i fucking love frank langdon

"...memo."

from the living room came the sound of muffled laughter.

you narrowed your eyes.

"memo."

he appeared in the kitchen doorway a second later, trying and failing to hide the grin spreading across his face.

"yes, mi amor?"

you pointed toward the cabinet.

"why is my mug all the way up there?"

he looked at it as if he had never seen it before.

"huh."

"don't."

"that's strange."

"guillermo."

"maybe it walked up there."

you crossed your arms.

"the mug?"

"you never know."

you stared at him for a long moment before letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"can you please get it down?"

he leaned against the counter.

"hmm..."

you already knew that look.

"what?"

"say please."

"i did."

"say it sweeter."

you rolled your eyes.

"please."

he smiled.

"with a kiss."

you gasped dramatically.

"you're negotiating over a coffee mug?"

"i prefer the term compromising."

you walked over until you were standing right in front of him.

he immediately leaned down, expecting you to kiss him.

instead, you smiled sweetly.

"no."

he blinked.

"...no?"

"no kiss until i get my mug."

"that's not how this works."

"i think it is."

he laughed.

"you're stubborn."

"learned from the best."

he reached out to wrap an arm around your waist, but you slipped right out of his grasp.

"uh-uh."

"really?"

"really."

he followed you around the kitchen, amused by your determination.

"just one kiss."

"mug first."

"half a kiss?"

"that's not a thing."

"it could be."

you shook your head, trying not to laugh.

"you're unbelievable."

"and yet you love me."

"that doesn't mean you're getting a kiss."

he placed a hand over his heart.

"you're breaking it."

"you'll recover."

he sighed dramatically before finally walking over to the cabinet.

without even stretching, he reached up and grabbed the mug with ease.

show-off.

he placed it carefully into your hands.

"there."

you smiled triumphantly.

"thank you."

then you turned around and started making your coffee.

memo blinked.

"...excuse me?"

you looked over your shoulder innocently.

"yes?"

"where's my kiss?"

you took a sip from your freshly made coffee.

"hmm."

"you promised."

"did i?"

he laughed, immediately walking over until he was standing behind you.

"you're impossible."

"maybe."

his arms wrapped around your waist as he rested his chin on top of your head.

"i got your mug."

"you did."

"so..."

you smiled to yourself, pretending to think about it.

"i suppose you've earned it."

before he could react, you turned in his arms, reached up onto your tiptoes, and gently kissed him.

it was quick.

soft.

just enough to leave him smiling when you pulled away.

"that's it?" he asked.

"that's what you earned."

he raised an eyebrow.

"i think i deserve another."

"do you?"

"definitely."

you laughed.

"only if you promise to stop hiding my things."

he stayed quiet for a suspiciously long time.

"...define stop."

you narrowed your eyes.

"memo."

he couldn't hold back his laughter anymore.

"okay, okay."

"i'm serious."

"i know."

he leaned down, stealing one more kiss before you could protest.

"i'll stop."

you smiled.

"good."

"the mugs, anyway."

your smile slowly disappeared.

"...the mugs?"

he flashed you an innocent grin.

"i never said anything about the snacks."

you groaned as he darted out of the kitchen laughing, already knowing you'd probably find your favorite bag of chips sitting on the highest shelf later that day.

his best friend snorted beside him.

"don't even try pretending you didn't see her."

"...i wasn't."

"you're smiling."

"...am i?"

"and you're blushing."

memo groaned, dragging both hands down his face.

"please stop pointing it out."

"can't help it."

"you're the worst."

you and memo had known each other since freshman year.

history class had been the reason the two of you met.

you were paired together for a project, and somehow one assignment turned into studying together before every test, sharing lunches whenever one of you forgot yours, and walking through the hallways side by side almost every day.

everyone assumed you were dating.

everyone except the two people actually involved.

because memo was convinced you only thought of him as your best friend.

sure, you always saved him a seat in class.

you waited for him outside the locker rooms after soccer practice.

you wore his hoodie whenever the classrooms got cold.

you even remembered every game on his schedule.

to him, you were simply... nice.

there was no way someone like you could actually like him back.

one afternoon after practice, memo collapsed onto the bleachers while the rest of the team packed up.

his teammate sat beside him with a knowing look.

"so..."

memo already knew where this was going.

"...what?"

"when are you asking her out?"

he looked away.

"...i don't know."

"you've liked her forever."

memo rubbed the back of his neck.

"...yeah."

"then what's stopping you?"

he sighed.

"what if she says no?"

his teammate stared at him like he'd lost his mind.

"memo."

"...what?"

"she waits outside practice every single day."

"...yeah."

"she still wears your hoodie."

"...she said it's comfortable."

"she made you brownies last week."

"...she likes baking."

his teammate laughed.

"you are unbelievably clueless."

memo rested his elbows on his knees.

"...i just don't want to lose her."

that answer made his teammate smile a little.

"you won't know unless you ask."

monday morning arrived much faster than memo would've liked.

he sat beneath the large tree near the soccer field with an open textbook resting on his lap.

he hadn't turned the page once.

he couldn't focus.

not when he kept replaying the conversation from friday.

"hi."

your voice made him jump.

he looked up to see you smiling down at him.

"...hi."

"mind if i sit?"

"of course not."

you settled beside him, your shoulders brushing.

the familiar silence wasn't awkward.

it never had been.

until today, because memo kept opening his mouth before immediately closing it again.

you tilted your head.

"everything okay?"

"...yeah."

"you've been staring at the same page for ten minutes."

"...have i?"

you laughed quietly.

"memo."

he swallowed.

his heart felt like it was trying to escape his chest.

his palms were sweaty.

he could hear every beat pounding in his ears.

just ask her.

before you chicken out again.

"...can i ask you something?"

you smiled.

"anything."

"...promise you won't laugh?"

"i promise."

he took the deepest breath he'd ever taken.

"...would you maybe..."

his voice cracked.

he cleared his throat, cheeks burning.

"...would you maybe want to..."

another pause.

you waited patiently.

"...go out with me?"

everything became quiet.

memo's stomach immediately dropped.

the silence lasted only a few seconds.

to him, it felt like hours.

he quickly looked down.

"you don't have to if you-"

"memo."

he looked back up.

you were smiling.

the kind of smile that made him forget how to breathe.

"i thought you'd never ask."

he blinked.

"...what?"

you laughed.

"i've been waiting forever."

"...you have?"

you nodded.

"you seriously thought i waited outside every practice because i had nothing better to do?"

"...maybe."

"i baked you cookies."

"i thought you just liked baking."

"i wore your hoodie for almost three months."

"...i was wondering where it went."

you shook your head with a laugh.

"you're impossible."

"...i am?"

"a little."

he smiled sheepishly.

"i've liked you since sophomore year."

memo's brain completely shut down.

"...really?"

"really."

he stared at you for several long seconds before the biggest smile slowly spread across his face.

it was so bright that it made you laugh again.

"...so."

"so?"

"is that a yes?"

instead of answering right away, you reached over and slipped your hand into his.

your fingers fit perfectly together.

"it's a yes."

memo looked down at your joined hands before looking back at you.

his cheeks somehow turned an even deeper shade of red.

you couldn't help smiling.

"you're adorable when you blush."

he covered his face with his free hand.

"please don't say that."

"why not?"

"because it makes me blush even more."

you laughed.

"good."

he peeked at you through his fingers before letting out a shy laugh of his own.

it had taken him nearly two years to work up the courage to ask you out.

and all that time . . . you had been hoping he'd finally realize you were waiting for him the whole time.

“And you feel completely safe?” “Yes Frank, I feel completely safe.” “Okay, because, if you want to stop at any point-” “Yes baby, I know. I’ll say stop.” “I promise, even if he’s balls deep-” “Frank.” You put your hands on his shoulders, looking into those blue eyes. “I know. I promise I’ll say something if I change my mind or if I even think about changing my mind. I trust Jack.”

Your boyfriend sighs, closing his eyes and you watch his shoulders drop as he relaxes. “I do to, I wouldn’t bring him here if i didn’t have 100% full faith in him to take care of my girl. Just know if anything at all is wrong, I’m not afraid to beat his ass.”

You chuckle at that, pinching his cheek. “You’re a cutie pie, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know 😊”

“Doctor Cutie Pie”

“Attending at Cutie Pie ER”

Your chuckle stills, and you thumb at his cheek bone.“And you feel completely safe in this arrangement? Because if you get uncomfortable at any point either…”

Frank leans over, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I know. Let's get this party started.” Frank turns around, opening the bedroom door to find Jack leaning against the hallway wall.

“Those doors aren’t as thick as you think, Dr. Cutie Pie”

*

It had been a few weeks earlier when Frank had broached the idea to the night shift attending. Jack has been putting his things in his locker while you Langdon were packing up.

“Oh! I’ll be right back, I brought some leftovers for Ellis, gotta let her know it’s in the fridge.”

“That’s sweet, baby, I’ll bring the car around, okay?”

You gave him a peck, then walked off, well aware of both men watching your ass so you sway a little extra.

“Gyat damn, brother. You sure got lucky.”

It shouldn’t, but it made Frank a little hard seeing Jack lust so openly for his partner. “Yeah, i fucking did. Don’t worry, I treat her right.”

Jack gives a non committal hum, then shuts his locker as Frank begins to speak.

“Didn’t stop her from moaning your name the other day though.”

As the words left his mouth, Frank took a little glee in seeing Jack’s eyes go wide, flickering past him and looking for the best exit. 

“Whoa, whoa,” he raises his hands. “I’m just playing, I swear to go, she and I have never- I would never- I was just looking-”

But Frank cuts off his panicked rambling with laughter. “I’m just fucking with you, Jack, I swear! She did moan your name though, which I actually wanted to talk to you about.”

Not yet assured, Jack eyes him, hackles not totally settled and still certain Langdon was going to swing. “Oooh…kaaay…”

“Let me be Frank,” he always said that to you, and you always told him he wasn’t funny, but it didn’t stop him. “Me and her, we’re doing real good. I’m not worried, I actually came really fucking hard when she-” He saw the scrunched up face Jack made. “Sorry, tmi.”

“No no, be Frank”

“Oh boy, am I. Anyway, I liked it. We talked about it and hey, you’re a good looking guy, I trust you, she wants you, you want her.”

“And you…?”

A wide grin spread across his face, eyes particularly blue in the fluorescents as he slid on the blue jacket you said brought out his eyes. “I wanna watch.”

*

“Oh my god, fuck, I’m not gonna last.”

“Jesus Christ…” Jack lifted his face from where it was buried in your red panties. “I havn’t even tasted her yet, man. Get a hold of yourself.”

Gripping the cuck chair you had gotten specifically from the thrift store for this occasion, Frank’s head drops back and he’s white knuckling it, the tent in his sweats graphically out there. “You’re fucking pathetic, you know that?”

“Uuuugghhhhh”

“Jack stop!” You giggle, pulling his grey curls. “He’s in the cuck chair, he's gonna like being called pathetic!”

To the side, you here Frank mumble “Gah, I’m so fucking horny right now… bricked up…”

Jack rolled his eyes, then went back to smelling your cunt- you were down to your underwear and Jack in his dark gray boxer briefs, and he was taking his sweet time with you. Without even having you naked, he was licking at the wet spot in your underwear and nipping at your thighs. His tongue lapped along the seam, tasing the slick, moaning into the hair of your bikini line.

“If I knew you smelled this good, I would’ve stolen your panties the last time you guys had a party here…”

“Well be warned, red la-lacy thongs aren’t usually my go-to. Period stained granny panties are the mainstay around- ahh, shit, around here.”

You hear Frank whimper beside you and you can’t tell if he just enjoys hearing you moan that much, or if the thought of you in your ugly granny panties just do it for him that much.

Jack smiles against your skin, finally peeling off the lace with his teeth, feeling drag against your soft thighs.

“Fuck, thats a good one. Why didn’t I think of that...” When you look over, Frank is palming himself watching you, watching the way Jack eats you alive. He’s good, really fucking good but part of you shys under Frank’s eyes. This was the agreement, this is what he wanted… but you didn’t want him to think you preferred Jack. Frank fucked the ever living shit outta you and he was an eater, and absolutly nothing would compare because sex+love was the winning combination but-

“Hey,” Frank brushed a lock from your face. When did he get over here? “You okay princess?” Jack was sitting up on the bed, giving space but thumbs rubbing soothing circles over your ankles. 

Heat crept up your face at embarrassment of the overthinking. “Yeah, yeah I’m fine.” but Frank frowns, and you know why. He never wants to hear ‘fine’ during sex.

“You’re thinking something. Talking to me.”

Jack speaks too, assuring you it’s okay to stop, but you absolutely did not want to. 

“No! No, it’s just… I wasn’t sure if I would be… insulting you, if I acted like I liked this too much…”

Body language softening as the worry leaves his body, Frank gives you a smile. “I promise you, I want him to make you feel good. And if he makes you feel better than I do-”

“And I will.”

“IF he does, then I’ll learn a thing or two. Nothing but the best for my baby, okay?”

Your bottom lip is drawn  between your lips, thinking. “Okay…” but you still sounded hesitant.

Jack turns to his coworker. “Frank, you wanna show her a little moanings nothing to be embarrassed by?”

Frank raises his eyebrow. He’s never kissed a guy before… but he sees how your breathing speeds up. He’s the kind of guy to try anything once. 

With Jack still kneeling between your legs, he pulls Frank in for a kiss and you watch him just melt into the older man's touch. Pretty painted fingers slide between your legs where you’re slicked up with Jack's spit, pumping yourself as Frank towers over his boy crush and getting way more into the kiss than you would’ve imagined. Frank’s tongue slides into Jack’s mouth, both of them opening their mouths wide so you can get a good glimpse at the show before the older man sucks on his tongue.

 Wet, sloppy sounds come from your cunt and their mouths, both men sharing a bisexual awaken before your own eyes. Frank grips Jack’s camo shirts, pulling him up and deeper into the kiss. Watching your husband’s biceps bulge almost did you over, curling your fingers inside yourself, but when Jack, with slow moving hands giving him a chance to back off, palm over Frank’s bulge, all Frank’s bravado melted away. He whimpers into the kiss, body shuttering and eyes rolling back, a wet spot forming in his grey sweats. 

That’s what does it for you, looks like Frank isn’t the only one who likes to watch. You cum on your own fingers, the sounds of your orgasm pulling both breathless men away from each as they watch you wraith on the bed.

“Jesus chris man… she’s beautiful…”

Frank beams with pride. “Yeah, she really is…” He kisses you down from your orgasm, tasting the blood brought on from Jack’s rabid mouth. 

When you finally get a breath, you manage to pant out, “if one of you isn’t inside me in one minute, I’m going to scream.”

*

On your stomach, hips propped up by a few pillows for comfort and a good angle, Abbot slammed into you, the wet snap, snap, snap of his pelvis making your asscheeks ripple filled the room. You moans would too, if your mouth wasn’t covered by Frank’s lips.

“You like the way I make your girl feel, Frank?”

“Uh-huh” Frank’s hand we’re busy on you, but Jack snapped them away, saying kissing only. He didn’t seem to mind, jerking himself off as he knelt by your bedside, mouth chasing yours for little touches of affection while his eyes watched Jack rail you. Lust clouded his vision, feeling dizzy as how good the two of you looked together, Jack’s muscled yet thick body glistening with sweat- you mewling and wriggling with pleasure underneath. 

For a man in his 50’s Jack has insane stamina- Frank was building up to his third orgasm. At least he had a fast refractory period. Jack had pulled 2 more orgasms out of you just on his dick, making the blue bedding beneath you an absolute pool of liquids.

“Gonna cum again for me, baby? Bet that’s more than Frank can, pathetic little guy can’t even hold it longer than a minute. Two pump chump over there, huh?” 

Frank moans into the skin of your neck he’s busy kissing- No biting, no hickies, Jack said. “Tonight she belongs to me”

“L-last one, Jacky.” You pant into the pillow, giving your boys the warning that you were ready to be done. You knew your limits, and you were about there.

Despite how distracted he is, despite how Frank’s mind has gone to another world, he mumbles praises between kitten licks, saying how good you are for communicating.

Jack rubs your ass before delivering a smack. “You can only take four? Frank must really be slacking if that’s all your used to.” he teased, playing into the scene but with the acknowledgment of your limit placed. “Can’t keep it up for your girl, Langdon? Can’t even use your mouth right? It’s a shame, pretty girl like this going to waste with someone like you. Maybe if you ate her like you kissed, we wouldn’t be having this problem.”

You think Frank is about to bust. Jack fists his freckled fingers into Frank’s hair, yanking him. “Stand up, bitch.”

Frank does as he’s told, scrambling to get up, his hard and red dick catching your eye and making you water. Maybe you could take a little more if it was with Frank… no, no, you knew yourself. Besides, Jack was taking care of it. He runs a hand up Frank’s hair chest, thumbing over his hardened nipples.

“I want you to cum, got it? Right here.” He stops, dick pulled almost all the way out until it was just his uncut tip. Jack slides his finger down your crack, over your puckered asshole to your cunt where he fucked you, then slides it up his shaft, making him shiver. “Want you to cum right where I’m fucking her.”

The way he slammed himself in made you gasp for air, feeling like he was opening you up all over again. “Jack!” You cry out, sobbing into the pillow. “Feels so fucking good, oh my god. Frankie, baby,” you grab his right hand. “Cum on us, okay? My pussy will look so pretty, as three of us, please? Please baby?”

Frank releases just as you come, your orgasm seizing your body in jerky shakes. You feel ropes of cum landing on your holes, cheeks spread wide by jacks bruising grip. He fills you, oh god does he fill you, loading you up as your pulse around his, Frank panting both of you white.

*

By the time everyone was done, Jack and Frank had tasted all three of your fluids mixed together, making out all over your ass and pussy. They cleaned you up, Frank taking you to the bathroom to pee as you were unsteady. When he walks back to the bedroom, he sees Jack rubbing his knees, having paused getting dressed. 

“Why don’t you take that off? I got some good lotion, I’ll rub it in.” 

Despite what they had shared, there didn’t seem to be any sexual tone to what he said. There was, however, a newfound sense of intimacy between them.

Jack waves him off, pale cheeks flushed. “Nah, I’ll be heading out in a second.”

“You’re leaving?” You round the corner wearing your black robe. 

“Well,” He chuckles, grunting when he stands. “I wasn’t expecting to stay and cuddle.”

“You could?”

Once again, he chuckles and waves off. “Trust me, sweetheart. I’m not naive. I’m here to have a little fun, you don’t need to do aftercare.” He jokes, but you sense vulnerability behind it.

Frank takes his hand. “Come on, stay. It doesn't have to be weird, man but like, we weren’t planning on using you like a sex toy, Jesus.”

“I’d really like it if you stayed, Jack.”

You watch as Jack considers. “Yeah okay, I’ll stay for a little…”

“A little” turned into you taking off the prosthetic and playing with his hair as Frank massaged lotion into the leg. A little turned into him and Frank on either side of you, giving you kisses. A little turned into Jack fast asleep in your bed, the three of you cuddled up on damp sheets.

***

NP tags!!!

There were several reasons why Harry liked being Princess Y/n’s on-duty guard. The first was that when the king called the calvary together for battle, the princess had insisted to her father that only Harry could watch over her properly, that she trusted no one else and because she always got what she wanted, the king allowed Harry to continue his station at the castle as the princess’s full-time guardian and protector. Being Y/n’s watcher was far better work than going into battle and getting one’s head chopped off, he thought. The second reason he liked being around the princess was that, as rude as she could be, she was entertaining. He enjoyed the unnecessary drama she caused, though he couldn’t tell you why he did. The third and most important reason was something he’d never tell anyone. It was because he was in love with her. And that third reason probably explained the second reason, but Harry didn’t try to think too deeply about that.

They were in the square that day. The princess had wanted to go shopping, and so Harry went with her, as was his duty. He stood about three feet back as he watched Y/n speak with some nobleman who he thought was standing a little too close for his liking. He shifted, hand on his belt, and narrowed his eyes at the man in his finely tailored getup. Y/n laughed and then casually looked over her shoulder, meeting Harry’s gaze and grinned. He knew the look. She was about to cause trouble again.

When she looked back at the man, she slid her arm into his, and they began to walk toward the fountain together. Harry swallowed and kept his usual distance, though now his attention and his focus were heightened. He would only allow this man to get as close as he was for just a little longer before he stepped in to intervene. And the princess knew that.

The moment they reached the fountain, Harry understood she had chosen the spot on purpose. Because the square was busy enough to make a scene risky, open enough that he could not very well drag her away without causing one himself, and close enough that he had an unobstructed view of the nobleman hovering at her side like a buzzing fly. The square around them was full of life and people milling about. And right in front of him, Princess Y/n was setting a trap, and only Harry was privy to what she was doing.

She paused at the fountain’s edge and pulled a coin from the little silk purse hanging at her wrist. The nobleman leaned closer, smiling as though he’d been granted some great intimacy. Harry’s posture drew tight as he watched.

Y/n turned the coin over between two fingers, glanced at the water, then bent slightly at the waist to toss it in, pressing her palm against the stone. It was hardly enough of a movement to warrant concern. Hardly enough for anyone to think she might fall. But she knew what she was doing, and the man next to her played right into her plan.

The nobleman shifted, his hands landed at her hips in a mockery of helpfulness, fingers spreading over the curve of her waist as though he had any right in the world.

And Harry, without much thought, moved before the coin had finished breaking the water. “Step away from her.”

His voice cut cleanly through the noise of the square, causing a few passersby to turn into spectators, slowing their steps to watch the performance.

The nobleman startled and removed his hands, though not quickly enough to satisfy Harry. Y/n straightened and turned, looking between them with a bright expression, waiting for the fire she started to be put out by her knight. Once again.

The man recovered himself with a forced smile. “The princess has asked me to accompany her.”

Harry stopped just in front of him, close enough now that the nobleman had to tip his chin up a fraction to maintain eye contact.

“I am the one accompanying her,” Harry said evenly. “And she did not ask you to place your hands on her.”

A flush rose in the man’s face. “I meant no offense, Sir Harry.”

“And yet you offend.”

The nobleman blinked, glancing at Y/n. “I was only… assisting.”

Harry flashed a look at Y/n. She was watching with open amusement, one gloved hand still laid flat over the fountain’s stone lip, as if this were all some private entertainment arranged solely for her. Which, he supposed, it was as this was her doing.

He looked back at the man. “You may leave now. She doesn't require your assistance.”

The nobleman puffed himself up then, offended now that there were more sets of eyes drifting their way, bits of attention catching on the edge of the confrontation. “You overstep yourself, knight.”

Harry stepped closer, then, only half a pace, but it was enough. Enough for the nobleman to acknowledge the warning in his posture. Enough for him to notice Harry’s hand settling on the hilt of his sheathed sword.

“I guard her,” Harry said quietly, dangerously. “And I have reason to believe your intentions are not honorable. This is your last warning.”

The man looked at Harry’s hand, then at his face, searching perhaps for bluff, for hesitation, for some sign this might still be argued into a victory he could save face with. But there was no victory for the nobleman here. Even the princesses’s expression told him that much.

The look on his face soured. He gave Y/n a stiff bow that she did not bother returning with any sincerity, then turned on his heel and disappeared into the gathering crowd of onlookers.

Harry watched until the nobleman was fully swallowed by the movement of the square before he let his hand fall from his sword. Beside him, Y/n hummed in satisfaction and slid her arm through his as if nothing at all had happened. As if he had not spent the last minute imagining several deeply inappropriate ways he could use his sword on that nobleman.

“Oh, Harry,” she said, laughter tucked warm inside her voice, “there you go again, scaring off men needlessly.”

He kept his gaze on the square, posture straight, expression fixed into cool indifference, something he had spent years perfecting around her. “It was not needless.”

Her fingers tightened more snugly around his arm. “You looked ready to kill him.”

“He put his hands on you.”

“That is hardly a crime.”

“It was uninvited.”

That made her smile widen. He didn't need to look at her to know it was there.

She tipped her head, looking up at him. “And here I thought my guard was simply meant to be doing his duty.”

“I was.”

“Mm.” She let the sound linger. “Your duty does not include scaring away every man who speaks to me.”

Harry swallowed, not answering this time, eyes still shifting over the faces of the people in the square. That, more than any defense he could have made, seemed to amuse her.

They began to walk again at an unhurried pace, his stride even with hers. The people who’d been watching went back to their business as Y/n leaned into him just slightly, not enough for anyone else to notice, but just enough that he had no chance of not feeling the warmth of her against his arm.

“Unless,” she said lightly, “I am meant to think you were jealous.”

His face stayed composed. “I am not jealous, Princess.”

She laughed softly, but there was an undercurrent of wickedness lying just beneath. “Liar.”

Harry exhaled through his nose and kept scanning the square, though every instinct he possessed was fixed on the woman at his side. And she knew it just as well as he did. They’d been at this for long enough to know what they were doing.

After a moment, she sighed with exaggerated disappointment. “Well. Whether it was jealousy or simply your usual impossible temperament, I cannot let it go unanswered.”

At that, his shoulders went subtly rigid, and he inhaled a heavier breath, already knowing what she meant.

Her thumb brushed over the sleeve at his forearm, a tiny hidden stroke no one else would notice. “You know what happens now.”

His throat bobbed as he forced a swallow. “Princess,” he said carefully, a warning that never once worked on her.

She only leaned closer, her mouth near enough that he caught the scent of her perfume. “You have been very possessive today, Sir Harry,” she murmured. “And since you insist on behaving so badly, I suppose you shall have to be punished tonight.”

He tensed his jaw, glancing down at her briefly and already imagining the scene in his head, knowing what was coming.

She drew back just enough to look up and meet his eyes. Her expression was full of false innocence and glittering mischief. “Tonight, you’ll stand guard inside my room, facing the door until I tell you otherwise.”

Harry’s cold features remained steady, but inside him, something hot and terrible turned over. They’d done this before. In fact, it had turned into a somewhat frequent punishment, if it could be called that. More like a tease. A forbidden fruit dangled just behind him, not allowed to look at it, or taste, or touch. He would only be allowed to listen and yearn while he stood with his cock hard and throbbing.

Y/n smiled and patted his arm, delighted with herself, and guided him farther into the square as though she had not just ruined him with a single sentence. And Harry, who would have followed her into hell itself if she asked, walked beside her in silence and began, already, imagining what sort of cruelty his princess would conjure up this time.

Harry stood near the center of the princesses’s room as she moved farther in without a word. She drifted through her room leisurely, as though this were any other night and not one carefully arranged to test the limits of his self-command.

Her chambers were as excessive as the princess herself. The ceilings soared overhead, tall windows framed the darkening sky, their long curtains stirred by a soft draft, beeswax candles burned in silver stands, mixing their warm sweetness with her perfume and the powdery lavender tucked into the linens by her maids. At the far end of the room stood her vast, canopied bed. Silk and feathers and secrets… Harry had imagined himself in it before, but he’d never allow himself to break his oath. He knew better than to risk it.

He stood with his hands clasped behind his back and watched her cross to the mirror. She took her time removing her gloves, peeling each finger free with excessive care before laying them on the dressing table. Then came the outer layer of her gown, the decorative sash first, then the jeweled pins at her shoulders. She hadn’t said a single word yet, nor had she looked at him. That was part of the game too. She knew he was watching. Knew his eyes would track every movement but he’d look away the moment she told him to.

Only after she had shrugged the heavier layer from her shoulders did she glance at him through the mirror. Harry’s expression was just as stoic as always, and Y/n smiled.

The lighter fabric beneath clung more closely when she moved, tracing the line of her back and waist before falling loose again. Almost indecent. Almost sheer, but not quite. Just enough to let him know she was thinking very carefully about what she was doing to him.

He hated how willingly he let her tease him this way, but still, he indulged in the sight of her while he had the chance. Because soon he’d be left with the view of the heavy oak doors and the sound of her doing things very unbecoming of a princess.

She crossed to the armoire, the huge carved thing nearly as tall as the posters on her bed, and drew it open. Inside hung silks and velvet and lace in creams and jewel tones, garments fit for a spoiled rich princess. She slid her fingers along them as though considering her choices, though Harry knew it was all just a show.

From one shelf she grabbed a thin folded fabric, then draped it over her arm, and from another she selected something smaller, which disappeared into her hand before he could make out what it was.

She closed the armoire and moved to the low chest of drawers beside it, the one tucked half out of sight near the bed. Harry swallowed as he watched her smile to herself and pull the top drawer open slowly. He knew better than to let his mind linger on what she kept there. He already knew in part that it was filled with things she kept secret. She looked back at him over her shoulder with a smirk that had no business appearing so innocent on her face as she reached inside.

She drew out two small objects and turned them over in her hands, as though they were no more scandalous than a comb or a ribbon. But if anyone had seen what Harry was, they’d be scandalized. They’d avert their eyes in shock that the princess had possession of such sordid things.

“You’re staring,” she said.

“I am observing my surroundings, Princess.”

A soft laugh escaped her. “Of course you are. Obedient. Observant. Possessive…” She turned and looked at him, eyes sharp. “Maybe one day you’ll be brave enough to act on it. To forgo your orders and your oath and give in.”

Harry kept his mouth pressed together as he stood there, heart pounding. If he broke his command, his oath, he’d regret it, but he’d certainly enjoy it while it lasted. His fear was that he’d lose his post with her if he ever gave in to his desires. If he ever gave in to her.

She set one item on the bed and kept the other in hand as she pressed her knee into the soft blankets of her bed. The mattress dipped as the gauze curtains shifted around her. He watched as she climbed in, palms and knees pressed delicately into the down, her eyes on his with the slope of her throat exposed, the bare skin newly revealed where her earlier layers no longer concealed her as thoroughly.

Harry held himself still. Even if she was trying to tempt him, trying to get him to slip up, he would not.

“You were very bold today,” she said, running one fingertip over the bedcover beside her. “Putting your hand on your sword in the middle of the square. All that just for me?”

“He put his hands on you.”

“And you frightened him away for it.”

He blinked, looking at the item in her hand. “That was the intention.”

Her mouth curved. “Jealous, then.”

“No.” The lie came too quickly. They both knew it was lie.

Y/n sat back and smiled. “You do make this easy.”

Harry kept his hands locked behind his back. The picture of focus and rigidity. A man with the strength to resist his desires.

Her eyes flicked over his face, reading everything he would never say aloud. “That is enough.” She smiled playfully. “Take your place, Sir Harry. Face the doors.”

And because she had asked it of him, because she was his princess and his ruin, he obeyed, turning away to remove his gaze from her.

The doors stood tall and immovable before him with elegantly carved panels. A simple thing of wood and iron. Something he could fix his attention on, something that did not move, did not breathe, did not tempt.

Behind him, though, she began, and he took a breath, readying himself for the torture that was to come. He heard her sigh, then heard the whisper of silk sliding behind him, her last layers coming off, leaving her bare. He was already imagining the sweetest and prettiest thing spread out on her silk bed, only feet away, watching his back with a sly grin on her face.

Harry drew in another slow breath through his nose, held it, then released it carefully. An attempt to calm his racing heart and delay the inevitable rise of heat to his groin.

The bed shifted beneath her weight with a low creak, then a breath pushed from her mouth. The sound was soft at first, as if she were settling into the moment, tasting it, readying herself for what she was about to do.

“Comfortable?” she asked sweetly.

“Yes, Princess.”

She hummed. “You don’t sound comfortable.”

“That is irrelevant.”

A breathy laugh drifted across the room. “Mm. Always so proper. So outwardly detached… Yet I wonder what goes on in that head of yours.”

There was another shift of fabric and Harry fixed his gaze harder on the door. To the iron handle. The grain of the wood. A small imperfection near the lower panel where time had worn the polish.

“It would be very easy, you know,” she said after a moment, voice quieter now, closer to something intimate. “To turn around.”

His jaw set. “I will not.”

“No?” There was a gentle lilt in her tone, coaxing. “Not even a little peek?”

“No.”

Behind him, she shifted again. The bed creaked softly in response, followed by a quiet, almost thoughtful exhale.

“I know… But I do wonder,” she mused, “how long it would take.”

Harry closed his eyes briefly, then opened them again, forcing his focus back to the door. “For what, Princess?”

“For you to forget your duty.”

“I will not forget. You have told me to face the door, and that is what I shall do.”

Her voice softened, threading something warmer through the teasing. “You’ve thought about it. Disobeying. Taking a look. Touching…”

Harry inhaled through his nose, chest rising and falling a little harder just as she made a small noise. Pleasure and need, barely a sound, but a breath in, then easing out again.

“You could,” she continued. “No one would know. The door is closed. The other guards are posted outside and they can’t hear. If I told you to turn and watch, would you?”

Harry swallowed. He didn’t know how he survived her teasing, in truth. She drove him mad.

“If you commanded it, then I would do as I was told.”

“Mmm…” she moaned. “But I want to see you break your orders.”

“My duty is not conditional.”

“But,” she said, a hint of laughter slipping through, “you wish you could.”

“I only wish to do as you tell me.”

“Liar. I know you wish you could see this.”

She shifted behind him again. Movement and fabric. A quiet rhythm beginning and then a soft gasp. Harry’s breath grew heavier, and he fixed his eyes on the polish of the wood, steadying himself.

“You are cruel to me, Princess,” he said, voice low.

“Am I?” she replied, pleased.

Another breath left her, slipping free, a little shaky. He realized while she was performing, there was lust in the sound. Whatever she was doing, it felt good for her.

Harry’s fingers curled slightly against his palms, skin heating under his regimental garb.

“You’re listening very closely,” she said lightly.

“I am standing guard.”

“Of course you are.” Her breath shuttered. “Keep listening. Want you to hear it all.”

The rhythm behind him shifted again, just enough to break whatever fragile composure he had managed to reconstruct.

“Harry…” she moaned his name.

He shut his eyes and swallowed. “Yes, Princess.”

She answered with another soft inhale, then his name was breathed into the air again. Her tone was warmer, less playful now. He knew it was only a matter of time before she lost control of the sounds she made at all. Before she was moaning his name like he was the one there in her bed, fucking her and not the phallus-shaped wand she liked to use on herself.

The sounds she made began to settle low in his chest, warmth spreading fast to his stomach and then crawling lower, taking hold of his cock. Never had he been reduced to a panting, leaking mess without being touched before. Only with her. His spoiled princess.

“If you could see this,” she whispered. “Just once, you wouldn’t be able to resist again.”

“No.” His voice came out rougher now.

She made a soft sound. “You are too good, knight. Too obedient.”

The bed creaked again, a little louder this time, followed by a breath that broke unevenly before smoothing out to a soft hiss.

“One day you will lose this fight. It will be so sweet to see you give in.”

Harry exhaled slowly, forcing the tension back into something he could barely contain. He stood facing the door, every muscle locked in place, every sense betraying him, every thought circling the same impossible desire, but still, he obeyed.

The next sound she made wasn’t soft at all. It slipped out of her like something she couldn’t hold any longer, a breath breaking into a needy, open-mouthed moan that echoed off the high ceilings. The shift in tone alone was enough to make Harry’s spine go rigid, his shoulders pulling tighter as if he could physically brace himself against it.

There was no mistaking it now. He could hear that she was fully lost in it. Completely taken by lust and pleasure.

The bed creaked again, more insistently this time, the rhythm no longer tentative. He could practically imagine her hand moving, wrapped around the wand, fucking herself as she stared at his back. Then it was wet, the softest claps of sound came from her bed as she thrust the thing into herself in smooth strokes. Or maybe she was humping it over her pillow, bouncing her little cunt on the wand, legs spread as she lifted and lowered. Both images were equally enticing.

Harry squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his jaw as the unmistakable slick sound reached him, timed with her panting breaths. His mind betrayed him, painting the picture he was forbidden to see… his princess spread open on her silk sheets, fingers glistening, that damned wand tucked deep inside of her.

“Harry…” she breathed again, and this time his name dragged, stretched thin with want. “Can you hear me? Hear the way I get so wet for you.”

“Princess…” He warned, not wanting to play into it too much but still hopelessly wishing he could see it with his own eyes.

“Harry… my big knight… Tell me you hear me.”

“Yes,” he said, though the word felt tight in his throat. He blinked hard as his cock swelled against his trousers.

“Good.” A shaky inhale. “Then listen to it properly.”

Of course he was listening properly. He wouldn’t have been able to ignore any of it even if he tried. Not when it was her behind him, naked, hot, wet, with his name on her tongue.

“I’ve got my fingers on myself—oh! On my clit…” she moaned. “But if it were your fingers...” A soft, breathy laugh followed, almost embarrassed at how easily the words came now. “I know you’d take your time… You’d take such good care of me.”

His hand twitched behind his back, and he huffed through his nose. If he were ever permitted to touch her that way, he would take care of her. He’d explore every part and have her coming over and over again before he even allowed himself the pleasure to come. He’d force orgasm after orgasm from her just so he could see it and hear her begging for mercy, but just as she never seemed to let up with him, he wouldn’t let up either. He’d have her bawling and exhausted by the time he was done with her.

“Your hands are so big,” she went on, almost thoughtfully, though her breathing kept catching. “I’d get your palm all wet... I keep thinking about how you’d fill me too… how you’d stretch me properly. Just your fingers…”

Harry shut his eyes hard again, a quiet, controlled inhale doing nothing to cool the throbbing of his heavy cock. He’d already imagined his hand wet with her many times. He’d see to it that she made a mess… He scolded himself for humoring those thoughts, even if hidden only in his head.

“I would not—”

“You would,” she cut in softly, almost lazily, though her voice trembled. “You just won’t admit it.”

The wet sounds grew louder. Faster.

“And this—” she continued, breath rising, “this little wand…” A faint hum of pleasure vibrated through her words. “It barely does it for me.”

He swallowed. He could imagine her fully. See every crevice, every bend, the soft skin on her hips, the way her belly would quiver the closer she got. Her pretty breasts… He’d never seen her naked, but he knew she would be pretty. He knew she’d bring him to his knees if he ever saw her like that.

“Oh…” she panted, almost sweetly. “It’s hitting deep—” Her voice broke into an unrestrained gasp. “Oh my god, Harry…” A small mewl fell from her as the slushy sound of her cunt wrapped around the wand reached his ears once again. “But you would stuff me so full, wouldn’t you, knight? You’d show me what it really felt like to be with a man…”

His composure cracked just slightly as his head dipped forward a fraction, breath deepening. But this was the way. Sometimes she did it fast, other times she took so much time getting herself off he’d get dizzy from need. He was on the verge right then. Goosebumps scattering over his skin as he checked his urge to pull his cock out and pump himself.

Behind him, the pace picked up. The bed answered with a louder creak, the canopy swaying faintly as it shifted with her movements. Her breathing turned uneven, little gasps breaking through with increasing frequency, each one sharper than the last.

“Oh, yessss…” she said, broken. “My pussy is so wet... For you.”

He clutched his hands tight, resisting his urges, refusing to break.

“Please,” she pressed, voice slipping into something almost delirious. “Oh, my god… It feels so good.”

Harry shifted his weight, subtle but necessary, his stance tightening as the pressure became impossible to ignore. His arms moved from behind his back without thought, settling in front of him, one hand pressing briefly against the front of his trousers before stilling again like he’d burned himself.

Behind him, she laughed softly when she saw it.

“There it is,” she breathed. “You want it. How big has your cock grown?”

“I am maintaining my post,” he said, though his voice had lost its edge of control.

“As you always do,” she whispered, but there was no bite in it anymore. Only heat.

The rhythm on the bed turned frantic, the princess losing all of her composure. Her sounds spilled freely now… moans, gasps, broken little cries of his name threaded through it all. The slick, insistent noise of her movements filled the space between them, wrapping around him, dragging him deeper into something he could no longer pretend he wasn’t part of.

“Harry—” she gasped, louder now, desperate. “Mmm…”

His eyes snapped shut again as he palmed at his cock before clasping his hands into fists and forcing them back to his side.

“I’d let you do anything if you broke your duty,” she rambled on. “You could have me however you like.” Her voice broke into a sharp cry. “Whichever hole you wanted. All of them. Oh… stuff me and fuck me so good I never need this wand again.”

His breath stuttered as his dick twitched. He could feel himself leaking at his tip. His body stiff as a board as the princess fucked herself with a thing that he knew wasn’t giving her the kind of pleasure he could.

“Oh! Ffff… Mmm… M’gonna come… Please…”

The bed knocked lightly against the wall, and she cried out—loud, uncontrolled, her voice echoing.

“Please—please break it—fuck me raw and come inside of me… let me feel it…”

He groaned. She still hadn’t given the proper command for him to do any different, so he wouldn’t. Even if she was begging him to break his duty, he would need her words to say it plainly before he did anything but stare at the door.

“I won’t.”

But now his hand moved back into place over his crotch, pressed harder, grip tightening through the fabric, betraying him completely as he rubbed over himself. His neck strained to keep facing the door, and he let out a quiet, broken gasp of his own.

She was too far gone to care. Her words dissolved into cracked sounds, breath rising and falling frantically as she chased something just out of reach for him to see. The rhythm stammered, then surged, faster, sloppier, the slick sounds turning almost frantic. And the moans coming from her were obscene. Like tiny whimpered noises, hot breaths, soft hisses, whiny panting gasps.

“Harry… Oh, Harry—Yesss! Mmm!”

Then he heard her shatter. A sharp, choked cry tore from her as the bed creaked loudly beneath her, the movement abrupt and uncoordinated as pleasure overtook her completely. He let out a moan just as he heard the canopy rustling, the mattress shifting hard under her as she rode it out, breath coming in ragged, gasping pulls.

He pressed his free palm to the door, head dropped as he worked his thickened cock over his pants the best he could. He wouldn’t come like this, but it gave him relief, nonetheless. It would have to do until he could take a break and finally have his own release.

Harry stood frozen, every muscle locked, except for the hand still pressed tight and smoothing at the front of his trousers. He was so hard he could feel the swollen ridges of his head and down the length of his shaft, even over the fabric. His head bowed just slightly as he fought for control that felt like it was slipping through his fingers.

When her breaths slowed and the slick sounds evaporated as she came down, he bit into his lip and straightened himself back out, hands shaky as he pulled them behind his back, even though his dick was leaking and pulsing with need.

She moaned and then laughed. He heard fabric sliding, heard her breaths, and then her feet hitting the ground. He swallowed, wishing he could just look, but he would not. Not until she told him. Not until she commanded it.

Then he felt her hand on the back of his arm as she came in next to him. “Oh, you poor thing. That must hurt.”

He swallowed, keeping his eyes on the door in front of him. When he didn’t respond, she chuckled and slid in front of him, leaning her back against the door. He still didn’t look, but he could tell she’d put on her robe.

“Stand at ease, Sir Harry. That is your command now. You may look if you wish. You’ve kept your duty well.”

He flitted his eyes down over her. The thin silk robe barely covered much, nor did it hide the swell of her breasts and the peak of her nipples under it. Y/n smiled as soon as she saw where his gaze caught, then lifted a hand and cupped his cheek gently, her palm warm against skin that already felt too hot, too tight, too alive. Her thumb stroked along the sharp line of his cheekbone.

“You are all flushed,” she said, amused and almost sweet. “Warm.” Her mouth quirked up. “I think that was punishment enough, don’t you?”

Harry nodded. It was the safest thing he could do. His throat had gone dry, and he did not trust his own voice not to betray him if he tried to answer properly. Even now, with her robe on and the game apparently done—for now—he could feel his restraint like something physical under his skin, pulled so taut it hurt.

Her eyes glittered when she saw him choose silence over speech.

“Yes,” she said softly, as though confirming something to herself. “That’s what I thought.”

She kept her hand at his face a moment longer, looking him over with that infuriating, intimate attention of hers, as if she enjoyed seeing all the places where discipline failed to conceal what she had done to him. Harry met her gaze because he could do that much, because now she had allowed it, because she stood directly in front of him and he had no command to disobey in looking. But meeting her eyes was scarcely easier than staring at the door had been.

There was too much triumph in her expression. Too much certainty that she knew exactly what lived in him at that moment.

Then she tilted her head and said in a brighter, lighter tone, “One day, I’ll see you losing your control. You cannot keep denying yourself forever, good knight.”

A rough sound left him before he could smooth it away, almost a grunt, almost a laugh. He blinked and managed to speak, “I will never disobey the princess’s command.”

Y/n clicked her tongue at him. “Always the same answer,” she said. “Duty, duty, duty.” Her fingers slipped from his cheek and began a slow path downward, gliding over the front of his garb, tracing the embroidered edge near his collar, then down the center of his chest with no hurry at all. “You hide behind it all so well.”

He could feel her hand through the fabric. The drag of her palm, the press of her fingertips, the warmth of her skin carried through linen and leather and all the useless layers meant for modesty and protection and rank. None of them did a damn thing. Not against her. Even if he appeared unbothered.

She stopped with her hand splayed over his heart, then she hummed, pleased, because of course she felt it. The pounding. The wild, humiliating force of it that he simply could not control. He had faced battle lines with a steadier pulse than this. He had stood bloodied and half-blind in rain and mud with calmer breath than he had now, with her in her silk robe against the door, her hand over his chest, smiling like she had discovered some private little miracle beneath his ribs.

“My,” she said. “The way your heart is pounding...”

He clenched his jaw, eyes dropping to her palm and then sliding back up to look at her face.

She leaned in a touch more, pressing her palm more firmly over his heart as if to test whether it could beat any harder. “It’s almost as though you care,” she said.

“I do care, princess. You know I do.”

Her expression softened, the mischief still there, the delight still there, but touched now by something quieter. Something sweeter now. Then she smiled again and slid her hand from his chest down to the belt at his waist, not enough to be considered a mercy, but enough to make him inhale sharply and set every muscle in his body on edge.

“This is why I keep you,” she said softly.

Harry stared down at her. She was infuriating and beautiful, and he didn’t know which was truly worse. She scraped the nails of two fingers lightly against the center of his belt, then let her hand fall away before his control could splinter further.

“Be grateful,” she said, stepping around him at last. “I am in a merciful mood tonight.”

Harry turned his head to follow her with his eyes. She crossed back toward the bed, thin silk flowing around her legs, one hand gathering the robe closer though she knew perfectly well it hid very little. She glanced over her shoulder and found him still watching.

“Go on,” she said. “Brood. Glower. Stand there and convince yourself this is all beneath your dignity.”

A tiny smile tugged, unwilling, at the corner of his mouth, and she saw it. Her brows lifted.

“There,” she said, delighted. “Proof that you enjoy it. Aside from that big hard-on you’re suffering with.” She glanced down at his crotch.

He gave a slow exhale through his nose. “I apologize, Princess. It is improper, but I am not able to control it when you—”

“When I… what?” she laughed, turning away again. “When I get off and moan your name while you listen? Yes, I know. But it would be awfully disappointing if you didn’t get hard. If you truly didn’t care. That would hurt my feelings.”

This was a game to her, and to him too in many ways. A contest made of duty and temptation, command and obedience, honed every time she smiled at another man just to see Harry intervene, every time she ordered him to stand facing a door while she ruined him by inches from the other side of his discipline. A private war fought in the space between what she commanded and what he ached to do.

One day, one of them would lose.

Either Harry would finally break, turn at the wrong moment, reach for her without permission, let want outrun honor and drag duty down with it… Or she would tire of winning by rule, summon him to her bedside with that same spoiled little smile, and command him not to look away again.

Y/n settled herself against the pillows and reached for a book from the table beside her, as though she had not just spent the evening torturing him for sport. “Come. Read to me.”

He inclined his head and moved toward her. It was not typical for a royal knight to read books as part of his guard duty, but for Harry, nothing about his post with Y/n was typical. But that was part of what made it so fun.

Secretly, he loved reading to her. Liked the way she’d cuddle into her pillow and blink her pretty eyes up at him and smile as he spoke the words on the page in his deep, slow drone. Loved watching her eyelids grow heavy and the way her breath would even out before she fell asleep.

He settled into the cushioned chair next to her bed, and she rolled to her side to face him as he reached for the book. He opened it, flipping to the page where they’d left off from the night before, and cleared his throat.

“Chapter Seven,” he said, as Y/n’s lashes lowered and her smile turned small and satisfied against the pillow, her eyes on him as he began to read.

And even if he’d been left with an unquenchable thirst for the young woman lying in her bed next to where he sat, he felt more than fulfilled just to be there with her at all. To be at her beck and call, to read books to her at night, to listen while she pleased herself in hopes of making him break. He would take whatever closeness and whatever cruelty she gave him and ask for nothing more.

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It’s not until a few foggy seconds later that the implications of the fingers running through your hair rouse you enough to turn onto your side.

“You’re back,” You say quietly, voice groggy with disuse. How long have you been asleep?

A slow smile spreads across Frank’s face, his dimples fighting to make an appearance, like the sun trying to peek through clouds.

“Mhm,” He hums. Your brow furrows, wondering how long he’s been here, and why he didn’t wake you up. Between his work and family and your own life, it’s not like there’s much opportunity to spend time alone together. Date nights are rare and sacred—even if they mostly consist of takeout and a movie. 

Sensing your impending spiel, he speaks again.

“Don’t worry, I just got in ten minutes ago. It’s not even eight yet.”

You relax at this, shuffling closer to rest your head on his chest. Your silk pillow is nowhere near as enticing as the soft cotton of his worn band tee. You slowly trace the peeling vinyl of the shirt—S… T… Y… X—getting drowsier by the minute.

“As much as I wouldn’t mind staying here all night, you’re gonna be pissed if I let you go back to sleep.” He seems genuine, but the hand still playing with your hair makes you doubt his true motives.

“I know,” You sigh, voice muffled by fabric. Even despite this, you make no effort to move.

“Honey,” Frank drawls a few moments later, eliciting another huff from you.

You distantly register him bunching up your hair, and the next thing you know, he’s pulling it, guiding your head upright.

It’s not that it hurt, not really, but the tingle at the nape of your neck stirs you just enough to allow you to glower up at him in indignation.

“You’re kind of a bad listener, y’know that?” He speaks through a shit-eating grin—cause for rolling your eyes if you’ve ever seen any.

“C’mere,” He mumbles, his hand abandoning your hair in favour of your waist. The other finds your thigh and hooks it over his own. Still feeling petulant, you offer him no assistance as he forces you into a sitting position. Unfortunately, he doesn’t need it. Smug bastard.

When he’s sure you’re not going to go limp just to be difficult, he releases your waist and begins smoothing a few errant strands of hair away from your forehead.

“My pretty girl, I missed you.” He coos. 

You almost break, almost—but you’ve always been stubborn, for better or worse.

This only seems to amuse Frank more. He leans forward, pressing a kiss to the crease of your brow, then the bridge of your nose, then the tip. By the time his mouth lowers to your own, you’re moments away from bridging the gap yourself.

“Kiss?” He whispers, so quiet you probably wouldn’t have heard it if you weren’t so focused on his every movement.

You swallow back a please, instead pressing your lips to his. 

It’s sweet at first—it usually is. He’s smiling most of the time and eventually, you are too.

“I missed you too,” You mumble against his lips, bringing your arms around his neck.

He breathes out a laugh, “You did?”

You nod, snaking a hand into his hair as you close the gap between you once more. When you exhale into him, he parts your lips with his tongue, earning a soft sound from you. Then he’s grabbing your hips, bearing you down onto his thigh. You warm against him, feeling each of your nerve endings come alive as he grips your jaw, tilting it to the side. 

You breathe unevenly, bleary-eyed as you watch him inspect your neck with a surgical precision. Before you can question him—or even begin to catch your breath—he’s leaning down and latching onto your skin. You gasp as his teeth skim your pulse point, tightening your hold on his hair to ground yourself. Your other hand falls to his stomach, skimming the waistband of his sweatpants.

He pulls back from your neck, his hand slowly finding your wrist. His grip is gentle, but firm enough to effectively halt your movements. All the while, he’s peppering kisses along your jaw.  

“Mm-mm,” he shakes his head, stubble brushing your chin. The sound reverberates through you, making you shiver.

“But—“

He pulls back, his pupils dilated as he regards you. 

“We can’t have sex right now, baby.”

“Why?” You ask, voice so desperate it’s almost pitiful.

He smiles sympathetically, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say there’s an air of condescension to it.

“Because if I have sex with you right now, I’ll fall asleep—“ he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, “—and then we won’t be able to watch that movie like you wanted.”

You pout, trying and failing to find a way around this dilemma. Intimacy with Frank is a spectrum; when he’s pent-up with nervous energy—usually before or during a shift (sometimes, when the ED’s slow and he has time for a rare lunch break, you’ll eat together in his car—which, on more than one occasion, has turned into you riding him desperately in the front seat, trying to make the most of your limited time whilst he mindlessly chatters about some high-risk procedure he just did). After a shift is 50/50; sometimes it’s all you can do to get through the front door before he’s pushing you up against the nearest wall. Other times—like now, you suspect—he’s too tired to indulge anything but your kisses.

I mean, it’s not like you couldn’t have sex tomorrow morning. You're both off.

“Okay,” You nod, prepared to sever all physical contact, if only just to stop your body thrumming with barely contained energy.

He doesn’t let you dismount him, though. You turn to glance down at the large hand kneading the flesh around your hipbone, flicking your gaze to him when he tracks your movement with a tilt of his own head.

“I said I couldn’t have sex with you. That doesn’t mean you can’t get off.”

Oh.

You feel your face—no, your whole body, flush.

“Oh, um, okay.” You straighten, adjusting the strap of your tank top. “Would you… want to use your fingers or, um, your mouth?” 

It takes you a while to get the words out, and by the end, your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to shield yourself from your own embarrassment. You’ve never been good about talking about this sort of thing—at least, not as good as Frank. He’s older and more experienced and a fucking doctor, so talking about sex doesn’t faze him.

Meanwhile, you can barely say the word without blushing like a middle-schooler. And god forbid you have to talk about the specifics. Unfortunately, that’s all he seems to be interested in—what you want and where you want to be touched and let me hear you say it—

“Neither.”

One of your eyes flit open at that, trying to assess if he’s joking or if this is yet another thing you don’t seem to be knowledgeable or experienced enough to understand.

“What?”

“Neither. You can make yourself come.” He states, like it’s obvious.

You blink, waiting for the punchline.

There is none.

“I mean, yeah…” You trail off.

Yeah, you could make yourself come. You could also revert back to using a Nokia, but you wouldn’t, because the newer, better cellphone is right there. What you mean is—you haven’t gotten yourself off in months, because Frank has always been there—with far longer, more capable fingers than your own. And if he hasn’t… well, you just wait until you see him next. 

Honestly, you’re beginning to doubt if you can still come without his input.

Without warning, Frank leans in, nipping at your bottom lip. As he pulls back, you furrow your brows in confusion, pouting.

“Sorry,” he smirks, not selling the whole apologetic thing, “you looked like you were spiralling.”

Well.

His voice takes on a gentler, more serious tone when he speaks next.

“You don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel like it, honey.”

But you do. Even with your apprehension, you’re antsy with need, shifting uncomfortably on top of him.

“No, I want to, I just… don’t know if I can… without your help.” You mumble, looking down at your thighs, which still encase his own.

A pause, and then he’s lifting your jaw with his thumb.

“Oh, sweet girl, did you think I wouldn’t help at all?”

You noticeably perk up at that, like a dog hearing the word ‘treat’. This seems to amuse him, and he gives the fat of your hip a loving squeeze before continuing.

“Do you know how I’m going to help you?”

You shake your head slowly.

“Do you want me to show you?”

His voice is syrupy sweet, almost hypnotising. You’re nodding before you even register his words fully, gripping the hem of his shirt with both hands. When he leans in, your eyelids flutter shut, waiting for the press of his lips against yours. 

It doesn’t come. At least… not yet.

He just hovers there, moving away whenever you try to chase him. Time seems to warp and stretch until you’re unsure how long you’ve been waiting for him to just do it already. You’re sure he can feel your patience dwindling, and just when you’re sure you’re about to snap, he presses his lips to yours.

The kiss is long and deep and so good you sigh with relief. You try to slow yourself down, to savour the domestic, tenderness of it all—but you can’t. Your lips part on a gasp and you press yourself onto the hard muscle of his thigh before you can help yourself. You’re too consumed by his lips that you don’t pay much attention to the subtle rock of your hips. It’s not like you’re doing anything, really. It’s just to alleviate some of the ache between your legs.

That’s when Frank pinches your thigh, just hard enough to draw attention to your movements. You pull back, breathing hard and half-annoyed at him for stopping your motions.

“Do you understand now?” He breathes, sounding as wrecked as you feel. His hair is a mess thanks to your toying and his eyes seem to have taken on a darker hue of blue. Though it could just appear that way, given that his pupils have almost doubled in size, leaving little of his iris to be seen.

It takes you a minute to comprehend what he’s saying—distracted by how he looks and the persistent throbbing between your legs. You do get there eventually, though.

“You want me to…” You swallow, heat creeping up the base of your neck.

He huffs out a laugh. “Use my thigh to get yourself off? Yeah, I do.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, but don’t dissuade you. You take a deep breath and nod, looking up at the ceiling instead of Frank. You need to concentrate.

“Okay.”

“Okay.” He parrots, reassuringly, leaning back just a little. “Take your time.”

You try to remember what you were doing before, and begin rocking your hips slowly. You struggle on a few false starts, adjusting your weight a couple times before you find a rhythm that feels… okay.

“Does that feel good?” Frank looks up at you from where he’s leaning against the headboard, utterly transfixed by the way your brows furrow in determination and the worry of your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Um…” You squint, trying to figure out what you’re doing wrong. Maybe this is just another way in which you differ from Frank, another reminder of what he could be getting from someone else that he’s not receiving from you.

“Can I…” His hands linger at either side of you, waiting for your go-ahead. When you nod, he grips onto you firmly, lifting you up just enough to spread your legs open a little farther with his thigh, before pressing you back down onto him.

“More friction,” He mumbles, with a clinical kind of disconnect, guiding your hips back into the rhythm you started, watching your face for any sign of a difference. You’re about to make a joke about feeling like a lab rat, or maybe one of his patients, when a wave of pleasure shoots through your abdomen.

“Oh,” You whisper quietly.

“Yeah?” Frank chuckles cockily, sensing a newfound enthusiasm in your movements. “You can go faster if you want, honey. You’re in control here.”

He’s right. Even with his hands guiding your hips, you’re the one setting the pace. You speed up a little, ever cautious that you might do something incorrectly. Your sighs and quiet whimpers on particular drags surprise you, but if Franks facial expression is anything to go by, you think he likes them. Of course, he says this plenty too.

“Doin’ so well baby. Jesus, look at you.”

You laugh self-consciously, letting it taper off into a small whine when he bounces his leg ever so slightly.

“Didn’t mean it when I said you were a bad listener before. You’re so good, honey, doin’ exactly what I said.”

Your pace quickens at his praise, hearing the obvious arousal in his voice. You’re not sure you understand why your pleasure seems to turn him on so much, but it’s not off-putting by any means. If anything, it brings you closer to an orgasm you weren’t even sure you could achieve ten minutes ago.

“Can I kiss you?” You pant, not letting up.

Frank smiles, sitting up. The slight jolt has you biting back a moan.

“Of course you can, beautiful.”

The second his face is close enough, you’re lowering your lips to his. It’s uncoordinated and filthy and you’re whining into his mouth most of the time but the extra stimuli feels so good that you keep losing your momentum, huffing every time the pleasure you’ve been building up recedes.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Frank whispers, seizing your hips with a steady grip. No longer in control, you’re forced to simply take the unforgiving push-pull rhythm he sets. You’ve given up on kissing him at this point, opting to rest your forehead against his instead, jaw dropping as you approach a fast-building climax.

“Just like that—please,” You careen, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I know,” Frank coos, pressing his lips to the tip of your nose, your cheekbone, your eyelid.

“Knew you’d love this. Can never keep yourself still when you’re on my lap, always squirming, aren’t you, sweet girl? At least now we know you can come like this, yeah?” He rambles, seeming half lost in pleasure himself. “Don’t even need to fucking touch you, that’s how bad you need it, huh?”

It’s the unexpected harshness of his words that makes your stomach drop, lighting your nerves up neon. Your head slumps to Franks shoulder as you cry out, feeling your muscles tense and then relax all at once. Slow waves of pleasure roll through you as Frank continues to rock you against him, forcing you to ride out your high as he mumbles praise you’re too overwhelmed to hear.

Very gradually, you start to come down. You lift your head, noticing the patch of drool you’ve left on his shirt. You lean back to meet his eyes and he chuckles as he wipes a thumb over your lip. You certainly hope you’re not still drooling.

“You with me?” He asks, pulling your tank top down where it must’ve rode up at your stomach.

“Mhm..” You nod, still seeing stars dot across your vision. You shudder as the last of the shockwaves make their way through your body.

He smiles dotingly, “Did you like that?”

You nod once more, attempting to fight back a yawn, but it’s futile.

“I’m glad,” he smiles, seeming genuinely pleased that he’s discovered a new way to make you come. You think he might have a list, but you’re too sleepy to ask about any potential tallying he’s doing.

“Okay, I’m ordering us food before you fall asleep, again.” He gently prise you off of his lap, setting you down on wobbling legs. Before he gets up to make his way to the kitchen, though, he slaps your ass gently—which, in your fragile state, is enough to elicit a yelp from you. He laughs in earnest, flicking on a lamp on as he turns around, tapping on your door frame to a random tempo.

“Do you want to order from the Thai place on Sixth? They only forgot the spring rolls once in the last four times we’ve ordered from there—which is more than the one on the strip can say—so I’m feeling pretty good about it.”

You offer him a thumbs up, which he returns, because of course he does (dork) before turning on his heel and heading down the hallway.

It happened the day of the Pittfest shooting, the day that had changed your life in different ways.

Being a psychiatrist at PTMC, your hours were different from your husband's. You mainly worked from nine in the morning to five in the evening while Frank worked seven in the morning to seven in the evening. And so, you had gotten home a little after five after a long day. Your day consisted of dealing with a variety of patients, all going through different things. Whether it's to refill someone's prescription for antidepressants or dealing with a patient who's suffering from a major addiction, you've seen it all.

The moment you got home, you had received a phone call from Frank who informed you he wouldn't be home until late due to a mass casualty event. You had been concerned, of course, wishing Frank the best of luck and that you'll be at the house waiting for him. The call had ended once you both told one another you loved each other. You weren't emergency personnel and so there had been no reason for you to go back to the hospital. So, you decided to try and make it a relaxing evening for yourself and for Frank whenever he did have the ability to come home.

You had taken a shower, gotten changed into one of his shirts and a pair of your own sweatpants, and were fully prepared to make dinner. You were about to turn the TV on to put Spotify on when you realized the remote needed new batteries. Frank had told you once in passing that he kept batteries in his nightstand, just in case either of you needed them. You never really cared enough to change the batteries in items since Frank was the one who handled all of that.

You had made your way to the master bedroom of the house and to Frank's nightstand. The brown mahogany nightstand held only a few items on it; a lampshade, a picture from yours and Frank's wedding where the two of you were smiling at each other with frosting on your noses, and his emotional support black water bottle. You opened the top drawer and began looking. The only items in the top drawer were condoms, papers, and a bottle of lube the two of you only used on occasions when Frank let you peg him.

You were about to close the drawer when you heard something rattle underneath all of the papers. Curiously, you began searching around while you furrowed your eyebrows. It wasn't as though you and Frank had any secrets between the two of you. You prided yourself on the fact that you always met Frank in the middle and any conflicts were met with a mature discussion. Any time you had something to tell him, he tried his best to listen and understand just as you would do for him.

What you hadn't expected to find in the drawer was a bottle of pills. You frowned as you lifted the orange bottle, reading the script. The medicine bottle was made out to a Louie Cloverfield, a prescription for Librium, a benzodiazepine used for alcohol withdrawal, insomnia, and severe anxiety. You prescribed this often to your patients, especially those suffering from severe anxiety.

And suddenly, it clicked. The painkillers after his back injury last year when the two of you had helped his parents move to Pittsburgh. He had relied heavily on them and on muscle relaxers to get through the pain. You remembered going to the pharmacy to pick up his prescription until one day, he had informed you he no longer needed them. And now, there were benzos, a controlled substance with someone else's name on the bottle, in Frank's nightstand.

After that, you dug through the entirety of the house, looking for more pills. You went through every nook and cranny for the next few hours, trying to find what you could. And by the time you heard Frank's car pulling into the driveway, you were sat on the couch, arms crossed as you stared at the four different bottles of pills on the coffee table. Librium, lorazepam, two different benzos and you had found them.

Keys jingled outside the door and the sound of the lock coming undone hit your ears. You remained on the couch, frozen as you kept your gaze on the pills in front of you. A deep and loud sigh was heard from the foyer as Frank kicked off his shoes and placed his bag on the ground next to them. "Hey," He greeted as he saw your form sitting on the couch. "What are you-" He paused as his eyes landed on the pills on the table. A quiet "fuck" left his lips.

You took a deep breath and then exhaled before standing up. You turned around to glance at Frank, taking in his appearance. He was disheveled, his hair in disarray, with his shoulders tense. The expression on his face was the equivalent to a dear in headlights. "Benzos, huh?" Was the first thing that left your mouth as you looked at him.

Frank looked at you, quiet as the gears turned in his head. "Baby, I-" He began before stopping himself. He swallowed harshly, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "It's not what you think," He said calmly as he opened his eyes.

You clenched your jaw and glanced away. There was a heaviness in your chest as you thought about the situation. "Then what is it, Frank?" You asked, your voice rough with emotion as you turned your attention back to your husband. "Librium? Lorazepam? Louie Cloverfield? Not only are you consuming a highly addictive substance but you're stealing them too?"

"I-when I hurt my back," He took a step closer to you but you shook your head, causing him to stop in his tracks. He looked at you with a hurt expression. "I became reliant on pain killers that the doctor had prescribed to me and the muscle relaxers. I didn't want to be reliant on them so I started treating my own withdrawal symptoms." He explained as calmly as he could.

"By stealing drugs from our place of work?" You replied, furrowing your eyebrows as you looked at Frank. "Not even from some drug dealer from the street, no. You stole them from the hospital."

"Baby, I fucked up, I know I fucked up," Frank started pleading as he looked at you, his expression turning desperate. "I-I'm not an addict, I promise. I only take them at night to help fall asleep."

The first sign of addiction was denial. You knew this, of course you knew this. You had found four different pill bottles, only one with Louie's name on it while the others were old pill bottles from Frank's pain killers. If it wasn't an addiction, why would he need that many pills? Not to mention what he likely had at work as well.

Tears welled in your eyes as the reality of the situation truly set in. Your husband was an addict and you had absolutely no idea. Now that you thought of it, the symptoms were obvious. The sweating during the day, the irritability at random moments, mornings when Frank would wake up too nauseous to even fathom the idea of eating, they were all the symptoms of withdrawal. But nightfall would come and suddenly he was calm and smiley, blissed out.

You should've known. Of course you should've known. Not only was Frank your husband, you dealt with these sorts of patients everyday in psych. Many cases of patients coming in to deal with their withdrawal symptoms and addiction. You knew the signs, you knew the resources, you were an advocate for accessibility to addiction intervention services. And yet, here your husband was, an addict himself.

"Please say something, baby," Frank pleaded, looking at you. He tried to read your emotions but was unable to as you held yourself quite stoically. The only indicator of any inner turmoil were the tears in your eyes and the slight shake of your shoulders.

And suddenly, you burst into tears.

Frank moved into action, trying to come over to you. But you stopped him before he could touch you. You didn't want to be hugged or touched, you didn't know what you truly wanted. "Please, I'll do anything, baby, please tell me what I need to do," Frank sounded desperate, his voice cracking at the end. "I-I hate to see you like this, please."

A sob left your lips as you brought your hands to your face. You wiped your eyes with your hands. You tried to take a deep breath. "Y-you need help, Frank," You said as you ran your hands down your face. "You need to go to rehab."

"No I don't-"

"You either go to rehab or we're going to get a divorce."

That had been the finale of the conversation, the sentence that made Frank realize the error of his ways. You were his sunshine, his light, the only person who truly understood him for him. And he couldn't bear the thought of ever losing you.

Except in a way he did.

That night he had left the house, after your insistence, with a few bags of his clothes and went to his parents house. And the next morning, you had received a call from his mother that Frank had been admitted into rehab for thirty days without access to his phone.

Thirty days became sixty which then became ninety. It had been strange living in the house without Frank. The small two story house that you and Frank had bought a year after the two of you had gotten married. It was small but it had a back yard and it was both of yours. It was decorated in knick knacks and decor that was aesthetic but at the same time radiated grandma energy. Pictures of you and Frank were scattered on different walls along with artwork that had been bought at different thrift shops.

The house was so you and Frank.

Without him sleeping beside you, it had been rough. Every night, you tossed and turned, wishing desperately that you could snuggle into your husband's arms. In the mornings, you no longer get to hear Frank singing horribly in the shower to "Bring Me to Life" by Evanescence. And on days when you both had off, you didn't get to see Frank in the kitchen, shirtless, as he cooked for the both of you. Or the moments when you'd both dance in the living room, laughing as Frank would spin you around.

A house without Frank did not feel like home. It felt empty and lonely. But you also knew deep down in your heart that you weren't ready to face him. And after the ninety days, Frank's mother had called you once more to let you know he was getting out of rehab. You told her that you needed more time and she understood perfectly.

The phone calls began a week after Frank had gotten out of rehab. The first one was the hardest. It had been awkward and difficult as Frank spoke to you about the ins and outs of his time in rehab. He had spoken about how he understood what he did was wrong and that he found himself a therapist.

By week two, Frank had explained that he was going to be involved in the physicians help physicians program at PTMC. Since he already completed his ninety days, it made the paperwork much easier. He had also found a therapist and began going to NA meetings.

You were proud of him, of course. But you were still not ready to see him.

And by week five of being out of rehab, Frank had asked when he'd be able to come home.

"I know you may not want to see me," Frank spoke into the receiver. "But I'd like to come home at some point. I-I miss you," His voice broke off as he said those last few words.

Your heart sank as you listened to your husband. "I-I know," You replied, your voice rough with emotion. "But I just-"

"You need more time."

"Yeah," You whispered.

"It's okay," Frank inhaled sharply. "I-I understand."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be, baby," Frank reassured. "You weren't the one who fucked up."

And after that, the phone calls stopped.

Seven months after you found out about Frank's addiction, the two of you were considered officially separated. No one knew, of course, other than Frank's parents and your own. But it wasn't really anyone else's business. It was strictly between you and Frank.

It wasn't like you were angry with him anymore. In fact, you weren't really angry with him to begin with. You had felt inadequate, as though you were a terrible wife and person for not knowing your husband was suffering from a disease. You failed him, you failed to see the obvious and instead of helping him, you sent him away.

That was the reason why you couldn't bear the thought to see him. You loved him more than anything in the world, more than you could truly understand and you let Frank down. The unfortunate truth was that drug usage among physicians was more common than people would expect and stealing said drugs was also part of that. You had the resources to help Frank, you knew the resources and yet, you had absolutely no clue.

Being separated from Frank had been weird since it simply just happened. There wasn't a fight, it wasn't overly dramatic, it just was. Over the course of a few months after Frank had left rehab, he had stopped by when you weren't home to grab a few things, but never enough for the house to feel completely empty. He really only had his necessities, almost as though he were hopeful to come back home.

And perhaps you were hopeful too.

By the time July 4th hit, it had officially been ten months since Pittfest and ten months since you had found out about Frank's addiction.

The day had started as normal as any other. You woke up, went to the bathroom, brushed your teeth, put on your wedding ring, and went through the motions of getting yourself ready for the day. The absence of the man you loved always weighed heavily on you, as if you were carrying the weight of the world on top of your shoulders. You found yourself often more sluggish than you were before all of this had happened. And maybe part of it was because you hadn't given yourself a chance to truly feel.

But that didn't matter.

When you had arrived at PTMC, your shift started as it always did. You checked with your fellow psychiatrist who you were switching off with before you checked in with the nurses. And after that, it was about checking in with the patients. Surprisingly enough, there weren't many patients in the psychiatric unit today.

Your day was quite slow until you were called down to the emergency department for a psych evaluation. It wasn't often that you were called to the E.D., mostly because cases involving substance abuse or mental health crises happened at night, so a call during the day was a rarity.

By the time you arrived at the E.D., everyone was flying around. You knew only a few doctors, such as Doctor Robby. But prior to your separation from Frank, you tried your best to avoid being around in the E.R as you wanted to maintain a professional relationship at work. You weren't sure as to when Frank would be coming back but after he had been on leave, you didn't hesitate to come down when asked, simply because you knew he wouldn't be there.

"Dr. L/N," Dr. Robby greeted as you arrived into the busy chaos that was the E.R. "Hope you're not having as crazy of a day as we are."

You looked around at everything happening around you. "Surprisingly it's quiet upstairs," You had responded.

"Wish we could say the same," Robby clicked his tongue before he shook his head. "I have a patient in North 15 who came in with sudden hallucinations. The patient is male, twenty-three, and we ran a few labs but are waiting on results. We thought a psych consult would be a good start."

You nodded your head as Robby showed you the tablet with the patient's information. You glanced at it before moving to walk with him through the E.R. You glanced back up from the tablet and glanced into one of the trauma rooms. It was like the world stopped as your gaze fell upon that familiar head of hair and gorgeous blue eyes who was working on a patient with an open chest cavity. For a second, your gaze locked with his before it was quickly torn away when he looked back at what he was doing.

"Dr. L/N?" Robby raised an eyebrow as he realized you had stopped for a moment. "Everything alright?"

You looked at Robby and nodded your head before clearing your throat. "Yes, sorry," You replied. "I did not think I'd see an open chest cavity today," You lied smoothly, not willing to admit that it had been Frank that threw you off, not the view of an open chest.

Dr. Robby laughed and shrugged his shoulders. "Well, after this you can go back to your safe haven," he said before the two of you made it to the room where the patient was.

The psych eval had gone pretty smoothly. It hadn’t taken too long and you didn’t allow your abilities to be thrown off from Frank’s sudden appearance. And after about an hour or so, you bid farewell to the patient and went to go find Dr. Robby to inform him of your findings. You made your way to go find him when you collided into someone.

“Oh shit,” Frank’s voice came as his hands landed on your hips to stabilize you.

You looked up, looking at him for the first time since the last time you saw him. “Oh,” You breathed out.

He looked healthier but his eyes seemed a bit dull. He gave you an almost-smile, one that didn’t quite meet the eyes. You cleared your throat and stepped out of his touch. “Sorry about that,” He apologized. “It gets so chaotic here that we don’t always see who’s in our way.”

“It’s okay,” You reassured with a press of your lips. The two of you stood there awkwardly for a few moments. “I didn’t know you started working again,” You said while looking Frank up and down, noticing the wedding band on his hand. Your heart began racing ever-so-slightly as you brought your eyes back to his.

“I didn’t want to bother you,” He murmured, eyes softening as he focused solely on you. “I started back today.”

You have Frank a sad smile before shaking your head. “You could never bother me,” You murmured back.

Frank’s breath hitched before he took a deep breath. “We-uh-we should talk,” He pointed out.

“I know,” You replied.

And just like that, the moment was over as another trauma came into the E.R., turning Frank’s attention from you. He whispered out an apology before running off, leaving you with your thoughts. You inhaled shakily and made your way to the charge station. Robby had gone to the trauma so you spoke to the new attending, Dr. Al-Hashimi, instead before heading back to the psychiatric unit.

Later that day, or night rather, you had finally gotten out of work. After the systems had gone down and everything went to paper, it made your job slightly harder in the psych unit and you had to stay for far longer than usual. It wasn’t too big of a deal, you truly didn’t mind. But you had gotten quite a few other patients admitted, almost overwhelming the psych ward, and it wasn’t the greatest situation having to write everything by hand.

You made your way out of the building with your bag on your shoulder and your car keys in your hand. The parking garage was busier as all of the day shift staff seemed to have gotten out at a similar time. When you had arrived this morning, it had been so busy that you had to park at the top of the garage.

“Y/N,” Someone called out, causing you to look towards the voice.

Frank stood near your car, a subaru crosstrek that he had gotten you a few years ago, with his things with him. You walked over to him. “Did you search for my car or something?” You asked Frank while raising your eyebrows.

“I’m parked a few cars down,” Frank clarified.

You hummed in response as you looked up at him. Silence fell between the two of you. You were unsure of what to say to him. So much had happened between the two of you. There was so much to be said and yet you hardly could think of anything. Your guilt was so deep rooted inside of you, threatening to spill out, but all you wanted to do was bury yourself in Frank’s arms and breathe him in. You really had missed him terribly.

“I’m really sorry,” Frank broke the silence as he looked at you, his bushy eyebrows furrowing. “I-I fucked up really bad and I’m really sorry. I shouldn’t have kept my addiction from you, nor should I have stolen any of the drugs.” He took a deep breath as he averted his gaze for just a moment. “I wish I could take it all back because then I’d still have you.”

“Thank you,” You nodded your head, knowing it was good to acknowledge Frank’s apology. “I’m really proud of you for getting the help you need.”

Frank gave you a small smile as a sigh of relief left his lips. “It wasn’t easy,” he replied.

“It never is,” You agreed. “Did you make a bunch of apologies today?” You asked, tilting your head slightly.

Frank let out a chuckle of disbelief. “A lot,” He breathed out. His expression became more serious as he cleared his throat. “I apologized to Louie,” He swallowed before continuing. “For stealing his meds. He died a few hours later.”

You frowned at the news, knowing that couldn’t have been easy. “I’m sorry.”

Frank opened his mouth to speak again but was interrupted by a loud popping noise. The two of you glanced at the sky, watching as the fireworks began from across the way. The two of you stood side by side, watching the fireworks together. A year ago, on the Fourth, you and Frank had driven to the lake after spending the day with Frank’s parents. It had been a rare day that Frank took off and the two of you watched the fireworks while cuddling on a blanket. It had been romantic and happy, just two months before it all went to shit.

The fireworks were wonderful and extremely loud as they usually were. Your moved your hands to cover your ears and Frank, almost acting on instinct, covered your hands with his to help reduce the loudness of the sound. And in that moment all you could do was look up at him, just as he was looking down at you. Just like that, butterflies blossomed inside of you, just as they always had before. You averted your eyes from him to the sky, watching the wondrous pops of color illuminating the night sky.

After the fireworks, Frank let go of your hands and you dropped yours to your sides. The two of you remained close to one another as neither of you bothered to take a step back. You looked at Frank once again, the words leaving your mouth before you could truly think of what you were saying. "Come home tonight?"

Frank's eyes widened, not expecting you to invite him back to the house. "I-I'd like that," He cleared his throat as he nodded his head. "I'll follow right behind you," He said. And just like that, you were both on your way, in your separate vehicles, to the house that had felt far too empty the last ten months.

By the time you both reached the house, it felt weird to have you pull in and Frank pull in right behind you. The whole drive home, you had tried to think of what you could say to him. The gnawing anxiety festered inside of you as you thought about the different possibilities on how the conversation could go.

The two of you stood in the living room, having taken your shoes off and left your bags near the door. It was weird standing here with Frank, simply staring at one another. The last time you both stood in this room was the day everything had changed. Suddenly both of you opened your mouths to speak.

"I just-"

"I-"

"Sorry," You both apologized at the same time and a small laugh escaped Frank's lips.

"You go," You offered as you bit your bottom lip, waiting in anticipation for what Frank needed to say.

Frank took a deep breath and breathed out an "okay." He licked his lips. "I fucked up really bad, I know I did," He began, his blue eyes looking at you earnestly. "You had every right to leave me and if you want to file divorce, I'd completely understand," His voice cracked just a bit as he spoke, as though it pained him to say it. It pained you to hear it.

You took a moment to think about your words. "I didn't leave you because I was angry with you," You spoke carefully. "I had left you because I felt like I failed you."

"Failed me?" Frank asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion. "How could you ever fail me, baby? I'm the one who stole and took drugs."

"I-I should've known. With the way you'd conk out at night, I had assumed it was due to exhaustion," You started to explain. "And when you were jittery throughout the day, I equated it to your ADHD and caffeine addiction, not an addiction to benzos." You let out a breathless laugh of disbelief, almost a bitter sound.  “I failed you, Frank. I-“ You paused as your eyes welled up with tears, the emotions of the situation finally coming out. You swallowed harshly, trying to gain control of yourself before continuing. “I couldn’t bear to face you after finding out because it was a reminder of how I failed you not only as a psychiatrist but also as your wife and I’m sorry. I’m so so sorry,” Your voice broke off as the tears rolled down your cheek. 

“No, baby, please,” Frank’s voice was soft as it cracked. He made his way over to you and placed his hands on your shoulders. “Please don’t cry, baby,” He said as he began to cry as well. “You could never fail me. You never failed me at all. In fact, I am the one that failed you."

And with that, Frank pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. You let out a sob of relief, immediately wrapping your arms around him as you buried your head in his neck. The two of you cried in each other’s arms, holding one another. The weight of the last ten months was finally beginning to lift from your shoulders. After what felt like hours, the two of you lifted your heads without pulling away. 

Staring into Frank’s eyes always made you feel at home. And with the way he looked at you, you assumed it was much the same for him. “Can I kiss you?” He whispered, not trusting his voice at the very moment. 

“Please,” You whispered back.

Frank didn’t hesitate as he gently pressed his lips against yours, kissing you softly. You responded by kissing Frank back, a small breath leaving your nose at the feeling. Frank’s hands moved from your shoulders to your face, cupping your cheeks, and deepened the kiss. 

All of your emotions were poured into the kiss. Tongues moved against one another as the kiss grew more desperate. After months of not being with Frank, it was like your body was trying to make up for it. Your hands slid underneath Frank’s scrub top, cool against his warm skin. Frank’s breath hitched against your lips. He pulled away from the kiss just enough to allow you to take off his shirt. 

The two of you undressed one another throughout the house while you made your way to the bedroom, kissing one another hot and desperately. Frank’s hands, the moment your shirt and bra came off, had been everywhere. Frank gently kicked open the bedroom door, his hands were firmly placed on your waist, and he guided you over to the bed, his lips still firmly pressed against yours. The two of you were mostly naked other than your underwear and his boxers. 

Frank laid you down on the bed, your head hitting the pillows as he crawled on top of you. His lips moved from yours to your jaw and to your neck. Your arms were wrapped around Frank’s shoulders, your fingers resting on the back of his neck. “God, I missed you,” He murmured against your skin, his tongue lapping at your pulse point before he began sucking on it.

You gasped and moaned softly. You tilted your head to give him more access. The feeling of Frank’s lips on your neck sent shivers down your spine and blood rushing to your cunt. You were unbelievably needy, wanting nothing more than to be pleasured. 

His lips moved all over your skin, kissing you wherever he could. He moved to your chest, pressing kisses onto each of your tits before lapping his tongue around your nipple. You let out another gasp and arched your back, more sensitive than you usually were. “Frank,” you breathed out, holding his head to your chest. He began sucking, his eyes completely on you as he did so.  He did the same to the other, watching you in the process.

After a few moments, Frank went back to kissing down your sternum and to your naval. “Can I taste you?” He asked as he rested his head against your stomach, looking up at you with a pleading look.

“Yes, please,” You whispered, your fingers gently running through Frank’s hair.

Frank hummed in acknowledgement, a smile appearing on his lips as he lifted his head. He moved off of the bed and kneeled down in front of you. He grabbed your legs and pulled you to the edge of the mattress. “I’ve thought about you so much,” He said as he looked up at you, wide eyed. “Thought about how much I’ve missed you. Missed making you feel so good,” Frank spoke.

The thing about Frank was that he was never one to be quiet in bed. He loved talking, he loved making noises, and moaning in your ear. It was something you always adored and something you missed entirely during your time apart. The times you’d touch yourself over the last few months were lackluster, unfulfilling (literally) because you lacked Frank’s voice in your ear.

His fingers went to the waistband of your underwear. You lifted your hips for him, allowing Frank to pull them down and toss them to the side. His hands came to thighs, softly rubbing your skin. Frank leaned down to press a kiss onto both of your knees before gently parting them. Frank audibly whimpered as he looked at your glistening cunt. “Fuck,” He breathed out.

You couldn’t help the breathless chuckle that left your lips from Frank’s reaction. You licked your lips and lifted yourself up on your elbows as you looked at him. You were about to say something when Frank dived right in, burying his face into your cunt, his tongue lapping all over as he groaned against you. You moaned loudly, closing your eyes in pleasure.

Frank’s tongue moved on you as if he were depraved, and in many ways perhaps he was. It had been far too long since the two of you had been together in such a way. And if there was one thing Frank adored more than sex itself, it was being able to bury his face in your cunt. There had been numerous times when Frank made you cum multiple times simply from his mouth. And you certainly weren’t ever going to complain about that.

Frank wrapped his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer to his face. His tongue moved around your clit in figure eights, flicking the nub with each movement. You bucked your hips against his face, your hand entangling with Frank’s hair as you tugged on the strands. As you pulled his hair, Frank groaned in pleasure. “Frank,” You moaned, the vibrations from his groan sending sparks through you.

His right hand moved from your thigh as he latched his lips onto your clit and began sucking. You let out a high pitched whimper, arching your back in pleasure. You felt Frank’s finger teasing your entrance, causing you to flutter around nothing in response.

A whine left your lips as Frank eased his finger inside of you, his lips still latched onto your clit. He began pumping the digit, getting you used to the feeling before adding another. When he added another finger, he curled them, causing you to gasp loudly. “Frank!” You moaned his name once again while he began fingering you, hitting your g-spot dead-on. You tugged on his hair a bit harder, causing Frank to whine against your cunt. 

It didn’t take long before you were clamping your thighs shut around Frank’s head while arching your back, moaning Frank’s name in a mantra. Your eyes rolled back, your orgasm hitting you much harder than it had in months. By the time you were finished, Frank pulled away from you, looking up at you with his pupils blown and his mouth glistening from your juices. As he looked at you, Frank brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked, lapping his tongue around his digits. 

You bit your lip and breathed heavily, still coming down from your high while watching him. You moved yourself further onto the bed until your head hit the pillows. 

When Frank finished gathering your juices into his mouth from his fingers, he stood back up with a small groan, causing you to let out a small laugh. He pressed his lips together in displeasure while looking at you. “Don’t make fun of me,” He said. 

“I’m not,” You replied with a smile. 

Frank smiled back at you, glad to have finally made you smile after so long of being the cause of your unhappiness. He only hummed in acknowledgement. “I don’t have any condoms on me and I’m sure the ones that were in the drawer are expired,” Frank said. 

“I don’t care,” You replied. 

“Are you sure?” He asked, raising his eyebrows. 

You nodded your head. “I’m sure,” You said softly. 

Frank cleared his throat and nodded his head. His thumbs reached the waistband of his boxers and tugged them down, revealing his cock. His length was red and hard and from the lighting in the room, you could see he was already glistening with precum. It had been so long since he’d been inside of you and you were desperate to feel him. 

Frank moved onto the bed and crawled on top of you. He looked down at you and pressed his lips against yours in a soft kiss. His lips remained on yours as he reached between the both of you and grabbed his cock before guiding it to your cunt. He pulled away from the kiss to hiss in pleasure as he teased the both of you by running the tip along your slit, smearing around your wetness. He then brought his cock to your entrance, slowly easing himself inside. 

You inhaled sharply at the intrusion. Since it had been so long since the two of you had sex, your body wasn’t used to the size of him any longer. Frank captured your lips once more, hoping to distract you from the slight pain you had felt, while he continued easing himself into you. 

His breathing was shaky and once he was inside of you all of the way, Frank stopped. He pulled away from the kiss and ducked his head between your neck and shoulder. The two of you stayed like that while you got used to the feeling. And after a few seconds, the foreign feeling subsided. 

“You can move,” You said, placing your hands around Frank’s back. Frank shook his head against your shoulder, causing you to furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “What?” You asked. 

“If I move right now, I’m going to cum,” He replied, his voice muffled from your skin. 

That sentence caused you to chuckle which in turn made Frank whine. “Sorry,” You apologized. 

Frank lifted his face from your shoulder to look at you, his cheeks red. “God, this is embarrassing,” He rolled his eyes but looked down at you with a small smile. 

“It’s been a long time,” You replied, matching his smile. You brought your hands to Frank’s face, your fingers gently moving the hair away from his forehead, your other hand cupping his cheek. 

“Far too long,” He breathed out and kissed you once more. Your lips moved together in sync, soft and gentle. It slowly grew more heated and desperate as Frank leaned on his forearms which were on either side of your head. He slowly dragged his hips out and thrusted them back in. You pulled away from the kiss to let out a small noise, your hands moving to rest on Frank’s back. 

Frank continued his slow thrusts, dragging his hips out and moving them back in, getting into a slow rhythm. He moved his right arm to grab one of your hands before placing it beside your head. He intertwined your fingers and looked into your eyes, maintaining eye contact as he thrusted into you. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He whispered shakily, “I love you.” There was a vulnerability to him that you hadn’t seen or felt in so long. It made you long for him, even though he was already there. The realization of how long it had truly been dawned on you at that moment. But that hardly mattered now, not when Frank was finally here with you once again. 

“And I love you,” You whispered back with a shared vulnerability, 

Frank once again ducked his head between your neck and shoulder. He began thrusting into you a bit faster, causing you both to moan in the process. His hand remained intertwined with yours while your other hand clawed at Frank’s back. 

“Fuck,” He moaned against your skin. “You feel so fucking good, baby,” He grunted while thrusting his hips, his cock hitting deeper inside of you with each movement. 

You moaned in response, your eyes fluttering shut. You tilted your head to the side, relishing in the pleasure. “You do too,” You said, your voice coming out in an almost whine. “Missed you so much.” 

“Mmm, I missed you too, baby,” Frank said, lifting his head to look at you. “Missed hearing you moan, missed the way you felt around my cock.” His thrust grew harsher as the pleasure grew between the two of you. His cock began hitting your g-spot, causing you to gasp and moan his name. “Right there, baby?” He asked. 

You nodded your head and licked your lips.

Frank grunted into your ear, groaning the dirtiest things as he fucked you. “God, I am not going to last long at all,” He said as he pulled his hand from yours and moved it between you both. His fingers landed on your clit and began rubbing in sync with his thrusts. 

You moaned his name loudly, throwing your head back in pleasure. Both of your hands clawed at his back, scratching his skin, which in turn urged Frank on more. You felt that familiar heat building inside of you, the type that you could only get when being fucked by Frank. 

And with just a few more thrusts of his cock and movement of his fingers on your clit, you clamped down around him and arched your back as you began cumming. “Frank!” You called out, your orgasm overcoming you in waves of pleasure. 

Frank moaned your name loudly, burying himself deep inside of you and filling you with his cum. The moment had been intense for you both, lasting far longer than previous orgasms had in the past. 

When you both came down from your orgasms, you breathed heavily. Frank allowed himself to lie on top of you without holding himself up. Your hands moved from his back to his hair as your fingers began running through his strands, causing Frank to hum in contentment. 

Silence encompassed you both as you relished in the aftermaths of what had occurred between the both of you. You loved Frank more than anything, just as he loved you. And that was enough, at least for right now. 

Frank eventually pulled out and moved to lie down beside you. He pulled you into his arms, entangling your legs, and let your head rest on his chest. “Are you staying the night?” You asked after a while, breaking the silence. 

“Would you like me to?” He murmured, his fingers tracing patterns onto your arm. 

You were silent for a few minutes as you thought about what to say. “I-I would like you to come home,” You whispered, lifting your head just enough to look at Frank’s face. 

Frank looked down at you with soft eyes. “I would really like that,” He whispered back before leaning down to press a kiss onto your lips.

And to your credit, you stay mad for a while. Frank eats your pussy for the better part of an hour, working you through 3 orgasms and taking his sweet time doing so.

So when Robby walks through the door he doesn’t find the bratty face-off he’s expecting. Instead he finds Frank sitting on the couch with you in his lap. You’re riding him lazily, face obscured where it’s tucked into the crook of his neck while he cradles your head and murmurs praise in your ear.

Robby stands in surprised silence for a moment. Frank heard him come in and shoots him a self-satisfied grin.

“Hey, boss.”

“How the hell’d you pull this off?” Robby questions in lieu of a greeting. He hangs up his jacket and approaches the couch. Frank keeps his voice nonchalant.

“You’re not the only one who can put her in her place.”

Robby raises his brows, unconvinced.

“I ate her out for an hour.”

Robby laughs with a nod. “Ah.” He grabs a handful of your hair, pulls your head up so he can look at you. Your eyes are wet, cheeks warm, and you take a minute to focus on him. “He make you feel good, honey?”

Your head bobbles in a nod. Your voice is soft and breathy. “Yes, sir.”

"yes, yes, i'm fine," you brush his worried tone away. "i was just wondering when you were coming home?"

you hear him groan as realisation hits him. the sound sends a shiver down your spine. "shit, baby, i'm sorry." he's probably rubbing his face with his hand, frustrated at himself. "i forgot to tell you i'd be staying late. we got an influx of patients and--"

"it's fine," you squeak. "i was just worried."

"i'm really sorry, honey." the sound of his voice, deep and slightly husky from the long hours of shouting medical procedures out loud, washes over you like a sudden wave. he has a really nice voice. sometimes you forget about that little fact. "i'll make it up to you, promise."

you wriggle in your bed, pressing your legs together. "are you busy right now?"

"uh, not really. i'm just making some coffee. why? do you need something?"

"no, it's just-- can we talk? for a little?"

"we are talking," he laughs. he hears the rustling of the sheets in the background. "you okay, sweetheart?"

frank's concern for you makes slick pour down onto your underwear. "fine," you say breathlessly, sneaking a hand under your cotton panties and feeling along your folds teasingly. "i miss you," you confess.

"oh, honey, i miss you too," frank practically coos at you, his voice a deep rumble in his chest.

you close your eyes at his tone, biting your lip as you play with your clit. you swirl three slick fingers around the little bud. your voice shakes a little when you ask, "when-- when are you coming home?"

"soon, baby, soon." you hear him take a sip of his coffee, the warm drink going down his throat. you pulse around nothing. "i'll get food on the way back, yeah? what you want, chinese? italian?"

"whatever y'want is fine," you whisper, stomach fluttering as you finally slide two fingers inside. you exhale shakily, pumping them in and out slowly. it doesn't feel remotely as good as it does when frank does it, but it will have to do for now.

"i'll see what i find open," he mumbles. "hey, you want to watch a movie later? i'll let you choose, since i left you all alone tonight."

"s-sure."

frank opens his mouth to say something, but something about the way you're talking-- all breathy and shaky-- makes him stop. he strains his ear and there, in the background, he's pretty sure he hears the slick sound of your fingers moving in and out of your pussy.

"baby," frank starts and you know he knows. your fingers halt. "what are you doing?"

"nothing..." you say airily.

"honey," he warns. "don't be coy."

"i'm not being coy."

"right, so you weren't touching yourself just now, hm?" your lack of answer lets him know he's right. he chuckles quietly. "you're such a dirty girl."

your walls flutter around your digits at his words. "frank--"

"did you just call me to get off to my voice?" he asks.

"frankie--"

"answer or i'm hanging up."

"no!" you squeak. "no, frank, i didn't. i'm sorry, i just-- i missed you and we haven't talked all day and you just--"

"o-okay, slow down tiger, i'm just messing with you," frank laughs at how desperate you sound. he can't deny that he's turned on right now. he presses his hips against the kitchen counter where he had made his coffee for a little relief. "what were you doing, huh? were you touching yourself like I do?"

his breathing gets harder through the phone. "yeah, but..." you sigh. "it's not the same."

frank curses and almost slams his cup on the counter, using his hand to touch himself over his scrubs. "oh, poor baby," he groans, but theres still a hint of amusement in his tone. "can't get off without daddy's help, huh?"

a new wave of arousal pours out from you. "frankie," you whimper.

frank tsks, "that's not what i said, honey."

you can't help the flush of embarrassment at being found out and figured out so easily. still, you whisper, fingers moving again, "daddy."

"shit, there we go, honey." he sounds so breathless already, his hand under both his scrub pants and his boxers. he gives himself one good pump. "when i get home, i'm gonna--"

his pager beeps in his pocket. frank curses loudly, this time annoyed and frustrated. "for fuck's sake," he grumbles. "fuck, i gotta go, baby. i'm sorry."

"it's okay," you know you sound disappointed, but what are you going to do, let someone die so frank can help you get off?

you hear him moving into the hallway, the background exploding in a flurry of beeps and yelling. he speaks so quickly you can barely register the words. "you better be ready for me when i get home, you hear me? i love you."

“You sure you don’t mind?”

You’d asked Kurt this question about a million times, but you wanted to make sure. You respected his feelings. You didn’t want to do anything that would make him uncomfortable.

“Of course not,” Kurt said, brows furrowing, surprised you’d even ask in the first place. A wide, excited grin spread across his lips, his whole face lighting up as he turned in his gaming chair to look at you. “I mean, think about it. You starting OnlyFans will bring so much attention to the channel. Imagine how many new subscribers I’m gonna get!”

It didn’t surprise you that that’s what Kurt cared about, but if there were any hidden feelings, you wanted to know. You brushed your hand through his brown hair, which was getting a little too long and starting to hang into his eyes. He leaned into your touch. “You’re really sure?”

“Yeah,” he said eagerly, visions of skyrocketing views flashing through his mind. You could practically see the wheels turning. “Plus,” he added, “it’s not like you’re gonna be doing anything with other guys.”

“Oh no,” you said, shaking your head. That was never even on the table. “Probably just some sexy pictures. Solo stuff.”

Kurt smirked, his hand lifting to rest on your hip. “Maybe I can help with that part?”

“You wanna be my photographer?” You smiled down at him. You loved the way he looked at you—like he just wanted to be good for you.

“Hell yeah!” he exclaimed. “Just make sure you tag me.”

The OnlyFans launch had been a success. You had a decent enough following on your instagram - much bigger than Kurt’s, though he pretended that didn’t bother him. He always gained at least a few followers when you posted pictures together and tagged him.

You promoted the launch on insta with a sexy lingerie pic teasing more, and within your first day you had plenty of hits.

“Woah!” Kurt exclaimed, grabbing your phone and looking at your page. “This is crazy! You’re gaining so many subscribers.”

Kurt was excited for you, but you could tell he was a little jealous. He had worked so hard on his Kurtsworld96 channel, but he was still stuck at only 1k followers. You had gained that in your first few days on OnlyFans.

Tagging him as your photographer had worked a little, sending a few people his way—mostly driven by the desire to see more of you. His videos that included you in the thumbnail were the biggest on his channel, even if all you were doing was taste testing different brands of Monster with him, or unboxing and reviewing the new camera you’d bought.

A couple weeks into the launch of your OnlyFans, your boyfriend was feeling a little down. You could tell something was up; you knew him better than he knew himself, you sometimes thought. Kurt had begun talking about his channel stats to an obsessive level the way he always did when he was stressed, looking at his channel analytics every twenty minutes. It was driving him crazy.

You came up behind him where he was checking his channel yet again and turned the monitor off, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hey—“ he protested, but quickly relaxed in your arms as you placed kisses over his neck and jaw.

“You’re stressing yourself out too much,” you murmured gently between kisses, your hands rubbing his chest. His eyes were drifting closed as he melted back into your embrace. “I think you need to get your mind off things, baby.”

“Don’t you have your content to film for today?” he mumbled, a half-hearted jab. He was pouting like a child, bummed out and obviously very, very jealous.

You began to tell him no, you could do it later, it wasn’t important—but then an idea popped into your head. A really good idea. “Yeah, I do,” you said, your voice low, sultry. “Would you want to…help me?”

“What, film for you?” he asked, looking up at you.

You hummed. “I was thinking…something else.”

He sat up to look at you better, suddenly way more invested. “What…what do you want me to do?”

“How about,” you paused, hands slowly rubbing over his chest the way he always liked, “…a collab?”

“A—a…collab?” Kurt stuttered, his hazel eyes going wide, roaming up and down your body without shame. His cheeks tinged an adorable pink color, pink lips parted. “Like…you mean…film with you?”

“Yeah,” you said, hand trailing down his chest. You could feel his breathing picking up, his heart pounding. “I think my subscribers would like that.”

An hour later and the bedroom was set up, cameras on your tripods, positioned to capture all angles. This was going to be a whole production, your best video yet—you wanted it to be hot for both the two of you and your viewers.

You and Kurt hadn’t actually had sex yet. The relationship was still fairly new, and every time you tried, you were constantly interrupted. Kurt was 23 but still lived with his mom, and your content creation kept both of you busy. You didn’t think Kurt had actually had sex with anyone yet. He reacted to you like someone who had never been touched at all before.

He laid back on the soft bed, looking up at you, watching your every move. You had stripped down to your lingerie, a sexy matching black lace set that had Kurt beyond hard already. The outline of his cock was clear, perfectly visible through his boxers. There was a small wet spot from where he’d been leaking so much precum just from the sight of you, not a single touch to where he needed it most. He had been waiting so long to see you, to touch you, and now that it was finally happening, he wasn’t sure what to do with himself.

“I might not—I might not last,” he said sheepishly. He glanced over at the camera. “You can cut stuff out, right?”

“Yeah, baby, I can.” You straddled his lap, hands pushing his shirt up as they trailed up his stomach, the soft hair there. “I just want you to lay back and enjoy it. Do whatever feels natural.”

Kurt nodded shakily, swallowing as he laid back on the extensive assortment of pillows. His cock throbbed against you beneath the dark blue cotton material, so hard he was aching. His hips bucked up softly against you in tiny, needy little thrusts—he wanted you bad.

Kurt lifted up to help you pull his t-shirt off, falling back against the pillows and watching you, waiting to see what you’d do next. His hands came up to rest tentatively on your bare thighs. You could feel the soft tremble in them, nervous but wanting.

You leaned down over his body, placing kisses along his skin, kissing every mole like tracing constellations. He was shaking ever so slightly, his nerves as evident as his desire. When you reached his lips he met yours all on his own, kissing you with an eager, inexperienced passion. It was sloppy, messy, desperate. One of his hands tangled in your hair, and you slowly rolled your hips against the throbbing arousal pressing against you.

Kurt let out a whiny moan as your heat grinded over the tent in his boxers, cock twitching hard from the slightest attention. His hips bucked up against you, his body craving more. This was your first time filming something for OnlyFans with another person, and your first time touching Kurt like this. He was so responsive to everything you did—you knew your subscribers would love this. 

“Feel good, baby?” you asked him, moving down his body. You kissed his soft lips before moving down to his neck, which he tilted his head to give you more access to. You could feel his chest rising and falling beneath your palm, and if you listened close enough, you could hear his breathy moans as you nipped at his neck.

“Uh…uh huh,” he breathed, his long eyelashes brushing his cheeks as his eyes fluttered closed. “Y-yeah. Feels good.”

“Good,” you said. You moved against his cock harder and Kurt whined, his hips bucking up uncontrollably. You didn’t stop, your movements slow and languid, getting him good and worked up for you. You wanted him needy and desperate, but didn’t want to make him cum in his boxers. It didn’t take much to get him there.

“You ready to try something else?” you whispered, lips ghosting over his jawline. He shuddered beneath you, his eyes closing before he forced them open again. He was so far gone already, totally content and willing to let you do whatever you wanted to him.

“Like…like what?” he stuttered, looking up at you with full trust and total adoration. His fingers dug into the plush skin of your thighs, his hips canting up just barely, desperate for more of that perfect friction.

“Have you ever had your cock sucked before?” you purred in his ear. Another hard shudder wracked his body, his cheeks turning bright red.

“N-no,” Kurt said. He cleared his throat, swallowing hard. “I…no, no one’s done that before.”

Yeah, he was a complete and utter virgin.

You smiled, and placed a soft kiss to the corner of his lips. “I’ve got you,” you said softly. “Let me show you how good I can make you feel.”

Kurt nodded quickly, his hazel eyes wide. “Yeah, I…please. Do that.”

The kisses you placed along his body were hot and reverent, trailing down his neck, over the thick hair on his chest, down his stomach. Kurt watched your every move, his cock throbbing in the confines of his boxers. He let out these little breathy whimpers as you went that started a throbbing between your own legs, panties damp and clinging to your pussy.

Being with a submissive man was never something you’d put much thought into, or thought would be a turn on—but the way Kurt laid there beneath you, needy and pliant and so, so responsive to everything you did…

It was unbearably hot.

You looked up at him as you hooked your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, pausing there for a second. He looked like he was holding his breath, watching you closely, looking down at you like you were a total revelation. The worshipful shine in his eyes boosted your ego, you had to admit.

Finally, taking pity on him, you pulled the material down his body. His cock sprung free, thick and hard and beading at the tip. He hissed in a sharp breath at the feeling of the cool air against his sensitive skin, a sound that quickly faded into an involuntary moan. God, you still hadn’t even touched him.

With his boxers off and thrown onto the floor, you finally took in the sight of him. Your mouth watered at the sight—you couldn’t wait to get him in your mouth, to feel the weight and heat of him against your tongue.

“You’re so big, Kurtie,” you said, trailing your fingernails teasingly, just barely, over the skin of his balls. It made him cry out, cock jerking hard against his stomach.

“F-fuck—“ he stuttered, his hips bucking upwards. “I—oh my god.”

“You’re so cute,” you praised, and you meant it. You wrapped your hand around the base of him, feeling him throbbing against your palm. You’d have to be careful if you didn’t want him to bust in five seconds. “So responsive for me. You’re always so good.”

Kurt whimpered, and you could see how hard he was fighting to keep his eyes open, to not miss seeing a single second of what you were doing to him. “Y-yeah,” he breathed. “You’re—oh—you’re touching me.”

You laughed softly, slowly stroking his thick shaft. “Yeah, I am.” You leaned in, pressing your lips to his tip in a soft, gentle kiss. “Do you like it?”

“Yes.” His answer was immediate, thighs trembling and hips thrusting up helplessly into your fist. “Yeah, yes. I like it, I-I like it a lot.”

“Good,” you said. You smirked up at him—his eyes hadn’t left you once—and stroked him a little bit faster, squeezing slightly on every upstroke. He whimpered, breathy and ruined. You dropped your eyes from his face to look down at his beautiful, perfect cock, and traced your tongue from his base to tip.

The noise Kurt made was choked and broken, his hips bucking again. He gripped the sheets in tight fists. “Oh—f-that’s—“

You wrapped your lips around his tip, swirling your tongue around it before slowly taking more of his cock into your mouth. You set a slow, gentle pace, bobbing your head on his cock while using your tongue against the sensitive underside.

Kurt lost it.

“Oh, s-shit, oh fuck,” he cried out, his eyes finally squeezing shut. His hips jerked up in shallow thrusts into your mouth, unable to help himself, lost to the pleasure of it instantly. He panted, drawing in gasps of air, and babbled mindlessly above you. “Oh fuck, you’re s—you’re sucking me, my c-cock—oh fuck, fuck, f-fuck, don’t stop, I, please d-don’t stop doing—oh y-yeah, yes, that, do that again, p-please, I—b-baby, I—oh fuck, I’m—“

Kurt made a loud, strangled noise, reaching down on desperate instinct to grab your hair in his fist, and came hard in your mouth. It felt endless, you had no idea someone could even cum so much. He was seeing stars, ears ringing, moaning and crying and babbling your name over and over as his hips twitched with the force of his orgasm, his hot cum pulsing against your tongue. You moaned around him, working him through it until he couldn’t take it anymore, shaking and gasping.

You pulled off of him with a wet pop, a trail of spit connecting your lips to his head, a sight that made him let out a shaky groan. “You did so good for me, Kurtie,” you praised, smiling up at him with your lips red and slick. Some of his cum dripped down the side of your mouth, and you swiped it away with your thumb, making a show of licking it off while holding eye contact. His spent, soft cock twitched again.

“I didn’t mean…” he said, chest still heaving with his panting breaths. “I wanted to…wanted you to f-fuck me.” His cheeks went red, blushing hard.

“Aw, baby,” you cooed, moving up his body to kiss him. It was soft and brief, and when you pulled back he leaned up after you, chasing your lips again. “You were such a good boy, though. So hot, watching you fall apart like that for me.” Your breath was warm against his cheek as you nuzzled your nose over his skin, whispering low and quiet and just for him. “You taste so good.”

Kurt let out a quiet whine, shuddering hard beneath you. “Can we do more?” he asked, soft and shy. But then a more familiar grin spread over his lips, sounding like the Kurt you knew when he spoke again. “I wanna make a really good video. If your subscribers like it, they’ll come to my channel!”

You laughed, sitting up on your knees. “I just want you to have a good time, baby. We can do whatever you want. They’re gonna love it.”

Kurt’s eyes trailed over your body with undisguised hunger. His hand came up, hovering for a second before resting on your thigh. “Can I try…” His gaze, which had been locked on your body, lifted to meet your eyes. “Can I taste you?”

Your breath hitched. You hadn’t expected him to say that. You’d been so focused on his pleasure, on putting on a good show and making his first time as mind blowing as possible, but it had never once crossed your mind that he might want to take care of you in return.

“You want that, baby?” you asked, rubbing your hand over his chest. You could feel the hard, rhythmic thumping of his racing heart. “You wanna make me feel good, too?”

Kurt nodded fast. His hands trailed up your body with a little more confidence, feeling every inch of your soft skin, the lace of your lingerie. “You look so hot—so beautiful in this,” he said, “but I really wanna—want to take it off.”

A soft smile spread across your lips, looking down at your boyfriend with such genuine love and affection. Here he was, spread out beneath you while you brought him pleasure like he’d never experienced—and he was thinking about pleasing you.

“Okay,” you said, leaning in to ghost a soft kiss to his jaw. “Go ahead, Kurtie. I’m all yours.”

Kurt’s breath hitched audibly, hesitating for only a second before sitting up. He kissed you abruptly, hungry and a little sloppy. His hands slid up the soft skin of your back until he reached the strap of your bra. He kept kissing you as his fingers nervously fumbled with the clasp, moaning as your tongue swiped against his.

After a solid minute of him fighting with it, his lips eventually stilling against yours as he focused on trying to figure it out, you pulled back with a soft giggle. “Do you want some help?”

“No, I…” he said, the look on his face one of pure concentration. “I can…I got it…”

Finally, the hooks came undone. Kurt grinned, accomplished, but the look on his face transformed into pure awe as the material fell away from your chest. Your tits were now on full display, right in front of his face. Without thinking, he surged forward and wrapped his lips around one of your nipples with a ragged moan, his hand grasping at the other breast greedily.

You moaned, head falling back, his actions a genuine surprise. He sucked on your nipple, moaning around it, rubbing his tongue over the hardened nub.

“Fuck, Kurt,” you breathed, one hand moving to cradle the back of his head, tangled in his brown locks, while the other rested on his shoulder. “That feels so good, baby…”

He moaned again before pulling away and switching, taking your other nipple into his mouth while he grabbed your other breast in his hand, squeezing. His cock gave another twitch, starting to harden again already.

“You—you have the most perfect tits,” Kurt said, breathing heavily as he finally pulled away from your nipple with a wet sound. He couldn’t stop staring at them. “Like, wow. No wonder so many people follow you.”

You laughed, loud and surprised. “Thanks, Kurtie.”

He kissed you again, slower this time but no less hungry. You bit lightly at his bottom lip, making him sigh into the kiss as you laid down against the soft sheets. Kurt’s hands went straight for your panties without breaking the kiss, pulling them down.

“Oh,” he said in an awed whisper, looking at the lace in his hands. His thumb rubbed over the damp fabric that had been pressed against your heat, still smelling like you, a scent he found intoxicating. “They’re…wet.”

Another soft laugh spilled from your lips, Kurt finally looking away from the panties to see your face again. “Yeah. You got me so wet, baby.”

“Y-yeah?” he stuttered, eyes wide. “Just from suck—sucking my cock?”

You nodded against the pillows. “Mmhmm. It was so hot.”

Kurt let out a sigh, looking back down at your panties. He brought them up to his face, breathing them in. “Fuck. Smells so good.”

He tossed the panties to the side of the bed as if suddenly remembering the real thing was waiting for him. He settled between your legs, his cock already fully hard again. He rubbed reverently over the skin of your legs, squeezing the plush of your thighs. He lowered himself to lay on his stomach between your spread thighs, his mouth right at your pussy, but not touching you yet where you needed him most.

As he settled there, positioning himself—he paused. “I just—?” he asked, then furrowed his brows. “I, um. What do I do?” He looked down at your glistening core, hunger written all over his features, but hesitating, uncertain. “They don’t show much of this part in porn.”

His words pulled another soft laugh from you. “Maybe not in the kind you watch.” You carded your fingers through his hair, looking down at him there, between your legs, ready and eager to please. “Just use your tongue. Against my clit, my pussy…like you’re kissing.” You tugged lightly at his hair. “And you’re such a good kisser, Kurtie. Remember how I showed you?”

Kurt nodded. “Yeah, you just…like…” He leaned in, sticking his tongue out and dragging it between your folds, a groan rumbling in his chest as he tasted you. “…like that? Jesus, you taste fu—you taste so good.”

The sensation had been nice, if short lived. “Yeah, baby,” you said in a breathy sigh. “Just keep going like that. Try whatever you want, just—put your mouth on me.”

You didn’t have to tell him twice. Kurt dove in, licking through your slick folds again. He flicked his tongue over your clit, moaning against it, sending vibrations through your body that had your back arching.

“Fuck!” you moaned, tightening a hand in his hair. “Oh god, Kurt, yeah, just like that.”

The praise had him moaning again, his eyes falling closed, soft lashes brushing his cheek as he devoured you. He was clumsy and messy and really just trying whatever came to mind, but it was working. He held onto your thighs, lapping at your pussy eagerly. 

The alternating between delving his tongue into your cunt and massaging it over your clit had a knot tightening in your stomach. Soft, breathy moans spilled from your lips, forgetting all about the cameras, about any semblance of putting on a show. The only thing you could focus on was the pleasure Kurt was giving you with his mouth, practically making out with your pussy, bringing you to your peak fast without any further instruction.

A sharp gasp left your lungs as he slipped a finger inside. He thrusted it in and out of your tight cunt, quickly adding a second. He was inexperienced and unsure, but the desperate rocking of your hips down against his mouth and fingers spurred him on. He moaned, curling his fingers deep inside, sucking on your throbbing clit—

It shattered. A broken cry filled the air, pulling his hair hard and riding out your orgasm on his face. Kurt took it all, moaning against your soaked pussy and rocking his hips into the mattress, cock leaking onto the sheets beneath him. He was worshipful, adoring, like he was finding god himself between your legs.

You had to push him away when it became too much, when the sharp pleasure faded into painful overstimulation. He pulled back to look at you with his pupils blown and soft lips parted, your wetness all over them, even his chin slick with your sweet honey. It was obscene. It was so hot.

“Did I do good?” he asked, nearly ruining you. “Was that good? God, your pussy, it—your pussy is so good, so sweet, and wet and warm, I—“

“You did perfect,” you praised breathlessly, stopping his rambling. He smiled up at you and lifted up, moving over your body. He kissed you, slow and sweet. You could taste yourself on his tongue.

“I’m hard again,” he told you, smiling sheepishly. As if there was any way to miss it, huge and rock hard and demanding your attention. He rolled his hips against you, smearing precum on your thigh. He let out a soft whimper at the friction. “Can I fu—can I fuck you now?”

You carded your fingers through his hair and pulled him down to kiss you again. It was slow, languid, taking your time to feel him, to massage your tongue against his. It wasn’t the most exciting for the video, but you could cut this out if you needed to. You cared more about Kurt than the content. He didn’t seem to mind, letting you take your time, simply happy and grateful for whatever you gave him. And he always loved kissing you. You’d spent many nights together, lazily making out, Kurt trying to hide the raging hard-on in his jeans.

You grabbed onto Kurt’s shoulders, flipping him. His back hit the mattress, forcing a soft huff of air from his lungs as he smiled up at you. His hands gripped your hips instinctively as you settled on his lap, drawing in a sharp hiss as his cock made contact with your wet heat.

“Fuck—“ he cursed, squeezing your hips a little tighter. He swallowed hard. “Uh, should we…get a condom?”

You rubbed your hands over the hair on his chest. He let out a deep groan, the rumble of it vibrating against your palms. “Do you want to use a condom?”

His eyes flew open wide, darting up from your tits to your face, like that was something he didn’t even realize was negotiable. “I—we don’t have to?”

You rolled your hips over him, drawing out another strangled moan. His reactions never got old. “We don’t have to,” you said. You stilled, seeing on his face that there was no way he could form a coherent thought if you kept moving against him like that. “I’m on birth control. I’m clean, you’re clean. It’s up to you, baby.”

Kurt drew in a deep breath. His eyes moved from your face, to your tits, to your pussy, his cock nestled so close to what he’d been dreaming of for months. He met your eyes again—sure. Resolute. “No condom. I don’t…don’t want to use a condom. I want to f—feel all of you. On my cock.”

You smirked down at him, rubbing over his chest soothingly one more time. “Okay, baby.”

Kurt watched intently as you lifted up over him. You wrapped your hand around his thick cock, tracing his head through your folds, coating him in your wetness. His breath stuttered, body shivering beneath you in anticipation and need.

“Ready, Kurtie?” you asked, watching his face for every slight reaction he gave you.

All he could do was nod wordlessly against the pillows, never pulling his eyes away from where you were about to be connected. That final bridge—that most intimate connection with you he’d been craving, dreaming about with his cock in his fist after you’d gone home for the night.

Slowly, you began to sink down on him. The thick, blunt head of his cock pierced you with a dull sting, fading into an overwhelming fullness as you took more and more of him. Carefully, inch by inch until you were fully seated on his lap, stuffed full of him.

Kurt was gasping and moaning, just from that first initial feel of you. Your cunt was perfect, gripping tight around him, wet and velvety soft and so, so warm, the best thing he’d ever felt in his life, even better than your mouth was—and that had been earth shattering.

His fingers flexed on your hips, his gaze not moving for a second. The sight of himself buried in you, cunt stretched around his girth, taking him all, was intoxicating. You could feel him throbbing hard inside of you, cock twitching against the tight confines of your walls. His hips jerked up sharply, his body chasing more of that pleasure, a choked sound coming straight from his chest.

“Sorry!” he apologized in a panic, even as his hips bucked helplessly up into you again. “Shit—sorry—“

Hands planted on his chest, you lifted yourself up until only his tip remained, then dropped back down onto his lap. You tossed your head back, moaning at the perfect fullness, at the same time Kurt let out a strangled cry, his back arching against the mattress. You set a steady pace, watching him, every reaction on his face all-consuming.

A thin sheen of sweat coated his skin, a flush blooming on his chest and neck. You’d never seen Kurt look like this, so utterly wrecked and lost to pleasure. His brow was furrowed, pretty lips parted to let out those soft moans and whimpers that only fueled your own desire, bouncing on his cock faster.

“Such a good boy for me, Kurtie,” you breathed, alternating hard, grinding rolls of your hips with the quick bounces, taking his cock so deep with every drop down onto him, you could feel him in your stomach. Kurt’s eyes nearly rolled back at the praise combined with the pleasure of your body. “So good—god, baby, you might make me cum again with that perfect cock of yours.”

The sound Kurt made in response was utterly broken, a moan so ragged and primal and consumed by the sensation of you, it made your cunt instinctively clench around him. He began bucking his hips up into you with a frantic desperation, unable to hold back anymore and not really wanting to.

“So—good, oh god so good, your cu—your pussy, it’s—oh j-jesus,” he babbled mindlessly, eyes squeezed shut, panting and moaning and whimpering beneath you. He was dizzy with pleasure, absolutely out of his mind with it. “Tight, i-it’s so tight, so wet, feels good on my—my cock, oh fuck, please don’t stop, keep—keep fu-fucking me, shit—“

You rode him faster, your own head tilted back now, eyes closed, the pleasure coursing through your veins as you fucked yourself on his perfect cock. You could feel the coil tightening again, building quickly deep inside, pussy fluttering around his girth. “Kurt—oh fuck, baby, making me feel so good, so good for me, my good boy, so perfect…”

He choked, digging bruises into your hips and fucking up into you frantically, chasing his second release. Somehow, by complete, beautiful accident, he found that bundle of nerves deep inside you and was hitting that spot every time. Your vision began to go white, nails dragging down his chest as you rode him, taking everything you wanted and needed from him, the orgasm building within you nothing like you’d ever felt before.

It crashed over you in a wave of pleasure that almost made you black out, crying out desperately and moving your hips faster. “Kurt! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

Kurt’s eyes opened wide, his pupils nearly eclipsing the hazel around them. He pulled you back down onto his cock with every brutal thrust up into you, making sure you didn’t slow down for a second. You didn’t even think he was aware he was doing it, his need for the pleasure your body was giving him overriding any rational thought, purely primal and desperate.

“You’re so—you’re perfect, your pussy is s-so perfect, taking me deep, so fu-fucking deep, letting me fuck—fuck you, taking my cock—“ He cut himself off with a loud, shaky moan, eyes squeezing shut and back bowing off the bed. “It fe—els so good, feels so good, it’s so—oh fuck oh fuck holy shit holy fuck please baby don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop don’t stop you’re gonna make me cum—“

The yell that ripped from his throat was like nothing you’d ever heard from a man in bed before, so overwhelmingly hot it had your cunt clenching around him, milking his cock as he pumped up into you in desperate thrusts. You felt the warmth of his cum flooding you, still so fucking much, even after the way he’d spilled into your mouth earlier. He chanted your name like a prayer with every pulse of his release.

You rode him through it, every last shuddering thrust of his powerful orgasm. It took a few minutes before he could even open his eyes to look at you again, his whole body still shaking with the force of it.

When he finally did open them, looking up at you, his eyes a little wet—a wide, amazed grin spread across his lips. “Holy shit.”

You laughed, leaning down to capture his lips in a soft kiss, his softening cock still buried inside you. “Good?”

“Good? I—“ He laughed, breathless and euphoric, skin still flushed and warm. “I’ve never cum like that before, never—I mean, I always cum a lot, when I’m alone, but I never—“ He looked down, eyes widening in wonder at the sight of the cum that dripped down around his shaft from inside of you. “—holy fuck.”

After you’d recovered enough to move, which took a while, you cleaned up and turned the cameras off. You’d never been more excited to rewatch footage. It felt like you’d forgotten all about the cameras in the heat of the moment, but you had a feeling you’d just made the best one yet.

The video was edited and posted a couple of days later. You were right—it was the hottest thing you’d ever seen. Everything about it was perfect. Kurt’s reactions were intense but authentic, and you knew the more submissive men who subscribed to you were going to love this.

You knew it would be successful, but you weren’t prepared for just how much people would love it.

Your paid subscriber count jumped by the thousands. Every day you’d check your account, nearly choking as you saw the view count, the amount of people paying for the video, for more of your content. The video was a total hit.

When Kurt came running to you, nearly jumping up and down as he told you how many subscribers his channel was gaining, you really knew you’d made the right choice.

“Look!” he’d practically yelled, shoving his phone in your face. The familiar Kurtsworld96 channel analytics screen was there, the follower count now over ten thousand. A lot of the comments on his videos were asking for more of you, more of what you’d done together, but Kurt didn’t mind that. He was thrilled. “They’re following me! They’re watching!”

Kurt begged you to film with him again, promising to be good for you, begging for the chance to be your good boy again. With your boyfriend happier than you’d ever seen him and people offering you money left and right for more content…

How could you say no?

thank you for reading! as always, comments and reblogs are so appreciated!

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