself, not depending on anyone else. 

That's why you don't expect anyone to help you. 

Especially not Titus Danforth. 

You don't know why your mind drifts to him. It must be because you haven't seen him in weeks. You do miss having sex. You've been so tired lately that the idea of being horny seems ridiculous. You definitely don't have the energy to have sex, even if you wanted to. And Titus would never touch you just to touch you. He'd want to get off too and you are in no position to offer that. 

So, you haven't talked to him. You figure you'd wait until you felt good enough to actually have sex again. 

But then a thought crossed your mind. 

What if he has had sex with someone else in the meantime? 

He would've told you. He has to. You both agreed to be open about other partners. 

You haven't had sex with anyone else since you started fucking Titus. 

Mainly because…he satisfies you completely. 

You hate admitting that. You and him align physically very well. He enjoys all the same kinks you do and he doesn't kiss and tell. 

It's quite common in the world of wealth for that kind of knowledge to spread around, usually as blackmail. But Titus has never revealed to anyone what you like in bed and you have kept his secrets as well. 

You trust him, at least when it comes to this. 

But you don't like the way your stomach coils at the thought of him possibly sleeping with someone else. You ignore the way it makes you feel and grab your phone off the charging port, finally opening your messaging app for the first time in weeks. 

You have several messages from Titus. 

You're nervous to open them because you do have read receipts on for him. 

But, you bite the bullet. 

You'd like to know if he has slept with anyone else. 

It's just good knowledge to have. 

Titus: Are we still on for our usual Saturday? You can come over. Ursula is out of town. I'll send the jet.  

Titus: You haven't responded or read my text all week. I assume that's a no? 

Titus: It's been two weeks since we last saw each other. Is there a reason you aren't answering me? 

Titus: Are you okay? I've asked around and no one has seen you in weeks. You seemed fine the last time I saw you. Did something happen? 

Titus: You aren't picking up my calls either. I doubt you lost your phone. Just call me back whenever you see this. 

Titus: Please message me or I'm going to come over after this gala. I'm in Seoul right now. Hopefully you're there. 

You forgot you had given Titus the mobile keycard to most of your apartments. He could actually come over. 

But you aren't in Seoul. 

You're in Boston, since you have an apartment there and there's some of the best lung care specialists here. They haven't been much help but at least they're only a call away in case your condition takes a turn for the worse. 

It's strange to see Titus so worried. 

You're unsure if he's actually worried about you or just really wants to fuck. 

Either way, you feel bad for not responding. 

So, you finally text him back. 

You: Hey, sorry, I got pneumonia. I got it a few days after I last saw you. It's been killer so I haven't had the energy to do much, like look at my phone. I'm not in Seoul, just FYI. I'm in Boston, so don't waste your time. I'll text you when I'm feeling better, if you want to meet up then. 

Your head is pounding from just typing that out so you put your phone back on the charger and go to sleep, the fatigue overwhelming you. 

You don't see Titus text you back.

Titus: I'll see you in Boston. 

“Did she reply?” Ursula asks because Titus looks a lot less tense now. 

“I've got to go.” He tells her, not even looking at her, just typing away on his phone to get a car to the airport. “I'm taking the jet.” 

“What the fuck, Titus? I don't want to be here any longer than I have to.” 

“Someone has to be and I'm sure Dad would prefer you.” He's already halfway out of the gala. 

While he's on the jet, Titus googles pneumonia and everything you must be going through so he's aware of how to take care of you. He doesn't really understand why he's doing this but…he just is. He figures it's because the faster you get better, the faster his life returns to normal. 

But he will soon realize that life will never return back to normal after this…

You stir in your sleep when you hear footsteps in your apartment. You don't know who it could be but you're too tired to get up. 

“Please just take what you want or kill me quickly.” You rasp out as best you can, since you don't want whoever has come to rob you to stall out. 

“I'm not here to do either of those things.” A familiar voice floods your ears but…you don't know why he would be here. 

“Titus?” You must be dreaming.

“Are your house cleaners still coming every week?” He must've noticed the trash piling up in your kitchen. You can't make it to the trash room without fainting so you've been just leaving it there. 

“I told them—” You let out a series of wet coughs, feeling fucking gross. You try your best to talk but you keep coughing in between words, “I told them not to come here. I didn't want to get them sick. You shouldn't be here. I don't want you to get sick…”

“I'll be fine.” Titus is incredibly healthy for a man his age. He rarely gets sick. He doubts whatever gave you pneumonia would do the same to him. “You shouldn't talk. Just rest up.” 

“Why are you here?” You ask because you can't help yourself. 

You're in no position to have sex and you don't think Titus is into fucking sick people so he's surely not here for that…right?

“Because you're sick.” That's all the reason he can give. He's here because you're sick and he knew no one would be taking care of you. 

Does that mean he is going to take care of you? 

You don't like the way your heart skips a beat when he says that. It makes you think things you shouldn't. 

You and Titus could never be in a real relationship. Your worlds don't allow for that. Any real affection would get squandered immediately.

That's why you feel so strange when you hear Titus cleaning up your apartment for you. He opens the windows, letting the cool air cycle in. Then, he comes into your bedroom and scoops you up into his arms, carrying you to the living room couch. 

“I'm going to wash your sheets so you have fresh ones. I'll do your laundry too. Have you showered?” 

You nod. “I usually just run a bath and pray I don't fall asleep and drown myself.” 

“Do you want one now?” 

“Titus, you don't have to do this.” You sit up on the couch then immediately regret it, clutching your head that's pounding right now from the sudden rush of blood. 

“It's alright.” He goes to sit down next to you, placing his hand across your forehead. “You must have a bad headache. I'll get you some medicine. Have you been drinking enough water?” 

“Titus…” You look up at him, not wanting whatever kindness he's giving you. It'll make you want more and you can't let yourself want that, want him. “I'll be okay. You don't have to be here. I can take care of myself.” 

“Are you really going to be a bad girl right now?” His tone snaps to that harshness you've only ever heard in bed. 

“I'm not being bad. I'm being considerate.” You talk back like you normally do. “Go home, Titus.”

“I'm not going home. And I don't think you want me to leave. Why can't you just let me stay?” He can see the way you're trying to reject his help. 

You've always been like this. The only time you don't put up this wall is when you're having sex. But this is real life. 

And in the real world, you aren't someone who takes other people's help. 

“Because there's no reason for you to stay.” You cough into your elbow, the sickness making you feel so embarrassed. “Please just go. I don't want you to see me all sick.” 

“Even when you're sick, you still look beautiful to me.” The words leave his lips before he thinks them through. 

Titus knows he has said too much from the look of surprise on your face. 

Did he really just say that? 

Titus Danforth, the cold-hearted male heir to the Danforth fortune, just called you beautiful, even though you're the sickest you've ever felt. 

You must be hallucinating. 

“Titus, we can't do anything.” Your chest hurts and you don't know if it's from what you're about to say or from the pneumonia but you tell him, “you should go see someone else. We can meet up again whenever I feel better.”

“Is that what you want?” Titus doesn't hide his frustration. “For me to leave and go fuck someone else?” 

You blink away the tears that threaten to drip out of your eyes. You can't let him stay. But are you seriously going to push him away? 

He might not come back… 

“It doesn't matter what I want.” You say, your chest hurting more than before. You hold in your cough as best you can to get the rest of your words out, “if you want to fuck someone else, I'm not going to stop you.” 

“Why wouldn't you stop me?” His question is like a knife through your heart. 

“I barely have the energy to move my body. How would I stop you?” You physically can't.

If he leaves, you can't possibly run after him and beg him to stay. 

Not that you want him to stay. 

You shouldn't want that. 

You can't hold in your cough anymore when he picks you up and tosses you over his shoulder, carrying you to your bathroom. He sets you down on the soft bench you have in there for changing into clothes and draws a bath. 

You try to say between coughs, “what are you doing?” 

“I'm taking a bath.” He says, stripping out of his suit from the gala. “You're joining me.” 

You and Titus have never bathed together before. It's not something you'd let him do. 

It's too intimate, sitting naked together under soapy warm water…

You two have had shower sex but that's just because there's a need to shower in between rounds. 

“I'll get you sick.” You wave him off when he tries to take off your shirt for you. “You can bathe first and I'll go after.” 

“No.” He states firmly. “You're getting in with me.”

“Titus—”

“You said you don't have the energy to stop me from fucking someone else. That means you don't have the energy to stop me from doing whatever I want with you.” He pulls your shirt off of you then kneels in front of you, tugging at your pajama bottoms. “Or did you lie to me and magically you do have energy?” 

You seriously don't have any energy right now. You can't fight him so you let him undress you and then wait for him to take off the rest of his clothes before he picks you up and settles you both in your very large bathtub. 

The water temperature is just right. You nearly sink in from how comfortable it feels but Titus holds you against him, your back pressed against his chest. He rests his chin on your shoulder, then startles you when he presses a kiss on the side of your neck. 

“You shouldn't be this close to me.” You're worried you'll get him sick. 

“You shouldn't talk anymore.” He shuts you up. 

You definitely shouldn't talk. Every word you say makes your chest tighten up. The steam is helping a little but…just a little. 

But you're scared to relax. To enjoy this too much. Because you know it will never happen again. 

This must be some kind of fluke. Maybe Titus is just in a weird mood. He does get into strange moods every now and then when he wants to try something new. 

This must be one of those moments. That's all. 

You can't convince yourself that is the case when he wraps his arms around your waist, holding you so gently. 

Then, he whispers in your ear, “you had me worried.” 

“I'm sorry.” It did cross your mind to text him but then you were bombarded with doctors and the fatigue just got to you. 

“We should share locations from now on.” Titus decides that's the best solution. That way, he'll know where you are and that you're okay. 

“If you want to.” You don't care if he knows where you are. It's not like you go anywhere wild. Just traveling around wherever your heart takes you. 

“Is there anything you want?” He doesn't know why he asks that but he waits for your response.

“To get better.” You're so tired of being tired. “I hate being sick.”

“You'll get better.” He pulls you in closer, engulfing you in his embrace. “I'll be here until you do.” 

“I'm sure you have better things to do than hang around a sick person.” You need to figure out how to push him away.

He isn't budging though…

“I want to be here.” That's the truth. He has wanted to see you. 

Now that he has, he doesn't want to go. Not until he knows you're okay. 

“You can change your mind whenever. I'll be okay on my own.” 

“Is there a reason you're such a fucking brat even when you're sick?” His words catch you by surprise. He must feel the way you tense up because he laughs. “You seriously love annoying the fuck out of me.” 

“I'm not being a brat…” You pout, sinking more into the water. 

“Yes you are.” He pulls your chin up, not letting you hide from him. “You always get like this whenever I try to help you with anything.” 

“Are you still holding a grudge about me not letting you put my TV up in my Berlin apartment?” That was a few months ago. 

Your TV had stopped working so you got a new one and had a crew come to take down the old one and put up your new one. Titus threw a whole fit about it because he said he could do it but you already paid for the service to be done. 

“That's not what I'm talking about. But a great example.” He doesn't like that you won't let him do things for you, things he is definitely capable of doing for you. 

You sigh then dunk your head under the water, needing to wet your hair but also think a little. 

If you accept his help, what will happen? 

If you know how he can treat you, then won't you want him to do that all the time? 

That's a risk you can't take. You can't fall for him. And you know you will if he shows you any kind of special treatment. 

Like how he has shampoo ready to massage into your hair when you come up from the water. 

“I got it—” He smacks your hands away when you try to take over.

“I thought you were tired.” He's weaponizing your fatigue. “Just rest and I'll do this.” 

You let out a huff and then give in, letting him wash your hair for you. You let him wash your body too. You ignore how good it feels to have his hands on your skin again. 

Though, these touches aren't sexual at all. They're so gentle and purposeful, making sure you're clean all over. 

It's only temporary. He's only doing this to speed up your recovery. He'll never do it again. 

So, why not enjoy it while it lasts? 

Then you and Titus can go back to your weekly fucking sessions and nothing will have changed. 

But you know you're enjoying it too much when he helps towel dry your body and then gets you into freshly washed clothes and proceeds to blow dry your hair for you. 

You feel spoiled. 

You hate it…because it's too nice. 

You have to take deep breaths to try to steady the pounding in your chest from how fast your heart is beating. 

“Can you grab my nebulizer?” It's on the bathroom counter so you point over there. 

Titus hands it to you and you take a few puffs of it, hoping it helps settle the tight feeling in your chest. 

It doesn't. It just gets worse when he looks at you all worried when you have a coughing fit.

“It doesn't look like that thing works very well.” 

You shrug. “It's the best treatment they can give besides rest. Pneumonia just sucks.” 

“It must've been really bad when you first got it.” Titus can't imagine the suffering you went through a few weeks ago. 

“I was in and out of sleep for most of it. Don't recall much besides eating the same takeout soup over and over again, since I was just hitting reorder. Didn't have the energy to browse.” 

“When was the last time you ate?” He asks and…you actually don't know. 

“You can check my phone.” You tell him the passcode and Titus goes to grab your phone. 

He unlocks it and looks through your delivery app. Then, he comes back and scolds you, “you haven't eaten in two days?!”

Has it been that long? You aren't hungry. 

You might be too tired to feel hungry. 

“I guess not.” 

“Then how are you sure you've been drinking enough water?” He curses under his breath, “what the fuck am I supposed to do with you?” 

Titus then sticks you on an incredibly strict regime. You drink lots of water. He makes you eat three meals a day even if you can only stomach a bit of each meal. He has you taking small walks with him around your apartment to rebuild some muscle.

He hasn't left your side in a week.

He sleeps next to you in your bed, washing the sheets everyday just to make sure they're clean for you to sleep on. 

He holds you in your sleep and you can't tell him not to because you like it too much. 

You like laying on his chest now that you aren't coughing as much. The two of you don't normally cuddle, unless it's for aftercare purposes.

But now, you find yourself laying close to him even on the couch while the two of you watch TV. He has his arm draped over your shoulder, your head resting on his chest. You're watching some cringeworthy reality show while waiting for the next meal to be delivered. 

You do feel a lot better now. But that scares you. You want to get better but…you also don't want this to end. 

It will have to, though. 

Titus notices sometimes that you get this haunted look in your eyes. He wonders if you're thinking the same thing he is. That he knows he can't do this for much longer. 

Once you're all healed up, he won't have an excuse to just cuddle with you. Once you both can have sex again, you'll likely return to only having sex with him. 

You won't let him sleep next to you like he is now. You won't let him spoon you or pull you against his chest so he can breathe in the smell of your shampoo while he sleeps.

Why does he like this intimacy so much? Why does he like it with you specifically? 

He doesn't get it. It has been confusing him this whole time. 

Titus likes it when you laugh at some goofy thing that happens on TV. He likes seeing you all groggy when you wake up, babbling to him about whatever dream you had in your medicine induced slumber. 

He likes…you. 

“Titus?” You shake him a little. “Are you okay?”

He snaps back to reality. “Hmmm?”

“The doorbell is ringing.” You point out the noise his thoughts had been drowning out. 

“Oh.” He should go get that. It's the food.

“You seem pretty out of it today.” You're worried he's getting sick. “Maybe you should go rest. I'll be okay alone.” 

“I have to make sure you eat.” Titus sets the food down in front of you. 

“You don't have to do anything for me.” You say to him, biting your lip because you wish you hadn't. 

“What if I want to?” His words make you snap your head up to look at him. 

“Why would you…” 

“I don't know.” He sits down beside you, shrugging. “I just do. Is that bad?” 

Yes. You want to tell him. Of course it's bad. 

Because then you'll want more and more.

And it'll break your heart eventually. 

“Titus, I think you should go home now.” You push him away with your words. “Please. I'm better now. You can come back later, when I'm healthy enough to fuck again.” 

“Is that all I am to you?” His words stab you in the chest more painfully than your illness. “I'm just some guy you fuck?” 

No. You want to tell him. Of course not. 

But how are you supposed to tell him that you feel something for him? 

For Titus Danforth of all people…

“Aren't I just some girl you fuck?” You deflect and he lowers his gaze at you, irritated. 

“I asked first.”

“So?” You get on his nerves on purpose. 

“Lay down.” He snaps at you, which startles you.

“What?” 

“I said lay down.” Titus is firmer with his tone this time. “I won't ask again.” 

“No, I'm not going to.” You should probably eat. 

Why does he want you to lay down anyways? 

What's his problem? 

“You can be such a little brat, I swear.” He snaps at you again. “Lay down.” 

“No.” You turn to pull the food out from its bag but Titus snatches your wrists before you can. “Titus!”

“Don't make me do it.” He's stern and your body tenses. 

You know what he's referring to. 

But he wouldn't while you're sick, right?

“Don't fucking test me.” He answers the question in your head… 

“Okay, okay.” You definitely can't be subjected to that kind of torture right now so you lay down on the couch like he asks. 

And he subjects you to a different kind of torture.

Arguably one much worse than getting tied up with a toy pounding into you…

Titus tugs off your pants and you're so confused when he buries his face between your legs. He rarely does this. Only when he's really in the mood to. 

Or well, that's the lie he told you. 

The truth is, he loves going down on you. 

But you never let yourself enjoy it as much as you could. 

He knows you're afraid of feeling too good with him. 

So today, Titus is going to make you understand that it's okay to want him. 

Because he wants you too.

“Wait, Titus.” You don't get what he's doing. You can't have sex right now. “There's no point—”

“I'm not going to fuck you.” He tells you outright. “I'm just going to make you cum.” 

“Why?” You shake your head at him. “Just stop, you shouldn't—”

Your whole body shakes when his tongue darts out, flicking at your clit. You haven't felt anything like that in weeks. It sends such a surge of pleasure through you.

You hate it so much. Because why is he doing this? You don't want to feel good right now, at least not like this. 

“You're twitching.” He flicks your clit again, holding your body steady as it shakes again in response. “Relax.” 

“I can't.” You can't relax at all. 

This is too much…

“Sure you can.” He dips his tongue inside of you for a second before dragging it upwards to swirl around your clit so lightly. “Just enjoy it.” 

“I don't want to.” You shove his head away from you. “I'm tired. I'm going to bed.”

You go to move off the couch but Titus has you trapped with his arms hooked around your thighs. 

“I'm not letting you move. You're going to cum and then eat your dinner.” He says it like that's a normal thing to say to someone. 

“I don't want to cum!” You shout at him, “get off me, Titus!”

He doesn't budge. 

Instead, he pushes his tongue deeper inside of you. You squirm at the warmth of it and the fullness. You haven't felt anything inside of you like this in a long time. 

It's almost too good. 

“Stop, please…” You can't cum. You can't! 

Titus pulls his tongue out of you and locks eyes with you when he says, “either you cum or you never see me again.” 

“Titus…” Why does that make your heart sink?

“Make your choice.” He's tired of teetering at the brink of insanity. 

Either you want to be his or you don't. 

He's not going to play this game anymore. 

If you truly don't want anything to do with him, then you better be okay with never interacting with him again. 

And you reason with yourself if that's okay. 

You have good memories with him, especially this past week. 

Is that enough?

Can you let him go? 

You can't…

“Don't go.” You are so nervous to let that out into the air but it leaves your lips. You tremble in his hold as you tell him with so much anxiety, “but please don't do this here. Make me cum in bed. I'd like that more.”

“What else would you like?” He wants you to want more. “Tell me and I'll listen.” 

Fear creeps into your soul. You don't know how you're supposed to possibly admit anything to him. 

So, you don't say words. You just sit up and he doesn't stop you from wrapping your arms around him. He lugs you onto his lap, cradling you close. You bury your head into the crook of his neck, feeling so anxious about being this vulnerable. 

Then, you tell him, your voice so quiet, so scared, so full of truth, “I like you.” 

You can feel Titus swallow, his throat bobbing in response. He doesn't say it back. He just lifts your head up by your chin so he can kiss you. 

You pull away immediately, “Titus, you'll get sick!”

“I don't give a fuck if I get sick.” He says back, grabbing your face again. “I have missed kissing you so much.”

His lips are back on yours in an instant, his tongue dipping into your mouth, taking up space, playing with yours. 

You feel dizzy, more lightheaded than you've felt all week. You cling onto him, your hands buried in his hair, holding him flush to you. 

Titus is growing hard underneath you. It worries you a little. He must feel your tension because he pulls off your lips to say, “ignore it. It's just because I like you.” 

“I'm sorry I'm sick.” You'd offer to go down on him or let him fuck you but you will likely have a horrible coughing fit. 

“Quit saying sorry.” He pinches your cheek.

“That hurts…” You rub your cheek after he lets go. 

Then, your heart skips a beat when Titus kisses you on the cheek with so much affection. “Better?”

You nod against him, hiding the flustered expression on your face. 

He can't believe you can act this cute. It's incredible. Usually you try to keep him at arm's length but right now you're clinging to him, not wanting to let him go. 

So, he slips his hand between your legs, startling you when his finger slips inside of you. Titus kisses you before you can protest and you moan on his lips when he curls his finger so nicely. 

“Oh god…” You breathe on his lips, your lower body trembling. 

“Too much?” He stills so you can adjust to the feeling. 

“I thought you were going to wait until we were back in bed…”

“I got impatient.” Titus tells you with a sly smile. “I haven't seen you cum in over a month.” 

“I might pass out.” You're being honest there.

“I'll be gentle.” He says as he starts slow and steady thrusts.

Titus has never been this gentle with you before. His finger is methodical, curling ever so slightly in the right place whenever your breath hitches. It has you panting like crazy against him as he lightly coaxes you to an orgasm that fills you with a subtle wave of pleasure. It's not intense. 

It's just pure bliss. 

“I've got you.” He rubs your back, wanting to comfort you since you're still shaking. “Was it good?” 

You nod shyly. “Thank you.” 

He pulls his finger out of you and you watch him swirl his tongue around it, humming at the pleasing taste of you. 

You try to hold back the cough that's threatening to slip from your lips but it comes out anyways, your breath growing raspy. Titus sets you aside on the couch so he can get up and grab you some water, handing you the glass. You drink it all and take some medication to help suppress the cough. 

“You should eat now.” He sits beside you again, pulling the take out containers out of the bag. 

You pick at it, eating as much as you can stomach before he puts it away. 

“You should eat too.” You tell him but he shakes his head. 

“I'll eat when you're asleep.” That's what he has been doing for the past week, since he wants to focus his attention on taking care of you while you're awake. 

“Eat, Titus.” You place your hand on his, squeezing it. “I don't want you to leave me in bed alone. Please?” 

Titus leans in and kisses you. Just a little peck on the lips because he had to. 

You're being so unbelievably cute…

“Alright.” He ends up eating your leftovers while you sip on some warm tea in hopes it helps you stop coughing. 

You'd like to kiss Titus more without the fear of coughing. Not that he cares if you do cough. He's more excited that you want to kiss him that much. 

His lips are on yours the moment the two of you are under your covers. He pulls you close to him, kissing you so softly that you have to do a double take to make sure it's actually Titus that's kissing you. Usually he's more heavy handed with his kisses but he's being careful with your breathing right now. 

“Have you always been this sweet?” You tease him a little, nudging his nose with your own playfully. 

“Only for you.” His words make your heart skip a beat. 

“Titus…” You shouldn't ruin the moment but you have to be realistic. “I don't think your family will like me.” 

“I don't give a fuck about what they like. I like you. That's all that matters.” He isn't letting you worm your way out of his grasp ever again. 

But you're still trying to, which annoys him. “You should care. It's your legacy.”

“You know what I care about?” Titus suddenly shifts his whole body lower, burying his face between your legs. “Making you cum again.” 

“Titus!” You shout his name when he tugs off your sweats and underwear in one go for the second time today. “What are you—”

Your words get caught in your throat when his tongue finds your clit. Your pussy is still sensitive from cumming earlier so every swipe of his tongue has your head swimming from the pleasure. 

“Oh god…” You can feel your orgasm building already. “I'm going to cum if you keep doing that.” 

That makes Titus chuckle, all low and genuinely amused. 

Because isn't that the whole point? Sometimes you can be so adorable. 

You grab a hold of his hair when you get close, needing the leverage as you grind your hips against his face. He happily follows your lead, doing exactly what you want with his tongue.

The orgasm that rolls through you is incredible. It's, again, not intense but it's everything you've missed. 

A surge of good endorphins. 

You feel so sleepy after, which is what Titus wanted. He wants you to get a good night's rest in his arms. 

And you do. 

You fall right to sleep the moment he pulls you onto his chest. 

You haven't slept that good…ever. 

This routine repeats for another week. Titus refuses to let you touch him, even when you have the energy to. He wants you to reserve any extra energy you have to enjoy the orgasms he can coax out of you. 

You enjoy them immensely…more than you want to allow yourself to. 

You're feeling much, much better now. You barely cough anymore. You can move around easier now. 

Titus has taken very good care of you. Something you don't know how to thank him for, so you ask him what he wants.

And then he tells you something so baffling that you're staring at him in disbelief, “I want you to marry me.” 

“What?” You're pretty sure you heard him wrong. 

But he repeats himself again, “I want you to marry me.” 

“Why?” You can't help but ask. 

“Because that's what I want in exchange. I want you to be mine forever.” He doesn't want to have to worry about you seeing or sleeping with other people. 

Titus wants you all for himself. 

“We can do that without getting married.” You wouldn't want him to face the scrutiny of his family because of you. 

That gives him pause. Because maybe that would be a preferable outcome. He wouldn't have to make you undergo any kind of ritual. 

The two of you could just be together. A domestic partnership. 

An oddly suiting relationship for you both. 

“I'd want you to still wear a ring.” He needs you to not look available to anyone. 

“That's fine by me.” You open your arms for a hug. “How about we just be fiancés for life?” 

“Fiancés for life.” Now that is a fantastic idea. 

He gives you a big hug and you giggle, letting him swing you around now that you feel a lot better. 

“Now can we celebrate?” He whispers in your ear. “I really want to fuck my fiancé.” 

“What if I said no?” You laugh when he glares at you. You're so happy you can laugh without a coughing fit following it. 

“Don't be a brat right now. I will make you regret it.” He threatens but he knows it's not getting through to you because you're smiling so beautifully at him. 

“You'd really punish me when I just got over a horrific illness?” You pout at him.

“Motherfucker.” He grabs your face, tugging at your puffed up cheeks. “You know just how to get on my nerves.”

“Can I get on something else?” You smirk, leaning your face into his palm, giving it a gentle kiss. 

“Didn't you just say no?” He raises an eyebrow at you. 

“I was joking!” You tug him towards your bedroom. “Of course I want to fuck you, Titus. I've missed the feeling of your cock inside of me.” 

Just you saying that is enough for him to get unbelievably hard. 

“I don't think I can hold back.” He might need to cum once right away just for the relief of it. 

“How do you want me, daddy?” You point at the bed, already falling perfectly into your role as his sweet little bratty girl. 

“Fuck, I have missed you, baby girl.” Titus just grabs a hold of your face and you smile so big when he kisses you, all hot and heavy and with the need he has always wanted to show you. 

He walks you back onto the bed and flips you around, pushing you down lightly onto your stomach before he kneels behind you and tugs off your pants, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. 

“Hold on tight.” He spreads your folds with his thumbs, running them along the length of your wet slit, so eager to taste you. “I'm going to be here until you're dripping for me.” 

“I already am.” You tease and that earns you a smack on the ass. “Ouch! That hurts, daddy!”

“No, it doesn't.” He smacks you again and lets out a chuckle when he sees the way his harshness makes your pussy quiver. “My baby girl likes it when I'm rough.” 

“I'd like it more if you were inside of me.” You say with an obvious pout in your tone. “Hurry up already.” 

“Daddy needs a moment.” He leans forward, dragging his tongue up and down your folds before dipping into your aching pussy, filling you up with that soft warmth you're growing to like a little too much. “You taste incredible, always.” 

“Make me cum, please.” You don't normally beg this soon which has Titus smiling and you can feel it, which has you smiling too. 

“Ask me directly.” He prompts.

“Will you please make me cum, daddy?” You feel a little embarrassed every time you say it but he rewards you by thrusting two of his fingers into your pussy and curling them at the same time as his tongue swirls the tight ring of your ass. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, not there—”

“Relax, baby girl. I'm just teasing you.” Titus doesn't want to overwhelm you too much. You just got better. He'll save fucking your ass for another day but he likes how nervous you get when he plays with it. “Breathe and just enjoy it.” 

You grip onto the sheets tight, balling them in your fists when he starts an excruciatingly slow pace with his fingers.

He's not letting you cum. He's just forcing you to squirm and get soaking wet for him. 

What an incredible feeling… 

“You're going to cum so fast on my cock, aren't you?” Titus pulls his fingers out of you and you can hear him licking them clean, the erotic sounds filling the room. 

“Yes, daddy.” You really want him. It's been too long. You might actually go nuts once he's finally inside of you again. 

“Good girl.” He unzips his pants, kicking them off. You hear him tug off his shirt too so you go to do the same, tossing it aside. “Look at that beautiful back. I love every bit of you.” 

His words have the butterflies in your stomach bouncing all over the place. “Really?” 

Titus bends over, giving you a kiss on the shell of your ear before whispering, “in sickness and in health. Forever and always.” 

You turn to look at him and then you ask, “can I look at you?” 

He nods and you lay down on your back, putting your arms up for him to hold you. He likes how adorable you're acting now that you've given in and let yourself be vulnerable around him.

Titus has never been happier with his decision to take care of you. 

Especially when you tell him, “thank you for being here for me, Titus.”

“It's my pleasure.” He guides his cock to your entrance before slowly pushing into you, loving how you arch your back to slide more of him inside of you. “Daddy loves helping his little girl.” 

You reach up, trailing your fingertips along his jaw, just basking in him hovering above you, making you feel so safe and spoiled. “I promise I'll take care of you if you ever get sick.” 

“You better.” He says when he finally hilts inside of you. Then, he gives you a light roll of the hips, driving the tip of his cock deep before telling you, “I expect quite the blow job if I ever get sick.” 

You let out such a belly laugh at that and smack him in the chest. “Titus!”

“What? A man can't anticipate?” He smirks and you giggle so beautifully that he just has to lean down and kiss you. “You're so cute when you smile like that, baby girl.” 

“You're so screwed if we ever break up.” You nuzzle his nose. “I'm going to tell the world how cheesy you can be.” 

“I'd rather kill you then let you break up with me.” He makes his threat known and even though you laugh it off, Titus is being very serious. 

Now that you're his, he's never letting you go. 

But he'll let you pretend like he's just fucking around if it means you'll keep up the lovely little giggles. 

Which turn into moans the moment he starts fucking you because he really can't stall any longer. Your pussy is squeezing him perfectly and he hasn't cum in a long time.

Titus is impressed he lasts as long as he does but he has enough willpower to wait for you to cum too before he fills you with his release, letting out groans of pleasure that have you grinning up at him. 

“Let's kiss until you're hard again?” You pull him down to lay in front of you on his side, wrapping your leg around his hip. “Stay inside of me until then?” 

“I'm staying right here for the foreseeable future, baby girl.” He says before his lips are back on yours, reveling in your visible happiness. 

“My daddy really knows how to take care of me, doesn't he?” You snuggle up against him, smiling into his chest. 

“I'd prefer it if you never get pneumonia again.” Titus will probably die if he has to wait that long to fuck you again. 

“I promise I will never fly commercial again.” You're pretty sure that's how you got sick.

“You flew commercial?” He's flabbergasted.

“First class.”

“Still!” He huffs at you, glaring. “You could've borrowed my plane and saved yourself the risk of being surrounded by regular people.”

“Mmm, it wasn't too bad.” You pull yourself closer to him, giving him a kiss on the cheek. “If I didn't get sick, I would've never seen this side of you that I love so much.” 

You like the way his cock twitches inside of you when you say that, like your words have strung it back to life. 

Titus won't risk asking if you love him. Just hearing that is enough, for now. 

You are all he needs, forever. 

So, he tells you back, “if you didn't get sick, I would've never got to see how cute you could get all shy and embarrassed." 

“Shut the fuck up.” You grumble, nipping at his bottom lip with your teeth in protest. 

“Aww, my baby girl acting shy again?” He taunts and now it's your turn to glare at him. 

“I hope you realize you're at my apartment. I can call security on you.” 

Titus laughs from his belly then, a sound you've grown to love a lot, before he answers, “yeah, call them so they can come in and see you with my cock buried inside of you and you moaning my name.” 

“That is not—!” You yelp when Titus shoves you back on your back and starts pounding his now hard again cock inside of you. “Titus!”

“There you go, good girl.” He smirks at the irritation in your expression. “Scream my name louder.”

“Fuck you!” You shove at him but he keeps fucking you, ignoring that you're smacking his chest and clawing at his shoulders.

“What do you think I'm doing right now?” He snatches your wrists, pinning your hands above your head as he rolls his hips over and over against yours until you're letting out those breathy sighs of pleasure, his cock hitting you at just the right angle now. “Are you going to cum for your daddy?” 

“Yes.” You don't hold back, letting your orgasm spread through you, the bliss overwhelming every one of your senses. 

“You missed my cock a lot, didn't you, baby girl?” Titus slows his pace, drawing a whine from your lips. “Tell me you missed me.” 

You nod and say, “I really missed you a lot, Titus.” 

“Don't worry.” He slides his free hand between your legs, his fingertips playing with your clit now. “You'll never have to miss me again. I'm going to live right here inside your pussy forever." 

You hope that's the truth because the moment he starts rubbing your clit and pounding into you at the exact spot you need him to, you see stars in your vision and your orgasm hits a peak like no other. You're so satiated right now with pleasure and Titus loves the glazed over look in your eyes, knowing he's the one who caused it. 

“Stay with me, baby girl. I still need to cum again.” He presses his forehead against yours, wanting to kiss you.  

You eagerly kiss him as he fills you back up with his release, loving how warm your lower belly feels. 

You should probably let Titus know that you haven't taken any birth control since you got sick. 

But maybe it's okay if you do get pregnant.

He'll take good care of you and the baby. 

You know that for sure now, given how well he took care of you these last few weeks. 

Who would've thought Titus Danforth could be such a sweetheart? 

You're lucky you get to have him all to yourself. 

A/N: I have a weak immune system so I'm pretty much always sick so I started writing this a while back when I was really going through it but then I recovered so I hadn't gone back to finish it but I figured it would be fun to wrap it up and now I'm so glad I did because gosh, I just love writing mushy, cutie Titus!

You had to make another account because your old account got reported. People just did not believe that you would willingly sleep with your dads…

But you need more advice, so you go to the internet for help again. 

Title: Is it weird that my uncles [55M] like to chase me [18F] around?  Post: Hi there. So, I have two family friends who I consider my uncles because they are my stepfather's twin older brothers so technically they're like my step-uncles.  Every year since I've known them, my parents and I would go to this lakefront cabin that my rich uncle owns, which is isolated in the middle of a forest. He owns the whole forest pretty much (I don't really know the logistics of it but he's like rich rich).  My other uncle, who is a cop, started to play this game with me where he would chase me so I could practice running away from an assailant. He said it's an important skill to have so he chases me pretty much every opportunity he can get and his brother always joins in “on the hunt”. The goal is to make it into the lake before they can grab me. I have never won, since they're much bigger and faster than me. I hate playing that game but they told me I have to “because I'm just a kid who needs to practice just in case”.  Well, now I'm an adult and I want to tell them I don't want to get chased anymore but I don't know how to…and is it weird that they're so insistent on playing that game every time? 

People start asking you all sorts of personal questions like whether or not your uncles touch you inappropriately, like grope you but they have never done anything like that. 

They're not like your dads…even though they look like older versions of them. 

Which has you feeling some type of way as your uncle Titus drives you up to the cabin by himself, with his large hand resting on your thigh. 

You don't know how to tell him to move it…

You don't really know how to talk to your uncle Titus, if you're being honest. He's…not entirely there, mentally. You've heard your stepfather Jack talk about it. About how Titus hasn't been right in the head ever. 

You can tell because he seems to not notice that you're uncomfortable. 

Or maybe he just doesn't give a fuck.

Because he has been waiting to touch you since his younger brothers told him all about how easily you fell into their grasps. 

That's why Titus and Charlie practically begged to have you all to themselves for a little bit. And their brothers were so willing to share because they know you so well.

You love being taken care of. 

Your uncles will do a great job. 

“When does Uncle Charlie drive in?” You ask Titus. 

“He's actually there already.” They both debated who should pick you up and agreed on it being Titus. 

Mainly because Titus has always been the most fucked up of all of them so if you are letting him of all people touch you so casually, then he knows you're going to be easy for him and his brother to break. 

“Oh really? It's nice he could find the time off work.” Your uncle Charlie is now the deputy chief of a police department, meaning he's much busier than he used to be.

And in much more need of stress relief in the form of his niece's pretty little pussy. 

Charlie is almost antsy to finally get you in his grasp. He worried for a moment that Titus would pull over along the ride and just rape you to his heart's content but then he sees the car rolling up to the driveway of the cabin and he knows Titus hadn't. 

He made it exactly at the estimated time of arrival. 

Because Titus wanted to make sure that they had you alone for as long as possible. 

Your dads gave them the whole weekend to break you in. A very generous offer by their younger brothers. 

“Need help with your bags, kiddo?” Titus asks you as you both get out of the car. 

You shake your head but your uncle Charlie comes up behind you and steals them anyway. 

“Our princess shouldn't have to carry any bags.” He tells you, making you feel all flushed. 

Charlie and Titus both love calling you “princess”. They're always talking about how much they enjoy spoiling their little princess of a niece. 

“Now come here and give your uncle a kiss.” Charlie gestures for you to kiss him as thank you for helping with your bags. 

Your stomach knots up when you lean up to peck him on the lips. His lips remind you so much of your dads’ that it makes you a little dizzy when you break away from it. 

“I haven't gotten my kiss yet, princess.” Titus turns you towards him rather forcefully, hands gripping your hips tight. “You know what to do.” 

You swallow nervously, your eyes glancing over to Charlie, who is watching with intent. 

You bite back your nerves and stick out your tongue, like you always do for Titus. Then, you shiver when he glides his tongue along the length of yours before sucking it into his mouth so he can kiss you. 

He always gives you the sloppiest kisses. 

A kind of kiss no uncle should be giving their niece, especially when he's grinding his body up against yours, letting you feel how hard he is. 

You try to push him off of you but he won't budge! 

“Uncle Titus, stop!” Your words barely come out since he won't move his lips off of you. 

“Why should I stop?” He breathes out on your lips, sending fear into your veins, “you didn't ask your dads to stop when they fucked you. Why do you care if I do the same?” 

“B-Because…” You can't let your uncle touch you too! 

“Princess.” Your uncle Charlie's voice draws you to look over at him. He set your things inside so he could come out and join the fun. “You can't possibly expect us to not play with you when you let our younger brothers have their way with you. It's disrespectful!”

“I-I…” You're rendered completely speechless.

What the hell is someone supposed to say when their uncles openly want to fuck their niece?

Are there any words to say? 

You realize then that you're trapped here with them. Alone. Until your dads get here in a few days. 

Your dads made you come up early. They told you to keep your uncles company. 

Is this what they meant? 

Why would your dads—

Charlie snaps his fingers in front of you. “Earth to princess. Are you going to let us fuck you or not?” 

“D-Did my dads tell you that you could?” You won't believe it if they did. 

Though, is it really that unbelievable, all things considered… 

“Even if we didn't have their permission, we'd still do it.” Titus tells you unapologetically. “You're lucky I didn't rape you while we were alone in the car together.” 

Charlie knew the thought crossed his brother's mind. It's that twin telepathy. It's because Charlie would've considered the exact same thing. 

Especially now that he's looking at how beautifully frightened you are. 

He can barely keep it together. He wants to bury his cock into you right this instant. 

But, he knows what him and his brother want first.

The chase.

So, Charlie says, “how about this? If you make it to the lake before we catch you, we won't fuck you.”

You gulp at that, your throat going dry. Because you have never won that game. 

And you know you won't win.

But it's the best chance you've got…

“Okay.” You nod, accepting your fate. “But I want a headstart.”

“We'll give you a headstart, if you strip.” Titus fills you with shock when he says that.

“W-What?” You definitely can't do that! 

“Here, we'll strip too. To make it even.” Charlie starts unbuttoning his shirt. “Your headstart ends when we finish undressing but you can't run until you're naked. So I would hurry up if I were you, kiddo.” 

Adrenaline rushes through you and you have no time to think. You just strip off all your clothes and book it as fast as you can towards the lake. 

You sprint like you've never sprinted before. 

The water of the lake looks incredibly clear and sparkly. The evening sun is reflecting in such a lovely way off of it. It looks incredibly inviting and you know you will feel so much relief the moment you feel the water on your skin. 

But before your feet can hit the shore, you're yanked back against a firm body. 

And you feel a hard cock pushing up against your back. 

You scream, even though no one can hear you out here to help you, “stop! Let go of me!”

“You lost, kid.” Titus groans with delight when he sticks his cock between your soft thighs and begins to thrust, rubbing the length of it back and forth along your slick pussy. “You're so fucking wet. You really wanted your uncles to fuck you.” 

“No, I don't!” You cry out when Charlie stands in front of you, grabbing a hold of your face rather harshly before his lips crash against yours, stealing your breath away. 

Titus slides his hands to cup your breasts, tugging at your nipples the way his brothers told him you like it. You moan against Charlie's lips and he snickers at the tension he feels from your stunned expression. 

You didn't mean to moan. You shouldn't be enjoying this!

But the more Titus grinds against your pussy, the more you ache for him to be inside of you. 

An ache that he takes advantage of, the tip of his cock pushing into your pussy. 

“Uncle Titus, don't—!” You grab onto Charlie's shoulders for leverage as Titus rams the entire length of his cock inside of you from behind, causing your legs to tremble. “Oh god, oh fuck, you're so…”

“My brother's cock is girthy, isn't it?” Charlie smiles at how distraught you look. “Mine is too. My niece is going to feel so full once her uncles’ cocks are seated inside of her.” 

“No, no, no!” You can't have them both in your pussy. You nearly lost it when your dads did that to you. 

Your uncles may not be as long as your dads’ but they're much thicker. You'll surely fall apart… 

“Don't worry, princess.” Titus whispers into your ear. “I'm going to dump a load in your pussy and then I'm fucking your ass.”

“W-Wait, what?!” You've never had anything, to your knowledge, back there before.

Your dads have done it in your sleep but you've never been aware of it. 

So you try to plead against it, “please, not my ass, anything but my—”

“Aw, it's okay.” Charlie coos at you, his words not comforting in the slightest. “There's nothing wrong with cumming from your ass, kiddo. You're going to enjoy it a lot.” 

“No, I won't—” You yelp when Titus smacks your ass hard.

“Bend over.” He raises his hand, prepping himself to smack you again. “Do it before I leave an even harsher mark.” 

You have to listen, bending forward. Titus pushes you down until your face is right in front of Charlie's cock. 

“Put your uncle's cock in your mouth and suck it off like those popsicles you love to eat in the summer.” Titus instructs and Charlie takes a hold of your hair, gripping it tight which makes your pussy clench around Titus. “Oh fuck, pull at her fucking hair. She got so tight when you did that.”

Charlie tugs you towards his cock, practically slapping you in the face with its weight. He guides his cock to your lips with his free hand. 

“Eat up, princess.” He pushes his cock past your lips and into your mouth until he's so deep down your throat that you're gagging and crying. “Just like that. Suck on your uncle's cock.”

You have to listen, so you suck on him just the way he wants.

Shivers run through you when he praises you, “good girl. You're taking our cocks so well.” 

Titus slaps your ass again and you clench around his cock in response, making him praise you too, “that's my good girl. Tighten that pussy up for your uncle to fuck. I'll make you cum real hard right now.” 

You feel Titus spread your ass cheeks apart before spitting right on your hole. Then, he pushes his thumb past that tight ring and just starts fucking your ass with it. 

You can't believe the orgasm that hits you head on, your mind growing so fuzzy that you don't even react to Charlie fucking your face.

You don't even react to his words when he tells you, “your mouth is like a pussy, princess. I want to see how deep you can take me while my brother messes up your womb.” 

Titus is messing you up inside. You can't stop cumming on his cock and from his thumb in your ass. You really start to cry when you're squirting uncontrollably with every rough thrust of his cock, coupled with Charlie facefucking you. 

You're ill prepared to feel his hot release coat the back of your throat. Charlie keeps fucking your mouth through his orgasm, forcing you to swallow his cum if you want to breathe. 

Then, when he pulls his cock out of your mouth, Charlie looks down and spits on his shaft before snapping at you. “Lick it up, princess. Clean your uncle's cock well.” 

You do your best to lick him clean but you're unsteady because Titus finally dumps so much of his release inside of your pussy that the warmth in your lower belly distracts you. 

You still manage to drag your tongue across Charlie's softening cock until he's satisfied. “What a good girl. Listening to instructions so well. How can we reward such a good girl?” 

Titus pops his thumb out of your ass, making you shiver. “How about a nice dip in the water while your uncles spoil you a little?” 

You don't know what that could possibly entail but you don't fight back as Charlie takes your hand and drags you into the water, submerging the two of you until only your head is above water.

Then, he pulls you in for a kiss. Such a soft kiss that you have trouble believing he just fucked your mouth like it was a pussy moments ago. 

And Titus has his hands all over you, touching you like you're precious to him. His hands roam your body before one of them settles between your legs to rub your clit and the other plays with your breasts, tugging lightly at your perky nipples.

The contrast from a few seconds ago has your head spiraling to try to make sense of it. 

“Be a good girl and cum for your uncles.” Charlie says against your lips and almost as if you could on cue, you cum, letting out a moan that's like music to their ears. “Beautiful. You did such a good job, my lovely niece.” 

Titus leans forward to kiss your shoulders, trailing up to the nape of your neck. “We're going to make you cum until our cocks are hard again. Enjoy yourself, princess.” 

You hate that you do actually let yourself enjoy your uncles’ touch. You cum when Titus and Charlie both sink their fingers inside of your pussy. They curl them in opposite directions, making you a little too aware of different spots inside of you that have you cumming so hard that you see stars in your vision. 

“You like that?” Charlie stirs up your insides on pace with Titus. “Say it if you do.”

“I like it.” You admit because you're getting close and you don't want them to stop. 

“Good girl.” Titus kisses the shell of your ear before nipping at it, sending sparks rippling through your body. “Tell us what else you like.”

You bite your lip. You shouldn't. You really shouldn't…

But then you whisper, “I like not being able to breathe.” 

Titus locks eyes with Charlie, who is sharing the same smile. 

Your uncles love you so much. 

They would be happy to drown you, in bliss. 

That's why they both grab a hold of your head and push you down completely into the water at the same exact time as they roughly thrust their fingers side to side inside of your pussy.

You cum like crazy because you think you're going to die. You can't breathe. You're getting lightheaded. 

You really are drowning in pleasure…

They lift you back up to breathe while your pussy is still spasming around their fingers. You're moaning and gasping for air at the same time, your orgasms compounding now that you know your body can finally take in air again. 

That's when Charlie takes the opportunity to sink his cock into your pussy. He groans at how you're milking him like you must want him to fill you with his cum. You feel so much fuller with him inside of you, like you had when Titus was inside of you.

Which he will be again, right now, as he pushes the tip of his cock against the tight ring of your ass. 

“Relax or we'll actually drown you.” Titus threatens and you have to let him pry your ass open with his thick cock. “You're doing great. You can take it. There you go, good girl.” 

He pats the top of your head like you're a dog the moment he hilts inside of your ass. 

You don't get why their praise has you feeling so elated. The euphoria when you hear them compliment you is unlike anything else. 

“Do you like how your uncles are in both of your holes?” Charlie rolls his hips, drawing out a moan from your lips. “That must be a yes.”

“Use your words, kiddo.” Titus shoves your face closer to the water again, forcing your body to tense up, making him and his brother groan from how tight you got all of a sudden. “Fuck, I want to drown you so bad just to see how tight you can get.” 

“Why don't we?” Charlie flashes a devilish smirk at you. “She seemed to cum really hard when we did.” 

“No, wait—!” You can't stop them before they shove your head back into the lake as they begin pounding you from both ends, their cocks fucking you almost ruthlessly. 

You cum so hard that you know you squirted even though it's lost in the water. It's because the feeling won't end. 

You're getting raped in both holes while you drown. What did you do to deserve this? 

Besides getting stuck in such a messed up family…

Where your uncles are making you cum like there's no tomorrow. 

“Let's pull her out of the water.” Charlie tells Titus. “I want to watch her cum.” 

“Fine by me.” Titus suddenly grabs a hold of your thighs, lifting you up from behind as Charlie grabs your knees, wrapping your legs around his waist. 

They both haul you away from the lake until you're just sandwiched between the two of you, water dripping off your naked bodies as they start pounding their cocks back into you at the same rhythm that has you squirting now for them to see. 

“Please, Uncle Titus, Uncle Charlie, I can't cum anymore, I can't!” You cry out when they force another mind-shattering orgasm through you. 

“You're going to cum until we've broken you completely.” Charlie says right into your ear. “That's what we promised your dads.” 

Titus taunts you too. “They want us to make sure you're nothing but a little cumslut for our family. You're just a naughty niece who can't help cumming all over her uncles’ cocks. That's all you have to be.” 

They must've fucked your brains out because that sounds amazing. 

To just be made to cum by your dads and your uncles…

“I think we broke her.” Charlie laughs when he sees how glazed over your eyes are while your pussy is convulsing around his cock, signaling that an orgasm is wrecking your mind right now. 

“There's still so much more we have to do.” Titus smacks your ass to jolt you back to reality. “Don't pass out now. You still have to drink up all of our cum.” 

Your whole body spasms when you feel their cum shoot inside both of your holes at the same time, your orgasm on par with their own. You're so full of their cum by the time that they're done that you can feel it leaking out of you even though their cocks are still inside of you.

And you are not ready for them to walk you back to the cabin while still buried deep inside of you. Every step has you clinging on tighter to them, the pleasure overwhelming every one of your senses that you can't even register what's about to happen to you. 

Not until your uncles lay you down in their bed, pulling their cocks out of you, and you feel a gun pushing against your lips. 

Your eyes widen at the sight of your uncle Charlie pressing his gun to your lips and going, “say ahhh.” 

“Uncle Charlie, please, I don't want—” 

He just shoves the gun into your mouth and despite your attempts to protest, he starts fucking your mouth with his gun like he had with his cock earlier. 

That distracts you for a moment before you realize something foreign is pushing up against the entrance to your pussy.

Is that a—

“Oh fuck, did you see how hard she came when I put the knife in her?” Titus points to the way you're still squirting from him shoving the handle of his favorite knife into you all of a sudden. “We really fucked you up, didn't we?” 

“We can do better than that once we're hard again. I still have to fuck our niece's tight ass.” Charlie wants a chance to have been in each of your holes back to back to back. 

You have no idea how your uncles, who are a decade older than your dads, have such good stamina…

Shouldn't they be tired? 

Though, Titus is ultra wealthy and can afford specialized meal plans and an elite personal trainer. And Charlie has to stay fit if he's going to be chasing down criminals. 

You're getting the full weight of their energy supply right here, right now. 

And it scares you seeing them get hard again so soon.

Almost as scary as Charlie lifting his gun from your lips only to drag the barrel down the length of your body before resting the tip of it against your clit. He pushes it into you, swallowing your clit up before pulling away, making a strange suction feeling that has you squirting on Titus's knife. 

“No, don't do that, please don't do that!” You beg but why would Charlie listen to you when you're cumming so hard every time the tip of his gun sucks on your swollen clit? 

You cum so hard that you actually push the knife handle out of you, causing your body to completely seize up from the wave of pleasure that bursts through you in reaction. 

“Now that won't do. You've got to keep it inside of you, kiddo.” Titus shakes his head then an idea sparks in his mind. “Get her on her knees, Charlie.” 

Without even needing further explanation, Charlie knows exactly what Titus wants to do, so he lifts the gun from your pussy and points it at you. “You heard Titus. On your knees, right here at the edge of the bed.” 

You listen, kneeling where he wants you to. 

With the gun still pointed at you, Charlie walks up behind you then settle his gun between your legs. You whimper when you feel the cold metal brushing against your sensitive slit. 

“Ride my gun, kid, or I'll shoot you with it.” Charlie whispers into your ear, pressing his hard body against your back, letting you feel how thick his cock has gotten again already. “Cum already so I can fuck that ass of yours.” 

Titus climbs onto the bed and the tip of his knife touches the bottom of your chin, lifting you to look up at him. “I could easily slit your throat, princess. Don't make me. Be a good girl and cum hard for your uncles.” 

But you don't want to cum on Charlie's gun. 

You feel like you've fallen further and further into depravity. 

There's likely no way back from here. 

Especially when he angles the gun so the tip of it can suck on your clit again and the underside of the barrel and the trigger are dragging along your soaking wet, overstimulated pussy. 

The orgasm is unstoppable. It has you drenching his gun and panting desperately for air, your mind spinning in circles from how good that felt. 

That's when Titus moves the knife from your chin and stabs it into the mattress right where you're hovering above. 

“Now ride my knife while I fuck that pussy of a mouth you have.” He demands and Charlie makes you listen, placing his gun down so he can grip your hips and force you onto the knife handle again. 

You sink down on it completely, the rubbery, grippy texture teasing your insides in despicable ways. 

You should've guessed what would happen next.

Titus has the tip of his cock pushing against your lips and you part them for him, letting him feed you his cock. Then, you feel warm spit hit your ass as Charlie lines his cock up then pushes the tip of it past the tight ring. 

You're suddenly filled in every possible way. 

Disturbingly so…

And you cum horribly quick when Charlie whispers in your ear, “imagine if I stuck my gun in that pussy of yours too.” 

Titus laughs, seeing the way you've soaked the sheets beneath you from squirting so hard. “I think our niece wants you to do it.” 

“Is that so?” Charlie grabs his gun, lining it up besides the handle of the knife. “Lift up a little, princess. You need to make room or I'll pull the trigger.” 

You squirm when you feel the tip of the gun push in alongside the handle of the knife. Titus keeps your attention on him fucking your mouth while Charlie pushes more and more of the gun into you until it's fully seated inside of you. 

“Bounce on it, kiddo.” Charlie nudges you by sinking his cock deeper into your ass. “Or I'll get real rough, real fast.” 

Against your best judgment, you listen, finding a pace that has you reeling from all the sensations flooding your system. 

Cold metal. Soft rubber. Your uncle's cock in your ass. Your other uncle fucking your face. 

Then, Titus pats on the top of your head, the gentleness jarring compared to the rough way he's stuffing his cock down your throat, before telling you, “play with your clit, princess. Make yourself cum.” 

You're so out of it that you listen. Your fingers find your clit and soon enough, you're cumming all over your own hand. The slick that builds up between your legs is messy and drips down your thighs. 

Every time you feel the tip of the knife handle or the gun brush against the entrance to your womb, you want to collapse, the thought of where those things are inside of you shooting such crazed desires through you. 

Which is why you cum disturbingly hard when you hear the click of the trigger go off. 

“You really just came because you thought you got shot?” Charlie laughs maniacally, the sound echoing in your mind, humiliation filling every fiber of your being. “You should know better. I would never play with a loaded gun near my niece's precious pussy.” 

“I bet she imagined the bullet piercing into her womb, fucking her up inside like our cum is doing right now.” Titus is foul with his words and it's cruel that you're so aroused by how fucked up your uncles are. 

You can't control the way your body completely unravels when you taste Titus's cum coat your throat. 

“Don't swallow, princess.” Titus instructs, making you keep his release pooled in your mouth. “Open up.” 

You open your mouth, showing him his own cum, and he spits into your mouth, sending such a quiver through you at the degrading action. Titus gestures for Charlie to do the same, so he spits in your mouth too, but he dribbles it out nice and slow, forcing you to keep your mouth open, the taste of cum and spit tainting you. 

“Let's pull her off that shit.” Titus helps lift you off the knife and Charlie slips his gun out of you, tossing it aside after he pulls the knife out of the mattress. 

Now, there's only Charlie's cock inside of your ass. 

You squirm at the way it throbs inside of you in anticipation. 

Because Titus goes, “you get to swallow after you've cum from just your ass getting fucked. So you better cum real good for us, kid.” 

Then, he lays down on his belly, staring straight up at your pussy as Charlie starts ramming his cock into your ass. You still have your hand on your clit and you're tempted to touch yourself but Titus smacks your hand away.

“I want to watch you cum from just your tight little ass.” Titus continues his unrelenting staredown with your pussy.

Charlie decides to slide his hands up until they're gripping your neck, cutting off your air. You cum right away, the lack of oxygen pushing pleasure through you in an instant. It only gets worse when you choke on the spit and cum in your mouth as you attempt to swallow it through Charlie's harsh grip. 

Titus likes the sight of your twitching pussy squirting from the abuse. He enjoys the show while his brother enjoys your ass, which tightens up every time his hands squeeze your throat a little harder. 

“Fuck, I'm going to ruin this ass of yours.” Charlie practically growls into your ear, low and full of need. “I'm going to make it so you can't walk once I'm done with you.” 

You're already at that point. You've been fucked out of your mind and your body. 

So, why not give in completely?

“Make me cum harder, Uncle Charlie.” You beg of them. “Kiss me, Uncle Titus.” 

That seems to switch a flip in their heads. 

Titus points to the bed and Charlie immediately throws you down onto your side, his cock still buried deep in your ass but now he's laying down behind you. Titus lays down in front of you, grabbing a hold of your face and giving you those sloppy kisses that you love so much. 

You moan on his lips when his fingers dip inside your aching pussy, filling you up as his tongue takes space in your mouth. Charlie grabs at your breasts, not a care in the world about how rough he's being, tugging and pinching at your nipples until you're screaming against Titus's lips and squirting all over his fingers. 

That's when Charlie unloads the last bit of his release deep in your ass, wishing he could've filled your pussy up again. Maybe in an hour or so. 

But for right now, he needs to kiss you. 

Titus flips you to your other side so his brother can have a chance to kiss you. Charlie focuses on fingering your pussy while Titus dips his slick covered fingers into your ass, their fingers meeting in the middle, pulling moan after moan out of your lovely lips. 

“We take good care of you, don't we?” Charlie asks, his words tickling your lips. 

“Yes. I love my uncles.” You tell them both in your daze. “Like I love my dads.” 

Titus chuckles at that. “Good thing you added that, or they would've been very upset when they saw the video.” 

…what is he talking about? 

What video? 

In your horror, you glance up and notice the conveniently placed series of tripod cameras in the room that Charlie had set up before you and Titus arrived.

Your dads wanted to watch their kid cum because of her uncles. Titus and Charlie had to film it or Jack and Pope would've never agreed to let them do it. 

So now, you've been memorialized on film. 

A film you're forced to watch several different times over the weekend as your uncles have their way with you. 

By the time your dads arrive, you're still dripping your uncles’ cum out of every hole. 

And your dads can't wait to join in on the fun. 

a/n: oh god…whenever I get to writing the next part of this, it will surely be a freakfest. bc you'll have your dads and your uncles in one isolated cabin…that's crazy! crazy fun for me to write haha can't wait!

You’d gone a whole half hour without thinking of him, which you think must be a sort of record at this point. You’d been trying to get over the guy for months, and Trinity told you the best way to do that was by getting under someone else. Turns out it wasn’t as foolproof as she made it out to be.

“You gonna get that?” Park wonders suddenly, slurring slightly when he pulls back from you for the first time in several minutes. His thin lips are slightly swollen from his kisses and slightly rosy from your lipstick. Your spit glistens on his chin like gloss.

Your heavy eyes flit back and forth between his for a moment. “…What?”

“Your phone,” he says. “This is, like, the third time it’s gone off.”

You blink hard and turn your head against the arm of the couch, to where your purse slouches on the floor beside you. Your phone vibrates inside, glowing faintly within its depths. You can see half the caller ID from here — Jack (ABSOLUTELY DO NOT ANSWER). Your stomach swirls with a sick feeling that your body almost mistakes for excitement.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me…”

Brendon’s expression darkens immediately.

He can tell who it is by the look on your face — a subtle annoyance mixed with a touch of longing. He leans away from you with a huff, slouching back against the corner of the sofa with his muscular thighs spread and his arms propped along the back. He couldn’t hide his irritation if he tried, because this was the first time he’s ever had to compete with another man for another woman’s affection. (The fact that this man was nearly twice his age only rubbed salt into the wound.)

“You should ignore it, you know?” he tells you, half-muffled behind his hand as he swipes lingering desire from his heavy eyes with his thumb and forefinger.

“Yeah, I know—” you sigh and sit further up, not bothering to adjust the dropping sleeve of your dress as you bring the phone up to your jaw. “—What?” you snap.

“Wow,” Jack laughs. His familiar, gritty voice sounds much louder in the quiet of Brendon’s expansive apartment. You hate how much it soothes you. “Good evening to you, too.”

“I’m busy, Jack. What do you want?”

“There’s a patient here asking for you,” he says, a bit more solemn now. His voice goes a little distant on the other line, like he’s looking over his shoulder at something. “Name’s Smith. Bethany. Her chart says she was here two nights ago for a—”

“Yeah,” you sigh, and let all your lingering annoyance evaporate on the exhaled breath. “I know. I treated her.”

“So I’m sure you know why she doesn’t want to be seen by anyone else.”

You avert your gaze, tugging anxiously at a thread in the hem of your dress until it becomes a more noticeable problem than before. Bethany was a young kid, a good one, who got herself mixed up with a string of bad people. She came in a couple nights ago after a particularly brutal assault, and insisted she didn’t need any help when you offered it to her. You told her, however, to swear to come back in if things ever got too bad again, that you’d help her with no questions asked.

The night came much sooner than you thought.

“I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” you huff. “Don’t let her leave—”

You hang up before he can utter another word and pretend not to notice Park’s glaring as you slide off the couch. “There’s no way you’re leaving right now,” he scoffs, watching with an emotionless grin as you toe your shoe back on.

“It’s a patient—”

“It’s Jack,” he corrects with a dry laugh. “How do you not see that? He’s doing this on purpose because he knows we’re out together.”

“He wouldn’t lie to me about a patient,” you huff and stand to full height, slinging the strap of your bag over your shoulder and heading towards the door. How quickly you’ll drop everything when he comes calling, a cynical voice in the back of your head berates you.“He’s an asshole, but he isn’t that big of an asshole.”

“Yeah, I beg to differ…”

You flash the man a pleading look from where you stand in his doorway, midnight air rippling in the fabric of your dress — which Park had been so achingly close to ripping off of you.

“You’re not too mad at me, are you?”

“Go save your patient,” Park dismisses with a wave of his head, huffing as he rises off the couch. He heads to the organized minibar by the kitchen island, plucks a clear bottle of amber liquid from the shelf without looking back at you. “And when you’re done, try to save whatever the hell’s left of your judgment.”

You roll your eyes to hide how much his words truly sting and close the door behind you. “Yeah, I’ll see you at work, Shark…”

—

Your kitten heels click along the pristine linoleum as you rush to the workstation from the ambulance bay. The automatic doors swish open and shut behind you, replacing the cool night air with something colder and far more sterile. Chills pebble along your exposed skin as you weave through the familiar chaos of the PTMC, peering through each glass door you pass for any glimpse of the young girl you came to find.

“Lena,” you call to the red-haired nurse.

“Yep?” the older woman responds automatically, right before she glances up from the monitor ahead of her. She smiles at the sight of you and croons, “Well, don’t you look pretty…”

“Thank you…” you smile shakily, as your face flares with a mild embarrassment. Your arms cross over your chest in an instinctive attempt to hide. “I got a call from Jack— Dr. Abbot. Uh, he said Beth, my assault patient from a few days ago, came back in and wanted to see me. Do you know which room she’s in?”

The woman ponders for a moment, clicking her tongue against her teeth. “I think you just missed her…”

“…What?”

“Last I heard, Dr. Abbot was taking care of her,” Lena explains absentmindedly as she turns back to her computer. Her manicured fingers fly across the keyboard while she rambles. “Yeah, he patched her up and sent her home with a few refills of chlorazepam for the withdrawals. I’m pretty sure he gave her some money for a hotel room, too, called one of his police buddies to pick her up and make sure she’s okay for the night. He’s a good guy— It’s a shame it didn’t work out between you two.”

“Work out?” you sputter through an awkward laugh. “I don’t— We never even— I don’t even know what you’re—”

The woman flashes you an unamused look over the top of her cat-eye glasses.

You swallow down the rest of your excuses. “Do you know where he is?”

“Well, he came in after working TEMs today complaining about his shoulder, so… I’m sure he’s somewhere hiding.”

You exhale a grieved sigh, wiping at your tired eyes in a feeble attempt to wake up. “Yeah, I’ll find him…” you grouse and walk off.

“Clean up your lipstick while you’re at it!” the woman calls after you.

You swipe aggressively at your chin with the back of your hand, cursing quietly under your breath as you. “Shit—”

You find Jack with a greater ease than you’d like to admit to. He has a habit of disappearing when he’s hurt — equal parts because he’s stubborn and because he hates nothing more than being fussed over. You find him in the last treatment room at the end of the hall for that reason, where the chaos of the emergency department dims into a distant nothingness.

You open the door without knocking and find Jack sitting on the edge of the exam bed, with a trauma kit spread out neatly on the metal tray before him. His scrub top lies forgotten on the mattress behind him, revealing the freckled expanse of his torso, made of toned muscles and milky-white skin. The sight of him takes your breath away for a fraction of a moment before your brain reminds you to stay angry.

Jack glances up when you enter, with his brows raised to his hairline. His mouth curls into a slow smile as his light eyes rake over your form. “Well… Don’t you clean up nice,” he croons lowly, then motions to his scruffy chin with his pointer finger. “You missed a spot, though.”

“Yeah, I know,” you huff, still scrubbing off the lipstick smudged on your mouth.

“I remember that dress,” the man continues, too casual for his own good, as he tears off a sliver of medical tape. He presses it along the edge of a square bandage with practiced hands and says, “I’m pretty sure you wore it for me once—”

“Where is my patient?”

“Already discharged,” Jack shrugs, then winces when it adds to the ache in his shoulder.

“So you lied to me?” you huff in annoyance, but pluck a pair of gloves from the dispenser on the wall all the same.

You shove them on and close the distance between you, trudging towards him with all the exasperation of a woman scorned. Jack follows your form with careful eyes, that glimmer distantly with amusement.

“I didn’t lie,” he corrects as you round the bed behind him. He faces ahead while you survey the wound he sports on his left shoulder. The muscles in his back flex slightly when your gloved fingers run over the warm, red scrape — still raw from where the bullet had grazed his vest, and angry at having been left untreated all day. “I just happened to win her over. With my good looks and charming personality.”

You scoff drily. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

You reach over the man for the tube of antibiotic ointment sitting on the tray in front of him. Jack inhales, getting a whiff of the musky-sweet scent clinging to your hair and skin. “Oh, wow…” he lilts in a monotone. “You broke out the expensive perfume tonight—”

“Shut up,” you grouse harshly, spreading the ointment along the abrasion with a much softer touch in comparison. He tenses under you, clenching his jaw to hide how much it hurts. You fight the urge to apologize. “How’d this happen to you, anyway?”

“Bullet grazed my vest—”

“You were shot?” you exclaim.

“Shot at,” he corrects, like that makes any difference, and crosses his muscular arms over his bare chest. “A bunch of geniuses thought today was a good day to rob a goods warehouse. Didn’t realize how long it’d take to load the supplies, so… They panicked, obviously, and… All hell broke loose.”

You shake your head at him, swallowing down your rage like bile. He isn’t yours, you remind yourself, you have no right to tell him what he can or cannot do. The words tumble from your mouth anyway.

“I wish you’d stop doing this.”

“I’d rather be shot at than spend a night with Park the Shark— Ow.”

His head whips over his shoulder to glare at you when you press down harder on the wound. “That’s what you get for interrupting my date, asshole,” you spit at him and reach for the prepped bandage on the tray. “God, I cannot believe I keep letting you do this to me.”

“Do what?”

“Keep me late. Call me in,” you ramble, pressing the gauze gently to his shoulder. “Sabotage every relationship I try to have, like you weren’t the one who left.”

Silence falls over the two of you, heavy enough to suck all the air out of the room. Jack can hear the quiet buzzing of the fluorescent lights overhead and the subtle hitch in your breath when you don’t get a response from him. Your bitter laugh sounds much louder in the quiet, along with the pop of your blue gloves as you pluck them off.

“That’s it? I don’t get one of your snarky responses to that?” you scoff and part from his side to chuck the latex into the bin. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised— You left that morning like it didn’t mean anything to you, I don’t know why now would be any different.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jack assures you in a low, solemn voice and a mournful glint in his soft eyes.

You almost believe him. You almost feel sorry for him, even. Almost. Until you’re bitterly reminded of the morning you woke up alone in your sun-drenched bedroom, the morning after you and Jack decided to cross a line you swore you never would. You remember calling out his name, and then reaching for your phone when you didn’t get a response, only to find that there was no message from him there either.

You remember how cold the sheets felt, how one side of them was still twisted with his shape. You remember the ache between your thighs as you got ready for the day. You remember the white-hot pain in your chest when he treated you like a stranger the following shift.

“Well, what was it like, then?” you say with a cynical laugh as you migrate to the sink against the wall. The faucet hisses on, spitting out scalding water almost instantly. You revel in the burn as you scrub your hands with a meticulous precision that’s more of an anxious tic than anything. “Because for me it’s like you got what you wanted and then you left—”

“That can’t be how you see it.”

“—And now, you can’t stand that I’m moving on from you,” you continue, then mumble under your breath as you pluck a wad of paper towels from the dispenser. “Or trying to, anyway…”

“I left because I was happy,” Jack blurts for the first time out loud.

Your head snaps over your shoulder. You find the man standing to full height again with a soft grunt in the very back of his throat. He keeps his shirt balled into his fists, fidgeting awkwardly with the fabric. He winces as he adjusts his weight on his prosthetic when he turns to face you.

You blink owlishly back at him. “What?”

“It was the first time I’ve slept in a bed with someone— or with someone since my wife passed,” Jack mumbles, focusing most of his attention on locating the sleeves of his scrub top. “And the first time I woke up not missing her, and I… I felt guilty.”

Your anger ebbs almost instantly. The rage that had been building a home inside of you for so long caves in a landslide.

“I was scared that if I stayed, I’d never be able to leave. And that scared me—” He rambles as he slides his pale arms through the sleeves, grimacing when the bandage on his shoulder tugs slightly. “And I didn’t know how to tell you… I guess I still don’t, if I’m being real honest.”

His voice muffles as he tugs the shirt over his silver curls.

“I thought I was doing us both a favor, and I just… Made it all worse.”

Jack tugs the hem of the black top down his toned stomach. He gives you a strange look — an emotionless, tight-lipped grin and a pair of brows raised to his hairline — not quite happy, but not quite sad either.

Your hands clench tight around the damp paper towel still wadded between them. You forget, momentarily, to respond. You wouldn’t know what to say if you could speak, anyway.

The silence between you swells suddenly with every conversation you never had before, every feeling you both have spent weeks swallowing down. So many months spent hurting, pretending, wasting.

Your eyes catch the blur of a shadow across the room. They widen as they flit away from Jack and toward Samira, who appears suddenly in the glass door, shoes squeaking when she stops suddenly in place at the sight of him standing there. She’s visibly exhausted when she swings the door open, dark eyes heavy and black hair wild. Her chest heaves with heavy breaths beneath her scrub top, as if she’d been searching for quite some time.

“I’m not interrupting something, am I?” she pants, eyes darting back and forth between the two of you. They linger briefly on your form. You think this is the first time she’s seen you in anything other than scrubs. “Lena was worried I might be interrupting something.”

Jack doesn’t give her a straight answer. “You need something, Mohan?”

“We got a trauma. Five minutes out,” she tells him. “Possible splenic rupture.”

Jack’s expression hardens. He nods once in concurrence, shifting back into physician mode in a blink.

“Got it,” he says, and waits for the door to shut behind Samira before turning back to you. There’s something distinctly shier in his eyes as he clears his throat and scratches at the back of his corded neck. “I’m, uh— I’m sorry... For sabotaging your date and… Everything before that…”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You nod with a wavering, tight-lipped grin. “Yeah, I know…”

He swallows hard, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He tilts his scruffy chin to peer down at you from the bridge of his nose. You can tell by his suddenly defensive stance that he’s about to ask you something — or, more specifically, something he’s scared to hear the answer to.

“You going back to Park the Shark?”

Your sheepish smile spreads into something more sincere. “Depends,” you shrug and turn away to chuck the paper towel into the bin.

“On?” Jack crosses his arms over his chest, biceps straining against his scrub sleeves.

“On if you’re gonna let me scrub in or not.”

His pink mouth lifts into a smug half-grin. “Then I guess you’d better go get changed, doc…”

"Fine," Deran murmurs, cleaning up the cards and chips. Craig collects the beer bottles and Pope grabs a wet rag to wipe down the table. You hand the younger two containers of the leftovers you guys had for dinner.

"It was nice seeing you guys. Be safe out there and don't do anything stupid," you kiss each of their cheeks.

Craig smirks and sends a wink your way, "No promises." You shake your head at him and walk out to the porch. You and Pope watch the guys head out and once they're driving away, you close the door.

You and Pope work in comfortable silence as you finish cleaning up the kitchen and dining room. Pope then follows you to your bedroom and sits on the edge of your bed.

He patiently waits there while you get ready, he watches your every move. Not in an obsessive, creepy way. But more in reverence. He still can't believe that, despite everything you've learned about him, you still want him around. You're so sweet, understanding, and caring. He doesn't deserve you and yet, he's selfish. He can't help but be attracted to your radiance.

After brushing your teeth and doing your skincare, you approach Pope. You straddle his legs and his arms wrap around you.

"Did you enjoy your night?" you ask softly, hands running through his dark curls.

He nods, "Yeah. Thank you for inviting them. It was-It was nice to feel...normal."

"You're welcome. I'm glad you had fun," you lean in a press your lips to his. You and Pope have been teering on some tension for a while now. You've given him teasing looks, his hands would run up your thighs and he'd pull away. He's been holding back. For what reason, you're not sure, but you don't want him to.

So you decide to make the first move.

"Touch me, Andrew," you murmur against his lips and he obliges. His hands slip under your sleep shirt. They run up your back and then move to the front. His hands stop just under chest and you grip his wrists, guiding his hands up further.

His thumbs graze your nipples, causing your breath to hitch, "More," you beg.

You slowly rock yourself on his lap, feeling him grow hard underneath you. You kiss him more, deeper. The desire you've had for him, building up.

"Andrew," you whimper his name and it sounds so beautiful from your lips, but...he still feels wrong.

He breaks the kiss and you look at him. Your pupils are dilated, your want for him clear on his face. And his face? Filled with hesitation and guilt.

The expression sobers you up immediately, "Oh," you climb off him and go to sit beside him instead, "I'm sorry. We don’t have to-"

He shakes his head, “No, it's-I want to. I really do. It's just-It's been a while and I don't-"

You slowly nod and place a hand on his thigh, “It's okay. We can keep going or stop. Whatever you're comfortable with.”

“Okay. Let's keep going."

You slowly lean in and wait. He meets you halfway, lips meeting yours again. You two fall into bed, kissing each other, hands gripping at each other.

"Shirt off," Pope mumbles against your lips and you quickly do so. You toss your shirt off to the side and Pope grabs at your breasts again.

"Your turn," you say with a chuckle, tugging his shirt up and off him, the garment joining yours on the floor.

You feel his hand slide towards your shorts, "Can I-"

"Please," you practically beg. His hand slips into your shorts and along your slit.

Your own hands graze along the button of his jeans, "Can I touch you, Andrew?" you whisper.

He nods and you work on undoing his jeans just enough to pull out his length. He's hard and fills your hand well. You pump him a few times and he lets out a shaky breath, "I-I don't-"

You stop and pull away, "It's okay. We don't have to do anymore." You sit up and he continues to lay there.

He rolls onto his back and looks at the ceiling, shame written all over his face, "I'm sorry."

"Andrew, it's okay."

"It's not. It's not okay! I just-Fuck!" he tucks himself back into his pants and moves onto his feet. He begins to pace your room, "You don't understand how fucking sad it is! I have a beautiful woman who wants to sleep with me and I want to sleep with her and yet the thought also feels so-so wrong! It feels wrong! And I don't know why!"

You grab your shirt and slip it back on. You then rush over to him and grab his arm, seizing his pacing, "You've gone through a lot. It's okay if something as intimate as sex feels weird for you."

"I want to make you happy."

Your heart breaks from how sad he sounds, "You do. In other ways. Sex isn't the only way to make me happy, Andrew. You've made me happy with how you listen to me, when you visit me during lunch, how you help me out with errands. Just having you around makes me happy." You cup his face and make him look at you, "I never want you to compromise your comfortability to make me happy."

You see tears welling up in his eyes. You see sadness but also...relief.

He wraps his arms around you and you take him in. You hold him as he cries, whispers of apologies against your shoulder.

"Don't be sorry," you reassure him.

"I love you."

"I love you too, Andrew. And I mean it."

You two eventually move back to the bed. His head lays on your chest and your fingers draw circles on his back.

"Feels nice," he murmurs.

You give a light giggle, "Yeah?"

He nods, "It's soft. Gentle."

Nurses turned to look at him and then back to you and Jack, un-sure of which immovable force was greater.

You only focused on the woman in front of you. Bruises up her arms, blood on her cut-away clothes, tubes coming out of her and into her, monitors beeping with life signs fleeting.

“It's a hypotensive pelvic bleed,” you said through your face screwed in concentration.

“A REBOA? Are you serious, right now?”

“I'm here, supervising, brother,” said Jack, still caved over you like he could protect you from Robby's wrath.

“You're not her attending,” Robby argued.

“No but I'm an attending.”

You could hear Robby's sharp inhale of breath, picture the clock of his head in annoyance and the tight pinch of his eyes. You knew every small give away of his that he didn't know he had. The tightness of his muscles when angers, the way he clutches at his chest for his star of David when silently scared.

The tension in the room chocked you.

Jack was still at your side, a comfort, a gentle wave against the sharp rocks. “Keep going.”

Robby said your name, an edge to it you'd never heard before.

Looking past Jack you found Robbie. He stood blocking the door, gowned up already, arms over his chest. His brows were pulled in, eyes dark as they levelled on you. He was danger dressed as a man.

But in front of you there was Jack, nodding encouragingly.

“Keep going.”

Your hands moved to carry on in spite of Robby's sigh.

“Okay... good...” said Jack as you pushed in the needle. “Femoral artery, couple inches. All right, let's guide wire and introduce the sheath.”

You pushed and did what Jack said, careful under his guidance.

Robby watched all the while, walking slowly around. He knew how well you preened under praise and careful instruction, like a cat purring at an owners touch. Robby knew because it was always him, ever since you began as a med student to intern to resident he'd been there to build you up, crafting you into a perfect doctor.

His perfect doctor.

Apparently he didn't like to share.

“How much saline have you pushed?” asked Robby.

“Five CC'S,” said Jack, without entertaining his attitude.

“Your carotid is weak,” said Robby. “Is it even there?”

“Yes,” you said.

Jack caught your gaze behind your goggles, pleading silently. You hadn't worked with him as much as you had Robby, or Langdon or almost anyone in the day shift but he seemed to catch on to your needs at once. “You know what to do.”

With his words you proceeded.

“Push another three CC'S of saline in the balloon,” you ordered.

“Injecting.”

There was a moment of silence as the saline was passed through tubes into the woman.

“How we looking?” asked Robby.

“Radial is up, pressure's up too- BP hundred-and-ten,” said Donnie.

For the first time since Jack dragged you into the trauma to teach you a REBOA, you looked at the patients face. At the blankness of it, the blood splattered at her cheek. There was colour returning to her.

“Check the wound,” said Jack.

You did so, the wound at her pelvis are that had been gushing on arrival had stopped bleeding.

“Looks okay,” you said.

Jack's gloved hand squeezed your gowned shoulder, blood of the woman passing between the two of you. However, it was the physical contact that broke you from your trance, pulling you up taller. “Good job, you saved her life, another couple minutes she wouldn't have made it.”

“She's still not out the woods yet,” said Robby.

You looked back at him with enough time to catch an un-characteristic roll of his eyes.

“Surgery can take her now,” said Jesse from the phone.

“Oh, finally they're ready for us?” teased Jack as he moved around the gurney. “Now that they've missed all the fun.” He passed you a wink that sent butterflies in your stomach rolling around.

The team pulled off gowns and gloves, pulling the gurney out the room.

“Wait-” said Robby, arm out stopping you as you went to follow.

The doors shut behind the gurney before Jack could understand you were behind, trapped in a room with a bear of a man who was failing at concealing his anger.

You waited for him to begin. Whether it were to be a lecture or an approval that you saved a woman's life, you wanted it over and done. The adrenaline was coursing through your body in crashing waves of red. You'd crash if you didn't calm. “There was no time for anything else-”

“- save it-”

“- there was no time for me to come and get you-”

“- stop!”

You stepped back, hands balled at your sides.

It wasn't un-common for any member of staff at PTMC to have Robby Robinavitch yell and demand the stars and moons from a person. It was scary to have him yelling at you, his deemed shadow and golden girl.

Since day one everyone knew you held a special place in Robby's heart.

“I saved a patient's life,” you defended. Was that not the most important thing to be doing? Could you not be attending to at least two other patients while he stood- imposing- in front of you.

“Doing an extremely risky procedure that is only reserved for the senior residents which you are not,” he scoffed out.

“Doctor Abbot was at my side the whole time, he talked me through every step.”

Robby shook his head, chuckling and looking around the room as if to be anywhere but with you. “Abbot-”

“- he believed me capable,” you said. “Don't you think I'm capable?”

His teeth bit into his bottom lip as he turned away from you, stretching his hand to the back of his head and flattening the hair there. When he turned back to you he took a step closer, watching the toes of his shoes meet yours.

“Do you know why I'm angry?”

No, you really didn't.

You took in a deep breath, meeting his eyes that lowered to yours. “Because I performed a high risk procedure.”

“A high risk procedure without me,” he corrected. “You're on day, not night. I'm your attending, not Jack. You get me when you're doing something like that, you understand?”

There was little room for argument. Your body trembled, the mixture of blood on your gloves and the beating of your heart heard in your ears. The lights of trauma two were suddenly too bright; walls too sterile. You nodded.

Robby tsked. “Do you understand?”

Every word was punctured with anger.

You rose to all your height. “Yes, I understand.”

He didn't dismiss you, only jutted his head back as he dragged a hand over his beard.

Without a word, you dismissed yourself.

“I just don't get why he was so.... angry,” you admit quietly.

The lights of the bar were dimmed in a golden light, casting sun set gazes around the bar Jack had told you was a good place to get a drink. He'd led you to a small table by a window with the blinds pulled down, his hand- the one that had saved so many lives- splayed out on the small of your back.

Somewhere along the night Jack's chair had scraped around closer to you. So close with every inhale you could catch the musk on him and his arm was comfortably slung around the back of your chair.

There were two empty whiskey glasses of Jack's and you were still cradling your first, down to the dregs.

“It's Robby,” said Jack with a shrug of his shoulders, but it didn't stop the crease in his brows.

“But he's never been like that with me.”

Was it the fact you'd seemingly lost your favouritism bothering you? More than you cared to admit. More so the fact you didn't understand why he'd yelled.

Why the flare of anger had burned brighter with you saving a life than anyone else?

Why your body had trembled at the rise of his voice.

Jack's body tilted toward yours, head bowed low as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Oh, come on....”

You slurped the last from your straw and looked at him. “What?”

“You don't have to play dumb with me.”

Your own body gravitated towards him. “Play dumb? I'm not playing dumb, what are you talking about?”

Jack chuckled, shaking his head to himself. He sipped the last of his drink. “Robby's...” he trailed off.

“Robby's...”

Jack levelled his gaze to yours. “He likes you.”

The words sat frozen in your brain. You knew Robby must have had some soft spot for you, you knew he liked you. But the way Jack said it, a teasing lift to his voice and the serious gaze of his eyes suggested it was more than the competence of your skills as a doctor that had Robby's affection.

“He doesn't,” you chuckled.

“He does,” said Jack, nodding along with your words.

“How would you know?”

Jack's cheeks dusted a faint pink, the rain on the window behind you dropping like mini thunderstorms. “Believe me, I know.”

You waited for more clarification.

“You have no idea the kind of effect you have on old men like us.”

Like us. Jack didn't just speak for Robby but himself. The pink in his cheeks, the hand on your back earlier. The heat from him was all different now. A wanting.

“Old men?” you smirked.

Jack's eyes darted between your eyes and lips. “Yeah, old men.”

“You're not that old, are you?”

Jack tilts his head side to side.

You peer closer at him as if trying to find the lines of age in his face. “Younger than Robby though, right?”

Jack nods. “Younger than Robby, if that makes any difference.”

“Any difference to what?” you asked, stirring the straw against the ice in one hand, the other holding your chin.

“To you.”

Under the table Jack's fingers traced over your knee, gently, as if he was trying to go un-noticed. You felt it anyhow. Felt as his fingers gripped your knee when you pushed your leg against his.

He watched you, analysing.

“Well,” you began, pushing your leg to kick over the other under the table and moving his hand further up your leg, till his all too eager fingers were splayed over your thigh. “What kind of effect is that?”

Jack was always a serious man at work. Competent and well kept. You didn't expect him to be so well versed in 'playing games'. “I dunno if I can tell you.”

“No?”

Jack shook his head, eyes lingering over his lips and his head tilted to the side, watching you. “I could show you?”

There was lip gloss stain over the straw in your glass, you saw it catch Jack's eyes as he pushed away your empty glasses to provide more space on the table.

“See any time you look at us, it's like-like a tingling sensation,” he said. “Like when you know someone's got their eyes on you.”

His hand that had been riding higher at your thigh darted away, leaving a sudden tremble of everything cold through your body. Instead, he rested his elbow at the table and beckoned your hand to his. He didn't hold it, instead, spread your fingers out and put palm to palm in a tender touch.

“And then when you touch us, it gets worse,” he uttered, eyes stuck on where your palms met. Jack's hand moved around yours, playing with your fingers.

“Worse?” you ask.

“A good worse. Good shivers,” said Jack, pulling at a finger.

“I touch you enough for you to gather all that?”

Jack's dark gaze found yours again. He bit down on his bottom lip. “Not nearly enough as I'd like.”

The door of the bar opened and a gush of wind cooled the heat on your skin. But Jack's eyes were like a furnace that you were sitting too close to, burning yourself and delighting in it. When the door shut again with an un-oiled squeak, Jack reached over.

He plucked the necklace charm from against your chest, the brush of his knuckles against your chest. “Pretty necklace.”

“Thank you,” you said, voice shaky un-characteristically.

“You get it yourself?”

“No, it was a present.”

It was almost as if he didn't have to ask who had gifted it to you. Whose hands had brushed back your hair in the middle of a shift and clasped it around the back of your neck.

Or maybe he just didn't want to know.

Jack's apartment was everything that made him.

As you passed the kitchen and he peeled off his jacket, keeping his lips close enough to breathe you in, you could smell the coffee from the morning plastered to the walls.

When he pressed you up to the sofa to shove his hands down your pants and slide a finger into your wet pussy your fingers scratched at some blanket he had thrown over the back of it.

You caught a glimpse of pictures around the place, a frame of meddles too but his place came to you in flashes and glimpses through pleasure.

“I'm gonna show you,” he uttered against your mouth as another finger slipped into you, worked inside of you. They curled up, your body moving into him at the feeling. “Just how I want to touch you.”

The car ride over had been torture enough. He could hardly get himself inside the car, stealing himself away from you. But your lips had been at his neck at every stop sign and red light. Your hand had ghosted over his crotch and the hardening length of him. As occupied as you'd been in each other in the front seats of his car you'd been beeped at twice.

“Jack,” your voice whispered, lips dragging against his as he slowly worked his fingers in and out of you, pulling at the seams of your panties.

“I'm gonna show you just how Robby wants to touch you.”

You wish the name didn't have the effect it did. That the fury you felt at him for how he yelled didn't turn to a throb in your core when Jack said his name.

“You're touching me, Jack,” you said, breathless.

“Yeah... yeah,” he said. “You like that I'm touching you?”

You nodded as his fingers retracted, finding your clit and wetting the bud of nerves, circling it.

“Say it,” said Jack. “Say it.”

“Yes, I like it.”

Jack grinned into the curve of your neck as his fingers plunged back in, working you open and spreading your wetness of the black of your panties. “God, you're making such a mess for me baby, aren't you?”

He worked you open a little longer, mumbling encouragement with every moan and throw back of your head. 'So pretty, arg, you're so pretty baby.'

By the time your stomach was coiling tight like a snake ready to pounce Jack removed his hand from your pants and kissed you again. It was a hard kiss, his clean hand grasping your cheek and keeping you still as he forcefully worked his lips against yours, like it had only just clocked in his head it was you he had on his lips, it was you he was turning to putty in his hand. Like he wanted to forge you into his lips

“Not done yet,” said Jack, hands sliding down to your hips as he guides his nose up and down your neck, breathing you in. “I wanna make you moan on my tongue, like Robby wishes he could, yeah?”

Your body betrayed you, shivering again in anticipation.

Jack's hands stirred you by the hips, urging you to his room. He pushed the door open over your head, licking into your mouth.

“Please... don't mention Robby right now,” you said as Jack fell slowly to his knees in front of you.

His brows rose. He kept his eyes on you as he pulled down your pants, helping you step out of them. “No? You don't want me to mention Robby?” he asked.

You shook your head, looking away from him. You knew you'd soaked yourself through by the small touches and passionate kisses from Jack. But you didn't need to see the realisation hit when he realised Robby's name had as much effect on you as Jack's own touches.

“Eyes on me, keep your eyes on me,” said Jack.

With a tight squeeze, you looked at him, seeing the attending of the night shift get closer to your heat.

“See, I think, you like when I say his name, huh?” his nose nudged your clothed clit. “Robby.”

Jack licked a stripe up your pussy, gathering your want through the cloth.

You were left, mouth agape, to catch your breath. Your hands didn't know where to go till Jack peeled off his shirt and guided your hands to his shoulders, your nails digging into the freckled skin there.

Jack wet his tongue with his spit before he rubbed it along your panties again, kissing you there. “I think you're so wet for me, but you're wet for Robby too, huh?”

“Jus-just you, Jack,” you gasped.

He swept a finger into your panties and let the elastic snap back against your skin.

Your body jolted in its wake.

“Not just me, don't lie,” he said, darkly.

In the morning would you realise what you'd done? Jack wasn't your attending but an attending none the less and Robby's friend- brother- at that. Although you and Robby were nothing more than colleagues, it didn't feel right to have Jack licking up your want with his name on his tongue.

“Liars don't get to come, you know,” he said. “So, you get this wet when you think about me?”

“Y-Yes.”

You could feel Jack's smile against your thigh as he pressed a kiss there.

Jack hooked two fingers around the bands of your panties and slowly dragged them down. “Do you get this wet when you think about our Doctor Robby?”

“Yes. Yes I do,” you gasped, your body curling up in the relief of letting go.

Yes, you liked Robby's extra attention. You couldn't even be left angry at his chastising you when it sent a wave of need through you, settling in your core. When you'd been at the bar with Jack, touching him in ways you'd thought about touching your own attending, almost wishing he would storm through the door and see the two of you.

“Good girl.”

Quickly Jack tilted his head back and found purchase in your pussy.

His tongue laid flat against your core.

It didn't stay in one place long. It explored all around you, tasting you for the first time and mapping out delicate spots. He slipped between your folds like he was always supposed to be there, moaning into you.

Your nails dug into his shoulders. “Mmh, Jack!”

He licked you up, spreading the mess of your want around and cleaning it up. “Taking my tongue so well,” he said against you. He dragged his lips down your thigh, wet tongue dragging up and down.

Your legs trembled as Jack spread the lips of your pussy and buried himself in there again. He pressed his thumb onto your clit, your body lurching at the pressure.

“Oh fuck, J-Jack!”

“Pull my hair, pull my hair,” he said into you.

Your did so. Your hand fell into the short strands of his salt and pepper hair, twirling into the strands and tugging just enough to rip a groan from him.

Jack buried himself into your further, his nose nudging into you deeper and deeper till he was almost trying to be inside of you.

Every time your eyes fluttered shut Jack pulled back, easing up on his work of your pussy and easing the orgasm that was slowly building up.

“No, no- eyes on me, keep your eyes on me, baby,” he said.

You looked down to him. “Jack, I want- I want to come.”

“I know, I know you do baby,” he said, flicking the tip of his tongue against your clit again. “You will, I promise, I promise.”

He eased himself up from his knees and helped off your shirt and peeled off your bra before he latched himself onto your breast.

Your back arched into him. His hands felt larger than ever as they curled around your waist and held you in. He groped at your breast, watching it jiggle as he moved before swirling his tongue around your nipple.

“Jack-”

“God, I wish Robby were here,” said Jack as he switched his attention to your other.

“Wh-what?” you didn't know if you'd heard him right.

Jack looked at your breasts instead of you, dedicating time to licking up each of them. “Wish Robby could see how good a girl you're being,” he muttered, almost to himself, like he wasn't talking to you. “How responsive you are. Would you like that? Would you like Robby to watch?”

You imagined it, closing your eyes.

Jack let you.

You pictured Robby sat on the bed, watching. Would he watch with his glasses perched low on the bridge of his nose? Would he keep his hands to himself or want to touch and play? You imagined how big he was, if he'd get hard watching.

If he'd touch. If he'd stand behind you while Jack kissed along your breasts. Would Robby dedicate enough time to the back of you?

“You want Robby?” asked Jack.

Anyone else eating you out or with hands on your chest wouldn't want another mans name on your lips.

Jack seemed to thrive on it.

“Yes,” you gasped.

Jack reached back up to you. “Yeah.... yeah...” his nose ghosted yours as he inched closer to kiss you.

In the slim lighting of his bed room you could see the shine of his lips from your arousal, the burn of red at his cheeks. There was a clink as he un-did his belt, throwing it behind him as he slowly pulled down his trousers.

First you saw the prosthetic of his leg before you trailed up, past the scars, to the heavy set of his cock. It flushed red at the tip, a leak of pre-cum running down. It stood tall onto the thin, greying hair down his sternum.

“Jack-” you reached for him, wrapping your hand around him.

“Ah- ahh fuck, baby,” he moaned as you slowly pumped him. “You feel so good. God, Robby doesn't know what he's missing.”

You tangled your tongue with his as you pumped, growing confident in every pump, in every leak of his cock, in ever groan of him into your mouth.

Would Robby guide you to holding Jack's man hood in your hand? Would his own hand wrap around your wrist and guide you up and down, muttering how good you were doing.

It was like you could hear him in your head.

'What a good girl doing what you're told, so responsive,' you imagined the heavy set of his tongue dragging over your pulse as you wrapped your arm around Jack's shoulders, smothering him in closer.

“I wish-” you said against his lips, making a mess out of you mouth as you squeezed his cock. “I wish Robby were here.”

“Yeah. Yeah, me too baby,” said Jack, slowly wrapping his fingers around your wrist and peeling back your hand. He pulled two of your fingers into his mouth, licking the taste of himself off and into the warmth of his mouth. “Next time.”

Jack eased you back on his bed, crawling over you.

You shuffled up, sitting up on his headboard. “Do you- do you want me to?”

Jack's brows pulled together as he brushed back your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “To what, baby?”

“To ride you? Would it be easier on your leg?”

Jack smiled, love sick. “That's very kind of you sweetheart. Next time, I'll let you ride me like I'm a damn horse,” he whispered as he slowly lowered you down. “Right now I want you to finish on my tongue. Then I'm gonna really fuck you like I've wanted to for so long.”

You watched with a bite to your lip as Jack rolled a condom over his cock before hovering over you.

He stirred the base of his cock against your pussy, rubbing the arousal of you over your slit.

“You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes, yes.”

Would Robby hold you against him, keep your legs spread for Jack? Or would Jack insist on Robby going first.

“Beg for it, baby.”

Before your words could leave your mouth the familiar buzz of your phone echoed between you.

Maybe anyone else would have ignored it, sent it to voicemail or let it ring. Except Jack- he moved down his bed, reaching for your pants and fishing out your phone. He smirked down at the contact before holding the phone out to you.

“Answer it.”

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking at him. “Wh-what?”

“Answer him,” he said, grabbing your hand and putting the phone it in.

Robby.

You looked to Jack, having no time to ask if he was serious before he was descending on the bed again. His eyes were pointed, gaze locked on you.

You answered, holding the phone to your ear. “H-hey, Robby.”

“Hey. Is everything okay?”

Did he know you'd left the bar with Jack? Did he hear his name called from both your lips?

“Yeah, everything's okay.”

Jack smirked at you.

“I've been calling you all night, you didn't answer,” you could hear the slight accusation in his voice, the small anger you hadn't bowed and answered the phone when he called. He wasn't good at hiding it though maybe he thought he was.

“Sorry I-”

Jack slid two fingers inside of you at once and pumped them without warning.

You caught your breath in your throat. “- I was busy.”

“Busy?”

“Yeah,” you gasped.

Robby stirred down the line. “You okay?”

Jack was looming close enough to you, nodding for you to pull the phone back enough for him to hear.

“Yeah, it's just, cold in my apartment,” you lied.

Jack's brows rose, he mouthed the word, cold?

“Still haven't sorted that heating, huh?” Robby chuckled down the line. “You need someone to come sort that out for you.”

Jack withdrew his hand, dragging those two fingers from inside of you around you, before lowering himself back down. He spread you open, lying his tongue back in.

“Yeah, I do.”

“Want me to come take a look at it?” asked Robby.

“Not- not right now,” you pushed your phone back as Robby scoffed lightly. You sort Jack's attention, begging for the end of the torture he was inciting. His eyes were a haze of lust as he only watched you, shaking his head slowly to feel all around you.

His hand pushed your knee up to your chest, welcoming him in deeper.

“Are you still mad at me for earlier?”

“Y-yes!”

“You are?”

You'd forgot Robby down the line, forgot his question, could only feel the depth of Jack's tongue in you. You bit down on the bottom of your lip. “Yes! Yes! Yes, I am!”

“Okay- well, i'm sorry,” he said down the line. “You just have no idea what seeing you with Jack does to me.”

Jack moaned into you, sending vibrations through your body. His nose nudged against your clit, circling his tongue in you. Your mouth opened, a moan ripping through you that Jack managed to stifle quickly by slamming his hand over your mouth.

“- It's just, I think of you as one of mine,” Robby continued down the line, un-aware's to Jack tapping your phone on speaker and placing it next to you.

Jack dropped his mouth next to your ear, nipping at the lobe. “As mine,” he uttered.

“- seeing you with Jack, I can't stand it, you know I can't-”

Jack went back down to his work, two fingers working inside of you as he sucked in your clit. Your walls are like silk that his fingers thread through with ease, your mind blank with pleasure.

Your moans continued to be muffled by his mouth, he dared not move it.

“- you know I... you know I favour you over anybody else in that ER-”

Your hand reached out for your phone, sure you would come soon and needed to end the phone call.

Jack reached out for you. “Be nice, be nice.”

You picked up the phone and put it to your ear, Jack sucking diligently at your bundle of nerves. “Robby, I-”

“What is it? You sound like you're burning up? You need me?”

Yes, you needed him.

Jack curled his fingers up and you came with a loud gasp, ending the call abruptly as your world shattered in stars of want. Your back arched into Jack's mouth as he laid there open mouthed, taking what you could give him like a man dying of thirst.

Only when your breathing calmed and you could open your eyes to make sense of the world- and Jack's room- did Jack slowly move out his fingers, gently crawling up you body with kisses like butterflies.

You laughed when Jack reached your neck. “Oh god.”

“What?” he said, laughing along with you.

“I hung up on Robby.”

You’d started seeing someone to help you process everything that happened—the murder you witnessed and what came after. It hadn’t been easy. Some days still felt heavier than others, like the memory was right beneath the surface waiting to pull you back under.

But slowly, in small steps, things were beginning to shift. You were learning how to sit with what happened without letting it consume you. Learning how to breathe through the fear instead of getting swallowed by it. Learning, bit by bit, how to keep moving forward.

Sammy and Nate checked in when they could, keeping you updated with whatever information they were able to find about the case. 

Tonight, you were halfway through making dinner, absentmindedly stirring something on the stove while the TV murmured softly in the background. There was a knock at your door.

You freeze.

You lower the spoon onto the counter and cross the room, wiping your hands nervously against your sweatpants before unlocking the door.

“Who is it?”

Then a familiar voice calls from the other side. “It’s Sammy.”

You unlock the door. Sammy and Nate stand on the other side, both looking more serious than usual. Sammy’s hands are shoved deep into the pockets of his jacket while Nate stands stiffly beside him, his expression unreadable.

“Hey,” Sammy says quietly.

“Hi,” you answer, your gaze flicking between them. “What’s going on?”

Sammy exchanges a quick look with Nate before speaking again. “We have an update on the case. Do you mind if we come in?”

Your chest tightens at the word case.

“Sure,” you murmur, stepping aside to let them through.

You step aside to let them in.

Neither of them says much as they walk into the house. You close the door behind them, the click of the lock suddenly sounding too loud in the quiet apartment.

The smell of dinner still lingers in the air as you trail after them into the living room. Sammy and Nate sit on the couch while you lower yourself into the chair across from them, your hands curling tightly together in your lap.

You reach for the remote and mute the TV, the soft glow from the screen flickering across the room as silence settles over all three of you.

For a moment, nobody speaks.

Then Sammy finally breaks the silence.

“We got him.”

Your breath catches. “W-what?” Your eyebrows lift in shock as you stare at them. “You found him?”

Nate nods once. “We have a suspect in custody,” he says carefully. “But we need to do a lineup.”

“A lineup?” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended.

“We need you to identify him,” Nate says. “Officially.”

The room suddenly feels colder. Your stomach twists hard enough to make you feel sick.

Sammy leans forward slightly, his voice gentler now. “You don’t have to answer right this second. We know this is a lot–”

“N-no,” you cut in quickly, shaking your head. “I want to.”

The words come out shaky, but certain.

Silence settles over the room for a brief moment. Sammy studies your face carefully, like he’s trying to make sure you really mean it.

“You’re sure?” He asks softly.

You wanted justice for the man he murdered, but also for yourself. For what he did to you. For the fear he left behind and trying to work through. 

“If you identify him,” Nate says carefully, “it gives the DA enough to move forward with charges. Your statement and the lineup become part of the case.”

He pauses, meeting your eyes directly.

“And because you’re an eyewitness to the murder itself, there’s a strong chance you’d be called to testify later on. That could be at a preliminary hearing or at trial…if it goes that far.”

Sammy’s voice softens slightly. “It doesn’t always end up in a full courtroom trial. Sometimes there’s a plea deal before that happens.”

Nate nods once. “But if it does, we don’t just put you on the stand and leave you there. We prep you for everything…what you’ll be asked, what the courtroom looks like, who will be there. You’d be guided through it step by step.”

A brief pause settles in the room again, heavier this time, but honest.

Sammy adds, “Right now, though, the lineup is the next step. That’s all you have to focus on.”

You let their words sink in. You let out a slow breath, trying to steady yourself.

“We can schedule it whenever you’re ready,” he says softly. “Tomorrow, next week… whenever.”

“No,” you say quietly, shaking your head. “I don’t want to keep waiting… could we do it tomorrow?”

Sammy nods immediately. “Okay,” she says gently. “If that’s what you want, we’ll make it happen.”

The smell hits first—sharp. .

“Oh shit.”

You rush back toward the kitchen and cut the heat on the stove. You already know it’s too late.

Sammy’s already moving, fanning the smoke. Nate steps in and reaches up, switching off the smoke detector before it can fully go off.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sammy says, still waving a hand through the air.

Nate glances at the pan, then at you. “It happens.”

You turn on the sink, letting water run over the pot as you stare at it like it personally betrayed you. The hiss of steam rises up immediately. Fading smoke and the quiet mess of what was supposed to be dinner.

“Well,” you mutter, shoulders dropping slightly, “there goes my dinner.”

Sammy tilts his head toward you. “We were actually just about to go get something to eat. You should come with us.”

Nate glances sideways at him quick, subtle. Not unkind. Just a look that says remember what we talked about. Boundaries. Lines. Don’t get too emotionally folded into it too fast.

Sammy catches it, but doesn’t backtrack. 

You blink, caught off guard more than anything, then glance back at the ruined pot once.

“…Yeah,” you say quietly. “I’d like that.I’ll just go change real quick.” You disappear down the hall, leaving the apartment quieter behind you.

Nate’s voice drops low enough that it doesn’t carry past the room. “You gotta be careful.”

Sammy glances at him. “About what?”

Nate tilts his head slightly toward the hallway. “You know what I mean. We’ve talked about this, Sammy.”

“I’m not doing anything wrong.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Nate replies evenly. 

Sammy opens his mouth to argue, but Nate cuts him off with a small shake of his head.

“You always get a little too emotionally attached to some of the people we help,” Nate says. “I’ve seen it before.”

Sammy looks down, jaw tightening slightly.

Nate studies him for a moment. “And that’s exactly why I’m saying something.”

“She’s alone, Nate. She doesn’t have anyone there for her…”

“So were a lot of people we’ve helped.”

Sammy falls quiet.

Nate sighs “You care. That’s one of the things that makes you good at this. But you can’t be the person who saves everyone, Sammy”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

Sammy doesn’t answer right away.

Finally, he rubs a hand over the back of his neck and looks toward the hallway. The conversation drops away as you step back into the room, ready to leave.

“I’m ready,” you announce with a small smile.

Sammy looks over at you, whatever had been on his mind disappearing behind an easy expression.

“Good,” he says, “Let’s go.”

—

You were laughing, your head tipped back as Sammy told another story about him and Nate had on the job. The hum of conversation and the clatter of dishes filled the diner around you, but Sammy had your full attention. He talked with his hands, getting more animated with every detail, and every time he made you laugh harder, a grin spread across his face.

Across the booth, Nate rolled his eyes and let out a quiet chuckle. For once, he stayed silent, letting Sammy have the floor. Every now and then he'd shake his head when the story became a little too exaggerated, the look on his face saying he'd heard it a hundred times before. Still, there was a fondness there as he listened.

You hadn't laughed or even smiled like this in a long time. Sitting in the worn diner booth, surrounded by the smell of coffee and greasy food, the weight you've been carrying felt a little lighter. For a little while, you were able to forget everything else and simply enjoy being here.

Suddenly, Sammy's phone started ringing.

He pulled it from his pocket and glanced at the screen.

"It's Tammi. I gotta take this." The comment seemed directed more at Nate than anyone else.

Sammy shoved his phone to his ear as he slid out of the booth. "I'll be back."

You watched him head toward the front of the diner, but he hadn't gotten very far before his voice carried back to the table.

"No, Tammi, that's not what happened!"

A beat passed.

"Because that's not what I said!"

He pushed through the front door, but even through the glass you could still see him gesturing with his free hand, clearly growing frustrated. Sammy threw his head back in exasperation. 

Your eyebrows furrowed as you watched him, concerned flickering across your face. Nate, meanwhile, didn't seem bothered in the slightest.

Tammi’s his wife, right?” you ask Nate, your thoughts drifting back to the conversation you’d had about her with Sammy in his car that night when he’d driven you around aimlessly because you couldn’t sleep.

“Yeah,” Nate sighs.

“Is it always like that?” you ask, your meaning clear, Sammy and Tammi, arguing over the phone.

"Pretty much." He leaned back in the booth, exhaling. "It burns hot for a while, then it’s like nothing ever happened. Until the next time."

Another muffled burst of Sammy's voice drifted in from outside.

"That doesn't seem healthy..." you said cautiously.

He glanced toward the window, where Sammy was still pacing with his phone pressed to his ear.

“It’s not, but Sammy loves Tammi,” Nate said quietly, watching him for a moment longer. “He puts up with a lot of shit when it comes to her.”

He hesitated, jaw tightening as he kept his eyes on Sammy.

“Sammy’s a good guy,” he continued, voice lower now. “But she just walks all over him…takes advantage. She comes up with these crazy ideas and expects him to be okay with it. Never runs anything by him, and Sammy’s always the one left cleaning up the mess.”

His expression hardened slightly, frustration slipping through.

“I just don’t get it,” Nate admitted. “He bends over backwards for her, and she—” He cut himself off, exhaling sharply. “It’s like she doesn’t even notice what it costs him.”

“I don’t particularly like her…” Nate cut himself off, as if only then realizing how much he’d said. “Sorry. I shouldn’t be airing this out. It’s not my place and this is very unprofessional.”

You met his eyes, steady and reassuring.

“Well, I don’t think any less of you or him. It’s off the record, but I get it. You’re his partner… his friend. You care about him”

“Yeah…he’s my brother. Love him to death”

A small smile tugged at your lips at that.

Nate noticed it and huffed softly, like he didn’t quite know what to do with the moment.

“It’s just…” he started again, then paused, eyes flicking back toward Sammy before returning to you. “I don’t think she treats him the way he deserves.”

“I’d be lucky to have someone like Sammy,” you said quietly.

That made Nate pause. He looked at you a little more directly this time, like he was trying to figure out whether you meant it the way it sounded. His eyebrow lifted slightly.

“Oh god…I didn’t—I–” you started quickly, words tripping over each other as you tried to backpedal, to save yourself from what you’d just said.

It came out too fast, too honest. A silly little crush on Sammy you knew wasn’t going anywhere. He was the detective on an active case you were involved in, and he was married, completely off-limits. No matter how harmless, the feeling stayed tucked away. Still, you thought he was cute, kind, funny, and easy to talk to and you liked how safe you felt around him.

Before you could dig the hole any deeper, Nate let out a quiet chuckle.

“Off the record,” he said, easing the tension with just those two words.

You manage an embarrassed smile, heat rising in your cheeks. A voice cuts in before you can respond.

“Sorry about that,” Sammy said as he slipped back into the booth, settling into his seat with an easy familiarity, completely unaware of the conversation he'd just interrupted.

“You okay?” Nate asked, giving him a quick once over.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” Sammy said, waving it off. Then he looked between the two of you. “Now, where was I?”

“We were dealing with Elmo on Hollywood Boulevard,” Nate supplied, jogging his memory.

“Oh, right!” He pointed at Nate. Anyway...” He turned back to you. “So this guy dressed as Elmo...”

—

“You’re still willing to come in tomorrow and identify the suspect in the lineup?” Nate asked. The three of you stood on your front porch, the evening air settling around you as the conversation wound down.

“Yes,” you said with a nod.

“Okay.” Nate returned the nod. “We’ll have the lineup set for around noon. If anything changes, we’ll let you know.”

“Sounds good.”

“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Nate said.

“Tomorrow,” you echoed.

“Hey, I’ll catch up in a minute,” Sammy called after him.

Nate glanced back, then gave a small nod before heading toward the car, leaving the two of you alone on the porch.

A brief silence settled between you.

“Thanks for tonight,” you said.

“Yeah, of course.” Sammy shoved his hands into his pockets. “Do you need a ride tomorrow? We can come pick you up if you need.”

You shook your head. “I’ll manage. Thanks for the offer”

The quiet lingered for a moment before his expression softened.

“How’ve you been holding up?” He asks. 

You looked down briefly, gathering your thoughts. “Okay,” you said honestly. “Those resources you gave me... I've been talking to someone. Going to the support groups, too. It's been helpful.”

Your eyes lifted back to him.“So... Thank you. For taking the time to put all that together for me.”

“Yeah, of course,” he said. “I’m really glad they’ve been helpful.”

He paused, then added more quietly, “I know none of that stuff makes things magically better overnight, but you shouldn't have to carry all of it by yourself.”

Something warm settled in your chest at that. “Well,” you said with a small smile, “it helped more than you probably realize.”

A faint smile pulled at the corner of his mouth.

“Good,” he said simply. “That's all I was hoping for…I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Sammy.”

“Goodnight.”

With one last nod, he turned and headed down the walkway toward Nate and the waiting car, leaving you standing on the porch.

—

You step into the police station at noon, the glass doors shutting behind you with a soft thud. The familiar buzz of phones ringing, keyboards clacking, and low conversations fills the lobby.

Behind a thick pane of security glass, the receptionist looks up from her computer. “Can I help you?”

“Hi.” Your voice comes out quieter than you intended. “I’m here to see Detective Bryant and Detective Moretta.”

“Name?”

You give it to her, watching as she types something into the computer. After a moment, she nods.

There’s a loud click before the secured door beside the desk unlocks with a buzz.

“You can head through there.” She pauses, stopping an officer on his way out. “Hey, Coop—could you bring her down to Gang and Narcotics?”

The officer slows, glancing between the two of you before giving a short nod. “Yeah, I got her.”

“She’ll be waiting for Detectives Nate and Sammy,” the woman adds. 

Cooper pushes the door open wider for you. “C’mon,” he says, motioning for you to follow.

You recognize him. Officer John Cooper.

He’d been one of the officers on patrol outside your house the night of the murder. Recognition crosses his face too. 

“Hi,” you greeted him with a small smile. 

“Hey” he replied with a nod, acknowledging you as he held the door and led the way down the hall.

Cooper glances over at you as he walks. “How’ve you been holding up?”

“I’m doing okay…”

He nods once like he expected that answer. “Been a rough few weeks.”

“Yeah.”

He guides you into the middle of the bullpen. A rowdy open room filled with desks pushed together in clusters. Phones ring constantly here, someone arguing lightly across the room about paperwork while another detective laughs at something under his breath. It feels chaotic, alive.

Near the middle, two desks sit across from each other, both buried in files, coffee cups, and scattered notes.

Sammy looks up first from his chair when Cooper approaches. Nate leaning against Sammy’s desk with a folder in his hands, turns a second later.

Both of their expressions soften immediately when they see you.

“Hey,” Sammy says, standing.

“Thank you” you turn and give Officer Cooper a smile. He nods before walking away. 

“You ready?” Sammy asks.

Your throat feels tight, but you manage a nod anyway.

“Alright,” Nate says softly, “We’ll walk you through it.”

They lead you down the hallway. The farther you get from the bullpen, the quieter everything becomes. Nate walks slightly ahead, while Sammy hangs back just enough to stay beside you. 

When your fingers start twisting nervously in your sleeves, Sammy notices immediately.

“You’re okay,” he says quietly. “There’s no rush.”

You nod again, though your stomach is twisting harder with every step.

Nate opens the door to a dim observation room. A large pane of glass stretches across the wall in front of you. Beyond it is another room. Empty except for black height lines marked against the wall and numbers taped along the floor.

Your chest tightens at the sight.

Nate steps beside the glass. “Okay. In a minute, six men are going to come in and stand on the numbers. They may have them turn, step forward, or say a few words. Standard procedure.”

“You don’t have to answer immediately,” Sammy adds. “Take your time. If you recognize someone, you tell us the number they’re standing on.”

“And if you’re not sure,” Nate says gently, “you say you’re not sure. Don’t pressure yourself into choosing somebody.”

Your eyes stay fixed on the empty lineup room. “Will they be able to see me?”

“No,” Sammy says firmly.

Nate gives a small shake of his head. “This is a one-way glass. You can see them, but they can’t see you. He won’t know where you are.”

“He won’t hear you either,” Sammy adds. “Only us.”

You exhale shakily, but the tightness in your chest eases just slightly.

Sammy gestures toward the chair closest to the window. “Sit if you want. And if this gets overwhelming at any point, we stop. Doesn’t matter if they’re halfway through the lineup. You’re in control here,”

Before you sit, he pauses, studying your expression for a second longer. “You still okay to do this?”

The question was gentle, genuine like he was giving you every opportunity to change your mind without a hint of judgment.

Your fingers tightened together nervously. After a moment, you nodded.

“Yeah.”

Sammy studied you for a second. Not fully convinced you were calm, but accepting the answer anyway.

“Okay.”

You lowered yourself into the chair, clasping your hands tightly in your lap to keep them from shaking.

Nate remained by the observation glass while Sammy stayed close by. Sammy glanced over at you one last time. When you gave him a small nod, he looked at Nate and gave a subtle okay.

Nate returned the nod, then leaned toward the intercom.

“Alright,” he said, pressing the button. “Bring them in.”

The lineup room beyond the glass still sits empty for another moment, painfully quiet. Then men file in one by one, forming a straight line before stopping and turning toward the glass.

Your breath catches. Your stomach drops. That same stare. The same shape of his face. The crooked nose you remember too clearly and then your eyes catch on the tattoo curling just above his collar.

Your eyes stay locked on the man in the lineup like you can’t force yourself to look away. Everything inside you locks up. It feels like he’s staring right at you.

“It’s- It’s three, he’s the man in the alley…” you swallow, forcing the words through. “It’s number three.”

“You’re sure it’s number three?” Nate asks, not doubting you, just making sure the detail is solid, anchored.

You nod quickly “I’m sure,” you say. “His eyes…that tattoo. It’s him–” 

Your hand lifts to your throat before you even realize it, fingers brushing against your skin like you can still feel his grip there. The memory crashes back in. 

You didn’t expect this…didn’t think seeing him on the other side of the glass would hit you like this.

“I—I can’t breathe—” you manage, voice breaking as tears spill over before you can stop them.

“Cut it, Nate,” Sammy says sharply.

Nate immediately goes to the intercom, voice low as he tells them they’ve got what they need.

“Hey—hey. Look at me. Don’t look at him. Look at me.”

Sammy steps into your line of sight, blocking the glass completely. His hands settle on your shoulders. 

You grab onto him, arms wrapping tightly around his middle. You bury your face deeper into the crook of his neck. His arms come around you just as quickly, holding you steady against him.

“It’s okay,” he says quietly. “You’re okay.”

His hand settles between your shoulder blades as your breath comes in short, uneven pulls.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs again, quieter this time. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.” 

The words give you something to focus on besides your panic. His hand never left your back, rubbing slowly. 

Behind him, Nate watches silently. Sammy can already feel Nate staring at the back of his head, probably knowing he’s going to say something about this later. Right now, Sammy doesn’t care.

“Shhh, you’re okay,” he says softly.

Your breathing starts to steady. After a moment, Sammy pulls back just enough to look down at you. 

“I’m sorry…seeing him just…Sorry…” you say, as you quickly wipe the tears from your eyes.

“Hey,” he cuts in gently. “You have nothing to apologize for. You did good.” His voice stays calm as he rubs your arms. 

“How about we get you something to drink? Fresh air, too,” Nate suggests gently.

You nod. 

“I got her,” Nate says, glancing at Sammy as he passes Sammy a file. 

Sammy hesitates for a beat, then nods once. “Yeah… okay.”

“Come on,” Nate says, a hand settling lightly on your back as he guides you toward the door and out of the room.

—

You sit on a bench in a small courtyard outside the police station, a water bottle in hand as you take slow sips.

Nate sits beside you in silence. 

“What's gonna happen now?” you ask him

“We got what we needed,” he said gently. “Your statement, the identification... that gives us what we need to move forward with the investigation.”

He glanced at you briefly, checking your reaction before continuing.

“Like we said yesterday…we’ll present the case to the DA. They’ll decide what charges to pursue, and if the case moves forward, it could eventually go to trial.”

You nodded quietly, absorbing the weight of what that meant.

“So... more waiting,” you said.

A faint, sympathetic smile crossed Nate's face.

“Unfortunately,” he replied. “A lot of it is waiting.”

You let out a quiet sigh and looked down at your hands.

“I’m going to hate that…”

Nate nodded, like he'd heard that sentiment a hundred times before. “Most people do.”

“Because when you're waiting, your brain fills in the blanks,” he continued. “You start wondering what's happening behind the scenes, whether anything's moving forward, whether it's actually going anywhere.”

You gave a small nod. “Exactly.”

“But that doesn't mean nothing's happening,” Nate said. “It just means a lot of the work is happening where you can't see it.”

“In the meantime,” he said, “keep doing what you've been doing. Sammy, mentioned you’ve been going to therapy and support groups…” 

“Just don't put your life on hold waiting for the next update,” he added gently. “We'll call when we have something. Until then, focus on you.”

“That’s easier said than done,” you said, letting out a humorless laugh.

Nate nodded, unsurprised.

“Yeah,” he admitted. “It usually is.”

Sammy approaches and stops in front of the two of you. 

“Everything okay?” he asked, tone easy but observant.

Nate gave a small nod. “Just wrapping up.”

Sammy’s eyes flicked to you a second longer, softer now. “You good?” he asked, more gently this time.

You nod and sigh “Ready to head home”

“We’ll take you home,” he said simply.

You and Nate stood, and the three of you walked out of the courtyard together, then made your way toward the car.

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You made him his meals- breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with snacks included, based on the diet that his trainer provided for you both. The week leading up to a fight night was the worst for his diet and mental health- because that’s when his cut would start. His usual meals were cut in half or replaced by a protein shake altogether. Andrew even measured how much water he drank because by Friday he had to lose 10 pounds to make weight. The first day of his cut would be fine- he’d wake up before the sun even peeked through your windows and go to the bathroom to weigh himself before texting the weight to his coach. He stretched- did nothing to promote strength anymore so much as to promote sweating and get his movements down to a science before his fight.

You would find him shadow boxing outside in the heat- eyes closed so he can get the motions right in his head while you made breakfast. Andrew went from almost 4,000 calories down to maybe 1,500 just to maintain his energy- his breakfast was now egg whites and fruit with black coffee 6 oz., you watched him pour it into the measuring cup beforehand. After breakfast it was back to training while you made sure hotel and flight was booked properly- that cars were rented and interviews were scheduled while you watched him jump rope for nearly 15 minutes straight before practicing his footwork. His coach said he was using too much force- too much tension so Andrew was making sure he stayed on the balls of his feet to preserve his energy and strength if the fight went too long.

It was maybe two days of that routine until his cut started. Anger and sleep deprivation started to set in. Andrew was mentally drained- he was hungry, dehydrated, and deprived. Because another thing his coach believed in?

Abstinence.

No big distractions the week of a fight. You would field all his calls and appointments, you would handle the business and make sure nothing stressed him that wasn’t dire until the actual fight night. You wouldn’t even kiss him. Not even a peck before bed because you knew if Andrew had a taste then he’d breakdown and inhale you for as long as he could. You almost had to sleep in the guest bedroom a few times because you’d feel him at your back in the middle of the night and somewhere between grinding in his sleep or you moving around in yours- he got hard. Painfully so and sometimes he was so pent up that you’d feel his hips press into your ass for some relief and you would have to pull away. Force yourself from him because you were just as needy and desperate.

Cold showers for both of you would help. Andrew’s was spent letting the icy water rain down on his sore muscles- achy body desperate for some relief but his coach would tell him to not even jerk off before a fight. That was just as bad as sex. The pent up testosterone and anger would be fuel for Andrew- it would become the driving force and power that would help him win. Cumming would help him relax and the last thing he needed was his star athlete relaxing before a fight. But you didn’t have the same rules- you would spend your freezing showers biting your fist and using your fingers to rub your clit and help dull the ache in your pussy. But it never helped. You would cum- panting and shaking but all you would want was Andrew to be the one who made you cum.

What’s worse was that Andrew could tell- maybe it was to torture himself more on his end but Andrew knew the look you had. When you’d watch him come back from his jog dripping with sweat- the way you would bite your lip and how your eyes would hungrily stare at him while you watched the beads of sweat drip down his chest and melt into the waistband of his shorts. When you’d sit by the pool and listen to the way he would grunt while holding a plank until failure- heavy breathing through his nostrils and soft grunts that sound similar to the way he did when he was on top of you. Sliding between your pussy and forcing your leg a little higher up his torso to get the angle that makes you see stars just right. Andrew knew the look you had- so he followed you after you said you were going to shower. Stood outside of the door and listened to the little whimpers you bit back while you attempted to quell the need you had for him.

God it was fucking torture. But Andrew couldn’t touch you. Right? You knew better than to ruin his fight over being a horny bitch for your boyfriend- but Andrew didn’t want you to suffer along with him. He wasn’t fucking selfish, if anything- Andrew was a fucking giver and maybe that was the worst part about denying yourself the pleasure of his touch during fight week. He left you more than satisfied. And it was torture to Andrew- that he couldn’t fuck you but- he could still bring you pleasure even if he couldn’t stuff you full of his cock and feel the way you clench and spasm around him when you cum. It was fucking torture for the both of you and Andrew wasn’t going to let you suffer any longer when the fight was still days away and he knew he’d be sore and bruised and bloody after that you’d be too scared to touch him- but he saw the way you bit your lip and how your leg shook with anxiety and pent up sexual frustration while you both sat and watched his opponent’s last few fights on opposite ends of the couch.

God you wanted to slap him- how fucking dare he walk around in nothing but his boxer briefs that hugged his thighs so well. That showed you the swell of his ass that you wanted to bite and gave you an uninhibited view of his soft dick that was still fucking huge and made you clench around nothing when he passed by to sit and watch along with you. From the corner of your eyes you saw how wide he sat- how this thick fucking thighs took up the entire end of the couch and the ripple of his abs moving like waves every fucking time he took a breath. The stress ball in his fist was clenched within an inch of its life from how hard Andrew worked to keep himself concentrated on the tv but dammit he could feel you watching him. The way you bit your lip and finally you stood with a pathetic excuse of- “I’m gonna take a shower,” so you could rub your pussy and cum but his heavy hand grabbed your wrist to stop you.

“C’mere,” he grunts- tugging you into his lap with no effort at all while you’re left dazed. Gasping his name and struggling to get out of his hold because you know what he’s doing- you know what he wants. Pathetic little whimpers of his name followed along with ‘we can’t’ or ‘baby wait’ while he ignores your halfhearted attempts to pull away from him- because the second you were in his lap? The second you felt his cock stiffen underneath you from the way you wriggled and moved about? You melted. Moaned pathetically into the hot air while Andrew nipped and licked at your neck- heavy hands that were sore and bruised pawed at your body. “You need this,” it was simple. Andrew knew you needed to cum. Andrew didn’t care if he couldn’t cum. Andrew wanted you to cum. “Been so good for me sweetheart,” doing everything you can to keep him healthy and keep him on track- maintaining his schedule and sanity while neglecting yourself. Taking care of him- reminding him to take his vitamins and even measuring out water for him and making his meals and not eating in front of him because you knew how hard it was for him to eat plainly while you got to eat what you wanted.

“Let me take care of you,” he keeps cutting you off- silencing your protests with his slightly chapped lips and swallowing your whimpers with his tongue against yours. God it felt so fucking good- his rough hands dragging your shirt up so he can lick and suck at your chest with needy until you start to grind in his lap. Your clothed pussy catches his hard-on just right- rubbing against him to relieve yourself of the ache and you could feel how thick and stuff he got with only a few minutes of kissing and touching you. Twin groans breaking the kiss- tongues no longer tangled together but you continue panting in each other’s mouths before you try to pull away. You can’t- you’ll make him cum like this- you know how stressed he is and when you try and tell Andrew that you’re fine and you can wait another week or two he’s already manhandling you onto one of his deliciously thick thighs.

“Ride,” it’s a command- Andrew isn’t asking you anymore. He’s not waiting for you to ask permission or waiting for you to leave the bed late at night for you to stuff your fingers into your pussy and give yourself a pathetic orgasm that won’t stop the burn between your thighs. Andrew wants you to take it from him- to grind your covered pussy over the thick quad muscles of this thighs and give yourself whatever pleasure you want since he can’t fuck you the way you deserve.

“Andrew- b-baby no I-” you’re sputtering- shaking your head because you need to deny yourself the pleasure and he shuts you up with two strong hands grabbing your hips to drag you up the meat of his thigh. “Fuck!” You probably scream it in his ear but the way your panties rub against your needy pussy lips felt too fucking good and Andrew was moaning- panting right alongside you. Your pleasure was his pleasure- he unfortunately got off on you getting off and- god this was bad. This could go bad so fast but you were weak- useless to stop him from manhandling you up and down his leg. Your warm pussy was intoxicating to him- he swears he could already feel your wetness seeping from your panties and onto his skin but even more perfect was the way you whined his name. Little broken and choked off gasps of “ah~ Andrew!” into the tiny space between you both.

“Please baby- I need you to cum,” it was like he was living vicariously through your orgasm- mumbling against your chest before his lips wrapped around your nipple to suck and scrape his teeth against. He should’ve taken your panties off first- should have rid you of all your clothes before forcing you to grind on his thigh like this so he could feel your wet folds catch the soft waves of his muscles. Both of your arms grab onto Andrew- one hand threading through his soft curls to pull and grab onto while the other claws at his back. The wide expanse of his shoulders getting attacked by your nails and there’s no way he’d be able to tell his coach that you didn’t do it- no way to deny that he wasn’t between your perfect thighs when the evidence was on his body but god he couldn’t give less of a fuck that he does now.

“Like that- just like that pretty girl,” he can feel the way your thighs clench- how you’re already so fucking close with the way your breathing gets shorter and the way you can barely finish saying his name without cutting yourself off to moan. “Please baby- little more okay?” Muffled- mumbled into your skin before he resumes licking your other nipple into his warm mouth. Every drag of your cunt across his thigh sends electricity straight through your body- your clit catching the fabric of your underwear perfectly and you’re so fucking close. You just- god you felt so fucking empty. Pussy clenching around your own wetness and nothing else while your body moves itself back and forth- Andrew tensing his thigh to give you a little more to use for your own selfish gain. Every roll of your hips and scrape of his teeth give you just that much more and you’re about to beg him to fuck you until you finally feel his hand at your hip slide down to grab the meat of your ass before going lower. The tips of his thick fingers just barely brushing at your entrance-

One more grind- maybe you even try go a little too far but you desperately need to sink back onto Andrew’s fingers that tease at your wetness. He wants you to use him- wiggling his digits a little with every glide of your pussy until finally you go back just a little more and you whimper when he’s finally inside you. “That’s it,” like it’s what he wanted all along- like it makes him feel better to feel how wet and fucking needy you were for him. Such a good girl- neglecting yourself for him? “Better?” Almost sounding condescending- taken to fucking you with his fingers now because the feeling has you already riding a high that you can’t even keep rolling your hips anymore. You feel it- blinding heat and pleasure bubbling up with every drag of his thick fingers through your leaking pussy.

“Keep going,” his lips dragging along your jaw- biting your skin because he knows you’re close and he wants to feel you cum. Your sweet pussy juices drip down his hands- loud wetness making the room sound fucking nasty and all it does is encourage Andrew to use his thumb to circle around the right hole of your ass. His other hand continues forcing your hips to roll over his thigh- your clit dragging back and forth and when you tighten around his fingers you all but cry out when you finally cum after he runs again that perfect spot inside you.

“Yes! Andrew- fuck!” Finally- you’re cumming- your body gives into the pleasure he’s forcing onto you. But he doesn’t stop- if anything- Andrew is drunk off your body. He’s high off the way you sound and feel- how your skin tastes and he needs more. “W-wait! Andrew-” standing with you in his arms- tongue back in your mouth to silence your pleas. He needs to taste your pussy- he needs to bury his tongue inside you and hopefully he can go back to concentrating on his fight this week.

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You've had enough by the third day in a row Noelle calls you on her way out of work to complain about Robby.

In all fairness, it's your own fault for having allowed her to go out with him instead of nipping it in the bud the second you noticed her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth turn upwards into a flirty smirk.

Ugh if you could go back in time, you would've slapped the ever living shit out of both of them, her for falling for it and him...for literally just existing.

Luckily for you, you got put on night shift rotation soon after they started...hanging out. Cause, even at his old ass age of fifty plus years, chief attending Michael Robinavitch "doesn't date”.

"We're just keeping it casual". Ah yes, famous last words for an anxiously attached, perfect princess that is Noelle Hastings.

It doesn't matter how smart someone is, no one prepares you for how stupid “getting dicked down good”, her words, not yours, will make you. You honestly wish you could scrub the memory of her coming down to the ED almost every single second of the day with the most obnoxious excuses just so that she could talk to him.

It made you gag involuntarily every time, earning you a sharp slap on the arm from her and a curious side glance from Dana. After a few days of torture, your boss needed to switch you out to nights, their resident recluse social worker that tended to take the shifts having to take a sudden leave of absence and since your other coworker had just become a dad, it was literally down to you.

The joys of being single and unattached.

So you'd made the switch, getting to escape the horror that was seeing them interact in person, but still getting an hour long debrief every night while you got ready to clock in. 

You're certain this is how they're going to torture you when you inevitably end up in hell and this is just a preview.

"And then he texted that he needed space, that this just isn't working for him anymore! Can you believe him?"

Yes, yes you can.

You sigh into the phone, not really knowing what to say to comfort her since...you both knew of his reputation before she jumped into bed with him.

So you settle on—"I'm sorry, babe. He's an idiot who clearly doesn't know what he's throwing away."

The words sound foreign to you when you say them. They're rehearsed, recycled from all the other times you've had to give her the same reassurance over and over again.

Truth be told, Noelle is also a part of the problem, so focused on being the one to break his pattern that she also fell victim to her own self-destructive nature.

"I just—I feel like I'm crazy, you know? Like what the fuck is wrong with me? I'm forty-two for fuck's sake! I should not be feeling this—this—ugh!"

That pulls a little giggle out of you. It's always funny to you when, no matter her age and maturity, she ends up in situations that make her feel just as silly and confused as your twenty-five year old ass. 

"Hey!" you check her. "You did nothing wrong...aside from sleeping with him when you knew he was emotionally unavailable—" she whines, forcing another laugh from you. "He's the problem. He should just make peace with dying alone and not bother anyone else for the rest of his miserable life."

You hear her let out a laugh that unmistakably crumbles into a sob. Fuck, you feel so bad. You wish you could comfort her, wish you could be a good friend to her, but the truth is...you honestly don't know how.

So you joke.

"And hey, maybe some hot piece of ass will cross his path and give him a taste of his own medicine, he's bound to run into someone with an even worse avoidant attachment than him."

You chuckle nervously.

The line goes uncharacteristically quiet.

Ominous.

You tap your phone screen to make sure you haven't lost her.

The call's timer continues on.

And then—

"Why don't you do it?"

After a five minute long string of apologies and desperately trying to let you know that she didn't mean for it to come across as questioning your character—which ouch, to say the least—Noelle finally let you get a word in.

"Yeah why not."

You would've given anything to see the shock on her face in person but the thick silence that followed your admission would have to do for now.

In all honesty, you've been looking for another project to keep you entertained through the rigorousness and emotional weight that came from working as a social worker. All your empathy went to making sure your patients got the best care and support possible, so being given a reason to do something just a little mean?

Worth the possible humiliation, and even then, you could just go back to working nights and escape having to deal with him ever again.

Yeah you definitely needed to work on your avoidance…but that could wait.

Convincing your boss to let you switch to days wasn’t hard. You’d asked one of your coworkers who owed you a favor to switch with you, claim he needed to do something, you honestly couldn’t care, for seven weeks and that they needed to change around their hours.

It works flawlessly.

So after one more night shift and two days to get your body back on track for days, you were making your way into the ED for your 8 am call time for the first time in years.

And immediately…you desperately miss the night shift.

You’ve had to work closely with some of the day shift doctors and nurses throughout your tenure, but it was always just one or two per shift, drenched in the pace and culture of the night shift—a little weird but also very chill—so now having to deal with all of them…it was a shock to the system to say the least.

Santo’s anger, Whitaker’s “nice guy” persona, McKay’s righteousness, Ogilvie’s…everything; it’s a lot to take in constantly. You cherish getting to work with the more level headed ones and constantly have to bite your tongue when Robby reprimands them.

Michael Robinavitch is…the universe’s response to you, all ego and fragile masculinity.

You can see the appeal, rugged around the edges, like a home renovation project you know will ultimately cost you your entire life’s savings but maybe, just maybe, you’ll find original hardwood floors underneath the disgusting plastic panelling the last landlord installed.

Jokes on everyone because you’re investing in this house to tear it all down.

You spend the first week observing, calculating, making friends and getting as much gossip as you can from the loves of your life, Perlah and Princess. If either of them know about your reputation, neither lets it be known, eager to actually talk shop with someone from nights who can fill in the gaps to the gossip that has gone incomplete for the past year.

So you do, you trade information for loyalty, something that Dana clocks right away.

She tries to shoo you away constantly, begging you not to distract her staff, but that doesn’t stop you from joining their group chat, bringing them coffee, joining them for bottomless margaritas after their shift.

The doctors aren’t any different either, loose tongues spewing little comments about Robby’s deteriorating behavior ever since Pitt Fest almost a year ago.

For a second you feel bad, all of his outbursts clearly stemming from the trauma of the event…and after you learn that his mentor passed away that same day, well the whole picture makes much more sense.

How Noelle ever thought that she could fix him is beyond you.

There’s nothing to fix, only a shell of a man that literally doesn’t know where he’s going anymore or even if he wants to keep going in any direction.

You do wonder if you might start pushing him too far, what his reaction could be if what you do actually pushes him over the edge. You try to inquire about support systems and even therapy…but he’s literally raw dogging his illness.

All you really can do is tell Jack to be ready if anything happens.

Which you’re sure won’t.

Robby’s too narcissistic for it.

God’s gift to medicine and all that.

He’s a lonely bachelor. Afraid of the silence. Overwhelmed by the noise. Just a ball of stress and anxiety and everything that makes your chest tighten and your breathing hitch in the worst way possible.

But fuck it.

Just because you can excuse away his behavior doesn’t mean you should just let it slide.

The bigger issue now is…how to get him to become interested in you?

You honestly don’t know how you can compete with Noelle.

She’s the total package—beautiful, successful, age appropriate—there’s no way you can—

“I’ve never seen you before.”

Of course…all men are exactly the same.

You don’t even deign him with a glance his way, simply continue filling out the chart in your hands.

“That’s good,” you joke. “I’d be worried if you had, there’s thousands of people working in the hospital, it would be creepy if you knew every single person.”

You hear him smirk, shifting closer to you until your arms touch.

Oh this is going to be absurdly easy.

“I’m Dr. Robinavitch,” he awkwardly extends his hand towards you. “But everyone just calls me Robby.”

That’s when you turn to look at him, a shy yet genuine smile tugging at your lips. You shake his hand, making sure to linger just enough as you tell him your name in return.

You can see his brain working overtime to commit it to memory.

You finally let go of his hand when Dana calls out to him, incoming trauma, two minutes out, multi-car pileup.

Oh boy, that’s gonna be a shit show.

You feel him wince, taking off his hoodie in preparation for the marathon he’s about to run. You can’t help but ogle, the way his scrub top lifts ever so slightly, exposing his soft belly underneath.

You breathing hitches ever so slightly, but he catches it, catches you. Hook.

He grins, his beautiful crows feet framing his tired eyes. Line.

Your cheeks heat up. You advert your gaze, shame bubbling ever so slightly.

“Good luck,” you tell him, running away before the ED devolves into even more chaos.

He’s too slow, watching you go as the world around him disappears for just a second, realization dawning on him that he didn’t get your number.

Sinker.

He doesn’t ask anyone for your number.

You know because no one has come up to you to ask if you’re okay with the chief of the emergency department having direct access to you.

So you just wait.

You know you’ll run into him again eventually, but every time you go down to the ED after the car crash leaves you empty. You don’t run into him even once. You barely even catch glimpses of him walking the floor and catching up with his residents.

If he’s straight up avoiding you, there’s simply no way to know.

So you’re left to manufacture your own luck, unfortunately.

You know about their park beer tradition.

So you linger. Gross.

Day shift ends at seven. There’s charting and handovers and…whatever old men do when they don’t have a reason to go home so they stick around for way longer than they have to.

It’s about nine when you notice the day shift start to thin out so you take your chance, pretending to be engrossed in your phone as you loiter around the public entrance to the ED. It’s five minutes later when Donnie, Perlah, Santos, Samira and Whitaker step out, two six packs in hand.

“Hey, transplant!” Donnie greets you, the nickname causing you to roll your eyes playfully. In another life, you could’ve been great friends. “Wanna join us?”

He lifts up a pack so that you’ll catch his drift.

You pretend to think about it for two seconds until they catch your drift, devolving into a gaggle of laughter and pent up energy.

You follow them across the street to the park, settling next to Perlah as you try to ask her about her day in Tagalog, gotta keep up with them somehow.

Small talk is lively and you can literally feel the energy shift as they unload the horrible things that happened to them.

You listen, intently and surprisingly engaged, as Donnie and Santos reenact the scene for you.

“Oh my god? That’s actually fucked up.”

Everyone laughs, everyone drinks, everyone feels better.

And then silence falls.

It’s like your body knows he’s behind you before anyone gives you a heads up.

“Want one, cap?” Donnie asks him but you’re certain he declines because all he says is your name, practically begging you to turn to look at him.

You do, pretending to be a doe caught in headlights, your favorite move honestly.

“Ready to go?”

Your brows scrunch in confusion briefly before you catch the meaning in his words.

Oh wow. You did not think he was going to be so forward.

Okay, this makes it even easier for you.

“Yeah!”

You detach yourself from Perlah and Samira, saying goodbye to everyone and chugging the last of your now warm beer before adding it to the tower you’ve constructed. When it doesn’t topple over, you all erupt into a chorus of cheers.

You bow dramatically, cheeks hot, heart beating out of your chest.

“I’ll catch you guys later,” you wave goodbye, grabbing your tote and walking away from the group towards your apartment, not even bothering to wait for Robby to catch up, because you just know he’s following.

He settles into a comfortable pace beside you two blocks later, after a long internal battle with himself to follow through or back out. He still can, you know for a fact he won’t do anything to you in this state, even if you’re perfectly fine only having had one beer.

His arm bumps against yours, his towering frame inadvertently making you drool a little.

“I didn’t know I had an escort tonight,” you chuckle, the double meaning of your words clearly making him choke on a breath.

You giggle, enjoying his lack of game. It’s all a ploy, you know that much. Pretend to be shy and like he doesn’t know what he’s doing—it’s definitely disarming.

“What can I say,” he huffs. “Would you like me to make up a lie about crime rising in the city or how a lady as lovely as yourself should definitely not be walking alone at night?”

Your cheeks burn. Jesus fuck, he’s good.

“Well, considering I usually take the bus and decided to walk only because a grown ass man such as yourself doesn’t drive a car—”

He lets out a gasp in mock offense. “Hey, it would be irresponsible for me to drive after working for more than twelve hours.”

It’s a line, definitely. Yet it works.

You stop abruptly, giving him the reaction he craves.

He turns to you then, a little concerned, definitely still strung up from all that pent up energy that won’t leave him, ready to get right back into crisis mode—

“That’s…so hot.”

His features soften as your words process.

He shoots you a shy smile in return. “Don’t know about that—”

“What, you don’t think empathy is sexy?”

He looks down at his shoes then, finding them incredibly interesting all of a sudden.

“I don’t think I’m…it doesn’t matter. Point is,” he looks back up at you, like a lost puppy that’s begging you to get him off the street. “I prefer to walk.”

You don’t hesitate, stepping up to him, getting all up in his personal space, arms wrapping around his torso, standing on your tip toes so that you can be as close to his mouth as possible.

“Well, I don’t have to think,” you whisper over his lips. “I just know.”

You watch him close his eyes, mouth hanging open just slightly, body just barely leaning forward into you. 

He wants you to do it.

You smirk, your lips right there—

He almost falls flat on his face as you swiftly detach yourself from him.

“I’m starving, Dr. Robby,” you whine. 

It takes him a second to regain his composure. You’re certain he’s thanking every single deity that it’s just the two of you right now because he definitely looks pathetic.

“Wanna get some food?” He clears his throat, the pink on his ears a clear sign that he’s just not okay.

You nod, biting back a grin, threading his hand in yours and pulling him towards the 24-hour diner up ahead.

You spend the rest of the week doing the awkward dance around your feelings.

You’re certain he’s made up his mind about you, waiting for you to take the leap and put him out of his misery for good.

But you don’t.

You keep him on his toes, questioning whether your touches are simply friendly or not, desperate for you to help him find some relief from the lust that has started to build up inside of him.

It’s a Saturday when you finally put your plan into motion.

You’re over at his, a pizza and a pint of ice cream shared while watching a movie. Such a domestic night. If you didn’t know any better, it’d look like the two of you were in a relationship.

You’ve “fallen asleep” as the credits roll, body falling onto his in the process. You can feel his heart speed up as you cuddle into him, head resting snugly over his chest as your leg drapes over his crotch.

He’s already hard under the blanket, it’s why he draped it over his legs in the first place, but you managed to burrow yourself under it quickly, reveling in how he tensed painfully as you did so, your warmth on his body overwhelming.

You’ll give it to Robby, his restraint has been astounding. He hasn’t even tried to kiss you yet, luckily for you. You wait until his heart returns to normal, until he lulls himself into a false sense of security, until he doesn’t try to move you or wake you up. 

He’s enjoying this just as much as you are.

It’s when he settles, arms wrapped around you softly, enjoying your closeness, that you strike.

You move your hips, a sleepy jerk at first.

It’s exhilarating.

His heart picks up again, arms lifting off your body for deniability, but you don’t wake up. Instead, you adjust, further onto him, practically straddling him now.

Your crotch rubs over his, the thin fabric of his boxers that he’s lent you so that you can sleep more comfortably doing nothing to stop him from feeling just how warm you are down there.

He stifles a groan, his dick practically screaming at him for some relief. He’s decked himself out in sweatpants and a long sleeve, practically covering up every inch of skin in an attempt to not come across as a creep.

And what have you done?

The exact opposite, wearing his shirt, his underwear, and nothing else.

He should feel elated that you’re so comfortable around him, but right now, with your folds practically rubbing against him, he’s reminded of just how depraved he is.

You hum softly, satisfyingly as your clit rubs against his length.

There’s no way this is actually happening, that you know what you’re doing, right?

When you don’t wake yourself up, Robby settles down a little, allowing himself the simple indulgence of feeling you, of being used for your pleasure.

Your mouth hangs open just against his neck. He can feel the little pants, the neediness—

He just wants to help, he needs to.

So he shakes you awake.

“Honey,” the word rumbles against your ear. “Need you to stop doing that.”

You “blink awake”, catching yourself in the act, mortification flooding your face instantly.

“Oh my god I am so sorry,” you go to leap off him but his hands instantly stop you, pressing you roughly against him.

You moan, hands coming up to bunch in the fabric of his shirt.

“Robby—” you pant, real shame bubbling in your gut, a spark of excitement rushing through your body. 

He shushes you gently, slowly moving you over his dick, the pressure just right.

“Fuck.” You actually want to cum now. A nice side effect from all of your scheming.

He manages a chuckle, eyes locked on you, desperate to watch you come undone over him, against him, because of him.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Use me, baby, such a good girl.”

So you put on a good show for him.

Your mouth hangs open in a perpetual oh, your hips begin to roll in tandem with his own, your hands caress his shoulders, making their way around his neck to rake your fingernails on the nape, scratching right where you’ve seen him do to himself many times before.

He shivers then, his legs shaking, core tightening as he spasms beneath you. Dampness seeps through his sweatpants, his arms snaking around your back to pull you in, press you tightly against his chest as his head falls into the crook of your neck.

He moans through his orgasm, hissing only when his dick has gone soft and you’re still putting pressure on it, your own release evading you.

“Oh baby,” he coos condescendingly and you desperately have to lock up your heart as to not fall for it. “Let me help you.”

One of his hands snakes underneath the waistband of the boxers you’re wearing, his pointer and middle finger pinching at your clit. You yelp, body jerking away from his hand but you’re so close to him that there’s nowhere to run.

So you settle on him harder, causing him just as much pain as he’s causing you.

He chuckles against your skin, moving on from pinching to rolling the pads of his fingers gently now, your own pleasure slowly building back up from there.

“Robby,” you huff into his ear, gooey and needy. “Please…please, oh god please may I cum—”

He doesn’t respond with words, instead he just picks up the pace, swishing his touch from side to side until you’re a heaving, panting mess, your core clenching around nothing and exploding in unbelievable pleasure.

Your orgasm washes over you swiftly, your own release mixing with his own, getting the two of you even more messy and worked up than before.

You slump against him, breathing heavily as you try to match your breathing with his own. He’s actually lovely, drawing gentle circles over your thighs, holding you against his warmth until you’re ready.

Eventually, you peel yourself back, a dopey smile on your face

“Hi,” Robby blushes.

“Hey,” you roll your eyes, causing him to laugh in response at your brattiness.

“Alright, whatever,” he can’t stop laughing, a sound so foreign to him that it breaks his heart a little. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You nod, making no attempt to get off him, desperate to hold onto him like glue. And to your surprise, he doesn’t seem to care, letting himself get swept away in the fantasy of intimacy.

So obviously, you have to avoid him now at all costs.

Every time you’re called down to the ED, you make sure to sneak away before he can even notice you. If you’re working on one of his cases, you’re professional and to the point, never meeting his eyes knowing a knowing smirk awaits you.

By the fourth day of you ignoring him at the hospital and dismissing his texts, you know he’s desperate. It’s why, when a hand wraps around your wrist, pulling you sharply into a supply closet, the little gasp that escapes you is more thrill than surprise.

Strong hands roam your body greedily as you barely hear the door shut, the lock latching afterwards.

He doesn’t even try to kiss your lips, instead, he focuses on leaving a sloppy, desperate trail down your neck as he towers over you.

“Robby,” you whine, voice shaky already. “What’re you—fuck, what’re you doing?”

He grins against your collarbone. “What’s it look like?”

You shiver, a breath getting caught in your chest as you try to stand your ground.

“We’re at work.”

“So?”

It’s your own fault really.

You could push him away, could set down strong boundaries and tell him to fuck off…

But you don’t.

You get swept up in the desperation, in his neediness, in just how special he’s made you with his attention.

His hand snakes beneath your skirt before you can even think of how to respond, your very cheeky choice of not wearing any shorts underneath a blessing in disguise as his fingers swiftly pull your panties to the side to run along your folds.

You whimper, legs turning to jelly as he positions his own in between them to hold you up.

“Oh baby, you’re so wet,” he groans against your ear, teeth nipping at your earlobe. “Did you miss me too?”

You nod, biting down on your lip to stop the moans from escaping.

“Gonna cum all over my fingers?” He accentuates by sliding his middle finger into you, your walls clenching around it sinfully. “Of course you are, so good for me.”

Tears begin to swell in your eyes as his pointer finger joins in, his movements leisurely and mean. He barely curls them, barely gives you any relief that isn’t for his own enjoyment.

“Robby…you’re being…you’re being mean,” you whine. “Please—”

That gets a belly laugh from him in return, cruel now.

“Oh baby, you thought I was just gonna give you what you wanted? After you ignored me for four days?”

“I wasn’t—I got busy.”

You’re panting now, voice barely recognizable as he continues to torture you.

He shakes his head. “No, you’re not that good a liar, baby,” he curls and you clench. “I’ve seen you around, seen how you run off when you see me—so now I’m gonna take my time.”

The tears fall, your makeup running down your cheeks along with them. He preens at the sight, mouth kissing over your cheekbone lightly to taste the salty streaks.

He groans at the taste, slamming you back against the wall a little harder, his fingers picking up the pace, lodging themselves inside of you and wriggling them against your g-spot relentlessly.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck Robby shit—” you bite down on his bicep to muffle your moans. He hisses, the pain only spurring him on apparently.

Jesus fucking Christ, maybe you have finally found a worthy opponent.

You’re coming undone in seconds, his harshness only turning you on quicker, causing your orgasm to spring up on you suddenly. You’re shaking so hard you’re certain the shelves are vibrating around you.

He chuckles darkly, taking advantage of your blissed out state to wrap his lips just below your ear, right on your pulse point, sucking a purple mark onto your skin.

Once he’s satisfied and you’ve stopped shaking, he finally pulls back, watching you though lust clouded eyes as you continue to pant. You stare up at him, shaking your head incredulously.

It isn’t until he steps forward, his crotch pressing against your lower abdomen that you snap back to the present.

Robby’s big, unsurprising giving his…everything. The first time you felt it you had to pretend like you hadn’t noticed, all so that your heart wouldn’t give out. But now…now you want to drop to your knees and take him right into your mouth, alleviate—

His phone rings, invading your little pocket of deviancy.

He hisses loudly, annoyance exploding through every nerve in his body. You giggle, teasingly raking your nails along his exposed skin. He shivers under you but picks up the phone.

Emergency, obviously, it comes with the territory.

Even though it’s five minutes out, they’re scrambling, looking for him. He huffs in distress, nodding along to whatever Dana’s saying. Meanwhile, you distract yourself by peppering his jaw and neck with kisses, torturing him at his own game.

He hangs up the phone, making sure to settle you back down on your own two feet gently before he kisses your temple and walks to the door.

You’re supposed to let him go, keep your mysterious persona alive, you know that and yet—

Your hand reaches out for him, stopping him before he can leave.

He turns to you, brows scrunched in both confusion and hope?

“Five minutes out?”

He catches your drift instantly, his cock twitching in his scrubs painfully.

You step forward, staring up at him through your lashes, taking in how his shoulders drop, how his face relaxes, how his eyes close and his mouth hangs open just slightly as your nails flutter just above his bellybutton, pulling at his scrub top and his undershirt.

Pulling the fabric from where they’re tucked into his pants, you make a point to trace his belly, humming satisfactorily as he shivers beneath your touch. He doesn’t move, doesn’t dare touch you, doesn’t even dare breathe or make a single sound.

Your left hand reaches underneath the elastic, swiftly pulling the fabric out before it wraps around the base of his length. He’s thick and hot and perfectly heavy in your palm, the hair around him only adding to his attractiveness.

Fuck, you have got to pull yourself together. This is definitely getting away from you, soon this won’t just be about playing with your food and your heart aches at the thought.

He hisses at the contact, eyes shooting open to land on yours, and the second they do, you make a show of spitting on your right hand swiftly replace your other with it.

The slick makes it so easy to stroke him, putting just the right amount of pressure against his hardness as you slowly pull his boxers and pants off to his mid thighs so that you can work more comfortably.

The cold hospital air hits his throbbing tip and he twitches against your palm, precum leaking from him and combining with your spit. You run your hand over his head, pulling a sinful hiss from him as he finally pounces, strong hands grabbing a hold of your plush hips to steady himself.

You pick up the pace in response, Robby’s legs tensing beautifully as his breathing picks up, little pants and huffs escaping his lips in tandem with your movements.

“Baby—need to—fuck—”

He doesn’t get to beg as you feel him close, right on the precipice. And because you love the cleaning staff and wish them no harm ever, you drop to your knees in an instant, mouth opening and taking his tip against your tongue as he spills, hot and heavy, against the back of your throat.

He looks almost angelic as he cums. Groans filling the tiny room freely, hands tangling in your hair, not pushing or pulling, just there. Grounding, as if he can’t believe this is actually real and not some sick fantasy.

With one whole minute to spare, he finally catches his breath, his cock limping against your tongue as you run the muscle over his slit. To clean him up, obviously, not to watch him whine pathetically as the overstimulation makes him tense up.

That’s when he pulls, a sharp tug of your hair so that you stop. You beam up at him, placing a final kiss to his tip before you oblige and get back up to your feet.

He has no words for you, only answering with an unbelieving shake of the head as he massages your scalp while you tuck him back into his underwear and secure his pants with a neat little bow.

That’s when he kisses you.

Fuck.

You’re certain if his eyes were open he’d see your own bug out of your skull.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You don’t kiss him back, you can’t, you won’t, you—

Luckily he doesn’t linger, it’s just a soft peck, one that doesn’t evolve, doesn’t become greedy. It’s just…grateful. You fucking hate it.

He pulls back just as soon as it started, an uncharacteristically dopey smile on his face.

You roll your eyes. “Wipe that off or they’ll know something’s up.”

“Well, down now thanks to you.”

Your eyes widen in shock at his words, his carefree attitude something you’ve never seen from him before.

He chuckles at your reaction, unlocking the door and peeking his head out to check for witnesses before he steps out.

He winks back at you, a silent gesture to let you know the ball is in your court.

The second he’s gone you curl in on yourself.

Fuck.

It takes you a while to figure out how to proceed.

You’re past the halfway mark by now, just three more weeks and he’ll be getting ready to toss you to the curb. At least that’s what you’ve been told from multiple sources.

It turns out Robby’s got a trail of broken hearts longer than his…the point is, you know you have to keep him interested, throw him a bone every now and then, so you do.

You let him get comfortable again in your little after work routine, go out to dinner with him, let him cop a feel under the table, let him revel in the little marks he’s left on your neck and chest like badges of honor.

But he starts to get a little too comfortable, too regulated with your routine. So you shake things up every now and then. You feel so awful when you can’t see him, some shifts ending way earlier than his now that you’ve got him hooked on you. 

Which is why you compromise—

You: [sent a photo]

You know he’s losing his mind when he calls you in response exactly two minutes later.

“You know, I didn’t think so earlier, but you are definitely trying to kill me.”

You chuckle, a little seductive, definitely dismissive. “Is it working?”

He doesn’t answer with words, just a low, guttural groan that has you shifting under the covers.

“Doctor Robinavitch, are you touching yourself while on the phone with one of your employees?”

You just know his entire face and neck are beet red now. 

He moans in response. “Aren’t you?”

You giggle. “Would you like me to?”

“I would like for you to come over…” he pants, an opening.

You sigh, reaching over to your bedside drawer and pulling out your vibrator, turning it on so that he can hear the humming on the other side of the line as your answer to that question.

He whines, a little dramatic for your liking but you’ll take it. After the shit he pulled in the storage closet, you’re definitely not going over anytime soon.

You insert the toy, body instantly erupting in goosebumps as you moan into your phone.

“See, I don’t understand why we even need men anymore,” you huff, airy and laced with pleasure. “Your dicks don’t even vibrate.”

He chuckles on the other end, amused by your…everything.

He’d never admit it, but he’s definitely never met anyone quite like you before, all spunk and no filter. It’s driving him crazy.

“Call me old fashioned all you want, but you’d forget all about your little toy if you had me inside of you.”

Fuck, you clench at his confidence, a moan escaping without your consent.

“See? Even the thought of my cock has you coming undone, baby.”

Cocky motherfucker.

“I bet I can make you cum without even touching you.”

He laughs then, unburdened for the first time in…

“You’re doing it right now.”

“No,” you whimper. “No stimulation…from either of us.”

“Now who’s cocky.”

The laugh that escapes you twists into a string of moans as your slick pushes the vibrator further into you, the bent tip notching perfectly against your g-spot.

“Robby I hate to cut this short but—”

“I got you, baby,” he groans, his own hand picking up the pace to catch up with you, the slick, desperate sounds only adding to your undoing.

“Fuck, please, Robby I need to cum.”

“Not yet.”

“Please, I don’t think I can hold it—”

“You can and you will.”

You wail, legs thrashing against your mattress as you clench your abdomen painfully. You focus on his pants, his moans, his peak, waiting impatiently as his breathing falters—

“Cum with me baby.”

It’s all the encouragement you need to let go, your release squirting out of you, pushing the toy out as it continues to vibrate. He hears it, the wetness of it all, and can’t help but beam as white, hot spurts land on his uncovered stomach.

“Fuck, Robby…” you mumble, taking your time as you come down from your high. Meanwhile, he’s still cumming, something that hasn’t happened to him since college.