In Da Pitt

jack makes his way out into the ambulance bay, spotting you at the curb. he slowly approaches, waiting for you to speak first.

"i heard you the first time. i don't need to be reminded of how big a screw-up i am."

you glare up at him. your words seem to hit him right where it hurts. he never tried to take it easy on you, seeing how the favoritism often pissed you off rather than made you happy. but he only did it because he knew you could handle it better than anyone else. hearing you call yourself a 'screw-up' was the exact opposite of how he saw you.

"i was out of line. you were right, it's no one's responsibility but mine to make sure i see every last patient in and out of this department."

he glances down at you, noticing the exhaustion written all over your features. unable to focus on the current conversation, his mind drifted off to wondering how you winded down after a long shift. did you shower and hit the sheets without hesitation? did you even eat when you got home? did you do anything to help relieve your stress from the previous night? he's snapped out of his trance when you stand to your full height. even like this, pissed off at him and looking about a second from falling asleep standing up, you were still one of the most beautiful sights jack had ever laid eyes on.

"let me make it up to you."

he blurts out, taking a step closer to you. you raise an eyebrow in suspicion, feeling reluctantly curious about whatever this old man was about to say next.

"i'll take you home and make breakfast."

jack is surprised at his own words. since when did he offer to do anything with his residents outside of the hospital? you know, apart from the occasional beers in the park after a traumatizing shift. however, you, suddenly getting an idea in your head, agreed a little bit quicker than you should have.

"uhh- okay. just, let me get everything handled with robby and meet me in the parking lot."

you both go your separate ways. you handle your shift change tasks, handing your patients off to dr. langdon and dr. king. you exchange a quick hug with your best friends trinity and dennis before heading out toward your car to wait for jack. about 20 minutes later, he finally appears, limping his way toward you. it was easy to tell when he'd been on his feet for too long, his prosthetic likely causing aches and pains all over his lower body.

"let me drive."

you offer, but he shakes his head incessantly. before you can argue, he slings your bag over his other shoulder and walks off toward his car. you let out a heavy sigh, following him to the car. he opens the passenger door for you, tossing your bag in the backseat next to his. he climbs into the drivers seat with a grunt, adjusting his leg before starting the engine. he glances over at you as you buckle your seatbelt, catching your gaze.

"you sure about this?"

"just go before i change my mind, jack."

he pulls out of the parking lot, heading toward his house. he hadn't had guests over in a long time, to the point where even he felt like a visitor in his own home. maybe you were just the spice of life his place needed. his mind drifted once again as he drove the two of you. seeing you, in your pajamas, waltzing around his house like you owned the place. your hair tousled from sleep as you drink the coffee he'd made for you. he found himself wanting to see this domestic side of you, craving to be part of your routine that happened outside of ptmc.

once you arive at his place, he gets out of the car. before you can even reach the knob, he's there and opening the door for you. slinging both of your bags over his shoulders, he walks inside with you in tow. he unlocks the door, allowing you to step inside first. you gently kick off your shoes, sighing in relief. he sets your bag down with his by the front door as he locks it.

"make yourself at home, bathroom is down the hall, first door on the right."

you nod and head toward the bathroom before pausing. this wasn't your house, you can't shower like you wanted to. jack notices the way you stop in the middle of the hallway.

"everything you need should be under the sink."

instead of questioning how he practically read your mind, you wander off into the bathroom to wash up. you get the water started, pulling out a towel and a washcloth. you even find body wash, the same kind you used at home, waiting under the sink. purely coincidence, since it was highly unlikely that jack somehow found the exact scent that you used every day, right? you strip out of your clothes, but right before you get in, you realize you didn't bring anything to change into.

you decide to make that a problem for ten minutes in the future, instantly relaxing as you step under the warm stream of water. once you've washed up, you pad your way out of the bathroom and back toward your bag for clothes. unfortunately for you, jack also happened to be walking out from the entryway at the same time. running into a wall of steel, you almost fall back on your ass before jack catches your arm.

he immediately stiffens when he realizes that you're clad in nothing but one of his towels. his hand was still holding onto your arm, the feeling of your bare skin sending jolts through his body. he finally lets go, letting you go to your bag and get clothes. once you have changed and emerge from the bathroom for the final time, you toss your towel in the nearby laundry hamper.

"smells really good."

you smirk at him, now in a ptmc t-shirt and grey sweatpants. he helps himself to the view of your ass in said sweatpants as you help yourself to whatever he had to drink in the fridge. you frown when you see mostly empty space inside.

"what do you eat... air?"

you glance over at him, catching him right in the act of staring at your ass. he straightens up, looking you in the eye with a slight tint of red on his cheeks.

"not home a lot, i just eat out most nights."

if things were going according to plan, he'd be eating out tonight, too. but you kept that thought to yourself.

"what are you making anyway?"

you ask, settling for a bottle of water. you shut the fridge and lean against the counter, watching him cook. he can feel your eyes on him, which instantly creates the beginnings of a tent in his pants. he refuses to turn around as he speaks, unwilling to present his problem to you.

"just omelets and hash browns, nothing crazy."

you chuckle to yourself, taking in his nervous posture as you step closer. you admire the aroma of the food, your stomach growling in response. it might not have seemed like much to jack, but this meal would be the first real one you have likely had in months. he sets your plate in front of one of the seats at the island counter, then setting his own next to yours. you thank him for the meal and dig in like you haven't eaten all day, because realistically, eating two protein bars in twelve hours was not exactly sustainable.

"you're eating that food like gordon ramsay made it."

jack chuckles to himself, causing you to almost spit out your water.

"this is better than gordon ramsay, this chef is way hotter."

you blurt out, revealing just how sleep deprived you were. your filter, as per usual this time of night, was completely gone. jack almost spits out his food alongside you at your comment. he shakes his head with a rough chuckle.

"complimenting me when i put you through hell today. doesn't make a lot of sense."

you glance over at him, seeing the look of guilt on his face.

"you know i'm over it, right? we all have our days. that place brings out the worst in us, but i've learned not to take it too personally."

"you called yourself a fucking screw-up. you're taking it personally whether you realize it or not, and it's not your fault anyway. i was a dick, there was no excuse for speaking to you that way when you were trying to save that guy's life the same way i was."

you let out a quiet sigh, sliding your finished plate toward the sink. you go to stand up from your seat, but he catches your wrist.

"i'll take care of it. get comfortable on the couch or something."

"i can wash my own dishes, jack."

"please... let me do it."

noting the way his gaze refused to leave yours, you relent. you nod slowly and make your way toward the living room, plopping down on the couch. when jack finished cleaning up, he joined you on the couch. he groaned in relief as he removed his prosthetic and rested it against the coffee table. the groan caught you off guard, you enjoyed the sound more than you cared to admit. mentally slapping yourself, you go back to scrolling on your phone.

jack turns on the tv, flipping through the channels. you laugh at some tiktok you were watching, catching jack's attention. when you feel his gaze on you, you turn the phone to him and show him the video. it was another one of those obscenely stupid brainrot videos that always managed to make you laugh when you were getting tired. jack blinks, clearly confused at what was funny about the video, but then he sees the crinkles in your eyes as you continue to laugh. suddenly, it was the best fucking tiktok he'd ever seen.

unable to stand the silence, despite the fact that it was comfortable, jack turned to you and spoke up.

"i really am sorry for the way i acted earlier."

"jack, it's okay. seriously, i'm over it now."

"it doesn't matter. i just- it fucking killed me to see that look on your face when you walked out on me. when you sat there on that curb, looking like you would rather be anywhere else. knowing that i caused it, it's messing with me."

you frown slightly, taking in his guilty expression. you sit up, placing a hand on his shoulder, rubbing it slightly. he looks over at you, then at the hand on his shoulder. determined to make this all up to you, he leans in closer to your touch. you take the hint, scooting closer and letting him rest his head on your shoulder. you run a hand through his grey curls, earning yourself a satisfied sigh. he turns his head to look at you, before pressing his lips against yours.

you both melt into the kiss, arms wrapping around one another as he gently guides you to lie down. he slots his legs on either side of yours, capturing your lips once again. the kiss turns heated rather quickly, with him quietly whimpering against your lips. you pull his shirt over his head, discarding it to the side. running your hands down his bare torso causes him to shiver in response. when you feel his tongue slip into your mouth, you crumbled instantly.

swallowing your moans greedily, his tongue continues to explore your mouth. his lips trail down your jawline and neck, shamelessly sucking and leaving dark spots along your skin. he couldn't give a fuck less who saw them tomorrow when they came in to work together, which he would make sure happened.

"fuck, sweetheart. can't get enough of you."

he rasps against your skin, lifting your shirt and pulling it over your head. he lets out a low moan as he takes in your bare breasts, placing light kisses all over your chest and tummy. he continues to move lower, hooking his fingers around the hem of your sweatpants.

"please, can i take these off?"

"yes, fuck- take it all off."

he doesn't hesitate, yanking the sweats down your legs, followed by your damp panties. when he sees you bared in front of him, he felt like he could cum on the spot. instead, she shifts down, slotting himself between your thighs. his breath ghosting over your slick folds sends a shiver up your spine. his eyes meet yours as he delves in, tongue-first, into your sweet cunt. his tongue laps at you with the greed of a man starved, not wasting a single drop.

he traces little circles around your clit, watching you begin to squirm beneath him. he wraps his arms around your thighs to hold you in place, planning on showing you just how sorry he was.

"i'm so sorry, baby."

he moans against your center, the vibrations causing you to clench around nothing.

"i'm so pathetic... talking to you like that when all i want is to keep you around."

you tangle your fingers in his hair, pulling his head upward.

"you are pathetic, aren't you?"

you smirk down at him, watching the way he writhes at your words that were clearly having an effect on him.

"your mouth has better use there than with talking."

you chuckle as you shove his face back between your thighs. he moans in response, but his lips and tongue go back to work immediately. he prods his tongue inside of you, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips. he quickly replaces his tongue with two of his fingers. you moan loudly, feeling the slight stretch from his thick digits.

"fuck, is this how you apologize to all of your residents when you're being a dick?"

you tease, but jack stiffens instantly. the thought of doing this for anyone else made his stomach turn. he glares up at you, moving back up and capturing your lips in a searing kiss. you taste yourself on his tongue as his fingers thrust in and out of you at a rough speed. guess you struck a nerve with that question.

"don't think of anyone but you."

he grunts in your ear, relishing in the way your thighs begin to tremble as he fingers you so roughly. your pussy makes the most lewd sounds as he continues at his bruising pace, causing your mouth to fall wide open as you feel yourself getting closer to the edge. he kisses you roughly as you clench around his fingers and come. he coaxes you through the high, before sitting back against the couch.

"i want you to use me, sweetheart."

he reaches over, dragging you into his lap. he rests his forehead against yours, hands resting possessively on your hips.

"this is your cock, and you're gonna use it to come."

he speaks gruffly, freeing his thick cock from the confines of his boxers. you whine at the sight, unsure of how on earth that was going to go in smoothly. luckily for you, you were with a gentle giant. he helps raise your hips up, aligning his cock with your entrance. he slowly assists you in sinking down onto him. the stretch caused a bit of a burning sensation at first, making you hiss. but after a few seconds, you finally began to relax around him.

after a little bit more coaxing, he bottoms out inside you. his hands are splayed across your back as you hold yourself close to him, muffling your loud moans against his shoulder. he starts to rock your hips against him, unable to keep the noises in. he's grunting, whining, moaning, all of it. he needed you to know how grateful he was to be inside of you.

"thank you... fuck- thank you for letting me take care of you, baby."

he pants against your cheek, leaving a lazy open-mouthed kiss to the skin. he cups his hands under your ass, lifting you up and down on his cock. he picks up the pace, already feeling close from the mixture of your sexy noises in his ear and the way his cock fits so perfectly inside of you. he knew deep down that you were made for him in every sense of the concept.

"you feel so good, jack."

you whine into his ear. he had to muster up every ounce of restraint to not come right then and there when you said his name like that. he definitely needed to find a way of convincing you to make one of those erotic audios just for him. it would have him making a mess in his boxers every single night.

"what can i do?"

"w-what?"

"what can i do to make you come, baby?"

he's definitely begging at this point, unable to care about how desperate he sounds beneath you like this. you were the only one that would ever get him in this state, anyway.

you take his hand and slide it down between the two of you. he takes the hint and starts to rub gentle, but fast circles into your clit. your back arches, head falling back in pure bliss at the new stimulation. he takes in the view in front of him. if he thought you looked beautiful before, nothing compared to right now. you, naked and vulnerable, letting him relieve your stress after a long shift.

he feels you clenching tighter around him, meaning that you were getting close. he continues his efforts, whispering sweet praises into your ear and thanking you for letting him see you this way.

"you're perfect, sweetheart. you take this cock so fucking well. fuck- please come for me. please come on my cock, baby."

he's practically mumbling against your skin as he feels himself ready to crash over the edge. but he won't, not until you do. when he feels you fall apart on top of him, he comes with a loud groan. he holds you tightly against him as you both come crashing down, not letting go even once your breathing has started to even out. he feels your body go limp against him, soft snores escaping your lips.

he knew you were tired, but not that tired to fall asleep right in his arms with his cock still inside of you. regardless, he manages to gently rest you down on the couch while he hobbles to the bathroom to get a wet cloth. he comes back, leaning down and helping you get cleaned up. in this moment, he was grateful for having a pull-out couch. he manages to get it transformed without waking you. he gets in next to you, pulling the extra large blanket over the two of you.

within a couple minutes, you're both fast asleep in each other's arms. he'd spend the next night practically up your ass as you got ready for work. he even pleaded to help you get dressed, which you finally gave in and let him. he refused to let you do a single thing all evening before your shift. this time, you didn't really mind, but you weren't sure how much longer you'd let him keep this up.

meanwhile, he's giddy as hell. driving you to work and admiring your soft features in the glow from the sunset. he couldn't wait to spend another 12 hours with you, already plotting on ways to sneak you in a supply closet and do whatever naughty thing he fathoms up next.

~~~~~ THE END <3 ~~~~~

thank you sm for reading!!!!! this is my first time writing directly on tumblr so hopefully it turns out okay. stay beautiful, friends. until next time!!! <3333

And that's mainly because you never expected to find yourself in this kind of relationship with a man almost twice your age who happened to be your supervisor too.

But Dr. Abbot was different. He was impossible to not be attracted to. With that unique confidence and competence of his that made handling the entire night shift and its patients look easy. And that physique? Oh god... Those perfect salt and pepper curls, his sharp hazel eyes and those insane biceps you could see flexing with his every move. He had you feeling in a trance whenever you were in his presence.

Little did you know at first, however, that he was more or less on the same page. He'd noticed you straight away the very first day you came to the hospital. He sure had been sex deprived for a great while, yet it wasn't something he was seeking after, especially while being caught up in such demanding work schedule. Until you joined his team and had him feeling like a schoolboy all over again. Such pretty little thing, he'd think to himself, biting his lip, when his eyes were fixed on you from a safe distance. He knew this was inappropriate, disgusting even, to be seeing you in such way while being both older than you and in an authoritative position. But he couldn't fight those sinful thoughts each time his gaze would land on you and your perfect features. Or the irritability that stemmed from pure jealousy when he'd catch sight of any other male on the shift trying to hit on you.

Another thing you didn't really know, was how this dangerous subtle flirting between you was initiated. It had probably started with Jack never failing to praise you when you where handling a case correctly, with or without his instructions. To which you made sure to reply with a bat of your lashes and a seemingly harmless 'Thank you dr. Abbot.' that drove Jack insane and had him wishing he could have you right then and there. Then there were times when he'd be pushing you subtly more than others to do better. Making sure he pointed out a mistake in your charting or a patient's treatment. An those where the times where you'd hear him saying something like:

"Think it through." "Check this one more time." in that stern voice of his that never left any space for arguement.

Then it became a bit more evident when he'd leave snacks or coffee by your stuff in the break room.

"Figured you needed it." he'd reply with that nonchalant tone laced with genuine consideration when you'd ask him about it.

Then the boundaries where pushed even further when his hand started lingering a fraction of a second longer than necessary, yet enough for you to notice, on your lower back or your shoulder as he'd brush past you. The first time you felt him so close to you, the hairs on the back of your neck prickled and time seemed to have slowed down before he moved away and you were thrown back into the crazy pace of the ER.

From that moment on, you only craved him and his touch more. You kept imagining how those skilled hands of his would feel on your bare skin, exploring, touching, pleasuring you. Sure enough your gaze gave all that away when you were eyeing Jack during a confident reply to one of his witty comments, but maybe just maybe this was exactly what you wanted.

Until it began being obvious enough for Dana and Trinity to notice and probably any other person who could see the way yours and Jack's demeanor changed when you were around each other.

"You'll get your heart broken, you know, it will not end well." Dana had told you with a tired pessimistic tone one day after seeing you swoon over Jack for the umpteenth time.

"What are you even talking about?" you paused your charting, your head snapping to look at her standing next to you.

"You, going after your attending... Not the most responsible thing to do." she gave your desk a pat for emphasis before walking away. There was nothing absurd in her words, you just didn't want to admit it. Especially seeing how Jack seemed to be playing along with you.

Trinity was the next in line to 'scold' you for your controversial choices, a couple of days later.

"I mean, I get it and at the same time I don't." she said, her eyes following yours that were fixed on Jack handling a patient in some room opposite you. "He's not for you and you're not for him. This won't lead anywhere." to which you simply sighed still not looking at her.

"Why don't you go on Tinder? Find a couple dates your age and you'll see this was weird all along." she finally got you to face her with a fed up expression.

"What? I've had 3 relationships thanks to that app" she defended herself.

"Well I don't see any of them having lasted..." you pointed out.

"That's not the point, the point is that you need someone your age ok?"

And thank god for that patient being brought in that exact moment, saving you from having to continue the conversation.

Her and Dana's words kept playing in your mind though and you found yourself reusing that dusty old tinder account you'd opened ages ago.

Resulting in you talking to dumb guy after dumb guy and going to boring date after boring date. An attempt to prove to yourself that your little infatuation was just a phase and you were perfectly capable of pulling guys your age and enjoy their company.

But none of them could make you feel throughout an entire night the way Jack did with just a single glance or brush of his hand.

A handful of such dates later, you were getting tired, bored but most importantly you had ended up thinking about Jack more than you did before, if that was even possible, and it was taking a toll on you.

"What's gotten into you today?" Jack's slightly gravelly voice startled you as he entered the break room one day at an unusually quiet part of the shift, around 3-4am. You kept your back facing him as you leaned against the counter. Apparently your attempts to compose yourself and be professional had been rather unsuccessful and deep down you were painfully aware of the fact that you seemed off that day.

Of course Jack had picked up on it immediately. Your lack of patience, the fact that you were on edge and the complete absence of those brief flirtatious looks you always reserved for him.

You couldn't deny how sick and tired you were of trying. Trying to distract yourself from how down bad you were for him. Trying to find men your age so you could have something that felt a bit more normal, more appropriate.

"I'm fine." your response came sharply as you turned to face him.

"Don't lie to me sweetheart, cause the way you're acting out there says otherwise." he stayed exactly were he was, gazing at you as he moved his hands behind his back. His tone firm, yet not scolding, leaving you space to explain your situation. Seeing you avoid his eyes and keep quiet as if searching for a good enough excuse to have him out of your way as soon as possible, however, he decided to insist.

"Is it one of those assholes you've been finding online?"

He got his answer once he saw your eyes widening and upon seeing how you were trying to collect your thoughts and make sense of it all, he added:

"I heard you and Santos talking about it a few times." earning him a deep sigh and an eye roll on your behalf.

"God, I'm sorry for that..." you quickly became aware of how awkward it must have been for Jack to hear those conversations with Trinity.

"Nothing to be sorry for." he reassured you as he contemplated his next words, the ones that were more important. "But I want to know if anyone has been inappropriate..." he trailed off thinking he was probably being too nosy, demanding too much information from a part of your life in which he wasn't included.

"No, no, no reason to worry about anything like that." the nervous laugh and the way you kept avoiding his eyes, however, was telling him exactly the opposite.

"So there is something to be worried about?" two strides is all he needed to reach you. And now it felt like he was suddenly too close for your sanity.

"Jack..." you began without any clear thought of what you were going to say. But oh how his name sounded off your lips. You only referred to him that way during rare moments of the shift you shared alone, yet he longed to hear his first name in your sweet voice more often.

"Look, I won't force you to talk if you don't want to, but if there's anything going on just know that you can always talk to me." his genuine concern was evident. After all, he had been through enough in his life to want to protect the people he cared for as early on as possible.

You remained silent, just getting lost into his deep hazel gaze for a quick second. Wanting to tell him everything and nothing at the same time. Perhaps this was finally your chance to chose the first option.

"Have you ever badly wanted something, that you could not have and should not even be wanting to have...?" you knew that once those words were spoken out loud, there was no going back.

You kept going.

"And you try to find any substitute you can to forget about it and move on..." your pulse was quickening, your voice threatening to lose its steadiness. "Yet nothing works because nothing can compare and you're just left feeling hopeless and desperate?" you weren't sure if this subtle confession was more liberating than nerve wracking as you waited for Jack's reply.

"More times than I would like to admit." his expression softened yet his answer felt calculated and intentional just like his every move when he was out there saving lives.

"And what's your solution?" you could swear that at some point he must have taken another step towards you because now it felt like he was standing impossibly close. Or was it you who involuntarily had moved, pulled in by his scent- a mix of sandalwood, coffee and something entirely him?

"Depends on what it is that you want." Jack was no novice, he was well aware of the direction this conversation was taking.

"You promise not to think any less of me if I tell you?" the thumping of your heart was so intense you were sure it could be heard across the room at this point.

"Sweetheart, that would take a lot more if it were to happen, trust me." there he went again calling you that dulcet name, with that reassuring tone that drove you insane, as if it was the most natural thing to do.

"You. I want you." you almost hadn't let him finish speaking before you finally confessed. A number of diffrent scenarios were playing in your mind during the miliseconds that followed. Jack could very simply reject you. The whole shift could find out about this conversation. Hell you might even have to change shifts or hospital altogether.

But none of it was in Jack's response, because that didn't come in the form of words, but through a hungry and long awaited crash of his lips on yours.

Your mind instantly enetered autopilot not being able to comprehend the situation. Your body moved of its own accord as you kissed him back and your hands found purchase on his strong shoulders, the moment you felt his grip on your waist.

It was maddening, dizzying, the way his lips molded with yours, but he broke the kiss just as he had initiated it. Reminding you both that you were in a room that anyone could walk in any minute.

So you agreed to move things to the nearby supply closet, which could be locked from the inside. Still risking people looking for you but at least not walking in on such scandalous scene.

Once the door was locked safely, Jack was backing you up against it, resuming the feverish kisses that were soon travelling down your neck. You couldn't stop tracing his toned body, from his freckled arms, to his scrub cladded shoulders and the curls on the nape of his neck.

"Tell me to stop and I will." his husky voice brought you back to reality, as he squeezed your hips in an attempt to wait for your reply before allowing himself to indulge and explore your body further.

"I don't won't you to stop." you panted pulling him impossibly closer, You wanted every inch of him against you. Next thing you knew, with the grip he had on your hips, he was pulling you to back you up against the nearest empty wall.

"I know this is probably wrong, what we're doing, but I've been waiting for it since the moment I layed eyes on you." you whined at his words combined with the hand that slid to apply pressure on your clothed core.

"Show me. Show me what you were thinking about." growing needier by the second you moved in unison with his hand, chasing the friction, all while letting him ravish your neck.

"I would need more time than we currently have, but I could start giving you a taste if you'd spread your legs a bit for me." the hand that had been cupping you moved past your waistband once you gave him more space. He earned a gasp the moment two of his fingers started spreading your arousal, toying lightly with your clit then gliding all the way to nudge at your entrance.

Truth was Jack wanted you on his bed, all spread out for him so he could spend all the time in the world getting to know your body. Feeling your skin against his palms and how different it was on your thighs, your breasts, your pussy. Paying attention to how you reacted to his touch as he changed the spot, the pressure, the rythm.

Such thing was not possible in the restricted space of the supply closet, but he was determined to make you both feel good after months of pent up sexual tension.

"May I?" the pads of his digits circled your entrance with a medical precision to request permission to continue their venture.

"Please..." voice almost shaky with need, you bucked your hips to get him to move, maintaining a strong grip on his shoulders to keep yourself grounded. When he finally did move, a deep exhale tore through you in unison with his low groan.

"Is that what you wanted all along? For me to stretch that tight little cunt of yours with my fingers?" he was curling and pumping his digits in a way that had your knees going weak. "Because I definitely did." he added a thumb on your clit and shushed the moan that left your lips immediately after. "Shh shh. Stay quiet for me. Don't want anyone hearing us." and his lips went back to devouring yours, his stubble adding a heavenly edge to the kisses.

"I always imagined how you would feel inside me." your mind was clouded with pleasure, as your hand reached for his clothed bulge eliciting a hiss against your lips once you began palming him.

"Be patient, sweetheart, I need to get you ready first." he was evidently growing impatient himself. Your delicate hand on his painfully hard cock making his breath labored.

Soon, you were grabbing his wrist to stop the relentless pace of his fingering moments away from your orgasm. If you were to come whithin your given time restriction, you much preferred it to be on his cock.

"What am I gonna do with you, hm?" was all he murmured upon hearing your request, voice straining with desire. But before he allowed himself to continue he made sure to lick clean the fingers that were glistening with your arousal. His lust filled gaze never leaving yours as a content groan rumbled deep within his chest upon tasting you. "Now turn around, hands on the wall." he comanded using the same tone he did when giving you instructions during a case on the shift. Naturally you obeyed, palms coming in contact with the hard surface of the wall, your back arching so your still clothed ass was on full display for Jack.

He wasted no time in lowering your pants and underwear until they pooled at your feet. One rough hand reaching to knead your backside, while the other freed his cock and pumped a few times. A pathetic whine of his name left your lips when his tip slid on your wet folds. "Use your words, tell me what you need." he urged you in a commanding manner while squeezing your hips.

"I need you..." you tried to chase the friction of him against your pussy.

"Need me to do what?" it was ridiculously easy to hold you still until he got an answer.

"I need you to fuck me." a pause "Please..." you added before he asked.

"There we go, that's my good girl." that was the moment he finally started pushing inside you, having you both trying to supress the most explicit sounds. Halfway in he paused to check in on you. "Is this okay?" "Yes." you sighed getting accustomed to the deliciously intense stretch.

That was all he needed to carefully slide all the way in until he bottomed out. He stopped once again, giving you time and letting you both feel each other as close as you've ever been. When his mouth found its spot on the side of your neck for the umpteenth time, he started touching his way up your torso, under your scrubs, until he reached your bra cladded breasts and kneaded them, causing your pussy to clench.

That worked as his signal to begin moving with languid deep strokes that he soon was speeding up seeing the way you were pushing back, aching for more. "Does that feel good?" part of the pleasure for him was making sure you were comfortable and enjoying it as much as he was.

"Good girl, you're taking me so well." he added after your reassurance, picking up the pace and withdrawing one of his hands from your breasts to bring it to your swollen clit.

The sight was obscene - you, a resident doctor bent over against the wall of the hospital's supply closet, arched like a cat while Jack, your attending was thrusting in and out of you, with his hands on your most private parts.

And it was about to get even more obscene as your orgasm was undeniably approaching. Jack was close too, with the way he was struggling to keep quiet and his thrusts were getting desperate.

"Come for me sweetheart. Come on, you did so well, let me see you." he knew you were close by the uncontrolable flutter of your walls around him.

The soft praises that he practically whimpered in your ear combined with the sweet pressure of his cock and the circling of your clit had you reaching your orgasm with a string of profanities mixed with Jack's name falling from your lips. Your nails clawed at the wall as your vision turned white and Jack held his own release through gritted teeth to help you ride yours. Seconds later, he was pulling out and releasing in his tight fist with a guttural groan.

"Next time, I'm buying you dinner first." he was the first one to break the silence as you were catching your breaths, trying to get cleaned up and dressed to return to the chaos of the ER as soon as possible. "And then you're coming to my place, to treat you the way you deserve." a new excitement started blooming within you hearing him say that.

"That's right sweetheart. So I better not see you running after random assholes." he was reaching for the door, his professional demeanor slowly returning.

The first few times you didn’t think too much about it. You had just ordered dessert when your phone rang.

You muttered an apology to Tom and picked up.

“Everything alright?” It had become your new hello whenever Robby called and had the children.

“Hey. Sorry to interrupt.” You could hear Robby on the other end of the line, his voice sounding distraught and tired. In the background, your daughter’s crying functioned as his backing vocals.

“Are you?” you joked lightly.

You heard him let out a weak chuckle. “Mila insists on waiting for mommy.”

“So I hear.” You sighed, sympathy tugging at your chest. “Did you try watching Frozen?”

“Yes. We’re thirty minutes in. She stopped wailing, but the tears just keep falling.” He scoffed softly at his own helplessness. “It’s heartbreaking, honestly.”

Your eyes darted to Tom, an apology written all over your face. “I can be there in… fifteen minutes?”

“Yeah, that’ll work.”

“Isaac?”

“Fast asleep since nine.”

“Good, good. Well, see you then.”

You hung up and turned to Tom, who was already signaling the waiter for the check and a to-go box for your dessert.

“I am so sorry.” You bit your lower lip, feeling genuinely guilty.

He gave you a warm, understanding smile. “Don’t be. She needs her mom.”

You squeezed his hand over the table. “Thank you.”

True to form, Tom held the car door open for you and drove you all the way to Robby’s place.

“Do you want to call him so he knows you're here?” Tom asked, shifting the car into park outside the house.

“No, I have a key.” You wiggled your keychain at him with a soft smile.

Tom got out to open your door again, and you took the opportunity to step close and kiss him goodbye. His hands slided up to your jaw, angling your face to kiss you deeper.

“Have a good night,” he whispered against your lips, his thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“You already made it so.” You pecked his lips one last time before untangling yourself from his hold and walking up to the front door.

You opened Robby’s door with the familiarity of your own. Inside, your daughter whimpered on the couch, her gaze fixed on the television where Elsa was singing something you didn’t register. In two strides, you were there, lifting her into your arms. “Oh, baby. I missed you, too.”

Robby emerged from the kitchen, two steaming cups of tea in his hands. He set them on the coffee table.

You sat down with your daughter in arms.

“Nice kiss,” he mumbled, the rim of the cup shielding the smirk that quirked his mouth.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, offering a cynical smile as you twisted the knife. “It really was.”

“Mommy” Mila mumbled against your chest, rubbing her eyes with her fists. 

“I’m here, baby. Mommy’s here.” You swayed her softly against your chest. Taking occasional sips off the cup Michael brought you.

“If your heart’s beating too fast she’ll never calm down.” He whispered in a rusty voice.

You looked down on him, your mouth pressed to the side. “My heart’s not beating too fast.” 

He clicked his tongue. “Then the kiss wasn’t so good.” 

Your eyes rolled and decided to maintain the task at hand. You kept your daughter pressed against your chest, swaying slightly until her hiccups subsided.

Robby swallowed, leaning against the back of the couch. “Have you corrected his hand placement yet?”

“I didn’t need to. I like his hand placement just fine.”

Robby turned his focus to you, his warm gaze stealing the oxygen from your lungs. “Really?”

“Really,” you whispered. You peeked down at your daughter and found her fast asleep. “She’s out.”

His eyes followed yours to the small bundle against your chest. “Magic.”

“No, just Mom.” You pressed a soft kiss to her hair.

Robby’s voice dropped an octave, turning warm and hushed. “Is your VIP Uber waiting outside, or are you going to call him?”

You looked at him for a heartbeat before standing, knowing that if you stared any longer, you’d be hypnotized. “No. I was just going to call a regular one.” You stepped into the bedroom, gently laying her down, before returning and closing the door behind you.

“You’re not getting into an Uber at one in the morning,” Robby announced, already pulling blankets from the closet.

You were too exhausted to object. You plopped onto the couch with a weary sigh. “Want to share dessert? It’s tiramisu.”

“Isn’t that considered cheating?” he teased from the other end of the cushions.

You arched an eyebrow. “I’d be more concerned about sleeping on my ex’s couch.”

“Oh, no. You’re taking the bed. I’m claiming the couch.”

You turned to face him. “Your back will kill you tomorrow.”

Robby just shrugged, sitting down next to you and handing over the takeout container and a spoon. You took the first bite, the moan that escaped you effectively ruining the room’s temperature. Robby’s expression tightened, his smile fighting to stay buried.

You handed him the spoon, and the gesture was mirrored. “It’s too good.”

“Mm-hmm.” You took the spoon back, loading it with cream. “How’s it going with Hastings?”

He grimaced, waiting for you to finish your bite before taking the spoon back. “It’s over.”

“Why?”

He licked the spoon absentmindedly. “Seven weeks.”

“Oh.” Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue.

He tracked your gaze, his smirk widening as he passed the spoon back. You kept your eyes fixed on the remaining dessert to avoid his.

“Go to bed. I’ll drive you in the morning,” he said, gesturing toward his room.

You turned the spoon, licking the last of the cream from the metal before putting it back on the plate. “I really think I should get the couch.”

Robby took a long, heavy moment to answer. “Listen, I might not be your knight in shining armor, but I can manage ‘gentleman.’ You get the bed.”

You stood, a light scoff escaping your nose. “I never doubted you were, Robinavitch.”

He looked up at you from the couch, his eyes searching for something you couldn't name. “Get out of here.”

“Good night, Michael,” you said over your shoulder before closing the door.

***

Next time, it was Isaac. 

The boy cried and trembled in fear, begging you to call his father. Too exhausted to argue with a five-year-old’s logic, you unlocked your phone and dialed.

“Everything alright?” Robby answered.

“Hey. Can you come over?” You figured there was no point in beating around the bush.

“What kind of call is this?” You heard him chuckling on the other end.

You scoffed gently. “Isaac wants his dad to tuck him in.”

“I’ll be there in ten.”

It was always like that. No matter what lay between the two of you, you were both fiercely committed to being there for your kids.

By the time Robby arrived, you were waiting in the living room. Isaac was perched right at your side, having insisted on staying up to wait.

“Jesus, who died?” Robby asked the second he pushed the door open.

Isaac immediately scrambled off the couch and ran to him. You turned to Robby, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“Isn’t that what all the flowers are for?” he teased, lifting Isaac into his arms. He looked down at the boy. “Why don’t you want to sleep, buddy?”

“I miss you.” Isaac rounded his shoulders, burying his face into his dad's jacket.

The look you exchanged with Robby over your son's head was heavy with melancholy. In moments like this, you couldn’t help but blame yourself for the split.

“Hey, you don’t have to miss me. I’m always just one call away, okay?” Robby reassured him, pressing a warm kiss into the boy's dark hair. “Let’s get you to bed, kid.”

With Isaac still cradled in his arms, Robby walked past you toward the stairs. “Say goodnight to Mom,” he instructed.

“Goodnight, Mom.”

“Say I love you, Mom.”

Isaac chuckled, his eyes bright. “Only if you say it too.”

Your hands flew to your face, trying to hide the instant, creeping blush.

“Well, aren’t you a little mastermind, huh?” Robby tickled the kid, making him cackle. Then, Robby's eyes caught yours, holding them for a heartbeat. “I love you.”

Before you could process the hitch in your breath, he returned his attention to the kid. “Your turn.”

“I love you, Mom!” your son offered, flashing a toothy smile that completely melted your heart.

“I love you too, baby. Both of you,” you managed, clearing the sudden lump in your throat. You gestured toward the stairs with a flick of your head. “Now, bedtime.”

“Yes, Captain.” Robby rearranged the boy in his arms and disappeared up the stairs.

By the time he returned to the living room, you had already poured two glasses of wine. Robby sank onto the couch with a heavy exhale, looking thoroughly exhausted.

He extended a hand to take the glass you offered.

You raised your own to him in a weary salute. “They’re outsmarting us.”

He chuckled, the sound low and tired. “We need to step up our game.”

andrew cody who struggled with trust because of the way he grew up. it takes him a long time to fully let someone into his life, but once he does, he's fiercely loyal.

andrew cody who isn't naturally affectionate in front of other people, but the second you're alone with him he's always finding excuses to touch you. a hand on your knee. his arm draped over your shoulders. his fingers hooked through yours under a table. he needs constant proof that you're still there.

andrew cody who sleeps better when you're beside him. years of anxiety and bad memories keep him awake most nights, but somehow your presence quiets the noise in his head. he'll pull you against his chest and bury his face in your hair before falling asleep.

andrew cody who becomes almost painfully protective of you. not in a controlling way, but in a way that comes from fear. losing people terrifies him more than he'll ever admit. every time you come home late, he's pacing. every unanswered text sits in his mind until you reply.

andrew cody whose ocd tendencies get worse when he's stressed. he needs certain things organized a specific way, needs routines to stay predictable. at first he tries to hide it from you, embarrassed by how obsessive he can seem. but once he trusts you, he lets you see the parts of himself he usually keeps buried.

andrew cody who sometimes wakes up from nightmares convinced something terrible has happened. on those nights, he reaches for you immediately. your hand in his becomes an anchor. he'll sit there in the dark listening to your sleepy voice until his breathing slows again.

andrew cody who gets jealous easily but tries not to show it. he'll go quiet instead. his jaw tightens whenever someone flirts with you. later he'll casually ask, "you know that guy was hitting on you, right?" pretending he doesn't care nearly as much as he does.

andrew cody who melts whenever you play with his hair. he acts tough about everything else, but the second your fingers slide through his curls he's gone. eyes closed, leaning into your touch without even realizing it.

andrew cody who would never admit how much your praise affects him. growing up in the cody family means hearing criticism far more often than encouragement. so when you tell him you're proud of him, he goes strangely quiet and carries those words around for weeks.

andrew cody who softens around you in ways nobody else gets to see. the family knows him as unpredictable, intense, and dangerous. but with you, he's gentler. calmer. the version of himself he never thought he was allowed to be.

andrew cody who isn't great with grand romantic gestures. his version of love is consistency. showing up when he says he will, remembering important dates, helping when things get difficult, and staying loyal even when life gets messy.

andrew cody who becomes tense whenever his family drama starts affecting your relationship. he'd hate the idea of his partner being caught in the middle of conflicts they never asked to be part of.

andrew cody who stares at you when he thinks you aren't looking. not in a creepy way, just completely captivated. sometimes you'll catch him from across the room and he'll immediately glance away, rubbing the back of his neck like he wasn't just looking at you like you hung the moon.

andrew cody who kisses your forehead more than your lips. every time he walks past you. every time he leaves. every time he comes home. it's become such a habit that he doesn't even think about it anymore, automatically pressing a soft kiss against your skin before moving on with whatever he was doing.

andrew cody who absolutely loves having you in his lap. he'll pull you onto him while he's sitting on the couch, wrapping both arms around your waist and resting his chin on your shoulder. he could sit like that for hours, listening to you talk about absolutely anything.

andrew cody who loves lazy mornings with you more than anything. sunlight filtering through the curtains, your body curled against his, neither of you in any hurry to move. he'll brush your hair away from your face and just watch you wake up, looking softer than you've ever seen him.

andrew cody who loves when you're the one initiating affection. after years of feeling unwanted and misunderstood, every time you reach for him first it does something to his heart. a hug from behind while he's making coffee can improve his mood for the rest of the day.

andrew cody who whispers "come here" whenever you're standing too far away for his liking. then immediately wraps his arms around you the second you step closer, holding you against his chest like he hasn't seen you in weeks.

andrew cody who kisses you like he's trying to memorize you. one hand cupping your face, the other around your waist, holding you close enough to hear your heartbeat. afterward he'll rest his forehead against yours and stay there, eyes closed, completely content just being near you.

andrew cody who apologizes for things that aren't really his fault. years of carrying guilt have convinced him that every bad thing somehow traces back to him. sometimes you'll catch him saying "sorry" after having a nightmare or after a panic attack, and your heart breaks because he genuinely believes he's inconveniencing you.

andrew cody who occasionally wakes up before dawn and just watches you sleep. there's always this lingering fear in the back of his mind that he'll lose everything good in his life. so sometimes he lies there quietly, memorizing your face in the soft morning light.

andrew cody who hates arguing with you. even minor disagreements leave him unsettled for hours. if you go to bed upset, he won't sleep. he'll lie awake staring at the ceiling, replaying every word and convincing himself he's ruined everything.

andrew cody who sometimes asks, "you're not leaving me, right?" during vulnerable moments. never dramatically. never looking directly at you. just a quiet question slipped into the darkness when his fears get the better of him.

andrew cody who accidentally falls asleep holding onto your shirt after a particularly rough day. when you find him, his grip is still tight even in sleep, like some part of him is afraid you'll disappear if he lets go.

You and Deran had become good friends since you started working at his bar. Even though it seemed like you two had nothing in common, you two got along well. Always sharing laughs through the dining room and helping him with what to say to Adrian. He would bring you around the Cody compound. To parties or just to hangout.

You had gotten pretty acquainted with his brothers, always greeting them as you entered the threshold. You always enjoyed how Baz and Craig would be willing to tag along to whatever shenanigans Deran and you had planned.

However, Pope was always reserved, always quiet.

How you’d always reluctantly greet him, always glancing away awkwardly because he was in fact awkward. You always grew shy around his presence, unsure as to why. He would flush pink when you would admire your tight skimpy denim shorts barely covering your thighs.

He thought the reason for your behavior was because of what his brother possibly mentioned to you. How he’d beat up people when he was in high school, how he had a short temper, the fact that he went to prison.

However, he didn’t know that you were completely infatuated with him. You liked how he stared at you regardless of if it was a big t-shirt or a little tube top. He always seemed to be guarding you, always a watchful eye being on you while he was graced with your presence.

You adored his figure as his hands would be tucked into his pockets while he watched you on the sofa, hanging out with his brothers. Or how he would mindlessly hand you a beer at one of the Cody parties, noticing you were running dry as you lounged by the pool.

He’d even stop by the bar sometimes, just to check in.

“Hey, you,” he’d rasp as he placed himself onto the barstool in front of you while you were wiping the counter.

“What are you doing here? We don’t open for another hour.”

“Just checking in on you,” you not knowing he had to be at a job in an hour, always knowing the risk that he might never see you again. “You doing good?”

“Always, Pope,” you said as you turned away from him, not being able to look into his eyes.

His lips would purse then, lost in thought about how you could never make eye contact with him. He would take in his movements, did he look threatening to you?

“Well, I gotta go,” he’d say as he was about to exit. “You’ll be here when I get back, yeah?”

“Of course, Pope,” you sighed as you replaced the empty liquor bottles, not even casting a glance his way. “Gotta work after all.”

It was almost like you were annoyed at him. Like you were completely ignoring his existence. Were you terrified of what you might find seeking below the surface?

Pope would be lost in thought as he sat there while Jay cut the safe out of the floorboards, Craig was posted up next to him. Craig swatted at his bicep. “Dude, where are you?” Craig questioned. “It’s like you’re not even here, man. I need you to help me with his shit.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Pope shook his head free of the tormenting thoughts. “I’m here, lemme help you.”

It wasn’t until you were in the kitchen, slightly tipsy, looking for something to munch on. Pope would walk in from the patio where the party resided. He would take in your bikini that hugged the curves of your body.

“Ugh, is there anything in here to eat?” you asked, not knowing who was behind you.

“There’s some cereal on top of the cabinets,” Pope piped up as he uncapped another beer from the fridge.

You turned around, completely frozen at the sight of Pope being alone with you. The liquor burned through your bloodstream, your mind feeling fuzzy, yet totally focused on the man in front of you.

“Um,” Pope muttered as he made his way over to you, knowing your short stance wouldn’t be able to reach for the boxes. “I’ll help you out.”

He stretched, his shirt pulling up, exposing his harsh v-line and tight abdomen. You just sat there as your eyes bored into his tight and rigid abdomen.

“Here you go,” he said as he handed you the box of cereal. You sat still for a moment before absently taking it.

You slowly made routine movements, pouring cereal into the bowl before grabbing the gallon of milk. Pope nursed his beer as he watched you. His nerves bundled into a taught ball in his chest. He set his beer against the counter as you poured the milk, he grabbed a spoon and rested it next to the bowl.

“Y’know,” he started. “I’m sorry if I scare you.”

“You don’t scare me, Pope,” you said flatly.

He wasn’t fully convinced.

“Listen,” he continued. “I see how you avoid me and how you can’t look me in the face, I get it believe me I–”

“Pope,” your big eyes peered into his. “You don’t scare me.”

“T-Then why do you look away when I’m trying to talk to you?” Pope couldn’t understand, he didn’t get it. 

“Because, Pope,” you sighed as you held the spoon in your tight fist. “I like you.”

A pregnant pause held heavy in the room.

“A lot, actually.”

His chest heaved at the sigh of relief.

You liked him. This was a revelation to him, a totally new thing to explore. He couldn’t believe his sharp features, his harsh tone that spilled from him at times, none of it scared you. In fact, you welcomed all of him, all of the trouble and worry.

“I-I- don’t creep you out?” he stuttered. “I really don’t scare you?”

“Listen, Andrew,” you said, taking a step closer, you reached up and placed your hand on his tense jaw. “You’re a guard dog, you bite when people you love or care about are at risk.”

Tears pricked his eyes, he couldn’t believe someone as special as you could be so sweet.

“Personally, I think that’s a great quality to have, even if it scares some people.”

Pope physically relaxed as his forehead pressed against yours, his breaths slowly steadying. You wrapped your arms around his strong shoulders, pulling him into your grasp, your hands raking through the curls at the nape of your neck. His hands shook as they hovered over your hips, unsure if you’d be okay with his touch. You drew your hand down, your hand encircling Pope’s wrist, pulling his palm to your soft flesh of your hips.

The embrace was sobering as well as a revelation. He couldn’t believe how your softness, your innocence, your radiance, complimented the darkness that always hung heavy in his chest.

You set your hands on either side of his head, you pulled his head back to where his gaze met yours. His eyes scanned your pretty face.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked.

You yanked his mouth to yours, pulling him into a feverish kiss. You drew his hips to yours by the belt loops of his jeans, feeling the firmness against the middle of your tummy. You palmed his junk as you slipped your tongue past his lips, he groaned into your mouth. He was slowly losing control.

His hands reached around to your ass peaking from underneath your bikini, his warm palms resting on your cheeks, giving a firm squeeze. Your soft hands made contact with the harsh ridges of his stomach as you snaked your hands under the hem of his t-shirt.The kisses started to grow sloppy, a mixture of saliva coating your lips and chin.

“Bedroom,” Pope heaved between wet kisses. “Now.”

You didn’t even respond to him as your lips trailed over his jaw and neck. He scooped you up and wrapped your legs around his strong middle, continuing to make out with you as he made his way to his bedroom.

He threw you on the bed, giggles pouring from your pretty little mouth. He realized he needed to slow down then, he wanted to enjoy every moment of this. He wanted to kiss every inch of your skin, hug every curve of your soft body.

Pope slowly crawled between your thighs, his body caging you in as he kissed you slowly. He laced your face with sweet kisses, first your forehead, then your warm cheeks, finally meeting your lips once again.

“Andy,” you teased. “What’s with the sudden change of pace, huh?”

“Need to take you in,” he rasped between pecks along your jaw and collar. “Never thought I could have you like this.”

You grinned at his words as you raked your nails through his auburn curls while he kissed down your barely clothed figure. It wasn’t until he was pressing feather light kisses along the edge of your tummy that you giggled, making him pause.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his hazel eyes peering up at you.

“Tickes.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he smirked, returning to your skin. “Just can’t get enough of you.”

You were growing impatient as your slick pooled in your bikini bottoms. Sure, you were enjoying him worshipping every part of you, but you needed him more.

You reached your fingers down to the strings of your bikini bottoms, untying the knots. Your bare pussy became exposed to Pope as he was peppering kisses to your knees, he stopped in his tracks.

“Stop teasing, Andy,” you begged. “Need more of you, please.”

It was almost like he blacked out then, totally enamored by your unadorned sex. He practically pounced to your center, pulling apart your folds and seeing the glittering sweetness.

Slow down.

Pope drew his strong arms around your thighs, enriching your flesh with red hot marks as he nipped and suckled at your stretchmarks that adorned your skin. It made you hiss and wince yet, drawing sweet breathy moans from you.

“Popey,” you whimpered. “Just get on with it.”

“You heard me,” he huffed, just mere centimeters from your warm center, his nails digging into your legs. “I’m taking my sweet time with you.”

And it was working, the teasing and foreplay making your pussy ache and ache.

He finally pressed a kiss to your clit, his tongue swiping into your folds. He teased your hole with his slick tongue, tasting every bit of your insides that he could reach. You would writhe and squirm as his powerful hands held your thighs open.

His tongue moved from your entrance to your clit, swirling, flicking, and sucking around your pearl. His meaty fingers teased and drew into you, your walls sucking him in at the sensation. He pumped in and out of you as he continued to make out with your begging buds.

Your back arched against his mattress, your nipples swelling against the fabric of your swimsuit top. You continued to cry and mewl as your fingers toyed and tugged at his scalp.

“Mm,” he hummed around you, the vibration sending pleasurable waves through your tense body. “Taste s’good, doll.”

The coil in your belly tightened, your thighs jerking in his grasp. 

“Andrew,” you cried. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Good, baby,” he said, continuing to curl his fingers into you. “That’s good, I want you to, cum for me, sweetheart.”

Your thighs shook, your legs squeezing around his head. He hugged his arms tighter around your legs, his tongue pressing slow licks to your folds as your orgasm thrashed through you.

You sat there gasping as he stood up, swiping at his chin and mouth. He returned to your lips once again, his control fleeing from him. His tongue swirled around yours, making you taste yourself. You hummed against his lips as you tugged at the hem of shirt, he pulled back briefly as he took it off. You admired his strong frame, how his veins rose from his flesh in the dim light. He slithered his hands to your back, undoing the knot that held up your bikini top. You quickly slipped out of the fabric as he unbuttoned his jeans.

He needed you now, the fabric of his boxers growing uncomfortably against his rigid length. Your hands snaked to his hips, yanking down the hem of his boxers and jeans until his cock sprung free.

You reached down, your hand drawing long strokes across his solid member. The precum of his flush head dribbled down your fingertips. You pulled your hand to your lips, tasting his teasing release as your tongue twirled around your salty digits.

Pope growled, taking his cock in his hands, running the inches across your wet center. His mouth hovered above yours, feeling his hot breath fan across your face.

“Say you’re okay with this,” he whispered. “Say you’re okay with me taking you like this.”

“I’m okay with it, Andy.”

He thrusted his shaft into your entrance, you begging him to come in. Make yourself at home.

He growled as he felt the barrier of your insides, squelching and squeezing as he continued the slow drive of his hips, getting accommodated to how your walls hug him.

He gazed down at you, his dark eyes scanning every part of your panting figure. You were bare, innocent, and willing. All for him.

It wasn’t his needy pulsating hips drawing into you, or how your boobs bobbed and jiggled with every movement that drew him closer to the edge. It was his emotions. He adored you, he loved every part of you. Your shy personality, your humor, how you were just a ray of sunshine to his family when you were around. Sure, your looks were also everything to him, but as they always say. It’s what’s on the inside that counts.

Your head ran in countless circles, completely mindless while he fucked the living shit out of you. He couldn’t get enough, the tip of his cock meeting your cervix. The mixture of the gasps, whimpers, and whines contradicted the chaotic sound of the party resting beyond the walls of his bedroom. This was sweet, this was sensual. Out there, it was dissonant and messy.

You were perfect, shit, you were both perfect. Both of you meet each other’s desire and every need.

He pressed his strong torso against your bare middle and chest, his hips continuing to rake into your insides. He needed skin on skin contact while he fucked you. He pressed hot sloppy kisses to your mouth between grunts and growls.

“M’gonna come inside you,” his hoarse voice meeting the shell of your ear. “That okay, doll? Say yes.”

“Y-Yes.”

You felt his release spill into you, filling your insides with its warmth and heat. He drew slow thrusts in and out of you as his cum spilled inside of you.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he whispered against your skin as his cock softened inside of you. “You’re so fuckin’ perfect.”

you were sitting by the poolside while lena was testing to see how far she could make it across the pool in one breath. you applauded as she made it at least halfway across, her little legs kicking her through the water with all their might. her smile is triumphant as she beams up at you.

"i got so far!"

she exclaims as she swims over to the edge of the pool by you, her arms resting on the warm pavement.

"you sure did! keep on practicing and you'll make it all the way across in no time at all."

you speak encouragingly, watching her eyes light up with hope. a throat is cleared behind you, causing both you and lena to look over in the direction of the gate. you both spot a stern-looking pope, but his face seems to soften as soon as his eyes land on lena in the pool. it wasn't easy for him, taking lena under his wing after what happened to her parents. he sees the smile on the little girl's face, then glances at you, then back at her, and he feels something shift within him.

"she'll be out in the ocean learning how to surf like you guys soon."

you smile softly as you talk to him, which causes an unfamiliar sense of warmth to settle in his chest. he nods at you before walking over to lena, he crouches down as he meets her gaze.

"ten more minutes, then shower before dinner's ready."

his voice was rough, but it had an uncharacteristic softness to it as he spoke to lena. she nodded, her big eyes staring at him like he hung the stars in the sky. it made your heart swell, seeing how the two of them bonded so well, especially given all the shit they'd been through. pope cody wasn't comforting to anyone except for lena, at least that's what you'd thought at first. as lena swims away and busies herself, pope stands to his full height and turns around to look at you.

"what are you doing here?"

he hadn't meant for the question to sound so harsh and bothered. he saw the way your face scrunched a bit at his tone and immediately regretted his choice of words.

"i'm watching over lena while you take care of your personal things."

"i didn't ask you to do that."

"deran said you could use the extra help."

he stands there for a moment, blinking at you. he hadn't realized that it wasn't realistic for deran and craig to watch lena when pope couldn't, especially since they were often away from home more than he was. he nods slowly, now that everything was starting to make sense once again. he glances over his shoulder at lena, who's now wearing a particularly suspicious grin as she watches the two of you interact. he turns back to you, eyes briefly drifting toward your light green tank top. he could just barely see inside your shirt, the shadow almost highlighting your cleavage. he snaps himself out of the trance and meets your gaze again.

"how much do you want for it?"

you shrug at his question, glancing over at lena who has started cleaning up her pool toys. you clearly hadn't thought about it yet, not really worried about the money as much as you were about lena.

"i don't need to be paid, i have a job. i'm just here to watch lena when you aren't able to."

he looks slightly taken aback by your answer. why were you so willing to help them out without being paid? he searches your expression for any sort of hint otherwise, but he finds nothing.

"i mean- being fed would be nice."

a slight scoff escapes his lips at your words. he just nods and makes his way back inside. a couple minutes later, lena goes inside to wash up before dinner. you make your way inside, your nostrils immediately filled with the smell of something delicious. you watch as pope busies himself in the kitchen, making what looked to be lasagna.

"looks good..."

you try to talk casually, but are met with a deadpan look.

"haven't cooked any of it yet."

his tone was flat, almost questioning as he looked at you. you let out a heavy sigh and made your way toward the living room to rest on the couch. pope mentally slaps himself for being so cut and dry with you. he'd never admit it out loud, but he wanted you to be around. he wanted to know more about you. he'd seen you here and there whenever you were helping deran with something or attending one of his pool parties. he'd always thought you were pretty, probably too young for him, but that never stopped his mind from wandering.

he continues to work on making dinner, his mind lost in a sea of thoughts that all revolved around you. especially how happy lena had looked while being with you. it almost mirrored the way she looked when she was with pope. he wondered what it would be like, if maybe you and him could be her new and improved parents. no... you were basically a stranger to him he can't be thinking of starting a family like this. lena's soft voice jars him out of his mind.

"can i have a soda with dinner?"

"yeah, but that's your only one for the day."

she nods, a giddy smile on her face as she bounces off toward the living room, presumably to join you. she plops down next to you on the couch, resting her head on your arm as she watches the cartoon you're playing on the TV. she glances up at you, a toothy grin spreading across her face. you look down at her, a bit wary at what this could mean.

"what's that look for?"

you watch as she tries to hold back the giggles.

"uncle pope thinks you're really pretty."

you can't help but roll your eyes and laugh at the little girl. part of you wondered if she was telling the truth. kids were always more perceptive than anyone liked to give them credit for.

"yeah? did he tell you that?"

you chuckle at her while her eyes are fixated on the cartoon.

"yeah... he told me one day on the way to school."

you pause at that. because now this was all starting to sound real. did he really think you were pretty? hell, you'd always been attracted to him too, but never in a million years did you think it would be a mutual feeling. before you have any more time to think about it, pope is calling you guys into the kitchen for dinner. you and lena set the dining room table while pope brings out the lasagna dish. lena sits between you and pope at the table, unable to help herself as she steals glances at both of you while eating.

"uncle pope, we talked about starting a garden today."

pope looks curiously at his niece, then up at you.

"what kind of garden?"

his eyebrows are furrowed like he's almost a bit hesitant to know the answer.

"i thought that maybe we could try a vegetable or fruit garden, make some of our own stuff. it's fun and could mean less money spent on groceries."

you chime in, watching as lena's eyes light up. she looks over at you with a bright smile.

"does that mean we can grow lemons?"

you blink, raising an eyebrow at her.

"that's what you want to grow first?"

"to make lemonade! if we have lemons we'll never run out of lemonade!"

this time, you and pope both chuckle at her exclamation.

"we'll have to buy the tree, otherwise it'll take forever to grow from the seed. that just means lemons will come first."

you smile at the little girl who happily bounces in her seat while finishing her dinner. you glance up at pope, who can't decide if he wants to see lena's excited expression, or your soft one as you think about how to start the garden.

"i mean- as long as it's okay with you."

you nod at him, forgetting that you guys likely needed his approval before creating a garden.

"just don't make me water it. and i'm not being blamed if anything in there dies or gets eaten by rabbits."

you smirk at him, knowing damn well that if lena asked he would help you out with the garden. or maybe, she'd use it as an attempt to get you and pope alone so everything can go according to her little master plan.

after about a week of planting and rearranging soil, lena's garden was finally starting to come together. you'd been around every day to help her with, teaching her the best watering techniques. you let her pick out what she wanted to grow, and then helped her organize based on what plants needed more sunlight. the whole time, pope busies himself with watching over the two of you. his rationalization is that gardening can be very dangerous, and he doesn't want either of you getting hurt. the real reason was because watching you with lena, the way you brought out the brightest in the little girl, it felt right to him. like you were meant to be here with the two of them, nowhere else.

lena notices him and waves him over to show him the final product. he steps out of the sliding glass door and makes his way over to the new garden.

"we did it, uncle pope! we have our own garden!"

lena jumps up and down excitedly, pointing at the freshly laid soil and some of the pre-grown trees you had helped her plant.

"you guys did great."

he nods slowly, looking over at you. your face was glistening with sweat after working in the heat for the past couple hours. he couldn't take his eyes off of you, you were glowing. then he saw your genuine smile as you watched lena get excited about the garden. he wanted to be another reason that you could smile like that. he watches from nearby as you help lena water for the first time. you were patient with her, letting her do most of it on her own and only helping when she asked. lena looks over at pope with the brightest smile he's seen from her in a long time. looks like they both really needed to keep you around.

once you were finished watering, pope ushered the two of you inside. he was getting worried that you were out in the sun for too long. earlier, he had definitely hounded the two of you about wearing enough sunscreen. he gives you both a glass of water, watching shamelessly as you lift the glass to your lips and take a few swallows of the cold liquid. it was like he was in a trance every time he watched you, unable to peel his eyes away, even if you were doing the most mundane things. lena's giggles bring him back to center, he glances over at her and sees the knowing look in her eyes.

"c'mon, stinker... let's go get washed up. i'll help you pick out your clothes."

she nods, hopping out of the stool and walking off toward her room with you. once you help her find her clothes, you walk back out to the kitchen, now alone with the man you found yourself growing increasingly fond of.

"you can use mine."

he spoke gruffly, watching as you rested against the countertop.

"use your what?"

you look up at him curiously.

"my shower... i'll get you a towel and stuff."

he walks off toward the bathroom and grabs you a towel and washcloth. you also see a pair of old gym shorts and a t-shirt folded neatly next to them. you smile and thank him as you step into the bathroom. he stands there for a moment, looking at you. you are also just standing there, and you're unsure if the room was filled with tension or awkwardness at this point.

"thank you..."

you tell him again, and he seems to get the hint. but right before he can step out of the bathroom, he turns to you.

"lena... really likes having you around."

"i like being around... with both of you."

you nod slowly, and you can see the small hint of surprise on his face at your words. it was true, you'd gotten used to being around both of them all the time. it felt like more of a routine than you'd ever had before, but best of all, it felt like home. he could see the way your expressioned softened completely, feeling his cheeks heat because of how much he enjoyed the sight. you finally look up at him, breath hitching slightly when you see the dazed, wanting look in his eyes. you step closer to him and he doesn't back away. but before he allows himself to give in, pope clears his throat.

"i'll make lunch while you get cleaned up."

he doesn't miss the flicker of disappointment in your eyes, but he ultimately leaves the room anyway. you sigh, stripping out of your clothes and stepping into a nice, cool shower. once you're finished you step out of the shower and slip into his clothes he left for you. they smelled like him, which made you feel a little hotter than you cared to admit. you look at yourself in the mirror, chuckling at the way his old clothes looked on you. it didn't really matter, you weren't sweaty and gross anymore. you walk back out toward the kitchen, smiling when you see lena eating on the couch.

"come back and sit with me, please!"

she calls out to you, you nod, and continue until you're in the kitchen. pope's back was to you, but when he heard your footsteps, he turned around. he froze, not expecting you to look so... domestic... in his clothes like that. he started to imagine how you'd look in his clothes, post-shower after you two just had the most mind-blowing sex of all time. a soft smile appears on his lips as he slides your plate across the counter to you.

"you should come hang out with me and lena."

you lean against the counter as you take the plate. he just nods and follows you to the living room where lena was. you both sit on either side of her, causing her to smile while she's mid-bite into her sandwich. you glance over at pope, who's already looking at you. you feel your skin heat at the eye contact, quickly looking back at the TV. he also faces forward, leaving everyone to eat their lunch in comfortable silence. after a while, lena yawns and snuggles into pope's side. he wraps an arm around her and holds her close, watching as her breath starts to even out. you smile at the sight, quietly taking out your phone and snapping a picture when he wasn't looking.

eventually, he carries lena to her room and lays her in her bed. he shuts the door quietly before returning to the living room with you. you look over at him, eyes tracing along his strong jawline and the slope of his nose. fuck, he'd be trouble if he ever realized how beautiful he was. his dark auburn curls looked soft, and you found yourself wanting to run your hands through them. he finally looks at you, catching you right in the act of staring. his hardened hazel eyes almost seemed to soften when they landed on you, but you were sure that was just your imagination. you stand up from the couch, grabbing your plate and lena's. pope follows suit, following you out to the kitchen.

"i'll wash these."

his gruff voice sends a shiver down your spine, but you nod. you set the dishes in the sink and move out of his way.

"so i was thinking..."

you speak up, resting against the counter next to the sink. he glances up at you for a moment, freezing when he realized how close you were standing to him.

"what if we took lena out to dinner tonight? maybe somewhere on the shore or something so we can watch the sunset?"

he ponders for a moment, thinking about how beautiful you would look in the warm and bright colors of the setting sun. he's nodding almost enthusiastically now, going back to washing the dishes. you smile and watch as he goes back to work. damn those stupid yellow gloves for hiding the way his fingers were probably gripping and flexing over the dishes. you were beginning to feel like a victorian man seeing a woman's ankle for the first time. you stand there, enjoying this somewhat intimate moment between the two of you. once he's finished, he looks over at you while sliding off the gloves. you can hardly focus as you watch the yellow rubber fall from his hands, revealing the tantalizing digits that you dreamed about quite often.

he holds one of his hands out to you, palm facing upward. you blink, unsure of what to do. he lets out an unsteady breath, reaching further until his hand wraps around your wrist ever so gently. you let him pull you toward his bedroom, your heart rate picking up the closer you get. he walks you inside, letting go of your wrists as he walks over to the closet. you stand still, afraid to move. you watch as he opens his closet, then he looks back to you.

"i wanna wear something nice. i need help finding it."

you let out a breath of relief you didn't know you were holding, walking over to the closet. you gently sift through his closet, most of his clothes being the same style and color shirt, same with the pants. however, you did manage to find a black polo that seemed to stand out. you take it out, finding the lightest pair of blue jeans he owned (which were still pretty dark) and pairing them together. you hand him the clothes and he assesses them skeptically. finally, he gives a nod of approval and lays them down on his bed. he turns back to face you, noticing the small smile on your face.

"what's funny?"

he glares at you, waiting for you to tease him about his wardrobe, or lack thereof.

"nothing's funny, i just think it's cool that you came to me for fashion advice."

he rolls his eyes at you, but he's not truly annoyed. he'd wanted to ask you for more than just fashion advice, but he wasn't feeling brave enough. a soft sigh escapes his lips as he walks toward the door.

"gonna clean the pool and work on the car some before we go."

you nod and watch him walk out without another word. you go off to the living room and find some way to pass the next couple hours.

you all were on the way to dinner, pope was driving his truck while you were in the passenger seat and lena was in the back. she was glancing out the window, watching the building on the street go by with a smile on her face.

"come on... can you please tell me where we're going?"

lena whines at you, causing you to chuckle. pope glances in the rearview, his eyes crinkling just a bit.

"we're almost there, lee. i told you it's a surprise!"

she groans in protest, flopping her head back against the car seat. but, as you promised, you shortly afterwards pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant. pope got out, helping lena from her carseat. he frowns at you when he sees that you got out of the car by yourself, which makes you laugh. he grunts, watching lena take your hand as you walk toward the front door. he holds the door for you two, his hand ghosting the small of your back before he walks in behind you. you're all seated outside on the patio of the restaurant, admiring the view of the ocean from there. lena's eyes are wide with excitement as she takes in the view of the setting sun.

"best surprise ever!"

she wraps her little arms around you with a big grin. you return the embrace, running a hand over her hair. she sits back in her seat when it's time to order food. pope sits across from you and lena, meaning he could just watch you two interact for the next couple hours. you looked even more beautiful than he could imagine, the way the colors of the sunset made your skin glow. the way it all reflected in your eyes, he couldn't get enough of the view. he'd hardly even thought about the sunset when he had you right in front of him. as suspected, dinner went swimmingly and lena was already getting sleepy again.

"wanna walk on the beach for a couple minutes?"

you look over at lena, whose head is resting on your arm. she nods sleepily, little hands wrapped around your arm. you chuckle, looking over at pope who looked the most calm he ever had since you met him. he nods as well, getting up from his chair. he walks around the table to lena, gently lifting her into his arms, holding out his free hand to you. you smile and take his hand, walking down the wooden steps and into the sand. you walk closer to the shore, the view stealing the breath from your lungs. you look over at pope and lena, watching the way their expressions almost matched in awe. pope was still holding onto your hand tightly, the other firmly holding lena. these were the moments that pope thought he'd only be able to dream of, but yet here the three of you were.

lena's eventually fast asleep in his arms, head resting on his shoulder. he gently squeezed your hand, causing you to look over at him. he's closer than you remember, and before you can second guess yourself, you lean in and plant a soft kiss on his lips. he returns it almost immediately, although it was a bit haphazard. you pull away, rubbing your free hand along his bicep and resting your chin on his shoulder.

"should probably head back before sleeping beauty gets cranky."

he nods at your words, leading you all back toward the truck. he gets lena into the carseat without her waking up. this time, he doesn't let go of you, meaning he could open the passenger side door for you. you laugh at him again, climbing into the seat and buckling your seatbelt. he shuts the door gently and rounds the car to get into the driver's side. you make it back to the house and get out of the car while pope grabs lena again. you hold the door for him this time as he carries her off to her bed. you wait in the kitchen for him, sitting at one of the stools. he returns a couple minutes later, standing next to your stool. he's the one to lean in this time, kissing you with more intention than the previous time. his arms slip around your waist while your hands rest on his chest.

you sigh into the kiss, pulling him in closer by his shoulders. he leans into you, clearly not willing to pull away any time soon. you stand from the stool pressing him back against the counter as your tongue slips into his mouth. a soft groan escapes from him, but his tongue begins to tangle with yours soon after. his hands slip lower, over the curve of your ass, causing you to smirk against his lips. one of your hands slides through his soft curls, and they felt even better than you'd imagined. he sighs against you, continuing to kiss you with all of his effort. he whimpers when you pull away from him, the sound sending a tingly feeling all over your body. you walk toward his bedroom and he immediately follows behind you like a puppy.

once you're in his room, he pulls you back against him, kissing you again with a renewed sense of hunger. you moan into his mouth, reaching down and sliding his shirt over his head. your hands slide all over his muscular chest, earning yourself soft groans from his lips. he pushes you backwards until you fall back onto the bed with a small yelp. he removes your shoes for you, then climbs on top of you. he gently rests his weight onto you, pressing soft kisses along the corners of your mouth and your jawline. you gently trace your nails along the skin of his back, the sensation making his hard cock strain even more through his jeans. you feel his erection pressing against your thigh, and it only adds to the heat pooling low in your belly. you weren't sure how you and pope had even gotten to this point, but you surely weren't going to complain either.

he removes your clothes for you, followed by taking off his jeans. he starts trailing kisses lower, down your neck and over the swell of your breasts. you feel your back arch off the bed when he takes one of your sensitive nipples into his mouth and sucks lightly before rubbing it with his tongue. he moves over to the other side, groaning against you as he feels how worked up you're getting. then, he moves lower, kissing over your soft tummy. he pauses right at the hem of your panties, glancing up at you as if for approval. you sit up on your elbows, looking down at him with a lustful haze in your eyes. you nod slowly and shiver as he slides your panties down your legs. he feels his brain go fuzzy at the mere sight and smell of your arousal. not wasting a second, he leans in and licks a long stripe up your aching cunt. your fingers grip the sheets with a soft whine. your noises encourage him to do more, he starts sucking at your clit. you thought it couldn't get any better until he slipped his middle finger inside of you. you moan softly, falling back against the bed as he adds another finger. how the fuck was he so good at this? wasn't he supposed to be super inexperienced?

well- he was relatively inexperienced. but once he was for sure about wanting to be with you, he'd definitely started doing his research. his (now deleted) search history would be very incriminating, but you didn't have to know about it just yet. he continues to work at you, now whining lowly against your slick folds while his fingers worked into you gently. he could feel the way you squirmed beneath him and it filled him with pride. he would do whatever it took to make sure you were fully satisfied.

"a-andrew... i'm gonna-"

he moans loudly against you at the sound of his real name on your lips. he speeds up and changes the angle just right to have you coming hard on his tongue and fingers. he withdraws his fingers, leaning back over you to kiss you again. you feel goosebumps erupt over your skin as you taste your essence on his tongue. he pulls back just enough to suck your juices off of his fingers, a sight you'd be thinking about before bed for a *long* time. while kissing you, he nudges his boxers down just enough for his leaking cock to spring out. you gasp at the sight of it when he pulls back to grab a condom from his nightstand. you were quite sure he was packing heat, but you weren't expecting the absolute girth of his cock. he rolls the condom on before lining up with you entrance.

"you okay...?"

he asks quietly as he looks down at you. you nod and watch where your bodies are about to meet. he slides the tip in, groaning at how tight you were. his hands rest on your hips, thumbs trying to rub soothingly over the soft skin in hopes that you can relax for him a little bit. he leans over, kissing you gently enough that he finally feels you loosen up so he can push all the way in. you both moan as he bottoms out inside you. you'd never felt this full of anything in your entire life, but it was a welcomed feeling. one hand slips beneath your head while the other rests on your waist as he starts to slowly move in and out of you. the drag of his thick cock against your walls made you whine with need. he rests his forehead against yours, thrusts speeding up just enough to set a steady pace.

"feels good..."

he rasps against your skin, his fingers gently rubbing against your scalp as he held you. this intimate moment made you wonder how you ever able to stay away from him in the first place. this time, you lean up and kiss him, moving your hips to meet his thrusts. his hips stutter slightly as he already feels himself getting close. to make sure you were getting close as well, his hand slips between your bodies and rubs circles into your sensitive clit. your thighs begin to tremble around him, so he grabs onto them tightly and thrusts into you harder than before. the feeling of him so deep in you has your eyes rolling back into your head. his name echoes against the wall as you moan it continuously. he doesn't stop until you're clenching him so tightly he might be forced to slip out. you come with a ragged cry, nails digging into his shoulders. he spills inside the condom at the same time, thrusting a couple more times to help you ride out your high.

he leans down again, kissing you softly before collapsing beside you and pulling you against him. he grabs one of your thighs and drapes it over his waist, keeping you close. your breath starts to calm as you rest against him, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek. he stares at you, seeing the way your eyes were becoming heavy. he really wasn't interested in letting you go, so he tosses the covers over your bodies. he watches as you fall asleep in his arms, and suddenly everything felt as if it was all falling into place. at some point, even he falls asleep against you.

when you wake up the next morning, he's still next to you, but his eyes are open. he was clearly admiring you while you slept, but that didn't bother you in the slightest. you groan softly, feeling the soft ache between your legs as you move to stretch out your limbs. he runs a gentle hand over your hair, pressing a soft kiss to your lips before sitting up and getting out of the bed.

"i'll start breakfast..."

he spoke quietly and you nodded, getting out of the bed as well. you desperately wanted a shower, so you walk into the bathroom and do so. when you emerge from the bathroom, you walk into the kitchen and see a freshly woken lena sitting at one of the stools. she gets up and hugs you tightly, asking if you'd eat outside with her. you nodded with a soft smile and helped pope carry the food out to the picnic table in the backyard. you all enjoyed your meal in a comfortable silence. lena sat between the two of you, but pope still managed to rub your back every now and again. you smiled, feeling warm inside, like you could definitely get used to this family life with pope and lena.

a/n: IT'S SO FLUFFY I'M GONNA DIE!!!! sorry if this plot was buns guys i tried my best, but it felt off. maybe i'll write something similar to this in the future when i'm feeling more inspired. but anyway, THANK YOU FOR READING, LOVE YOU LOTS, AND STAY SEXAAAYYY!!!!!! <333

this was requested by these two lovely people: @mimiviolette and @nightpitt !!! thank you so much cuties <3

taglist: @nyxmoretti @popecodysgirl @romantic-insomniac @sunbonesss @in-ky @thedivinegirlyp0p @uncassettodiricordi

It was nearing six in the evening on a Tuesday when the ambulance bay doors slammed open, paramedics rushing in a patient on a stretcher. He was a man in his late forties, pale and clammy, and clutching his lower abdomen. 

You were already gloving up as you stepped beside the gurney, heart thudding in time with the monitor’s shrill beeping. “Blunt abdominal trauma, stable en route, but BP’s been dropping since we pulled in. Pulse 128, BP 82 over 46. No obvious external bleeding,” the paramedic rattled off at a rapid-fire pace. 

The patient was wheeled into Trauma 1. Robby stepped up across from you on the patient’s other side, Langdon not far behind him.

“Langdon, call surgery and get two units of O-neg,” he barked, his deep voice focused and sharp–controlled in a sea of chaos as he took command. Perlah stood at the head of the bed, bagging the patient. 

Robby called your name, brown eyes piercing and steady beneath his furrowed brow. “Grab the ultrasound. FAST exam. I want a belly scan now.”

You nodded, eager to follow his instructions. As an intern, you were almost desperate to impress your attending. The portable ultrasound was already humming in your hand, and you applied gel to the patient’s abdomen, eyes flickering between the screen and the rising panic in the room. You felt a bead of sweat roll down your temple, and heat grew on the back of your neck, but your hands were steady as you went for the epigastric view first. 

“You’re too lateral,” Robby said. 

You went to adjust, but his hand reached over yours. Large, warm, and sure. His fingers wrapped around your smaller ones, steadying the grip on the probe. His hand completely engulfed yours, guiding the ultrasound probe medially. You inhaled sharply. 

You both looked up and your eyes locked with his warm, brown ones. 

A moment. Brief. Long enough for a seed to plant in the back of your mind, but not long enough for anything real. 

The contact of your hands was brief and professional, sterile gloves enveloping both your hands, but something shifted in the air. 

“There,” Robby said, finally pulling his hand back. His voice was quieter now, yet still commanded everyone in the room. “You see that?”

You blinked hard, dragging your gaze back to the ultrasound screen. “Fluid in Morrison’s pouch,” you observed. 

“Ruptured spleen?” Langdon asked. 

“Probably,” Robby said, already turning away. He spoke to Langdon. “Page surgery again. Tell them we’re not waiting.”

You swallowed as Langdon raced towards the phone again. You were still holding the probe, but your hand felt heavy. His touch lingered over your skin like static after a storm. 

You had worked with Robby as your attending for nearly a year. You had seen him shout, laugh sarcastically, and rub the back of his neck at least 5 times a shift. But that moment in that trauma room… He was always professional and closed off, and–while acknowledging he was handsome–you never had a moment of more with him. A moment of closeness that went beyond just being physically close to each other. You had never seen that look on his face and it made your mind spiral. Chaos continued to swirl around you, but the silence between you was the loudest thing you heard that day. 

Later that evening, after the patient was wheeled into the OR and you finally finished your shift, you caught Robby watching you. He was speaking to Dr. Abbot, but his eyes were staunchly fixed on you. You swallowed hard, nerves swelling low in your belly, and brushed past him, eyes still locked on his. He didn’t say anything. Just gave you a small nod as you left. 

Things shifted after that day. He was still kind, helpful, and professional. Except there were moments where you swore he was purposely teasing you. Moments he would flex his hands in your line of sight, moments he would unnecessarily grab your hands and move them for you, all in the name of education, moments where you would catch him staring at you with something heavy in his gaze.

And you. You changed, too. You could not stop thinking of that moment. Of his hands. The size, the strength, the man they belonged to. 

You were obsessed. 

Over the almost four years working as his resident, you had the opportunity to admire his hands very frequently. You practically had them memorized. His long fingers, how thick they were. How large they looked when he ran them down his face. You recalled their warmth, even through layers of sterile gloves. It was your daily indulgence in The Pitt–admiring your sexy attending’s enormous hands and imagining just how good his thick fingers must feel stuffed deep in your pussy. 

You knew that if you were ever presented with the opportunity, he would fucking ruin you. You knew your fingers could never compare. No matter how much you tried, you could never make yourself feel full enough. 

He walked towards you and Dana at the nurses' station that morning in July, and you felt heat creeping up the back of your neck and onto your cheeks. Flashes of the night before flickered in your mind. Touching yourself to the thought of him was a more common occurrence than you dared to admit, but despite the feelings of guilt for objectifying a man twenty years your senior, you could not stop doing it. The need was constant—an itch you couldn’t scratch. 

“Hey there,” Dana said, smiling over at him. 

“Morning,” he said, looking up at the screen to see what patients and cases were looking like. 

“You joining us tonight for Mateo’s thing?”

He glanced over at her with an eyebrow raised. “It’s a work night.”

You couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “Ok, grandpa.”

You felt his gaze on the back of your head. You glanced back, meeting his playful glare and smirked. 

He huffed out a laugh and shook his head at you. 

“You know what?” He looked back at Dana, who was looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “I’ll be there.”

His gaze met yours again in playful defiance.

“Great!” Dana said, grabbing her clipboard and starting to walk away. She flashed you a knowing smile. “It’ll be a good time.”

It was Mateo’s birthday, and the nurses were throwing a small get-together at the bar across the street after your shift was over. 

Robby’s heavy, persistent gaze remained on yours, and you could feel your skin heating up as your heartbeat increased. You cleared your throat, trying to shake the nervous feeling in your chest, and looked back at the screen. 

“I’ll take the kid with the broken leg,” you said, taking the first case that showed up, needing space from him to collect yourself. You felt static in the air, something shifting. Maybe it was the way he was looking at you–with a little less restraint than he normally did. Maybe it was all in your head. Wishful thinking. You weren’t sure and you thought it best to remove yourself from the situation and focus on your work. 

“You'll be there tonight, right?” his deep voice was quiet, keeping the two of you in a bubble and sending shivers down your back. 

“Yeah, I’m going.”

He smiled, a small one, and finally, finally, looked down and broke eye contact with you. He glanced back up at you, eyes shining just a bit brighter. 

“Good.”

Good? What did that mean? 

As he brushed past you to walk away, his hand–heavy, and steady, and large–touched your shoulder, sending your mind into a frenzy. He leaned closer to you, his clean scent filling your senses, and his hot breath brushing the shell of your ear when he whispered.

“I look forward to seeing you there.”

It was one of your favorite bars in the area, and you found yourself hanging out there with your friends, even if you weren’t coming off a shift. It was laid back–the lighting was low and warm, a golden hue cast over worn leather seats and polished wood tables. Classic rock and soothing acoustic songs played low through the speakers–just loud enough to enjoy, yet it still encouraged conversation.

The group had split–Mateo, Santos, McKay, and Jesse were playing pool at the back of the bar. Dana, Princess, Perlah, and Collins were huddled in a booth, probably gossiping about the fact that the head of oncology was caught cheating on his wife again. You split from them, taking a seat at the bar, and the seat beside you filled immediately after. You smirked softly, knowing he was trailing behind you. 

You turned your face towards him and smiled. The light cast beautiful golden shadows across the rugged plains of his face, and you found your breath catching in your throat. 

“Come here often?”

You chuckled. 

“Smooth, Robby.”

He laughed, a real laugh, and you cursed at how charming he was. 

The bartender made his way around and you both ordered your drinks. 

“I’m glad you made it tonight,” you said. “You deserve to let loose sometimes. I really thought you’d flake on us.”

“I thought about it, but I figured I have nothing better to do," he said. His gaze held yours for a moment. "I'm glad I made it, too."

“Hm,” you said, taking a sip of the tequila sunrise placed in front of you. “Is that the only reason?”

You were playing with fire, you knew that. You knew that any relationship between the two of you was inappropriate. But fuck, you did not care. The pull you felt towards the man in front of you was magnetic and beyond your control. He was like a sun, pulling you into his unrelenting orbit. 

His gaze turned heavy, pinning your eyes to his. 

“Careful,” he growled, low and deep. 

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat and glanced down. His hands wrapped around his chilled glass of whisky. The glass looked small in his massive hands and you inhaled sharply, your attention zeroed in on the slight movement of his fingers. He raised the glass to his mouth, and your eyes followed the motion. 

You dared a glance at his face and found him already staring at you. 

“You still with me, honey?” he asked, raising his eyebrows in that condescending way you found way too hot. 

A shiver ran down your spine, and you knew your voice shook when you answered, but hoped he hadn’t noticed. “Yes, of course.”

He smirked.

“You seem a little distracted. You were staring very intently at my hands.”

Fuck. Of course he noticed. 

He continued, the smirk plastered on his handsome face. “It seems to be a recurring problem for you.”

Your breathing deepened and anxiety fluttered low in your belly. Shit. He had probably noticed your little obsession since the first moment it happened. You tried to think of an excuse, anything to say, embarrassment starting to dim your courage. “Um…I wasn’t–”

“Don’t lie.”

You stared at him. His deep, warm, brown eyes searing into you, intense and unrelenting. Holy shit, he was so handsome. And he was…encouraging this? You felt a flicker of doubt, but the drink you were sporting was your third and your inhibitions were lowered just enough. 

Fuck it. 

“Careful,” you teased, collecting yourself and taking a sip of your drink. “Don’t want to cross any lines, do we?”

You were sure your gaze was just as heavy as his and the smirk you couldn’t hold back made him smile. 

“Honey,” he said, and your heart fluttered at the nickname. “I think we both know those lines were crossed a long time ago.”

He reached his hand across the table and laid it on top of yours. Engulfing yours completely. His index finger moved back and forth, gently rubbing his calloused skin against yours. You swallowed tightly. You have no idea what brought this on, what you did to finally have him practically confessing and abandoning his stoic professionalism. But you were not going to let it slip past you. 

You leaned your body closer to him, smugness filling your chest when he took a stuttered breath. His scent filled your mind and heat pooled low in your belly. 

“In that case…” you said, leaning even closer to whisper into his ear. “I think you have the sexiest hands I’ve ever seen and I think about them fucking me every single day.”

You leaned back, feeling positively giddy at the red blush spreading up from his neck to his ears, and all over his face. 

“Fuck, honey,” he said, rubbing his hands over his face. “You can’t say that to an old man. I think I’m having a heart attack.”

“Don’t worry, baby,” you feigned concern. “I’m a doctor.”

He laughed and moved his hand back to yours. 

“Come home with me?”

You couldn’t help yourself. “It’s a work night.”

His stare became hard as he glared at you, exasperated.

“You always this much of a tease?”

You shrugged, not taking your eyes off of him.

“Come home with me.” It wasn’t a question that time. 

His apartment was exactly as you imagined it. It was clean, with books and medical journals littering most surfaces and barely any decorations on the walls. He closed the door behind you, and you turned to face him. Your hands shook at your sides and your heart beat hard and quick in your chest. 

He stepped closer to you and you looked up to meet his gaze. 

“Are you sure about this?’ he asked, voice strained. You could hear the barely held restraint in his voice, how much he was struggling to hold back from you.

You took the final step closer to him and placed your hands on his chest. 

“I’m sure, Robby,” you said, and his hands gripped your waist, pulling your body against his. You felt his breath fan across your face, his nose rubbing against yours, before his lips found yours and, holy shit, he was kissing you. His lips were surprisingly soft, his beard hairs rubbing against your soft skin deliciously. It was slow, almost like he was giving you the time to back away if you wanted to. 

Your hands moved to wrap around his neck, bringing his taller frame closer to you and his arms wrapped around your back, bringing you even tighter against him. You could feel everything against you–the quiet strength in his broad chest, the softness of his stomach, the heat radiating off of him. Your every thought was consumed with just him. He was overwhelming you and it made you crave him even more. You moaned low and arched your back, pressing your chest closer to his.

He grew more sure at your response, arms tightening around you and his tongue met the seam of your lips. You happily obliged, parting your lips and relishing at the taste of him as his tongue met yours. 

You broke away for air, taking deep inhales as he continued to press open-mouthed kisses to your jaw that sent flutters to your core. 

“Mmm, Robby,” you sighed and he grunted. 

“Fuck, I’ve thought about this so much,” he groaned, lips meeting yours again. 

You smiled into the kiss. “Think about me often, huh?”

He bit your bottom lip in warning and you let out a giggle. He broke away from you, shaking his head and huffing out a laugh. 

“More than I should, honey.” Your chest filled with warmth at how easily he admitted it to you. His intense gaze broke away from yours and his massive shoulders hunched. “Does that scare you?”

You shook your head, one hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“No,” you said, and a rush of doubt flooded you. Maybe it scared him. Was he regretting this? Maybe he had drunk more than you initially thought? Or maybe this meant more to you than it did to him. 

“Robby, this isn’t just a one-night stand, right? Is this real for you?” you asked with trepidation and slight insecurity, your voice softer than you had intended. 

Both of his hands cupped your face and he stared at you, steady and serious. 

“Is that what you really think?” his voice was deepened, smooth and warming you down to your core. His thumb trailed across your cheek and he looked at your face almost reverently. “Honey, this is real for me. I wasn’t kidding when I said I think about you all the time. At home, at work. Getting to see you, talk to you, hear you laugh is the best part of my day. I remember every smile, every touch…”

He laughed again, affection clear as day in his eyes and smile. “I still remember that day I touched your hand for the first time,” he smirked knowingly and the memory playing in your head was viscerally real. You groaned in embarrassment. 

“I knew you noticed. You’ve been teasing me on purpose for years now, haven’t you?”

A laugh was all you got in response and you couldn’t help but join in. 

“I guess I wasn’t subtle, was I?” you asked, feeling bashful. 

He shook his head with a chuckle and kissed your cheek. 

“No need to be embarrassed. I think about that moment a lot, too.”

You smiled and pulled his head down for another quick kiss. You were quickly growing addicted to the feel and taste of his lips on yours. 

“What changed? What made you make a move?”

“At first, it was just a work crush. But, eventually, it just turned into more. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. I tried not to. It’s…unprofessional. But you’re in your last year of residency, you’ll be an attending soon…I can’t stop myself no matter how hard I try, you’re so magnetic, so beautiful. You drive me insane. I never stop thinking about you.” 

He laid all his cards out on the table for you. This man was not holding back. You decided to be completely honest with him.

“I never stop thinking about you, either. I think about you when I should be working, when I need someone to vent to or share something good or funny with. I think about you at home…at night…” Your voice lowered to a whisper. “I touch myself to the thought of you.”

“Fucking hell.” His eyes darkened and you could have sworn you heard a small growl, and his mouth crashed back down on yours. His grip moved back to your waist, his hold so tight you hoped there would be bruises blooming on your skin to remind you of this moment for days to come. 

His hands ran down your hips and behind your thighs, pulling you up to wrap your legs around his waist. He walked further into the apartment, lips trailing your cheek and jaw, and he found his way into his bedroom. He lowered you back down to your feet, and his hands began roaming under your scrub top. He raised the fabric and lifted it over your head.

His eyes flickered to your lace-covered chest, and his cheeks reddened. His lips trailed down your neck and collarbones, sending shocks of pleasure down your spine. 

“Robby,” you mumbled, grabbing fistfuls of his top and pulling at the fabric. He broke away and pulled it over his head, leaving his upper body bare to you. Dark hair spread across his chest. He was all broad shoulders and strong chest. The hair trailed down, down along the soft curve of his stomach and lower still, below his scrub pants. 

Your eyes met his again and the blush spreading down his neck made you feel giddy. You smiled at him reassuringly and placed a gentle kiss over his heart. He smiled back at you, the creases by his eyes and his smile lines deepening. He had never looked so beautiful. 

His lips found yours again and he passionately kissed you, tongue licking and teeth biting your lower lip. His roaming hands found their way to your waistband and pushed your pants down. You stepped out of them, taking a moment to kick off your sneakers, and stood in front of him in nothing but your lacy bra and thong. 

He stared at you, brown eyes darkened to almost black, and he bit his bottom lip. 

“Honey, you’re so stunning. So perfect.”

You felt the heat encompass your entire body, feeling desired and beautiful and powerful by the way you had this grown man staring at you. His hands roamed your back and waist, lips kissing and licking at any skin he could find. He bit down on your nipple over your bra and you hissed at the slight sting. 

You reached behind you, unclasping the band and you let it fall off your shoulders, exposing your breasts to him. His mouth immediately latched on, suckling and biting at your sensitive breasts. You could not stop the loud moan you let you and he groaned, putting his leg between yours and pushing your hips down to grind on his thigh. The sudden stimulation on your clit made you gasp out loud and grasp at his hair, pulling him tighter against your chest. His hands made 

Just one touch, and this man was driving you crazy. Absolutely wild. You wanted him to fuck you into oblivion. You wanted his cock in your mouth…in your pussy. You were aching for him, slickness soaking your underwear. You wanted him so bad. 

“Robby,” you moaned out, pushing slightly away from him and sinking down to your knees before him. “Robby, please let me suck you off.”

He stared at you, mouth agape for a moment before his cockiness returned. 

“Aw, honey. You think I’m going to give you my cock that easily? You’ll have to work for it.” His large hand cupped the side of your face, dwarfing you and his thumb rubbed over your lip. Your lips came apart and his thumb made its way into your mouth, thick and heavy on your tongue. Holy shit. His fucking hands. You slowly suctioned your cheeks in, sucking on his finger.

Your hands came up to grasp his wrist, moving his hand away from your face. You released his thumb, licking a wet stripe on his palm. 

“I fucking love your hands. They’re so big, Robby,” you babbled, drool starting to escape down the corners of your mouth as you continued to press your tongue against his calloused skin. 

“Fuck, look at my pretty little slut. So desperate for me that she’s sucking off my hand. I bet you’re so fucking wet right now.”

You were soaked. You pressed your thighs together, trying to relieve some of the pressure building. Your body felt hot all over, and you knew that you must have looked absolutely wrecked. 

Robby pushed his pointer and middle finger into your mouth. “Suck them, baby.”

Happily. 

You looked up at him, staring intently as you started to suck on his fingers like they were his cock. They were so long and thick that they may as well have been. His fingertips hit your soft palate when you increased your speed and you adjusted your angle, taking them as deep down your throat as you could. Tears sprang to your eyes as you fought your gag reflex, and you struggled to breathe through your nose. 

“Oh ho ho, honey, you’re doing so good,” he said, eyes unable to tear away from the erotic sight. 

You finally pulled his hand away, gasping for air as your hands went to pull his scrub pants off. He quickly kicked them off, followed by the boxer briefs he had on. Your eyes stared straight ahead at his cock. It was hard and massive, just as you had expected, and your pussy clenched around nothing as you imagined it deep inside you. It was magnificent, easily eight or nine inches, cut, and thick all around. 

“Holy shit, Robby,” you mumbled, wrapping your hand around his base, and he hissed. 

You licked from his base to his tip and he groaned loudly. He leaned down, grabbing your arms, and pulled you up to your feet. He backed you up against the bad, crowding and overwhelming your personal space and you whined in protest, desperate for the taste of him. 

“Fuck, baby, I would love nothing more than that pretty mouth wrapped around me, but I need to fucking taste you so bad.”

You laid back on his bed and he hovered on top of you, kissing your mouth again and moving lower, to your neck, your tits, and down your stomach until he could pull your panties off. He lifted your legs, spreading them across his broad frame and you almost whimpered at the stretch. 

He pressed kisses on your inner thigh, hands coming up to play with your nipples. 

“Baby, you’re so wet,” he mumbled against the soft skin of your leg. “You’re fucking dripping.”

You were practically incoherent, thoughts fleeting, and you were consumed by him. 

“Yes, only for you,” you murmured, and you felt his lips stretch into a smile before he harshly bit down on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

“Robby!” you screamed out, surprised at the sudden pain. He began sucking on the skin harshly, and you moaned, knowing he was going to leave dark marks on your skin. His teasing was dragging on too long and you desperately gripped his hair, trying to pull him to where you craved him the most. 

“Honey, you’re so desperate,” he said, a condescending tone lining his lips, but he obliged, licking a harsh strip from your hole to your clit. Your back arched and you moaned wantonly, desire and pleasure nearing a crescendo in your lower belly. 

His mouth latched onto your clit, alternating between licking it with quick movements and sucking it harshly into his mouth. Your skin exploded in goosebumps, every nerve being lit on fire. 

“Oh fuck, Michael.”

His movements became more frantic when you said his name and you felt his finger tease your entrance before pushing in. His mouth left your clit, but his finger finally filled your pussy, and your eyes rolled back in your skull.

“It’s Michael now, is it?” 

All you could respond with was a deep moan and he laughed, continuing to pump into you. 

“What was it you said? You think about my hands fucking you every day?”

“Yes, yes!” He chuckled again, taking his finger out, and then quickly stuffing you with two.

The fit was tight and the brief, painful stretch made your toes curl. The increasing squelching noises were lewd, but you could not find it within yourself to feel embarrassed. All of your fantasies about Michael Robinavitch were coming true and you were going to enjoy every second of it. 

“This is exactly what you wanted, isn’t it, honey? Look at this pretty pussy taking my fingers so well. Is this what you thought of when you touched yourself? Hmm?”

“Yes, Michael, oh my god,” you groaned, the pressure building fast and you knew you were so close as he continued to work you open.

“I bet your tiny little fingers did nothing for you.”

His speed increased, pushing into you faster and he lowered his head, his tongue flicking against your engorged clit. Pure fire spread through your veins as the pleasure exploded. You closed your eyes tight, body tensing, and you came harder than you ever had in your life. 

“Holy fuck, honey, you fucking squirted. That was so sexy, baby, what a good girl.”

He continued to finger you as you came, placing small licks on your pussy. You relaxed into the sheets, panting breaths and heartbeat slowing after your orgasm. You were in shock.. You had only been able to make yourself squirt with your vibrator–he was the first man to get you to that peak, and you knew that he had ruined you for all other men. 

He licked back up your body, mouth and hands exploring the softness of your skin.

He caressed the side of your face and you stared back at him, taking in his soft eyes, sharp nose, the lines on his face. 

“You ok, honey?”

You smiled at him and nodded. 

“Yes, better than ok,” you leaned up and kissed him. “Robby, please fuck me.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, baby, I’ll fuck you so good, I’ll ruin you for anyone else. You’re fucking mine.” He kissed you once more and rose up to his knees. He pulled your legs over his shoulders and he lined his hard, throbbing cock with your entrance. 

“I’m clean. You’re clean, right?” you asked through the fog in your brain. It was almost laughable how hardwired the medical training was in your brain. 

“Yes, honey, don’t worry. What about–”

You cut him off, knowing what he was about to ask. “IUD.”

“Fuck, yes,” he groaned and slipped his cock slowly into you. You hissed at the stretch, his dick so fucking thick and hard. It felt like he was splitting you in half and you relished in the painful pleasure. He finally bottomed out, and your breath caught in your throat at just how full he stuffed you, his head pushed tight against your cervix. 

He slowly pulled out and entered you again, and you moaned. You always thought having sex with someone so large would be painful and unpleasant, but you were so wrong. It felt like he was made for you. Every inch of his cock pressed against your spongy walls. You felt every vein, every movement. 

“Honey, you’re so tight.” His voice was strained, holding back from pounding into you. 

“Michael,” you groaned. Your heels pushed against his hips, pushing him as far into you as you could. “Please, please fuck me.”

He needed no further encouragement, gripping onto your thighs and rocking into your heat. His movements, controlled and restrained, quickly turned frantic.

“My god, fuck…yes, yes, baby,” he grunted as your walls clenched around his length. He was so vocal, his deep voice clouding your mind and making you even more wet. His body towered over yours, the red flush and sweaty sheen on his skin made you gasp. He hit your cervix with every pump, and his relentless pace made your shudder in absolute bliss. 

His pace stuttered and you knew he was getting close. 

His hand found his way up your body, softly wrapping around the base of your neck. 

“This ok?” he managed to groan out.

“Yes. More, please.” He obliged, his hand, now wrapped around your entire neck, tightened around your carotid, and you gripped the sheets in pleasure. The effects were immediate, the lack of oxygen going to your brain and the pleasure in your pussy making you slightly delirious. 

His other hand rubbed lightly on your clit, and you were on the precipice. Robby let go of the pressure on your neck, the sudden, intense rush of blood making your control disappear as you came gushing around his cock, walls clenching tightly around him. You writhed beneath him and he groaned loudly as he came inside of you. His cock pulsated against your walls as rope after rope of cum poured into you. He trembled, lowering himself to lay over you as he started to come down from his high. 

His panting breaths brushed against the shell of your ear and you wrapped your arms around his back, caressing the skin. You pressed a small kiss to his shoulder and he came back up. He smiled at you, sleepiness lining the planes of his face. 

He pressed a kiss against your lips and slowly pulled out. You both groaned at the loss. 

“You alright, honey?”

You nodded, eyelids heavy as you sank further into his bed. He rose from the bed and you groaned at the loss of him, making him smile. He walked to the bathroom, and you bit your lip, eyeing his bare body appreciatively. You heard the sink run, and he came back in a few moments later, a wet rag in his hand. 

He began to clean you up and you blushed, the intimacy of the moment making you timid. He pressed a soft kiss on your knee as he rose from the bed. 

“Come use the restroom,” he said and held out his hand for you. 

“Robby,” you whined. “I’m tired.”

“You’ll thank me when you don’t get a UTI,” he said and lifted you from the bed. 

You both freshened up quickly, tiredness lingering in every motion until you both finally collapsed on the bed. He pulled you tight against him and kissed your forehead as you snuggled into his warmth. 

“We’re going to be so fucking tired tomorrow,” he mumbled, already half asleep. 

It happens on an otherwise ordinary afternoon, the kind that starts with dishes in the sink, laundry waiting in a basket, and you telling yourself you will sit down in “just a minute” after you finish one more thing. You’re in the kitchen, moving on autopilot the way you always do, because the house never really stops needing something from you, and you’ve gotten so used to carrying all of it that the warning signs barely register anymore.

The room tilts once, very slightly, like your body is trying to tell you to slow down, but you brush it off. Stress, you think. Exhaustion. Maybe your period is late because you have been running yourself too hard again, juggling Aria, Michael, the house, the endless little tasks that never seem to end. You reach for the counter...

And the next thing that happens is the sound of your own body hitting the floor.

It is not dramatic in the way people imagine it. No warning, no graceful collapse, just a heavy, frightening thud and then nothing. The kitchen goes blurred at the edges, then dark, then all you can hear is a small, panicked voice that sounds far away at first and then suddenly very close.

“Mama?”

Aria.

Her little footsteps come rushing into the kitchen, fast and uneven, and when she sees you on the floor, her voice breaks immediately. “Mama!” She runs to you, tiny hands hovering over your face like she is afraid to touch you wrong, afraid you might disappear if she does. Your vision flickers in and out, and you can barely keep your eyes open long enough to see her frightened face above you. She sounds so small, so terrified, that something in your chest aches even through the fog.

“Baby…” you manage, though even that feels weak.

She starts crying at once, but there is no hesitation in her, no freezing in panic. You and Michael taught her what to do for emergencies, because Michael insisted on it more than once what to say, what numbers to dial, how to stay calm enough to ask for help. And now, with tears streaking down her cheeks, she does exactly what he taught her.

Her tiny fingers fumble with the phone on the counter, but she gets it, and when the dispatcher answers, Aria’s voice trembles hard but stays determined.

“Help… help my mama,” she sobs, sucking in a breath. “Please. She fell down.”

The dispatcher speaks gently on the other end, and Aria listens the best she can, repeating your address in a tiny shaky voice, exactly as instructed. “PTMC,” she says when asked where to bring you, because that is where Papa works. Because in her little mind, that is where safety lives. When the ambulance arrives, the flashing lights fill the driveway in a way that makes the whole house feel too bright and too unreal. By then you are awake enough to register movement, voices, the weight of being lifted carefully onto a stretcher, but everything still feels floaty and strange around the edges.

And then Aria is there again, holding onto the side of the gurney with both hands, crying quietly while the paramedics work around her. One of them asks if she is okay, and she nods even while tears are still falling. “I called 911,” she says, as if this is both her proof and her apology.

“You and papa taught me.” There is so much pride in that last part, even through the fear, that your heart squeezes painfully in your chest. She looks so small beside the stretcher, so brave and terrified all at once, and when she tells you again in a trembling voice, “I called the ambulance like Papa said,” you want nothing more than to scoop her up and tell her she did everything right.

At PTMC, the moment the ambulance doors open, Michael is already moving. He sees the stretcher before anything else, sees your face and Aria’s tears and the way the whole world seems to go still around them. His expression changes so fast it is almost startling—professional reflex first, fear underneath it, and then something sharper when Aria looks up and spots him.

“Papa!” she cries, rushing toward him before anyone can stop her, still clutching the edge of her stuffed bunny that one of the paramedics tucked into her arms. Michael drops down instantly, one hand on her shoulder and the other already reaching for you as they wheel you into the ER. “What happened?” he asks, and there is no doctor voice now, only father and husband, strained thin with worry.

Aria answers for you because you can’t yet explain it properly. “Mama fell,” she says, still crying. Then, as if remembering something very important, her little face straightens with effort and she adds, “I called the ambulance. Just like you said, Papa.” Michael looks up at her sharply then, his eyes widening for a split second as the words hit him not because he doubts her, but because there is something so heartbreaking and beautiful in the fact that she did exactly what he taught her to do, even while she was scared out of her mind. He cups the back of her head immediately and kisses her temple, whispering, “You did good, baby. You did perfect.”

The medical side moves quickly after that. Dana is there first, all focused calm and familiar reassurance, while Samira steps in to help with your vitals. Michael stays close enough to see everything but far enough to not get in the way, which might be the hardest thing for him to do. He keeps one hand on Aria and one on you whenever he can, his jaw tight with worry.

At first everyone thinks the fainting spell was just stress and exhaustion, maybe overwork from too much cleaning and not enough rest. You think it too. You are embarrassed, even a little annoyed with your own body, because it feels stupid to need an ambulance over something that probably should have been obvious.

Then Samira orders a routine test because your blood pressure is lower than they like and your symptoms do not quite fit only stress, and the room shifts in that quiet, almost invisible way hospital rooms do when the answer is not what anyone expected. Michael notices first, of course, because he is watching everything—your color, the staff’s tone, the tiny glance Samira gives Dana, the way the test panel is carried in with more care than before.

You are still half out of it when Dana returns, but she is smiling in a very particular way, the kind that says something has just been uncovered that will change the shape of the whole day.

“Michael,” she says lightly, and then looks at you. “Congratulations.”

You blink at her. “For what?”

For a second, nobody answers. Michael’s face goes blank in that stunned way of his, his eyes moving from Dana to Samira to you as if the room has just rearranged itself around a truth he hasn’t reached yet. Then Samira gives you the kindest, gentlest smile and says, “You’re pregnant.”

The words barely land at first. Your brain catches on them and then drops them again, because they do not fit inside your current understanding of the day. Pregnant. That is not possible, or rather, it is possible, but not something you had been thinking about because you were too busy being tired, too busy chasing schedules and chores and Aria’s needs and Michael’s long hours and the constant noise of life. The lateness of your period suddenly makes horrible, bright sense in a way that makes your face heat all at once. Stress. Exhaustion. The symptoms you had blamed on everything except this.

Michael makes a sound somewhere between disbelief and shock and a laugh that never fully becomes a laugh. “Pregnant?” he repeats, as if saying it out loud might make the room confirm it more clearly. His eyes flash to yours instantly, and the emotion there is so raw and surprised that for a second even you cannot look away. “You’re pregnant?”

And because the universe apparently enjoys watching him process things one after another, Aria gasps too, loud and delighted through her still-sniffling tears. “A baby?” she whispers, then looks between you and Michael like this is the most important discovery ever made. “Mama, is there a baby?”

The whole room falls briefly into stunned silence before Michael’s face changes again and this time into something softer, more careful, more stunned than anything. He steps to your side immediately, one hand moving to your shoulder while the other hovers near your stomach like he is suddenly aware of how to touch you all over again. “You didn’t know?” he asks, and the answer is so obvious in your expression that he exhales slowly, almost laughing in disbelief. “You really didn’t know.”

“No,” you say, still trying to process it yourself. “I thought it was stress.”

Michael looks at you for a long second, then gives that tiny helpless shake of his head that says of course you did. Because you always carry too much. Because you always assume your body will keep up with your life. Because none of you imagined this would be the reason you passed out in the kitchen while your daughter called for help like a tiny emergency operator.

And then Aria, still holding onto the side of your bed with her stuffed bunny tucked under one arm, looks at your stomach with absolute wonder and says, “I saved Mama and the baby?”

That does it. Something in Michael’s face breaks open completely. He laughs once under his breath—not because anything is funny, but because it is overwhelming and ridiculous and terrifying and beautiful all at once. He leans down, kisses Aria’s forehead, then bends to kiss yours too, his hand warm against your cheek.

“You did,” he murmurs, voice rough with emotion. “You absolutely did.”

Aria beams, still teary but proud in the way only a child can be when she knows she did something big. She hugs your arm carefully, then looks at Michael with all the seriousness in the world and says, “I called the ambulance like you taught me, Papa. I was very brave.”

Michael swallows hard, eyes shining as he wraps one arm around her and the other around you, drawing the two of you into him as gently as he can in a hospital room that has suddenly become the place where your family’s life changes all over again. “You were,” he whispers. “You were perfect.” And standing there between the beeping monitors and the quiet hum of the ER, with Aria tucked close and your hand in his and a brand-new tiny life already beginning to exist, he looks at you like he cannot decide whether to laugh or cry first.

Maybe both.

Probably both.