corner!

feeling bored, you tapped your nails against the door armrest. you looked around at the trees. you sat up to see the lake in the near distance, the sun glistening off the ripples. you poked the fuzzy dice hanging from his rear view mirror. you rummaged through his glove compartment…

… and your brows shot up upon seeing a black pistol buried under documents and condoms.

you glanced over to see if he’d caught you snooping. his brows were still furrowed as he rolled the joint over the steering wheel. utterly enraptured by his weed. you smirked, feeling suddenly mischievous. with great care, you gently retrieved the firearm.

“put it down.” his voice rang beside you.

you tensed, suddenly feeling like a scolded child, then smiled faintly. you didn’t put it down. you treated it delicately, of course, purposely avoiding the trigger as you examined it. the metal was cool and heavy in your hand. “why is it in here?”

“needs to be,” he said simply. then, he took the gun from you, grabbing it by the barrel. he set it muzzle down in the empty cup holder between you before focusing his attention back to the blunt.

you tilted your head, unsatisfied, and stated matter-of-factly, “you’re indestructible.”

“you’re not.”

you raised a brow again, intrigued. “so it’s for me.”

“for assholes.”

“my hero.”

ben looked over at you then, sizing you up, half impressed, half perpetually annoyed.

“have you ever even been this close to a roscoe?”

you looked through your lashes. “… once or twice.”

that got his attention. he lowered the unfinished joint in his lap, looking you over again, his keen green eyes following a steady path down your figure. ben paused for a long moment, as if he was assessing you.

“when?”

“fourth of july.”

“what’d you shoot?” he sounded nearly fascinated. never in a million years would ben have guessed you did something like that. you were always such a sissy.

“the ground,” you confessed timidly.

the sharp sound of his laughter broke the peacefulness of nature surrounding you. his shoulders bounced, he tipped his head back against the headrest, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. he licked his lips and muttered something like jesus christ as he settled down, shaking his head and bringing the joint back up to work on again.

“you’re a card.” he stated. he gave the joint a final lick, pressing the paper down flush with the pads of his thumbs. he inspected it carefully before tucking it in his shirt pocket. he pushed his aviators back down, wearing them properly, hiding his eyes. “get out.”

you blinked, watching him open his door, grab the pistol, and step out of the car all in one motion. after a moment of hesitation, you followed.

he beckoned you over with a finger, his gun in his back pocket. ben’s hand snaked around your waist when you were close enough and he leaned against the hood of his car. he thumbed your hip and raised his hand, moving it to follow the horizon.

your eyes followed. the lake’s shore lapped at the dirt a few respectable paces away, the water slightly murky. surrounding you, conifers and hardwood cast sparse shadows. their leaves occasionally swayed with the soft breeze, and the unmistakable smell of sap comforted you in a strange way.

his voice recaptured your attention. “pick a tree.”

you looked over at him, a surge of disbelief passing through you. he really trusted you enough to do this?

you shook your head. “i don’t wanna shoot a tree.”

ben rolled his eyes. “hippie,” he muttered, reaching into another pocket of his. he pulled out his cherry rolling papers and ripped two out- then crumpled them into little balls. you blinked in surprise at the sacrifice of two perfectly good rolling papers.

“put these in your ears,” he commanded. and so you did. the sounds of the lake’s waves, the chirping of the birds, the swish of tree branches brushing against each other muffled.

without warning, he grabbed your waist in both hands, and yanked you in front of him. with his chest flush against your back, he wrapped an arm around your middle and fished his pistol out of his pocket. he brought it out to show off.

you knew not to reach for it. he turned it in his hands. his chin brushing against the back of your head. “this bitch’s no joke, you hear me, doll?”

you nodded. he grunted in approval, then flipped the gun back, left side up. he flicked the safety off, keeping the nose pointed to the ground.

gently, ben’s hand smoothed across your stomach, to your hip, and up your side. he trailed his palm over your forearm and down to your hand. being this close to him, you could hear each little inhale and exhale of his. you could feel his breath brush against your ear. you fought the urge to shiver, especially when his hand found yours. he lifted it and guided it to hold the grip of the gun, adjusting your fingers to stay clear of the trigger.

his hand wrapped firmly around yours, keeping your fingers temporarily disabled, the gun still pointed to the dirt. he squeezed your hand, and you felt something click beneath your palm. your heart raced.

“that was the grip safety,” he said, his voice calm. you nodded once, relaxing.

his other hand gestured in front of you, to a dead tree stump about sixty feet away, maybe four feet tall. it sat unimposing at the opposite shore of the lake, gray and peeling bark, surrounded by its living kin.

“see that stump?”

you nodded.

“aim for that.”

“… okay.”

his grip around your hand on the gun remained. you felt the grainy surface of the grip on your skin. his other hand moved, guiding your left hand to the gun in the same fashion he did the other. ben hummed in approval as he fixed your hands over the grip.

wordlessly, he guided your arms up, the gun still snug inside your fingers. he straightened your arms outright, then maneuvered your right index finger to rest gently on the trigger guard.

“don’t move your finger yet,” he said, his voice in your ear. you swallowed.

his hands left yours, leaving the breeze to brush over them, the coldness emphasizing the loss. he ran his hands slowly up your wrists, to the sensitive skin of the inside of your elbows, and he stopped to hold your biceps. he kept his feet planted firmly outside yours, his broad chest flush against your back.

you pressed your thighs together, his touch molding, and you avoided exhaling too shakily. though, you were almost certain he could hear your pounding heart. just the thought of his awareness made your cheeks flush.

“now…” he let go of one of your arms, his chin by your ear. he gently tapped the small, triangular-shaped bump on top of the pistol once, the one closest to your eye; then the bump further away, on the very tip of the barrel.

“sights. front and rear. as you can see, front is a post, rear is a notch. you line ‘em up both horizontally and vertically, at the center of that stump… and you’ve got your aim.”

you squeezed one eye shut to line the sights up, doing your best to center them as he instructed on the awaiting stump. he shifted, leaning over to look at your face, assessing briefly. he smiled faintly.

“now, i know that might feel right, sweets, but it’s better to keep both those pretty eyes open.”

his voice was cogent. you quickly reopened your eye, exhaling. you could hear the faintest of chuckles leave him.

he licked his lips and slid his hands up back to yours on the gun. one held both of yours in place securely, and the other reached to grab his gun by the barrel, between the sights. he slid the slide back, exposing the metal barrel underneath, and it made a clicking noise that made your brows furrow. he let it go, covering the barrel once again.

“she’s cocked. don’t you move a muscle till i tell you to.”

he found his place behind you again, his chest against you. he squeezed your shoulders gently before he smoothed his rough hands down your upper back, over the ridge of your bra, down to the dip of your waist. you blinked slowly, your eyes darting momentarily to the ground, then back up. you knew you needed to focus, not let his carnal touch divert your attention.

he ran his thumbs back and forth over your waist. his hands were warm and unmoving, and you couldn’t help but notice he kept your ass pressed firm against his hips, the print of his dick faint but felt. it made your breath hitch, but you remained planted against him. and when you heard a rough, faint groan leave his lips right in your ear? you wanted to ditch this whole shooting lesson.

when he spoke again, his voice was considerably softened. but it still made your heart skip. it pulled you back into what this was supposed to be. “you can put your finger on the trigger now, but do not put pressure on it.”

you swallowed again, nodding, regrouping, and you moved your finger carefully off the guard and onto the cool trigger. it was a strange sense of power. one pull and a killing stone would come out at 800 feet per second.

“atta girl. don’t pull yet. take your time, give yourself at least half a minute to aim. then you fire.”

you held the gun pointed where you wanted, taking slow, shuddering breaths, heeding his words. he trusted your judgment, the good head on your shoulders. you’re not so reckless to fire when you’re not confident. and you’re listening so well to each of his instructions.

you lined up the sights, acquiring yourself a good shot, but damn if his closeness didn’t make you blush. as if sensing your temperament at the moment, ben nuzzled his half hard cock against your ass with a slow exhale, causing you to gasp faintly.

your chest sank, about to lower the gun. but he spoke again, this time whispering gravelly. “now… shoot when you want. it’s gonna recoil, and it’s gonna recoil pretty fuckin hard, so be prepared for that.”

he lowered his hands from your waist to grip your hips. the feeling made you breathe uneven, just one short breath that didn’t escape his notice. he smiled, but for once didn’t point it out. not now. he held you tight, not letting you move even an inch away. having your precious self this close was too good to not take advantage of. just feeling your body heat seep into his sent blood straight down. he breathed heavy through his nose, right in your ear, and he gave your hips a gentle squeeze.

you pulled, and a loud bang- one you didn’t anticipate to be so booming because of the rolling papers- rang out when you applied pressure to the trigger. and not even half a second later, the sound of the bullet hitting the stump met your ears. just as he said, the recoil shoved you back. right into him.

tree branches shook as birds fled from them, and you gasped loud. his arm came around you immediately, and ben snatched the gun from your hands harshly by the barrel, quickly flicking something on it down with a click. you heard his laughter in your ear, your heart pounding.

“ha-ha! fuck, baby, you hear that? you hit that shit dead fuckin’ center. that’s my girl.”

he tucked the gun away, adjusting you forcefully to face him. his grin was unmoving, plastered on his face shamelessly. he gave you a shake as he laughed, and after getting your bearings, you finally sighed in relief. you smiled coyly, your hand bracing against his chest. and when you saw your stunned reflection in his sunglasses lenses, you finally laughed alongside him.

“i hit it?”

“did you hit it? yeah, you fuckin’ hit it,” he rubbed your arm, ruffling your clothes. he pointed to the stump. “see for yourself.”

you looked over, narrowing your eyes to see better. sure enough, near the center of the trunk, a hole from the bullet was marked. you picked the balled up rolling papers out of your ears. you let out a disbelieving laugh, grinning, feeling a twinge of pride for yourself. you just shot a gun and hit your target.

you were pulled out of your thoughts by a large hand smacking your ass, the slap causing you to freeze. his laugh deepened by your ear, his arm around you caging. he adjusted you in front of him, practically manhandling you, your hair catching in the wind.

your face fell at the proximity. your chest pressed flush against his made eye contact difficult. but ben hooked his finger under your chin, his other hand sliding down to grip your ass and pull you even closer. that’s when you registered it. him, the hard bulge of his cock straining against his jeans, pressing into your hip. your eyes widened.

“my little sharpshooter,” he said fondly. he leaned in to kiss you roughly, his teeth knocking against yours. it was as brief as it was aggressive, and it left you breathless and squirming.

he grinned, plucking the joint he rolled out of his shirt pocket, taking it between his lips. his other hand found your ass again, and with half lidded eyes, ben rutted his cock against you, just once. enough to make you gasp.

“now, why don’t you be a good girl and bend over this hood for me?”

“hmm..” robby hums, nodding at you, before he takes a step back and winks, then continues, “g’night kid..”

“really?”

“i can’t sleep with you..”

“but you want to?”

of course he fucking does. morally it’s not right, but he needs you more than anything else in the world right now. needs to have you writhing underneath his grip while his head is buried between your legs. needs to have your eyes rolling back in your head and your body going limp as he slides his cock into you, filling you up and stuffing you full.

“like i said.. g’night kid..”

you rolled your eyes as he walked away, back to his room. his door clicked shut as you stood there in silence, completely dumbfounded. you’re pretty sure this is worse than the time you got publicly friend zoned in the eleventh grade by the boy you had a serious crush on. you huffed out a breath of air before sulking back into your room, flopping down onto your bed. you raised your head slightly to check the time and groaned. how is it only just gone ten o’clock.

it wasn’t long before you found yourself scrolling social media on your phone, trying to make yourself tired enough to fall asleep. the only thing stopping you was him. robby. the way he called you kid, how easily it rolled off his tongue. and god, what you wouldn’t give to hear him say it in your ear, rough and raspy, like he knows he shouldn’t be saying it.

a loud knock at your door shook you from your thoughts—and forced you to bring your hand from between your legs, that you somehow had subconsciously slid down there. the door was barely opened, before you were being pushed back into your room by robby, the door slamming shut behind him.

“okay.. fuck it, yes i do want to sleep with you..”

“knew it.”

“y’always such a smartass?”

you just grinned up at him, letting him guide you to your bed, gently pushing you down and allowing you to get comfy before he joined you. he situated himself between your legs, one hand gripping your face, slightly squishing your cheeks. he leant down to press a soft kiss to your lips, feeling you lift your hips to grind against his crotch.

“y’always such a needy little girl too?”

“just for you, daddy..”

taglist !

"mmmhm..." you giggle back at him. you shouldn't find it so hot that he's memorised your drink of choice. "mm... sammy?"

"yeah?" he whispers.

"i think you're sooo pretty..."

sammy laughs under his breath in response, ducking his head. he's flattered— he knows he's not exactly the definition of pretty, but he'll take any kind of compliment from a girl who looks like you. "you do?" he replies, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"mhm," you hum sweetly, nodding. "and i know it might be naughty to say this, 'cause you're all married and stuff, but–" you lean in clumsily, voice dropping to a hushed whisper against his ear, "i've always wanted to suck your cock..."

"... what?" you catch sammy completely off guard. he's always respected you as a member of the team, but when you're not in the field you look so sweet and polite. he had no idea you had such a dirty little mouth.

you continue, emboldened by the alcohol. "yeah. or... or like ride it or something... or.... sorry, don't know what'm sayin', you're just really hot..."

sammy exhales a little, shaking his head. he's so turned on right now that his wife is the last thing on his mind. "no, no, it's alright, you're drunk." his nose is full of your perfume, dark cherry and amber and cinnamon, and it makes his head spin.

then, your back arches slightly under his touch and his common sense goes out of the window. "y'know what? just dance with me a little."

he rocks you slowly to the beat of the song, his breathing harsh against your cheek. his hands dip down to your ass, pressing you into his crotch so you can feel the hard line of his cock through his jeans.

your breath hitches when you feel it. "sammy, 's wrong..."

"what's wrong, sweetheart? we're just dancin'," he murmurs, even as he grinds forward into you, one of his big hands drifting up your thigh under your dress until it hits the lace of your panties. "just dancin', that's all."

you wedge his thick thigh between yours, rubbing up on his stiff cock as you lose yourself to the thrum between your legs. "mmh.. fuck, sammy..." you sigh out against his neck.

"yeah, that's right, sweetheart," he groans as he scans the room behind you— everyone's way too busy downing beers and trading stories at the bar to notice the way you two are grinding on each other in the back, how his hand is shamelessly palming your ass. then, sammy gets a bright idea: "y'wanna come to the bathroom with me, baby? i'll help you pee."

"but i don't need to pee, sammy," you whine, pressing yourself impossibly closer to his body. "just wanna dance with you all night..."

he chuckles at your drunken stubbornness, then pats your ass before extracting his hand from under your dress. "wanna know a secret?" he asks softly, already leading you by the waist towards the bathroom door. you nod carelessly as you follow him.

“oh, i’m so sorry!” you apologize instinctively.

he was a handsome man. you honestly couldn’t keep your eyes off of him the moment you caught up to your friend, before telling her about the small interaction between you two. an older, exhausted looking man with the perfect mix of sprinkled grey hairs throughout his brunet curls, and the wrinkles near the corners of his eyes that creased with a smile.

stealing a few glances while trying to be discreet only to fail miserably once you two lock eyes twice, making your veins run warmer as you quickly avert your eyes. though it’s not as if he’s any sneakier, not when his eyes are sizing you up in that stupidly skimpy dress of yours as he slowly approaches your way brushing right next to you.

“can you ring these up as well, sir.” he slides a canned beer and a freshly made cup of coffee on the counter next to you and your friends goodies as he tugs his wallet from out of his front pocket and pays for your items.

you part your lips, your brain scrambling for the right words to say. “thank you s—”

“no worries, kid.” the corners of his lip curl into a charmingly, lopsided smile as he cuts off your words. “you should be more cognizant about how you look at peop— men.” he informs you, while correcting his words in that tantalizing gruff voice of his. “don’t wanna get yourself in trouble.” his head tilts, intaking over your features.

“uh, yes sir…” you nod, a bit confused yet somewhat appreciative since he paid for you and your friends snacks. but brief shift of silence as his gaze lingered a little longer — soft, but still able to thicken the tension between the two of you. “sir?” he chuckles to himself, “do i really look that ancient?” he grins, poking at your slight state of panic.

“no— no, you don’t! i was just trying to be respectful!” you utter, hands throwing up in innocent as your lips curl into a downward smile. “i’m just kidding, sweetheart.” the corner of his mouth quirks, and his eyes crease just a bit.

“i’ve got tattoos older than you.”

your jaw drops with an exasperated sound of disbelief, eyes wide as you grab your shoes. “oh my god, i-my fucking scrubs are…” you pause as you remember how you took them home a few days ago to wash, the image of them on your couch folded clear in your mind. you sigh, and the cool air against your bare legs feels like a taunt.

“i took my scrubs home to wash, and forgot them.” you sigh, combing back your hair with your fingers. “oh shit, you need a pair? i got some in mine,” she offers, her thumb angled back to the opposite locker. “no, no it’s fine. i’ll get some out the refill thing.” “oh…the tech is all down, i thought they told you. don’t even worry bout’ it-you can wear mine,” she says while moving past you, and you don’t fight her as you sigh out a thank you.

she hands them to you before leaving to check in with her patient. and while you’re thankful, Nazely is a little smaller than you, so the pair fits you a little..too perfectly. a little tight around your ass and thighs, and the shirt was a bit too small, small enough to ride up your stomach with every swing of your arms.

you tuck your hair behind you ears as you find your attendees, sighing again at the small inconvenience that you could’ve easily avoided had you not been in a rush the other night. “talk to me,” you walk up to Dr. Abbot and Dr. Shen outside a patient door, and their eyes take their time raking over you. “have a growth spurt over night kiddo?” Shen cracks, and you pull a forced sarcastic smile,

“har har. i wasn’t in scrubs when i came, my spares aren’t here, these aren’t mine.” “where were you comin’ from? you had a hot date?” Abbot jokes, though falls visibly shocked when you confirm. “not hot, but it was definitely a date. i’d rather be here though, was getting boring.” “you’d rather hang around sick and dying people?” “of course, what’re saturday’s for?” you smile, leading the way around the ED so they can catch you up to speed.

you walk a little ahead of them (because they’re old, and can’t be bothered to speed walk with you), and as mentioned, your shirt was tight on you, riding up with each swing of the arms. so as Abbot is giving you the run down, something catches Shen’s eye.

he sees the little fine lines that occupy your hips, and as they sway he gets the tiniest peak of your tattoo. your tramp stamp. he takes in a breath, silently cursing himself as warmth grows in his chest, wanting to look away but the harder he looked, the more of it he wanted to see.

“that’s Shens patient though,” Jack nudged him, his head snapping up, and just in time because you’re looking back at him with curious eyes. “i’m..i’m sorry, who?” he cocks his head, a little embaressed by how easily distracted he got. “mrs. laverne, your patient with the puss coming out the eye?” Jack jogs his memory, a playfully annoyed tone on his tongue.

you scoff a laugh as you face forward again, “oh! yeah, yeah. senior citizen, simply eye infection…” through his monologue he nudges elbows with Jack, pointing down at the display in front of him. he audibly stammers, holding his chest while he clears his through, shaking his head at the display.

his eyes squint, trying to get a better look at the peaking ink, though your shirt hides most of it. that’s taunting, to say the least. he makes a whistling face to Shen, shaking his head before trying to act casual, looking around and scratching the back of his neck.

he waited and waited for the moment your shirt lifts completely so they can see the ink, but it didn’t come. he sighs when you turn around to face them, eyes flickering away quickly. and i guess his face tells more than it should, because you immediately catch him. “you’re red, dr. Abbot. your old age catchin’ up to you finally?” you joke, and he scoffs a laugh, rubbing his hands down his face.

“me? no, nev-never. they call me the energizer bunny for a reason. i’m just…hot.” he shrugs, and you don’t give it a second thought as you give him a little giggle, turning around the corner. when they know you’re actually out of earshot, the two men let out a big breath, eyes hard on each other with one thing racing in mind.

“dude. i…wow.” Shen started first, shaking his head. “haven’t seen a tramp stamp since my resident days, jesus. did you get a good look?” they whisper amongst themselves. “nah, just barely. looks like words and other shit but..damn. like, daamn.” he shakes his head.

“words? i only saw the squiggles on the side. did you make out anything?” “nah, bet i can make out what it is faster than you.” he shrugs, and Jack grins. “oh yeah? bet i can see the whole thing before four o’clock.” and it’s a deal as they sprint over to an incoming patient.

you didn’t know how it started, or if you were just making it up in your head, but your attending were like..fucking all over you. you had to be imagining it.

there’s no other way to spin it, you guess. Shen is just a nice guy, you don’t look too into it when he rubs at your back, only when he goes lower and lower until it’s resting right against your tailbone, playing with the hem of your shirt while he spoke with you. whatever, you’re going crazy.

you also think you’re going crazy when he later pulls at your shirt to hold you back, the cool air gushing underneath the fabric as he hooks it under his finger. he just didn’t want you running off like you always do. right!

“hey-get in there doctor [last name],” Dr. Abbot forcefully pushed you down, his head keeping you steady at the middle of your shoulder blades. you stammer over yourself, eyes widening in shock as you keep your head down at the task at hand, feeling your shirt lift slightly. “incision with precision, you’ll kill em if you’re not looking hard enough ok?” “mhm, yeah ok. s-sorry.” you nod quickly, trying to hide how flustered you were.

dr. Abbot and Shen on the other hand are glancing over at each other, with Abbots hand still holding you down he leans his head back a little to scan you, fuck. almost there. he shakes his head quickly at Shen before pulling off. a small look of couldn’t see it.

you start to catch on that the attention was intentional when… “i like your tattoos.” Abbot says, and when you look up he’s talking to your older patient, not you. “thanks, surpised they’re still kickin’, got em mostly in 88’. you got any of your own?” you listen in, looking between them but Jack doesn’t spare you a glance.

“me? oh, nah. never was my thing because i couldn’t think of anything cool, but i like them on other people. had a girlfriend thing in med school, she had a tramp stamp. i thought it was the hottest thing, still is. haven’t seen one of those since, though.” that makes your ears perk up, brows raising as you clean off his wound.

the man whistles, “whew, haven’t seen onea’ those either. remember when they were real popular, everyone and their mother had one. what about you, missy? you got any ink?” he asks you, and Jack finally meets your eye. you giggle a little, “yeah, a few. mostly where the sun don’t shine.”

your breaking point of the situation was in the main area, you at your desk catching up on charting. it was probably around four, and you’re already sporting a coffee. you stand and bend over your table to shred a few documents, when you’re jolted out of your body—Shen had landed a hard slap against your hips, just between where your ass met the curve of your back in passing.

you suck in a breath at the intrusion, only to turn your head to see him and Abbot walking talking leisurely. “uh-dr. Shen???” you call bad in shock, and both men turn to meet your face as if nothing happened. “sorry, did that hurt? was just trying to lighten up the mood.” “yeah you look bent outta shape. did he hit something?” Abbot asks, and it hits you.

your shirt is so small, and it’s been riding up all shift. is THAT what’s this all about?? the realization makes you smiling, scoffing a chuckle as you shake your head. you spot an empty room behind them, setting your pin down and rubbing at the back of your neck. “follow me.” you say carelessly, and the men exchange glances before following you.

you let them enter first and close the door, shutting the curtain with a sigh. “is this why you’ve been bothering me all night?” you shoot them a look before turning around, and they suck in a breath when you lift your shirt over your back, giving them the full view of your tramp stamp.

they fein closer, Abbot squinting as he reads it, “lucky you.” on the sides of your curves there’s symmetrical fine like designs sitting pretty, but it was far behind them now. lucky. you. “i asked a question.” you speak, and they straighten up with a quickness, clearing throats and looking around bashfully.

“bothering you? no, no i mean i wouldn’t—” “yeah it-it was more like..investigating. wow.” Abbot whistles, meeting your face as you turn back around, a sly look on your face. “investigating? that’s what you’re calling it, not sexual harassment??” you joke, giggling watching their faces flip with worry.

“calm down, i’m kidding. i’m not mad, but if you’re gonna bend me over all night at least take me to dinner first. or paris.” you roll your eyes, and they chuckle nervously with you. “we were just curious, promise. it’s..it’s cute.” “it’s slutty, too.” Abbot adds, and you nod with a giggle. “thank you.”

they hang back as you pull back the curtains, “you’re lucky i don’t take it to HR, perverts.” you wink, finally exiting the room as if nothing happened.

bonus!

“lucky you. that’s so fucking hot.” Shen sighs, still accompanying the room, watching you strut past it. “s’pornographic, that’s what it is. also did…she said paris, right? you don’t think she…” he shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck. “no, no. surely she didn’t mean.. yknow.” Shen shrugs, and Abbot sighs, nodding his head frantically.

“yeah nono, surely. i mean it..wouldn’t be crazy going to paris..with her,” he shrugs, eyeing his buddy as they exit the room, “but nah, she didn’t mean that. surely.” they catch your gaze in passing, and you’ve still got the flirty grin across your face, and they notice the way your hips sway. “yeah. surely.” Shen looks over.

he just took you riding his cock in your living room as payment.

“god, she doesn’t even put out like this anymore,” jack breathes out, his hips thrusting up to meet your bounces. “fucking tight, college pussy waiting for me–”

his eyes squeeze shut as he’s cut off by a moan, head falling to the back of the couch. his hands hover awkwardly around your waist – the s

“hnng, jackie,” you whimper, your hands falling to meet his chest. “‘s too much for me.”

jack opens his eyes at the sound of your voice, and he’s greeted with the most beautiful sight.

you.

your jaw slack as you bounce tirelessly up and down on his cock, tits bouncing in his face as you drew pleasure from him, your face contorting in that tell-tale sign he knows all too well.

“i know, baby, i know,” jack coos, brushing a damp piece of hair from your forehead, before pinning it behind your ear. “jackie’s sooo big for you, but you don’t want him fucking someone else, do you?”

he bites back a smile at your very insistent nod.

“jackie was saving his cum for you, did you know that?”

“really?” you sniffle, eyes searching his.

“really,” jack hums, thrusting up harder now.

you collapse into his chest, his arms stabilising you as he continues to drive his cock deeper into your pussy, hitting your g-spot repeatedly. he buries his face into your face, sighing when he smells the scent he told you to use - before placing a tender kiss to your temple.

“didn’t fuck my wife because i wanted to fuck you, kiddo. lied to her,” jack starts, his voice muffled by your hair. “maybe one day i let her watch, huh?”

as soon as those words leave jack’s mouth, you let out an involuntary moan, pussy clenching around his cock. grinding your hips desperately against him, you tighten the hold you have on his chest.

“would she touch?” you whine, burying your head deeper into his neck.

he lets out a low grunt, string of curses as he feels you fuck yourself back onto him. “my girl would like that? she’d like jackie’s wife watching them fuck? good idea kiddo, maybe she’d learn how to take dick from a pro.”

you nod frantically before he hooks two fingers gently under your chin, forcing to meet his fucked out gaze.

“whatever jackie’s girl wants, is what she gets.”

“what the fuck are you doing in there?” his voice low and impatient. you roll your eyes at your reflection, but your stomach twists in anticipation. you cap the gloss, placing it on the sink next to the small empty bag of cocaine ben left there.

it wasn’t empty when ben left it there. it’s empty now because you put it in your lipgloss. yeah. this could be the most stupid or most amazing idea you’ve ever had.

when you step out, he’s sitting in the bed, back against the headboard. “cmon, doll, don’t have all night to wait for you.”

you walk towards him like you don’t feel the heat of his stare crawling over your skin. you climb into his lap without asking. settling there like it’s your spot. his hands find your waist instantly, big and firm, holding you in place.

“why do you have that shit all over your lips again?” he asks, noticing your shiny lipgloss. “you don’t need to get all dolled up for me, baby, y’know that.”

“i know,” you murmur, looking down at his lips. next thing you knew, he grabbed your chin and pulled you into a kiss. the kiss is immediate. harder than it needs to be.

then, he tastes it. the cocaine. he groans into your mouth. he breaks the kiss only to look at you, breathing heavier now. his thumb brushes against the corner of your mouth.

“the fuck is that?” he grunts. he slides his tongue over his top teeth and lip, tasting the cocaine and lipgloss. “fuck, is that coke?”

you nod, smiling slightly. “holy shit.” he kisses you again. the kiss is messy. tongue exploring inside your mouth, teeth biting your lips, and tongue swiping over your glossed lips.

you gasp into the kiss, and he takes advantage of it, deepening it, tasting you fully. “fuck, baby,” his voice low and rough. hand moving to wrap around your throat. “did i die? is this heaven and you’re some kind of god?”

you hum and he flashes you a cocky smirk. “next time, what you really need to do, is put some cocaine on your pussy and i’ll eat you out until i pass out from this shit.”

His puff fills your nostrils, and when your eyes open after turning toward him, you watch as he takes a drag of the blunt. He holds it in his lungs, letting it circulate before releasing it into the sex-filled air. Fuck, he looks sexy. You aren’t sure if he makes smoking look sexy or if he looks sexier smoking. Whichever it is, you’re thankful for his addiction.

He catches your stare and holds out his joint, offering you a hit. You shake your head, imagining taking it a different way. He shrugs, then brings his fingers back to his lips. The end of the stick glows a bright red as he inhales the marijuana before it returns dull once he stops. You move the covers, and he watches with curiosity as you ignore your shaky legs and climb on top of him, straddling his hips.

“More already? Can’t get enough of my hog?” His deep voice cuts through the silence before taking another drag.

You don’t answer. Instead, you place your hands on his bearded, chiseled cheeks and kiss him. Your tongue swipes his bottom lip, begging for entry as you grind down on his lap. Without wasting a beat, he opens his mouth, and the smoke floods in yours. You shut your eyes and inhale it slowly, doing your best not to choke and make yourself look like a pussy. The cannabis swirls in your head, making you delightfully dizzy, but that, too, could’ve been the lack of oxygen. You lean away and exhale what remains. With a flutter, your eyes open to find a huge and amused smile plastered on his face.

“Fuck, doll, just when I thought you couldn’t get any hotter.”

He sets the mug on the nightstand and grabs the back of your neck, pulling you down and smashing his lips against yours. You’re a bit taken aback, but you kiss him just as feverishly. His lips taste like weed, and his beard painfully rubs against your smooth face, but you endure it all for him. Your fingers intertwine with his long hair, and you tug him closer, deepening the kiss. His tongue shoves past your lips and wrestles with yours, but it doesn't last long.

With a moan, you give in and submit to the infamous supe. The hand that was once wrapped around the back of your neck now shifts to your jaw. His thumb rests on your chin, holding your mouth open as he pushes you away, just enough to bring the tightly rolled grass to his lips. He takes a quick puff, aligns his mouth with yours, and blows a line of smoke into it. You feel the fast effects of the soul diesel take control.

Shotgunning wasn’t something you had done before; Now you can't help but question why you hadn’t tried it sooner. He takes another draw, his gaze unwavering from yours. You feel him grow beneath you, and your body responds. Wetness coats his awakening member, and if he didn’t have the blunt between his lips, he’d bite his lower. His hand leaves your face and travels between your bodies, clutching his thick and lengthy cock. He swipes at your folds like his dick was a card, and your lips were the reader. Just like his money, his sex was endless: everything a girl could ever want. His teasing elicits a whimper, and without warning, he sticks his (rather large) chip in your machine.

A heavy gasp falls from your mouth, and he takes the opportunity to blow into it. Your throat burns with delight as he slides further into your spent cunt. The stretch tosses your eyes to the back of your head, and just when you think the smoke nearly suffocates you, Soldier Boy connects his mouth to yours and shoots more fumes down your esophagus. You breathe in sharply through your nose, desperate for air, but it’s no use; The room is filled with hefty clouds of smoke.

Your body squirms, grinding your hips in a circle, needing the friction while also needing oxygen. He shows you mercy and unlatches his lips from yours. Your heart races and your chest heaves, lungs feeling like they’re on fire. It isn’t a resolution, it isn’t even a fix, but it sure is one hell of a distraction when his strong hand squeezes your hip as he begins to move underneath you. Your grip gets tighter, but the pull to his hair doesn’t faze him. His hips rock up into yours, causing your mouth to fall open wider.

Your body arches into him, your breasts smushing against his toned chest. He takes another drag of his spliff, and when he doesn’t share, your eyes land on him. You catch a glimpse of wariness, of vulnerability, of second-guessing. He saw your moment of weakness, when the reefer hit you a little too hard all at once. If it were any other girl, any other time, he wouldn’t have cared. Hell, he would’ve kept going, but not with you. So, to assure him that you’re fine, you place both hands back on his cheeks, inching your face closer to his before nodding gently. The second he parts his lips, the smoke floods out of the gates, and with a little push, he directs the vapor toward you.

Just like him, Mary Jane had you by the throat, making you bend at will. Man, oh man, was it fucking you as hard as Soldier Boy was. Your body moves with each thrust, his angle hitting your g-spot perfectly. Between his revitalizing blow and the invigorating effects of the soul diesel, you’re no longer tired. The blend sets you on a high you hadn’t felt before, and you want more—you crave more.

This specific ganja lifts you up, giving your energy a much-needed boost after the last few rounds, and you can’t be more grateful. You push yourself into the cowgirl position, your hands now behind you, resting on his knees for support. He retracts half his cock from your body as you lift yourself higher, his tip threatening to leave its domain. You slam down just as he bucks into you, both of you shouting from the immense pleasure of deeper. If you had any moisture left in your body that wasn’t designated between your thighs, you would’ve teared at how far in your guts he was buried. A rhythm was quickly set, screwing harder than you ever had before. You weren’t a supe; Both of you were aware there was always a limit you hit before breaking, but this time was different. This time, the cannabis numbed the pain you’ll surely feel tomorrow.

It isn't long after you begin that you cease to meet him halfway. No, it soon becomes out of your control. Your body thrashes, like you were riding a bull, and you try your best to stay on. He watches your breasts bounce with every thrust, your nipples so sharp they cut the puff of smoke he continues to blow your way. Your head spins, and your hands move to his abdomen, bracing to catch yourself if he bucks you off. Moans pour from your lungs and echo throughout his penthouse, accompanied by the pornographic sound your bodies so naturally created. Surely if he were any other supe, there would’ve been a knock at his door, urging him to keep it down.

You feel your orgasm approaching, and the weed seems to intensify your pleasure. The knot in your belly tightens, and you know it’ll be any second before the tension snaps. He sees the once white, now red, of your eyes, and he knows you’re on the cusp of euphoria. The fucking pro that he is, sets the blunt between his lips towards the corner of his mouth, leaving a gap big enough to in and exhale, before finally gripping your other hip. With his feet already horizontal with the mattress, he stabs himself deeper. One, two, and on the third jab, you’re convulsing on his dick like you were possessed. You cry out in both pain and overwhelming pleasure as you fly higher than you ever thought possible. He grunts out louder than all the times before, and he sprays your insides white.

His face twists as he empties his sack, almost forgetting to balance the bud between his lips as you shudder above him, milking him of every drop. The moment his hips touch the bed, you collapse on top of him, resting your head on his chest. Your heart races at a dangerous pace, but listening to his slower beat helps you find your way back. He tosses the nickel-sized joint into the cup he was using earlier, but not before taking the last hit. He lifts your chin, and your droopy eyelids barely open to see his handsome face. His thumb parts your lips, and you accept his final shotgun. One arm wraps around your body, and his opposite hand holds your jaw, pulling you closer once you exhale. His mouth devours yours, and though you do your best to kiss back just as eagerly, his power of stamina proves to be a lot stronger than the drug you took to enhance yours. Once it begins to wear off and it feels like you scooted across a rug floor long enough to get a harsh burn, he lets you break for air.

“Ever get fucked over the ledge of a 100-foot story building before?”

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