𓏵 𝙿𝙴𝙿𝚂𝙸𝙿𝙾𝙴𝚃 𓏵

four years. that's how much time passed since the night marcus –your now ex– broke up with you.

the breakup with him didn’t happen because you were unavailable. it happened because he was a lying cheating piece of shit.

and the memory still lingered like a bruise that refused to fade completely.

you found out a random tuesday evening. a mutual friend posted a story on instagram: nothing dramatic, just a casual photo for a party the previous weekend. in the background, clear as day, you saw him with his tongue down another girl’s throat.

the same weekend he told you he was ‘’too tired to hang out’’ and needed ‘’space.’’

you confronted him the next night when you two went out to have dinner. you played your role perfectly; laughing at his jokes and leaning at the right moments.

you were good at faking. you always had been.

you wanted to talk about that, and when you did, he didn’t even try to lie.

‘’yeah. i slept with her. so what? you’re never really present anyway. you’re always halfway out the door emotionally.’’

you tried not to cry. not in public. not in such a luxurious restaurant. you were about to speak, but he interrupted you.

‘’maybe if you actually talked to me instead of acting like some mysterious untouchable girl… i wouldn’t have needed to find pleasure in someone else.’’

his words were cruel, but the betrayal burned deeper than the insult.

you had let him in more than most. you shared pieces of yourself you usually kept hidden. and he rewarded that vulnerability by cheating you and then blaming you for it. 

that night you drove home in silence, your hands were gripping the steering wheel so tight your knuckles turned white. you didn’t cry until you took a shower. 

the hot water was burning your skin as reality settled in: trusting someone backfired spectacularly.

after marcus, something inside you shifted.

you stopped believing that real intimacy could be safe. 

every man who showed interest felt like a potential traitor. every sweet word sounded like manipulation waiting to happen. every touch made you wonder what that guy was hiding behind that smile.

you still went on dates. you still flirted effortlessly and still let men take you home and fuck you. but you never truly let them close.

the second things started feeling real –the second a conversation turned vulnerable, when sometime tried to stay the night and hold you, or even when a touch became too tender– you disconnected. you left your own body and watched everything from above.

years passed like this.

a string of shallow relationships that never lasted more than a few weeks. you became an expert at keeping people a comfortable distance while making them believe they were close. 

but you never stayed. not emotionally at least.

your best friend watched this cycle repeat itself with growing worry and frustration. she was there the night you found out about him cheating. she held you while you cried angry tears. and she was tired of seeing her best friend never letting anyone in.

one afternoon, after you mentioned yet another guy who slowly ghosted you after a few dates, she sat you down on her couch with two glasses of wine and a look that said she wasn’t going to let you dodge the conversation this time.

‘’i love you more than anything in this world,’’ she started quietly. ‘’but i can’t keep watching you destroy any chance of real connection because of what he did to you four years ago. you deserve to feel something.’’

you tried to brush it off with some humor, but she wasn't having it.

‘’you need therapy,’’ she said. ‘’you’re so scared and that fear is costing you years of your life. just go to one session. if you hate it, i’ll never bring it up.’’

‘’i don’t need therapy,’’

‘’yes, you do. you think you’re fine because you can still flirt and get guys, but you’re not fine. you’re lonely when you’re with someone.’’

you let out a bitter laugh.

‘’i’m not scared. i’m smart. after what marcus did, why the hell would i let someone in again? so they cheat on me and then blame me for having trust issues? no, thanks.’’

‘’not every man is marcus. but you’ll never know that if you keep pushing everyone away before they even have a chance. you deserve to feel safe with someone. you deserve to be loved and not just desired.’’

you looked away.

‘’i’m handling it.’’ you repeated stubbornly.

‘’you’re not handling it,’’ your friend said softly. ‘’you’re surviving. there’s a difference.’’

she slid a small business card across the table toward you.

hawkins behavioral health.

you didn’t book the appointment right away.

for nearly three weeks, the small business card your best friend gave you sat in your kitchen like a quiet accusation. every time you went to drink water, you saw it. every night you came exhausted from work, it was still there.

at first, you ignored it completely.

you told yourself you didn’t need therapy. but the words felt thinner every time you repeated them.

you started researching the place anyway – mostly out of boredom, you convinced yourself. hawkins behavioral health had a clean website and good reviews. 

but one name kept appearing with particularly strong feedback: dr. steve harrington.

you read review after review.

‘’he actually sees you. doesn’t just nod and write things down.’’

‘’first therapist who called me out on my bullshit in the kindest way possible.’’

‘’made me feel safe enough to be honest.’’

you closed the browser more than once, annoyed at yourself for even considering it.

then came the date with tyler. a guy you met.

it was supposed to be casual, just drinks at a nice bar. he was charming, successful, and funny. 

on paper, he was perfect. in reality, he spent most of the night talking about himself.

when you finally opened up a little, he didn’t seem to care. but there was a specific comment that hurt.

‘’guys don’t want to deal with a bunch of emotional baggage, you know?’’

the comment stung more than it should have.

later that night, when he kissed you outside the bar and invited you back to his place, you went. but the entire time you felt hollow. you two didn’t even kiss there, just talked at night and he let you stay to sleep.

the next morning you drove home in silence. when you walked into the apartment, the little business card was still on the counter. you picked it up, turned it over in your hands for a long time, and finally sighed.

‘’fuck it,’’ you whispered.

you called hawkins behavior health that same afternoon and booked an appointment for the following thursday.

the day of your first session arrived faster than you expected. 

you spent the entire morning convincing yourself you could still cancel. you changed outfits three times and almost turned the car around twice on the way there.

but somehow, you ended up walking through the front doors of the building.

the reception area was warm and comforting, with soft lightning and exposed brick walls. behind the desk stood a woman with short brown hair and energetic presence. 

her name tag read: robin buckley – office coordinator.

she looked up and gave you a bright welcoming smile.

‘’hi! you must be the 4:30. first time with us?’’ you nodded, gripping the strap of your bag a little too tightly.

robin’s smile softened, sensing your nerves.

‘’totally normal to feel anxious. everyone is on their first visit.’’ she typed something on her computer. ‘’you’re here to see dr. harrington, right?’’

‘’yes.’’

‘’he’s really good,’’ she said kindly. ‘’a little young for a psychologist, but perceptive. something annoyingly so, but don’t tell him i told you that.’’ she gave you a playful wink. ‘’just be honest with him. he can candle the truth.’’

she printed some forms and handed them to you.

‘’fill these out and i’ll let him know you’re him. deep breath. you’ve got this.’’

ten minutes later, robin returned and led you down a quiet hallway lined with plants. 

she stopped in front of a wooden door and gave you one last encouraging smile.

‘’dr. harrington? your 4:30 is here.’’

you took a deep breath and stepped inside.

the office was nothing like you had imagined. it didn’t feel clinical or cold. warm afternoon light poured through tall windows, bathing the room in a soft golden hue. 

one wall was lined with tall bookshelves filled with psychology texts, novels, and a few personal items – like a small framed picture of a group of friends, and what looked like a tiny hawkins high keychain hanging from a shelf.

two comfortable deep armchairs faxed each other with a low wooden table between them. a box of tissues on the table and a long couch that looked untouched.

and he was rising from one of the armchairs. steve harrington.

he was younger than you expected even if robin told you before. 

much younger. early twenties, if that. 

he looked tall even if he was sitting, with messy brow hair that looked like he’d run his hand through it several times that day.

and he had warm hazel eyes. big hazel eyes you weren’t able to ignore.

he also wore a brown jacket over a button-up shirt. 

steve looked more like a handsome graduate student than a licensed psychologist.

‘’hi,’’ he said with low warm voice. ‘’i’m steve harrington. you can call me steve if that makes you feel more comfortable. come in, please.”

he gestured toward the empty armchair across from him.

‘’sit however you’d like. there are no rules in this room.’’

you gave him a small smile and sat down, crossing your legs neatly and folding your hands in your lap. you studied him from a moment: the way he moved, the way he looked at you. 

he was annoying attractive. too attractive to be doing this job.

steve sat down across from you, leaning forward slightly with his hands clasped loosely between his knees. he didn’t speak right away. he just looked at you –not staring, but truly paying attention– and it made your skin prickle.

‘’so,’’ he said gently after a few seconds, offering a small smile. ‘’what brings you here today?’’

you let out a soft breath and gave him a smile.

‘’well…. apparently i’m very good at making men want me, but terrible at actually letting them stay.’’ you titled your head a little, letting your gaze linger on his face for a second. ‘’my last boyfriend said i’m emotionally unavailable. among other things.’’

you finished with a light laugh, hoping it would steer the conversation into safer waters.

steve didn’t laugh with you.

he simply watched you with a calm and thoughtful expression. 

after a moment, he talked.

“you started with a joke,” he noted gently. “and a compliment hidden inside it. you smiled while talking about something painful. that’s interesting.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to keep your expression light.

“are you always this direct?”

“well… i’m noticing some things. you are trying to deflect,” he replied but not unkindly. “you’re very good at it. you use charm and humor to keep things from getting serious.”

you felt a flicker of irritation mixed with uncomfortably and nervousness.

“you’re very observant for someone so young,” you said, your tone was still light but with a subtle edge. “does that usually work for you? reading people before they even say anything?”

steve’s mouth twitched into the faintest hint of a smile.

but his eyes remained steady.

“you’re doing it again,” he said softly. “shifting the focus onto me and testing my reactions.” he paused, then added. “it’s okay. we don’t have to rush. this is your space.”

you sat back slightly, studying him.

he was good. too good.

and the fact that he was young somehow made it worse. 

he shouldn’t be this perceptive.

he shouldn’t be able to see through you this easily.

steve waited patiently, giving you time. his presence was calm, steady, and strangely grounding.

those hazel eyes never left yours, but they weren’t intimidating either.

they were patient. kind. like he really had nowhere else he’d rather be.

“so,” he said again. “when you say you’re “terrible at letting people stay”… what does that feel like for you?”

you opened your mouth, ready to give another polished half-joking answer.

but for the first time in a long time, the words got stuck in your throat.

steve didn’t push. he simply waited, watching you with that calm gaze. 

the silent stretched between you, not awkward, but heavy. for once, you didn’t know what to say. you didn’t have a clever line prepared. you didn’t have a flirty deflection ready.

after a long moment, you let out a slow breath and looked down at your hands.

‘’i don’t know how to… stay,’’ you admitted quietly. ‘’when things get real. when someone starts looking too closely. i just… leave. not physically. but emotionally. i go somewhere else in my head. i smile. i say the right things. but i’m not really there.’’

steve nodded slowly, his expression soft but attentive.

‘’that sounds lonely,’’ he said gently. ‘’being with someone but no really being with them.’’

you swallowed hard.

‘’it is,’’ you whispered. ‘’but it’s safer.

steve leaned forward sightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

‘’can you tell me more about that? when did you start feeling the need to protect yourself from the others like this?’’

you hesitated. the memories of your ex came rushing back – his cruel words, the way he blamed you for his own cheating, the humiliation of realizing you tried to be vulnerable with someone who never deserved it.

‘’four years ago,’’ you said, voice quieter now. ‘’i was with someone. i thought i was letting him in. i was trying and he cheated on me. then told me it was my fault and after that… it just felt easier to never let anyone close enough to hurt me again.’’

steve listened without interrupting. you liked that. and his eyes never left your face.

when you finished, he spoke carefully.

‘’so you learned that being vulnerable leads to pain. and now, even when you want connection, your mind and body protect you by disconnecting.’’

you looked up at him, surprised by how gently he said it.

‘’you’re very young to be this good at this,’’ you said, trying to regain some control with a teasing smile.

steve’s lip curved into a faint smile.

‘’and you’re deflecting again,’’ he replied softly, but there was no judgment in his tone. ‘’it’s okay. we’ll work on that. one step at a time.’’

he paused and then asked gently.

‘’when you’re with someone now… physically… what does that disconnection feel like in your body?’’

you shifted in your seat, feeling exposed under his attentive gaze. you hadn't expected him to go there so directly, yet so kindly.

‘’it feels like… im floating,’’ you admitted. ‘’like i can do everything right but i’m not really feeling anything. it’s like automatic.’’

steve nodded slowly, processing your words.

‘’and does that bother you?’’ he asked. ‘’or has it become normal?’’

you stayed silent for a long moment.

‘’.. it bothers me,’’ you finally whispered. ‘’but i don’t know how to stop doing it.’’

he gave you a small nod.

‘’that’s why you’re here,’’ he said gently. ‘’we’re going to figure that out together. no pressure. just honestly, at whatever pace you need.’’

for the rest of the session, steve listened carefully as you spoke. he didn’t interrupt. he didn’t judge. 

he simply asked thoughtful questions and noticed things you hadn’t even realized about yourself; the way you joked when things got heavy, the way you crossed your arms when you felt vulnerable…

by the time the session ended, you felt strangely drained. but also lighter.

steve stood up when the hour was over and gave you a warm smile.

‘’you did really well today,’’ he said. ‘’i know it wasn’t easy. same time next week?’’

you nodded, feeling a strange mix of nervousness and relief. 

as you left his office, you couldn’t stop thinking about how easily he had seen through every wall you tried to put up.

then the days after your first session passed in a strange haze.

you went back to your routine: work, nights with your best friend… but something felt different. lighter, maybe. or perhaps just more aware.

you tried dating again. not because you suddenly believed in love, but because you wanted to prove to yourself (and maybe to steve), that you could try.

his name was daniel. he was kind, funny and worked as a graphic designer. 

he didn’t try too hard. 

on your first date, you talked for almost three hours about music and movies. on the second, he kissed you goodnight outside your car. 

you wanted this to work. 

you returned for the second session. you spent the entire week thinking about steve’s words.

the way he looked at you. the way he actually listened. it was unsettling how much space he was taking up in your mind.

when you walked into his office and steve was already waiting, sitting in his usual chair. he wore a blue polo shirt that made his hazel eyes stand out even more. 

the moment you entered, he gave you a warm smile that made your stomach tighten.

‘’hi,’’ he said. ‘’it’s good to see you again. come in, make yourself comfortable.’’

you sat down in the armchair across from him, crossing your legs and folding your hands in your lap. for a few seconds, you didn’t know where to begin. 

steve waited patiently, as always – never rushing you, never filling the silence.

‘’i’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time,’’ you started quietly. ‘’and… i went out with this guy named daniel. a few times, actually.’’

steve nodded slowly, giving you his full attention.

‘’tell me about that,’’

you took a deep breath.

‘’he’s really kind. patient. he doesn’t pressure me. we talked for hours and he actually listens.’’ you paused, then added more softly. ‘’i wanted it to be different this time. i want to try going somewhere serious with him. not just casual.’’

steve listened, his eyes steady on you. when you finished, he spoke carefully.

‘’that’s a significant step – choosing to try something real with someone after being hurt. how did it feel for you?’’ you looked down at your hands.

‘’at the beginning it was okay. i felt present. but then i slipped away again.’’ you let out a small breath. ‘’i hate that i keep doing that.’’

steve was quiet for a moment, processing your words with care.

‘’what you’re describing is a very common trauma response,’’ he said gently. ‘’after being betrayed by someone you tried to trust, your nervous system learned that vulnerability equals danger. so when intimacy starts to feel real, your mind protects you by dissociating.’’

you looked up at him, surprised by how good he explained it. steve continued.

‘’the fact that you’re aware of it happening is already a progress. most people don’t even notice when they disconnect.’’

his words wrapped around you like a blanket. you felt your cheeks grow warm and you bit your lip. 

‘’thank you,’’ you whispered. steve’s expression softened further.

he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

‘’would you like to practice some grounding exercises? things you can use when you feel yourself starting to flow away?’’

you nodded. and for the next thirty minutes, steve guided you through several exercises with patience and care. his voice was incredibly calm and silky as he spoke.

he watched you practice, his eyes never leaving you.

‘’good,’’ he said when you did it correctly. ‘’that’s really good. you’re picking this up quickly.’’

every time he praised you, even subtly, you felt warmth spread through your chest. you found yourself feeling timid under his attention.

steve remembered details from your previous session and wove them in naturally.

‘’you mentioned last time that you tend to perform because you want others to feel good,’’ he looked at you. ‘’we can work on finding balance.’’

you felt exposed but safe. the way steve spoke made you feel truly seen.

when the session was nearing its end, steve looked at you.

‘’you did really well today,’’ he said softly. ‘’you were honest about something difficult. you let yourself be vulnerable.’’

his praise hit you deeply. you felt your face flush.

you left his office with warm cheeks and the confusing realization that your therapist’s gentle praise was starting to affect you far more than any touch from daniel ever had.

after that, you continued seeing daniel. the relationship –if it could even be called that yet– developed slowly and sweetly. he was consistent in a way that was almost foreign to you. 

but every time the moment leaned toward something more intimate, you gently stopped him.

daniel was always understanding. he’d kiss your forehead and never made you feel guilty. and yet, every time you left his apartment, you felt a quiet frustration with yourself.

you wanted him fully. you wanted to be normal. but something inside you still head back.

in the other way, your therapy sessions with steve became the anchor of your week. you found yourself in that office. steve seemed to look better each time you saw him. 

sometimes it was the way his hair fell across his forehead. 

sometimes it was the soft sweaters that hugged his biceps and shoulders. 

sometimes it was simply the way he looked at you.

the flirting on your part was subtle, almost unconscious. quiet and soft words while tucking your hair behind your ear. 

steve never crossed any lines. 

he remained perfectly professional. but his gaze would linger a second longer than necessary, and his voice would drop into that low silky tone when he praised you.

you told yourself it was nothing. he was just doing his job.

one afternoon, after a particularly long session, you met your best friend for a coffee. the moment you sat down, she studied your face with a knowing look.

‘’so… how are things going with daniel?’’ she asked, cutting into her avocado toast.

you smiled, a small genuine one.

‘’they’re good, actually. he’s really sweet. we’ve been seeing each other a couple times a week. we haven’t slept together yet… but i feel like i might be getting closer to wanting that.’’

her eyes lit up.

‘’that’s great! i’m really happy for you. he sounds like a good guy.’’ you nodded, stirring your coffee.

there was a comfortable pause. then she took a sip of her drink and asked casually:

‘’and how’s therapy going? you haven’t told me much about it lately.’’

you hesitated for a second, then shrugged lightly.

‘’it’s… going well, i think. my therapist is really good. he’s patient, he actually listens, and he explains things in a way that doesn’t make me feel like i’m broken. we’ve working on grounding exercises so i can stay more present, especially with daniel.’’

she raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

‘’tell me more about him. what’s he like?’’

you looked down at your cup, feeling a little shy.

‘’he’s… younger than i expected. really perceptive. he remember everything i tell him. he just helps me understand why i do it.’’

she stayed quiet for a moment. then she leaned forward with a mischievous grin.

‘’okay… i have to confess something. after you told me you started therapy, i got curious and looked him up on google.’’

you blinked. ‘’you what?’’

‘’i googled him,’’ she said, laughing. ‘’dr. steve harrington. i found his profile on the practice’s website and some pictures. girl… he’s ridiculously hot. like, stupidly attractive. i mean… i get why tour sessions feel intense.’’

you felt your face heat up instantly. you looked down at your latte.

‘’he’s just my therapist,’’ you said quickly, trying to sound casual. ‘’he’s professional. really good at his job. that’s all.’’

‘’sure. that’s why you are blushing right now.’’

after that comment, you may have started seeing steve a little bit differently. 

maybe more handsome. 

maybe with more interest.

you tried to think it was just nonsense, that your best friend’s talk was inside your brain.

while waiting in the reception area for your session, you made the mistake of checking the practice's recent google reviews on your phone.

several new ones appeared. from women in their twenties.

one in particular caught your eye:

‘’dr. Harrington is incredible. i’ve never felt so understood in my life. he’s helped me so much with my intimacy issues. 10/10, would recommend to anyone.”

there were several more like that – all women praising how attentive and emotionally available steve was.

your stomach twisted with an ugly feeling you didn’t want to name.

jealousy.

then, as you were sitting in the waiting room, the door to steve’s office opened.

a pretty brunette woman stepped out, smiling brightly. steve followed her to the door, speaking to her in that same gentle, warm tone he used with you.

“see you next week. you did great today.”

she left, laughing at something he said. you felt a sharp pang in your chest.

when Steve turned and saw you waiting, his expression softened immediately.

“hey,” he said warmly. “ready?” 

you forced a small smile and followed him into the office, trying to ignore the uncomfortable knot of jealousy twisting inside you.

you sat down in your usual armchair. steve settled across from you, leaning forward sightly with his elbows on his knees.

‘’how has your week been?’’ he asked softly. 

you hesitated for a moment and opened your mouth to give a vague answer, but steve continued you could speak, his tone calm.

‘’you mentioned last session that you’ve been seeing someone. daniel, right? how are things going with him?’’

the question caught you slightly off guard. he had remembered the name. 

of course he had.

you shifted in your seat, suddenly feeling exposed.

“they’re… going well,” you said carefully. “he’s really kind. patient. we’ve been spending more time together. we talk a lot, we kiss… but we haven’t slept together yet.”

steve listened with complete focus, his eyes never leaving your face. he nodded slowly, processing your words.

“and how do you feel about that?” he asked with a soft voice. “about holding back with him?”

you let out a slow breath.

“i feel guilty sometimes,” you admitted. “he’s a good guy. he deserves someone who can give him everything. but i’m scared. every time things get more physical, i feel myself starting to disconnect again. i don’t want to perform with him… but i don’t know how to stop doing it.”

steve was quiet for a few seconds. His expression remained calm and professional, but you noticed the subtle tension in his jaw and the way his fingers tightened slightly around his pen.

“it makes sense that you’re scared,” he said gently. “after being betrayed by someone you tried to trust, your mind and body learned that intimacy equals danger.”

he paused, then added in that low silky tone he had.

“but I also notice that when you talk about daniel, you describe him as ‘nice’ and ‘kind.’ you don’t talk about desire. about wanting him. does that feel significant to you?”

his question felt more direct than usual. you felt your cheeks warm under his steady gaze.

“i… i don’t know,” you whispered. “maybe I’m still not ready. or maybe i’m comparing how i feel with him to… other things.”

steve’s eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary. he didn’t push further on that comment, but the air in the room felt heavier.

you felt your face flush. you looked down at your lap, unable to meet his eyes. 

a shy, nervous smile formed on your lips as you played with the hem of your sweater and your fingers trembled slightly.

you left his office with the confusing realization that steve’s gentle praise affected you.

and no matter how many times you told yourself he was just being a good therapist. 

the feeling was getting harder to ignore.

another day that daniel texted you asking if you wanted to do something casual. you said yes before you could overthink it.

the night arrived. he was the same as always: easy to talk to, interested in what you said, and never pushy. he brought you flowers –white daisies– and remembered your drink.

when dinner was over, you ended up on his couch. the kissing started slow and sweet. his hands were careful as they slid under your sweater, caressing your back. 

for a while, you stayed present. you felt the warmth of his body, the softness of his lips, the way he whispered how beautiful you were. it felt nice.

but the moment his hand moved lower, slipping under the waistband of your jeans, something inside you tightened.

you pulled back gently, placing a hand on his chest.

‘’daniel… wait,’’ you whispered. he stopped immediately, looking at you with concern.

‘’is everything okay?’’ he asked softly.

you sat up a little, pulling your sweater back down. 

your heart was racing, but not from desire – from anxiety.

‘’i’m sorry,’’ you said quietly. ‘’i thought i was ready, but… i’m not. not tonight.’’

daniel nodded without hesitation. he sat back and gave you a kind, understanding smile.

“that’s completely fine,” he said. “we don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. i’m really happy just spending time with you.”

you felt a wave of relief mixed with guilt. 

yet you still couldn’t give him what he probably wanted.

you stayed for a little while longer, talking on the couch, but the atmosphere shifted. 

when you left his apartment that night, you hugged him goodbye and told him you’d text him soon. the drive home was quiet. you felt disappointed in yourself.

by the time you got home, took a shower, and lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the frustration had built up to a breaking point.

now it has been months. months of this same cycle. flirting, dating, getting close, but then freezing or performing the moment things became truly intimate. 

you were tired of it. exhausted.

you arrived at your session feeling a mix of determination and deep embarrassment.

steve was already seated when you walked in. he wore a sweater that made his shoulders look broader. when he saw you, his hazel eyes softened with that familiar warm attention.

“hi,” he said gently. “come in. make yourself comfortable.”

you sat down. steve noticed your body language immediately.

“you seem a little nervous today,” he observed softly. “would you like to tell me what’s on your mind?”

you took a deep breath and decided to be honest.

“i’ve been thinking about what we talked about last time,” you said quietly. “about why i disconnect during sex. i… i want to understand it better. so i can try to fix it with daniel.”

steve nodded slowly, his gaze steady and kind.

“i’m glad you want to explore this,” he said. “to help you, i’m going to ask some personal questions about your sexual experiences. you don’t have to answer anything that makes you uncomfortable. but the more honest you can be, the better i can understand what’s happening and help you work through it. is that okay with you?”

you swallowed hard and nodded. steve kept his voice low and professional.

“when you’re with daniel, or with previous partners… do you feel any physical pleasure at all? or does it become purely mechanical after a certain point?”

your cheeks started burning.

“sometimes… at the beginning,” you whispered. “i feel warmth. tingling. but then it fades. i start focusing on what i should be doing instead of what i’m feeling.”

steve nodded, completely focused on you.

“do you touch yourself when you’re alone?” he asked calmly. “masturbate?”

your face went hot. you looked down at your lap, fingers twisting nervously in your sweater.

“…yes,” you admitted.

“how does that feel compared to sex with someone else?” he asked gently. “do you stay present when you’re touching yourself?”

you bit your lip, feeling incredibly exposed.

“mostly yes,” you whispered. “it’s easier when i’m alone. i can control everything. i don’t have to worry about what the other person is thinking.”

steve’s voice remained soothing.

“that’s very common,” he said. “when you’re alone, there’s no fear of judgment or betrayal. your body feels safe enough to stay present. but when someone else is involved, that safety disappears and your mind protects you by dissociating.”

he paused, then continued.

“when you masturbate… what do you usually think about? do you stay focused on the sensations in your body, or does your mind wander to fantasies?”

your face was burning now. you couldn’t look at him.

“i… try to focus on the sensations,” you mumbled. “but sometimes i fantasize. about… being wanted. being seen. not just fucked.”

steve was quiet for a moment, giving you space. the silence felt heavy but not uncomfortable. 

when he finally spoke, his voice was even softer, almost careful.

“thank you for being honest about that,” he said. “that’s really helpful information.”

he leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees.

“as an exercise for this week, i’d like you to try something at home. when you masturbate, i want you to focus completely on the physical sensations. you don’t have to do it every day, just when you feel comfortable.”

your heart was beating fast. the idea of doing that and then telling him about it made your stomach twist with nerves.

“and… you want me to tell you how it went?” you asked, voice small.

steve nodded calmly. 

“only if you feel comfortable sharing. this is your space. but yes, talking about it next session could help us understand what makes it easier or harder for you to stay present.”

you swallowed hard, cheeks still burning.

“okay,” you whispered. “i’ll try.”

the drive home was quiet. your hands gripped the steering wheel a little too tightly the whole way. 

steve’s voice kept echoing in your head. 

the way he looked at you when you spoke. the subtle way his fingers tapped against his knee.

by the time you stepped into your apartment, you kicked off your shoes and sat on the edge of your bed, replaying steve’s words from the session.

you lay back on your bed, still wearing your clothes from the day. you slid your hand inside your now pajama pants and started slowly rubbing yourself over your panties. 

you tried to focus on the sensation, on your own body like steve suggested. but after a few minutes your mind began to wander.

you kept thinking about him.

about the calm way he looked at you when he spoke.

about how low and steady his voice got when he explained things. 

about the way his hands rested on his thighs during sessions. 

you imagined those same hands on you and immediately felt a rush of heat between your legs.

you slipped your fingers under your panties and touched yourself directly, circling your clit slowly. soft sounds left your lips as you got wetter. 

every time you tried to push the thoughts away, they came back stronger. 

you pictured steve’s face, his kind eyes, the slight scruff on his jaw, the way he said your name.

guilt twisted in your chest even as pleasure built between your legs.this is wrong, you thought. 

he was your therapist. he was trying to help you and you were here touching yourself while thinking about him.

still, you didn’t stop. your fingers moved faster, sliding inside yourself while your other hand gripped the sheets. 

your breathing grew heavier. you whispered his name once, very quietly, like a secret you couldn’t keep inside.

when you finally came it was sharp and intense; your thighs shaking, a soft broken sound leaving your throat.

you felt dirty. wrong. like you had crossed a line you could never uncross. 

steve trusted you. 

he was patient and professional and genuinely trying to help you heal, and here you were fantasizing about him.

“what the hell is wrong with me…” you whispered into the quiet room.

the next few days were hell.

you tried to pretend it never happened.

you told yourself it was a one-time mistake. that it wouldn’t happen again.

but when thursday afternoon came and you walked into steve’s office, your hands were already shaking.

steve was sitting in his usual chair, wearing a soft beige sweater, looking calm and professional like always. 

he smiled gently when you entered.

“hey,” he said warmly. “how have you been since last session?” 

you sat down on the couch across from him, legs pressed tightly together.

“fine,” you mumbled.

he studied you for a moment, then leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.

“did you try the homework i gave you?” he asked, voice gentle but direct. “touching yourself without pressure?”

you stayed silent, staring at the floor. your throat felt tight. steve waited patiently.

“you don’t have to share details if you don’t want to,” he continued softly, “but it would help if you could tell me whether you did it or not… and if you did, what came up for you. what you were thinking about.”

you still didn’t answer. your fingers twisted in your lap.

steve tilted his head.

“it’s okay,” he said. “you can sit over here if it feels easier to talk.” he gestured to the smaller couch closer to his chair, only a couple feet away. “sometimes being a little closer helps.”

you didn’t move.

after a few seconds of silence, steve slowly reached out and placed his hand gently on your knee, warm and steady, trying to get your attention.

“hey,” he said quietly, voice low. “talk to me. what’s going on in that head of yours?”

your heart hammered in your chest. his hand on your leg made everything worse. you felt tears burning in your eyes.you finally whispered, barely audible:

“…i did it.”

steve nodded slowly, thumb brushing lightly against your knee in a comforting motion.

“good. that’s okay. and when you were doing it… what were you thinking about?”

you stayed quiet for a long moment, shame burning through your whole body. then, in a tiny, broken voice, you admitted:

“…you.”

the word hung heavy in the air between you.steve froze. his hand stilled on your knee. 

for the first time since you’d known him, he looked genuinely caught off guard.

steve didn’t move. the air between you grew thick. 

he stayed quiet for a few seconds, processing your words, then spoke carefully.

“you need to try thinking about something like that when you’re with daniel. that kind of arousal… that’s what we’re trying to build with him.”

you finally looked up at him with glassy and frustrated eyes.

“how am i supposed to feel that way with daniel?” your voice cracked. “how do i differentiate it? how do i know what i really want with him?”

steve stared at you. his breathing changed.

the professional mask cracked right in front of you. 

for a moment he looked conflicted, struggling hard with himself.

then he leaned in slowly, cupped your face with one hand, and kissed you.

the kiss was soft at first, almost hesitant, but full of months of hidden tension. his lips were warm and gentle against yours. your heart slammed in your chest.

he pulled back after a few seconds with his breathing ragged.

“fuck… i’m sorry,” he whispered. “that was completely unprofessional. i shouldn’t have done that. we can’t—”

you didn’t let him finish.

you grabbed the front of his sweater and pulled him back into the kiss, harder this time. 

steve froze for half a second before he gave in completely, kissing you back with a quiet groan. his hand slid to the back of your neck as the kiss deepened, growing more desperate.

both of you knew how wrong this was.

but in that moment, neither of you cared.

“this is so wrong…” he said. “i could lose my license. i could get fired. we shouldn’t be doing this.”

you looked into his eyes, desperate.

“i need you, steve,” you whispered back, voice breaking. “i don’t want anyone else. i only think about you.”

he let out a shaky breath, clearly fighting with himself. 

then pulled you onto his lap so you were straddling him, your jeans rubbing against his thighs. his hands immediately gripped your hips.

“fuck… you’re going to ruin me,” he murmured before kissing you again, deeper this time.

his mouth moved to your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as his hands worked between you. 

“ride my thigh, baby,” he whispered hotly against your neck. “just like this. with your clothes on. use me to feel good.”

you moaned softly and started rocking your hips, grinding your clothed pussy against his thick, muscular thigh. 

the rough fabric of your jeans created a delicious friction against your clit with every roll of your hips.

steve’s hands stayed on your hips, guiding you, pulling you harder against his leg.

“that’s it,” he breathed, sucking on the sensitive spot below your ear. “grind on me. use my thigh to get yourself off.”

you moved faster, rolling your hips in desperate circles, the seam of your jeans pressing perfectly against your clit. 

you could feel how wet you were getting, the fabric growing damp as you humped his leg.

“steve…” you whimpered, burying your face in his neck.

“good girl,” he praised softly, kissing down your neck while helping you grind harder. “look at you… riding my thigh fully dressed like you can’t wait any longer.”

his hands squeezed your ass, pulling you down firmer against him with every roll. the pressure was intense, the friction making your legs shake.

“does that feel good, princess?” he murmured, voice low and rough. “humping my leg like a needy girl?”

“yes… fuck, yes,” you moaned quietly, moving faster, chasing the building pleasure.

steve kept kissing and biting your neck gently while you rode his thigh desperately, the wet patch on your jeans growing bigger with every grind.

then he didn’t even wait for you to cum and unbuttoned your jeans and tugged the zipper down. his long fingers slipped inside your jeans and under your panties, finding you soaked.

you gasped as two thick fingers touched you.

“so wet already,” he breathed against your neck, kissing and biting softly while his fingers played with your pussy. “you really do need this, don’t you?”

you moaned quietly, rocking your hips against his hand as he fingered you deeper. 

his thumb found your clit and rubbed firm, steady circles while his mouth continued its assault on your neck.

“steve…” you whimpered, gripping his shoulders. “with you… i feel good.”

he lifted his head from your neck, eyes dark but full of concern. his fingers kept moving inside you, slower now.

“tell me,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and careful.“i don’t feel blocked,” you breathed, grinding down onto his fingers. “i’m not anxious… i’m not overthinking. i’m just… enjoying it. i feel safe with you.”

steve let out a shaky breath, clearly worried.

he stopped moving his fingers for a moment and looked straight into your eyes, his free hand gently cupping your cheek.

“are you sure?” he asked softly, thumb brushing your cheek. “i need you to be honest with me. if anything feels wrong or too much, you tell me immediately, okay? your comfort is the most important thing right now.”

you nodded, leaning into his touch.

“i’m sure,” you whispered. “i want this. i want you.”

steve searched your face for any sign of doubt, then kissed you again, slower this time, more tenderly. 

his fingers started moving once more, curling gently inside you while his thumb kept rubbing your clit in steady circles.

“good girl,” he whispered against your lips, voice full of care. “just relax. i’ve got you. tell me if you want it slower or deeper.” he whispered hotly against your skin, curling his fingers inside you perfectly. “just ride my fingers, baby. take what you need.”

his other hand slid under your shirt, squeezing your breast as he kept kissing and marking your neck. 

his fingers moved faster inside you, thrusting deep while his thumb pressed harder on your clit.

you were grinding desperately on his hand, moaning softly into his shoulder, completely lost in the feeling of his fingers stretching you and his mouth on your neck.

steve groaned quietly against your skin.

“you feel so fucking good… so tight around my fingers.”

you moaned quietly, rolling your hips against his hand as he fingered you with perfect rhythm. 

his mouth returned to your neck, kissing and sucking softly while he focused completely on your pleasure, always watching your reactions, always making sure you felt safe.

“you’re doing so well,” he murmured against your skin, fingers curling just right. “i just want you to feel good, baby. nothing else matters right now.”

the pleasure built quickly until it crashed over you. you came hard with a broken moan, thighs shaking, pussy clenching tightly around his fingers as waves of pleasure rolled through your body. 

steve kept moving his fingers gently, helping you ride out every last pulse.

when you finally came down, breathing heavily, you reached down to palm his obvious erection through his pants.

steve immediately caught your wrist, stopping you.

“no,” he said softly but firmly, breathing hard. “not today. this is about you.”

he gently lifted you off his lap and laid you down on the couch. 

he knelt on the floor between your legs, pulled your jeans and panties down in one smooth motion, and spread your thighs wide.

steve leaned in and kissed your inner thigh, then higher, until his mouth was on your pussy. he licked a long, slow stripe from your entrance to your clit, tasting you. 

you moaned loudly, your hand flying to his hair.

he licked you slowly at first, savoring you, then became more eager; sucking gently on your clit, fucking you with his tongue, then sliding two fingers back inside you while he focused his mouth on your sensitive bud.

“steve…” you whimpered, back arching. “oh my god…”

he ate you out with perfect focus, humming against you, curling his fingers deep while his tongue worked your clit in stead patterns. 

you felt completely overwhelmed in the best way.

“it’s been so long…” you moaned, voice breaking, fingers tightening in his hair. “i haven’t felt this good with anyone in so long… steve, fuck—”

he groaned against your pussy, the vibration making you shiver. 

he doubled down, sucking harder on your clit while his fingers thrust faster.

you came again with a loud cry, thighs clamping around his head as intense pleasure flooded your body. 

steve kept licking you gently through it, drawing out every wave until you were trembling and oversensitive.

he finally pulled back, lips shiny, breathing heavily. he looked up at you with dark, worried, but undeniably hungry eyes. then he slowly stood up, towering over you as you lay on the couch. 

he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and looked at you for a long moment.

“do you really want me to fuck you?” he asked, voice low and rough. “because we’ve already broken every rule… if we do this, there’s no going back.”

you nodded, still catching your breath.

“yes,” you whispered. “i want you.” steve let out a shaky breath, clearly fighting with himself one last time.

he quickly unbuckled his belt and opened his pants, pulling out his cock. he was big — thick and long, the head already leaking. 

you stared at it, a mix of nerves and excitement flooding you.

“you have to be quiet,” he warned, voice serious. “no matter what. if someone hears us, i’m done.”

you nodded quickly. steve pulled your jeans and panties completely off, then climbed on top of you on the small couch. 

he rubbed the head of his cock against your soaked pussy before slowly pushing inside.you gasped at the stretch. he was so big it almost hurt, but it felt so good. 

he covered your mouth with his large hand as he sank deeper while his eyes were locked on yours.

“shhh, baby,” he whispered, bottoming out inside you. “fuck… you’re so tight.”

he started fucking you on the couch, deep and steady thrusts, his hand still firmly over your mouth to muffle your moans. every time he buried himself completely you whimpered against his palm, eyes rolling back.

after a few minutes he pulled out, stood up and turned you around, bending you over the desk. he pushed back inside you from behind in one smooth thrust, groaning quietly.

“quiet, princess,” he reminded you, hand returning to cover your mouth as he started fucking you harder. 

the desk creaked softly with every deep thrust. steve was so big you could feel him in your stomach, stretching you perfectly.

his free hand gripped your hip tightly as he pounded into you, trying to stay as quiet as possible while giving you exactly what you needed.

“is this what you wanted?” he breathed against your ear, voice strained. “you feel so fucking good…”

you could only moan helplessly against his hand, completely lost in how full you felt and how deep he was hitting inside you.

“is this what you wanted?” he whispered, voice low and rough, lips brushing your ear. “when you were touching yourself at home… thinking about me… is this what you imagined?”

you moaned against his palm, nodding frantically.

“oh yes, steve…” you whimpered, the words muffled against his hand.he fucked you a little harder, deep and slow, making sure you felt every inch.

“you were fucking yourself thinking about my cock, weren’t you?” he breathed, voice soft but filthy. “touching that pretty pussy and wishing it was me stretching you open like this…”

you whimpered louder, pushing back against him.

“yes… yes, steve… i wanted you so bad,” you gasped against his fingers.

steve groaned quietly, pressing deeper, grinding against you.

“good girl,” he murmured, kissing the side of your neck while still covering your mouth. “you feel even better than i imagined… so fucking tight and wet for me.”

he kept a steady rhythm, rolling his hips, hitting that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. his hand stayed firm over your mouth, muffling your moans as you trembled beneath him.

“that’s it, baby… take it,” he whispered hotly. “this is what you needed, isn’t it? my cock deep inside you while you’re bent over my desk…”

you nodded desperately, tears of pleasure in your eyes.

“yes, steve… oh god, yes…” you moaned against his hand, voice broken and needy.

steve kissed your neck again, sucking softly on your skin as he fucked you deeper, slower, making sure you felt every single inch.

“you’re doing so good for me,” he praised gently, voice full of lust and care at the same time. “such a good girl… letting me fuck you like this…”

“that’s it, baby,” he whispered against your ear, voice low and rough. “cum for me. let go.”

your orgasm hit you hard. your whole body tensed, thighs shaking as you came around his cock with a muffled cry against his palm. 

your pussy clenched tightly around him, pulsing again and again.

steve groaned quietly, burying himself deep as he followed right after you. his hips stuttered and he came hard inside you, filling you with warm pulses while pressing his face into your neck to stay quiet.

for a few seconds you both stayed like that, breathing heavily. 

then reality seemed to hit him. steve pulled out slowly and grabbed the box of tissues from his desk. he cleaned you gently first, wiping between your legs with care, then cleaned himself.

you both dressed quickly in silence. he helped you button your jeans. once you were both fully dressed, steve sat on the edge of the desk and pulled you to stand between his legs.

he looked at you softly.

“how do you feel?” he asked quietly, genuine concern in his eyes. “be honest with me.”

you took a deep breath, still a little shaky.

“i didn’t feel blocked,” you whispered. “i didn’t overthink everything like i usually do. i just… felt good. really good. safe.”

steve’s expression softened. a small, relieved smile appeared on his lips.

“that’s really good,” he murmured, sounding genuinely happy. “i’m glad you felt that way. that’s important.”

“and… is this what all your patients get?” you asked softly, half-joking but clearly a little nervous.

steve’s eyes widened. he let out a surprised little laugh and shook his head immediately.

“ohhh no, no, no,” he said quickly, almost embarrassed. “you’ve been the exception. completely. i usually stay very professional… i’ve never crossed this line before. not even close.”

he cupped your face with both hands, looking straight into your eyes, sincere.

“this has never happened with anyone else. you’re the only one.”

you bit your lip, feeling a strange mix of relief and warmth in your chest.

steve leaned in and kissed your forehead gently, then rested his forehead against yours.

“this is new for me too,” he whispered. “and probably really stupid… but i couldn’t stop myself with you.”

The knock at your door was an unwanted interruption of your gloomy indulgences. You were bathing in a pool of animosity and resentment, high on the vaporous fumes of vindictive musing. You let the knock go unanswered. Physically and emotionally, you felt like complete garbage. No way you were going to humor company.

When your visitor persisted, you knew it could only be one person.

"Go away, Isaac! I'm not in the mood to deal with you right now!" you lashed out. The caustic edges of your barbed tone were softened somewhat by the muffling effect of the blankets swaddling your slumped form.

"You can't be mad at me for not making enough time for you but also refuse to see me when I make time," he pointed out through the door.

"I can and will do whatever I want!" you growled in retaliation.

"Hm... alright, so then... I guess I'll just put these flowers up in my lab," Isaac teased. "If you don't want them, that is... shame to let something so pretty go unappreciated."

The double meaning backlighting his words grated on your already chafed nerves.

"You only want to appreciate me when it's convenient for you," you huffed. "Just go away. I don't feel good."

"If you let me in, I'll make you feel better," he proposed tantalizingly.

"You can't make me feel better."

"Well now you've made it into a challenge."

"It's not a challenge! Isaac, stay out of my room, I mean it!"

The low sound of your lock clicking open under the pressure of a cheap telekinetic trick left you clenching your jaw in frustration, all but seeing red and exhaling smoke as your aggravation mounted. Isaac's audacity was endearing at times, but you were already too worked up for his charms to penetrate the armor of your foul mood so easily.

"There you are... aw, you look just like a grumpy kitten," Isaac chuckled fondly. He slid into view quickly, crouched on the floor at your bedside so he could peer up at you through the shadows cast by the hood you'd made of your comforter. His features contorted when he got a better look at your expression, twisting some strange, ill-mixed combination of amusement and alarm. "My bad, something much scarier than a kitten. Maybe a kraken. Or a yeti."

"You started off on thin ice," you growled from the depths of your quilts. "And that was before you broke into my room. Keep up the unflattering comparisons and I'll show you claws to put any cryptid to shame."

"You know I adore your claws," Isaac purred. "Don't maul me just yet. Here. What do you think?"

He laid a small, colorful bouquet on the bed for your consideration. You inspected it without budging from your confinement, eyes darting between bright petals and muted buds with grudging appreciation.

"Pretty," you allowed. The single word carried all the vitriol of a hate crime.

"I should have gone for roses, huh?" Isaac sighed, dolefulness just beginning to creep into his tone.

"Chocolate would have been even better."

To Isaac's credit, the recalibration of his impressions unfolded discreetly. His eyes flicked up and raced from side to side a few times, then understanding dawned behind the warm brown of his irises.

"Oh, I see," he mused thoughtfully. "Tell you what. Hold my flowers while I grab a few things and I'll be right back."

You were going to snap an interrogation of his intentions, but he ran off before you could get the words out.

"Oh, I see," you mocked viciously in the wake of his departure. "I see... you just think you're so smart, Isaac Night. If you bring back a box of chocolates, I'm going to hit you over the head with it!"

The promise of violence fell flat in the lonely silence of the sanctuary you had constructed from discontentment. True enough, you were angry with Isaac for many of the quirks that had charmed you into his embrace to begin with. The solitary nature that made him seem so mysterious when you first started dating now meant that you didn't see nearly as much of him as you would have liked. The sharp wit that fascinated you now seemed to more capable of frustrating you than enticing you. Isaac's coyness, so tempting from afar, quickly became an annoyance when you received it in generous doses on a daily basis.

Isaac thought he could make anything up to you, that you would forgive him for any slight if he played his cards right. It agitated you to consider the possibility that he might be right. You boyfriend was so charming it made you sick sometimes.

Aggravated, indignant and beset by dull, unrelenting pain, your hands snaked out from beneath your covers to play through the petals of the flowers Isaac had left with you. You stroked and caressed at first, content to feel the silk of the petals against the pads of your fingers. A few came loose, and impulse drove you to crush them hatefully into ruined piles of wet fibers. Savage satisfaction spurred you to keep going, gradually tearing the petals apart until the delicate bouquet lay shredded before you.

Isaac came back while you were still engrossed in your spiteful task. He lingered in the doorframe, watching stolidly with an armful of offerings until you finally noticed his return.

You froze like a child caught doing something they had been warned against. If Isaac was affected by the display, he hid it well.

"I never knew flowers could make such high quality confetti," he japed light-heartedly.

You didn't know what you expected from him, but his nonchalance broke something inside you. Sorrow and regret overcame you in response to his reaction. With the lion's share of your rage vented into the destruction of the flowers, you were left with flaccid negativity that turned inward as if it had a mind of its own. You broke down on a dime, wracked by sobs while tears exploded from your eyes and you withdrew shamefully into the shelter of your blankets.

"Oh, hey now! Hey, hey..."

Isaac's weight dragged your mattress down by a half an inch and you felt his hands sliding over your covered form. You kept crying, determined to be inconsolable with self-loathing now that the inferno of your rage had been allayed.

"There you go, just let it all out," Isaac sighed encouragingly. He patted your back softly, then rubbed while you sobbed even harder.

"I'm such a bad g-girlfriend!" you lamented woefully.

"Why? The flowers? They were yours the minute I set them down," Isaac scoffed. "If tearing them up was fun, I'm happy to have brought them."

His reasoning only upset you further.

"I don't appreciate you enough," you sniffled.

"If I needed more appreciation, I would bother you for it," Isaac assured you.

"I'm mean."

"Of course you are. That's my favorite thing about you," Isaac purred blithely.

His hands were infiltrating the cocoon that was meant to be impenetrable. You squirmed away at first, only to surrender with embarrassing ease when he crushed you under his weight. He kept pursuing your skin until he managed to unwrap enough layers to press his lips to your salt-stained cheeks.

"There she is," he sighed. "My angry kraken... come out from under all these blankets and let me make you feel better. I brought all kinds of fun distractions and-"

"I don't have the energy for distractions," you complained. "And I'm in too much pain for anything fun."

"Aw, poor kitten," Isaac sighed. "Why don't you show me where it hurts, hm? I'll see if I can't come up with a remedy..."

"It's just cramps, and I already tried painkillers," you grumbled. "You can't help me, Isaac. You might as well just leave me here to stew in depression until I'm ready to come out."

"What if I wanted to stew in depression with you?" Isaac pressed. "Let me under those blankets with you..."

"Isaac! You're being a pain in my-"

"Shh, shh," he grinned.

His finger against your lips made your anger flare anew. You were tempted to bite him out of pure spite, but you were too afraid he would like it if you did. You kept your teeth to yourself while he crawled into your makeshift cocoon.

"It's cozy in here," he noted smugly, rearranging the blankets until you were bound snugly together. "You were holding out on me..."

Despite your determination to simmer in bitterness alone, you couldn't deny that Isaac's body felt heavenly pressed against yours. He held you captive in a perfect spoon, legs tangling with yours while he shifted and settled. His hands meandered up and down your figure, pulling and cajoling until you were arranged exactly the way he wanted you, back flush with his chest, curled perfectly into the cradle of his insistence.

"Now... show me right where it hurts," he murmured, so close that the moisture of his breath collected in the shell of your ear.

You shivered with tantalization as the heat of him seeped through every disgruntled fiber of your being. He demanded your hand over his, slid his palm down your torso until you stopped his descent.

"Right... more or less... about there," you winced.

"Hm."

Isaac hummed while he splayed his fingers over your abdomen, rubbing with the slightest pressure. He increased it experimentally until you groaned. He eased up in response.

"And my back hurts too," you complained.

"Roll over and I'll rub it for you," he proposed at once.

"Well... maybe in a while," you sighed. "I'd... I'd be lying if I said this doesn't already feel good."

Actually, what felt good were the hard lines of his lean body, arched to conform perfectly to your curves beneath the blankets. You smoldered together, a little hotter for every second you spent langouring and entwined. Lust crept in on the ebbing tide of the heat pulsing through you in concert. Muted, visceral, you swallowed the little moan it planted the base of your throat.

"Good. 'Told you I could help... I can fix anything, don't you know that?" Isaac muttered pridefully.

You had half a mind to knock him back down a peg, but his teeth grazed your ear unexpectedly. Your breath hiked with pleasure and you tipped your head back to encourage his affections. Your boyfriend was only too eager to accept the invitation. His lips made tender, sloppy love to your pulse points, lavishing your neck with pleasant distractions while you pressed impossibly closer to him. His mouth was drawn to yours as if by magnetic attraction, his tongue flicking against yours in bold, playful instigation. You surrendered in a daze, the moans you repressed earlier escaping only for him to lap them up like the sweetest nectar.

Isaac's fingers crept between your legs, rubbed enticingly over your clothed sex while you groaned your disapproval and squirmed in his embrace until you could catch his errant wrist in your hand.

"I'm a mess right now," you complained grouchily.

The suggestive hitch of Isaac's eyebrows and the persistence of his probing fingers sufficed to demonstrate just how undeterred he was at the prospect.

"That's fine," he chuckled, back at your ear with his satin persuasions. "All I need to know... is whether you would prefer for me to clean you up... or make the mess worse."

His thumb stroked, likely by accident, perfectly over your clit. Your eyelids fluttered shut blissfully, tense muscles vibrating with excitement as he continued. His other hand curved around your body, clutched you close and teased one of your nipples. His lips returned to melt your mind and any lingering thoughts of resistance withered away under his coaxing.

A cramp seized you and you groaned your agony. Isaac leashed his passion, drew back just far enough to analyze your suffering.

"If you want me to stop..." he sighed balefully, chin tucked against your shoulder while massive brown eyes plied you with unrelenting seduction.

His fingers slowed their stroking while you throbbed. Pleasure and pain mixed while you considered your options and grumbled your indecision. Isaac's lips were back on your body, wandering restlessly while you thought it through. He tugged your shirt so he could lay a line of sensuous kisses down your shoulder, following the trail of your spine until your postures made it impossible for him to tread any lower. The pads of his fingers kept caressing, yearning, dipping inward to press your panties uncomfortably against your dripping entrance.

"I... I guess I... I don't really mind a little mess," you finally decided. "Do you think it'll make me feel better?"

"If it doesn't feel good, tell me to stop," Isaac smirked confidently.

His hand snuck past the band of your panties, fingers slipping easily through sensitive folds while you moaned into his mouth. Something close to shyness fluttered in your gut, sickening and exciting at once. The scent of your affliction permeated the air between you and your lover while he riled you up shamelessly. His advances were gentle, his lips soothing and his fingers cautious as he dipped inside experimentally. The care he poured into fingering you reminded you of your first time with him, tender, searching, longing leashed by reticence.

Isaac released a moan of his own, so ragged and sudden that it startled you a little.

"Fuck," he growled. His fingers thrust deeper without warning, tearing a guttural whine from you as you arched into the palm of his hand. "Fuck, so wet for me..."

Part of you wanted to protest his assessment, to remind him that it wasn't entirely the lubrication of arousal that seeped out to coat his hand while he spoiled you. You couldn't bring yourself to speak, too distracted by his teeth pulling at your bottom lip, his heat coiling out to hold you prisoner, his degeneracy pushing deeper into your aching cunt by the second. You could do nothing but fall to pieces for him, shaking with satisfaction that made you forget you were in so much pain.

The blanket cocoon that had been so comforting at one point began to feel suffocating. You tossed them all aside, gasping for fresh air while Isaac clawed at your clothes until he could lay his eyes on the site of your despoilment. His breath caught reverently in his throat, awe freezing his features when he saw your blood staining his skin. You misread his expression, saw startled worship and mistook it for shocked distaste. Automatic, acute embarrassment burned in your chest, panic sparking that was strong enough to snap you out of the crippling chokehold lust had locked you in.

"Fucking mess, I warned you Isaac! I knew this was a stupid-"

Isaac cut your grumbling short with a kiss so frenzied it bordered on brutal. His hand resumed its motion, thrusting fingers squelching more vigorously now that they were freed from the impediment of your garments. You whimpered and clutched him as your humiliation wilted like a mystical moonflower left out in the sun. Your legs parted wider on impulse while you drank Isaac's wanton moans and took his increasingly unhinged affections greedily. The vehemence of his desire effectively dispelled any trace of misunderstanding.

Reciprocation occurred to you like a bolt out of the blue. You felt a little chagrin at your capacity for selfishness, but soothed your own guilt with the excuse of your harangued physical state. After all, hadn't Isaac volunteered himself in service of your comfort?

Surprise gripped you when you finally reached for your boyfriend's arousal. You'd never felt him so hard before, stiff and straining through his pants while he kept mindlessly fucking you with his fingers. It wasn't a leap to connect the unprecedented strength of his excitement to the rabid gleam in his eye when he glanced down to steal another look at the crimson slick painting his hand.

"Sick," you accused him breathlessly, without an ounce of true disdain.

Isaac only moaned in reply, bucking helplessly, demandingly into the palm of your hand.

"Tell me I can!" he growled, teeth lashing out to scourge your ear while his breath singed your damp skin. "I don't- don't wanna hurt you, but-"

"I want it too!" you agreed fervently. "Maybe just... just be gentle? Go slow?"

Isaac nodded hard, grinned while he kissed his gratitude across your heaving chest. You shed clothes in record time, panting while you let Isaac manhandle your body so he could kneel low between your legs. You trembled with anticipation while he lingered on the precipice of penetration, thumb playing distractedly through your bloody folds with an entranced look in his eye. The way he licked his lips, hungry as a carnivore, was all the advance warning you needed to read his demented mind.

Isaac brought his sullied fingers to his mouth, held your gaze salaciously while he tasted the fruits of your suffering. You could only gape at him, thoughts chased away completely by a strange combination of lust and amazement. You watched his eyes flick down, knew he was contemplating a different path to your satisfaction. A shiver of indecision ripped through him, mirrored across your body while you wanted for him to make up his mind.

Base physical desire won out over his perverse fascination with your taste. Isaac gripped his length, dragged his swollen head through your folds while anticipation rendered you both breathless. When he finally pressed inside, you couldn't help mewling your ecstasy, hands shooting out to clutch at his waist while he teased you with just his tip. You could feel how hot he was running, pulsating with arousal while he inched deeper. His mouth fell open with wonder, eyes glued to the site of your union. You watched too, almost as mesmerized as your deranged boyfriend by the sight of his cock disappearing and withdrawing in tiny increments. He took his time filling you, drawing back often to admire the dark red streaking his throbbing member.

The subtle, unyielding massage along every inch of your harrowed walls left you gasping with pleasure, cramps long vanished by the time he pushed into you halfway. The pain returned when Isaac bottomed out inside of you, but it was different. Not as sharp, tainted by euphoria that transformed it into something nearly unrecognizable. You craved the hard, dull press of him as he carved his way deeper, short thrusts steeping your quivering body in unmitigated ecstasy.

You moaned his name and the invocation introduced a catastrophic stutter to his slow rhythm that he never recovered from. He collapsed into your arms, growled possession down your throat while he abandoned tenderness to take you raw and rough while you dripped around him and cried your eagerness. The stab of his cock as it plunged back into you again and again was excruciating and exquisite at once, pushing harshly at the limits of what you could take. His fingers caged your wrists while your heels dug cruelly into his thighs, demanding him deeper while you begged him to give it to you harder.

Harder, you realized, was better, despite the gentleness you'd initially craved to salve your aches. Isaac obliged like a good boyfriend, only too pleased to give you everything you could possibly ask him for in the throes of your debauchery.

While talking with your friends, you hadn’t realized the volume when you confessed the scandalous secret.

“Oh, I love free-use. If Chris came home and just needed me like that? Ugh…that’s so hot to me.”

Those were your words from your mouth.

At first, Chris didn’t know how to feel.

Wouldn’t that be degrading towards you? Why would you possibly want that?

But then he did his research. Curious and carefully, he typed words into a search bar that he’d never dared to even think before.

And after all the articles and personal testaments from other like-minded people, he understood.

The whole idea revolved around feeling needed. Appreciated.

He was comfortable with the idea…and then he became intoxicated by it.

You want him to need you.

Maybe when you’re cooking, he can just bend you over the kitchen counter.

Or…what if it’s in the middle of the night and he can’t sleep and he takes you right then?

He’d most certainly rip whatever pajama bottoms you’re wearing off, slide your panties to the side, and wake you up with that biggggg stretch of his cock.

But first, he’d have to talk to you.

—

You were mortified. Everything about this made you wanna roll over and land into a grave.

Here you were, legs crossed as you sat on the couch with your hands clutched together in your lap, listening with burning ears.

God, this is embarrassing.

“Baby, it’s nothing to be ashamed of, I’m not lecturing you, I’m just asking if you want—“

You cut Chris off, eyes wide and lips loose. “No, no. You must’ve misheard me. I would never want something like that! It’s…it’s weird and—“

“It’s not weird.” He pouts.

Oh…was he into it?

“Wait. You have this kink too?”

“Too, huh?” He smirks, the cockiness in the raise of his eyebrow making you realize your mistake.

You basically just admitted it. There was no going back now. And honestly? The anticipation of what was coming next made the humiliation simmer down in the pit of your gut.

“Initially, no.” Oh. Well that sucks. “But…I did my research and…I, uh…I…yeah. I’m definitely liking the idea now.”

His voice is a bit raspier. You notice as he coughs, he brings his hand down to pet over the slight tent in his jeans casually.

The pinkness in his cheeks lets you know you weren’t supposed to notice, but you’re glad you did.

“So…” you climb over, regaining some dignity and confidence as you nuzzle into his side. Your eyes peer right up at his. You swear you can’t breathe as he looks at you with possibilities twinkling in his eyes. “What do we do now?”

He licks over his lips hungrily. It’s like he’s fighting himself, stopping his instincts from making him take you right then and there.

“Well…I, uh, let’s talk about rules. I want to do this the right way…”

—

It’s been about a week since that conversation. With each passing day, you felt the excitement build.

You’d gone over rules and boundaries until they were crystal clear. Chris had some concerns but they all faded when he realized how much you craved this.

“Chris said there’s stuff at the warehouse for us to pick up. We’ll be back in a bit.” Matt says, tossing his keys around like a fidget spinner while Nick trails behind him.

Huh.

The thing is, Chris wasn’t home. In fact, you could tell he was on his way based on the last text he sent. Why wouldn’t be just pick up stuff at the warehouse on his way?

Why did your clit twitch at the thought of him planning—scheming something so devious…?

You silently thank yourself for what you decided to wear today. The low cut tank top makes your tits pop, and the little cotton lounge shorts you have on would be really easy to get off quick…

Plus the matching bra and panties you have are quite the treat. Both flimsy purple lace that’s soft yet a little itchy when you move too quick.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a slam of the front door. Chris is home.

Usually, he announces his presence, makes sure to say the cheesy line of ‘honey I’m home!’

…but he doesn’t.

Instead, he walks up the stairs and into your view with a look on his face that makes something burn within you.

He looks feral.

You swallow thickly, adjusting your comfortable position on the couch. You reach out as he stalks towards you. Before you can stand up to hug him, he grabs you by the hips, shoving you roughly into the couch cushions with your ass in the air and knees bumping against the ground.

“Chr—oh!” You squeal as you feel his hand grab a handful of your ass, a smack that’s more than light tap against your inner thigh, forcing you to spread your legs.

“Open up, baby. Open up now.”

His voice is…god…it’s really something. You hear his pant zipper slide down, shuffling of his clothes echo in the span of just seconds.

Before you know it, he’s manhandling you—nearly ripping your flimsy shorts and panties off while propping you higher on the couch.

Your knees now dig into the cushions you typically sit on. The hard back of the sofa pushing against your stiff nipples.

He’s barely done anything but you’re dripping. You can feel the slick arousal leak out of your pulsating hole, slithering to the crease of your inner thighs.

“Look at that…fuck…”

He’s more so talking to himself as he spreads your folds open, analyzing you like he’s hypnotized.

You wiggle your hips out of impatience. Chris immediately laughs at you, the cocky sound making your gut swarm with butterflies.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby. I’m gonna use you in just a sec, just….god damn, gotta admire this view…” he husks, slightly brushing his pointer finger on your entrance to catch a droplet of your wetness. He smears it on the back of your thigh, like it’s some sort of ritual.

And god, you love it.

You love it even more when he shoves his fat tip into your entrance with absolutely no warning…

“Bigggg stretch for me…”

You’re suffocating his cock. Your pussy has warped around his length in the most delicious way, squeezing every vein on his girthy dick like it’s your dying wish to milk him dry.

“O-oh!” You squeal as he pushes forward, his cock practically splitting you in half from such the drastic change in pressure down there.

But you’re not complaining, no.

You love it.

So much so that your arousal begins to drip in his pubes as he bottoms out, your wetness caressing his balls.

You’re just…so fucking drenched.

“Jesus, baby. You really love this, huh?” He taunts, slowly pulling out about halfway before urging his hips forward once more.

You jolt at the intrusion. The squelch of your pussy against his pelvis makes your toes curl. He repeats the same action, this time…a little…rougher.

“Oh shit,” he hisses his nails digging into your hip as you clench hard.

“It’s—it’s still okay, right?” He asks, hesitant yet barely holding himself back.

Something inside of you twists with frustration. You went over rules. You don’t want him to ask, you want him to need you—to ruin you because he’ll die without it.

“Shut up and fuck me, Chris.”

That’s all it takes.

Those few words seem to be the key to the cage of his savageness. His cock drags in and out of you, no mercy, pounding into you.

He moans and cusses like he’s already about to cum. Mostly because he’s trying so hard to hold himself back.

“O-oh-my—chris!”

You’re screaming makes him grin like a sick man. He angles his hips slightly different, letting out a cocky huff as you sob out.

“Yeah? Right there, huh?” He leans over, cradling himself over your back as he drives his dick to abuse your cunt. “This is my fuckin pussy. Mine to fuck, mine to use. Isn’t that right?”

You don’t response. Mostly because you can’t.

Your mouth hangs open, drool pooling out as you let out battle cries of pleasure. It feels so good. You don’t know what to do with yourself, you don’t know if you’ve ever felt this much before.

He’s so deep. He’s so…thick.

And his whispered groans against the curve of your ear makes the pleasure inescapable.

“Fuckin answer or I’ll stop.” He demands. The threat immediately grabs your attention. You can’t have him stop. Not now…not when you’re so…so close.

“W-wa-what did—did—you—you sa-say?”

Your words are shattered every time he ruts his cock deep inside your weeping pussy. He can’t help but grin, leaning and nipping at your ear.

“I said,” he thrusts particularly hard, laughing as you desperately clutch onto the back of the sofa. “You’re mine to use, aren’t you, baby? Isn’t that—“

This time, you cut him off. You don’t necessarily mean to, but you can’t help but wholeheartedly agree with his question.

“Yes! Yes! I’m—I’m you-yours! To use! To-to fuck—to—oh god,” you let out an elongated scream as he punishes your sweet spot, his hands holding your squirming body so tight that you can’t catch a break from the overwhelming pleasure.

“Good girl. Good—fuckkkkk…you’re so close, I can—can feel it. Shit.”

He loses all control. His pace is animalistic, his force beginning to become so hard you’re sure your inner thighs will be bruised from where his body slaps against yours with every thrust.

“C-cl-clos-close-I—“

“Fuck—I know, I know. Just—fuck, keep—squeeze my dick just like that, yes, mmmm god—“

Your thighs tense over and over again. Your vision blurs, your entire body feeling electric as you feel an overwhelming knot build, build, build…

And then it snaps.

No—it erupts.

All consuming, absolutely riveting—you feel your orgasm pummel over your body. It’s an overwhelming relief. Something that makes everything else disappear except for the sensation of Chris’s hard cock punching into you, hitting you in that spot over and—

“Oh my—Chris! Oh my god, I’m cumming, I’m cumming—I’m—“

You’re cut off with a silent scream. Your body jerks around, stimulated to a whole new level. Chris locks you in place, his hands bruisingly tight and determined to make you feel every single thing.

“There we go, yes—oh—gon—gonna fill you—shitttttt,” he curses, mumbling something incoherent about this being his pussy as he spills into you.

The warmth from his cum is comforting. Especially as he pulls out softly, trying not to overstimulate you.

“Did so good for me, holy shit,” he’s hypnotized watching his cum ooze out of your swollen, pulsing heat. He lets his hands wander, his thumb pressing on one of your pussy lips to hold you open.

You squirm. Chris almost feels bad for overstimulating you, but the guilt fades to obsession as he see his milky white semen pump out of your hole.

“Chris, too much…” you whine.

He gently lets his hands wander down to the back of your thigh, giving a reassuring caress. “Sorry, sorry…just…so pretty like this…”

You laugh, causing a bit more of Chris’s essence to spill. He hisses at the sight, biting his lip. “Okay…I’m…let me clean you up before I lose my mind.”

A couple minutes pass. Chris cleans you up carefully, swallowing thickly as his cream lathers on your swollen pussy.

This still seems like some sort of dream.

There’s no way this was real…

“Alright,” Chris pulls your panties back in place, leaving your shorts discarded somewhere around.

He drags you into his lap while sitting on the couch, one of his hands rubbing your thigh, the other holding you in place against him softly.

“Doing okay? Was everything goo—“

“Chris I don’t think I’ve ever came so hard in my life. You didn’t hurt me — not in any way I didn’t enjoy at least.”

He groans, his forehead falling limp against your shoulder. “You…you can’t just say that, fuck. Makes me wanna…ugh…” he sucks in a deep breath, calming himself down.

Part of you wants him to flip you over, rip your underwear carelessly and have his way with you.

Maybe next time.

.

.

.

Paige’s Notes: I’m actually so obsessed with this. I started writing it as soon as I woke up…I might be a whore, but at least it’s for someone as sexy as Chris Sturniolo lol

Also…should I write more kinky fics in the future…? I’m kinda scared to but lmk if you’d like to see more 🙂‍↕️