bring all the sinners to me

"It's so fucking hot." Jonathan hisses, trying to push the window open more to shove a box fan into the frame to filter more air into his home.

You only laugh, legs dangling off of the edge of his scratchy couch. "Don't you have AC?"

He grits. “There.” He takes a step back, the sheer blinds billowing open with the new breeze, the scent off of the woods floating through the screen. "The AC broke.”

You watch him come back towards you, body bouncing when he collapses on the couch near your head. "That does feel better." Your knuckles lay along the carpet, empty and useless, nails grazing between the soft fibers and hard stains from random liquids. "Shoulda stayed home if I knew that." You glare gently up at him.

Jonathan had been your best friend for years, to you it felt like eons. You had met in middle school gym class when he had stolen your hiding spot beneath the bleachers one day. You were fast friends, bonding over how silly a physical education class was, music, books, comics, and mostly photography. Soon enough, those hidden moments had turned into discussing cute boys and girls, trying weed together for the first time, and collectively hating your physical education class still.

“Oh please.” He meets your glare with amusement.

“Do you have any weed?” You ask the ceiling fan mindlessly.

You can feel him shake his head. “No, I slowed down a bit since Nancy asked.”

You bat your eyes dramatically, “Oh Nancy. Your amazing, awesome, beautiful girlfriend who is way too good for you?”

“Shut up.” He pinched your ankle.

“Have you told her you loved her?” His eyes go to the carpet, “She’s a nice girl Jon.” You prop up on your elbows. “She’s also very scary. If you love her you should tell her before she leaves your sorry ass.”

He shoves off the couch. “Okay we’re leaving. I’m not sitting here, sweating, and reminiscing on all my bad decisions with you.”

“Where did you have in mind?”

An hour later you’re both walking through the woods towards Lover’s Lake. Everyone must have had the same idea because the dock is packed and there is little space to settle on the shore line, but it was better than dying of heatstroke in Jonathan Byers’s house.

You hear your name and are shoving a beaming face up at your friend, “Nancy!” You did like Nancy, a lot, and she was really good for Jonathan even though it prevented you from stealing some of his weed now. She also was super open with your friendship with her boyfriend, so you all hung out often. “Did you break your own AC so you had an excuse to come here?” You whisper up to him.

“Of course not.” But he was using his naive voice.

“You made it.” She is quick to push up on her toes to kiss her boyfriend.

His hands went to her hips, “His AC went out, we were dying a slow painful death when he mentioned you invited him to this lake party.” You lie for him, throwing a thumb over your shoulder, “I’m gunna get a drink.”

“Steve and Robin are by the keg!” Nancy tells you as you walk away.

The one thing that sucked about loving Nancy and Jonathan being together, you had too damn much respect for their relationship to show how upset it made you losing your best friend. You spot the old Scoops Troop by the keg refilling plastic cups with beer. Robin’s eyes light up when she sees you, singing your name while filling up a cup for you. “There you go.”

The beer sloshes when she hands it too rough but you laugh anyways. “Thanks.” You motion around the lake, “When did this all happen?”

“Tina.” They say together.

“Ah.” You nod after a long gulp. “Well thank god for Tina.”

Steve knocks his cup with yours, “Cheers to that.” You settle in next to them, trying to find joy in the smile Nancy brings to Jonathan’s face while sweat runs down your back even if he has ignored you the whole time. By the second cup you’ve ditched your shirt, draping it over some chair while Robin bickers with Steve about a conspiracy involving driver’s licenses. By the third cup of beer you can’t handle the heat in your cheeks anymore.

“I’m going in the water.” You don’t even bother asking them to come with you, you just shuck off the rest of your clothes and wade into the cool waves to wash off the steaming heat your body radiates, wash off the sweat that sat in your hairline from the summer sun baking you beneath her harsh rays. You float on your back for seconds, minutes, you're not sure but you keep taking sips not sure if its lake water or beer running down your neck.

The music begins to quiet down, or it’s your ears underneath the water. The sun moves as time passes, or that's just the current pulling you and spitting you out. All you know is by the time you drain the last sip of your cup and peek your head up the shore line is so far away that your feet no longer reach the bottom of the lake.

“Shoot.” You purse your lips, treading water, peering around noting the empty dock to your right and the two men lounging in lawn chairs in the grass a few yards off of the lake.

“You lost, little siren!” A familiar voice shouts to you.

You kick your legs to the right, wading through the water as it begins to become shallow the closer to the dock you got. “No I-I uh…lost track of…”

“Yourself?” The voice jokes and your forehead creases because you had heard the laughter too often in the lunch room at school. You squint, but the sun behind them eclipses their faces. He groans, pushing off of the lawn chair, footsteps coming down the dock until you’re staring up at him.

Eddie Munson bends down and holds a hand out to you. He's wearing a band t-shirt, you can't make out the words but it looks intense. His hair is dark, long, curly, bangs nearly covering warm brown eyes. Your hand slides into his and he yanks you, helping you climb up onto the dock. “Thanks.” You breathe, a firm hand on your waist to steady you on the rotted wooden dock.

Those same warm eyes run up the length of your bare legs, your bare torso, the bikini top covering your breast, lingering on the water dripping down from your neck, finally stopping when he reaches your face. “We heard the party from here.” He motions with his eyes, then snaps them back towards your face.

“Were you people watching?” The corner of your mouth tugs up.

“Drunk teens offer great entertainment.” He smirks, “Who let your float away?”

You finally take a step back. “It’s a long story.”

He turns slightly, his own empty chair coming into view. “We got time.” He plucks your empty red cup, “Beer.”

“Weed?”

His grin is wild.

“Wait.” You take a deep drag of the joint sitting between your knuckles. “You were Jonathan’s dealer?”

Reefer Rick nods, who you learned was the other person sitting next to Eddie, whose dock you had floated upon. “I was until about two weeks ago.” He plucks the joint from your hand. “Told me his girlfriend asked him to quit.”

Eddie scoffs, leaning on his hands in the grass. He had given you his chair, a band shirt too, to cover your bathing suit clad body. “Wheeler has him whipped. I don't blame him either, she’s scary.”

Rick passes Eddie the joint after a pondering inhale. “That’s right. You all went to school together.”

“Go tigers!" You throw a sarcastic pumped fist in the air.

Eddie watches you, watches you take the joint from his hand. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I only got high with Jonathan.” You push the joint past your lips. And now my friend won’t get high with me anymore. A good reason didn’t make it easier to swallow.

“Boring.” Rick boos you, but then slaps a hand on your knee, “Now you got us babes.”

You roll your eyes, “Yay me.” But as you tap away the ash the loneliness you had felt floating weightless seems to have been left in the murky water. “Thanks though, for the weed.”

“He ditched you, didn’t he?”

Your eyes flare up to Eddie, “Ditch is a strong word.” You hold the joint out for him, reversing the circle. “He’s in a relationship, and I like Nancy, and I’m happy for him.” Long fingers graze yours, cool rings reminding you why you had swam in the water in the first place; the heat. “It’s just an adjustment.”

“That’s when you get a boyfriend…or girlfriend…or whatever you’re into.” Rick snatches the joint out of Eddie’s hand before he can even breathe. “That way you’re not waiting around for your friend to not be busy.”

You suck on your teeth. “True.” You had a boyfriend your sophomore year. It was fine, quick and full of awkward sex, and fizzled out before a spark could even form. You wanted a spark, you wanted heat and feverish skin and that nauseating overwhelming giddiness. You wanted what Jonathan had. “Maybe I’m jealous.”

“Of Nancy? Scandalous.” Rick gasps finally letting the joint move back to Eddie.

“No.” You laugh. “Of what they have.”

He watches you over his knuckles, speaking with smoke in his lungs. “Have you ever explored things with-!”

“No!” Your eyes bulge. “No. It was never like that with us. We are forever best friends.”

“You want that hot kinky sex they’re having.”

You glance over at Rick, blissfully red-eyed, and can’t help but throw your head back and laugh. Eddie even snorts out a small chuckle handing you the remaining dregs of the joint to which you finish and smash out in the glass ashtray.

Then, you settle back into the chair letting the weed fill your brain with hazy smoke, letting the heaviness of the heat dissipate off your skin. “Surprised you stayed this long with what they say about me.”

“My best friend is Jonathan Byers.” You smirk, “What gave off the impression I care what people say about anyone.”

“Touche, baby.” Rick mumbles.

Eddie grins back, “Touche, little siren.”

“You’re in a band right?”

Rick rolls his eyes. “Don’t get him started.”

“I am.” Eddie kicks his shin. “Corroded Coffin, we play at The Hideaway, small crowd, but they get rowdy.” He grimaces, shifting his weight and then eyes the plastic you sat upon. “Do you-!”

“Is that ground hard?” He nods and you stand up.

Eddie moves into his chair again and you go to take the spot in the grass when he grabs your wrist. “No. Sit.” He pats at his knee.

You’re too high to think about it otherwise and settle into his lap, backing up against him, letting his left arm wrap around your waist to hold you up. “What an odd turn of events for me.”

He smiles up at you, “Those are usually the best.”

The three of you sit there, chatting about nonsense, letting rock music lull from a small radio under Rick’s chair, let them rope you into people watching the exact party you had come from. You can’t make out noise or faces, but it’s fun to invent fake stories.

It’s not fun when the rush of Eddie’s scent fills your nose every time he shoots up close to point out something across the water, or his hand digging into your thigh when he laughs too hard, or the way in the quiet moments he draws shapes into the bare skin of your leg. You watch the sun crawl across the sky, a golden yellow turning burnt orange, dark purple replacing light blue and stars taking their place before the final curtain closes.

You’ve leaned back into Eddie’s chest, dark hair tickling your nose when a breeze blew, his musky scent wafting through you. He was speaking softly in your ear, whispering out facts about some strange deity he had made up in that fantasy game Will played. You don’t know how you got to that point, but his gentle voice was so soothing you didn’t mind at all.

“Am I boring you?”

“You’re boring me.” Rick yawns standing up. “I’m going inside. You can sleep over little siren or at least make Eddie walk you back to your party.”

You beam up at him. “Thanks for the weed.”

“Anytime.” He squeezes your cheeks, then stalks off the screen door squeaking then slamming close.

You eye the empty chair. “I should-!”

Two arms wrap around you. “You’re warm.”

“It's still sweltering outside.” You joke.

“It’s a little chilly.” He tries, but it only makes you laugh a little. A hand on your inner thigh cuts the sound off instantly, but he’s quick to inch it away. “Sorry.”

You feel your heart speed up in your throat, you feel the little stutter in your breath as his hand comes into direct focus and the heat suffocates you. Yeah, you wanted what your best friend had, but Rick was right too, you did miss sex. It had been so long, and his hand was right there, long fingers begging to be used.

Your thighs rub together and you know he can tell you’ve arched back into him. “It’s okay.” You breathe.

“Is it?”

A double edged question you’d agree to every time, and maybe this was the best turn of events. “Yeah.” You whisper out.

His hand inches back inward, cool rings dragging across warm skin. He licks his lips, you can hear it. You wish you could see it, wish you could turn and feel his lips on your own. No, instead your eyes are locked in on his hand resting on your inner thigh, just resting. His other hand comes up, brushing hair away to expose your ear, your neck, partially your face and you glance backwards slightly at him.

Brown eyes stare back at you, dark, heavy, intoxicating as the tips of his fingers graze too close to what burned through you. Your mouth parts, and the hem of his long shirt rides up your body only the thin layer of a bathing suit hiding all that scorched heat between your legs.

Eddie’s grip digs in at the same time he buries his face in the crook of your neck. “You smell so good.”

“What do I smell like?” You exhale.

You feel the warmth of his open mouth dragging up the chorded muscles in your neck. “Like sunscreen and sweat, like weed and vanilla.” Your eyes flutter close when his tongue laps at your skin. “You smell like summer.”

And how could you refuse him the taste of summer? “Hmm.” His teeth graze your pulse and he pushes your head towards him to nip at your ear lobe the same time his hand inches up your body, a finger curling along the inner seam of your bikini bottoms.

A gasp, a claw squeezing his thigh and his body grinds up into yours. “Gunna touch you now ‘kay?”

“Mhm-hmm.” You lick your parted lips, nodding against his face. Two fingers brush against the front of you, ghosting your throbbing clit over damp fabric. You're not sure if it's from the lake or your arousal, if you had to guess; both.

Your face is hot, new sweat forms on your hairline and you want to claw out of this shirt he forced on your body. He sucks on your jaw, his hard cock digging into your back side. He’s teasing you, putting light pressure on your clit like he’s simply adjusting his grip on your body. You’re clenching around nothing, your body begging him silently to fuck you if it quenches this insatiable need steaming off of you. And maybe you could cum like this, pathetic and empty because you’re sure if he kept dangling it in front of you eventually your body would combust inward.

“Does it hurt?” He whispers against your ear. You make a confused whine, “The want for me to put my hand inside of you, does it hurt? It seems like it hurts.”

“Yeah.” You croak out.

He clears his throat, “You must need it real bad then, huh?” He pushes your bathing suit to the side, two fingers gliding are slick arousal, “You poor thing.” He mumbles into your ear, “All worked up for me.” He simply plays with it all, sliding fingers through your folds, gentle circles rubbed into your clit. “Would you cum like this?” Your back arches into him, “Or do you need more?” Fingers edge your weeping entrance, teetering the ring of it but never quite going inside of you.

“I-I ne-I want more.” You can’t breathe, can’t think. You’re simply panting, dizzy with need, suffocated by the heat of arousal.

He plunges two fingers inside and you nearly cum right there on his hand, sagging against him with deep rooted relief. It takes you a moment to even register he’s thrusting up into you, that the deep ridges of his rings feel like cold ice along the walls of your cunt, or that he’s whispering into your skin. “Does it feel good baby?”

“Yes.” You moan into the night, snaking a hand around his head to hold onto something. “Fuck, Eddie.”

He groans into your cheek, fucking you harder with agile fingers, fucking you so good you can barely see straight. “Like when you say my name like that. Like feeling you clenching around me already, dripping down my wrist.” He sucks on your neck, harsh. “So pretty, so perfect, I want you to cum all over me.” Teeth bite down on you and you cry out, “Can you do that? Can you be a good girl for me?”

You nod, legs opening wider, mewling for him incoherently, “So-so good.”

“You are, aren't you?” His husky voice consumes you, his other hand sliding down your body to press down onto your clit. You grind up into him, rolling your hips to meet each thrust of his knuckles curling inside of you. With dexterous precision on your clit, and fingers grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you; your nail claws at his scalp, toes curling in the grass below.

His whole body shifts, sitting up straight, shoving you backwards, curling himself over you as he pushes a third finger up into you, filling you, stretching you. You are unable to speak, unable to think, only high pitch gasps leave you with each brutal thrust of his hand. Your ass rolls against his cock with every motion, his leg keeping your knees apart.

It's obscene, the sound that echoes off the lake, the sick wetness slapping against your skin. It’s a fever taking over your skin, a spark burrowing into your core to ignite your whole body in flames. With one final long drawn out figure eight drawn into your clit, you explode. You clamp down around his hand, gushing over his fingers, his jeans, with a broken moan on your lips. You rock against his palm still buried inside of you, riding it out, letting your vision blink back into existence. A new wetness seeps in from behind you and you’re convinced it’s from you too. But there he is, slowly grinding against you, the once rock hard length growing soft and you know the wetness was his own orgasm.

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, spilling out of the sides of your suit when your body collapses back with him boneless, your brain mushy. Slowly, he tugs his hand out of you with a squelching sound and a breathy hiss from you.

“What an odd turn of events.” He speaks from behind you, your breaths evening out in tandem.

“Those are usually the best.”

Eddie laughs softly, then in one quick motion he twists your body, draping you across his lap, your legs dangling off the armrest of the plastic lawn chair. “You okay? Was I too rough?”

“No.” You shake your head, resting your heavy brain against his chest. “That was…”

“Hot.” He leans his chin on the top of your head.

You laugh. “Yeah.”

You close your eyes, getting lost in the steady way his heartbeat slows down thumping consistently beneath your ear. “You’re a dream.” He whispers, stroking down your hair. “We should take you back.”

“We should go get ice cream.”

“You’re half naked.” He reminds you. “And we’re covered in…”

You sigh, “If only there was a large body of water to fix that.

“Is that so?” His hands go under your thighs and he shoots up, a hoarse giggle escaping your throat as he runs with your body towards the lake. His feet pound against wood and soon you’re weightless once more before cool water slams into you washing away any trace of what happened in that lawn chair. Except water couldn’t scrub it from your brain, your nerves, the feel of his fingertips on skin. No, you think, breaking the surface, his heavy band shirt tugging you down, there was no way you could forget the way Eddie Munson had made you feel tonight.

A dream.

You splash him with water, he splashes back, his wide smile brighter than the moon now hanging over your heads. And you’re laughing, remembering what carefree fun was supposed to feel like. Maybe you’re still high, or maybe being with Eddie was easy, or maybe both things were true.

“My legs are so heavy.” You complain, trying to swim, trying to tread water.

“I bet.” He smirks, crossing the space between you two to grip your hips, pulling you towards him. “I got you.” He guides your legs around his waist, holding you with a firm hand on your spine. He gazes up at you, moving his hand up your vertebrae until it's rooted to the base of your skull and he pushes you forward to connect your mouth to his.

You hum into his lips, a hand resting on his jaw, the other in his mane of hair, parting your lips for him to slip his tongue inside. Your mouths meld together, tongues gliding along each other, rolling around like two dragons dancing delicately in the sky. His tongue licks at the roof of your mouth, tasting the smoke still stuck to your teeth, sucking on the air neither of you take in. His spit tastes so good, like cheap beer and nicotine and something citrus, and you swallow it down greedily, losing yourself to the tangible taste of him. You can’t stop kissing him, can’t tear your mouth off of him even when you can feel your top lip growing puffy, can feel your lungs begging you to take a breath.

He nips at your bottom lip and finally you suck in a quick breath, chasing his mouth for more. “I think this is how sirens kill men.” He mutters, dragging his bottom lip along yours. “Entrance them and drown them.”

“I’m not a good singer.” You capture his lips again.

“I disagree.” He sucks your lip in and you moan. “You make such pretty noises.” You chuckle into his mouth, two arms wrapped around his neck. “Stay.” You reel back to stare down at him, “Actually, no. I’m going to take you home and then I’m going to take you out.”

You laugh softly, “Okay.”

Eventually you do climb out of the water and he walks to his van, the pair of you unable to stop smiling over at the other, wet hair plastered to drenched skin. He opens the passenger door for you, but before you can climb in he grabs you by the hips again, pressing you into metal and kissing you. He tilts your face up, shoving his tongue down your throat, licking the sides of your esophagus until you’re dizzy all over again.

Your hand runs the length of his pale skin beneath his soaked shirt, nails dragging up his ribcage to splay against his sternum, his heart pounding in tune with your own.

He pecks your swollen lips, quick kisses, pushing your hips towards the front seat. “I like kissing you.”

“I like being kissed.” You smile against his teeth.

Eddie lifts your feet, planting them on the ground and forcing the door close to jog around the car and slide into the driver’s seat. “Here.” He digs into the back of his van tugging free a jacket. “You got my shirt all wet.”

“You got it wet.” You laugh taking the jacket and tugging it on your body. Summer nights were cooler, but humid, the heat pressing in with a sticky sensation that made your whole body feel damp. “Thanks.” You curl into the leather, smelling him all around you.

“You headed back to Byers?” He asks, turning the engine over. “The party?”

You smile, “Nah, you can just take me home.”

“You hooked up with Eddie Munson!” Nancy gasps across the Byers’s kitchen table where Jonathan, her, and you ate lunch. You had come over as soon as you woke up to explain where you had disappeared too last night, but the evidence was marked up your neck in deep hickies and teeth indents.

You roll your eyes, “We didn’t hook up, we just…made out.” Yeah, he totally didn’t finger bang me in a lawn chair until he came in his pants.

Jonathan eyes you suspiciously, knowing you’re lying, but he doesn’t push. “And he wants to see you again?”

“Yeah.” You look down to hide the slow smile forming. “Sure, why not.”

“You shouldn’t have just…gone over there without saying bye.” Jonathan toys with the placemat underneath an empty plate. “I-We were worried about you.”

You shrug. “I didn’t intend to float away. It just happened and honestly…I had a really good time.”

“Eddie’s a little weird isn’t he though?” Jonathan raises an eyebrow at you.

“And you aren’t?” Nancy laughs.

He throws up his hands. “I just mean…I don’t want him treating you bad or hurting you or whatever. I don’t know a lot about him. What if he’s like a serial killer or something.”

“He ran a club for a fantasy game my little brother, your little brother, and their friends were a part of.” Nancy playfully glares, “I think we kinda know things about him. He’s obnoxious."

“He’s in a band.” You offer.

Jonathan’s worry softens into something amiable. “His only downfall is the drug dealing.” Nancy points out.

When she’s not looking, you mouth ‘free weed’ to Jonathan making your best friend laugh and shake his head at you.

Eddie had stopped by your house while you were out, but alas, you were out. Your mother took his number down for you, but when you call he’s not home. No big deal.

You call again the next day; no answer or returned call. He doesn’t come by either.

A whole week goes by and maybe Jonathan was on to something and Eddie only liked you when the weed hit his system. The heavy smoke had faded and he had been left with regret and a cum stain in his underwear, what more did he really want with you?

But when you lay in your bed at night, you can’t get the image out of your head of the way he looked at you, the way his fingers ghosted over your skin, the way he had called you a dream.

A dream, induced by drugs.

You turn on your side and curl around your pillow.

The phone rings the next afternoon. “Hello?”

“My little siren.” Your heart picks up a few beats, “Sorry I stopped by and missed you, and then Rick needed my help with some stupid shit and little Henderson, you know Dustin right? Yeah, he came by and we started this whole campaign planning thing for Hellfire and-!”

“Eddie.” You chuckle, “It’s fine. You-you don’t owe me-!”

“No I do. I can’t have my favorite girl thinking I was blowing her off.” You chew on your smile. “Hey, can you be ready in like 25 minutes?”

“Why?”

“Wanna go for a drive?”

Twenty-five minutes fly by too fast and you’re bouncing your legs up and down on your stairs, clutching the carpet, staring at your front door waiting for him. The second hand on the clock mocks you with every slow tick and the anticipation nearly makes you crawl out of your skin. You groan into your palm, physically unable to stop watching the door waiting, waiting, waiting…

Two minutes later, Eddie pulls up and you hop off of the stairs not even giving him the chance to knock. You check yourself out one last time; fix your hair, pull your denim mini dress further down your thighs, adjusting the cherry red belt wrapped around your center. You grab your camera bag, of course, and lastly, you throw Eddie’s jacket over your shoulders and bound out of the front door.

He’s closing his driver side door when your hand squeezes his shoulder. “What’s u-Damn…” He turns to fully take you in, eyes taking you in head to toe with a low whistle. “Damn.” He hisses, hands going to your waist. “You look too damn good in that jacket for me to ever beg for it back.” He leans down and kisses you like this has been so completely normal since the dawn of time. “I wanted to come to the door.”

“That’s alright.” You hide the fact you couldn’t wait a second longer to feel his hands on your body.

He pokes your nose, “Needy girl. Well, up ya get.” He motions with his head, following you around his van to open up the door for you to climb inside with a small smack to your ass. You settle the small bag on the floor near your feet. Once he closes the door, you’re shucking off the jacket already flustered from the midday sun beating down on you. “Fuck.” He groans once he’s behind the wheel, “You smell so fucking good.” He shoots across towards you, burying his face in your neck, hair tickling you while he kisses up your throat, along your jaw, planting one last peck to your lips before settling back into his seat.

You smirk to yourself. You had sprayed the same perfume tonight that you had worn when the lake had carried you to his dock. You figured it was his favorite now. “Where are you whisking me away tonight?”

“Somewhere I’m not tempted to kiss you every second.” He glances over at you.

You lean over, sliding a hand on his thigh, “Now what would be so wrong with that?”

He parks at the ice cream shop along the strip of stores in downtown Hawkins. “M’lady.” He offers his arm to help you out of his van walking along the pavement towards the colorful inside holding far too many hot patrons. “You ask, you shall receive."

“And we’re both in dry clothes this time.”

“Speak for yourself.” He whispers in your ear making the heat crawl up your neck. A hand glides down your side to sit peacefully at your waist, then he drops it suddenly. “Sorry, sorry is that okay?”

You grab his hand before it goes back completely, “More than okay.” You smile up at him.

He smiles back down, “It’s hard to keep my hands off of you.”

“It’s my wylde ways that have seduced you, Munson.”

“It sure is.”

You glance around the shop, the bright yellow and blue painting the wall, the multicolored sprinkles decorating it. It was blaringly overstimulating in a way only an ice cream parlor could be. “Steve and Robin used to work in an ice cream shop, it was nice to get it all for free.”

“Damn they shoulda came here after the fire, at least could have gotten me a discount.” He jokes peering down at the variety of flavors behind glass, “What do you want?”

You order your ice creams, but Eddie doesn’t let you sit down, no he drags you back outside to his van and speeds off down the road, your melodic laugh floating out of his open windows. He drives you out of the downtown area, music playing at a low volume while he rolls along the road. “Where are we?” You ask peering out of the window at the hill of grass stretching before you.

“Dustin told me about this place, and figured it would be a nice place to enjoy our ice cream.”He grabs a blanket from the back then flies out of the car, pulling you, along with your camera, with him up the giant hill overlooking Hawkins.

Your cheeks are aflame and the heat presses down in your chest, but Eddie’s hand is in yours.

Cresting the hill you can see the scorch mark the mall fire had left, the fair grounds being set up, rows of suburban houses, and the mandarin orange sun burning in your face. That's when you finally sit. “This is nice.” You tell him, scooping a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth.

You sit there for a while, eating ice cream that was melting far too quickly while the crickets and cicadas sang in the greenery enjoying the view along with you. It was a peaceful quiet, like you both were simply enjoying the moment rather than filling it with empty conversation.

You wipe your hands and slowly begin to pull your small camera free from the bag it hid in. It wasn’t as nice as Jonathan’s, but then again he was better at photography than you. You line up the shot of the setting sun and snap a few stills, panning across the faraway town, slowly turning it on Eddie.

“Smile.” You grin behind the lens and watch that wide beam take over his whole face. He makes a silly face, sticks out his tongue, flips you off and no matter what happens to you two at least you could leave here with pleasant memories.

“My turn!” He rips it from you, quickly spinning it, snapping a few of himself from an upside down angle accidentally before turning it on you. It shutters and clicks at you, your hand in half of the frame as you shove it up, then you pounce, grabbing at your camera, toppling over him to free it from his clawed grip around the lens. “Just one! Please!” He cackles wildly, the camera still clicking with every crazy picture he takes.

“You’re wasting m-! Ha!” You free it and wiggle it above your head.

He puts his hands up pathetically. “Oh no you got me.” But those two hands land on your thighs which are now straddling his hips. “What’ll you do to me now, little siren?”

You slowly lower your hands, lining up one more shot of him trapped beneath your bracketed legs, at his calm dark expression. Then you set your camera aside, and plant two hands on either side of his face, “This is the part where I drown and kill you, Munson.”

His mouth twists, nose scrunching, the smirk fighting to form in his mouth, “Oh please drown me.” His right hand moves inward, slipping beneath the hem of your dress brushing a knuckle down the length of the front of your underwear. “You’re already halfway there.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and gods, you’ve never done this but gods did you always want to. You don’t even care that you're at the top of an exposed hill while there is still daylight illuminating the sky. You straighten up onto your knees fully, tugging down your underwear, maneuvering it off your legs to sit meaningless next to your melted ice cream.

With two firm hands on your ass, Eddie guides your body upward until your knees replace where your palms were. His eyes are dark, hungry as he takes in the glistening sight above him. “Come on.” He urges you down, “Please let me have her, please.”

You grip the grass to steady yourself as you bring your cunt down onto his mouth. The moan he lets out is outrageous and vibrates up into you to come out of your own mouth. His tongue works you, ravages you like he’s dying of thirst, and he’s not even hitting your clit, he’s just below you, tasting you, exploring you until finally you roll your hips. “Fuck.” You choke out needing to put a second hand to the ground to bring your clit closer to the apex of his tongue and once he finds it–oh and he finds it–your vision screws up. A hot zing of pleasure shooting up your spine that has you grinding down into him.

He slows his erratic movements to lick at that throbbing bundle of nerves, to shower it with attention that has you losing all rhythm. You let go of the grass, sitting up straight to land a hand on his own hip. He’s firm beneath you, unwavering even as his fingers dig into the flesh of your ass, as the other reaches up to knead into your breast.

“Right there, right there…” You pant now fully fucking his face, his nose buried in deep as he drawing shapes into your clit with his tongue. Your core burns, your thighs shake beside his head and nails curl into his stomach. “Eddie I-!” Teeth graze you and you’re clenching around nothing, moaning at the clouds, coming apart over him, rolling your hips until the shockwaves wash down to your feet.

You don’t even realize his tongue had moved off of your clit, that it's thrusting up into your pulsing cunt, drinking down whatever you’ll give him. And the noises. The slurping and sucking and groaning from beneath nearly have you ready for another orgasm, and he’d give it to you.

You push up onto your knees more, coming off of his face and suddenly two hands grab you by the waist, holding you firmly as he pushes upward to land you on your back beneath him. His eyes are wild, mouth soaked with your pleasure and soon enough, he’s kissing you. His tongue swirls around your mouth like he wants you to taste yourself on his tongue, like he wants you to know how crazy it drove him.

He takes your bottom lip between his teeth and tugs. “Mhm.” Is all he says, licking around his mouth to gather more of you into his mouth. His hand goes to his pants, unbuckling himself, zipping down his jeans, freeing his hard cock from the restraints of denim. You glance down, then back at his face, “Okay?”

“Yes.” You nod, mouth watering, hips slightly bucking up to meet him.

Eddie only smirks, dragging the tip of his cock up and down your sopping entrance, brushing against your sensitive clit, circling your weeping hole. “Does it hurt? The want for me to put my cock inside of you, does it hurt? It seems like it hurts.”

“Eddie.” You whine. “Don’t tease me.”

“You must need it real bad then, huh?” He pushes in slightly, a breath of relief before he tugs himself out. “All worked up for me.” Again, he pushes in with just the tip and your back arches off of the ground, groaning through your teeth when he pulls out again. “Tell me you need it, baby, come on tell me how bad you want me to fuck you.” You’re near tears when he thrust up and down your slicked up folds, “I’ll make you cum like this, do you want that? I’ll do it for you.” The shaft of his cock keeps brushing against your sensitive clit and you could cum like this if he doesn’t stop, you’re close to bursting with it actually and it’s embarrassing how wet you get thinking about it.

You swallow, “I need it, Eddie.”

He tsks, pressing into your clit with his cock harder, the blood orange sky blurring about you, colors melting together like the cream in your forgotten cup. “Not good enough, baby. You’re such a good girl, my good girl. You don’t need me inside you to cum right?” You try to fight it, but you grind up into him, rolling your hips along his cock simply sitting outside of your body, using it to get yourself off. You moan from your throat and he simply watches you try to shove it down, “That it’s, there you go, you got it.” He brushes hair off of your forehead, cooing at you, all the while he’s rubbing his cock with unyielding precision along everything that made stars pop up behind squeezed eyelids. “It’s okay, let it go baby.” Your stomach tightens and with two fists twisted into Eddie’s shirt, you clamp down around air, cuming pathetically without him inside you a frustrated whine leaving your mouth. Wet pleasure seeps between your smashed thighs only mocking you more, the familiar blissful relief following soon after. “Gods you’re fucking drenched.” You glare up at him. “All you needed to say was please.”

You grit your teeth, “Please, I need you to fuck me Eddie Munson. I need to cum with you buried deep inside me.”

He presses a kiss to your lips, “Of course, baby.” Eddie plunges into you with a sick, squelching sound not even giving you time to adjust before his hips are smacking against yours. He pulls up, two hands gripping your hips to slam you down onto his cock, “Fuck you feel so good, fucking divine.” He tugs one knee up and out, opening you up more, fucking you deeper. “I need this dress off.” He undoes the belt around your center, letting it fall carelessly. “I’m gunna flip you over now.”

“Huh wai-!”

But he pulls out and flips you over by hitching you by your hips. Then, he buries himself back into you before you have even taken the next breath. He tugs the zipper down, letting the dress grow slack and then fully falling around your body leaving you naked and exposed for him while the world moves around you. He runs a hand up your spine, arching you for himself, snaking a hand sideways to fully cup your breast. He groans, pinching and pulling at your nipple, the heat growing in your core once more.

He fucks you punishingly faster, hitting something so good it has you mewling for more. “You fuck me so good, Eddie.”

“Fuck yeah I do.” Two fingers hook into your mouth, rings digging into the corners. “Fucking know just what you like, baby girl. Your pussy was made for me, you were made for me.” Your tongue swirls around his digits, the divets and ridges of cool rings, letting him fuck your mouth with his fingers until drool pools out of your lips. You think you’d let him do whatever he wanted if it felt this good for him to do. “Cum around my cock now.” He takes his dripping fingers and slides them between your legs, drawing perfect circles into your clit.

It doesn’t take long until spots dance in your vision, until your legs shake under the weight of your impending orgasm.

He hisses, “Fucking squeezing me, you’re so tight. Jesus.” He pulls back, and slams into you; slow, steady, dragging his cock along the soft spot deep inside of you, curved especially for him. Pleasure drips down your thighs, and all you can do is cry out his name when you cum around his cock. Your front half collapses, only staying upright with his knuckles wedged into your hip bones thrusting into you through your orgasm.

Eddie spills inside of you, hot spurts coating your insides with every slow pulse of his hips to milk every last drop out. He doesn’t pull out right away, no, he only shifts you down all the way and rolls to wedge himself behind you.

“You okay?”

You’re blissfully drained. “Good. Really good.”

“Mhm.” He hums. “I left an indent.” He traces where his knuckle dug into your hip, a small imprint from the horn on one of his rings. His tongue lazily lolls on your nipple. “Didn’t give them enough attention.” He sucks one into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue.

“Eddie.” You breathe out some semblance of a laugh, but it breaks off into a small moan when his soft cock begins thrusting again up into you. Warm cum threatens to slip out around the edges only for him to shove it back up into you when he fucks it back in. Teeth graze your nipple as he keeps at it, lavishing your breast, sucking and licking while pumping his cum further into you, not daring to let a single drop spill over.

You let him keep at it, let him hump at you and roll his tongue around your breast until he begins to grow hard again inside of you, until you even need more of it. He moans into your skin and you roll onto your back bracketing him between your legs letting him turn the focus to your other breast. He fucks you slow, without thought, the fullness of him heating your skin more than the summer sun setting beyond you. “Give me one more.” He mutters into your breast, a hand slithering between bodies. “I need it, baby, please give it to me.”

You’re too delirious to know if he means your orgasm or his own. “Keep fucking me, Eddie.” You whine, nails in his hair tilting your hips up to take him deeper, to make him hit that spot inside you as his thumb presses into your clit.

His face nestles into your neck and he’s sucking and biting on sweaty skin. “You smell so good, you taste so good, gunna taste even better with my cum filling you up.”

“Yeah?” His pace picks up, his thrust becoming rougher. “Please, Eddie, I need it, I need your cum, wanna be so full of it.”

“Feel good inside you already huh?” He presses down harder on your clit, "Want you to cum with it all inside you, yeah? Can you do that for me? Show me how good it makes you feel, how good I make you feel.” You squeeze your eyes tight and clamp down around him, back arching up, nails raking down his scalp, his spine with a broken cry on your lips. “Such a good girl.” He pants, hips sputtering, more cum spilling up into you and out around his cock. “Yeah there you go, take it so good. You let me fill you up so well, fucking milking me for it, baby.”

He gives you a few more thrust, but this time he finally does pull out collapsing beside you on the ruined blanket. “Holy shit.” Your breaths come in shallow and shattered, sweat fully covering both of your bodies in a glistening sheen. “That was…”

“Hot.” He repeats and you only drape an arm over your face while you attempt to laugh. “You make me get so lost in it.”

You peek over your arm at him, “Same. It’s never…”

“Been like that with anyone else.” You both laugh, and you even cover your face with two hands to hide the noise coming from you. He sighs, tugging your hands down by your wrist. “I think you did kill me and this is heaven."

“Or a dream.” You grin weakly.

“One I never want to wake up from.” He leans down and kisses you gently like he hadn’t rocked your world.

You prop up onto your elbows, peering around the hill. “I should probably get dressed before someone calls the police on us. Hopper would still arrest me for indecent exposure even if he’s obsessed with my best friend’s mom.”

Your dress is covered in arousal and cum, so is the blanket. Eddie runs back to his van, throwing you an extra T-shirt he had lying around. You glance down at the words written on the shirt, “Hey, so are you still running Hellfire Club?”

“No.” He glances at the shirt too, his club shirt, settling in beside you. “Well, yes, but no. Dustin and Mike took over once I graduated, but I still help out with campaigns if they need it.”

You nod, “Will said you were a great DM.”

Eddie waggles a finger at you, “Will Byers is a little liar. You should have seen that smug smirk he had when they chose Mike to be the new DM.”

“Two things can be true, Munson.” You nudge him with your shoulder. You chew on the corner of your mouth, “Why did you…”

“Never try to get with you when we were all in school together?” He sighs, tugging at blades of grass, “I don’t know, you were always with Byers I assumed things until Nancy Wheeler came around. At that point I was so lost in trying to graduate and the band and Hellfire I really wasn’t interested in anyone.” He glances at you, “What’s your excuse?”

You mimic his sigh, “I thought you were cute, but was a little intimidated and then you graduated and I figured I’d never see you again so it didn’t matter.”

“You never dated anyone else?”

You shook your head, “I had a boyfriend, no heat, no passion-!”

“Boring sex?”

“Yes.” You laugh, but your smile falls. “I kept waiting to feel that spark and it never really happened...” You look over at him, until you.

Eddie frowns, “You’re going to college in the fall for photography aren’t you?”

You nod, “In Chicago.” You roll your eyes, “Jonathan is going to Emerson with Nancy, he’ll probably work with her. I’m undecided. I would love to maybe go more into film, it seems way more interesting, but that is a whole different program.” His silence is oppressive, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

The muscle under his eye twitches, “We got the whole summer to hang out.” You try to smirk, “To hook up, then…”

“We’ll go our separate ways?”

“Sure.” You shrug, feigning nonchalance, trying to not give him the idea that you wished he would ask for more. “I’ll be home often, we can hang out when I’m back in town for breaks and stuff like that.” You nudge him again, “I can bug you for free weed.”

He forces a laugh. “Right.”

His cum warms between your legs, and you feel there’s something teetering on a fragile ledge threatening to break, but you’re too afraid to name it. Because you can fake it all you want, but the idea of leaving Eddie come August had made sadness weasel into your chest. “The sunset is pretty out here.” You change the subject staring out at the amber waves burning while the sun dipped low.

“It is.” But his voice came in facing you, not like he was looking at the sun at all. You lay back on the ground, staring up at the indigo sky, the crescent moon shyly beginning to show herself to you.

He lays down next to you, tucking his arm beneath you, curling you up against his chest. “We should go to the fair.” You mumble out, your eyes closing.

He doesn’t respond, only draws shapes into your shoulder absentmindedly.

“Was it good?” Your ear twitches in Jonathan’s direction, and you glance over at him with your hands still on the clips holding up your developing pictures. “The date. The date with Eddie?”

“Oh.” You drop your hands, “It wasn’t really a…date.” It felt like a date and ended like a porno so you weren’t sure how to describe it. “It was nice though, I had a lot of fun.”

Jonathan has the audacity to look playfully disappointed in the red light of the room. “Did you sleep with him?”

“No!” You scoff, crossing your arms. “No we just…we made out.”

“You’re a horrible liar.” He shakes his head, laughing to himself, coming around the table to pin up the photo next to the one you had just finished. It was all the film from your camera, all the film from your night with Eddie. “I don’t care if you did, as long as he…treats you well.”

You roll your eyes, but the softness is there. “He did.”

Jonathan’s eyes catch on the film beginning to fully develop, the one Eddie had taken of you. “I’ve never seen you like this.” He motions to the picture, “You seem…really happy. I mean you always are happy, but this is just…different.” You chew on the inside of your cheek, “What are you going to do about the fall?”

“Nothing.” You shrug.

“Does he know you’re leaving?” You nod, “And he’s okay with that?” You nod, again. “I mean, I guess that’s smart…long distance would be hard.”

You turn away from him, busying yourself with another picture. “We’re just having fun, it’s nothing serious.”

“That will be a…clean break. You guys can still be friends or what-not.” Jonathan agrees, “If that’s what you want.” You can tell he’s skating around what he really wants to say.

“We never talked about it.”

He breathes your name. “You two should talk about it, your expectations or else whatever is going on is only going to end up hurting one of you.”

“Eddie.” You heave it at the ceiling. “He…Maybe he wants something casual.”

“Don’t underestimate him.” Jonathan forces you to look at him. “I regret not telling Nancy how I felt sooner. She never would have gone back to Steve if I had told her, but I was afraid. Don’t repeat my mistake, if you like him…tell him.” He nudges you, “Don’t you remember all the shit you gave me. I think your words were, "if you love her you should tell her before she leaves your sorry ass.”

You frown, “You said long distance would be hard.”

“You’d make it work.” He smiles.

Eddie picks you up at six that night, wide eyed and a wider smile. Again, you don’t even give him the chance to come to the door, you’re simply bounding down your porch, across grass, and jumping into his waiting arms. “Did you miss me, little siren?” He mutters into your mouth and you press up to kiss him.

You ignore Jonathan’s logical voice in your head as the giddiness of it all shoots up your throat, and the embarrassing amount of need for him to keep some part of his skin attached to yours. He gives it to you in the form of a hand resting on your thigh while he drives. “Those pictures turned out horrible.” You grin over at him.

“Why? Was the lighting bad?” He peeks between you and the road.

“No,” You laugh. “They were all blurry and unfocused from you shaking the camera.”

“Me?” He gasps dramatically. “You were the one clawing it out of my hands.”

You laugh louder, “Some of them turned out nice.” You rest your head on the headrest to look over at him.

“You’re the prettiest girl in Hawkins.” The smile on his lips is so genuine it clenches something in your chest and your gaze tracks down, heat burning your cheeks. “You’ll have to show me them. I’m sure they’re great.”

You’re too flustered to respond, so you shoot down to the floor, digging through Eddie’s endless supply of cassette tapes, the flimsy plastic clinking every time you dig deeper into the collection. One particularly old one snaps open, slipping into your hand like a sign. The grin only grows when you read the title of the song, “I can’t believe you have this.” You pop out whatever metal album he has in currently and slide the new one in.

The Spinners, ‘The Rubberband Man’ begins to play and Eddie only huffs a quiet laugh to himself. “I forgot that it was in here.” But you are dancing with subtle rolls of your shoulders in the front seat of his van, “I figured you would be more of a pop enthusiast. I hear Madonna is all the rage.”

“I’m a music enthusiast, baby.” You play with the wind blowing past you with a hand out of the van window.

“My mom loved this kind of stuff.” Your eyes drag back over to him, at the bittersweet feeling swirling in his brown eyes. “She died when I was young.”

You frown, “I’m sorry.”

Eddie turns up the song, “Music is how I can keep her alive.” His hand lands on your thigh again, and maybe there was a reason the flimsy cassette tape fell out of its case.

By the time the song ends, his van is pulling into the makeshift parking lot in the middle of the field outside of the Hawkins Fun Fair. The engine cuts, and so does the radio, and you’re peering through the windshield at one of the bigger rides, swirling and dipping, loud thrilling screams coming in through the windows. “Why here?”

“You said you wanted to go.” And he listened.

He helps you out of the van, extending an arm for you to take like some galient knight, and he’s rushing off with you. Eddie made everything be the most dramatic thing ever, never allowing a dull moment to slip, and being with Eddie made you feel like a kid; wild and free and consumed with the present. It was too easy to free fall with him entwining himself with you, with his contagious laugh and warm eyes drowning you under the intensity of his gaze.

And maybe it was because you had gone to school together for so long, but it just felt like he knew you, really knew you. In a way you had only ever allowed Jonathan to know you, no one else had ever really mattered until…

“Eddie!” You cover your face laughing as he blatantly cheated during one of the carnival games when the booth worker had their back turned. He had reached across the counter and slung a ring around one of the milk bottles, then convincingly looked far too innocent.

Eddie hushes you, “See that big bat.” He points to the big prizes along the top of the carnival game’s rig. “We’re getting that. We have to. It belongs to us.”

Us. Gosh you would love an us, but you’re the one that tried to friendzone the pair of you if only to save you two the stress. You couldn’t shake the feeling that this was never supposed to be friendship between you and him, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was between you and Eddie Munson was otherworldly. “Okay big shot.” You roll your eyes, and watch him successfully cheat his way with the other three rings.

“Pick your prize.” The worker drones on.

Eddie slings an arm around your shoulder. “We’ll take the bat.” You say, pointing up at the large stuffed bat.

“What are you going to name it?” He asks, glancing down at the oversized creature clutched to your chest.

You pretend to think hard about as it the writing wasn’t on the fucking wall. It should have had a collar with the name with how cliche it was. “I think I like….Osbourne. We can call him Oz for short.”

Eddie stops completely, two younger kids banging into his back, but he’s staring at you. “I think you’re my dream girl.”

You roll your eyes, take his hand, and drag him away towards the food vendors. With a comically large bright pink cotton candy in one hand and another gripping the fluffy prize, you journey to the ferris wheel. With Oz stuffed between the two of you, Eddie maneuvers the lap bar down gently before the gondola rocks forward. “This is fun.” You hum picking strands of pink cotton candy off and plopping it into your mouth.

“Which part?”

You wave around as Hawkins slowly rolls up and around you. “All of it, I haven’t had fun at the faire in a while.”

“Jonathan Byers is boring?” He feigns shock.

You nudge him with a shoulder. “He’s not boring, he’s just different. You should understand. He’s just...”

“With Nancy Wheeler?”

“Sure.” You let the heavy pink sugar melt on your tongue. “Don’t get me wrong I’m so happy for him, for them. I just miss my best friend sometimes. Like Rick said, I wait around sometimes for him to not be ‘busy’ and that’s not fair to him or me.”

He plucks off a piece of cotton candy. ‘You got me now, babes.” But something flashes in his eyes, like he too is suddenly remembering you’re leaving come August. You frown down at your dwindling sweet treat, and you should say something, bring up what Jonathan had told you to bring up, but the second you open your mouth Eddie’s voice comes out. “I wasn’t lying.” You glance over at him, “You really are a dream, my dream.” He toys with one of the stuffed ears on your bat, and something swirls in the depths of his brown eyes, something akin to what was blooming in your own chest. But you both were cowards, it seems. He opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again, “I have a lot of fun with you.”

“Don’t get all sentimental on me now, Munson.” You ruffle his wild curls, and he’s quick to grab you by the side of the neck and kisses you firmly. The gondola rocks with the sudden halt and when you turn–his forehead still pressed to the side of your temple–Hawkins is stretched out in front of you. The air is hot, the scent of fake warm sugar floating from the funnel cake vendor below the Ferris Wheel, but beneath it, Eddie wafts up too, musky cologne and nicotine tattooing itself to the inside of your nose that will haunt you if you dare to try to find someone else.

You’re not sure you could, not sure you even want to.

He settles back into the seat with you, one arm draped around your shoulder tucking you against himself watching the sun set beyond the cluster of tall trees. “I never had a dream boy, well actually I kind of always thought Dally from The Outsiders was cute." Your back vibrates with his laugh, “I think I just always wanted someone who made me laugh, cared and listened to me…prioritised me. I wanted to be that couple that is so disgustingly in love that people are jealous.” You toy with the fabric flaying off of his dark jeans. “But I don’t know…If it’s any consolation, I have a lot of fun with you too.”

Unsaid words linger in the space around you mingling with the thick smell of powdered sugar and fried dough, it hangs there by a spool of fluffy strands of spun sugar.

Eddie plants a single kiss to the top of your head.

The ferris wheel begins to move again, indifferent to the turmoil and fear in your chest.

Thunder claps, followed by the crack of lightning as rain lashes against Eddie’s van. The pair of you could care less if there was a tornado outside it wouldn’t stop the drag of your tongue up the shaft of his cock. It wouldn’t stop his fist in your hair pushing your mouth back down around him until you’re forced to bite down the gag. You bob your head along him, deeper and deeper until tears prick your eyes, swirling your hand around whatever your mouth could not fit.

“Fuck, your mouth is perfect.” He grits out.

You smile up at him, licking at a sensitive part just below the head that has him bucking up. You suck your cheeks in, sealing him harder wondering if you could make him cum just like this. You grip him firmer, spit cascading from the corner of your mouth down your wrist only making it easier to glide your hand up and down.

His hand in your hair halts you. “Stop. I’m too close.” You shake him off and bury your face into his groin, the head of his cock tickling the back of your throat, and then you pull off of him to do it again and again. His thighs tighten and this time you do stop. His body shutters, the orgasm lingering right there. “I…you…” Your laughter vibrates its way up his cock, and you begin to move again. You swirl your tongue around his cock in the same rhythm of your hand. The van digs into your knees, turning them numb as you don’t dare disrupt the momentum. He’s still close, you can tell from the way his voice gets stuck in his throat. Up and down, up and down, until…You pop off of his cock watching him writhe slightly from halting on the edge of his orgasm. “I’m gunna pass out.” He whines, “Please…let me…”

You climb up his body. “That is payback for teasing me.”

“I’m sorry.” He kisses your swollen lips. “I’ll never do it again.”

“Yes you will.” You smirk against his mouth. “Because so will I.”

You sink down onto his throbbing cock and his nails dig into your hips. “I’m not gunna last long.” He grits it through his teeth. You know that, so you roll your hips slowly, fluidly, letting his cock slide against your cunt. This angle is delicious with the way his pelvis rubs into your clit if you lean slightly. “Cum before I do…” His thumb presses into your clit, “I need you to…” You know your hip will be sore from how hard he grabs it, how hard he tries to keep his own orgasm at bay.

A hand lands on his thigh behind you, moving faster on his cock, driving yourself towards your own orgasm with him buried up against that sweet spot only he seemed to ever be able to reach. You’re panting at the ceiling of the van. It’s filled to the brim with foggy windows and that unmistakable aroma of sex. “Eddie.” You whine throwing your hand out towards the window knowing it will brand as liquid runs down the imprint.

Your eyes squeeze shut and your body clamps down around him, hips stumbling with the movement. He’s quick to grab you by the hips and fuck up into you until finally he’s spilling into you, groaning your name like it was his famous last word. You’re still rolling your hips, he’s still twitching inside of you, but your breaths even out together, the pleasure weaning with every heavy exhale. “Jesus H. Christ.”

You glance down at him, bare skin shining with sweat, damp hair plastered to his forehead, his neck. “I think you’re the prettiest boy in Hawkins.”

“You’re so full of shit.” He chuckles, tugging you into his chest. He pulls out of you at the same time you roll to lay on his right side. You’re both naked, drenched in sweat and arousal, and his car digs into you uncomfortably despite the thin blanket he has lying on the ground. You couldn’t imagine being anywhere else as rain pours down harder beyond the windows. “We left right on time.”

You hum. “Imagine getting stuck on the Ferris Wheel during a thunderstorm.” You stick a hand out and curl your knuckles imitating the lighting outside with a dramatic boom. Then your hand collapses with a dying withering sound, “Horrible way to go.”

“That’s morbid.” But he’s laughing beside you. “One sec.” He reaches his other hand up and over his head, digging for something in one of his jackets draped over the front seat. “Gotcha.” He lowers a small matchbox tin and his lighter, “You want some?” He slides the tin forward revealing a row of joints.

You nod, watching him tug one free, and light it up between his lips. “I’m bad for business.” You say, letting him place the joint between your knuckles to inhale it. “All this free weed.”

“True. I’m gunna start charging you double to make up for lost profit.” He plucks it from your hand, eyeing your face shift into some form of offense. “I’m kidding. The sex is a form of payment.” You whack him, making him cough and sputter out smoke into the van. “I was kidding again!”

You yank the joint from him. “You’re not funny.” You prop up on your elbow to stare down at him.

“I am hilarious.’ He reminds you, eyes flashing around your face as you take a drag. “I am, in fact, haunted by the sound of your laughter.” He squeezes your chin, “It follows me into my dreams. Sometimes I’m convinced you did drag me into the beer-filled lake and I’m simply drowning in it, in you.”

You exhale the smoke into his face. “You’re wasted behind a guitar, you should be focusing on theater with how dramatic you are.”

His grin spread wide. “I know right.” He takes the joint from you and you groan while trying to sit up cum sliding down your thighs. You pull your underwear up your legs and grab his jacket to pull around your body. “Did you bring your camera?” You shake your head, settling against the wall of his van watching him watch you. He pretends to frame you between his outstretched fingers, “I want that framed in my room. My girl, naked, in my jacket…It will keep me company while you’re gone.” He seems to have realized what he said after he had said it, and his features deflate clumsily handing the joint back to you.

“It’s not far.” You offer to fill in the awkward tension forming. “Only a few hours. You could…” You inhale deep hoping the drugs will make you braver. “You could come visit.”

Some light returns to his eyes, fingers brushes in an exchange of the joint, or maybe it’s just the faint orange glow when he takes a hit of it, “Chicago has a good music scene. I’ve always wanted to take a trip over there.” Smoke swirls heavy above your heads, a careless observer to this sad excuse of two people skating around something the other wants just as desperately. “Who knows, maybe I could weasel some hole-in-the-wall bar to let my band play, and somehow get signed…make it big.” Excitement lines his features, “You could be my band’s photographer! Like they’ll want to put us on Rolling Stone and want to use their hot shot photographer, but I’ll insist on you.” He straightens up more, “Or…or music videos! Since you said you were considering working more in film.” You hold out your hand for the joint, but he only grabs it and squeezes, “We could make the next Thriller.”

It was just the rambling dreams of a stoned man or the truth. “If anyone could, it would definitely be us.” You smile, genuinely, because his dreams sounded so beautiful as long as you were together.

“You know what…No. Hell no.” He shoves the joint in your hand and stumbles upward. “I need…” He digs through discarded clothes and blankets and pulls too hard on his jeans flying into the back wall of his van. You stifle your laugh, watching him struggle into them before he goes to the back doors.

“Eddie.” It’s half-warning, half-glee. “It’s raining.” He shoves the door open anyway, rain pouring down in buckets, but he jumps out into it. “Eddie!” You call out into the dark. You go to the edge of the van, clutching the metal frame, peering out into it all with furrowed brows. He’s lost to the storm and you’re quick to throw his jacket off and yank free the shirt and shorts you had been wearing.

A minute later the loud slapping noise of his feet comes back into focus and his dark figure is bounding back towards his van. “Here!” He shoves a haphazardly gathered bouquet of flowers and weeds. “I brought you flowers.”

It droops pathetically, bogged down by the heavy rain. “Why?” You breathe a small laugh, always caught off guard by the way his mind worked

He was soaked to the bone, and looks at you under drenched bangs. “Because…” He licks his lips as if it would stop the water from leaking into his mouth. “Because…” He shouts over the rain, “I should have made myself more clear.”

“Eddie.” You tilt your head affectionately.

“No, I-I like you. I really like you and I don’t want to go our separate ways in the fall.” He shuffles on his feet, “I know you said you only wanted to hook up, but I can’t pretend anymore like I don’t have feelings for you and I-!”

You cut him off by shooting forward and kissing him. His hands go to your waist, wetness seeping through your shirt where his body connects with yours. “I only said what I thought you wanted to hear.” You peer up at him, brushing wet hair off of his forehead. “I should have made myself clear.” You beam up at him, “I really like you too Eddie Munson. I think you might just be my dream boy.”

“Not Dallas Winston?”

You shake your head laughing. “Not Dallas Winston.”

He kisses you again, and you wrap your arms around his neck letting him tug you out into the rain, spinning you, wet petals dripping down your back. “Thank the gods for Jonathan’s broken AC.”

“Thank that worthless current on Lover’s Lake.” You slide back onto your feet.

“I’ll get you real flowers.”

You reach for his hand, grabbing the sopping stems to toss into the trunk of the van. “No, I want those.” You turn back to cup his face, “I want you.”

His mouth consumes yours, tongues melting together as rain streams down around you. “You’re stuck with me now, little siren.” His brown eyes flare with excitement, “I might just have to follow you to Chicago now.”

“Good. I was worried it would be a messy custody battle for Osbourne.” You chuckle, feeling him searching for your hands to place on his shoulders.

He does the same to his own hands on your own body, settling them on your waist, suddenly swaying with you in the rain. You realize he’s trying to dance with you. “It will be tough but-!”

“We’ll make it work.” You lay your head on his chest, your best friend's reassurance flowing through you. “We’ll make it.”

Rain cascaded around you, thunder occasionally echoing in storm clouds, but Eddie had started humming, the noise of it heard deep in his chest under your ear swaying slowly in each other's arms. You can’t tell what song, it’s slow, not his typical beat of heavy metal. “Baby, I would rather, I would rather be blind boy than to see you walk away, see you walk away from me.” He sings it barely above a whisper, barely above the rain. You didn’t know her well, but it sounded like something Eddie’s mom would have liked to play. Maybe if you dug again through his music collection you’d find the name of it buried there under flimsy plastic.

Some days you still expect to wake up from this dream, some days you think this is an alternate dimension, like something from Eddie’s fantasy game where you’re still floating weightless and lonely in dark waters. Some days Jonathan bugs you because no relationship is that blissful and you only make fun of him for being the jealous one now.

Some days you know you’re just lucky the summer heat ran you into cool waters and now Eddie Munson was yours, and you were his favorite girl.

end notes: this was fun. came to me in the car and i wrote it all out in one go. hope ya'll enjoyed

8:21. 

You checked your phone for the millionth time. 

You were supposed to meet him at the restaurant at 7pm, and he was almost an hour and a half late. 

Well, you hoped he was late. You hadn’t yet accepted the probable fact that you’d been stood up. I mean, you were no stranger to chaotic schedules, unplanned overtime, and last minute catastrophes that had to be dealt with. Residency often rendered your social life moot; you could barely keep up with your commitments at the hospital, let alone a vibrant dating life. Maybe he had an equally demanding job; maybe there was a plausible excuse for why he left you stranded in this Italian restaurant without the decency of a “sorry, not interested anymore” text. 

You looked at your phone again–8:26. Okay, you’d give him 4 more minutes before you decide to pack it up. You try to subtly survey the restaurant for any sign of him, but are met only with the pitying looks of the waitstaff, who would, in all likelihood, be the only ones benefitting from this humiliation ritual. The hostess checked in with you at the bar regularly, the bartender had given you a glass of merlot on the house, and a very kind server brought you a charcuterie board to nibble on–had even brought you extra olives when you commented on how they were your favorite. They were all getting fat tips–or at least as fat as you could afford. 

8:31. Despite your best efforts you felt tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and your throat got that tight, achy feeling that precedes a sob. You felt so foolish. 

You looked up at the ceiling, blinking the tears away and tried to even out your breathing. 

You didn’t even want to go on this date. You’d all but sworn off of dating, the ROI not worth the emotional whiplash you were subjected to more often than not. It was becoming harder and harder as you got older to open up to people, expose your vulnerabilities and greatest fears, only to have them spit back in your face when things didn’t go their way. 

So you stopped with the apps, stopped the meaningless dates that were nothing more than a hookup vehicle for most. But your friends had convinced you that you needed to get back out there, that things would be better in Pittsburgh–the proverbial ocean filled with different, better fish than your hometown. And perhaps they were tired of hearing you wax poetic about the hazel-eyed night shift attending that you had no chance with. 

But you did want to find that person. As much as you were an independent, capable woman–doctor, even–the truth was you were lonely. Your days consisted of going to work, where you spent 12+ hours caring for Pittsburgh’s sickest, and coming home to microwave whatever sad frozen meal you had in your freezer. Sometimes you had the energy to join some of the night shift for post-shift breakfast, but that was about it. 

You wanted someone to share your life with, to ask about your day or if you’ve eaten. Someone who knew that your favorite flower was lily of the valley, but since they were too expensive you would settle for a bouquet of peonies; that you loved horror movies even though they scared the daylights out of you; that knew you loved olives but hated pickles. Someone who knew you, inside and out. 

There was a chasm in your chest that ached, that yearned for someone to take care of you–not financially, though you wouldn’t be opposed to that–but emotionally. To tell you that you were good, worthy, that you weren’t too much or too clingy. That wanted you as much as you wanted them. That felt the tension leave their shoulders when they looked at you, because you just being there made things better. 

Was that too much to ask for? 

It’d been so long since someone had even flirted with you, and even longer since you’d hooked up with anybody. Your dry spell was bordering on sahara levels of arid. Hell, at this point, you think you’d cum for the next guy who called you pretty. 

You shake yourself out of your pity party, dabbing your eyes with a napkin and gathering up the courage to ask for the bill, when you hear someone calling your name. Great. You’re halfway to a breakdown over some stupid guy who stood you up, and now you would have to sit through pleasantries with someone when you desperately wanted to go home and cry into a bottle of wine.   

You turned, fake smile plastered on your face.   

The person you least expect to see is the aforementioned hazel-eyed attending. He’s standing by the hostess stand, off to the side, dressed in dark blue jeans and a tight black shirt. It was unfair, really, how good the man could look in the most basic outfit. His shirt was pulled taut across his chest, muscles straining against the fabric and outlining the planes of his pecs. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his strong, freckled arms on display, and sinful thoughts ran through your head at how those arms would feel around you.  

You smiled and waved at him, reluctantly making your way over. It’s not like you can avoid him at this point, though these are less than ideal circumstances to meet him outside of work. 

“Small world,” he joked as you approached, a soft smile gracing his features. 

“I guess so,” you said sullenly, not up to your usual banter.  

“Big plans for the night?” he asked, eyes skating over your form, taking in the pretty red dress you’d donned for the evening, the light coat of makeup you applied, the hairstyle you wrangled your locks into. In any other scenario, you’d be preening under his watchful eye, giddy that he was eyeing you up and down.  

Now, though, you wilted under the attention. The humiliation from the night and the tingly feeling pooling in your gut at his gaze swirled together in some rancid amalgamation of emotions. You didn’t know if you wanted to laugh or cry or both, but ideally not in front of him.  

Your silence, apparently, concerned him. He looked at you seriously now, his eyes getting that clinical, assessing look in them as he took you in, “You okay?” he asked, genuine concern lacing his features.  

It was the one question you did not want to be asked. Because, for some reason, you could keep it all inside, bury the feelings as deep as they’d go, as long as someone didn’t ask if you were okay. The barest expression of concern had your lip trembling, throat tight as you managed to squeak out a meek, “I’m fine!” 

You could feel a tear tracing down your cheek, and you wiped it away furiously. Your eyes focused on a spot over his shoulder, unable to bear the pitying look that was undoubtedly on his face.  

“You don’t look fine,” he said softly, hand coming up to rest lightly on your upper arm.  

You shook your head, powerless to staunch the flow of tears now running down your face. “Sorry, I just, uh, I had a date tonight and he didn’t show, so,” you made a helpless gesture, your shoulders shrugging in feigned nonchalance. You felt ridiculous, crying over being stood up in front of your attending who was just trying to make small talk with you. 

You let out a garbled laugh, “Shit, sorry,” you hiccup, “this isn’t your problem, I don’t wanna interrupt your night any more than I already have. Have a good night,” you said, moving to push past him and scurry out the door.  

He grabbed your wrist, his grip firm but gentle, his body blocking your exit. 

“You’re not interrupting. I was just about to place a to-go order,” he said, a hesitant look crossing his face before he continued, “But, uh… would you like to have dinner with me instead?”

You're taken aback. It’s the last thing you expected him to ask you. I mean, it’s not like you haven’t thought about him in this context. On the contrary, Jack Abbot had been the subject of many a ‘boyfriend’ dream over the past year you’d worked with him. He was kind and generous and funny, his humor as dark as yours. He was steady in the face of chaos, a lighthouse in the foggiest of days–a man you could depend on when shit hit the fan. It’s part of the reason you switched to nights. You always felt calmer in his presence, more assured of your capabilities because he believed in you. 

And he was undeniably gorgeous–his fine wrinkles and graying curls set your body ablaze each time you looked at him, your panties soaking through in record time. You loved especially when he went a day or two longer without shaving, his scruffy cheeks looking like a delectable place to sit. 

Your mind was plagued by obscene fantasies of him, the sinful images assaulting you at the most inopportune times. You knew he’d treat you right, wouldn’t prioritize his pleasure over yours. He was older, experienced, not a kid fumbling around in the dark, searching for your most sensitive spots and coming up empty. You imagined the way his stubble would feel on your skin, his jaw scraping down your neck as he pressed kisses there, moving lower and lower until he was nestled between your thighs, mouth hot against your aching pussy. The way he would stretch you out and fill you up, have you desperate and begging for more. 

You’re snapped out of your lustful daydream when he says your name, an inquiring tone meant to prompt a response. Oh right, he asked you a question. 

You shook your head, not because you didn’t want to have dinner with him, but because you didn’t want to do so under these conditions; you didn’t want to be a charity case. 

“That’s very kind, but you don’t have to have a pity dinner with me. I’m a big girl, I can handle a little rejection.” 

“It wouldn’t be a pity dinner,” he shook his head immediately, “come on, you got all dressed up, let me at least buy you dinner for your trouble.” 

He cleared his throat, “Unless you really don’t want to, obviously, and I’ll let it go,” he said, “but I’d hate to see you go home cryin’.” And he looked so sincere, his pretty eyes so soft and squishy, all but pleading for you to accept his offer.  

You chewed on your lip, considering it. It wouldn’t be the worst way to spend your night. As of now your plans for the rest of the night were getting sadder by the moment. Things could only go up from here, you supposed. “Yeah, okay. If you’re sure,” you nodded. 

“I’m positive,” he said, hand coming up to rest on the small of your back, guiding you back up to the hostess stand. “Table for two, please.”

The two of you were sat at a corner booth near the back of the restaurant, the section secluded and not too loud. It was a classic Italian restaurant–warm, dim lighting illuminated the space from antique sconces on the wall, the walls were a beautiful exposed red brick, and the tables were candlelit and laid with red and white checkered cloths. The leather of the booth was soft but worn, the cracks spidering out and indenting into the back of your thighs a sign of how well loved this place was. 

The booth forced you close together, your thighs not quite touching each other, but close enough to feel the heat radiating off him. His scent is intoxicating, all warm amber and oud, mixed with a hint of citrus and his natural musk. It took all your power not to burrow your nose into his neck and inhale deeply. 

You were lucky to have the same waitress that checked on you at the bar, though you did have to assure her that this was not the man who stood you up. You were honestly a little concerned at the death glare she gave him at first–a true girls girl. 

“So, Dr. Abbot, how was your day off?” you asked, fiddling nervously with the hem of your dress. Despite your easy rapport at work, it felt awkward to be sitting here with your attending, especially when you were desperately trying to keep your feelings for him at bay. 

“Oh it was fine, picked up a shift with the SWAT unit and didn’t get shot at, so, you know, all things considered,” he said, then waved his hand dismissively, “and please, call me Jack. We're not at work,” a slight blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“Okay, Jack,” you laughed, the tension easing a bit as you threw formalities out the window.  

“I would ask you how your day off was, but I think I have a pretty good idea,” he said with a teasing lilt.

“Yeah, not my best moment. This is partially why I stopped dating, I hate getting my hopes up,” you said, a little more vulnerable than you intended but you supposed you were past that now. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I think whatever man decided to let you slip through their fingers is a fuckin’ idiot.” 

You sputtered a bit at that, your cheeks heating up. It was a kind platitude, and you wished that it made you feel better, but it did little to alleviate the pit in your stomach that made you feel small; that screamed that you weren’t good enough.

“But enough about that asshole. Do you want to order an appetizer?” he asked, scanning the menu. 

“Oh no, I’m okay, thank you.” 

“You sure? My treat, remember, don’t worry about prices.” he looked up, concerned. 

“I’m fine, really,” you bit your cheek, reluctant to spit it out, “our waitress may or may not have given me a pity charcuterie board at the bar.” 

His face was still for a moment before you saw the edge of his mouth betray him, quirking up in a suppressed smile. 

“Don’t you dare laugh,” you warned, your own resolve already breaking as you took in how pathetic the situation actually was. “It’s not funny!” you laughed, smacking him lightly on the shoulder with the menu. 

“No, no, definitely not,” he intoned, a look of mock-seriousness on his face before he broke out into a laugh, “I’m sorry! But it is objectively a little funny,” he hedged, hands held out defensively to block another menu attack.  

“It is not! It means that the poor waitress had to go talk to her boss and ask if they could comp an appetizer for the miserable sad sack at the bar!” 

“She probably didn’t call you a miserable sad sack. Maybe sad puppy dog girl, but not miserable sad sack,” he teased. 

You gasped exaggeratedly, “I am not a sad puppy dog girl!” 

“Oh yes you are. It’s the eyes. And the general obedient demeanor," he smirked. 

Oh. Your tummy twisted at that, but you quickly filed it under things that I simply do not have enough time to unpack right now. 

“You’re mean,” you pouted, lip jutting out and arms crossed. You weren’t really upset, but it felt fun to play it up a little bit.  

“Aww,” he pouted back at you, his tone just a tad condescending, “let me make it up to you. What do you say to some good wine and garlic knots?” 

You gnawed on your lip, considering his offer, “what the hell, let's do it. It’s not like I’m going to be kissing anybody tonight anyway,” you said, a little bitter, before realizing that was probably not an appropriate joke to make in front of your boss. 

“You never know, we could always pull a Lady and the Tramp,” he joked, not looking up from the wine menu. 

You were a little stunned at that. Was he… flirting? No. Definitely not. This was a strictly platonic date. Right? I mean, the puppy comment you could explain away, but this… this was different, wasn’t it? Who just jokes like that about the most romantic canine kiss in history? A joke, you settled on. Because you’d already gotten your hopes up enough for one night. 

Dinner was nice. Really nice. 

Conversation flowed freely, starting out in neutral territory with updates about patients, work gossip, whatever the fuck was going on with Robby. But you soon moved out of the work realm and into personal matters. You told him about your childhood–where you grew up, your favorite childhood pets, how much trouble you got into as a teen. 

And you learned a lot about Jack. That he came from a military family that moved around a lot, but spent a large chunk of time in North Carolina. He had two sisters, both older than him. One stayed in North Carolina and the other lived in West Virginia. Both married to military men, and both notorious for giving Jack shit about everything. But they were his rocks when he lost his leg, and then again when he lost his wife, and he was endlessly grateful for them. 

You both loved 90s alternative rock, which surprised you because you took Jack to be more of a classic rock fan, to which he merely glared at you and said that he wasn’t that old. You both had childhood crushes on Winona Ryder; his borne from her role in Heathers, and yours from Girl, Interrupted. He surprised you with the fact that he was a good cook, a fact that seemed unfathomable to you based on his general vibe. 

Now, though, you’d moved to med school stories, and Jack was regaling you with stories about him and Robby back in the day.  

“We must have been… god, I must have been a third year med student, and Robby was… an R2? and he had really pissed me off that night. I don’t even remember what he did, I just remember being so annoyed at him,” he laughed, shaking his head at the memory, “It was a quiet night, so he snuck off to the on-call room to catch a few hours of sleep, leaving me to do all the scut. So, I recruited the help of the charge nurse, Carol, and our attending, Mark, and we applied a cast to his right leg while he was knocked out.” 

He’s cackling now, almost unable to finish his story between wheezing gasps of air, “we paged him, like, 10 times until he answered, and next thing we know he’s bursting out of the on-call room and onto his ass before he even realized what happened!” 

You’re laughing hard now, too, trying to picture a younger version of Robby gracelessly tripping over an unnecessary leg cast in his hurry to answer his page. It sounded so unlike the self-assured, stoic version you knew him to be.  

“Oh my god,” you wheezed, “how mad was he?”  

“Oh he was pissed. Not because of the cast, but because 5 minutes after we paged him, a 15-car pile up came in and he got benched until he could get the cast off. He had to wait for it to dry before he could saw it off, and the whole time he just sat there glaring at me.” 

“Did he get you back?” you asked, hungry for more crumbs of their life before you, before the Pitt as it was now.    

“Yeah,” he rolled his eyes, “the fucker taped nails to his shirt, took an x-ray, and switched out the real film for the fake before I noticed. I was freaking out to Mark, yelling about how this patient needed surgery before they perfed. Meanwhile Mark was in on it, and made me feel crazy when he pulled out the perfectly normal x-ray for my patient. He said, ‘I don’t know what they’re teaching you in school these days, but this looks like a perfectly normal x-ray,’” he said, in an impersonation you could only assume was Mark.

“That’s fucking crazy,” you giggled, “can you imagine someone doing something like that in the Pitt? I think Robby’d actually have an aneurysm.” 

“Yeah, the old man’s lost a bit of his whimsy over the years,” he shook his head. 

“Old man, huh? Those are fighting words from a man merely 3 years younger than him,” you teased, “and much grayer,” you added with a wink.  

“Watch it, missy,” he warned, then, quieter, “not too old to teach you some manners.”

Feeling emboldened by the wine, you leaned a little closer, “don’t make promises you can’t keep.” Tracing the rim of your wine glass, you looked up at him. You swear his eyes drifted to your lips, but before you could do anything about it, he cleared his throat, steering the conversation back into safer waters.  

“So, why did you get into emergency medicine?” 

You thought about it for a moment, considering how honest you wanted to be. “I wanted to meet people where they were at, help them in a real, immediate way. The traumas are great and exciting, and there’s nothing like making a pickup that saves someone’s life. But I like the less exciting stuff, too. The mundane care that doesn’t save a life, but makes someone feel better. Helps them get over a cold, or helps soothe a burn; suturing up a lac, or removing foreign objects from patients and not making them feel worse about their predicament. That stuff is just as important as the traumas.

Especially with how fucked healthcare is in this country, people come to us when they’re at their most vulnerable, and usually don’t want to be there. I just hope that I can make things less scary for patients when they come in, make sure they feel like they’re cared about and not being judged for coming to us.” 

It’d been a long time since you’d answered that question honestly. Usually, you had your stock answer that you pulled out, which was a more eloquent version of “I want to save lives!” And that was still true, but there was so much more to working in the emergency department than just saving lives. It was paperwork and insurance and bed shortages and nursing shortages and all the other fucked up shit in the world that inevitably contributed to the cases you saw come through the doors at the Pitt. 

“What about you? Was emergency medicine always it for you, or did you ever consider going into something else?” you asked. 

He shook his head, “Not seriously, no. Considered switching to critical care after my leg. I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for the hustle and bustle of the emergency room after that. But it was the only place I wanted to be, so I figured it out, did what I needed to do to get back to where I was before the accident.” 

“Well, for what it's worth, I’m glad you stuck with EM. I couldn’t imagine working at the Pitt without you. I don’t think I’d be half the doctor I am without you,” you said, looking up at him. 

You hadn’t realized how close you’d gotten, his arm slung over the back of the booth and your thighs pressed against each other. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, you’d be amazing with or without me,” he said, tucking an errant strand of hair behind your ear. “You know, I’ve taught a lot of residents in my years, and you… you’re really cut out for this. Not everyone is.” 

The praise made you preen, the proximity of his hand to your face doing nothing to calm your rapidly beating heart. For a brief moment, you think he might lean in, might press those pillowy pink lips to yours, kiss you until you can’t think stra–

“Hi, sorry to interrupt but we’ll be closing in 15 minutes. Here’s your check when you’re ready,” the waitress said, setting the check down and scurrying away. 

You checked the time on your phone: 11:15. Did you really spend almost 3 hours talking to Jack? It certainly didn’t feel like it. 

“I guess we should get out of here before they kick us out,” Jack said, sliding out of the booth and offering you his hand.

You’re giggling at another one of Jack’s jokes as you leave the restaurant, the bill graciously paid by him despite your best efforts to split it. Your limbs were loose from the wine, goosebumps springing up on your arms from the early summer air turned chilly. 

“Thank you for dinner. You salvaged an otherwise shitty night,” you laughed. 

“It was no problem, really. I had a nice time,” he said, leaning against the brick wall, arms crossed.

You mirrored him, shoulder scraping against the gritty brick, and looked up at him. 

“Hold on, I think you have a little sauce on your face,” he said, and before you could grab a tissue from your purse, he reached out. His thumb gathered the sauce at the corner of your lips, going further to brush the pad of it across your bottom lip. The movement dragged your lower lip down slightly, your mouth parting involuntarily with it. You’re not sure why, but your tongue darted out, licked the pad of his thumb and the residual sauce.

Jack’s breath hitched, the sharp intake of air the only thing you could hear despite the sounds of car alarms and drunk party girls on a Friday night in downtown Pittsburgh. 

You looked up at him, tongue still pressed flat against his thumb, and searched his eyes for a sign that the heat building between you is mutual. 

Fuck it, you decided. 

Without thinking about it too much, you leaned up and pressed your lips against his. And god, did they feel nice. They were soft, but firm, and he tasted faintly of the wine you’d shared earlier mixed with the slight acidity of the tomato sauce from his dinner. Your hand tangled in the curls at the base of his neck, and they’re so soft, but also a little stiff. You wondered, briefly, if he uses mousse, or hairspray, or if he’s got a whole curly girl routine down before realizing that oh my god he wasn’t kissing you back. Oh no, oh fuck. 

How did you misread this situation so horrifically? You thought you were getting all the right signals, thought that he liked being with you, that he was flirting with you. But maybe it really was just a courtesy, a pity dinner. 

Your cheeks are hot when you pull away from him, shame sitting thick and heavy in your stomach, numbness prickling up your arms in staticky goosebumps. And Jack is just standing there, the dumbfounded look on his face doing nothing to assuage your embarrassment.  

You backed up, trying to create some distance, to lower the temperature between you that apparently only you felt. 

Looking down at your shoes, unable to make eye contact, you babbled out, “I-I’m so sorry, that was completely inappropriate and I don’t know why I-” your voice cracked and it felt like your lungs weren’t properly inflating with oxygen, “I don’t know how I misread things, but I guess I did so again, I’m so sorry. I’m gonna go home and pretend this never happened,” you said, turning around and starting down the street, despite the fact that you most certainly needed to Uber home, not walk. 

You’re trying not to cry for the umpteenth time that night when you hear him calling your name, “Wait!” 

He caught up with you, only a few strides away from where you were standing, and grasped your arm gently. “Wait, I’m sorry,” he said, a little breathless, “I just… you surprised me.”

“Surprised you?” you laughed, “I damn near sucked your thumb, Jack,” you said, genuinely confused how a man like Jack Abbot could be surprised that a woman would try to kiss him; that the next logical step from erotic thumbsucking would be a kiss. “And you flirted with me all night! You made a Lady and the Tramp joke! How else am I supposed to take that?”  

He rubbed at his jaw anxiously, a slight blush coating his cheeks, “I mean, yeah, I was surprised. I’ve liked you for a while now but then I heard you talking to Santos about how you didn’t want to go out with that cardiology attending and just assumed I didn’t have a shot,” he admitted sheepishly. “And maybe I got a little brazen with my flirting because I thought you didn’t see me like that anyway, figured it couldn’t hurt.” 

It’s your turn to be surprised now. You hadn’t realized he heard that conversation, or that he’d taken the wrong idea from it; the opposite idea, actually.   

You took a step closer to him, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, fingers finding his curls again, “Well, if you recall, snoopy, I said that part of the problem was that I just didn’t want to fuck that cardiology attending,” you said, looking up at him and batting your eyelashes, “that isn’t the case with you.” 

He looked shocked, but recovered quickly, his confident air returning to him. “Oh, is that so?” he asked, lips quirking up into a smile as he backed you up against the rough brick wall. His hand rested on the wall next to your head, the other on your hip, stroking you through your dress. 

“In that case, please allow me to make up for my rude behavior,” he said, dipping down to kiss you properly this time. 

You’d pictured this moment countless times before, but nothing compared to the real thing. Jack Abbot is a no nonsense man–a wartorn vet who understands more than most the importance of not wasting time. You expected your first kiss with him to be hungry, maybe a little sloppy, but when his lips meet yours, he’s achingly tender. It wasn’t uncertain–there was no question underlying his kiss–it was deep and languorous, like he was content to take his time up against this brick wall and savor the slide of your lips against his because he knew he had you right where he wanted you, finally. 

He commanded you, his hand cupping your jaw to angle your head back, deepening the kiss. His tongue swept across your bottom lip, and you instinctively opened up for him. The slide of his tongue against yours was delicious, the slick muscle curling around yours before moving back to your lips, sucking at your bottom lip and biting down gently. Your mind felt fuzzy at the way he handled you, guiding and taking you how he saw fit.

Some of his restraint dissipated, your mouths moving feverishly against each other. You couldn’t get enough of him; you pulled him into you and hooked your leg around his waist to draw him as close to you as possible. Pathetic, embarrassing whines and whimpers escaped you involuntarily, your body unable to mask how this man was making a mess of you.

His hand fell to the thigh wrapped around him, calloused fingers sliding up under your dress and gripping the bare flesh. He pulled you close, his pelvis rolling against yours sinfully. You could feel the hard outline of his cock against your cunt, your hips thrusting forward to meet the friction. A frustrated moan fell from your lips at the clothes separating you, at the inability to feel his skin against yours. 

You pulled away only when air was necessary–and because you were very close to being cited for public indecency if things went any further. 

“Sorry, I probably taste like garlic,” you said dumbly, fingers tracing over your spit slick lips, numb and swollen from Jack’s attention. 

He laughed, forehead resting against yours, “you taste incredible,” he said, pressing a kiss to your nose, then your cheek, and then under your ear. “I hope I’m not being presumptuous, but my place is a couple blocks from here, if you’d like to come home with me.”  

You nodded, a giddy smile breaking out across your face, “I would very much like to go home with you,” you said, already grabbing his hand and dragging him down the street. 

The entryway is dark as you stumbled into Jack’s townhouse, the walk talking longer than it should have due to your need to drag him into searing kiss after searing kiss every dozen or so steps. 

Jack navigated the two of you through the dark, your bodies unceremoniously plopping down on his couch. You fell onto his lap, knees sinking into the leather cushions and thighs stretching over the wide berth of his hips. Your kisses had devolved from slow and deep to fast and hungry, teeth nipping and clashing against one another, your breathing ragged from the exertion.   

He was rock-hard and throbbing under you, the outline of his cock pressing deliciously against your pussy. The only articles of clothing separating you were the thin, lacy excuse for panties you were wearing and his jeans. Your eyes fluttered closed as you ground your hips down on him, the combination of rough denim and the drag of his cock on your aching cunt forcing loud moans and whimpers from your lips. 

Jack was just as loud, his hips canting up to meet your rolling hips. His hand travelled to the back of your dress, fingers playing with the zipper, “this okay, sweetheart?” he asked against your lips. You nodded, too caught up in his lips to give a verbal answer. 

He chuckled as he pulled the zipper down, easing the sleeves down next and pulling away to get a look at you. He let out a sharp breath, the air stolen from his lungs as he took you in, hands gripping your waist tight and rolling his hips hard against you.  

Your pretty tits were held up in an unlined white bra, your hardened nipples peaking through the barely there lace. He threw his head back against the couch, pupils blown wide as they fixated on your chest. ““My pretty, pretty girl. Was this all for him?” he asked, thumbs running in circles around your areolas. You nodded shyly, a bit embarrassed that you’d put on your good lingerie for some random guy. But it wasn’t all for nought, if Jack’s reaction was any indication. 

“What a fuckin’ idiot,” he mumbled before enveloping your nipple between his lips, sucking the bud through the lace. He captured the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger, tugging and pinching it, then soothing it over in soft circles. The sensation was dizzying. His mouth was hot and wet against your skin, and he knew exactly the right pressure to ride the line between pleasure and pain.

But the lace was getting in the way; you couldn’t feel the scratch of his stubble like you’d dreamed of for so long. You unclasped your bra, tugging on his curls and pulling his face back just enough to let the garment fall down between you. 

A guttural sound left him as he dove back in, lips suctioning onto your nipple and sucking hard, cheeks hollowed out and tongue swirling around the bud. Your hand tightened in his curls, arching your back and pushing your chest against his mouth. He alternated between the two, sucking, licking, and biting at one and kneading, flicking, and pinching the other. You could finally feel the scrape of his stubble against your sensitive skin, your eyes rolling back in your head as your hips doubled their effort, grinding hard against his cock. 

He released your nipple with a wet pop, “you know how hard it’s been keepin’ my hands to myself, pretty girl? and all this time you’ve been hidin’ this pretty set of tits under your scrubs,” he shook his head in disbelief, “don’t think I’ll be able to think about anything other than stuffin’ my face between these tits when I see you at work.”  

His lips returned to your chest while his unoccupied hand moved under your dress, his rough palm gripping the fat of your ass and guiding you over his length faster. Every grind of your hips had your clit bumping up against the head of his cock, the pressure exquisite. Your slick was dripping down your thighs and seeping into his jeans, the schlick schlick schlick steady background noise among your moans and groans.  

You didn’t realize how fast your orgasm was building until you were nearly on the precipice of it, letting out a strangled moan and, “I’m gonna–” before the wave crested. Your thighs trembled, a dull ache forming from keeping them stretched around Jack’s bulk, but it only added to the pleasure that zipped through you. That staticky feeling radiated through you, your pussy contracting and fluttering around nothing. 

You’re panting into the crook of his neck as you ride out the aftershocks, your hips still grinding against his clothed cock, your lips letting out tiny gasps and whines. 

“Did you… did you just cum, sweetheart?” Jack asked, a stunned look on his face. 

You could feel how hot your cheeks were, shame curling through you because yes, you did cum from a little nipple play and grinding on his cock. 

“I-i’m sorry, it’s just been a long time and no one’s touched me in so long and you feel so good, I didn’t think that would happen so quickly,” you said, panicked, “I’m sorry if I ruined things.” 

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he said, thumbs brushing away the embarrassed tears you weren’t even aware had fallen, “you didn’t ruin anything, okay? I was just surprised, is all. I’m sorry if anyone’s made you feel that way, but you don’t ever have to be embarrassed with me. Never,” The sincerity of his words triggered a new bout of tears. You buried your head in the crook of his neck again, his scent a calming balm to your nerves. 

“Plus, do you know how much of an ego boost it is to know I had such a pretty girl cummin’ on lap in under five minutes? That’s the stuff of dreams, baby,” he teased, pulling you out from your hiding spot and pressing kisses to your cheeks.

You laughed, still sniffling a bit, “gosh, I’m sorry I’ve been such a crybaby tonight.” 

“It’s okay, honey,” he said, then, teasing, “but I can think of much better reasons for you to be cryin’, and none of them have anything to do with you being sad or embarrassed,” he said, kissing you properly now, tongue licking deep into your mouth. 

You moaned into his mouth, then squealed as he hoisted you up, carrying you to his bedroom. He set you down at the edge of the bed, then properly removed your dress from where it was awkwardly gathered at your waist.

He didn’t waste any time, dropping to his knees and parting your legs, pushing them up toward your chest. “Hold 'em there for me, baby, wanna take a good look at you,” he murmured, eyes fixed on the damp fabric between your legs. You did as he told you, hooking your hands under your knees and spreading yourself open for him. You felt exposed, but the awestruck look in his eye as he examined your pussy sent shockwaves through your body. 

“This all because of me?” he asked, thumbing at your center over the fabric, pressing lightly against your clit with each stroke. Your panties were soaked through, the tiny scrap of fabric doing nothing to obscure your puffy folds that were sticky with a mix of your slick and cum. “What a mess you made, honey. Guess I’m gonna have to clean you up,” he said, pulling your panties to the side and licking a broad stripe from your hole to your clit.

You moaned, hips lifting off the bed and chasing his mouth. The contrast of his hot tongue on your cool flesh was blistering. His hands grabbed the back of your thighs, his fingers digging into the soft skin there and stopping any movement of your hips. You whined at the restriction, your hands fisting in the soft sheets instead.

“Waited so long for this honey, shit, fuckin’ dreamed about how you’d taste,” he moaned into your pussy, mouth lapping and sucking at your folds, gathering all the spend and slick and swallowing it down like nectar. His face was nestled deep into your cunt, tongue exploring every crease and crevice your cunt had to offer, licking, sucking, biting–and taking note of what made you scream. 

And once he discovered it, he didn’t just eat you, he devoured you. He was a man possessed, with no regard for his own need for air. His tongue assaulted your clit, alternating between rubbing tight circles around it, short kitten licks, and long, languorous licks that had him shaking his head between your thighs. Every now and again he wrapped his lips around your clit and suckled it, the light leaving your body every time. Your hips rocked against his mouth despite his hold on you, wrecked moans falling from your lips.  

“Fuck, jack, please–r-right there!” 

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you, tell me how good I’m makin’ you feel,” he said, pulling back just far enough to spit onto your cunt before running two fingers up your slit, pushing them in without preamble. The stretch was delicious, his thick fingers curling deep into your wet heat and finding that sweet spot in no time. He exploited it mercilessly, massaging it with the pads of his fingers. His lips returned to your clit, sucking harshly now, giving you no reprieve from his ministrations. 

“Feels so good Jack! Never felt this good before!” you cried. 

The slurping and squelching was lewd, your moans and breathless cries of his name intermingled to create an obscene symphony that you’re sure the entire population of Pittsburgh could hear. 

“You gonna cum on my face, honey? Gonna give me another one?” he asked, fingers massaging your g-spot. “Wanna–fuck–wanna feel this tight cunt squeeze my fingers when she cums.” 

“Y-yes, please Jack, ‘m gonna cum, feels sosososo good” you cried out, your second orgasm crashing over you. Stars burst behind your eyes, back arching uncomfortably off the bed and walls clenching so hard around his fingers you’re not sure how he hasn’t lost circulation. Your legs clamped around his head, trapping him there as you rode out your orgasm, hips rutting against his mouth and fingers. He didn’t mind, licking and sucking you through it, his fingers keeping pressure on your g-spot until you were pushing him away.

He peppered your body with kisses as you came down, starting at your thighs and making his way up over your tummy, ribs, and breasts. He came to rest above you, a dopey smile on your face as you pulled him in for a lazy kiss. His face was soaked with your spend and you could taste the tang on his tongue when he kissed you. 

“You’re stupidly good at that,” you whispered, body still boneless and floaty. 

“Yeah? Want me to show you want else I’m stupidly good at?” he asked while finally shucking his shirt off. 

“Yeah?” you said absentmindedly, eyes glazed over at the majesty that was Jack Abbot’s chest. You immediately began pressing kisses across the newly exposed skin–to his neck, collarbone, pecs, and tummy. You’re even able to scrape your teeth across a nipple before he holds you back at arms length, laughing.   

“Yeah, honey,” he laughed between your frantic kisses, “but you gotta let me breathe for a sec, gotta take care of my leg.” 

“Let me,” you said, slipping down to the floor and sitting back on your heels. You ran your palms up his thighs, hands coming to rest on his belt before going any further.

“You don’t have to do that, honey.” 

“I know,” you said softly, “but I want to. If you’re okay with that.” 

He cradled your face in his hand, thumb stroking your cheekbone. You turned into it, kissing the palm of his hand to assure him that you wanted to do this. 

“I care about you Jack, and this is part of you. I just wanna help you, wanna make you feel good,” you said earnestly, giving him your puppy dog eyes.

“Yeah. Okay, honey, go ahead,” he nodded, sitting back on his elbows to watch you. You grasped his belt again, unfastening the buckle and pulling the belt through the loops, discarding it somewhere behind you. You moved to the button of his jeans, deftly popping it open and hooking your fingers into the waistband, tugging them down with Jack’s help. 

Your breath hitched at the sight of his dark gray boxers, a wet spot front and center that made your mouth water. You learned forward and kissed the damp fabric, moaning at the slight taste of precum that danced across your lips. 

“Careful, sweetheart…” he warned, but there wasn’t much heat behind his words. 

You just grinned up at him before getting back to the task at hand. Your fingers travelled down to the sleek metal attached to him, getting a feel for the mechanism before unlocking and twisting it off. The liner came next, tossed to the side before you pressed your fingertips into his skin, massaging the skin to get some blood flow back into the residual limb. You pressed sweet kisses to his flesh, from the front of his knee to the scarred flesh of his leg, tongue dipping out to trace the prominent scar just above his amputation site. 

Jack breathed heavily above you, tiny groans escaping him unbidden. A look flickered across his face, and you think, briefly, that this may be the first time you’ve seen him truly vulnerable. It wasn’t a secret that he’d lost the lower portion of his leg in the war, but he didn’t flaunt it either. You wondered if there was an insecurity that lay deep within him, despite his overt confidence; if other women had reacted differently, cruelly even to the sight of his prosthesis. It made your heart ache to think about it, to think of someone doing anything but worshipping his beautiful body the way he deserved.  

“So pretty, Jack,” you whispered, kisses inching higher up his thigh now, “wanna taste you now.” 

When you’re met with the sight of Jack’s cock, you’re well and truly speechless. You knew he was big from your time on the couch, but seeing it was different. He was thick and veiny, the tip flushed a deep red and leaking precum furiously. It rested against his belly, curving slightly to the left. And did you mention that he was thick? Mouth agape, you wondered how you were going to fit him in your mouth. Or pussy. 

You’re not sure how long you’ve been sitting there, hands perched against his thighs, just staring at his cock, until Jack tilts your head back, fingers tightening in the strands of hair at the nape of your neck. 

“Thought you wanted a taste, honey. You just gonna sit there and stare at it all night?” he asked, a smug smile on his lips. 

“Maybe,” you mumbled, tongue darting out to wet your lips. 

Before you can do anything of your own accord, his hand is guiding your head forward, the head of his cock pushing gently against the seam of your lips. You take over from there, pressing an open mouthed kiss to his tip, the precum gathered there salty and sticky against your lips. Your tongue dipped out to caress the spot just below his head, running the flat of your tongue along it before moving back to his head, spitting a glob of spit onto him and wrapping a hand around his base. You started with long, slow strokes, squeezing and twisting on the upstroke, your hand meeting your lips where they suckled at his tip. 

You moaned at the steady stream of precum invading your mouth, “taste so good Jack,” you said before taking more of him into your mouth. You're only about halfway down and your lips are already stretched tight around him, spit leaking from the corners of your mouth in filthy waterfalls. You hollowed your cheeks out, bobbing your head up and down his shaft, your tongue massaging the underside of his cock. 

“Fuck, baby, who knew you had such a filthy fuckin’ mouth on you,” he groaned, hips rutting up slightly. 

His tip occasionally hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag and tears to prick behind your eyes, but you don’t care; the feeling of him weighing heavy on your tongue is reward enough. 

You feel a light pressure applied to the back of your head, “deeper, baby, know you can take it,” he groaned. You obliged, breathing deep through your nose and sinking down further onto his cock until you felt him hit the back of your throat and your nose was nestled in the trimmed grey curls at his base. Your hand grappled for his where it was perched on your head, using it to push harder against your head, trying to convey to him that you wanted him to take over; to fuck your face. 

He groaned, hips jerking involuntarily as he realized what you wanted. He gathered your hair in his hands, hips shallowly trusting into the wet heat of your mouth. His mouth was slack, grunts and groans loud as he fucked your face. His pace builds, his cock roughly pistoning in and out of your mouth. Tears are falling freely now, your mouth stretched to capacity and throat being used and abused by his fat cock. 

“See? These tears are much prettier, baby,” he huffed out, thumbs brushing the trails where they fell. “So fuckin’ pretty, crying with my cock in your mouth.” 

You moaned around him at that, the praise and shame swirling in your tummy. Your hand came up to cup his balls, massaging and squeezing them gently between your fingers. 

You’re suddenly pulled up off his cock and into his lap, spit stringing from your shiny, swollen lips. You whined at the loss of him, your mouth feeling uncomfortably empty now. 

“Fuck–you feel too good, honey,” he grunted, setting you back against his pillows, “can’t cum in that pretty little mouth tonight, need to be inside you.” 

He grabbed a condom out of his drawer before moving back to you, sitting back on his knees and rolling the condom on. You let out an annoyed whine. You’ve never hated the more rational side of your brain more than you do right now. You craved to feel him bare inside you–to feel him cum deep inside you, the hot white ropes painting your walls. And while you trusted him implicitly, you knew safety was of the utmost importance, so condom it was. 

“Don’t worry, baby, soon as we get tested, you won’t be able to stop me from fuckin’ this pussy raw,” he groaned, settling between your spread thighs. His body was a soothing weight above you, the warmth he emanated relieving any anxiety you had. 

He gripped the base of his cock and ran it through your sopping folds a few times, the tip catching slightly on your entrance on each pass. “Please, Jack, need to feel you,” you moaned, wrapping your legs around his waist and pulling him close. 

He cursed before giving in, notching the head of his cock against your entrance and entering you slowly, letting you feel and adjust to every inch on its own. Your head fell back into his plush pillows as he sank fully into you, your mouth open in a silent scream. Your walls were tight around him, clenching viciously at the intrusion–you’d never been stretched so wide, or filled so thoroughly. It felt like the air had been punched out of your lungs and replaced by his cock. Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your short nails biting at his skin. 

You were still for a moment, both your chests heaving as you adjusted to the feeling of one another. Then, once Jack composed himself, he started to move–slow, shallow thrusts at first, your pussy still clenching tight around him, sucking him in greedily with each thrust. 

“Relax for me, honey, that’s it, doin’ so good for me,” he grunted, eyes closed, “pussy feels so good.” 

You willed your body to relax, for your muscles to go lax around him. You shifted your legs up higher, the heels of your feet digging into the soft flesh of his ass. 

“There you go, so good for me,” he moaned, “knew you’d be so good for me.” 

He pulled out again, easier this time, until only the tip remained inside you, then snapped his hips forward. His thrusts were slow but hard, his hips slamming against you each time he bottomed out. The drag of his cock against your walls felt so good, his thick, throbbing length rubbing up against every sensitive spot. You felt every thick vein and ridge, as if they were imprinting into your walls, making a home there. You moaned at the thought of eternity, of Jack making your pussy his again and again and again. 

He was watching you with a wondrous look on his face, his eyes flitting between your blissed out face and bouncing tits. “So fuckin’ sexy, baby, you don’t even understand how fuckin’ gorgeous you are,” he groaned, hips picking up speed, fucking you faster and harder. 

The adrenaline and emotions from the night came crashing down around you. The feeling of his cock dragging through your walls mixed with the sweet words he was whispering into your ear had you feeling exposed and vulnerable, made you feel seen. Your hands were frantic, running over every bit of skin you could get your hands on, needing to feel his skin against yours. You pulled him impossibly closer, his chest now flush against yours, the friction it provided to your nipples dizzying.  

You didn’t notice the tears until Jack was kissing away the salty tracks, his tongue sneaking out to lick up the length of your cheek. “You’re my little crybaby, aren’t you?” he asked, a sweet hint of condescension in his tone, “just can’t help babbling over my cock, huh, baby?” 

You could only whimper at that. The words should feel shameful, degrading, even, but the fondness on his face, the constant reassurance he’d been giving you all night only made you feel warm and fuzzy inside. Because you weren’t a crybaby, you were his crybaby. 

The coil in your stomach tightened, your orgasm fast approaching. He was fucking you hard and fast now, his balls slapping against your ass with a wet smack. “Jaack, I’m gonna–fffuck–I need–” you gasped at a particularly hard thrust, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. 

But Jack knew what you needed before you did, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing tight circles against it, and you were done for. Your toes curled, heels pressing harder into his ass as you came, white-hot sparks shooting through your body. Your walls spasmed wildly, your orgasm crashing through you in waves. You were absolutely drenched, your pussy gushing around his cock, leaking down your ass and onto the bed. 

Jack wasn’t far behind, his hips stuttering as your walls seized his cock in a vise grip. “F-fuck, baby, you’re squeezin’ me so tight, so fuckin’ good,” he grunted, his hips going into overdrive now, chasing his climax and fucking you hard and deep.

"Cum for me, Jack, wanna make you feel good," you cried.

He ground his hips into one last time, cumming with a loud moan, cock buried deep inside you and hips pressed flush against yours. 

He collapsed on top of you, head resting on your chest. He pressed lazy kisses to your sternum, collarbone, the soft flesh of your breasts–whatever he could get his lips on from this angle. Your fingers carded through his curls, the motion soothing as you tried to catch your breath. 

Eventually, though, you had to part. 

You whined as he pulled out, your cunt empty and cold now that he’d taken his warmth away. He grabbed his arm crutches, disposing of the condom and retreating to the bathroom. He returned with a warm washcloth and began cleaning you up, gently wiping at your swollen pussy and sticky thighs, making sure you were comfortable before tossing the rag in the hamper.  

He slid back into bed when he was finished, laying on his side and pulling you close against his chest. Your head was cushioned by this arm as you curled into him, your sweat slick bodies cool to the touch now that the heat had dissipated. 

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you,” he said, fingers brushing up and down your ribs, the touch featherlight.  

“Mmm probably as long as I have,” you said, snuggling closer to him.

“Really? When did you realize you wanted to kiss me?”

You didn’t have to think about it at all. “My birthday, on the roof. I gave you a cupcake and you got frosting all over you,” you giggled at the memory, “and all I could think about was how bad I wanted to kiss it all off of your stupidly handsome face.” 

He laughed with you, the creases around his eyes deepening as he did. He was so pretty, you thought for the thousandth time that night. 

 “I remember that,” he smiled, “I remember being so proud that I made you laugh that night.” 

“What about you?” you asked. 

He thought about it for a minute. “I think the need to kiss you has been simmering in me since I met you, but the first time I had the conscious thought was when you patched me up after that patient clocked me in the head,” he said, his hand now on your cheek, stroking the bone there, “you were standin’ between my legs, stitchin’ up my forehead, and all I could think about was pulling you close and kissing you until I couldn’t breathe.” 

“Why didn’t you?”

He sighed, “I’m your superior and I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable if you didn't feel the same way.” You knew he didn’t want to delve into the ‘superior’ thing right now, didn’t want to have the long, complicated conversation that was sure to come in the following days. 

“And I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stop myself once I started,” he said, lightening the mood a bit. 

You giggled at that, rolling your eyes affectionately. But something nagged in your head about what he said. 

“Wait…” you said, piecing together a timeline, “that was nearly a year ago! You’re telling me we could have been doing this for a year!?” you exclaimed, slapping him on the chest lightly. 

He shook his head at you, a sheepish look on his face. You were both idiots. 

“Well, I guess we have a lot of lost time to make up for, then, don’t we?” he said cheekily, capturing your lips again and pushing you onto your back, determined to make you a very happy woman.

a/n: thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it <33

Now, Shiu Kong must have known what he was walking into.

He must have-

Or at least one would think—hell, Shiu himself had assumed so and mentally prepared himself for about fifteen minutes outside the barn house before walking inside to tell the two of you to keep it down (those sensitive horse hybrids were complaining!) But he had never expected- fuck. This was all that damned Kusakabe’s fault.

It’d been about two months since Fushiguro Toji was added to his farmyard roster. Ever since his supposed ‘best friend’ had gone and dumped the proud bull hybrid on Shiu’s otherwise idyllic farm. It was meant to be temporary - just a few days watching over him until Kusakabe returned from a Hybrid Farms Convention in Tokyo. Meant to be…

But he was bigger than the rest. Broader. Gruffer. With pierced ears and the sleekest black coat on his lower half. 

So Toji had drawn gazes - one of which being from you, his most prized cow hybrid, specifically.

And Shiu couldn’t have that.

Especially not given the fact that you were the sweetest, softest thing…oh, alright you were his favorite. A part of him almost expected that having a prime bull hybrid around so many unmated cow hybrids would be nothing but trouble. But he just didn’t expect Toji to go after his favorite- anyone but you.

Thus he’d spared no expense keeping the two of you apart. 

Yet in the end it hadn’t mattered how many padlocks (twenty, at the last count) or planks that Shiu had fastened on Toji’s separate enclosure—because a padlock is only as good as it’s locked. And only three days into Toji’s stay, he’d forgotten to lock that damned thing before leaving the farm on an errand- was about halfway out of town by the time that he’d remembered. 

And turned that truck around in the middle of the highway.

Of course, by the time that Shiu actually arrived at the farm and thrown those barn house doors open - much like he had done tonight - the two of you were already tangled up n’ mated. With you humming delightedly into Toji’s neck—bite marks down every inch of it. The creamy scent of pheromones wafting out of the barn house and saturating the farmyard air.

And Toji himself hadn’t spared you an ounce of mercy.

As teeth marks were indented all along your supple skin; especially ‘round each areola of yours which Toji pinched. Letting milk flood out of Shiu’s beloved cow hybrid. Looking straight at him.

Fuck.

Shiu remembers it as clear as day.

Did he mention that he was rock-fucking-hard then? He probably shouldn’t have mentioned that…

Because it only makes him think about how hard he was right now, too. 

He was staring at a vision that was quite similar: Toji was ramming into you like there was no tomorrow- so fast that he’s only seeing the blur of his angry cock and the smack-smack-smacking of skin-on-skin. Except this time you were on all fours.

So Shiu was given the perfect view of your pretty tail swishing from side-to-side. Only growing more agitated as Toji grows faster.

The farmer watches as Toji’s hand wraps around your tail and drags you backwards- so disrespectful. A few more bite marks. A few more shakes of your pretty thighs - he gets the sense that you’d be collapsing onto the floor if Toji wasn’t helping hold you up. And once again Shiu’s struck by just how pliable you are underneath the other man.

“C’mon now-” Toji grunts. “Giddy up. Almost there.”

You’re shaking even harder. Your skin was glistening with sweat. Your eyes dazedly drift towards the other man - and he knows by that glint in your eyes- he knows it. 

He knows that you’re about to cum.

And you’re throwing your head back with what he assumes to be a moan announcing your crescendo—“Shi- oh.”

Oh.

Were you about to…?

Oh fucking-

And Shiu considers himself an intellectual man - he really does. He’s usually quick with his quips and isn’t the most inerudite of the rowdy bunch down at the bars; but this…this leaves his brain blue-screening and his mouth hanging stupidly open. Almost in a mirror of yours.

He can only stand and watch - cock throbbing in his denim overalls - as you’re tremblin’ all between Toji’s harsh thrusts. The way he fucks you is rude—as if the sound of the other man’s name on your lips almost spurs him on further.

He had to remind you who your mate was, after all.

You’re growing limp once your wave of bliss is completely bated. And it’s with a deafening slurp! that Toji himself finishes.

Polishin’ off what Shiu assumes to be your sweetest inside with his long, clingy ropes of cum- so much so that he’s seeing a ring of white start to formulate around Toji’s length. Lucky fucker. Shiu’s mouth goes dry as Toji pins your hips to the hay-littered ground and fucks and fucks his cum into you ruthlessly.

After a few prolonged minutes, he finally sets your waist free and lets your body droop onto the floor completely.

And between pants, Toji manages to whisper- “What the fuck?” Though his keen senses had already picked up on the fact that the farmer had intruded on your little…rut session, it’s only now that Toji’s finally turning.

The veins on his neck popping and prominent. Eyes greener than the brightest field - narrowed. It was as if he was finally seeing the farmer as more than simple amusement or some guy to poke ‘round with his horns sometimes - a challenge.

Was it just Shiu or were Toji’s horns looking extra sharp tonight? 

“And remember that.” Shiu speaks with courage that he did not have—to hell with not biting the hand that feeds. Shiu might’ve been the farmer but he was less than a pigsty in Toji’s eyes. Or so he felt. “Next time your pretty girl cums, she’ll be saying my name.”

Toji doesn’t even pull out of you before he snipes- “Next time you say shit like that, they’ll carry you out in a wheelbarrow.”

“And replace me?” Shiu snorts. “You think she’d milk for anyone else?”

“Pig-”

You, pointedly, kept your mouth shut to avoid saying anything more inflammatory.

And you best believe that he’s stepping back from those barn house doors as soon as he could - what was that he said about considering himself an intellectual man? He’s letting the doors slam behind him and waiting for a moment outside until he hears the two of you start it up again—those horse hybrids and their beauty sleep be damned.

With that said, Shiu takes a deep breath and heads back to his farmhouse.

The time was 12:28AM and he spends the next hour rubbin’ his cock raw to the memory of you almost moaning his name.

.

.

.

“…What did you just say to me?” And something must’ve shown in Shiu’s tone, because his friend groans from the other end of the line—‘oh, c’mon man-’

And never in his life has he let out a louder sigh. Pointed, too.

Because here Shiu was carrying on his early morning duties - ensuring herd checks and watering some of the trees, just going into the barn house to do some milking - when he gets a phone call—and from who else? Kusakabe Atsuya himself.

Now, Shiu has long since gotten used to dreading Kusakabe’s phone calls. The man’s his best friend, but a phone call from him was never bound to end well - he’s the entire reason he has a massive bull hybrid mated with you in the first place. So needless to say it didn’t start off on the right foot. But then the words left his mouth—

“-Tokyo Hybrid Farm Convention-”

And Shiu almost ended the call then and there. 

But Kusakabe must’ve had an inkling. Because he yelped out a few pleas- “Wait wait wait wait- please, I promise you’re going to want to hear this.”

And Shiu had no choice but to groan and comply. At least hear the man out. “Alright, but you better be quick. The cow hybrids need to be milked before noon.”

“Oh please- you and I both know that you’re just impatient to see your ‘pretty girl’, yeah?” Kusakabe hurries before his best friend loses his patience. “Anyways—hear me out- there’s a Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo-”

“I’m not-”

“And this time it’s for the hybrids.” Kusakabe cuts him off. Then basks in Shiu’s stunned silence for a few seconds, “And I know I ended up dumping Toji on you for a few days…and eventually…permanently, but let me make it up to you by getting him a new hoof-trimming chute. And maybe while I’m there I can even get him fitted for a new bull ring.”

Shiu rubs his chin in thoughtfulness. “I have been meaning to get him a larger one…”

“Then it’s settled.” Kusakabe says gleefully. “I’ll get you the ring and take Toji off your hands for a day.”

“Can’t it be a few days?” Shiu grumbles.

“No way, man. He’s all yours- consider me the babysitter.” 

“Whatever- better than nothing.” 

“So I’ll pick him up in an hour or two, yeah?” Kusakabe affirms, and from the other end of the line Shiu can hear some shuffling. A truck door slamming. “I’ll have him back to you around midnight.”

“Take your time.”

And with just a few more words shared, Shiu’s ending the call. He stands at the door to the barn house in a way far too reminiscent of the night before—and from here he can see you nuzzlin’ up to Toji for warmth as the early morning sunlight creeps into your hay-scattered abode. It really was a heartwarming sight, the two of you - if only Toji wasn’t glaring at him as if he wanted to trample over him.

However, this time, Shiu was the one with the upper hand. “Guess what, hotshot?” He goads at the bull hybrid, and it works to make his ol’ golden nose ring huff. “You’re going to be going on a little field trip today.”

Toji scoffs and rests his chin on your head.

“Oh no- I’m afraid this one’s going to be a bachelor’s trip.” The most wicked smile twitches at his lips. He watches Toji’s brows furrow and his front legs start to kick at the ground as if about to charge. “You’ll be going to the Hybrid Farm Convention in Tokyo with your old pal Kusakabe, isn’t that exciting?”

The look on Toji’s face was ‘most certainly not’.

“Then we can replace that old-fashioned ring of yours with a new one. Make that ugly mug a little more handsome, hm?”

“My ass is more handsome than you.”

“Real mature.” Shiu shakes his head as Toji flips him off and struts away outside—his midnight-black hair gleams under the morning sun, and the muscles of his upper half are almost Herculean. Shiu follows your gaze to the bull hybrid. 

With a fond chuckle, the farmer then walks over to you and runs his fingers across your scalp. Reaching that one spot he knew you loved so much- scratching behind your hybrid ears. “I don’t know how you put up with him, pretty girlie.”

“He’s really not that bad once you get to know him.” You’re softly nuzzling into him.

Shiu shudders as he thinks back to last night. “Yeah, well I think I know him a little too- hey, are you feeling a little warm?”

“Hmmm?” Absent-mindedly you’re humming.

“I’m serious, girl.” Shiu’s brows furrow- and he’s taking his hand off of your scalp to feel the temperature on your forehead. “I think you’re a little warm.”

Eyes closed, you’re only pushing against him- yearning for his touch. And Shiu tries not to think about that too hard. “I was just in the sun, Shiu.”

“Yeah but…” Now that he thinks about it- you were particularly touchy today—almost needy. And he’s sure he wasn’t imagining the scent of soft sweet cream that lingered in the barn house today. Although that wouldn’t make sense - cow hybrids were prone to one heat cycle a month, for about a week give or take.

And you’d just finished your cycle two weeks ago…Shiu would know.

He hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep those past few days. And as if that wasn’t bad enough- immediately after your heat, Toji’s rut had started up. 

The farmer turns his head and looks at the little homemade calendar hung up at the end of the barn. It contained all the dates of the hybrids’ heats and ruts and when he might expect them next—and not to brag, but it had a 97% accuracy rate. The 3% was when Toji wanted to piss him off and somehow manage to draw his rut out a little longer.

But according to that- you should be in the all-clear. He furrows his brows at the color-coded green zone. What can he say? Shiu Kong liked pretty things, okay?

Aforementioned Shiu Kong looks at you. “Maybe…hm, maybe it’s just a little fever, pretty girl. That brute must’ve worn you out.” You’re shyly bumping your shoulder into him, and he runs his hand across your body. “Now then I need you to get some rest, okay? Go sleep and I’ll bring over your breakfast- oh.” Just then, his hand dips up to the swell of your chest where your tits were. “And I’ll milk you tomorrow depending on how you’re feeling, does that sound good?”

Almost dazedly, you’re nodding with a smile. “Mmm s’good, Shiu.”

A thrill zips down his spine - he ignores it. “G-good. Go on now.” And right before he himself leaves the barn house, Shiu says. “And do try to convince Toji that it’d be good for him to get a new ring. The fool doesn’t realize the power he has in emptying Kusakabe’s pockets.”

Shiu gently closes the door to head back to his duties.

He flips Toji off behind his back.

.

.

.

At 12:21PM on the dot (Kusakabe said he’d be here half an hour ago) his best friend’s truck is parked in his vast farmland. And Shiu helps Toji into a hybrid trailer—he could have just gone in the passenger-side seat, but Shiu didn’t trust Toji one bit to not just open the door and jump out. Perhaps even outrun that truck at the first instance of missing you.

Honestly, he might just do the same with the trailer too…

But Shiu doesn’t tell Kusakabe this - instead he’s letting the man load his prized bull hybrid. And then clapping him on the shoulder, “Alright- he’s your problem now.”

“Just for today.” Kusakabe rolls his eyes. “A day longer and he might just drive the truck himself getting back to his mate.”

He whispers, “…I wouldn’t count on him not to do that today, either.”

“What was that?”

“Nothing.” Shiu amends. Looking at the huffing n’ puffing Toji inside the trailer, arms crossed. “Just that he’s a romantic.”

“That he is.” Kusakabe tips his hat and waves himself off. “Alright- midnight, yeah?”

“Like I said- take your time.” He says, eagerly- perhaps a little too eagerly.

The other man gets into the truck and slams the door shut - the force causes that hunk of rusted metal to wobble and creak, like an old man’s laugh. Shiu gets the sense that the entire world seemed to be laughing at him at that moment—including his best friend. Was he really that obvious? 

Shiu walks up to Kusakabe’s window and leans against it. “What the hell are you laughing at?”

“Oh- nothing.” Kusakabe has the audacity to wipe off a mirthful tear. “Just that it reminds me of back then. Bet you’re really happy to have some alone time with your pretty girl, huh?”

“You say that like it’s been ages since Toji’s been here.” Shiu scoffs. “She’s known me longer- probably still likes me better too. You know she only lets me-”

“-milk her.” Kusakabe interrupts. Amusement on his features at the familiar words, “Yeah yeah. You’ve said it once before, man. Or maybe twice. Thrice. Fifteen times-”

“Whatever, man.”

Shiu kicks off the side of Kusakabe’s truck and gives it a customary slap on the bonnet. 

“Drive safe. Even if you get stranded this time, I’m not coming to pick you up.”

“What a friend.” Kusakabe starts pulling the truck ahead and calls out as he goes. “Take care of the pretty girl when her mate’s not around~”

“You know I will.”

And as he watches the truck pull away with Toji inside the trailer—the bull hybrid lets out a mournful sound. It’s as Shiu feels a soft head rest against him that he realizes you’d joined him in the farewell; longingly watching your mate be hauled off. 

“It’s just for the convention, pretty girl.” Shiu mutters to you. He reaches to scratch behind your hybrid ears but- the faint heat radiating off you makes him pause. “Is…it just me or has your fever gotten worse?”

“Mmm, dunno.” You murmur thickly. You push deeper against his body and Shiu’s suddenly hit with a lingering scent of dairy and fresh flowers, presumably from last night.

“If this gets any worse then we might have to pay a visit to Dr. Shoko…”

Fervently, you’re shaking your head. 

Although you liked the cool and composed otter hybrid, Dr. Shoko, actually visiting the doctor was another thing. And so Shiu let it slide - for now - as he advised you to stay out of the sunlight and get some more rest—he’ll bring some cool drinks over after he’s done tending to the horse hybrids’ hair.

Shiu watches as you totter off into the barn house once more.

He’ll have to keep a close eye on you…

.

.

.

3:18PM

The farmdog hybrids were particularly energetic today - Shiu spent just about two hours straight neglecting his tractor maintenance to throw frisbees with them. Ah, to hell with that old thing. Maybe next time he’ll accompany Kusakabe to those Tokyo conventions and see if they have discounts on tractors. 

Although he knows he shouldn’t have been so careless - but you can’t blame a farmer for letting loose! Especially not when - usually - whenever he did this sort of thing—it’d only end up with Fushiguro Toji trampling all over the frisbee for the sake of it.

Especially not when it’s exactly what got him to notice the state of you in the first place.

Shiu had thrown the frisbee too far. It had landed somewhere by the pond, and Shiu didn’t want Ino getting his coat all muddied again- so he told the canine hybrid to stay put as he himself trudged through all the vegetation and too-soft earth. Ah…remind him to unweed this mess sometime soon. Spike rushes stuck to his boots, and water lilies waded towards him as the farmer determinedly made his way to the frisbee. 

Just bending down to get it when-

Letting out softly—“Oh.”

When Shiu spots your curled-up self on the side of the pond bank—all cocooned amongst the lush vegetation like a little treasure just for him. He tries to shake that thought out of his mind.

You startle awake once he steps on a twig attempting to get nearer to the frisbee- “Easy there.” His deep tone soothes you. “Easy. Easy. It’s just me.” You’re following the voice and settling down once you recognize him. “What’re you doing here, pretty girl?” 

“Just resting.” You respond. Now that you were sure there wasn’t any danger, you’re settling back down into your comfortable position. “The water helps keep me cool, y’know?”

“That pesky fever’s still bothering you?” Shiu reaches down to measure the temperature on your forehead - and sure as day, he’s feeling the heat simmering. If he wasn’t mistaken—it was just a tad hotter than what he remembered it to be when saying goodbye to Toji. “Hm…it doesn’t seem to be getting better on its own. How about a visit to Shoko’s?”

“Shiu…” You whine.

“Now now, missy.” He tuts. “I need you to be healthy- not only would Toji kill me otherwise, but I wouldn’t forgive myself either.”

“I’m feeling fine…really. It’s just a little hot.” You insist. “Today’s been really hot- I promise m’gonna feel better once the sun goes down.”

“Hmmm. Alright.” Though Shiu still didn’t seem all that convinced. “But you won’t cool off with water just by looking at it.” 

“What do you-”

But those words are getting stuffed back into your throat once Shiu takes a little run-up and throws himself into the pond. Creating a resounding splash! and sending a wave of water into the air—like translucent sun-glittered frogs that take a soaring leap and land on you. 

You’re yelping as the cool water lands on you- “Shiu—! You little-”

And then jumping in after him.

He throws his head back and lets out a deep, joyous laugh. And if he smelled the soft fragrance of honey suckle and fresh cream…then he imagines some of the other cow hybrids are ready for milking again.

.

.

.

6:21PM

Shiu wasn’t celebrating—honestly.

Even he wasn’t that tactless.

It’s just that it was a little quiet without Fushiguro Toji around to cause trouble with the other hybrids, or with any guests, or with Shiu…or with practically anyone that wasn’t you. He wondered whether you realized the sheer extent of his special treatment. Which was why he decided to spoil the lot of you - especially you - today.

And for this Shiu’s apples were amongst the most famed in these parts - he hears they went for thousands of yen each in Tokyo. Lush and luxurious. Like biting into a piece of heaven—he knew that the hybrids were particularly covetous of this rare luxury. And luckily for him, they’d just been harvested today. 

So why not give you lot a little treat?

Those stingy middle-men would be here to load up the apples tomorrow morning; so before that he herded his hybrids to the picturesque orchard. Where the apple trees embraced the groves from either side, the tops of their branches nearly winding into the sunset-painted clouds and pulled them back, and beneath them lay crates upon crates of apples like treasure pots at the ends of rainbows. Those apples seemed to gleam even brighter as the sun dipped beneath the horizon; gilded. 

And Shiu kept his hands on his hips, a proud smile on his face, as he watched over the hybrids picking apples and digging through crates. All except for…

“Where’s…”

Brows furrowed- Shiu turns around and spots you slumped against the wooden entrance to the orchard. Those towering pillars were intertwined with vines, and amongst them you looked like the prettiest rose. 

“Something wrong, my girl?” He walks towards you, handsome features pinched in concern. Immediately, Shiu’s hand goes up to feel your temperature once more. “Fuck-” And almost as soon as it makes contact with your forehead, he’s pulling away—

“Shiu…”

“You’re burning up- pretty girl, why didn’t you tell me that it’d become this bad?” He hisses. And then he’s reaching down to gently clasp your hand. Those caramel-brown eyes of his are just so soft…“C’mon- lets get you to Shoko’s before she’s off—”

Yet oh-so-stubbornly you’re shaking your head. “Promise m’okay, Shiu.”

“But-”

“It’s not a fever.” And the hairs on his body stand on end at those words. If not a fever, could this be…“I think it must be the heat or something- that and Toji did wear me out a little last night.”

His jaw clenches. “I’m sure. But I still think it would be good to go for a check-up.”

You’re averting your gaze from his. “I’m alright. Trust me.”

And though Shiu was clearly displeased by this turn of events—how could he ever say no to his favorite girl? It was almost embarrassing how easily he’s bending to your will- and letting out a sigh he attempts to make sound annoyed rather than fond. “Oh, alright…but at least try one of the apples. I’m sure they’d be good for you.”

“Of course-” Then you take a step - and the faint dizziness that’d accompanied your fever makes you nearly fall into Shiu’s chest. Thankfully the farmer catches you easily with his scarred palms darting to your waist, his broad arms wrapping around your body- and the tips of his fingers graze where your tail starts.

And both of your breaths hitch-

“Hey boss- can we dig into the pears too or are those off limits?” Ino’s blissfully oblivious tone shatters whatever strange atmosphere had seemed to concentrate between you two.

And you both jump backwards as if electrocuted.

“The uh- the what-” Shiu whirls around at the farm dog hybrid, “Not a chance. Don’t even think about touching those.”

“…Oops.”

“Those are ¥5000 a pear-” He pinches his nosebridge and groans- as his most trusted dog hybrid scampers off with an armful of pears. As he does so, Ino’s dropping one on the grass that Shiu’s bending down to pick up. Wiping off the non-existent dust on his denim overall, Shiu pulls a pocket knife out and cuts a clean slice of pear in mere seconds.

Calm and controlled.

Somehow, just seeing how competent he was with it made something at the pit of your stomach- twinge.

Before you know it, Shiu’s holding the tempting slice out to you. “Eat.” When you look at him in hesitation, he chuckles handsomely. “They’re about to raid the pears anyway, so you might as well eat.”

And so you do - he watches every minute expression of yours as you bite into it. That glimmer in your eyes. That smile.

Fuck…

Chomping on the luxurious fruit, you’re soon raising your nose into the air and sniffing.

Shiu raises a brow, “Something wrong? It’s not rotten, is it?”

You shake your head and continue sniffing. “No, it’s just…” Your ears twitch towards him- and he finds it so cute how they move almost all on their own. “Something smells good.”

“The pear?” 

“No.” Shaking your head once more—the way you look at him then is just…different. “Like apples. And caramel. And honeysuckle.”

Shiu scratches behind his neck. “Well, I don’t know about the caramel- but we are in an apple orchard.” Gesturing at the sprawling land. “Help yourself.”

You smile and rub yourself against him lightly, soon joining your friends.

This was proving to be quite the strange day- fuck, were you getting hotter?

.

.

.

11:59PM

“I should have taken you to Shoko’s in the morning—”

This is all Shiu’s fault.

This is all Shiu’s fault.

But to understand just how badly he’d messed up, one would have to rewind the clock to about two minutes and twenty seconds ago; it’d been a long day at the farm. Exhaustibly so. Even more so than usual, Shiu was dead-tired—it was practically subconscious the way in which he’d scrubbed himself clean and slipped into his favorite pair of pajamas (the ones with the cows and barns on them). 

And he’d just - just - sat himself down on the creaky sofa in front of the TV, to get in at least five minutes of his favorite cheesy soap operas before he zonked out before it…when the front door started rattling.

Wait…rattling?

Knocking.

Shiu sighed and rubbed the sleep from his eyes as he heaved himself to a stand- “Yeah, yeah m’coming…don’t break the damn door down.” He’d at least expected Kusakabe to give him a call before he returned and started trying to leave him doorless- but ah. 

Shiu was grumbling a few choice words underneath his breath as he swung the front door and screen open. Only to be met with—

“Pretty girl?” In split-seconds, every ounce of sleepiness leaves Shiu as he darts to hold your faintish body. Your head was drooped, and your breaths were coming out rapid. You were supported by only some of the other cow hybrids. Immediately his hand is flying to your waist, and he’s throwing one of your arms around his shoulders- before giving up on any inhibitions and pulling you into a proper princess carry.

A worried Ino and the others trailed after. “The cow hybrids let me know that there was something wrong, boss. So I brought her here.”

“Good thinking. Thank you.” Shiu just barely has the thought to murmur. He hurries to sprawl you out across where you would be most comfortable: his bed. “We need to contact Dr. Shoko immediately.”

“It’s not her time of heat yet, right?” Ino asks from the doorway. Behind him were some of the other members of the barn house looking in concern.

“No.” Shiu shakes his head. He glances up and sees the commotion- “It might be a fever, or maybe it was too hot out? I don’t know—fuck, I should’ve just taken her in the morning when she first told me.”

“Should I get the truck ready now, boss?”

“Sure. But I don’t want to move her much right now- poor thing.” Shiu looks on sadly at the way you’re gripping his soft pillows and smushing them to your face—breathing them in. “I’ll call Shoko and see if there’s anything we can do from here-” Reaching over to his bedside cabinet and picking up the phone, “You guys get some sleep, and I’ll let you know if anything happens.”

“You’ve got it.” Ino nods- and then he’s herding the rest of the barn outside. 

In this little bubble of his bedroom, this little nook of the farm which smelled like fresh cream and honeysuckle, and had the air of sluggish mornings that made one’s eyes droop; it was just you and Shiu and the ringing tone of Shoko’s clinic.

Ringing once.

Ringing twice.

It cuts and Shiu’s trying Shoko’s personal number this time. She picks up almost instantly- “Hello?”

“I’m not going to ask about the integrity of your sleep schedule, but I need your help-”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

And as Shiu lists off your symptoms - the clamminess, the rapid heartbeat, the puffs of pheromones now filling up his bedroom, and more importantly…the wetness between your thighs (he wasn’t a lecher- he promises, it just-so-happened that Dr. Shoko had asked him to double check as part of your symptoms) - he himself starts to get an understanding of your diagnosis. You were in heat. But-

“But wasn’t her heat just two weeks ago?” There’s a shuffling of papers on the other end of the line as Shiu realizes Shoko must’ve gone through your file at home. “And she isn’t known for having any irregular heats.”

“Could this possibly be triggered by something external?” Shiu asks.

“It is possible.” She answers. “Have there been any changes to her environment? Something that may trigger a stress response in her?”

“Well, just today I had Toji go out with my friend to a convention- could it possibly be the distance?” He suddenly feels a drop of guilt at possibly being connected to why you feel this way.

“Hmm, I don’t believe so. Mating bonds are of the nature to be most volatile in close distances, rather than when they’re apart.” She hums thoughtfully. “You said that her mate was away today, right? And this started just today? Have there been any…other changes?”

Shiu raises a brow. “Other?”

And he can’t see her, but he gets the feeling that had they been in her office- then Shoko would have her fingers crossed and a grave expression on her face. “Yes. Has she been close with any other hybrid on the farm? Perhaps nuzzling up to them? Perhaps giving off her scent?”

The tips of Shiu’s fingers, clutching the phone, feel utterly numb. “…Yes.” Him.

“Well then. I believe the matter is quite simple, Mr. Shiu.” Tell him. “It is a strange phenomenon in which the hybrid seems to have two mates.”

“…” He can’t quite seem to close his mouth. “What?”

“Precisely.” Shoko speaks as if merely commenting on the nice weather or a particularly good football goal.

“B-but—” Shiu clutches the phone and tries to keep his volume from rising so as not to awaken you - you’d fallen asleep wrapped in his sheets now. Nose stuffed into the fabrics coated with his natural musk. “I thought hybrids mated for life? With only one-”

“Most often, yes. But there are rare cases in which a hybrid might find themselves connected to two others, or even three. Sometimes these connections may be latent and only make themselves known when triggered by a heat or time apart from her original mate.” His jaw just keeps dropping. “And it seems that in your cow hybrid’s case, in the absence of one mate she found her second mate’s connection activated. This is likely what caused her to go into heat.”

“So it’s official-” He begs. “She’s in heat now-”

“Yes, and I suggest you just let her do what needs to be done with her second mate in order to get it out of her system, otherwise she may feel rejected.”

And it seems that the conversation was coming to a close- for there was a note of epiphany in her words. But before Shoko could end the call, he questions once more. “And about the…double mate thing- does that also mean that the second mate is mated to the original mate?”

There’s a pause.

“Well, I suppose that’s up to you, Mr. Shiu.”

Wait how did she—

And then she ends the call.

Shiu holds numbly onto the phone for a few seconds - the silence felt deafening. Before a sudden stirring makes him dart his eyes over towards you. 

Like an angel.

Your face was half-pushed into one of Shiu’s pillows - also patterned with cows and barns - and that blanket of his had twisted ‘round your body like a snake now—clammy with your sweat. Your fingers were clawing at the old creaky mattress, and your knees were pushing higher, and between them were- oh.

Were another one of his pillows.

And fuck- he’s never felt more jealous of an inanimate object in his entire life.

You were reeling your hips back—thrusting them forwards again- grinding down on the pillow. Wetness was seeping between those pretty, shiverin’ legs of yours and staining the cover. From here he could see a dark splotch starting to stain the silken fabric - smelling like the sweetest honey scent.

And it makes his mouth water.

“Baby- baby…” Shiu lovingly pats your leg, dawning you completely awake. He could see now that you were in the throes of your heat - but those eyes of yours were completely alert. “I need you to get comfortable, okay? This is gonna last about a week.”

“I’m in heat?” You blink. “Dr. Shoko said you’re my mate, Shiu.”

“So you heard that, huh?” He lightly chuckles. “Just know that we don’t have to do anything that you don’t want to. Heats don’t necessarily affect humans-”

“Then why’re you so hard?” Though that tone of yours was utterly innocent - the look in your eyes wasn’t. You knew what you were doing to him—and you’re only hiking up the temperature between the two of you as you’re leaning in. 

On wobbly arms, you’re pushing yourself up n’ leaning in so close-

Oh, how he’s dreamed of this exact scenario so many nights before. In this very bed. With his hand wrapped around his cock.

And Shiu knows he’s talking out of his ass - it’s the inhibitions taking over now…“You’ve got me there- but what about Toji-”

“Isn’t he your mate, too?”

And then your lips are on his.

.

.

.

Fushiguro Toji feels a disturbance in the force.

He can’t quite explain it- it’s nothing that he’s seen or even something that he’s felt. Nothing tangible to give reason to this madness. It’s just that something was…off. Kusakabe notices the hybrid squirming in his seat - yes, it seems that he trusted the bull hybrid enough to let him ride shotgun - and turns on the radio.

Just Toji’s luck, it was Scotty Doesn’t Know by Lustra.

“Turn it off.” Toji scoffs and crosses his arms.

“Why? Remind you of a certain someone~?” Kusakabe asks in-between singing at the top of his lungs.

“The hell is that supposed to mean?”

And even though Toji is merely looking at the smaller man- he shrinks into his seat. Did he mention he’d sharpened his horns for today? Kusakabe whimper, “O-oh nothing…nothing, just that ah- the lyrics might be a little reminiscent of ah-”

And Toji was even more infuriated because of that nagging sensation- that strange…fuck. “Spit it out.”

Kusakabe lets out a squeal and looks as though he utterly regretted letting the hybrid sit next to him. “J-just the fact that Shiu mayormaynothaveacrushonyourmate—” It’s out before Toji could even register it. “Pleasedon’tkillme-”

“If I kill you who’s driving?” Toji had now unbuckled his seatbelt despite Kusakabe’s protests. Snooping around the truck and trying to trace that little- scent? “What is that infernal- fuck. And I already know that farmer’s got a thing for her - though I’d pay for him to actually try. Would love to see his face as she rejects him.”

“Really? Because she was looking all cute and cuddly and a little feverish this morning.”

“What.”

And then it hits him—that scent. Fresh cream and sunny days and honey-

You were in heat.

“Fucker, step on it.”

Kusakabe whirls towards him. “What-” But before he can finish, Toji’s grabbing onto the steering wheel and damn-near crashing them on the highway as he speeds ahead.

The radio trills: ‘I can’t believe he’s so trustin’.

While I’m right behind you thrusting.’

.

.

.

“Mmm—” Shiu’s lips are hot and persistent- letting off the most sensual mwahs! as he continues the pattern down the side of your neck.

Listen, Shiu Kong might not be a hybrid like you, but if he kept his nose pressed against your sultry skin then he could almost feel it—those pheromones. 

It was wafting off your skin like an atmosphere that was entirely your own, a gravitational pull constantly tugging him closer; the sweetened scent of honey and freshly-whipped cream. It made him blush. It went straight down to his cock.

Fuck that- it was taking over him.

A guttural groan rips out of Shiu’s chest- he kisses a pathway down the middle of your body until he’s reaching your core. Once he does, he gives the hottest wettest kiss of all to your cunt—“Oh, baby. Lean back a bit f’me, yeah?”

And then he’s pressing an open palm on top of your stomach. Pressing you to recline on the bed.

“Good girl.” Shiu rumbles. Low. “Now squeeze those pretty legs around my head- yeah, just like that. Tighter.”

“Tighter than that n’ you’ll suffocate.” You gasp.

“What about it?”

Using his own strong arms - so fucking beefy from years of work at the farm - Shiu wraps your thighs around his sweaty head. His sharp, straight hair tickles your inner thighs; so much so that the farmer has to tell you to settle down. “Easy there- eeeeasy there, girlie. I’ll make you feel good during your heat.”

“I’m not a damn horse.” You huff.

“Yeah, because you’re gonna be the one riding, huh?”

The gasp that flutters its way up to your throat doesn’t get the chance to escape- because the question on Shiu’s tongue curls around your cunt. He’s letting the squashy end of his tongue dip between your swollen pussylips—giving you a loooong lick where you were most tender. Those cushiony tastebuds of his were massaging you already- and the way he’s twisting his tongue so deliciously as he enters—

“Oh.” You’re arching off the mattress, thighs plastering to the side of his face. And yet your pussy’s openin’ up for him so invitingly. “Keep going, Shiu…”

“Had no plans of stopping soon.” Gurgling wetly between your legs.

His tongue was just so soft and smooth.

The way he’s adjusting it in and out makes your mouth just water. In and out. In and out. Shiu notices that every time he hooked his tongue around the outer rim of your entrance made your pheromones surge. Fuck—that heat of yours was affecting him, too, and leaving him sippin’ on your pussy like an aphrodisiac.

Lavish lips plastering aaaaall over again and again- “Mmmm, my pretty cow hybrid. No idea how I lasted this long without this.” Breathing through his nose - he didn’t want to waste a single second of this. His usually-deep timbre shakes with pleading desire. “And what can this do?”

You’re squealing once you feel thick fingers curl around your tail. “That’s my tail…”

“I already know that, pretty girl.” Shiu shakes his head fondly - as though you’d been the one to say something ridiculous. And in-between lapping away at your leaking pussy, he tugs softly on your tail in order to bring you closer. “But what can it do-”

“Well she likes getting it pulled during doggy position.” 

Both of you would have recognized that voice amongst a thousand bull hybrids - ten thousand. That stature. That scent of freshly-cut grass and something deeper…something more alluring.

“And sometimes if you bite it she starts clenching like crazy.” 

Fuck.

Because neither of you had heard the door click open - except maybe in what felt like a distant dream. Something worlds away.

You’re feeling a sense of déjà vu. 

Shiu’s feeling cold sweat breaking out as he realizes that he hadn’t actually locked the door. In fact. 

Whoever had opened it must be gripping it so hard that its oak frame was starting to splinter-

Both of you experience a pang at the pit of your stomach- a draw. And Shiu gapes as he looks down at himself—what the fuck was that…? He’s looking up at Fushiguro Toji standing in the doorframe with the same shocked expression.

“The hell do you think you’re doing with my girl?” Toji spits, scarred lips twisted.

“Listen, man-”

“You’re not going to make her cum eating her out like that.”

“I…what?”

Toji manages to make Shiu shut up. This must surely be a dream? And it’s just about enough time for the other man to cross the distance between the door and the bed - kicking it shut behind him - and make himself quite at home on the bed. The mattress creaks under the weight of the hybrid; and you yourself are letting out a soft moan. 

He sits beside where you were sprawled-out, facing Shiu.

“You see…my pretty girl here-”

Shiu mutters underneath this breath. “Fuckin’ stealing my pet name too, now?”

But Toji has the courtesy to ignore it - for now. “-has a certain set of rules she needs to follow.” 

At this, the other man’s brows raise in interest. Satisfied at the attention; Toji himself traces his dominant right hand over your stomach, your hips, before lowering down to your cunt and holding those puffy pussylips of yours open. Pushing them apart. Pryin’ them apart. 

Both men gulp at the way you’re clenching around nothing.

“See…she might look all innocent and sweet- but she’s a proper little slut.” The words almost make Shiu flinch - and the bull hybrid takes great care repeating them. “Your…pretty girl is a proper- little- slut. And I know that she likes being fucked like one.”

And before either of you can make a move - Toji’s swiftly craning his head down and spitting a great glob of saliva on your cunt.

It trickles over your exterior and smears along your inner thighs- and Toji takes his sweet, sweet relish in swipin’ off some of that excess and popping it into his mouth. “So?” Toji asks. “Eat her out.”

Eat…Toji’s own mate out? Like this?

“What?” Toji has the audacity to look shocked. “I’ve seen the way you’ve been eyeing her- don’t act like you haven’t been fantasizing it. You’ve wanted her even before I arrived at this damn farm.”

Shiu’s lips tremble- he almost wants to because hell, he’s been given the permission now. And yet…“Is this some sort of trick? You’re not gonna use those horns on me afterward, are you?”

“No, not at all.” The other man replies - almost too breezily. He raises his brows at Shiu expectantly. And stares deep into Shiu’s eyes as he says. “So? The fuck are you waiting for-”

Those mere words make Shiu’s cock stand painfully erect.

However, there’s a reason they claimed that Fushiguro Toji was a ruthless man. 

Because humans always did move far too slowly for the bull hybrid’s liking. And he wastes not a second more before pawin’ at the back of Shiu’s sweaty scalp - taking just a moment to bask in the utter shock upon his features - and shoving—

Straight between your pretty, pretty thighs.

Which he honestly didn’t have to do because—well fuck, you didn’t have to ask Shiu twice to eat you out. Shiu lets out a strangled grunt that turns into a moan. 

And without further ado, he’s back latched onto your pussy- those handsome cheeks of his hollowing out as he sucks n’ sucks. And you don’t know whether he was doing this for you or himself. 

Shiu ate you out like he was going to die of thirst if he didn’t.

“Fuck-” He hisses. With every movement of his face, he nuzzles himself closer. “Fuck fuck fuck—more.”

Syrupy breath sticking against your pussylips. 

And his tongue was even worse-

“My pretty girl. More.”

He’s slithering it aaaaaaaall along your outer cunt - lapping up every wad of slick you were gifting him - and then rubbing his textured tastebuds along your exterior when it just wasn’t enough. Because your cunt was practically an aphrodisiac for him.

It’s as if the heat was contagious.

Because the longer he’s spending between those gorgeous legs of yours - the more he’s blabbering like a damn fool. The murkier his eyes are growing. The harder and harder his hips are coming crashing—! down on the rickety wooden frame of the bed—pathetically dry-humping it in time with the thrashes of his tongue. Slipping right between your velvety folds and yearnin’ to taste the honey between.

That thick silkiness of his tongue was just dizzying.

He was cleaning up the mess that Toji’d made earlier—tasting him, tasting you. Shiu’s face grows warm as he remembers.

That dextrous tip of his tongue delves between your pussylips - entering that cute hole - and is lapping up everything you’re giving him. “Babydoll, fuck my mouth even deeper.” Needing more. “Even deeper.”

“F-fuck- shit, shit shit.” You’re trilling out. “You’re practically nose-deep. How can you possibly go any deeper?”

With a needy whimper, you’re letting your hybrid tail swish towards him - and without further ado Shiu takes it and wraps his fist around it. Giving a gentle tug. Fuck.

And when he actually discovers that he’s able to manhandle you further onto his mouth with that tail of yours- nothing’s stopping Shiu from increasing his strength to give you a mean haul. “Mmm- yes- oh, Shiu. It feels so good, Shiu—!”

“But not good enough, right?” Toji speaks over you, in a haughty tone.

Your hybrid ears twitch in confusion.

And before you know it, you’re feeling the sensation of Shiu’s slithering tongue disappear. 

You whine out in disappointment. And you already know that that mate of yours must have something to do with it-

Sure as day; Toji has his fist gripping Shiu’s jet-black hair and reeling him back. The other man obviously had his face twisted into something ferocious, and the tension made the atmosphere pinch. But underneath that…there was an undercurrent of sweetness…the mottling of Toji’s gleeful pheromones mixing with his lustful ones.

And Shiu’s, too.

And if you weren’t mistaken- was that a faint blush on the tips of his ears?

It seems that Toji notices, too. “See anything to blush about here?” Then his eyes dip down to you. “Oh…right. Heh.” Leaning in oh-so-closely to the other man; Toji whispers in a gravelly tone into his ear. “But if you stand around blushing and bein’ a wuss for too long, then just know that she’s not gonna wait. She’s gonna dry up~”

He spits once more.

So disrespectful.

And then turns down to Shiu and warns. “Don’t eat her out just yet. Rule number one…” Your heartbeat races as he speaks those familiar words - Fushiguro Toji never was one to care for rules…unless it was in bed. “No running.”

“I’d never run from this pussy.” Shiu frowns.

“Not you, nitwit.” Mercilessly, he’s planting a smack at the back of the farmer’s head. “Her. Don’t let her run.”

Seemingly getting the green light to start up his sensual ministrations again- Shiu slowly starts lapping between your pussylips once more. Proddin’ his thickened tip into the deep orifice of your cunt. “B-but she’s not-”

“Look.” Toji interrupts. Just as you were starting to buck and lift your hips off the sodden mattress. “Look at the way she’s moving ‘round.”

“But that’s just-”

“But this pretty cow hybrid is in heat—and you can’t just leave her uncomfortable like this, can you?” Those dazed eyes of Shiu Kong’s open wider. He faintly nods. “So aren’t you the farmer?”

He nods again - looking as though he was about to faint.

“So herd your damn cow hybrids- c’mon- don’t let her run—” Spurred on even further by his words, Shiu’s plunging back in-between your legs and usin’ his tongue for his life.

Opening his mouth wiiiiiide to make sure that he’s able to reach every nook and cranny—the end of his tongue was just so dexterous and somehow managing to slip into spots you hadn’t even known you had. “O-ohhhh, fuuuuck-” Moans just keep bubbling out of your lips. “It feels so good, Shiu-”

And just when it looked as if you were about to buck—Shiu grabs ahold of your hips- so hard that he leaves neat semi-crescent nail marks on your skin. Plopping you back down onto the bed.

Plopping you back down onto his face.

From then onwards, he doesn’t let you move a single inch as he’s thrashin’ away his fat tongue inside your cunt. Stretching that pussy out to his textured tastebuds. 

And Toji had been watching the entire display closely…very closely. With his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock. “Good.” His head threatens to tip backwards as he gives a harsh tug on his thickened length. “And now rule number two: squeeze those gorgeous legs around your head. Doesn’t matter if you suffocate.”

“That- that’s what I said—” Shiu keens.

“Then why’re you speaking?”

Goosebumps run down Shiu’s arched spine. “Oh…”

“A cunt like hers isn’t to be taken for granted.” Toji tuts from above you, and you can’t help but ogle the way his biceps bulge as he pushes down Shiu’s head. “Deeper.” Harder. “Deeper. Don’t waste time talking. Don’t waste time gawking like an idiot. In fact-”

His heated words make goosebumps scatter across your open thighs.

And you whimper-

“-don’t even breathe.”

They’re both driving you absolutely mad—

Toji catches your left ear between his fingers- as it’s been swatting furiously away the more aroused you grew. So soft beneath his touch.

He uses it to urge your mouth down to where his lap was.

“Rule number three…let her fuck back into you- but only if she really…really deserves it.”

“Make the pretty girl work for it?” Shiu looks up.

Toji displays a priggish smirk. “Now you’re getting the hang of it.”

And you don’t know what sort of expression Shiu might have on his handsome face right now - he was much too…preoccupied for that - but you can sense him nod. Short and sharp. As he keeps on lavishin’ your insides with his tongue; the farmer makes note of just how hard you’re clenching around him. “C’mon, pretty girl—” He pushes down your bucking hips. “Clench a little harder ‘round my tongue, would ya?”

“O-oh, now you’re just mean.”

“It’s what you deserve.” Toji chuckles. “Don’t think I can’t smell your pheromones gettin’ even sweeter- you’re loving this.”

You have no counter accusation - it was, after all, painfully true. And then Toji caresses your sweaty scalp with his thick digits—grabbing ahold of the back of your neck. “Now…lets see if you can be a good girl for me, too.”

An acrid sort of sweetness floods your mouth - because in mere sultry moments Toji has his legs positioned so that they’re practically straddling your face. On the mattress; he’s kneeling to the side of your head and letting his pursed, pinkened cocktip swab across your lips.

He’s rock-hard.

Instantly your jaw’s falling open to accommodate him.

And believe- that there was a lot to be accommodating. For Toji was so many countless inches, thick and decorated in a prominent network of veins across every inch of him. They zigzagged across each of his angles n’ ended up being the most prominent where your sweet spots were—Toji meant it when he said he was made for you.

He had a scruff of jet-black happy trail. He was an angry red at his tip. He was dripping precum.

It puckered out from the divot on top of his shaft—then ended up smeeeeared down the insides of your soft mouth. “Fuuuuck…” Toji himself whispers as he eases in. The bedsprings purr as Shiu bucks against the bed harder.

And before you know it, he’s reaching upwards and biting down on your throbbing clit. “Don’t forget about me, pretty girl. You’re not getting off easy. Rule number three, remember?”

“I—oh.” Shiu’s putting his fingers in now - fingers. Two of them. Long and perfectly calloused from years of hard labor to now massage your tender insides.

Both men are manhandling you oh-so-perfectly: Shiu dragging you down by your tail- and Toji using both hands to maneuver your head down. Letting you take up numerous inches of him. Thick and throbbing.

That rounded end of his shaft hits the back of your throat and you’re immediately coughing-

“Easy there.” Toji lovingly croons…“Not.” And you didn’t expect mercy, did you? Soon enough both of them are running their bodies ragged trying to draw out the most reactions from you—Toji fucking his cock into your suckling mouth, and Shiu hooking a finger not against the roof of your cunt to press on your nerve-filled spots- to make you clench. “C’mon- milk me. You can do better.”

“C’mon, little cow hybrid.” Shiu titters. His digits prove so effective in stretchin’ out your insides even more so than his tongue—and those tastebuds of his remain tickling your clit. “Won’t you squeeze me a little harder?”

“She can’t answer.” Toji laughs. “Got her mouth a little full.”

“Bull got her tongue.”

“Mmmm…” With that said, Toji’s flooding your tastebuds with a thick lacquer of his precum. He increases his pace a little more.

“Just a little harder-” Meanwhilst, Shiu whispers to himself as he keeps probing your sweet, sweet insides. “Just a little- a little—” And at precisely that moment; he’s hitting the bullseye. What else but the place marked X: your g-spot? “O-oh.” 

He damn near cums in his pants.

“Just like that.” Shiu continues. “Fuck back into my fingers. I know you can, girlie.”

“Accomplished rule number three already?” Toji asks the other man. “Yer nicer than me- I know that for sure.”

“What can I say? She’s my favorite.”

After a few more thrusts n’ bucks n’ smashes at your favorite spot - you don’t think you can even formulate a coherent thought. You’re being tugged back and forth by both men—and they aren’t showing any signs of slowing down soon enough. “The fourth and fifth rules are a little alike…” Toji rumbles from above you. “The fourth, of course, is to get ready.”

“Get ready?” Shiu asks. Though by the way he feels the heat in the room - your pheromones - flare up, he’s sure you’re anticipating whatever it is.

“And the fifth is to…” The end of that sentence teeters on the edge of Toji’s tongue as he reels his hips back, back, back, baaaaack- “-take it all like a good girl.” 

And that’s exactly what you’re doing.

Letting the entire length of Toji’s cock fill your mouth from tip to base- his fleshy cockhead searches your insides like a flashlight. It’s almost too pornographic the way you’re choking on his length—gagging, eyes watering. 

To which of course, your beloved mate reaches down to pinch your nostrils closed. “Now now…are you the one in heat or am I?”

“Mmmpf- mmm—” You keen. Moans bubbling from the back of your throat but having no way out.

“Oi- I think she’s close.” Shiu breathes.

He could taste it in the sweet treacly syrup leaking out of you - his favorite. He could taste it in the way your cunt walls were pounding faster than ever. He could fucking smell it in those pheromones of yours that just seemed to flare to life-

“S’that so?” Toji asks. “And that brings me to our sixth and final rule: if she wants something, then she can use her words to ask for it.”

“Hardass.” Shiu scoffs.

But they’re both increasing their pace. For competition or simply to drive you mad?

The sloppiest squelches and pops! fill the room—and Shiu watches as your tail starts twitching agitatedly once the pleasure almost gets too much. Oh his pretty cow hybrid. Once you’re so close that you feel like you could burst- “Toji, she’s close—”

“Then ask for it.” Toji keeps shovelling his cock deeper. Deeper. “Fucking ask for it, doll.”

“Toji-”

Slamming into your throat with a final thwack! His balls were damn near leaving an imprint on your chin. “You can ask the farmer to help you with your heat- but you can’t ask me to make you cum…?”

“She did.”

The tension in the room falters - but never bates - as Toji turns to look at the other man. “What?”

“She did-” Shiu hastens to explain. “Ask to cum, that is…” And as if to prove his point—he’s plummeting a few more pushes with his fingers, scissoring them inside you so that those slurping suctioning noises are extra loud. “-right here.”

Toji waits for a beat.

Before he lets out a little snicker.

Before he lets out an entire laugh-

“Maybe you’re not so bad- for you, that is.” And then he’s boring his forest fire gaze down at you. “Hear that? Yer damn lucky that you’re the farmer’s favorite—hah, better thank him.” Toji’s then tugging your ear to watch you squirm just a little.

He lets out a final few thrusts.

And waits until his cock was embedded deeeep into the back of your throat - and your nose was pressed against those tufts of black at his base. Until you were well and fully stuffed full of him. 

“So cum then, my pretty mate.”

And with a few more thorough slashes inside you—knockin’ Shiu’s burly fingers into your sweetest spots, slithering Toji’s length down every crevice of your mouth, you’re crashing into your high. 

It’s quick and searing.

It takes over your body faster than you can register. Burning through every other thought and feeling - you’re letting out erotic moans around Toji’s cock, and they keep getting louder as it keeps prolonging. Longer and longer. The more they’re toyin’ with your throbbing, sopping cunt. 

Those fervent peaks seem to get stronger - and within you feels practically white-hot in sensation. Pulling off of his bulbous tip. “Sh-shiiiiiit—” Keening out. “It feels so good- it feels so good-”

“You’re welcome.” Toji says. Shovelling his pinkish tip back between those lips.

At the same time that Shiu’s panting. “Anything for you, pretty girl.”

“Don’t fucking stop.”

Of course, as your mates they’re practically bound to listen to your every syllable.

And you don’t feel them rest - even take a breath - until your orgasm was well and almost completely disappeared from the horizon.

Tears of overstimulation were now springing to your eyes. Thighs twitching with the faintest splinters of sensitivity. “F-fuck…” Toji’s throbbing tip falls from your lips. It leaves a thin ribbon of slick connecting you to him still. You’re blabbering. “Fuck, I’m getting sensitive now.”

“Hm…Shiu climb up.” Toji says.

Both you and Shiu share a glance—and with something that looked like a half-shrug, Shiu’s attempting to heave himself up from the floor-

Only to be grabbed by Toji by the hand and yanked onto bed.

The farmer’s letting out a little yelp as he’s finding himself bounced onto the springy mattress - right on your other side. Sandwiched between the two buff, broad men- you don’t think you’ve ever felt your heart beat faster…ever smelled your pheromones so potently…

“Shiu, I need those off.” You huff. Batting those teary lashes of yours.

“Oh.” His face twists into something like ecstacy - how many times has he fantasized about those very words leaving your mouth?

And, flustered, the farmer starts unbuckling his overall one-by-one-

“We’re not trying to wait until her heat’s over.” Toji gruffs. And his veined forearm reaches across you - grasping onto the front of Shiu’s overall and giving it a good tug.

Those buckles are breaking free immediately. 

The bull hybrid smiles to himself proudly. “There.”

“I should have half the mind to return you to Kusakabe…” Shiu grumbles to himself, as he takes off the rest of his clothes. That sentence makes the faintest flicker of recognition light up in his brain - really, where was Kusakabe - but it’s evaporating soon enough once you start helping him take his boxers off. 

“I’m warning you in advance, however…” He starts.

“Why?”

“Yeah- are you hiding a 21-incher in there or something?” Toji scoffs.

“No no- it’s not that. I’m…above average- probably.” Shiu waves off, his burning blush creeping up onto his face again. “It’s just that I might have made…a little mess when I was eating you out.”

Your brows furrow. “What do you mean by- oh.”

Oh, was right. Right indeed.

Because of course- Shiu was naturally an impressive size. About eight inches. With a much more tan tip than Toji’s - and perhaps even thicker, too - and a girth that made your mouth water. He was smoother than Toji—less veins ‘round his shaft except for a single prominent one that went around the left side. And he was curved ever-so-slightly upright, too. 

But what really caught your attention was…Shiu had cum in his pants.

Just from eating you out.

“Oh…” Your eyes widen as you take in the dark splotch at the front of his boxers. 

Thick ropey white cum had seeped into it- and Shiu’s hastily snatching those boxers out of your hands to throw them over his shoulder. His hands felt sticky. “But that’s neither here nor there-”

“Of course it is.” Toji says after a moment of contemplation. “I’m adding a seventh rule.” 

Yours and Shiu’s eyes pop open. 

“Shit.”

“Shit-”

“What?” The bull hybrid looks at you both in mock innocence. “I was just going to say that the guest goes first…”

It’s…unexpected. To say the least. But you weren’t complaining - and by the way that Shiu’s reddened length perks up at the idea, you don’t think he is either.

“Um, so how do I…”

Toji angles himself towards you- “Get up a little, doll?”

You arch your hips off the bed; and Toji’s taking the opportunity to sidle his own hips underneath them. He’s manhandling you so that you’re simply sprawled-out on his chiselled front—and oh, how your mouth waters at the sensation of his rippling pecs and abs. The way they’re massaging you from behind at even the slightest movements—was that his v-line? 

And did you mention that Toji just-so-happened to have the cutest ringed piercings through each nipple?

They’re pushing into you from behind once the hybrid hooks both hands underneath each of your legs. And he’s lifting them aaaaaaaall the way up until your knees hit your tits. Spreading you wide, wide open.

A full nelson.

Except…this time, it’s Shiu’s who’s going to be basking between your legs. 

The aforementioned man takes a courageous gulp as he shuffles on his knees between your legs - and Toji’s - to lovingly gaze at you. “Fuuuuuck, my pretty girl…you really are so gorgeous.” Shiu whispers- underneath his breath as though he didn’t even mean for you to hear.

His darkened eyes sweep down your body like a caress. “The way that pussy’s dripping so much- shit, s’like a flood down there. Can you even feel yourself?” You’re squirming at his lecherous words. “And those legs. Trembling. And the way you’re just throbbing- I can see it from here.”

You’re gasping as he presses his hot length down on your cunt. 

Sandwiched between each of your pussylips: Shiu doesn’t think he’s ever seen a prettier sight. “You’re just so dirty, girlie~”

You shudder.

And Shiu could have kept going- it absolutely killed him to tear his gaze off of you. It really did.

But Shiu could sense Toji starting to get impatient if the slightly souring tint in his pheromones was anything to go by- hey, look at that…he’s reading pheromones now. Mentalling patting himself on the back; the farmer starts slide-slide-sliiiiiding his fattened-up cock between your precious folds. “Easy there, girl?”

“Yeah yeah- we’re easy.” Rolling his eyes, you’re getting jostled as the hybrid underneath bucks. And at this point, you’re honestly wondering which one of you was more excited for his entrance…“Just get on with it.”

“Unlike you, Toji, I don’t just- get on with it.” Shiu sounded offended at the mere suggestion. 

And as you both look towards him for further clarification, Shiu nervously bites down on the inside of his cheek and pushes his swollen cock down the slit of your cunt. “It’s just that…” He lets his particularly large tip kiss your hole. “-what if I end up hurting my pretty girl during her heat? I’d never forgive myself.”

“How cute.” Toji snickers. But there’s something that you recognize there—appreciation? “But not if you follow our rules, farmer boy. Remember those?”

Shiu rolls his eyes. “How could I forget?”

“Yeah- recite those.” And you’re gasping once one of Toji’s meaty palms drift up to your face - covering your dazed peripherals. “We’re both going to take turns fucking her using those rules, and my mate’s going to guess which one of us it is—how about that?”

“Mmm, sounds fun.” You smile.

And seeing that gorgeous smile of yours - what else was he supposed to be but putty in your hands? Shiu’s giving himself a few pumps before starting to press into your tight rim.

You’re tight.

So fucking tight.

His brows furrow n’ sweat starts beading at his forehead as he slowly - sloooowly - starts easing his proud cock inside. You’re arching into Toji’s back, whilst Shiu probes into your deepest depths. “O-oh.”

It was something so different.

Although he wasn’t exactly as vein-covered as Toji was; Shiu’s length managed to have the perfect curve that prodded ‘round the roof of your cunt. Somehow directly aiming for those tender spots inside—you’re feeling the pointed end of his shaft draw sensual zig-zags inside and you’re immediately begging for more.

Of course, that’s when Toji’s silently signalling Shiu to pull out.

Replacing the farmer’s cock with his instead.

Thick. Throbbing. Those patterns and groves on his shaft were just dizzying- and Toji’s already rendered your eyes sprinting to the back of your head with but a mere few inches inside you. 

He’s making your first ring of muscle streeeeeetch- and pressing a second overlarge hand down on your stomach to keep you from movin’ around too much. And you don’t need to see him to reach blindly behind you and tug on Toji’s newest bull ring—

“Don’t be mean, Toji.”

“S’not being mean, it’s just the rules.” Toji argues. His words come out in sizzling pants against the side of your face - somehow just his presence seemed enough to make your heat symptoms two times worse. “Now that the practice run’s over…”

Your eyes are fluttering open- only to see nothing past the gaps of Toji’s thick fingers. “That was just the practice run—?” Your poor puckered hole was already pulsating with friction.

But neither of them are answering.

Instead, it just seems that they’re intent on fucking any question or comprehensible thought right back into you—because just you’re feeling a sudden intrusion deep into your core. The bulbous head of it swipes apart your puffy pussylips- and the next thing you know, you’re seeing nothing but stars at the neverending inches of one of their cocks.

Somehow managing to probe even deeper than the first time- whoever this was was so fatly swollen that his cockhead opens up plunging crevices inside you. Perhaps even new ones.

You’re gasping away- “Please.” Both men are impressively managing to keep quiet as they’re easing inside. Not completely bottoming-out…but enough to make your toes curl. “Oh, please that feels so good.”

Hips attempting to chase more- he was going so slow.

But just as soon as you do - almost the very instant that your hips are breaking contact with the skin of Toji’s toned pelvis - you feel one of his hands pin you back down. Preventing you from moving a single inch.

Your hybrid ears rustle with the huff of laughter from behind you—and you know that there’s only one man who’d keep a hand oh-so-possessively on top of your womb as he sinks into your soaking wet cunt. Rule number one, remember?

“Toji-” You’re sputtering out, voice breaking so prettily at the end of your plea. “T-Toji move a little faster- ngh, please—”

Yet another failed attempt at a buck. “Good job, doll.” He gnaws on your ear lobe. “But don’t think we’re done here just yet…”

And then before you know it, he’s pulling out. The action lets out the loudest, sloppiest little plop! of pleasure between your legs- and it feels as though firecrackers are going off through your veins.

You’re practically shaking once another intrusion starts proddin’ between your legs. This time a bit more…timid. A bit more hesitant. A bit more inexperienced and careful—and you don’t have to pay attention to anything more as Shiu creeps your legs around his waist.

Letting his tunneling cockhead push into that wet hole of yours.

Unlike Toji, however, Shiu Kong simply couldn’t keep his mouth shut. 

“Oh…” It’s just about the most attractive thing you’ve ever heard - like music to your ears. But could you really blame the guy? “Legs- rules number t-two, remember?” This was the first proper taste of that syrupy cunt he’s getting—the exact same one he’s been dreaming of for ages…as much as that makes him sound like an utter pervert.

Maybe he was.

Maybe- what even was he? What was his name? Who was he?

Shiu can’t formulate a single thought.

Maybe he should be concerned about that…but for the time being, he’s collapsing his lower half into you. Funneling the smoother length of his cock inside; the farmer is the first of the two to actually bottom out. Thighs against your thighs. Forehead against your forehead. Cocktip against your cervix.

You swear you’re feeling Shiu intrude all the way up to your throat—“Shiu…keep moving, baby.”

“Oh- oh, you seriously want it?” He asks between uneven pants. And even more uneven are those semi-thrusts he’s poundin’ away at the back of your pussy—unwilling to break contact with your sopping womb for even a split-second to thrust back in. “You seriously want this ol’ farmer to fuck you like this? And that’s not just the heat talking-”

“It’s always the heat talking.” Toji scoffs. “This slutty girl’s always in heat. Honestly- who told you it could come early?”

“S’not my fault.” Shiu taps the side of your thigh to signal to you that- oh…you’re getting dangerously close to Toji figuring it out. 

Sure, it seems that he’d deduced by now that there was something regarding the startings of a mating bond between you and Shiu. And what sort of hybrid would come between that? But the fact that Toji himself shared it…

Thankfully in that moment Shiu’s creating a distraction - unintentional or not. Because just a few thrusts and he’s already starting to bead out hot, glutinous cum that sticks to the back of your pussy.

“Shit…” Shiu whispers to himself. You’re sensing one of his hands reach downwards to squeeze ‘round the base of his length—perhaps thinking that that would stop him. But the only thing Shiu’s managing to do is milk out a few more cobwebs of cum that are getting fucked and fucked in by his irregular thrusts. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Time’s up.” Toji cuts him off gruffly. “It’s getting too easy- hurry it up.”

“Yes…sir?” Fuck- he hates to admit it but the bull hybrid was correct.

Ah…you’d expected for the two to alternate between thrusts. But you just didn’t expect it this fast. Because all of a sudden, Toji’s going from merely caressing your front to wrapping his entire left arm around your middle. Oh, those beefy forearms of his were simply indescribable. 

Then Shiu’s reeling his sloppy, cum-glazed cock backwards for one of them to replace it in no time. 

Such plump inches of their shaft. Such impatient semi-thrusts as he leaves your mouth watering. He’s increasing his pace twofold once you’re accommodating him inside, and Toji’s pressing his palm deeper against your face. “Oh-” And you hadn’t expected them to stick to their damn six (or seven) rules so much, either…“Fuuuuuuck. Is it Toji?”

“Nope.” Shiu chuckles. From where he was positioned in front of you, the farmer leans down and kisses your lips. “Still me.”

In punishment, you’re getting a heavy spankin’ on your stuffed pussy.

“Shit.”

“And the rule-” Toji pipes up from behind. “What about the rule?”

“What about the rule, I mean—” It’s just then that you’re realizing - you haven’t been able to squirm a single inch since Shiu had begun swabbin’ your poor insides. “Rule number one- rule number one.”

“Good girl.” Toji laughs. “Next.”

And you’re soon coming to the realization that they weren’t going to make this easy for you: due to everything from their rapid alternations, to the way that both of them were fucking you so stupid—

“Toji-” You’re dragging your nails down whatever body part of Toji’s that you could reach. His biceps flexed underneath your touch. “And the rule is…oh, the rule is…” Brain landing on the closest one that you think you could remember. “Rule number six?”

“Half-correct.” Toji punishes you with yet another spank. The white-hot pain and pleasure that runs up your cunt is like nothing you’ve ever felt before. “That was actually a trick round - no rule.”

You bite. “Silly me…”

“But half-correct deserves just a little bit of a treat, doesn’t it?” Shiu makes your case.

And the ever-mean Fushiguro Toji considers it for a few seconds - before he’s nodding and letting his fingers dip between your pussylips. Rolling over clit in circular motions. “Happy?”

“V-very much.” You respond.

And so the cycle repeats - as both men are fucking into you like damn animals.

“Shiu? Rule number one-”

Thwack! “Half-correct.”

“Toji? Rule number five.”

Thwack! “Half-correct again, doll.”

“Toji? Rule number six.”

Thwack! Thwack! “Wrong!”

“Shiu-”

“Toji-”

Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. Shiu. Toji. 

Over and over again—until you’ve said every rule at least five times, and their names countless amounts so.

It was almost getting too much. There’s another switch; and this time the thrusts are like none before them. They were harsh. They were jagged. They weren’t hitting with any specific target or objective in mind—just with the sole purpose of indentin’ his fat cockhead into every spot inside you, and hitting his hips to yours until you skin was burning-

“Toji?” You’re guessing, “Ruler number- fuck…the one about getting ready-” Based solely on the way that both men had their hands tapping at your hips to let you know when a particularly hard hit was coming through.

“And which one is that?” Toji croons.

“Number four-” There’s a victorious little pebble of precum that Toji’s emptying out into your insides. 

“Mmm, good catch.” And you’re feeling the smile crawl onto your face. “But I’m not Toji.”

Fucking—thwack!

“But how about just a little reward?” And then a hot mouth starts kissing down the valley of your breast - from this angle you could only assume that it was Shiu. 

Shiu was lapping the soft targets of your areolas…just lightly biting…and oh—he lets out a wet gasp as a thin stream of milk flows from your tits n’ into the handsome man’s mouth. “Oh- this might just be my reward.” He says as he keeps massaging your chest, twiddling his fingers over where you were most sensitive. 

“Leave some f’me.” Toji grunts at the other man.

By this point you were a blabbering mess, and it didn’t help that the other two were only growing sloppier by the second. Perhaps it was the heat affecting you three. Perhaps it was the pressure being put on all your bodies - crushed together like this. Hips driving into you again and again and again—

Another globular tip swerves inside you. “I-is it…Toji?” You ask. Your lower lip wobbles at the sudden stretches on places that couldn’t be reached without such a girth - both of them had their merits and it was hard not to long for…both. The mere thought fogs your mind. “And is it…”

Though there could only be one answer. At least for this one.

Your poor tail’s being used as a lever to drag you down onto Toji’s extremely thickened cock until you sat on the bottom of it. “-rule number five?”

Toji kisses the side of your face. “Now that…is 100% correct.”

“And what would you like as a reward? Tell your Shiu anything, pretty girl.” Shiu says—drawing a half-serious scoff from the hybrid.

But of course. There can only ever be one thing.

Your mouth opens and the confession slips out of you before you can think it through fully.

And then there’s a beat of silence- hell, you think even Toji’s hips began to falter. For but a mere split-second before he’s bashing in the soft spongy platform at the end of your cunt—“Oh.” He breathes. “I don’t see why not…”

Thrill shoots through you.

And for the first time in a while - Toji removes his palm from your face. You’re wincing ever-so-slightly at the sudden flood of light, before that expression turns into something akin to yearning as you stare at Shiu’s cock throbbing between your legs. 

He was almost out-of-place with Toji’s fat length already stuffed inside you. 

“Whatever you want, pretty girl.” Shiu whispers to himself as he glides his blushin’ cockhead to drag along your outer cunt. Uuuuup the planes of your thighs. Lingering on that leakin’ slit that was so stuffed. And then squeezing the very tip-top reddened crown of his shaft into your entrance—did he mention that you already had Toji’s fat length stuffed inside you?

Shiu’s expression morphs at the tightest fit-

“Shit- fucking shit, are we sure—”

“Why not?” Toji asks. And Shiu thinks that that’s damn easy for him to say; especially considering that he was already kept hostage inside your gooey inside. That’s where Shiu was trying to be.

He’s attempting to drag you in using your tail.

The other man is rolling his eyes - and his hips. Letting off a few useless semi-thrusts that doesn’t push him even a single inch inside—not with the extremely plump circumference of the hybrid’s length inside. “Oh yeah? Then why don’t you- hah, pull out and try doing it yourself if you think it’s so easy?

“The early bull gets the pussy.” Toji smirks. “Besides- don’t tell me you’re forgetting rule number five already? The one about taking it all also means that you have to- mmm, put it all in-”

“I remember.” Shiu spits. Hands pushing your legs further open and grindin’ his hips close until his happy trail was roughly massaging your clit. “I’m just saying that it’s hypocritical to talk about the rules when even you wouldn’t be able to-”

“Guys-” You shrill above the constant arguing. “Guys.”

It takes you raising your voice loud enough to make the bedroom walls shudder for them to finally hear you.

And once they look at you- you’re huffing up at them. “I’m making my own rule.” Both pairs of pretty pussydrunken eyes widen in unison. “From now on- if you fight then you have to kiss and make up.”

“What-”

“What-”

“Pretty girl…” Shiu attempts to appeal to your softer side.

“Nuh huh.” Shaking your head. “So kiss—and then just fuck me.”

They share a look as if to question whether usurping of the rule-making was allowed…before it seems to dawn on them that yes—if it was you. And Shiu’s shrugging and leaning in - all the while still keeping his pulsating cocktip present between your folds - and Toji meets him halfway with only a few grumbles.

Shiu moans into the kiss.

And with a resounding sluuuuurp! he’s managing to squeeze just an inch or two of his cock inside. Double lengths stretching your walls until you were seeing white-

“Oh- oh.” You’re moaning. Shiu now had everything he needed to reel his bulky hips back and start pummeling you in time with Toji’s own thrusts. “I’ve never felt anything like this before—”

“Me neither.” The farmer manages through clenched teeth. The sensitive underside of his cock was rubbin’ and getting pulled by Toji’s own - those patterns of his veins, and the rock-hardness that mirrored his own - and even the slightest friction was enough to send spirals of white-hot pleasure pouring out of his bawling divot. 

“Tch- fine…me neither.” Toji groans. “But it only feels good because of me-”

“In your dreams.”

Without even being asked to or reminded of the newly-minted rule, they’re pressing a kiss onto each other’s lips—and then yours. Their pheromones twisting and melding into one. Their skin growing even more heated. Their cocks growing faster- 

And faster.

Both Shiu and Toji were moving at sloppy, lust-hazed paces that should not be possible for such a tight cranny. And yet they were managing to time it so that you’re feeling both of them exactly in the best ways: Toji and his deeeelicious veins pressing their patterns onto the sides of your channel, Shiu and his upright curve that spotted all your best nerve endings. 

They’re sandwiching you from above and below, too—Toji and his Herculean build, Shiu and his similar yet broader- and somehow stronger build.

They’re absolutely ruining you.

Ruining you.

Fucking you until your pussy’s feeling rattled and raw- and your eyes have completely bleared over with tears. Brain fried.

So it isn’t long before you’re feeling the pangs of an oncoming orgasm, and letting your mouth open to announce it—

“I-I’m going to cum.” But in actuality it’s Shiu that manages the declaration. And he’s stuffing his face into your tits, suckling out the sweet sweet milk that your hybrid body produces as he strings your gooey insides with his cum. “My pretty cow hybrid, I’m gonna stuff you full.” Looooong ropes of satin. So hard- that Shiu’s forced to hold onto both yours and Toji’s horns as he fucks your overstuffed pussy through his orgasm.

Those veins of Toji’s were making him twitch in pleasure.

You and Toji are crashing into your high rather soon afterwards too.

“Gonna…oh.” As the forceful waves of dopamine flood through every vein and atom inside you—practically make you vibrate with pleasure. You’re letting your eyes fly to the back of your head, and your toes curl as both men thrash that gooey g-spot of yours.

Perfectly synchronized with every peak upon peak of your high.

The prolonged wave of bliss soars—and it’s around the very crescendo that you’re feeling Toji empty his heavy balls out as well. They’d been thwack-thwack-thwacking! near the bottom of your slit for so long now, creating a carnal ache over your outer pussy- and it just feels so good to feel those globs of cum flood your deepest caverns.

Where Shiu had already made a mess before- “Shit…don’t stop.” 

And it’s with renewed vigor that they’re fucking and fucking you through the white-hot pleasure - so good that you’re sobbing. In-between this euphoric experience is when Toji’s keening his hips up into yours- chasing the wetness of your cunt even more—

Not just to fuck his pearly-white droplets of cum inside - but to try and squeeze, fuck, his swollen knot inside.

“Inside—” As you demand needily at your bull hybrid, Shiu watches on in something akin to awe. He starts nudging his hips back as though to give Toji more space-

But you’re wrapping your legs around his hips and dragging him to you. “Rule number one, remember?”

Letting Toji fuck his knot inside you as Shiu has his twitchin’ wet cock stuffed in there, too. The stretch was indescribable.

You think you’re cumming all over again just from it.

“My- my mates…” You’re sobbing out- sandwiched between the two buff men. Shiu leans in to kiss you, and once he’s taking a good long look at Toji too. 

“My mates…I suppose?” He says with a sheepish smile.

Toji looks between the two of you, seemingly having connected the dots. “Does this mean I’ve gotta get both of you pregnant?”

You smile. “Sounds good to me.”

Shiu. “Wait-”

Because heats lasted a week for hybrids. 

Shiu better get his human stamina used to it.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry…what?”

It’s a sentence that Shiu thinks he’s going to have to get used to a lot—telling people that the cow hybrid you’d had a crush on for the past few years but then gotten mated is actually your mate too - and that by association you’re her mate’s mate but honestly not really complaining about it is…for one a long sentence. 

And two, it’s probably going to get a bunch of weird looks.

It sounds like the stuff of a fantasy, maybe even those romance stories; and Shiu’s well and fully aware of how he sounds when he says it.

Which is why he’s telling Kusakabe first - it only seemed appropriate.

“It’s exactly as I said.” Shiu states matter-of-factly. “And you can ask Dr. Shoko if you think there’s been any mix-”

“No no, man. It’s not that I don’t believe you.” Kusakabe interrupts him. “In fact, I think it’s great that you finally managed to do something about your feelings- congratulations, man.”

“Thank you.” Shiu watches the herd from the door to the barn house - inside, the only pair were you and Toji. His breath hitches once you’re walking over from Toji to nuzzle up to him. He reaches to scratch behind those silken ears of yours—“But then what was all that about?”

“Ah- no, it’s just…” There’s a truck honk from the other end of the line, and Shiu realizes that Kusakabe must be going somewhere. “I assumed it was actually about the bull.”

Shiu squints. “The what thing?”

“The bull thing. I guess Toji forgot to tell you since you were a little preoccupied. But last night when Toji took over driving my truck we happened to run into…everything.”

Shiu snorts. “Serves you right.”

“And man- I needed this truck to transport this new bull hybrid for ol’ Gakuganji down in Kyoto. You know how he gets. It’s the only one big enough so…” 

And now…now Shiu wasn’t exactly having fun. “…And?” The two of you were looking at him in interest now, clearly having heard something about another hybrid—and Toji especially had had his smirk growing in synchronization with the increasingly ashen look on Shiu’s face.

“And so Toji said it’s alright, but would you mind looking after this new bull for a few days until I get the truck fixed? Just for a few days. I’m actually on the way there right now so thank you. His name is Sukuna and-”

“Noooooooooo-”

PARKER: You get to Boston alright? YOU: Yeah, it was a pretty short flight. I could really go for a cocktail now. PARKER: I’ve already started  YOU: P, it’s only 2. Should I be concerned? PARKER: I’m MOH, and there are no rules. Besides, you’re the one who suggested it? YOU: I can’t get the Pearl signature cocktail out of my head!! You can’t put an iridescent, shimmery drink in front of me and not expect me to drink it. PARKER: You should ask Abbot to drink with you LOL.  PARKER: I’d pay to see it

Your cheeks flushed as you pressed your back up against a pillar at the arrivals terminal. You imagined Parker on her phone, glass of red in her hand under the lush shade of a vineyard, suspiciously peering at a speech bubble appear and disappear as you figured out how to respond to her suggestion.

YOU: I don’t think that’s his thing! PARKER: You’d be surprised about what he likes ;)

What?

Before you could ask, your phone pinged again. 

PARKER: Anyway, gotta go, duty calls. Have fun! 

You scrunched your nose at the suggestive blue blurb. What in the world did Parker mean by that? Did she suspect anything? You sighed, not wanting to tangle yourself up in a future trip. 

On the bright side, your flight was short and uneventful. Most of it was spent with headphones and an audiobook about a forbidden workplace romance that hit too close to home. The slides and guidelines for the conference in two days? Forgotten in your purse. You’d study them at some cute cafe by the harbour tomorrow. 

Before leaving for the subway terminal, you snapped a photo of the airport, skillfully capturing the sunlight as it streamed through the tall glass windows. Deviously, you posted it as an Instagram story but forewent a caption—you wanted it to be mysterious. 

On the short ride to the downtown core, you pulled up the email confirming your hotel reservation. The hotel that the hospital put you in was very nice. You were shocked. Of all the times Gloria had stomped around the Pitt trying to shake Robby down like a mob boss on the operating costs, staffing, and overtime hours, you half expected her to put you up in a roach-infested motel. Instead, you got a king suite with a harbour view. The imaginary smell of fresh linen sheets and a salt bath flooded your senses. You leaned back in your seat and took a true deep breath. Thank God everyone was busy because what a blessed weekend this was going to be for you. 

The email from the hotel implored you to download their app for a smoother check-in experience, and to toggle lights and appliances in the room via Bluetooth connection. The moment you hit download, a notification popped up on your screen. 

(Instagram) JOSHUA FINNESSEY: where you at :( 

Ah, shit. You forgot that the resident ortho playboy gym rat and Dr. Park’s best friend,  Dr. Finnessey, had access to your Instagram story. Your connection was established under the guise of him sending you a journal article comparing the bleed risk of apixaban and rivaroxaban and hooking you up with one of the authors which never happened. He did, however, send you multiple messages asking you out for drinks. When you were trying to respond to one of his messages some Thursday during some rare downtime, both Samira and Cassie extended their necks and warned “no” at the same time. No ortho boys unless you wanted someone who would prioritize protein over you. 

Tempted to ignore Joshua altogether, but unable to find that courage, you kept it simple.

(Instagram) YOU: Conference!  (Instagram) JOSHUA FINNESSEY: I know, hospital feels weird without you here (Instagram): YOU: You’ll live (:

You promptly erased your next line: Don’t you have unsuspecting old lady hips and knees to drill with Park?

A grand idea consumed you as you walked the last block to the hotel. You picked up an iced coffee from Dunkin’s, and snapped a picture of it with the hotel as a backdrop. 

YOU: [PHOTO ATTACHMENT] YOU: Boston baby!!  JOHN: Yessss JOHN: Did you check in YOU: About to! 

A light flowery scent wafted through the front lobby when you walked in. You weaved through smartly-dressed people, people in green jerseys, their luggage, and bellhops. The lobby was tastefully decorated in navy and white accents. Doctors had already piled into the bar, dressed in fresh-pressed suits and shiny loafers. You went straight to the elevator, letting it catapult you up to the 21st floor. 

You weren’t prepared for how beautiful and elegant the room was. A corner suite offering a view of the water. The theme was nautical, but very beautifully and subtly nautical. Navy curtains draped across the ceiling-high windows. Where there wasn’t carpet, there was a marble floor. Mouth agape, you set your suitcase by the kitchen island and set your iced coffee on it. The kitchen was sizeable. Yep, you could envision yourself having your morning coffee pressed up against the window here. You noted a cream-coloured sectional facing the largest television you’d seen in a hotel. Oh, you and a bottle of wine and a trashy television show were going to have the best time tonight. 

With the fervor of a kid opening a Christmas present, you walked into the bedroom. But before you could take it in, a warm mist tickled your nose. Beside you, billows of steam poured out of the door to the washroom. Curious as to if this was a weird welcome ritual by the hotel or a piping malfunction, you walked over. You nudged the door open to find—

A muscular man, bare from top to bottom. His hands were tangled in a towel as he dried his peppery curls. His triceps contracted as he went through the motions. His arms were a field of veins—a phlebotomist's wet dream. Water droplets clung to his skin, dripping down from his chest to his navel. His oblique muscles strained as he turned towards you, the intruder. In shock, your eyes swept his body like the TSA had done to you earlier today. They didn’t find any jewels but you sure did: taut muscle lines meeting at the groin where a sizeable red, fleshy, cock reminiscent of a coke can—

There was a delay, a skip in your brain, but you eventually screeched. Operatically. So shrill it could’ve shattered the glass door to the shower. 

“I am SO sorry!” 

You whipped back around, almost tripping on your suitcase, and threw the front door open so hard it almost ricocheted back into you. “What the fuck?” You whispered to yourself. Safe in the hallway, hands trembling and lungs malfunctioning, you pulled out your phone. 

Frantically, you compared the room number on the app against the plaque on the door. Nope, you were more than correct. It wasn’t you; the hotel had messed up and set you up to be sued for perversion. The only question was whether your malpractice insurance covered this at all. 

The door clicked open.

You should’ve run. But you didn’t, so you braced for impact. 

“I thought it was you.”

Your jaw dropped at the familiar face. “Dr. Abbot?”

Geology wasn’t your strong forte. You didn’t know how prone Boston was to sinkholes but you sure wished one would appear and swallow you right up. 

“Jack,” he corrected dryly.  “Now that you’ve seen me naked, we should be on more intimate terms, no?”

That was a joke, right? Should you laugh? Could you afford to? All you knew was that you weren’t going to call him Jack, not in this lifetime at least. 

In the short time you were freaking out, Dr. Abbot had changed into beige slacks and a black t-shirt—a much more decent presentation of himself though slutty in its own right. His veins were still more than prominent. The slacks did nothing to hide the ridges of muscles on his thighs, and all the creases drew attention to his groin which you were now intimate with. His hair was still a touch wet from when you’d obviously interrupted the grooming of it. He crossed his arms, biceps kissing his knuckles as usual. Stern lines settled on his face.

“I am so sorry,” you continued to apologize, cheeks reddening as you backed out further into the hall.  “This is the room they assigned me.” You held out your phone to Dr. Abbot in desperation, as if the situation could be salvaged. He needed to see that annoying little green circle around Room 2125 contracting in and out, advising you to tap the sensor, if it was the last thing he ever did. “I double checked everything, Dr. Abbot.”

‘Welcome to Room 2125’,  it read. ‘We hope you enjoy your… free viewing of Dr. Jack Abbot’s ass!’

He barely acknowledged the phone. “I don’t doubt you.”

His words did nothing to alleviate the panic that had clawed into your chest. “Okay, well, the hotel must’ve messed up.” You began stepping back, pointing towards the elevator with your thumb. “Uhm, I’m going to go down and figure it out. Just keep on… with whatever you were doing… before I came in. I’ll let you know.”

“Yeah,” Dr. Abbot responded. “Give me a heads up before you come in next time, okay?”

You ran.

“That was a joke. You obviously have the key.”

Dr. Abbot opened the door on the second knock, catching you with your hand suspended in mid-air, palms closed and knuckles pointed towards him. 

“I’m not going to put myself in any compromising positions knowing you were on the way back,” he continued.

You bit the inside of your cheek. It was hard to tell when he was joking or not; his humour ran a touch dry at times. “I thought it was the polite thing to do, Dr. Abbot.”

A raspy chuckle left Dr. Abbot’s lips. “Well, we’re way past niceties now, kid. But I’m not kidding about the name. Call me Jack, please.”

Kid? Ouch.

The hotel room was adorned with touches of Jack: his watch, badge, and notebook laid in a perfectly straight line on his nightstand; his suitcase was unpacked and hidden in the corner of the room; journal articles sat crisply on the desk; and his clothes were hung with military precision in the slightly open closet. You eyed a suit in a dry-clean bag and raised your eyebrow. There were things you didn’t notice the first time around but should’ve to avoid the voyeurism that occurred in the bathroom. 

“Have a seat,” he said, pointing to the cream couch by the windows. “What’d they say?”

You complied immediately, though you reckoned it was him that needed to be sitting after what you were about to say. You inhaled deeply. “They said there was no error on their end. The hospital put us in the same room.”

Jack quirked an eyebrow in amusement. “Really?”

“I explained the circumstances, but the hotel’s all booked up for the conference, some Deloitte shareholders meeting, and most importantly, the Celtics are playing Game 6 tonight.”

“All booked up, hm?” he repeated. “What are your options?”

“I looked up some neighbouring hotels in the elevator. I’ll book one of those. They’re close enough to the convention centre.”

You turned your phone to Jack and unlocked it. The first thing that popped up was—

(Instagram) JOSHUA FINNESSEY: I think they should send us together next time ;)

You swiped the message away in hard annoyance, afraid to even look at Jack’s expression. You prayed he didn’t get the wrong idea. You scrolled down the list and kept your voice nonchalant, hoping to cover your pained choke at the nightly rates. “These ones.”

His eyes widened. “Okay, before you do anything drastic,” he countered, voice alarmingly calm for the situation. It was reminiscent of his resilience at work, and this was a much easier issue than a cricothyrotomy. “Why don’t you stay here, and I’ll make a couple of calls and figure out what’s going on?”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’ll phone Robby and see if he knows anything.” Jack threw on a light jacket and grabbed his wallet. “Do you want anything, a coffee, snack?”

“Oh no, I’m fine.” 

You gestured to your iced coffee sitting on the kitchen bar that had fully liquified now. 

Jack went to retrieve it for you and shuddered at the familiar orange logo. “For a moment, I thought Shen had followed me here.”

You attempted a smile as he placed it on the coffee table for you. “Better him than me.”

His lips contorted to what looked like a pout. “I’m not so sure about that.”

You imagined him whimpering in that same bathroom as you sucked him clean, knees pressing into the marble floor. 

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Either he needed to leave now or you had to get out of here.

Pretending you weren’t deathly tachycardic, you offered him a small smile. “I appreciate it, uh, Jack.”

He mirrored your expression as he left the room.

Minutes after Jack left, your body, paralyzed in shock, refused to move. You couldn’t stop thinking about what you just saw: Dr. Abbot’s dick. The memory looped cinematically in your head. More pointedly, the part when he turned around and his dick followed suit, bouncing left to right with deliciously slow momentum because of how heavy it was. You always had an inkling. How did he not trip over himself at work? Did he grow? Did he show? Could he fit inside you? For the sake of a meticulous patient intake report, you really needed this answered. 

You squeezed your eyes shut. You should not be thinking about fucking Jack Abbot after walking in on him naked. 

So you did everything in your power to wash out the images in your mind. You scrolled Instagram as a distraction, rolling your eyes at Finnessey’s 4.a.m. shirtless mirror selfie—terrifying— at the gym, accompanied by Park in a singlet and tiny shorts—scary. John had sent you a meme about patients giving extraneous information after being asked for their date of birth (you almost spat out your tepid coffee when the audio started screeching, ‘My name is Carol and I’m retired and my son Shawn is a—’). Then, you gave Parker’s story of her and family a heart emoji.

It all seemed to work until fifteen minutes later when the lock whirred and Jack returned. 

You shot back up. “Did you find anything out?”

Jack shook off his jacket, black shirt straining against his chest as he pulled back. You clenched your legs together—a very short-acting antidote. 

“From what I’m hearing, it sounds like Gloria assumed Robby and I were going,” Jack explained. “Historically, we’ve always shared a room. Robby changed his mind, said that it was stupid to short the hospital two attendings so he’d find a resident. Then our very competent team at the hospital put me in a one bedroom and directly swapped your name for Robby’s. There weren’t inconsistencies on their end so they didn’t bother to check what they did.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.” Still, you couldn’t stay here. Your perverse thoughts were going to be cause for termination. “If I find another place, will the hospital reimburse me?”

“He says you can try but it’s not guaranteed. The hospital’s already set out a budget for this event.”

“But they obviously made an error,” you argued. “This is an unmitigated HR disaster.” 

“Robby offered to pay for you.”

“What?” Your mouth fell open. “Oh no, I’ll pay for it myself.”

“I’m offering, too,” Jack stated, hands in his pockets. “It shouldn't come out of your pocket.”

“I don’t want you or Dr. Robby to,” you interjected. “The rates this weekend are so inflated. I’ll take care of it.”

”So, where are you thinking of going?” Jack asked. 

“There’s a place an hour out of town—”

“No,” he interrupted.

“No?” You repeated.

“I don’t want you to get the wrong idea,” Jack clarified. “But you’re a resident and I am responsible for you, in and out of the hospital, and we’re technically at work. If you think I’d let you book a place an hour away, where I can’t guarantee your safety, I’d have failed my duties as an attending. And as a person, in general.”

You ran your hands through your hair. “Then what do I do?”

“Okay, see this door?” Jack wrangled the handle of the bedroom door. “Why don’t you set up and stay here for tonight, at least?”

“You want me to sleep in the bedroom?”

He nodded. “Once you shut the door, you can pretend I’m not here.”

“You should take the bedroom. This is comfortable, honestly.” You gave the sofa two pats as if to prove your point. 

Jack chuckled. “Trust me, I’ve slept in far worse places.”

“Are you sure I won’t be too much of a bother?”

You winced. Dr. Robby would’ve wrung you to hell and back for that line. “You’re not a bother, you have to stop asking that.”

Jack paused in handsome contemplation. ”You don’t snore like Robby, do you?”

You laughed and shook your head. 

He flashed you a heart-stopping—ironic—smile. “Then no.” 

“Oh, and one last thing,” Jack deadpanned. You gave him the same intense attention you did when he was presenting a case; this must've been important, whatever he was about to say.

He took a couple steps to the alternative door connecting the hallway to the bathroom and rapped on it twice. “Just knock before you come in, okay?”

You shot up from the couch, and turned your head to hide your mortified expression. “I’m going to unpack.” 

Jack’s amused chuckle followed you into the bedroom. 

So, it was decided. Just for tonight, you reminded yourself. It was a temporary refuge until you figured your accommodations for the weekend out. Jack agreed to keep his clothes in a closet by the front door to make space for yours. He was currently by the television toggling the controls, probably trying to listen to SWAT radio as white noise. 

You unpacked the white silk dress you’d planned to wear to Pearl tonight with care, letting it hang close to you, because in an hour, you’d be there, drinking away this whole situation. You also fiddled with the Bluetooth commands on the app, ooh-ing and aah-ing as the overhead lights dimmed and brightened with a flick of your finger. There were even mood options for the lighs. Yeah, you were never getting out of bed.

A familiar voice pulled you out of your trance. 

“I’m going to work you so hard, both in and out of the office. I’m going to fuck you so hard you won’t be able to make it in tomorrow. So be a good girl and get down on all fours—”

You held the phone speaker to your ears. Confused when the volume didn’t increase, you opened your audiobook app instead. It was there you saw in green letters:

[OUTPUT] ROOM 2125

That couldn’t be right. How did it connect to the speakers? 

Realisation hit you like a freight train. You did this by hooking your phone up to the hotel app. Now, your filthy audiobook was casting from the bassy stereos in the living room, leaching into every crevice of the hotel room and into your attending’s ears. 

You ran out of the room, attempting to hit pause on your phone and failing on all accounts.

“Yeah, just like that baby, take it all, I want you to feel every inch of me. Make me come, let me come in that pussy. Is that what you want? You want me to put a baby inside you? I’ll make sure everyone in the office knows it’s mine—”

There he was, Dr. Jack fucking Abbot, standing stone-faced with a TV remote in his hand wondering what the hell he was listening to.

“Wow,” Jack vocalized, pressing a button to mute the television. “I didn’t know the hotel came with free porn. You know, back in my day, you had to pay.”

You held your hands about to offer an explanation.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Jack assured. He pressed his lips together, suppressing a laugh. Mirth was dripping down his face faster than ice cream on a hot summer day. “My therapist says we all need hobbies. You know mine, now I know yours. I think we’re even.”

“I—this—,” you stammered. This? This was truly the worst day ever. Did Dr. Robby send you up here as part of a humiliation ritual? Why was this happening? “My friend recommended I—and everyone has—and I have other hobbies, real hobbies—”

“I’m sure of that.” A stupid, teasing smirk danced on Jack’s face. “Anything to get the heart rate going. That’s what we are, right? Adrenaline junkies.”

You let out an audible groan and a thought completely unfiltered. “Jack?”

Jack cocked his head. “Yes?”

“I think I need a drink.”

➦ NEXT CHAPTER

“I need a favor.”

Jack was used to you asking him for help, had been for the two years since you moved into the apartment directly across from his.

He didn’t mind offering you a lending hand when he saw you struggling to carry your boxes from your small run down car, it wasn’t an inconvenience to collect your mail if you ever had to leave town for a few days, and he really couldn’t complain about having to remind you to get your laundry from the unit down below because it held him accountable too.

It was such a common occurrence, you asking him for a favor, that he wasn’t too surprised to find you at his door. He only gave a soft sigh as you pushed past him to enter his apartment, offering you a lot more patience than he did the newbies at the hospital.

You were always sweet, maybe a little bossy at times, but it gave him some amusement in his otherwise strict routine.

Plus it was admittedly nice to feel needed.

You came to him when your apartment had a leak or your air conditioning went out, knocked on his door whenever it was raining and you’d forgotten an umbrella after locking yourself out, and you even sometimes popped over just to get his opinion on what you should wear out on a random night.

Everybody was always telling Jack he needed a hobby that didn’t involve putting his life on the line, so he rarely told you no and tried his best to brush off Robby whenever he asked what was keeping him so busy lately.

It would be hard enough to explain the dynamic he had with his much younger neighbor but even more so considering you were now standing in the middle of his apartment with a frustrated look on your face, hands on your hips as you tapped your bunny slipper covered foot.

“What is it now?” His voice was gruff and disinterested but you knew well enough that he would do whatever you asked and he was well aware of that too. Still, it helped him just a little to pretend to contemplate it for a second or two first.

“I need you to have sex with me.”

You said it like it was as simple as asking him to come over and check your water pressure, falling out of your mouth casually and landing heavily in the quiet room.

There was no need to pretend this time as he fell into a bewildered silence, raising an eyebrow in your direction and letting his eyes track you as you dramatically sighed and went to flop down on his couch. You’d demanded about a year ago that he got some pillows for it, along with a few other interior design suggestions.

He’d picked up four after his shift that night.

“Please say something.” You were turned around on the couch so you could face him over the back of it, arms crossed as you rested your chin ontop of them.

“I have nothing to say to that.” He shook his head immediately, that stern expression he used on an unruly patient or Robby when he got a little too pushy.

This just made you sigh again, loud and exaggerated as you turned back around to fully lay flat on his couch.

“Why are you even asking me that?” He didn’t want to pry because he knew you well enough by now to know you’d just be encouraged by that but his curiosity got the best of him, circling around to sit across from you on one of the living room chairs.

You didn’t sit up but you turned your head to the side to look at him, a slight frown on your face that he didn’t think was particularly genuine. Your personality was always something Jack admired, not getting a lot of time in his own life to be so bold with his emotions and carefree in the way he spoke and behaved.

He was serious and guarded where you were a walking billboard for spontaneity, coming to him crying about random problems after only half a week of living in the building.

It was mostly endearing but there was the more critical part of him that wondered how lonely you must be to be making friends and finding comfort with some random guy across the hallway, a much older one at that.

Jack knew he had a bit of a hero complex but it typically manifested in a more extreme way, quite literally jumping into battle to save lives or operating on them in their lowest moments. This dynamic with you was a new form of care taking and there’d been a handful of times he’d doubted his own motives.

“Because I have a date next week and I am a complete lost cause when it comes to all things intimacy.” You still had a theatrical flare to your voice, not facing him anymore and instead rambling straight up to his ceiling with your hands gesturing wildly.

He tensed up for two reasons now, one being the mention of a date and the other was your implication you didn’t have any experience.

“But you’ve had sex before.” It came out slowly and half like a question, half like an assumption.

There wasn’t any real reason for him to think that other than his own social expectations. You were gorgeous, one of the prettiest women he’d seen in a very long time, and had a naturally magnetic energy to you that even he couldn’t resist most of the time, platonically but also selfishly deep down, a little more than that.

He’d seen you go on a handful of dates in the last year or two, all guys your age that didn’t seem to know how to pick up a check let alone please you properly.

That’s where Jack’s problem stemmed from.

There had been almost no ulterior motive the first year he had known you, genuinely trying to be helpful and to be a good neighbor. He would get upset when his coworkers would call him anti social or make digs at how unfriendly he was because he hadn’t always been like that and he figured helping out the girl next door was a good first step to getting that part of himself back.

You’d told him after a few months that you had no family on this side of the country, completely starting fresh at a new company you’d applied to on a whim.

It was completely innocent.

Yes, you were undoubtedly beautiful in a way that made his head spin for a second when he first saw you. You had been standing near your car and fighting with a box, both by tugging at it and saying less than kind words in its direction like it could understand you.

Jack had hesitated for a handful of seconds before making his way over and offering to help, feeling this weird pull in his chest when you blinked up at him in surprise and eagerly thanked him.

Once you were in his life, you never left. And he made space for you effortlessly because, quite frankly, he had plenty of it to offer up.

About seven months ago was the first time he had ever seen you with a guy.

He’d been coming home from a long and rare day shift (covering for Robby so he could attend Jake’s graduation), dragging his leg behind him and praying nobody stopped him on the way to his apartment so he could crawl into bed for a few short hours before he had to do it all over again for his own shift.

The only distraction he would have allowed was you but you were clearly busy, standing in the hallway as he got off the elevator and touching the rather small bicep of a guy your age.

Jack hesitated, considered getting right back on the elevator before it could close on him, and then slowly walked to his door.

He had hoped you wouldn’t acknowledge him because his throat was already weirdly tight as he eyed you and the way you stared up at the man (boy, if Jack had to really label it) with that soft and curious expression you always had.

“Jack.” Your voice was full of excitement and he faltered, his key left in his doors lock as he turned to give you an attempt at a polite smile. “Covering somebody again?”

If this had been any other day then Jack would have invited you into his apartment to talk instead of lingering in the hallway. He would have ignored his exhaustion to pair his black coffee with the hot chocolate flavor you liked that he kept in his bottom drawer, complained to you about being tired and listened to you scold him for working too much when he didn’t need to.

But you were in a pretty dress that was clearly on its way to dinner and your date was giving Jack that possessive stare that guys fresh out of college thought was intimidating.

So instead he simply nodded his head and continued to unlock his door.

“This is Asher.” You continued abruptly as he turned his door handled, leaving it cracked as he stopped to look at you again.

He gave you a once over to make sure everything was okay, wondering why you were still insisting on talking to him when you were so clearly meant to be going somewhere else. You didn’t look too uncomfortable but you were watching him back just as intensely so he mentally stored the name and face of the guy anyways, just in case something happened.

“Ashton.” Your date finally spoke and his voice was annoyed and laced with immature bitterness, although slightly valid considering you had forgotten his name.

Your eyes widened, still boring into Jacks, and he smiled a little before giving you a small wave and heading inside.

Jack realized quickly after that encounter that his intentions were a lot less innocent than he had initially thought they were. He’d closed his door before immediately pressing his back against it, listening to the sound of your small heels leaving the hallway as you apologized to your date with a clenched jaw and a pain in his stomach.

The next few dates after that just confirmed what he had already realized from the first one.

He was attracted to you.

Maybe even liked you.

You talked to Jack about almost everything going on in your life, even things he definitely would not have cared about if it came from anybody else, but you never once brought up the dates. At first he had worried you had somehow noticed his weird demeanor that day in the hallway but Jack wasn’t very expressive in general so he figured you must keep that part of your life private for other reasons.

The attraction part was easy to accept mostly, he was only a man and you were clearly gorgeous. Although the age gap was something Jack couldn’t get himself to look past.

You were barely in your early twenties, over half his age younger and overly obviously so. You radiated youth, from your appearance and the way you spoke down to your hobbies and interests.

You were clearly a very young girl and he had felt like a pervert from the moment he saw you outside of that car for the way his body warmed. Jack hadn’t felt much attraction to anybody at all since his wife died, at first out of a lingering loyalty to her that barely faded and then just due to his busyness and his own mental blocks.

That was not a problem when it came to you and he had to give a genuine effort when he was around you to act normal.

You’d come over in tiny sleep shorts or a tight tank top that showed your hardened nipples through the thin fabric, join him for morning yoga in downright sinful leggings and he even was attracted to the stupid bunny slippers you wore.

But you were a young girl and he was a disciplined old man so he barely looked twice in your direction when you were bending over to get mail and he never once touched you, setting boundaries for himself and keeping them.

Which was why it was so hard for him when you slowly shook your head to his question about having sex before.

“What about those guys?” His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you and you sighed like you were embarrassed, a rare emotion to see from you.

“We barely kissed.” You shrugged and finally sat up from your dramatic position on the couch. “Please Jack, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.” He said immediately, slightly offended you were seemingly only asking him because you had no other options.

You looked completely dejected now but Jack knew there was no way he could possibly accept this request, for too many reasons but especially because of his own moral code. He also didn’t want to ruin what you’d had going on, enjoying your company on his hard nights and finding himself finally letting somebody in after so many years alone.

“Okay so no sex.” You say softly and you stand up when he does, following him as he walks into the kitchen and leaning against the counter to watch him set the coffee machine settings. “But can’t you show me little things.”

He sends you a sharp look that you return with a gentle pleading smile, bouncing in place a little like you think your cuteness is the answer to everything.

And it just might be because Jack sighs softly and turns his full attention back to you.

“Like what?” He knows him asking for specifics will give you hope and he can see it immediately on your face, brightening and taking a step closer to him that makes him tense.

“Maybe just telling me what guys like?” You suggest softly and the words coming from your mouth make him almost groan, keeping his face flat and emotionless as you speak. “And some kissing lessons.”

“You know how to kiss.” He shook his head at you and went to turn back to his coffee but your hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him, successfully keeping his attention on you. He realized that it might be the first time you’d ever actually touched him, skin against skin. “I’ve seen it.”

His posture tightens as he reminds himself of that fact, easily recalling the vivid memory of leaving his apartment to head to work and finding you coming home from a date and making out with a guy against your door.

You hadn’t noticed him at first but he had slammed his door harder than normal, shamefully intentional.

There’d been a pang of guilt when you jumped in surprise and separated from the guy who looked the douchiest out of all of them but it was hard to feel it when you have him a slightly grateful look on his way to the elevator.

You were blinking at him now, almost like you were realizing something, and he looked away in favor of glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Not a kiss that feels good.” Your voice was more serious now, sounding genuinely disheartened by the conversation and the slow unveiling of your inexperience.

He sighed again, just trying to get rid of the tightness in his chest, before shaking his head firmly and fully turning away from you to fill up his coffee mug.

“I’m not doing it.”

—

Jack thought about your offer for the next two weeks. Obsessively.

He waited to hear you bringing somebody else over, someone who had jumped on the golden opportunity to touch you for the first time when he hesitated. You didn’t seem to go on any dates but he supposed you wouldn’t have told him anyways.

The thought of you experiencing sex with some asshole you met off a dating app, nervous and unsure on what to do without guidance, was eating away at him.

Jack was a fixer, he liked to help you, and he had already accepted the fact that he was extremely attracted to you. It wasn’t like he didn’t recognize the jealously in his stomach everytime he saw you with somebody else, a type of anger he hadn’t felt since he was preparing to go into a real life war.

Subdued by age and a calmer reality now but it was still fresh hot anger that he couldn’t shake no matter how much he tried.

You came to him with this problem, not just for pointers and tips but you had actually asked him to be the one to take your virginity.

Virginity.

Jack couldn’t get the concept out of his head and while he hadn’t necessarily considered himself somebody who would care about that type of thing, especially not as he entered his fifties, it did bring a wave of heat over him whenever he thought about it.

You’d never been touched before outside of a few unsatisfactory make out sessions. You, the pretty girl with downright sinful choices of pajamas that consumed his day to day life so easily after he spent such a long time alone.

He thought about it endlessly until it led to him knocking on your door, a rare switch of the usual dynamic that left him feeling a little awkward before you answered.

The sensation went away when you looked up at him, eyes a little wide with confusion as you silently stepped back to let him inside. It was rare for you to be so quiet but maybe you could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face, maybe you were thinking about the same exact thing.

“I’ll help you.” His voice was gruff and flat, waiting until your door closed behind him before he spoke. Your face immediately lit up but he silenced anything you were going to say with a raised hand, your parted lips closing as you waited for him to finish. “But I’m not sleeping with you.”

You pouted a little at the condition but stepped forward after a few seconds, far too close to him for his sanity but he figured you’d be getting a lot closer soon so he forced his breathing to stay level.

Jack used to consider himself quite smooth, still a natural flirt when he joked around with older patients or teased Robby.

But he was completely thrown off of any existing game when it came to you. He didn’t even know he could still feel this way about somebody, the yearning and lustful feeling having been dormant for a long time before you moved in.

“I’ll take whatever you give me.” Your voice was soft now and he’d never heard you like that, maybe a bit of a whine when you impatiently asked him to help you with something, but never so pleading.

You’d shifted even closer as you spoke and he couldn’t help himself now that he practically had permission, his large and rough hand sliding over your waist to rest on the small of your back.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling and he was suddenly aware of how much fun this was going to be if you were that sensitive.

“Not tonight okay?” He replied and his low tone made your eyes soften, nodding eagerly and hesitantly letting your hands land on his chest in balled up fist. “We can talk about it more later and work out some conditions.”

“You’re giving me rules?” You’d collected yourself enough to finally give him some of that familiar attitude, smiling slightly as you stared up at him. He rolled his eyes but let his hand tighten against your back, moving you forward and just trying to test your reaction to the touch.

You lost your smile immediately, shuffling closer until you were pressed against him as your eyes darted all around his face with surprise. It was clear you didn’t expect him to accept at all let alone this easily, despite his two weeks of contemplation, he wasn’t at all hesitate now.

“You need them.” He retorted and his free hand brushed some of your hair behind your ear, the first time you were ever really touching each other being this intimate was sending another wave of affection through him.

A few years ago, Jack couldn’t even get himself to look at another woman, let alone hold one so gently. Even with the slightly out of the ordinary circumstances, he cared for you and you trusted him and that was all that really mattered in his eyes.

“You’re mean.” You’re whispering it and his head tilts at the sound it, overly fond and curious how you can affect him so much just by changing the tone of your voice. “Kiss me atleast.”

It comes out a demand and his eyebrows naturally furrow at the sound of it, knowing immediately that will have to be one of the rules he gives you when you talk them over.

Manners.

He doesn’t respond for a second but you seem to understand before he even needs to scold you, lips parting in realization before they form a small pout and you unclench your fist so your palm is flat on his chest now instead.

“Please give me a kiss Jack.” You sound sweeter now and he would think it was an act, making fun of him for his sudden silent sternness, if it wasn’t for the genuinely pleading look on your face.

The knowledge that you listen so easily, even when he doesn’t actually say it, overrides his senses so much that he actually does bend down to kiss you.

It’s soft at first which you don’t seem to understand, immediately trying to eagerly make out with him like that’s all you really know. He moves one of his hands from your side to hold under your jaw, applying a little bit of pressure near your throat to indicate he wants you to slow down.

You melt against him at the touch but do as he silently communicates and relax a little bit, still moving your mouth a bit sloppily against his but learning to adapt to his slow and easy pace.

Eventually you get the rhythm down perfectly, lips moving together without anything extra added. You asked Jack to teach you so he was going to do exactly that, starting from the basics.

Your face was completely dazed when he pulled back, instinctively shifting forward to try and kiss him again and making a small disappointment noise when his hold near your throat tightened in warning.

“You asked for a kiss.” He said in a low voice, still close to your face so he could perfectly see the way your widened eyes shifted around his features.

He was a bit mesmerized by the way you looked now, so unlike yourself on any other day. It both made his guilt over being perverse grow and also solidified that he didn’t care how wrong it was as long as you kept looking at him like that.

“Get some sleep.” He waited a few seconds before taking the necessary steps away from you, taking a sharp breath as he turned and left your apartment.

His own door had barely closed behind him before there was insistent knocks on it, his head immediately hanging since he knew exactly who it was.

Your eyebrows were furrowed when he pulled the handle to reveal you in the hallway, standing stiffly and glaring up at him but not making any move to come inside. You shifted in place and let out a huff of annoyance as you seemed to search for the right words to convey what you wanted.

“Can you kiss me one more time?” You eventually settled on the blunt question, shifting closer so you were both halfway in his doorway.

While he had a foot inside his apartment still, you had one in the hallway. It left you standing too close for his sanity, feeling it slip almost entirely again when your small hand landed on his forearm and rubbed softly.

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, sensing your frustration but not knowing where it was stemming from.

He cupped your face with one of his hands, letting the other rest back on your side. You stared up at him as he took a few slow steps forward, backing you up with each one until your back hit the doorframe and took a soft near gasp from your lips.

“Nothing I just…” You trail off as you pout, scanning over his face and then down his chest until you can’t bend your head anymore to look. “I want one more. Please.”

You added it as an afterthought but it was enough for him, pressing his mouth back against yours.

This time, apparently a very quick learner, you were able to meet his pace right away and your mouths moved softly together. Your arms went around his neck so you could fully cling to him as you kissed deeply, heads tilting and quiet pleased noises rumbling in your throat.

You only got louder when his tongue pressed lightly into your mouth, mostly just to test your reaction but unable to stop himself when you were eagerly matching the actions.

It was sloppy and a little too wet, sounds of your tongues tangling together filling the silent hallway and sending a sharp heat down to his gut. He liked how clumsy you were, growing addicted to the way you seemed to have no idea what you were doing but too desperate to stop yourself and ask him for his help.

Jack knew he liked feeling needed but this was a whole different beast, one that came paired with some light shame.

You weren’t innocent and you knew exactly what you needed to about sex but your body was inexperienced and it was getting clearer by the second, your little gasp when he kissed you deeper and the way you tightened your hold on him everytime he went to pull back and attempt to slow down.

You’re red in the face by the time he manages to get you to stop eagerly kissing him, still instinctively shifting closer when he moves back. He gives you a lighthearted sigh, occupied by the softest smile he can manage so he doesn’t actually hurt your feelings when he presses you back against the doorway with the hand that’s still on your hip.

“Time for bed.” He tries to keep his tone light but it comes out more authoritative than he had meant for it to, most likely driven by the way you automatically started to frown as soon as he held you away from him. “We can talk tomorrow.”

You clearly weren’t happy about that but you surprisingly gave him a soft nod, shifting your body until you were out of his entrance and closer to your own.

He watched you and your dazed face, slightly wobbly on your feet, as you disappeared behind your apartment door with a small wave.

-

Jack had started off his day rough the following morning, barely able to sleep after what had happened.

It was a completely split mixture of wanting you so bad it was driving him to literal insanity and feeling disgustingly guilty for even looking in your direction.

He almost considered calling Robby about it but he really didn’t need to hear the lecture that would undoubtedly come his way about the situation. Plus he figured that whatever Robby knew, Dana knew, and if Dana knew then it was only a matter of time before the entire emergency department was gossiping about Jack Abbot and his young neighbor.

The dilemma was so strong that he had almost completely forgotten about the fact he had told you that you’d talk today, although almost intentional.

He was halfway avoiding having to actually sit down and make this arrangement a reality, still having a hard time believing what had happened last night was even real.

He had just started to get changed for work when the knocking on his door started and he knew it was you immediately, standing still and hanging his head for a few seconds like he figured he could just wait you out.

It didn’t take long for his senses to kick back in and he was pulling on a plain black shirt before making his way over to the door, raising his eyebrows at you when he saw how irritated you looked.

You brushed past him immediately and he lingered with his hand on the door knob for a moment before closing it and preparing himself to face whatever wrath you were about to send his direction.

“You didn’t come over.” You immediately accused, finger pointing in his direction as you stood in the middle of his living room with an angry expression. “You didn’t even text me.”

He was already walking closer to you as you spoke and your defenses naturally crumbled at the proximity, especially when his hands were sliding over your ribs to both hold you steady and let him feel your breathing as subtly as possible.

“You can’t just kiss me like that and then ignore me.” You continue on but your tone is a lot softer now that he’s touching you, already getting that dazed edge to it he had heard last night.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you.” He shakes his head and frees a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, your features have completely softened now at the movement.

Jack wonders for the first time if you might have feelings for him beyond trust and attraction.

For some reason, he hadn’t really considered the possibility before. You were practically his polar opposite and he had nothing in common with any of the boys you went on dates with.

But now, with you blinking up at him like you were hanging on to his every word, he let himself think it might just be likely.

“I figured you changed your mind.” Your words are a little slurred from the insistent pout you have on your face and he sighs again, gently leading you over to sit on his couch.

Your knees brush together as you scoot closer to him the second he’s settled on top of the cushion, your hand wrapping around three of his fingers and squeezing lightly as you wait for him to respond to your fear of being rejected.

“I didn’t but I want to make sure you understand what you’re asking.” His voice is low and nearing stern, the same tone he uses on the new med students who seem a little more cocky than they are willing to learn. He knows that’s not the case with you, knows you’re desperate for any expertise he can offer you, but he still wants you to pay attention and properly understand him. “There’s other ways for you to do this.”

“What, like other guys?” Your eyebrows furrow like the thought confuses you.

His stomach tightens immediately, sick at the thought of it, but he stiffly nods his head.

You’re shifting even closer immediately and he lets out a breath when you’re leaning over his knee nearly, closer to his face than before and scanning over it again.

“I don’t want another guy Jack. I just want it to be you.” You’re whispering now and he can’t stop himself from pressing a light kiss to your mouth, brief but necessary when his brain processes the lack of distance between you. That makes you smile finally and he suddenly feels very stupid for ever questioning you when you’re making a request like this.

“Tell me why.” He mumbles, easily sliding his hands around your middle so he can tug you over more and into his lap. You kiss him again once you’re settled in his lap, still quick like you’re both using it as punctuation during your conversation. “Why me?”

He wants to hear you give a legitimate reason, to undo the hesitance you gave him when you said it was only because you didn’t have anybody else to ask. That’d been weighing on him more than anything else, the thought that you had just settled for your older lonely neighbor who was clearly willing to help you with anything in spite of himself.

Your next kiss was much longer, deeper as you fully sink down in his lap and move your mouth against his desperately. He’d accept that alone as an answer, big palms rubbing over your back and sides so he can keep pulling you impossibly closer.

Your nose is rubbing against his when you pull back, the sounds of your breathing being heavier now making his head spin with the necessary impulsivity to keep making terrible decisions with you.

“You’d make me feel good.” The answer you’d landed on was much more devastating than he was prepared for, his eyes darkening at how confident you sounded in that fact. “I know you would.”

His hands tightened around your soft skin for a second, needing to take a deep breath to ground himself.

It takes a second for him to reply, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling sharply. You smell as sweet as you always do but it’s intoxicating to have it this close after so long, skin soft under his lips as he kisses you softly.

Your breathing gets shaky, arms looping around his neck so you’re practically hugging him. You’re warm on top of him and making the sweetest noises when he moves along your jaw, shifting in his lap to try and get his attention back on your conversation.

“You’ll do it right?” You ask softly, running your hand through his hair and tugging just enough to make him finally look back at your face. His eyes are dark and unfocused as he stares at your pretty features. “Jack?”

“Yeah honey.” He says back after another long silence, voice deeper than he’d ever heard it as he leans in to kiss you again.

You kiss for a long time, wiggling around in his lap when your tongues tangle together and you get to taste him properly again. It’s addicting for both of you, both of your hands running all over the other’s body like you’re trying to learn every part of it you can reach.

Eventually you’re fully rocking against him from your neediness and it takes a second for him to process it, snapped back to focus when he hears the way your whines are getting higher pitched. A near growl leaves his throat as he grabs your hips firmly, thumbs pressing into the bone so he can stop you from moving on top of him like that.

“Jackie.” You whine desperately, kissing him again and successfully distracting him long enough that you can start humping again.

“Stop baby I have work soon.” He scolds in between the sloppy kisses, lips and chin slightly wet from how uncoordinated you still are.

You make another soft noise and he’s confused for half a second before he realizes it’s because of the pet name, smiling softly from his fondness for you as you hide down in his neck for a second.

“You’re hard now, I can feel it.” You’re whispering right against his skin and a shiver runs over him at the lewd words falling from such a pretty mouth, high pitched and almost innocent voice making the sentence sound so much dirtier than it needed to be.

At first Jack doesn’t think you’re right, knowing himself and his body enough to expect he’s not stirring down there even if he wants you so bad it makes him feel insane.

He’s had issues with it for years now, a deadly combination of his age, his traumas, and the carousel of medications he has to be on for a variety of things he wouldn’t disclose to you out of his own pride. That was the reason Jack had stopped trying to hook up with people years ago, giving up on porn entirely when he’d have to spend an hour trying to get hard before he could even attempt to actually get himself off.

It was in the back of his mind when you’d asked him to help you with this but he figured this was about your pleasure, he wouldn’t need to be hard to get you off especially if he stuck to his guns about not actually having sex with you.

He was sucking in a deep breath to explain this to you in less detail, make sure you understood that he wasn’t hard but it had nothing to do with you or his attraction to you, when you gave a particularly deep and slow roll of your hips.

And the effect was completely undeniable.

A shudder ran over him, eyes dropping to his lap that you were still rocking on top of. Your tiny little shorts were so clearly pressing against the tent in his scrub pants, catching on it whenever you lost the energy to move properly as you let out another needy whine and hid back in his neck.

You were completely unaware of his current mental situation, baffled at how easily you’d gotten him to this state from just some sloppy kissing.

You must’ve thought he was ignoring you because you picked up your head to glare at him, a pout on your swollen lips.

“Sorry sweetheart.” He sighed and kissed you gently, rubbing your sides up to your ribs and coming back down right when he felt the swell of your breast against his fingertips. “I really have to go.”

“Let me suck you off.” You requested easily and his breath caught, nearly choking at how simple you made it sound. “I wanna learn and you’re so hard right now Jackie. Please let me do it.”

“That’s not the point of this.” He shook his head immediately and moved you by your hips so you were sat next to him and no longer settled in his lap, clearly upsetting you as you scrambled up on your knees and gripped his bicep so he couldn’t get off the couch yet.

“The point is to teach me things about sex and I’ll need to know this.” You counter, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at why he’s rejecting you.

He finds it a little amusing that you’re so used to him accepting your requests for things that you’re genuinely lost when he doesn’t immediately fold for you. It’s a bratty habit he should have corrected months ago but he can’t find himself caring too much, liking how dependent you’d become on him.

Jack has to contemplate this because he knows you’re right, stomach turning a little at the reminder that you’re going to use whatever he shows you on somebody else down the line.

That selfishly makes him want to cancel this whole thing and leave you completely clueless, hopefully to the point you decide to swear off sex with other men entirely. But he knows how stubborn you are and how stuck you get on something once it catches your attention, figuring you’d get on a dating app and find some idiot in finance to take your virginity as soon as he put an end to this arrangement.

So he lets you slip to your knees off the couch, taking his hesitance to decline again as a positive sign.

“Wait.” He interjects and you freeze, sighing in annoyance as you prepare for him to give another reason you can’t do it. Instead he pulls one of the pillows off the couch and slides in near his feet, your eyes softening as you shift so you’re kneeling on the plush cushion instead of the floor.

“How do I start?” You ask softly, eyeing the bunched up fabric in front of you with interest. He has to stare at the ceiling for a second, slightly losing it at the sight of you kneeling on his floor between his legs. “Do I have to get you ready?”

“No.” He says it gruffly and you tense again, his tone way sharper than he’d meant for it to be. “It’s… I’m ready baby trust me. Just give me a second.”

That calms you down immediately, enough that you rest your head on his knee as you try your best to be patient. His eyes go back to you at the touch and he watches the way you squirm against the pillow, clearly still riled up from the kissing and maybe even the thought of taking him in your mouth.

“Has it been awhile Jack?” Your voice is ridiculous now, clearly teasing him and developing this soft purr that almost irritates him.

His hand goes into your hair at the sound of it, tightening enough that you lift your cheek off his knee and stare up at him with wide eyes.

“Watch it.” He says lowly, using his free hand to untie his scrub pants as you eye the movement with fascination. Your lips part as you stare at his hand and the way his fingers twist the strings, he has half the thought to make you choke on the digits before you try and take anything bigger but your attitude has left him feeling just as impatient. “We’ve got to work on your manners if you want me to teach you.”

That makes you snap back into focus, frowning at his words and shaking your head as you straighten up on your knees.

“I have manners Jack.” You’re clearly trying to convince him, small hands smoothing over his thighs.

He starts to deny it but he’s cut off when you lean forward to nuzzle against him, face pressing right where he’s currently aching under two layers of fabric. His breath catches in his throat and he instinctively tightens the hand that’s in your hair, mumbling out an apology when you make a pained noise but barely loosening it after.

He feels like he needs to keep it there to have any sort of control in this situation, especially given the way you’re almost desperately rubbing your face on his lap.

“Should’ve told me you were this needy.” He half scolds as he shifts his waistband down lower, waiting for you to notice and pick yourself up just long enough to get his pants down.

You don’t give him long at all before you’re back to obsessing over the sight in front of you, eyes fully dazed now that it’s just his boxers separating you from putting your mouth on his hard length.

You’re clearly trying to be patient in an attempt to prove you have any sort of manners, a little pride rippling through him similar to the feeling he got when you had corrected yourself the other night to politely ask him for a kiss.

“You wouldn’t have done anything about it.” You say softly, not accusatory but confident in it like you know it’s true. You lean forward and kiss against the covered bulge, a groan leaving him. “You’re too good of a guy.”

“Clearly not.” He rasped just as you start to lose that faux patience you’re trying so hard to pretend you have, tugging at the waistband of his underwear and smiling softly when he lifts his hips off the couch without arguing. “And you know I never tell you no sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” You’re still trying to talk to him but now you’re completely lost in the sight of him half naked and sitting there with his legs spread in front of you, too desperate to even be intimidated by the size of him. “You would’ve let me do this months ago Jackie?”

He sighs and tightens his hold in your hair again, bringing you forward until he can feel your breath where he’s most sensitive.

Your eyes flicker up to him and the sight is devastating for how deprived he’s been, a pretty young girl like you sitting so nicely on your knees for the first time ever. He can barely even feel that guilt and slightly sick sensation, knowing how perverted it is that he could probably get off just looking at your face and thinking about the way he’s about to corrupt you.

“Stop talking.” He instructs gruffly and you nod eagerly, eyes back on his length and only now looking a little nervous as you swallow before your lips part in anticipation. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Want it so bad.” You don’t hesitate to answer and your voice is a little whinier, swaying forward like you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

Jack lets you move until you’re right there, eyes locked on your face as you give him a nervous look and try to take him in your mouth.

It’s awkward and you’re tense, expression full of hesitation like you’re waiting for him to tell you how to do it properly but he lets himself bask in this for a few seconds.

He knows it’s sick but he finds you the most beautiful like this, confused and desperate to please him without knowing how to. You go between sucking and licking at the tip of his length and while it feels good, no doubt about that especially after how long it’s been, it’s nothing compared to how clearly inexperienced you are.

Finally, he snaps out of his sick fantasies of watching you embarrass yourself trying to please him, and he decides to actually do what you’d asked and teach you something.

“Relax your jaw baby. Just take what you can okay?” His voice is low and gentle, hand loose in your hair but clenching into a tight fist whenever you brush against his sensitive skin with your teeth on accident or try to overachieve and take him deeper.

You do seem to calm down a little now that he’s finally speaking, shoulders slumping and your eyes fluttering shut as you get used to the feeling of him on your tongue.

You’ve barely taken him at all but he’s transfixed by the sight, perfectly content to sit here and cock warm your mouth until you were ready to move him down your throat.

He watches you closely as you pull back to take a few deep breaths, pouting a little at his length and hesitating before you’re touching him with your hand. It’s all experimental, tugging and feeling the skin against your palm while he grunts above you and tries to control himself.

It’s barely sexual on your end considering how fascinated you are by the new experience but he’s halfway losing his mind knowing this is the first time you’re touching somebody like this.

“I gotta go soon sweetheart.” He says and your eyes finally snap back up to him, turning a little red considering you’d been caught just staring at his length as you touched him. “You can play with me all you want after my shift.”

Now you’re full on blushing but you nod your head obediently and lean back in to take him in your mouth again, a little more confident now as you lick around the head and repeat movements whenever it draws a sound out from him.

Jack can barely stand it and he has to put both hands in your hair to keep himself from fucking up into your warm mouth, groaning from the effort it’s taking and considering telling you to get back on the couch before he goes too far with you too early.

You’re clearly just as impatient because you try to take more of him finally and immediately gag at the sensation, pulling back and frowning up at him.

“Help Jackie.” Your voice is whiny and has a little rasp to it now and he kisses his teeth at the sound, petting your hair back out of your face.

“I can’t help with that baby, you’ve just got to practice.” He tries his best to soothe you but you’re clearly frustrated.

“Can’t you just force my head down?” You’re rubbing his thighs as you speak in that ridiculously bratty voice, wiggling around on the pillow like the thought alone is exciting you.

He wants to say no, wants to tell you why it’s such a terrible idea for him to forcefully fuck your throat right before he has to go to work. There’s a million reasons he should be rejecting you right now but that sick voice in the back of his head is struggling to get the words out, especially when you go back to softly kitten licking at his length to keep him hard.

“Fuck you’re nasty.” He gruffs out and your eyes light up at the words, nodding your head and taking him back in your mouth as you keep trying your best to fit him deeper. “You want me in your throat that bad?”

You can’t talk now but your desires are obvious.

He eyes the way you’re shifting on the cushion below you, adjusting his foot the best he can so it’s between your thighs as you kneel. That seems to make you even more desperate, rubbing against him almost feverishly now as you try to focus on having him in your mouth.

There’s no option to do so when he brings his hands back to your hair, silently showing you he accepts your request when he moves his hips off the couch and keeps your face firmly in place so he can push deeper down your throat.

He feels you gag slightly around him but your eyes roll to the back of your head at the same time and you hump against his foot even faster so he can’t find it in himself to stop, thrusting slowly to make sure you don’t end up getting sick or feeling too sore by the time he’s finished.

Jack knows this is far beyond teaching, he’s not even speaking anymore and instead just using your throat to get himself off but you’re even more eager for it than him and he’d never deny you anything you asked for.

“This tiny little throat.” His voice is nearing a growl as he helps move your head up and down his length, reveling in the way you gag and drool around him. “You’re doing so good baby.”

The praise seems to do it for you more than anything else, rubbing your core against his foot so eagerly that you can barely focus on sucking him off. You’re getting too messy to control yourself, mouth slipping off every few thrust before you whine at the loss and immediately take him back in your throat.

Jack takes pity on both of you, both for his own sanity and because he can’t stop thinking about the fact he’ll need to leave as soon as this is done.

You’re clearly upset when he pulls you off, making a loud noise of disagreement that barely sounds like an actual word and frowning at him when he sends you a stern look and wraps his hand around himself instead.

You seem to forget your anger pretty quickly as you watch him touch himself, hips slowed down to a slow rock against his foot as you stare at his length and the way he’s making himself feel good above you.

Jack has to look away when he comes because he feels pretty close to forcing your head back down and making you swallow it, although half positive you’d actually enjoy that more than him judging by how eager you are to try things.

You’re laying your head back on his thigh while he grunts and curses, tightening his fist and going back to staring at your face just for a brief moment so he has a clearer picture to think about.

It’s quiet in the living room afterwards and he feels an odd sense of embarrassment, a rare vulnerability considering you’re still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor. He fixes one of those problems by effortlessly pulling you up by your arms, settling you back against the cushions.

He stands and pulls his pants up while he does so, knowing he’ll have to shower off before he can go to work and get a new pair of scrubs anyways.

There’s a second of hesitation before he goes to get you some water, leaning over your dazed frame and kissing you softly.

“Was it good?” You ask quietly against his mouth, hand tangling in his hair like you don’t want him to go anywhere without answering you first. “You stopped me.”

“You were perfect.” He answers simply and he means it, would probably feel the same if you had accidentally bit him though.

“I wanted to taste you.” You’re pouting again and every time he thinks he gets used to you, you prove him beyond wrong. He sighs and leans further against you on the couch so you’re fully sinking into the cushion below you.

“Next time.”

It comes out before he can stop it and he fully plans to backtrack but your eyes light up at the idea of him letting you do that again so he doesn’t, letting it linger for a few seconds.

“Not when I have to leave you right after. You won’t like it and I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s talking in the stern and no nonsense way he does at work, trying to make sure you understand even though you’re slowly starting to smile as he speaks and he realizes you’re probably not paying any attention.

“You won’t hurt me Jack.” You whisper and it’s so sweet he almost considers calling in so he can stay with you a little longer. “Not in a way I won’t like.”

That makes him scoff out a laugh, a rare sound from him and you look even more pleased at the noise.

“You don’t even know what you like sweetheart.” He says softly and brushes your hair out of your face, letting both his fingertips and eyes trail down your neck until he reaches your collarbones. “But I’ll show you.”

“You’ll show me?” You’re teasing him now, biting your bottom lip to try and hide your smile to no avail.

“Yeah I will.” He smiles too and kisses you again, a little too soft considering what you actually are to each other.

He eventually manages to get off of you long enough to get you some water, watching carefully as you take a few sips and rubbing your knee when you wince at first. He wants to feel guilty for making your throat sore but he can’t, sick enough to admit he just feels the urge to make you take him deeper next time to see if you’ll really let him.

You’re still laying on his couch when he gets out of his brief shower, having changed his pants and taken a few deep breaths while staring in the mirror to try and get ahold of himself. He needs to switch back to reality for atleast a few hours, become the weathered doctor who doesn’t lose his mind over a pretty girl asking for favors.

You set your phone down on your chest, giving him your full attention as he moves towards the door to tug his shoes on.

There’s no indication you plan to leave before he does but he can’t find it in himself to mind the intrusion, going back over to the couch to give you a kiss on the forehead.

“Staying here?” He says in a low voice and you nod eagerly, eyes locked on his.

He lets himself think about his entire way to work, the image of you being there when he gets home from a hard shift. It had been a long time since he had someone to come home to and having you across the hall was already a gift within itself.

Now you’d crossed a line and if he let himself forget the terms and conditions, the fact you were loosely using him just to end up with somebody else as the actual end goal, then he could pretend for a moment that you were the person he got to crawl into bed with when work was tough.

Despite how much he thought about you during his shift, every moment he wasn’t being bombarded with questions or saving somebody’s life on autopilot, you weren’t actually there when he came back.

He knew it before he even opened the door, confirmed by how neatly the pillows on the couch were placed again and the fact your glass of water was rinsed and put away in the dishwasher.

You’d made it look like you were never even there and he knew you still enjoyed his company, maybe enjoyed the newly added sexual dynamic even more, but that didn’t mean you wanted to comfort him after he lost a patient or help soothe him when his leg was bothering him from standing all day.

Jack had to remind himself of the part he was playing in your life currently and try his best to not be disappointed.

It’s two days until he sees you again and he thinks it’s one of the longest spans you’ve gone without talking in almost a year.

He’s just about to start really acting out of character by banging at your front door and asking if you’re avoiding him when he runs into you downstairs, freezing as soon as he enters the lowly lit laundry room to find you leaning against one of the washers and looking extremely bored.

You’re as beautiful as always, casually dressed in nothing but an old band shirt that hangs off your shoulder and a pair of shorts so small he’s pretty sure it’s just boxy underwear.

You don’t look up when he comes in until his leg slightly catches on the step, accustomed enough to the sound of the light dragging he sometimes can’t stop from happening when he’s extra tired.

It’s a relief to find that you don’t have any awkwardness on your face, no sign of being uncomfortable or upset with him.

Then he figures that might just be worse.

He would just about die if he had done anything that made you want to avoid him but the alternative seems to be that you just didn’t want to speak to him and that makes his chest sting.

There’s nothing but silence and the rattling of the old washer as it rocks back and forth on the cement floor, both of you seemingly having decided to not speak to each other first.

(sorry for the brief awkward spacing tumblr says this is too long)

It’s another five minutes of the now awkward stretch of quiet before you clear your throat, turning to face him where he’s fidgeting with his laundry baskets broken handle just to have something to focus on.

“So I went on a date last night.” You say softly, eyebrows raised like you’re genuinely interested in his reaction.

His stomach turns but it’s a relief to have you looking at him again so he takes it, swallowing hard and racking his brain for a response that’s appropriate.

“How’d it go?” He’s asking out of politeness but he’s silently praying you suddenly decide you don’t want to tell him about it. It wouldn’t even make him feel better to hear it had ended terribly, not wanting you to feel any type of negative emotions even if it technically was in his benefit.

He definitely can’t take any sort of mention of you being with another guy physically. He knows it’s coming eventually, it’s the sole purpose behind why he even gets to touch you, but he’s not ready just yet.

You’re quiet again and he really looks at you now, takes in the silent contemplation on your face and the way you tap your fingers on the metal of the washer for a second before pushing off of it entirely.

Then you’re in his space again and it’s like an instinctive move to cup your face, hand on your waist so he can lightly push you back against the machine he’d been in front of. You touch his chest, lightly rubbing in soft circles, and he wants to sigh in relief if that wouldn’t be so painfully obvious.

“Wasn’t a great time.” You whisper and your eyes are on his lips as you speak.

His eyebrows raise and his hand on your body tightens slightly at the same time he uses his thumb to press under your chin and make you tilt your jaw back.

“Why not?” He hates the thought of getting details but he needs to know some idiot from a dating app hadn’t done anything to hurt you.

You don’t answer right away, just standing there and letting your eyes scan over his features on rotation. You finally let out a small breath like you’re about to speak but it never comes, small hands moving to grip his biceps.

“Did he touch you?” He can’t stop himself from asking even though the question makes his voice come out low enough that your eyes flash with surprise for a second, snapping away from his mouth to meet his stare again like you’re looking for something in it.

You shake your head immediately, squeezing his arms and shifting against the vibrating machine.

He’s kissing you then and he tells himself it’s out of relief, the knowledge that you’re still untouched by anybody except for him instantly making this conversation easier.

You’re returning it right away and he’s pleasantly surprised by how quickly you caught on to the type of kissing he likes, his personal preference. He figures he should eventually tell you that not ever guy was going to like your constant licking into his mouth but for now he lets it be, wants you to be trying to please him specifically and not whoever you’d use these lessons with.

It’s ridiculously cute how desperate you get, only needing a few seconds of your tongue inside his mouth before you’re arching off the machine and making soft noises against his lips.

His hands are all over you as soon as he notices the state of you, sliding down to cup your ass with both palms and tug you tighter to his frame.

That makes you out rightly whimper, clumsily trying to hitch a leg around his waist and sighing in relief when he holds your thigh to keep it there. The wet sounds of your mouths fill the small room, body slightly shaking both from need and from the way the washer is vibrating against your back.

“Missed you.” You whimper it out when he pulls back to let you breathe, kissing down your jaw and tightening his grip on the soft curve hidden under your underwear. “Didn’t call me.”

“Were you waiting for me to call baby?” He asks softly, despite how much it had been bothering him, he would never want to make you feel guilty for not reaching out to him after what you’d done.

You don’t answer so he pulls his head out of your neck to look at your face, seeing the soft frown and the hesitation in your eyes.

“Hey.” He breaths out and pushes your hair back to get your attention fully on him, your body softening and completely leaning against his to the point you’d definitely fall if he took a step backwards. “I wanted to give you space. Let you decide when you wanted to continue this, if you did.”

“I don’t want space.” You counter and it’s a little past bratty but he’s so beyond fond of you that he can’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn up at the sound of it. “You’re supposed to take care of me.”

He’s not sure when your dynamic became this way but he feels it as much as you apparently do, knows it’s his duty to make sure you’re always fine and not needing anything he can’t fix. Now there’s the added element of making you feel good, touching you in ways you’re not used to and showing you what pleasure can be like, and he’s not taking it lightly.

“Then I’ll call.” He say softly and your eyes lock on his as you nod in agreement, his hand cupping your cheek so he can keep you still enough to kiss you briefly. “You want me to chase you and I’ll chase you.”

“Right now I just want you to kiss me.” You whisper and he doesn’t need to hear anything else.

You’re back to kissing and it’s feverish now, more tongue than anything and your hands groping each other anywhere you can touch.

He’s lifting you up off the ground just so he can press himself between your legs and swallow the soft needy noises you let out at the feeling, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist so he can’t pull away at all. You’re pressed back against the metal with his hands under your shirt and wrapped around your frame to make sure you don’t fall, thick fingers splayed out against your ribs.

It’s getting hotter in the room and it’s mostly due to the way you’re whining and trying to roll your hips into him, unsuccessful considering how hard he’s got you pinned back to the washer.

“Jack please.” You pant and pull away from his mouth, tucking into his neck and rubbing your soft cheek against his stubble like a needy cat. “Please touch me. Do anything.”

He’s grunting at the request and gently setting you back down on your feet so he can free up a hand, using it to push your shirt up to your neck. He’s not too surprised to find that you’re not wearing anything underneath and your surprised gasp swallows the sound of his low groan.

You’re whining lewdly when he leans down to press kisses against your skin, middle of your breast first to avoid putting his mouth where you really want it. You’re panting, chest rising and falling under his mouth, and tangling a hand in his ash colored curls to try and steer him where you need him.

He wants to smack your hand away and warn you to be patient but he wants you too bad to try and discipline you right now, letting his mouth latch onto to one of your hard nipples so he can hear whatever noise that brings out of you.

It’s loud and intoxicating, his head spinning a little as he keeps sucking and licking your skin, letting your shirt rest on the top of his head so he can use his other hand to roughly grope your other breast and make sure you’re getting equal attention.

“Oh fuck Jack.” You’re whimpering and trying to hump against nothing, back arching as you whine and hold him to your body like he has any plans of getting away from you. “T-that feels so good.”

“Come upstairs.” His voice is so rough it surprises himself, picking his head off your chest and letting your shirt drop so he can kiss you swiftly.

You frown at the loss of contact, rubbing your nose against his and still lightly petting his hair.

“Why not here?” You ask softly and he gives you a disapproving look that makes you sigh and rest your forehead down against his shoulder for a few seconds while you catch your breath. “It’s too far.”

He thinks for a moment before he’s adjusting his stance to pick you up off the ground, abandoning your laundry and his that both likely need to be switched out soon. He’d gladly let it sit and wash it again later if it means getting you up to his apartment as fast as possible.

You make a small surprised noise and cling to him, arms behind his neck and legs wrapped around his middle and he makes his way up the few stairs towards the elevators.

“Jack your leg.” The sight of the steps seems to remind you of his disability and he’d be more irritated by your worry if it didn’t sound so genuine.

You clearly don’t ever think too much about his leg restricting him, never shying away from asking him to lift heavy things or walk with you down to the store. You don’t treat him like he’s fragile or any less of a man for having limitations and he’s always liked that about you, same way he somehow likes your gentle concern even though it would have bothered him if it was anybody else.

“Think I can’t throw you around because of my leg?” He mumbles and you tense in his hold as he walks like you think he might be serious before you’re breathing out a laugh and hiding in his neck.

Jack finally gets back to his apartment, going crazy from the way you’d started to kiss his jaw and whine impatiently in the elevator. Your hands run up and down his arms like you’re marveling at the strength it takes to carry you for as long as he was, making soft needy noises and squirming around.

He can’t even care about the possibility somebody could see him with you, one of the neighbor he’d lived next to for years watching as Jack Abbot carries the much younger girl next door through his entry way as she whines for him to touch her more.

“Calm down baby.” His voice is soft once he gets to his room, setting you down on his bed and taking a few seconds to stare at you as you lay there and pout up at him.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and his gut twists a little at the observation, a mixture of desperate unfamiliar need and the same guilt from before accompanied by a new layer of it.

He thinks of his wife for the first time in a while. He used to spend every waking second with her on his mind but she had naturally started to fade from his mind once he met you, something he hadn’t even noticed until you’d already been living across the hall for a few months.

You’d came over for the first time and asked him to borrow some ingredients, strolling around his living room and eyeballing the photos on his walls while he poured some sugar into a small tupperware bowl for you to take back to your place. You had turned to him with a curious face and asked him where his wife was, obviously confused considering you’d never heard of her before despite how frequently you and him small talked.

That was the first time Jack noticed how little he’d been thinking of her lately, not just in the painful mourning way he’d been suffering through since she passed but in general too.

Now he was waking up in the morning and anticipating the next time you’d knock on his door, focusing on his health again so he could occupy you on your walks and not picking up too many extra shifts at work just incase you needed something and he wasn’t there.

Jack was thinking about her again now as you laid on his bed but only because he couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted something this bad, trying to compare the feeling of you to how he felt in his marriage and still thinking it fell short.

He had loved his wife, undoubtedly, but he craved you in a way that almost felt inhumane.

“You’re being mean to me.” You say softly to break him out of his trance, having zoned out just staring down at you and the way your chest was rising and falling with every deep breath.

“I’m never mean to you honey.” He whispers back and finally moves to lay down with you, hovering over your frame and running a hand from your waist to your ribs as he kisses you softly. “I take good care of you, don’t I?”

It’s a bit mean to throw your words from earlier back in your face, especially as he lets his mouth trail down your neck. You make a whiny noise and grip his shoulders, nodding your head and shifting under him so your legs are spread further.

“Yes Jack yes, you take care of me.” You’re practically whimpering and he feels almost drunk from how easily you get this needy, pausing his soft kisses to shift up on his knees and tug your shirt over your head.

You’re the prettiest sight he’s ever seen and he can’t help himself from bringing his mouth right back to your chest, drinking in the way you gasp and moan while he’s licking and sucking on your nipples. His other hand is softly groping whichever breast he doesn’t have his mouth on at the moment and your backs arching off his bed, scratching his shoulders through his shirt.

“Please touch me.” You’re begging after only a few minutes of the slow torture and he lets out a sharp breath, shifting so he’s more to the side of you than on top.

You’re quiet when he rubs his hand down your chest and over your stomach, rubbing at the waistband of your underwear for a few seconds just to hear the way you pant before he’s smoothing over your thighs.

Your back is basically against his chest as he hooks your leg over his to make sure yours are nice and spread for him, kissing your neck softly when he rubs your hips above your underwear.

You bare your neck for him easily and he’s selfish in the way he marks you, sucking any part of your warm skin he can reach so you’re left purple and red all over. He wants anybody you see for the next week or two to know you’ve been with somebody else, to see the claim he laid to your body even if he doesn’t let things go as far as you want him to take it.

Jack doesn’t need to be asked twice to touch you, big hand leaving your hip so he can fully palm your core.

Your reaction is just the way he had hoped it would be, sharp gasp leaving your lips as you instantly buck up against his touch. You whine desperately when he goes back to rubbing your thigh instead, giving you a second to work yourself up to the point he wants you to be at.

“Jack.” You don’t even sound like yourself now and it’s intoxicating, so pleading and broken. “Please.”

“Please what?” He’s practically whispering, perfectly calm and the direct opposite of how broken you sound just from him lightly touching you.

He moves you so you’re fully between his legs, back against his chest as he cages himself around you to keep you from moving.

You’re practically shaking, whimpering and moving your hips against nothing with the hopes he’ll cave and end up touching you again. You’re distracting to look at, body bare except for the pathetic excuse of underwear shorts you’d been wearing under your shirt, like you’d just been hoping he would be the one to find you in the laundry mat.

He has half the thought to make fun of you for that, make you tell him exactly what you were thinking when you left your apartment wearing so little, but he doesn’t think you could handle him saying much at all right now especially not something so demeaning.

“I’m going to touch you.” He says gently instead and kisses the side of your head, letting his hand go back to groping your chest just to make sure you stay worked up.

Even though he doubts at this point he even needs to touch you for that to happen.

“Yeah yeah.” You’re nodding in agreement, seemingly pleased at his decision as you relax back against him and let him touch you freely.

His other hands back between your legs now, letting you get used to the feeling of somebody touching you where you’re most sensitive. He’s just rubbing back and forth, listening to the way you pant and pulling back whenever you start to try and shift against his hand on your own.

“You’re wet just from that?” His voice is a little mean now but you don’t seem to mind, trying to clamp your thighs around his hand but being stopped by the sharp swat he sends to your skin. You wince but move your foot back to the other side of his leg so yours stay open, pouting softly at the silent punishment. “Answer me when I ask you something.”

“I’m always wet around you.” You admit with an embarrassed tone lacing your words, squirming like you wish you could hide yourself from the way he’s staring down at your body. “Want you so bad.”

“I want you too.” He kisses the side of your head, still rubbing you with just enough pressure to make you feel the friction but not to actually get off. “Gonna make you feel so good, you’ve just got to be patient.”

“Stop being scared to hurt me.” Your voice is shaky but as firm as possible, trying to show him you’re a big girl and can handle a little bit of the roughness he’s so clearly holding back.

It’s obvious in the way he was grabbing your throat your first kiss, moving your body around easily whenever he needed to, and scolding you just enough for you to be able to catch the mean tone seeping in accidentally.

Jack clearly has a darker side to him that he’s not letting you see and it’s obviously frustrating you, wanting to be taken seriously.

“I’ll hurt you if that’s what you want sweetheart but not for your first time.” His words don’t leave any room for argument so you don’t even try, sinking back against his firm chest and letting out a deep breath when he shifts behind you and presses himself forward.

It’s not long before you’re not able to wait anymore and he lets you scramble to tug down your underwear, keeping his fingers lightly rubbing between your folds and watching as you struggle to get the fabric past his insistent hand.

Eventually he lets you pull them off and then he’s right back to touching you, bare this time. You both suck in a breath at the contact and you’re practically laying down from how far you’d slid down his chest, spreading your legs as wide as they can go and whimpering while he touches you.

“Do you touch yourself like this baby?” He can’t help the curiosity, the image of you in your bed trying to get yourself off stuck in his mind now.

You shake your head and frown, trying to twist your neck to look at him but being stopped when he uses his free hand to roughly grip your chin and make you keep your eyes on the way he’s touching you, thumb on your sensitive clit now while you roll your hips the best you can.

“No I…” You can barely think let alone speak, clearly struggling as you make a pained and desperate noise. “I get nervous.”

Jack sighs and collects some of your wetness on his middle finger before finally pressing it against the tightness of your hole, not pushing in just yet but teasing it with light pressure and letting you get used to the feeling.

“When you’re with somebody, they should always be this gentle with you at first.” He’s saying softly, remembering that he’s supposed to be actually teaching you something and not just getting you off because he desperately wants to.

You frown deeply as he starts to talk and he doesn’t really understand why, thinks maybe you’re still being pouty that he won’t get rougher with you.

He tries to distract you by finally pressing a finger inside of you and it seems to work for a second, another gasp leaving you as you instinctively clench around the intrusion. He groans, his length throbbing against your back at the thought of being fully inside you instead of just a finger.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He rasps and buries his face in your hair for a few seconds to try and collect himself enough to keep teaching you something, anything at all so he doesn’t keep letting himself think this is something it isn’t. “They’ll have to really get you stretched before anything okay? You need to remember that baby.”

It bothers him so much he can barely focus, the thought of somebody not taking their time with you. He doesn’t want to picture you with another man in general but especially not in a way that hurts you, leaves you too sore the next morning with nobody to take care of you.

He’s so distracted by his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice your face stiffening at first, body a little tenser against him even though you’re still softly squirming to try and get him to put his finger deeper inside you.

“Jack stop.”

He does so immediately and goes to pull out of you before you’re making a panicked noise and closing your thighs around his hand. He lets you this time, pauses all movements just to wait for whatever it is that you need.

“N-no don’t stop that, god please don’t stop that.” Your voice is breathier now like the thought of him taking his hand away from you makes your chest tighten. “Just… stop talking about anyone else.”

It takes him a few seconds to register that and then his hands moving again, enough for you to relax and spread your legs back open.

You’re both quiet now as he adds another finger, lingering in the weight of your request and what it could mean if anything. He’s half sure you only asked because it was pulling you out of the moment, maybe making you nervous to think about doing this again with actual stakes, but the way you desperately tried to stop him from pulling away lets him pretend it was for another reason.

He’s selfish in the way he touches you now, thick fingers moving in and out of you while you cry and whine, gripping at his forearm whenever it feels like too much. He likes the way your nails dig into his arm when you think you might be close, thighs clenching and shifting when his thumb gently circles your swollen clit and how your lips part in breathy cries of his name.

He especially likes that.

You come with moans of his name filling the room and nobody else’s after you’d specifically asked him to stop mentioning other guys. Jack knows it’s selfish, even a little sick and perverted, but he could probably finish just from hearing that.

He’s throbbing against your back and he’s sure you’d be able to feel it if you were able to focus on anything after coming, body shaking a little as you pant endlessly and fall limb in his hold.

There’s a lot of softness that comes after, kissing the side of your head and being gentle in the way he cleans you up. It’s torture to be between your legs and getting to fully appreciate the sight of you for the first time without be able to touch you more but he doesn’t want to overstimulate you so early on.

He does let himself think about that vividly though, kissing against your thighs and picturing when he’s going to be able to put his mouth on you.

You’re quiet above him, eyes a little tired but still overly soft as you run your fingers through his hair and watch him wipe you down.

Then he’s back ontop of you and kissing you softly, shifting your back so you’re laying back against the pillows and not sitting up. It’s soft and bordering on romantic which makes his chest tighten, hoping you have no plans to leave his bed anytime soon.

“You okay?” He asks quietly against your mouth and he can feel you smiling, still touching his hair with one hand and letting the other drift down to the back of his neck.

“Felt so good.” You whisper back and your voice is a little hoarse from all the whining you’d been doing, nose bumping against his and then rubbing on his stubble for a few seconds. “Can I take a nap here?”

“You can do anything you want.” He says immediately, no hesitation as he gets up to get you one of his shirts and help you get comfortable, jumping at the opportunity to keep you with him just like he wanted.

Jack typically has a hard time sleeping through the night in general so he definitely never naps, needing to be truly past the brink of exhaustion to ever rest.

Yet he finds it to be the most simple thing in the world to crawl into his bed with you after taking off his leg, kissing you for a few more minutes before he’s wrapping you in his arms and tugging you back against his chest. He’s rubbing your stomach softly, hand under the shirt he’s given you, listening intently until he hears your breathing even out and then drifting to sleep right after you.

—

It’s one of the highlights of his decade to get to wake up with you still there, warm and making soft tired noises when you feel him start to stir.

His room is dark now other than the slight illumination coming from the moon outside of his window, casting just enough light for him to be able to watch your eyes flutter open.

You give him a soft sleepy smile and instinctively lean in to give him a kiss.

It’s easy to pretend that you are more than whatever this is when you act like this, mouths moving together sensually as if you have nowhere else you’d want to be.

Jack groans softly when your tongue pushes into his mouth, meeting it eagerly with his own and moving so hes hovering over you. Your hands are on his back, spreading your legs below him to let him slot between them.

He feels like a teenager again from how quickly he gets hard, your soft body under his putting him under some sort of spell. His hips shift and you let out a needy whine, scratching his shoulders lightly like you’re trying to encourage him.

You’re still making out slowly when he starts to thrust down against you, slow rolls of his hips to give you just enough friction to start to get desperate.

You’re tugging at his shirt fabric and he takes only a second to sit up and pull it over his head, back on you immediately and kissing you even more frantically. He’s moving your own shirt up towards your ribs but neither one of you wants to stop long enough to take it off, only able to when you need a quick second to take a breath.

It’s the first time you’ve both been nearly undressed together and he feels the effects of it instantly, your chest pressing against his when he lays back over you. Your skin is soft and hot to the touch, those now familiar soft whines leaving you when he lets his hand knead at your chest again.

“Jack please.” You’re whimpering and he finally stops kissing you in favor of sucking at your neck, bringing those marks from earlier back to the surface. “Can’t you just fuck me?”

He groans at the words and has to tuck his face in your shoulder, still rocking his hips against you even though they stuttered when you said that in that whiny voice of yours.

“Trust me, I want to fuck you so bad I can’t even think.” It leaves his mouth before he can stop it, not wanting to reject you again without making sure you know how badly he wants you.

“Then do it.” You’re begging now and he picks his head up to look at you, eyes wide and a little frustrated like you know he’s going to say no. You gasp when he thrusts down even harder, biting your lip as you stare at each other desperately. “Please Jack? Want you inside me.”

“I can’t baby.” He growls and kisses you to give himself a second to think without you arguing.

You’re quick to forget you were trying to convince him of something because you’re kissing him back deeply, angling your head so his tongue can get further and further inside your mouth.

He has that sick and perverted thought again that he’s coincidentally training you to be the perfect girl for him, kissing in a way he likes and not knowing how else to do it. Jack is selfish and wants everything you do to be for him, wants your body to instinctively move and react how he taught you regardless of who gets you next.

The thought of somebody else makes him want to forget his morals and fuck you like you’re begging him, be the one to take your virginity and fill you up for the first time.

He starts to reason with himself that it would actually be a good thing because Jack would never let himself hurt you in a way you didn’t like, he’d make sure you felt good around him and came so hard you weren’t able to see straight.

There’s nobody else who could fuck you like he could so he’s almost convinced himself that it’s a good idea when your phone rings on the nightstand.

You both stop, you’re completely tense under him and he sighs as he kisses you one more time and rolls off of you.

He lays there on his back as you sit up to grab your phone, screen a little too bright in the dark room and causing you to wince. He stares at your pretty face under the light as you open it up and answer it, not thinking much about the interruption despite the small disappointment he feels.

His hand is on your bare knee and rubbing your skin is soft circles, soothing both you and himself by keeping the contact.

“Hello?” Your voice is as soft and sweet as always, a little confused sounding which makes his eyebrows raise. “Oh Carter.”

Jack tenses up at the sound of a males name leaving your lips, his hand freezing and falling still on your knee. You’re avoiding looking at him as you listen to whoever it is speak on the other line, a deep voice bleeding through the speakers just enough for him to hear but not enough to make out the words.

“Tonight?” Your eyes go to the small digital clock on Jacks side of the bed, having to glance over his body in the process. You meet his eyes just for a second before they’re darting away again and it makes the pit in his stomach grow in understanding. “Of course I didn’t forget. I’ll be ready by nine.”

You’re hanging up after a quiet goodbye and now it’s suffocatingly silent in the room.

You’re still sitting up with your legs crossed under you, avoiding looking at him like you’re not still wearing his shirt and covered in marks he’d given to you. He waits for a minute before he’s sitting up and running a hand over his face, on the opposite side of the bed from you and facing the wall so you can’t see his expression when he finally gets himself to speak.

“You’ve got a date tonight?” He rasps out, trying his best to sound unaffected even though it comes out low and tight.

“I forgot.” You whisper back and you sound further away now, a glance over his shoulder confirms that you’d stood up off the bed and are searching for the shirt you’d shown up in so you can swap out of his. “He’s taking me to some art show downtown.”

Jack stares at you as you move around the room, eyes scanning over your body when you pull his shirt over your head and neatly fold it before putting it on his dresser. It feels really final to watch you change back into your own clothes, turning to meet his eyes and letting out a soft sigh when you see he’s already watching you closely.

He hopes it doesn’t show on his face, doesn’t want to be too obvious that he’s probably about two seconds away from throwing up.

“Carter.” He says simply and now you really stiffen.

You stand there for a few seconds like you’re waiting for something, eyes a little expectant and then full on disappointed when he scoffs and moves to put his leg back on so he can stand up and get out of the room that’s suddenly suffocating.

You leave his apartment and all the warmth goes with you.

He stands in his dark kitchen with regret sitting heavy on his chest, wishing he had stopped you and asked you to stay with him instead.

He isn’t sure if it’s the fear of rejection or his own guilt that stopped him but he knew he couldn’t ask you to do that. You deserved better than him and his baggage, his late hours at work and his dangerous hobbies that he needed to keep himself busy with to not think about the things that sent him spiraling.

He couldn’t imagine forcing you into a life where you had to explain him to your friends and family, ignore the curious and judging looks from his own when they realized just how young you were.

Jack knew you were lonely, it was obvious considering how much time you willingly spent with him and it was bad enough he’d taken advantage of your desperation for connection and nearly slept with you.

He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he stopped you from enjoying your youth, having a fun late night in the city surrounded by artsy people your age and not stuck on his couch watching old reruns because he’s too tired after work to properly take you out.

Jack hates himself for thinking all this and then still obsessively wanting you.

So much so that he purposely lingers near his truck right around the time you’d told your date you’d be ready. In his defense, he did actually need a few things from the corner store, so he sat in the parking lot and waited until he saw you come down.

Your date met you at the entrance of the lobby but didn’t take your purse from you or the jacket you were holding, smiled at you politely but couldn’t be bothered to open the door of his car or even wait for you to get in before he did.

It made Jack sick to his stomach all over again, jaw clenched as he sat in the dark interior of his truck and watched you drive off with some asshole only an hour after he’d had you sleeping next to him, panting under him and begging him to fuck you.

Jack decides right then that it all needs to stop, not just the sex lessons but helping you in general. He can’t be that person for you without wanting more, he’s selfish and possessive over somebody that was never supposed to be his and he knows it’s not fair to you.

So he doesn’t answer any of your texts that night, stays quiet in his living room whenever you knock on his door and waits until he hears you leave for work before he goes to check the mail.

He feels terrible for avoiding you but keeps trying to convince himself it’s in your best interest.

Jack is half asleep when the silent treatment finally breaks.

He’d fallen asleep on his couch accidentally, a beer can too many on the table in front of him and the same movie he’d been watching beforehand starting to roll credits. He should have been in bed sleeping after pulling a double at work but he couldn’t stand being in there lately, tossing and turning and trying to catch the faint scent of you lingering on his pillows.

There was a second of confusion, not sure why he had waken up in the first place, until the sharp knocks on his door made him flinch.

He was standing up on autopilot to open it, wincing at how stiff and sore his leg felt from falling asleep with it still on.

Any thought of his pain was gone the second he opened his door and saw your face, tears on your cheeks and your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“I need to talk to you.” You said immediately and he ushered you into his apartment, not necessarily wanting to be in an enclosed space with you but recognizing your tearful voice was far too loud to have a conversation in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” He said softly and takes a few steps towards you on instinct, cradling your cheek and staring down at you when you nuzzle against his touch. “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re an asshole.” You seem to remember that you’re mad at him because you step away from his touch, pushing his arm back down to his side and storming further into his apartment.

He stands there completely frozen as you toss your purse onto the chair near the couch, your eyes scanning over the beer cans and the obvious indent of where he’d been sleeping.

Then you’re back to looking at him and he knows what he probably looks like to you. The exhaustion is obvious on his face, clothes a little baggier than normal from a lack of taking care of himself and a constant awkward shifting on his leg to keep pressure off of it.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Your voice cracks a little and he deflates, taking a few steps closer again even though he doesn’t think you want him to touch you. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What?” His face faces in disbelief at the idea you could ever do anything wrong in general, especially to him. “Of course you didn’t sweetheart.”

“Then why?” Your words are louder now and they linger in the tense air, face pained as you wait for him to answer.

He sighs and runs a hand over his stubble that desperately needs some maintenance, wishes he had the time to plan out everything he wanted to say to you so he doesn’t accidentally fuck it up more than he already had.

“I just… I can’t do it anymore.” He lets his hands fall to his sides with a loud defeated clap and shrugs his shoulders. “I can’t watch you go out with these idiots knowing they can’t take care of you.”

He hopes what he’s trying to say is an obvious to you as it is to him, not able to bring himself to actually voice the fact that he has feelings for you beyond helping out a neighbor.

“You didn’t stop me.” You sound devastated, head shaking like you don’t believe anything he’s saying to you.

You’re not crying anymore thankfully but you look so hurt and disappointed that it makes him physically ache, moving to grab your arm softly and guide you to sit down on the couch with him.

“I waited for you to stop me and you didn’t.” You continue once you’re sitting beside him, legs pressed together in a small amount of addicting content. “Isn’t it obvious by now that I only want to be with you?”

The words hit him so hard that he doesn’t even have time to process them, eyebrows furrowing as the need for more information pushes him to speak.

“Why would that be obvious? The entire point of this was for you to be ready for other people.”

You look a little embarrassed at his sound logic, staring down at your lap where your hands are fiddling with your fingers. He sighs and takes one of them in his, squeezing it softly until you let your gaze drift back up to his.

“I don’t want other people.” You whisper, staring at him with a small amount of hope in your eyes like you’re just waiting for him to understand. “And I don’t want you to be with anyone else either. I just figured… you wouldn’t cross that line without a good reason.”

Jack thinks it’s a little juvenile of a plan but he also knows you’re not wrong. He would have never touched you without the feeling of helping you out with something, no matter how much he had wanted you since the second you moved in.

That little lie was all he needed to get himself through the shame and guilt, the ability to pretend it was for a greater cause and not because he was sick and desperate for a girl half his age.

“Jack.” You sigh when he doesn’t respond for a few seconds, turning so you can face him better and press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. “Stop thinking.”

“That’s a big ask.” He mumbles back but he gladly turns to give you a real kiss, holding your face in his hand and keeping your mouth against his.

You kiss until you run out of breath, pulling back from him but rubbing your nose against his and letting your small hands grip his forearm desperately.

“Then just be with me for tonight.” You try to reason with him in any way you can, rubbing his arm softly and blinking at him with those big pretty eyes that drive him so crazy.

He stares at you for a moment before he’s standing up off the couch and tugging you along with him, ignoring the little surprised noise you make in favor of lifting you up with his hands on the back of your thighs. You gasp and then giggle softly once he’s got you in the air, arms behind his neck and legs around his middle as he starts to walk you to his room.

“You’re crazy if you think you’re going anywhere after tonight.” He tells you once he gets you settled on his bed, kissing the smile off your face as he climbs over you.

It’s a direct mirror of the other night as you get each other undressed fully this time, kissing the entire time and tasting his tongue deep in your mouth when it starts to get more heated.

“You’re going to be mine.” He says firmly once he’s got you in nothing but your panties, making sure your eyes are locked on his when you hear it. His free hand is all over your body, rubbing from your smooth thigh up to your chest and cupping around your neck for a brief moment while he waits for you to respond. “If I fuck you then you’re mine.”

“I’ve been yours.” You whisper easily, like you didn’t have to put any thought into it.

He falters, hand tightening around your throat on instinct and then releasing the pressure when he sees the way your eyes light up with interest.

“Don’t be nasty baby.” He’s teasing, kissing the corner of your mouth and bringing your leg up so it’s around his waist and he can press himself against you. “Gonna be gentle with you for your first time. You deserve it.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You’re pouting and gripping at him impatiently, running your hand between your bodies to touch his stomach and fidget with the waistband of his boxers. “That’s what I want Jackie.”

“Didn’t ask what you wanted.” He grumbles back, not caring that it comes off a little mean because you whine at the sound of how rough his voice had gotten and he knows you like it.

He’s back to kissing you and it’s filthier than normal, more tongue and spit than anything else.

You’re as vocal as always, whining and begging impatiently when he gets your underwear off and starts to touch you again.

Jack can barely think straight when he’s back inside of you, fingers pushing in easier this time now that you’ve felt the intrusion before and know what to expect. You’re gasping and crying out immediately, unintelligible words that he blocks out in favor of focusing on how you feel when he’s stretches you out.

“Want it so bad.” Your near sob gets through to him and he hisses through clenched teeth at how wrecked you sound already, shushing you softly and kissing your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“I know baby I know.” He’s whispering but you don’t seem to be hearing him, spreading your legs further to try and make space for him to slot back between them instead of using his fingers.

Jack is just as impatient as you but he’s terrified of hurting you too early, although throbbing so hard in his boxers that it’s painful to shift around.

It’s not long before it’s too much prep for both of you and you’re watching him with your chest heaving as he gets himself undressed the rest of the way, leg going on the floor right alongside your underwear that he had slowly pulled down your body before climbing back over you.

Your eyes go down between your bodies where his leg is and he tenses for a second despite knowing you mean well with the concern you have on your face.

“Let me ride you.” You say softly and his chest tightens with that old familiar shame he was still actively working on ridding himself of.

“I can fuck you.” He says gruffly and your eyes flash with regret, pouting a little like you’re worried you’ve hurt his feelings with your thoughtful suggestion. He kisses the expression off your face, a long deep one followed by a few quick pecks to try and ease your mind. “Next time baby.”

He says it both because he knows realistically he has limitations, there will be plenty of nights he’s not able to rail you into his mattress like he wants to, but also because he knows he would die a happy man the second he got to see you bouncing on top of him and desperately trying to get yourself off.

You look like you want to argue but you’re stopped when he’s pushing your legs apart and moving between them, sharp gasp leaving you when you feel his hard length pressing against you finally.

“Fuck Jack.” Your voice is sharp and already a little pained just from the dull sensation of him lining up with your hole, a growl leaving him at the sound of your distress.

“Just relax baby.” He says as softly as he can even though his throat feels tight and raw, kissing you gently to try and get you to calm down enough for him to push in. “You’re too tight sweetheart.”

“I… I can’t.” You let out another sharp cry when he shifts forward, nails digging into his shoulders so deep it makes him wince and lower his head down on your shoulder.

Jack has to use every ounce of self control he can muster to not just fully push himself into you and feel that tight heat he’s getting a taste of, that same sick and selfish part of him that wants you in the first place begging him to just take you already.

Instead he takes a few deep breaths before he’s kissing you with more focus, going back and forth between softly rubbing your side and massaging your inner thigh to try and urge your body to relax and accommodate him.

It’s a torturous ten minutes, especially due to your soft whimpers and the way you cry his name whenever he accidentally moves himself deeper.

Then you’re finally calm enough, bare chest rising and falling with the deep breaths he’d instructed you to take.

“Want you inside Jack.” You’re whining in his ear, clinging to him tightly and almost suffocating him when he immediately takes your queue and pushes in. You tense up again at the brief surge of pain and then let out a satisfied cry when you feel how full you are, clenching around him so ridiculously that he almost needs to pull out to give himself a break despite barely starting.

You’re both too overwhelmed to speak much more once he starts to actually fuck you, deep thrust accompanied by filthy kisses to keep you from waking up the neighbors with how desperately you’re whining for him to keep giving you more.

It’s pure need on both ends, your hips eagerly rocking upwards to try and meet his thrust sloppily while he uses his free hand to roughly push down on your stomach and keep you in place.

“Jackie.” It’s nearly a sob from you now and he can tell you’re close from how much tighter you’d gotten, almost an impossible squeeze for him to keep fucking you through.

He’s grateful you’re so inexperienced because he doesn’t think he’d last long either, not with the way you look as you stare up at him with teary and trusting eyes.

“I know baby you’re doing so good for me.” It’s more of a growl than anything else but he can barely think let alone speak enough to keep encouraging you. “Taking me so well sweetheart.”

“I’m so full Jack.” You whimper and cling to him tighter, nearly pulling him fully down on top of you and knocking him off his balance. “Feels so good.”

You’re stuttering through your sentences and slurring each word, eyes a little dazed in a way that makes him need to squeeze his shut to avoid coming inside you just from that fucked out look you have.

It’s more sweet than heated when you actually do finally reach your peak, holding onto him still and kissing the side of his jaw softly with your face buried in his neck as you squirm and shake your way through your orgasm.

He stays inside of you for as long as he can so you’re not shocked from the sudden feeling of emptiness but you’re squeezing him too tight and he has to pull out as soon as you’re starting to relax. You whimper immediately at the lose and pick your head up to pout at him, eyes panicked like you’re genuinely distressed he didn’t finish inside you.

He shushes you gently and kisses your face over and over, rubbing your side as he lets you fully come back to reality before attempting to clean either of you up or get you dressed.

“Jack.” You’ve got the needy and frustrated tone he loves so much and he knows you’re not dropping it, meeting your eyes with a fond sigh as you glance down at where he’d came instead of inside you.

“Next time.” He promises again and he means it, fully intending to have that conversation with you ahead of time now that he’s got you like this.

Jack isn’t too opposed to the idea of getting you pregnant, not even sure he’s able to with the amount of pills he takes, but he has to push down that thought along with the rest of the sick ones he gets when he looks at your needy eyes.

You smile a little at the loose promise and tuck yourself back into his shoulder, soothing any concern he has about what just happened or how you’re supposed to operate going forward.

He’s undoubtedly the luckiest guy in the world to have you wanting him like this, feeling safe in his arms and desperate for him in the way he’d been for you since the second he laid eyes on you.

You flip the CLOSED sign sideways and hear it — the lazy thunder of his steps before the handle even turns.

“Locked the place down for me?” he drawls, voice low and amused, leaning in the doorway like a storm that decided to dress as a man.

He fills the threshold, scarred knuckles tapping the jamb. When he smiles, it’s all teeth and a dare.

“Sweet.”

“You booked the day,” you say, and it comes out steadier than your pulse. “Come in, wash up.”

He watches your eyes flick to the handwashing sink like you’re pointing a blade. He does it anyway, sleeves pushed to his elbows, veins roped and ridiculous.

Water runs over those hands you’ve guided a hundred times — move, stretch, still — aaaaaaand he catches you looking.

Of course he does.

“What?” He dries off slowly. “Gonna hold my hand later, artist?”

“Only to stretch skin,” you say, snapping on gloves.

Snap, snap — the sound you hide behind.

“Consent forms are in your file. Same aftercare. Sit.”

He sits.

He sprawls.

He makes the chair look small and you feel your shop shrink around the gravity he drags in with him.

The air hums when you power on the rotary; it’s a bright, clean whine, a wasp trapped in a lightbulb.

You start with the thighs.

Clip up the drape over his hips. Shave, wipe, stencil solution, your marker tracing perfect parallels around the muscle — two bold bands, high on each thigh where the quadriceps swell.

Your freehand is cleaner than any thermal, and he knows it, that’s why he only trusts you.

“You’re on your knees for me awfully early,” he says, tone lazy, almost purring. He tilts his head to watch the top of yours. “I should’ve brought flowers.”

“Brought your ID and a clean hoodie,” you mutter, checking that the lines meet true. You shift to the side to sight down the wrap of ink and try to steady your own heartbeat before touching his skin again. “Stop flexing.”

“I’m not flexing,” he lies, flexing, because of course he’s flexing.

You dip the needle.

Black.

The first contact is a kiss and a bite — machine skimming, then settling.

You plant your three-point stretch and pull the line slow, deliberate, north-to-south over living heat.

He exhales like he’s bored, you see the tell in his throat, the swallow he tries to hide.

He can take anything, he enjoys the pain you give him, and he likes that you know it.

“Depth,” you say, more to yourself than him, the way you always talk to the line. “Angle. Don’t breathe like that.”

“How am I breathing?” He grins, eyes half-lidded, voice low and dangerous now that you’re this close. “Like I’m watching you blush?”

“You’re imagining things.”

“You’re blushing,”

“You’re talking,” you counter. “We all have problems.”

“Your ears go pink first,” he murmurs, because he catalogues your tells with the same cruelty he saves for enemies. “Then your throat.”

“Stop talking.”

“You like when I talk.” He says the words between his teeth, a little growl folded in. You refuse to look up. “Look at you. Steady little hands… Are you this neat with everyone?”

“Yes.”

“Liar.”

You clean the excess with green soap and move.

The second pass seals the band like a vow, the line flat and satin-sharp.

He watches your mouth move behind your mask as you count silently, as you wipe and check and wipe again.

You switch thighs, he says nothing while you measure, only lifts a brow when you nudge his knee wider with the back of your wrist.

“Behave,” you tell him.

He bares his teeth, amused.

“Make me.”

You look up at him and knit your brows together, a silent warning.

He stares back at you with those bright red eyes like you're a puppy snarling.

You do the work.

You always do the work — no hurry, no fear, your focus so complete the rest of the world falls off the table.

He presses closer anyway, without moving at all — he does that with his presence, density listed as obscene on some cosmic chart.

You can feel taut muscle twitching under your hand as you stretch the skin. Roped thighs, hot skin, and your professionalism keeping your eyes where they should be instead of wandering north.

When you finish, the bands kiss perfect around both thighs — mirrored, precise, black as midnight on wet stone.

He sits up without being told and tests the skin with a thumb until you catch his wrist.

“Don’t touch yet,” you say, and your glove squeaks on his pulse. He looks at where you’re holding him, then at your face

For a second, he’s very still.

“Bossy,” he says, softer. “Cute.”

“Face next.”

You strip gloves, sanitize, swap to a fresh setup.

“Go rinse. No caffeine gum when you get back. This is delicate.”

He’s grinning when he returns.

“Delicate,” he repeats, like the word’s something filthy in his mouth.

He sprawls again, head in the cradle, throat bared, lashes bright against his cheeks.

You stand in the space his body makes and hold your marker like chalk.

“Last chance to chicken out,” you say, because you always give him a last out.

The face is another covenant.

People underestimate that.

He snorts.

“Draw me pretty.”

You would tell him he already is if you weren’t committed to outliving him.

You take a breath instead and step close enough to count each ragged thread at the edge of his undershirt.

Purple glides over skin, the bar across the bridge of his nose, clean and unbroken, the parallel marks beneath each eye that sit like stern omens, micro-guides at the temples you’ll wipe away, the fine lines following the sharpness of his jaw, then the chin.

He watches your eyes, not your hands.

“You trust me too much.” you say, more a test of fit than a question.

He smiles like a knife.

“With my face? My body? With the only thing I see in the mirror? I'd trust you with my cock, that's how much I trust your work.”

He lowers his voice to a rumble, amused.

You ignore the last part for your own sanity.

“Don’t mess up.”

“You move, you live with it,” you answer. “Stare at my shoulder, not my mouth.”

“Ah,” he says, delighted. “You noticed.”

You glove up again.

You bag your machine again.

You change needles — liner to eat the tight corners, tight three for the cheeks.

You anchor his brow with your thumb and his cheekbone with your middle finger, and for the first time today he actually stills.

The first touch on the bridge of his nose has his eyes watering from reflex, and he laughs under his breath when you dab the corner of one eye with a pad.

“Don’t you dare,” you say, half teasing, half threat. “If you make me chase tears with ink, I will make the lines thicker.”

“Promise?” he murmurs, and you could throttle him.

The machine kisses the bridge and sings.

The line is a breath held, a string drawn, you run it in one smooth pass and feel him grin when you lift the needle.

He’s an excellent client here where it matters, this is the secret nobody knows — he can meet you in quiet when you ask.

The cheekbones are next — you warn him, and he hums.

“Oughta buy me dinner first, then” he says, words vibrating under your fingers. “You’re close enough to count sins.”

“I stopped counting yours after the third session,” you say, stretching. “Look up. No—eyes closed, chin up. Good.”

“You always sound like that when I do what you want?” He whispers it on the exhale, voice low, a thread pulled between teeth. “Dangerous.”

“Hold still, Ryomen,” you snap, because your hand trembles when he says your name like that.

You pull the line clean. He does not flinch.

The purple flees under black.

A crow outside knocks on the gutter with its beak as if to say, yes, like that.

You clean, you run the lower marks — measured curves that sit under his eyes, mirror-perfect, weighted just enough to look like they’ve always been part of him.

“Breathe,” you tell him, because you’ve been forgetting to, too.

“I am. You smell good.”

You do, but he has no business telling you that.

The last pass on the far cheek lays down like silk being cut. When you wipe, the man under your hands is more himself than the one who walked in — his face completed by lines that do not hide so much as declare, this is him, this has always been him.

You put the machine down and everything in the room goes quiet except the pulse in your own ears.

“Mirror,” he says.

You hold it up.

He looks.

His smile is small and terrible and honest for once.

He touches the air above the marks without letting skin meet glass or fingers meet fresh ink.

“Perfect,” he says, and it comes out like a verdict.

He glances at you over the top of the mirror, eyes catching the flush still stubborn in your throat.

“Told you you’re cute when you’re bossy.”

“Shut it.” you say, which is absurd and both of you know it.

He slides the mirror back and sits forward, close enough that you could count his lashes if you hadn’t already.

He tips his head as if offering his mouth, which is a kind of joke or a kind of threat depending on the day.

“Don’t even try it,” you warn, already reaching for the non-stick pads and the ointment.

“Who said anything about kissing?” he says, tone innocent in a way that is criminal. “I was gonna bite you.”

“New tattoos,” you say firmly, tapping the aftercare sheet with a gloved finger, “mean: no sun, no pool, no makeup, no touching unless it’s washing with unscented soap. Thin ointment. Hands clean. Sleep on a clean pillowcase. Don’t pick. You’ll come back in four weeks and I’ll yell at you if you lied.”

“Promise you’ll yell?” He leans back, eyes half-lidded, owning the chair and the room and your patience.

“Get out of my chair, Ryomen.”

He stands, obeying you, which is always the strangest part — how easy it is for him to do what you say when you say it like this.

He digs in his pocket, peels bills from a roll, ignores your card reader like a man ignoring a stop sign at two a.m.

He leaves too much on the counter and pretends not to notice.

“At least pretend you’re not trying to buy my forgiveness in advance,” you say, stripping your gloves.

“For what?” He cocks his head, dangerous and amused. His voice drops, growled around the words. “For thinking about you when the lines start to itch?”

Your breath trips. You hate that he hears it.

He tips his chin toward the mirror one more time, checking those new marks with naked satisfaction.

Then he looks back at you and says, quiet and sincere in the way that always wrecks your balance,

“You make me look like myself.”

It lands heavier than any filth he’s thrown today, and he knows it.

He watches the flush crawl up your throat again and grins, slow and infuriating.

“See you in four,” he says, mouth curling. “Try not to miss me.”

“Wear sunscreen,” you say, because you’re not giving him the win.

“Boss me around again,” he says, stepping backward toward the door, “and I’ll start to think you enjoy it.”

The bell over the door chimes once.

The shop goes too quiet.

You set about scrubbing your tray, tearing down the setup, logging the session like your hands don’t remember the shape of his face under your gloves, like your ears aren’t still ringing with his laugh.

You turn the sign back to CLOSED for a minute longer, just for the hush.

Then you do what you always do — breathe, reset, get ready to make the next person more themselves.

He comes back on a Tuesday, the way storms do — unannounced.

You’re already gloved when he opens the door.

He doesn’t knock, he never knocks. The bell on the frame gives one startled chirp and then it’s just him, the shape of him, the way his presence makes the air feel a degree warmer.

“Miss me, little saint?” he drawls, voice low and amused.

Your pulse answers before your mouth does and you squint at him.

“Sit,” you say, which is not a no.

He drops into the chair like a king humoring a throne.

You wheel your stool in, click on the magnifier lamp, and lean close.

He stays very still. The face work has healed like a vow — no blowouts, no patchiness, crisp saturation.

The bridge line is satin-flat, the under-eye marks have settled into the skin as if they were always there waiting for you to uncover them.

You wash and dry your hands again out of habit.

“How’s the itch?”

“Thought about you every time it started.” He says it like a sin and a joke, teeth flashed in something feral. He bares his throat so you can sight the angles. “I didn’t pick. Aren’t you proud.”

“You used the ointment like I told you?”

He makes a face.

“Tasted terrible.”

“You’re not supposed to eat it.”

“Didn’t say I ate it.” He cocks a brow, delighted at your glare. “I meant… in theory.”

You tap his jaw lightly, a reprimand.

“Perfect,” you say, and it costs you nothing to let pride thread your voice.

He knows what he looks like — he knows you know.

“Thigh bands?”

He tilts his hips the barest degree so you can check without theatrics.

The bands hug the swell of muscle clean, no silvering, no raised edges.

You press, you watch blanching and refill, you nod once.

“So,” he says, lazy. “I pass inspection? Or you need to put me on the table again to be sure.”

“You pass.” You make yourself say it like you would to anyone, but he grins anyway, because he can hear the thread of heat you can’t pull out of your own voice.

“Good.” He stands without waiting for further ceremony, stretching like a big cat, shirt riding up to flash the start of other ink you already know with your eyes closed.

He watches you notice it.

Of course he does.

“I’m hungry.”

“Order in,” you say, tearing your gloves and dropping them, already reaching for aftercare sheets out of reflex before remembering he doesn’t need them. “I have another client at two.”

“No you don’t.” He leans both hands on the counter and smiles the way a knife does when it remembers its purpose. “You blocked me the whole morning in the calendar. You’re not that subtle.”

You hate that he’s right.

“I didn’t want walk-ins.”

“You didn’t want witnesses.” He’s delighted and maybe a little offended. “Come eat with me.”

You open your mouth to argue and he cuts across you, soft — softer than he’s been all morning.

“I want to take you out.” It lands like the first drop before a downpour, small, decisive, impossible to ignore. He tilts his head, pupils blown wide under the lamp. “Say yes.”

Your yes comes out thinner than you’d like, and he pretends not to hear that part.

He just looks pleased in that dangerous way and taps the counter twice with his knuckles like a gavel.

Case closed.

He chooses a place that has no sign and a door that looks like the back of a refrigerator.

Inside, low light, old wood, a bartender with a sleeve you admire for its linework until you realize you’re staring.

He watches you watch and smirks into his water.

“Did you bring me here to test me?” you ask.

The room smells like orange peel and charred sugar.

His knee brushes yours under the table, you think it’s accidental until it happens a second time.

“I brought you because the food’s good,” he says, and then, lower, “and because it’s dark enough that no one but me will notice when you blush.”

“I’m not blushing.”

You lie.

He rasps a laugh, voice like sandpaper on silk.

“Your ears betray you.”

“You catalogued them?” You wrap your fingers around your glass to remind them not to fidget.

“I catalogued you.” He says it like a simple fact, not an apology. “How else am I supposed to hit where it hurts.” He waits a beat. “Or where it helps.”

You stare at him.

He stares back, wicked, then — briefly — unguarded.

His thumb drifts to the healed bar across the bridge of his nose as if verifying that it stayed.

“You keep touching it, you’ll smudge it,” you say, and he grins because you’ve given him the opening he wanted.

“Will you fix me if I do?” he asks, growling the words from the back of his throat, smirking because he can't help himself.

“Maybe.” you say, because your spine has decided to abandon you in this moment and you need to pretend to be composed for at least another minute.

Food arrives like a rescue attempt.

He orders fast and savage and then passes you plates like offerings — smoky skewers, ridiculous noodles, something sour with herbs that wakes your mouth up.

He eats with a lazy economy that makes you think of violence.

He steals half your pickles without asking and looks pleased when you slap his wrist.

When you talk shop — line weight, blackwork vs. color, healed texture on dark skin — he listens, actually listens, head tipped, mouth smoothed out into something almost gentle.

“You’re worse than me,” he says at one point, delighted. “You love your work like a sin.”

“I love my work like a craft.” You spear a stubborn piece of beef and pretend your hands are not shaking. “There’s a difference.”

“Not to saints.” he murmurs.

“Stop calling me that.”

“I’ll stop when it stops making you look at me like you want to argue and kiss me at the same time.”

You drop your gaze to your plate.

He laughs, low and pleased, and changes the subject with the ease of someone who knows you’ll let him win this round and take the next.

After, he walks you out without touching you.

The night has fallen in the way nights do in this city — quickly, like a trick.

He keeps a step behind and to your left, a guard position you pretend not to notice.

When the door shuts and you’re in that alley smell of wet concrete and citrus and faint smoke, he says, curious,

“You always this brave on dates?”

“You decided it was a date. I decided to see what you do with the power.”

He tips his head, pleased.

“And?”

“You’re less unbearable when you feed me.”

“Less?” He steps into your space with all the patience of tide. “You sure.”

You tip your chin up because you know what he’s doing and also because you want him to do it.

“I’m sure.”

"Mm, let's see about that."

Something in you responds to the way he lowers his voice when he says that like a veiled threat.

He watches your face the way men look at fires.

You realize too late you're staring at him for a while, bright eyes, mesmerized by how the dim street light makes his face look more dangerous and somehow more beautiful with the new lines. It's hypnotizing.

He leans in and you don't move.

Your ears are hot but he doesn't comment on it for once.

He laughs into your mouth instead, the sound bright and indecent.

The first kiss is easy, shockingly so, like a line that pulls true the first time you touch it — no wobble, no second pass. He brackets your jaw in one hand, thumb anchored under your ear, and the other finds your waist.

His kiss is decisive and precise, all intent, deliberate — also makes you want to melt into his warmth.

There’s nothing sweet about it except the way he keeps the pressure of his palm steady so you don’t have to think about balance, about anything at all.

When you break for breath he murmurs, smug and fond, “Knew you’d taste like this,” which makes no sense and too much sense, so it rips a soft sound from your embarrassed self who tried to respond without even having words formed — and then he tilts your face and kisses you again, slower, like he’s taking measurements, slipping the tip of his tongue to taste the seam of your lips, then your mouth, your tongue, everything. He's all consuming. Pressure and heat.

He smiles against your mouth when you make a sound you did not authorize again.

“Don’t—” you say, breathless.

“Talk?” He’s feigning innocence now, it’s a crime scene. “You hate when I’m quiet.”

“Gloat,” you say, and he grins like you told him he could live forever.

He doesn’t drag you, he doesn’t even pull. He just turns, and you turn with him, and then you’re moving, the way bodies move when they’ve already said yes.

The ride to his place is a blur of streetlights and the sound of him humming, some ugly little melody under his breath that, somehow, is for you.

His apartment is higher than you expected and cleaner.

Not precious — never precious — but spare.

It’s a place to sleep and sharpen knives.

There’s a plant in the window that looks both feral and thriving. He kicks the door shut without breaking eye contact and tosses his keys on a dish you could swear is hammered steel.

“You want water?” he asks, all courtesy, voice suddenly ordinary in a way that makes your ribs ache because it doesn't match the hunger in his eyes.

“Yes,” you say, grateful for the dull thing to hold.

He brings it to you and holds the glass while you drink the first swallow like he can’t decide between teasing and feeding you.

When you lower it, he sets it aside and steps into you again, hands careful at first, then not.

“You’re staring,” you say, because his gaze has gone heavy and proprietary.

“I like the way you look at your work,” he says. “I like the way you look at me more.”

“That’s arrogant.”

“It’s accurate.” He sounds bored, except for how close he is. “Come here.”

You’re already there.

The kiss is messier. He laughs when you climb him like a problem you intend to solve and then stops laughing when you do.

He brackets your hips and backs you into his wall to give you something to push against.

He kisses your mouth, your cheek, the line of your jaw and the curve of your neck when you drag him closer, he groans, low, a sound you feel in your knees.

“Careful,” you say against his mouth, not because of the ink — it’s healed — but because of what’s happening under your ribs.

“Never,” he says, but he’s careful anyway.

That’s the worst part.

He’s a menace in the way he places his hands like he’s setting bones.

You end up in his bedroom because there’s nowhere else to go but forward.

He doesn’t turn on the overhead light, a lamp throws a pool of amber on the floor, softening him at the edges, sharpening him where it counts. He sheds his shirt with infuriating economy and you take a second — two — to admire what you made of him and what he made of himself.

He catches the way your breath hitches, and the smile he gives you is small and, somehow, shy.

“Come on,” he murmurs, a growl tucked in the vowels. “You gonna stand there and worship or you gonna—”

You put your mouth on him to shut him up. It works for three seconds.

He’s laughing against your teeth a heartbeat later, hands finding your shoulders and smoothing down, possessive without pressure, the promise of pressure if you want it.

He asks with his mouth and his thumbs and something in your chest decides to open like a fist uncurling.

“You’re not what I thought,” you breath, which is stupid, but he takes it like a gift anyway.

“I’m worse,” he drawls. “But I’m going to be good to you.”

“You’re unbearable.”

“You like me unbearable.”

You do. You don’t say it. You show him.

You could say you let he have his way with you, but that would be an insult, not just a lie.

You want him — probably — as much as he wants you, and he shows you without hesitation the moment he spread your legs open, fingers pressing the soft of your thighs in a way that will have them remembering him, and sink in to devour your cunt like it is his favorite dessert.

Your nails drag against his scalp as you clutch your hands on his hair, pulling and feeling your entire body flush with heat.

He groans, deep, gravelly and moans against your glistening folds every now and then, which sends jolts of electricity up your core and twirls something inside your stomach because he refuses to hide how much he's enjoying eating your pussy.

And he drags not one, not two, but three orgasms with his mouth latched between your legs, wet muscle lapping at your folds, teasing your entrance and savoring your taste as you feel your body getting hotter and hotter.

You beg, you moan and scream his name and thrash but he uses his forearms and strong hands to pry your legs open again and keep them this way as you plea and ride your new orgasm with his tongue circling around your sensitive clit — crimson eyes glued on your face, throat vibrating with a satisfied hum.

He takes mercy on you for exactly twenty seconds before he uses his own thighs to keep yours spread, leaning his massive frame in and engulfing your entire line of sight with his image. It's a breathtaking view.

You blink, vision still hazy from the tears he managed to make you spill between third and fourth orgasms and a lot of begging, but you can see his face, his body, your work adorning his sculpted chest, the lines making him look even more dangerous than he already did, and scrunching every time he opens that damn shit-eating grin.

"Don't need to cry, little saint." he whispers with his lips brushing lightly against yours. "I'll fuck it better." and, as if he just said he would also kiss it better, he lays a single soft kiss on your lips at the same time he aligns his already swollen leaking tip against your slit.

Hot, sticky, throbbing, big.

You feel your body awakening, adrenaline kicking in and your breath catching.

His pupils blow wide when you look like you're finally back from that foggy headspace.

The ravenous look he spares you has you holding your breath for a moment as he pushes slowly first, feeding you just the tip, feeling you stretch around him as your body shivers and your heart pounds hard against your chest.

You never thought about his cock.

Okay, maybe once.

But it only made sense it was this fucking girthy and big — he's entirely huge.

"Ah— Ryo—fffuck!" you curse under your breath and against his mouth and it's enough to flip some kind of switch inside his brain that has him slamming into you with a powerful thrust. "H—AAH!" You arch your back beneath him, the shock of having his entire cock shoved inside you makes you let out a loud cry and has your hands immediately grabbing his shoulders for purchase.

He doesn't move for a few beats, breathing heavily, face still hovering over yours, breathes being exchanged from how close your mouths are.

"You moan so pretty." he husks "Feels like a prayer."

He pulls his face just enough to look into your glittery eyes once again before taking your mouth in another hungry kiss where you can taste yourself for the first time in his tongue.

He ruts into you like he's trying to bury himself even deeper inside your velvety walls. He presses his hips against yours, spreading your legs even further as the shallow first thrusts — still rough — take shape. It's like he wants to fuck you and he also dreads leaving the tightness of your cunt even for a second.

"Fuck, you're so fucking tight." he curses under his breath and into your mouth and slams once again his hips against you, ripping another wet moan from your throat. "I wanna ruin you."

It sounds too much like a confession he's making to no one.

Maybe he's coming to terms with his desires.

Maybe he's warning you.

You feel your pussy clenching around him, every bulging vein adorning his cock grinding against your walls and making your body react with a faint trembling that doesn't go unnoticed.

Nothing goes when it comes to him.

No when it's you.

"Let me be the shrine you come to pray, saint." he's spreading open mouthed kisses on your jaw, under your ear, nibbling on your pulse. "Let me swallow your sins."

You don't know at what point in his life he decided you were a saint.

Little saint.

But every word spilling from his filthy mouth sound like blasphemy.

And you're being easily corrupted by his touch alone.

You feel his hands suddenly bracketing your face — palms on your jaw, thumbs pressing lightly against your cheeks, forearms supporting his massive frame against the mattress.

His searing gaze is once again on your face and you feel dizzy from it alone.

"Let me worship you."

You may have said yes.

You may have moaned.

You may have screamed his name.

The only thing you know for a fact is that his rhythm drilling his dick into you was mercurial.

Your eyes rolled back and your hands clawed at his shoulders, his nape, neck, back — angry red lines would cohabit his skin with the bold, black stripes you also laid there.

His body is already a shrine, but you're the one making offerings and receiving blessings.

"Mn! Fuck! Ry— harder!" you sob, an attempt against your own life.

He hears your prayers like he said he would and soon your face is free from his hands as they find purchase under the back of your knees, folding you in half as easily as he would fold a sheet, and hooking your legs over his broad shoulders.

You're so lucky you're flexible.

This new position, however, allows him to hammer his dick even deeper inside you. You feel your body trying not to split in half every time his hips come down with thundering force and the tip of his cock kisses your cervix.

It's painful as much as it's luscious.

You're already a mess — tears, saliva, your arousal and release mixed with his precum foaming at the base of his dick with every slam of your bodies, sweat, salt, lust.

You're his saint, the only one he trusts to paint his body, and he's your greatest devote.

Which explain how long he can keep up fucking you deep and ruthlessly.

Even after ripping another orgasm from your sore pussy.

Even after filling you with his hot, thick cum.

His stamina keeps unmatched — he's simply lost in you.

In every sob you let out that has the shape of his name, in every pretty moan rolling from your lips, in every tear, every curse, everything.

He's taking it all in and worshiping you whole until both of you come undone.

The night lengthens the way good nights do, elastic, impossible to measure.

There’s laughter and the sound of teeth barely scraping and the thud-thud of your heart doing unreasonable things.

There are breathless commands you didn’t know you had the authority to give until he obeyed them.

There’s the quiet afterward that isn’t actually quiet at all, full of street noise and the plant tapping the window and the soft, ridiculous sound he makes when you run a thumb just under his new lower mark without actually touching skin.

And he's attentive in ways you wouldn't imagine, but you also wouldn't imagine you would be having your organs rearranged by his dick in a common Tuesday.

He helps you clean up. He brings you water. He wipes the corner of your mouth with the back of his hand like he has any right. He pulls you into the shower and helps you wash yourself because he's aware of what he did to you. He lends you one of his shirts and you have to swat his hands away when he gets too grabby and says you look too good wearing his clothes.

Then he turns your wrist over and presses his mouth to the pulse point as if claiming you with a bruise he never actually gives.

“You staying?” he asks, casual like a threat, casual like a plea.

“Do you want me to?”

His eyes cut to yours and away and back again, that stray softness from earlier showing up uninvited.

“Yes.”

“Then yes.”

He makes a pleased sound that lives halfway between a purr and a growl, and you pretend it doesn’t go straight to your spine.

He drags the blanket up over both of you with hands that could break anything and lays there, heavy and warm, looking more like himself than anyone has the right to look in their own bed.

“Tomorrow,” he murmurs, already sliding toward sleep, “you can yell at me about sunscreen again.”

“Wear it,” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Boss me harder.” He’s smiling, you can hear it. “I’ll be so good for you.”

“Menace,” you say, but your mouth is soft, and when you close your eyes, the city outside keeps watch while you don’t have to.

He puts a dumb show to play for no one on the TV that hangs in his bedroom's wall and lets you fall asleep with your cheek on his bare chest and your leg resting over his hip.

You consider returning to this shrine to collect more of his offers in the future.

The prayers taste sweeter on his mouth.

Amazing incredible perfect simply absolutely WONDERFUL art made by @readerinthedark05

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

The day is actually perfect.

You can’t believe it.

The sun is shinning bright, perfectly warm and burning for your skin to get a nice tan.

The pool in front of you glistens under the light, rippling almost seductively.

You can't wait to get in.

But right now you're practically toasting yourself so that the change in temperature will be that much more satisfying.

You're perfectly waxed, body lathered in sunscreen and tanning oil, the tiny little bikini you have on leaves nothing to the imagination.

You've laid yourself out like a sultry present, stomach turning itself in knots as you wait for your boyfriend to wake up, to come out to find you.

You can barely contain yourself with anticipation sparking your nerves, the slickness between your thighs only becoming more and more prominent as you hear rustling through the house behind you.

You shift in your sun lounger, positioning yourself again so that every single one of your assets is in full display.

The glass door slides open.

Your heart does a leap in your throat.

You turn towards the noise and—

"Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart."

The yelp that pours out of your throat is almost unnatural as you instantly heat up everywhere, and not in a good way.

You pull the towel over your body, quickly covering yourself up, absolutely mortified as you lock eyes, again, with one of your boyfriend's dads.

You’ve been dating your current boyfriend officially for a little over two months having met both Jack and Robby, in this very house, a little prior to that.

They'd been complete gentlemen, open and kind, absurdly in love with each other to a point that it made you swoon.

You'd ridden their son aggressively that night, his hot dads the only thing in your mind as you came around his cock, making sure to pull him out of your tight hole before he could finish inside.

You'd brushed it off as having forgotten to take your birth control that morning but the truth was much more nefarious than that. You simply couldn't let him do that when all you wanted was for his dads to fill you up instead.

Having not seen them until now had helped to alleviate some of those feelings. You had been ovulating then, clearly, and there was no way you were going to listen to what your thoughtless, horny mind wanted.

So when he suggested you take advantage of the Fourth of July weekend to take a trip to his parents' home since he knew for a fact the two of them were going to be working instead, you agreed.

A whole three day weekend where you could lounge by the pool, fuck on every surface imaginable, and not have to come into contact with the two of them?

It was the sexiest plan you've ever heard, especially after your summer research job at the university had been kicking your ass and your brain was definitely fried.

Well, unfortunately, none of those things have come to fruition.

You're still unfucked, barely tan and now definitely not not coming into contact with the hot doctors.

You watch as Robby comes rushing out onto the deck, instantly bringing a hand over his eyes unlike his, honestly, worse half, as he catches even the slightest glimpse of your uncovered skin.

There's nothing to look at now, you've made sure of it, but Jack's gaze lingers on your legs, as if he keeps thinking about the memory it'll somehow become real once more.

Heat explodes in your core at the thought of him memorizing what your body looks like, his hungry gaze almost predatory in nature, as if he's waiting for a reason to strike.

"Jack—" Robby's not subtle about it, slapping his husband's arm in embarrassment.

Jack gives your body a once over, subtle enough if you weren't also staring intensely at him, before he casts you a wink and turns slightly so that you can finish wrapping the towel around your body.

Once you're covered up you return to staring, taking them both in before you let them know you're done.

They've both put on slight weight since the last time you were here, their bellies budging out over their scrubs. The bags under Robby's eyes look somehow deeper, a detail that makes your heart constrict in a desperate desire to fix it. And Jack...he just feels unhinged, like he's holding in so much energy he honestly doesn't know what to do with.

"Okay," you whisper. "I'm decent."

Jack is the first to snap his eyes back to you, pouting slightly, teasingly or not, you simply can't tell, but your lips are instantly curling into a shy smile.

Robby peeks through his finger first, earning himself a little giggle from you which causes his cheeks to flush a satisfactory pink.

"Sorry about that, honey," Robby apologizes profusely. "We didn't know the two of you would be here."

You frown. "Well I was told you would be working so..."

Robby cracks a smile as Jack moves to sit on the lounge chair beside yours.

"Damn kid never tells us anything," he complains, causing you to laugh, airy and warm. "I tell ya, the only reason we know he's been here is cause half the fridge is empty and there's an absurd amount of laundry we gotta do."

You bite your lip, watching as he settles into the hot mesh, resting his leg for a little respite which you're certain he hasn't had in the past twenty-four hours, especially since you know he insisted on driving the two of them here from the hospital.

"I promise I'll do all the laundry and wash all the dishes and go grocery shopping before we leave."

"Absolutely not," Robby cuts you off. "He's the one who brought you, he's the one that has to do it."

Your cheeks heat up instantly, the desire starting to bubble over into your stomach.

"Where is he anyway?"

And as if talking about the devil will make him appear, your boyfriend finally makes an appearance, stepping out to join the three of you on the deck, dressed up in his golfing attire?

What the fuck?

"Dad, what're you doing here?" He stumbles over himself, coming over to give both of his parents a little side hug.

"Holiday weekend," Robby answers. "What are you doing here?"

"Same."

Jack scoffs. Yeah right. If anything this looks like three days of uninterrupted fucking and drinking and more fucking.

Ah to be young and in that carefree phase of their relationship.

Only...

Jack's eyes drift back to you as his son walks over to place a chaste kiss over your lips.

You lean into his touch more than he leans into yours. It's subtle but the vet picks up on it right away.

Last time they saw the two of you, it was impossible for him to behave, always needing to have a hand on your body in some way.

But now?

Barely a hand over your leg to steady himself.

Weird.

"Where are you going?" Jack asks his son, gaze narrowing.

He gulps in response, stepping away from you, leaving you practically deflating as he removes his touch without a second thought.

"Golf with some friends from high school."

You instantly snap your gaze up to his, pouting like they've never seen anyone pout ever.

"What?" you whine. "What happened to pool day?"

If your boyfriend feels guilty in any way, he doesn't let it show, instead your words are processed like an inconvenience, as if you have no right to demand his time and attention now.

"Sorry babe, change of plans. But I'll be home for dinner, yeah?"

You open your mouth to complain, to keep fighting back against the plans that have been made without your knowledge or input, but he doesn't let you utter a single word.

"Don't start, please. I haven't seen these guys since spring break, we'll still have one more whole day together before we have to head back."

You don't want to be clingy, he's right, he hasn't seen his friends all summer, he deserves to spend time with them too. You've gotten to see him every day, even if it’s for a few minutes or a few hours.

So you simply nod, forcing a tight lipped smile that he clearly doesn’t process as anything but your blessing to do whatever he wants.

It makes Robby’s blood boil and Jack’s gaze sharpen on their boy.

Have they truly raised such an emotionally unintelligent man?

“Thanks babe,” he claps his hands. “I’ll see you later,” he moves to leave before swiftly turning back to you. You light up again, thinking he’s going to kiss you again, give you any kind of attention before he leaves you for the entire day. “Could you make that roast chicken I love, with the broiled veggies for dinner?”

If Jack wasn’t in so much pain he’d leap to his feet and beat the shit out of his son.

For a split second Robby’s convinced you’re going to fight back, to get up in his face and curse him out.

But you don’t. You just smile again, the picture perfect face of complacency.

“Of course.”

“You’re the best,” he turns around and leaves. “Later pops.”

And with that he leaves. You hear his dad’s truck engine starting and the vehicle leaving the property a few minutes later.

You don’t acknowledge any of it, staring off into space as you process what just happened.

You’re so completely and absolute embarrassed.

Who the fuck does he think he is? And to make that type of scene in front of his dads.

You’re mortified.

And now you’ve got to spend the entire day with them?

Alone?

Fuck.

You’re so flushed, the shame practically rendering you into a dumb mess, so much so that it’s made Jack so fucking stiff in his pants that his leaking tip is making uncomfortable contact with his clothes.

"His loss," Jack winks at you again, positively breaking the spell you’ve been under. "Y'want a beer?”

Half an hour later you've got a nice buzz going on.

Robby’s been relegated to kitchen duty as you and Jack continue to lounge outside. It’s like he's made it his personal mission to keep you company, to include you in whatever vague plans they had for coming over to their house today.

You let your laughter die out as Jack finishes telling you a story of how he made Robby look a fool a few shifts ago.

“Stop that’s so mean Mr. Abbot,” you playfully chide him but you simply can’t stop laughing.

You’re unsure if it’s the sun hitting him directly in his eyes or if maybe you’re seeing things, but you can swear his eyes darken ever so slightly.

“If you’re not gonna call me by my first name at least call me doctor, sweetheart.”

He winks, playfully, causing your cheeks to heat up instantly.

You roll your eyes as Robby comes back out, handing you and his husband fresh, cold beers.

“Don’t let him charm any more clothes off you, kid,” Robby jokes and you’re certain you’ve stopped breathing.

You watch in stunned awe as Jack huffs an offended breath at his partner, pulling him down to place a soft kiss on his lips before the chief attending settles down on the lounge chair by Jack’s legs.

God, they’re so—

Your thighs shift together slightly as you sit up, tilting the bottle against your lips, suddenly thirsty as all hell.

You try not to look at them as they definitely watch you gulp down the amber liquid. There’s no way they’re flirting with you. They’re fucking married and you’re dating their son, you’re just sun drunk and horny as fuck.

Right?

You set the bottle down on the ground before you reach out towards the little plastic table separating the lounge chairs and picking up the sunscreen.

Standing up from your seat, a sudden rush of alcohol to the brain makes you dizzy with courage, stupidly so honestly, so you simply smile down at him, stepping up to stand in front of his outstretched legs.

“Can I charm you into taking some clothes off,” you turn to Jack briefly. “Doctor Robinavitch?”

Robby becomes a fucking tomato and you and Jack both know that you’re gonna take that as an excuse to lather him up in sunscreen.

Fuck you’re good.

You’d been flirty when the three of you met but it was a tame, meet the parents type of casualness that didn’t pierce through their defenses, only lingered on their minds enough for them to actually want to see you again. At the detriment of their son, but who could care less about him now?

Jack nudges Robby with his leg and it’s like the older man comes alive, swiftly and uncoordinatedly discarding his t-shirt.

Your eyes definitely darken as you take in his soft, hairy belly, the little patches of scattered tattoos decorating his skin, the freckles and spots that claim his body with age.

Jack snorts beside you, forcing you to blink out of the spell Robby’s got you under.

Self-esteem has never been an issue in the Robinavitch-Abbot household. Jack is…practically a greek god carved from decades of dedication to his body, the ingrained routine of military life and an honest to god ego that forces him to keep looking his best for himself and those he chooses to invite into his bed.

But with Robby, it doesn’t matter how many times his husband has told him he’s beautiful, has taken his time kissing down his body and worshipped every single inch that he believes will never be perfect enough — the way your eyes rake over him like he’s a delicious piece of meat is enough to make him feel like he’s the most desirable person in the world.

His chest puffs out slightly, muscles flexing as he reaches out for your hand, grabbing the sunscreen and handing it back to Jack.

“Do you mind, handsome?”

Jack smirks, sitting up and placing a lingering kiss over Robby’s shoulder, eyes never leaving yours all because he needs to see you react to them.

And boy do they get a treat as you actually shiver.

Jack squirts a big dollop of sunscreen on his hand, rubbing the two together before he begins to run them all over Robby’s expansive back, digging into the muscle, causing him to moan and groan at the diligent action.

You find yourself taking a step back, literally forcing you to stop staring at the two because if you stay there, if you so much as give them another second of inaction, you will definitely find yourself planting your core against Robby’s practically tented cock and that’ll be the end of your story.

So instead you pretend to not care, to not desperately want, with every fiber of your being, to ogle at them as Jack makes his parter feel good, to fight the urge to get your hands tangled within the mess as well.

You take another swig of your beer, enjoying how the cold washes through your insides and now you desperately need your outsides to match. Without a second thought, you sprint towards the edge of the pool, jumping in gleefully.

The older men watch as your ass and breasts jiggle satisfyingly, water splashing them as you breach the pool before them.

“Oh we are so fucked,” Jack huffs through gritted teeth.

“You think she’s torturing us?” Robby mumbles as they watch you resurface.

“Are we not doing the same thing to her?”

Robby’s gaze snaps back to his partner. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

Jack doesn’t answer, only grins before he spreads more cream over Robby’s face.

“There, all done,” he kisses Robby’s nose. “Why don’t you go join her?”

Robby’s entire body tenses, swiftly erasing any and all playfulness from Jack’s face.

He opens his mouth to speak, to tell Robby he doesn’t have to do anything that makes him uncomfortable. He was just teasing, sure, he’s wanted to be gross and weird since the opportunity presented itself, but—

“Could you pass me my hat, please?”

Your sweet, angelic voice stops them both dead in their tracks.

A long, electric beat passes through them as Jack searches his husband’s face for any more uncomfortableness. But he surprisingly finds none.

“I got it, honey.”

Robby gets up on tired knees, shuffling over to your discarded seat picking up the silly little animal bucket hat he’s certain you got a few months ago while on your trip out to see your family on the west coast.

What? He’s definitely not been stalking your Instagram. He just wants to know what his son is up to since he definitely won’t tell them.

He walks over to you, leaning down to hand you the adorable garment but just as you’re about to grab the fabric, your delicate hand wraps around his wrist and you’re pulling him into the pool.

Robby never even saw it coming, but Jack did. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes, the sly wink at him before you used every ounce of strength you have to pull the bigger man into the depths with you.

You’re a laughing mess as Robby resurfaces, a bright smile threatening to take over his entire face as he tries really hard to not let it pierce the faux frown of disappointment that he’s shooting your way.

The hat floats its way towards you and you pick it up, putting it over your head.

“Thank you for the hat, doctor Robinavitch.”

That has Robby erupting into a Santa Clause laugh, menacingly moving across the pool towards you.

“Oh, you are so not welcome, kid.”

You yelp, trying to get away from him but you’ve practically cornered yourself against the wall.

His large hands are on you swiftly, one grabbing your waist while the other digs into your leg, picking you up over his head, turning around and tossing you towards the other end of the pool.

“You sure you’re not doing it too?” Jack calls out to Robby as your body sinks for a few seconds.

The older man turns back, cheeky grin now adorning his own lips as well.

“She’s really soft, Jack.”

“Oh fuck off—”

You flail to the surface, determination on your face like never before.

You leap against Robby, hands digging into his shoulders as you lift yourself out of the water to try to sink him back down.