Pinky 💖

the rapid swell of his length isn’t making this any easier. every time you make progress trying to take him, he only grows even larger inside you.

“you’re the one who begged for this earlier. i want it, too. but you have to help me—i can’t do it on my own, caleb. you've always helped me, haven't you? always been there to look out for me. can’t you do it again?” 

swallowing thickly, he admires you through half-lidded eyes. when you push your lips into a pout, he nods slowly. giving in like he always does.

nerves alight, he wills his hips to drive three feeble thrusts into your heat. it’s a rare show of weakness from him, but even his lacking efforts make you slide farther down. 

of course, your mixed arousal dribbling down his length does most of the heavy lifting.

“more,” you urge. “more. we’re almost there.” 

“i can’t.” he’s almost delirious now. “so, so tight. feel like i can’t breathe.” 

“do it. you don’t want to disappoint me, do you? if you do, you might not get the chance to make it up to me.”

“no…no.” ardent as it is, his refusal is soft. he’s crashing quickly, devoting his waning energy to blinking the tears out of his eyes rather than projecting his voice. “never.” tensing for a moment, he gathers all his strength and rolls his hips, slow and deep, into your center. you accept him greedily, hissing through the dull sting until the rest of your weight falls on his throbbing length. once you’re fully seated, the scandalous slap of skin on skin echoes through the room. his desperate moans and a string of curses follow. 

finally, finally, you feel so incredibly whole. 

you moan, lewd and lascivious, and lean down to kiss the center of his chest. 

“was i good?” he asks, rapid pants fanning the crown of your head. “you feel so good. is this good?”

when you raise your head, he sits up on his elbows, eager to kiss your lips in grateful reciprocity.

it doesn’t take much to dodge him. grinning, you splay your hand across his now flushed chest and push him back down, earning a whiny, defeated groan. sinking impossibly deeper, you give his nose a conciliatory peck. 

Xavier's tongue was tracing the edge of his knuckle where your first release had coated him. His eyes had gone almost entirely black, pupils blown so wide there was barely any color left, every bit of that darkness was fixed between your thighs.

Behind you, Zayne exhaled, low and unsteady, the sound catching in his throat before it reached your skin. He hadn't moved back. He had moved closer, pressing his hard cock between your ass, the friction made it clear his medical textbooks hadn't prepared him for how much he actually wanted to ruin you right now.

"That requires an entirely different approach," Zayne's voice was thicker and rougher than it had been. His hands tightened on your waist before he said anything else. Then he bent his head, lips just barely grazing the shell of your ear.

"Are you alright with this? Do you want to show them?"

Your head had already begun to fall back against his shoulder and the whimper that came out of you wasn't something you'd planned.

"Yeah"

His patience didn't leave exactly, but it changed shape, it became something slower. His hand moved from your waist, sliding up until his palm curved around your breast again, broad, warm and unhurried. His thumb found your nipple without searching for it and he began to roll it between his fingers with a steady pressure that sat right on the edge of too much and didn't waver.

"The G-spot," he said, his voice settling back into something that almost resembled composure, "isn't about surface stimulation. It isn't about rhythm either." He pinched your nipple lightly, and your breath caught. He continued as though he hadn't noticed, or perhaps because he had. "Squirting isn't something you can rush. We've spent nearly twenty minutes on foreplay and that's perfect because the entire pelvic region needs time to fill with blood, to become fully engorged. Without that, it won't work."

His thumb moved in a slow circle around your nipple, like he had all the time in the world and intended to use it.

"The targets are the paraurethral glands. Small, about the size of a pea, sitting on either side of the urethra, close to her G-spot. Most people don't know they exist. Most people don't know what they're capable of." A pause. "You're about to learn."

Xavier's voice came quiet and low. "I want to try."

Whatever remained of the quiet, compliant boy from freshman orientation—the one who'd handed you a campus map and apologized for bumping into you—was gone. Completely. He moved forward until he was wedged between your legs, his thighs pressing firmly against your calves.

A cold spike of something, fear, want, the particular overwhelm of both arriving at once, shot straight down your spine. Your thighs tried to close on instinct, a reflexive flinch against the intensity of his gaze, the nearness of him and the reality of what was about to happen. Your knees had barely begun to move before something stopped them.

Caleb moved to the edge of the mattress and closed his hand over your right knee. Not gently. He pressed it down and out over Zayne's thigh, his grip immovable, the kind that didn't invite negotiation. You weren't going to close yourself off. He'd made that clear without saying a word.

Rafayel took your left. His fingers found the inside of your knee and held on with trembling pressure.

You looked down at them through the blur of whiskey and heat.

Caleb's jaw was locked, a muscle jumping in his cheek like he was chewing through something. The flush on his neck had darkened to something almost bruised, creeping up toward his jaw, his breath coming in audible hitches he wasn't bothering to hide anymore. Rafayel had his bottom lip caught between his teeth hard enough to drain the color from it, his eyes tracking every shiver that moved through your body like he was trying to memorize them.

And then lower.

A small, damp circle had bled through the gray of Rafayel's sweatpants. The front of Sylus's pants were pulled tight, a matching wet spot darkening the fabric, spreading slightly every time he exhaled.

"Keep her steady." Zayne's hips kept moving, that same slow roll against you, while his fingers worked both of your nipples at once, rolling and pinching until heat shot straight down through your stomach and didn't stop.

"Xavier." His tone shifted into something clinical "Two fingers, palm facing up toward her navel. Her arousal is sufficient as a baseline, but you need to use the lubricant on my nightstand. I don't want friction, I don't want any tissue irritation." A pause, weighted. "Once you're inside, feel along the anterior wall. There will be a ridge, different from the surrounding tissue. Think of the roof of your mouth."

Xavier reached for the lubricant and coated his fingers slowly, his hands were shaking. Then he brought them to your entrance, just the tips at first, barely making contact, and paused there for a breath that felt longer than it was.

He pushed in slowly.

Inch by inch, the stretch of it opening you around him, his fingers pressing through the heat and slick of you with patience. His eyes had gone wide by the time his fingertips swept up and found it, the ridge Zayne had described, unmistakable, exactly where he'd said it would be.

A cry tore out of you before you could stop it, fractured and too loud. It rang off the walls and you knew without question it had carried straight down the hallway outside.

Sylus shadow fell over you before he leaned down, face unreadable, there was a particular stillness of someone exerting tremendous control. His thumb caught your chin and pressed your jaw down, and then his fingers were in your mouth, muffling whatever came next. You closed your lips around them without thinking. Your tongue found his knuckles and you pulled him in, sucking hard, needing the solid reality of him to hold onto, something grounding while everything else was coming apart.

"Keep it down, sweetie." he said. Low. Almost gentle.

"Like this?" Xavier's voice came from below, strained thin.

He had begun to move, curling his fingers up, knuckles dragging against your entrance with every stroke while his fingertips pressed into the ridged wall above. He went deeper with each repetition. Not faster. Deeper, the hook of his fingers catching on the sensitive texture inside you and holding there just long enough before pulling back and doing it again.

"Slower."

Zayne's breath was scorching against your neck, his fingers never stopping, working your nipples with a precision that had stolen most of your ability to think. Behind you his hips pushed forward, heavier than before, a frustrated grind that he didn't bother to disguise.

"You're skimming the surface," he said. "Press into it. Maintain the motion and add external pressure to the clitoris, combine both. Increase as the tissue expands." His voice dropped slightly. "Can you feel how she's changing around you? How she's pulling you in?"

Xavier made a sound low in his throat, almost involuntary, his head dipping forward. His thumb came down against your pelvic bone and he adjusted his angle, pushing deeper until his knuckles were completely slick. His strokes slowed and firmed, each one pressing up into you with a patience that was clearly costing him something.

"It's getting tighter," he said, voice fraying at the edges. "It's... it's pushing back. She's so hot inside."

"She's engorging, the fluid is building in the glands. You cannot break the rhythm, not now, not for anything. If you ease up even slightly, the accumulation dissipates and you lose everything you've built."

He said it like a warning. Like he was saying it to himself as much as Xavier.

It was nothing like before.

Not the sharp, electric jolt of Zayne's thumb. this was something else entirely. Deeper. Heavier. A fullness that built with every stroke and didn't recede, coiling low in your abdomen like pressure with nowhere to go. Every time Xavier's fingers found that spot and pressed, a wave rolled through you, enormous and terrifying, making you want to beg for something you didn't have words for. You bit down on Sylus's knuckles without meaning to, eyes losing focus, your whole body tightening around a point you couldn't reach.

On either side of you, Caleb and Rafayel hadn't moved. Couldn't. Their knuckles had gone white where they held your legs open, and their eyes were fixed on Xavier's hand, on the way his fingers disappeared into you and came back slick, on the wetness that had gone past the point of containment. It was pooling at your entrance, spilling over and running down Xavier's wrist.

It was Rafayel who broke first.

"Zayne." His voice came out cracked, barely holding together. He swallowed hard, his gaze still locked on the fluid stringing between your skin and Xavier's hand, his body giving him away beneath the fabric of his sweatpants. "She's...fuck...it's leaking. Is she close?"

"She's almost there."

Zayne's voice had lost everything clinical about it now. Whatever composure he'd been maintaining had come apart completely, leaving only this—his fingers digging into your nipples, pinching hard, driving the sensation past the point of bearable while his hips pressed into you with desperation.

"Xavier. Fast circles on her clit, other hand, now." A beat. "Force it."

Xavier looked up at your face instead.

Your eyes had gone hazy, barely tracking, tears gathering at the corners from nothing but sheer overwhelm. Your lips were still wrapped around Sylus's fingers, your chest heaving in ragged pulls, small broken sounds escaping around his knuckles every time Xavier moved inside you. You were completely undone. Anyone could see it.

Xavier saw it too.

He didn't raise his hand to your clit. Something shifted behind his eyes, a flash of something reckless and deliberate, the look of someone who had been quietly calculating this exact moment and had finally decided to take it.

"You said anything I can do with my hands," he murmured, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper, "I can enhance with my mouth, right?."

His blonde hair fell across his forehead as he leaned down.

"Xavier—" Zayne's voice came sharp with warning.

Too late.

Xavier buried his face between your thighs.

The heat of his mouth hit you without warning.

Xavier's tongue sealed over your clit and the sound that came out of you was strangled, swallowed by Sylus's fingers, barely contained. He didn't tease. He remembered every word Zayne had said, flattened his tongue broad and wet against you, using the full weight of it to meet the pressure building from inside, while his fingers hooked harder and began to move in a rhythm that was merciless and gave you absolutely nothing to brace against.

"Breathe." Zayne's lips found your temple and pressed them there, warm and close. "What you're feeling, the fullness, the urgency, it will feel exactly like a need to release. That's correct. That's exactly right." His breath shook against your skin. "Don't fight it. Bear down. Let your pelvic floor go completely. Let it happen."

You stopped fighting.

You exhaled and let go. Your pelvic floor released and you bore down against the hook of Xavier's fingers, against the wet relentless press of his tongue, and for one suspended second everything went very still.

Then your body locked.

Every muscle seized at once, thighs convulsing against Caleb and Rafayel's grip. They leaned their full weight into your knees and held. Caleb let out a breathless "fuuuuck look at her". You bit down on Sylus's fingers hard enough to feel his knuckles against your teeth, vision narrowing to nothing.

It came in a rush, clear and forceful, spilling over Xavier's chin, across his cheeks, soaking into the fabric beneath you. His fingers stayed where they were, buried deep, riding out every contraction as your body clenched around him in waves that didn't stop, that pulled at him and wouldn't let go.

He didn't pull back. His tongue kept moving through it, his jaw working, his nose pressed to your skin while you sobbed through the aftershocks, open, head falling back against Zayne's shoulder again, with the full dead weight of someone who had nothing left to hold onto.

The room went quiet before you heard the slow, wet sound of Xavier withdrawing his fingers. Sylus drew his hand from your mouth just as slowly, his thumb dragging across your lower lip, catching a smear of saliva and wiping it away. He didn't look away from your face. The darkness in his eyes hadn't lifted. It had settled into something that made it very clear this wasn't over.

Xavier raised his head.

His face was flushed deep, his lips wet, a streak of fluid catching the lamplight as it ran down the line of his jaw and dripped onto his collarbone. He looked up at Zayne.

He looked like someone who had just discovered something he couldn't un know.

"Like that?" Xavier asked. The smugness in his voice was not even slightly hidden.

Zayne didn't answer right away.

He was staring down at the space between your thighs, at the soaked mattress, at the evidence of everything his careful, clinical framework had produced. His chest rose and fell hard against your back, his breath coming uneven against your neck, and you felt it before you fully understood what it was, a spreading warmth behind you, seeping through the fabric of his trousers, pressing into you. Unmistakable.

"Yes," Zayne said finally. His voice was stripped of every careful layer he'd spent the entire evening constructing "Exactly like that."

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Soooo, there will be more of this...if I forgot to tag someone I'm so sorry. Let me know if you want me to tag you on the next part.

Chapter 3:Rafayel

Chapter 4: Xavier

Chapter 5: Caleb

Chapter 6: Sylus

"don't," he cut you off, his voice raspy, deeper, and rougher than you had ever heard it. he looked up, his dark eyes dilated so wide they looked almost entirely black, a faint, dark flush creeping up his neck and dusting his cheekbones.

he gripped the insides of your knees, his fingers digging into your skin with a possessiveness that made your blood run hot. "shit—do it again."

"w-what? but i—"

"please," he begged, the word slipping out with a desperate, breathless edge that made your stomach flip. his chest was heaving. "squeeze me again. oh fuck—just like that, baby. lock your legs."

the raw hunger in his expression made it impossible to refuse. slowly, hesitantly, you brought your thighs back together, locking him in place once more, applying a firm, steady pressure against his neck.

a low, ragged groan escaped him, vibrating directly against your sensitive bud. he buried his face back into you, his tongue working with a newfound, frantic intensity that completely derailed your thought process. "harder," he mumbled against your pussy, his hands sliding up to your hips, fingers bruisingly tight as he anchored you. "squeeze harder, baby."

you complied, tightening your hold, completely overwhelmed by the blinding intensity of it. you were caught so deeply in the throes of your own approaching climax that the world narrowed down to just the pressure of your legs and the wicked, relentless motion of his mouth.

because of the sensory overload, you didn't notice the subtle, rhythmic motion beneath you at first. you didn't realize that with every tight squeeze of your thighs restricting his airflow, choso was heavily, desperately humping his clothed length straight into the mattress. he was completely losing himself in the friction, his hips rolling in a tight, frantic pattern against the sheets, riding the intoxicating sensation of being choked by you.

your climax hit like a freight train, your walls pulsing violently around his tongue as a loud cry left your lips. you squeezed him tight, your thighs locking like a vice as you rode the wave.

right as you peaked, choso let out a choked, broken sound. his whole body went rigid beneath you. his hips gave one last, hard, desperate shove into the mattress, his fingers digging so deeply into your hips it was almost painful. he trembled violently, his breath catching in a long, shuddering gasp as he buried his face entirely in your thigh, hiding himself away as he spent.

as the sparks in your vision began to fade and your breathing slowed, you gradually loosened the grip of your legs. choso slumped forward, resting his forehead against your stomach, his chest rising and falling in rapid, shallow pants.

it was only then, as the quiet returned to the room, that you noticed the heavy, uneven thumping of his heart against your leg, and the distinct, damp heat pressing through the fabric of his trousers right where he had been pinning himself to the bed.

you blinked down at him, your hand coming up to rest in his dark hair. "cho...?"

he didn't move for a long moment, completely spent, his shoulders still twitching slightly. when he finally looked up, his face was completely flushed, eyes heavy and hooded with a profound, dazed satisfaction. he swallowed hard, a sheepish but utterly dark look in his eyes as he realized you had figured it out. he hadn't even touched himself; he had finished purely from the friction of the bed and the suffocating pressure of your thighs.

Before revealing the one thing he said he would ‘die for’, you felt him yank your hips down and slam his nose deep- deep- deeeeep into the fabric, inhaling like a starved man who just got to smell his first meal in centuries.

“Fuckkkkk…. I live for this baby, my favorite scent ever.”

“You’re fucking disgusting.” You scrunched your nose up, feeling him start to slide the fabric down.

“Yeah that’s it, keep talking to me like that. I love it when you do.” You leaned over to see that he had that dirty smirk on his face, making you regret giving him his undeserved 10 minutes of ‘between your legs time’.

“Clocks ticking, ‘ji. 9 minutes left”

It was like he suddenly decided to race against time, and he literally ripped your panties off your thighs, before slamming his mouth against your cunt.

Lewd, sloppy noises filled the room, and most of them were from Toji. He couldn’t stop groaning and whining into your poor pussy, savoring every single lick and suck you let him have.

“Don’t be shy baby, fuckin’ suffocate me… I wanna be crushed by this absolute gift.” He forced your hips down onto his face while you gripped the couch for dear life, feeling every poke and prod of his tongue inside you.

Your fingernails dug into the fabric of the sofa,trying to hold on while your utter beast of a boyfriend devoured his dessert.

“God damn, it’s like a fucking drug…” his lips locked around your clit, sucking harshly to draw out any sounds you’d make.

“Shit, those noises… you drive me absolutely crazy, Princess…”

His fingernail dug into the plush of your thighs, stopping you from squirming away. You could feel how harshly he was digging into your plush skin, and you definitely knew there’d be crescent-shaped marks afterwards.

“Baby, baby, stop squirming… you gave me 10 minutes, and I want to enjoy every last second of it until you’re practically crying.”

“Oh, f-fuck off.” You said between shaky breaths, tugging at his hair to annoy him.

“Y-you’ve got- fuck,- 7 minutes left.” You choked out, feeling every precise slip and sliiide of his tongue against your wet folds.

You would never admit it, but Toji was like the God of pussy eating. 99% of the reason he got between your legs was so he could taste your sweet, sweet slick and smell all he could of it. Even so, he still made sure you got everything you wanted out of it to.

“Fuck! Slow down ‘ji, I’m close…” his tongue was constantly swirling tight circles on your clit, occasionally slipping inside so he could spread the muscle and feel you tighten.

“Nah, I’ll enjoy my time here however I want…” he ignored your pleas, this time shoving two fingers inside to search for that sweet spot that would make you scream.

“Christ, Toji!” You threw your head back, tugging on his hair to get him to back off even just a little bit. With his strength though, it was like trying to push a brick wall. Hell, even if you managed to pull him away, he’d just use his big arms to pull your right back on him.

Once he found that spot that made your legs tremble, he just kept abusing and abusing it with his restless fingers.

“Come on, baby, come on my tongue,” he groaned, pushing his pointed muscle over your most sensitive areas. “I wanna feel it. Come on, you can do it, squirt on my face like the nasty bitch you are…”

His words sent vibrations straight to your clit, and it was like heaven. His tongue swirling, his mouth sucking, and his nose bumping…. It all added up to you practically being thrown over the edge into overstimulation.

His mouth made your legs weak, and once your sweet release finally came, your legs turned to mush and you practically suffocated Toji. Well, that is what he wanted, wasn’t it?

His muffled moans started pouring out once he felt you start pouring out all over him.

“Yes, fuck yes! Gimme all of it, baby, wanna taste it in my sleep…” you heard him groan between your legs, slurping and sucking up all that release like it was the most delicious liquid he could drink.

To him, it probably was. Especially since it was yours.

Once your high finally died down, and your vision cleared, you glanced at the clock.

“Ji’, it’s been 10 minutes,” you said through a shaky breath, attempting to crawl off of him.

That’s when a strong grip stopped you, shoving your right back down onto his soaking wet face.

“No, no… I haven’t had my fill of you juuuust yet.”

You knew this was gonna be a long night.

Thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

The shift is instantaneous. You hear the screech of the chair against the floor as he shifts, and before you can blink, your world is tilting. He pulls you across his lap, one hand tangled in your hair while the other hikes the hem of his shirt higher up your body to fully expose your ass to him.

The first strike is heavy, a solid crack that echoes against the quiet of the office. You gasp, your hands grasping onto the fabric of his trousers. Instantly, your skin stings, heat blooming across your ass. But you like it. You like knowing you've pushed him to this point.

"That is for the photo you sent during my morning consultations." He says, his voice low. "I had a patient's chart in one hand and your indiscretion in the other."

Crack.

"Two. For the voice note. I don't recall giving you permission to speak to me that way while I'm at the hospital."

Crack.

The third one is firmer than the last two, making you cry out. You try and squirm to get away, to beg for his forgiveness and his touch all in the same breath. His hand simply tightens in your hair, a silent warning. You're so wet it hurts. If you could just get his hand between your thighs...

"Three. For that obscene paragraph at lunch. A thumbs up was all you deserved for such a blatant attempt to disrupt my focus."

He pauses then, and for a second, you think it might be over, but his hand doesn't move away. Instead, he rubs at the angry pink skin of your ass, his touch deceptively soft all while you twitch underneath his hand. Every slap has only turned you on further, and you almost can't help yourself as you try and arch into his hand.

Zayne raises an eyebrow as he watches you, noting the way you tremble across his lap. Slowly, his fingers dip between your legs, a quick, amused huff leaving him as he finds your dripping pussy. He should have known.

"This wet over a punishment? You really are a brat." He mocks softly, his long fingers finding your aching clit with a surgical precision. He circles once, twice, just enough to make you whimper and rock back against his hand, before he's pulling away again, leaving you cold and wanting.

​Crack.

"Four is for not listening when I told you to go find a book."

Crack.

"Five is because we both know you're going to act out again tomorrow just to see if I'll put you back over my knee."

​You're shaking now, a few stray tears slipping out and trailing down your cheeks. Your ass is a vibrant, angry red, and the heat radiating from you is intense. You want more. You need more. If all you'll get tonight is a firm punishment, then you'll eagerly accept it.

Crack. Crack. Crack.

"That voice note is still ringing in my ears and I'm still quite irritated by it." He says, though you can feel the way his body is saying otherwise. As your stomach presses against his thighs, you can feel how hard he is just against your side. You shudder against him, a pathetic little moan of pure want leaving your lips.

His hand kneads the supple flesh of your ass, massaging the sting deeper into your skin until all you can focus on is how badly you need his fingers on your clit again. The hand in your hair slowly lets you go, moving to cup your cheek as he wipes your tears.

You think it's over.

Crack.

This last blow is far lighter than the ones before, almost a warning slap. A reminder of how easily he'd flung you over his knee. You need him so badly it hurts.

"What was that for?" You whimper as you tilt your head to lean further into his hand. Your breathing is shaky and ragged, your breath hitching quietly each time he brushes his fingers against the angry, burning skin of your ass.

"I felt like it. Now stand up."

You instantly move to do as he says, shifting off his lap to stand just beside him. You watch as his hands move to his belt, the metal clinking together for a moment before he's undoing his trousers, shoving the fabric down to free his cock. You want nothing more than to drop to your knees, crawl under his desk, and keep him in your mouth until his reports are done.

Instead, he gestures for you to sit on his lap. Your breath hitches. A reward so soon after your punishment? You could cry.

You're quick to climb right into his lap, your arms draped across his shoulders as you hover just over the tip of his cock. His hand sneaks between the both of you, fingers wrapping around himself as he slides the tip right through your slick folds. You clench around nothing, so close and yet so far away, but you don't rush it.

You let him grind up into you, a quiet whimper leaving you every time he rubs against your clit. The anticipation is killing you, but you force yourself to stay still even as you tremble on top of him. Then he slides home. A shattered moan falls from your lips, your hips instinctively rocking into him. He's so deep, you swear you feel him in your belly.

But he doesn't continue. He doesn't fuck you like the world's ending. He doesn't even offer you his thumb against your clit. Instead, he clamps his hands on your hips, waiting until you look up at him with your needy little whine. The corners of his mouth twitch, smug and deeply entertained by your eagerness.

"You sit there, and you feel every inch of me, but you do not move. If I feel you so much as shift to try and get more comfortable, I'll put you back on my knee for another ten. Am I clear?" He commands. You want to argue, to test if he's serious, but the cold edge of his tone has you agreeing.

"Crystal clear."

"Be a good girl and let me finish this page." He says, giving your hips one last squeeze before his attention is back on his reports, his pen scratching at the paper every so often as he leaves small notes for himself to read later. You let out a soft sigh as you bury your face in the crook of his neck.

You feel so full, so deliciously stretched, but it's not enough.

"You're so mean." You whine, hands tilting to find his hair. You don't pull, you simply twirl the strands around your fingers, trying to focus on anything other than how good his cock feels when it's buried deep in your cunt.

Zayne hums in acknowledgment, back to ignoring you.

This treatment feels like it goes on for hours, but in reality, it's nothing more than a few minutes. Finally, he's pushing his papers aside, the clatter of his pen against the wood instantly drawing your attention. You tilt your head to look up at him, a silent question in your gaze.

He answers by finding your hips with his hands, standing up, and pressing your back against the wood of his desk. Your legs instantly wrap around his waist, keeping him deep inside you as you look up at him. He moves to take his glasses off, setting them aside near the edge of the mahogany, before both palms are pressed against the wood on either side of your head.

"You've had a lot to say today. Now that you have my undivided attention, why don't you be very specific?" His hazel eyes drift down to your lips, jaw clenching as he rocks into you, slow and steady. Your nails find his shoulders as you arch up into him, the friction earning a quiet moan from you.

"Tell me exactly how you want it."

You swallow hard, your breath coming in shallow hitches. The sting on your ass is still humming, reigniting every time Zayne pushes deeper into you. For a moment, you can't think of how you want him to fuck you. All you know is that you want him. You need him.

"I want to feel... I want to feel how much I irritated you today." You manage to stutter out.

A smirk finally does appear on his lips and in that moment, you know you're going to be sore for days.

"Understood."

He doesn't give you a second to rethink your answer before he's moving. His cock slams deep into you, so deep you can feel it knock against your cervix, the dull ache mixing with the pleasure of his relentless pace. You cry out, your back arching off his desk as you claw at his shoulders, your thighs clamping around his waist.

His hips snap into yours, his balls slapping against your ass, the loud sound of skin on skin mirroring your punishment. The desk rattles underneath you, his abandoned pen rolling around before finally tumbling onto the ground. Zayne doesn't even blink. He simply brings his hand up to your shirt, easily undoing the buttons one by one until it falls open.

Bare underneath. You really had been waiting for him to fuck you.

He groans at the sight, long fingers instantly squeezing your breast while his head dips towards the other one. His teeth grazes your nipple before he draws you into his mouth, nipping and sucking at that hardened peak. You tremble underneath him, your moans tipping into loud sobs of pleasure as your hands finally find his hair.

You tug on the dark strands, a sharp cry echoing in his office as his fingers pinch at your other nipple, rolling it between his long fingers until you're squirming underneath him. He doesn't relent, just shifts his focus as his mouth moves to the swell of your breast, sucking a deep, dark bruise right into your skin.

His hand trails up your body again, long fingers wrapping around your throat and squeezing with just enough pressure to make your head swim. His other hand finds your hip, thumb digging a bruise into your skin as he pulls you onto his cock in time with his thrusts.

You clench around him, a shattered, broken moan leaving your lips as you fall apart around him. Your hips jerk against him as you writhe on top of his desk, but Zayne doesn't let up. He pins you down, his thrusts getting faster, harder, the snap of his hips against you making your ass sting all over again.

His breath hitches, his jaw clenched so hard he feels his teeth grind together as his movements falter. His thrusts grow sloppy, frantic, desperate to reach his own release. He's so close, so agonizingly close, and the moment your cunt clenches around him, he spills in you with a guttural groan.

His forehead presses against your shoulder, hand releasing your throat to cradle your cheek as his eyes squeeze shut. His entire body shudders, his breathing ragged and ruined. You let out a quiet whine before tilting your head into his hand, your own body sore and spent as you cling to him.

You're both quiet for a moment, too focused on breathing, too focused on the way his hips roll into yours like he's trying to force his cum deeper.

"Are you going to behave tomorrow?" He finally asks, his voice a broken rasp against your skin.

"No." You breathe in response.

He lets out an amused huff.

By the time you make it back, your vision is blurred, your side aches with every breath you take, and something warm is soaking your clothes. You ignore it. You always do. 

You just need to sit down. Just for a second. 

The door barely shuts behind you before your knees give out. 

Zayne was not supposed to be there when you got back. 

He told himself he was only stopping by briefly. He needed to know you were back and nothing more. 

That is what he tells himself as he unlocks your door. 

Then he sees you. On the floor. Not moving. 

Everything in him goes still. 

Then his doctor senses come in full force. 

He is at your side instantly, checking your pulse, your breathing, the source of the blood. His movements are sharp, efficient, but there is something else. 

“What were you thinking?” he asks, voice low but tight in a way you have never heard before. Your eyes open slightly.  

“Zayne…?” 

“Do not speak. You are losing blood.” 

“I am fine,” you mumble weakly. 

“You are not fine.” 

There is no softness in his voice, only fear. Fear he tries to hide for irritation but fails almost immediately.  

He lifts you carefully, carrying you to the couch. His hands are steady, but his jaw is tight, and his eyes... his eyes cannot pretend. 

“This was absolutely reckless. You pushed beyond your limit again.” 

You wince slightly as he presses against the wound.  

“It was handled.” 

“That is not the point.” 

“It worked.” 

“That is not the point,” he repeats, sharper this time. 

You go quiet, because you have never heard him like this. 

He works quickly, cleaning, stitching, and bandaging with precision. The pain disappears almost entirely under his care, your body slowly giving in to exhaustion. 

Then, just for a moment, his fingers stop and he exhales. And something in him finally cracks. 

“You could have died,” he says quietly. 

The anger is gone. What is left is worse. Pain. So much pain in his voice.  

You look at him, and see exactly just that. Pain and fear.  

“I did not,” you say softly. 

“That is not reassuring.” 

“I am here.” 

“For now.” 

The words land heavier than anything he said before. You move slightly, reaching out to touch his wrist. 

He freezes. 

“You are angry,” you say. 

“Yes.” 

“But not really.” 

He closes his eyes briefly, like he is deciding something. 

“No,” he admits. “Not really.” 

“You were worried.” 

His eyes meets yours. There it is, all in his beautiful eyes. Worry. The fear of losing you.  

“You should not put yourself in situations like that. Not without support. Not without telling me.” 

“Telling you?” you repeat gently. 

“Yes.” 

“You care.” 

“That is not new.” 

“No, but you do not usually say it.” 

“I prefer when it is understood.” He exhales slowly, some of the tension leaving him at last. 

“It is, but sometimes it is nice to hear.” 

There is a moment of silence before he speaks again.  

"Do not do that again.” 

“I will try,” you say. 

“That is not enough.” 

You laugh weakly.  

“That is the best you are getting right now.” 

His lips twitch, just slightly, almost a smile.  

“Rest,” he says, adjusting the blanket around you. “You need it.” 

You watch him as he moves, slower now, calmer again. The storm has passed, but something has changed. 

You saw it and he knows you did. 

“Zayne,” you murmur. 

He pauses, glancing back at you. 

“Thank you.” 

He nods once. Then, after a brief hesitation, he pulls a chair closer and sits. 

He does not leave, when you wake up he is there, eyes moving in between you and the screen of his phone.

When you wake up you feel a lot better.

"I cooked." he announces and you suddenly realise, you are indeed very hungry.

You got up and headed to the table with him, he did cook. And it all looked very delicious.

"Thank you for the food." you said as you sat down and began to eat. "Won't you join me?"

"I ate before I got here. This is all for you." he replied but he did sit down in front of you.

"All of it? That's too much!"

"The intention was to have some left overs so you can eat them tomorrow."

You simply nodded before continued eating in silence.

Later that night, when he joined you in bed, you were already asleep. You fell asleep while he showered just as he expected.

But, now all he could do is stare at you, as if he stopped you would stop breathing.

"Don't ever do that again, please. I cannot lose you." he swallowed before fully laying down, he pulled you into his chest.

It was as if a memory wanted to emerge, a very painful memory, but he could only feel the pain and the sadness.

Then, he looked down at you and calmed down.

That's the breaking point. A frustrated, jagged sob escapes your throat, sounding so raw it makes his hand tighten around his phone. You're so stupidly horny that all you can focus on is him. You need him. You need his fingers, his mouth... his cock stretching you open.

"I tried everything. I took a cold shower, I tried to do chores. I used... I used my own damn fingers, Zayne. Nothing is working. It's not enough. It's not you." You cry out, squeezing your thighs together in a desperate attempt to try and alleviate that deep, needy ache.

Zayne's breath hitches, which only earns a quiet whimper from you. The thought of you at home, flushed and desperate, driven to tears by a biological ache only he is allowed to soothe, drives every professional thought from his mind. He imagines how wet you must be, how your cunt is likely clenching around nothing, desperate to be filled.

His cock throbs in his trousers. He stands abruptly, crossing his office to the heavy wooden door. The click of the lock is loud in the silence, loud enough for you to hear on your end.

"Zayne?" You whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and curiosity. You hear the rustle of his white doctor's coat, the way he lets out a slow, controlled breath.

"If it's me you want, then you're going to listen very closely to what I tell you to do next."

That immediately grabs your attention. You pull your phone away from your ear with a confused whimper, as if double checking that you did indeed call Zayne. It's unlike him to indulge in your needs while he's at work, but you are in no place to argue.

"Are you sure?" You ask him softly, your breath hitching quietly.

"I am entirely sure." Zayne mumurs, the sheer weight of his devotion heavy in his voice. There's no judgement. No annoyance. Only a deep, vibrating promise to give you exactly what you've been crying for. He sits back in his chair, his free hand coming up to remove his glasses. You hear the soft clatter as they hit the edge of his desk, then the soft rustle of fabric as he undoes the buttons of his jacket.

"Put me on speaker, sweetheart. I want your hands free."

You obey instantly, your hands trembling as you set your phone down on your pillow right next to your head. The distance between his Asko Hospital office and your bedroom feels like it's shrinking, and for a split second, you're so delirious with need that you can almost feel his gaze on you.

"Good girl." He praises, the words a warm caress that has you squirming against your sheets. "Now, lie back. Spread your legs for me, just as if I were there kneeling before you." Through the phone, he can hear you shifting around. The mental image of you spread and wanting has a low groan leaving him.

"Close your eyes. Visualize my hands." He continues, his own breath hitching quietly as his free hand moves to his trousers. You can hear the metal click of his belt as he undoes it, the quiet hiss of his zipper. "Two fingers. Touch yourself for me. Slowly. Your clit is aching so much, isn't it?"

You slide a hand down your body, dipping right between your thighs, a ragged gasp tearing from your throat as your fingers find your swollen clit. rubbing slow, light circles into that sensitive peak. Your hips buck against your hand, quiet, needy moans leaving you. It's so good, so much better than when you had been touching yourself without the sound of his voice.

Zayne's focus is fully directed towards you, long fingers of his free hand wrapping around his fat cock. Outside his office, he can hear the rustle of carts, nurses speaking to each other, but he doesn't care. You're his biggest distraction, one that he wouldn't change for the world. He strokes himself in time with your heavy breathing, his eyes momentarily closing as he imagines you obeying his commands.

"S'not enough, Zayne... More... Need more." You beg him, your voice a desperate, breathy whine that has his own breath leaving him in a rush.

"Push your fingers inside. Tell me how wet you are. Tell me how easily you stretch yourself open for me." He commands, his knuckles white as he grips his phone. His thumb brushes along the tip of his cock, smearing precum down the length of him as he strokes himself.

You're quick to do as he commands, sliding your fingers through your slick folds until they're soaked before slowly, you push into your cunt. It's not nearly the same as when he fingers you, not the same initial stretch, but it works just fine for you now that you can hear him on the other end of the phone.

"Fuck, Zayne... M'soaked." You tell him. Your velvety walls clench around your own fingers as you push deeper, grinding against the heel of your hand. It's almost too much for you to handle. Your free hand grasps the sheets, your head tilted towards your phone to ensure he can hear just how good you feel.

In his office, Zayne tilts his head back against his chair, his breath coming in short, heavy pants. He can hear the wet slide of your fingers as you pump them into your needy little cunt, the pathetic, desperate edge your moans have taken on. He knows the signs. You're close.

He wonders if you got yourself close before you decided to dial his number. A shudder runs through his body at the thought.

"When I get home, I'm going to stay so deep inside you that you won't even remember your own name." He says, his voice low, ruined, his own release sneaking up quickly. "I'll fuck you all night if that's what you need, sweetheart. Until you're so full of me that I drip out of you for days. Is that what you want?"

"Zayneee... M'gonnacumsohard, fuck-" His filthy tone has your body tensing, a loud, shattered cry leaving your mouth as you fall apart around your fingers. You squirm, your head thrashing against your pillows. Through your phone, you can hear Zayne let out a muffled groan, his breathing frantic before a ragged gasp leaves him.

You're both quiet for a long moment, breathing heavy, slowly trying to come down from the high your body had demanded. You slowly withdraw your fingers with a quiet, shaky sigh, your entire body limp against the sheets. You can picture him in your mind, the calm Doctor Zayne so undone and messy simply because you'd called.

The thought has a satisfied hum coming from you.

Zayne is the first to move. You hear the rustle of paper towels as he cleans himself up, the soft hitch of his breath as he tucks his cock back into his trousers, then the jingle of his belt being fixed.

"I expect you to be waiting for me just like that when I walk through the door. Don't move too much." He says, his voice impossibly soft and affectionate.

"I will." You whisper in response, rolling over onto your side as if being closer to the phone might help you to feel closer to him.

"I have a consult in ten minutes." He murmurs. "I love you. See you soon, sweetheart."