💙Shakarian101💙

To recap again, Pierrot hasn’t been himself.

Not because of you. Never you. You’re still his sun, his star, his beautiful treasured human. You’re still that messy tangle of spark and static that he needs to keep his feet on the ground.

When you wander off into your own thoughts, Pierrot listens to you like you’re reading scripture. When you stim, Pierrot watches you like you’re performing just for him. When you snuggle into his lap after a bad day, Pierrot holds you like you’re made of spun glass and starlight, like you’re delicate and irreplaceable.

None of that has changed. It’s everything else that’s off.

He’s been quiet. And quiet says a lot with him. But this isn’t his quiet, the kind of quiet you wrap around yourself like a blanket, the kind of quiet that makes you feel safe.

This is different. This quiet has… sharp edges.

You see him staring off into nothing, those amber eyes dim and unfocused behind the mask. You see him not answering when you try to talk to him, not because he doesn’t hear you, but because he isn’t anywhere near you, not behind a wall you can’t see through, but behind a wall you can’t see at all.

Last week at dawn, you saw him in his wagon, still in his stage clothes from the night before. He hadn’t slept. Like at all. You asked him what he was doing, and he smiled at you with that intimate look and drew you onto his lap and buried his face in your hair. He held you for an hour, motionless and silent, his grasp almost desperate.

Yesterday, he gave you something—a usual paper flowers he always makes, intricate and delicate. His work. You could tell by the precision. 

But when you thanked him, excitedly turning it over in your hands, his eyes went distant again. He didn't seem to hear your questions about how long it took, what kind of wood, where he learned. He just watched you hold it, and for a moment, his expression looked almost... sad.

And his affection, when it comes, has a reckless edge to it now. He holds you too tight, too long, like he's memorizing the feel of you. Like he's afraid you'll dissolve if he loosens his grip. His kisses are deeper, hungrier, more desperate. 

When you’re together, he leans in close and implants thoughts in your mind—chanting “mine, mine, stay mine, always mine” with a fevered push that almost feels frantic. And when Pierrot falls silent like this, you’ve learned that silence means something.

So tonight, before his show, you arrived early to track him down. The applause from the big top is still echoing through the walls, a distant roar for whatever impossible feat Harlequin just pulled in his tent. 

You find Pierrot backstage, half-hidden in the shadows, still in his performance blacks. His long white hair is loose, falling over his shoulders in silver waves. His mask catches the dim light, expressionless as always, but you've learned to read the angles of his head, the set of his shoulders.

He's braced for something. Defensive. Walled off.

You step closer. "Hey."

He turns, and the amber eyes behind the mask warm instantly at the sight of you. But the dimness is still there underneath, like coals buried under ash.

"My star," he breathes into your mind, soft and warm. "You should be out there. The show—"

"I'm where I want to be." You don't let go of his arm. "You okay?"

He tilts his head and smiles. That soft, private smile he only gives you. It's real, as far as it goes. But it doesn't go far enough.

"Of course. Just... the usual. Pre-show nerves. You know."

"Pierrot."

He lets out a soft sigh, the kind where you can feel it before you can hear it, a sigh that seems to relax the air around him.

For a moment, the tent walls feels thinner, as if the space between us grows just enough to reveal how tired he is—his shoulders squaring off, his eyes drifting away from mine. He parts his lips, and I prepare myself for the truth I’ve been waiting for—

And then the smile reasserts itself. The soft, intimate smile, the one that never fully makes it to his eyes, as if there’s something just beyond it.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Just... the weight of the show. You know how it is. Speaking of which…” He reaches out, and his hand finds mine, long and strong, and it changes the atmosphere with a smoothness that feels almost deceptive.

"Have you ever watched my act? Properly? From the audience, I mean."

You blink. "What? I mean, yeah always, a few times. Between helping out and—"

"No, no." He shakes his head, and there's something almost eager in the movement. "Not between things. Not distracted. I want you to watch. Really watch. I have a new piece. I've been working on it for weeks."

He pulls you gently toward the stage entrance, toward the muffled sounds of the crowd beyond.

"Come. Sit in the front. Let me perform for you. Just you."

You hesitate, your concern for him still buzzing under your skin. "Pierrot, we need to talk about—"

“After the show, my dear,” he says, squeezing your hand. “After it’s over, I promise… just watch me?" he asks, and there's something almost vulnerable in the question. "From the front. I'll know you're there."

The word “please” hangs there, a small and fragile thing. And yet despite all of it—the quiet, the distance between you, the tension—you find yourself nodding. 

You can’t say no to him. Not when he looks at you like that, like you are the only light left in his dark sky.

He leads you toward the audience, and you let him. But you make a mental note: after the show, there will be answers.

There have to be.

He disappears toward the stage, and you make your way through the maze of curtains and equipment to the audience. You slip into an empty seat in the front row, close enough to see every detail.

The lights dim. A single spotlight hits the center of the stage.

And Pierrot begins.

He moves differently here, under the lights. His posture moves—shoulders back, spine elongated, every line of him sharp and careful. His usual soft, sorrowful presence hardens into something else. Something performed. His smile, that private gift he gives only you, transforms into something wider, more fixed. It's not quite sinister, but it's off—a grin that doesn't reach his eyes, that seems painted on rather than felt.

The music starts, low and hypnotic, a repetitive drone that seems to vibrate in your chest. The lights shift with it, cycling through deep purples, blood reds, sickly greens. They wash over him in waves, changing his pale form into something almost inhuman.

It's a dance, but not like any you've seen. His body seems to ripples and flows, serpentine and graceful, each movement bleeding into the next. 

His long limbs extend and retract, his spine arches and curls, his head tilts at angles that seem almost wrong. The hypnotic quality of it is undeniable—your eyes track him without your permission, following the curve of his arm, the tilt of his mask, the way his bells chime softly with each precise movement.

Then he move into acrobatics, display a slow and careful handstand. A back bend that appears to defy human anatomy. He folds and unfolds like a ribbon, like water, like something not quite connected to the human form. The audience sits in rapt attention. You look around the room for gasps of amazement, cheers of approval. 

And there’s nothing. 

The faces around you are vacant. Perhaps polite. But not engaged. Not moved. A woman in the second row looks down at her phone. A man next to her speaks to his companion, who shrugs. They are paying attention, yes. But they are not really seeing him.

Pierrot doesn’t seem to know. Or he might know and just won’t let it show. He continues with his routine, each gesture sharper and more precise, as if desperation has perfected itself. The grin never varies. The hypnotic dance continues. The lights shine on him with cold, colored light.

And then a small pain in your chest, and you understand: he is performing for an audience not necessarily there to watch. The silence is not full of reverence. It is empty. His art, this quiet beauty of sadness, is not meeting anything.

No wonder he's been dimming.

The music rises to its final breath, building to the finale. Pierrot, in an almost impossible pose—back arched, leg extended, arms stretched outwards—freezes in this position as the lights fade to black.

And then a few scattered, obligatory claps—courtesy, fading away almost as quickly as they began.

The house lights come up for intermission. People stretch, chat, wander toward the lobby. 

No one mentions Pierrot.

You stay in your seat, frozen, your heart aching for him, who just gave everything to a room full of people who didn't care.

You wait until the house lights dim again, until the audience's attention is fixed on whatever act follows Pierrot's. Then you move.

Sneaking backstage at the Freak Circus is not just an act of trespass—it's an act in itself, an act that's like trying to navigate a puzzle that changes shape before you even blink.

You slip past a stagehand carrying an armload of silk scarves, flatten against the wall as Ticket Taker glides past you, his white eye scanning the room for any sign of you, and almost trip over the rope that seems to materialize out of thin air.

By the time you reach the backstage area near Pierrot's dressing corner, your heart is hammering and you're pretty sure you've earned a medal.

He’s there, sitting on a trunk with his long white hair flowing over his shoulders. He’s taken off his performance mask, the one with the fixed, sinister grin. He’s put it aside. 

Without it, he looks smaller. Gentler. More like the Pierrot you know.

He senses you before he sees you. His head lifts,  eyes finding you instantly in the dim light.

"You cannot be back here," he says, but his psychic voice is warm, almost amused. "Jester is keeping a close eye on performances tonight. If he catches you—"

You wave a hand dismissively, crossing the space to stand in front of him. "Jester can wait. I need to talk to you."

He reaches for you, his long fingers wrapping gently around your wrist, tugging you closer. Despite his warning words, he doesn't seem to want you to leave.

"Bold of you to assume the Jester waits for anyone," he murmurs, but there's a hint of a smile in his voice now. "If he finds you back here, I cannot protect you from his... judgement."

"You'll think of something." You squeeze his hand. "Now. About that performance..." you lead off before saying, "What's wrong?" you ask, direct as always. 

He smiles. That soft, private smile he only gives you. And he deflects. "Nothing, my dear. Just the usual. The weight of the show. You know."

You’re clueless, but you know it’s a lie.

His smile isn’t right, snappy, casual. He’s already turning away, grabbing for something, anything, to avoid your gaze. I narrow my eyes, studying him as he fusses over a velvet cloth on a table nearby. He’s not even looking at it. His hands just move, doing something, anything, to evade the gaze. I let the silence stretch, then shift my approach.

"Hmh... when will it be time for you to go back out there?"

He pauses, his shoulders relaxing slightly at the neutral question. "In thirty minutes, dear. Why do you ask?"

"Thirty minutes," you repeat, crossing your arms. "Great. That's plenty of time."

You step closer, and he tenses again, sensing the shift in your tone.

"So. Let's try this again." You tilt your head, fixing him with your best no-nonsense look. "What's actually going on with you? Because I've been keeping a list, and it's getting long."

He blinks behind the mask. "A... list?"

"Yep. Mental list. Want to hear it?" You don't wait for an answer. "Item one: You've been staring at walls. Like, a lot. I caught you zoning out at your wagon for a full twenty minutes last week. You didn't even blink."

"I was... thinking."

"Thinking about what?"

A pause. "...Walls?" What…?

You snort. "Nice try. Item two: You forgot to respond to me three times in one conversation on Tuesday. Not ignoring me—genuinely forgot I was talking. I had to wave my hand in front of your face."

"I was... distracted."

"By what?"

Another pause. “…The way the light was hitting your hair?"

You squint at him. "That's sweet, but also definitely a deflection. Item three: You gave me that carved bird—which, by the way, gorgeous, I love it, it's on my nightstand—but when I asked you questions about it, you went all distant again. Like you weren't even there."

He opens his mouth, probably to offer another flimsy excuse, but you keep going.

"Item four: You held me for an hour at dawn without saying anything. An hour, Pierrot. Not that I'm complaining about the cuddles, but you were gripping me like I was about to evaporate. Item five: You've been kissing me like it's the last time every single time. Which, again, not complaining about the kissing, but it's... intense. 

Even for you."

You take a breath, watching him carefully.

"So. Spill. What's going on?"

He says nothing for a long time, then laughs, the sound breathless, more air than sound.

You comment, "You really notice everything, don't you?"

"That's kind of my thing," you say. "Now go on… if you want to."

He shifts slightly, his gloved fingers fidgeting. His words, in your mind, are thinner, more delicate, fragments of something he’s kept hidden for so long.

"It's... the show. All of it. The way they look at me out there." He gestures vaguely toward the stage, toward the muffled sounds of the crowd beyond. "Or, rather, the way they don't look at me. Not really. I perform. I give them everything. And they..."

He trails off, but you know. You saw it. The blank faces. The checked phones. The polite, empty applause that died before it started.

"Thirty minutes," he murmurs. "Thirty minutes before I have to walk back out there, under those lights, and do it again. Thirty minutes before I have to smile for the crowd, to be the silent, sorrowful Pierrot, pretending that nothing ever hurts me."

Your chest aches. You step closer, reaching for his hand. "Pierrot…"

He startles slightly at your touch, then relaxes into it—but something shifts behind his eyes. A look. A catch in his breath that you feel more than hear.

He looks at you for a long time, and then the words come, but not the words you might think he'd use, no, something honest, something real.

"Do you… know what it's like?" he asks quietly. "To stand under those lights and feel... nothing? To watch their faces blur together until all you can see are mouths—open, judging, ready to tear apart anything that isn't perfect?"

His grip on your hand tightens.

"The first time I tried to perform alone... it was for a small crowd. Ticket Taker said it was too early, everyone else agreed… But Jester—he pushed. He always pushes. Not because he's cruel, but because he's terrified. Terrified that without the structure, without the show, we'll fall apart. Like before."

You frown. "Before?"

He's quiet for a moment, and when he speaks again, his voice is distant. Haunted.

"There was a… Boss before the Jester. He... he didn't care about us. Not as beings. Only as tools. He starved us, pushed us, watched us break for profit. And the crowds—" He stops, swallows. "The crowds were worse. They reached out. Grabbed. Pulled. Laughed when we flinched."

His free hand comes up, trembling, to touch his own hair. The gesture is small, unconscious.

"They used to pull my hair. Did you know that? Reach up from the front row and just... yank. Like I was a curiosity. A thing to be poked."

Your stomach turns. You squeeze his hand tighter.

"When the starvation got bad enough... when we were all going to die... then…” He can't finish. 

He doesn't have to. You've heard whispers. 

"I tried to perform after that," he continues, his voice barely a whisper now. "A knife-throwing act. Simple. Something I'd done before for practice. But the moment I stepped on stage, I felt... alone. Completely alone. Their faces blurred. Became just mouths and eyes. All judging. All the same."

You see it in your mind—him on that stage, isolated, terrified, the weight of a thousand gazes pressing down.

"I missed. Of course I missed. And they—" He stops, his breath hitching. "They laughed. Called me horrible. A loser. A freak. And I realized... they were all the same. The ones in the crowd now. The ones who watched and harm… us. The ones who pulled my hair. All the same."

His hands are shaking. Yours too, maybe.

"Something snapped. I don't remember all of it. Just... shadows. Screaming. And then Harlequin was there, covered in red, telling me it suited me. Dragging me back. Saving my life, even though I didn't want to be saved."

He looks at you, and there's something shattered in his gaze.

"After that, the Jester changed everything. New rules. New outfits. And Harlequin—he suggested the silence. Said if I couldn't speak, I couldn't break. Couldn't lose control again. The Jester agreed. For the safety of the group."

His thumb traces circles on your skin.

"So now I stand under those lights, mute and smiling, performing for people who don't see me. Who will never see me. And every time, a part of me waits for it to happen again. For their faces to blur. For the panic to rise. For the shatter point to come."

He laughs again, but there's no humor in it.

"Jester calls them.. ‘strays' now, if they cause harm. Says we deal with them instead of performing for them. Keeps us safe by keeping us separate. But I still have to go out there. I still have to pretend, to thoes that are… mean. And every night, I wonder if this will be the night I break again."

He looks at you, really looks, and there's something devastating in his amber eyes.

"So yes, my dear. I suppose I'm a bit nervous. A bit... frayed. But then you're here, touching me, worrying about me, looking at me like I matter, and I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how to be seen without falling apart."

He leans his forehead against yours, a gesture of surrender.

"So that's what's going on. That's the weight of the show. That's why I've been quiet. That's why I hold you too tight. Because you're the only one who sees me—really sees me—and I'm terrified that one day, you'll look at me and see only mouths and eyes too."

You're quiet for a long time, taking all of this in, the honesty and emotion poured out between you like something heavy and real. And then you do what feels like the only thing to do.

You move closer, your arms going to his waist, your face going to the softness of his chest, right over where his heart would be, if monsters had hearts, which monsters don’t, but this one feels like he might, its beat going quick and steady beneath your cheek.

"Pierrot," you whisper against the stuff of his costume, "I'm not going anywhere. I see you. All of you—the bright bits, the broken bits, the bits that think they're too much for anyone to handle, and I'm seeing those too, and I'm still here."

He goes perfectly still, and for a moment, you're terrified you've destroyed him, that you've said something that's shattered something inside of him.

And then his arms go around you, carefully, as if you might shatter, one hand going to the back of your head, his fingers going through your hair, the other hand going to your spine, holding you steady against him, a gentle pressure, and he's shuddering, small shivers running through his body.

“‘You…’” His voice, inside your head, is a whisper, fragile and surprised. “‘You can’t just say things like that. You can’t just… hold me like this and expect me to stay whole.’”

You pull back enough to meet his gaze. “Who said I wanted you to stay whole?”

The air between you thickens at that line. His eyes, his amber eyes, go wide. His pupils grow larger in reaction.

“A-Ah, I… I am… not used to this.”

“To what?”

“To being seen.” His voice trembles. “To someone looking at me and asking if I’m alright. The Jester watches my every move. The others tolerate my presence. But you…”

He lifts his other hand, hesitates, then runs his hand over the soft curve of your jaw. It’s a light touch, almost reverent, as if he’s asking permission without words.

“You look at me and you see past the mask. Past the silence. You see… me. The one who would keep every spark of you alive if he could.”

His thumb brushes against your lower lip, and a tremor runs through him at the touch.

“…Do you know what that does to me?” His tone lowers, becoming deeper.

"To have you here, to have you worried about me, to have you touching me, looking at me, and knowing you think I matter? It does something. Something inside me, something that wants to keep you, protect you, have you in a way that isn't..."

He doesn't finish the sentence, but he doesn't look away either. Not really. His eyes are wide, vulnerable, and beneath those, something else. Something more. Something hungrier.

You hold his hand more tightly. "Hey. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

He makes a noise, not quite a breath, not quite a moan. His body is stiff, and then he shudders.

"You cannot say things like that to me."

"Why not?"

"Because I will believe them." His forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath coming faster. "Because I will want more. Because I will want to keep you so close you forget there was ever a world without me in it."

His hands move to your waist, drawing you closer as if he is desperate, almost out of control. It seems like he can't help himself as he reaches for you again.

“I'm sorry,” he whispers against your neck. “I'm sorry. I know it's too much. I know I am too much. But you... you look at me as if I am worth something, and I don't know how to...”

His words cut deep as he utters them with so much honesty. His grip on your hand tightens as if he is afraid that if he doesn't hold on to you, he will lose control completely. You can feel the slight tremble in his hands as he holds onto yours.

“Pierrot?”

He looks up at you as if he really sees you for the first time. The dimness disappears completely as he looks at you. What is left is a stark, hungry look that makes your breath catch in your throat. 

It disappears as he blinks it away again, covered by the gentle gaze that you know so well. You saw it though. You saw the truth behind those eyes as they looked at you with a stark longing.

“Like... no one...” He stops as if he can't continue. He starts again. “No one asks me if I am all right. The Jester makes sure that I perform. The others make sure that I don't interfere. But no one...”

He lifts your joined hands, presses his masked forehead to your knuckles.

"You see me. You always see me. Even when I try to hide. Even when I dim myself down to nothing." His voice in your mind drops, becomes something almost private. “Truly, do you know what that does to me? To have someone who sees?" You open your mouth to respond, but he's not done.

"I watch you sometimes. When you don't know. When you're rambling about your birds, your facts, your beautiful, wonderful thoughts. I watch the way your hands move, the way your eyes light up, the way you exist so fully in a world that doesn't deserve you." His thumb traces slow circles on your skin. "And I think: this. This is what I would keep. This is what I would preserve. Forever, if I could."

The words should be sweet. They sound sweet. But underneath them is something else—a current so deep and strong it might pull you under if you're not careful.

"When you worry about me," he continues, quieter now, "when you touch me like this, when you look at me like I matter... it stirs something. Something that wants to keep you. Protect you. Have you in ways that aren't..."

He stops. Shakes his head slightly. ”Again, Forgive me. I'm not... I'm not used to this." He looks up at you, amber eyes wide and unguarded.

"No one has ever cared if I'm alright. And now you do. The one person I would burn the world for. The one person I would—"

He catches himself, but the words hang there anyway. Heavy. Full of implication.

"You should probably go. Before I say something that truly frightens you." He's still holding your hand. He hasn't let go.

You think for a moment. 

There are thirty minutes before the curtain goes up again. Thirty minutes before he has to walk back out there, under those cruel lights, and perform. Thirty minutes before he has to smile for the crowd, to be the silent, sorrowful Pierrot, pretending that nothing ever hurts him.

Thirty minutes is plenty of time.

"You said you only have thirty minutes..."

You step closer, and he instinctively steps back, surprise flickering across what you can see of his face.

"Yes dear, is there a reason why…?”

"I think I may have something to help cheer you up."

You step into his space, blocking his escape, your eyes cataloging every tiny tell—the tension in his shoulders, the way his gloved fingers twitch, while he backs away step by step until the back of his head hits the edge of a nearby wooden table cluttered with props and costume pieces. His gloved hands are on the edge, knuckles tight.

"O-Oh, really? Uhh... my dear, what are you—“

You place your hands on his chest and feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath the uniform. He’s tall that you have to tilt your head back to look up to meet his eyes, even like this. The angle seems to change something in his gaze, though—filed with hunger and puzzlement mixed.

"Thirty minutes is plenty of time to make you feel better." You tilt your head, letting a small smile play at your lips. 

"Wouldn't you want that?"

You reach up and gently touch the edge of his mask. Not to remove it—never that—but to claim his attention fully. Your fingers trace the smooth curve where bone meets his skin, a deliberate, claiming gesture.

Pierrot doesn't say anything. He can't. His eyes widen behind the mask, the amber irises blowing tiny dots as his face floods with color—that beautiful pinkish blush spreading across his mask. His breath catches, stutters, stops altogether—even his mouth disappeared…?

Anyway, your eyes drift downward, following the line of his body, and…

There's a noticeable bulge in his uniform. 

He's hard. Obviously, unmistakably hard, pressing against the dark fabric like it's physically painful.

He notices you noticing. A strangled sound escapes him, half-gasp, half-whimper. "I—that is—I didn't mean to—you just—when you touched me like that, I—"

He stumbles over his words, tripping and fumbling in a way you've never seen. Pierrot, always so composed, so still, is falling apart in front of you. His hands flutter uselessly at his sides, wanting to touch you but clearly terrified of overstepping.

"My dear, I apologize, I don't know why my body is reacting this way, it's just—you're so close, and you smell like—and your hands are so warm, and when you look at me like that, I—"

"Pierrot." Your voice is soft, steady. Your fingers trail from his mask down his chest, slow and deliberate. “Talk carefully to me. Or don't. But you're not deflecting your way out of this one."

He shudders under your touch, his head falling back slightly, exposing the long line of his throat. You can see the pulse there, fluttering like a trapped bird.

"I don't know what you want me to say, my dear…” he breathes, desperate and wondering. "I don't know what you're doing. I don't know what this is. I just know that when you're near me, I—I feel like I'm burning. Like every nerve is alight. Like I would do anything—anything—to keep you looking at me like this."

Your fingers continue their slow journey downward, tracing the ridges of his costume, the dip of his stomach, the trembling tension in every muscle. His hips twitch involuntarily toward your hand.

"Please," he whispers, and he doesn't even know what he's begging for. "Please, I need—I need you to—if you're going to—"

Your fingers ghost over the bulge in his uniform, barely a touch, just enough pressure to make him gasp. His hands finally move, gripping your shoulders like you're the only solid thing in a tilting world.

"My dear," he chokes out, his voice cracking. “My star. My everything. If you keep doing that, I won't be responsible for what I—"

You press harder, a slow, careful stroke through the fabric, and he cuts off with a sound that's pure need. His hips rock into your hand, helpless, involuntary.

"Thirty minutes," you murmur, echoing his earlier words. "Is that still enough time?"

Pierrot's breathing is ragged now, each exhale a shuddering tremor that vibrates through his entire frame. His chest rises and falls beneath your hand, rapid and uneven.

Behind his eyes, thoughts race. 

As said, It’s true, he's been struggling lately. The performances have been harder. The demands heavier. Some nights even days, the guests would get too bold—test his patience. He endures it because he must. 

Because the show goes on. 

But you. You're here. In his space. Touching him. Worrying about him.

Offering yourself to him. To make him feel better.

"Ha... haa..."

The sound escapes him, broken and wondering. His hands, still gripping your shoulders, tremble violently.

"My dear..." His voice in your mind is fraying at the edges. "My star... my love..."

The words tumble out, escalating without his control. His mask tilts, and his mouth—you see it now, beneath the bone-white curve—opens slightly. Just a crack. Just enough.

Sharp white teeth gleam in the dim light. Dozens of them, more than any human mouth should hold, rows of perfect, needle-sharp points. A string of saliva stretches between them, thick and glistening, dripping slowly down his chin.

"You come to me like this," he breathes, and his voice has changed—darker, hungrier, threaded with something ancient and possessive. "You touch me. You worry about me. You offer yourself to make me feel better."

His tongue, ridiculously long, warped in color like dried honey, snaps out to catch the drool as it begins to fall. It's both repellent and mesmerizing.

"Do you know what you've started?" He leans closer, his masked face inches from yours. “You truly have no idea what it does to me, to have you here, wanting me, giving yourself to me?"

You look up at him, and for the first time tonight, you feel it—of genuine uncertainty. A whisper of fear.

What the fuck did you just start?

"But very well." His tone is soft, almost polite, even though the hunger remains. "If you still desire me—if you still want this—I am yours. For those thirty minutes you claimed. I will give myself to you completely."

He's begging now. You can hear it in his voice, see it in the way his whole body leans toward you like a flower toward the sun.

"Let me show you what my tent looks like from every angle. Let me fit you into every space I can find. I cannot deny you. I could never deny you. Not when you look at me like that. Not when you touch me like I matter."

A shudder runs through him. "Thank you," he whispers, and the gratitude in his voice is almost worse than the hunger. "Thank you for this. For choosing me. For giving me this chance. It will be quick—thirty minutes is so short—but I will make you feel it. I will make you feel how much I love you. How much I have always loved you."

His face changes, his head lolling as he tips into delirium, his perception of reality overwhelmed by the image in his mind. 

“And once it’s finished—once you walk out of here—everyone will know. They’ll see it in you. The marks. The scent. The way you walk. They’ll know you’re mine. Wherever you tread in this circus, they’ll know.”

He leans in closer, and for a second, you can see his eyes, really see them, through the mask. His pupils have distorted into heart-shaped pinpoints, faintly pulsing, surrounded by two rings of light. They're beautiful, distorted, completely obsessed with you.

His tongue comes out, long and supple, curving slightly at the end.

“Just be patient with me,” he whispers, and there is something sad, something pitiful, about the words, this old, powerful being asking for your touch.

“I’ve never… I’ve never done this before, not with anyone, not with anyone who mattered, not with anyone I loved. I might be clumsy, might be too much for you, but I will try, I will try so hard to be what you need.”

He is helpless, completely, utterly yours.

“So tell me, my love, my star, my reason for being… he whispers, his tongue tracing your cheek, leaving a trail of moisture.

“…do you still want those thirty minutes?”

You stood there, silent, watching him fall apart in slow motion. The heart-shaped pupils, the slick tongue, that frantic, fevered look—everything centered on you as if you were the sole tether holding him back from shattering.

The silence continued. His breathing caught.

"...My dear?"

You didn’t reply, only grabbing the front of his uniform and pulled him down into a kiss—or as close to a kiss as you could manage with his mask in the way. Your mouth found the edge of his mouth, the corner where skin met porcelain, and you pressed hard, demanding.

He made a sound like he'd been struck. 

Then his hands were on you, clumsy and desperate, fumbling at your waist, your hips, your face. He kissed back with zero finesse— sharp teeth clicking against yours, tongue too eager, too wet, too everywhere at once.

"Sorry—sorry—I don't—I've never—" he gasped against your mouth, but he didn't stop. Couldn't stop.

You walked him backward, using his own desperate momentum against him, until his spine hit the edge of the wooden table. Props clattered to the floor, which nobody cared. In one motion, you broke the kiss, grabbed his shoulders, and pushed.

He went down hard, flat on his back among the scattered costume pieces, staring up at you with those ridiculous, beautiful heart eyes. Before he could move, you were on him, straddling his hips, pinning him to the table.

"Oh," he breathed. "Oh, yes. Yes. Please."

You kissed him again, deeper this time, your tongue finding his. He moaned into your mouth, his whole body arching up into yours. His hands roamed your back, your sides, your thighs—anywhere he could reach, greedy and reverent all at once.

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you started counting. 

Five minutes gone. Twenty-five left.

You pulled back just long enough to gasp, "Time—"

"You'll..." he interrupted, his voice wrecked. "You'll know when time is up. Trust me, I'm watching...."

Then he kissed you again, and you forgot what you were going to say.

His long tongue filled your mouth, wrapping around yours, exploring every corner like he was trying to memorize the shape of you from the inside. At the same time, he started moving—a desperate, grinding motion, his hips pushing up against you. 

He was dry humping your thigh like a rabbit, like he couldn't help himself, like the friction was the only thing keeping him conscious. 

"I love you," he babbled against your mouth. "I love you, I love you, I love you, I'm sorry, I know it's too much, I know I'm too much, but I love you, I love you, please—"

Your hands found the front of his uniform, working at the ties and closures with increasing impatience. Beneath your fingers, the bulge in his pants was unmistakable—and growing. Larger. Thicker. Pushing against the fabric like it might tear through.

You glanced down. Swallowed.

Okay. That’s… a lot.

But you didn't have time to be intimidated. 

Fifteen minutes left, maybe? You weren't sure anymore. Time had gone fuzzy. 

Yet, you were determined to make him feel better!

You tugged harder at his clothes, and he helped—desperate, clumsy hands working alongside yours until finally, finally, his uniform fell open and you could see him.

See all of him.

His cock was... as mention, a lot. Large, obviously—monster large—thick and long and slightly curved, the color of pale flesh, faded honey-yellow with darker veins tracing along the shaft. It twitched under your gaze, a bead of moisture forming at the tip.

"I know," he whispered, embarrassed and aroused in equal measure. "I know it's—I know I'm—if you don't want to—"

You wrapped your hand around him.

He moaned. Loudly moaned—a broken, desperate sound that cut off halfway as he clapped his own hand over his mouth.

"Sorry—sorry—I'll be quiet—I'll be so quiet—please don't stop—"

You stroked him slowly, experimentally, learning the weight and heat of him in your hand. He was silky smooth, hot to the touch, so hard he was practically vibrating and may you add he barely fit in your hand? 

Regardless, his hips jerked up into your fist with every movement, helpless and wanting. "Please," he begged. "Please, I need—I want—can I—will you let me—"

You lean in and kiss him.

You tilt in close, kiss him, not hurried, not casual. A real kiss, deep, slow, thoughtful, your lips warm against his, and it’s like it softens something inside of him. His hands, still holding you, lock in without thought. A soft, surprised noise escapes, but is muffled by the kiss.

It’s a minute, maybe two, or more, all of it running together in one big blur.

When you finally pull back, a thin string of saliva connects your lips to his. It stretches, catches the dim light, then breaks. His eyes are daze wide, pupils swallowed by want, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps.

"I... that..." He touches his own lips, trembling. "What was—why did you—"

You cup his cheek, thumb brushing away the moisture at the corner of his mouth. Your touch is gentle, grounding.

"Not today, Pierrot."

He freezes. The warmth in his eyes flickers, replaced by something panicked. "I—what—did I do something wrong—I'm sorry—I'll be better—I'll—"

"Hey. Hey." You shush him softly, your thumb tracing the curve of his cheekbone. "You didn't do anything wrong. Listen to me."

He goes quiet, but his whole body is coiled tight, waiting for the blow.

You lean in, press your forehead to his mask. "I don't want your first time to be a quickie backstage with thirty minutes on the clock. That's not how this should happen."

"But—"

"No buts." You pull back, meeting his eyes. "This—right now—is about making you feel better. About getting you out of your head. About reminding you that you're loved and seen and wanted. But your first time? When I finally have you properly?" You smile. "I want time. I want space. I want to take you apart so slowly you forget your own name."

His breath hitches. A visible shiver runs through him.

"You... you can't just say things like that."

"I just did." Your hand slides from his cheek down to his chest, feeling the frantic pace of his heart. "And I meant every word. But for now? For the next however many minutes we have?" You tilt your head, considering. "Let me take care of you. Let me make you feel good. Not everything—not yet—but enough."

"Enough?" He sounds dazed. "What do you mean, enough?"

You don't answer with words. Instead, you move, sliding down until you're kneeling before him. His eyes go impossibly wider.

"Wait—you don't have to—I never expected—"

"I know." you continue, “But I want to. And you're going to let me, because you deserve to feel good, and I'm going to make sure you do."

He's was still hard, aching and so beautifully vulnerable. You wrap one hand around him—it didn’t fully cover him, feel the heat, the weight, the way he jerks at your touch.

"Oh," he breathes. "Oh, that's—that's—"

"Shh." You lean in, let your breath ghost over the tip. "Just feel."

You start slow. A few experimental licks, tracing the shape of him, learning what makes him gasp. His hands fly to your hair, gripping but not pulling, holding on like you're the only thing keeping him upright.

"Please," he begs, voice cracking. "Please, more, I need—I need—"

You oblige, taking him deeper. Your hands wrap around what doesn't fit, working in tandem with your mouth, building a pace that has him trembling apart above you.

"That's—I can't—you're so—" Words fail him, dissolving into broken sounds that would be embarrassing if they weren't so honest.

You look up at him through your lashes, still working, and the sight of him, just ruined, desperate, sends a thrill through you.

"More," he gasps. "Please, more, I need more, I need—"

You pull off with a wet sound, and he whines at the loss.

"Turn around," you say, voice rough.

He blinks, uncomprehending. "What?"

"Turn. Around." You give him a little push. "I want to try something."

He obeys immediately, clumsy with want, presenting himself to you. You press against his back, your mouth finding his neck, your hands sliding around to finish what you started.

"Oh," he breathes, understanding dawning. "Oh, yes, please, yes—"

You work him faster now, your mouth on his skin, your whispered praise in his ear. "You're doing so well. Taking this so well. My good, perfect Pierrot."

But then you stop. Completely. He makes a desperate, questioning sound, but you're already moving—stepping back, your hands finding your own waistband. His eyes go impossibly wide as he watches you push down your bottoms, your underwear following in one smooth motion. The fabric pools at your ankles, and you step out of it, completely bare from the waist down.

"You... what are you—"

You turn, presenting him with the full view—your back to him, your hands braced against the wooden table. You look over your shoulder, meeting his stunned gaze.

"Use me," you say, voice low and steady. "Use me to get yourself off. Your cock—rub it on me. Between my thighs. I want to feel you against me."

He makes a sound that's barely human. A broken, reverent whimper.

"I—you—I can't—that's—"

"You can." You shift your stance, spreading your legs slightly, offering him access. "I want to feel you, Pierrot. All of you. Want you to use my body to make yourself feel good. Please."

The word please breaks something in him. He steps forward, his long frame folding over yours, one hand gripping the table beside yours, the other finding your hip. His cock, still slick from your mouth, presses against the soft skin of your inner thigh.

"Like this?" he breathes, and the first tentative thrust has him gasping. "I—like this—against you—"

"Yes." Your voice is thick. "Just like that. Use me."

He does.

His hips find a pace, slow at first, experimental. His cock slides between your thighs, the sensitive skin there gripping him, wetting him with every pass. You can feel him against you, the heat, the weight, the desperate need in every movement. His forehead drops to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin.

"You feel—" He chokes on the thought. "You feel incredible. So soft. So warm. I can't—I never imagined—"

You push back against him, meeting his thrusts, and he moans—a broken, beautiful sound. His grip on your hip tightens, fingers pressing hard enough to leave marks.

"More," he begs. "Please, more, I need—"

You give him more. You roll your hips, grind back against him, let your body move with his. His cock slides against you, catching on your slickness, the tip occasionally nudging against your entrance, so close, so achingly close, but you shift just enough that he doesn't slip inside. Not yet. Not tonight.

He notices. A desperate, frustrated sound escapes him. "You're… you're teasing me, you're being mean—"

You laugh, breathless. "Maybe. But you like it."

"I do," he admits, voice wrecked. "I like everything you do. Everything you are. I like—ha—I like watching you—watching my cock between your thighs—seeing your face when you—"

He trails off, lost in the sight of you. Your body is so small compared to his, curved and bent over the table, your expression dazed and wanton. 

The contrast undoes something in him.

He pushes harder against you, his pace growing desperate. The table creaks beneath you both. His cock is soaked now—from your mouth, from your thighs, from the evidence of his own pre cum. Every slide is wet and obscene, the sound of it filling the small space.

"I'm close," he warns, voice strained. "I'm—I can't—where should I—"

"Between my thighs," you remind him, reaching back to grip his hip. "Right there. Let me feel it."

He nods frantically, too far gone for words. His thrusts turn erratic, desperate, and then he's coming—hot and wet against your skin, spilling between your thighs, marking you as thoroughly as if he'd been inside you. 

He groans your name, the sound muffled against your shoulder, his entire body shuddering through wave after wave. When he finally stills, he's trembling, breathless, just utterly spent. He stays slumped against you, trembling and spent, his forehead on your shoulder and softening cock still nestled between your thighs.

"I..." He can't find words. "I... you..."

You tilt your head and press a gentle kiss to the side of his temple. “Yeah. Me too. Do you at least feel better?”

He laughs, a fragile, incredulous laugh that barely makes it out of his throat. It’s soft, almost nothing more than breath, but it’s real. It’s him.

“Better,” he says, almost to himself. “So much better. I didn’t know—I never imagined—”

“Plenty of time to imagine later.” You pull him close, letting the last of the tension seep out of his body. The guy who usually sits so tight with unspoken sorrow now softens, pliant against you. “For now? Rest. You’ve got a show to do.”

“The show,” he murmurs, almost amused. “I’d… forgotten about the show.”

See? Mission accomplished.

He move in your embrace, cupping your face in his hands, and kisses you—soft, reverent, full of promise. When he pulls back, his amber eyes are warm, glowing with something that looks a lot like peace.

"After the show," he whispers against your lips. "You and me. Time and space. Taking me apart."

You smile. "After the show."

A quiet hush falls between you, comfortable and warm as you both catch your breath, still riding the high of what just occurred. Your hand makes lazy, sleepy scribbles on his chest; his hand makes slow, contented circles on your back. It’s safe, it’s warm, it’s wonderful, it’s perfect.

And then you remember.

“Hey.” You raise your chin to look up to his face. “How much time do we actually have left?”

He pauses for a moment, thinking it through, then bursts out with a slow, gleeful grin that illuminates what you can see of his face.

“Five minutes,” he says, his voice holding a hint of something wickedly gleeful.

Your eyes go wide. “That’s—”

“Plenty of time,” he says, already moving you beneath him with easy strength. “More than plenty. I can do so much with twenty-three minutes.”

“Pierrot—”

“I want to… leave marks,” he says, his voice a warm, hot whisper against your skin. “Everywhere. So many that you forget where one ends and another starts. So that when I’m on stage, when I’m performing, I look out into that audience, I look out for you, and I remember that you’re mine.”

His teeth brush your pulse point, careful but hungry.

“Is that alright? Can I mark you? Claim you? Just a little?”

You laugh, your breath catching in your throat. “A little?”

“A lot,” he says, his hunger returning but tempered with warmth. “I want a lot. But only if you want it too.”

You pull him closer by his hair.

“Then stop asking and start marking.”

After the Show

The applause is different this time.

Pierrot, in the center, stands up to the audience, his chest heaving, his performance smile firmly in place, as if to hide the true smile that wants to escape. The glare of the lights is just the same, unkind and unforgiving, but tonight it does not hurt; tonight, it seems to reveal something true.

And that is because, in the front row, you are there.

You are branded by him. Bite marks show through the collar, down the back of the neck, and into the hairline. Some are hidden by clothing, but some can be seen by an inquisitive eye, and for him, they are always in view, every time he glances in your direction during the performance, and he glances in your direction often.

The crowd is up, really up—standing, clapping with real heat. Faces that had been flat and quiet during his previous show now glow with thanks. Cheers rise, whistles cut through the air, people begging for another round.

Pierrot doesn’t seem to notice any of it.

He’s looking at you. At the marks. At that smile you give him, the one that says you’re proud, protective, completely his. And something in his chest shifts, not with pain but with a joy so fierce it almost hurts.

Backstage, the others are waiting.

Harlequin smirks, arms crossed, twitching with amusement. "Well, well. Someone finally figured out how to perform."

Ticket Taker nods once, a rare gesture of approval. "Efficient. Focused. No errors."

Doctor hums thoughtfully. "Fascinating. The physiological response to genuine emotional engagement appears to have enhanced his precision by approximately forty-three percent."

And then the Jester steps forward.

His massive, horned form looms in the dim light, but his voice—when it comes—is warm. Surprised. 

Almost... proud. "Pierrot."

Pierrot tenses, waiting for critique. For redirection. For the familiar weight of expectation.

"That was your best performance yet."

Pierrot's head snaps up, eyes wide.

"I mean it." The Jester's low purple glow seems to pulse with sincerity. "I've watched you perform a hundred times. A thousand. I've seen you go through the motions, seen you fade into the background, seen you disappear beneath the weight of it all. But tonight?" He pauses. "Tonight, you were present. Every movement had purpose. Every gesture meant something. The audience felt it. I felt it."

Pierrot's hands tremble at his sides.

"Whatever you did differently tonight"—Jester's gaze flicks briefly toward the stage entrance, toward where you're probably still sitting in the front row—"keep doing it. This is the Pierrot I always knew you could be."

The praise hits him like a physical blow—but a good one. A healing one. His face, what little is visible beneath the mask, flushes with color. His eyes glisten.

"I... thank you. I don't know what to say."

"Then don't say anything." The Jester turns to go, but pauses at the edge of the light. "Just keep performing like that. For yourself. Not for… them."

He disappears into the shadows, and Pierrot is left standing there, overwhelmed, vibrating with an emotion he can't quite name.

Harlequin saunters closer, dropping his voice to a murmur.

"So. The human."

Pierrot stiffens.

"Relax." Harlequin's grin is sharp but not unkind. "I'm not going to interfere. Just... interesting, is all. The way you looked at them tonight. The way thwy looked at you." He tilts his head. "Jester noticed too. He won't say anything—not directly—but he noticed."

Pierrot's heart hammers.

"Good for you," Harlequin says simply, and there's something almost genuine in it. “Really. You deserve something that isn't complicated by trauma and survival." He pauses. "Well. Something less complicated, anyway, still stay on your toes before I take them away from you~”

He claps Pierrot on the shoulder and saunters off, leaving Pierrot alone with his thoughts, unable to react quick enough to his comment.

And then you're there.

You navigate through the backstage chaos, dodging people and wires until you stand before him. He looks flushed and his eyes shine. You can feel the quiver in his body, the tremble of emotion just beneath the surface.

“Hey,” you breathe softly. “You were amazing.”

He opens up before you, not in tears exactly, but in a way that feels softer and more vulnerable. He wraps his arms around you and buries his face in your hair. He holds you as if you’re the only thing holding him up.

“I saw you,” he breathes, and you feel his words through more than just your ears. “Every time I looked out there and saw all those people, I saw you. Covered in me. Watching me. Believing in me. And I—I couldn’t fail. Not with you there. Not after everything.”

You wrap your arms around him, holding him as tightly as he holds you.

“You didn’t fail. You soared.”

He looks up at you, his face open and vulnerable and somehow utterly beautiful in its happiness. “This is the best day of my entire life,” he says, and means it. "Not because of the applause. Not because of the Jester's praise. Because of you. Because you're here. Because you're mine."

You reach up, touch his cheek.

"I'm yours. And you're mine. And we've got time."

He tilts his head, a slow smile spreading. "Speaking of time..."

You laugh. "How much do we have?"

He checks—mentally calculating—and his smile widens, tilting his head to the side. "Thirty minutes."

Your eyebrows shoot up. "Thirty minutes until what?"

"Until the next show." He leans in, his forehead against yours. "Thirty minutes until I have to perform again. Thirty minutes of you and me and that private space you promised."

You grin. "Thirty minutes is plenty of time."

"My thoughts exactly, my dear..." He takes your hand, and together you slip away from the backstage chaos, toward the quiet sanctuary of his wagon, where thirty minutes stretches before you like an eternity.

And somewhere in the shadows, the Jester watches you go. A low, thoughtful hum escapes him. "Interesting human,” he murmurs to himself. "Very interesting." He turns away, but not before a small, almost imperceptible smile crosses his massive features.

"Satisfactory pet for him."

♤ — 𝓉𝒻𝒸 𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓎𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

iyayadonna, all rights reserved. — ⋆˚ ᓭི༏ᓯྀ ꩜ 。⋆ .ᐟ

he's feeling cutesy🎀

"yeah baby? you almost there? come on, hurry and finish."

as the video progresses, you grip your phone tighter. the random man continues to spill out sweet nothings, fueling your desire.

he's positioned upright in a chair, rubbing his cock feverishly with a heaving chest. you almost mimic his breathing as simultaneously, you quicken the pace on your clit.

your headphones perfectly encapsulate the low, sultry voice he speaks to you in, and a brisk shudder over takes you.

with a slight thrash to your body, you widen and close your legs against the soft bed. your fingers work at maintaining the pleasure pulsing throughout your core, while the desperation fills your stomach.

fuuck. you're so close this time. you just know it.

so what if all of the other attempts this past week as been an utter fail? you just know this time will be different.

a low whine buzzes from your lips and briefly your eyes shut, "awww....mmmm. yes. oh fuck, i'm..." you keep on whispering to yourself.

the speed you’re producing is so intense, it practically has your pelvis rocking alongside the rhythm. no true thoughts resided in your head—simply the absolute need to finish blares in the forefront of your mind.

by now, the man on your screen appears to also be close, with how his body starts to convulse, "baby—shit. i can feel the cum about to rush out. fucking hell, i'm gonna cum. i'm gonna cum."

and right as his torso stiffens and the milky load begins to spill out, a loud thump from outside of your headphones makes you nearly drop your phone smack dab onto your face.

“holy-!” you jolt from the noise, putting an immediate halt to your movements down below. quickly, you pause the video as you remain still, trying to process what the hell that noise was.

there’s a pause.

after a second, you think you’re okay to start up again; however, another roaring bang echoes in from your left, and this time, you let your phone fall down next to you while you scramble to yank off your headphones.

when yet another sound is made from the other side of your wall, you find yourself shooting up from your bed. breathing heavy from adrenaline, you hear from a distance slight murmurs being muffled by the division—but oh god, do you know them all too well.

eyes narrowing, you try to focus in on the voice. there’s more murmuring followed by a heinous cackle, one that resembles a hyena. then shortly after, an even louder thud flows into your room and at this point, you’re absolutely triggered.

this bastard.

“i’m gonna kill him.” the words are tight and menacing as immediately, you throw the blankets away from your body and scoot out of bed.

fuming, you grab your sleep shorts from the floor and yank them up your legs, before jamming your feet into nearby slippers. you throw on the tank top just left in your bed, and soon you’re stomping out of your bedroom.

ooh, that freaking bastard. words can't even begin to describe how pissed you are. any chance at you having the perfect orgasm—long gone. the feeling between your legs—your pleasure and desire—instantly dissipated. what remains is raging hot aggression, the kind that you can feel radiating from your core.

little grumbles leave your mouth as you now pass by your living room, a nearby clock reading, ‘1:47 AM’. just the sight of the time makes your eye twitch, and after swiping your keys from their place holder, you swiftly beeline out your apartment door, making sure to end with a harsh slam.

it takes 0.2 seconds before you’re standing in front of your neighbor’s door, harshly knocking at it. there’s no breaks, just continuous, rapid banging.

tiny comments flow from your mouth, "swear this stupid idiot.....god, i’m gonna.....he's so dead..."

from the other side, you hear footsteps approaching, along with quiet mumbles and a laugh. you’re still pounding at the door until there's a soft click and it gets thrown in.

there stands your idiotic neighbor—jeong yunho—holding the door propped open with one hand and a phone to his ear with the other.

he's lost in conversation, his gaze to the floor and a short smile present. he hasn’t registered who's here yet. though, once he briefly glances up, yunho's whole demeanor begins to change. he sees you, pissed, sticking out your hip and crossing your arms.

“oh……" yunho's face sinks in on himself, mouth now slightly parted. he casts a look away as his expression turns stoic, "uh. yeah, i’m gonna have to call you back.”

as you wait for him to hang up, foot tapping to count the seconds, you couldn’t help the way your eyes fleet around to examine his sleep attire. it looks so similar to yours.

a black tank top that hugs his torso and basketball shorts that hang loosely off his waist. usually when you come over here, he's decked out in a large sweatshirt plus sweatpants. at some point, you started to think that's all he owned. but, clearly not.

when your eyes skip over to the arm on the door, you could see his bicep flexing from how hard he gripped the wood. and close to that, you peep the messy state his hair is in, all curly and tussled.

after observing his face, you start to realize you've been ogling at him for too long. so, you force yourself to look away and pick up an interest in the carpet you're standing on. god, does he just piss you off. you can't even stand the sight of him.

a harsh sigh leaves your throat and you start to roll your neck around in frustration. can he just hurry up?

yunho grimaces softly at your outburst before returning to his friend. he listens intently to what's being said, part of him also trying to mask the irritation pricking at his skin, "hmm? yeah, i guess. just be quick about it."

a low voice is on the other end, you register, evident by the deep laugh he produces. you can't really make out anything being said, but after sneaking a glance at yunho, you assume a question’s being asked.

he's giving it some careful thought. his head shifts up a tiny bit, eyes moving around the ceiling as he thinks. but, really, the moment you swiftly hold up your nails to randomly inspect them, that's when he's able to dart his eyes down to your distracted body and give the question true thought.

he's watchful of your next-to-nothing clothing, and how it outlines every part of you. the small buds poking through your tank top fabric, proving that you're not wearing a bra. your smooth thighs that are held close together. he's observant of everything.

however, when you shake your shoulders back and throw your hand down, it quickly snaps yunho out of his mild trance. in one motion, he sweeps his attention away from you and clears his throat.

“okay, i’m not even gonna think about what you just asked—no, seriously i’ll call you back later. i’m hanging up now.”

he wastes no time in dropping his hand and ending the call. then, as he peers upwards, ready to formally address you—well, you make sure to beat him to it

your head is cocked to the side as an icy tone slips out, "finally. i was starting to get impatient."

blinking, yunho stares at you briefly before inhaling a long breath. he can already tell how the rest of this conversation is going to go, judging by your already snippy attitude.

"i'm sorry about that. the phone call ran a little longer than i-"

"frankly, i don't give a fuck about that," you cut him off, body instantly tensing up from just how annoyed you are, “have you lost your goddamn mind? it is the middle of the night, why the hell are you being so loud? again?"

fuck him. his body expels a quiet sigh as his tall figure hunches down slightly, "i was just...rearranging some furniture."

this time, your words are more clipped, "and you couldn't have waited until morning? are you a fucking idiot?"

it takes everything in yunho to keep his composure.

lately, every single time you come knocking at his door to complain, this is usually how it goes. you storm over, beat at his door, then berate him for about 5 minutes before walking away and slamming your door shut. every. single. time.

he wonders where this anger came from all of sudden, the hostility. you hadn’t always been this grumpy, but for the past week, it’s like you’d just decided to hate his guts. even in passing, like when riding the elevator or entering the apartment together, you always wear a scowl around him. like it's now been permanently etched into your face.

seriously, what’s your deal?

when you make a particularly frustrated groan half-way through your rant, it's then yunho comes back to reality.

"this is my third time coming over here in a week. my third time. but somehow, there’s always some stupid fucking excuse as to why you’re being so damn loud," you sneer, not even able to recount all of the other dumb reasons he's given you thus far, "do you think i enjoy this? having to tell you to shut up every other day?"

his face reactively tilts down as a dry scoff flies out. sorry, but he doesn't really want to deal with all of this tonight. if that makes him apathetic towards your situation, oh well—so be it.

before he knows it, a snarky remark comes flying out, "well, you have been making it a habit lately, so i'm sure you must find some enjoyment in being a bitch. right?" he ends off with a straight face and condescending shrug.

oh.

in a flash, the blood flowing through you turns cold. your eyes go bewildered from his dig at you and you change your stance to somewhat cage him in. you notice he doesn’t move away from you, but that didn’t stop you from still trying to size him up—if that’s even possible.

“listen to me, jeong yunho,” your voice starts off unusually low, and surprisingly, yunho seems to respond well to it, “i don’t want to come back here ever again. so either you shut the actual fuck up for good, or i’m calling our landlady next time and i’m going to have your ass finally evicted.”

after you finished, an overbearing silence takes over. there are so many things yunho could say to you right now. his mind is racing a mile a minute, and yet his mouth remains closed as his eyes begin to lower. his hand is starting to shake from squeezing the door so hard.

eventually he drops his arm, right as you take a few steps back. you both have this lingering tension in the air, almost as if you two are secretly trying to zap each other with the charged energy. before you walk off, you make sure to eye yunho up and down with an obvious snarl.

“you got that?”

his eyes wander around your stature, and once he makes eye contact with you, he breathes in deeply, “you know, it’s always such a pleasure whenever you visit. really, you should do it more often. tomorrow night, maybe?”

his tone couldn’t be laced with any more sarcasm. and to that, you simply begin to walk away, not forgetting to throw a, ‘fuck off,’ over your shoulder.

yunho waits until you’re close to your door before calling out to you one last time, “get some good sleep. or else tomorrow, you're gonna wake up cranky again. and we don't want that, now. ”

you flip him off clear as day, and then with a tight grip on your handle, you slam the door shut. shortly after, you hear your neighbor’s own door close just as aggressively.

now that you’re in the comfort of your own space, you finally let out the whiny squeal built up from the interaction, “ugh!”

fuck, he gets underneath your skin in a way you’ve never experienced before. the anger makes your body tingly all over, lighting up each and every part of you. you’re on fire.

kicking off your slippers, you don’t even care where they land. you toss your keys in any direction when passing your kitchen table. upon entering your room, you immediately begin to strip because for some reason, the clothes were becoming too constricting.

once you’re in your underwear, your body flops down backwards onto the bed, your breasts to the ceiling. chests huffing, you still feel your heart thumping from the events earlier, but also from the sheer frustration coursing through your veins.

frustrated that you’ve had to deal with jeong yunho for the past week, and absolutely nothing has changed. frustrated that no matter what the circumstance is, he manages to get you heated like no other. frustrated that you missed out on what would’ve been your best orgasm as of late, if only he just...wasn’t your neighbor.

you roll over to your side, staring blankly at the wall. as unfortunate as it is, you can’t control who your neighbors are—meaning the irritation you feel is just a consequence of poor residency. but, you absolutely could’ve relieved at least your sexual frustrations. and you had been so close too. a silent huff fills the room as a pout grows on your lips. what are you going to do?

because even if the feeling in your core has long disappeared, internally, there's still this lingering itch needing to be satiated. it's buried deep down, but it's there. you can sense it. you breathe out another groan and soon find yourself shifting to your backside once again. the feeling is definitely there. it just needs to be reactivated.

so without much thinking, you pick up your phone from wherever it was around your bed, and begin tapping aimlessly on the screen. the video you had been previously watching is immediately pulled up, though you're not in the mood for it anymore. you’re craving something else.

after searching and scrolling around the website, another intriguing video catches your eye, and in one swoop you click on it. after so many fails and empty climaxes, you have a last resort in mind to finally cure your desire—but, it's one you were trying to avoid.

already connected to your headphones, the video starts to play and quickly you lean over to your bedside drawer. it's not a hard find, your little pink rose toy, as it’s tucked away in its usual corner. the last time you had used it...maybe five months ago? six? you can't exactly pinpoint it, you just know it's been a while.

you roll back over to your bed, your eyes scanning it wearily, "mmmm...."

you don't know what's wrong with you. you really have no idea. but a while ago, you learned that your clit is extremely sensitive. and it was because of this toy. the first time you had used it, not only did you nearly piss yourself (genuinely), your orgasm also came in six minutes.

it had buzzed, sucked, and pulsed your cunt in a way you've simply never experienced before, and honestly, you hated how quickly it made you finish. on top of that, you were left feeling raw and overstimulated afterwards, trembling in your bed once it was over. ever since then, you've opted to use your fingers, something that gives you time to fully enjoy the experience.

however, tonight is different. you've tried everything already, but to no avail. you're needy. you're desperate. you want to get this over with. if that means you'll be finishing in basically five minutes—then so freaking be it.

not wasting another second, you quickly begin to toss on your headphones and immediately the sounds of a male moaning enters your head. you pick up your phone in one hand, and reposition the vibrator in the other.

your knees instinctively rise up as you move your body around in order to find the perfect position. when you believe you’ve achieved it, you use your thumb to press down on the small button which turns on the rose.

although the sound is silent to you, the buzzing that's instantly felt in your palm makes you shiver. nearly a whimper topples out of you from just pure anticipation of what's to come. steadily, you move the toy down, all the while your eyes remain glued to the scene.

the new man is needy, just like you. he's gripping and palming himself over his clothed erection, causing the once lost feeling to be reignited inside you. a slow throb pulses through your core. the moment the vibrator touches your own clothed sex, a tiny moan shoots out. already, you feel the vibrations hitting you in all the right places, and you're not even bare.

you press it down a little harder into your clit, the sensation now overtaking your whole cunt. shuddering, you allow yourself to adjust to the pace, but not for very long. without fail, your hips begin to gradually buck against it as the rose works itself into your slit.

your teeth goes to tug onto your lower lip, and momentarily your eyes flutter close, "oh my god."

you have to stop your back from arching off the bed, that's how good it feels. you keep the toy close to your sex, and even start to circle it around your underwear to produce more ripples of pleasure throughout.

and with each surge of pleasure, there's a reactive noise to go along with it. you notice you're more vocal than usual, but truly it's because you can't help it. that's what makes using this toy so dangerous.

another low whimper fills your ears as this time, the man starts to slowly bring out his cock. he's not in a rush. no, he’s barely touching himself, yet he’s still squirming around as if anything more would be too much. like any small movement would cause himself to cum on the spot. the sight of him just turns you on even more.

by now, you're full on humping yourself into the vibrator, even though you haven't touched yourself naked with it. you're too nervous that once you do, you'll be seriously cumming and shooting out liquids all over the place. the barricade of your underwear is enough for you. you still feel on the edge of an orgasm.

"hmm...hmm...fuck, 'm almost there." your face is a mess right now, you already know. the small grunts you're letting out overrun your mouth. the shallow breaths you’re emitting. all of it attests to how much of a mess you are.

you can't control anything that's happening. not the way your hips are chasing after the vibrations, nor the way your eyes squint open to see the man jerk himself off. his cock is even twitching from each stroke, like it's ready to explode any moment.

you groan a little louder, "holy...fuck. oh, fuck. gonna cum soon. mmm....gonna...cuh—"

- beeeeep -

a text notification comes popping in from the top of your screen, followed by another. you skim over them, stopping all movements plus the video. once you register what was said, as well as who sent them, it makes your heart fall to the pit of your stomach.

jeong yunho

2:14 AM

i think i understand why you've been so moody lately

you’re just a little frustrated, aren’t you y/n?

focus blurred, you quickly exit out of the video, going to fully open up the texts. meanwhile, the vibrator lays lonely between your legs as it continues to suction on your clit in a way that has you lightly jerking around.

your eyes narrow, “stupid fucking a-asshole.” straight away, the pads of your fingers type out a short message. just have to get this over with.

y/n

2:16 AM

i don’t know what you’re talking about

before you can even leave the message log, your neighbor is already producing another text.

jeong yunho

2:16 AM

yeah, the vibrator isn’t all that quiet

embarrassment rushes to your face, your hand shooting down towards the toy. you skittishly remove it from yourself and quickly power it off, then throw it to the other side of your bed, “shit!”

you’re so screwed. oh fuck, you’re so screwed. yunho is never going to let this go, you can already foresee it, and just that thought alone is enough to make your cheeks burn. how humiliating.

jeong yunho

2:17 AM

why’d it stop? did you come already?

weird, i didn’t hear it

“what’s his problem?” running a hand over your face, you hold back a groan that truly wants to escape out of you. are you stupid? had you really been that loud? you don’t think you were, but, god, somehow he still heard you.

with your face all scrunched, shame overtaking your expression, you bring your fingers forward again to begrudgingly type out a response.

y/n

2:19 AM

what are you even saying right now?

again, i have no idea what you’re talking

you can’t let him know the truth. in your mind, all you can do right now is just deny.

….deny…deny….de…ny…?

jeong yunho

2:20 AM

yeah?

you don’t remember moaning over and over again just now? whining about how you’re almost there?

that you’re so close to cumming?

i mean, you just said it, how can you not remember?

your face shrinks while reading the string of questions. well, fucking hell. what more could you say now? he basically called you out and quoted you verbatim. slowly, your eyes shut and you take steady breaths. oh wow. your heart is nearly pounding out of your chest right now. you can feel it.

but furthermore, you feel so exposed. so vulnerable. especially since it’s him who heard it. fuck, why him? to make matters worse, there’s not much you can even say to refute his messages. at this point, he knows, really knows. so, how do you respond?

y/n

2:22 AM

fuck off

yunho

2:22 AM

the walls aren’t thin, i’m sure you of all people would know

y/n

2:22 AM

jeong yunho, fuck off

jeong yunho

2:23 AM

i could hear you so clearly. you sounded needy

like you were gonna finish at any second, but didn’t, yeah?

you never orgasmed?

even with your cold replies, how is that he still has more to say? that more messages continue to flood in? your moods already been killed, but now it feels torturous to sit here and just take it.

y/n

2:24 AM

i’m not talking about this anymore

you glance off to the side as the vexation travels through you. part of you debates if you should just go ahead and block him—rid yourself from this nonsense. he's toying with you right now. obviously. and you're sick of it.

you fix your fingers to get ready and block him for good, when a vibration buzzes in your hand.

jeong yunho

2:26 PM

but you're still frustrated, right?

you know, if you really need help, i can come over

reading that makes you audibly gasp. what is happening? now, you feel like he's just saying anything.

y/n

2:28 AM

stop it

you're not being serious

scowling, you adjust your back against the bed. what a stupid joke. stupid jeong yunho, with his stupid joke. your eyes look up to your ceiling, mind wandering. he doesn't mean what he's saying...you know he doesn't. he's just messing with you, as always.

until his other message comes through.

jeong yunho

2:28 AM

i promise you i am

it really doesn't have to mean anything either. im just offering some help.

after seeing that, your face bucks backwards. where is this even coming from? you're so confused.

jeong yunho

2:29 AM

so can i come over?

yeah, you aren't sure what sort of game he's trying to play, but you're not falling for this.

y/n

2:30 AM

absolutely not

you’re not coming anywhere near me

there’s a brief pause before he types another response.

jeong yunho

2:31 AM

oh yeah? what about inside of you?

your eyes nearly bulge out of your head. WHAT. instinctively, you bring a hand up towards the wall. two loud smacks are given to the hard surface as you try your hardest to slow down your breathing. holy—what the actual fuck is wrong with him?

from the other side, a subtle laugh reverbs through the wall, and you resist the urge to beat harder on the surface. shortly after, another message comes through on your phone.

jeong yunho

2:34 AM

sorry, guess that was too much lol

but i’m being serious, y/n

no wonder why you’ve been so bitchy lately, you’re just sexually frustrated. and clearly you need help.

reading the latest text has you scoffing, though some cold sweats begin to drip from your forehead. because how was he able to read you so well? yeah, maybe you’ve been a tad bit snappier with him recently, but that could be for any reason! you didn’t like how easily he figured you out, especially since you are sexually frustrated. and it’s bad.

even then, you find yourself with your guard up still. he may be able to call out your problem, however, that doesn’t mean you want—jeong yunho of all people—to fix it. he’s your annoying, dumbass neighbor. what all does he know?

as you permanently shut down whatever the proposition was in your head, you also force yourself to ignore the slight twinge your belly does. you’d be lying if you said there wasn't a small part of you affected by his words. wondering, what exactly is he offering right now?

no.

shaking your head, you tighten the pressure against your legs as you prepare to type out one final message.

y/n

2:37 AM

for the last time, no.

just leave me alone

with that, you turn off your phone. another buzz comes through, but you don’t even check it. you’re so over it—over him.

turning, you try to find a comfortable spot on your back, panting slightly from pure anxiousness. your heart feels like it's about ready to explode from his words.

'you know, if you really need help, i can come over'

reactively, a hallow laugh tumbles out from you, eyes closing briefly. because seriously, what is the matter with him? he's ridiculous. always saying the crudest, most dumbest things. but now, it's truly gone too far.

your eyes crack open and then you decide to adjust over to your side, facing away from your phone. your mind starts to wander to all the events from tonight.

the night had started off so good.

the sensation just pouring through your core the first time you started masturbating. god, did it feel amazing. even when that attempt at an orgasm failed, the same pleasure was quietly still there. silently waiting for its chance to finally spill over.

but, it never did.

rounds after rounds—even with jeong yunho's interruption—you never came. it's been a week of this. and now, you're just done. you've decided that this rut you're in has gotten the best of you.

you don't know how long you'll be suffering, with the subtle ache pulsing away in your core. hopefully with time, it'll go away.

a sudden vibration makes your skin jump. turning around, you spot your phone inches away from you, the screen lighting up. yunho's contact pops up from afar.

eyes low, you stare at the phone. your brain is scattered, and yet, a recurring thought keeps coming back to you.

should you do it?

you've literally tried everything. fingers, pillow humping, fisting. even the rose toy, which usually has you cumming in genuine seconds, couldn't get you off, and frankly, you don’t want it to anymore. you're stuck.

you blink your eyes a few times.

what all would he even do?

you don't think you'd want to go...all the way with him. just something to help alleviate your pressure. and nothing that would last too long, you had to be up early in the morning. quickly, a blush overtakes your face as you start to feel embarrassed by your thoughts. but...anything is better than nothing, right?

"oh, god..." your stomach churns when you reach out to grab your phone.

unlocking it, you see the latest messages from your neighbor were attempts at trying to sway you. still, you disregard them. you've made up your mind now.

with a burnt face, you type out a simple: 'fine, come over', all the while you try your hardest to calm down your nerves.

he replies back in an instant, but you've already powered off your phone, stomach full of butterflies at the thought of jeong yunho taking care of your problem.

yet, when you start to truly think about how jeong yunho will take care of this problem, an immediate pulse hits you hard in your center.

before you even have a chance to react to the sensation, rapid knocking emerges from the distance. your stomach sinks to your ass, as you frantically work to put your tank top back on. then, you leap out of bed.

you don't even have time to reconsider this idea, with how swiftly you glide out of your bedroom and across the living room. you're scared the moment you start to think about this, you'll back out. and deep down, you know you don't want to do that. not when another chance has literally thrown itself at you.

only an idiot would pass this up.

once you reach your front door, you don't even check your peephole. with a quick twist of the handle, you open the wooden door inwards, and there stands jeong yunho on the other side.

his body looms over yours as he leans against the door frame. although he's still wearing the same outfit from earlier—the tank top and shorts combo, there's no longer an annoyed expression to accompany it. no, there's something entirely new.

his eyebrow's are furrowed, indicating slight confusion. there's a sprinkle of curiosity within his eyes, and below that, the corners of his mouth are turned smugingly upward. but all over, yunho has a faint red hue coating his face, like he's also nervous for what's to come.

for a short second, neither of you say anything. a quiet staring contest is what you both have. there's a look to yunho's eyes that makes you want to clench your stomach. bouncing your eyes back and forth between his gaze.

until unexpectedly, he clears his throat and tilts his head to the side, "crazy, now the roles are reversed. hold on—should i start yelling at you too? throw in some degradation while i'm at it?"

you see him trying to hold back a grin as he stifles out a laugh. his eyes are crinkled and dimples are showing, all the while you begin to lower your gaze. haha, so funny.

eventually, your face straightens out into a deadpan, "shut up."

yunho continues to laugh, body shaking as he chuckles, and without thinking, you lunge to grab at his chest, "just get in here."

bunching up his tank top, you yank him inside your apartment. he enters with a stumble, with you only releasing him when he's few inches behind you.

more laughter is coming from the tall boy, and while you hear him trying to regain his balance, you stay facing forward with a hand on the door. part of you is still contemplating if you should go through with this whole thing, and yet the other part is yelling at you to stop making things so complicated.

both sides are clawing at you, though once you take a deep breath, a brief moment of clarity hits. you use your courage to push the door close, now trapping you both inside.

you slowly turn around towards yunho. he's already taken off his slippers and placed them onto the nearby rack, waiting for you to make the next advancements. a small smile remains on his face.

okay, this is serious. your vision darts off to the corner, fingers reaching to play with the hem of your tank top, "uhh...so..." there's a pause, "bedroom's just down the hall."

yunho now regards you with a mildly confused face, raising an eyebrow. he's definitely sensing a change in your attitude from just moments ago. you fidget once more with your shirt, the silence becoming too deafening for you. ultimately, you decide to proceed forward towards the narrow hallway.

at least, until a hand catches you in place.

"not so fast...where do you think you're going?" yunho's voice piques up at the end as he starts to bring you back, his grip firm and tight. you're tripping over your own feet and only stop once you're placed directly in front of him.

you don't look up at him, even though you feel his eyes burning deeply into your scalp. the spot where he's touching you starts to heat up, and all you begin to think about is how hot his touch will feel other places. oh, god. now you really can't look at him anymore, your face feels completely flushed.

yunho's aware of his hold on you, though he doesn't try to remove it. his eyes remain on you and how he can tell you're deliberately avoiding eye contact. he's never seen you so shy before, he realizes. so timid. it's almost a complete turn around from how you've been acting this past week—hell, even the past three months he's known you.

he's realizing that you're truly nervous, and god does he like that. eyelids fluttering, yunho feels little tingles start to spread all over his body.

"hey," his tone is more serious, but you sense a hint of playfulness somewhere, "y/n, you gotta look at me when i'm trying to talk to you."

the moment he addresses you, your body erupts into shivers. as your head stays lowered, your eyes slowly work their up till their peering through your eyelashes.

"what do you want?" your voice is a buzzed whisper.

"are you nervous?" his hand shifts up from your arm to now your shoulder, "you're acting so different."

you want to shrug him off of you and back away, though the slight squeeze he has on you keeps you from doing so. instead, you feel that area begin to heat up, your attention remaining on him.

"i'm not nervous," how you managed to say that without stuttering—you don't know either, but your heart feels like it's gonna explode, "i'm just not used to....this."

he mulls over your words, lips pursing in somewhat agreement, "hmm, yeah. i can see that. i don't usually call my neighbors over for a late night session either.

your face lightly scrunches, "i didn't really call you ov-"

"i don't want you to worry, though," ignoring you, he shifts his hand once again until it's resting near the nape of your neck, fingers curled over it, "i know you think i'm just gonna go in that room, fuck you a couple of times, then leave."

his vulgar words shock you. expression now stunned, your breathing turns heavy as he travels his hand towards the front of your neck, now placing a soft clasp around your throat, "but i won't do that to you. i told you i'm here to help. here for you."

gradually, the hard look in your eyes begins to melt. your face becomes more relaxed, and yunho notices this.

"what, you like this? my hand around your throat?" he mumbles out.

you're dazed, lips slightly parted from the quiet gasps you're taking in. he cocks his head to the side as he watches your changing face.

"mmm, i kinda like seeing you in this state," his eyes rake around your features, whole time you stare back weakly, "can't really call me an idiot anymore, can you?"

you try to speak, but yunho instantly hushes you quiet. he's stroking his thumb up and down your smooth skin as he leans in just a tiny bit.

"you're so cute, y/n. just the face you're making, it's so..."

he's only inches from you, you can feel his breath hit your face. oh, god. and he's coming closer towards your lips. his eyes are low, mouth hanging, waiting to take in yours.

you close your eyes in anticipation, but at the last second, he curves your face.

his mouth goes to the shell of your ear instead, just barely touching, "go take us to the bedroom now."

his words pour into your head as a near whimper dribbles out of you. he backs away with the same heated look in his eye, while you're completely disoriented. he takes his hand away from you, and with a small stagger you turn around and lead him down the hall.

what fucking spell did he just put you under? your head is mush. you can't think straight. the throb in your core is practically beating at you, and it's making you even more dizzy. the moment you step foot into your nightly lit bedroom, you're immediately twisting to face yunho. oh, you're done for.

he's trailing in behind you, his walk a bit different from yours. he ambles up to you, though when you briefly glance down at his shorts, there's an obvious bulge sticking out of the fabric. your eyes widen, but yunho's calling your name to recapture your attention.

he stops in front of you, eyes heavy with lust, "just looking at you got me so hard."

"yunho," you say with whine. your neck is craned upward to look at his face.

"so fucking hard." he repeats, tone even lowered. his hand comes back up to your nape, and you watch him lean down, "i can't even concentrate."

your eyes bounce back and forth between his gaze and his lips. you want to beg for a kiss. beg for him to finally end this tortured pain you're in. but instead, you part your lips and lower your eyes, signaling to him that you're ready. desperation fills your expression, and yunho is drinking every bit up.

he watches your hazy state, how quickly you fell apart for him. what an absolute turn around from how you were acting earlier in the night. you're just a mindless doll at this point. so ready to be completely ruined by him.

thinking this, a low groan escapes his throat, "god, you're so good to me."

his mouth drops slowly before enveloping yours with a greedy kiss—finally. he takes your lips hungrily as you tilt your head for a better taste. the two of you stumble back slightly until the bed grazes the back of your knees. he grips the back of your neck harder.

the intensity of the kiss has you levitating. slow pants start to leave your mouth, only to get swallowed up by yunho’s mouth. he’s coming at you, hard, as if he’s been deprived for so long. you slip a bit of your tongue into his mouth which sends a shudder down his back. as payback, when yunho’s lips come down on yours again, he grazes your bottom lip with his teeth.

you whimper. you two are completely enamored with one another. all thoughts have left your head and you're left with a desire that's practically eating you alive.

his lips part from yours once more, "fuck. can't wait for you to make such big mess on me."

he breathes heartily then captures your mouth, the two of you sharing another kiss. swiftly, he breaks away, "gonna make you cum so hard."

he uses all of his weight in the next kiss he gives you. yunho begins to lower you further into the mattress, the two of you not releasing. the bed squeaks from the added pressure, until eventually you're laying down on your back. and a genuine whimper buzzes out of you. you're dying within his grasp.

he’s pulling your lips harshly within his, groaning and mumbling more dirty words. the hand behind your neck shifts towards your front, him pressing down into your throat. that makes you whine. the noise bellows out of you, only for yunho to shut you up with a rough kiss. god, you're so loud. he thinks to himself.

still passionately making out, his pelvis starts to rock between your legs. he's so fucking turned on right now. his bulge rolls deep into your underwear, your pussy creating the perfect crevice for him. the new friction makes you see stars. so much is happening right now: the kissing, his hand on you, the way he's grinding into you, all of it has your senses on overload.

then, he rips himself away. he slides his hand up to underneath your chin and forcefully turns your face away. he goes to the side of your neck—kissing, sucking, and licking around your skin. you can already feel the hickies starting to form.

"need to leave a reminder for you," his words fall onto your neck, and all you could do is moan, "you're gonna remember this night."

he places a few more hickies on you.

releasing his hand, he starts to travel down your body. he kisses and licks along your sternum, before stopping at your breasts. his eyes flicker up to your lust-out expression, taking a brief pause. you wait anxiously for his next move.

"want me to suck on them?" his voice is just barely audible. you quickly shake your head 'yes'.

his gaze drops down to your tits. your hard nipples poke out of the fabric of your tank top. they're practically begging for stimulation. he leans in close to your buds, and gives one of them a quick flick of his tongue.

"oh, god." your body stutters from the sensation.

intrigued by your response, he leans over to quickly lick at the other bud, you reacting the same way. you are just so fucking sensitive, he's noticed. everything he's done so far has you damn near falling apart.

he keeps this in mind as he keeps working his way down. he gives you kisses against your stomach which causes butterflies to erupt and your belly to convulse slightly.

soon, he's at your underwear. you're quivering, body squirming, just waiting for him. but, he doesn't proceed. he sits a bit longer. your underwear is a cute color, a pretty shade of purple. and it holds your cunt so well.

"so pretty," muttering, he dips down to place a soft peck at the top of your underwear, "oh my—are you twitching right now?"

he calls you out with tiny grin. he's watchful of your current demeanor. you've already shut your eyes. it'd been too much to see yunho do this to you. with each little touch he's given you, your body reacts like it's never experienced this before. your short breaths fill the room, and you think anything else will make you cry. you really are a mess.

"just...just do something," you whine, "please, yunho."

and with that, he's instantly gliding your underwear off of you, throwing it wherever on the ground. he grips your knees and pushes them further back as now, he gets the best view of your needy cunt.

you're glistening, wetness coating your lips like someone had just drenched water on you. he swears he even sees your hole lightly opening and closing, basically asking for it to be stuffed.

a groan trickles from lips, "why is your cunt so perfect? it's just begging for me to ruin it." he takes his fingers from off of your knee and runs them up and down your slit.

"gah—yunho!" wailing, your pussy immediately clenches from his movement.

"you're like a toy, holy shit," he does the motion again, except this time he makes sure to end with slow circles at your clit, "your body listens to me so well, like the good toy you are."

a string of slickness leaks from your entrance. oh, man. you can already sense your sensitivity getting the best of you. he's only just now started stimulating your cunt, but it feels like too much already.

"you twitch on command. leak on command," in a swift motion, he brings his head down to lay his tongue on your sex, starting from your wet entrance and ending at the top. he whispers out the next part, "can i make you cum on command?"

when he moves his hand away to do the same action again, your eyes roll into the back your head. yunho grips your knees again, his face buried deep between your legs. he gives a hearty lick to your cunt once more, then another, then another.

"mmmm, fuck. yunho, this....this feels so good." you're lightly jerking, hips involuntarily moving. he use this as motivation.

his jaw flexes open, taking in a greater amount. soon, his licks turn into large kisses. he's conscious of the fact that you're on edge. he feels you moving around in his grasp. he's determined to make you finish, now.

mouth fully between your cunt, he swirls his tongue deeply into it. ripples of pleasure come bursting through your core, shooting up through your veins, before ending at your head. you feel faint.

your hips push harder against his face, and a noise quickly starts up. a squelching sound rings through both of your ears as your wet pussy begins to mix with yunho's mouth. it sounds disgustingly wet—but, you love it. you feel so dirty, so nasty, but that just turns you on even more.

your juices turn frothy and bubbles out from the side of yunho's face. when realizing this, he groans inside your sweet clit. it vibrates you in a way that makes you quiver. you let out a throaty moan and he starts to speed up his pace.

"oh, oh—i think i'm close." you huff, chest rising up and down sporadically. god, you're so close.

yunho hums at your words, but to be honest, he's too drunk off your taste to really hear you. he's too far gone. more sloppy kisses are given to your cunt. they're sloppy, filthy—disgusting. so much so that he starts to shake his head in circles, just to give an extra sense of pleasure. the other secret reason, he freaking loves how wet his face feels from your dripping cunt. he wants it permanently on his face.

he goes in faster. you're already whining, wailing out desperate cries. it truly is too much. the build up from earlier to now, you don't even know how you were able to last this long. though, it's going to be over soon.

and soon hits you faster than you could've ever expected.

you don't even know what triggers it—probably everything—but in an instant, your body quickly convulses and your eyes go white. your orgasm hits you stronger than you've ever felt before.

"ah—fuck! oh, god!"

yunho clamps down onto you when he feels you orgasming, his mouth slurping and licking all over your pulsating core. he feels even more liquid gush out, only adding to the mixture he's created. he guzzles it all down, just everything is so messy.

you continue to thrash around, part of you trying to break free from his grasp while the other part does nothing but let your rapture wash over you. eventually, your body calms down, your movements slowing to a halt. even as you try to regain your composure, yunho's still going at you as if he's starved. now, you're going into overstimulation territory.

"ahhh, yunho," glancing down, your voice is weak when you address him, "mmm, you can stop now. i'm done."

he drinks up your pussy one last time, before parting dramatically. he's pushes himself up, so now you can fully see his face. and god, is it glimmering in wetness. but, before you can even comment on his current state, yunho's already pulling down his shorts.

your eyebrows scrunch, "what are you doing?" although your brain is still foggy from your intense finish, you still have some awareness.

his shorts drop to his knees along with his boxers, and you're left wide-eyed. he's huge. and you mean huge. his thick cock stands up perfectly, reaching all the way to his stomach. his tip is a dark pink color and you swear you see little drips falling from his slit.

yunho sighs a relief at finally being able to free himself, "y/n, i already promised i wouldn't fuck you. we can save that for another time."

another time? if even possible, your eyes open wider. what does he mean another ti—

"but, fuck, i really need to do this," his hand comes up to aimlessly stroke away at his cock, his pelvis grinding slowly into his palm, "i won't stick it in, i promise. just need to feel your sweet cunt on me again. i feel so close."

your breath hitches. is he suggesting what you think he's suggesting?

"you...wanna...?"

"is that okay?" he asks quietly, his hand squeezing harder around his base.

you knew how dangerous of a request this is. even if he wasn't going to insert it, you knew lust can make people do anything. but then, why does the thought sound so good?

"i'm already sensitive..." you try, barely. you can already imagine what it must feel like, and the thought gets you horny all over again.

"i'll be quick, i promise," he says firmly, already lowering his body to be close to yours, "i can already feel my cum about to shoot out. just want something to stimulate it."

his face stops right in front of yours as you feel his tip just barely graze your cunt. you hold back another moan.

"i can do it?" he asks once more, this time looking into your eyes. you stare back at his large, brown gaze, and instinctively, you whimper out a 'yes'.

he's quick to grab his cock, now positioning it to where his shaft lays beautifully along the crevice of your pussy. earlier it had just felt so good, he knew he needed to do it again.

your pussy wraps around his skin, enveloping his warm cock. yunho's already buzzing with tingles that travel up around his body. and then, he begins moving.

he rocks his erection between your lips, starting off ever so leisurely. he's getting a feel of your bare cunt running up and down him. you bite your lip to hold back a scream. you're too overstimulated for this, him rubbing his cock against you in this way. your eyelids flutter as your breathing turns ragged.

"oh my—fuck, y/n. i'm gonna cum. shit, your….your cunt's gonna make me me..."

he speeds up his hips, him full on grinding his length into your pussy. holy fuck, did he make the best decision. his mind becomes clouded, his breathing turning hard. as for you, well you've already check out, with just how sensitive you are. and yet somehow, you feel yourself working up to another orgasm.

he digs his hips deeper and deeper, his cock rolling along your clit. his tip would pass by your bud, giving it the perfect stimulation. he's so close. so damn close. he's practically fucking your cunt right now. and you're just taking it so well.

it wasn't until his final buck, in which a creamy, white load comes foaming out from the top. it lands directly at the bottom of your stomach, but then starts to seep down to your precious slit. feeling the viscous liquid, a smaller, less dramatic orgasm takes over you—yet it still had you quaking.

your pussy begins squeezing and pulsating yet again, which just milks yunho's fat cock even more. the two of you moan simultaneously, you both shaking and twitching against one another.

and that's how this night ends.

what once started out as your terrible attempt at the perfect orgasm, ends with you actually achieving it—twice. on top of that, it was all done thanks to your stupid, idiot neighbor, who's currently passed out next to you.

finally. after this long, eventful night, are you able to sleep peacefully, even with jeong yunho curled up right beside you.

- Bonus -

it's been 2 weeks since that night with yunho and you have absolutely no idea where two's current relationship stands. through it all, he'll always be your idiotic, annoying neighbor—the one who keeps you up late at night.

except for now, he's been keeping you up late for a different reason.

*

*

*

*

jeong yunho

11:13 PM

y/nnnnn, can you come over right now?

i need help :(

you grimace at the texts sent, you dropping down your pencil to focus on them. you're currently sitting at your desk, trying to prepare for an exam you have coming up.

y/n

11:14 PM

but you just texted me this morning???

how could you possibly need help again??

what the hell? he's never texted you twice in one day about this.

jeong yunho

11:14 PM

ugh, i know and normally i don't even get hard again after i cum

but god, i literally couldn't stop thinking about the way your mouth felt around me this morning

started daydreaming about it and got a boner LOL

"aww, yunho!" moaning, you silently curse his idiotic brain, head drooping. this isn't the first he's asked you to take care of a problem caused by his stupid thoughts. you've already told him to learn how to control them!

and unfortunately, you're not available for him.

y/n

11:16 PM

oh my god

sorry but i can't right now, studying for a test

jeong yunho

11:16 PM

oh boooooo

you're a smart girl, i know you'll ace it

y/n

11:17 PM

wanna know how i get this smart? by studying

jeong yunho

11:18 PM

but y/n it's so painful

my cock's throbbing for you

look

sent image

reluctantly, you open the picture. it's of his erection protruding through his grey sweatpants. you can tell he doesn't have any underwear on from how large he looks in the photo, and also by the fact there's small specks of dark grey splattered near the top. his pre-cum.

shit. you really should not have opened this.

jeong yunho

11:19 PM

need you so bad

please, help me

you bring your bottom lip inwards to chew on it. you really need to study, and you know this. but, fuck, he looks so good right now. the noises—the whimpering—he made for you earlier this morning resurface to your head, and now you're even more conflicted.

another text from yunho comes through.

jeong yunho

11:22 PM

it'll be the neighborly thing to do ☹️

oh, please. your eyes roll at that. he's been throwing this phrase around about a week after you two started fooling around with each other.

ugh, what an idiot.

y/n

11:23 PM

you know what? fine, here i come

truthfully, you were convinced since the beginning, you just wanted to see how far he would go. you shoot up from your desk and grab your phone, feeling your core already tingle at what's to come.

you begin to make your way out of your bedroom when another buzz comes through.

jeong yunho

11:24 PM

atta girl

my favorite neighbor

*

*

*

*

You say 'push around' but the truth is that you wouldn't be here without them. And for that, you probably will miss them.

But, will you miss their weirdly obsessive protectiveness over you? The constant praise you receive from Lucy, and grunts of approval from Tim? Or maybe the way Lucy softly touches your arms as she speaks to you or Tim's rough hand that gently holds your lower back to shield you and bring you closer to him- even when you were just walking alongside each other? Will you miss how they dominantly call you 'their boot' and how it makes you shiver from intimidation and...arousal? Their lingering eyes on you from afar? Their constant want to help you with your end-of-day reports and defensiveness when criminals tried to talk back at you, or worse, hurt you?

…Yes, yes you will.

But, things change. And to be out of your long sleeves meant you were no longer 'their boot'. Whatever enticing tension you three had on the job that had you so sexually frustrated over countless sleepless nights was now something you didn't have to think about again.

When you walk into the office and take a seat (officially not at the front anymore) before role call, the air feels charged, like all eyes are on you. And then, applause erupts as officers crowd around, clapping your back and offering words of encouragement: “Good to have you back,” and “Glad you pulled through.” It’s overwhelming, but the warmth in their voices is genuine.

Still, there are two voices conspicuously absent.

You glance around the room, scanning for familiar faces, but Tim and Lucy are nowhere in sight. Your chest tightens- a mix of relief and disappointment. Whatever, they’ll show up eventually.

“Alright, listen up!” Sergeant Grey announces, silencing the room immediately, “I would like to start off by congratulating Officer Y/L/N for officially becoming P2. And, of course, making one hell of a recovery.”

A flush creeps up your neck as the room bursts into applause again. Your smile can't help but warm your face. “Thank you, Sir. It’s good to be back.”

“It is,” Grey replies, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Which is why I’m sure you’ll love spending your first shift back at the front desk.” The laughter that ripples through the room is good-natured, but your smile tightens. You knew this was coming. Plus, what more fun could you possibly have with anyone else but Smitty on the job?

...Well, there were definitely some things you could think of.

“Settle down, let’s get things started,” Sergeant Grey begins, lifting a hand to quiet the room. “We’ve got a new face in town. Detective Miles,” He raises his hand, guiding you all to look at the back of the room.

Your gaze follows- and snags.

Detective Miles steps forward, his presence illuminating your attention into a trance. His face is clean-shaven, highlighting his sharp jawline and perfectly-tinted lips, his tanned skin and brown hair shine against the sunlight coming from the windows, and he’s gazing down at you with such pretty brown eyes and a confident smile tugs at his lips.

“You all know what to do- treat him kindly and with respect," Grey says, his voice fading into the background as you can’t seem to look away. “And Officer Y/L/N,” Grey adds, snapping your attention back, “since you’ll be spending your time at the front desk you can show him around the station.”

Oh, yes you will. You can't believe it- he is yours to tour around.

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good, moving on,” Sergeant Grey says, but anything else he has to say is blurred by the new sight for sore eyes you can’t seem to get out of your head as you stare blankly at the whiteboard.

From afar where Lucy and Tim stand in the back, only just making it to role call with no time to spare, they watch the exchange carefully with frowns upon their faces.

“Are you seeing this?” Lucy mutters, her eyes unsure where to fixate on.

Tim crosses his arms, “Unfortunately,” He grumbles with a stare burning into the back of your head and his jaw tightening.

By the time Sergeant Grey ends role call and almost everyone has cleared the room, you find yourself standing up and strolling your way to the new Detective, a welcoming smile spreading across your face to soften whatever nerves he may have. Up close, he's even taller than you thought.

Detective Miles offers his hand with confidence practically radiating off of him, “Congratulations, Officer Y/L/N. I’m looking forward to learning from the best.”

You take his hand, his grip warm and firm, “Please, you talk too highly of someone who you haven’t even met,” You laugh lightly, hoping the flush on your cheeks isn’t obvious as you shake his hand back- how can they feel so silky smooth? “Thank you, Detective. And welcome to the team.”

As you both let your hands go, Detective Miles smiles wider, his brown eyes crinkling. “I have a feeling I’m going to enjoy it here.”

You couldn't agree more. But, behind you, Tim and Lucy linger in the doorway with unwavering figures and matching scowls.

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

As the station settles back into its usual rhythm, you take your time showing Detective Miles around. He’s a quick learner and attentive, leaning down slightly whenever you explain something, his easy smile always matching yours. It’s unnerving how effortlessly charming he is as he grasps any chance he can to make you laugh with a lighthearted joke and banter. 

However, it’s even more unnerving how you can feel the weight of two pairs of eyes on you. You don’t need to look back to know Tim and Lucy are watching your every move. Their presence burns into your spine, a tangible heat that prickles your skin.

“So, how long have you been with the LAPD?” Miles asks as you guide him through the office. 

“Just over a year now,” you reply, glancing up at him. His height is almost ridiculous- he towers over you in a way that feels simultaneously intimidating and enticing. “Technically not a rookie anymore, so I’m finally free from my two TOs.” 

“Two TOs, huh?” He chuckles, his voice low and smooth. “Must’ve been a troubling rookie to need double the training.” 

You bark out a laugh, shaking your head. “No! Not to be biased but I so was the best rookie ever. It’s not my fault the other two who started with me flamed out and got booted. They had all these extra TOs to go around, so Lucy joined the party."

Miles tilts his head, subtle but focused. "I can't imagine how intimidating that would've been for someone so new to the job."

Your lips part to answer, but you struggle to let words slip off your tongue. 

Intimidating didn't even begin to describe it. Tim’s commanding bark of orders ('Don't do that again! You hear me, boot?') and Lucy’s piercing gaze as she cornered you had left you scrambling and submitting ('Yes, Sir. Yes, Ma'am.") more times than you could count. Yet, it was the kind of pressure that moulded you- strengthened you. And there were moments, moments you could never admit when their dominance had felt…rousing. The way their eyes always lingered just a moment too long when they thought you weren’t looking. Their featherlight touches as they graze past you was also another topic that had you trembling.

“It was,” you begin, your voice steady despite the rush of heat climbing your neck. "But they balanced each other out. Lucy's teaching style was affirming- gentle but serious when needed, and Tim..." You puffed out air, "Yeah, he was rough. But, honestly, he's a big softie once you get to know him."

Miles' grin widens, "I feel like you're speaking way too kindly of your TOs."

You nudge him in the side jokingly, "Hey! I wouldn't be where I am without them, so I have to give them that. Maybe you should thank them- after all, without their stellar training, I wouldn’t be here showing you around." You flutter your lashes in mock dramatics, adding with a smirk. "It is an honour to know me, after all."

He chuckles as he stops in his tracks and you follow in pursuit, "Yeah, I guess it is." He murmurs, his eyes warming yours in such a way you become lost in the chocolate hues.

And for a fleeting moment, the bustling station fades to a dull hum. It’s just you and him, standing a little too close, your breath caught in your chest as the air between you charges with something unspoken.

"Boot!"

The commanding boom of his voice immediately breaks whatever spell had you under Miles' trance. You break eye contact with him and whip your head to your right, finding yourself drawn to the unmistakable source of the sound.

Tim and Lucy stand at a distance, their mere presence filling the space between you and Miles with an undeniable chill- a familiar, thrilling tension you haven’t felt in a while.

You squeak out a response as they close the distance, "Tim, Lucy, I didn't expect to see you here! I thought you guys took the day off- I didn't see you at role call.”

Well, duh, you didn't see them- you were too busy making lovey-dovey eyes at the new detective.

However, at your words, their stony exteriors soften just slightly, cracks in their walls that betray their affection. Of course, you looked for them. Of course, you’d noticed. That’s who you are. Their person. Their boot.

Lucy stifles a laugh as she shoves your arm a little- a touch light but purposeful, “Oh, boot, we were just running late. No way we'd miss your first attendance back from your recovery. It’s a shame you can't be back in the shop with us.”

You tilt your head, trying to compose yourself under their piercing gazes. “Back with you two? My goodness, do you miss me already?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Tim’s frown only deepens, the weight of his stare pinning you in place as he folds his arms, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

You squint your eyes, “I’m not your boot anymore, remember? I can do whatever I want now. But, don’t worry, I’ll try not to embarrass you two by being too competent on my own."

The words hang in the air like a live wire. Their reactions are immediate- Lucy’s mouth falls open, her usual poise faltering, while Tim’s jaw tightens to the point you swear you hear it creak. Their silence is as loud as any outburst, and you can’t help but suppress a smirk.

Before they can erupt with outbursts, you take it upon yourself to turn your attention to Miles- who stands there oblivious to the tension between you all as you tug on his arm to bring him closer to you, “Tim, Lucy, this is Detective Miles. Detective Miles, these were my training officers."

Detective Miles extends a polite hand toward Tim and Lucy, his easily confident persona aromatises within the air. “It’s an honour to meet the officers responsible for training Y/L/N. Clearly, you’ve done a phenomenal job.” His alluring grin is effortless and you can’t help but smile at his words, scarlet burning up in your face as you flicker your gaze up at him.

Tim, however, doesn’t take the hand right away. His eyes narrow as he sizes up the detective, the weight of his scrutiny palpable. Finally, he shakes Miles’ hand- firm, deliberate, borderline territorial. “Detective,” he says curtly, his tone laced with subtle warning.

Lucy, ever the professional, steps in with a disarming smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Welcome, Detective. We’re happy to have you here,” she says, though there’s a hidden coolness in her tone that betrays her kind words.

Detective Miles nods, releasing Tim’s grip before turning to Lucy. “Thank you. I’m looking forward to working with everyone here,” he replies smoothly, though he looks down at you for the briefest moment.

Tim catches it. Of course, he does. His jaw tightens further, his voice dropping an octave as he addresses you. “Boot, a word.”

Your stomach flips.

You know that tone. The one that he used on you so much back when you were under their command. It was the kind that couldn’t be fucked with, and you know better than to go against him because really, it’s not a question- it’s an order. 

You glance at Lucy, who arches a brow but stays quiet. Shit, Lucy was always quick to defend you, even from her own boyfriend when Tim got too harsh. And when it did come to crucial times when Tim did need to put you in your place, Lucy’s eyes always spoke to you in a comforting, disciplined way. 

But not right now. Which means Lucy is just as pissed as Tim.

Fuck.

You dart your eyes back to Miles, who gives you an encouraging nod- clearly unaware of the storm brewing between you and your former TOs. He places his hand on your shoulder, “Go ahead, Y/L/N. I’ll catch up with you later and we can finish the tour then?”

You force a smile, your nerves prickling under their gaze. “Well of course, I wouldn’t want to miss catching up with you, Detective,” you murmur, a sly grin tugging at your lips before you reluctantly turn to follow Tim and Lucy.

What should have been a short walk quickly becomes a long one as the three of you move farther away, out of both earshot and sight. The suffocating silence doesn't help the relentless tension building between you all and with the two close to your sides, you can't stop the shiver that runs up your spine as Tim brushes his hand gently against your lower back, steering you. At the same time, Lucy’s knuckles graze yours ever so slightly. It's a fleeting contact, but enough to set your nerves alight.

You sigh softly, the memory of their attention and authority rushing back like a drug. It feels like ages since you’ve felt this from them, and fuck, you wish they’d do more than just touch your back and your hand. The restraint is intoxicating, and you crave it- you crave them.

The second they guide you into an empty room, your adrenaline pumps alarmingly as you can't help but watch as Lucy turns the lock, its echo wailing amongst the quietness.

Tim finally speaks up, “What the hell was that?” He rounds on you with eyes blazing.

“What was what?” you reply defensively, as you shrug your shoulders. “I was doing my job, Tim. Showing the new guy around. You know, the thing Grey assigned me to do?”

Lucy steps in, her voice softer but no less pointed. “Boot, we get it. You’re independent now, no longer under our wing. But that doesn’t mean you need to be…” she hesitates, searching for the right word, “…reckless.”

Oh, they can not be serious right now.

Your furrow your eyebrows, “Reckless?” you repeat, incredulous. “How is being nice to a new colleague reckless? He’s a Detective, for fuck’s sake, not some random guy off the street!”

Tim’s frown deepens, his voice dropping lower in the hopes you'll follow his lead. “You don’t know him, boot. You don’t know his intentions, and he sure as hell doesn’t know you like we do.”

You gape at them, a mix of frustration and disbelief bubbling up inside you. “His intentions? Are you serious right now? He’s literally been here for five minutes, we were just becoming good friends. Fuck, clearly I don’t know his intentions because I just met him!”

“And yet you’re already blushing and giggling like he’s the best thing to happen around here,” Tim growls, his words laced with something dangerously close to jealousy as he steps closer to you, “This isn’t high school, boot. You don’t make those types of friends here. And you certainly don’t need to flirt your way through the precinct.”

You throw your hands up in the air, scoffing, “Oh, am I not allowed to make friends now? You know for people who aren’t my TOs anymore, you sure act like you still own me.”

Lucy folds her arms, her expression unreadable. “We’re looking out for you, boot. Like we always have.”

You glare at them, your emotions a tangled mess, “It’s funny that you two keep calling me boot when you and I know you have no control over me.” You fold your arms as you narrow your eyes.

Yet, your bold statement only lasts a few seconds when Tim and Lucy glance at each other one more time before they turn back to you, both holding dark stares at you as they step closer into your space, warming your already heated up body and your breath hitches at their closeness.

Tim lowers himself so his hot breath meets your ear, “We’re not playing games here, boot. I don’t care how long you’ve been out of long sleeves- you are ours. Keep fucking around, and you will find out.” He whispers, giving you one lingering look as he pulls away from your ear, “Understood?”

Your body betrays you as goosebumps crawl up your neck- clearly noticeable to Tim and Lucy, along with your inability to bite back as you shudder your exhale, “Yes, Sir.” You look at Lucy, “Yes, Ma’am.”

Tim hums at your response, revelling in your easy submission. He gives a nod to Lucy whose cheeks are faintly flushed and they open the door, taking you back out to the busy station that is unaware of the tension that storms within you three.

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

You don't stop.

In fact, you get worse.

Throughout the rest of the shift, whenever Tim and Lucy arrive back at the station after dragging in multiple criminals and barely catching their breath, they’re met with the maddening sight of you doing exactly what they told you not to. Walking the halls with Detective Miles, your laughter light and melodic as you nudge his arm at the front desk. Your lip caught teasingly between your teeth, batting your lashes up at him whenever he leans in too close, his fingers brushing the barest touch against your arm. And then just to really push it- you lean in just a fraction closer, your faces mere inches apart as you exchange a hushed laugh in the Detective’s office.

God, how much of a brat could you be?

It's blatant disobedience- a performance that Lucy and Tim see through immediately. This isn’t you, not the sweet, compliant rookie who once hung on their every word, striving to prove herself. That version of you listened to them, understood them, and most certainly didn't need to be told twice. Your sweet, friendly nature and how you carried yourself with a quiet determination are what drew them to you. And with that, you instantly became theirs.

But now? Now, they can barely recognise you. This new version- bold, teasing, rebellious- has their blood boiling.

Tim’s jaw tightens as he watches your sultry eyes fixate on Miles, your smile lingering far too long. “She’s trying to get under our skin,” he growls, voice low and simmering.

Lucy, standing next to him, crosses her arms tightly over her chest. Her eyes narrow as they follow the subtle tilt of your head, the way you lean in just a little too close to Miles. “She knows exactly what she’s doing.” She mutters.

Then, your laughter rings out across the room, only stoking the fire burning in their chests.

Tim’s eyes darken, his gaze fixed on you like a predator sizing up its prey, “She’s testing us. She thinks we’re just going to stand here and let her get away with this.”

Lucy tilts her head, a slow, wicked smirk curling at the edges of her lips as she glances up at him, “Think it’s time we remind her who she belongs to?”

“A thorough reminder,” Tim agrees, his tone so dangerously low it sends a shiver down her spine. His gaze remains locked on you, unwavering.

As if sensing their stares, you glance up, meeting their eyes from across the room. For just a moment, your smile falters and you widen your eyes. For that split second, something unspoken passes between the three of you- an electric charge, a promise of reckoning. And it has your breath hitching and your body heating.

You quickly turn your attention back to Miles, forcing the playful grin back onto your face, but it’s too late. 

They’ve seen enough. 

Lucy’s smirk deepens, her hand brushing Tim’s arm. She turns and walks away with an air of finality, Tim following close behind. “Let’s make sure she doesn’t forget this time.”

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

It isn’t until a little later that you finally break away from Miles, and while you couldn’t agree more that he was a good distraction from doing boring administration organising, he was a perfect distraction to cool off the overwhelming tension you have felt all day.

You can’t help it. The way they looked at you, dark and possessive, their expressions unreadable but commanding…it’s all you’ve been able to think about. Your core heats every time the memory resurfaces, your pulse quickening with the knowledge that you’ve royally screwed up.

The truth is painfully clear for your stubborn ass: this will only end one way. You will have to submit- just like you've always done.

With a folder tucked under your arm, you begin to make your way towards the elevators. Your steps are light, and a soft hum escapes you as you press the button and wait, blissfully unaware of the two shadows stalking you from behind.

Because while your pretty head is in the clouds, Tim and Lucy move like predators with their prey locked in sight.

Which is why when you find yourself walking to the back of the elevator and turn around, a gasp slips out of your lips at the sight of your TOs also entering the confined space.

“Fancy seeing you two here,” You manage to blurt out, your façade wavering as their eyes rake over you, taking a spot directly in front of you. Their backs are close enough that you can smell each of their colognes- Tim; woody, earthy, masculine and Lucy; roses, vanilla, undeniably feminine. Both oh so different, but blending perfectly together.

No doubt, the two can smell you- it’s all they’ve fucking smelt this whole day. Since day one, your English pear and freesia scent has been a constant, weaving its way into their uniforms, their senses, their thoughts.

“Could say the same thing about you,” Tim replies as he turns his head to the side. He doesn’t hold back as his eyes flick down your body and back up to your eyes, “Taking those folders somewhere?”

You nod quickly, “To the basement’s safe,” You study their empty hands, “You?’

“Just coming along for the ride,” Lucy hums, but her low voice suggests that they aren’t just here for that. 

As the elevator doors close with ominous ding and the chatter outside in the station starts to fade as the elevator descends, you feel smaller within the space. The artificial light buzzes overhead, casting harsh shadows that only heighten the tension, and you press the folder to your chest as if it could create a barrier between you and them.

Fuck, how slow is this elevator? You bite the inside of your cheek, glancing at the flickering floor numbers. If you’d known they were going to be here, you’d have taken the stairs.

Wood, earth, roses, vanilla. 

The scents wrap around you, intoxicating and suffocating all at once.

2. 1. Base. Ground. Underground.

Underground- your stop. Relief bubbles for a split second and you’re just about to leap out of your stance but, the doors do not open.

Instead, there is a flicker of the light, followed by a jolt…

And then it just, stops.

The elevator jerks to a halt, the buzz dying out, leaving an eerie silence in its place.

“What the hell-” Tim mutters, slamming his hands against the panel of buttons. The emergency light flares to life in a harsh, red glow.

Your chest tightens as the reality of the situation sinks in- you’re trapped. With them.

You glance at Tim and Lucy. Tim’s hand rests on the button panel, his fingers flexing as if he’s testing the patience of the unresponsive machinery. Lucy, meanwhile, leans casually against the wall, her head tilting ever so slightly as her sharp eyes assess you like a predator calculating its next move. 

The air is thick, charged, the scent of cologne and perfume mingling until it feels like it’s wrapping around you, pulling you into their orbit. You swear they’ve moved closer, though neither of them has taken a visible step. Or maybe it’s just you, shrinking further against the cold metal wall in a futile attempt to create distance.

“So,” Lucy breaks the silence first, “What’s the plan, Tim? We just hang out here until someone notices we’re gone?”

He replies, “Well, unless you’re volunteering to climb out the hatch and save us, I think we’ll be waiting a while.” His tone is somewhat casual, even light, which only unsettles you even more.

You force a shaky laugh, attempting to dispel the tension, “Great. Guess we’re stuck together for a bit then.”

Lucy hums softly, her gaze flickering to you. “Seems that way.” There’s a pause, and then she adds, “You don’t seem too thrilled about it, though. Nervous?”

You blink at her, caught off guard, “Nervous? Nervous about what?” You stammer, clutching the folder even tighter against your chest.

Lucy straightens from her relaxed pose, her gaze settling on you sharp as a blade. “Oh, I don’t know,” she muses, stepping just a fraction closer. “Maybe the fact that you’ve been acting out all day? Running around, batting those pretty eyes at Miles like we wouldn’t notice?” 

Your back hits the corner of the elevator, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” You manage weakly, your voice faltering under their combined scrutiny. 

“Oh, I think you do,” Tim starts up, his attention now diverted from the elevator’s buttons to, more importantly, you. “I think,” he begins, his deep voice grasping your attention as he steps closer, his tall frame eclipsing yours with every deliberate inch, and you swear the air grows thinner. “You’re forgetting your role here- who had you first, who taught you everything you needed to know. You’re forgetting who controls you and will until the day you walk out of here.”

Your heart pounds in your chest, loud enough to drown out everything but his voice.

“I think you’re forgetting,” He continues, “that while you aren’t a rookie anymore, in our eyes, you will always be our boot, you will always be ours.”

The elevator feels impossibly small now, their presence overwhelming, the walls seeming to press inward. Your heart is so palpable it echoes in your ears, drowning out the bustling station beyond the stuck elevator doors. Your breathing is shaky and uneven- every attempt to steady yourself only makes it worse.

“You know what I think, Tim?” Lucy asks, her voice smoother, softer, but no less dangerous as she steps closer too. Her eyes dark with a glint of mischievousness look down into your wide ones as she raises her hand, her fingers delicately twirling the loose strands of your ponytail.

“Hmm?” Tim hums, his gaze never leaving you.

“I think she hasn’t forgotten at all,” Lucy tugs at the band in your hair, her movements slow and elaborate until the elastic slips out. Your hair cascades over your shoulders, and her lips curl into a knowing smile as she brushes a strand away from your face, tucking it behind your ear, “I think she knows exactly what she’s doing and just wanted our attention. That’s why you kept flirting with him, pushing our buttons, talking back when you know damn well you should’ve kept your mouth shut. Isn’t that right, boot?”

A gasp escapes you as her fingers glide to the base of your neck, her touch firm but tantalisingly soft. You shudder, feeling utterly caged between them as their presence consuming every thought, every breath.

But no words come out. You’re utterly silent, caught in the whirlwind of your own racing thoughts. What once lived only in your fantasies- those forbidden moments you imagined with Tim and Lucy- was now unravelling in front of you, real and tangible. Of course, you went against them. It was the only way to rile them up, to draw their attention back to you, to feel the weight of their focus that you crave. 

But now, as their intense gazes pin you in place, you realise the truth. You didn’t need to defy them to get their attention. You’ve always had it- completely, entirely, overwhelmingly.

Tim’s smirk grows as he takes a step closer, his broad frame now entirely blocking out the dull glow of the elevator lights. Without realising it, you let Tim take the folder from your hands. He places it on the ground, leaving your fingers bare and uncertain, fluttering at your sides as if they’re searching for purpose. “See, Lucy,” he murmurs, his eyes never leaving yours, “she gets it. She knows she belongs to us. She doesn’t need to say a damn thing because she knows who’s in charge here.”

“Oh, I don’t think she does. I want to hear it.” Lucy’s gaze sharpens, locking onto yours with a predatory intensity. “Who do you belong to, boot?”

A shiver courses down your spine as you feel Tim’s broad frame manoeuvring to stand behind you. And then his calloused fingers graze down to your waist where they find themselves comfortable in your natural dent. He squeezes your waist as he tugs you closer to his chest and you can’t help the gasp that falls from your softy parted lips at the feeling of his hard cock pulsing beneath.

“Don’t make us wait, baby,” Lucy whispers, her voice silky and it sets your nerves alight. “We know how much you want to admit it.”

Suffocating. Intoxicating. Hot. It’s all you can feel in this very moment where Tim and Lucy have you trapped between them- your senses heightened so much you don’t know how you’re still alive with the rate at which your heart thumps. Your hands flex and unflex, the tension in your body coiling tighter. Finally, the words spill from your lips, trembling but certain: “You, Ma’am and Sir.”

“Good girl,” Lucy purrs and she rewards you with a sharp tug on your roots, and you bite the inside of your cheek to stifle the gasp that threatens to escape. Her eyes glimmer with approval. “Let us remind you just how much you mean to us.”

Us.

The word slams into you like a tidal wave, raw and overwhelming. Tim and Lucy don’t just want you- they want you together. The realisation burns through you, leaving no room for doubt. You’re theirs. Not Lucy’s alone, nor Tim’s. Both.

And they’re going to share you.

Your thoughts spin, head reeling at the sheer weight of the moment. This is your first time in something like this, a party of three where you’re the centerpiece. 

A gasp escapes you as what could’ve been just one pair of lips pressing to yours becomes two- it’s a whole new overwhelming yet blissful sensation.

Lucy’s mouth claims yours first. Her lips are gentle yet commanding, and there’s nothing rushed or possessive about it as her fingers tighten in your hair to anchor you to her. Your lips part instinctively, inviting her tongue to sweep in, taste and explore you.

At the same time, Tim’s lips find the curve of your neck, trailing wet, burning kisses that make you shudder. His touch is softer than you expected but the heat in his movements is unmistakable. The combination of their attention sets your nerves aflame, and your body responds without hesitation. 

Your arms snake around Lucy’s waist, pulling her closer until her chest presses firmly against yours. Behind you, your hips grind back against Tim, your movements shameless, desperate. Sandwiched between them, there’s no room for restraint, no thought of anything beyond the electric current running through your veins. Pretty, breathless noises tumble from your lips at any chance available, which Tim and Lucy only revel in more. 

Lucy pulls away first, her lips swollen and curved into a sly smirk as she stares into your low eyes, “Fuck, boot, I didn’t know you had it in you,” She whispers, her hands releasing from your hair as she traces the everlasting goosebumps that don’t shy from her touch, “and you’re trembling for us, losing control already, are we?”

“You should feel how her ass is grinding into my cock, Luce,” Tim murmurs from behind and your cheeks immediately redden at his filthy words. One of his hands glides up to cup your jaw, tilting your face so you’re forced to meet his eyes. His thumb brushes the edge of your rosy-tinted cheek, his touch firm but unbearably tender, “I think our needy boot wants more, don’t you?”

Your eyebrows flash upwards, the inner parts knitting together as you look into Tim’s dark eyes. While his face may show his steadiness, the boner that presses into you definitely says otherwise of his demeanour. 

You’re breathless, "Yes please, Sir,” you whisper, voice barely audible.

The corners of his lips twitch upward before he claims your mouth in a kiss that’s searing, demanding. It’s nothing like Lucy’s- it’s rougher, hungrier, a kiss that takes without apology. His hand keeps your jaw firmly in place, his thumb stroking your skin as his other hand grips your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. His hips drive into you more as you both yearn for more friction.

With deft fingers, Lucy begins to undress you; she works her way down the buttons of your shirt, each reveal leaving you more exposed, more vulnerable. When the fabric falls away, your bra and the curve of your cleavage are left bare for her to admire.

You don’t dare stop her. You couldn’t even if you wanted to. Instead, your hands move upward, clasping around her neck as she leans in, her lips hovering just above your skin. Her breath is scalding against your exposed chest, and you can’t help but arch into her touch- a soft, needy moan spilling from your lips.

Then, her lips press against your skin as she unclasps your bra, each kiss marking your skin with her possessive claim. You can’t help but shudder as you pull away from Tim, a shaky breath escaping your lips while your entire body trembles under her touch. The heat of her body presses against yours, leaving you dizzy and overwhelmed with desire. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful, boot,” she mumbles against your skin, her voice low and sultry, sending a surge of warmth straight to your core. “You’re going to make us both so proud, aren’t you?” 

Tim’s voice is rough, desperate, “Get on your knees for us, baby. We want to see just how much you can take.” 

Your heart races at the command. A nervous tension coils in your stomach, but the thrill of pleasing them outweighs the nerves. Slowly, almost shyly, you drop to your knees, your hands shaky as they undo Tim’s pants. You can’t look away from the hunger in their eyes as you work, your fingers fumbling for a moment before you manage to slide his zipper down, revealing the growing bulge beneath. A quiet breath leaves your lips, both from nervousness and anticipation. You’ve never felt this exposed, but it only drives the heat in your body higher. 

Tim watches you intently, his eyes dark with lust, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he watches you, waiting. His words are soft but filled with command, “That’s it, baby. You’ve got it. Don’t be shy. Show us how good you are.” 

You nod hesitantly, but it’s enough to spur you on. Shifting your attention, you gently take Tim’s cock out and into your hand, the feel of him warm and heavy against your palm. Your breath catches in your throat as you lower your mouth to his tip, your lips parting just barely. The first touch of your mouth makes him groan, and you can’t help but redden at how much it turns him on. The nervousness lingers, but you push it away, focusing on giving him the pleasure he craves. Slowly, you take him deeper, the sensation of his length filling your mouth makes your cheeks flush even more.

As you hollow your cheeks to deepthroat him, you feel Lucy’s hand slide into your hair, guiding you in and out of his cock. Her breath is soft but heavy as she watches you, her voice a sultry whisper. “Take it all, boot. You’re doing so well.” 

Your head swirls with the praise, your hands caressing Tim’s thighs while you continue to work him with your mouth. 

Then, your other hand drifts to Lucy, who watches you with an appreciative grin on her lips. With her pants already down, your fingers hesitantly brush over her soft skin, touching between her legs. Lucy’s hand guides you, urging you to touch her the way she likes. Her moan of approval vibrates through you as she spreads her legs wider for you, her body arching as you find your thumb taking the lead on Lucy as you circle her clit.

“Fuck, you’re so eager,” Tim breathes, his hand threading into your hair as well, urging you to take him deeper. The roughness in his voice makes you feel small, yet desired. “Show us how much you can take, sweetheart.” 

Your fingers work faster on Lucy, moving from teasing touches on her clit to more purposeful strokes along her pussy- your mouth eagerly takes Tim in again. Every touch, every command, fuels the growing ache between your thighs. The rhythm of your movements becomes more confident, your nerves slowly melting away as their praise lifts you higher. The tension in your body continues to build, each second heightening the need to please them both. 

As you continue, Lucy’s fingers tug at your hair, gently pulling you away from Tim’s cock, your lips leaving a trail of saliva. “Switch, baby,” Lucy purrs, her tone both demanding and affectionate. “Come here, show me how good you can be for me.” 

You eagerly obey, shifting your position and giving Lucy the attention she craves. Your mouth closes around her, your hands steadying her thighs as you indulge her with the same fervour. Tim watches with pride, his voice low and encouraging. “That’s it, boot. You’ve got this. So fucking perfect.” 

You feel the heat build in your chest as you look up and realise the hunger growing more in both of their eyes as you continue. Your body trembles under the pressure of their gaze and touch.

“Look at those pretty eyes,” Lucy moans, her head falling back against the elevator’s wall even more as your wet tongue runs through her folds, and you can’t help but blush at her compliment. You give her one last kitten lick to her clit before replacing your tongue with your finger as you draw slow circles to her bundle of nerves, switching back to Tim’s leaking cock. 

Your saliva from before now mixes with his pre-cum as it drips down onto your left hand that still rests around the base of it. You take him generously, earning another groan from Tim. His hand catches onto your hair, his rough fingers tugging your sensitive roots, “That’s right, sweetheart. Keep going. Fuck, you’re doing so good for us.” And with his praise, you hum around his cock in delight, earning another moan from above.

However, as you continue to suck on Tim’s cock, your attention peaks at Lucy’s hitched short breaths the more you rub her clit. Her little whispers of I’m close, I’m so close, have you pulling away from Tim and you latch yourself back onto Lucy. Your mouth and fingers work at the same time, two digits hooked within her wet core, hitting perfectly at her g-spot as your tongue goes back to licking up and down her silky folds, giving her clit some love as you suck on it with just the right amount of pressure.

“Shit, your mouth feels so good on my wet pussy,” Lucy’s filthy words slip effortlessly off her tongue as she finds herself looking down at you with dilated pupils as you work her. Her mouth is agape and her eyebrows knit into concentration at the sensations from what can only be described as her new addiction- you.

With her climax getting closer and your pace deepening, her fingers thread more through your strands as she brings your head closer to her pussy. “You’re such a good girl, boot. Please don’t stop- I’m so close.”

You wouldn’t dare to pull away now, your heart exhilarates for the girl looking down at you. You do your best to please her, despite your knees getting sore and your jaw aching from the relentless movement. The sound of her ragged breath mixed with your own growing desperation is intoxicating. 

You continue to lap at her, pushing deeper, flicking your tongue in all the right places as she writhes above you, her thighs trembling, “Fuck, boot… Just like that…” Her voice is breathy, almost a whimper as she nears her peak, and you push yourself harder, giving her exactly what she wants.

Meanwhile, Tim’s hand guides yours on his cock. He’s watching you with darkened eyes, his voice filled with admiration and lust. “You’re doing so fucking well, baby.” He groans, his hips rocking into your touch, encouraging you to keep going.

His words hit you like a bolt of lightning, and your pace quickens, your tongue flicking in rapid, precise movements. You can hear Lucy’s breathing become erratic, her body starting to tense beneath you. With a sudden cry, she comes, her body quaking as she releases into your mouth, her legs shaking from the intensity of her orgasm.

You hum in approval, savouring her taste and the feel of her body writhing against you as she comes down from the high. Your hands never stop moving- one still holding Tim’s cock, the other now gently rubbing the inside of Lucy’s thigh. Both of their bodies are covered in the evidence of your actions, and that’s enough to boost your confidence.

“Fuck, after that she definitely needs a reward,” Tim rasps, removing his hands from your hair and wiping your teary cheeks softly.

Lucy breathlessly purrs, “I couldn’t agree more.” And so as she lets go of you, she sits down and rests her back against the wall. She tugs at your hand, inviting you to sit before her so your back relaxes against her chest.

Tim then crouches down in front of you, your heart rate picks up as he begins to unbuckle your belt, and then your button and zipper, and then pulls down your pants leaving you bare with just your underwear on.

“Oh, boot,” Tim slips out, drooling at the sight of your soaked underwear, “Is all of this because of us?”

You blush and nod, hiding yourself even more into Lucy as she lightly traces over your nipples, “I’ve never been this turned on. You’re both so good at what you do.”

Lucy’s movements still for a moment, and Tim’s expression softens as he looks at you.

“You’re so perfect,” Lucy rests her chin on your shoulder, her lips kissing around your ear with her voice just above a whisper. “It’s like you were made for us.”

“She is, thats why she’s ours and only ours,” Tim mumbles, unable to hold off any longer as he tugs on your underwear, teasingly lowering the garment down your legs until they’re at your ankles. “Be a good girl and spread your legs, boot.” 

Obeying to his command, you spread until your pussy is fully on display for him. Glistening against the elevator’s light, your core is exposed to the smallest of details.

Tim growls as he just delicately swipes his index finger from your hole to your clit, gathering the overload of natural lubrication. You almost find yourself begging, your trembles of stimulation are unable to be suppressed anymore. However, Tim beats you to it first as he lowers his head, dragging his tongue across your folds.

And with that, a sigh escapes your lips and you lean your head back, inviting Lucy to manoeuvre her kisses along your ear, your jaw, then your throat. She touches your nipples again, gently pinching and running circles around them which only elicits more arousal to pool at your core.

Tim's movements are deliberate and powerful from the hold he has on you- his hands finding themselves holding your hips to keep you in place. His stubble tickles your thighs and his tongue moves with practised ease, drawing broken gasps from your lips. He’s everywhere. One second he’s sucking your sensitive clit into his mouth, the next he’s dragging his warm tongue down to fuck your hole with it.

“Sir, oh-” You mewl, one hand reaching to grasp Lucy’s hair from behind and the other to grasp Tim’s massive bicep to keep the two closer to you. “Feels so good.”

Lucy chuckles next to you softly, looking over your shoulder and realising she’s getting wet just by watching her partner eat her other partner out, “Baby, watch him eat that gorgeous pussy of yours.” 

Your eyes flutter open, glancing down to meet Tim’s, but his eyes are already watching you. You can’t tell whether his irises are blue anymore by how dilated his pupils are, a dangerous black darkening his blue hue. You let out a quiet fuck as his eye contact never leaves yours, his mouth disappearing to your wetness whenever he goes lower to your hole.

“Oh my god, I can’t look anymore!” You rush out, breaking the trance as you close your eyes, “I can’t, I’m going to cum if I keep looking at him.”

Tim muffles a laugh against your core, a slip of control that is immediately replaced with concentration as he just lightly presses a finger to the entrance of your hole.

Lucy giggles as she squeezes your tits, “Careful, boot, you don’t want to boost his ego too much.”

“Mm, I can’t help it, no one’s ever eaten me out this go- Oh, fuck!” You gasp out, interrupted by Tim inserting his first finger into your pussy. He’s quick to curl his finger, finding that sweet spot of yours as your breath becomes reckless. Good, you’re getting close.

“That’s it, take what you need,” Lucy coos, pinching your nipples one last time before she slowly drops one hand to the front of your body, her fingers just above your clit. She glances down at Tim, a silent agreement conversing between them as he reluctantly takes his mouth off of you, however, still keeping his finger inside you. “How does she taste, Tim?”

“Like fucking heaven,” He rasps as he raises his head so he’s levelled with you and Lucy. Your breath is heavy as you stare at him, and you whimper at the sight of his mouth shining from your juices. Your low eyes are enough to blow his pride through the roof of this elevator, adding another finger to pump into your g-spot continuously, “Try for yourself.”

A moan escapes your lips as you watch the collision between the two partners. Their lips move in a fascinating synchrony, a heated rhythm that has you squirming. Lucy hums softly into Tim’s mouth, tasting your sweetness as their tongues dance around one another. But even as they lose themselves in each other, their fingers never leave you hanging. 

Lucy’s featherlight fingers circle your clit, giving your nerves that perfect amount of pressure. Meanwhile, Tim’s motions are anything but. His fingers are fast as they plunge deep, stretching you and filling you. Each thrust is skilled, each stroke coaxing you closer to the edge of oblivion.

Your inhale is sharp, that bubble in the pit of your abdomen growing bigger the more time passes, “I’m close, I’m close,” You exhale out amongst your erratic heavy breaths. 

Their lips part with an audible smack, and two pairs of hungry eyes divert their attention back to you. The heat is indescribable- your hot core, mixed in with the stuffy room and warm, sweaty bodies pressing against yours has your mind in a haze, every rational thought out the window. 

The only thing you can think of right now is that your former TOs are about to give you the best orgasm you have ever had.

“Look at you,” Lucy murmurs, her voice low and dripping with praise as she presses her lips to the shell of your ear. “Taking everything we give you. So perfect.” Her soft whispers are both grounding and intoxicating, her words dripping with praise that makes you arch closer to them both at once.

Tim’s eyes flick to yours, dark with intent but softened by something deeper, “Cum for us, sweetheart, we’ve got you.”

And that’s all it takes.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as the tight coil in your core snaps with explosive force. Your head falls back against Lucy’s shoulder as your cries echo through the small space, raw and uninhibited. The wave of your orgasm crashes over you, leaving you gasping as your hips jerk uncontrollably.

Your two TOs guide you through the aftershocks, their hands coaxing every last shudder from your overstimulated body. Lucy’s lips press soft, grounding kisses to your temple while Tim’s fingers slow down, milking out your orgasm.

Your body trembles against Lucy's as you come down from the high, her arms wrapping around you like a safety net, keeping you attentive in her warmth. Tim’s fingers retreat slowly, and the absence makes you whimper, your body already missing the pressure. His hand comes up to your cheek, and your head rubs into his palm as he holds you there.

“You did so good boot,” Lucy runs her hands up and down your arms, “You’re so much better when you listen. Isn’t she, Tim?”

Tim’s thumb traces your jawline with an almost reverent softness, “Better than I expected.”

Your cheeks flush under their words, but you can’t bring yourself to respond- your mind is still reeling from the overwhelming sensations, your body melting under their combined touch.

Wood, earth, roses, vanilla. 

Tim’s other hand slides down to your waist, steadying you as he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s soft but undeniably possessive, “Still with us, sweetheart?” He asks, his forehead resting against yours. 

You open your eyes and nod, though your voice comes out shaky. “Y-Yeah. I’m with you.” 

Lucy’s fingers tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, “Good, because we’re nowhere near done with you yet.”

Nowhere near done?

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion and you glance between them, catching the glint in Tim’s eye before your gaze drops. Your lips part as you take in the sight of his cock that stands with absolute pride, his flushed pink tip leaks pre-cum down his shaft and you swear he’s bigger than before.

Your thighs clench instinctively and you gulp. 

He’s going to fuck you.

Tim notices the shift in your expression when he lets go of your face and grips your hips, his eyes heavy with darkness as he smirks, "I want to hear every pretty noise you make, boot. Every gasp, every moan- don’t you dare hold back from us.”

Your cheeks burn under the weight of his words and your heart beat races back up, “Yes, Sir.”

Tim hums approvingly, “Attagirl, now lie down for me.”

You follow his command, the cool elevator floor a stark contrast to the heat radiating from your body. Lucy shifts to be beside you, her fingers lightly tracing patterns over your skin as she looks up at Tim, “She ready for you?”

Tim’s dark eyes meet yours, “Of course she is. Aren’t you, boot?”

Your eager nod makes them both grin. As Tim’s strong hands lift your hips, draping your legs over one broad shoulder, your body quivers with anticipation. The stretch has your core clenching, and when the head of his cock presses against your entrance, your breath catches.

“Relax, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his tone almost tender as he pushes forward, the thick head breaching you slowly, and you gasp at the sheer size of him. Every inch stretches your warmth and wetness in ways that leave you reeling, your nails digging into his arms as you struggle to adjust.

“So fucking tight, could stay buried here all day,” Tim groans, his voice rough and low. He pauses once he bottoms out, giving you a moment to catch your breath, though the fire in his eyes suggests he’s barely holding back.

As Tim begins to move, slow and deliberate, Lucy’s attention shifts lower. Her tongue darts out to flick over your nipple, sending shocks of pleasure coursing through you with an oh, Ma’am! from your dirty mouth. The combination of Tim’s deep, measured thrusts and Lucy’s teasing tongue has your mind spinning.

Gradually, his pace increases, each thrust more intense than the last. Lucy grins, her gaze fixed on your heaving chest as her head dips lower. Her breath flutters against your core, just above where Tim is relentlessly pounding into you, “She looks so hot like this. Completely wrecked for us.” She mumbles against your core before latching herself onto your clit, careful of Tim’s pounding cock right next to her. 

You cry out, hands scrambling for purchase as Lucy’s mouth seals over your clit. Her tongue flicks and circles, the added stimulation sending your mind into a haze.

“Fuck, Lucy,” you gasp, the dual sensations overwhelming. 

“She tastes so sweet,” Lucy purrs, her voice muffled as she wraps her lips around your clit. The combination of her expert tongue and Tim’s relentless thrusts pushes you closer to the edge.

“Oh my god, please, please, please more.” You beg, unsure who you’re pleading to.

And there it is again, that build of sensations. They’re going to make you cum, twice.

As Tim keeps pounding into you and the elevators soars with filthy noises, you mention that your close, so, so close.

“Me too, baby,” Tim growls, his thrusts growing erratic. “Come on, boot. Cum for us- cum all over my cock.”

Lucy’s teeth graze your clit ever so delicately, and that’s all it takes for the world around you to shatter. Your orgasm crashes over you, a wave of pleasure that has you screaming their names. Your body trembling uncontrollably as you come undone. Tim joins you, a raspy fuck leaving his lips as he buries himself deep and spills into you, his release hot and overwhelming. 

Slowly, his movements still, his chest rising and falling as he catches his breath.

Lucy coos softly, her hands stroking your trembling thighs as she whispers praise into your ear of you did so good, baby and fuck, you were incredible. Tim collapses forward slightly, his breath hot against your neck as you all fill the elevator with the sound of heavy breathing and the aftershocks of pleasure.

Wood, earth, roses, vanilla. 

However, between the three of you, Tim is the first to move. His breath is still uneven as he presses a soft kiss to your temple before gently pulling away. “Stay put, sweetheart,” he mumbles, his tone surprisingly tender. “Let us take care of you.” 

Lucy hums in accordance, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, her fingers lingering on your cheek for a moment before you all sit up. She reaches for your bra and shirt, beginning to button it back up with careful precision. “You were perfect, boot. Absolutely perfect,” her voice is laced with both pride and affection. 

Tim, now dressed, crouches by your feet, retrieving your slightly scuffed shoes. His large hands are firm but gentle as he slips them back on for you, even adjusting the straps to make sure they’re secure. He glances up at you with a smirk, his gaze still heavy-lidded but soft. “Can’t send you out there looking half-done, can we?” 

Now also dressed too, Lucy ties your hair back into a neat ponytail, her fingers deftly smoothing down any stray strands, and she throws Tim a playful look, “You’re surprisingly domestic, Tim. Who knew?” 

He chuckles lowly, tucking in his shirt and fastening his belt, “Gotta keep up appearances, Luce. Besides,” he smirks as his eyes flick to you, “I like making sure our boot is taken care of.” 

Lucy leans down, brushing her lips over your forehead. “You okay?” 

You nod shyly, still catching your breath as the adrenaline subsides, leaving you with a warm, satisfied glow and tinted cheeks. “Yeah, I think so.” 

Just as Tim adjusts his watch and Lucy smooths the creases in her pants, a low buzz breaks the silence. The elevator lurches, then begins its steady climb. 

“Finally,” Tim mumbles, rolling his shoulders. 

Lucy chuckles, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Perfect timing, huh?” 

You freeze, clutching the folders you were supposed to put away tight under your arm and your pulse picks up again as the reality of re-entering the world outside this elevator dawns on you. You barely have time to settle your nerves before the elevator dings, and the doors slide open. 

Standing there, arms crossed and looking both annoyed and curious, is Detective Miles. 

Fuck, you won’t be needing his company anymore.

He raises an eyebrow as his gaze shifts between the three of you, “An hour? I was starting to think I’d have to file a missing persons report. What were you all doing in there?” 

Tim, ever composed, steps out first, his expression smug but perfectly professional. “Team-building,” he says smoothly.

Lucy follows with a sly grin, her ponytail swinging as she tilts her head toward Miles. “We take bonding seriously around here. Isn’t that right, boot?” 

You try to hold back the heat rising in your cheeks, but it’s no use. Flustered and still reeling, you nod quickly, avoiding Miles’s amused gaze. “Oh! Uh, yeah…definitely.” 

Miles narrows his eyes slightly, but his tone remains light, “Guess I’ll add elevator bonding to the list of department perks.” He steps aside, waving you all through. 

As you walk past, Tim’s hand briefly brushes the small of your back- a nostalgic touch so subtle, yet calming. Lucy’s lips twitch into a knowing smile as she walks beside you, her fingers grazing yours for the briefest moment as the three of you fall into step together.

The unspoken connection lingers between you- like a secret only you share.

“Flirting with anyone is officially off-limits, boot.” Tim mutters, though his tone is teasing as he applies more pressure to your lower back.

Lucy chimes in, her grin mischievous. “Unless, of course, it’s with us.”

You flash them a playful smile, a cheeky glint in your eye, “Who? Me? I would never flirt with anyone.” 

It's been a few days since your encounter with the strange men. You honestly don't know how to feel. Your emotions have gone haywire while thinking about both of them.

You knew it was ridiculous to think you had a chance with either of them, they seemed like a lovely match. Your thoughts were scattered, and the heartbreak over your beloved rings wasn't going away. It wasn't even about the money, that comes and goes in life, it was more of the symbolism of them.

The rings were your first big purchase, one you loved the most out of your whole shop. Now, an empty hole sat in your already wounded heart, but that's life you suppose. You'd get over it eventually.

Today hasn't been busy, and you're honestly thankful for that. You were sitting on one of the sofas, nursing a warm cup of blueberry tea, taking in the sunlight coming through your shop window. Yeosang's boyfriend was finally back home, so you were left to your own devices. Just as you were about to turn to a new page of your fantasy book, you heard the bell on your doll jingle.

"Hello again."

You froze, looking at the blonde man you couldn't stop thinking about since he left your shop.

"Oh."

The man chuckled, hands clasped behind his back. You stood up slowly, putting your book on the table.

"I didn't expect to see you again." You said in a whisper.

He slowly approached you, almost afraid of your reaction.

"I understand that. We kind of left off on a bad note. I'd like to change that."

"Does your husband know you're here?"

He was now closer, leaning on one of the sofas. His expression softened a bit.

"He does. We decided it's best if he... Stepped back for now. I know he can be a bit intense at first, but Hongjoong is a sweetheart when you get to know him."

You snickered. "Hard to believe, but you know him better."

He nodded, a small smile appearing. "I get where you're coming from. Say, do you accept donations here?"

You gasped, almost offended. "No, I do not. Your money is no good here."

He raised his palms. "Oh, no, no. I wasn't talking about money. This is an antique shop, right? I'm talking about, well, antiques."

"You want to give me something for my shop?" It was hard to believe he understood your concept, but looking at his suit today, you imagine he was well informed. It seemed like he was into fashion, but not the modern one. He looked like he escaped a Disney movie, landing right in front of you.

You crossed your arms in front of you. "What's your name?"

He wasn't expecting that, but he almost forgot he never got the chance to introduce himself.

"I'm Seonghwa. What's yours?"

"Y/N. So, Seonghwa... What have you got for me?"

The blonde man stiffened when his name left your mouth. A shiver went down Seonghwa's spine, and his ice cold skin almost felt warm around his cheeks.

"Well... I've got a bunch of things I'd like to donate, but I only brought something small today. Think of it as a gift to you, not the shop."

He reached into his suit pocket and took out a small velvet bag. He held his hand out, waiting for you to take it.

"Go on, I won't bite."

His smirk made you feel uneasy, and you kind of sensed there was something sinister behind his statement.

Slowly, you took the bag, making sure your fingers didn't touch. You weren't sure you'd be ready to feel the strange spark like last time your palms grazed.

You opened the pouch, eyes going wide.

"Are you crazy?" Seonghwa laughed, the tone almost melodic.

"Maybe a little. Do you like it?"

"This is insane, I can't take this."

The bracelet you found inside probably cost more than your entire shop. The man was rich, and you couldn't help but wonder what he did for a living. The little bracelet sparkled in the sunlight, the white gold almost blinding you. It was simple, but elegant.

"Yes, you can. This is a token of our appreciation for giving us the rings back. You don't know how happy you've made us, and this isn't enough to show our gratefulness, but it's a start."

"Seonghwa..."

He smiled again, almost leaning towards you.

"My name sounds nice coming from your sweet mouth. I hope to hear it more."

You blushed, caressing the bracelet with your fingers. The man made you nervous, but you weren't sure if it was in a good way.

"I... Thank you. Truly, this is the most beautiful thing I've seen in my life."

He looked into your eyes, tongue wetting his lips.

"I can say the same thing."

You cleared your throat, trying to unclasp the bracelet to put around your wrist. With him watching you do intensely, it made you extremely clumsy.

"Here, let me help."

He went over the sofa, standing too close to you. He felt cold again, and it was amazing how you could feel it without touching him. It almost made your nerves calm down, and you were thankful for that.

Seonghwa took the bracelet, opening the clasp, reaching over for your hand. You glanced at each other, slight smiles on both of your faces. He gently held your wrist, securing the dainty band.

You thought he'd let go, but your eyes widened when he brought your wrist towards him, placing a gentle kiss on it.

"I knew it would suit you."

You were frozen in place, almost shaking. You pulled your hand away, placing it on your rapidly beating heart.

"Thank you, again. You should thank your husband as well."

"I'll make sure to relay the message, he'll be pleased to know you thought of him."

He took a step back from you, looking around the shop again.

"If you don't mind, I'll be back soon. As I've said, I have a few pieces to donate to you. I think they've served their purpose. It's time to re-home them."

You shook your head. "You don't have to do that."

"Nonsense. Maybe I'll send in Hongjoong next time. Don't want him to be too jealous of me. In the meantime, take care doll."

Before you could question his statement, he turned around and went towards the door.

"Goodbye, doll."

With that, Seonghwa was out, and you were left alone with a racing heart, confused mind, and a million dollar bracelet around your wrist.

.

.

.

"She really said that? She mentioned me? Don't joke around Hwa!"

"I'm not, love! You know I'd never lie to you."

Hongjoong held onto his whisky glass, pacing in front of their fireplace. Both him and Seonghwa were clad in plushy robes, nursing glasses of their alcohol of choice. Seonghwa was telling his husband about his day, and he just reached the topic of his visit to your shop.

"Maybe she will eventually soften up, you know? We just have to be calculated."

Seonghwa sighed, glancing at his precious ring. He saved the best for last, clearing his throat.

"There is one more thing."

Hongjoong stopped in his tracks, rushing towards the couch. He almost squashed Seonghwa with how close he sat.

"Go on."

"My ring... I had to hide my hands behind my back. I felt it heat up before it glowed."

Hongjoong almost lost his marbles.

"And I wasn't even there! Oh Hwa, what are we going to do?"

The blonde man placed his hand on his grinning husband's cheek.

"Calm down now. I think I softened her up a bit today. You should see how the bracelet fits her. It is one of your best works, after all."

Hongjoong had a knack for jewellery making, and the bracelet was one of the first pieces he crafted for his other half. He knew it would suit you, that's why they agreed it would be the perfect gift.

"I'm feeling all warm inside, Hwa. Please let me go next!"

Seonghwa chuckled. "Okay, okay. But give it a couple of days. We don't want to overwhelm her. But you have to be nice! She is uneasy, I can feel her nervousness."

"Of course, my star. I made the mistake of scaring her once, I won't do it again."

With that, he made himself comfortable in his husband's arms, glancing at the flames in front of them.

The men were now more sure than ever. You had to be theirs, and they would do anything to make it happen.

.

Mind the fact that his biceps looked like they could crush your head, or his height towered over your frame- he was an asshole. The past days on the job have been full of nothing but 'Tim Tests'. From yelling at you in front of a scene of drug dealers and other police officers because you held your coffee cup in your gun hand, to demanding you jump in every garbage bin there was in LA's alleyways and search for someone's stolen handbag that a robber cockily insisted on not telling which bin he dumped it in after you'd caught him. The bastard wouldn't even let you choose where to eat for lunch- and made you pay for it!

You understood that niceties often had to take a backseat during shifts requiring authority and order, but you respected your badge and the power it came with. You couldn't help it- you were a really caring person.

But Tim's hard-headed demeanour was threatening against your kind nature. His lingering and glaring stares burned into your skull, he ignored you half the time you even try to bring anything happy up, he forbade calling you by your first name, rolled his eyes more at every opportunity, clenched his jaw whenever you opened you spoke, and he degraded you relentlessly- he talked down on you like you were his little pet he never asked for.

Well newsflash, he did ask for it when he assigned his role as a TO and you were most certainly not an animal.

But, when pushed too far, you were a brat.

By now, this so-called partnership had worn your patience thin. You were frustrated, angry and exhausted- your forehead doubled the wrinkles on it from frowning so much and your chirpy and sweet attitude had been sapped away, leaving hostility and irritation.

When you woke up that morning, you were ready to bite back at Tim.

So when you arrived at work, the sight of your baked goods delighted everyone in the office. You’d passed out gooey chocolate chip cookies - still warm from your early morning baking session - before roll call. I mean, who could resist? The welcoming sweetness brought smiles to every face, and you relished the lighthearted start to the day.

From his sit, Tim noticed the pleasure you took in spreading cheer, along with the officers’ enthusiastic reactions to your cookies. His curiosity - or maybe hunger - eventually led him to approach you at your rookie desk. But just as he reached for the container, you snapped the lid shut, cutting him off.

He frowned, looking from the closed contained to you, "Can I not have one?"

"No," You replied bluntly, "There's only two left, and I would hate to not save one for Sarg."

He scoffed, "I'm your TO, boot, I think I deserve it. What about the other one? Can't I have that?"

You shrugged, doing your best to hide the laughter bubbling up as you noticed how ridiculously offended he looked, "Also no. This one's for me." And, just to drive the point home, you picked up the cookie and ever so slowly bit into it, dragging out a moan without breaking eye contact.

Tim’s expression darkened, his distaste evident- but so was something else. He stared, lips parted slightly, as you licked your lips and fluttered your eyelashes. Then, to top it off, you hummed- a small, satisfied sound that made his cock twitch in his pants.

He shuddered, alarmed by his reaction. No, you were far too young for him, too gentle, too kind. And he was your TO for fuck sake's, he had no business thinking about you like this.

Before he could do anything he regretted, he broke eye contact and stormed back to his desk just in time as Sergeant Grey walked in.

Sergeant beamed at the last cookie on your desk, "Officer Y/L/N, is that for me?"

"Of course, Sir," You replied rather sweetly, giving Tim one last daring look over your shoulder, "I saved it just for you."

Oh, Tim was pissed. But now he was pissed and aroused.

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

You couldn't deny it, you were having way too much fun messing with Tim like this. Who knew giving him a taste of his own medicine could be so rewarding to watch?

Ever since you two set the shop up for the day, you'd kept your lips tight and thin, stickly stricly to business. No personal chatter, just responses to the police radio and discussing plans when you were on scene.

Tim glanced over at you, his voice low as he drove, "Don't think you've ever been this quiet before."

You kept your eyes trained on the front view of the shop, scanning for any anomalies that appeared in your vision. You were aware of him starting a conversation, but clearly didn't care enough to respond. To go against your persona was harder than you thought, but your rebellious streak only showed itself when you were pushed to the limit. And, well, Tim had definitely done that.

Your blatant ignorance seethed your TO as his voice sliced through the air, "Boot, you ignoring me?"

You couldn't help yourself as your rolled your eyes and sighed dramatically, turning to glare back at him, "No, sissy, just doing my job looking for criminals. Did you not want me to?"

Sissy.

He slammed the shop to a screeching halt, his body radiating heat as his anger surged. He spun towards you and shoved a finger to your face, "One- that's Sir to you. And two, you roll your eyes at me again and I'll give you a reason to. I don't know where the fuck this attitude has come from and you should be damn grateful I haven't written you up by saying that. Your shitty behaviour ends after this shift. Do you understand?"

His intimation was not to be fucked with- you were smart to know that. Stone cold gaze, clenched jaw, knitted eyebrows, and his heavy breath warmed your lungs. You let out a shaky breath with how close his face was to yours, your heart wrote a million love letters per millisecond with how much it thumped in your chest.

For a moment, you flickered your eyes to his lips, hoping you might feel how soft they are in this lifetime.

Before you could speak, the Police radio cut through the tension, "7-Adam-19, welfare check?"

Tim didn't dare to drop his gaze at you as he picked up the radio, his voice steady, "7-Adam-19, we're clear." And as he put the radio back down he leaned back into his seat, "Right, boot? Are we clear?"

You bit your lip, irritation rising at the mockery in his voice, "Yes, Sir."

However, despite getting under his skin you had no hesitation to stop.

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

Sergeant Grey offered overtime for you and Tim to keep patrol on the outer borders of a massive drug deal happening in a quiet, family-oriented neighbourhood. Border Patrol meant long, late hours of surveillance, ensuring no one slipped through the cracks. For you, it meant hours in the cramped patrol car with Tim- hours of silence that felt like an eternity.

Camouflaged within the bushes and hidden off the road, you impatiently twiddled with your hands as you did your best to stay alert.

The thick air illuminated an immense tension between you and the man who hadn't moved ever since he parked the shop. The weight of the situation only heightened your adrenaline, and while nothing happened it was only a matter of time, and that electrified every nerve in your body.

You were shaking, and while it wasn't that cold, there was an obvious feeling that overwhelmed your body. I mean, this man, he was a force to be reckoned with. Regardless of all the mischievous moves you had put against him, it was like you were the one getting a reaction of it the most. You couldn't help it, Tim was bossy and you squirmed at the previous events today that proved just how much power he had over you.

Truth was, you weren't the only one feeling this way.

Despite Tim's steady manner, his brain was a storm that he had no control over. He was confused. Tim had only ever seen you as an angel who was too sweet for the job. You were gentle, and divine. You were young and pure- a good girl as he would put it. He assumed you were too delicate for the job and he honestly didn't think you'd last this long with how much you were exposed to.

However today, you showed him a side he didn't even think existed. You were testing him, biting back, really getting on his level. Your disobedience rather interested him, turned him on. His pants were tightened all day from how hard he had been fighting a semi just from the bold looks you gave him- the ignition in your eyes daring him to make a move, the way you moaned, your ragged breathing. How dare you sit next to him with your clothes on?

Tim gritted his teeth, the anticipation was loud and his resistance to put a stop to whatever you two had was fading away.

His eyes flickered toward you, catching you tapping your fingers, your leg bouncing in agitation. But you kept your gaze straight ahead.

Tim sparked up, "Quit it. You're not making the shift go by any faster." However, he became distracted as he scanned the tools in front of him before he cursed under his breath, "Shit, the binoculars are in the trunk of the car. Go grab them for me, boot."

You furrowed your eyebrows as you turned your head slightly to look at him. If it was any other day you would have bowed your head and gotten it for him within seconds. However, today was different. And you felt the rush of defiance surge in you, "Why don’t you just grab them yourself?"

In the midst of fiddling through the equipment to look for it or a spare, Tim halted. And ever so slowly, he lifted his head with a stern gaze at you, "I wasn't asking, that was an order. Get the binoculars. Now."

You leaned back into your seat, arms crossed, refusing to move as you couldn't help but feel you were tempted to push further, "Make me."

Make me. Make me. Make me.

And with that, all of Tim's walls built to constrain any tempted thoughts about you collapsed just by those two words.

His eyes darkened right at you as he took a deep breath, “Get out of the car.”

“What-“

“I didn’t fucking stutter, you brat, get out.” And you didn’t know whether his comment scared you or excited you. What you did know was that something was going to happen.

Reluctantly, and with one last look into Tim’s black eyes, you opened the door and stepped outside. What should be a refreshing breath of air in the dark night ultimately deepened your anxiety and excitement. You noticed from afar the grey clouds coming close to your area heavy with rain as the wind blew gently as a warning. 

You were grasping onto the fear of the unknown where no moon nor stars could offer any sign of the future to come after this very moment. After tonight, nothing would ever be the same.

After noticing your obedience as you nervously placed yourself outside, obviously putting your back against him, Tim took one last exhale.

Was he already regretting what he was about to do? No. Was it wrong? Very. 

But his heart and throbbing cock gave his head no other choice, so he stepped foot out of his door and began to walk over to your side where his stern face met your surprised one, “Open the back door.” Tim looked down at you, his luminous figure overshadowing your small one to physically belittle you between the shop and him.

Time felt like it had slowed to a crawl, every second charged with anticipation, every single movement deliberate.

With one last look up at his calm physique, you swallowed, turning to face the car as you fumbled for the handle.

It’s crazy how your loss of vision can heighten your other senses because even though you factually knew Tim was behind you, a gasp still escaped your mouth when his warm body temperature tickled the skin at the back of your neck. His controlled breath was steady by your ear- close enough that he could probably hear your erratic one and the imbalanced heartbeat that followed.

“From now on, you will call me Sir. You will not make a single noise that could get us caught in this neighbourhood, and you will listen to my orders. If you do so much as speak without my permission, you will be punished. Do you understand me, boot?” Tim’s voice was barely audible, but it had an edge to it that sent a shiver down your spine.

The tension between you both was suffocating, but you couldn’t pull away. This was your moment of choice, to assert your boundaries, but for some reason, you couldn’t stop yourself from whispering, “Yes, Sir.”

Tim’s hand rested on your shoulder, steady but firm. “Good,” he hummed, before his gaze swept around the area to make sure there weren’t any wandering eyes before he turned you around.

You looked so gorgeous like this- wide eyes luring up at him and for a split second Tim almost forgot that you weren't a fun fling where kissing was deemed acceptable; you were his rookie who needed a punishment. Which meant you had to earn to feel his lips and with all that you'd done today, you had a lot to prove, “I want you to get on your knees so I can shut that loud mouth of yours with my cock. Got it?”

Fuck, this is really happening.

“Yes, Sir.” Your thoughts raced at the same time the blood in your veins pumped as you slowly lowered yourself to the floor, grounding your hands within the grass to remind yourself that the reality you were imagining was the reality you were currently living in.

You were here on your knees at the mercy of your TO. 

And to think you felt small standing next to him.

Despite the vulnerability of the situation, you were grateful for the shop’s side door being left open, as it shielded you just enough from view. If anything, Tim was the more exposed one, his head peeking out from above the doorframe, exposed to any curious eyes. You knew the risks all too well- if anyone were to see what was happening behind this door, both of your careers would be on the line.

However, your intimidation was overshadowed by your small sense of pride at the sight of his hard lengthened cock exposing itself beneath his pants. Good, he was enjoying this just as much as you.

Your large exhale became your cue to lift your hands to his big belt. You unbuckled it with shaky fingers as you then reached to the button of his pants. You quickly glanced up at Tim, searching for any uncertainty from him. However, when you found his dark expression staring back at you, you proceeded to remove layer by layer until you found yourself gaping at what you could only imagine Tim’s bodily way of pleading for a release. You held his cock in your hands as you watched it leak pre-cum from his irritated pink tip, the veins bulging from underneath and fuck, he was massive.

Being so intrigued blocked your awareness of how long you were taking until you felt a large hand carefully cascade down your head, Tim’s fingers wrapped around the base of your ponytail before he roughly deepened his cock into your mouth. While you stayed like that for a few seconds, your shock woke your reflexes up and so you couldn’t stop yourself from the gag that escaped. From above, you swore you heard Tim hitch his breath, and then soothe out his exhale like he had held himself back from making noise. 

He couldn't help it- you were magical. The wet gliding of your tongue against his frenulum and veins were sending shudders through his body, and your warm mouth that coated his cock made him want to keep you there forever.

Tim guided your head back out only to then tighten his grip in your hair and push you back to his cock so you were deep-throating him. With a few pumps, Tim was able to find a rhythm as he began to fuck your face, ultimately deepening his cock so far your nose was pressed against his skin.

Of course, he was a well groomed man. You couldn’t imagine the man above you not looking after his physique.

Despite the harsh movements where your mascara dampened against your cheeks and tears brimmed your eyes, saliva dribbling down your chin, your hair a mess and cheeks rosy, you were enjoying yourself. No one’s ever played with you like this, any intimacy you had ever received was too gentle, too caring. 

Not Tim. God, no. 

Tim was dominant, clearly proving that to you the first day you met him as your TO and sure, you hated the guy, but the important part was that you didn’t now. In fact, you really, really liked what he was doing to you. And so you couldn’t help but to hum around him as you battered your wet eyelashes up at him.

Tim abruptly held you on his cock again with a firm grip on your hair and he thew his head back as you moaned again, exhaling out a quiet fuck to the gloomy night sky. Using all his might to not let his control slip and just fuck you right here, right now, he glanced down at your teary, pretty face, “Fucking hell, you’re not supposed to be enjoying a punishment, you brat.”

You pulled your mouth away, “Give me something worse then, this punishment is boring.”

It felt as though Mother Nature herself responded to Tim’s fury, a crack of thunder rumbling through the neighbourhood as he glared down at you, his eyes burning with intensity.

"Get up," He commanded.

“Gladly,” You mumbled under your breath.

He snapped his gaze at you and lifted an eyebrow as he tucked his throbbing cock back into his pants, “What did you say?”

You dusted the grass off your legs, “Nothing, Sir.”

“Better have been nothing,” He knew damn well what you said, “bend over on the seat.”

Despite giving you orders, Tim took it upon himself to yank both of your wrists and hold them behind your back, and he pushed you down so your face and chest were planted on the leather seat. With this position, you gave Tim a perfect view of your ass which he was most definitely going to utilise not long after he got you into the metal handcuffs clanking against the wind.

Rain began to drip above you two as Tim’s fingers glided to the front of your waist where he began to unbuckle your belt, blindly. He released a frustrated groan as he struggled to pull your pants down.

You couldn’t help but snicker, “Having some troubl- Ow!” You gasped at the feel of his rough hand against your bare ass.

“I told you if you spoke without permission, you were gonna be punished,” His raspy voice almost fading into the rain, “You’re getting ten on each side. Count.”

And so for each smack, the rain grew heavier along with Tim’s pressure, causing the wetness of the water against your soft skin to cause ever worse friction. Yet, with shaky legs and gritted teeth you still counted. 

Lucky for you two, the hard rain silenced the smacks that could’ve easily echoed throughout the neighbourhood. After each smack, Tim could hear each whimper you cried out and he couldn't help a small part of him that would soothe the irritated skin with his hand lightly to lessen the sting.

Tim didn’t want to care. But he'd never admit it in that moment that he actually did. 

But while you have a gorgeous ass and pretty skin, he sadistically couldn’t help the moan that slipped pass his lips at the stinging red hand marks brightening on your cheeks.

“Twenty,” You puffed out, your tears wetting the seat under you as Tim dragged you back up to stand again, turning you around so you faced him. 

As he began to unlock you from the handcuffs, he hummed, “Now was that a better punishment?” He fought to suppress the smirk tugging at the corner of his lips from how you were glaring at him and your tears blotching your face.

“Yes, Sir.” You muttered and sniffled, rubbing your stinging wrists and refusing to look up at him nor the rain that was just finishing up as it only now produced a light shower to your overheated body. Sure, you were okay to be angry at him for belittling you like that and physically marking you as his, especially because your pants were still down. But you both knew that you were asking for it. 

And who’s to say you didn’t like it?

Tim took control, his large hand gripping your chin to force your gaze to meet his. He was soaked to the bone, but the sight of him was undeniably handsome- his hair darker from the water, his lashes clinging wet. If it weren’t for the jacket he wore, you might’ve been given the privilege of seeing his broad chest and biceps flexing beneath his shirt, “Good, bend over again for me, boot. ”

Wasting no time, you turned back around and bent down again where now that your hands were free, you laid your arms underneath your chin, resting your head there. However, the silence behind you unsettled your nerves again and you wished the rain would come back again to fill that void. Expecting the worse like another round of twenty, you clenched your fists and shut your eyes tight.

Tim thought about it, but as he stood there he couldn’t help but let his eyes wander down to your vulnerable wet pussy glistening against the moonlight’s shine, and just the sight of it made his cock twitch and he suppressed a groan. 

So while you were impatiently waiting for the punishment to further on, you gasped as Tim lightly traced his finger from your hole to your clit. He elicited this a few times, exciting you to get wetter with every second of his touch on you.

“I think after taking that punishment so well you deserve a little reward. Don’t you think, boot?” When he opened his mouth to speak, you didn’t notice how close he was to you until his hot breath fanned over your ear.

You fluttered your eyes shut as your TO began to trace again, teasing your clit a little more as he circled it, “I agree, Sir.”

“Look at me.”

You bit down on your lip to hide your moan when he wouldn’t stop tracing your clit, slowly turning your head so you could just see him.

His eyes darkened further as he looked down at you, his jaw tight and his breathing heavy, yet measured, “Boot, who does this pussy belong to?”

Right, of course he wanted you to look at him as you answered. After all, he was an egotistical bastard willing to degrade you at any given chance- he was constantly reminding you who was in charge here.

With his finger just hovering over your hole, your throat tightened and you could feel the blush crawling up your neck, burning your skin, “Yours, Sir.”

His gaze locked with yours and he smirked, “Good girl. Let me know when you’re close.” And he pushed a finger in.

You couldn’t stop the mewl that slipped out of your lips as you broke contact to rest your forehead down against your arms. Tim’s long finger penetrating your delicate area was refreshing after everything you just went through.

Tim couldn’t help but quietly chuckle at the noises you were trying your hardest to keep quiet from him, “You should see how pretty you look, boot. Fuck, you’re coating my fingers,” He murmured as he continued to finger you with just one digit, admiring the way your walls fluttered against him and how you wriggled around him as if you were yearning for more, for something bigger. 

Of course you were, but that was for later. 

“Just for you, Sir.” You breathed out, and it was only when Tim added an extra finger and used his other hand to circle your clit did you really struggle to hold back your moans and neediness. A familiar tingle in your abdomen formed as you bit down on your arm to quit your noises.

The area was quiet except for the sound of yours and his breathing, the light rain just a pitter-patter as both of your emotions hung in between you two. Despite the lack of eye contact, you didn't need to see to know Tim was watching you with heavy eyes. His fingers moved with precision as they slipped between your folds and your pulse quickened at the steady pace he created, hitting just the right places.

Sweat formed on your face. You were way too hot. You felt his presence all around yourself- his warmth, his breath, his touch. But you gave into the heat, into him and you couldn't move away. You refused to, not when you were so close.

Remembering Tim's orders, you waited until you were seconds away from orgasming as you quietly panted, "Fuck, I'm coming."

So just when you nearly felt yourself climaxing, Tim pulled his fingers away.

And just like that, any build up you concentrated gathering dissolved before your shut eyes. You quickly opened them and you whipped your head around, your shocked expression meeting his apathetic one, "W-What? Why did you stop?"

"Because you can wait," His response cold as he pushed your head back down into the seat.

Asshole.

Your mind was running you dizzy. You were frustrated, sexually frustrated and needy. You wanted more, and Tim found pleasure watching you squirm for more. However, you stopped your racing thoughts when you heard Tim's zipper from behind and a shiver trembled within your bones when you felt the tip of his cock hover just gently at your hole.

"You’ve been testing me all day,” Your TO said finally, his voice low and rough as he drew circles into your waist, “You think I haven’t noticed? Think I don’t know exactly what you’re doing?”

You suppressed your whimper when his cock toyed at your entrance, "Fuck, Sir I-" But what could you even say? He was right. You’d pushed him, knowing full well the risk. And now, you were paying for it.

The heat of his body was overwhelming, his scent-earthy, masculine, and something darker filling your senses. It was intoxicating, and you hated how much you wanted to drown in it.

“I should make you apologise,” he murmured as he pushed in and shit, he hadn't even filled you up yet and you felt the overwhelming stretch already fogging your brain, “For your attitude. For your disobedience.”

Your wetness engulfed his cock so well, taking him in like you belonged to him. Your gasps grew louder the more Tim pushed in and it was only then when he came to a halt and his cock was deeply buried within you did the both of you moan.

Tim kept himself there, "But I don’t think that’s what you want, is it?” His free hand moved then, fingers brushing lightly against your jaw, tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze. His touch was firm, commanding, but there was a softness there too. After all, you both couldn't help the connection that was forming throughout this whole night, “You didn’t want easy. You're a brat. You wanted me to put you in your place.”

And that's when he pulled himself out, and pushed all the way back in. With your eyes interlocked with his, he revelled in the way you gasped loudly and so he did it again. Another retreat and then moved all the way back in, earning a mewl from your red tinted lips, your eyes struggling to not roll to the back of your head. Fuck, you were beautiful like this.

The rain began to pick up again, but Tim's voice was clear as he pulled out of you, "Tell me I'm wrong, boot. Tell me."

You let out a frustrated groan at the loss of traction. You could tell he was playing with you- in order to get his cock he wanted your answers. And so as his thumb gently traced over your bottom lip you gazed up at him shamelessly, "You're not wrong, Sir." A small confession that barely left your mouth was all Tim needed to know you wanted this just as much as he did.

"Atta girl," He hummed before covering your mouth with his rough hand, your scent from when he touched you still lingering on his fingers, "Now shut up, you're being too loud."

What followed next was unforgettable when he picked up a pace. He fucked you senselessly, his cock deepening in you even more with every pump and thank God the rainfall grey heavier and that he had covered your mouth- your chorus of noises could've been heard had they not been swallowed by his hand.

Tim's lips were just parted as his breaths were heavy, his control unraveling with every second that his cock got inside your sweet, wet warmth.

However, the storm was not letting down and he'd hate to catch a cold being drenched once again. So he pulled out one last time before helping you stand up, "Get inside,"

Your legs felt like jelly as you climbed into the shop in the back, the confines of the car suddenly feeling much smaller, much warmer. The loud patter on the roof a stark contrast to the pounding in your chest.

Tim followed, shutting the door behind him with an ominous click. His broad frame took up far more space than you were prepared for, making the already-cramped backseat feel impossibly small. He patted his thighs and you wasted no time immediately crawling onto his lap, both of your pants at your ankles without a care as you straddled him.

Your TO raised his hands up as he unzipped your jacket, teasingly taking his time shrugging it off you. Your trembles were apparent at his soft touch and you couldn't stop your squirming on his lap, wanting more.

"Someone getting impatient?" He tilted his head as he examined your face while he began to take his jacket off.

You nodded eagerly, "Very much, Sir."

"Good," He threw his jacket away, "Me too." And he lifted you up, planting you back onto his pulsating dick.

You moaned and you squeezed your hands onto his shoulders as you got used to his size again. You never left his gaze- hungry, intense, and making you feel completely exposed, even if you weren't completely unclothed.

Tim growled, "Fuck, you take me so well." And he didn’t waste a second. His hands moved with purpose, one sliding down to grip your waist while the other tangled itself into your hair, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. And as you began to bounce up and down, he met your rhythm by grinding up into you.

Your breath hitched at the overwhelming sensations. No one had ever made you feel so full, so needy, so greedy for more. You yearned to be closer than you already were. It didn't matter that your chests were flushed against one another, a crave itched your lips to meet his. The way they softly parted when he panted or cussed, they were so luring and daring, you were drawn.

You knew he would kiss good, he would kiss you so well.

Tim caught on, "Why are you looking at me like that?"

You hadn't realised you were staring at his lips until you flickered your eyes back at his dilated ones and slowed your movements, "Like what?"

He tilted his head as he studied your face, also easing off while he warmed his cock inside you, "Like you want to kiss me."

"Because I do, Sir," You muttered and you moved your hands to either side of his neck, just tickling the back of his wet hair. You leaned closer, your breath fanning his face as his did to yours and you whispered lowly, "I really, really want to, Sir. Have I not proven myself?"

His gaze met yours, dark and unreadable, but the way he wasn't pushing you away told you he was considering it.

"Fuck it," He mumbled and in an instant his lips were on yours- hot, demanding, and utterly consuming. His kiss wasn’t gentle, wasn’t tentative. It was everything you’d been waiting for, everything you’d been craving, and more.

You both began to move again and you gripped the fabric of his uniform as if it were the only thing anchoring you to reality and, really, to bring you two even closer. Tim tightened his hand in your ponytail just enough to make you gasp, and he used the opportunity to deepen the kiss, his tongue claiming yours with a dominance that left you dizzy.

When he finally broke the kiss, you were grasping for air, your lips swollen and tingling from the intensity. He didn’t pull back far, just enough to look at you as you both worked together to create a relentless pace.

Tim skimmed down to watch your pussy engulf his cock, drawing a groan when he looked back up at you, "Oh, baby, you were made just for me, weren't you?" And you couldn't agree more. The way you fluttered around him, coating him as he filled you was a feeling you dreamed about. He was driving you insane, and he was losing his control over you.

You were getting close, feeling that bubble beginning to form again the more you rode him. You didn't care how tired you were, you feared you may never get this again. All you wanted was to capture the feel of his two hands that explored your body.

Tim's lips ghosted over your jawline and you accepted his touch by opening the side of your neck for him. His mouth began trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake, and you couldn't stop the moans from falling off your tongue.

"Sir, I'm so close I-" A whimper cut you off when his lips found the sensitive spot just below your ear. Your hands clutched onto the back of his head, "Please, please, let me cum."

"Wait for me." He mumbled into your skin, clearly getting closer too by how his thrusts were getting faster, chasing his climax that was just as big as yours.

The storm outside grew louder, mirroring the storm inside the car. The world outside didn’t matter anymore. Not the job, not the patrol, not the danger. There was only you two in this very moment.

So when you cried out, "Fuck, Tim, I'm cumming." He dragged your face back down to yours, capturing you into another deep, passionate kiss as you both struggled to breathe. His arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace as you fell apart. Then, Tim drew out a rumbling groan into your mouth and you shuddered at the feeling of his cum spurting into you- filling you completely.

You both slowed down your movements, his cock softening inside you as your walls fluttered to a halt.

For a moment there you two were still, just holding each other in one another's arms as you worked to steady both of your heartbeats and breaths. Despite the stickiness from the rain and sweat or the absolute mess you made of each other, you closed your eyes as you held onto Tim's comfort as his hands never left your back and he buried his head into the crease of your shoulder.

You stayed like that, neither one of you wanting to be the first to pull away.

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

Your adrenaline was wearing off just as the storm outside began to die a little. Both you and Tim were back in the front seats of the shop where you pulled your jacket back onto your shoulders as he adjusted his belt. His steady and unwavering demeanour was back to normal, but his jaw was tightened as if he was replaying back everything that just happened.

The crackle of the radio shattered the silence, a voice cutting in, "Scene is Code 4. Suspects in custody."

Meaning, the shift was over.

"Perfect timing," You muttered, suppressing a small smile as you flattened the stray hairs that had escape from your ponytail. I guess you didn't hate him anymore, but, the only problem now was that you couldn't ignore the pit in your stomach of what tomorrow might bring between you and Tim.

Tim didn't reply immediately, but when he did, his voice was low, "Not a word about this, boot. Got it? This doesn't leave the shop."

You rested your back against your seat and sighed, a sly grin resting on your face, "Yeah, yeah. I wouldn’t dream of ruining your reputation."

His sharp eyes darted to you, “I mean it, Boot.”

You glanced back at him with a shrug in your shoulders, “Relax, Sir. I can keep a secret.”

When he turned the key, the engine roared to life, filling the space with a steady hum. You captured his continuous side-eyes at you as he gripped the wheel, his knuckles white, like he was willing himself to let it all go as he stayed put.

You couldn’t resist one last jab.

“For the record, though,” you started, barely loud enough to be heard, “I think you liked it more than you’re letting on.”

His hand froze on the gearshift for half a second before he cleared his throat, “Just put your seatbelt on.”

You smirked to yourself, the tension crackling between you as he pulled onto the road. While neither of you spoke about your comment, the twitch at the corner of his mouth told you that you weren't wrong.

You didn't expect Tim Bradford to be the type of man to fall for a woman like Ashley McGrady.

Whether that be biased or not from your selfish heart, you just couldn't picture them as a well-oiled team- especially because of all the candidates you had in your head for who Tim was best fitted for, Ashley wasn't one of them.

In fact, any possible candidate for that asshole of a man had always been yourself.

And yet, here you are, arms folded tightly against your chest out of frustration and protection, your eyes furrowing and darkening at the scene in front of you. The wrong-ordered coffee Ashely gave you has been long forgotten and abandoned on the desk behind you as you can't seem to tear your glare away from Ashley peppering Tim's face with her sticky pink lipgloss in the middle of the station.

It's hard not to look despite your face scrunching up out of cringe as you watch how giddy the blonde acts around him, and though Tim wears a small smile for her, you know damn well that smile doesn't reach his eyes. His cheeks are red though not out of blushing, and his hands flex and unflex by his sides; he's expressing no interest to engage with her actions that clearly are embarrassing him.

No one else pays attention to it- clearly, there are more important things to do at the Mid-Wilshire police station. But when your patrol partner is being interrupted by his girlfriend's overly performative PDA mid-shift, you're forced upon your own will to look as you patiently...impatiently wait to get back to work.

You sigh.

You aren't sure when it all started going downhill.

For the past few years, your life has been nothing but…comfortable- and some of the best years of your life, in fact. Sure, being a cop in Los Angeles doesn't exactly scream easy, but you made it work into your lifestyle.

You started out in the academy as Tim Bradford's rookie, where your partnership was built entirely on mutual respect. Tim was by the book; he was hard-edged, borderline insufferable, and relentless in his expectations of you. His constant barking of orders and pushing you to your absolute limits could've easily made you slip from reaching P2. Yet, your determination and eagerness to improve had not only made you a capable cop, but it also left an impression on Tim.

However, somewhere between you being his Boot and achieving your qualifications of P2, you and Tim grew…closer. What started as a professional partnership where you spoke only when spoken to and made countless coffee runs for him had softened- Tim simmered down his dominance, allowing his external shell to ease at your presence.

Even after graduating, you stuck as partners on patrol. It was like an unspoken agreement between you- a choice that only blossomed your partnership into something resembling a friendship.

Though you never thought of it that way.

With you and Tim, it never felt like it could stop at a friendship. There was a simmering connection, an undeniable one that always seemed to tease that line between friends and friends.

Tim was adamant about the shop being a no-personal-talk zone, yet it was like everything he spoke about to you was personal. Whether it be the long hours spent in the shop that had him saying things, or high-stake calls that intoxicated a need to be vulnerable to you, Tim somehow let you in. And it was the type of in that meant things like; you knew how he liked his coffee, stories from his Army days (the positive ones, for now), and the pain that somehow still lingered in his healing heart from the events of Isabel.

It was a mix of simple essentials and secrets he wouldn't dare to share with anyone else and it all became carved into your brain. And with that, you would tell him things too. 

Opinion for opinion, fact for fact, secret for secret- you two had created a system of exchanges in the hopes of forming better trust between one another. 

And yet, you both stayed professional, right?

At least, that's what you both told yourselves. 

Because professional does not include the lingering glances exchanged in quiet moments, the way your breaths hitch when you stand side by side, or the comfort your presences warm for one another after particularly tough encounters. 

Tim had this habit of finding ways to touch you subtly- his fingertips just barely grazing yours, his hand guiding you by your lower back, or his shoulder brushing against yours.

It was so unlike him to do this and yet, you never told him to stop.

In fact, you loved it. You revelled in his every touch and how it made you gasp or shudder or flutter your heart in ways you'd never admit to the universe.

However, no matter the tension that the earth's frequency could've tightened around you two like strings pulling you together, it was never enough to act upon it.

“Professional,” You'd often whisper to yourself whenever you'd catch your heavy eyes drifting to his mouth, his biceps, his veiny arms, or worse, “keep it professional.”

Going against your heart's disapproval was one thing, but you knew better than to go against your head.

So, that's how it stayed between you and Tim: Professional, and nothing more.

Then, Ashley McGrady happened.

It was on the one day where Lucy begged you with pleading eyes and her hands clasping your wrist to please, ride with me today! We haven't been patrol partners in ages! That you obliged on going on patrol with her for the shift, in which Tim had then taken Captain Caradoi instead.

It started innocently enough; Ashely had gone into the station to thank Tim for his kindness because of course she did. They got to talking where Ashley's bubbliness overshadowed Tim's voice, but he seemed okay with it. From afar where you studied them, their simple conversation was pleasant to look at, considering it was your two worlds colliding together- your closest work colleague/best friend was meeting your…roommate.

...God, in the nicest way possible, Ashley isn't as good of a roommate as she looks to be.

She's well-dressed and presents herself with elegance and sure, there is no doubt that Ashely is a kind person, and sometimes funny. She's also thoughtful in small ways, and on rare occasions, offers her clothes for you to borrow on a night out. 

But…that's it. 

When it comes to her being a roommate, her actions do more harm than good.

For starters, Ashley has this frustrating habit of baking homemade goods but never quite reaching the point of cleaning up after herself. And she could be a real messy cook at times- flour gritting the marble bench top, the chocolate once oozing in the saucepan now cemented to the metal, and a towering pile of all kinds of utensils and bowls in the sink and on the kitchen bench, but humorously, never quite reaching the dishwasher. 

It wasn't just baking too, for fuck's sake. Out of the kindness of her heart, Ashley would put your clothes in the washing machine, only to forget about taking them out and drying them entirely, leaving you to deal with the soggy, musty mess after a long shift. 

You've had the hard conversation with her before through a 'positive sandwich'- as you would call it. You remember trying to explain to her that though her gestures are considerate, they usually ended up creating more work for you, and it would actually make things easier for the both of you if she just…had better workflow and stayed in her lane. 

But, it was like she didn't hear you.

Or perhaps, she didn't care.

Things were already on the brink of rough and unbearable with your roommate, but then Ashley and Tim started dating and…damn, you were sure someone had it out to torture you.

At first, it didn't bother you. Sure, it was natural for Tim to prioritise his girlfriend- to touch her back the way he used to touch yours, to hold her hand like it was the easiest thing in the world, to look at her how he used to look at you.

You were mature enough to respect that.

But to your insanity's dismay, it started getting more awkward.

Within a month, Tim was spending the majority of his free time at your house- and not in a good way either.

You'd walk in on them heavily petting each other on the couch with his hand gripping her thigh way too high while she palmed his covered cock, or making out hot and heavy on the kitchen bench. Where. You. Ate.

However, the worst of it came at night time.

You don't remember the last time you had a decent sleep. Sure, it wasn't like you hadn't heard her with other guys before (Ashley wasn't exactly shy about her escapades). 

But this…this was different. This was Tim. You knew who was on the other side.

Most nights, you'd cover your face and ears with your pillow, though your huffs of frustration were never loud enough to drown out the everlasting noises that thudded through the paper-thin walls of your home: Ashley's screams of oh, yes! and fuck me so hard!, her porn-star gasps and moans (I mean seriously, are those even real?), heavy and imbalanced breaths, the creak of the headboard, or the bed frame's harsh thud against the wall.

But, there were some nights where you'd lie awake still yet unsteady. You'd stare up at your ceiling where your fan slowly hypnotised the intruding thoughts, pounding into your head like one of those hangovers that draw out for eternity...

What was he doing that felt so good? Was he kissing her neck, whispering dirty things into her ear with that raspy voice of his, driving her wild with his rough hands?

Was he fingering her in the centre of the room with the windows rolled down so everyone else in LA could hear them too? Or maybe was he eating her out on the corner of her bed? Did he look into her eyes while he fucked her, the way you'd imagined he'd look at you? Or maybe he had her on all fours with her ass up and his hands gripping her hair tightly, hoping instead he was fucking you?

Often, when the time passed 12am, you'd find that was your cue to give up entirely on sleeping. You'd grab your keys, purposely slam the door shut on your way out, and drive aimlessly through the city. And as you drove, you would wish that the warm streetlights could blur your vision- like a cheap distraction from the ache that tugged within your heart.

However, the worst part about all of this was at work, Tim would act like nothing ever happened.

His ignorance would throw your emotions into an all-time frenzy as if the nights you spent awake forced to listen to them were just fragments of your imagination.

A fraction of you thought profoundly that maybe this was Tim's torturous way of reminding you that you couldn't have him. Regardless of whether he was malice with his intentions or not, it pissed you off. Sure, at work, he was still your reliable patrol partner- focused, attentive, professional. But, every time he brushed past you or met your stare across the shop, it felt like a cruel joke. 

In your crazed eyes, it was like you were seeing two different versions of Tim: your best friend who had your back at work yet couldn't admit the tension that coursed between you two, and the other, a pretentious asshole who couldn't care less about the importance of your sleep schedule despite being a bedroom apart.

You didn't know which one you hated more.

Often at times, you'd blame yourself for their relationship because if you didn't ride with Lucy that day, Tim and Ashley wouldn't have met each other.

“-Hey! You still with us?” 

Your thoughts immediately scurry away at the screech of Ashely's chirpy voice.

Waking back up to the world of reality, you blink your dry eyes wet, realising you'd been staring- not at her, but at him. His pupils, darker than usual, linger on yours for a moment too long before he shifts his focus, his jaw tightening as if he knew exactly what you'd been thinking.

God, as if he'd have any idea. 

Ashley, completely oblivious, tightens her arms that loop around his neck, her smile brightening as she brings him closer. “You zoned out there for a second. Long day already?” 

You clear your throat, forcing a smile. “Something like that.” 

“Well,” She begins, her grin turning cheeky, “I decided to make those chocolate soufflés again!” 

Your stomach drops.

Fuck. Me.

You can already guess what she'll say next too as you cross your arms.

"But, I didn't have time to clean up!" She chirps, and you bite down on your lip to stop yourself from lashing out, "Y/N, do you think when you finish your shift, you could maybe clean it up for me? I'll be out having dinner with my friends."

You sigh.

Of course, she doesn't remember the plans you made tonight.

"Ashley- I can't. Lucy and I are going out for drinks at the bar. Remember?" You try to smother the irritation that seeps into your voice, "I told you, like...three times this past week."

At first, Ashley cocks her head to the side, squinting her eyes as she clearly fishes throughout her memory card. And then-

"Oh! Oh my god, yes- I totally forgot!" She laughs at herself, drawing away from Tim just enough to pat his chest. Tim breathes out in...relief? "Look, don't worry about it, I'll just get to it tomorrow!"

Sure she will.

"But, Ashley, that's gross-"

"Tomorrow." She repeats, smiling assuringly like it's a promise she'll keep. Then, with one last peck to Tim's cheek, she turns to the both of you with a cheerful huff, "I best be on my way- have a good rest of your day!"

With a quick wave, she's out the door, leaving a faint scent of her sickeningly sweet perfume and an...awkward silence in her wake.

You exhale slowly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes as you turn to Tim.

But he's already eyeing you, his stare as steady as ever, and for a moment, you feel that familiar pull- the one you'd been fighting since the day you met him.

“You okay?” He asks.

You nod quickly, but then you hesitate, your orbs trailing over his face.

The glossy pink smudges reflecting under the fluorescent lights make a grin crawl onto your lips.

You raise your eyebrows at him, "Are you?" You ask mockingly.

Confused, Tim lifts his finger to where you're looking at his face, only to let out a low groan when he feels that cringe sensation of stickiness from her lipgloss. He grumbles, shaking his head, "Yeah, great."

You watch him for a heartbeat longer than you should, and when he catches you to find your amusement still lingering in your gaze, you quickly look away. Going back to professionalism, you clear your throat and tug your jacket closer to your body, "Let's get back to work."

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

Unfortunately, luck has not been on your side today.

Aside from Ashley's morning appearance, and then the amount of tension and frustrations floating between you and Tim throughout the shift, you've now been given the ultimate luxury of overtime. Trusting the helpful officers you are, Sergeant Grey pleaded for you and Lucy to stay back just a couple more hours and, well, how could you say no to him?

Though, in hindsight, you wish you did.

Because now, as the moonlight shines through the tall windows of the precinct, and the crowd of rushing officers steadies and dims against time, only a generous handful of cops and you and Lucy are left to monitor the station. And with exhaustion settling deep into your bones, you try not to think too much about how much you'd rather be sipping on a cocktail instead of finishing up paperwork.

Opposite your desk, Lucy groans dramatically, dropping her pen onto the desk as she places her hands on her forehead, "I swear if I have to look at one more incident report, I'm going to lose my mind."

You chuckle, flipping through the last pages of your own stack, "Couldn't agree more," Your eyes trail to the clock and how its hands tick ever so painfully slow, "Damn...girl, it's nearly 9pm."

Lucy lets out a defeated whine, glancing down at her own watch in disbelief, "Shit. At this rate, we won't be getting out of here for another-" She eyes her paperwork, then her watch again, "30 minutes? An hour? Should we just rain-check drinks for another Saturday?"

Relief washes over you- sleep definitely sounds a lot better at this point in time, "Sounds good to me. Next week?"

She nods eagerly, flashing you a tired but warm smile, "Of course, let's lock it in."

You return her smile, and for a moment, you both settle back into your routine of paperwork. With her pen scribbling furiously on her side of the desk, and you, tapping your pen against the papers as you re-read your reports.

But then, a thought crosses your mind, making you sigh heavily, "Let's just hope Ashley doesn't decide to bake again," You mutter, "She left me with 'chocolate soufflé' dishes tonight."

Clearly knowing about the nightmare of a roommate you have, Lucy's head snaps up with a gasp, "Oh my god, no. Girl, she's still doing that?"

You nod shamefully, "Unfortunately- and sleep hasn't been any easier either..." You exhale slowly, "You know how it is."

She does know how it is, that's the problem.

Lucy has always been your go-to friend to whine about the horrors of your home and she's nothing but supportive of you. So, it's not the first time you speak of things like this, and, to your misery, not the last.

Lucy abandons her work as she places her pen down. She leans back in her chair, "Yeah," She exhales knowingly, then she flicks her gaze at you, "Speaking of, how are things with...you know."

You cock your head, "Who?"

She gives you that pointed look.

Your heart sinks.

Of course, you know who she's talking about, "Tim?"

She nods, "Yeah. You two have been so...I don't know...tense lately," Her eyes are sympathetic and she leans closer, respecting the privacy of the conversation as she lowers her voice, "You know he doesn't even like her, right?"

Your pen has been left unattended as your attention goes entirely onto your friend, "You're joking."

Lucy tilts her head, expecting you to have already known the answer, "I'm not- he's told me some questionable things," She frowns, "I would've guessed that you knew already...seeing how close you guys are."

You shake your head furiously as you lean in too, folding your arms on the desk, "We used to be but...ever since he started dating Ashley, he's been distant. Of course, I respect their relationship, and I still consider Tim as one of my best friends...but it just sucks, you know?" You let out a disapproved exhale as you look down at the desk, "He still tries to act like he's not fucking her right next to my bedroom door. It's like he's too ashamed to admit it...and when we do talk, it's as if he doesn't even have a girlfriend and things are still the same. Like, he doesn't even mention her to me but-"

"-But that's the thing, girl, he never mentions her." Lucy cuts you off, "Not even the slightest bit, not to you, not to me, not to Angela...you really think a man would do that to the love of his life?"

You don't need to think too hard to know the answer.

"I guess not." You narrow your eyebrows and lick your lips, "Funny you say that, you should've seen them earlier today- she was kissing him everywhere in the middle of the station and doing all this over-the-top PDA, and it was like he seemed so...relieved when she let go." You shift in your chair, uncomfortable physically and mentally to this conversation, though you can't stop your greed from knowing more. "You think he's really that emotionally unhappy in the relationship?"

"Oh for sure...and worse." She inhales, preparing for the next few seconds, "He's sexually unhappy too."

Your eyes widen, "He's...what?"

Lucy nods to your surprise, "Look, he firmly told me not to tell you this but..." She leans even closer, darting around the precinct to make sure no one is eavesdropping. Then, her hands grasp gently onto your forearms as she whispers, "he can't cum."

You look intently into her, but all that circles her irises is truth.

Your jaw goes slack, "He can't what?!"

She quickly shushes you, placing her hand over your loud mouth as she looks around again, "Keep your voice down- I swear to God, Y/N, you're gonna get us in trouble," She ushers, then after a few seconds, she lowers her hand from your face. "Yes, can you believe it? He didn't tell me much- being the gentleman he is. But what I can recall is that he thinks he may be the youngest man alive to have erectile dysfunction."

Your eyebrows raise even further as you listen, "Oh my god, how? I literally hear them go at it like three, four times almost every night."

"Well, he didn't venture more on it, but to me, I don't think it's a 'him' problem," Lucy gestures quotation marks on the 'him' with her hands.

Her wandering thoughts only confuse you more, so you look left to right before replying, "Wait. You think she's the problem?"

She hums in response, "Girl, it makes sense. Think about it," She continues, leaning in like she's solving a murder case. "The man's been through war zones, car chases, hostage situations- but somehow, this is what's breaking him?"

You blink, "...That's a good point."

"Right? And plus, from what Rachel has told me in the past, he's definitely not an inexperienced virgin who suddenly forgot how to enjoy himself." She tilts her head, expression knowing. "So if he isn't the problem, then Miss Sexy Lifeguard might just be horrible in bed."

Your lips part, realisation settling in, "Luce, oh my God."

"That's what I'm saying!"

Your mind spirals and you lean back into the chair. Your arms fold tightly against your chest as if to physically hold yourself together, and also to restrain yourself from bursting from this new information. "Wow, so she's just…that bad that his body is physically rejecting her?"

Lucy throws her hands around as she follows your move, "I guess. Like, what if she can't suck a dick to save a life? Oh no, what if she uses her teeth to-"

"-Don't even finish that." You shudder, cringing already, "Maybe that's why I can never hear him in their bedroom. From what my ears can tell, it's always her- maybe he distracts her to keep her away from his dick?"

She giggles amusingly, "Girl, I'm surprised you didn't even know."

"Please, I'm not that invested in their sex life."

Lucy scoffs, "You sleep right next to them!"

"Yeah, and I'm actively trying to block them out," You rub circles into your forehead, trailing back to the paperwork that stares back at you, "Trust me, it's better on my heart that I ignore what they're doing."

And just like that, Lucy's gaze softens at the hush admittance of your ever-longing crush on a man who couldn't be yours. She picks up her pen and clicks it rhythmically, deep in thought, "You know...he probably feels the same way about you too."

You snort, a mix of sarcasm and disbelief airing your response as you dare not to look at her, "Yeah right," you mumble, but your chest betrays you- racing, hopeful, helpless.

"Please, are you blind?" Lucy's abruptness has your head snapping up. She sits up straight, twirling the pen around on the desk, "The tension between you two is unfathomable- the way he looks at you and talks to you without you even noticing...you spend all your time together so he's grown to be comfortable in your space, so much enough so that he knows every single thing about you. He trusts you with his life, goes out of his way to protect you-"

"-Luce." You cut her off her ramble, to which she stops. Looking at you with passionate eyes and crazed hand movements coming to a halt, "I love you, but you're not helping. He has a girlfriend."

She groans, "A girlfriend he doesn't like." She draws out. "Y/N, I'm telling you, you're his only hope- go and talk to him!" Lucy gasps, excitement stopping her train of thought as her mind wanders, "And if- IF he declines, you can go to Plan B, which is: act like it never happened, stop being patrol partners and go with me instead, pack your bags and move out of your shared home, and then we can live together!"

You open your mouth, ready to argue.

But, Plan B actually does sound quite nice.

The steady look Lucy is giving, yet twinkling with optimism makes you sigh- there is no getting out of this.

"Fine," You regret it the moment it comes out of your mouth, and her lips curve just that bit more, "I'll talk to him."

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

Busy back at the station with Lucy, you are oblivious to the man in your house.

Tim Bradford, awaiting his girlfriend's dreadful call to pick her up, lies in her bed with his head propped up on the headboard wearing a navy t-shirt that's a size too small and grey sweatpants that bag around his hips.

His tired blue eyes are trying to focus on the TV screen's flickering glow, but he honestly doesn't know what movie is on- and better yet, doesn't care.

It wouldn't matter anyway, he can't focus.

Every now and then, he shifts, eager to get comfortable. But, the sheets are stifling, and the constant reminder of his loneliness when he swivels his head to the empty space on Ashley's side doesn't make him feel any better about his situation.

It's 10:30pm, he had hoped that maybe her 6pm dinner would have wrapped up by now. Not because he wants her home- as terrible as that sounds (he actually loves being alone), but because he has work tomorrow.

Earlier, he stupidly agreed to pick her up, not expecting 'dinner' to go for this long, which has left him grumpier and more exhausted with every hour that passes. Especially in this field of work, every minute counts with sleep.

Because the more sleep he can savour, the more energy he has for tomorrow.

He scrubs a hand down his face, exhaling sharply.

God, he constantly thinks about what the fuck he is doing.

His and Ashley's relationship isn't bad, per se- it's just…hollow. It no longer feels like... anything really, more like a routine. It was something he stepped into because it was easy; Ashley showed up at his work, and at the time, it felt like the perfect timing and a convenient distraction...from you.

He's an asshole, he knows he is. But, mistakes happen. And look, it was a good first...second impression, and the sex was okay the first time they did it.

But then, it never got better.

Ashley started using too much of her teeth when she sucked his dick (on the rare occasion that she actually did), and she made these incredibly fake moans that rather turned him off. She didn't understand the respect for his personal space, nor did she realise that her act of PDA, especially in his workplace, was so performative, rather than true and authentic.

He still can't wrap his head around the fact that she doesn't like foreplay unless it's him giving it, and she doesn't put any effort when it comes to intercourse. Trust, he is all for appreciating his woman and allowing her to be what they call a 'pillow princess', but not when she can't even offer to ride him.

He's told her many times what he likes and doesn't like, what turns him on and what turns him off...and she'd still do nothing with it

He can't exactly pinpoint the moment things worsened, but it became impossible to ignore once he realised he couldn't get off with her, let alone, struggling to reach a semi-hard.

At first, he blamed it on stress, exhaustion- Hell, just the fact that he was getting older.

But then, there were nights when he'd wake up from a dream with sweat beading on his forehead and his breathing unstable.

He'd look down and find his cock hard and aching.

And the dreams...oh, the dreams.

They all consisted of you.

You, kneeling on your bedroom floor with hypnotising eyes fluttering up to meet his with your lips around him.

And everything's perfect; your rhythm, your fingers tracing up and down his legs as he sits on the edge of the bed, the slick of your tongue, the way you would hum around him.

Sometimes in these dreams, he would have the privilege of fucking you hard and deep, and oh, the noises that escaped your mouth were enough to make him cum on the spot.

At first, he tried not to think much of it. Sure, the dreams were unethically exhilarating, but they were unrealistic. Of course, his body knows how to turn him on using the magic of imagination.

But then he started getting hard looking at you- not the dream version of you, but the real you, the one who stood before him in the world of Reality.

Your presence simply turned him on- and that's when he knew it was an issue with Ashley and not him and his supposedly erectile dysfunction (that he regrets telling Lucy. A part of him knows she'd tell you anyway despite him begging her not to).

You could do the most unsexual things and it would still get him aroused; like throwing your head back and laughing at one of his jokes, or nibbling on the end of a pen as you check attentively on your reports with a focused frown. Sometimes, you standing right next to him, with the smallest brush of your shoulder onto his arm, had him tense up and cursing, feeling his pants getting tighter with every second.

You're everything he should have gone for, and he knows it. Feels it in his bones. But the fear of losing you, of screwing up what you two already have, keeps him shackled to this damn mistake of a relationship. He isn't willing to lose something so dearly important to him if things go wrong between the two of you, so, his cowardness went for the easier option.

A loud noise from the TV throttles Tim from his trace of thought as he snaps back into his current dimension.

Him, lying alone on Ashley's uncomfortable bed, one hand on the TV remote and the other, resting beside him.

Except now, he feels throbbing below his waist.

He slowly looks down, sighing heavily at his cock that is already straining against his sweats, aching with the kind of desperation he never feels with Ashley.

He curses.

Knowing his girlfriend hasn't called him yet, and assuming you're out with Lucy for the night, his body acts before his mind can stop it.

And so his free hand slips below the waistband, and- fuck. He needs this.

He wraps his hand around himself, and a low groan immediately slips from his throat.

━━ ✩*ೃ.⋆ ━━

Unbeknownst to Tim, you drop into your car with a thud, exhaling every ounce of exhaustion you’ve been carrying.

The clock on your radio reads 10:35pm, and you're more grateful than ever that you and Lucy postponed drinks for next week.

Eager for bed, you twist the keys in the ignition, barely registering the radio as you pull out of the station and begin the familiar journey home.

The hum of the car lulls you into a relaxed haze, giving your body the chance to focus on how heavy your head feels and the way every bone aches from the endless hours on duty.

You shake your head, trying to re-arrange your focus on your surroundings instead; the night an abyss of black, the array of quiet homes with little to no lights glowing through the windows, your steady heart and slow breathing, one hand gripping the steering wheel and the other rests on the centre console.

Then suddenly, the radio connecting to your phone rings your nominated tune, and Ashley's name flashes brightly on the screen.

You frown, confused as to why she's calling you. You answer, "Hello?"

"Heeey, babe!" Her voice beams through the car's speakers. Immediately you recognise her voice is too lively, too chirpy for this hour. You can telltale the slur in her words and the loud bass of music that thuds faintly in the background. "I just thought I'd let you know I won't be home anytime soon...you know how it gets- dinner turns into cocktails at a bar, then that turns into clubbing. And we're not letting down anytime soon!"

You exhale out relief and annoyance. Relief, because at least you have the house to yourself tonight. And annoyance, because you know she'll stumble in at some ungodly hour and wake you up, "Yeah, okay. Sounds like a big night for you, Ash."

"Oh, it for sure is! You heading to the bar with your friend right now? Maybe we can catch up!"

You run your hands through your loose hair- your roots aching from the tight ponytail you restrained it in all day, "No, actually- Luce and I got kept back so we thought it'd be best to move it to next week. I'm just heading home now."

"Aww that's such a shame," She coos, and you hear her giggle incoherently on the other end, "Well, the good thing is you're home to clean those dishes...could you? Pretty, pretty please?"

You grip the wheel so tight your knuckles ache.

If there is ever a reason to drive straight into a pole, this might be it.

You can't even fake your kindness because- well, you aren't genuine nor happy enough to do it. But, for your sake, a clean kitchen is a kitchen free of bacteria, and you'd rather it not turn into an unhygienic hazard. "Sure thing."

Your yawn protests.

She squeals, cheering on the other end, "Oh my god, yay! Thanks, bestie! You're a gem!"

"Yeah, yeah," You find yourself responding, your energy debilitating with every second that passes. Then, your heart flickers, finding comfort as you turn into your street, already spotting your house, "Look, I'm gonna go, I'm just about to head into the driveway. Have fun."

"Thanks, girly! Love you-"

You hang up before she can say anything else.

Yearning for your soft pillows and warm sheets, you're scrambling to get out of your car.

Slamming the car door shut, you inhale the crisp night's air for all its freshness and it tickles your exposed skin with goosebumps.

The night is almost peaceful like this, too peaceful that your fatigued self doesn't even notice your surroundings; like the leaves whispering about among the trees, the quiet hum of the neighbourhood, and a car driving by in the distance.

As you reach for the front door, you're jiggling your keys into the lock with another level of neediness, to which your brain mentally pushes your body into the entrance the moment your ears hear that familiar click.

You stumble in, but as you begin to drop your bag down and kick your shoes off to the side, you find your intuition forcing you to look around the house.

It's silent.

Usually, you'd feel comfort with this- it's a sound you haven't heard in an awfully long time.

Except, you can't feel relaxed from it.

Because, with a frown and widened eyes, you're staring at the kitchen bench to your left.

From your conversation with Ashley just then, the area should've been covered with dirty baking utensils and cutlery.

But, it's...spotless.

You feel your pulse picking up and a mixture of confusion and concern washes over you as you try to recite to yourself whether Ashley pleading at you to wash the dishes was actually real or your exhaustion wearing you into hallucinations.

You flicker back and forth from one side of the house and to the kitchen, trying to regain some sort of logic to the situation.

You look at the clean kitchen again.

You swear on your life that-

A hush shift in the air intoxicates your pores the moment you hear the release of a small breath.

Your head snaps to the incoming sound, your frown only narrowing more when you hear it come from Ashley's bedroom. From where you stand, you can spot the way the door is left ajar, allowing the lamp placed on her bedside table to glow through the bare strip.

Your heart pounds.

Before you know it, your feet take the first move; and you tiptoe quietly against the floor, drawn forward by something thick and heavy in your chest- wishing it isn't an intruder, but wishing more that it's a familiar face.

The noises louden the closer you reach the room.

Without hesitation, you find your hand just barely touching the door to widen the entrance.

And when you step closer...when you look inside.

You freeze.

Because there - before your very eyes - Tim lays reclined against Ashley's headboard, one arm resting behind his head and his chest rises and falls with every heavy breath he takes. His navy tee is scrunched up just that little higher so that you can spot the hard lines on his torso and how they tense every so often.

Your widened eyes lower their gaze to where his sweatpants gently hang on his hips, pushed down just enough to-

...Oh.

To have his other hand wrap around the thick length of his cock, stroking slow and deliberate.

Your lungs stop working.

He looks- fuck, he looks so good like this; how his muscles flex, his mouth slightly agape, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and his eyes shut- focusing strongly on whatever filthy fantasy is playing in his head.

The realisation hits you so hard and you force yourself to catch your breath before it can be let out.

This is Tim. Your best friend. Your patrol partner. Your roommate's boyfriend.

Tim, who really shouldn't be here in his girlfriend's bedroom with his girlfriend's sheets draping over his thighs like a God, his cheeks flushed with a faint rosy pink, his breaths sharp and unsteady, and his hand that luringly moves up and down his-

Fuck.

The wetness seeping from your core has you pressing your thighs together.

Maybe it's you who shouldn't be here.

In fact, you should leave, turn around, lock yourself into your bedroom and act like this never happened.

But then, Tim throws his head back and moans.

He moans.

It's a low, raspiness that vibrates between you two.

And then, he says your name.

Your. Fucking. Name.

Your knees buckle. And a gasp releases out of you too fast that you can't take it away-

And too loud that Tim flutters his eyelids open.

He sees you.

Fuck, fuck, fuck is all that plays in your head as your gazes meet one another, both breathless, both in shock, both...heavily aroused.

He slows his movements down, but no ounce of embarrassment filters through his cheeks as he looks back at you, neither does he race to hide himself away from you. His breathing doesn't even out, but it has quietened, and he's just...looking at you with even more desire, like his fantasy has just come to life.

And with the way he whispered your name like it was an oath- a prayer, it probably has.

You open your mouth, but no words can sputter out exactly how you're feeling because...what are you feeling? No measurement of time can be given to you that you'd be able to figure out exactly what to say to him- better yet, how to say something to him.

"I-" Your voice, embarrassingly airy as you swallow, pleading for any saliva to come front, "...You-"

He tilts his head, daringly looking back at you, "Me?"

Holy shit, you might cum from his voice.

"You-um..." You don't even know what you're saying- a stuttering, shaky mess taking over your voice as your arousal begins to wet your underwear. "You...don't have erectile dysfunction."

And then, he laughs, a smile lingering on his heated face as if he knew you would say that (He'll have to give Lucy a word later). He shakes his head, "No, Y/N, I don't."

His voice- a source of comfort and familiarity, oozes some of the tension that crackles in the air, and you find yourself melting at his response.

There's a beat of silence in the air, though you can't seem to let your eyes focus on anywhere except his baby blues and his leaking cock. "You shouldn't be here." You whisper.

"Neither should you," His voice, even softer, "I thought you were out for drinks tonight?"

You swallow hard, "Yeah well..." A shaky laugh escapes your throat- a coping mechanism to ease your nerves. Your gaze seems to falter from his own intimidating look, though you regain it as you stare back up at him. "Re-examing end-of-day reports isn't the best way to start the night, is it?"

He huffs quietly, knowing that feeling all too well of a late night overtime shift, doing nothing but staring at papers until the words marble together in blurriness.

"I'm awaiting a pick-up call." He doesn't mention her name, you two already know it. And the line of adultery you two are playing on right now makes it all that disrespectful to even bring up Ashley.

But the worse part is, you couldn't give a shit that he has a girlfriend.

And by the name he moaned out earlier, neither does he.

"She won't be coming home till later," You say, swallowing again, "She called me as I was driving...before I came home." You redden, overlooking the scene you've walked yourself into.

Tim tilts his head, "Oh."

"Yeah..."

In other words, you two have time. Time without Ashely, time without anyone to disturb you, time together, time to-

Your small sense of rationality begins to creep in following the silence.

You should leave.

You won't.

But you should.

You should leave, not for the pity of his girlfriend but because you never thought you'd reach this point with Tim; all those unspoken words and touches seemingly coming to life right at his very moment as you two stare at each other.

But, it wouldn't matter anyway, because you watch how his hand begins to move up and down again- deliberately, purposely, making sure he picks up every bit of pre-cum and spreads it across his shaft.

"Tim," You start, though it sounds more like a plead. But a plead for what? For him to stop? To keep going? To include you? "I shouldn't be seeing thi-"

"-But you are." He cuts you off, his gaze never leaving yours, "And you're liking it."

He's right- you aren't sneaky about your arousal. You're practically standing there, leaning against the door frame with an erratic breath, your thighs pressed together and your shaky hands bracing the wall behind you.

"Come closer, sweetheart."

You crumble.

You don't need him to tell you twice because, like a trance, your feet further into the room, only a few or so steps is all it takes until you find yourself standing just next to him on the bed, getting an even better look at how his fingers please himself and the imbalance to his breath.

You shiver. He's so fucking hot. His eyelashes flutter up at you, enhancing the lingering darkness and hunger you have witnessed so many times in your life but never have been acted upon.

Until now.

"Tell me to stop," He murmurs.

A sharp inhale escapes you.

"Or," He cuts in, "get on the bed and let me show you what I was thinking about."

Your stomach drops, along with your heart.

So he was thinking about you.

Your best friend moaned your name as he thought about you.

You're grabbing the TV remote that lay beside him right in front of you, clicking the Power Off button with shaky fingers, leaving you two to focus on just yourselves.

You glance back at him slowly, dropping the remote onto the bedside table.

Fuck it.

"I won't tell you to stop." You whisper.

And the answer has been given.

A small smirk flickers on his lips, relief flushing his cheeks. His free hand reaches out to you, his digits grazing your wrist before wrapping around it and pulling you down, "C'mere."

And you do so.

The motion of him tugging you to him and you obliging has you straddling his lap. Your knees press into the mattress as he releases the grip on his cock, placing both of his rough hands onto your waist, adjusting yourself into comfort as you feel the hot and solid weight of him underneath you.

Your hands hold onto his clothed shoulders, bracing your position on top of him, never wavering your eye contact with him as you draw closer.

It's weird- seeing him this close to you. It's a first, but you can spot the faint freckles brushing his face, the flushness of his cheeks and neck, the marbling of ocean blue within his irises and how dilated his pupils are.

You've been invited into a whole new world you wish you could've known years ago.

Your heart palpitates to match the beat of his own, and you can't stop your hands from grazing up to hold the base of his neck, sending shivers down his spine at the light touch of your fingertips through his hair.

You've never touched his hair before, but it might just be his new favourite thing.

With the TV silenced, its screen reflects you two on the bed. And the only sound to pass in the house is your heavy breathing, your lungs fighting over the oxygen shared within that small space.

"We shouldn't do this," Your voice quietly airs onto his lips, and yet, you're still moving closer.

And Tim, too, is drawing you into him, "I know."

But when your lips touch his, the problem itself seems to fade away.

It isn't sweet, soft, or delicate- no. It is everything of want and need and years and years of desire.

His lips devour yours into a heated kiss that you wouldn't dare to move away from. His lips are smooth, but the pressure is rough and needy, and his embrace is hot and seething- a type of warmth you could very much get used to.

One hand threads through your hair to brace the back of your head, holding you there. And the moment you feel his fingers tug onto the strands close to your roots, you gasp, allowing the perfect opportunity for him to claim your mouth with his tongue.

It's dirty, filthy, and so fucking good.

Deepening the kiss on your end earns a low groan from Tim, the sound vibrating throughout your body. Then, he rolls his hips up into you, and you can't stop your moan as you feel his hard cock grinding against your covered core.

You bunch your silk office skirt up even more, yearning for that friction again as you grind yourself onto him.

Your whimper is muffled by his lips.

He's still soaking wet from when he touched himself before, and now his mess is all over your underwear, smearing with your arousal.

Shit, you need more.

You tug on the hem of his shirt and he takes the note, finally drawing away from you just to yank the navy tee off, throwing the clothing to God-knows-where.

There's a pause to your scene as your eyes study his bare chest and collarbone.

You've only ever seen the man clothed and covered, and so when you reach out and touch him and feel how warm he is, your heart flutters.

He's so...perfect, so right beneath you.

You exhale shakily before looking back at him, only to find he's already looking at you.

There's a softened... almost relaxed expression resting upon his face- something you rarely see with him, something you weren't even sure he could do.

But the unspoken words speak enough volumes between you two; the moment is content, and it feels good to be like this- complete.

A best friend you may have called him beforehand, but the truth is that you've never seen him as one, and will never again.

A hint of arousal tingles your spine, your wet core reminding you of its loud presence.

Quickly, your hands clasp the back of his head and you tug him closer to your lips, the two of you continuing your course to what you may call Heaven.

His fingers work their way up your body to the first button of your blouse, and ever so needily, begin to undo them. All the while, your pussy continues to torture itself by grinding back on forth on him.

Tim's breath is ragged and he's trembling as he progresses through the buttons of your blouse with shaky digits. He's trying to be careful, he really is, but there's an urgency beneath his touch, a silent desperation that matches your own.

His kiss begins to divert from your lips. First, they start at your jaw, then over your throat, and then to your earlobe. You tilt your head back, allowing more space for him to explore as he places wet, hot, featherlight kisses along your neck.

And finally, when he reaches the last button, he tears away from you, ripping the fabric open to expose your bra.

"Jesus," Tim mutters, his blue eyes complimented beneath the lamp's golden shine, accentuating how blown-out wide they are as he scans every inch of your body. His rough fingers trace your silky skin, beginning at the lines of your waist and up to your ribs. His thumbs tease the underlining of your breasts while the other fingers curve the top where your cleavage begs for release. His heavy eyes meet yours, "You are so fucking beautiful."

A blush tints your cheeks.

He's never complimented you like this before. Ever. The words almost feel too foreign, but your brain can't seem to recall the past conversations with him, too busy soaking in the now.

"Tim..." You draw out, neediness filling your whine as you grind yourself on him again.

Thankfully, you don't need to say more- he knows exactly what you need.

"I got you," He murmurs as his touch - followed by your goosebumps - moves to the back where your bra's clasps rest. He wastes no time removing the undergarment, throwing it somewhere you'll never know.

A small growl vibrates within his throat as he admires you. And then, your breath hitches at the first initial contact when his thumbs brush over your perked nipples, a whine dragging from your agape mouth when he continues to circle them. You throw your head back, the stimulation heightening with every second he stays abusing your breasts.

And then his mouth closes over your right nipple.

"Holy shit-" He sucks your bud hard with the sensation of his wet tongue grazing your nerves and his lips wrap around it to keep his mouth there. Your other breast is not left to absence- he sweetly yet tortuously occupies it with his thumb and index finger pinching your left nipple.

Your noises are to die for, and how you look arching into his mouth may just be the hottest thing he's ever seen- he'll have it framed into his mind for the rest of eternity.

He takes his time adding a hickey or two on your cleavage just because he can. You groan, skimming down at the sight of your bruised body, and then watch as his attention goes to your other breast, attaching his mouth to your hardened nipple earnestly.

However, this time, a pant slips from you as he manhandles your body, flipping you over with such care that your head rests delicately against the mountains of pillows, the material heating your head from his previous warmth.

He finally pulls away from your breasts, and you shudder at just how much he towers over you like this with his biceps flexing beside you and his solid body shadowing much of the light that the lamp provides for the room.

With how heavily he's staring at you, and the way his lips part enough to allow air to pass by, you think he's going to kiss you again.

But then, his body lowers away from you...and then lowers some more, and then he's beginning to drag your skirt down your legs with such grace and gentleness and...oh.

"You have no idea how much I've thought about this pussy," He whispers as he widens your legs enough so that you're exposed to him.

Your breathing picks up, studying him intently as he stares at your covered core and how his pupils sparkle with something you can't even describe- pride? Satisfaction? Admiration?

But he can't help it- you are so fucking soaked for him; the colour is almost translucent with the amount of arousal he's caused you to leak.

Tim flicks his eyes up the moment you flinch at the bare brush of his thumbs against your underwear, and a wicked grin plays upon his lips. "What would you rather, sweetheart?" He asks, pressing his thumb even more to your aching clit, "Mouth? Or fingers?"

"Tim, please-" Your whine draws from how he slowly circles your clit through your underwear, adding more friction to the feeling. "Don't make me choose."

Tim smirks, his digits tucking into the sides of your underwear as he begins to trail it down your legs with elegance and precision, "Both it is, then."

Heat rushes up your spine at the vulnerability of your naked body beneath your best friend, his broad shoulders framing your vision as he lowers himself between your thighs.

And your body welcomes him with such a delight- your warmth, your wetness, your smell. You overwhelm his senses to such a point that all his mind does is repeat your name.

His fingers trace your legs, and you shiver at his teasing lines along your inner thighs before his hot breath ghosts over your aching core.

And then, his mouth is on you.

Your eyes flutter and you gasp at the very first touch of him.

You've been waiting for this moment for what has felt like forever, and now that it's happening you don't even know what to think, what to say, what to do.

But he feels like pure magic with how his tongue drags through your folds, wet from his saliva and your juices, and you arch your back away from the bed.

A hungry man is a hungry man, and so he devours you with all he has.

His tongue finds itself collecting your precious clit, hovering his mouth over it teasingly. But your frustrated groan hurries him and so he takes it into wet warmth, sucking your clit ever so gently yet vigorously in unison.

"Tim...oh fuck-"

“Stay still for me, sweetheart,” Tim mutters gruffly, his lips reluctantly tear away from your precious pussy and you can feel his calloused hands gripping your thighs just that little bit tighter. It’s nothing painful, yet, his fingers dig into your silky flesh in a way that keeps your thighs widened nicely for him.

His order of keeping still seems fairly impossible when his tongue trails down in search of your aching hole, and when he finds it, he pushes his tongue in.

Your pretty noises just might make him finish right then and there.

“I can’t- fuck…I can’t stay still,” You pant out, your hands sliding down your body to thread your digits through his hair, holding his head ever so closely to the warmth of your core, “Not when you're doing that."

That being his tongue picking up a rhythm of drawing into your wet warmth and pulling out. And every so often, when his tongue pushes in to explore each depth of your walls, his nose presses into your clit- adding just that extra friction to your pleasure.

Tim glances up, scanning to watch your face's emotions pour into him and he melts. Your eyebrows knitted and eyes screwed shut in concentration, your breathing so unsteady you might be close, and your hips rebelliously rolling into him with the greed of getting more.

You're angelic, sexy, gorgeous, and everything to him.

He's eating his best friend's pussy, and he couldn't wish for anything else in this moment.

He withdraws from your leaking hole, and you barely have a second to catch your breath before he's sucking your clit into his mouth, and then slipping his index finger into you.

Your jaw drops, heavy breaths leave your lungs without your control, and your shaky hands grip the sheets beside you tighter than ever, "Tim, please, please-"

He pumps his finger into you, hitting each and every spot that has your body spasming out of overstimulation, yet simultaneously, not enough stimulation, "Patience, my beautiful girl," He mutters against your clit, flicking his gaze quickly to find your trembling body and a sense of pride and confidence seeps straight to his aching cock.

He adds another finger.

You cry out.

His tongue flicks at your clit with precision and ease, your bud only exposing itself to his wetness the more he attacks it, and your pussy is still recovering from the added finger- revelling in the stretch and fullness. All the while, he swiftly moves in and out of you, gathering even more of your sticky juices each time he fucks them into you.

"That's it, sweetheart. You're such a good girl," He coaxes, pumping into you deep, his tongue still relentless on your throbbing clit, "taking me so fucking well."

So fucking well that you're close.

But you don't need to tell Tim that. He knows in the way you stop talking to him, and how your breath quietens out of concentration, your hands find their journey back to his hair with a tight hold on his strands to keep him in place- God, as if he'd ever leave you.

"M'gonna cum," You force yourself to whisper out amidst one of your exhales.

Tim smirks, curling his fingers - hitting that perfect spot inside you - and that's all it takes.

A wave of pleasure washes over you, all your nerves once bundled up now releasing in sync throughout your system. A longing moan rips from you as your thighs squeeze around his head. Your orgasm crashes so intensely into your shaking body that you can barely breathe, can barely see- dark stars sparkle across you and blackness vignettes your peripheral vision.

And Tim fingers you through it all.

His tongue has moved away - too in awe of watching you finish - but his digits stay inside you, milking out every single drop of pleasure until you're a writhing, overstimulated mess with sweat beading on your forehead and your body going limp against the bed.

"Shit," You choke out, your voice wrecked and hoarse as you try to catch your breath that has been long left back at the door frame of this room. Your eyes flutter open, lifting your head a little to look back at your best friend who just fucking ate you out. You scan down to spot the juices that shine on his chin, and your translucent cum sticking to the very two fingers that were just inside you.

Then, you watch when he brings one of said fingers - his middle finger - up to his mouth, sucking it clean and oh my God you might cum just by looking at him. You can't hold back yourself from cursing at the sight, your pussy throbbing and screaming more.

Tim - none other than the gentleman you've always known him to be - cups your chin with his clean hand as he hovers completely over you. With a delicate tug down on your chin, your jaw goes slack under his desire, and then he's bringing the other cum-soaked finger to your lips.

Tim; a gentleman, and yet, in this very moment, the filthiest fucking man you've had the pleasure to be with.

Another ache of arousal itches as you wrap your lips around his index finger, holding eye contact with his dark wide eyes as you taste your own metallic sweetness. A low groan rumbles from him at the feeling of your plush, wet tongue gliding around his digit, wondering that if you feel so good on his fingers, what would you feel like on his-

His impatient cock twitches in interest.

"Look at you..." He murmurs, and your heart flutters at those words. His finger slips from your mouth, glossy with your spit and he cups his hand on your jaw. He holds you there, his thumb stroking your cheek as you peek up at him with half-lidded desire, "So pretty for me, aren't you?"

There it is again- his praise, his voice, his tone. Your cheeks heat up and your heart palpitates with every word that rolls off his tongue.

Tim's never been one to use praise in the workplace, but the closer you two got, the more it slipped from him sometimes- good job, you did great, well done were just a few.

And sure, they made you blush because Tim never spoke kindly or affirmatively, so when he did, you held it highly and with pride.

Though now, as he grips your thighs and pulls you closer to him and he's telling you how pretty you are and that you're a good girl, it's different in so many ways that are wrong yet right.

They make you spiral, make you so aroused.

You wrap your legs around his back as he towers over you, watching his leaking cock from between you two and how it's so red- begging for release. You clasp your arms around to hold his back as he guides his cock to your entrance.

And the moment you feel his tip touching your hole, you both glance at each other.

As much as the moment is heated and heavy, you notice how Tim pauses, a knit growing on his eyebrows as he looks down at you.

Then, rawness grows onto his gaze and a tremble manoeuvres throughout his body, "I need you so fucking bad, for what feels like forever," He whispers to you, a plead in his tone as he exhales shakily, "Don't ever think that I never wanted you...I do- I always have."

"Tim..." Your breath hitches and your chest tightens, your eyes staring up at his vulnerable ones. You soften, and somewhere within your heart, a piece of you tugs from his admittance, "But, you went to someone else-"

"-And it was one of the biggest mistakes I've made," He cuts you off, and his voice cracks as his eyes never leave yours, "I promise, sweetheart, I am yours- now and forever."

And then, like an oath to his confession, he's sliding in, claiming yours as his, and his as yours.

He's stretching you so slowly that you can't help but gasp, your nails digging into his shoulder blades as he keeps pushing through.

"Fuck," He grunts, dropping his forehead to your shoulder the moment he bottoms out. His breath is ragged and hot against your skin, and you can feel the way he shudders as he stays inside you- awaiting your pussy to stretch around him.

You grip him tightly, thinking for those aching seconds that he may have just split you in half with his cock. You screw your eyes shut, feeling all the sensations of pain and pleasure and how perfectly fucked they feel together. The stretch is impossible, yet so overwhelmingly good, and all you can do is moan as you engulf him.

Lifting away from the stickiness your sweats mixed together have made on your shoulder, Tim's dazed eyes find your closed ones, "Look at me, sweetheart." He whispers.

You comply.

And his pretty blue irises are the first thing you latch on to. They're so dilated, so low-lidded, so mesmerising.

So mesmerising that you don't even recognise your body slowly soothing itself from the pain of the stretch to now feeling full, feeling aroused, feeling like you need more and more.

And your fluttering eyelashes and knitted eyebrows tell Tim everything he needs to know.

He pulls out, almost too slowly.

And then drives back in, rough and deep.

You let out a cry, tightening your legs around him as he buries himself, even more, this time, "Holy shit," You shakily exhale, and that's when your walls clench around him.

His jaw tightens, your words and your clenching are all that need to be done to make him lose control.

He jerks out quicker this time, only to slam back in, setting a pace that's so hard yet thoughtful.

You're unable to stop the sounds spilling from your dirty mouth, high on ecstasy from the perfection of his thick cock - solid and veiny - and how it fills you up with every thrust he pushes into you.

And who knew he could be so loud? Grunting and groaning, whispering praises and filthy sweet nothings into your ear like it's his Mother's tongue.

Tim's cock slides so easily into you now, his pounding quickening yet never shallowing, "Fuck, baby," He moans out into the heated air of skin slapping on skin and your heavy breaths. His forehead presses against yours, "Feels good?"

You can't even coherently say anything, so you just nod frantically with a mm-hmm! and your hands let go of his back, maneuvering so your cupping either side of his face. Eagerly, you're dragging him down for a heated, sloppy kiss, both of your lips quietening each other's noises.

Begging for air, you two part, and Tim moves to sit up a little more. Then, he lifts your right leg up and gives your calf a gentle kiss before moving your leg and placing it over his shoulder. With that, this new position allows his cock to pound deeper inside you.

And oh, do you both fall apart.

Every time his cock hits your walls, your pussy's juices squelch in a loud delight.

Tim's eyes look down at your lower abdomen and he hoarsely chokes on a curse.

From where he watches, a bulge comes into view on your abdomen every time he fucks into you, "Holy shit, sweetheart- taking me...shit- taking me so well." And then he presses a hand to your lower belly, and you gasp yourself, feeling every inch of his cock inside you, "You feel that? You're stuffed full of me- Like when I fuck you deep enough to feel me here?"

"Tim," You squeeze his shoulders, feeling that undeniable hinge of an orgasm stirring inside you as he pushes down on the bulge more, "Too much- gonna cum if you keep doing that."

Smugly, your best friend listens to you as his hand withers away from the bulge, only for his hand to start brushing down to where your clit awaits impatiently.

You squirm the moment his thumb meets your bud, a sharp inhale swallowing your words as you feel the way your body thanks Tim with another wave of overstimulation trembling your body.

You glimpse up at him.

And Tim goes feral. His cock twitches as he examines your teary eyes wettening your mascara, your cheeks flushed with a ruby red, your lips swollen and wet from his saliva and your hair a complete mess.

"Look at you," He groans, voice thick and low as he continues the pleasure on your clit, never slowing down, "Fucked my pretty girl dumb, haven't I?"

Your breath hitches, a whimper releasing from you as you hold him close to you, "Please, please- need to cum so badly-"

His circles on your clit fasten, applying more pressure at the hearing of your ruined, needy voice, "You can cum, sweetheart. I won't stop you." He murmurs, kissing your forehead.

And then he does it- he presses his hips down, grinding so deep inside your trembling body that you can feel everything.

"Fuckin' hell," He chokes out, staring at you as your orgasm hits you hard. A raw scream escapes your throat as you clench down around his cock as your hips convulse with overstimulation.

You look so God damn good that Tim can barely hold himself together; he's shaking and he's becoming sloppier the closer he nears his own climax.

He keeps fucking you through your orgasm, making the warm colours in the room iridescent as your vision marbles and you lay limp under his Godly amazing torture.

And then, with one last thrust, he's spilling. White thick ropes of cum warming inside of you as he leans forward and rests his forehead upon your shoulder.

The both of you catch your erratic breaths.

You don't even know how long you two stay like this, but Tim has softened inside of you and you're just getting back to a steady heartbeat.

He lifts his head slightly, offering lazy open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder, collarbone and neck as one of his hands runs figure eights into your waist. The other? Cradling your head.

He can't stop touching you. Perhaps if he does, reality will come down on him, or maybe you'll disappear and never see him again. Things his anxiety has only just slowly started to itch him as he lifts his head up, darting down at your shut eyes and still face.

But you look so...satisfied, so complete, so happy.

He holds you like you're fragile, delicately tracing his thumb over your strands to brush away your frizz, "You okay?" He finally asks, voice gravelly and raw.

You blink open, watching the way his blue eyes search yours and he still looks so handsome like this; flushed, sweaty, panting, strands of hair messy, completely undone and destroyed because of you.

A nod comes your way, your arms lowering down to tighten around his chest as you hold him close to you, "Yeah," You whisper, though your voice cracks, "I don't know how I'm going to walk."

A quiet, breathless chuckle escapes him as he nuzzles into your neck, "You'll be okay," He murmurs into your skin. And then, for reassurance to his heart, he follows with, "We'll be okay."

And maybe you two will be okay.

Because when the next day comes, Tim will wake up in your comfy, soft bed under your warm and freshly cleaned sheets. And he'll grab his phone off of the bedside table, seeing the missed text he received from Ashley at 3am that will read don't worry about picking me up. staying at a friend's house.

He'll glance over at your sleeping figure that lay peacefully yet physically ruined from the multiple rounds you two will do.

And seeing your precious, familiar face will ease Tim's heart for the first time in what feels like forever.

Through the mirror, you could see Tim still at it with the device, a little black box with an antenna that could detect signals from even the smallest, most high-tech recorders. It made a static noise as he hovered the stick over just about every surface and object.

“Alright. It's safe,” he finally concluded once he was content with his work.

“Could have told you as much. My contacts are good,” you sassed with a smug look, leaning your hand on your hip.

Tim shot you an incredulous look as he packed away the gear. “Yeah, you can drop the bratty attitude now, smartass.”

You chuckled as he removed the gun from his belt and put it on the dresser. “I don't know—it's kinda growing on me.”

Though you had never been undercover with Tim before, you were confident you knew him well enough to feel when something was off with him. You had known each other for a long time, and right now he was being off.

And you knew exactly why.

“Come on, it's not that bad,” you sighed, finally moving away from the mirror and stepping out of the shoes.

There was only one bed.

He arched a brow at you and rolled his eyes. “The hell it is. We're supposed to play brother and sister and we're sharing a bed?”

You snorted at his tone—speaking as if it would jeopardize the whole operation. 

“Look, even if anybody thinks anything of it, I refuse to believe it'll become a problem. We'll just roll with it,” you reasoned nonchalantly.

“What?” he mouthed in disbelief. “Roll with it? I—” he cut himself off, brows knitted tightly as he ran with hands over his face.

You couldn't help but laugh at his reaction and folded your arms as you leaned against the wall. “I'm sure we won't be the first incestuous couple residing in Buttfuck Arizona.”

You were clearly making him uncomfortable and you were having way too much fun with it.

Tim seemed to be looking anywhere but at you. You wondered if it was the one bed or the way you looked in the dress. You hoped it was the dress.

His jaw clenched as he inhaled sharply through his nose, his mouth set in a tight-lipped twitch. He shook his head when he finally glared at you, quickly turning to unload the gear from your suitcase. "Okay—just… Get your head on straight, yeah? Meeting's set in twenty.”

***

You winced as Tim tightened the string working through the flesh of your upper arm, the hand that wasn't holding the needle holding your shoulder in a firm grip. The pain was nothing you hadn't experienced before, but his touch made you hyper-aware of every sensation in your body. Including the heat rushing to your cheeks and ears.

“Stay still,” Tim ordered, his steely blue eyes focused on his patchwork as he closed the wound and bandaged it for you. “Let me know if there's any discomfort.”

“Yeah, thanks,” you sighed, your tone lower and shakier than you expected it to be.

The deal had gone sideways, but not completely off the tracks. Tim seemed worried that your cover was blown but your instincts told you not all had gone awry—you had been caught in a knife fight with your target's enemies. While the target fled the scene and bullets ricocheted, you and Tim secured the gangsters before heading off, too, leaving the rivals disabled for when backup swooped in. You had convinced Tim the operation was not compromised—that if anything, you had substantiated your cover.

Tim went out to pick up some food and you jumped in the shower, careful not to ruin the work Tim had just finished on your arm. By the time you finished up, Tim returned with a plastic bag and you ate on the bed. You could practically feel the tension in him radiating from his body and though you tried to tune it out, there came a point where you could no longer stand it.

“Look, if you're that worried about it, we can call it off,” you proposed. “I trust your gut so if you feel like something's off, we just pull the plug. Check-in's in an hour.”

Tim looked up with a furrow, appearing confused by your suggestion. It had crossed your mind that the ordeal with the rival gang earlier on was not the only thing pressing him—the whole situation probably made him uncomfortable.

While you were used to undercover work, he had really only dipped his toes into the world. You had known each other for years; you've had drinks far into the morning, deep conversations, and seen each other adapt to life's challenges. You knew he felt comfortable around you, and you felt comfortable with him, but it made sense to you that this whole scene was somewhat unfamiliar to him.

Your jobs forced circumstances where you worked together, but you had never been entangled in a situation where either one of you got seriously hurt. It was one thing knowing someone you cared for could find themselves in a dangerous situation at any given moment; a whole other when you're present and see how things go south in a matter of seconds.

Tim shook his head, swallowing down a bite of his burger. “You've done this kind of work a lot longer than me, it's your call.”

It bothered you a tad, him showing you unconditional trust in a life-or-death situation. If he really thought there was the slightest chance you had been made, you would rather have his honesty.

You chewed your lip instead of the fry in your hand, watching him quietly, trying to read him. In all the years you had known Tim, he had always been stoic, his warmer traits only showing once his guard had been breached. While he wasn't exactly an open book, he was always blunt on his opinions—just not now.

It had to be more than just about the operation. 

“We'll do the check-in to let them know we're good. We can revisit in the morning.”

Tim bobbed his head but didn't look at you.

You arched an eyebrow at him, deciding to switch topics. “So… you wanna flip a coin on the bed?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “No, you take it. I can make myself comfortable on the floor.”

Your brows knitted together and you gave him a quizzical look. “What? You sure—I mean I certainly prefer sleeping cozy, but it doesn't feel fair to just—”

“Doesn't matter. You take the bed. I'll be fine.” he insisted and finished his meal, wiping his mouth with a napkin before standing. “I'm gonna take a shower.”

Tim scrunched the trash together and threw it in the bin before locking himself in the bathroom.

You sighed and drank from your watered-down soda.

Tim planted his hands on the counter in front of the bathroom mirror, letting his head fall to level with his shoulders as he exhaled deeply. He cursed himself for agreeing to this operation.

It was one thing to know you got hurt, and another to see you suffer injury on his watch.

This is what you do, he reminded himself. You are used to this.

Tim was angry with himself for letting this get to him, although he was more disappointed that your - well, your character's - blatant flirting with the criminals bothered him in such a way—his blood boiling whenever someone looked at you with primal urges.

He had no right.

Even worse he was disgusted with himself for entertaining the thought—how your acrylic nails would feel scratching the skin on his back, how your soft and supple flesh would mold in his palms, how your glossy lips would whimper soft mewls, and how your lashes would flutter shut in bliss.

Tim inhaled sharply, clearing his throat, and turned on the shower. The splashes that hit the tiles added a backdrop to his obscene thoughts while he rid himself of his clothes, goosebumps forming on his skin.

He stepped into the downpour, leaving the shower head attached to the clasp in the wall. Tim subconsciously held his breath as he let the water burn his skin, feeling the need to inflict pain on himself to clear his mind. Regardless, the scorching sensation passed and soon enough he gave in and pumped his aching cock in his hand.

When he had showered - and shot his load down the drain - he put on a pair of loose-fitting sweatpants and a white shirt before walking back into the room.

You had already gotten under the covers, your eyes focused on the open page of your book. You had put aside two blankets and a pillow for Tim to make use of. The TV was on low volume, viewing a baseball game, and the remote was left at the end of the bed.

Tim’s jaw clenched and he felt a wave of guilt wash over him, seeing how you had laid out this display for him to feel comfortable when he had just jerked off thinking of you in a way friends were not supposed to.

He made a spot for himself on the floor, leaving his watch and handgun beside the pillow.

“You made contact?”

“Yup,” you replied softly, turning the page.

Tim hummed in response and settled on the hard floor cushioned by one of the blankets. When you felt his attention focus on the television, your absentminded gaze left the book and you watched him instead.

Even in a relaxed position, he maintained his characteristic rigid demeanor. Your gaze was caught by the broadness of his frame and the way his shoulders appeared constrained by the white fabric that hugged them.

Tim didn't seem too invested in the sports channel and soon he turned it off, lying down. You followed suit and put your book away, turning off the bedside lamp with a small grunt.

“You can read on if you want,” he said lowly.

You chuckled as you got comfortable in the bed, head leaning over the edge just enough to watch him from above. “Is that your way of telling me you're scared of the dark?”

A huff left his still body, and a grin pulled at your lips and although it was too dark to see, you could hear the smile in his voice. “Go to sleep.”

You laughed. “Yes, sir.”

You weren't sure for how long you had laid there before you began feeling restless. Instead of merely zoning out, your mind seemed to focus on every little detail. Outside the wind was ominously howling, a windchime clinking soft pitchy notes, and Tim seemed fixated on every little sound, whether it was a car door shutting or you turning in bed.

The silence inside was tangible, and you could practically hear Tim's mind running at a hundred miles per second.

Another heavy sigh escaped him as he turned on the floor with a grunt. Initially, he hadn't thought it would be that bad - Tim reminded himself he had slept in worse conditions while in the army - but now that he was here, the carpet smelled like tobacco and the ’80s pattern seemed to crawl.

He rolled on his back again, draping one arm over his eyes.

You shifted under the covers, the springs creaking beneath you. “How are you doing down there, bro?”

“Don't call me that,” he scoffed quickly, clearly far from sleep and you grinned.

You debated it in your mind before deciding to just throw it out there. It didn't have to be weird. You could literally just not make it weird. “You know, there's enough room for the both of us up here.”

Yeah, that wasn't too weird.

Right?

“What?”

Okay, you had made it weird.

The suggestion made Tim tense up, and his mind did not hesitate to picture the scenario. He knew you well enough to know the offer was innocent, but he couldn't help but imagine things far from innocent.

You chewed down on your bottom lip and tried to joke your way out of the position you had just put yourself in. “Easy, Sargeant—not offering to get handsy, just a side of the bed.”

There was another pause and the air was too thick for comfort. You were quickly coming to regret your offer, wishing the mattress would just swallow you whole before Tim could say another word. It had been a long time since you had been this embarrassed.

A moment later you could hear him move, but you didn't dare look.

“Move, then,” he suddenly muttered, and a shiver chilled your spine—he was already on his feet, so close.

You swallowed and made space for him in the bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. You felt a heat rise to your cheeks when you realized he had brought the blanket from the floor, your subconscious having irrationally convinced you that you would be sleeping under the same.

Tim's movements were almost mechanical as he lied down, and you found yourself shifting further to the edge of the bed, afraid to accidentally touch him.

God, you wanted to touch him.

If nothing else, then just to see his reaction—find out whether he wanted you as much as you did him.

You stared up at the ceiling, trying to slow your breathing as your whole body tingled. You could hear Tim's breaths as well, measured and controlled like everything else he did and it bothered you for some reason. If only he would just slip up, be a little easier to read.

Tentatively, you tilted your head just enough to glance at him from the corner of your eye. His hands were folded across his stomach and his eyes were shut, taut muscles barely moving an inch as if it might actually kill him to shift.

Tim couldn't possibly be comfortable like that.

He looked like a damn robot waiting to be recharged.

While this rigid man lay unmoving beside you, your heart was hammering away in your ribcage and your thighs rubbing together like the act might stand a chance of relieving you in some way.

You returned your gaze to the ceiling, breathed out, and rolled onto your side so that your back was facing him.

The thought of what you might feel if you pushed yourself against him made you inhale sharply.

Stop it, you cursed yourself mentally.

You didn't know how long you were laying there, just staring at the wall, but at some point your eyelids finally grew heavy, sleep slowly but surely, pulling you in.

Tim wasn't as lucky.

His mind wouldn't let him get a second of rest with you lying this close to him. He tried to focus his mind elsewhere but he was all too aware of the proximity.

His mind continuously betrayed him, replaying every moment during the day that had made him feel like you knew exactly what you were doing to him—the way you had practically teased him while doting on yourself in the mirror, the way that damned dress hugged your body in ways that made him feel like a fucking schoolboy with uncontrollable hard-ons, the way you had flirted with the criminal at that meeting and the way it made him feel possessive in a way he had no right to.

Then you had offered to share the bed with him, making it sound so casual like you knew it wasn’t the worst thought you could have had—reigniting the idea of “getting handsy” in his already spinning head.

You had to know what you were doing to him.

He felt like a coiled wire about to snap; like the subtle heat radiating off of your body threatened to burn him alive.

Then you shifted.

A tiny, barely noticeable movement so small he might as well have imagined it.

But then it repeated, this time accompanied by a small sigh.

In your sleep you inch closer to Tim, instinctively seeking a warmth the covers fail to provide you.

At first, it's just your foot grazing his calf, but then you rolled over, closer to him, and your knee bent so that it rested on his thigh as you nestled deeper into the mattress.

Tim tensed and held his breath, his entire body going rigid beneath the sheets.

You didn’t pull away. Instead, you continued shifting, moaning as if displeased, and rolled closer, molding your body against his side as if it belonged there.

He knew he should pull away—you're asleep, completely unaware of what you're doing. But it really did feel like your body belongs this close to him. Tim can't make himself move.

But then your hips moved, ever so slightly, and it didn't feel so innocent anymore.

Tim couldn’t think straight, his head spinning, conflicted. He was as still as a statue, stiff and unmoving. You sighed, soft and breathy, content and utterly unguarded against his body, his scent filling your lungs with safety.

Worse is when you murmured his name in your sleep. Though barely a whisper in the quiet room, it slipped through the cracks and under his skin, searing Tim from the inside out.

Before he could stop himself his hand moved down, ghosting over your hip to see if you would stir, if this was real. It was the faintest touch and while you didn't flinch, Tim was spiraling at the feeling of the curve of your body hiding beneath the cover.

His hand tentatively weighed down on your hip, ever so carefully feeling you in his palm. He froze when you shifted again, but you only pressed further into his touch and his breathing stuttered in response.

Another content moan escaped your lips, and Tim's jaw locked while his fingers clenched in reflex, tightening his grip on your hip.

A sharp inhale caught in your throat and your spine went taut as Tim's grasp pulled you from your semi-asleep state.

Your lashes fluttered against your skin and for a moment you were afraid to open them fully, fearing the man whose scent had captivated your dream might not be real.

But Tim was very real and very close, the warmth of his hand seeping through the cover and into your skin, branding you.

It took you a moment to separate imagination from reality, but when it sunk in, you melted completely.

For a moment neither of you spoke, the darkness of the room swallowing everything bar the feel of one another. The creaking bed might as well have been a cloud, peacefully floating about in the dark of the night.

Tim felt captured as your gaze studied his features, your hazy eyes full of something he didn't dare assume, but could only hope.

“Tim—” you breathed quietly, lips quivering with the unspoken, and Tim's heart ached at your voice; a raspiness, a hesitance.

He knew he should pull away, apologize, do something, but he couldn't move or say a thing. Not with the way you looked at him with desire in your eyes and your bottom lip caught under your teeth.

You didn’t pull away, you couldn’t and you didn’t want to, and judging by his hand still holding onto you, he didn’t want you to either.

You weren't entirely sure what was happening, lust and warning bells waging war in your mind, but your primal needs took over and your hips did an experimental grind.

A curse slipped from his lips, low and guttural, and he exhaled your name, a confirmation that he wanted you as much as you did him. Tim's digits dug into your hip, his stormy eyes latched onto yours as he swiftly moved on top of you, bracing himself with a strong arm beside your head—

And fucking hell it was spinning.

His lips were so close, his warm breath ghosting your skin, raising goosebumps. Your chest heaved heavily with each breath but instead of the air entering your lungs it was only him.

Another second passed and it was one wasted not on Tim, so as the next ticked in you closed the space between you completely, pressing your lips against his in a feverish kiss.

Tim's sturdy body molded against yours, his rough palm sliding up to cradle your cheek as he kissed back with an eagerness resembling your own.

All that had pent up in the course of the day, or perhaps for longer, was released then, your bodies syncing to become one in the dark of the night.

Sighing against his warm lips, you allowed your hands to find purchase on his shoulders, feeling around for any inch of revealed skin. Your fingertips slid under the sleeve of his t-shirt, tracing the hard lines of his flexed muscles, and your other hand snaked up to the back of his neck.

You could feel yourself getting more heated by each second, hungrily licking into Tim's mouth as you allowed yourself to be completely engulfed in everything him. 

In turn, Tim worked on removing the blankets separating you so that your bodies were flushed. 

When you felt his frame pin you and his erection press against your sex, you gasped into his mouth, every stolen glance, every flirty comment leading up to this moment, suddenly sparking every nerve ending in your body alive. Feeling his undeniable lust for you made your world tilt on its axis, making this feel overwhelmingly real. And yet, it was somehow not real enough to convince you it was not merely another fever dream. You needed him inside you, to claim you and to fill you up, to leave marks on your skin that would linger in the morning.

You bucked your hips against him, pathetically trying to relieve yourself with some sweet friction.

A low groan vibrated against your wet lips and he held your waist down with a rough grip, squeezing the exposed flesh.

You whined, looking up at him with doe-eyes. “Tim, I wanna feel you.”

“You will,” he promised, ghosting his lips over the shell of your ear making you shudder and writhe.

His stubble tickled the sensitive flesh of your throat and his mouth suctioned the skin, tongue pressing and teeth scraping, quickly contorting the pout on your face into a breathless moan.

Tim's hand brushed past the waistband of your shorts and panties with practised ease, and when two long digits dragged through your wet folds, another breathy moan escaped you.

“Fuck,” Tim cursed as he felt how wet you were for him, watching your reaction with dark eyes as he dipped the fingers into your needy hole. “Tell me—did you have a little dream about me?”

Your jaw went slack, lips parted in a silent gasp, as he slipped two fingers into you, knuckle deep. No sound escaped your throat, but you couldn't exactly stop the wet squelch coming from your wet cunt.

His palm guided your face back to his, stormy blue orbs searching for an audible answer. You hadn't even realized you'd been holding your breath. “S'that why you've soaked yourself? Were you havin’ a little dirty dream ‘bout me?” Tim's fingers sunk back into your sobbing pussy.

“Yes,” you finally exhaled shakily, eyes rolling back as he slid his torturous fingers out and back in, curling them against your gummy walls. “F-fuck—yes!”

“Was it the first time?” he quizzed, clearly pleased with himself and—well, you were very pleased with him, too. He planted a chaste kiss just below your ear. “Hm? Have you dreamed of me before?”

“Ye-yeah,” you hummed, your mind barely grasping the words he spoke, everything a hot haze. “Sometimes… when I touch myself.”

“Good,” Tim murmured, scissoring his fingers into you while leaving feather-light open-mouthed kisses along your neck.

You shuddered, biting down on your wet bottom lip, focusing on the contrast between his delicate touch tracing down your collarbone and his fingers stretching you deliciously. He lifted your shirt, exposing your breasts and you moaned as he sucked on the soft flesh above your perked nipple.

Clamping down on his long fingers, you felt yourself getting closer to the edge. Breathing shallow, eyes rolling to the back of your head, Tim picked up on the clues.

“Let go for me, sweetheart,” he encouraged. “I got you.”

Tim continued fingering you through your orgasm, pumping slowly but purposely as you creamed around his digits. Thighs shaking involuntarily, hands struggling to hold on to anything, you cried out a shaky moan. Riding against Tim's hand, you clawed at his neck as you came down from your high, quivering lips teasing his.

“Attagirl,” praised Tim and softly patted your jaw, prompting you to open and he shoved his fingers down on your tongue. Barely out of your daze, pussy still throbbing, you moaned around his digits, sucking them deeper into your mouth when he pressed his erection against your thigh. “Shit.”

Tim pulled his fingers back out and hungrily licked into your mouth, tasting the honeyed essence on your tongue.

Your hips bucked against his hard cock, greedy for more. Looping your arms around his form, you turned him over and straddled him, the creaking of the mattress emphasizing your needy movements.

Tim inhaled sharply, large hands squeezing your waist, pressing you down against his clothes hard-on.

Steely blue eyes that looked to be brewing a storm watched you intensely, loving how fucked through you looked after just one orgasm. Hair disheveled, lips plump, neck and cheeks flushed.

Grinding down on Tim you sighed, leaning down to kiss him passionately, acrylics poking into his chest where you found purchase. You were still out of breath, but you didn't care—oxygen was no longer what kept you alive, he was.

Moaning your name, Tim felt a wave of heat rush over him, veiling him completely in your scent and desire. He could hardly believe this was happening. One thing was you dreaming, moaning his name and letting him care for you; a whole different kind of reality was you grinding down on him, rubbing your sweet little cunt over his rock-hard, twitching cock.

Tim's jaw clenched when you reached down to free his neglected erection, an inhale getting stuck in his throat as the feeling of your soft fingers wrapping around the base of his shaft.

He was heavy in your hand, certainly bigger than what you would consider average. Thick and veiny girth with an angry head leaking precum. Swiping your thumb across the weeping slit, you brought it between your lips, moaning at the salty taste.

Tim hissed and sighed your name, hips bucking upward, eager for you to sink down on him. He was getting impatient and you could feel it in the way he held you, so you drew his throbbing cock against the soaked fabric of your panties.

His grip tightened in warning before he spoke in a low tone. “Don't be a brat now, sweetheart.”

You choked on the chuckle you emitted when you pushed your panties to the side and lined him up. Pushing the angry head between your slick folds, forcing an intrusion— “F-fuck, Tim,” you cried out, sinking down on him.

The stretch was intense, a sharp pain that shot into your abdomen, but you tried to ground yourself in the moment, focusing on where you were—on an undercover mission with a colleague, a friend, a man you had suppressed your attraction to for all too long.

You inhaled deeply, your hands falling to where his were placed on your hips, guiding them up to your breasts as he allowed you to accommodate him. Doing an experimental squeeze around him, he cursed and you began moving.

“You're so big,” you shuddered, leaning forward so that your bodies were flush, grounding you, cupping your hand against his clean-shaven jaw. “Feel so full of you, Tim.”

Sinking back down on him, you began to feel the pleasure overpowering the pain, the stinging stretch becoming absolutely delicious as you felt how your walls hugged him, clinging onto him. A wanton moan rasped from your throat as you sunk back down on him, reveling in how your cunt molded to fit around his thick girth.

Picking up a comfortable rhythm that had him rubbing against all the right spots, you met his gaze, salacious eyes staring back at you through layers of desire.

“You're so beautiful like this,” he admitted coarsely, breaths heavy and jaw slack. “Ridin’ me like you were made for me—fuck… Sweetest girl, you feel so good around my cock.”

His praise settled in your chest, pulling at your heart's strings. Clashing your lips against his, you picked up your speed and Tim's hands squeezed at the soft flesh of your asscheeks, resting there, helping you keep the rhythm steady.

Your tits bouncing against his chest, ass slamming down on his thighs, and your tight, juicy pussy sucking him in—Tim prayed to God this was not the last time you would ride him.

The sexiest moan you had ever heard reverberated from Tim's chest, the sight of the strings of your slick attaching to his pelvis as you bounced bringing something resembling primal instincts out of him. A ring of your milky cum circled his engorged shaft like a pearl bracelet, hugging his base and making a complete mess on him.

“Shit, baby—I won't last long f’you keep going like that,” Tim rasped, but made no sign to stop you. A breathy, self-satisfied grin escaped you but it contorted into a moan when Tim's thumb began drawing tight circles on your bundle of nerves. He pulled you down by your hair, fingertips rough yet soothing against your scalp. “S'that what you want? Hm? Wanna milk me for all I'm worth, yeah—go ahead, sweetheart. I'll fill you up,” he coaxed.

The pressure Tim applied to your throbbing clit made you whimper pathetically, though it was barely audible over the obscene moans and slapping sounds of wet, sweaty skin-on-skin contact.

The muscles in your thighs were burning from the strain but you didn't dare stop riding him, needing him to fulfill his promise of filling you up with his seed.

Tim showered you with praise, spurring you on as he noticed how your moans crescendoed. His thumb rigorously rolled against your clit, hips bucking up and fucking into you as he chased his own orgasm. “That's it, baby—come around my cock.”

And the brink was no further away than that.

You came, pussy clamping down on his rock-hard cock, pulsing walls practically massaging Tim's thick shaft.

You desperately tried not to get sloppy, wanting him to fill you, but you were a moaning, writhing mess, and your movements stuttered.

Tim wasn't one to break a promise though, and he fucked you through your orgasm, cock relentlessly fucking into your crying pussy. Incoherent pleas for him to fill you with his cum tumbled from your lips, and he didn't leave you begging for long.

With a final thrust, hot spurts of his seed painted your velvety walls, Tim's swollen cock pulsing against your insides.

Breath heavy, panting, you slowly slid off him, limply falling on his side, barely grounded as the high wore off. Tim's large hands supported you, one cradling your cheek, thumb caressing the warm skin, while the other dragged between your legs as he whispered reverent praises.

“You did good, sweetheart.”

Your heart fluttered and you whimpered when he scooped his leaking cum from your pussy and made an effort to push it back in. Lacking the strength to do more, you merely nuzzled your head deeper into his embrace, and he pulled you closer. “Does that mean we can do this again?” you asked, somewhat sheepish.

Tim's chest rumbled with a chuckle and he placed a kiss on the crown of your head. “Of course, but you have to let me take you out on a date once we get back.”

It's been about three days since you had sex with all eight of the crew members. You've shared kisses and touches with them all but you haven't gone as far as you did that day. Today is different.

    Seonghwa has been catching your attention, his glances, his gestures. Oh yeah. You need him.

    You're working on mopping the deck when Seonghwa stops you, placing his hand over yours and saying nothing as he takes the mop from you and does it himself.

    The same thing happens later when you're cooking some dinner for everyone. He comes in and holds you by your shoulders, taking you over to a chair and making you sit down and he cooks instead.

    He's just so caring and loving, so cute, so... Motherly in a way...

.

.

.

.

.

     Seonghwa stands alone on the deck, watching the sunset paint the sky with orange and pink hues. You approach him silently, your heart fluttering at the sight of his strong shoulders silhouetted against the fiery sky. "Beautiful, isn't it?" His voice is soft, almost melodic.

    "It is." You say quietly as you look up at him. He turns to face you, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch. Without a word, he reaches out and pulls you into his arms, pressing his lips to yours in a deep, passionate kiss. His hands roam over your body possessively as he lifts you up against him.

    You hum against his lips and wrap your arms around him. You can feel his hard body (and cock) against you, it excites you a lot. Breaking the kiss, Seonghwa carries you to his quarters below deck, his movements quick and purposeful. Once inside, he kicks the door shut behind you and sets you down on his bunk, his eyes filled with desire. "I've been wanting to do that all day."

    You giggle and lay flat on your back for him. "Have you now? Why?" You ask. 

     He unbuckles his belt, his eyes never leaving yours. "Because you're driving me crazy. The way you walk, the way you talk, the way you look at me... I can't think straight." He steps out of his pants and boxers, revealing his hard cock.

    "Are you gonna take care of me?" You ask quietly, needing him to be soft and loving with you.

    "Like you deserve to be taken care of, my sweet treasure." He kneels beside the bunk, gently caressing your face. "Tell me what you need." His touch is surprisingly tender, his rough pirate exterior melting away. "Do you want slow and gentle, or..."

    "Gentle and loving... Not too slow." You answer him, looking into his eyes with your own big eyes. He nods and slowly undresses you.

     Seonghwa smiles softly, his thumb brushing against your cheek. "Gentle and loving it is." He leans down, kissing you tenderly as he climbs onto the bunk with you. He positions himself between your legs, his hard cock pressing against your entrance but making no sudden movements.

    You hum and nod, indicating that it's okay to move. Seonghwa takes his time, slowly pushing into you with a gentle thrust. He keeps his eyes locked on yours, ensuring that every movement is met with comfort and pleasure rather than pain or discomfort. “Is this okay?” He asks softly between kisses.

    You nod and whine softly, trying to reach his lips with yours. Seonghwa captures your lips in a soft kiss, his tongue gently probing against yours as he begins to move with slow, gentle thrusts. He cups your cheek with one hand, the other supporting himself on the bunk as he rocks into you with a loving tenderness. “Mmm, so cute...”

    You sigh and moan, arching your back as he hits a certain spot inside of you, making your pussy clench. Seonghwa notices your reaction and smiles, his movements becoming slightly more deliberate but still gentle. He kisses your neck softly, whispering, “There it is... Right there...” He continues to hit that spot, watching as pleasure spreads across your face. “Feel good baby?”

    You nod quickly. "Yes, yes Seonghwa, love it." You whine desperately. Seonghwa's heart melts at your words, and he can feel himself getting closer to the edge. He leans down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking gently as he continues to thrust into you with increasing intensity. His gentle lovemaking turns into a passionate, loving fuck.

    You gasp and cry out, arching your back. Seonghwa groans softly against your breast, his hips moving faster and more urgently. He lifts his head to look into your eyes again, ensuring that your pleasure matches his own. “God, you feel so good...” He adjusts his angle slightly to hit that sweet spot even deeper.

    "Oh my God, oh my fucking God, Seonghwa I'm close! I'm so close!" You cry out, your voice getting higher and higher as you get closer.

     Seonghwa feels your walls tightening around him and knows you're about to come undone. He reaches down between your bodies to rub your clit in tight circles, wanting to feel you explode around him. "Come on baby, cum for me." He growls, his own release building rapidly. "Fuck!" He calls out.

    You cry out in pleasure and exhaustion as you cum hard around him, your pussy clenching tightly.

     Feeling your intense orgasm triggers Seonghwa's own release. With a deep groan, he buries himself fully inside you and comes hard, filling you with his hot seed. His body shudders with pleasure as he continues to move slowly, milking every last drop of your combined orgasms.

    You breathe deeply as his thrusts slow to a stop. You're thirsty and you're tired, as you usually are after one of them fucks you.

     Seonghwa notices your heavy breathing and the slight tremble in your limbs. He gently pulls out of you, feeling a mix of satisfaction and tenderness. He leans down to kiss you softly on the lips before whispering. “Here, let me get you something to drink.”

    You nod and make a humming noise as a thank you. Seonghwa retrieves a glass of water and brings it back to you, helping you sit up slightly to drink. As you do, he can't help but admire the way your hair is disheveled, your skin flushed, and your body marked with the evidence of your passionate encounter.

    "Thank you." You say quietly before you chug the water. Quickly after drinking the water you close your eyes and fall asleep, snoring softly.

Hongjoong

Hongjoong had been in his studio all day, headphones on, fingers tapping rhythmically against the desk as he fine tuned a track. His back ached from sitting for so long, and he figured a short break was overdue. As he stepped into the hallway, he heard your voice coming from the living room. He wasn’t trying to eavesdrop, but something about the softness in your tone made him pause.

“No, you don’t understand,” you were saying, a laugh in your voice. “I love him so much, I think my heart might actually explode sometimes. He works so hard, and he’s so passionate about everything he does. I don’t know how he manages to take care of everyone around him and still have time to make me feel like the most special person in the world. Hongjoong is just… everything.”

Hongjoong felt his breath hitch. His face burned, a mix of shyness and overwhelming warmth flooding his chest. He took a step back, rubbing at his face with his hands, trying to suppress the giddy grin stretching his lips. When you finally hung up and turned around, he was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed but a soft, adoring smile on his face.

“So… I’m ‘everything’ huh?” he teased, eyes twinkling.

You gasped, clutching your phone to your chest. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to hear how madly in love with me you are,” he smirked, stepping forward to pull you into a hug. His voice softened, lips brushing against your temple. “Just so you know… I feel the exact same way.”

Seonghwa

Seonghwa had been tidying up the bedroom when he heard you in the next room, talking on the phone. At first, he wasn’t paying much attention—just the usual sounds of you chatting with your friend. But then, your words made him freeze mid-folding a sweater.

“He’s literally the best thing that’s ever happened to me,” you said, voice full of emotion. “He takes care of me so well, and I don’t just mean the little things like making sure I eat or bringing me a blanket when I fall asleep on the couch. It’s the way he looks at me, the way he always knows what to say when I’m feeling down. I swear, I’ve never felt more loved in my entire life.”

Seonghwa blinked, his heart squeezing in his chest. A slow, affectionate smile spread across his lips. He felt warmth blooming inside him, like a soft glow radiating through his entire body. He hadn’t realized how deeply his love had touched you, how much his little acts of care meant.

When you ended the call and walked into the bedroom, you nearly yelped when you found him just standing there, staring at you with starry eyes.

“Uh… Hwa?” you questioned, raising a brow.

“I love you,” he blurted, stepping forward to cup your cheeks. “So much. I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

You laughed, leaning into his touch. “Of course, I do. Did you… overhear?”

He nodded, suddenly a bit shy. “I wasn’t trying to, but…”

You smiled, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him softly. “Good. Now you know.”

Yunho

Yunho had just come back from the gym, a towel slung around his neck as he grabbed a water bottle from the fridge. He was about to call out for you when he heard your voice from the other room.

“I swear, I don’t know how I got so lucky,” you gushed, sounding almost dreamy. “Yunho is the most amazing person I’ve ever met. He’s kind, he’s funny, and he always knows how to cheer me up. I could be having the worst day, and one hug from him makes everything better. And don’t even get me started on how ridiculously handsome he is.”

Yunho nearly choked on his water. He felt his ears turn red as he stood frozen in the kitchen, your words playing on a loop in his head. He always knew you loved him, but hearing you talk about him like that when you thought he wasn’t around? It made his heart swell to the point of bursting.

When you finally walked into the kitchen, you found him staring at you with the goofiest grin.

“What?” you asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“You think I’m ridiculously handsome?” he teased, wiggling his eyebrows.

Your face turned bright red. “Wait… you… Yunho, did you eavesdrop on my call?!”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around you in a tight hug and lifting you off the ground. “I love you too,” he murmured against your hair, still grinning. “And for the record, I think you’re ridiculously beautiful.”

Yeosang

Yeosang had been playing a game with his headphones on, but when he heard your laughter from the other room, he instinctively lowered the volume. He liked hearing you happy.

“I swear, I don’t even know how to put it into words,” you were saying. “Yeosang is just… he’s my safe place. He might not always say a lot, but the way he loves me is so obvious. Every little thing he does is just filled with love, you know? He makes me feel like I’m the most important person in the world.”

Yeosang’s hand paused on his controller. His heart pounded, a rush of warmth spreading through him. He had always been a bit more reserved when it came to expressing his feelings, but you understood him so well.

He didn’t say anything when you came back into the room, just looked at you with soft, shining eyes before reaching out and pulling you onto his lap.

“Yeo?” you blinked in surprise.

“I’m glad you know how much I love you,” he murmured, nuzzling into your shoulder. “I don’t always say it, but… you’re my most important person too.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I know.”

San

San had been lying on the couch, scrolling through his phone when he heard your voice from the bedroom. He wasn’t really paying attention until he caught his name, and then suddenly, nothing else existed except your words.

“I don’t think I’ve ever loved someone this much before,” you admitted, your voice a little shy but full of warmth. “San is just… he’s the sweetest, most affectionate, most loving person I’ve ever met. I know he likes to act all tough sometimes, but he’s got the softest heart. He makes me feel safe. Like, I could be in the worst mood, and one hug from him fixes everything. He’s my home.”

San felt like his heart had just been shot with a thousand love arrows. His hands went to his chest instinctively, as if to physically hold in the overwhelming feeling bubbling up inside him. He always showered you with love, but to hear you talk about him like this? He had no idea you saw him that way.

Without thinking, he practically sprinted into the bedroom and flung himself at you, wrapping you up in the tightest hug.

“SAN?! What what are you doing?” you gasped, trying to keep your balance.

“I love you,” he whined dramatically, burying his face in your neck. “I love you so much.”

You blinked in confusion. “Did you- wait, did you hear what I said?”

He nodded frantically. “Yes, and I think my heart exploded, so now you have to deal with me being extra clingy.”

You laughed, wrapping your arms around him. “That’s nothing new.”

San only hummed in satisfaction, holding you as close as possible. “Just never stop loving me, okay?”

“Never.”

Mingi

Mingi had just come out of the shower, towel around his neck, when he heard you talking on the phone. He had planned to dry his hair, but the second he heard you saying his name, he froze.

“I know he can be a little shy sometimes,” you were saying with a fond chuckle. “But Mingi loves so deeply. He’s the kind of person who just… feels everything with his whole heart. I see it in the way he looks at me, the way he holds my hand even when we’re just sitting on the couch. He makes me feel like the most loved person in the world, and honestly, I don’t think I could ever get tired of him.”

Mingi stood there, gripping his towel like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His ears were burning, his heart pounding. He always worried that he wasn’t good at expressing himself, that maybe you didn’t know just how much he loved you but hearing you say that? It made every insecurity vanish.

When you hung up and turned around, Mingi was standing there, wide-eyed and pink-faced.

“…Mingi?”

His lips wobbled into a sheepish smile. “So… you don’t think you could ever get tired of me?”

Your eyes widened. “Oh my god, you heard that?”

He nodded, suddenly shy, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but…”

You smiled and walked up to him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “Good. Now you know how much I love you.”

Mingi let out a breathy chuckle before hugging you tightly. “I love you too. So much.”

Wooyoung

Wooyoung had been lounging on the bed, absentmindedly playing with his phone when he heard you talking in the next room. Normally, he’d mind his own business but the moment he heard his name, his ears perked up like a cat’s.

“I don’t think people realize just how soft Wooyoung is,” you were saying. “He’s all teasing and chaos on the outside, but with me? He’s the gentlest person ever. He always knows when I need comfort, and he never hesitates to show me how much he loves me. He makes me feel so adored. It’s like… no matter where I am, as long as I’m with him, I know I belong.”

Wooyoung felt like he just got shot by Cupid’s arrow a million times over. His hand flew to his chest dramatically, and he let out a silent scream into his pillow before getting up and practically running to where you were.

The moment you turned around, he tackled you into a hug, spinning you in circles.

“WOOYOUNG!” you shrieked, laughing. “What are you doing?!”

“I LOVE YOU!” he declared, setting you down only to cup your face dramatically. “You really think all that about me? That I make you feel like you belong?”

Your cheeks turned warm. “Wait, you heard…?”

“Oh, I heard,” he grinned. “And now I feel so loved that I might just cry.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart melted at his reaction. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” he sang, kissing your forehead.

You sighed, smiling. “Yeah. I really do.”

Jongho

Jongho had been sitting on the couch, quietly reading a book, when he heard you talking in the other room. Normally, he wouldn’t pay much attention, but then he heard his name and suddenly, the book in his hands wasn’t so interesting anymore.

“I know he doesn’t always say a lot,” you were telling your friend, voice filled with warmth. “But Jongho loves in a way that’s so steady and strong. I never have to doubt it. He always makes me feel secure, like I have someone I can lean on no matter what. And the way he looks at me sometimes… I don’t think he realizes how much he says with just his eyes. I’ve never felt so safe with anyone before.”

Jongho swallowed hard, his fingers tightening around the book. He wasn’t the type to get flustered easily, but your words hit him straight in the heart. He always tried to show his love in quiet ways, but hearing that you truly felt it without him having to say much meant everything.

When you came back into the living room, you noticed him staring at you with a soft but intense gaze.

“Jongho?” you asked, tilting your head.

Without a word, he reached out, gently pulling you down onto the couch beside him. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you against his chest in a rare, lingering embrace.

“Whoa, what’s this for?” you murmured, surprised but not complaining.

“…I heard you,” he admitted quietly.

Your face warmed. “Oh.”

Jongho sighed, resting his chin on top of your head. “You really don’t have to worry. I’ll always be here for you.”

Your heart melted as you snuggled closer. “I know.

"You think I can't do pushups with you on my back?" San demanded, half hurt, half disbelief; "Princess, I'm deeply hurt."

The girl beside him, however, found it quite amusing. Giggling, Y/n hit his toned arm, almost falling face-first into his lap.

"You can't, baby," she tried to comfort her sulking boyfriend. "Do you know how much I weigh?"

"Does it matter?"

What a man. It was enough for him that his lovely girlfriend thought that he can't workout with her weight and now she questioned her weight too. it was enough to fire him up.

"Get up," He urged her off the couch, holding her arm. "I'll show you."

No matter how much Y/n protested, San still had her sit on his back, doing a plank. "You ready, princess?"

Y/n, in fact, was not ready. Her mind was instead filled with the filthy things she could do to his absolutely, deliciously toned back. The way his muscles flexed under strain was mouth-watering.

After a second of collecting herself, she nodded. "Show me what you got, baby."

With a smirk, San started and he will not stop before he's satisfied. "Count aloud for me, okay?"

And so Y/n did. "Ten."

Y/n was quite honestly surprised. She knew her boyfriend was strong but did not think he will accomplish ten pushups nonetheless.

"Twenty," She called out, growing worried.

"Baby, Sannie," She called out to her boyfriend, worried. "Let's stop? I get it, you're strong."

"Nope."

And Y/n would continue to count till fifty. As soon as he faceplanted into the carpet, Y/n hoped off his back, quickly rushing to his side. "I told you not to overdo it, baby," She sighed, moving his hair out of his face.

Even though San was breathing heavily, he managed to give his all-winning smile. "I told you," he reached out to caress Y/n's face as he laid his head in her lap.

"I am strong enough to carry my princess."