puffipoppi

Ghost Band

Copia:

"That's What Being Loved is, Darling" (Fluff)

"To What Do I Owe This Pleasure, Papa?" (Fluff)

"You Mean The World To Me." (Smut)

"You Mean The World To Me." (Fluff)

Little Dog (Smut)

Little Dog (Fluff)

Saw Franchise

Mark Hoffman:

Conundrum of Carnage (Series) 1. "They're Lucky to Have You" 2. Another Not-so-Willing Associate 3. "I Just Follow My Own Rules" 4. "I Came to Give You a Name" 5. "Do I Have the Right to Remain Silent?"

The Pitt

Jack Abbot

Tick Tock, Jackrabbit

Abbot was right when he said the drive home would be an uncomfortable one. He had mostly mellowed out by the time he left the hospital property, but this wasn’t just about the physical side of things. A man’s cock is rather one-tracked, but the mind? Not so much. He was distracted the entire way home. Instead of focusing on the road, he was focusing on you. For over a month he’d been similarly preoccupied; replaying memories of your face and voice, talking to him, talking to other people, up close, across the room, walking away, sitting down to chart… really, it had been nothing short of absurd. But it’s worse now, because he knows what your lips feel like against his own, how soft and warm your skin is, how you feel around his cock, how you sound when you cum–

He slams on the brakes, tires squealing for a moment, narrowly avoiding driving through a red light. 

Yeah, this is bad.

He manages to make it home without totaling the car or getting pulled over, which is a feat he knows he can’t take credit for. Aside from that, his routine is the same. He locks the door once he’ inside, sits on the bench in the foyer, and takes his shoes off. Then he makes his way to his bedroom, tossing his stuff onto his bed on the way to the connected bathroom. He leans into the shower to put the water on, turning the knobs to the general space he usually has them in, leaving the fine-tuning for later. 

While the water heats up, he quietly pulls his shirt up over his head, the only sound coming from the water raining down onto the shower floor. He folds it out of habit, setting it down on the corner of the sink counter before tugging the button of his pants undone. He pushes the waistbands of his pants and boxers down over his hips, where they inch past his knees as he takes a couple of steps towards the bathtub, and to his ankles when he sits on the edge. The porcelain is cold against the back of his thighs, but the steam rising from behind the curtain rolls up and along his back. He shivers, and for the briefest moment, as if the muscles spasms reached his mind and memory, he imagines that it’s you, learning against him, warming his skin with yours. 

“Jesus…” He mutters with a shake of his head. Then he bends to reach his bottoms, pulling them off to fold and toss on top of the shirt, before lifting his right leg slightly, just enough so that the bottom of his prosthetic doesn’t hit the floor when he pulls it off. He stands it upright, putting off the cleanup for later. For about 30 seconds, he massages the aching muscle, relieving some of the tension that comes with being shoved into a fancy pringles can while supporting 200 lbs. He turns, swinging his legs over to the inside of the tub, and adjusts the water with smaller tweaks. Once the temperature suits his mood, he pulls himself to stand using the grip bar, and lands himself into his shower chair. 

Initially, he was against the idea of using one… It was some ten or something years ago, when his hair first started going gray, roughly a decade after losing the leg in the first place. He was in denial then. His time in the service had given him a unique ability to handle high-pressure situations, even life-or-death, without breaking a sweat, but that was work. That kind of zen didn’t extend to aspects of his personal life until a while later. So, when he first heard about using a chair in the shower, he swore he wouldn’t be caught dead with one. The sort of thing that you wouldn’t judge anyone else for using, but of course you can’t afford your own self the same kindness. He was adamant about it until a very unfortunate set of circumstances at work meant that a shower was mandatory, and of course, there was one within arm’s reach. Curiosity got the better of him, and then his wallet, since buying one for himself was the first thing he did when he got out of work that morning. Now, he’ll preach about how underappreciated the concept is, how the average person is missing out on life’s littler pleasures.

He lathers up a washcloth, letting himself relax as he pushes and pulls it over his skin, suds leaving a trail in it’s wake. He starts with his arms, then moves on to his chest… his mind wanders as he drags it along his neck, right where you’d kissed him in the parking lot. He almost stops himself, suddenly finding the idea of washing your lips away unbearable. Instead, he continues on, the cloth sliding down his chest, following the curves that make up his well-earned build, until he reaches his legs. Simply looking at his dick makes him think of how you were perched on it, held up between him and the wall, while he was between yours. He’s half-hard before he snaps himself out of it.

“Shit.” He sighs, leaning his head back, letting the water cascade down his face, soaking through his curls, darkening the hues of grey and brown (what little is left).

After finishing up in the shower– including ending the routine with a freezing cold rinse that left his teeth chattering as he brushed them– Jack eventually climbs into bed, his skin and hair still slightly damp. He didn’t think sleep would come easy for him, but even on his more restless nights, he can manage to fall asleep with some amount of patience. Tonight is different, because of course it is. Two hours of tossing and turning is enough for him to sit up, throwing the covers off of himself with a frustrated groan. He was cold to the point of shivering, and has done nothing but lay in bed since, and yet, his blood still pumps hot through him. He rests his elbows on his knees, and puts his face in his hands, curling in on himself as he takes a deep breath. His eyes are shut tight to avoid seeing anything that would remind of you– which apparently includes himself, somehow– but naturally, that only offers his imagination a perfectly open projector screen. Flashes of you doing innate things layered with the memory of your quiet breaths and not-so-quiet moans, the scent of you filling his nose despite being miles away. Tentatively he opens his eyes, looking down at himself. 

Hard as a rock. 

“Fuck!” He hisses, reaching for the nightstand a moment later. Despite himself, despite everything in him that tells him not to– that it’s weird, disrespectful, and a horrible show of self control on his end, he knows he’s reached his limit. As he leans back to coat his cock with lotion, he wonders if you would even see it that way… maybe it’s his subconscious trying to justify the means. You don’t seem like the kind of person who would care, and if anything you would probably take absolute delight in torturing him with his perceived moral failure, but he doesn’t want to make any assumptions, even if they’re educated guesses. 

A soft groan parts his lips as he curls his fingers around his hardness, moving his hand up and down in slow motions, twisting to get an even spread. Like a ball rolling downhill picking up momentum and speed, heat spreads up through his chest and to his face, the flush on his skin drawing a path down to where he’s working himself. Precum is already beading at the tip, falling in drips over his head, mixing with the lotion and the sweat on his palm. Fluid squelches under his hand and between his fingers, and his eyes fall shut, brows furrowing and relaxing in turns as pleasure washes over him in waves that match the rhythm of his hand. 

Jack’s mind wanders. He has to think of something, that’s just how the human brain works… and it isn’t long before it lands on you, because apparently that’s how his brain works. His lips press into a thin line as he tries to will the thoughts away, the memories of you and what his imagination can dangle in front of him based on limited experience. He comes up with other things, his pace faltering as it takes practically all of his focus, but he finds his memory of anything else more limited than he used to. Of course it doesn’t work, it probably wouldn’t have even if he could think of a million other things, but none of them could measure up. One taste, and he already knows that you’re the only one who can satisfy this burning, insatiable need. 

His hand pauses, the other, unoccupied one liting to cover his eyes, pushing his hair back slightly. He drags that hand down his face, his skin catching on his fingers, pulled so tight that his eyes almost close completely. For a few moments he just stares up at the ceiling, building up the courage. But whether that courage is for talking himself down or convincing himself to get on with it is beyond him. His brows furrow, lips slightly pursed… 

With a frustrated but determined grunt of effort, he turns over quickly, pulling one of the pillows underneath him. On his hands and knees, he resumes his ministrations, slowly pumping himself with his hand. The pillow is cold beneath him, a far cry from the heat that radiated from you, but it’s soft, and he’s not having trouble remembering how you feel. He cages the pillow in, leaning slightly towards the his right as the hand is occupied, the left falling to the elbow on the sheets. 

“God…~” He sighs, letting himself get lost in the thought of you. Muscle memory seems to take over as he thinks back, trading the movement of his hand for his hips. His thighs press against the fabric with every forward thrust, and he’s thrown back to when he had you against the wall in the hospital room, how your legs tangled with his, pressing and rubbing together… He rolls his hips in a circular motion, groaning at the angle, then squeezes around him like you did when he did the same trick with you. “Fuck–!” Jack chokes out. “Fuck, I need you…” He whispers into the air, to no one and nothing, but he wishes it was. 

He picks up his pace, fucking his own hand with vigor as his mind tricks him into thinking he can hear you moaning. A damp patch blooms where the tip of his dick leaks onto it, which only further contributes to the immersion as he recalls your wetness and heat, soaking his skin and clothes, and pushes him further. The headboard taps the wall as he moves now, the noises spilling from his lips mirroring the speed and intensity of his thrusts. His head falls forward, nose buried in the fabric. 

“I knew you were gonna be a problem…” He mutters in a rough voice muffled by the pillow. 

He can already hear your response, probably telling him that he should do something about it… he even responds to the made-up reply.

“I want to. More than anything– fuck, I want to~”. 

He’s breathless, whining, and his hips start to stutter. He’s never gotten himself there this quickly, not by his own hand. Apparently you have that affect on him, a magic touch that lasts even when you aren’t there. His cock twitches in his grasp, precum spilling out in steady drips, weeping at the thought of you. His mouth falls open, hot breath moistening the fabric, even more as he salivates. 

“So close– so close, I’m gonna– ah!~”

Jack’s hips buck once… twice… and he doesn’t make it a third thrust before he shoots thick white ropes into the pillow and sheets underneath him. His voice breaks and dies off into heaving pants. He takes moment to catch his breath, then leans back, leaning up with his hands until he sits back on his knees. His cock falls lazily over his thigh, milking itself of the last drops it has to give. He tilts his head back, eyes closed while his breathing slows. Once it has, and once he isn’t dizzy anymore, he pushes himself to stand, reaching over the bed for the pillow. He strips it of the case, tossing both into the hamper across the room, doing the same to the top sheet that he peels off of the mattress, both landing with the audible slump of fabric. He sits back down on the edge and grabs the tissues from the bedside table, wiping himself off. When he’s done, he falls back onto the bed, his back bouncing off of it once before settling. 

The excitement dies down with his heartbeat as he stares at the ceiling, recovering from the exertion of both his mind and body. Orgasm seems to have… cleansed him, in a way, all of his earlier concerns flushed away– at least temporarily. In fact, he feels his eyes, which have been burning with exhaustion since before he stepped foot in the door, finally get weighed down with sleep. Not just the urge to, but the ability. Anyone who’s had the misfortune dealing with insomnia knows you can tell the difference. So, with a huff, he slides further up the bed, centering himself, adjusting the pillows that got strewn about with the sheet. When he lays his head on the pillows again, the difference is immediate. He’s half asleep within minutes.

Jack’s phone buzzes on the nightstand, jolting him awake. He turns over, tilting the screen towards him. The automatic sensor opens the phone, blinding him in the otherwise pitch-black room, making him wince. He sits up, rubbing the sting from his eyes before trying again. A text from a new number. 

The hours tick by painfully slow, despite how busy the ER stays. Not your worst day, not by a long shot, but you’d hope that being pulled from room to room would at least mean an hour had passed by the time you check the clock again. It never did, and though you were thankful for the time to catch up on charting, this was just the one day that it didn’t make you feel better. But eventually, you manage to discharge patients faster than they can be auctioned off to you, a feat that usually entails freedom… Assuming you finish charting, that is.

It’s already an hour past your shift, and you know that you’ll probably be stuck for at least another 45 minutes, so you walk up to the nurse’s station.

“Hey Dana, have you seen Dr. Abbot?”

Dana turns at the sound of your voice, and glances you up and down as you lean your elbows over the desk. “Oh, he’s gonna be unreachable for a little while. Just got pulled into Trauma 1.”

You huff out a sigh, your shoulders slumping, and you look in the direction of the aforementioned room. “Damnit…”

“Is it something serious?” She asks, furrowing her brow in concern– first for a hypothetical patient, and then for you. “Do I need to have a talk with him? Huh?”

You shake your head, laughing quietly at her show of protectiveness. “No, no. He had something he wanted to talk to me about before I left. We haven’t had time yet, and I’m about to finish up my charting.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t wanna get stuck waiting around either… I’ll give him a yell when he gets out, tell him to find you ASAP.”

“You’re my favorite, Dana.” You respond with exaggerated faithfulness, your hands clasped together as if in prayer. 

“Happy to help. Now get back to it, enough loitering.”

You’ve heeded her warning by the time it finishes leaving her mouth, and sit back down at your chair the moment you reach it. You take a deep breath, straightening your back and flexing your fingers. Might as well just dive in completely.

30 minutes go by without you taking a break once. The ER fades into the background for you as you get lost in data entry, recounting the symptoms, behavior, treatments, reactions, and all other details you can remember about the people you’ve seen today. Others take a seat near you, but none stay as long. They don’t try to wake you up from your spell, either. You get that honor when a hand appears on your right, your eyes dropping from the screen, following the shape of the familiar arm all the way up to see Jack’s face, staring down at you over his nose. 

He clears his throat. “Dana said you were looking for me. Sorry for the wait…”

“Doctor Abbot.” You remark as you look him up and down. “Don’t worry about it. Comes with the territory, right?”

“Right…” He chuckles, shaking his head as if remembering that would take too long to explain to an outside source. “You’re almost done here?”

You nod. “Maybe another half hour.”

Jack looks to the side, squinting at the clock. 

“Is that not enough?”

He quickly shakes his head and turns back to you. “No, I can, uh… I’ll see what I can do. It’s not like they need me, my shift ended four hours ago. Robby’s practically trying to throw me out himself.”

You roll your eyes all the way back to your computer screen. “I’m not even gonna say it.”

“Believe me, I’ve heard it all before.” He sighs…

Then, you jump slightly as you feel a hand on your lower back, applying a gentle pressure. 

“Sit up straight. Chiropractor can only do so much, you know.”

He turns and walks away, and you swallow thickly. “Yes, sir…” you mutter, though you know he’s too far away to hear. That’s probably a good thing. 

37 minutes later, you’re standing up from your chair, stretching your arms over your head as you push in your chair with your foot. Finally, your job is well and wholly done for the day. You had a good amount of well wishes with your revolving-door charting neighbors in that final stretch, but you get the last few in while on your way to the lockers. Naturally, you pass the nurse’s station, and Dana nods at you.

“Abbot’s headed that way as of a minute ago.” She calls.

“Thank you, Nurse Dana!” You chime back, putting a sarcastic pitch on the name.

“That’s Charge Nurse Dana to you, kid.” She matches your snark.

You put some pep in your step as you resume your stride, though you’re mindful to not make it too obvious. The last thing you need is someone spreading that you literally skipped at the mention of Dr. Abbot.

You make your way down a few halls, turning a couple of corners, navigating through bodies and equipment alike, getting a few more pleasantries out of the way with the people you pass. Eventually, you round the doorway to the locker room–

Which turns out to be empty. 

You sigh, your shoulders slumping as disappointment weighs on your frame. There’s no possible way you beat him here, there’s only one way in the direction Dana pointed to. Maybe he somehow got caught up on the way, or maybe… you try not to let your mind wander that far. Instead, you focus on getting your stuff from your locker.

You’re looking down at your phone when you turn around, which you know is a rookie mistake. You take two steps, only to get startled as someone loudly clears their throat in front of you, looking up and almost dropping your phone onto the linoleum. 

“Jesus–!”

“Nah, just me.” Jack smirks. “I told you those things are a distraction.”

“Don’t go there.” You roll your eyes. “I thought I’d missed you.”

He steps around you to get to his locker while you speak. Only two away from yours. “Yeah, just a… last minute second opinion.” His voice trails off as he enters in the code, then, after pulling the door open, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. “...Did you really think I would ditch you like that?”

You feel yourself flush under the pressure of his gaze and his question, the words hanging in the air as you look to the side, leaning against the wall opposite him. You shrug. 

“Wowww…” He remarks dramatically. He picks up his bag and jacket, slinging both over his back before closing and locking back up. “If I knew you thought that little of me…”

“You have a way with being elusive when you want to be.”

“Ouch.” Jack winces, and though it’s playful, there’s a layer of sincerity underneath it. “Yeah, I earned that one…” He turns to face you, nodding towards the exit doors just down the hall. 

You push yourself from the wall, walking alongside him as you both head out for the night– or day, or for Abbot, just the next few hours. 

“Can I walk you to your car?”

“Ooh, a real gentleman…”

He grins, shaking his head as he turns away for a moment to steel his amusement. “Chivalry isn’t dead, you know.”

You look up at him through your brow. A few different quips pop up in your mind, but you decide against them for the time being. 

He pushes the door open, leaning his back against it to hold it open for you to walk through. 

“Man, you weren’t kidding!” You chuckle through the sarcastic comment. “Thank you, Doctor Abbot.”

“Of course.”

“Come on, I didn’t park that far away. Got lucky this time.”

The halls from then on are fairly empty, not much dodging involved away from the action. Pushing the final door to the outside open, the air rushes at you as if it’s trying to wash away the stress of the day. When you first got here, the force of it nearly knocked you off your feet, but now you almost look forward to the blast of fresh air. Maybe it gives you a sort of head high after being trapped between sterile walls for all the ungodly hours.

You lead the way, Jack keeping up at your side, until you stop and turn around, leaning on the hood of your car. He stands in front of you, within arm’s reach. 

You tilt your head, looking at him expectantly. “Should I pose for a picture?”

He scoffs at your callback. “No. Just, um… not really sure how this goes.”

“Oh?” you raise an eyebrow. “The Doctor Abbot, speechless?”

“It’s been a while.”

“Don’t tell me you’re losing your game now…”

“You tell me.”

You pause.

Jack cocks his brow. “Speechless?”

“... Touché…”

Jack takes a deep breath, jaw tensing. “I told you, I’m all talk. I haven’t done anything like this since…” He trails off, looking down. He crosses his arms, the band on his ring finger practically staring him in the eye. 

Your expression softens, all of the playfulness draining from you, replaced with sympathy. “... I didn’t mean to rush you into–”

“You didn’t, no. That was… all me.” He reassures you, looking back up at you with a warm smile. “You’re not getting all the credit for that.”

You let out a relieved sigh, your eyes falling to the ground. 

He tilts his head, confusion mixing with amusement on his face in the dim light of the poorly lit parking lot. “Are you really the one worried about taking advantage of me?”

Your head snaps back up to meet his gaze with a look of faux-offense. “Excuse me? I could take… so much advantage of you.”

His face contorts in an expression that conveys his doubt. “Only if I let you.”

You bite your lip. A few moments pass as you debate your next words. “... Would you?”

“... let you manipulate me?”

“You know what I mean.”

“Yeah.” He huffs out a laugh. “Yeah, I know. I’m… I’m thinking about it.”

You shrug “... Well, for what it’s worth, I’d let you ruin my life.”

That gets a bark of laughter from Jack. “Jesus, you’re bold!”

“Coming from the guy– no, excuse me, my attending  who fucked me in a hospital room while on the clock?”

“Right…” He clears his throat. “Maybe we started a bit strong.”

“It’s not like these things come with a rule book.” You rest your hands just behind you on the hood of the car, grime atop smooth paint under your fingers and palms. You probably would’ve taken the thing through the wash if you knew you’d have a visitor. “Just because we ‘skipped’ a few steps doesn’t mean we can’t still do…” You wave a hand vaguely. “... everything else.”

Jack takes a step forward, his legs brushing your knees. “Is that what you want?” He asks, and it sounds like he’s preparing himself for your answer, expecting the worst.

You pause… then slowly, you nod. “... Yeah. Do you…?”

He hums as he looks down at you, leaning closer than you can consciously perceive, but you can feel. “Guess I’m a little stuck in my ways.”

“We don’t have to… do that again, until you feel like we’ve… caught up to ourselves, if you want.”

He looks to the side, letting out a deep sigh. Then, shakes his head, looking at the ground. Then to you. “No… No, I think we should absolutely do that again.”

You bite your lip, deciding to further test the boundaries of your work-life balance. “Soon?”

He gives you a lopsided grin. “Yeah.”

You look him up and down, tilting your head. “Any specific time in mind, or…?”

“Are we keeping a schedule now?” He asks, his brows knitting together in playful confusion.

“We could… My days are pretty packed, but I’m sure I could squeeze you in.” Your skin warms as the shameless innuendo leaves your lips.

He hums, a sound that resonates deep in his chest. He hesitates like he’s mulling over the implication, tugging his bottom lip between his teeth. “You seem pretty available right now.”

You lean back, raising your hands to your sides as if in offering. 

With a huff, Jack steps forward, nudging your legs apart so he can stand between them, but he’s careful to not press against you. He leans in, resting his hands flat on the hood of your car on either side of your hips, his lips ghosting yours for a few moments, like he’s giving you the opportunity to change your mind. When you don’t, he closes the gap, mouth melting into a slow, tender kiss against yours. 

“What am I gonna do with you…?” He purrs.

“I can think of a few things…”

He moves his hands to your hips, and with a show of strength that only a man with as many extracurricular as him could achieve, he lifts you further back onto the hood, giving himself just a bit more room between your knees. 

You gasp, followed by a giggle, lifting your arms to hook behind his neck. 

“And you called me bold.” You remark with words as playful as the kisses they’re spoken between.

“We’re not doing anything…”

“Not sure the others would agree with that.”

“Uh-uh,” he leans back, meeting your eyes as he pretends to scold you, “no thinking about other people when we’re doing this. Not cool.”

A grin creeps over your lips, and you use your arms to gently pull him back towards you, but instead of leaning in for a kiss, you bury your face into his neck.

“Oh, not fair…” He groans, but he still tilts his head to the side, giving you more space to work. You press a few kisses to his skin, letting your lips linger, until you find the spot that makes him shiver, and that’s when Jack reaches his limit “Hey, let’s reel it in, the drive home is about to be uncomfortable as is.”

You oblige him without hesitation, your hands dropping to his shoulders as he lifts his hands to your waist. The two of you stay there for a moment, considering your next words. You could ask him about going back to his place, or yours, but a certain part of you understands that you’ve had enough excitement for one day.

“...You are gonna be a problem for me…” He mutters, almost under his breath, like he just had the revelation. 

“Every problem comes with its own solution.”

He shakes his head, and just… 

…stares at you for a long moment. 

“One for the road.”

His mouth meets yours again, lips moving together in tandem as you pick up where you left off. One of your hands slides up his neck and to his jaw, the ends of your fingers lost in grey curls while your palm rests on his cheek. He mirrors you, one of the hands on your waist moving down to your hip again while the other inches up towards your chest. You use your hands to pull him impossibly closer, and push your hips towards him, despite all logic telling you not to add fuel to the fire.

“How do you keep doing this to me…?” He breathes against your mouth, slotting his hips between yours. How he finds the strength to resist rolling them into you is beyond him. 

An airy chuckle escapes you. “Of all people to be asking that question…”

The two of you are startled when the car next to yours beeps. Jack almost stumbles as he steps back, and you run a hand through your hair to try and neaten it. Between the heated makeout session(s) and the scare, both of you have hearts racing a mile a minute, quietly panting into the open night air. 

“Just someone warming up their car before they head out…”

“So they saw us?” He asks, whipping his head towards the building to see if anyone’s peeking through a window.

“No, it’s… I know whose car this is, she always uses the app on her phone.” Jack turns back to look at you as if you’d sprung two spare heads, and you raise your hands in surrender. “It’s not my thing either.” 

He clears his throat. “We– I should…”

“Right. Yeah. Before we get caught out here.”

He hesitates for a moment, watching as you push yourself to your feet, before reaching into a pocket on his scrub top, and handing you a folded sticky note. You pull it open, and predictably, there’s a phone number written down across the crease. When you look up from the paper, he shrugs, smirking at you. 

“Unless you wanted to keep this stuff exclusive to work time.”

“Oh, no, I was just wondering if you still have to text by using the same nine buttons.”

“There was more than nine b– Alright, you know what? Give it back–” 

You snatch the paper as he pretends to reach for it, stuffing it in your back pocket. 

“Okay then.” He nods, turning to leave. “Go home and get some rest, you deserve it.”

You shake your head, amazed by his ability to act like this is a normal, professional sendoff. You have half a mind to tease him about it, but you’ve already seen the tent in his pants still pitched as he left, and decide that you should give him a bit of grace. 

Insane. He’s driving you fucking insane, you think. And so is he, right? What could he possibly be thinking?

You had such a good thing going for the first couple months of your internship… Dr. Jack Abbot, quick witted, untempered, capable of saving someone from the brink of death and making your heart flutter with the same amount of time and effort. It wasn’t really flirting, just banter… At least, that’s what you told anyone who asked. You always knew that, if the opportunity arose, you’d jump at it. Dr. Abbot is old enough to be your father, (a fact that he reminds you of as often as he can without the bit running it’s course) but that hadn’t mattered to you – Hell, it didn’t seem to really matter to him. Until now… For you, the dramatic difference in age might have even contributed to your pathetic crush on your superior. His voice, rough with the years and soft with a practiced gentleness, perfectly designed to keep you at ease while reminding you that he knows what the Hell he’s doing. It made you wonder just how much he knew how to do… the sight of his brown waves littered with grey and white streaks is something you can’t get enough of, having caught yourself wondering what it would be like to run your fingers through it. What noises he might make… Is he into that sort of thing? And all that fails to mention his selflessness and generosity. Even though it concerns you and your coworkers at times, you can’t deny the magnetic pull you have towards Jack every time you see him go out of his way to help patients, even at his own expense. And he would never admit it, but he adores the attention he gets from you just as much, even if he makes a big show of humility by insisting it’s “nothing”.

All of that seemingly disappeared overnight.

For two months, you would clock in, put your stuff in your locker, and Jack Abbot would spot you before you could pick up any cases, “forcing” you to “check in” with him, which really just ended up being him asking about whatever you did in the time he hadn’t seen you. Most of the time, the answer was that you slept off yesterday’s trauma, and he would tease you about getting out more, enjoying your younger years. On the rare occasion that you told him about how your friends invited you to a bar or two, he would get this obnoxious pout on his face, cross his arms, and mutter “Without me?”, like he didn’t want any of the nearby nurses to hear. You would laugh, trying not to be too obvious in catching glances at his biceps over his chest, and remind him that he’s free to offer at any time. That’s when he would look away to hide the smirk on his face, shake his head, and tell you to get to work. Today, he was nowhere to be found. You tried not to think too much of it. It’s an Emergency Room, of course there’s going to be times when he’s too busy to pull you aside and pretend to not hit on you. That optimism came less and less easy to you as the days went on, and he would barely speak four words to you in an entire shift. Weeks of spotting you and immediately rushing to find any reason to get as far away as possible, weeks of blatantly pawning your questions off to some other attending, is hard to just brush off. Impossible, even. Your coworkers were (and still are) just as confused as you, but once the raised brows towards him turned into looks of pity for you, you knew that you’d had enough.

“Shit…” Jack mutters under his breath. Dana gives him a look, and he clears his throat. “Forgot my pens in my locker… I’ll be right back,” he says, already turning around. “Wh– Just use one of ours!” She calls out after him, to which Abbot picks up the empty pen basket as he passes it, giving it a pointed shake before putting it back down, leaving her to sigh in defeated exasperation.

He walks at a brisk pace past the nurse’s station, dodging incoming staff, patients, and carts. He turns a corner and as he makes his way down the hall, the chaos of the ER fades away, replaced with nothing but the buzz of overhead lighting. He turns his padlock left and right with practiced ease, some of the numbers tallies worn from his large, calloused fingers rubbing the paint off over the course of decades. A firm tug opens the lock, the metal door creaks open, and then shuts just as quickly after he grabs what he needs. He hooks the metal bar back into the locker to close it, stands up, and rounds the doorway to go back from where he came, but jumps when someone walks right into him.

“Jesus– Woah!” He exclaims in surprise, the words moving faster than his mind. “Hell of a blindspot, huh? You alright?” He puts his hands on their shoulders in a firm but careful pressure, as if he’d need to hold them up at any moment, and that’s when he realizes that’s it’s you. The color seems to drain from his face when you look up at him, and you both freeze for a moment.

Dr. Abbot clears his throat and looks behind you, dropping his arms to his sides before awkwardly stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Sorry about that.” He says blankly, stepping around you. You snap out of your surprise then and turn around, following after him.

“Wait– Wait!” You call out to no response, and practically run to stand in front of him. “Dr. Abbot, did I do something wrong?”

He comes to a sudden stop, looking straight down at you like the sight of your face pains him. There’s no quick excuse for him to pull out of his ass this time, nobody to bullshit a question for, and he knows you knew that. Bold, tactful… He shakes his head again, trying to force the thought from his mind, and steps around you again.

You let out a frustrated scoff. “You’ve been ignoring me all week. Even the others have noticed…”

No answer. You can hear the sounds of “The Pitt” return as you approach, and you know your time is limited.

“Jack!” The name makes him wince. “What could I have possibly done to make you hate me all of the sudden? Please don’t walk away from me again!”

He stops suddenly, causing you to almost walk right into him again. Before you can take a step back, he turns around, snaking an arm behind you and pushing you into a vacant room, behind the closed curtain, shutting the door behind you. You stand at the foot of the open bed, your arms crossed over your chest in your best attempt at hiding that you’re on the verge of tears. He stands against the curtain, 4 feet away from you, mirroring your guarded position. It’s more natural on him. Your arms to rest your hands on your hips, looking at him expectantly, and yet dreading the idea of anything he could have to say.

“... You’re making a mistake.”

You blink a few times before your brows settle into a furrowed position, confusion washing over your face. “...What?”

He sighs, like this is the most unpleasant conversation he could fathom having. Granted, the feeling is mutual. “I have to be the adult here. I can’t go around running my mouth and… sending the wrong signals to someone more than 20 years younger than me.”

That really leaves you baffled. “Wrong sig– ‘adult’?” You repeat incredulously. “What, you think I’m a kid now?”

“No–” He huffs, looking down and shaking his head before righting himself again. “Don’t do that, you know what I mean. Okay? I’m your attending. It would be unprofessional to get involved with someone of the same position, let alone a subordinate, and especially when I’m old enough to be their father.”

“Oh, lose the professionalism bullshit, we’re way past that.”

“You’re really missing the forest for the trees here.”

“Yeah, well you’re missing the forest for the… fucking… fires happening in other forests!”

“You just come up with that on the spot?”

“Shut up.”

“With pleasure.” He says, and turns towards the door.

“Don’t.” The demand comes out more like a plea from you.

He listens, despite every voice in him screaming to just leave and go back to pretending you don’t exist. All except for one. “Where do you think this goes?”

“Nobody knows how these things are gonna go, but people still give it a chance.”

“We don’t even have anything in common.”

“That literally could not be further from the truth.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You and I both work in emergency medicine, for the same reason, we like the same music, like the same food, have the same humor, and– for God’s sake– we both want to fuck each other!”

Your words hang in the air for a few moments, the two of of you staring at the other, like you’re waiting for the other to drop their bluff.

He drops his gaze to the floor, shaking his head, before turning around as if he’s going to leave. Your expression of frustration falters, and you open your mouth to say something, to let yourself break first, he turns around and closes the distance between you in just a few steps. You lean back on the bed, the newly replaced sheets wrinkling under your weight as you move your legs apart to make room for him, more than he uses. The implication doesn’t elude him, though. You look up at him, feeling the heat rise to your face, under his gaze, only inches away from your own, and swallow thickly. Waiting. He studies you– at least that’s what it feels like– scanning your features to find any hint of hesitation, a single reason to walk away and let his common sense override his selfish desires.

But he finds nothing.

“... You really want this?” He asks below a whisper, making his voice more soft than you’ve ever heard before.

You nod. He lets out a deep breath through his nose, eyes falling to your slightly parted lips.

“...Can I kiss y–”

You lean up, closing you eyes as your mouth meets his own. It takes him by surprise at first, but he melts against you within seconds, leaning in just enough for his hips to brush your knees. It’s everything you wanted it to be; warm, soft, mind-numbingly sexy… the sound of his breath echoes in your ears as the air between you gets slightly warmer and your heart rates rise, getting more audible along with the smacking of your lips. The sheets get pulled taught beneath you, and glance down to see him taking fistfuls of the linen. You debate letting him ask this time, but ultimately decide to get ahead, considering the room could be needed at any moment. You slide one of your hands over his own, his fingers twitching as he reacts to your touch before loosening enough for you to lift it from the bed and over the side of your waist, just underneath your ribcage.

He keeps his hand there, his grasp not nearly as firm as it was when you bumped into each other earlier, but you can still feel his thumb caressing your skin up and down, just barely brushing your nipple.

“Fuck…” You breathe against his mouth, which prompts him to pull back, swallowing heavily before asking “You alright? Too much?”. You shake your head, moving your hand to cup his face, a gesture he leans into as if he can’t help it. “You’re asking a lot of questions, Jackrabbit.”

The nickname makes him smile, a single huff of laughter escaping him as he responds. “I’m just trying to make sure you’re–”

“I’m sure.” You interrupt him again, this time by hooking your leg around his thigh and pulling him into you. His hips slot against yours, and he uses his free hand to catch himself on the bed, the other dropping from your waist to your hip.

“Fuck–” He groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “God damnit, you feel good…”

“Seriously? You haven’t even gotten past my pants yet…”

“We can fix that.”

The door clicks with the turn of the handle, light pouring in from the outside. You bite back a gasp and duck, practically diving to the wall to your right, the side most covered by the curtain and out of the light’s path. You just barely hear Jack curse under his breath before he turns and peeks out from behind the open side of the curtain, only pausing for a brief moment to look you up and down, and only so brief because you nod at him as a silent way of telling him you’re alright.

“Oh! Dr. Abbot!” Javadi’s voice is easily recognizable. “I thought the room was empty. The lights are off, and Dana said…” She trails off. You can’t see her at all, but her confusion is as audible in her words as you imagine it is visible on her face.

“Yeah, uh…” Jack’s voice is quieter than usual, like he’s trying not to startle a bird that flew into his living room. “I’ve got a patient’s visitor, just needs a quiet place to talk, you know how it is.”

“... Is this about the widow-maker in 10?”

Abbot pauses, his head nodding as if he’s debating taking the easy out, before he settles on a pitchy “Yeah.”

“Has he always been this shit at lying?” You think to yourself. Javadi seems to have a similar question, as a beat of silence passes over the room. Thinking quickly, you sniffle and gasp shakily, doing your best to make it sound like you’d been holding it in and finally broke.

Javadi sighs deeply but quietly, trying not to let the “patient” overhear her frustration. “They’re gonna need the room…”

Abbot nods dramatically. “Of course, I just need five more minutes. Doctor’s orders.” He winks. The door closes, and he turns to face you again, letting out a heaving sigh of relief that sags his shoulders. “Excellent improv…” He remarks as he saunters up to you.

You shrug. “Five minutes, huh?”

“You don’t think it’s enough?” He asks teasingly, leaning one elbow against the wall next to your head, the other hand tentatively returning to your waist.

You lift your arms to hook behind his neck, pulling him an inch closer. “Well, you seem awfully confident that it is, so…”

“Are you doubting me? You sound like you’re doubting me.” He furrows his brows and tilts his head like a confused dog. “Do you want me to prove it to you?”

“Tick tock…” You taunt, glancing at the clock above the bed. He shakes his head and scoffs. “You really do ask too many quest–”

It’s Jack’s turn to interrupt you, leaning in and taking your mouth with his own. His left hand slides down to your hip, fingers slipping under your scrub top and past the waistband of your pants. “Is this okay…?” He asks in that same breathy whisper from before, the words reverberating through your lips and against your teeth. You nod, and he pushes them down along with your underwear, exposing the soft skin of your hip. He lets his hands paint the picture of you, his right arm dropping to the opposite side, matching the movements of the other with a second or two of delay. His rough palms glide over the swell of your ass, one taking an experimental handful while the other continues to your thigh, pushing your bottoms to your knees. From there, they drop around your ankles, and he uses that same hand to pull your leg up around his hip. A soft groan pushes your mouth open as he grinds into you once, twice, three times, not seeming to care that your wetness is soaking the front of his cargo pants.

“You’re hard as a r-rock…”

“You say that like you’re surprised.” He breathes against your mouth in between kisses.

An airy chuckle escapes the grin spreading across your cheeks. “It’s very common for men your age…”

“I’m not that old.”

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of–”

“Don’t even go there.” He pretends to warn you, but there’s no real bite behind it, especially not with the smile on his face that betrays how much he adores how you keep up with his banter. He lowers his head, pressing a kiss to the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, your jaw… “Can I kiss you here?”

“Yeah…” You huff, your back arching off of the wall a little, like your body is seeking out any inch of him it can reach. “Can I… take your pants off?”

“Fuck, yes.” He groans against your neck, kissing the skin gently until he finds the spot that makes your breath hitch.

Your hands slip between the two of you, fumbling with the button as he sucks on that sweet spot with an ease he’s been practicing since long before your time. You’d swear he’s doing it on purpose, distracting you, and you’d probably be right. Quick work is made of his bottoms once you get them open, your hands diving between his skin and his boxers to push them down. Jack hisses as his cock springs up from the confines of his clothes, slotting through your slit, and sighs as your touch maps out the curve of his ass, just like he did with you. The two of you share soft sounds and expletives as he rolls his hips, rubbing the shaft back and forth between your lips, the head nudging your entrance just enough to make you whine– albeit so quiet that even he can barely hear it. You can already gauge the size of him; close to seven inches, thick enough to spread you without being uncomfortable. Perfect is what he is.

“Jesus Christ, you feel…” He trails off into a trembling sigh, punctuating his words with the soft touch of his lips on your skin and the gentle swipe of his tongue to soothe the future hickeys.

“You have a condom on you…?”

“Shit– yeah, sorry…” He stammers as he reaches into a pants pocket just within his reach, tearing a single square off of another.

You raise your brow. “Seriously? How many condoms do you keep in your pocket at work?”

“It pays to be prepared. I don’t see you complaining…”

You scoff and roll your eyes as he steps back, giving himself just enough space to slip it on, then resumes his position with a low hum that rumbles in his chest. “Can I–”

“Just under three minutes, Playboy.”

He huffs out a laugh, shaking his head. “Something tells me you’ve done this before…”

“Mhm.”

“Thank God.” He sighs before pulling back, then pressing forward, the tip of his cock finding your hole without a glance.

You gasp, tensing up for a moment, but force yourself to relax. He doesn’t move until you do, leaning back to get a good look at your face as you adjust to him.

“That’s it, breathe…” He groans, pressing a quick kiss to your lips before resting his forehead against yours. He’s practically panting, reeling just as much as you are, but doing his best to keep it together so you don’t have to.

The gesture catches you a little off guard, but it’s by no means unwelcome, either. Your breath hitches as he eases in, nodding whenever he looks for your reassurance. Inch by inch, he buries himself to the hilt, every vein and wrinkle caressing your walls on the way in, filling you just like you knew he would. You focus on keeping your breath deep and even, and he focuses on you, using all of his senses to gauge how you’re feeling– Including how you feel.

“You ready?” He asks, burying his face into the neglected side of your neck. You nod, which he feels and pulls back a little, just a couple of inches, before pushing himself back in. He repeats the action, moving farther back each time, picking up speed as gentle rolls turn into passionate thrusts. His left hand glides up, underneath your shirt, past your waist, letting his fingers tentatively brush the underside of your bra. Once he’s sure you’re into it, he cups your breast and squeezes with just enough pressure to make you gasp. Sighs and hums turn into moans, punctuated by the telltale sound of sex; skin on skin, your wetness around his twitching cock as he slides in and out of you. He knows himself enough to know exactly when to stop to avoid pulling out entirely, and quickly learns how to angle his hips so that the head hits the spot that makes your eyes roll back, but he also has the self restraint to save it for the moments that count.

“Fuck–! J-Jack~”

“Just like that, come on…” He mumbles into your skin, his teeth scraping the faint pink marks. “So good…”

You bury your face into his neck, one hand curled underneath his arm to hold his back while the other rests on his shoulder, squeezing his muscle as it tenses and shifts. Your breath fans hot over his already flushed skin, and you momentarily consider how the rest of the shift will go when you’re wearing the effects of sex. A moment that doesn’t last long at all, since a few back-to-back thrusts against your sweet spot makes you keen. “Jack…” You whine.

“I know, I know… just tell me what you need. Okay?”

“Right– God, right there!~ Fuck!” You use the foot still on the floor to lift yourself up, grinding against him as he pumps into you.

“Sh-Shit,” He responds in kind, rolling his hips in circles to recreate the movement you want. “Right there, yeah…” He says, though the meaning is different from yours. His words are choked, strained with sensation and the effort it takes to wait for you.

The hand on his shoulder moves up over his neck to cup his cheek, your fingers drawing lines in his skin that his blood seems to follow, a shiver wracking his body. You offer him a kiss that he can barely reciprocate and you can hardly keep up with as you both struggle for breath. It doesn’t stop you from trying. Your mouths push and pull like indecisive magnetic forces, swallowing noises right from the other’s mouth, but not all of them.

“Jesus, you’re shaking like a leaf…”

“C–Close~”

“Yeah, I g– hah~... I gathered that.”

“Are you…?”

“Ready when you are–”

“Mmfuck!~” You cry out, your head leaning back against the wall with a thud.

He thinks about responding with a quip, but any smart-ass words he could think of are pushed out of his mind when your walls tighten and flutter around him. Instead of speaking, he settles on a quiet “shhh-shh-shh”.

“Jack–”

“I know, go ahead.”

Your eyes roll back, and you keen. “Jack!~” Loudly.

His left hand flies up to clasp over your mouth, using only enough pressure to muffle the sound of your orgasm. He leans back a little to watch you come undone, every wave of pleasure visible as it washes over your features. His hips stutter, cock twitching, the tip of the condom brushing your cervix on the inward thrusts as the rubber swells with his cum.

After you both relax, he rolls his hips a few more times, making you both huff and whine quietly, before slowly pulling out. You lower your leg slowly, his fingers staying curled under your thigh the entire time. He holds his pants up over his hip and walks towards the cart, picking up the box of tissues before returning to you. He shakes the box pointedly. You take a deep breath, trying to steady your racing heart, and pull a few from the dispense. You clean yourself up as he steps back to do the same, carefully pulling the condom off and tying it closed before wiping himself down, pushing the used rubber into the half-full box and tossing it into the trash can. By the time he looks at you again, you've pulled your scrubs up around your hips.

“That’s so wasteful.” You scold him playfully.

He bends down to redresses himself. “There’s plenty more where it came from.”

A long pause passes between you, silently recognizing the double-meaning, and choosing to practice maturity by not mentioning it.

“You know that nobody’s gonna have the time or energy to replace it. Not until some poor soul gets stuck in here with their… brains coming out their nose, or something.”

He looks over at you, his eyes darting down and then back up to your face, before he turns away with a smirk, shaking his head. “You know, I don’t think a patient with those symptoms would be waiting in a room like this for very long… but I’ll make sure to write it on my hand.” After a few moments he turns, keeping his steps measured, and closes the distance between you, tilting your face up towards him with a finger. “You okay…?”

You let your eyes fall shut as his breath mingles with his own, warming your skin, and your lips brush together. A smile spreads over your face quickly, which he feels, letting him relax before you even respond. “Of course, Jack.”

That puts him at ease, enough to start up his witticism. “Just okay?”

You roll your eyes. “Do you want it on a scale of 1-10, Doctor Abbot?”

He hums, a sound that comes out more like a low purr. “Oooh.. are you gonna be a problem for me?”

“Not unless you give me a reason, Playboy.” You shrug.

“Come on, you know I’m not like that…I mean I– you know, I talk a lot of talk, but that’s all it is. I’m all bark.”

You nod. “Yeah, I know… I, um…” You pause, biting your lip. He tilts his head expectantly, raising a brow, and you look towards the clock. Then the door. “We should–”

“Yeah. Yes. Absolutely.” He seconds and steps back, but his touch lingers for a moment. “I’ll uh… I’ll tell Dana and Javadi you’re waiting to help set the new patient up.” He rounds the curtain and opens the door, peeking his head out. You follow, and he uses his hand to beckon you. “All clear.”

You walk past him as he holds the doorway open, stopping to lean in against the wall. He moves to stand in front of you, arms crossed over his chest. The distance between you is just barely too close to be professional, but still a far cry from sharing breaths and body heat. Your eyes fall to his arms, just like before, taking the time to admire his muscles.

He huffs out a laugh and takes a step closer to you. It’s still not nearly enough. “You want me to pose for a picture…?”

You scoff and open your mouth to say something equally as teasing, but your gaze settles over his shoulder. “Incoming.”

He turns his head, seeing Javadi approaching with a guy on a stretcher, “Duty calls…” then back to you. “Find me before you leave, okay?”

You tilt your head. “Should I ask–”

“Nope,” he anticipates your response, already turning to walk away. “Focus on the job, save some lives… I’ll see you later.”

The patient passes you as he gets wheeled into the room, and Javadi pauses to look at you. “You’re on this case?”

Only a few days later, there’s breaking news.

A new body has been found in one of the dog fighting spots, the most well known within the closed circle. The man’s neck, arms, and legs were tied to the ground by inside-out collars with the spikes piercing his skin, and the dogs that were trained to be the most aggressive ended up being his undoing. In fact, there wasn’t much of a body to find in the end.

Hoffman is one of the first on the scene, as always, only this time, he’s there with a small smile on his face as he stares down at the bloodbath that the man has become, your own handiwork, just as he expected. This was a personal one for you, it seems.

Later that day, you get a call, recognizing the number. “Do I have the right to remain silent?” You ask playfully when you pick up.

Hoffman is on the other end, and he lets out a lighthearted chuckle when you answer. “That depends,” he responds, his tone amused. “Are you guilty?”

“Mmm.. no comment.” You reply, tilting your head to keep the phone in between your shoulder and ear. Then, some barking can be heard in the background. “You’ll have to excuse that, i found some… strays , last night.” Comes out with a slight laugh to your voice.

When the noise reaches his ears through the phone, his eyebrows raise somewhat in intrigue. “Is that right?” He asks, his smile audible through the phone.

“Oh yeah, poor things… they’re awfully aggressive.” You start, your tone turning more thoughtful and genuine, even a bit somber. “But they’re just scared. I hope it won’t take me too long to get them used to me...”

Hoffman is actually mildly surprised when you don’t give a snarky response. The hint of somberness and the more genuine tone to your voice catches him off guard, and he stops to listen as you speak. “You think you can help them?” he asks softly, though he has a feeling that you definitely can.

“I’ve done this plenty of times.” You respond matter-of-factly. “It’s still not fun, though. They’re big and strong, obviously, and they bare their teeth and growl when I come near, but they’re also trembling. They’re only aggressive because they had to be for so long, you can just tell they want to be loved…”

He can’t help the way his heart clenches when he hears your response. It seems he’s just discovering something rather interesting about you. A softness, one he never would have expected, given how you’d been acting with him.

Mark tries to keep his tone from showing such fondness, however, as he answers. “Yeah?” he responds in a low voice. “You’re a saint, you know that?”

Despite the tone that would usually come with a comment like that, his voice is shockingly devoid of sarcasm

And that does bring a smile back to your face, though the irony of it is not lost on either of you. “Please..” You reply sarcastically, rolling your eyes. “Anyway… I should get back to it. I’ll probably have to work without much sleep for the next week, at least.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you, then.” he says with a shake of his head. He figures he should probably let you get back to work. 

“Good luck.”

“And to you, detective, on catching that killer.” You respond, an almost imperceptible, playful tilt to your voice, the knowledge of which is only shared between the two of you.

He lets out a breathy chuckle, leaning back in his office chair. “Oh, we’ll get them before you know it.” 

“Was that all, detective?”

Mark hesitates, but only for a moment. You’ve called him that countless times, but now, there just seems to be something different about it, a certain lightness in your tone that wasn’t there before. He can’t quite place it, or why, but it makes his heart beat just a little but faster in his chest.

“... Yeah. Have a good night, okay? Stay safe out there.”

Click

Some time goes by, with you making the occasional stop at his office, looking through his plans and making sure you’re not targeting the same people again. Each time, though, it seems you get a bit more jovial, and you even find yourself genuinely smiling or laughing. You can’t help but think about it, the people he goes after lining up with your own morals, and the fact that he doesn’t actually approve of John, either. That, and his own humor beginning to shine through more and more, his little comments and quips that actually amuse you, and you swear you can see it in him, too.

While Mark himself never lets it outwardly show as much as you do, your company has been a nice break in his otherwise monotonous work days. Each time you come strutting into his office and take the plans for yourself to look through them, he can’t help but notice the little changes in himself. The subtle smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he watches you go over the blueprints, and maybe even an instance or two of him letting out a small chuckle at a comment you make.

Now, you find yourself at work at the clinic, trying not to be too distracted by your thoughts.

That is, of course, when you’re called to the front.

And who else would be waiting at the counter for you, than him .

Hoffman stands at the front of the clinic, his hands in his pockets and a very bored expression on his face as he tries to look casual, like he belongs here. But in his suit beneath a thick windbreaker jacket, and his detective badge dangling around his neck like a gaudy necklace, he sticks out like a sore thumb amongst the staff members, who are all dressed in scrubs.

To be honest, the scene isn’t exactly reassuring. For any of your coworkers know, a random cop just asked for you specifically- a detective at that.

He doesn’t fail to notice the hesitance and trepidation on everyone’s faces at the front counter - including yours, as you walk out from the back of the clinic and approach, only to find him standing there. He doesn’t seem to care that much, though. “What are you doing here?” You ask, a hint of curiosity behind the annoyance in your tone.

“I need to talk to you.” he states bluntly, his expression remaining mostly neutral - albeit with a hint of seriousness to it.

“Of course you do..” You say with an exasperated sigh, and after letting the receptionist know, you step out from behind the counter and join him to walk behind the building. “Seriously? At my work now? Are you trying to raise suspicion?”

He pauses, making sure to look left and right to check if anyone could potentially be watching. And once he seems satisfied, he turns to face you. “You seemed fine showing up at mine.”

“You’re a detective . People come in and out of your office all the time. Cops don’t just stop by for a friendly chat, here.” You retort pointedly, sarcasm dripping from your words as the end of them nears.

“Would you rather I came to your house?” he asks flatly.

You roll your eyes. You don’t even dignify the sarcastic question with an answer. It’s best to just get to the point.

“What is it, Hoffman?” You ask, with no patience to spare. “You’d better have a good reason for pulling me away from my job. I do important things, in case you don’t know.”

“I do have a reason,” And he reaches into his jacket, retrieving a thin manila folder which he holds out to you. “I came to give you a name.”

Your eyes widen, and you take it from him, leaning back against the wall, the cool temperature from the brick moving through your shirt and to your skin. You open the folder and take out the contents, your fingers brushing the edges of what turns out to be some photos. The first is a man’s face with a name written underneath, after that is multiple pictures of what seem to be dog fighting rings. “..I’ve been looking for him..”

He hums, a slight, proud smile tugging at his lips when he hears you. “Yeah?”

You nod in return. “Sometimes he comes in, but he uses a different name every time, and always puts in a different address that ended up just being some random family.” You explain, stuffing the pictures back into the beige container. “It’s smart, I’ll give him that.”

Hoffman gives you a look, seemingly somewhat impressed himself with the lengths the guy has gone with his disguise. “That sounds like a pain in the ass to deal with.” he comments, raising an eyebrow. “…Until now.”

You then look up at him, meeting his eye, and you can’t help a small smile. “Until now.” You repeat, and hold the folder between arms over your chest. “Um… Thank you.”

When your smile spreads across your face, and you echo his own words back to him, he feels something clench in his chest. And then when you thank him, his heart does a weird little thump. He clears his throat, his eyes darting away from yours for a brief beat, before refocusing on them. “No problem...” he states, his tone softer than normal as he attempts to play it cool.

You notice his subtle reaction, though you don’t completely realize it, and it causes you to also look down. “I should get back in there.” You say quietly, glancing at the back door.

He follows your gaze, stuffing his hands into his pockets as a hint of disappointment passes over his expression. He lets out a soft sigh through his nose. “…I don’t wanna keep you from your important job.” he says, his lips turning up into a hint of a small, teasing smile.

The door to Hoffman’s office at the precinct swings open, and in you walk, prompting him to whip his head up at the suddenness of the entrance. 

“There you are!” you exclaim, a sense of purposeful and exaggerated giddiness about you. You shut the door behind you and cross the small room to lean over his desk, placing both of your hands flat on top of the wood. “What does he have you working on, hm? Or do you not take those to work with you?” Hoffman is just about to start complaining that you could’ve knocked , but his surprise at you showing your face here, for this reason overrides any sarcasm he has in him - which is a rather impressive feat, really. “…What are you doing here?”

You roll your eyes at his confusion, then start to walk around the desk to stand next to him, dragging your fingers along the edge of it, the ridges of finished bark gliding against your touch. “I just told you. So come on, show me the blueprints.” You say, your voice getting a bit more firm. “Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten our deal now, detective..”

He stares up at you apprehensively as you move closer, and he lets out a soft sigh at the mention of the deal. He hesitates a moment before standing, almost a little too close, looking down at you for a brief beat, a mix of displeasure and exasperation on his face, before he wordlessly moves over to a desk drawer. He pulls it out, rifling around for a moment before retrieving a stack of blueprints and holding them out to you.

You take them from him, flipping through the papers, a curious expression on your face. “Hm… who are these for?” You ask, raising an eyebrow at him, before clarifying. “Their offenses, I mean. I don’t care about their names.”

He crosses his arms over his chest as he watches you look over the blueprints, taking note of how focused you are and how your attention is honed in on the pages. “Wife beaters, mostly . This one—“ he points at the top page “—beat his wife nearly to death. And this one—“ he points at the bottom of the pile “—has a history of child abuse. Always manages to slip his way out of any meaningful consequences, though...”

You furrow your brows when he says that, your expression changing slightly, more thoughtful, even a little surprised. “Huh.. okay.” You say quietly, then shake your head and hand the stack back to him. “Sounds like they actually deserve it.”

He takes them back, placing them on the desk and raising an eyebrow as he looks at you.  “Surprised?” he quips with a hint of amusement.

“You know that Jigsaw usually goes after people for bullshit reasons.” You retort, crossing your arms over your chest. “Drug users, people with depression.. but going after actually bad people, who actively and purposefully hurt others? That’s, like, exactly what I do.”

He lets out a deep sigh. Truthfully, he had grown extremely frustrated by John’s nonsensical choices of victims, and had been thinking over and over again about how hypocritical it was. “I know. I hate that about him.” he states, with a hint of disgust in his tone as he shakes his head at the mention of John’s bullshit reasons for putting people through the games. “That’s why I’ve started going after these ones.”

“Ooh, spicy..” You reply teasingly, noticing the bitterness in his tone. “I thought you were working with him.” Is your addition, raising an eyebrow again at this information, mirroring his own earlier one.

The look he gives you in response to the teasing is one of narrowed eyes, and he lets out a short, humorless snort. “I’m forced to work with him.” he corrects, crossing his arms over his chest again and tilting his head slightly. “I just follow my own rules.”

“Oh, don’t tell me… he’s got dirt on you too.” You say with a slight laugh. “Man, you must be horrible at keeping your secrets.”

He stares up at you, a look of slight indignance on his face, his lips pursing for a moment before he collects himself. “You find this funny, don’t you?”

“Very.” You reply, then turn to round the desk once again. “Anyway, that’s all I needed. Thanks for your cooperation, detective!” You call out on your way to the door, before closing it behind you.

He glares at your back for the brief moment it’s turned. When you’re finally gone, he simply shakes his head as the door shuts, muttering out a brief, “Unbelievable…” under his breath, his hushed voice filling the new silence of the room.

You’re tracking someone down, walking far behind him on the street. After weeks of preparation, everything is in place, and all you need is the lucky soul. Eventually, when you get an opening and you’re close enough, you grab him and pull them into the alleyway-

When, suddenly, you’re forcefully shoved to the ground.

You stumble, but quickly recover and look up through your mask to see a large figure in a black windbreaker jacket and realistic pig mask, and that is definitely not who you were chasing after. The stranger that has interrupted your plans stares down at you, their grip still on the person you’d been stalking, as you look up at them from where you were laid out on the ground.

Your breath gets heavier as the adrenaline picks up, your heart pumping fast in your chest as hot blood rushes through your veins. You glance from the assailant to your meant-to-be victim, seeing him unconscious as the person holds them up by the coat with one hand like it’s nothing. You’ve had difficult prey before, some who put up a decent fight, but never anything like this. You don’t know who this person is, but they sure as Hell don’t look like a friend of either you or the sleeping body in their grasp.

With no hesitation you get to your feet, then dash past the stranger to run out of the alleyway and to the park across the street.

The figure, mostly likely a man, lets out a low, angered groan, releasing the unconscious person in his hand, causing them to just drop to the ground like a bag of potatoes. He turns and sprints after you, giving chase as you run into the park.

You hear the exclamation, and the ensuing footsteps, loud and heavy on the pavement. You practically dive into the wooded area behind the swing sets, not stopping or slowing despite the branches whipping your arms and legs through your clothes, not that the epinephrine coursing through your body allows you to feel the burn of them, anyway. As you weave between trees and hop over rocks, branches and foliage as you rush through the woods. The hooded figure continues to give chase, barreling into the forested area and crashing through the brush with absolutely no regard for himself, all with the sole focus of reaching you.

Though you’re quick, the figure catches up soon enough. You feel and hear the presence behind you, getting closer while you have nowhere to go but forward, but it’s not enough. You hope that if you just keep going, maybe he’ll get tired, or trip, just one wrong step is all it would-

Your frantic thoughts are cut short by strong arms that wrap around your frame, then the weight that brings you to the ground.

The man quickly mounts you and holds you down beneath his weight, pinning you to the dirt and leaf-littered ground, his hands wrapped tightly around your arms and holding them down. You fight the whole way, obviously, kicking your legs and thrashing your arms. It’s actually pretty difficult for him at the rate you’re going. Even once you’re truly pinned, there isn’t much room to move, though you still try.

He has to adjust his weight over you in multiple directions to keep you from moving too wildly, but the extra effort just seems to frustrate him even more. Suddenly, he wraps a large hand around your wrists and pins them above your head. “Damn it, stop struggling or I’ll snap your arms off!” His voice is deep and muffled by the pig mask covering his face, but the threatening tone comes right through.

You don’t recognize the voice right away, but you hear the command well enough, and that does make you stop, because he definitely seems strong enough to actually do it. That doesn’t at all stop the sheer panic, though. That’s when you see his free hand reach for the mask on your face, and start struggling again, turning your head away frantically.

The fact that you stop struggling doesn’t ease his tone whatsoever, he’s only growing more irritated with every passing second. He tries to grab at the bottom of your mask, to lift it up and off, but seeing your struggle in response causes him to let out an angry snarl, his hand releasing your wrists only to grab your jaw with enough force to make you wince. “Stop it, stop!” he growls, pushing down on your face to try and keep your face steady, “Don’t. Move.”

After a momentary grunt of pain and a short dizzy feeling, you blink your eyes open and think as quick as you can. You take advantage of your new lack of restraint, and in response to your hands being freed, reach up to pull his own mask off. It’s rather easy, given that it’s completely latex and the snout of the pig hangs down rather close. And once you get a good look, you gasp.

All at once, the rage immediately leaves his face as the shock of having his identity exposed washes over him. He freezes completely, with the exception of his eyes widening as he hears you breath of surprise. “…You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Mark Hoffman utters, his voice no longer muffled and now clearly recognizable, just like his face.

Your own mask is pulled off next, revealing yourself to him as well. But, instead of staying in the shock for too long, you quickly reach a hand up, revealing a knife now pressed to his throat.

Mark’s eyes widen further as the cool, sharp edge hit’s his skin, his gaze immediately going panic-stricken. He stares at you with complete bewilderment as he sees that the person he’s been chasing, and now has pinned down beneath him, is you.

“Get the fuck off of me.” You say coldly, but the fear behind it is undeniable.

He raises his hands in surrender, letting go of your face and keeping them visible to you as he starts to slowly lift himself up.

You quickly get yourself to your feet until you’re standing, keeping the blade on him the entire time and backing him up against a tree as he sits, scooting back on his hands. You rip your mask from his grasp and put it back on, staring at him. “I fucking knew you were working with Jigsaw. You’re stupidly obvious, you know that?”

Mark watches you as you put your mask back on, the shock starting to leave his expression as you finish speaking. “You knew?” he asks bluntly, with genuine bafflement to his tone.

“Of course I did. You walk around like you’re untouchable, I can practically smell the self righteousness on you.” You seethe, the anger clear in your voice. “Just like him, aren’t you? All of that ‘technically never killed anyone’ bullshit. Coming from an actual murderer, if you’re gonna do it, own up to it. Coward.”

He narrows his eyes at you as you speak. A myriad of emotions wash over him as he listens to your harsh words. “Self righteous?” He says incredulously, a sharp laugh escaping through his clenched teeth, “You know nothing about me. You have no idea.”

“I know enough.” You retort, pressing the knife further into his neck, breaking the skin just slightly. The small, almost undetectable cut that forms on his neck as a result draws a very thin, small trickle of blood to the surface. “And now, you’ve ruined my kill. I had everything set for that prick, and you messed it up! He’s probably already awake and running to tell the police about it. Not that it matters much to you though, huh, detective?”

That comment causes a scowl appears on his face. He ignores your question, because you’re completely right, and instead continues with a steely tone, “It wasn’t your kill to take.”

“Oh, but it was yours?” You ask incredulously. “Since when are you the one who makes that decision? You fuckin’ cops.. you think everything you say goes, and your moral code is the only one. You’re so full of yourself.”

His glare remains on you silently, a mixture of outrage and frustration evident in his heated stare and tense expression as his hands ball into fists.

You tilt your head at him then, forcing yourself to calm down with a deep breath. “It seems like we’re in a situation here, detective…” You muse, looking him up and down, though he can’t see that through the mask. “You know who I am, but I know what you are. You can’t snitch on me, because you know I’ll talk. So… I’d say you’re under my thumb now.”

The frustration and anger on his face falters slightly, his eyebrows pinching upward a little before he can collect himself. His jaw grinds, and he looks entirely unhappy with that predicament. “You wouldn’t.” he spits, but his voice lacks certainty.

A small laugh escapes you at that. “You’ve read my cases, you know damn well how much I would.” You snap back, leaning in a bit closer as your voice drops. “It’s been a pleasure seeing you on this fine evening, partner.”

The word comes off like a taunt, making his glower at you darken even further. But that’s about all he can do. You’re right, and he knows it.

Once again, the detective finds himself being another not-so-willing associate to yet another serial killer.

You find yourself sitting on a short cement ledge outside of your usual coffee shop on break, halfway between full consciousness and spacing out while looking off into the distance. In your partially-aware state, you swear you notice an oddly familiar face standing just a few feet away, though you can’t place why. After a few seconds, you still haven’t realized that you’re staring at him.

The man looks at you through the corner of his eye a few times, and eventually turns to you with a raised eyebrow. His long black coat sways a little in the subtle breeze of New Jersey’s Autumnal streets. “... Did you need something?” 

You blink a few times in response to the sudden call out, then quickly avert your gaze back to whatever’s in front of you. “Nothing.” You say with a slight shrug, furrowing your brows. “I thought I might’ve seen you somewhere before, is all.”

He stares at you with some suspicion on his face for a few seconds, his eyes analyzing you before he speaks again.  “I don’t think we’ve met." He says as he steps closer, his gaze narrowed. You also seem familiar to him, some part of his mind far back getting a sense of déjà vu from the sight of your face, the sound of your voice.

“Obviously not..” You mutter, glancing at how he’s getting closer through the corner of your eye. There’s something about his walk, the sound of leather shoes on pavement…. Then, you turn to him.  “You’re with the police, aren’t you? You must’ve been at my work when all those cops showed up to ask about those… um, murders.”

“Oh, was that you? I think I remember now.” he says, stopping his approach just about a foot away from you. “You work at that vet clinic, right?” he says, his tone lowering slightly as he speaks the last few words.

You nod, the day flooding back at the confirmation. His name is Hoffman, if your memory serves you correctly. Mark Hoffman, right?  “I’m a tech there, yeah.” you answer, eyes then falling to look him up and down. “Still sorry we couldn’t be of any help. It’s a shame, all those poor animals left without an owner.." You say, which to any regular person would be a bit odd, to mention the pets but not the people.

Mark raises an eyebrow at the comment about the pets, his expression remaining stoic as he processes what you have just said. “Yeah, really is,” he says, with his usual blank expression and tone, “Say, how long have you worked there?”

“Oh, god, it must’ve been.. five years now?” You say thoughtfully, lifting your hand to rest on your cheek as you consider it. “And then those incidents started happening only earlier this year.. I damn near quit out of fear, I’ll tell you what.” You remark with a slight laugh at the end.

He listens intently to your reply, thinking over the information you’ve just given him.  “Why didn’t you?” His voice lowers as he speaks his next line, his stance shifting slightly, tilting his head while he eyes you.

“Well, you know how the job market is right now.” You relent with a sigh, shaking your head. “Besides, they gave everyone a pay raise when the news broke. I guess it was to try and stop people from leaving, and it worked for the most part.”

“So you stuck around for a raise? Sounds like you think the risk is worth the reward.” Hoffman lets out a dry laugh as he leans back on his heels, his eyes continuing to study you, like they’re searching for something. “Then again, why are you guys even still open at all?” he says, “I mean I would’ve never stepped foot in there again after something like that happened.”

You turn your gaze back up to him, your expression as genuine as your voice when you speak. “We’re the only veterinary office for miles, we can’t just close.” You respond, furrowing your brows a bit. “People, and their animals, need us. You of all people should know what that’s like. Right, detective?”

“Yes, I do.”  He nods, and the tense atmosphere that was filling the air dissipates slightly.  “You’re right. People need their vets, and if you are one who has devoted themselves to saving their pets then they’re lucky to have you.”  He replies, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well.. thank you.” You say in response, almost hesitant or unsure as you speak.  Just then, you get a text from your phone. He watches your expression change. “Ah, I have to get going. It was, um… nice talking to you?”

He shifts his weight, putting his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, you too,” Mark says, nodding once and giving a small, slightly forced smile, “Drive safe.”

    You and your partner, the esteemed cardinal of your ministry, Copia, are dutifully working at your respective jobs, and due to that, being separated the entire day. Not a single lunch break, passing waves in the halls, nothing.

Hours later, the end of the day comes, and the both of you meet back in your room. The two of you shed your uniforms, and you are about to put something more comfortable on when you feel a pair of hands on your waist, as Copia walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your torso. His face is hidden in the curve of your neck as he presses a kiss to it. "I missed you..." There's just something about him right now that's completely and utterly smitten with you. The feeling of you in his arms, your back flush against his body... it's all too good. He's lost in your presence - even when he's trying his best not to be a mess about it.

A shiver runs down your spine at his touches, ending in a shaky sigh. “I know, sweet boy, so did I.” You slide your hands down to rest over his own where they are on your body, and you caress the back of his palms with your thumbs. “You’re very gentle, did you know that? You treat me like glass.”

Copia lets out a small noise, leaning into your touch and savoring the sensation. His cheeks flush with this new level of closeness with you. He is just so vulnerable around you. He's not used to being treated with such delicate care, but he absolutely adores it. "That's the idea." He murmurs, his heart fluttering at you and the gentle way you're touching him. "You're so precious to me... I don't want to hurt you..."

“I’m okay, baby.” you mutter in response, and guide his hands a little more firmly against you. “If you'd prefer to be softer, that’s fine, I like that too, I just don’t want you to hold back on my accord.” is your addition, not breaking your gaze from his own behind you.

He nods and presses himself into you just a bit more, letting you feel his warm, soft body. With you being so comfortable with his more intense touch, your words and actions giving him the green light, he's all over you. "I like it when you call me that." Copia’s voice is warm and the nervous blush is starting to die down - he's getting used to this.

A faint gasp comes from you involuntarily at the suddenness of his grasp, his hands moving around your frame fervently. “I know, I see how you react to it.. it’s very cute.” But words fail a moment later when you feel his hands reach a particularly tense area of your shoulder. In any case, it feels good, and you can’t help a few quiet noises.

He chuckles at your hums and sighs, glad to be helping relieve you. His touch, the little kisses, the sounds you're making... it all has him on a whole new level of infatuation with you. His hands go from gently holding you to squeezing you tightly, grasping you around your middle and carefully, but with haste, bringing you down onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

You go where he guides with no resistance, only reaching up to grasp the bedpost for support. 

He buries his face into your neck and begins moving his hands up and down with more purpose, effectively massaging you as they explore.

“That’s good, baby, just like that…” You groan out, your head falling back against his shoulder. You can feel his movements getting a bit more intense, and the way his face is nuzzling into you tells you everything that you need to know.

Copia kisses your neck ever so softly, not wanting to turn this into something else, just show you his appreciation in every way possible. His hand finds its way across your thigh and moves up, where it then takes a handful of the supple flesh of your ass. "Your little noises... my god, I must be doing well.” He hums, burying his face deeper in your neck.

You gasp, which turns into a trembling exhale at the various sensations. The massage was one thing, but his thinly veiled worship and cheeky grope have you melting. You whine, then turn your head to press your lips to his neck in return, your breath heavy and warm against his skin as you relax. “Good boy.”

He is so far gone at this point, he's not even trying to retain his composure. “Ti senti così bene…” He tilts his head so that you can kiss his warm flesh more and uses his free hand to knead your hip, holding you tighter. His actions take on a slightly different tone now, muttering sweet nothings in Italian.

You smile when you notice the shift in him. 

Several minutes pass and you notice he doesn’t show any signs of stopping. You don’t say anything, only sit there and caress his hair where his head rests on your shoulder, gently getting his attention and waiting for him to notice.

Copia blinks out of the trance and blushes, mortified. He's almost frozen in embarrassment as he tries to process the fact that he, well, he lost himself in you. He tries to calm himself down, sitting up properly and putting his hands on the side of his thighs. They're shaking, and Copia sucks in a breath. "Cazzo! M-Mi dispiace, I-" He's at a loss for words. He just looks at you, hoping you aren't upset with him.

You cut his apology off with a soft, tender kiss. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll take that as a compliment, hm?” Is your response, followed by a chuckle.  “You’re adorable, sweet thing.”

Your kiss makes his legs wobble even more. He leans forward and wraps his arms around your waist, trying to compose himself. You're too kind to him right now, he doesn't think he can even handle your compliments while his heart is still racing. "I'm not adorable." A little blush comes to Copia's cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. No, he's not adorable at all. "I'm just a... a-"

“What, an airhead with a worship kink?” Your soft expression and tone turn into teasing ones, and you tilt your head at him with a grin. “Like I said, it’s cute. You’re like… a little dog happy to see it’s human after a long day alone.” You say with a giggle, caressing his cheek with one hand.

His face turns a deep shade of red, his head bowing to stare down at his lap, at you still sitting on it. Your comparison is accurate; the thought of him being like an excited dog just makes him so embarrassed. But he leans into your touch as you caress his face. "Amore..." His voice has reduced itself to barely a whisper. He sounds so... vulnerable.

Your playfulness comes to a halt at the sound of his voice, and you lean in to mutter a response. “Yes, Copia?” You ask softly, making sure to look him directly in the eye. Your gaze is as sweet as your voice, lips parted and eyes half-lidded.

He swears he can hear his own heartbeat as it thunders loudly in his ears. Your words, your touch... they make him want to crawl into his own skin and hide. Your gaze is like poison and he swallows thickly as he looks right back at you, his expression a combination of shy and sweet. "You're making me, eh… flustered." He admits quietly in return, his eyes closed tight as if to block out the sight of your love because it's too much for him to handle.

You bite your lip and smile at the look on his face, his flush already told you that. “I know, I can see it.” Then you suddenly stand up, your behind in full view. “Let’s go clean up and we’ll cuddle in bed, alright?”

The feeling of your warmth leaving him makes Copia open his eyes, and his breath hitches at the sight of you. He could never deny how perfect your body is, but seeing your behind like that makes his stomach flip. His hands reach out to cup your ass without really being aware of what he's doing, which causes you to gasp and look over your shoulder at him.

He nods in response to your question, not even bothering to try and tear his gaze away from the view before him. His gaze is firmly fixated on you as he takes it all in. "Yes... yes, let's take a shower. I don't care how long that takes, I could just look at you all day."

“You like what you see, I take it?” You ask playfully, then wiggle your hips a little in his grasp. “Hm, puppy?”

He bites his lip, trying to form words but failing at it entirely. When you move, those gorgeous hips and bottom come closer to his face.  "If... if you call me that again, I..." He sighs, not even knowing what himself. The words wouldn't even be coherent with how he's practically drooling over you. He leans in and nuzzles one of your cheeks as he hums. It's a very sensitive area for him and seeing your ass so close... yes, Copia likes what he sees very, very much.

Your confidence slips at that, eyes widening and mouth falling open in shock- and partially amusement. “Copia, that’s-” You try to say something, but of course, it’s too late. You bite your lip and watch it happen, the sight being surprisingly attractive as you find your face getting that much warmer.

He looks up at you with a sly grin as his tongue comes out to lick your skin, loving the surprise on your face. Your body is so perfect that he can't resist touching it, eating it up with his eyes and tongue. "I can’t help it, tesoro…” He watches you with adoration as he does, Copia is all yours at this point in time. He doesn't mind. He just wants more of you.

Your breath hitches and you tense up, a few quiet giggles escaping you at the feeling and image of him nuzzling and licking your ass. “Copia!” You say with a laugh, white-knuckling the bedpost and subconsciously, slightly leaning yourself against him.

Copia grins at how you hold onto the frame as if you might fall, because you're in his arms, and it's the safest place you could ever be. He lets out a low chuckle, that name making him ache with how many butterflies it gives him. He hums and takes your cheek with his tongue and lips, rubbing his face against you until he’s satisfied with the work.

You taste delicious, and Copia can't wait to have you again.

    You and your partner, the esteemed cardinal of your ministry, Copia, are dutifully working at your respective jobs, and due to that, being separated the entire day. Not a single lunch break, passing waves in the halls, nothing.

Hours later, the end of the day comes, and the both of you meet back in your room. The two of you shed your uniforms, and you are about to put something more comfortable on when you feel a pair of hands on your waist, as Copia walks up from behind you and wraps his arms around your torso. His face is hidden in the curve of your neck as he presses a kiss to it

"I missed you..." There's just something about him right now that's completely and utterly smitten with you. The feeling of you in his arms, your back flush against his body... it's all too good. He's lost in your presence - even when he's trying his best not to be a mess about it.

A shiver runs down your spine at his touches, ending in a shaky sigh. “I know, sweet boy, so did I.” You slide your hands down to rest over his own where they are on your body, and you caress the back of his palms with your thumbs. “You’re very gentle, did you know that? You treat me like glass.”

Copia lets out a small noise, leaning into your touch and savoring the sensation. His cheeks flush with this new level of closeness with you. He is just so vulnerable around you. He's not used to being treated with such delicate care, but he absolutely adores it. "That's the idea." He murmurs, his heart fluttering at you and the gentle way you're touching him. "You're so precious to me... I don't want to hurt you..."

“I’m okay, baby.” you mutter in response, and guide his hands a little more firmly against you. “If you'd prefer to be softer, that’s fine, I like that too, I just don’t want you to hold back on my accord.” is your addition, not breaking your gaze from his own behind you.

He nods and presses himself into you just a bit more, letting you feel his already hardened cock. With you being so comfortable with his more intense touch, your words and actions giving him the green light to be more intimate, he's all over you. "I like it when you call me that." Copia’s voice is warm and the nervous blush is starting to die down - he's getting used to this.

A faint gasp comes from you involuntarily at the suddenness of his grasp, his hands moving around your frame fervently. “I know, I see how you react to it.. it’s very cute.” But words fail a moment later when you feel his crotch moving against your rear. They don’t seem calculated, which leads you to believe it’s not on purpose. In any case, it feels good, and you can’t help a few quiet noises.

He chuckles at your moans, though finding himself just as, even more, affected by this contact as you are. He's grunting and rutting on you, but he is more aware of it now. His touch, the little kisses, the sounds you're making... it all has him on a whole new level of infatuation with you. His hands go from gently holding you to squeezing you tightly, grasping you around your middle and carefully, but with haste, bringing you down onto his lap as he sits on the edge of the bed. 

You go where he guides with no resistance, only reaching up to grasp the bedpost for support. 

He buries his face into your neck and begins moving his hips up and down with more purpose, effectively dry humping you.

“That’s good, baby, just like that~” You groan out, your head falling back against his shoulder. You can feel his movements getting a bit more desperate, and the way his face is nuzzling into you tells you everything that you need to know.

Copia nips at your neck ever so softly, not wanting to break skin but to make you feel just as good as he does. His hand finds its way across your thigh and moves up, where it then takes a handful of the supple flesh of your ass. "Your little noises... my god.” He hums, burying his face deeper in your neck.

You gasp, which turns into a trembling moan at the various sensations of him. The grinding was one thing, but the bite and grope have you melting. You whine, starting to sway your hips over his lap, then turn your head to press your lips to his neck in return, your breath heavy and hot against his skin. “Good boy~”

He is so far gone at this point, he's not even trying to retain his composure. Copia whimpers at the mixed feelings- your kisses, the way you move so expertly over his stiff member, which is weeping with pre-cum -and bites his lip, his eyes closing as he moans. You can already feel his cock twitching occasionally. “Ti senti così bene…” He tilts his head so that you can kiss his warm flesh more and uses his free hand to grab your hip, holding you tighter. He’s fully thrusting up against you now, and making noises so adorable it's almost painful.

You smile when you notice the shift in his sounds, along with his actions, but it doesn’t truly register what’s happening until it’s done. 

In another minute or so you feel hot and wet hit your backside, and shudder with the sensation, then feel him slump behind you, his body limp. It occurs so suddenly, he must have had this desire pent up for a while. You don’t say anything, only sit there and caress his hair where his head rests on your shoulder, anticipating his upcoming reaction.

Copia blushes, mortified. He's almost frozen in embarrassment as he tries to process the fact that he, well, he came before even being inside of you. He tries to calm himself down, sitting up properly and putting his hands on the side of his thighs. They're shaking with that much of a rush, and Copia sucks in a breath. "Cazzo! M-Mi dispiace, I-" He's at a loss for words. He just looks at you, hoping you aren't disgusted with him.

You cut his apology off with a soft, tender kiss. “Shh, it’s okay. I’ll take that as a compliment, hm?” Is your response, followed by a chuckle. “You’re adorable, sweet thing.”

Your kiss makes his legs wobble even more. He leans forward and wraps his arms around your waist, trying to compose himself. You're too kind to him right now, he doesn't think he can even handle your compliments while his heart is still racing. "I'm not adorable." A little blush comes to Copia's cheeks as his gaze falls to the floor. No, he's not adorable at all. "I'm just a... a-"

“What, a pervert?” Your soft expression and tone turn into teasing ones, and you tilt your head at him with a grin. “Like I said, it’s cute. You’re like… a little dog going through its first heat.” You say with a giggle, caressing his cheek with one hand.

His face turns a deep shade of red, his head bowing to stare down at his lap, at you still sitting on it. Your comparison is accurate; the thought of him being like an excited, horny dog, humping its favorite toy, just makes him so embarrassed- and a bit warm. But he leans into your touch as you caress his face. "Amore..." His voice has reduced itself to barely a whisper. He sounds so... vulnerable.

Your playfulness comes to a halt at the sound of his voice, and you lean in to mutter a response. “Yes, Copia?” You ask softly, almost sensually, making sure to look him directly in the eye. Your gaze is as sweet as your voice, lips parted and eyes half-lidded.

He swears he can hear his own heartbeat as it thunders loudly in his ears. Your words, your touch... they make him want to crawl into his own skin and hide. Your gaze is like poison and he swallows thickly as he looks right back at you, his expression a combination of shy and sultry. "You're making me, eh… do that again." He admits quietly in return, his eyes closed tight as if to block out the sight of your seduction because it's too much for him to handle.

You bite your lip and shift slightly on his lap, a muffled noise coming from your mouth. “I know, I can feel it.” Then you suddenly stand up, your behind in full view. He really did make quite the mess, it having smeared over your skin. Being compared to a glazed donut would be surprisingly accurate. “Let’s go clean up and we’ll do that properly, okay?”

The feeling of your warmth leaving him makes Copia open his eyes, and his breath hitches at the sight of you. He could never deny how perfect your body is, but seeing your behind like that makes his stomach flip. His hands reach out to cup your ass without really being aware of what he's doing, which causes you to gasp and look over your shoulder at him. He nods in response to your question, not even bothering to try and tear his gaze away from the view before him. His gaze is firmly fixated on you as he takes it all in. "Yes... yes, let's take a shower. I don't care how long that takes, I could just look at you all day."

“You like what you see, I take it?” You ask playfully, then wiggle your hips a little in his grasp. “Hm, puppy?”

He bites his lip, trying to form words but failing at it entirely. When you move, those gorgeous hips and bottom come closer to his face.  "If... if you call me that again, I..." He sighs, not even knowing what himself. The words wouldn't even be coherent with how he's practically drooling over you.

He leans in and nuzzles one of your cheeks as he hums. It's a very sensitive area for him and seeing your ass coated in his spend... yes, Copia likes what he sees very, very much.

Your confidence slips at that, eyes widening and mouth falling open in shock- and partially pleasure. “Copia, I’m covered in your-” You try to remind him, as if he can’t see it right in front of his eyes, but of course, it’s too late. You bite your lip and watch it happen, the sight being surprisingly attractive as you find your blood running just that much warmer. “I-I’ll help wash your face too, okay?”

He looks up at you with a sly grin as his tongue comes out to lick you clean, loving the surprise on your face. Your body is so perfect that he can't resist touching it, eating it up with his eyes and tongue. "Yes please..." He watches you with adoration as he does, Copia is all yours for the taking at this point in time. He doesn't mind. He just wants more of you.

Your breath hitches and you tense up, a few quiet whimpers escaping you at the feeling and image of him licking himself off of your ass. “Fuck, baby~” You sigh, white-knuckling the bedpost and subconsciously, slightly lean yourself against him.

Copia grins at how you hold onto the frame as if you might fall, because you're in his arms, and it's the safest place you could ever be.

He lets out a low groan, that name making him ache with how much he wants to hear you say it in the way that's most intimate to him. He hums and takes your cheek with his tongue and lips, rubbing his face against you until he’s satisfied with the work.

You taste delicious, and Copia can't wait to have you again.

You stand in the en-suite bathroom that you share with your partner, Copia, leaning over the wall of the tub to continuously adjust the water that flows from the tap.

The both of you had, quite frankly, horrible times at work, at least in terms of the work itself. Copia, in his tasking role as Papa Emeritus, had been especially swamped with forms to fill out and meetings to attend, which meant he was either confined to his office in frustrated silence or rushing to where the next conference would be held. He had always made time to see you, or at least call if physical presence wasn’t an option, but today there was absolutely no way he could fit it in. That’s how you knew something was off, but it wasn’t as if you could dwell on it for too long, because you were trapped under your own workload. Yours were much more body-oriented, legs weary and sore from the way they carried your tense body up and down the halls while taking things (which, of course, were not as light as you would have liked) to be delivered to wherever the Heaven you were going. By the end, both of you wanted nothing more than to collapse into the arms of the other, but once you two saw the state of your counterpart, your caretaking instincts kicked in.

“You start the bath, tesoro. Make it as hot as you’d like for those aching bones, huh?” Copia had told you before taking to the sink to deal with his papal paint, which by that point had faded and smudged from the amount of times he had mindlessly rubbed it in his stress. You had spaced out somewhat, and therefore didn’t notice when he disappeared into the main room, but you also didn’t have the energy to worry about it. The curiosity was short lived, however, as he came back only a few minutes later with a pile of folded clothes- pajamas, you gathered- and an armful of scented candles.

You move to help him set everything down, despite his protests, and together you arrange it all accordingly. Before you know it, a handful of subtle relaxing scents fill the room, the dim, warm light from the dancing flames only enhancing the mood.

While you’re doing that, the tub fills, and then you can finally partake in the hot water.

Copia steps in first, then turns back and holds out his hand to you. “Shall I help you in, then?” He asks, and it’s clear he rushed ahead just to be able to do so.

Amusement washes over your expression, which he grins at, and you place your hand in his before joining him. You both sit down, settling with his back to the wall and you facing him, sitting over his lap. “Is the temperature alright? Not too hot?” You ask, running your hands over his shoulders. Even after all this time of sharing the bath, you still can’t help but worry about that aspect.

“It’s just right, amore.” He responds with a sigh at the faint massage. The warm water surrounds both of you, and he leans back against the wall of the tub with a relieved groan. “I can’t explain it to you, but this is what I want right now…” He raises his hand, bringing it to rest upon your cheek. His thumb runs along your bottom lip, tracing the shape. “This… this is good. Everything right now is just wonderful…”

Your lips part under the pressure, then lightly kiss the finger against them, which gets a somewhat flustered smile from him. “Mm… how does your stomach feel?” You slide your palms to his abdomen, which is completely submerged in the bath..

Heavy stress would often lead to a feeling of nausea for him, which the bath could sometimes help with. It definitely didn’t hurt that you were with him, either.

Copia’s eyes flutter, and his lips part for a few seconds before answering. “It’s… much better right now, actually.” He tilts his head, and reaches over to rub your thigh. “And how does my baby feel? Are your legs still tender?”

You can’t help but beam at the name, followed by a deep sigh at his touch. “A little, yes. But that’s to be expected after such events, right? I’m just thankful I can still walk, really.”

“Of course, you’ve done a lot. I can’t believe you’re still so willing to take care of me once it’s all over…” He leans over to place a kiss on your collarbone, sliding his hands to give your thighs a caress. “Sei incredibile..” He moves his lips to just over your throat, and you can feel his touch traveling over your legs. “Are you ready, tesoro?”

You nod slowly with a laugh, a slight tickle caused by his kisses, your arms rising to hold yourself up by the wall of the tub. “Mhm, if you aren’t too tired for it.” You respond, leaning back and lifting your hips so he can reach more of you. “Oh, your hands are lovely..” You’re trail off into a silent groan at his touch, finding the prolonged tension has resulted in a noticeable tightness of your muscles, which were being soothed by the water and his hands..

“Look at you, amore mio.” He hums, watching and feeling the way you move under his touch, pressing his hands into your thighs and kneading the flesh. “Your skin is so soft,” His lips brush against your neck, leaving behind a trail of kisses as they go down towards your shoulder.. “but you are so tense.”

A sigh escapes you at that- his massage and words. “Oh, you know how it is.” Soon enough, he gets to a particular problem area, which pulls a noise from you. “A-ah!”

Copia’s body jerks at the sound, and he gasps. “Amore, I don’t think you understand how much-” His concern is cut short when your hands return to his shoulders, fingers working his tightened muscles just as he is with yours. “Ancora, per favore..”

“F-fuck..” You bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut at the sensation of his touch, feeling your tension slowly melt away. You start kissing his neck like he did yours.

His eyes flicker with each kiss that lands on him, paired with subtle whines when your hands get to the especially tough spots. “Caro Satanas..” He holds you close for a few seconds, digits curling around and pushing into your calves, before relaxing slightly and leaning back against the wall. It almost feels like you’re one in the same- your bodies move in tandem, your hands relieving the other. “Don’t stop, baby, please.”

You grin against his skin, noticing the slump, and shake your head shortly. His breath hitches, lips forming a small ‘o’ shape while a shiver jumps through his spine.

“I won’t, don’t worry.” You reassure before moving to the other side of him, kissing there too. Copia’s fingers grip your legs, and his motions gradually increase in reaction to yours- they’re not fast, however. He’s so slow, so gentle with you, that you can tell he’s putting just as much effort into it as you are.

“You’re amazing at this, you know that? I- oh!” Your words are cut short with a groan, a result of him reaching another area of tightness.

After taking a moment to recover, you pull back and bring a hand up to his cheek, tilting his head to face you. You take in the sight of his love-drunk expression: dazed and half-lidded eyes that dart around your frame, lips parted under deep breath, and a lovely light flush that accents his sparsely freckled skin. “Pretty boy~” You coo, then press a tender kiss to his lips, one very calm and clement.

He looks at you for a few seconds and kisses you back, soft and slow, just like before. He eventually pulls away and meets your gaze. “You and I, tesoro, are amazing together. I’ve never felt so comfortable around anyone before, a-and- cazzo -We are like… one, but still our own persons…” He glances down at where his palms and fingers press into your flesh for a second before looking back up to you. “I need you..”

You smile at his profession and he pulls you chest-to-chest, groaning and sighing. “More of me? You can have as much as your heart desires, darling.” Comes from you in a whisper, a bit breathless. You lean in and allow your lips to trail his jaw, not quite reaching his neck. Then, you mumble something: “Meus es.”

The handful of Latin you picked up from mass sometimes pays off in some of these moments- it is called "romance language", after all.

“You called me yours…” He thinks. “I don’t want any more of you, caro, I want all of you.” He presses his lips to yours shortly, and smooths one hand over your skin, up towards your hip. “Questo è perfetto…”

“Mm, well, I’d say you have that already.” You respond before returning the kiss. You slip your hands underneath his arms and to his back, massaging what you can reach there. “My heart is so full of you, I can hardly call it my own.” You whisper into his ear.

Copia lets your words sink in, and he could swear he feels his own pulse beat to the pace you two move at. “I love you, dolce mio, more than I’ve ever loved anyone before.”

“I know, sweet boy-” You start to say, but are interrupted once again. “Ah, Copia, right there..” You bury your face into the crook of his neck, somewhat panting while he works on your hips.

He gladly obliges, right up until you find his own sweet spot between his shoulder blades. “Oh, tesoro, I- cazzo!” He gets out in a groan.

After roughly another minute of that, you both slowly stop and your hands come to rest on the skin of the other. His hold on you loosens, and one reaches up to pull your face to his. Before you can process it, he presses mouth to yours in a tender kiss.

“I love you.” Is the silent message between you two, only broken by the sound of breathing and the soft smacks of your lips connecting.

You return the kiss with just as much gentleness, and curl your arms around his waist. “The water’s so hot that now we’re all sweaty… What do you think about a shower?” Then, you glance down at your bodies, the perspiration beading from them. “But we’ll have to drain this water first.”

Copia nods, eyes half closed. “Yeah, that’s a good idea…” There’s a hint of concern on his face when he looks at you, his voice matching. “Are your legs alright? I don’t want to push you to walk if you’re too sore.” He says, moving to lightly rub one of your thighs again.

You smile at his question, and lean in to press a couple of kisses to his cheeks. “It’s positively adorable how much you care for me, sweetheart.”

“Thank you for the compliment, dolce mio, but I’d be doing a horrible job if I didn’t care for you like that.” He replies, accented by slight giggles when your lips reach his skin.

“I should be alright to stand for a shower, at least. If nothing else, I may just have to lean on you when it comes time to get back to bed.” You explain, then turn around and start towards the other side of the tub.

He sighs at the loss of your warmth. “And I’ll be right there beside you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.” A smile pulls at his lips after a second of thought. “It could be quite a nice moment, actually…”

You pull the plug from the drain, then stand with a grunt of effort, water falling and dripping from your figure. You shake some from your hair, though most of it may actually be sweat. “Oh, of course it would..” You remark with a grin. “My big strong man, hm?” You tease, helping him up to his feet as well.

“Oh, amore mio…” Copia watches you stand, eyes teeming with nothing short of admiration, and smiles at you as if you had used his favorite pet name. Once he’s up, he leans in for a faint hug, not seeming to mind the lack of clothing between you. You don’t either, since the temperature of your bodies is- quite literally -warmly welcomed after the chill of removing yourself from the water. “I will never let you fall…” He whispers into your ear.

You reciprocate the embrace, closing your eyes and pressing your forehead to his. “You’re very sweet, Copia. Thank you.” You mutter in response, then press your lips to his nose quickly. Slipping your hands away, you turn around and bend over enough to start the shower tap.

He chuckles at your words and kiss, but when he sees you bend over his eyes widen and a flush rises. He can’t help but get distracted, though fears that if he looks for too long he’ll just be staring. “Vale, caro mio… d-do you prefer if I look away?” Even as he asks the question, you can see him stealing glances at you.

You peek back at him, and swiftly turn your gaze back to the knobs. Though, it’s more to hide a growing smirk. Seeing him get so nervous about your body never really gets old. “It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, right?” You respond, then stand upright.

“I… well…” The words don’t quite make it past his throat, and the blush grows on his cheeks. “I would just.. Feel bad if you found me staring, I-..” His voice drops to a whisper. “I think you look absolutely gorgeous, even from this perspective.” While he speaks, you feel a pair of hands on your waist.

You quickly look back at him over your shoulder and place your hands over his, thumbs running over the backs of his palms.

“Let me help you?” He asks in a mutter.

“Are you sure about this? Don’t push yourself, darling.”

He lets out a chuckle. “I’m not pushing myself,” He smiles and squeezes your hips, making his intentions quite clear. “but I appreciate your concern, amore.”

Before you can say anything else, he presses his face to your neck and starts to kiss along it, from your shoulder to just under your chin. And once he starts doing that, you can’t help but close your eyes and lean your head back, relenting. “Just take it easy, okay?”

Copia hums quietly- probably at the way you melted -before saying: “I’ll be fine, dear. I promise that loving you won’t break me.”

“Alright, I trust you- mm..” You angle your head to kiss his neck in return, and slide your hands up to caress his arms.

You feel him shiver, and he lets out a breathy groan that’s barely louder than a whisper. “I’ll never get enough of you, bello.” His grasp leaves your hips, and goes to your waist instead. At the same time, he slowly moves to kiss your back.

“Sweetheart, that doesn’t feel like helping me shower.” You comment lightheartedly.

“I know, just, eh.. give me a minute, schricchio?” His grasp tightens again, more reassuring and grounding than demanding.

Your eyes close, and you reach up to hold the shower bar for support. You can feel his hands working about you again, running his fingers over your waist, hips, thighs, and up to your shoulders and arms. It quickly builds into another gentle massage, pressure adding until you’re sighing and soaking up his touch all over again.

Occasionally, his hands brush your behind, which causes you to flinch- a little tense of the muscle is all, but even so, he notices. He laughs and presses more purposefully for just a second, all but groping you before returning to sweet little rubs. “You like it when I touch you there, don’t you?”

You chuckle in turn and roll your eyes.

Within some amount of minutes you’ve all but forgotten the original plan here.

“Oh, bene mio..” After a few moments, he leans in and kisses your face all over. “You look absolutely radiant..” He nuzzles your neck and whispers. “Ti amo così tanto.”

You’re snapped out of your trance, feeling his lips peppering your face. You smile, and try your best to reciprocate over your shoulder. “Mm… thank you, sweetheart.” You mutter, bringing a hand to his head and lightly scratching his wetted scalp. “I love you too.”

Copia hums when you touch his hair, and takes your hand. He kisses your fingertips, one by one, even the thumb. “There we go." He cups your face, then presses his lips to yours very gently. You can feel him breathe a sigh of relief, his face is absolutely flush - but not even because of what you just did, the sight of you truly affects him in such a way.

A slight giggle escapes you at his actions, and you sigh just as he did.

He peels away from your back, on the way getting a couple of soft pop sounds from his spine. Nothing painful, merely something par for the course at his age.

After a moment, you slowly stretch and roll your joints, which causes a deep sigh. “Satanas, my back, a-and legs…”

His eyes go wide at that.. “Are you okay?” He asks with concern, and you feel his hands grip onto you tighter. From his voice you can hear he’s genuinely worried. “Do I need to help you? Should I carry you? Are you hurt?” He asks quickly, the panic evident, along with a touch of shame. “What did I do? I was gentle, right?”

“Oh, honey, I’m fine!” You quickly reassure him, leaning in to kiss his forehead- though that produces another small noise of effort. “You were perfect, don’t worry. I meant it in a good way, they’re much better now.”

Copia lets out a breath of relief when he hears that. “Okay, good.” He says with a nervous chuckle, and kisses you back with a careful hug. “Can I have some rest on my love’s shoulder? I feel much better when we’re close.”

“After we shower, okay? The water’s been on this whole time, it’ll probably get cold soon.” You step away to retrieve a couple bottles of soap, handing one to him.

He nods and kisses you again, smiling. “Alright alright, no sleeping until we’re clean.” He looks down, which is when he gets an idea. “Here, let me help you with that first.”

You flush when you see him lower himself to reach, to wash your skin himself. “Oh, you don’t have to do… that…” But you know it’s no use. You bite your lip and look away, now a tad flustered.. “Thank you, I mean.”

“There’s no need to thank me.” He whispers, caressing your leg as he wipes you up.  He seems absolutely focused on this task, and you can tell he’s not unhappy about it, seeing him occasionally smiling up at you. He moves very attentively, even using a washcloth to make sure he gets it all. In his mind, that’s the least he could do- and it’s a nice way to see your face blush.

You can’t help the sigh that leaves you, because it feels somewhat like another massage to your weakened muscles. You watch from the corner of your eyes until it’s done, and run your fingers through his hair. “You’re very kind to me, my love.”

Copia laughs quietly and shakes his head. “You are amore mio, it’s only natural I take care of you. Just wait and see, it’s going to be my turn next, and I already know you’re going to treat me well, too.”

You smile at him, lightly scratching his scalp. “You know me, I can’t go a day without pampering you.”

He kisses the inside of your thigh, making your flush deepen, and lets out a small gasp. “Oh, you are so soft and smooth, it makes me want to kiss you everywhere…”

“Ah, but that will take a long time, and I want you to get in bed as soon as possible.” You respond with a subtle laugh.

He seems to consider your suggestion, and finally nods. “Alright, I will do as I’m told.” He kisses your other thigh and stands back up, although this time he wraps an arm around your waist and leans his upper half onto you. “Let’s get you cleaned and into bed, you hear?”

You smile at him and reciprocate the embrace. “Loud and clear, Papa.” You say with a giggle, then press your lips to his for a quick kiss before pulling back and getting started on your hair.

As you do that, he works on your back and neck very carefully with a cloth.

You hum at the feeling of him helping you wash the harder-to-reach areas, and look back at him. “Copia, there’s no need to be so gentle. I won’t shatter, you know that.” You reach behind yourself to press his hand a little more to your skin, the muscles tensing underneath his touch. “But… It does feel nice, and I appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know.” But he can’t help it. Your skin is so nice to him, and it makes him want to be gentle at all times. That, and the little scare from last time have a certain effect on how confident his strokes are. Even so, his fingers move a little more firmly on your back, gliding around at an even pace. “A-Am I doing alright?” He asks softly.

You nod, your eyes having closed after a few moments of him starting. “Mm… yes, you’re doing wonderfully.” Soon enough, you’re humming at the touch, somewhat resembling a purr.

Copia feels like his heart is overflowing with affection. You look delightful when he touches you, and you feel like pure bliss, like you’re the most precious flower in the world. He gets behind your ears with his free hand and speaks gently. “Just close your eyes, baby, enjoy it.”

You subconsciously try to lean into the touch, the tilt of your head making it noticeable that your lips are slightly parted. “That’s good…” You murmur, your tone on top of everything else making it clear that you may not be entirely aware at this moment.

His breath catches in his throat. He seems completely unaware of everything else- of the shower and all -as he leans forward and kisses you lovingly on the mouth. There’s so much love in his fingers and lips, you can practically feel and taste it.

Your eyes snap open, but just as quickly flutter shut, and you reciprocate. When you eventually pull back, you slowly open your lids, which reveals pupils blown wide. “What was that for…?”

He gives you a sweet smile. “Because I love you.” He says. He presses his palm against your cheek and caresses it, making sure you see his expression. He leans in close and whispers to you. “And because you’re absolutely bewitching tonight, you look so perfect..” He pauses. “..I want to kiss you forever.”

You exhale shakily at his touch, and nuzzle into his hand. “I don’t look any different than I usually do…” You remark, but his last sentence gets your attention much more quickly. Your gaze darts from his eyes to lips before you end up closing them again, then press a kiss to his wrist, which gets a quiet noise from him. “You could certainly try later, but we have to finish up here.”

Copia smiles gently. “And you’re absolutely stunning at all times, so I don’t see why I can’t kiss you whenever I want.” He gives out a small chuckle and a sigh. “I couldn’t have wished for anyone better.”

A smile spreads over your lips at that, and you pull his hand off of you to kiss the knuckles of it. “My turn to help you wash up?” You ask softly, looking at him with your mouth hovering over the back of his palm. “At least your hair, if you think it’s too much for me to touch your body.”

His hair is still dripping, and his eyes wander to your lips at your kisses. He’s snapped back into reality by your question, though, and clears his throat. “Your touch is never too much,” he whispers. “But… yes, just for now, honey.”

Your smile turns into an excited grin, and you waste no time in getting the shampoo into his hair. You turn him around so his back is to you, and begin gently working the soap into his scalp with your fingers. “You have such lovely hair..” You mutter, then lean down to kiss the back of his neck.

Copia lets out a little groan of relief and closes his eyes as you wash his hair, your words warming his heart. He really just loves listening to you speak. “Mm, you do too.” He whispers and leans his head back in an effort to receive more kisses.

You slowly trail your lips down to his shoulder, and rest your chin there. At the same time, you remove your hands from his head and have them come to rest on his upper arms. “I’m afraid it’s not as good as yours, love.” You press a quick kiss to his cheek before curling your arms around his waist, hugging him from behind.

He feels like he’s melting into you, like he might just lose focus and fall into a state of bliss. “I can’t believe it took me so long to meet you..” He mumbles.

“It didn’t take so long for us to meet as it did to realize we were meant for each other.”

He laughs slightly, and gives a short kiss to your forehead. “You’re right, and it was the best thing that could have happened to me.”

That was true enough. The two of you danced around your feelings like fools for a long while until, by some miraculous twist of fate, the fantasies from your mutual pining had all come to fruition.

“I-” His voice catches in his throat, bottom lip trembling slightly.

You give him a gentle squeeze to his torso, then reach up to slide your thumb along his bottom lip. “You’re shaking a little, are you cold? Come on, get under the water.”

Your touch draws his full attention. “Oh! Mmf- yes, it’s a little c-cold..” He smiles at you. “It’s nothing, no big deal.” He lies. Then he moves forward, stepping under the shower head.

You try to bite back a smirk that tugs at the corners of your mouth, noticing you must have flustered him. You don’t comment on it, only helping him rinse the soap out of his brown locks, accented with streaks of grey.

He then scrubs himself down, as do you, getting the areas that he didn’t earlier. Once that’s done, you take your turn in the water, letting out a deep groan as the bubbles slide down your frame with the warmth.

He watches them go, though has to tear his gaze away when it further exposes your skin. “Mmnh.. You seem to be enjoying yourself.” He sounds happy to see you relax.

You glance at him following the noise, but just as quickly return to the task. “It does feel rather nice…” You respond, just before finishing up. You lean over to shut off the tap, then squeeze some of the water from your hair. “Would you get the towels? I’ll help dry you off.”

He nods, and scans the space around him. “Alright, where are they..?” Before you can point out the rack on the wall next to him he turns, perks up, laughs, and says “Ah, here they are! I knew I wasn’t that blind.” He picks a few of them up, and wraps one around your body before beginning to dry you off, being particularly careful not to press on your back or legs too hard.

You smile at him, partially in amusement, and take a different cloth to lightly tussle his hair. “You know you don’t have to do that, love.” You say softly, but don’t make any real attempt to stop him.

Copia’s cheeks heat up at your touch of his hair. “I know I don’t have to, but I really do enjoy taking care of you.”

It isn’t very long before he’s done, though, and you start to dry him off in return, and he looks away with a flush forming.

“I like to see you smile…” He finally adds on, his words sounding like a shy admission. “so, it’s… it’s worth it.”

“You’re very sweet, you know that? I hope so, because I say it so much.” You finish with that and tie the towel around his hips, then you take another to continue with his hair, moving it about his head carefully. “It’s really nice when you do things for me. I’m still not quite used to it, honestly…"

He lets out a small chuckle. “Aww, really? It’s just a couple of small tasks, it’s not like I’m doing much.” He pauses, a grin growing while you work on his hair. “Do you actually like it that much? I feel like it’s nothing special…”

You nod. “Well, to you it may be small, but they mean the world to me.

“You mean the world to me.” He says, to which you can only smile at.

You eventually get done with his hair too, though it’s still a bit damp, and remove the towel. Then, you smooth it out a little with your hands, and use one to tilt his chin so his face meets yours. “Pretty boy…”

His gaze finds you when you tilt his head, eyes meeting yours once again, blinking quickly as he stares at you, his face heating up considerably. After a moment of silence, he leans in and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

You melt into it with a small noise- something between a surprised hum and a whine- and curl your arms around his torso in an embrace. When your mouths separate, you rest your forehead against his. “You are quite the romantic tonight, aren’t you?” You say with a slight laugh. “We should get to bed now, I want to hold you for as long as possible.”

Copia lets out a breath at the contact, something so simple yet so important. "Mm, you're one to talk," He smiles and shakes his head slowly. "you get so cute and love-y when you're exhausted." he whispers, then looks up at you and asks: "Is that what you want to do? Just hold me in your arms and relax? "

“Hey, I’m not exhausted, it's just that my legs are a little weak is all…” You remark in faux offense. “...and my back.” You add. “But, yes. I would very much just like to have you close to me for the rest of the night. It.. wouldn’t hurt to be caressed again either, I suppose.”

He sighs and smiles at you, an expression teeming with infatuation. "If you want me to pet you tonight- and any other night, for that matter -I'll do it as much as you want. Don't be afraid to ask." He hardly stifles a little laugh, and then continues. "Heh.. There's nothing wrong with being a bit of a cat. We can be quite purrfect together."

A loud laugh escapes you at that, and you playfully nudge him away. “Oh, you dork! That pun was horrible!” But the grin on your face says that you liked it.

He lets out a hearty chuckle, the sound of your laugh making him feel warm. "Ah, well.. at least I'm your dork." He caresses your cheek and gently strokes your hair. "You can make fun of me as much as you like, I don't mind if it makes you happy.. "

You reach up and hold his hands where they are to your face, closing your eyes and leaning into the touch. “I am not making fun of you, Copia.” You say quietly, and begin making your way out of the tub with his hand in yours.

The two of you retrieve the clothes he’d set out before, which are the most comfortable satin pajamas either of you own, a matching pair you had gotten him for an anniversary gift. He only uses his on the most necessary days, and you just prefer wearing yours along with him, so you followed that idea by extension.

“Come on, let’s get to that bed, hm?” You ask after haphazardly buttoning up your top, half of your chest still exposed.

While putting out the candles, he responds. “Well, wait, have you had dinner? At least let me-”

“We can still have food delivered, right?” Your voice cuts through his offer.

He pauses to think.

“Eh.. technically, yes…”

“Then lay down and relax with me, won’t you?” You ask with a laugh, admittedly amused by his efforts. You pull his hand up towards your lips to kiss the back of it, watching him.

He smiles wide and relents, resting his head on you as you two make your way out of the bathroom. “Sì, caro mio… Grazie.”

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