rin.

You blinked blearily, your mind in disarray as you felt yourself wake up. You felt slightly suffocated, your body incredibly stiff as the sound of a zipper opens and you came face to face with some sort machine that had an outstretched claw.

It pulled out a strange tube that was apparently lodged deep down into your throat, causing you to have a coughing fit after it was fully removed.

“Cognition assessment. What is two plus two?” The cheery voice from the machine asked you, only getting a grunt from you in response as you turned your head to spit out some sort of liquid.

“Incorrect,” The machine’s cheery voice said. “What is two plus two?”

“Four.” You growled out, feeling your senses slowly coming back at once. The machine’s voice continued in the background, talking about some coma while your eyes adjusted to the strange place that you were in before you tilted your head and flinched when you saw a pair of eyes looking back at you.

The blonde man stood a few inches away from you, his face one of surprise as if he were looking at you like you were some sort of alien.

“Hi.” The man greeted you.

You nodded your head, a little breathless. “Hi.”

~~~~~

“So you’re saying I’m on a ship called the Hail Mary, two of our other space comrades have passed and that I can’t remember anything about myself because I was stuck in an induced coma?”

You reiterated Grace’s talking points back to him, the man nodding with a sheepish smile.

“I found your bag though, your last name is Shapiro. Does that ring a bell?” Grace asked you.

You scowled, closing your eyes to recall literally anything that you could but growled in frustration when it only gave you a headache.

“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t strain yourself,” Grace reassured you with his hands hovering your body, unsure if he was allowed to console you physically. “I, uh, went through the same thing. The memories do come back but they come in randomly so you just have to be patient.”

You nodded, eyeing Grace’s hands that were still hovering in the air before the man awkwardly dropped them down.

You jumped in surprise when another voice bellows in the ship, giving Grace a quizzical look. “I thought you said there were only two of us on the ship?”

“Yeah, about that…” Grace’s voice trailed off before the sound of something rushing towards the room you and Grace were in got closer.

You let out a terrified yell when a spider-like creature came rolling into the room in a spherical container, the creature yelling back at you in surprise while Grace was trying his best to deescalate the situation.

“What the fuck is that?!” You pointed at the creature before reaching for a random piece of scrap to throw.

Grace immediately stood between you and the creature, his hands raised up as if to show you that the creature meant no harm. “Listen, I know this is a lot but this is Rocky. He’s from a planet called Erid and he’s also on a mission to save his sun from astrophage.”

“Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve watched The Thing, you’re probably not even a real person. I will burn this spaceship down, I swear to god.” You blabbered, still freaking out.

Grace tilted his head, a hint of a smile on his face as he chuckled in disbelief. “You know John Carpenter’s work?”

“Who is John Carpenter? Question.” Rocky said from behind Grace, the other man turning his head slightly to explain to Rocky about the movie.

You squinted at the two of them in disbelief. “Hello?”

Rocky made a noise before rolling his ball forward so he was next to Grace, the Eridian studying you and your defensive stance.

“Hello, Grace’s friend. I am Rocky.” The Eridian greeted you, his friendly voice somehow making you feel less spastic as you lowered the scrap that you were holding.

Rocky moved closer. “I am sorry for scaring you, will do my best not to let that happen again.”

Your eyes flickered from Rocky to Grace and then back to Rocky again before you sighed. “Right, thank you.”

Grace clapped his hands, a small grin on his face now that the panic had subsided.

“All right!” Grace smiled before turning his full attention to you. “Do you need help shaving your beard and cutting your hair?”

~~~~~

The first flash of your memories came back to you while you were in the lab with Grace, making you shake your head at the slight headache that came after.

“You okay?” Grace asked worriedly, sidling up to you and putting a hand on your shoulder.

You blinked a couple of times, turning your head to look at Grace with a grimace. “Yeah, just had a memory flashback.”

“What did you remember?” Grace lets go of your shoulder, before leaning on the table you were working with his arms crossed.

Your eyes dropped to his bulging biceps, wondering how a school teacher and scientist was built like a brick wall before focusing on Grace’s face. “It’s just a tiny bit but I apparently have a sister and she was supposed to join us on the Hail Mary? I wonder what happened?”

“Maybe you volunteered in her place? The other female astronaut that passed on the ship didn’t have Shapiro as her last name so…” Grace replied, theorising why your sister wasn’t onboard as well.

You let out a sigh of relief, although an unsettling feeling was forming in your gut. “I guess so.”

“How about we get something to eat? I know you skipped breakfast earlier and just went straight to the white board to check out the numbers for our trip to Tau Ceti.” Grace suggested, already reaching out and placing his hand on the small of your back to direct you towards the kitchen area of the ship.

You rolled your eyes at the other man, it’s only been a week since you’ve woken up from your induced coma and Grace had developed a need for physical contact whenever the two of you were in the same vicinity.

You couldn’t blame Grace though since he was alone until Rocky came along but even then physical contact was almost nonexistent due to Rocky’s inability to survive in oxygen.

You cocked an eyebrow at him. “You stalking me now? I guess you can bring the teacher out of the classroom but not the classroom out of the teacher.”

“That makes absolutely no sense, are you sure you’re a scientist?” Grace replied to you with a flat tone, making you huff out a laugh before you nudged his side with yours.

You were surprised to see that Rocky was already in the kitchen, the Eridian waved his arm at the both of you.

“Friend finally eating? Question.” Rocky asked, making you roll your eyes at the Eridian. Both Grace and Rocky were two peas in a pod and they have been taking care of you ever since you woke up.

You liked that Rocky continued to address you as friend instead of your actual name, it felt special in a way that it was just for you.

“Okay guys, I’ll eat. You don’t have to baby me all the time.”

You eventually sat down next to Grace, slurping on some noodles when Rocky came back from his ship with his own food.

“Friend look upset when eat.” Rocky told you in a disgusted tone before shoving his food inside the hole that was at the bottom of his body.

Grace tutted at Rocky. “Rocky, we talked about this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, turning your head and laughing into Grace’s arm. Grace just sighing in response, probably wondering how he got stuck with the both of you in space.

“Oops, sorry.” You apologised to Grace, moving your body an inch away out of his personal space but raising your eyebrows in surprise when Grace just scooted closer to you before nudging your knee with his.

Grace smirked. “You know I don’t mind.”

“Whatever, just eat your food.” You retorted, feeling your face heat up. You try to ignore the feeling of butterflies fluttering in your stomach for the rest of the lunch.

~~~~~

You were walking around the ship when you stumbled upon Grace and Rocky sitting in the dome, looking up at the screen of the flashy imagery of Earth and you smiled as you leaned by the entrance.

You managed to catch the end tail of their conversation with Rocky asking Grace if he had a mate and Grace replying about he had used to before his ex decided to be with a man named Mark.

“Rocky hate Mark.” Rocky replied, making Grace laugh.

You felt your lips tug in a small smile, somehow feeling good about Grace being single but you try to push that feeling away.

Not all of your memories had come back but you do remember your sister falling for another scientist named Martin Dubois and you wondered about their whereabouts, you remembered the look of adoration your sister gave the man and an ache settled in your chest.

“Does Grace think Friend have mate as well? Question.” Rocky asked Grace, making you tilt your head at the Eridian in amusement.

You rolled your eyes and was about to walk off when Grace’s reply stopped you in your tracks.

Grace leaned towards Rocky, his voice dropping to a whisper. “I kinda hope not.”

You didn’t stay very long to hear what else Grace said before hightailing back to the kitchen to try and process what Grace had meant by that.

Sure, you and Grace had developed a close bond but that was only because the both of you were the only two humans left on ship.

Sure, Grace seemed to be a touchy feely person and was happy when you were slowly reciprocating his touches but that didn’t mean he was particularly interested in you. It was just basic human needs.

Sure, Grace would always drag you away from working to have a proper meal together but Rocky was always present.

Did Grace like you?

Did you like Grace?

You were too busy doing the somewhat impossible math in your head of someone as attractive, intelligent and kind as Grace being interested in you that you jumped when a hand landed on your shoulder.

You whipped your head and took a step back when you saw Grace with an amused smile on his face.

“You okay? You were staring into nothing for a little bit there. Did you get another flashback?” Grace asked, his tone shifting something one of worry as he took a step closer.

You blinked at him before clearing your throat, taking another step back. “Yeah, just a memory came back to me but it wasn’t too significant.”

Grace nodded in understanding, taking a step forward and it made you a step back.

That made Grace pause, a confused scowl on his face and you gulped before Grace took another step forward.

You took a step back and it became a sort of dance with you and Grace literally walking in circles around the kitchen before Grace stopped to stare at you with a somewhat sad look on his face.

“Did I do something wrong?” Grace asked you, making you huff out a nervous laugh as you stepped around him towards the exit of the kitchen.

You shook your head. “It’s nothing. I’m just not feeling well today and I don’t want you to catch what I have.”

Grace was about to open his mouth when you turned away and left the room, leaving the man by himself in the kitchen.

You had a million thoughts run through your mind at once and you knew you couldn’t stay in the same room as Grace or else you’d ask him a stupid question that could ruin your entire friendship.

You didn’t want that, you couldn’t lose the last person you cared about due to stupid stuff like romantic feelings.

~~~~~

“Ow! What are you hitting me for?”

You were slapping Grace’s shoulder after he returned back to the ship from collecting the atmospheric samples near the newly named planet Adrian, once Tau Ceti, which was named after Rocky’s mate.

You pointed a finger at Grace. “Next time, wait for me before you decide to go prancing out of the ship.”

“Hey, it’s fine. I’ve done it a couple of times before you woke up from your coma so it’s kind of a cake walk once you’re out there.” Grace replied, removing his space suit.

You let out a scoff, your jaw tensing. “That’s not the point.”

“Okay, what is it then?” Grace replied, putting down the container that held the samples.

You threw your hands up in the air in frustration. “How about the fact that you could’ve died if something went wrong and you didn’t have someone to back you up?”

“Okay but I’m here aren’t I?” Grace softly told you, bringing your hands down to hold. His thumbs rubbing over your knuckles soothingly, making you huff before nodding.

Grace smiled. “You care about me that much huh?”

You felt your face flush before trying to get away from Grace but the man laughed, strengthening his hold on you.

“I care that you’re the only one capable of piloting the ship.” You looked up at him defiantly, not giving in to his teasing.

Grace tilted his head, smiling down at you before squeezing your hands once and letting go. He made a move to bend down and pick up the samples but stopped when your hand suddenly shot out and held his wrist.

Grace looked back at you in confusion, making you roll your eyes at him before dragging him back up to you and cupping his face to pull him down into a kiss.

Grace lets out a surprised noise at the back of his throat before sighing into the kiss, his body relaxing into yours.

It was gentle. The way Grace’s hands wrapped themselves around your middle to bring you closer to him, his tongue prodding at your lips and letting out a moan when you let his tongue slip in to tangle with your own.

The both of you were getting lost in each other’s lips, the spark between the both of you finally lighting up with each touch.

“Why are Grace and Friend eating each other’s faces? Question.”

You and Grace suddenly jumped away from each other, turning to see Rocky staring at the both of you.

You couldn’t help but laugh at getting caught by an extraterrestrial life form, hiding your face in Grace’s chest while the other man’s hand rubbed the back of your head soothingly as he tried to explain the way humans romantically do things.

“Okay, we should test out the samples with the astrophage that we do have and see what causes them to die on Adrian’s atmosphere.” Grace said, getting a nod from you in response before capturing your lips with his again.

You made a noise of disapproval, breaking the kiss to glare at Grace. “Enough of that, we need to start working.”

“But your lips are so addictive, I can’t help it.” Grace whined leaning again but you stopped him by putting your hand between both your faces.

You cocked an eyebrow at the other man before stepping away from him. “You can kiss me all you want once the work’s done.”

“We’re two very talented scientists, I’m sure we can multitask if we put our minds to it. Isn’t collaboration highly recommended to get the best results?” Grace droned on, following you out.

You shook your head in amusement, you had created a monster.

~~~~~

“I don’t understand the need for these glasses if you’re not going to wear them properly.”

You mused fixing Grace’s glasses on his face with a smirk, the other man glaring at you halfheartedly before the both of you turned when Rocky started freaking about life.

The both of you quickly caught on to what he was saying before testing out the samples on the astrophage and yelling out in victory at finding out that Adrian’s atmosphere kills astrophage.

You and Grace followed Rocky across the ship as the Eridian happily chirped about having found the solution to your problems and that now the three of you could go back home to your respective planets.

You and Grace went quiet, the reality of the trip suddenly weighing heavily down on both your minds.

“Rocky, there’s something we need to tell you.” You started, seeing Grace’s expression shut down.

Rocky chirped happily. “Yes, Friend. Rocky now knows you and Grace are mates.”

“We’re not going home, Rock. This is a one-way trip. We had enough astrophage to get here, but not enough to get back.” Grace said, ignoring the sad look you sent his way.

Rocky suddenly went quiet, Grace’s words apparently hit him hard before you heard a sad noise come out of the Eridian. “So what happens, Grace and Friend. Question.”

Grace waved his hand. “Oh we’ve got enough food to last us a couple of years.”

You nodded, sidling up to Grace. The other man wrapping a hand around your waist and squeezing you as support.

“So, Grace and Friend die? Question.” Rocky asked, his voice sounded a little panicked and it made your heart break.

Grace nodded. “Yeah, once we’re done. The both of us are going to die.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Rocky asked sullenly, forcing you to swallow down a sob that was slowly bubbling up.

Grace shook his head, glancing at you. “It must’ve slipped our minds while we were doing everything else.”

“No,” Rocky fought back. “Grace said Grace go home.”

Grace sighed, releasing your waist before crouching towards Rocky. “Listen.”

“No.” Rocky retorted.

“Listen.” Grace replied.

“No.” Rocky told him.

“Listen,” Grace tried again, Rocky now quiet as the both of them faced each other. “I got to meet you. I got to do all this amazing stuff and I’m probably going to die with the love of my life. I’m good.”

You hid your mouth behind your hand, trying your best to keep it in together and you wondered how Grace was able to get through the tough conversation.

Maybe delivering bad news was part of the job as a teacher.

“He and I have made our peace with it.” Grace pointed back at you as he spoke to Rocky.

Rocky seemed unconvinced. “What mean? What mean make peace?”

“It means,” Grace’s voice cracked. “We know we’re not going home. We know why and it’s okay.”

Rocky was quiet before saying no when Grace asked for a thumbs up. It made your mouth twitch at the way Grace was trying to console Rocky despite the ugliness of the situation.

You bit your lip, keeping to yourself when Rocky told Grace that he was brave. The blonde man sighed, walking away with his hands on his hips.

You hesitated in reaching out to Grace, you could see how tense the muscles in his back were.

“How much astrophage you need? Question.” Rocky suddenly asked, turning his attention to you.

You sighed when you knew Grace wasn’t going to answer. “Two million killograms.”

“I can give,” Rocky replied, catching you off guard. “I go home six years slower.”

“That’s too much.” Grace argued.

“Rocky watch crew die. Could not fix.” Rocky told Grace. “Grace say Grace and Friend die. Rocky fix.”

You watched as the realisation hit Grace. The other man already tearing up at thought of being able to go home.

You walked up to Grace when he put a hand up to your direction, immediately pulling you in his embrace so he could plant a kiss on the side of your head.

Everyone was going home.

~~~~~

You groaned in pain, your head pounding as your eyes adjusted to your surroundings.

Everything was flashing red and you looked around in confusion when you realised Grace wasn’t in the pilot’s seat.

You got up from the floor, your heart sinking when you saw Rocky’s glass containment was shattered from the inside out.

Your heart started to pump crazily in your chest as you began running towards the direction of the medical bay, your mind still in disarray as you stumbled all over the place.

You gasped seeing Grace on the medical bed before your eyes fell to dark shell of what was once Rocky.

You stood still, shocked, thinking that Rocky was dead until you heard the sound of his usual chirping even though it was faint and weak.

You didn’t think twice before picking up Rocky and wincing in pain when his body started to sizzle against your arms.

You dragged Rocky on the floor, the remnants of his body leaving a trail as you let out a groan and powered your way to the open space of Rocky’s container that surrounded the ship’s interior before pushing Rocky inside and getting your arms burnt in the process when the ammonia touched your skin.

You watched as Rocky slowly but surely retreated into another one of his safety zones that wasn’t compromised before the Eridian fell to the ground in a tired heap.

You forced yourself to walk up to where Rocky was lying down, ignoring the burns on your arms before sliding down next to the container and resting your head against the glass.

Rocky chirped and you huffed out a laugh, nodding in reply.

“I’m okay,” You told Rocky breathlessly. “I’ll watch you and Grace, you don’t have to worry about us. You just need to get better, okay buddy?”

Rocky gives you a final chirp before going silent. You closed your eyes and gave out a sigh before feeling the adrenaline leave your body, the exhaustion finally kicking and knocking you out cold.

~~~~~

“Come on, baby. You got this, don’t leave me.”

You squirmed, hearing Grace’s voice before feeling something next to your body move. You twitched your fingers and heard a gasp on the side.

You forced your eyes open, blinking to adjust to the light that was shining directly down on your face before you turned your head to see Grace staring down at you.

“Hi.” You said to Grace, your voice slightly muffled by the oxygen mask that was strapped to your face.

“Hi.” Grace replied, breathily.

You tried to move but winced when you felt both your arms were stinging.

“Hey, it’s okay. Don’t move,” Grace cooed at you, his hand rubbing the top of your head soothingly. “The cooling agent is helping you treat the burns on your arms.”

“Rocky?” You asked, remembering how you got those burns.

Grace smiled down at you, dropping a kiss to your forehead. “He’s fine, just knocked out. You saved him.”

“He saved you first.” You told Grace, getting a nod in response before Grace wiped a tear from his face.

Grace let out a tired sigh, leaning back on the chair he was sitting on. “I’ll watch over him, you just have to rest. I don’t think you’ll be using your hands anytime soon with those third degree burns.”

“So much for asking you to hold my hand then.” You replied, getting a slight smile out of Grace.

Grace shook his head before leaning his body towards yours. “I can still give you kisses so you don’t have to worry about that.”

You laughed, Grace joining you before a comfortable silence falls between the both of you.

You glanced at Grace and sighed. “I remembered what happened to my sister.”

Grace didn’t reply, his body bristling in response before giving you a sad smile.

You felt your eyes start to sting as tears were flowing down the sides of your face. “Killed because of a mistake.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” Grace consoled you, rubbing away the tears from your face.

You shook your head. “It wasn’t your fault, accidents happen but I just didn’t think it was going to be that intense and now I have to mourn my sister all over again.”

“If you need time to process this alone, I get it. I’ll be here however you need to be.” Grace reassured you, making you smile.

You nodded. “I do need you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Grace smiled softly before leaning down to kiss your forehead.

You settled down on the bed, squirming slightly since you still couldn’t move your arms. “Once Rocky wakes up, we’ll get out of here right?”

“Of course.” Grace replied.

The side of your mouth twitched. “It’s funny that this was also technically how we first met on the ship.”

“That’s true except you look way cuter now than how you were the first time you woke up.” Grace replied, making you scoff at him before the both of you laughed.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Not all of us can be a muscled hunk that’s also a scientist.”

“Took you long enough babe to notice this physique, I’ll let you explore them once we’re settled with everything around us.” Grace told you, making you shake your head at him fondly.

You sighed. “You know even if Rocky didn’t have extra astrophage for us, I think it was pretty nice to find my home with you.”

Grace nodded, smiling. “Home is wherever you are.”

“Sap.” You retorted, getting an offended squawk from Grace.

Grace huffed. “You started it.”

You felt your eyes get heavy again, yawning slightly before turning to Grace. “Grace?”

“Yeah baby?” Grace sat closer to you.

You smiled at the pet name. “Make sure Rocky wakes up, okay?”

“Of course, baby. We’re not leaving him.” Grace huffed out a small laugh before pecking you on the cheek as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

There were still many things to do but you knew Grace was able to handle it.

He was the bravest man you’ve ever met.

*****

Author’s note:

My first Ryland Grace fic!

I’m so happy to be able to post this after having watched Project Hail Mary so many times in the theaters

Can’t wait to write more!

The Vought Tower hummed with its usual sterile corporate evil. You were just trying to get through another goddamn day as Homelander’s assistant—handling his schedule, soothing his tantrums, and staying the hell out of the line of fire. Just a guy in a suit, competent, quiet, and utterly uninterested in the psychopaths who ran this place. You kept your head down, did the job, and counted the hours until you could go home, take a shower, and forget any of this existed.

You didn’t notice Soldier Boy watching you the first time he was brought in for the meetings after Homelander defrosted him.

But he noticed you.

Ben stood in the meeting room with that same cocky swagger, shield on his hand, green eyes narrowed. Homelander was monologuing again, chest puffed out, eyes twitching with barely contained rage. And there you were, off to the side, calmly correcting a detail in the briefing without flinching.

“Jesus Christ.” Ben muttered under his breath for himself, smiling. “Kid’s got more balls than that laser-eyed freak ever will.”

In his eyes, you were everything Homelander wasn’t. Steady. No fake god complex. No desperate need to be worshipped. Just a man doing a job. The kind of son a real American hero deserved. Not that weak, needy, manufactured cunt Homelander.

He decided right then: You were gonna be his.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

You were leaving the Tower late one night, coat pulled tight against the chill, when the black van pulled up. No fanfare. No struggle. A cloth over your face and the world was spinning into nothing.

You woke up in a reinforced bunker, somewhere deep in the woods, you supossed—old Cold War era, stocked with enough guns and canned food to survive the apocalypse. Your wrists were cuffed to a metal chair. Soldier Boy sat across from you, legs spread wide, smoking a cigar like he owned the planet.

“Morning, son.” He drawled, voice rough. “Took you a while to wake up. Figured you’d be tougher than that.”

You stared at him, heart hammering. “What— What the fuck is this? Let me go. Now.”

Ben laughed, low and mean. He stood up, towering over you, and gripped your jaw hard enough to bruise. “See, that’s the problem with you modern boys. No respect. No gratitude. I’m giving you a gift here. Homelander’s a fucking disappointment. A lab-grown pussy who cries for daddy’s approval. But you…” His thumb stroked your cheek almost tenderly. “You’re the real deal. You’re gonna be my boy. My son. And I’m gonna train you right.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

The “training” started immediately.

First came the isolation. No windows. No clocks. Just Ben, his voice, and the constant weight of his presence. He fed you, watched you sleep, showered with the door open so he could “make sure his boy was safe.”

You hated it, you loathed him

At what you guessed was day six, he uncuffed you for the first time and handed you a pistol, not without holding one to your temple, of course.

“Time to learn how to shoot like a man.” he said, standing behind you, chest pressed to your back, arms guiding yours. His breath was hot on your neck. “None of that corporate limp-wrist shit Homelander likes. Real men handle their weapons.”

You tried to fight it at first. Every lesson ended with you spitting curses at him. He’d just grin, that arrogant, shit-eating grin, and correct your stance with rough hands as you squirmed against him.

One night, after you’d finally hit the target dead center, he pulled you close, smiling.

“Good boy.” He murmured, voice thick. “That’s my son. Dad's so proud of you.”

You recoiled. “I’m not your fucking son.”

Ben’s eyes darkened. He slammed you against the wall, one big hand around your throat—not choking, just holding. “You are now. And you’re gonna call me Dad. Say it.”

“Fuck you.”

He smiled, slow and cruel. “We’ll get there.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

The horror crept in slowly.

Ben wasn’t just delusional—he was methodical. He stripped away your old identity piece by piece. He made you shower in front of him, eyes raking over your top surgery scars, your body, with a mix of hunger and twisted paternal pride.

“You’re already better than most natural-born boys.” He said one evening, making you feel sick for feeling— good about being considered a man by Ben, his fingers tracing your scars. “Tough. Made yourself into a man. That’s the kind of grit I respect. Not like that blonde bitch crying about being special.”

The first time he crossed the line fully, you were exhausted from a long training day—hand-to-hand combat where he manhandled you effortlessly, pinning you down again and again until you tapped out.

You were on the cot, trying to sleep, when he crawled in behind you. Naked. Hard.

You whimpered when you felt him, heart beating faster, breathing all hard, you were terrified. It was delicious.

“Shh, son. Daddy’s here.” He whispered, pressing his thick cock against your ass. One arm wrapped around your waist, possessive. “Gonna make you feel good. Gonna make you mine proper.”

You fought, but he was stronger. Superhuman. Inhumane, you liked to think. He pinned your wrists above your head with one hand and used the other to guide himself between your thighs, rubbing against your folds, getting you inevitably wet from the friction.

“Stop—Ben, don’t—”

“Call me Dad.” he growled, pushing the head inside you raw. The stretch burned. He was thick, veined, insistent. “Say it while I fuck you.”

He thrust in deep, bottoming out with a grunt. You gasped, tears pricking your eyes. The horror of it—of this man who called himself your father forcing his way inside—made your stomach churn even as unwanted heat built from the touch.

“Fuck…tight little pussy on my boy.” He groaned, hips snapping forward. “Made for Dad’s cock. Gonna fill you up every night until you understand.”

He fucked you hard and relentless, the cot creaking under his power. One hand reached around to rub your clit, forcing pleasure through the violation. “That’s it. Get wetter for your old man. Good sons take care of Dad.”

You came shamefully hard, clenching around him. Ben roared and flooded you, thick ropes of cum pumping deep. He stayed inside afterward, grinding lazily, kissing your neck.

“See? Wasn’t so bad. Dad loves you.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

The days blurred into a nightmare of manipulation and conditioning.

Mornings were weapon training. “Aim like you mean it, son." He said, and you wished you could shot a bullet through his skull.

Afternoons were “history lessons”— Ben ranting about the good old days, how weak the new generation was, how Homelander was a mistake, but calling you perfect, calling you his real legacy.

Nights were the worst. He’d edge you for hours until you called him dad, making you beg to come while calling him that. He’d fuck you in every position, always talking, always taking what he wanted.

“Look at Daddy’s cock stretching you out. Gonna breed this boy-pussy one day. Make you swell up with my kid. Wouldn’t that be something? My son carrying my offspring.”

He’d suck on your chest, biting your sensitive nipples until they swelled. “These are gonna leak for Daddy someday." It was an impossible idea, although you didn't exactly knew how a...supe induced pregnancy could work. "I’ll drink it all while I fuck you.”

The horror peaked during one particularly brutal session. He had you bent over the table, pistol in his hand—not pointing at you dieectly, but laid beside your head as a reminder.

“Say it louder.” He demanded, slamming into you from behind, balls slapping wetly.

“D-Dad—fuck, Dad, please—” You whined, still too quiet and low for Ben's liking.

“Louder!” He demanded.

“Dad! Fuck, dad, please, daddy..."

He came with a satisfied groan, filling you again. Then he pulled you into his lap, cum dripping down your thighs, and rocked you like a child, you felt as vulnerable as one. “That’s my good boy. Daddy’s so proud.”

You broke down sobbing, clinging and nuzzling onto him. He smiled and held you tighter. “Shh, it’s okay, son. The world outside is shit anyway. Here, you’ve got a real father.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

Time lost meaning in the bunker. Weeks? Months? Years? You could not tell how many time you had spend here.

Ben’s conditioning sank deeper. He rewarded obedience with softer touches, praise, orgasms that left you shaking. Disobedience meant being chained to the wall while he jerked off onto your body, telling you how disappointed his very own father would have been.

And of course, Stockholm or whatever the fuck, crept in like poison.

One night, after a particularly intense session where he’d made you ride him slow while calling him Dad the entire time, you lay on his chest, exhausted and full of his cum as it was usual.

“You’re— You're not so bad.” You whispered, high and needy, hating yourself for the words.

Ben’s hand stroked your hair, a rare gentle smile on his face. “Told you. I’m gonna make you the best son a man could ask for. Better than that Homelander prick ever could be.”

He kissed your forehead. “Love you, kid.”

You didn’t pull away.

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟 ❤︎ ﾟ｡ ❀ ｡ﾟ ❤︎𓎟𓎟𓎟𓎟

Eventually, you stopped fighting.

The shooting range felt natural now. You hit the center every time. Ben would clap you on the back, rough and proud. “That’s my boy!”

In bed, you started...initiating sometimes.

Climbing into his lap, whispering “Dad…” while humping against his cock until he got hard. The horror never fully left—the twisted wrongness of it—but it mixed with a dark, addictive comfort. He wanted you. Really wanted you. Not as an assistant, not as a tool. As his.

One evening, riding him slow on the cot, belly pressed to his, his hands guiding your hips, you looked down at him and said it without prompting, stammering a little:

“I— I love you, Dad.”

Ben’s eyes lit up with something almost like genuine emotion—fragile, possessive, born from decades of issues, betrayal and abandonment. He flipped you onto your back and fucked you hard, chanting “My son, my good fucking son” until he filled you again.

Afterward, as you drifted off in his arms, sticky and claimed, a small, horrifying part of you felt safe, wanted,

Outside, the world kept turning. Homelander probably raged about your disappearance, you were efficient after all. But in the bunker, Soldier Boy had finally built the family he always wanted.

His perfect son.

His boy.

It was late at night when you took your stroll, the sun having set along the horizon a couple of hours ago. The beaming sky and sweltering heat were replaced by darkness and cool, crisp air—somewhat damp and humid. The streetlights lining the area between the sandy beach and the hard concrete sliced the darkness, illuminating the sidewalk, while the beach remained in total darkness.

The once-packed businesses that lined the other side of the beach became vacant. The ambiance of people speaking, padded footsteps, and the occasional conflict ceased. You could hear your footsteps patting against the concrete and the faint, distant sounds of cars driving through Key Lento. The wind blowing caused the hanging palm trees to sway and rustle, and some sand particles from the beach dusted the sidewalk and your shoes.

Nightly strolls were the best, at times, if you avoided the more criminal and shady areas. The beach was probably the safest. You usually walked through the long stretch after working out at one of those twenty-four-hour gyms, or when you needed to get out, wanting to forget about your living situation and finances.

The sharp, salty, and fishy aroma of algae and other sources choked the air, enhanced by the cool air, which gave it a saltier, ozone-like scent. The smell didn’t bother you that much, but it was still putrid—an offense and assault to your nose. Your gaze moved to the empty, dark beach. While it wasn’t dirty per se, it wasn’t winning any of Leonida’s prizes or magazine titles as one of the state’s best beaches. Trash littered the grounds, embedded deep in the sand, but most of it has been cleaned by volunteers.

You saluted their efforts, unlike those rich bastards. They took an interest and decided to build marinas to dock their expensive yachts and boats, along with lavish resorts and homes, thereby gentrifying the area.

They always say that Key Lento was some sort of gateway to paradise, and apparently, they wanted to push the gateway further so people like you wouldn’t be allowed entry. You had a stable job, but due to the influx of wealthy individuals and real estate investment, you were barely above water. It felt like the ground was sinking beneath your feet, with your head inches away from being swallowed.

Rent and taxes were increasing, and your job wasn’t handing out promotions any time soon. The stress was getting to you, and this led to you relieving yourself with sex and walking at night. The walks did help, but sex was the ultimate relief you needed. Just the thought of dick made your pants feel tight, your dick chubbing in your underwear.

‘Shit, right now?’ you whined. You readjusted your pants, pulling at the fabric to free some space in your underwear. Thankfully, there wasn’t anybody out, otherwise you would’ve looked like a lunatic or some drug addict. You fiddle around with your pants, but it was temporary as your dick was filling the space, pushing the limits of your underwear.

Surveying the area, there weren’t many options to choose from to relieve your little predicament. The storefronts and restaurants were closed, meaning their bathrooms were as well. Then, your eyes fell on a conspicuous building in the middle of the beach. It was a sight for sore eyes, a beige brick building with a red-tiled roof and blue doors rose from the sandy expanses. It was a public bathroom and locker room. Perfect.

You didn’t hesitate, following the paved path with haste, your feet clamoring against the concrete as the beige building grew closer. Your dick bounced and throbbed, sensing that it was going to get the relief it needed. Pushing the blue door open, you were greeted with the typical public bathroom.

It was just as you expected—the metal stall doors, wide open, lined the grey-tiled walls, with urinals on the opposite side. The sinks sat beside the metal boxes with cracked, dirty mirrors; you could see rust chewing away at the metal pipes beneath the sinks. The buzzing of the light above was harsh, but it flickered and dimmed—probably needs maintenance. It kinda gave horror movie, killer vibes. Cleaning products mixed with the usual waste choked the air, another offense to your nose.

You sighed, groaning and tilting your head back. You didn’t want to be here, masturbating in some public bathroom on the beach, but you needed the privacy. It would do until you’ve dealt with your problem and return home. You peered into the various stalls, disgust visible on your face as you wondered if adult men were responsible for the mess cause there is no way a fully grown adult would do something like this.

The last two stalls were the cleanest, not as filthy as piss-stained tiled floors or shit smeared on the toilet bowl or seating—even on the stall itself. Stepping into the stall and examining the seat, you verified it was safe before closing and locking the metal door. You pulled down your pants and whipped out your throbbing cock. The piece of meat plopping out of your underwear, bouncing up and down, precum glistened your tip as it twitched with eagerness and the freedom of being out of its clothing cage.

Sitting on the seat, you gasped softly as the cold ceramic touched your ass cheeks. Your back pressed against the tank, your legs spread open and extended to the corners of the stall, as your hand wrapped around your sensitive cock. Muttering under your breath as a blooming warmth filled your body, muscles relaxing as you let your hand do the work, giving long, circular strokes.

Your breathing hitched, choking on your spit as you tapped your fingertips against the swollen tip, spreading the tiny split to show oozing precum. Using your free hand to scroll on your phone, you opened the Sniffies site—curious to see all the hot men and dicks in your area or from the nearby metropolis of Vice City. You used the site before; the easiest way to score dick and delve into some fantasy you wanted to try.

“Fuck… thats so huge.” You whined, slowing your stroking game to view the massive dick on your screen. It was 8.5 inches long with decent thickness. Looking through the profile and pictures provided, the guy was lean and cute, twenty-three years old, and straight-curious, but sadly, he was ten miles away. You would’ve loved to slobber on his dick, show him that a man knows another man’s pleasure.

Your area was a dry wasteland, drier than the Sahara Desert. Nobody was only online, but a profile piqued your interest. Not only was he the only one online, but he was surprisingly close. Clicking on the profile, there were no pictures, but information.

31m, 6’2, 215 lbs, 9” inches, muscular, dom top (breeder), straight.

‘Straight?’ you thought. It wasn’t uncommon for straight men to go onto these types of sites, wanting to have sex with men without vocally coming out to their loved ones, even going as far as to cheat on their wives, or they want to gaslight themselves into thinking that it's not gay as long as they’re not the ones being penetrated. Straight men confuse you. It's truly mind-boggling in their reasoning.

While you were deep in your thoughts, the man was coming closer. The distance was being slashed as the other guy was interested in getting his dick sucked.

Jason groped his massive bulge, squeezing his dick through his pants as he looked at your profile. The original plan was to go home and maybe pick up a hookup along the way to have a warm pussy wrap around his massive, throbbing dick. He needed some relief after nearly botching an operation and having his ass reprimanded by his employer. There were none, though, so he moved on to plan B.

He became aware of Sniffies from one of his colleagues. It was a gay hook-up site where gay and straight, even trans, men could find one another. The reason he was told this was that he wasn’t scoring any pussy and his distant, horny mind was interfering with work. He needed his balls to be drained, to have a hot mouth or pussy milk his dick. That’s when his partner suggested the site.

—

“That’s fucking gay. Why would I have another man suck me?” Jason bickered, taken aback by what was being said to him. There was no way in hell that he was going to fuck or stick his dick into another man. His dick was exclusively for pussy.

“Bro, I swear, he sucked my dick better than my girl. Plus, he gave me the feeling of anal!” the guy said, going into depth about gay sex and the sensational feeling and orgasm he experienced—the greatest bust in his life.

“Whatever, man, I’m not doing that gay shit,” Jason said, dismissing the other guy, but his dick throbbed at the thought. It's like his dick has a mind of its own; it doesn’t care if the hole or mouth belongs to a man or woman. It just wants to fuck.

“You're lost, dude.”

—

Despite being against the idea of having another man suck his dick, Jason hastily created a profile, adding some information but no pictures in case someone recognized him. He had to look up some terms used, but it wasn’t long before he was browsing the map. His neurons activated when he saw the various profiles. His dick jumped at the sight of another man’s ass, blood pumping into his massive piece of flesh as he scrolled through the man’s pictures.

Without shame, Jason dipped his hand into his pants, pushing past his underwear to stroke his dick. He walked and stroked, observing several profiles on the map, squeezing his dick and licking his lips whenever he saw ass. The filtering tool was heaven-sent, removing all the tops and showing the bottoms. Then, your profile popped up. You were the closest to him, and you were online—a green marker on the top.

“Fuck… that’s a fat ass.” Jason groans, looking up from his phone to see the approximation of your location via the map. Your profile showed you were close, inside a building on the beach. It didn’t take long for him to find what he was looking for: a public bathroom structure.

‘Bingo’

You heard the bathroom door swing open, the hinges squeaking and producing an ear-shattering screeching sound that echoed in the empty bathroom. You jolted up, your relaxed body tensed. You sat up straight, no longer leaning against the tank as if you were in your room. Your legs closed and sprang back from the corners.

‘Why is someone here?! Is it that guy? Has to be.’ Your cock jumped at the thought of that man being here and his nine-inch dick. It has you drooling, your body physically reacting by producing saliva in anticipation of you getting your hands and mouth wrapped around it. How would it taste? How would it feel in your hands? Is he lying about his size?

The man’s heavy footsteps echoed, his shoes clicking against the tiled floors as his shadow came into view. You turned off your phone and held your breath. The stall door next to yours swung open, creating the same screeching before slamming closed. Your gaze followed his feet, and that’s when you noticed a huge hole cut out in the metal between the stalls.

‘Oh… OH’

You stumbled upon a gloryhole. This was a turn of events. You’ve seen glory holes in porn videos, but never in real life. The idea of sucking an anonymous man’s dick through a hole in the wall made your dick pump and your hole weep. Hearing the other man’s groans as you vigorously sucked and drained his dick—imagining his face twisted with pure pleasure as he pumped loads down your throat, feeding you his thick cum.

Your breathing became shallower, your hand returning to stroking as you tried to see the other side. Then a deep, masculine voice called from the other side.

“Suck my dick,” The anonymous man said. He didn’t give you time to respond before pushing his dick and balls through the hole. He wasn’t giving you an option; he was commanding you. There was no room for opposition as his dick stood tall and proud, clearly arrogant about its length and thickness. You could sense that he was a macho man from his tone, but by goodness, did his dick look appealing.

It's like you were hypnotized by it, salivating at the mouth, and your brain short-circuited and shut down as your instincts told you to suck it. Nine inches of meat and veined thickness, throbbing from the cold bathroom air and the expectation of a warm mouth sucking it. The flustered, red cockhead was leaking pearly beads of precum. Your eyes traveled down to see his dusted, heavy, egg-shaped balls.

Your night just got better.

Hastily kneeling on the bathroom floor, giving you a further close-up of this anonymous man’s massive cock. Everything about it screamed dominance and control—demanding your submission to it. Your mind is hazy with lust and need as you start to get to work on the man’s massive cock.

You gave experimental licks, dragging your wet tongue along the skin and veins. You could hear the man biting back his breathing, but that was gonna change. You moved your mouth to his heavy, sagging balls, sucking on them with vigor and with the intent to make him vocal. You wanted to hear those groans and moans, knowing that you were giving a straight man better head than his past partners or hookups.

Your head buried between his balls, his massive cock resting on your face as you serviced him. Your tongue swirled and pulled at them; you could feel how heavy and full his sack was in your mouth. You can tell he was backed up, his hot cum waiting to spurt out of his dick, eager to be milked.

As you sucked on them, a salty taste landed on your buds—must have been sweating in his pants all day. His pheromones were overwhelming, intoxicating even as your nose pressed against the source—buried deep in his sack. The musky and manly fumes are getting into your head, clouding your mind and senses.

You continued to inhale his delicious, musky scent, your eyes rolled back, making you want to stay in this position for the rest of the night. It was like you were caged by his scent, bound to kneel and suck for eternity—something you wouldn’t mind.

You continued to massage the man’s balls with your mouth, lathering them with your saliva and flicking the sacks. Your wish was granted as the man was becoming vocal. His heavy breathing and moans bounced off the walls as the straight, macho facade dropped.

“Yeah… keep sucking… f-fuck.” Jason’s breathing faltered as he let out deep, manly moans. He held onto the metal wall, amazed by how eagerly you sucked. More moans and groans choked out as you began to multitask, stroking his dick while sucking his balls. Your hand was firmly gripping and stroking his meat, a simple stroke, but you were purposefully milking him—squeezing strings of precum out of his slit and spreading it on his sensitive tip.

Jason didn’t want to admit it, but that bastard was right. This was better than anything he’s experienced before. You were a passionate and eager slut, going for his dick’s weak points. It felt like he was about to have a mind-numbing orgasm, and this was just you worshipping his nuts and stroking.

‘What would his mouth feel—’

You pulled back and didn’t wait to breathe as you wrapped your eager, wet mouth around the man’s shaft. The taste of his bitter precum hit first before subsiding as you bobbed your head up and down. Your tongue swirled and toyed with the slit, lapping and drinking the precum that oozed before shifting to the rest of his dick. You tightened your lips around his shaft, suctioning and hollowing your cheeks for better effectiveness. You could feel every ridge and vein as you took him deeper into your throat; the remaining inches were covered by your hand.

“Oh yeah,” Jason moaned, “That’s fucking good.”

“Mmmm,” you moaned back, happily taking the compliment. You were determined to rock this straight man’s world, drain his heavy balls, and give him the best earth-shattering orgasm.

You kept bobbing your head, taking as much into your mouth before stopping, cockwarming the anonymous man’s massive dick. The heavy piece of meat throbbed and gushed as it reveled in the warm, wet oral cavern. Jason felt like his dick was melting and being cooked, leading to more vocal responses and heavy breathing.

“Wish I knew you gays were this cock hungry… would’ve done this sooner,” Jason moans, his balls tightening and churning as he teeters on the brink of his orgasm. The only thing on the older man’s mind was to cum down your throat—reward you for your service with his hot, thick cum. He conjures the image of you swallowing his seed, kneeling and looking at him with your fucked out eyes.

You grinned. You had this straight man wither before you, his moans, groans, and praises filled your ears. It gave you a sense of control and dominance over him. He was like this because of you. His massive dick was hard and throbbing because of your mouth sucking the soul out of him. You were gonna have this man standing on his forefeet, toes clenching as his heavy sack was gonna be drained of his seed.

What an amazing feeling.

The feeling made your cock throb and ache. You wrapped your free hand around it and mimicked the way you were sucking. Long and deep strokes, spreading and lathering your cock with precum until it glistened in the fluorescent light. You shifted your knees to alleviate the stiffness, pulling back with a wet pop. You took deep breaths, your eyes half-lidded as you stared at the massive shaft—coated with precum and saliva, throbbing as it missed the warmth of your mouth wrapped around it.

You could hear he was disgruntled, asking with bated breaths about why you stopped and to wrap your mouth around his shaft again. You weren’t going to do that, instead opting to squeeze the flustered, swollen cockhead while mouthing and kissing the rest of his massive shaft.

“F-fuck… you love this dick, don’t you?” Jason moans. A deep, masculine laugh followed. Jason is aware of how magnificent and breathtaking his dick is. He was the whole package, physically wise: muscular, tall, and sporting a nine-inch dick—won the genetic lottery. He basked in the attention and admiration, purposefully going shirtless whenever he worked out, letting women ogle him, even men.

He didn’t mind men leering at him; he just didn’t wanna fuck them, until now.

“I do,” you replied, panting as you eagerly and desperately lick his dick before taking the shaft into your mouth. You moaned at the flavor and the heavy weight touching your tongue again. The vigor returned as you gulped and choked on every inch of the man’s shaft.

“Not gonna last much longer… be a good cocksucker… and take my seed—fuuuuuckkkk!” Jason roared out. He slammed his hips into the metal wall, pushing his dick further into your mouth as he stood on his toes. His body shook from the force, his backed-up balls unleashing weeks' worth of cum.

You could feel his dick expanding in your mouth, see his balls throbbing and tightening as he was pushed to the edge. The first shots of cum hit the back of your throat. You tried to swallow as much as you could, but your lungs were burning. You choked and pulled back, gasping for air, which soothed the burning sensation in your chest.

But the man’s dick didn’t stop cumming as his thick seed painted your face—shooting ropes of cum all over your face. After taking a couple of seconds to breathe and to reposition, you promptly took his dick back into your mouth. The flavor of his cum rammed into your taste buds as you could hear the man’s guttural moans echoing in the small space.

Even after Jason deposited his load, he was shocked to feel you continuing to bob your head. He stuttered out a weak moan, almost falling back as you squeezed his dick and balls, intending to drain the last few drops; you were sucking on it like a straw in a cold glass drink.

For three minutes, you sucked on his massive cock before pulling back, satisfied having drained a massive one. Jason’s dick lay flaccid, which still looked big despite being deflated. It was sad to see it pulled back from the hole. You could hear the rustling of clothing and hastened retreat. The stall door squeaked open with the familiar sound of shoes clicking against the tiled floor, growing farther.

“Thanks, man.”

That was the only thing the anonymous man said before leaving the bathroom. You were left in the bathroom stall, disheveled and sweaty, with your hand and the floor coated in ropes of cum. You weakly pushed yourself up, your knees flustered and ached as your skin dug into the rough tiled floor.

“Nasty, can’t believe I actually did this,” you mumbled, sitting on the toilet seat and yanking the cheap toilet paper from the holder. It was a fantasy to suck or fuck another man in public—in a discreet area, but it has the same adrenaline and risk that made your cock throb. Maybe you would’ve picked a more desirable location than a dirty bathroom on the beach, but you got to suck a massive dick.

That dick definitely and righteously earned its place as number one. The length and thickness, how it felt heavy and filled your mouth, and the flavor—you could keep sucking on it all day for the next fifty years.

But disappointingly, he was straight and most likely a one-time hookup. You should’ve expected something like this. You wiped off any remaining cum with the cheap toilet paper provided before leaving the stall to wash your hands. The room was quiet, other than the rushing sound of water going down the drain and your soft breathing.

Leaving the bathroom, you began your journey home. When you turned on your phone, the Sniffies website opened and loaded, showing you a new notification in your inbox.

“Name's Jason. Gonna need my dick sucked from now on.” The message reads, and below it was another picture of that massive dick.

Jason made you his official cocksucker.

…

It became a weekly, more like a daily occurrence.

Same bathroom and stalls, at the same time, but recently, morning and afternoon times were added. Jason was sticking his thick, massive cock through the hole, and you were quick to get your knees and worship that massive thing. Your warm mouth wrapped around it, eagerly sucking and choking as you wanted Jason to feed you his thick, creamy seed. You wanted to hear him let out those deep, manly groans as he unloads inside your mouth.

Never in a million years would Jason consider fucking another man, let alone getting his dick sucked. But after his encounter with you and how you sucked and gulped every drop of his cum down your gullet, he wanted more. Best blowjobs he’s ever received, his heavy balls being drained every day by an eager cocksucker. Your service also helped him with performance during an operation, earning praise and a bigger cut from his employer.

He was satisfied, but Jason wanted more. His dick and mind yearned for the feeling of another man’s tight ass wrapped around it. This need was further exacerbated by an extreme and fierce intake of gay porn and his partner babbling about how ass is better than pussy. You’re the best throat he’s had in years, and if your mouth is that good, he could only imagine what your ass feels like.

Your legs and cheeks spread open, your tiny rosebud eagerly waiting to be spilt. It wouldn’t be difficult to mount and fuck you into the ground. His dick leaked as he visualized the feeling and appearance of your tight anal walls clenching around his massive dick, pulling it deeper as he aggressively jackhammered your ass. He wasn’t going to stop until you were fucked dumb by his dick, nothing in your head, just moans and pleas for him to continue.

He was going to make this happen.

“Wanna fuck that ass.”

It was a simple, clear message, but it had you walking fast, quickening your pace as you didn’t hesitate to fulfill your own and his desire. Ever since you saw Jason’s dick through the gloryhole on that day, you wanted to feel it split your ass open and fuck you into oblivion. The length pushing into your tight, warm ass—deep thrusts as he rearranged your guts. The thickness spreading your anal walls, you could feel every vein and ridge grinding against your nerves, and his heavy balls slapping and mushing against yours. Despite being drained daily, they were still pumping huge loads—painting and filling your mouth with the thick goodness.

You could feel your hole aching and itching for Jason’s massive cock. The inside is burning and leaking for more, desperate to feel everything. The dildo you used beforehand might have been the reason for the aching sensation, and now, with the promise of being rammed by Jason, it demanded the real thing—rejecting the fake, silicon toy for the real deal.

You had been waiting for this moment. You didn’t want to bring it up in case it scared Jason away, and you’d lose access to easy dick and cum. At least, deep down, you had a hunch he’d come around eventually; they always do.

It was early in the morning, the sun having risen hours ago. You could see the once-closed businesses opening their doors and preparing for the day. There was a delicious, mouthwatering smell that mingled with the salty ozone aroma, the scent of food vendors, and the aroma of restaurants cooking their meals. There weren’t many people out, just scattered clusters along the sidewalk—no one on the beach.

Once you arrive at the bathroom, you do what you’ve been doing for the past couple of weeks: you wait for the accustomed sound. As you waited, a pit formed in your stomach. Your heart beat, and your breathing quickened, adrenaline rushing as an internal conflict took place. What if he chickens out, leaving you embarrassed and your time wasted? What if the wrong guy comes? Can you take it?

The big moment came when the door echoed the familiar squeaking and screeching. Footfalls clicked against the tiled floor, growing closer with each long stride. Then your stall closed and locked. You looked up, and your eyes were blessed with the sight of the sexiest man alive.

He had a polished yet rugged appearance—maturity that you liked. Light stubble dusted his chin and defined jawline, snaking beneath his nose. The rest of his features were covered. The wayfarer-style sunglasses blocked his eyes, but you could feel them boring into your being, predatory and hungry for what's coming next. He sported a backwards cap with strands of hair peaking out and sticking to his forehead.

That’s when you noticed he was sweating. Your gaze shifted to the rest of his body, taking in the eye candy that Jason was. His light-skinned complexion glistened with sweat, the fluid coating every nook and cranny. You made an educated guess about what he worked out before coming here. You zeroed in on his thick pectoral slabs; chest hair peeked from underneath his white tank top. You could make out the shape of his nipples—they were solid and pointy.

His tank top stuck to him like a second skin, giving you a full viewing pleasure of his ripped, sculpted body. His abs are etched deep and defined with bulging biceps and thighs as thick as trees. Everything about Jason was making you salivate and unimaginably horny—the itching was getting worse.

“Like what you see?” Jason teased, smirking as he peeled his sweaty tank top, revealing his chest hair matted with sweat. Your gaze followed the trail of hair, starting from his pectorals down the valley of his sculpted, defined abs. Your dick jumped when Jason peeled off his shorts, the belt clicking and clanking as he discarded it—tossing the garment to the side. His massive dick hangs between his thick, tree trunk thighs.

“Come on, don’t keep me waiting.” Jason grins, raising his muscular arm over his head, exposing his furry patch. Words stuck in your throat as Jason starts tugging his dick, the massive shaft growing in his hand.

You quickly stripped off your clothing, pulling and yanking at the fabric. Your heart was thumping, giddy with the anticipation of feeling Jason’s muscular body pressing against yours. The dream you’ve been having for weeks was coming true. You painted vivid images of Jason’s body, and he fit the description. You imagined running your hands over his shredded form, fingertips gliding over his coarse, scruffy hair, and feeling his warm, solid body molding against you.

Once your clothing was discarded, Jason paused his tugging and reached out to pull you closer. You let out a “oof” as you were pressed against the man’s solid, sweaty body. You could feel his dick throbbing against your thigh, pulsing from the contact of your relatively cold skin.

What caught your attention was Jason’s masculine funk. The man still had his arm over his head, letting his funk fill the air around you. It was making your head dizzy, causing it to swirl around in circles. Your breathing deepened as the heady scent filled your nose. Your body moved on its own, and without pause, you went in for that funk—burying your head and inhaling the sublime, heady mix of sweat and pheromones.

“Fuuucckk.” Jason exhaled, chuckling as he watched you worship his pit. You were something else. Hell, maybe he’s bisexual. He’s never experienced such depravity and eagerness.

You weren’t in control of your body as your primal instincts took over. You didn’t just sniff, you ran your tongue over the furry patch, licking and probing while your other hand kneaded Jason’s pecs. You began to thrust your hips, grinding your aching dick against Jason’s thick thighs—with him moving in rhythm.

“T-that’s it… keep g-going,” Jason stutters, letting out breathy and throaty moans. His free hand moves down to grope your ass, marveling at how it fills and spills through his fingers. Men have fat asses, too? Just feeling your ass in his palm was making his dick ooze precum—smearing against your thigh as he followed your eager rhythm. Your bodies moved in unison.

You licked slowly down his armpit, gliding your tongue to his hairy pecs as you wanted to feel every crevice of Jason’s body. Your dick throbbed from feeling Jason’s rough hands squeezing your ass—smearing fluids on his thigh. Soft moans escaped your lips, muffled by sucking and biting on his nipples. Jason tilts his head back, and another moan pulls from his lips. As much as he was enjoying this, he needed to be inside you.

“That’s enough. Now, how about you get my dick wet? I want to feel this tight ass.” Jason said, slapping your ass cheek, the skin rippling from the impact of his palm—the sound echoing off the tiled walls.

You didn’t hesitate, licking your way down his body, past his navel, following the happy trail to your happy meal. Kneeling before Jason’s ripped, dominant body, his dick came into your view, erect and standing proud, beads of sticky precum oozing, and his heavy, furry balls dangling. You took the massive thing into your mouth, lips tightening around it as it glided back and forth—holding and ramming your tonsils over and over.

Jason groans in ecstasy as he hears you slobbering and choking on his dick. Your wet mouth coating his thing with copious amounts of saliva, lathering and preparing it for penetration. He moved his hands to the back of your head, tangling his fingers in your hair—guiding and holding you in place. Your mouth was enough to make him cum, but he held back. If it were any other time, he would’ve fed you his load, but not now.

“Bend over.” Jason grunts, gripping your hair and pulling you off his dick.

You took deep breaths, eyes locked on Jason’s massive, glistening shaft—admiring the sight. Every ridge was generously lathered, the cockhead flustered and pulsing. You overworked your glands to produce enough saliva for preparation; you should’ve brought lube. When Jason spoke again, you scrambled off the floor and gripped the toilet’s tank—presenting your ass to the man who’s gonna fuck you as if you were a virgin.

“Mmm, this is what I like to see.” Jason groans, his hand making contact with your ass, delivering another slap that rocks your body. He marvels at your ass before lathering one and then two fingers.

You gasped as you felt Jason’s thick fingers teasing your hole, rimming the tight ring of muscles with his tips. Your hands hardened their grip on the ceramic tank, holding onto the porcelain for stabilization as Jason worked his fingers—stretching and scissoring your hole. You could feel them pressing around your inner walls, bumping and poking the flesh. It felt so good, your ass clenching around the invading fingers at the thought of Jason’s dick replacing them.

“So fucking tight,” Jason growls. He could hear your whines and moans growing louder as his fingers touched and rammed into a certain area. That must have been the elusive sweet spot inside of men. He could see your legs wobbling and your dick flopping between your legs—thick strings of precum gushing out as your dick was painfully throbbing and flustered.

Then Jason pulled his fingers out, deeming you prepared for the main event. He watched your entrance pulsing and clenching around nothing, searching for something to fill it and eagerly drag it in. Your hole went from stretched and gaping to small and tight—incredible. He needed to be inside you immediately.

You let out a disappointed whine, but that was quickly shut down when you felt a thick, blunt head pressing against your tight sphincter. Jason gripped his massive cock with one fist, positioning and pushing the helmet through your entrance. There was some resistance before his massive shaft pierced the tight ring, his cockhead stretching your hole as a flash of pain consumed you.

“Oh, f-fuck… y-you’re so huge.” You cried, your fingers digging into the ceramic tank. If it were a cheap toilet, the damn thing would’ve shattered from the force you were applying. You stood on your forefeet, your legs and body shivering as Jason continued to push his massive cock until he was balls deep—his heavy sack mashing against yours.

The oxygen was knocked out of you, and drool dribbled out of your mouth as you choked on your saliva. Your chest heaved rapidly as you tried to calm down and relax. Your mind was racing, but the immense sexual pleasure clouded you. This man was making you feel like a virgin again.

Your asshole is being split open beyond belief, the burning sensation from the massive shaft grinding against your inner, pink walls. You could feel Jason’s dick breaching depths you didn’t know were possible.

“Shhiitt. Fucking tight. Feels like I’m about to cum.” Jason said, letting out a bellowing groan. His rough, meaty hands moved to your hips, gripping them with an iron hold. Jason withheld from thrusting, biting back so he doesn’t cum, but you were making that impossible. Your ass was massaging and tightening around him, pulling him deeper.

The pause was grueling. It felt tight, figuratively and literally. The tight, closed space of the stall was becoming unbearable. There was no sound besides labored breathing and soft moans. The pause ended when Jason pulled out, leaving the cockhead before plummeting back into your ass. The once quiet room was filled with the sounds of skin slapping and moans.

Your eyes rolled back into your head from each forceful thrust—your dick flopping back and forth, slapping against Jason’s balls. Jason tilted his head back, groaning as this was the best sex he’s had in years. Your ass happily accepts his massive dick, seemingly learning the shape and size instantly.

“You like this dick inside this hot cunt?” Jason groans, slapping your ass with each thrust of his hips

“Y-yes! Feels so good.” You exclaimed, breathless with each thrust. Your dick is on the verge of shooting its load.

Then the bathroom’s entrance screeched open, the sound reverberating off the walls. Before you could react, Jason pulled you against his body—his sweaty, matted hair grinding against your back. He stilled his thrust and clasped his meaty hand on your mouth, ensuring total silence. You both listened to the clicking of sandals against the floors, followed by the familiar sound of piss streaming and hitting the urinal.

Jason didn’t care, though. This random stranger wasn’t going to prevent him from fucking your tight ass. He discreetly fucks you with short but deep thrusts. Your eyes widen before becoming half-lidded when you feel his free hand stroking your dick—each stroke mimicking his thrusts as he was determined to fuck your brains out.

He didn’t care that another man was a couple of feet away from them.

“Shhh. As much as I wanna hear those moans, I don’t wanna get caught—unless you want that.” Jason purrs into your ear, his voice low and deep. He never thought he’d be into exhibitionism, but the adrenaline was making his dick painfully throbbing inside your ass, signaling his impending orgasm.

“You want that?” Jason growls, disregarding the other man as he delivers a series of deep thrusts. Wet squelching and skin slapping grow louder—surely alerting the newcomer. Your moans were muffled by Jason’s hand, but you didn’t care, not with his other hand stroking your dick, tugging and squeezing the thing as he fully intended to make you cum.

Meanwhile, the other man was cleaning off his cockhead after relieving himself in the urinal. He bobbed his head side to side, jamming out to the music playing from his headphones. He was unaware of the debauchery happening a couple of feet away. That’s when he heard muffled groans and gruffing coming from the last stall. He shrugged it off as someone taking a dump—brave since it was a public bathroom; if it were him, he’d hold it in till he got home.

The groaning got louder, slicing through the stream of water from the faucet—even his headphones. Wow, that guy must be fighting demons. Probably constipation. Then he heard banging against the metal sheets, fists colliding in rhythm, and the signature groan ranging. It was getting kind of awkward. The poor guy was probably embarrassed about letting it rip.

“Good luck, dude,” the guy said, drying his hands and exiting the bathroom to continue his morning jog across the beach. He remained blissfully unaware that two men were having sex in the stall—the groaning and banging were products of their coupling.

“Finally, he’s gone… not gonna last much longer. Gonna breed this tight cunt.” Jason growls, removing his hand from your mouth. His thrusts became sloppy, but he continued to jackhammer your quivering hole. He’s since removed his hand from your dick, transferring it to your hips.

“P-please, shoot your load inside me!” you begged, tilting your head back to rest on Jason’s shoulders—arching your back to let him go deeper. Your prostate was constantly being rammed into, the cockhead hitting the bundle of nerves—setting your body ablaze as the message of pleasure travelled through you. You let your moans pour out of your mouth, no longer shackled by shame and Jason’s hand.

Jason didn’t get to respond when you overshadowed him with your bellowing moans. Your flopping dick burst, spraying cum all over the ground and toilet. Your thick seed flying up and down as you came hands-free. The orgasm left you exhausted, panting, and heaving as it felt like your soul was taken by the reaper. Jason held you close to him, pressing your sweaty bodies against each other.

“Oh fuck, I’m about to bust! Open that tight cunt.” Jason commanded as his dick was being suffocated. Your orgasm caused you to tighten around him, squeezing and milking him.

“Y-yes! B-breed…” you replied, completely out of it, but still hungry for Jason and his thick seed.

“Yeah, here it comes—yeah—yeah—fuuucckk,” Jason growls and groans, his body convulsing. He gave a few more thrusts, his heavy balls throbbing against yours as his big dick erupted in your ass. You could feel his dick throbbing before thick ropes of cum spewed from the slit, flooding your deepest recesses until his balls were drained.

You both were drained and exhausted. The smell of sex and semen choked the air. You both were panting, taking gulps of air. Jason kept his dick lodged deep inside you, preventing his seed from gushing out of your fucked hole. This was the best experience you both had. Jason is certain he can never go back; the damage was done, and he’ll gladly take it.

“Round 2? At my place?”

The End

Author’s note: Hello, my strawberries! I hope y’all enjoyed this fic! This is probably the fastest I’ve completed one. I feel like I really captured Jason. God, I need that man. There is certainly more content for him. Mark Grayson may be next.

Special thanks to my proofreader: @sagethegaywitch

Sight. Probably one of the senses K ended up using the most on his job. Looking through data, looking at warrants, looking at cameras and screens- but now he got to see something different, something better. He got to see his partner, their clothes sliding off and kicked aside. Their skin was littered in imperfections- in scars, birthmarks, stretch marks… but it was what he loved. He loved seeing someone that wasn’t designed in a factory to be perfect, who could tell a story just with their appearance. K loved their eyes, their lips when they were kiss-swollen and shining in the light, the thin sheen of sweat that made them practically glow… He loved how much there was to see, how it was different every moment they spent together.

Smell. K dismissed most of the scents he worked with, Blade Runners dealt with some of the worst. Death, bloodshed, and a city hiding its rot with neon signs… but here it was good (and whenever he got a cigarette, but for some reason he didn’t like to admit to that one). Whatever soap his partner had used, the smell of a meal that was made for more than just survival. In more intimate moments, K found himself focused on the scent of sex, trying to describe what it was like when he buried his face between their thighs or in the crook of their neck while he thrust into them- it was hot, and so close to human it almost made him forget. Almost.

Sound. K didn’t appreciate the sounds he heard, until he met them. Soft gasps, stuttered moans of his name, pleas for “more”, “harder”, “deeper”. Who knew single words could sound so wonderful? It gave him a sense of power too; to have someone plead with him for what he could do, to have some sense of control over someone… so K would thrust a little deeper, bite harder until the hickey he left behind was dark, would fuck his partner until his thighs trembled from overstimulation- all so he could hear them for just a little longer.

Touch. Whenever K got to touch his partner, he could feel his desires fight against his programming, and he knew it was his favorite part of being with them. His nails scraping up their sides, teeth on his neck, feeling their hand drag up and down his cock until he grunted their name out and spilled over their fist. Feeling their tongue slide up his thighs and how his muscles would twitch whenever they nipped just below his navel. K was always at his most selfish when he got to touch, got to be touched like he mattered. Perhaps that was why he took his time in the mornings, dragging out those intimate moments for just a little longer before he was kicked, punched, shoved.

Taste. K learned to appreciate taste in recent months. Toothpaste when he kissed his partner in the morning, or whatever they’d shared for a meal… the taste of sweat and skin when his tongue darted out to soothe one of the many love bites he left behind. He didn’t even know sex could have a taste until now- sharp and intense and a million other adjectives that could never suffice for describing what K experienced.

you’re sort of tipsy and you can’t stop staring at him.

you wonder at the concept of hotels as a liminal space. for you, this hotel is an in between. it’s a pause. it’s somewhere you’re not one hundred percent you, but not pretending to be someone else. and it’s supposed to be about you, in a way. it’s your reset button, your “slow down and take a deep breath.” and it’s certainly not supposed to be about gorgeous men.

it’s just that he’s magnetic. you can’t help staring at him and you can’t help but wallow in the bottom of your empty shot glass because it feels like everyone else in this room feels his magnetism just as well as you. or they just think he’s handsome as hell, which they wouldn’t be wrong about.

but you’re not supposed to be wallowing, especially not over a man who’ll never even look your way. you’ve seen three separate people offer to buy him a drink tonight, each one of them reminding you about what you can’t have. what you’ve never managed to have. and so, your pick-me-up treat of a vacation has turned right back into “i’m still convinced that no one will ever fall in love with me.”

all because you’ve been staring at a pretty man across the bar for just a little over an hour. in your defense, you’d like to remind the audience that you’re slightly tipsy. at first, as a treat to yourself. and at first, this man was a treat too, of the eye candy variety. 

now? you want him out of your sight… or in your hotel room bed. so, clearly feeling very logical, you keep looking.

⟢⟢⟢

sam doesn’t like the attention. sure, it’s very flattering to be offered so many free drinks and given plenty of flirty smiles. but the unwarranted touching, the paws on his elbow or shoulder or, god forbid, the bare skin of his hand… those he hates. he doesn’t like being stared at either. it feels ignorant and disrespectful, especially when it’s followed up with the sway of hips and poor flirting if said onlooker approaches.

and almost all of them are so… prissy, priviledged, and haughty. it’s not as if sam isn’t wealthy; he’s a successful civil law attorney working at a big firm. but he can’t stand people who’s money has gotten to their heads.

their stares are hungry, their touches an extention of the fact that they think they should get whatever they’d like for their five course dinner.

but there’s one stare, just one, that sam doesn’t mind. he’s not bothered by the fact that he can constantly feel your gaze on him. mostly because he can tell that you’re tipsy and not trying to stare as much as you are. you look away, embarrassed each time he glances in your direction.

you’re not shameless and you’re not looking to take. you’re just looking for the sake of it. 

sam thinks that your eyes seem kind and curious, even from where he’s sitting. and a little bit sad, for a reason he’s not privy to but would like to know, maybe even fix somehow. he supposes he’s privy to nothing about you except for the way you look, and the way you look at him. he thinks he’d at least like to know your name.

maybe he’ll see you in the bar again tomorrow night. or maybe he’ll never see you again at all. maybe you’ve been staying at this hotel for a month, and tonight is your last, as it is his first.

that means he has a choice. risk talking to you tonight or risk talking to you never. now sam isn’t bold and sam isn’t a flirt, but sam is certainly a lover, so he’ll take a chance.

⟢⟢⟢

you sigh when the pretty man stands, though you suppose it’s better for you that he leaves. only he doesn’t leave. he turns and looks at you. he turns and walks to you, a soft smile on his face.

on instinct, you tear your gaze away, playing with the empty shot glass in front of you. he must be looking at someone behind you. but you can see him out of the corner of your eye as he gets closer and he is not looking at someone behind you.

you look up and try to smile back, nervous.

“would, uh, would it be okay if i sat here?” he asks, hand resting on the back of the chair next to you. his voice is kind, and you were right; so are his eyes.

“sure,” you nod, voice a little quieter and breathier than you intended. you swallow and wonder how long it’ll take you to sober up as he settles into the chair beside you. he’s even more brilliant up close and you smile at him because you can’t help it. it feels like he deserves to be smiled at, though you’re not sure where that feeling comes from.

he smiles right back and says, “thank you… can i ask your name?”

and that strikes you; he asks “can i…” and “would it be okay if…” and makes his intentions clear without overdoing it. you hesitate. are men like him real? he’s bound to have flaws, of course. but he’s a man, so you feel like he’s bound to be horrible in some way or another. and you have trouble believing that his interest in you is anything, certainly not after seeing all of the beautiful people who have approached him first and been turned down.

then your tipsy mind thinks fuck it, because you’re only here for four more days and you’re here for yourself and frankly, you’re here because constantly being stinted in love and attention is getting to you. and here is a beautiful man who’s giving you his attention over at least three other rich and gorgeous people. so you come to the conclusion that you should let it happen. see where it goes, tell him your name and ask for his. 

letting attractive men flirt with you should definitely count as living for yourself. it’d be a crime to deprive yourself of listening to his rich voice and seeing his kind eyes, which are hazel up close. already, you guess that they change color depending on the light or the shirt that he’s wearing.

so indeed, you tell him your name.

“nice to meet you,” he smiles, “i’m sam.” now, sam notices your hesitance at first. it worries him for a second, and he thinks he’s maybe making you uncomfortable. but your gaze shifts and your voice sounds at ease, maybe even a little bit pleased to answer him.

“it’s nice to meet you too,” you say, hoping you sound as sincere in those words as you feel.

as far as first meetings go, sam is stellar. he’s a lawyer, and though he’s humble about it, you can easily tell that he’s successful. he’s here partially for a small vacation, but mostly to check out a new firm. he’s looking to move to a new city too, somewhere that needs better immigration lawyers. clearly, he wants to help, and from what you can presume, he’s succeeding on that front. he’s here for just two more full days, and likes classic literature.

but he doesn’t just talk about himself. he asks about you like he really wants to know. and his face just lights up when you tell him that you live in boston. that’s the top of his list right now for new cities, he visited a month ago and thinks he might love to live there. so you run your mouth a little bit, giving him all of the ups and downs of living there. mostly the ups. you want him to like it, you want to sell it to him. how silly is it to hope that he moves there?

he offers to buy you another drink too, but you wave him off politely. it makes him laugh a little when you admit that you’re already a bit tipsy and don’t think that you should drink anymore.

“of course,” he nods, so respectful by nature. he wonders how silly it is to add you to the list of reasons to move to boston. sam finds you to be completely lovely. you’re just as respectful as him and it makes you happy when he tells you he likes your city.

tomorrow is the day that sam focuses on the work side of things. but thursday is for exploring the city, he tells you.

“i, uh, i know that you’re here for a solo trip, but, um… if you’re willing, i’d love to see some of the city with you,” he suggests. you like that he’s not perfectly smooth all of the time. he’s even a bit awkward. it’s endearing and helps you relax around him. 

“i’d… love that too,” you say, letting a wide smile stretch across your features. it feels a little bit too good to be true, but you can’t help but wonder if this is just things finally going your way, even if it only lasts a day or two.

“great,” he grins back. “let me give you my number so we can plan something.” you nod, pleased at those words. you’ll have his number. if you ever feel bold enough, you can text him. if he likes you enough, he might text you first. if he moves to boston, maybe he’ll tell you. then you can offer to show him around a little more or bring him a housewarming gift and maybe bring him to your favorite coffee shop.

then you remember you’re supposed to be pulling out your phone for him. you reach for your pocket to find it empty.

“oh, right,” you mutter to yourself. “how about i give you mine. i, uh, left my phone in my room to get away from it for a bit.”

he raises his eyebrows. “impressive,” he jokes. “i respect that. i’d kill to get away from mine for even a little while.” he pulls his phone out and opens up a new contact before handing it to you. you type in your number and full name as he talks. “most people working in law don’t know what work-life balance means.”

that pulls a small laugh from you. “i can only imagine,” you chuckle. you hand him back his phone and talk a while more, trying to hide just how giddy you feel about him and all of this.

you glance behind you to check the time on the clock. it’s late. as you turn back to sam, you catch someone’s gaze. she’s glaring at you, unabashed. you furrow your eyebrows and look away, confused for a moment. then you register her to be one of the people who had approached sam earlier and you frown. she’s stunning, well dressed, and certainly far more wealthy than you. overall a better technical fit for sam.

with some saving up, your job pays well enough for you to afford this nice hotel, but you’re just not on the same level as most people here. you know logically that it’s no reason for you to think of yourself as less than or not good enough for sam, but your deep-seated insecurities about romance resurface.

sam notices the change in your demeanor. not just your expression, but your whole body language shifts. you seem uncomfortable next to him, uncomfortable in here. the flick of your eyes anywhere but his face and the tug of your lips read as insecure. he glances back to where you’d looked, and he too catches the glare of the woman behind you. she sends him a suggestive look before returning to glaring daggers at your back.

he scoffs and looks away without giving her anything at all.

“don’t mind her,” he says, voice soft and annoyed all at once. you look at him, surprised that he noticed. he looks sort of pissed, but he smiles at you. “she tried to give me her number earlier,” he explains, despite knowing that you most likely saw with the way you were watching him. “i said no. i wanted your number, not hers.” sam’s confident when he tells you this, and your heart just about melts.

how can someone who barely knows you at all know just what to say? how can someone stare the things that scare you in the face and say “i’m here too now” without even knowing what it is that you’re afraid of? how can it take a single night for someone to say that and you just let them because it was said with so much purpose and respect? how can you know someone for just a few hours and just feel like you can trust them?

you have no answers, but you wonder because that’s exactly what’s happening.

you smile at him and nod. “good thing, then.”

⟢⟢⟢

sam is very good at loving, very good at making one feel loved. and that’s something you get even before he really loves you.

like when you see each other in the lobby the morning after you meet and he smiles brightly and walks right over to you with a wave. he wears a knee length brown coat over his black suit and it looks beyond charming. then he asks if he can buy you a drink that evening if you’ll be in the hotel at the time. you accept with a smile and he looks happier than you to be the one to treat you.

you make your plans for the next day in the hotel bar, and nobody asks sam for his number that night.

and the next day is a total date, even though you don’t call it that yet. his fancy, environmentally friendly car is brought out by the valet service and he drives you everywhere. to the museum and the down-to-earth, homey sandwich shop that you eat lunch at. you both have reciprocal museum memberships that get you in free. he actually pays close attention to the museum exhibit, but he pays more attention to you and what you like about it. you swap halves of your sandwiches because you both were interested in the same two.

in the afternoon, he takes you to the gardens that you wanted to visit and tells you he’s glad to have you around since he wouldn’t have known where to go.

then, sam drives you back to the hotel and tells you to text if you don’t want to eat dinner alone. “otherwise, this is goodbye, for now,” he says. so you say right then and there that you’d rather not eat dinner alone as long as he doesn’t want to either.

you’re tired from the afternoon sun, so you meet at the hotel restaurant. you stay for dessert, you stay for a glass of wine. you head to the bar and he has a single beer. you decide a zero-proof is best for tonight, and he gladly pays for that too.

he invites you to his suite in the most gentlemanly, respectful way possible, and tells you that nothing has to happen. you accept the invitation, feeling better than you have in a long, long time. sam makes you feel good.

in the morning sam kisses your cheek, a little shy about it, before he leaves and he promises to text. he tells you he likes this city, but he still likes boston more.

he sticks to his promise to text, maybe not as well as he’d like, but he’s a busy man. and what he has to give is more than enough for you.

it’s such a joy when he calls. it’s an absolute delight when he tells you that he’s decided to move to boston. little do you know, one day you’ll move into his apartment there. for now, you’re sitting in your favorite cafe with him, showing him around like you promised you would over the phone.

he’s glad to see that you perk up just a bit at the sight of him still. he likes the way your eyes look when they catch the sunlight for a moment as you turn. they look a little sad, maybe run down, today. he’d like to fix that, though he’ll have to pry it out of you somehow. sam has a feeling that quiet you is the complete opposite of your normal talkative self, and it won’t be easy to get you to tell him what’s bothering you.

if only a love confession could lift your spirits; he’s been working up the courage as he’s gotten to know you. he’s a young lawyer, but a skilled one, and you’re working your way up, interning here for the semester. you’re professional when needed, but outside of that you’re sweet and nerdy and always happy to talk his ear off.

right now, your face is missing that bubbly smile he so loves to see, though he can’t deny that your subtler, softer one is quite pretty too. another day, you might bound up to him with news of something from earlier in the day. this time, you let him approach you the whole way, eyes staring back outside by the time he’s leaning against the windowsill. the fabric of his smart, well fitting black blazer brushes against your light blue button up. a little closer, and his shoulder would be pressed right into yours.

“something special out the window today?” he asks, mostly teasing and voice quiet to match your mood. there’s something special standing at the window, that’s for sure. you are very special to him. all four hands resting on the ledge are cast in shadow from the way the sun hangs in the sky, but your faces are lit. he’s not even looking out the window to see what you might be peering at so intently; his eyes are on you. your nose looks pretty in this lighting, he thinks. all of you looks just lovely.

“no,” you murmur, the word almost leaving your lips as a sigh, “nothing special.” your voice falls a little flat, almost as if you’re a bit upset that there isn’t anything special, or maybe that you can’t seem to find anything that feels that way right now.

will it cheer you up if he tells you he’s pretty confident he’s going to win his case? you always seem so happy for him when he succeeds in even the smallest of things. but he frets that you’ll just feel like you have to act glad for his sake, so he thinks he won’t say anything about it until he’s sure you’re feeling better.

his pinky is so close to yours. he wants to touch you, be as near to you as he can, all the time. silence reigns for a few long moments. most people have left the building for the day by now.

“can i tell you something sort of pathetic?” you ask quietly, almost out of the blue if he hadn’t caught the sound of you breathing in before you spoke. he likes the sound of you breathing in. out, too.

“you can tell me anything. i’m sure it’s not pathetic,” he murmurs. the look on your face tells him that you still think that it is.

it takes you another moment or two to feel composed and unashamed enough to actually let it out of your mouth. it’s very soft when you say it, nearly drowned out by the sound of footsteps down the hall. it’s not late enough that everyone’s gone. but sam leans in close, and he has a certain affinity for your voice. his ears tend to filter out all else when you speak.

“i’m having a bit of trouble feeling loved,” you whisper. his heart aches. you’re the most loveable person he knows. but everyone feels that way sometimes, he supposes, including you. he thinks you deserve to never feel that way, though, out of everyone that he knows. “i- i know i am, but i… i’m having a hard time feeling like it right now.” 

besides the pang in his chest, he feels honored you’d tell him something so vulnerable and intimate. “that’s alright,” he says, very gentle. “knowing isn’t the same as feeling, and it’s not your fault if you’re having trouble feeling it.” he knows that sometimes all you need is to hear it from someone else. sometimes you need a reminder from someone other than yourself. so, he tells you, “you’re loved.” he sounds very confident and sure of it. he leans over, the side of his head pressing against the cold glass as he tries to meet your eyes.