"Huh?" You nearly scoff at Derek's abrupt proposal.

"It's five o'clock somewhere," he reasons, beginning to sit up on the bed with an eager smirk.

"Uh, yeah, actually, it is," you huff, looking down at your wristwatch, "it's literally five here."

"Okay, great, even better," he says, immediately getting up from the mattress, "let's go."

"Wait, hold on," you interject, stopping in front of him. "There's no way you're getting blackout drunk at a time where you're supposed to be keeping up a good reputation! And, what, especially in front of those investors, who, conveniently, are also on this boat! Derek, you're going to blow your own cover!"

Derek gave your words the smallest amount of thought until he shook his head dismissively. "That's why... You can keep an eye on me."

What the hell.

"Seriously? You drinking your ass off is one thing, but leaving me out of it? That is so unfair!" You exclaim angrily. "This was your plan, and the only person being tortured in this deal so far is me! I always get the short end of the stick! Jesus Christ, Derek, have some, what, consideration? I'm bending over backwards for this bullshit, and you don't have any decency to advocate for me!"

Derek was always frustrating. Hell, you never really knew how you were still friends with him because somehow, you two just made it work. He was a shameless product of nepotism; he went from eating baby carrots to caviar off of the same silver platter ever since he was born. He was arrogant, selfish, inconsiderate, and an overall pain in the ass. He would boss everyone around him, regardless of age or role, unless, of course, they were his mother.

But he was barely his mother's son. As respectable and graceful as Jessica Danforth was, he was the complete opposite. Unlike her, he couldn't last a meeting without rudely interrupting somebody, so who's to say he could lead an entire nation? Derek was difficult, and that was that. It was like walking on eggshells trying to deal or negotiate with him, even if it was the most mundane, simple thing. Yet you were still best friends with him, yet you agreed to this overcomplicated deal to help him. Really, it was tricky to pinpoint why exactly you still dealt with his bullshit. Hell, the only thing you could seem to truthfully admit was that he wasn't so much of a bad person.

Sure, he had his whole phishing scam business. That wasn't excusable. But Derek always had his ways of showing his care for others, even if a few are unethical. He wasn't 100% malicious, nor a sociopath. The point is, even after all this, he cares about you and the people he loves. It's not an amazing quality, as it should be an inherent trait in a human being. But for Derek, it's a start.

Still, you were pissed as hell.

"Fine, fine!" He huffs, taking in your words. He should've felt bad for you, he should've felt guilty, but when it came to situations like that, he couldn't exactly read the severity or the implications of his own actions. "You can drink with me."

You sigh as Derek was still not understanding it, mostly because he had always been very dense. "No, I don't w—"

"Then what the fuck do you want?" He interjects, eyebrows furrowing. "You want to drink, you don't want to drink—"

"I want you to be responsible," you say harshly, watching his lips form quickly into a frown. "The whole reason, the whole fucking reason why we're here, why I'm here, in the first place, is because you wanted to prove to your mom that you're 'good now' and that you deserve every penny she gives you. And if you can't even follow your own plan, then this is all pointless. It's bullshit."

Finally, Derek consciously absorbs your reasoning. He was still stubborn about it, but he, for once, wasn't going to be a big asshole while knowing he was in the wrong. He hated how you were always right, and he especially hated whenever it felt impossible to argue with your logic.

"I won't drink too hard," he says in defeat, his volume lowering, "you can drink with me, no babysitting. We're on vacation, we can play it off that way. No hard drinking, no hard drugs in front of anyone, and I won't seem like that guy who took a belly shot off a stripper from weeks ago. Does that sound good?"

You didn't exactly want to scold him either. You weren't his parent, but he could be so childish at times that it's impossible to treat him like an adult. So now, with him making that compromise to accommodate to your wishes, it felt so artificial; unsatisfying when he gave in. Because all you felt like at this moment was, well... his parent.

"I'm just advising you," you exhale, sitting back down on the edge of the bed. "I'm not trying to tell you what to do, I'm not your mother. I'm just... I'm just saying, it's probably not good to go crazy tonight if you don't want to get caught by Wallace or your mother. But you know what?... Do whatever you want. I'm kind of exhausted, so I'll probably just shower and hit the sack."

Derek pursed his lips, observing your current beaten state before shrugging slightly with a sigh. "Alright. Uhh, I'll be at one of the bars, probably meet up with the rest of the guys." You simply just nodded at his words. "And Y/n... You know you're always welcome to join us. I'll pay for your tab, it's whatever."

You nod again, watching him get ready to leave the room.

Of course, there's been a lot of tension that the two of you never got to release on each other. Just always brushing it off with humor and playing it off as "playful banter." It was frustrating, though; you having to deal with Derek's recklessness, him having to deal with your responsible rationality. You were each other's anchors, which was what made your friendship worked—or at least you thought.

The problem was having to be in this role where you had to pretend to be his romantic partner. You hated the lack of authenticity. Even knowing you had to fake it, even knowing it was fake, you hated how this was a lie. But you didn't know what made you feel worse; having the public think you were dating your best friend or the fact that this kind of relationship would always be impossible that it can only ever exist as a lie.

No, that's ridiculous. You didn't see him that way, of course, you would never date him. It was just insulting to you, that's all. Dating you shouldn't be so painful to lie about. Dating you shouldn't feel so condescending. You would be a great partner, you thought. And that was definitely your problem with this entire plan. Nothing else.

***

As Derek left the cabin, leaving you to take a shower, you decided to explore the ship afterwards, just for the time being. As your footsteps would gently meet the lavish planks of the deck, you spotted a familiar figure looking out at the ocean in a reflective fashion.

"Mickey?" You ask, standing beside him after realizing who it was.

"Oh. Hey, Y/n," he smiled weakly at you, looking back at the faint horizon line where the sky met the sea.

"How are you feeling?" You inquire, considering what happened in the past between him and Derek.

"I'm fine," he shrugs, shaking his head dismissively. "Seriously, it's not a big deal."

"I know," you remark, placing your hands on the railing as you stood on the edge of the ship with him, "but... I don't know, you've been so quiet. It's just... The friend group's never been the same ever since."

Mickey ponders at your words, feeling a wave of guilt, and then exhaustion. "It's not like I, um, like him anymore," he mutters, barely looking at you. "It's just, uh... I guess I'm just... offended? Like... Would it have been that embarrassing to be seen with me, y'know? I mean, I know I'm not perfect and, hell, invest too much in crypto, but... it's not like he's any better than me. But he constantly acts like it, which is fucking frustrating."

You frown as you listen to his perspective, sighing to yourself. You couldn't disagree, he was a hundred percent right. "Derek's a dick," you huff, "honestly, it's surprising how all of us, at one point, are able to stand it. But... You know him. He's afraid of intimacy. Real intimacy. He's too afraid of getting too close to someone, too afraid of disappointing anyone. He thinks it's better to leave first so that he doesn't get hurt."

"So then I should get hurt?" Mickey scoffs, looking at you now.

"No, it's just... I'm not excusing his actions. What he did was completely idiotic. All I'm saying is... he's a moron. Anyone would be lucky to have you. Derek's just... not exactly the standard for dating or the arbiter of who's a good partner, so... you're not as unworthy as he might've made you feel."

He pursed his lips, face contorting in contemplation. "It's just... I feel so used. I know, I knew it was a fling and there was nothing else to it, but... One of the things he told me was that we couldn't... be anything more because he didn't want to be seen dating a friend of his, or someone who doesn't come from a rich family, and..."

That was your exact concern.

"He's only doing this because his money's at risk. That's all," you reply softly, "there is no other motivation bigger than losing his money for him to fake date one of his friends, let alone me. It has nothing to do with you. I promise you that."

Mickey shrugs, disregarding your words. Not maliciously, just... unconsciously. Then you realized it was much more of an internal struggle. He needed direct closure from Derek himself. "I'm gonna go get a drink," he nods at you kindly before walking away, "thanks for this..."

As you watched him leave, you frowned to yourself, feeling the exhaustion of today's events finally catch up with you. Hell, you needed a drink too.

Motivated to search for one, you turned your body around, facing away from the view of the ocean. Suddenly, your eyes trailed to the empty lounge chairs on the deck with their corresponding tables. A box of Capri-Sun was just sitting there, unattended.

Huh. Change of plans.

***

The alcohol burned his throat as Derek took a swift, smooth swig, hearing the laughter and shouts of his friends around him. This was probably his fifth damn shot ever since the group occupied a colorful bar in the cruise ship. Soft music played in the background as they all sat in a cushioned booth.

"I can't believe Y/n isn't here," Rachel huffed in disappointment, looking around the space as if you would pop out of thin air.

"Yeah, well they're a fuckin' lame-o," Derek slurs, swishing his empty shot glass around, "why are they so serious? They've never been so uptight before. It's so annoying."

"Maybe because you put them in a position where they have to be your partner?" Trevor raises an eyebrow, sneering playfully. "No offense, dude, but I feel like anyone would feel humiliated if they had to date you. Again, no offense."

Derek shot him a menacing glare while everyone else laughed at him.

"I stand by that," Connor cackles, elbowing his friend, "being romantically involved with the country's nepo-brat himself? Says a lot about your self-respect."

"Shut the fuck up." The said nepo-brat retorts as he feels his head throbbing. He wasn't actually upset, however, despite his enormous ego. Even as his friends weren't so far from the truth, he could easily handle their targeted jokes. Unlike a large sum of people, they surprisingly didn't befriend him for his money. After all, they had several things in common: being rich, being educated, and being grade-A assholes.

"Hey, Danforth," Trevor pipes, shoving him obnoxiously, "hot chick, three o'clock."

Derek looks in the direction he was told, only to see a tall, gorgeous woman around his age, sitting on a barstool while mingling with her friends. Of course he was never new to her level of beauty, as he's hooked up with all types of people in the past. So no, her looks weren't the reason why he felt so desperate now. Truthfully, it's been a long time since he's gotten some. Ever since this whole fake dating arrangement, Derek had never gotten the time or chance to get into bed with someone enticing, or just anyone at all. He was always a fan of pleasure, a big fan of one-night stands. And right now, he was craving one.

"Fuck," he groans, strongly motivated to push through the drunken migraine he was experiencing. "I gotta... go talk to her..."

"No, dude," Trevor huffs in amusement, trying not to burst out into laughter, "you're way too drunk, you'll scare her away."

Derek frowns, unappreciative of his friend's deliberation. "I swear to fuckin' god, Trev, if I don't bang at least one goddamn person on this boat—"

"Relax," he chuckles, massaging Derek's left shoulder, "I'm just saying, you should sober up first. Not too sober, obviously, but you need to be well aware enough to make smart choices. Like, I know you'd fuck up the whole you and Y/n thing and someone's gonna find out." Derek nods as he listens to half of the things he heard, eyelids growing heavy. "Go back to your room, Y/n can sober you up, and when you're ready, you can come back and screw this girl."

Derek's thoughts were hazy and ran slowly in his brain like traffic. He couldn't focus on any of the steps instructed to him, nor did he feel inclined to comply.

"Hey, you know something?" Rachel chimes in, "there's this one thing you always do whenever you're way too drunk to function. It's almost, like, a signal for when you should stop drinking for the night."

"Oh, yeah!" The rest of the group exclaimed in a discordant manner, all laughing at the inside joke Derek wasn't yet aware of.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows curiously. "What do you mean, what do I do?"

"Basically," Connor chuckles, "we always know you're far too gone whenever you propose doing a flip. You say that every fucking time you're too drunk. Not when you're buzzed, not when you're tipsy, but every single time you're absolutely hammered. I swear, every time you're, like, 'watch me do a flip' or some stupid shit like that."

"No way," Derek grumbles in refusal, not recalling any memory of him saying those things, "I don't do that." To be fair, however, he wouldn't even remember anything from the times he was too drunk. Therefore, he couldn't even be a credible source for his own experiences.

"Uh, yeah, you do! Every time!" Rachel cackles with a wide grin. "One time, we didn't stop you because you wanted to do a skateboard trick, and you absolutely ate cement, man. We even got that on video!"

Derek groans in embarrassment, feeling his migraine grow. "Whatever. One more drink," he grumbles before a knowing smirk appears on his lips. Everyone around him scowled, watching him down more liquor, even if he was far too deep in intoxication.

"Hold on, one more," he giggles shamelessly, as he quickly finished the previous drink.

***

"Derek?" You huff in surprise as you hear the door swing open, seeing your friend stumble back into the suite.

"H—" before he could even say one word, he rushed to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet. As he fell on his knees, his hands gripped the poor, porcelain seat of the toilet. You followed him immediately, placing your hand on his back in deep concern.

"What the hell?" You gasp, "dude, how much did you drink?"

Derek coughed out the last bits of vomit, staring straight at the toilet bowl and the floating chunks that left his stomach, furrowing his eyebrows. "Where does flushed shit go on a boat?" He mumbles distractedly, failing to answer you. "Does this go straight into the ocean? That's so messed up..."

You roll your eyes anyway, having been accustomed to his drunken mannerisms. This actually wasn't the first time you dealt with him like this, which probably made you harsher than anyone would've been in this scenario. "Why would you care about what's messed up or not? You literally run one of the most immoral businesses in the world."

"Yeah, well, doesn't look like you're doing anything to stop me," he scoffs bitterly, looking up at you in the eyes, "having said that, you're just as bad as me."

You hated whenever he brought this up to refute you. How you never bothered turning him in, never bothered telling anybody. But was that not your moral obligation as his best friend? Were you supposed to get him caught or keep his criminal life private? Why did you seem to prioritize him over the thousands of vulnerable people in this world?

"I'm fucking with you," he smirks humorously, while you knew damn well he wasn't kidding. "I need to... sober up. There's this... chick at the bar I wanna hook up with and I can't risk anything, so... just need to be more conscious or whatever bullshit Trevor said. Can you help me?"

Immediately, you disapproved of it. "That's a terrible idea," you retort. "If anyone finds out about this, you'd be deemed a cheater. I don't care who you sleep with, but the purpose of this trip—"

"I'll make sure she keeps it a secret. Pay her, even," he says, his squinted eyes pathetically trying to meet yours, "Come on. Help me."

Why did you even bother?

"Fine," you sigh, standing up from your knees to flush the toilet.

The two of you sat quietly on the edge of the bed as you handed Derek some water. He gulped a substantial amount after muttering a thank you.

"You know you can't truly 'sober up' that fast, right?" You scoff. "You'd have better luck sleeping it off."

"But I have her right where I want her. It's a filthy one-night stand, not a perfect meet cute," he grumbles before taking a second glance at you. A foil juice pouch was in your hands as you ripped off the attached straw. "What is that? Holy shit, is that a Capri-Sun?"

You nod, poking the pouch's hole with the thin yellow straw. "Yeah."

"Where did you get it?" He asked with a sudden deep interest.

"I just... found some lying on a table on the decks, it probably belonged to some kid," you shrug casually.

"You stole it?" He huffs in shock, not expecting you, of all people, to do such a thing.

"Derek, think about the kinds of people who can afford this cruise, okay? Upper class families. I'm sure whoever it is, they'd be okay with a few missing Capri-Suns," you scoff. "I can promise you this, dude, it's not as bad as stealing money from old people." Clearly, you couldn't help but constantly bring it up. You had always felt bitter about it the moment he told you of it.

Derek pouts before groaning, sinking down towards you to lay his head on your lap. You were only slightly taken aback, as this was a common habit of a drunk Derek. But it was always surprising to you nonetheless, since you never really knew when he was going to do that. "It's not like... I'm evil, you know?" He mumbles bashfully.

You raise an eyebrow at his quiet words, letting him continue.

"Of course it's fucking unconventional and immoral and whatever. But the thing is... I'll never make the amount of money my dad did when he was still alive. And you're telling me I have to follow in his footsteps? That's ridiculous, for me, at least," he huffs. "Especially for me, actually."

You didn't know what compelled you to do so, but your hand landed on his head, feeling his soft curls between your fingers until you could feel his scalp. You were nearly petting him. And you hated it because ultimately, it confirmed your sympathy for him. You genuinely almost felt sorry for him. So what else were you supposed to do anyways?

Derek felt his heart tighten at your touch. It was all too familiar. Too much like his mother's. But he didn't want to think about it like that, not when it was you. "Everyone used to expect so much of me, even before Dad died. Until they learned that all I could do is disappoint. Now everyone expects the very least of me, which, fair enough.

"Danforth Enterprises has been slow, especially ever since I took the position. And I'm supposed... I owe something to my mother. I owe everything to her. And if all that money could... get her to be president, get her to think I'm a successful CEO, then... that's just... That's why I do it. I just... was far too gone. I'm in too deep now."

Derek felt a sting every time you stroked his head. It was horrible, it was as if he was back in his mother's grasp, when everything was much simpler, when he wasn't seen as such a failure. When a damn drawing of the private helicopter in crayon was the best thing he ever did in her eyes. When did he become such a disappointment now?

"It's shitty," you sigh, your own voice grounding him. It was you. This was your hands, your touch, not his mother's. The same voice that belonged to the smile that greeted him in his freshman year at MIT. You. "That doesn't excuse it, and I'm sure you know that. But... You're being too hard on yourself, Derek. I'm sure your mom would've appreciated it if you genuinely worked hard and show that you earned that position. The extra flashy money obviously never worked."

He hated being scolded. Being told what to do. But somehow, your words were a comfort to him instead. Maybe he was this vulnerable because he was intoxicated, but that was rarely ever the case.

The one thing he knew right now, though, was that it was your hands, your fingers, your touch, your voice that embraced. Not his mother's. And for that reason, he loved it.

"Can I have some of your Capri-Sun?" He asks coyly.

"You shouldn't have any sugary drinks when you just threw up," you advise.

"You're just gatekeeping it," he grumbles, shutting his eyes.

A soft chuckle leaves your lips as you continue to scratch his scalp. Derek felt his heart rush at the sound.

"You have a nice laugh," he mutters.

You paused your hand movements on his head, stunned by his words. "What?"

"I like your laugh," he confesses quietly, opening his eyes and fidgeting with his fingers. "It's nice." Then, he nudged your body with his head as a plea to resume your touches.

You continued playing with his hair curiously. He's never acted like this around you. Ever. What changed?

"Th—"

"And I mean it," he adds, closing his eyes once again in contentment, "you're great. I'm sorry for getting you caught up in all of this. It was never fair to you."

You sigh softly at Derek's admission, feeling the curly strands of hair beneath your fingertips. "Thank you," you mutter appreciatively.

"I know I said I'd make it up to you with Fiji and money, but... that's probably not enough. Maybe I'll be a 'yes-man' for a week. I dunno. Something like that," he reckons.

You felt so warm right now. You weren't sure what it was. Either a metaphorical would-be-disaster of a feeling or the fact that Derek's head was resting on your lap, giving off heat. And while you could admit that you enjoyed the feeling, you realized you might've distracted him from his initial goal.

"Come on, buddy," you sigh, trying to prop him back up, removing his head from your lap, "I think by the time you walk back to the bar, you'd be all ready for her."

"Oh, right. Oh yeah," Derek huffs as he also remembers the whole point of coming back to the room so early, "yeah. She's, uh, she's so not ready for this." He chuckles weakly, gesturing towards himself.

You pat his shoulder in a friendly manner, establishing the extent of your relationship. Friendship, rather. "Give 'em hell," you smile softly, helping him get up before he walked by himself towards the door.

Once the door closed behind him, Derek stood in the hallway, feeling unsure of himself. He felt lost, and it wasn't just because of the alcohol. He began to retrace his steps, vaguely remembering the face of the woman at the bar. Yes, she was pretty, but... for some reason, he just didn't want to go through with it. Which was insanity, because Derek never passed the chance to screw an attractive person. It all just felt so different, all of a sudden. Like there was a consequence and that it mattered. Like it just wasn't right to do.

He wanted to go back into the room with you.

He didn't care about the woman at the bar.

He really didn't want to admit it, really, but all he wanted was to be held by you once more. Just for a little longer.

And there was only one excuse that could help him get away with it.

Your eyes shot up as you hear the door burst open once again, seeing Derek stumble more messily than before.

"Hey, wait. Before I go... watch me do a flip!" He smiles widely, purposefully slurring his words.

In your perspective, Derek definitely wasn't sobered up enough to meet with that girl he was talking about. Surely, the flip nonsense would signify he was way too drunk to function. It was something he's always done that you and your friends noticed. Finally, you concluded that he could barely sober up in time before the night ended, having to stay with him like this, which was exactly what he wanted you to think.

This car was way too fancy for your taste. You nervously pull down on your top as you look around, fiddling with the edge of it and slightly fraying the ends. It's got practically an entire bar lined up behind the driver and a goddamn sunroof. You're almost tempted to stand out of it like you're straight out of a coming-of-age film. Are those all-around seat warmers? You continue to ogle at the intricacies of the vehicle currently taking you to a billionaire's house. Your boss's house. This was almost too much for you to handle.

Before you can spiral over the thought, the car pulls into an extremely lavish-looking mansion, completely glazing over any thoughts you have on the mode of transportation. The vehicle stops and the driver runs around the car to open the door for you, holding his hand out and almost bowing as you step out of the car.

"O-oh," you stutter out, not used to this sort of treatment. "Thank you."

You look up toward the large staircase leading to the mansion's front door and see a figure standing at the top. You can see smoke flowing from the figure briefly before dissipating. The wind blowing made you realize you forgot to bring a coat. You shiver as you walk up the stairs to meet the figure, which you can see clearer now. Mr. Danforth himself. He was smiling as he took another hit from his pen, blowing the smoke toward you with little remorse. Once the smoke clears, you take in his attire. He hadn't changed. Still wearing that ugly green print button-up and orange jacket. Still very tacky. He sticks his pen in his pocket and reaches his hand out to you, still smiling.

"Hey, sugar."

You roll your eyes playfully, smiling back as you reach your hand out toward his. He brings your hand up to his lips. Ever the charmer...

"Come on in." He gently pulls you closer to him and leads you inside his house, the door being opened by another one of his staff members.

Derek walks in first, taking you with him as he lets you look around. The inside was just as impressive as you imagined it'd be. It was more formal than you anticipated, but still expensive-looking nonetheless.

"Nice, right?" He smiles at you, looking you up and down.

"It is...really nice..." You trail off, still taking in your surroundings.

You're not sure if you've ever even been in a mansion before. He lets you admire for a few moments longer before breaking the silence.

"Well, I did promise you coffee, didn't I? Follow me."

He pulls you away, fixing your gaze back to him and leading you to an adjacent room. The kitchen, where a couple of his staff members are standing at attention, waiting for him to bark whatever orders he has at them. He shoos them away with a wave of his hand before turning back to you. Well, alright, I guess. You make a bit of a face, unintentionally, causing Derek to glance at you.

"Don't worry about them, baby."

He drops your hand and looks toward a large bar-looking wall in the kitchen, affixing your attention to it as well.

"This," he gestures to that section, "is my drink bar. Coffee, teas, cocktails, mocktails. You name it, I got it."

You stand there, gaze fixed on the counter in awe. He doesn't give you a chance to say anything before speaking again.

"I can make you anything you want. Flat white, matcha latte, piña colada..." He trails off before looking back at you. "A black coffee with two sugars." He adds teasingly.

You give him a knowing smile before moving closer. He lets you walk around it, observing its many details for a few minutes. A Jura double brew machine? A Simonelli espresso maker? Not to mention, a million different kinds of liquor and juices. How could someone even fathom owning this much stuff?

He looks you up and down without your knowledge, taking his time ogling at your curves. Both of you are in awe of different things. When you take a moment to lean on the counter, Derek makes a bold move of coming up behind you, pressing you against the edge with his hands on your hips. You gasp and try to look back at him, almost unsuccessfully because of the angle. He rubs his hands along your clothes waist.

Bringing his lips close to your ear, he purrs, "I think we all know why you're really here though, sugar."

You knew this was going to happen, he wasn't subtle about it even in the office. But it still took you by surprise, how quickly he got into it. You can feel him start to press kisses to the back of your neck, recapturing your attention. Derek begins lifting the slightly frayed edge of your shirt, feeling the warmth of your skin on his slightly cold hands. He leaves a few pecks behind your ear before speaking.

"This alright?" He asks, giving you a tender squeeze.

You nod your head, reveling in the feeling of his touch, which is visibly overwhelming your senses.

He makes a noise of disapproval. "Need to hear words, sugar, or we're not doing this."

"Y-yes. Please." You almost can't believe how eager you were already. You can only hope that having sex with your boss doesn't have that terrible of repercussions.

He hums in approval now. "There they are." He comments, almost to himself.

He lifts your top up higher, ghosting his fingers over your skin, his touch warmer now. You shiver for the second time that night. You allow him to pull your top over your head and toss it somewhere on the floor before you turn around. His hands slide further up your waist, getting closer to your chest as he looks up at you for permission.

"Wait." You pause as he looks at you with concern. "What if someone comes in?" You whisper and Derek chuckles.

"Trust me, no one will come in. I made sure of that."

You hesitantly let out a breathless, "Yeah, okay," before he brings his hand up, toying with both of your nipples. You release some soft noises as he lightly twists and runs his thumbs over your now stiff peaks. He brings his mouth down to one of them and moves his tongue, circling it. He gently bites down while pulling on the other and looks up at you.

You look back down at him as he starts kissing up your chest, making his way up to your neck where he leaves little love bites. He sucks on your skin in between soft bites, making his way up and down your chest, marking you as his. He makes his way back up, leaving kisses on your jaw before finally making his way to your lips, pausing briefly. You nod, his lips already practically pressed against yours, your breaths mingling.

He goes in for the kill, pressing his lips on yours fully. Your lips molded together feel like heaven, smacking against one another in the wettest, messiest way possible. His hands go from messing with your chest to groping your waist. To pushing on your hips. To fondling that fat of your thighs. Your hands weren't doing much different, one hand gripping and rubbing his shoulder. The other was tangled in his hair, pulling and tugging lightly, causing him to let out some groans into your mouth.

He pulls away enough to talk with his lips still pressed to yours. "You're driving me insane..." He breathes into you.

He bites your bottom lip to open your mouth up to his, shoving his tongue in unceremoniously. You're letting out soft noises of pleasure in his mouth, enjoying what little he's giving you, but you need more. You give his shoulder a squeeze, breaking away from one another after a few moments with a string of spit connecting you both. He maintains eye contact as he lowers his body, dropping to his knees in front of you, and running his hands along you as he goes. It feels almost surreal, to see the CEO of the company you work at submit to you, wanting to please you.

He begins to pull down your bottoms, still maintaining eye contact, taking your undergarments with them. You let him pull them down, stepping out of your shoes before kicking them away. He leaves a mix of sloppy kisses and harsher bites on your shins, calves, and thighs as he makes his way closer to your throbbing arousal. You wince every time he leaves a bite, but it feels undeniably so good.

The tension in the room was so thick, it could be cut with a knife. Derek looks up at you one last time before finally putting his mouth on you, causing you to let out a loud moan before you slap your hand over your mouth. He circles his tongue while he pinches your thigh, signaling that he wants you to uncover your mouth, which you do reluctantly. He alternates between sucking and licking before moving down to your entrance, wetting it in preparation.

He brings your leg up on his shoulder as he focuses on your hole, every once in a while sticking his tongue in, stretching you out just enough to keep you on the edge. Your core tightens as tears line your eyes and you bring a hand down to tangle in his bleached, curly hair again; the other gripping the counter for dear life. The air is filled with the wet sounds of Derek stroking your flesh with his tongue and your nearly pornographic-sounding moans. There's no way his staff can't hear you two right now. A rush of embarrassment runs through you before you realize that he probably does this enough to where they're used to it.

Before you can let that thought spiral, you feel Derek groan in you before slowly removing your leg from his shoulder and rising back up to your level. Wordlessly, he brings a hand up to your face, almost tenderly ghosting his thumb over your chin. Before you can lean in for another kiss, he holds his middle and ring finger up to your lips. Knowing immediately what he wants, you take his fingers in your mouth. Derek bites back a groan as you seductively swirl your tongue around his fingers, lubing them up for what you're sure he's going to do.

"Good slut..." He says offhandedly, almost moaning it before pulling them out of your mouth with a wet-sounding pop.

He makes his way back down your body, still keeping eye contact as he puts your leg back over his shoulder. He brings his fingers to your entrance and delicately circles it, teasing you. Just as he pouts his mouth back on you, he slowly inserts his fingers, stretching you open slightly. As his fingers and mouth bring you closer and closer to the brink of pleasure, you focus on chasing it as his fingers scissor you open.

"Fuck...oh, Derek. God..."

Your stomach tightens again and your legs threaten to give out as you let out the loudest noises you think you've ever made. Derek can feel your hole fluttering around his fingers, which makes him groan into your flesh again. Before you can even think of reaching your peak, Derek pulls out his fingers and makes his way back up to you, getting face-to-face.

"How ya doin', pretty thing?" Derek inquires playfully, going back to toying with your nipples.

You take a moment to catch your breath, only egging Derek on even more.

"What's that? Cat got your tongue?" Cheeky bastard...

"You're good at that." You finally whisper, not able to say much.

He laughs a bit.

"I can think of a few other things I'm good at." He pinches one of your nipples.

"'M gonna fuck you so good you won't wanna sit down for long at the office tomorrow. Then I'll fuck you some more. How about that?"

"Please." You breathe out desperately.

He leans in to kiss you once more, even messier this time, teeth practically clashing from the eagerness on both of your parts. Feeling bolder, you bring your hand gripping the counter down to Derek's waistband, gently running your fingers across it, asking for permission. He smiles into the kiss and pulls away, only slightly.

"Go ahead, sugar, I'm all yours."

This gives you the confidence to reach into his pants and grasp at his dick, still concealed by his boxers. As you grope him, you realize just how underdressed you are in comparison and look up at him. He looks back at you, biting his lip to conceal his noises as you bring your hands to remove his jacket, dropping it to the ground. Then you bring your hands down to unbutton his shirt, going at a faster pace. He tears off his button-up and you run your hands over his now-exposed chest after throwing it somewhere in the kitchen.

You slowly get down on your knees as you pull down his pants and he rests his hand on your head. You look up at him as you pull down his boxers, his length slapping up to his stomach causing him to hiss. You start to tentatively run your fingertip up the side of his member, tracing a prominent vein; you didn't want to tease him for too long, though. Both of you were too excited for that. You grip him softly and run your tongue along his tip, smearing his precum around before finally wrapping your lips around the first few inches. Derek is having trouble stifling his noises now, as he has been letting out whimpers with every little touch you provide him. You rest one of your hands on his tensed stomach now, almost comfortingly, and your other hand is wrapped around the base of his shaft as you take most of him in your mouth.

"Your mouth feels so fuckin' perfect..." He trails off, nearly mumbling.

Looking up at his minuscule expressions, you start bobbing your head at a slow pace, using your hand on what you can’t fit in your mouth. Derek grips the back of your head harder, now freely letting out moans of pleasure as he moves your head to go faster. You pull off briefly to let a glob of spit drip down onto him, spreading it along the length with your hand before putting him back in your mouth. You can start to feel the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat, making you gag lightly, even more drool dripping down the corners of your mouth. He looks down at you, bliss written all over his face, eyes drooping as he tries to look at the mess you’ve become underneath him. He begins thrusting into your mouth, gently at first, getting a feel for your mouth and your tolerance before he starts thrusting a bit harder, gripping your scalp.

“God, you look so fucking good choking on my cock.”

Before you can process it, he pulls you off of him, nearly yanking you up by your shoulders and stepping out of his black pants, kicking them off somewhere on the floor along with his shoes. He turns you around and bends you over the bar as he presses kisses to your lower back.

“You get off on this, baby? Sleeping with your boss?” He taunts. “You get off on fucking the CEO of the company you work at?” He mirrors his words from earlier that day as he runs his hands along your sides.

All you can let out is a meek moan as he laughs.

“Too fucked out already to talk?” He asks and moves his hand down to repeat the pinch of the skin on your thigh playfully.

You can feel him leave for a moment so you briefly turn around. You see him rifling through his pants pocket before finding what he wanted: a bottle of lube. This asshole… You raise an eyebrow at him as he smirks.

“Can never be too prepared, right, sugar?” He teases.

“So, you can have lube at the ready but not a condom?” You ask, jokingly, gaining your voice back.

He looks back at you, giving you a goofy smile. “Feels better without one, baby. You know that.”

You roll your eyes as he pours a more-than-generous amount on his middle fingers before moving them back to your entrance. He presses his free hand on your lower back to bend you further over the counter as he circles your hole. You whimper out of desperation and push yourself back, wanting more. He presses harder on your back to keep you still as he finally inserts his fingers, gently loosening you up and providing the stimulation you need. You can feel the excess lube dripping down your legs, making a mess on the kitchen floor. After a few blissful moments, he slowly pulls his fingers out, watching the way you clench around nothing as his fingers fully leave your body.

“Fuck, look at you, baby.” He slurs as he presses your face into the surface with his clean, dry hand.

Finally, he lines himself up with your lubed-up entrance. He doesn’t take the time to tease you before he slowly begins to ease himself in, inch by inch. The stretch almost burns as he slowly bottoms out. After a few moments, his hips are connected with yours and he stills for a minute, causing the burning feeling to only grow slightly.

Derek groans. “Jesus, fuck, you feel so fucking good,” he mumbled, starting to ramble.

“So fucking good,” he repeats, starting to move inside of you, only a little bit at first; quite gentle as he was getting a feel for you. One of his hands was holding your hip, pushing it against the edge of the countertop, causing it to dig into your hip bone almost painfully. The other was still pressing your face on top of the surface roughly. The roughness didn’t stop there, as Derek began to thrust harder and with longer strokes, moving even faster after a few minutes.

The only sounds that could be heard in the kitchen were your meek whimpers, Derek’s groans, and the lewd slaps of wet skin on skin. You began to move your own body with his as much as you could under his grip, and he let you. Both of you move in unison, sounds of absolute sin filling the air making the scene an unruly picture for anyone who might walk in. Your eyes start to roll to the back of your head as you muttered nonsensical strings of curses along with some sobs and wails.

Derek runs the hand that was previously on your hip along your back, smearing it with lube as you are now fully moving with him. “You’re driving me insane. You look so fucking good like this. Bent over my bar, stuffed full of my cock, in my fucking mansion.”

“You’re mine.” He growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

The mix of lube, spit, and precum you could feel building up inside of you, slicking each little movement, was an intoxicating feeling for the both of you. Derek was letting out little whimpers now as your moans got louder.

“Been thinkin’ about this all day.” He mutters out, his pace growing even faster. “God, you’re such a whore. Fucking your boss like this. Bet you do this everywhere you’ve worked.” 

His thrusts start to falter, the harshness rising in intensity as you ground your ass against him harder. Derek pulled you away from the counter roughly and reached around you, stroking your heat. You started grasping at nothing, your fingers curling on the cold marble surface as your back arched. Without warning, Derek hit a spot inside you that had you yelling, your screams and chants of his name being heard as you finally came. Both of you could feel your hole clenching hard around Derek’s length as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“You’re gonna make me cum, baby.” Derek slurred as his body stuttered.

Your release covered Derek’s hand as his hips stilled, pumping hot ropes of cum inside of you. He only moved a little bit as he hits his peak, just to feel his own cum being pushed deeper into you. You both stay still after a few moments, catching your breath and coming down from your simultaneous orgasms. Derek stayed inside of you for longer than you expected, causing you to finally look back at him, eyebrows raised. He smirks back at you, rubbing his hands soothingly along your waist again.

“What? I like being inside you.” He slaps your ass playfully as he pulls out, both of you moaning at the loss as his release and lube run down your legs and drip onto the tiles below.

You turn around to face him for the first time in a while and look at one another. Derek brings his hand up to your chin for the second time that night, tenderly running his thumb along your lips as you maintain eye contact. He glanced at your lips before pressing them together, the softest he’d done all night, contrasting almost every move he’d made since you arrived at his place. Despite being taken by surprise at his softness, you kiss back eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck as his other hand grips your hip. He pulls away and looks at you, an indescribable look in his eyes before smiling. He pulls away and walks over to the Jura machine, just beside you, and starts the coffee maker with the press of a button. He grabs two coffee mugs from the cupboard above you and places them down before glancing at you.

“Look like you need something to wake you up.” He turns to smirk at you for the millionth time that night, and definitely not the last time.

“Two sugars?” He inquires, holding up two fingers.

You smile back, turning your body towards him to the best of your ability, your legs shaking. “Two sugars.”

I have a little one-shot for this AU (?) planned, so keep an eye out because I'm pretty excited about it!

Masterlist Link

Divider: saradika and saradika-graphics on tumblr

You wake up in Derek's bed, the memories of the passionate night you shared still vividly replaying in your mind. The warmth of his presence lingers on the sheets, but he is nowhere to be found. Wrapping yourself in one of Derek's colorful shirts to cover your naked body, you begin searching for him, a sense of unease gnawing at you.

The mansion is eerily silent, the only sound is your bare feet padding softly on the floor. You navigate through the corridors, passing by different rooms until you find Derek in his office, the sharp tone of his voice cutting through the silence.

He's on the phone, yelling about an assassin who seems to be relentlessly hunting him down. The look on his face is one of extreme anger and paranoia, his eyes darting around as if expecting danger to strike at any moment. His usual composed demeanor is replaced by a stressed and agitated man on the edge.

"Get me someone competent this time!" Derek shouts into the phone, his voice breaking with frustration. "I don't care how much it costs, just get it done!"

You approach him slowly, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Derek, it's going to be okay" you whisper, trying to console him in the best way you can. He turns to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of fear and desperation. You've never seen him like this, so vulnerable, so exposed.

"Do you even understand what's happening?" he snaps, his anger momentarily redirected at you.

In his drugged-up and paranoid state, Derek begins to confess. He spills the truth about his elaborate scheme: stealing money to finance his mother's campaign, manipulating her rise to power, and using her connections to secure more business deals for himself. He vents about his problematic relationship with his mother, the constant pressure to succeed, and this beekeeper who seems unstoppable in his quest to see Derek dead.

You listen intently, your heart aching for the man you've come to love despite his many flaws. His wrath never seems to subside, and at one point, Derek's face twists into a mask of anguish, and his hand trembles as he reaches into the desk drawer.

Before you can react, he pulls out a revolver, the cold metal glinting in the dim light. Your heart skips a beat, and your breath catches in your throat.

"Derek, what are you doing?" you ask, your voice shaking.

He points the gun at you, his eyes wild, with a mix of anger and fear. "Would you betray me? Would you save yourself and leave me to this fucking beekeeper?"

The question hangs in the air, heavy and suffocating. You see the desperation in his eyes, the stress that has pushed him to this point. Your initial shock quickly transforms into a profound sadness as you realize just how deeply this situation is affecting him.

Tears begin to well up in your eyes as you hesitantly take a step forward. Derek's hand shakes, but he doesn't lower the gun. You can see the internal struggle playing out on his face, the fear of betrayal mingling with the fear of being alone.

With a trembling breath, you step closer until the barrel of the gun is pressed against your forehead. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine, but you hold your ground. "Derek, I would rather die with you than betray you" you say, your voice breaking with emotion. Tears stream down your face as you look into his eyes, hoping to reach the man you love behind the fear and paranoia.

For a moment, time stands still. The room is filled with a tense silence, the only sound the ragged breaths coming from both of you. Then, something shifts in Derek's expression. His eyes soften, the anger and fear melting away to reveal a deep sorrow.

Slowly, he lowers the gun, his hand shaking violently. "I'm sorry" he whispers, tears glistening in his eyes.

You take the gun from his hand and place it on the desk, then wrap your arms around him in a tight embrace.

You feel his body tremble against yours, the weight of his actions and the stress of his situation bearing down on him. You stroke his back soothingly, whispering words of comfort and love.

"Derek, we need to think clearly," you say softly "You can't stay here. You need to leave. Go somewhere safe and leave no trace behind”

He looks at you, the fear still evident in his eyes. He contemplates the idea, his mind racing with possibilities. Ultimately, he agrees, giving you instructions to arrange a private flight while he secures a new identity for him.

You leave his office to start preparing everything. Using Derek's network of contacts, you manage to secure a private jet. You work swiftly ensuring that no trace of your plans can be detected.

Meanwhile, Derek makes a call to a trusted associate, arranging for fake documents and a new identity. His usual confidence and arrogance are tempered by the gravity of the situation, and you can see the strain taking its toll on him.

When Derek is ready to go, he asks you to come with him. At first, you think it's because you're the only one who knows where he's headed. You were partially true for that but he added more to justify his sudden request. "Come on, don’t leave me alone in this. Let’s start a new life together. Like it or not you’re in as much trouble as me.”

You've always been there for him. Know him well enough to intervene when needed, when to calm him down and, on top of that, you were hot.

It would be such a shame for him to lose such an incredible person like you for god knows how fucking long.

Your mind races with thoughts of the future. Could you really leave everything behind and start a new life after everything you’ve been through? With Derek out of all people? The idea fills you with both hope and fear.

Mickey was already dead. You stand no chance against this crazy man. Let’s not risk your life and make the fun choice at this point.

You agree to go with him. He asks his contact to prepare a new identity for you as well, and soon you are ready to leave your old lives behind.

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The departure was imminent. You and Derek were poised for escape, but there was one last crucial task that you wanted to do: erasing all digital traces of presence. The thought of being seen on surveillance tapes, the possibility of anyone tracking your movements, made your heart race. You need to delete the recordings from the hours you and Derek were seen, or everything will be useless.

“I’ll be right back” you whispered to his ear before sprinting inside the still desolated building.

You approached the door with a practiced calm, though your pulse was anything but steady. The tools in your hand felt heavier than usual. The quiet of the early morning amplifies every sound you make.

You picked the lock with surprising ease, the years of working alongside Derek giving you more skills than you had ever realized. The door clicked open, and you slipped inside, the dimly lit room casting shadows on the walls.

The computer area was a maze of desks and screens, the soft hum of machinery was the only sound breaking the silence. You moved quickly to the main terminal, your fingers flying over the keyboard as you navigated the system. Each second felt like an eternity, your anxiety mounting as you watched the progress bar inch closer to completion.

A noise behind you made you freeze, your breath catching in your throat. You glanced around, but the room was empty. You shook your head, scolding yourself for being paranoid. Still, the feeling that someone was watching you wouldn't go away.

With a final keystroke, the last of the recordings were erased. Relief washed over you, but it was short lived. You couldn't shake the feeling of being followed, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end.

Quick, act fast.

You quickly accessed the airline database, your decent skills with computers coming in handy. You found a cheap flight and replaced the seats of a couple with yours and Derek's names. It was a diversion, a way to throw off anyone who might be tracking you. Hopefully, it would buy you enough time to get away clean.

As you moved to leave, the sound of the door opening loudly made your blood run cold. You dove under a nearby desk, your heart pounding so hard you were sure it could be heard. The room was dark, but the light from the hallway cast long shadows. Footsteps echoed through the space, słow and deliberate. You pressed yourself further into the shadows, barely daring to breathe.

The footsteps grew closer, pausing near the desk where you were hiding. You bit your lip to stifle any sound, your mind racing. Was it this relentless Beekeeper, or just someone else in the wrong place at the wrong time? The uncertainty was maddening.

Minutes felt like hours as you remained hidden, every creak and rustle amplified in the dark. The footsteps eventually moved away but you waited, counting each breath, until you were sure the person had left. Your muscles ached from the tension, but you couldn't afford to relax yet.

You carefully crawled out from under the desk, your movements slow and deliberate. The room was still, but you couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. You edged towards the door, every nerve on high alert. The hallway outside was empty, but you knew better than to trust appearances.

Slipping into the corridor, you blended into the growing crowd of people. The airport was starting to come alive with the first travelers of the day, and you moved among them, doing your best to appear inconspicuous. Your heart was still racing, the fear of being caught making every step feel precarious.

You didn't dare to look back, the anxiety gnawing at you. The feeling of being followed persisted, but you pushed it down, focusing on the task at hand. The airport was now open, the bustle of activity providing some semblance of cover. You made your way to the rendezvous point, hoping Derek was already there.

The crowd was your shield, the noise and movement giving you a sense of security. You kept your head down, avoiding eye contact, adjusting from time to time your sunglasses to keep your hand occupied. Every instinct screaming at you to keep moving.

The relief you felt upon spotting Derek was overwhelming, his familiar figure hidden carefully among the throng of strangers.

It was strange seeing him dressed all black for once, but you for sure were not complaining. That leather jacket looked good on him.

"Let's go, you whispered, slipping your hand into his. He squeezed it reassuringly, his presence calming your fraved nerves.

As you moved through the airport, the fear began to fade, replaced by a grim determination. Whether the person in the computer room had been the assassin or just a figment of your paranoia, you couldn't be sure. But one thing was certain: you and Derek were in this together, and nothing would stop you from finding a way out.

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The private jet you and Derek are in is a masterpiece of luxury and design. The interior boasts plush leather seats, dark mahogany accents, and soft ambient lighting that creates a warm, intimate atmosphere. The hum of the engines is a distant whisper, making the cabin a serene escape from the chaos left behind.

You sit together in a spacious lounge area, leaning against Derek, feeling the warmth of his body through his shirt. He sips scotch from the mini-bar, the amber liquid catching the light as he swirls it in his glass. You nestle closer to him, drawing comfort from his presence despite the tension that still lingers in the air.

The seats are wide and comfortable, upholstered in buttery leather. The bar is stocked with top-shelf liquor, and the faint scent of citrus and cedar fills the air, creating an ambiance of calm sophistication,

You trace a finger along the scam of the leather armrest, letting the silence settle before you turn to him, a teasing glint in your eye.

Derek takes another sip of his scotch, his fingers tightening slightly around the glass as if the act of holding it grounds him, you can see the tension in his eyes.

You scrunch your nose playfully, trying to lift his spirits.

"Honestly, I think our new last name is a bit ugly. And the picture they used for my new ID is awful."

He showed you the information a couple of hours ago but only now had you paid attention to them.

He chuckles, the sound a bit rough, but there's genuine amusement there. "You look good in any picture. But if it makes you feel better, we can take new ones when we're settled.”

You smile, feeling a flutter of warmth at his compliment, but there's a question you need to ask. "Why did you want me to come with you? I mean, really?"

Derek's expression hardens for a moment, his defenses rising. He takes a deep breath, looking away as if considering how much to reveal. “That fucking Beekeeper would have probably tortured you to know where I went" he says, his tone a mix of seriousness and flirtation, "And let's be real, we both know how little it takes to make you beg”

You lightly hit him on the chest, unable to suppress your laughter. "You're such an idiot" you say, shaking your head, but your heart feels lighter.

The momentary levity fades as you notice the stress lines still etched on his face. His eyes, though filled with a of emotions, show a vulnerability you've rarely seen. Determined to soothe him, you climb onto his lap. His eyes immediately move to your face, filled with a mixture of surprise and appreciation.

You stroke his check tenderly your thumb brushing against the stubble. "It's going to be okay. We're in this together, and we'll figure it out one step at the time”

“We have a chance to start over, to build something real." He looks at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty "Do you really believe that we can leave it all behind?"

"I do," you say firmly. "We can make a new life together, free from the past and ready to do whatever we want”

He closes his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch. "You always know what to say" he murmurs.

The leather seats creak softly under your combined weight, a subtle reminder of the luxury that envelops you. But in this moment, all that matters is the closeness, the raw need to erase the anxiety and fear that have plagued Derek.

Your fingers trace the line of his jaw, feeling the slight roughness of his stubble, a tactile reassurance of his presence, his reality. Derek's eyes, usually sharp and calculating, now reflect a tempest of emotions-vulnerability, longing, and a deep, unyielding need for connection.

As your lips meet again, the kiss deepens, becoming a fervent dance of tongues and breaths, each movement a testament to the desperation to find solace in each other. Your bodies press closer, the heat between you rising, a conflagration of pent-up emotions seeking release.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless. He looks a you dead in the eyes and makes his demand crystal clear. “Distract me.”

You felt something poking your butt and a smirk slowly grow on your face.

A leopard never changes its spots, after all.

Your clothes become a barrier, an unnecessary hindrance to the communion you both seek. Piece by piece, they are discarded, falling away like the masks you wear in the outside world. Each touch, each caress, is imbued with a profound intensity, a silent promise of devotion and understanding. Derek's hands roam over your body, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, his touch both a comfort and a spark to the flames of your desire.

Derek's hand trails languidly up and down your back, each pass a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. His touch is both tender and possessive, a silent affirmation of his need for you. His fingers splay against your back, pulling you closer, eliminating any space between you. You can feel every inch of him, the solid strength of his thighs beneath yours, the muscle of his arms as they wrap around you, holding you as if you are his lifeline.

As you straddle him, your bodies move in a synchronized dance, a rhythm as ancient as time itself. The jet's confined space amplifies every sound, every whispered moan, turning them into a symphony of shared pleasure and solace. Your movements become more urgent, a physical manifestation of your emotional need to become one, to find sanctuary in each other's embrace.

His skin is hot to the touch, a testament to the fire burning between you. He watches you with eyes darkened by desire, his breaths coming in shallow pants.

Your hands find the waistband of his pants, unbuttoning and unzipping them with practiced ease. You can feel the growing hardness beneath the fabric, a clear indication of his arousal. He lifts his hips slightly, allowing you to slide his pants and underwear down, freeing him completely. The sight of him, fully exposed, sends a thrill through you, a potent mix of anticipation and longing.

You shift, positioning yourself over him, feeling the heat of his arousal against your inner thigh. His hands find your hips, guiding you as you lower yourself onto him. The initial contact is electric, a spark that ignites into a full-blown inferno as you sink down, taking him fully inside you. A gasp escapes your lips, the sensation overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and fullness.

For a moment, you remain still, savoring the connection, the feeling of being completely joined with him. Derek's hands grip your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he struggles to maintain control. You can see the strain in his eyes, the way his jaw clenches with the effort.

Then you begin to move, slowly at first, finding a rhythm that sends waves of pleasure coursing through both of you. The friction is exquisite, every movement a deliberate act of love and desire. You ride him with increasing fervor, your bodies moving in perfect synchrony, a dance as old as time itself.

Derek's hands roam your body, his thumb brushing over your nipple, sending jolts of pleasure through you. The other hand moves to the small of your back, guiding your movements, urging you on. You lean forward, bracing your hands on his shoulders, your breaths mingling as you move together.

The sensations build, a crescendo of pleasure that threatens to overwhelm you. You can feel the tension coiling in your abdomen, a tight knot of anticipation and need. Derek's breathing grows ragged, his hands gripping you tighter, his hips thrusting upward to meet your movements.

With a final, powerful thrust, the tension breaks, and you are both swept away in a wave of ecstasy. Your body trembles, convulsing with the force of your climax, and you cry out, the sound a raw, primal expression of your release. Derek follows moments later, his grip on you tightening as he finds his own release, his body shuddering beneath yours while he fills you up.

As the waves of ecstasy wash over you both, there is a profound sense of release, a catharsis that leaves you trembling in each other's arms.

Your fingers trail down his face, your touch lingering as you lean in. The kiss starts gently, but quickly grows more passionate, fueled by the emotions that have been running high. His hands grip your waist, pulling you closer. The world outside the jet feels like a distant memory as you focus entirely on the man holding you.

When he finally pulls back, his eyes are soft yet intense, filled with a depth of emotion that leaves you breathless.

You find a moment of perfect unity. Derek's eyes lock onto yours, and in that gaze, you see everything: his fears, his love, his desperation to hold onto this moment, to you.

You feel a flutter in your chest at the intensity of his stare. Something that wasn’t for once pure lust and desire.

He found the person he wanted to be with for the rest of his fucked up life.

“Get up” he ordered.

Confused and reluctant, you get up, watching as he starts looking for something in the small space. At first, you think he's succumbing to his paranoia again, searching for hidden listening devices. But then he turns back to you, a small box in his hand.

"I didn't tell you this before" he says, his voice taking on a cocky edge that you’ve known well enough “but with our new identities, we're already married." He opens the box, revealing a beautiful ring. "Thought you might want to wear this."

Your breath catches as you look at the ring, the light catching on the intricate design. He slides it onto your finger, his touch gentle but sure. "Consider it official" he says with a smirk, his eyes never leaving yours.

Of course he did it.

A married couple might appear more credible to outsiders. People tend to trust couples, assuming they have a stable relationship. This credibility can help you two navigate situations where you’ll need to prove your identities.

Being married can offer legal advantages, as potentially having access to each other’s health insurance.

Pretending to be a married couple would allow you two to share responsibilities convincingly. You could claim joint ownership of property, share household chores, and explain your presence in a new location.

It was all strategic but your heart was still overwhelmed by joy at the fact that you now had this connection with him, now that everyone will consider you two married, together till death separates you.

Your rationality was forgotten on the road as your feelings took over entirely.

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes as you look at him sitting down on his seat. "Derek, I-"

You can't help but laugh, a mixture of relief and joy bubbling up inside you while you roll the ring with your thumb. "You'll never change, will you?" you say, shaking your head.

He pulls you back into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "And you love it" he murmurs against your ear, his breath warm on your skin.

"We're in this together," he says again, more firmly this time. "And nothing is going to change that."

You nod, a smile breaking through the tears. "Together."

Derek pulls you into a passionate kiss, scaling the promise of a new beginning.

༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒༒

The next few hours pass in a blur as you and Derek finalize your plans.

When you landed, it was under the cover of night. The air was crisp, the world around you silent and still. Derek's contact met you, handing over the new documents that would solidify your new identities. You land in a remote location, far from the prying eyes of the media and Derek's enemies.

A safe house has been arranged, a secluded villa nestled in a quiet coastal town. It's a stark contrast to the lavish lifestyle you’ve grown accustomed to, but the simplicity brings a sense of peace you didn't know you needed.

Days turn into weeks as you and Derek adjust to your new lives. The fear of being discovered lingers, but the tranquility of your surroundings provides a welcome respite. Derek's paranoia slowly fades away, replaced by a cautious optimism.

Derek was different here, the weight of his past gradually lifting as he embraced the anonymity and simplicity of your new life.

Your relationship with your ‘husband’ deepens in this new environment. The bond you share is strengthened by the trials you've endured together. The more time you spend with him, the more you understand the complexities of his character. Beneath the layers of deceit and manipulation lies a man who has been shaped by circumstances beyond his control, driven by a desire to prove himself and gain his mother's approval.

As the weeks turn into months, you and Derek continue to settle into your new lives. The fear of discovery never completely disappears, but it fades into the background as you focus on building your future together.

Derek takes on a new project, using his business acumen to help improve local entrepreneurs, while you find fulfillment in volunteering at a community center.

Now, you stand on the balcony of your secluded villa, the cool breeze carrying the scent of salt and the distant melody of the ocean. Derek stands beside you, a glass of scotch in his hand, the moonlight casting a silver glow on his features.

"You know '' Derek begins, his voice carrying a note of disdain, "these people have no idea how to run a business. They stumble around, thinking they can manage with their outdated methods and lack of foresight. It's almost laughable”

You can't help but chuckle, the sound mingling with the rhythmic crash of shaking your head. His arrogance and confidence never disappeared, and it’s always quite endearing.

"Oh, Derek," you say this time, “you'd learn to appreciate the charm of simplicity with time, don’t worry."

He smirks, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Charm? There's nothing charming about inefficiency: Did you see how that baker runs his shop? No marketing strategy, no expansion plans. It's a miracle he's still in business." He makes use of his beloved vape, blowing the smoke in your direction.

"True" you reply leaning against the balcony railing and waving your hand around to get rid of the smoke, "but some people are content with with what they have”

Derek takes a sip of his scotch, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the sea meets the sky "Contentment is just another word for complacency. They don't realize how much more they could achieve with a little ambition.” You smile, reaching out to touch his arm. "Not everyone has your drive, Derek. And maybe that's okay”

He turns to you, his expression softening as he places his hand over yours, playing softly with your ring.

Derek sighs deeply, his gaze turning back to the ocean, "Do you remember the first time we came here?" his voice softer now. "How I complained about the lack of five-star service and high-speed internet?" He asks

You laugh, the memory vivid in your mind. "Yes, and I remember how you almost turned the car around when you saw the dirty road leading to the villa. And the face that you made oh my god-”

You couldn’t continue due to your incessant laughs, covering your face with both of your hands to suppress the sounds.

He chuckles as well, a rare sound that warms your heart. "It's amazing how much has changed. I never thought I'd be able to live without the constant hustle and bustle of the city.”

You nod, resting your head on his shoulder. "I think we both needed this. A chance to start over, to find out who we are without all the noise."

"I talk about us all the time, you know, to anyone who will listen. The locals must think I'm crazy, always going on about how much I love you.” You laugh again, a bright, joyful sound. "And they probably think I'm just as crazy for putting up with you."

“By the way, you gotta stop doing that” you pointed a finger at his direction with a fake threatening tone “everyone keep saying how lucky I am to have a husband like you”

“Why? We need to let everyone know how happy we are together” he countered with a playful tone. He leaned forward and trapped you in a tight grip in his arms, prepping your face with multiple and chaste kisses as your laughs never stopped.

The light and wholesome moment soon came to an end, the peace and sound of the waves return.

Derek is silent for a moment, then he turns to look at you, his expression serious. "Do you ever regret it? Leaving everything behind, starting fresh?"

You shake your head slowly, "No, Derek. Not for a second. Being here with you, away from all the corruption and lies... it's the best decision I ever made. Even if it's hard sometimes.”

“Thank you” he whispered so softly you almost didn’t hear it under the sound of the waves.

"Always," you reply softly. "I'll always love you, Derek."

You lean in and kiss him, a promise of the future you will build together. As you pull away you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his chest. For the first time in a long time, you feel a sense of peace.

Your life, though imperfect, stood as a testament to the power of second chances. Both you and your lifelong partner will seize every moment granted by the latter half of your journey.​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

"what the fuck are you doing, huh? do you think I can't see?" his voice right next to your ear, his hot breath and the faint smell of alcohol, it was all so exciting. derek was on edge. he dragged you into a closed room, where no one can see or hear you. his strong arms pinned you against the wall by the waist as he began to salute the bites on your neck and shoulders, it's not for nothing that you put on this shirt today and unbuttoned the buttons, reflecting your collarbones and chest.

"you're acting like a whore..", derek's voice was loud and possessive, rough hands squeezing your ass, caressing them through the expensive fabric of your trousers. He was extremely displeased with you.

"honey, I was just chatting with the guests..", your excuses sounded pathetic. of course, you didn't just talk to them. you were flirting intentionally to make him feel that way.

Instead of responding, he kissed you roughly, biting your lower lip and thrusting his hot tongue into yours, leaving a taste of prosecco in your mouth.

"don't lie, I know you did it on purpose, you wanted to piss me off, right?" he abruptly turned you around to the wall, holding your hands behind your back with one hand and taking off his belt with the other. of course you didn't resist, but you wriggled and wagged your ass terribly, pushing him to the limit.

"stop it, fuck!", he let go of the belt, which is now hanging all the way to the floor, and sharply hit you on the buttock through your trousers. a sharp pain rolled over your skin and you yelped, now writhing even more.

"shut up, whore!", derek grabbed your wrists and led you to the bed, knocked you down on your stomach and tied your hands behind your back with his expensive belt. "stop acting like a prankster, have you forgotten who I am?", those words fell out of his tender mouth like a river, and you didn't resist at all. he deftly pulled off your expensive trousers, which he gave you, and saw how wet and hot you were already through the fabric of your panties.

"oh, fuck..", derek leaned over, running his nose over the fabric of your panties, inhaling your musky scent and rolling his eyes. It was the best scent for his drunken brain. "it smells like heaven, did you know that? you're lucky, bitch..", because of the lack of a belt, his trousers slid down slightly, and he immediately unbuttoned them, pushing them down along with his boxers. derek's cock was already oozing out, hot, hard, and ready for penetration.

"do you want to say something in your defense?", he wrapped one hand around his cock, rolling his eyes in pleasure, and with the other he slapped your other buttock, leaving a red mark.

"ah!" you squealed again, arching your ass and nuzzling the bedspread. "I'm a whore.. I was acting like an easily accessible whore.. punish me.."

it blew up something in derek. he pulled your panties down your legs, spat on his cock and entered. sharp, fast, deep. you were already ready for him, hot and open. "derek, ah-hhh!" he began to pound inside, holding you by the wrists, muttering something about you flirting with married men and beautiful models. you need to be fucked, unmarked, and fucked so that you won't be able to walk.

4 punches to the buttocks, your screams, derek hammered into the balls, making the room fill with terrible wet vulgar sounds. he was growling, moaning, screaming.

"whore! do you understand now what kind of punishment awaits you?", he reached for your wrists again, making you arch and nod. "yes.. yes..!"

derek reached his limit after a while, actively puffing and leaving red marks on your neck from the back. "fuck.. fuck, bitch, I'll color you with my seed.. fuck-k!..", he cracked up on the last word, abruptly pulling out of you and putting his cock on your ass, cumming on your delicate skin.

"derek, p-please!.." streams of white liquid stained your buttocks and back, staining your expensive shirt.

"now you'll know how to make me angry...", he growled one last time and looked at you: a wreck. red marks on her neck, hand marks on her ass, spurts of cum and hot mess between her legs.

"good slut..", he bent down and left his kiss somewhere behind your ear, watching you with a smile. derek unbuckled his belt, freeing your hands, wiped his cum with a napkin, between his legs and yours. he got dressed, leaving you in a crumpled state. "stay here.. the party will be over soon. get some rest. I'll be back..", he immediately reached into his pocket for his electronic cigarette, inhaling nicotine and exhaling into your face, receiving a smile in return.

“You sleepy baby?”

One of two voices comes from the kitchen of the cozy home the three of you own. Derek knows you too well. Nodding, he puts down his phone. He wanders away from the kitchen island he was leaning on to address you. He picks up your chin with his calloused thumb and forefinger, checking your complexion.

“Let’s get you to bed huh? Mike’s in our room already, working on something for Abby.” he whispers lowly, making sure to take is easy as you’re exhausted. “Pretty sure he’s weary too, damn project’s taking him ages.”

He was right. Upon entering the bedroom, Mike’s hunched over what seems to be some kind of messy school project. Poor guy, he looks so worn-out.

Mike immediately puts down the brush he was using to come and greet the two of you; his lovers.

“Hey…” he notices your exhaustion and looks at his boyfriend.

“Tired, had a long day. I want to take both of you to bed.” Derek replies softly, answering the question that was never made verbal.

Mike nods, rubbing his eye. “Mm.. I’d like that.”

The three of you brush your teeth together, dressing into whatever you wish to wear to bed that night before crawling into the red silk sheets that Danforth had selected a while back. The two join you very shortly.

Mike slips in next to you, immediately moving to bring you into his chest. His arms rub your back, providing you with a sense of comfort and further drowsiness.

Then you feel Derek’s hard chest against your back, his sly hands slipping across your waist, also brushes Mike’s very mildly. He knows what he’s doing.

Being sandwiched between them brings you immense comfort, like nothing will ever harm you again. Mike guides your lips to his, pressing a gentle but firm goodnight kiss to them. As always, you crane your neck over to give Derek one too.

Goodnight kisses from them felt so different but in the best way. Mike’s were soft and gentle whilst Derek’s were harsher but still full of a romantic passion. The comparison is delightful. Automatically, your body being used to a routine, you look above your head to watch the two of them share a kiss.

They were both nervous to at the beginning of the relationship, but that embarrassment had melted and will not be returning anytime soon.

The three of you dissolve into a boneless puddle, bundled up in the warmth of each other’s bodies.

“Love you…” you manage to whisper before sleep claims you entirely.

“Love you more.”

The words meet in sync as they always do, a part of your routine that sends all of you into the deepest and sweetest of dreams.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wrote this when I was half asleep so I know it sucks don’t come at me LOLLLLL

It’s not proofread ok I’m going to sleep now luv you 💜💚

“Uhh… ‘CBD-infused intimate oil,’” Derek reads off the box in a curious mutter, turning it around to examine the product and its written features. Then he looked at you with a knowing grin. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you nodded in agreement, chuckling under your breath as you watched the imminent purchase remain inside of your boyfriend’s grasp.

You and Derek, since being in a relationship of nearly three years, had always found several ways to spice things up in your sex life. The two of you experimented with almost everything in the book, be it edging, near exhibitionism, toys, food play, etc. And of course, while romantic relationships overall meant way more than just the sex, your sex life with him was just too incredible to ignore. Jesus, you could go on and on for days about how amazing the sex was.

Therefore, it wasn’t unusual at all to find the two of you inside of an adult store. Sure, you mostly bought your things online, but since you two were already out and the shop was nearby, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to go in. Plus, the other times you went to the in-person stores were quite beneficial; you were able to see certain sizings of different products and got the necessary and helpful advice from the clerks there.

You and Derek had continued to browse through the raunchy products as you walked down each aisle together. And while the two of you were almost in your thirties, absolutely nothing could deter you two from giggling at some of the ridiculous things sold there. This time, however, you suddenly stopped in your tracks and opened your mouth in complete awe once your eyes had laid upon it.

“Holy fucking shit!” You blurted as you instantly grabbed the tube-shaped box from the shelf in front of you:

‘(GLOW IN THE DARK) CLONE-A-WILLY: THE IN-HOME PENIS MOLDING KIT

MAKE A VIBRATING SILICONE REPLICA OF ANY PENIS (EASY TO MAKE)’

“Is this actually—?” Derek nearly snatches it from you with a fascinated scoff, reading over the description on the packaging. “What the fuck? Do—do people actually do this?”

“Of course they do, I see them, like, everywhere!” You cackled, trying to steal back the box from his grasp. It wasn’t the first time you’ve ever seen it, but it does surprise you every damn time that you do.

“Okay, okay, so… So if I’m getting this right, you could basically make an entire fuckin’ dildo at home… by molding somebody else’s or your own dick?” He raises an eyebrow incredulously.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you wheeze, nodding at him until your smile grew wider in sudden realization. “Shit, baby, you’d take ‘go fuck yourself’s to a whole new level!”

“What the hell, Y/n?” He chuckled, trying not to burst out into any more insufferable laughter, “okay, first of all, who would—Why the fuck would I want to use a replica of my own fucking dick on myself? Like, if anything, it’s you who should be taking it.”

“Hey, you can’t just say that!” You hissed playfully, still smiling from the entire situation you found yourselves in. Suddenly, however, your eyes widened insightfully from an absurd epiphany you just had.

“Wait,” you began. “I mean… You do have a point, considering that your trip is coming up already… Holy shit, imagine that! While you’re going to be gone for a whole fuckin’ week, I could always use this weird clone shit on myself whenever I’m horny! Hell, it’s perfect since you’ve been going to so many business trips lately!” You joked exuberantly before letting out a delighted sigh. “Jesus, baby, this is so ridiculous…”

Chuckling to yourself, you placed the box back on the shelf, prompting a perplexed gaze from Derek—or rather, as he stared at it, a gaze of deep contemplation. You recognized this damn shit-faced look of his. After all, you’ve known him for years.

“Derek—” you began skeptically.

“Hold on, I’m thinking,” he interjects with a thoughtful finger to his chin before a sudden and mischievous smirk appears at his lips. “You know, that actually isn’t a bad idea.”

Completely dumbfounded and taken aback, you raised a suspecting eyebrow. “Wait. You’re not actually considering… I mean, I was just joking around earlier, I wasn’t actually being serious—”

“I know, but think about it, babe! I mean, hell, you even said it yourself! Every time you feel… needy while I’m out, especially on my long business trips, you could always, well… you know,” he grinned darkly, glancing toward the ridiculous sex toy, “and if you want, I could even call you while you—”

“Shush!” You hissed with a slight laugh. “Holy fuck, you’re actually turned on by this freaky shit, aren’t you?!” It was actually quite hypocritical of you to call him out like that, as you tried to push your own feelings of arousal to the side. “I mean, I’d be down, but… Are you actually being for real right now?”

He scoffs at your remarks, crossing his arms. “Yeah, I mean… I’d be lying if I said that the thought of you being that desperate for my cock wouldn’t turn me on.”

“Really? You’re kidding.” You gasp in utter disbelief. Frankly, you never would’ve expected Derek to be into this kind of stuff, even knowing firsthand that he could be pretty extreme. It was most likely the fact that it was a ‘penis molding kit’ that caught you off guard when your boyfriend genuinely considered it. “You’re actually—Because like, while I was joking, you know, I actually still wanted to get it, but I didn’t know if you were down, or—”

“Babe, this might be the weirdest yet sexiest fuckin’ thing I’ve ever thought of us doing. Of course I’m down.”

***

After bringing home the very ‘unique’ product the two of you purchased from the adult store, you and Derek had set up in the spacious kitchen of his (which was technically yours too, since you practically lived with him now). With all of your necessary supplies laid out on the counter as well as the kit’s included materials, you made it to the fifth step together. The counter’s surface was crowded with measuring cups, bowls, and the other required items as Derek’s lower half had been completely naked to prepare for the molding process. He was actually already jerking off vacantly, a cock ring against the base of his dick to keep him as hard as he could be for the mold.

“Oh my god, I can’t stop thinking about that,” you chuckle as you began to stir the mix of water with the kit’s included molding powder. “That was so fucking hilarious!”

“You’d think that—” Derek scoffs in amusement, practically interrupting himself. “When the cashier said I looked familiar, you’d think that she would’ve mentioned Danforth Enterprises or, hell, even my mom, right? But she thought—she fucking said—”

“Robby Apples!” You nearly cackle, continuing to mix the bowl’s contents after setting a timer for a minute, “She thought you were a fuckin’ porn star!”

“I—” he scoffs with a wide, amused grin on his lips, “Personally? I don’t see it. I don’t think we look alike, like, at all.”

“Right, right,” you chuckle softly, “but it’s the hair. It’s the hair, baby! The curls and stupid frosted tips, I bet that’s why she assumed that!”

“I mean, yeah, but Y/n… I’m way more famous than him. Like, I’m literally CEO of my company—hell, my mother is the President of the United fucking States! Like, how the hell do you mistake me for someone else?! Let alone a fucking porn star!” Derek huffs playfully, surprisingly not too offended by the mix-up. Usually his ego would be heavily bruised whenever someone didn’t recognize him immediately, but he was having way too much fun with you to even be serious about it. And you loved it.

“But, like…” you began with a slight smile, “to be fair, babe, she works at that sex shop. Her mind must be porn over politics.”

“Hey, just because she works at a sex shop doesn’t mean she’s a porn addict.” Derek then raises an eyebrow as he attempts to call you out, “Now that’s just assuming, isn’t it?”

You scowled, yet a small smirk still creeped upon your lips. “You’re talking to me about assuming? You’re—You say that as if you’re not the most judgmental asshole in the fucking world.”

“Ugh, fair point,” Derek shrugged in acceptance and self-awareness, not even bothering to argue because he knew you were right. Then, he paused thoughtfully. “That is a great slogan, though.”

“What, about assumptions?”

“No, ‘porn over politics.’”

“Oh, yes,” you nod with a hint of sarcasm, “The epitome of Derek Danforth.”

“Uh, no,” he scoffs quickly, “money and superiority is the epitome of Derek Danforth.”

You paused with a grimace on your face. “You did not just refer to yourself in the third person.”

“Wh—You do it all the time!” He exclaims.

“Uh, yeah,” you scoff, “ironically!”

Somehow, you didn’t notice until now that Derek was holding his phone in his hand, looking at the screen as he continued to stroke himself to sustain his erection. “Hey, what are you looking at, by the way?”

His eyes went up to you with an innocent, neutral expression. “Uhhh, your nudes.”

“You’re fucking kidding,” you chuckle.

“Uh, no,” he says, turning his phone around in an attempt to show you. “I’m literally going through them right now—”

“No, ew, don’t show me!” You laugh from embarrassment as you looked down at the mixing bowl you stirred, covering the peripheral view with your hand. As sexy as they were to Derek and to you during the time you were taking them, you really couldn’t take them seriously afterwards.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’re embarrassed, babe,” he teases knowingly, making you roll your eyes. “You look so hot in them.”

“Dude—Of course I’m fucking embarrassed!” You reasoned, “I thought it was hot until the post-nut fuckin’ clarity kicked in!”

Suddenly, the timer went off as the two of you laughed softly at your last comment. You were then prompted to instantly focus as you turned off the blaring alarm and grabbed the tube closer to yourself on the counter.

“You fully hard, baby?” You ask casually, beginning to pour the white mixture inside of the tube.

“Yup,” he nodded simply, watching you prepare for the molding process.

After you finished pouring in all of the thick molding substance, you grabbed the tube and walked closer to your boyfriend. “Okay, so we’re just molding your dick now, for like, two… two minutes, I think? And you’re just gonna have to stay hard like that and don’t move too much,” you giggle, “I have to act fast, though, because there’s a reason why the water had to be ninety degrees, alright?”

“Alright,” Derek chuckles, “go ahead, babe.”

After setting up a two minute timer on your phone, you slowly placed the tube full of the ‘molding gel’ over his dick, making some of the white, thick substance drip out onto the floor. The two of you already began to cackle, Derek groaning in slight disgust from the weird feeling that the texture of the paste gave him around his cock.

“This is really fuckin’ messy,” he raises an eyebrow as he watches the leftover mixture spill onto the smooth, quartz tiles of the kitchen floor. “And it feels really… really weird around my dick,” Derek laughs softly.

“Well, we were warned about the mess but… damn, I didn’t know it’d be this crazy,” you chuckle, holding the tube in place, allowing you to stand close to Derek’s naked body. “Also, I know what you’re thinking—You’re not allowed to make a joke about how the molding gel resembles your fucking jizz.” Derek frowns immediately as you giggle at his reaction.

Rolling your eyes, you lean in closer to your lover, placing some soft kisses on his bare shoulder and collarbone. You always believed that Derek’s body was so beautiful, and you couldn’t help but show him how much you loved it all the time. “I’m gonna miss you, you know that?” You mumble with your lips pressed against the warm skin of his shoulder.

“Me too, baby,” he sighs softly, “but I’ll be back before you know it, alright?”

“I’m gonna fuck myself so fucking hard with this weird ass thing when you’re gone.”

“Sorry,” you mumble afterwards, realizing what you had blurted caused Derek to become speechless.

Your filthy words had been delivered so bluntly and casually, gaining a low groan from Derek’s throat. “Fuck. You can’t just—Baby, please tell me you’ll get me off after we do this because, fuck, I’ve been so hard for so fucking long and you’re already making things worse with that kind of talk,” he complains, nearly pleading.

“Jeez, I said I was sorry...” Chuckling, you bury your face in his neck affectionately. “Don’t worry, babe, we have so much time after this. You can fuck me as hard as you want.”

“Fuck…” he moaned at the visual you gave him with your words.

Resting your lips contently in the crook of his neck, you let out a small snicker afterwards. “Dude, I can’t get that stupid fucking meme out of my head…”

“What meme?” Derek asked curiously, no longer focusing solely on his arousal he had for you.

“The fuckin’—Your mom, the Jessica Danforth one that they would—”

“Oh, my god,” he scoffs lightly with a smile, amused by recollection of a popular, new internet meme they made of the US President. “But that one is so fucking stupid.”

“Nuh-uh, it’s iconic because your mom is iconic,” you retort playfully, “and those ‘stupid’ memes ended up being genuine, effective marketing strategies towards her campaign.”

Honestly, it was kind of adorable to Derek that you thought that lousy, new generation memes of her was what mainly helped his mother’s campaign. It was less adorable, however, that it wasn’t really the case. If only you knew…

You leaned in, briefly connecting your soft lips with his, appreciating the intimacy of your closeness that this position bestowed upon the two of you. Your kiss had pushed his underlying guilt aside for now, melting in the short moment of sweetness.

“Hey, when can I get this thing off of me?” He asks suddenly once your lips had parted from each other.

You pursed your lips curiously. “Uhh, well, is it hard yet?”

“Baby, my dick has been hard the entire time for this, you know that.”

“No, I meant—” you giggled breathlessly, “I meant the molding gel, has it hardened yet?”

“Well, it feels like it, sort of,” he remarked with a shrug.

“Eh, we can just wait for the full two minutes,” you suggested, prompting that you both should wait until the timer ends.

Soon enough, the two of you had gone through the entire procedure. You removed the tube from Derek’s cock, placing it on the counter as you mixed the silicone packets together to pour that mixture into the mold. Then, you placed the included vibrator inside the tube through the hole of a cardboard cover that rested on the top of the rim to keep it from sinking completely down into the mold.

“We are… done,” you laugh softly, the two of you looking at the tube filled with liquid silicone, most certainly taking the form of Derek’s dick. “I don’t know what I was expecting, but we are going to have to wait, like, twenty-four hours until we can take it out of the mold.”

“Well, shit. I am actually both fucking terrified and excited to see how it’ll end up looking like,” he shrugs with a slight scoff.

“Your dick, but in a glow-in-the-dark green,” you reply with a simple nod. “So… What now?”

A thoughtful yet mischievous grin appears on Derek’s lips as his eyes trail hungrily over your body.

After eagerly stripping your pants and underwear down, Derek lifted you up on the edge of the kitchen table, lips never leaving yours as he kissed you deeply and passionately. He grabbed onto your thigh, lightly gasping at the rough grip as his other hand slipped under your shirt to feel the soft skin of your back. Derek actually used the hemp oil that you two purchased earlier (alongside the Clone-A-Willy), rubbing it over your sensitive groin, then pleasurably lubricating your entrance. “God, I need you so bad, baby,” he mumbles lustfully, pulling your hips closer to the edge of the counter to line himself up with you.

A soft, yet vocal moan escaped your lips as you feel his rock hard, throbbing cock stretching and pushing through your tight, needy hole. “Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Derek grunts, eyes half-lidded as he looked at you with lust and admiration. And from this heavenly sensation, you had been reminded that he still had that cock ring on.

You giggled immaturely, “you know, I forgot you even had that o—” He moved both his hands to spread open your thighs, trailing back up to grip your hips as he began to slowly thrust inside of you, making you whine as you placed your hands on his shoulders. “D-Derek—” You choke out a moan as he gradually increases his pace, firmly pushing his hips against yours to get as deep inside of you as he could. His cock was so fucking hard, indisputably caused by the pressure of the ring, but also from how much your sole body turned him on.

The two of your moans echoed in the atmosphere of the kitchen, especially as you wrapped your legs tightly around his back, pushing him in even deeper. “Fuck,” you whined softly, feeling one of his hands trail under the back of your shirt again during each heavy thrust until he finally lifts it off of you, throwing the piece of fabric onto the floor.

Your insides had deliciously gripped Derek’s firm cock so tight, withdrawing a low, prolonged groan from his throat as he then picked up the pace. He pounded deeply into you, head hanging low as he focused on his hard thrusts.

“Shit!” You nearly cry, wrapping your arms around his neck as you started to feel more sensitive. “You’re so fucking hard, hell…”

“Am I usually not?” He teases with a smirk, not ceasing his movements anytime soon.

“Ugh, you know what I mean,” you panted breathlessly. “The fucking cock ring’s, like, making you even harder than you ever been. I can’t believe this only, like, the second time we’ve ever used it.”

“Are you implying that we should use it more?” He raises an eyebrow.

“Hell, yeah,” you replied with a satisfied moan.

“Fuck, baby,” Derek groans, hiding his face in your neck, briefly nipping at your flesh. “Fucking love how tight you feel around my fucking cock.”

You moaned at his sultry words, your arms leaving his neck and holding yourself up with your palms flat on the counter behind you, attempting to grind against his movements. “Fuuuck,” you mumble as your palms shifted behind you, nudging and almost knocking down the Clone-A-Willy tube that was still filled with un-solidified silicone. “Oh, shit!” Gasping in a short panic, you held it steady before it could fall and moved it away to the side.

“Jesus, babe, you almost spilled over my dick,” he scoffs with a chuckle, his thrusts slightly sloppy from this distraction.

“Oh, I’ll spill something over your dick, babe,” you joked swiftly with a playful smirk.

“Oh my god, you’re fucking terrible,” he groaned as a mere, amused smile formed at his lips.

“Shut up, I’m not the one who got mistaken for a porn star,” you retorted, flashing a teasing grin.

“God, never fucking bring that up again,” Derek huffs, rolling his eyes.

“Oh, I will, baby, I will so use it against you,” you claim humorously.

Suddenly, he lifts you up by your ass, away from the counter as he was still pressed deeply inside of you. Holding you up against him in the center of the kitchen floor, he thrusted up inside of you, creating a strong wave of pleasure throughout your entire being.

“Fuck!” You cried as his fingernails dig into the skin of your ass, pushing his cock in and out of your sensitive hole. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ, babe, you might not be a porn star, but you sure as hell fuck like one, shit…” The harsh sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echoed lewdly in the kitchen as he continued holding you up, and even guiding and pushing your hips skillfully against his.

Finally, he brought the two of you over on a chair, sitting down against it as you were positioned on top, his dick completely inside of you. “Ride me, baby,” he mutters, cupping your face gently, yet pulling you in urgently for a deep, wet kiss, shoving his tongue through your lips.

Breaking the kiss, Derek’s hands explored and caressed the warm, smooth skin of your body, muttering lustful praises to you. This prompted you to begin moving, placing your hands on his shoulders as your hips would gently grind against his. “Mmm,” you hum softly in pleasure before your head is thrown back the moment you increase your pace.

You let your knees assist you in bouncing on his thick cock, feeling his arms being wrapped around your back tightly to bring you in closely and intimately. “Fuck, baby…” Derek huffs, attempting to move his hips up with yours.

This position was short-lived, however, because of Derek’s urgency to fuck you fast and properly, lifting you back up once again. He made out with you as he held you, kissing your lips roughly and hotly while we stumbled towards the living room to finally throw you down on the couch.

He immediately grabbed your legs, lifting them up to place your ankles over his shoulders, nipping softly at your legs in admiration before thrusting back in.

“Fuck!” He groans, moving his hips at a much rougher and faster rate, practically pounding into you with both lust and love.

“Shit, Derek!” You whimper, feeling his cock slide in and out of you so fluidly, stretching and caressing your sensitive walls. From all the buildup of the previous positions, you felt so close already. “Fuck, baby. I—I’m gonna cum—”

“Just—fuck—hold on a little longer, baby,” he mutters, ramming his dick inside of you without faltering, focusing on driving the both of you to the very edge.

“Baby…” You whined desperately, looking up at him as you felt yourself begin to clench around him. And that really did it for him.

“Fuuuck,” Derek moaned, his movements against you beginning to stagger, “Cum for me, baby, c’mon.”

A loud, whiny moan escaped your lips as your back arched up against him, tensing up as you finally released. Your tight, fleshy walls around Derek prompted him to come right after, spilling his warm, white semen deep inside of you, muttering a few curse words before collapsing on top of you.

The both of you panted heavily, struggling to catch your breaths as you felt each other’s sweaty, naked body against one another’s. You chuckle breathlessly, feeling so content from the overwhelming ecstasy that your orgasm bestowed upon yourself.

“So good,” Derek whispered, kissing your lips in a sloppy, lazy manner, “you did so good for me, sweetheart.”

***

“What in… the actual fuck.”

The next day, after it had been exactly 24 hours since you’ve poured in the silicone inside of the mold, you and Derek took it out, revealing his glow-in-the-dark, cloned dick.

The two of you looked down at the new dildo, then looked at each other before cackling loudly and heartily, your laughs echoing in the kitchen where you had done the reveal.

“Oh, my god, it looks—it looks exactly fucking like it, babe!” You exclaim in disbelief, nearly wheezing as you hold the light green, phallic object in your grasp.

“That is,” he began, trying to recover from his previous, hearty laughter, “fucking insane. It’s so uncanny, like… it looks so real.”

“Dude, look at all the detail!” You urged, small snickers escaping your throat, “like even the veins and the fucking—what—frenulum, like… What the hell?!”

“And it’s such a bright ass neon green, holy shit,” Derek chuckled, continuing to examine the silicone.

“Hey, it matches your entire vibe, at least. You know. Green. Money. Ehh?”

The two of you giggled childishly, enjoying the absolute absurdity of this entire situation. “God, only you, Y/n, could get me to do the stupidest fucking things that I would never be willing to do for, like, anybody else,” Derek remarked with a slight smile.

”Hey, you were up for it too,” you scoffed, rolling your eyes, “I was joking about it first, but you were the one who took it seriously!”

“Uh, you were the one who grabbed it first,” retorted Derek.

“And you were the one who took it seriously when I was joking,” you repeated, chuckling softly in amusement.

“I—” But before he could say anything, he realized that you were right. “God fucking dammit.”

***

Tomorrow, Derek would have left for the business trip, the two of you saying your goodbyes before he would disappear into his private jet. And the day after, as your lover stayed at a luxurious hotel, lounging comfortably on the bed, he received a few texts from you during the night:

Y/n: hey

Y/n: it actually does glow in the dark btw

Y/n: [sent an attachment]

Derek’s eyes widened instantly, jaw dropping at the sight of the diabolically lewd image you had just sent him. Including the familiar, bright green item in the frame, of course.