river

Tonight had been no different, you were over at his place as you usually did because Jack preferred you filling his space rather than the other way around. 

“Jack, please? Just one day? I want to meet them.” You pleaded while sitting beside him at the dining table. 

The older man answered with nothing more than a weary sigh as there had not been a single day since you met Titus that you hadn’t asked the same question. And every time, his answer remained just as reluctant.

You caught the subtle signs of his exasperation almost immediately. Your clinical eye had given you the habit of dissecting every change in his expression, every tired breath, every slight slump of his shoulders, every shift of his prosthetic after a long night at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center. Quite literally an occupational hazard that has no off switch.

Then an idea popped in your mind, your lips turning into a small pout.

A shameless weapon you held over Jack on a near-daily basis.

Jack, already drained from the long shift—feeling the ache of his prosthetic, instantly pinched the bridge of his nose even before looking at you. He knew that shift in your body as much as you knew every single one of his. And he knew that look the moment he turned. By then, he already felt his resolve beginning to crack despite every logical reason to stand his ground.

“Okay, you win, sweetheart.” Jack relented, a second defeated sigh escaping him as he let his head fall back against the chair. “We’ll go… I’ll take you to meet my family.”

Lifting his head up, he pointed a finger at you in a playful ‘curse you’ manner as a half-hearted attempt to salvage what little dignity he had left.

“But only because you’ve been wearing me down for weeks. I swear, you’re worse than half the patients I’ve treated.” Jack comments, rolling his eyes before letting his head fall back once again.

His surrender gave way to the triumphant grin spreading across your face that told him he was making the right decision… or perhaps the worst one yet.

“God, you’re so lucky I can’t say no to you,” he muttered, shaking his head with faux annoyance despite the found smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Yet as he felt his heartstrings tug because of your joy, a flicker of unease crossed his features for the first time that evening.

“Just…,” he paused softly, looking at you like you’re the most important person in the world (in his defense, you are). “Don’t expect it to be what you imagined it to be. It’s not exactly a place I look forward to revisiting.”

A few days had passed since Jack reluctantly surrendered to your relentless pleas of meeting his family. Between juggling your impossibly packed and hectic schedules at PTMC, the two of you managed to find a synchronous day off where he could drive you to the resort.

Before leaving Pittsburgh, Jack had done what his father, Chester Danforth, had asked of him the last time they spoke; call ahead to let them know that he was returning.

The drive to the place took a couple of hours, the cabin filled with comfortable silence broken by the soft music from the stereo and your quiet snores. 

Jack didn’t mind it. In fact, he found it comforting that you could sleep in the car with him. That meant you trusted him enough to let yourself sleep like that. 

He kept one hand loosely on the steering wheel while the other rested against the centre console near the gear shift. And every so often, he found himself stealing glances at you. 

Your head was leaning against the window, features softened by sleep, probably having wonderful dreams, while completely unaware of the fond smile tugging at his lips.

He adored you.

For a long time, he had managed to convince himself that losing his first wife meant never finding another chance at love. Then somehow you came along the sliding doors of PTMC and proved him wrong, reminding him that happiness wasn’t something he should feel guilty for.

His only worry now was you meeting his family.

Or, more specifically…

His freak circus of a family.

Once Jack reached the gate of the resort and country club, he drove farther into the property until he pulled the car in front of the lodge where immediate family and personal friends usually stayed before shifting the gear into park.

For a moment, your boyfriend simply stayed there, letting the quiet settle around the two of you before the storm of his family ruined it. 

When he was satisfied, he reached over the console and gently tapped your shoulder, careful not to startle you awake.

“Sweetheart?” Jack started, his voice mellowing like a lullaby, “we’re here.”

Your response, a quiet, sleepy hum, earned a chuckle from Jack, knowing what it already meant. 

You were most definitely still asleep.

After a couple more minutes of gentle attempts, Jack eventually managed to get a response out of you. Even then, he was still patient with you, giving you the time you needed to wake properly, letting you gather yourself before facing the day ahead.

And just as you were beginning to settle in from the drive and your sleep, the doors to the lodge opened.

Jack’s attention shifted almost instinctively. Years in the military had conditioned him to notice movement before anyone else could, and his eyes were already fixed on the entrance by the time the figures emerged. 

By the time you finished freshening up, you glanced out the window and found two figures waiting by the lodge entrance. 

One of them was Titus.

You’d come to recognise him immediately considering they looked alike. However, the resemblance he shared with Jack still deeply unsettles you every time your eyes landed on him. It was like looking at a mirror of a face that held a different soul.

Standing beside him though, was a woman who appeared to be around the twins’ age. Unlike the men, she bore little to no resemblance to either of them. Her hair was a warm shade of golden blonde, catching the afternoon light. 

Taking a quiet and heavy breath, Jack finally found the resolve to step out of the car. He made his way around the hood toward his twin brother and the woman standing beside him.

At first, you assumed she must have been Titus’ wife. With the way they stood there, it certainly gave off that vibe. But with how Jack greeted her quickly told you otherwise. There was a different kind of ease between them, one born not out of being in-laws, but of years seeing each other grow up side by side.

A sibling, perhaps.

Moments later, Jack went to the passenger side and opened the door for you, offering you a hand. You slipped yours into his as he helped you out before gently closing the door behind you.

Once you were comfortable and beside him, he turned his gaze back to the two people in front of you.

“Titus… Ursula,” Jack began, his hand moving away from your hand and naturally finding its way around your waist as he pulled you close beside him. “Meet my partner.”

There was a hint of pride with the way he had introduced you, though knowing him, you heard the faintest trace of apprehension in them. 

Titus noticed it too. The corner of his mouth curled into an amused smirk, finding Jack’s uneasiness far more entertaining than he should have. Beside him, however, Ursula simply smiled. Not the usual tight-lipped smile she used to greet guests, but a warm, reassuring expression that somehow worsened Jack’s worries.

“A pleasure to finally meet you,” she said, stepping forward and extending her hand. “I’m Ursula.” She introduced, glancing between her brothers before letting out a quiet laugh. “The last of the triplets.”

You accepted her hand gratefully, returning the same genuine smile that somehow always found its way onto your face, no matter how exhausting the shifts can be. It was one of Jack’s favourite things about you.

“It’s nice to meet you!” you said brightly. “Jack never mentioned that he was a part of a set of triplets.”

That made Jack react almost instantly before relaxing beside you.

“Well…” Titus remarked, his voice casual, “he did spend years trying to erase that part of his life.”

But before his words could fully be comprehended, Ursula drove an elbow to his side.

“Ow.” Titus scoffs with a furrowed eyebrow and a pout, rubbing the spot where she had elbowed him.

“You are unbelievable.”, she muttered, shooting Titus a pointed look before returning her attention back to you, an apologetic smile gracing her lips. “Don’t mind him. He didn’t get enough attention growing up, so now he says outrageous things just to have everyone look at him.”

That made Titus roll his eyes.

“”I was simply stating a fact, dear sister.”

“Hence proving my point,” Ursula replied without missing a beat.

The exchange drew a reluctant sigh from Jack.

“Can we please behave and not do this for five minutes?” He asked with exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched the Danforth triplets interact. It was strangely fascinating seeing how three people who shared the same birthday, same blood, and same home could turn out so alike in some ways, yet so vastly different where it truly mattered.

Sensing the conversation teetering towards a usual, heated exchange between the brothers, Ursula decided to redirect the topic, clapping her hands together with an easy smile.

“Before these two start bickering like teens again,” she said, shooting the two men a knowing look with a pointed eyebrow, “why don’t I show you around?”

She turned her attention back to you, her arm clasping around yours already like you were sisters.

“You’ve come all this way to meet us, after all. It would be a shame if your first impression of our family was just the boys arguing.”

Over the next hour, the triplets showed you around the Danforth resort and country club. The entirety of the property showcased their wealth, and it made you wonder why on Earth would Jack leave this.

You sat in the front seat of the gold cart beside Ursula, who happily took the role of the tour guide and driver, while the two brothers were stuck at the back. Whilst there, they remained remarkably civil which surprised you

Between the several playful jabs (you didn’t understand some), and the occasional ego checks, the three of them told stories with regards to the resort’s history, pointing out old buildings, childhood hideouts, and even landmarks that they saw from the back of their hand after growing up there. It was surprisingly easy to picture the triplets as children racing through the same paths and grass you were now travelling on.

However, the tour was interrupted when one of the resort staff hurried to the golf cart. 

‘Mr. Danforth,” he called, lowering his head out of respect before directing his attention towards Titus. “Your father needs to speak to you, Miss Danforth, and Mr. Abbot.” 

Titus’ expression shifted ever so slightly before he turned to his siblings.

“Looks like we’re needed.” He said, shoving his hands in his pockets before he cocked his head towards you with interest.

Jack’s gaze followed almost immediately and hesitation flickered in his eyes, worried about leaving you alone. Noticing it, you reached out for his hand, gently squeezing it.

“You’ll be okay on your own for a while?” he asked, already sounding like he’s regretting the idea.

You wanted to laugh. This man worries about you constantly like you’re some child, but you knew he meant well.

“Yes, I’ll be fine, Jack.”

He didn’t look convinced. But as Titus and Ursula got off the cart, giving Jack a look, your boyfriend finally relented. 

“I won’t be long.” He promised softly, pressing a kiss on your forehead.

Even as he walked away, jogging after Ursula and Titus, he looked back over his shoulder.

Once.

Then a second time.

And only after seeing you wave him off with an amused and affectionate smile did he finally continue on, falling side by side with his siblings, his limp visibly present from the prosthetic.

For the next half hour, you wandered the sprawling grounds alone.

The resort was massive yet absolutely breathtaking. Lush greenery stretched in every direction, the distant chatter of guests blending with the rustling trees and the occasional splash from one of the pools. With no particular destination, you let your curiosity guide your feet, taking in the fresh scenery of the place at your own pace.

Your wandering eventually led you to the edge of the golf course, where neatly manicured fairways gave way to something far less inviting.

Beyond lies a dense stretch of woodland.

Towering trees arched overhead, sprawling canopies braiding them together so tightly that only sparse shafts of sunlight managed to filter through, scattering across the forest floor. The further your eyes wandered into the trees, the darker it seemed to become.

It was an odd and eerie sight.

With a resort and country club so luxurious, the last thing you expected neighbouring it was a forest. The contrast unsettled you—a singular step separating the pristine lawns from the unexplored wilderness.

And, perhaps because of that, you couldn’t help but be intrigued.

As you went deeper, the feeling of being stalked followed you instantly, but when you turned around, no one was there. Hence, with a shrug, you continued your venture deep in the forest. And despite the feeling of being watched making your skin crawl with goosebumps and the urge to run started to become overwhelming, you forced yourself to stay calm.

That’s when you heard the soft crunch of a branch from behind. The sound echoed in the forest making your entire body freeze as it directly sent shivers down your spine. You couldn’t move your feet as if they were glued to the ground due to your heightened fear, and your mouth felt utterly dry that no words could come out despite the scream for ‘help’ bubbling in your throat. 

“Tut, Tut. I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” The voice spoke and you instantly stiffened that your joints locked and your spine unconsciously straightened. Then the laugh came… it arrived immediately after he saw your reaction. It was deep, rich, and husky in a way that made your intestines churn. 

His steps were louder now, each heavy foot thumping on the ground, his boots crushing the brittle branches and leaves. Then he stopped in front of you, turning around to finally meet your gaze with a dark, smug smile on his lips. 

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing in the forest unaccompanied?” Titus continued, leaning against the trunk of one of the trees while he folded his arms across his chest. He found it delicious how you reacted warily when he was around like you were a prey being hunted by a predator. It sent tingles down his spine to his groin. 

When you recovered from your initial fear, you took a step back—something Titus clearly didn’t appreciate as seen by his immediate response. He rose up from his former position against the tree, following your movement, yet his pace was measured and unhurried as though he wanted you to fully grasp the situation before he closed the gap. The uncertainty flickering in your expression made the moment all the more intoxicating for him, your eyes darting everywhere except to meet his own, was exactly the reaction he was hoping to coax out of you.

That was all the invitation he needed to narrow the remaining distance between you two. Your back met with the rough bark of the tree trunk, leaving nowhere for you to retreat as he effortlessly invaded your personal space. Above, thick nimbostratus clouds rolled across the sky, covering the resort in muted shadows—leaving nothing but suffocating tension between you and Titus.

When he finally breached that final space that existed, he rested a hand by the wood beside your head, fully trapping you. The whole situation was enough reason for a normal person to scream for help, but you stood there, head pressed against the bark as your eyes shut tight while a flush creeps up your neck. 

When he finally erased the last silver of distance, he braced one hand against the tree beside your head, caging you effectively against the trunk. Any sane person would have called for help or even tried to push him away. But you were far from normal as you stayed exactly where you were, head pressed against the bark of the tree while your eyes fluttered shut and heat bloomed beneath your skin, spreading upward from your neck.

“Don’t do that…” he purred softly. “I don’t bite.”

His words rang hollow as he lifted his free hand, using his knuckles to trace the curve of your cheek with unhurried, yet almost deceptive tenderness. Then he leaned closer until the scrape of his stubble grazed your skin, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath.

“”Unless,” he added, putting a deliberate pause as he pulled away to take a look at you, his voice dropping to a velvet murmur, “you’d rather I did, hm?”

Your refusal to respond tested what little patience he had left. Fine, he thought. If gentle coaxing wasn’t enough, then he’d resort to his final weapon—provocation. He had seen that fire in you a month ago, when you had stood your ground for Jack in the attendings’ lounge, watched it with his own eyes as your composure cracked to reveal a little fire beneath that personality. 

And that very spark of defiance towards him was exactly what he was looking for. Otherwise, this little game would have been nothing more than just a waste of his time.

“Come on now, little lamb,” he drawled, tone dripping with mock disappointment as a condescending smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Where’s that spirit I saw from the attendings’ lounge?”

Then a long pause… just enough to edge you.

“The last time I insulted my dear brother in front of you, you were ready to put my head through the wall.” He murmured, voice dropping to a low, measured cadence.

As he spoke, his hand lifted once more, the back of his fingers brushing lightly against your cheek before his palm settled there with misleading gentleness.

That brought out a reaction from you.

A flinch. 

It was only the smallest shift in your body language—a fleeting tense shoulder, but Titus caught it all the same. He was trained to notice even the tiniest change in an electrocardiogram as a cardiologist.

Bingo, Titus thought as the smile transformed into a knowing smirk. Satisfaction flickered across his features as though he had finally managed to chip away at the wall you’ve been desperately trying to keep intact.

“There you are,” he whispered, replacing his hand with his lips. “I knew you were still there.”

Pleased with the reaction he coaxed out of you, Titus decided to push things a little further. 

His hand that wasn’t braced on the bark, trailed deliberately down your side. The rough pads of his fingers traced the curve of your torso through the fabric of your clothes. Every movement that was unhurried was a calculated invasion of your personal space rather than an act of affection.

He leaned in just enough that his coarse stubble grazed your cheek, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath.

Every gesture was measured.

Every touch was deliberately done.

And in that very instant, you knew he wasn’t trying to comfort you. He was testing to see how much you’d take before you finally pushed him away.

As his hand went lower to your waist, a quiet flicker of gratification crossed his face. You were wearing leggings. 

Easy access, he thought with a wicked smirk. 

He let his palm linger there, giving you time to let the heat of his hand sink in against the curve of your hip.

Then, almost thoughtfully, he hooked his index finger beneath the waistband and drew it slowly outward, stretching the band just enough to show a glimmer of skin. He held it there for a minute, eyes darting at the soft, unblemished skin before releasing the band with a sharp, deliberate snap that stung against your waist.

The sudden contact made you wince. A small, involuntary jolt that only seemed to heighten his desire to play with you.

His hand then left your waist with deliberate slowness, trailing down the outside of your thigh. The pressure of Titus’ palm was firm, almost testing, while he explored the muscle beneath the thin fabric of your leggings. He squeezed once—gently at first, experimenting on what makes you react. 

Then he did a second one—harder than the previous, feeling the way your flesh yielded under his grip before his fingers eased their hold. When he had enough, his hand drifted inwards, sliding along the sensitive line where your thigh met your body, the heat of his palm radiating up to your core. 

A noticeable shiver raced up your spines, sharp enough that your shoulders tensed against the bark and a shaky breath escaped your lips. Titus felt it—eyes dilating the moment he knew he had you wrapped around his finger. 

His mouth curved into a malicious grin—that was more permission than he needed, as far as he was concerned.

He shifted his hand between your thighs without hurry, using one of his feet to knock your legs apart before turning the flat of his palm to cup you thoroughly through the fabric. The pressure was slow, intentional—mapping the shape of you as he began to massage you in an unhurried manner, each one measured for him to absorb every reaction you tried to hide.

Your body trembled with every slow pass of his hand, small tremors running through your frame as you bit down hard on your lower lip. The sharp edge of your teeth buried on the plush of it being the only thing keeping the soft, broken, obscene sounds that threatened to spill out into the open area.

Titus noticed it instantly. How you restrained yourself from letting him hear those sounds only a person could dream of. 

A low, displeased hum vibrated in his chest—one that expressed his dismay towards your actions. 

He leaned in until his mouth brushed the shell of your warm teeth catching the lobe in a light, deliberate nip before he spoke, voice rough and quiet against your skin.

“Don’t hide it from me, lamb… let me hear the sounds my brother could bring out from those lips of yours.” 

Finally, he lifted his hand that had kept you pinned against the giant tree, bringing it to your chin instead. His fingers were firm and warm as they tipped your face towards him—guiding you until there was nowhere left to look but at him.”

“Open your eyes,” he murmured, voice deep and husky with need. “Look at me while I touch you. You can imagine my brother the whole time, for all I care. Just let me see them.”

Something in that quiet command made you comply. Your eyelids fluttered open, gaze reluctantly meeting his hazel eyes. 

For the first time since he cornered you against the tree, they no longer held that cold, demeaning edge. Instead, in its place was something quieter—an almost unnerving curiosity that studied every flicker of emotions crossing your face. 

It struck you then. 

The way he had been taking his time—watching you with careful deliberation in each movement he made, every reaction he tried coaxing out from you–they weren’t done as if he had practice.

They were careful.

Exploratory.

As if he was navigating unfamiliar territory while wanting to engrave on his mind what kind of reactions he could elicit out of you. 

Like he was learning your boundaries.

“Are you a…”

Your voice spoke out, quiet and hesitant after everything that had just happened between you two. There was a question sitting behind those words, one that you found yourself needing to ask without a thought. 

A question not out of judgment, but of curiosity.

Because for a short moment, you saw something beneath the arrogance he carried.

Something uncertain.

But before you could finish, Titus cut you off.

“Don’t.”

He interrupted, voice sharper than he intended it to be.

Whatever vulnerability he showed earlier had vanished instantly, replaced by the familiar guarded expression you had seen from him since the beginning—his grip on your chin tightening for a fraction.

“You don’t wanna go there, darling,” he warned. “I won’t appreciate where that question leads.”

It was almost unsettling how he could shift so quickly. One moment, he seemed like someone searching for an answer he didn’t understand himself.

Next moment, he was the same cocky Titus who hid every weakness behind a condescending look.

Deciding that he was done with being gentle, Titus returned to the only role he knew how to play. By pushing, provoking, and challenging.

Both his hands left you at once–-one abandoning your chin, the other slipping away from between your legs. 

Without even giving you a chance to breathe, he caught your wrists, gathering them easily in one large hand and pinning them high against the bark above your head. The new position exposes you, leaving you fully open to whatever he chooses to do next.

His pupils darkened as he took in the sight of you looking so ready to be taken.

Then he leaned in.

You felt his breath first before his nose brushed along the lines of your jaw, slow and deliberate before he trailed lower. The warmth of his breath followed the lines of your neck, lingering at the sensitive hollow just above your collarbone where he felt you swallow nervously. 

Then he continued his journey downward until his face was pressed close against the soft skin of your underarm. 

You had worn a sleeveless top along with your leggings as your outfit going to the resort.

Jack had been the reason you chose something light, warning you beforehand that the resort heat was often unforgiving. It was a simple suggestion that you didn’t take lightly, one that Jack probably hadn’t thought twice about.

But Titus found himself strangely thankful for it, a rare moment where he had something to thank his own twin brother for.

“You smell so sweet, lamb,” he murmured against your skin, voice low and almost reverent, like he was worshiping you.

A quiet sound of approval rumbled from the back of his throat as he nuzzled deeper into the soft hollow of your underarm, breathing you in slowly and deliberately—as though he meant to memorise your scent.

The warmth of his face stayed pressed on it for several long moments, the faint scrape of his stubble a contrast to the careful way he moved his head side to side. 

Only when he had taken his fill did he finally draw back, eyes darker than before.

“Do you want me to continue?” Titus inquired.

The question came out as a soft one, almost curious, as he cocked his head to the side—studying the way your expression shifted under his gaze. 

He watched every flicker, every tension, every ragged breath—the struggle written in plain sight across your face. As if your verbal answer mattered less than the actual reaction itself.

The fact your body was already answering him—your skin flushed, heat coiling in your guts, every nerve singling from the way he had touched you devoutly—made it impossible to ignore.

This was wrong.

The guilt was so heavy as Jack’s face flashed through your mind. The way he had looked at you so lovingly in the car, the quiet trust when he left you to handle family business, the years he had spent trying to put this family behind him to protect you.

Everything about what was happening now felt like a betrayal of trust, or the relationship you had built together. Of every moral line you had drawn for yourself.

That guilt made you want to tell Titus to stop. 

To push him away and mean it.

But the words stayed trapped in your throat, tangled with the shame of how some part of you still wanted him to continue.

Titus saw the hesitation flicker in your eyes before he even heard you protest. The way your eyes darted, the slight tremble in your breath—the war between guilt and want plainly obvious in your expression.

“If you feel like you’re betraying Jack,” he murmured, voice sounding affectionate, “I told you already. Look at me and just pretend it’s him.”

It was so plain with how he suggested it.

“We’re identical twins. Same face. Same body. The only things separating us apart is a name and a personality.”

His free hand gently guided your chin to look back at him, eyes holding your gaze, watching every shift—every second of your internal struggle. Then when he spoke again, his words came softer—almost pleading.

“Please?”

Your eyes widened at the way he had delivered that word with such softness.

Nothing about this day—least of all about Titus—had gone the way you expected it. 

You had arrived at the resort with Jack, carrying a single hope: to meet his family, learn the history he had left behind, catch a glimpse of Jack as a boy he had once been before the military, the hospital, and the life he built without the trauma.

But here you were—pinned against a tree by his own twin, body humming from the way Titus had explored you, finding which parts to press to make your body hum while your heart was tearing up between the man who trusted you enough to bring you to a place he never wanted to look back to and the one currently asking for permission in a soft voice, enough to unravel every moral line you thought you had.

You gave in the moment he leaned closer.

His nose brushed lightly against yours, the warm exchange of breath the only thing separating your mouths. One slight movement, either yours or his, would make your lips touch.

The nearness was too intimate, almost cruel in its restraint, as if he wanted you to feel the exact second your resistance finally collapsed.

Or perhaps, he was giving you a chance to pull away. Which was ironic with how you were trapped between the hardness of the tree pressing against your back and his body in front of you.

Your eyes fluttered shut. The last of your resolve slipping away with a shaky exhale that leaves your lungs.

That gave him the courage to close the last of the distance.

His lips met yours with hesitation so clear you could feel it in the careful almost clumsy press of his mouth against yours. 

The first touch was light, uncertain–like he was testing whether you were unsatisfied with his inexperience.

When you didn’t, he tried again, the kiss hard as if he was trying to eat you whole. Yet it still carried a hint of awkwardness, as though the act itself was something he had rarely allowed himself.

As he practiced against your mouth, the uncertainty slowly gave way to a much better rhythm. He still kissed you like he wasn’t getting enough oxygen from the air, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips in a careful, searching pass, coaxing them open.

That resulted in a soft whimper from you which made his cock hard beneath his trousers. But he wanted to focus on you, so he pulled away, letting you breathe while his eyes stayed on your face.

His free hand—the one not pinning your wrists above your head—began to move again. It trailed slowly over your curves, rediscovering every line and soft place it had touched before. The intentional path of his palm sent a sharp tingle racing through you, warmth pooling low and insistent in your core.

Titus’ hand finally found the hem of your leggings once more.

His fingers slipped beneath the fabric with deliberate ease, the warm, slightly rough pad of his palm sliding over the soft skin of your hips before he progressed medially. He moved in a slow, teasing pace, wanting to prolong the moment while watching your expression contort. 

The elastic band of your bottom stretched around his wrist as he pushed his hand deeper, fingertips brushing the sensitive crease of your thighs before continuing its path towards the heat between your thighs.

When he finally reached you, his touch was unhurried. 

He cupped you first through the thin fabric of your underwear, the wide span of his hand covering it entirely as he pressed it firmly—enough to feel the warmth and dampness that already gathered there.

A low, satisfied hum vibrated in his chest as he mapped the shame of you with the hell of his palm, applying slow, teasing pressure that made your hips twitch and jerk forward against his bulging tent.

Only then when he saw how your breath ragged, eyes fluttering uncontrollably, did he let his fingers slide beneath the last layer of your fabric.

His calloused, rough skin meets your sensitive, smooth skin.

He traced the soft folds with careful, exploratory strokes, learning the exact places and pressure that made your breath catch. One fingertip circled the most sensitive spot with maddening patience before he pressed more firmly, rubbing in tight, unhurried circles that made you gasp loudly. 

The double simulation of his mouth pressing kisses against your jaw and his hand claiming you so thoroughly pulled another soft, broken sound from your throat.

Titus pulled back from your jaw, mouth turning to find yours once again.

“Am I doing this right?” he asked, voice filled with insecurity you didn’t even know existed.

Before you could respond, his hand shifted. One finger traced slowly along towards your entrance, applying the lightest pressure as he explored the sensitive rim.

“T-Titus…”, you breathed out softly as you tried to squirm away, but his hand on your wrist was enough to keep you against the tree.

Then he made a deliberate stroke that pulled a quiet moan from your throat. Your cheeks flushed a dark shade of red, biting down hard on your bottom lip to prevent any more sound from escaping you.

“Lamb…” Titus warned, the single word delivered in a low and edged manner as he pressed harder against your entrance as a warning. 

The increased pressure forced a stifled moan from your throat, the sound barely contained.

He leaned in, mouth brushing the shell of your ear.

“Be loud.” he ordered, but in a gentle way. “We’re alone in the woods… no one’s coming to interrupt, so let yourself be loud.”

Titus kept the pressure firm against your entrance, but instead of pushing inside he began to tease—circling the sensitive rim with the pad of his finger in slow loops. Each pass was light enough to make you ache for more, firm enough that every nerve lit up under the touch. The restrained friction sent fresh sparks through your core, and your hips gave an involuntary twitch against his hand.

Your mind spun.

Jack’s face flashed behind your eyes again—the trust in his voice when he left you at the golf cart, the way he had looked back twice just to make sure you were all right. Guilt twisted tight in your chest even as your body betrayed you, growing wetter with every careful stroke Titus delivered. You hated how much you responded. You hated how the conflict only seemed to heighten the sensation.

A second soft moan slipped free before you could catch it.

Titus’s free hand still held your wrists pinned high against the bark. He felt the tremor that ran through your arms and answered it by pressing just a fraction deeper, still not entering, only stretching the rim enough to make you feel the promise of what came next.

“That’s it,” he murmured against your ear. “Don’t hold it in.”

Only when your breathing had turned shallow and uneven did he finally give you more. One thick finger slid inside with unhurried control, the intrusion smooth and steady until he was buried to the knuckle. He paused there, letting you feel the stretch, the fullness, the slow pulse of your own body around him.

Your head tipped back against the tree. A distorted sound escaped your throat: half moan, half helpless protest, as the dual weight of pleasure and shame crashed through you at once.

Titus held still for a moment, letting you adjust to the single finger buried inside you. Then he began to move—slow, measured strokes and curls that dragged deliberately along your inner walls. Each withdrawal left you aching; each return pressed deeper, the heel of his palm grinding against the most sensitive point with every motion.

Your wrists strained uselessly against the bark. The dual assault of stretch and pressure made your thighs tremble. Soft, broken sounds kept escaping despite your best efforts, and the more you tried to quiet them the harder Titus worked to draw them out.

He added a second finger without warning.

The sudden fullness forced a sharper cry from your throat. He scissored them carefully, stretching you further, then curled both digits to seek the place that made your vision blur. When he found it he stayed there, rubbing in firm, relentless circles while his palm continued its steady pressure outside.

Guilt and pleasure warred violently inside you. Jack’s face kept surfacing. His quiet smile in the car, the protective way he had looked back at you, yet every stroke of Titus’s fingers pushed the memory farther away. Your body no longer cares about morality. It only chased the building heat coiling tighter and tighter in your core.

Titus’s mouth found your neck, open and hot, teeth grazing the skin as he spoke against it, but still ensuring he didn’t leave any marks.

“Come on, lamb. Let go. I’ve got you.”

The words, the stretch, the relentless stimulation finally tipped you over.

Your climax hit hard. Muscles clamped down around his fingers in strong, rhythmic pulses as waves of pleasure crashed through you. A broken, helpless moan tore free; louder than anything you had allowed so far while your body arched against the tree and against his restraining hand. The orgasm rolled on longer than you expected, each throb milking his fingers as aftershocks kept rippling through you.

When the last of your tremors faded, Titus withdrew his hand from your bottoms with deliberate care. The loss of him left you feeling suddenly empty, the cool forest air a sharp contrast compared to the heat he had left behind.

Slowly, with a teasing, dark smirk on his lips, he brought his glistening fingers to his mouth. He watched your expression the entire time as he cleaned the mess you had made on him, tongue dragging along each digit with leisure, tasting what he had drawn from your body.

The act was quiet, intimate, and utterly unashamed. 

“Delicious…”, he remarked, voice filled with sick amusement.

When he was finished, Titus finally released your wrists, allowing your arms to fall limply to your sides. 

The gentleness he had shown you moments ago had vanished without hesitation. In its place stood the Titus you’ve known, cold, infuriating, hiding behind arrogance and mockery as though vulnerability never existed.

He took a step back, straightening his clothes with his usual composure before glancing at you over his shoulder.

“Let’s head back,” he said flatly. “Wouldn’t want my brother getting suspicious as to why it took me long to retrieve you.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned and walked away, leaving you rooted against the trunk, unable to completely comprehend everything that had just happened.

Moments came and your body finally obeyed you.

Drawing in a shaky breath, you adjusted your clothes before foreign your feet to move quietly behind Titus, keeping distance on the way back to the resort.

Each step felt heavier than the last as your brain started working overtime, desperately trying to piece together a believable explanation. Because the moment Jack would look at you the way he always did—with those puppy eyes filled with unconditional love—you weren’t so sure you’d be able to hide the truth.

Little did you know, Jack already knew.

He hadn’t been far behind when Titus offered to find you after the family meeting.

Something in his gut had refused to let him stay still while his twin brother looked around the resort for you. So he had doubled back, following Titus quietly down the golf course and through the dense trees.

He had seen enough.

As much as he wanted to intervene, to drag Titus away from you and carry you back to the car to escape this hellhole, he chose to stay.