#problematicfavesareproblematic

You felt stupid, so fucking dumb and naieve and played- of course Heather hadn’t randomly hated you from the jump! Of course she hadn’t! Heather Collins was (obnoxiously) one of the most methodical, rational, and professionally reliable people you’d ever met. In fact, the only thing she’d ever been irrational about was you in relation to Robby….

Heather, who apparently wasn’t coming from a place of strange feminine competition when she insinuated that he had a reputation. 

Robby, who not only dismissed your mentions of underlying tension between the three of you while fully knowing your gut-feelings were true, but failed to disclose the relationship that preluded yours and created the friction in the first place.

Robby, who hadn’t even bothered to tell you that he’d decided to come into work today until his shift was halfway through.

Bzzzt….Bzzzt….

Your phone in your hand breaks you from your spiraling thoughts, and the fact that you’re fully sitting behind the wheel of your parked car- yet have no recollection of any of the steps it took to get you there- nearly makes your spiral once again before the next trill of the muted ring trembles your fingers.

Bzzzt. 'Robby Cell' Calling. Bzzzt.

The scoff that escapes your throat is ugly, and you’re declining the call before you even allow yourself to consider the motive behind it. Taking what seems to be the first deep breath you’ve had in a while, you sag into the car’s seat, squeezing your eyes shut because at this point, your refusal to allow yourself to cry is becoming painful. 

You can’t deal with it, not right now. You don't get to break down yet, because you’ve got to make decisions.

Yes, ok, decisions.

Well, you certainly know that you need to grab some shit from his townhouse before he gets off of his shift, so heading there seems as good a place as any. Fuck, you hoped he didn’t have his phone on him, so his Ring notification shouldn’t alert him of what you’re doing.

He’s been screening your calls and texts all day, but maybe he’d actually give a fuck if he thought his home was actually being burgled. Although, with if today was any indicator- the moment he saw that it was just you, Michael would probably delete the app just to be rid of you….

Bzzt. Robby Cell Calling. Bzzt.

Seriously? 

“Seriously?” you hiss, eyes flashing open again to see that he’s trying to FaceTime now. What in the actual fuck possessed him to decide to have today be the first day he initiates a video call with you, you cannot possibly give a shit about? You dismiss the call, sniffing back another wave of sadness that threatens to make you cry again and focus on turning the car on. 

You hear the start of another buzz and his decline again. Fuck him.

You pull out of your parking spot and clear your throat, taking a deep shuddering breath as you try to keep it together at least until you get inside his place, that way you don’t darken his ring camera door with your sad, weepy face.

Your car’s Bluetooth system begins to announce a new incoming call, and you don't even give it a moment more to speak before you decline again. Well, your therapist had once said that some find it helpful to channel their hurt into anger. Michael was certainly proving an excellent example of how easy the mental shift can be.  

Where the fuck did he get off, really? You’ve literally never tread more gently with another person in your life than you have with Michael Robinovitch- never before had you let someone as close to you as you allowed that man. Sure, you had damage- and no, you hadn’t immediately told him your deepest secrets and traumas the very second your relationship started becoming more serious- but you’d told them to him. You’d wanted him to know all of those things — you’d wanted to make sure that he knew all that came with loving you and being loved by you because that’s what you thought you were supposed to do.

The only love you’d ever known before him was either platonic or familial or lust pretending to be love, it wouldn’t have been fair to someone who clearly was more experienced in every sense of the word….

Jesus, maybe this had been broken from the beginning. Maybe you should’ve learned how to have fuck buddies like your other First Responder friends. Maybe that’s all he wanted in the first place. 

So why was he hounding you now?

He’s had plenty of time to reach out. Months of it.

Even if he’s felt a million miles away from right beside you, you’ve still been there. Wasn’t any of this worth fighting for?

Why didn’t he want to fight for this, too?

You’re about to hit decline again until an unexpected need for both hands on the wheel allows more of the Bluetooth to announce itself.

“Call from CARLY- WORK”

“Call from CARLY- WORK”

You frown at that. Your supervisor had all but forced you to switch PTO dates with her so that you would cover for her son’s graduation. She’d even shown you the station’s on-call sheet to prove how this week was the “perfect week” for you to “take a break for once” and get some Vitamin D….so unless four people suddenly got sick….

“Hey, Carls,” you answer immediately, voice a little pitchier than you’d like as you quickly take stock of your surroundings. “I’m in the car— Give me one sec to pull over, okay?”

Carly stays quiet on the line as you merge and navigate to the 7-Eleven parking lot you know about a to the block west, and you can hear the normal sounds of Ambulance dispatch in the background on her end. Biting the inside of your cheek for a count of one-two-three, you force a smile on your face so it can be heard in your voice.

“Sorry, Carly- I’m all yours now, how’s it going—?”

“Hey Pookie,” she begins, and you know instantly that something’s gone wrong. ‘Pookie’ was reserved for when Carly had to break some news that she knows the person listening doesn't want to hear. “So, you’re gonna hate me—”

“Carlotta, I just got some pretty hate-inducing news, so unless what you’re going to say has anything to do with that very specific situation, I am sure that I will not hate you—”

“—and you won’t! Because it’s a really easy task, I promise! And you know I wouldn’t ask unless I didn’t have to, but since you’re already out—”

You wince in preparation for her to ask you to come in to work a shift, leaning forward to rest your forehead against the wheel of your car as you take a deep breath before hearing your fate. Single, double? Oh fuck…split shift?

“—fell out of fucking Rami’s pocket while he was in the Porta-Potty, and I know you have that really useful thing you do where you always have at least two spare sets of everything, so if you don’t mind doing that, you’d be my hero.”

 Wait, what?

“Kiddo, come on— you know I hate poop stuff! Can you puh-lease bring your spare keys for Bus 43 to your fellow EMTs while you’re out right now? Novarro’s keys fell out when he went to the can, and no one feels like going spelunking, okay?! DO NOT make me give the details again because I WILL SEND THAT ONE HOT COP’S UNIT OUT LOOKING FOR YOU—!”

Oh. OH!

“Y-yeah—Yes! Sorry, zoned out for a sec!” you interrupt the other woman, shaking your brain back into work mode from it’s previous state of catastrophe and painful introspection. “Of course, Carls—I’m happy to. I was finished with what I was doing, anyway.”

Taking one more deep breath, you do what you do best- you shelve it. You shelve Michael and Heather and the townhouse you’d been spending more nights at than your own apartment, and the dumb little life you’d foolishly allowed yourself into thinking you were starting.

“Uh, where can I run them, Boss?”

“East gate at PittFest, where the vendor parking signs are. I’ll have someone there to get them from you, you ABSOLUTE ANGEL, sent from ABOVE—!?”

You laugh without any true heart, grabbing your phone from the cupholder you’d thrown it into so you can start pulling up the best route to get there from this side of town. The moment you unlock your screen you catch a flash of the notifications dashboard.

Robby Cell- 3 unread messages

Missed Call- Pitt ED- Front Desk (Dana) 

Missed Call- Robby Cell

The sight nearly makes you stop, almost makes you pause and consider what you’d just decided to shelve….

“PittFest, east gate, vendor signs, got it. I’m on my way…show me responding.”

~~~

~~~

You were also incredibly, endearingly, hilariously drunk.

 Biting back a chuckle, Lip knelt beside the bed and began unlacing your boots, his own fingers slightly uncoordinated due to the alcohol running in his veins. If he didn’t know how pissed you would be if he’d allowed you to wear your boots to bed and soil the bedsheets, he wouldn’t have bothered. Frankly, it would’ve been disappointing for him as well- they were really cozy and he did not feel like taking his chances finding another clean set that was anywhere near as nice as these. It had been so long since either of you had been able to sleep in any state of undress, and there was something so comforting in having the luxury to do so.

  Japan surrendered. The war was over. You were safe.

 He could barely believe it even now.

 You mumble something unintelligible from above him, and this time he openly laughs at the way you make grabby hands towards him when he looks up. He’d never imagined you as a horny drunk, not when you were so stoic, witty, and professional while sober. Learning this about you amused him to no end, but he’d be damned if he actually allowed you to convince him to do anything sexual right now.

 Because while you’d given yourself to him (and he’d given himself to you) many times before, it didn’t feel right to do anything with you while you were this out of it- not without having had the chance to discuss it while sober beforehand.

 “C’mon, handsome,” you whined, gracelessly scrunching your body up into a slumped sitting position so you could finally run your fingers through his hair. “Fuckin’ need that sweet, sweet schlange—”

“ Schlange?” Lip asks, raising an eyebrow up at you when you start to giggle. Pulling off your final boot, he heaves himself up to stand and grins down at you.

 “Means ‘snake’ in Guhr -man, hot stuff!” your head lolls back as you wiggle your eyebrows at him. “Y’know, like hosenschlange - that means—”

 “—I can figure that one out, thanks, Honey.”

 Rolling your lips together as you smile, you raise your arms and grab onto the front of his pants. “Okay, get over here. Come to Mama… .”

 He wrinkles his nose at the choice of nickname, but you don’t seem to notice as you fumble with his belt and curse under your breath. Watching as your eyes narrow in concentration, he sighs your name admonishingly, but just as he gets ahold of your wrists you surge forward and start mouthing at him through the fabric, traces of your lipstick leaving pink marks on the khaki green material. Lip jolts at the contact, and his mental resolve to wait until you’re sober doesn’t seem to stop his cock from starting to get hard.

 “Sugar, wait - that’s enough….”

 As gently as he could, he coaxed you into laying back onto the bed, hating the pout on your face but holding steadfast to his decision. Your hair is messy around your head, and your eyes lazily travel across his face with a flicker of genuine upset.

 “ LiIIIIIIIiiiIIIIIiippp!” you whine with a huff, but before you can continue your thought he shakes his head.

 “Not like this, Y/N. C’mon, let's get you ready for bed.”

 Planting a knee beside your hip, he rucks up your shirt from the waist of your pants and thanks God that you’d taken off your outer layers and changed into a clean undershirt earlier. He couldn’t imagine how much more difficult this would’ve been if he’d needed to strip you naked- especially when you were in the mood you were in. 

 And, in all honesty, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to resist your beguiling if he had to be that hands-on with you. It was hard enough telling you no for little things, especially when you ask so very little of him in the first place. Frankly, he was amazed that he was able to deny you this. He may be noble , but he’s still a man - a man who worshipped the ground you walked on and would happily say as much to anyone who asked, sure- but a man nonetheless.

 About an hour ago, you’d chided him for respecting you too much between sips of a green liquor that Liebgott had given you. Maybe you were right about that. 

 Not that that changed anything, of course. He was sure you’d see his logic once he explained it to you in the morning.

Assuming that you remembered any of this, that is.

  You’d smirked wickedly at him as his fingers had found the button at the front of your trousers.

 “Now that’s more like it.”

 Carwood rolled his eyes, ducking a quick kiss to the sliver of exposed skin between your shirt and pants. “You’re something else, Sweetheart.”

 Humming, you allowed him to work your pants down your hips and thighs, a hand reaching up again and sweetly scratching over his bicep. “Y’handsome, Carwood. What’d I do t’be loved b’someone so handsome?”

 You got like this sometimes, questioning the why and the how and the what of him and you. As if he didn’t ask himself the same questions. There was something amusing about how you behaved as if you were the lucky one in the relationship. 

 You were unpredictable at the best of times, and being drunk only made you moreso.

 “ Carrrr ,” you wine, drawing out the r of the pet name from somewhere deep in your throat. “We just found out we don’ gotta go fling ourselves out’a ‘nother plane ever again and y’not even letting me blow you t’celebrate !”

 Lip cannot help but bark a laugh at that, the sound of genuine disappointment in your voice too endearing to frustrate him.

 “You’re drunk , Baby—”

 Your pretty face twists into a scowl. “ You’re drunk, ya fuckin’ killjoy…”

 Rolling his eyes good-naturedly, he ducks a quick kiss to your bent knee and shakes his head.

 “All the more reason why we should both keep our hands to ourselves and hit the hay.”

 You raise an eyebrow, eyes following him as he gets to work undressing himself. He can feel your gaze on him, making the finer hairs on the back of his neck stand to attention the way his cock would if he didn’t have a better sense of self-control. 

 “Well, fine then. If y’gonna be that way…”

 Doing his best to ignore you, Lip thinks nothing of it when you shuffle on the bed and bring your legs up on the covers, thinking (foolishly) that you’d finally given up on your carnal pursuits for the night. You huff loudly, something he successfully manages to disregard until about the third or fourth time you do so. At that point, he’s gotten himself down to his briefs and undershirt, so he figures he can indulge you a bit longer.

 However, when he opens his mouth to ask you what the problem was, he finds himself frozen in time- the blood in his veins simmering and turning to ice simultaneously. 

 He should have known better than to assume you would behave, that you’d give up so easily.

You wouldn't have made it this far if you had the potential to be so easily swayed.

 With more intentionality than he thought you could muster, you’ve slipped your nimble fingers beneath the band of your underpants and begun to touch yourself, legs spread invitingly and a whimper curling through your parted lips. He can see the bend and curl of each finger as you touch your sex, your movements fast and unyielding in their rhythm.

 Your next whine pulls him out of his stupor enough to remind him that he hadn’t taken a breath in far too long, his limbs still feeling like lead as he stood by his side of the bed. 

 “W-What are you doing?” he asks, his mouth going suddenly bone-dry.

 Eyes closed and smiling, you make an amused sound low in your throat. “ Me ? I’m doing what y’suggested, Car -”

 When you open your eyes, they have a lost look to them- and if it weren’t for the quirk of your brow he’d think you’d truly forgotten that you were trying to torture him.

 “ I’m keeping my hands to m’self. ”

 With a curse, he lowers his hand to his clothed cock, squeezing in some desperate attempt to temper the electric current of arousal you are currently creating in his bloodstream. Lip had to physically shake his head in order to clear it of the heady fog that had settled there, desperately searching for the voice from earlier that had encouraged him to stay strong and wait until morning, because right now it was nowhere to be found.

 As if you knew just how much influence you had over him, you bit the inside of your bottom lip and hummed . 

 “Does it ache ?” you ask as he groans, your eyes hazy with pleasure and whiskey as he sinks to his knees by his bedside and hisses at how cold his fingers feel when they finally make contact with the sensitive skin of his dick. You’ve moved yourself enough that you’re laying against the pillows at the head of the bed, your body angled in such a way that he can see each and every crook of your fingers while still having the ability to see the entire length of your undulating form. “Does it hurt , m’love? I wanna know… .”

 “ Fuck ,” he snaps, bending his neck so he can press his face into the comforter in some desperate attempt to regain control of his arousal. It doesn’t work- because now he can hear just how wet you’ve become, the sound of it creamy and sweet in his ears. “Baby, y’know it does—”

  “I can’t hear you , Lip—”

 With a heavy inhale, Lip forces his head up from the blankets so his words aren’t muffled. “I said you know it does!”

 He expects you to mock him- to belittle him and pressure him to get over himself and just fuck you already- but when he looks at you all he can see is his own lust looking back at him. Your breath comes in gasps, your nipples hard and prominent through your shirt as you writhe under your own touch. You look perfect- so fucking perfect that it nearly breaks his heart.

  I’d do it again, he thinks as you arch your neck and roll your hips into your own touch, the hand not playing with your clit slipping up your body to grab your breast through your shirt. Toccoa, Sobel, Normandy, Bastogne, Haganeau- I’d do it all again just to have the chance to be with you like this. To see you like this...

 Lip isn’t sure how long the two of you remain like this- suspended outside of time in this beautiful tension that is so heavy and thick he swears he could suffocate in it. What he does know is that your shirt now lays discarded by your side and he’s got one hand braced on the mattress while he jerks himself off like a degenerate to the sight of your naked body.

 “ ‘M close ,” you mewl from behind clenched teeth. “God damn it, Car- I wanna cum so bad— ”

 There's a question in your tone, a plea for permission that only makes his already impending orgasm tremble more violently in his bloodstream. You’re acting so docile now, the contrast between this version of you and the more demanding petulance of before so extreme that he wonders if he’s somehow imagined your earlier conversation in some arousal-soaked mirage.

 But he pushes that thought to the side, your imploring expression much more important than any sort of behavioral analysis. 

 “ Okay ,” he nods frantically, his words breathy and his whole body hot with anticipation. “Do it, Honey- cum .”

 Licking your lips, you grit back a choked moan. “But I want you t’ touch me, though. I wanna have you inside meeeee….”

 Ignoring your request, Lip takes a deep breath. “I know, Sweetheart. I know you do. Just cum .” 

 The way your face scrunches should be unattractive, the look nearly one of pain as you suddenly hold your breath and the muscles of your stomach bunch up. But to Carwood , your expression tells a tale of bliss, of absolute and uncontrollable surrender to a feeling as it darkens your veins like a drop of ink in water. As pleasure shoots through your body, you chant his name like a prayer and shake so deeply that he can feel the tremor of it through the mattress.

 It’s too much for him- it’s too much yet not nearly enough at the same time and even as he cums into his fist with a bitten-back shout he knows that he isn't truly going to be satisfied until does bury himself inside of you. 

  In the morning, in the morning. I can’t tonight. If you want me tonight, you’ll still want me in the morning.

 Sweat already beginning to cool his skin, Carwood finally manages to open his eyes ( when had he shut them ?), he catches you looking at him dreamily. Chest heaving, legs limp and spread, Carwood is overcome with affection. Feeling a smile pull at his mouth, he wipes his hand on one of his dirty shirts by the bed before pulling his heavy limbs across the bed so he can brush your hair off of your forehead.

 Your eyes are still unfocused as you reach your hand up to touch him, and when he realizes that it’s the same hand that just brought you pleasure he catches your wrist and angles your hand so he can suck your fingers into his mouth. The musky salt of you is heaven on his tongue, and when you chuckle at the brush of his tongue across your fingertips he laughs, too.

 “That was’so hot ,” you grin, exhaustion shining in your eyes as you playfully hook your fingers behind his teeth and pull his face down towards yours. Lip shakes his head at you and pulls your fingers from his mouth so he can kiss you. You hum contentedly, and when he releases your lips you roll gracelessly to your stomach and rest your weight on your elbows. “Woah.... Wow… .”

 In the entire three years that he’s known you, he’s never known you to be this carefree. It’s wonderful, it looks good on you. You look your age like this- and he wonders if you see the change in him as well. God knows that he feels years younger.

 Leaning over so he can prop himself up on his side beside you, he runs his palm down the bare length of your back.

 “I love y—”

“— M’gonna throw up. ”

 Everything screeched to a halt, the romantic haze he’d felt himself slipping into being ripped away like a rug beneath his feet.

 “Uh, like now!?”

 With all the coordination of a newborn giraffe, you launch yourself from the bed and scramble for the en suite bathroom, leaving a gust of wind in your wake that all but smacks him in the face.

 Blinking stupidly after you, Lip opens his mouth to call out after you only burst into maniacal laughter. His initial bark of laughter is so loud that it scares him, which only serves to make him laugh harder . 

 Maybe that was an inappropriate reaction, because he hears you calling for him to "go fug himself" from the bathroom.

Although, he could swear that he heard you laugh as well just before retching again.

 “Sorry, Sweetheart,” he calls back, wiping the tears from his eyes and pushing himself up off the bed, grabbing your canteen. “I’m coming- hold on, Baby.”

 ~

 Lip can feel the goosebumps washing over your skin in the wake of his touch, the slope of your bicep easily holding the curve of his palm. Having helped you braid your hair, brush your teeth, and get into a clean shirt, Carwood finally allows himself to settle into the unnaturally comfortable mattress. You’ve tangled your legs with his beneath the blankets, and he feels the tickle of your soft exhales at the base of his throat. 

 COme morning, Lip knew that you’d be the proud owner of one of the worst hangovers known to man- and if he had to guess, Liebgott, Tab, Nixon, and Welsh would be wrestling with their own versions of hell as well. It was strange, Lip thought, to not have to worry about covering for any of them when they failed to perform or attend tomorrow morning’s PT. It was even stranger to realize that there would be no PT tomorrow morning, or any of the mornings after.

 He didn’t have to train for anything now. It was over. It was done.

 You were both free, now.

 And while he imagined that you probably had other ideas for how you wanted to spend your first night of freedom, Lip looked forward to accomplishing those ideas with you tomorrow night. And the night afterward.

 “Hey, Car?” you ask quietly, your voice rough with exhaustion and thick with sleep.

 “Yeah, Honey?”

 He can hear you swallow some of the dryness from your mouth, and he startles slightly when one of your hands suddenly touches the side of his face and inches its way up so your fingers are covering his eyes.

 “I can hear y’thinkin. Go t’bed. ”

 With a sigh of amusement, he takes your hand away from his eyes and lowers it to his chest. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He whispers, closing his eyes and turning his head to press a quick to your forehead.

 Sleep welcomes him like an old friend.

 He welcomes it back.

~ ~ ~

IT’S A LIL SHITTY BUT SO AM I AND I’M SORRY FOR THAT

He was right, you’d gone somewhere else for a while. That wasn’t fair to him, and you knew that. And while he was quick to call you out on it, he never seemed to truly take offense to it. You weren't sure what that said about him. Or you, for that matter.

You shake your head and bring your hands to the hem of his t-shirt, lightly tracing your nails across the sensitive skin of his lower stomach. “Started getting a bit ahead of myself, that’s all.” 

 Pressing a kiss to the hinge of his jaw, you use your position to slide your hand down the front of his trousers and cup him through his boxers.

“You forgot to breathe,” he mumbles, his voice slow and distracted. “Can’t have you blacking out and embarrassing yourself like that—Woah.” 

 A smile of your own breaking across your face, you nose at him until he brings his mouth to yours again, making a show of inhaling sharply as the backs of your knees hit the bed.

 “Good note,” you say breathily as you pull his shirt up his back, giggling idiotically as he intentionally gives you a hard time of it. Your shirt doesn’t last long either, and with a practiced ease, you have each other stripped and bare in the blueish darkness of your barrack.

 He isn’t gentle when his hands grip your bare skin, his movements excited and rough as he settles against the headboard and pulls you up to straddle his lap.

 “I remembered, by the way.”

 Taking his face in your hands, you hold him away to study him, confusion marring your constantly furrowed brow. “Remembered…?”

 His eyes are aglow in the dark, so amber and warm that they reminded you of the spiced ciders your family would make during the holidays back home. A wicked smile crosses his face, and he chuckles quietly.

 “I told you what knowing my middle name would cost you when you asked me last month, and the information I wanted in return. And I told you I wouldn’t forget…”

The cogs clicked in your head, and you made a sound of upset when you figured out what he was talking about. 

 Detail for detail, that’s the deal, Sweetcheeks.

 “Happy Birthday, Sargent Y/N.” He waggled his eyebrows, and you booed him quietly.

 “What are the odds a blowjob will make you forget about it?” you ask with a wince, gasping when he playfully rolled his hips up to meet yours. Feeling how hard he was made your blood begin to run hotter.

 “Hmm,” he hummed, leaning forward to suck a kiss on the delicate skin beneath your collarbone. “Somewhere between none and slim.”

 With an annoyed hum, you lean your head forward to rest atop his head and let him mouth at you, your hand coming up to pull at his hair only when you knew he was intentionally trying to leave a mark. 

 “And do you remember what I said I wanted to give you for your birthday?”

 Feeling the blood rush to your cheeks, you realized that you could only sit in hot embarrassment as he laughed at you again.

 “Such a prim and proper lady, scandalized by the idea of riding my face—”

 “Edward!” you hissed, hands that once held his face now pushing it away. “Don’t say it like that, come on—”

 The auburn-haired man laughed, catching your wrists and pulling you into his chest. you grunted with frustration, your face now pressed against the hollow of his throat.

 “It’s not like my mouth hasn’t been down there before, you know.”

 Sighing, you let yourself sag into him slightly, trying not to lose yourself in his lighthearted tone.

 “Yeah, but not like that, when I’m just…you know.”

 “Oh I see, you like it better when I do all the work and you get to take the princess position, huh?”

 “Jesus Christ, Babe” you sit up again with a huff, attempting to pull your wrists back from his unyielding grip. “I try to be serious for one fucking second….”

 Rolling his eyes, he surges up and kisses you sweetly, and for a minute you feel yourself begin to slip out of your body again.

But he brings you back. He always brings you back to him and here and now.

 “C’mon, Sweet Thing…” he croons shamelessly against your lips, rough hands releasing your wrists and sliding teasingly up and down your thighs. The touch has you trembling in his lap, and he’s kissing you before you can be too embarrassed. “If you hate it, I’ll stop and you can fucking edge me until I blackout, I swear to god. You gotta let me see you like this, Y/N. Please, Gorgeous…?”

Good GOD he was shameless, literally begging you to allow him the chance to make you feel good, to show you how good he can make you feel- how much he wanted to be the one to do it to you first.

 Anticipation was knotted in your throat as you smashed your lips to his, a flutter of heady resolve resting in your belly. As if he could taste what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you and hummed against your mouth.

 “God, you’re so perfect...” he pulled you into him, rolling his hips in a way that seemed to remind you of the urgency you both had felt before. 

When he pulls back this time he’s grinning at you like a complete idiot, happier than any man should be at the prospect of cunnilingus, in your opinion.

 But Edward Heffron was nothing if not enthusiastic in his pursuits.

 “Hands on the windowsill,” he said breathlessly, his cheeks turning pink and making you want to kiss him again. When you didn’t follow his request quickly enough he guided your hands there himself and folded your fingers around the frame of the open window. 

 You quirked an eyebrow at him. “Do I want to know how long you’ve been thinking about this, or will I be insulted?”

 He smacks your thigh lightly, drawing a surprised yelp from your lungs that melts into a hum of amusement as he kneads the reddening flesh.

 “How about we err on the side of caution and say….. just within the past few months?”

 “And you held me in the highest regard before that- right, Private?”

 He says nothing for a moment, and when he does agree to your proposed question he mumbles it into the valley between your breasts.

 “Hmph. You’re a terrible liar. This had better be worth it.”

 Seemingly satisfied with your ability to keep your hands where he set them, Babe encourages you to rise up to your knees so you’re no longer flush in his lap. Immediately, his eyes flick down to your sex, and you cannot help the way your thighs start to shake

 He says something under his breath that you can’t quite catch before he looks back at your face and his expression softens for a second.

 “Remember what I said earlier? I mean it, you know I mean it—”

 You’re nodding before he can finish the sentiment, letting a soft smile play at the corners of your kiss-swollen lips. “You’ll be the first to know if I want to stop. Promise.”

 With one more biting kiss to the middle of your chest he brings his assault downwards with hands, lips, and teeth- his touch just the right amount of hard and teasing to send your head swimming long before you finally feel his breath on the overly-sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

 “Oh fuck,” he sounds far away, but maybe that’s just because you’re feeling too big for your own body at the moment. “Could die happy here…”

God, he’s such a whore.

 The first touch of his tongue has you pitching yourself forward, eyes squeezed shut as you let your face poke out the window enough to feel the breeze on your clammy face. 

 Shit, he was good at that- it felt so good. If you didn't have your own goddamn skeletons in your proverbial closet you may have even been jealous to think of all the other women who had been privy to this most spectacular consideration. Babe was kissing you down there just as sweetly as he had ever kissed your lips, and it made you briefly wonder if anyone else from your past could have made you feel as high as he was making you feel right now.

 Bowing your head to look down at him, your breath catching at the sight of him looking up at you from between your thighs, his arms folded around your hips to control the small jumps you couldn’t seem to get a handle on.

 “Fuck, Babe!” you bite out, the idea of him looking up your body and watching you squirm threatening to overwhelm you. “Can’t fucking do that, ‘s gross angle for me…”

 “Oh?” he said, the sound and feeling of his voice running up your body in the most sinful way. “I beg to differ...”

 Knowing that watching him watch you would ultimately be too much, you shake your head to clear your thoughts and lift your head to look back out the window into the night air.

 Only to come face to face with Ronald Speirs.

 A sound of surprise, shock, embarrassment, and panic got caught in your throat alongside your cresting moan and resulted in the most depraved cry that seemed to surprise all three of you.

 Your blood boiled as it froze in your veins as you made eye contact with Speirs, mortification and utter shock leaving your mouth hanging open in a silent shriek of horror.

 You had no idea how long the other man had been standing there, but if the look in his eyes was any indication it had been long enough to know exactly what was happening on the other side of the wall, just below the window frame. A cigarette hung forgotten between his lips as he openly stared at you, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed silently.

 When Babe’s hand came up to squeeze your breast enticingly, you nearly jumped out the window. 

 Oh my God This can’t be happening right now I have to stop him Oh fucking hell….

 Your head whipped down and he looked up at you with heavy-lidded eyes, mouth red and damp as he panted wickedly up at you. “You okay, Gorgeous?”

 A crushing realization fell onto you in that very moment: there was no way you could tell him what was happening- who was there watching your shared private moment outside. Because that would mean that you’d have to explain that Ron always did this, that every night he would smoke near wherever you were sleeping that night and keep watch like a possessive and protective shadow. 

 And the only way you could explain that was by telling Babe about what you and Ron had once had- no, almost had. He rejected you, you reminded yourself harshly. He made his stance on you abundantly clear when he’d had you transferred into Easy Company. The fact that Speirs still behaved as if he was somehow responsible for you was not your problem.

 Besides, you had Babe. You wanted Babe. Even if the ache in your heart tried to tell you differently.

 You made your peace with Ron Speirs’ rejection a long time ago.

 Not trusting your voice, you nod vehemently and hope what is happening outside isn’t clearly written on your face. 

 A smug grin stretches across his face. “Good, ‘cause you taste better than I imagined…..”

 You curse as he pulls you back down to his mouth, your head flashing back up to see that Ron has gotten rid of his cigarette and shucked off his heavy coat and gun. His dark eyes look downright predatory, and if you had any sense in your sex-dumb head you would stop this debauchery and transfer somewhere far away from the both of them.

 You open your mouth to do something, anything to save yourself some dignity in this fucking exhibitionist nightmare, but Speirs’s finger flies up to his lips, the command clear even through the darkness.

 You knew this would happen eventually something in his gaze seemed to accuse. Did you really believe you could forget who you’re wishing was beneath you?

 But as you watch him tilt his head, something else is conveyed: he’s asking for permission. 

 He didn’t intend to leave. He wanted to watch.

But he would, if you wanted him to.

 It was cruel of him, and something in the way he worked his jaw told you that he knew it too, but like you he was too far gone to stop it. 

 You both know better, each of you having your own reasons for not wanting to inevitably hurt the other and cross that line. Your own sick, backwards ways of self-protection and showing affection for the other seemed to be twisting and becoming more complex as time went on. 

The more involved you became with Babe….Ron suddenly wanted to be your friend again just after you had first slept with Babe.

 You immediately understood that you and Ron were nearing your final days of dancing around each other, that you would have to be the one to stop it. Because Edward Heffron was too good and too kind to be fucked with like this. Eventually, you would have to stop being so selfish.

 In a final show of weakness, you nod silently to Ron, your breath coming in quick bursts as your lover has patiently worked you up and up to the crest of your crescendo, none the wiser to the wicked thoughts and realizations spinning around in your head. 

 I really am a monster.

 But you couldn’t focus on that right now, not as Ron stalked right up to the window with such confidence that you thought you had gravely misread the situation and he was going to announce himself to Babe. 

 You had just begun to make a hush of protest when his cold hands gripped yours and he knelt down so he was nose to nose with you, his hot glare turning it into another embarrassing sound of pleasure.

 “Shit!” You whimpered, your body trembling more violently as the coil in your belly began to constrict. Ron’s thumbs rubbed the back of your knuckles in a soothing motion as he made a sound of pity low in his throat, the clucking of his tongue quiet enough that it disappeared in the sounds of the forest surrounding them. 

When you get a better look at his face you can see his look of empathy is almost mocking, and you briefly wonder if you would ever have sex with someone who didn’t like to antagonize you the whole time.

 As you try to pull your hands out from under his, he shakes his head sternly before wrestling them into his grip, the action pulling you slightly further out the window and making you gasp.

Babe chuckles and grips your ass to control the speed in which your hips rocked, a nibble on your clit nearly making you scream.

 You’re a terrible person. You’re the worst kind of woman. you hate yourself for this.

 Ron’s brows furrow and his face goes soft, eyes a warm burn rather than a vengeful inferno. You don’t realize you have begun crying until he brushes the tears from your cheeks with quick fingers.

You press your forehead against his as your body bows in warning, your orgasm approaching with unforgiving intensity. 

 Ron doesn’t kiss you and you don’t kiss him. You never had and after this long, you don't think you ever will. You hate how much you wished you could though.

Especially with another man’s tongue working you into a frenzy at the same fucking time.

 “Please, I want you...” you said pathetically, and Ron had the grace to look down in shame. Guilty fingers intertwined with yours and with a sad grimace he kissed the backs of your hands.

 “I know you do, I’m so sorry,” he breathes across your knuckles, tongue darting out to wet the chilling skin where he kissed, kissing your hand as he had wished to kiss your mouth each and every day since he had met you. 

 But you couldn’t, he couldn’t. And he wouldn’t let you ever try.

 You came with a silent cry, only the whispered reminder from both of the men you loved to breathe saved you from falling apart in the most critical moment.

 Because you are cruel you take one hand from Ron, the one he wasn’t kissing, and pull it back. 

 Babe’s overgrown hair is soft and damp as you reach down to rake your fingers through it, quickly finding his hand on your hip and clinging to his fingers with painful desperation as you quake above him.

Pulling you impossibly close to his mouth, Babe holds you as you tremble through the last of your pleasure, suckling once, twice more before noisily pulling away from you. 

 The sound was so lewd even Ron had to close his eyes and grit his teeth in order to stay quiet.

your hair clung to your face, and after sliding his fingers from yours Ron brushes the sweaty strands around your hairline.

 As you begin to catch your breath, you remember who you are, who all you’re with, and all that’s brought each of you to this point. You remember that Ron Speirs has to go, will always have to go. 

 He didn’t want you to be his,  wasn’t interested in sharing his barracks or you asking him about his past or remembering your birthday. You didn’t matter, none of this did. 

 All that mattered to him was the fight. The big picture. “We’re all already dead. Why bother acting like this is anything other than a distraction?”

 “Y/N,” Babe’s gentle kisses land on your hips and you realize that the time for your decision is coming sooner than she had anticipated. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

 You take a few more shuddering breaths with Ron, and from the way he tightened his jaw you knew he knew that you were going to have to let one of them go. And, because he’s just as selfish as you are, he doesn’t want you to choose Babe. 

 He’d rather keep you like a lark he can turn to for reassurance and comfort. Like a bird in a cage.

 With a final sniffle, you look down, away from Ron, and give all of your attention to the beautiful, sex-mussed man who was looking up at you so sweetly and with such a clear desire for approval that you almost started crying all over again.

 Ron lets you slip your fingers from his and takes a silent step back as you return your attention to your lover. You let him disappear into the night.

 “Nothing at all, Babe,” you reassure him with a sigh, moving shakily down his body so you can kiss him as deeply as you can, sealing your body to his as you hold his face between your hands. “I just forgot where I was for a second there.”

 Nipping at your bottom lip, he waits until you pull back before smiling stupidly at you.

“That good, huh?”

 Shaking your head, you scoff and flick his chest. As he starts to chuckle, you roll yourself off of him enough to scratch your nails lightly across his stomach.

 “I’ll give you a full review after round two, how about that?” You smirk as his eyebrows shoot up, sitting up and swinging your leg over his hips to straddle him. “But right now, how about I reward the idiot I love for remembering my birthday?”

 If he’s surprised by your sudden proclamation of affection, he makes no show of it. And somehow that makes the moment all the sweeter.

~ ~

(HELLO SO SORRY FOR THE LATE FIC I LOVE YALL COVID IS A BITCH! I’M CURRENTLY WORKING ON THREE FICS SO HOPEFULLY THEY WILL FOLLOW SHORTLY! OKAY BYE BYE MY GORGEOUS GEODUCKS!)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 Ok, so our Joe’s hot. Like, really hot. He is fully aware of how good he looks- sometimes to the point of arrogance. If he had to pick just one part of himself, it’d probably be his arms. He likes knowing that he can always fight his way out of a sticky situation, but what he really likes is how your hands feel when they clutch at his biceps while getting sexy. (He also really gets soft when you run your fingers up and down his arms/forearms while sitting around and talking with the guys shh shh shh)

On you? Your hands- this boy never thought of hands being sexy until he watched yours dance across a map while discussing plans of action. His eyes followed their motions like a moth follows a flame- and when they touched HIS HAND for the first time? Boner city. Population: this guy.

 C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

MESSY BOY. OH MY GOD.

He’s BIG into marking you, and if you gave him the ok (he always checks first) he’d gladly paint you in it (he gets very caveman when it comes to marking you as his ffs what a horndog). 

But if you aren’t into that? Not a problem. Simply seeing his cum on your hands (which we’ve established he’s super into) is enough for him. Inside of you works too, FYI. He’s very accommodating.

 D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 He once secretly got off in class while watching you disassemble and reassemble your rifle. Your fingers moved so fast and confidently that he couldn’t help but wonder what ~other~ confident things they could do (his mind instantly pictured you fingering yourself and he’s only a little bit sorry about how depraved he is). He’d kneaded the heel of his hand against his cock under the table and to this day he has no idea how he wasn’t caught.

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Experienced is a good way to describe Joe, bc in cruder company he’d be called a fuckboy. He’s had more partners than the average Joe (lol sorry) but not nearly as many as someone like Tab or Nix or Liebgott have had. He just lived a full-ass life and, due to him being a stud, he’s never been wanting for company.

 F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

 Anything with him on top is his comfort zone. He likes feeling in control, and he really likes being able to see how good he’s making you feel. 

Bonus points if he can grip your neck a lil bit.

 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

 Joe is goofy in the sense that he likes to tease you, maybe antagonize you a lil. He knows that you get off on it- that you like when he points out how good he’s making you feel, or lightly chastising you for how quickly you’re going to cum. He doesn’t mean it, and if you were ever to tell him to back off he’d be totally down.

 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

 Dark, curly, trimmed but not ~groomed~, you know?

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

 Personally, He seeks to establish intimacy during the afterglow, curling around you once the sweat has cooled and your breathing has evened out. Face touches, greedy but sweet kisses? Joe Toye’s your guy.

HOWEVER!: If he thinks you could use some during the act, he’s game. If you ask for it? HE’S WHATEVER MORE THAN BEING GAME IS. Get over here, hot stuff.

 J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

 He does it whenever he feels the urge. It’s not a huge deal for him. 

He’d prefer sex with you obviously, but if you’re not feeling it or it’s not a good time then he’ll take care of himself. In a perfect world, you could both do some mutual masturbation. He absolutely thinks of you while he does it, tho.

 K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

 Choking kink. Wow wow wow. Nothing extreme- he doesn’t feel comfortable cutting off your airflow or anything, but a hand around the throat certainly adds a nice primitiveness to the experience. 

If you choke him, however: different story.

Joe finds that EXTREMELY hot. Oh my God. It plays into his weird obsession with your hands/touch. It reminds him that you’re just as into him as he is with you, and he is a big fan of you getting a lil rough with him now and again. 

Pin him down by his throat as you ride him? He’s done for.

 L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

 Any time, anywhere- as long as he can be sure that you won’t be interrupted. There are exceptions to this (see Risk). 

 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

 Little touches from you can really get him going. Lacing your fingers with his as you both ride in a truck from location to location. Your eyes finding his as you talk business with someone else. The gentle scratch of your fingernails through the shorter hairs at the base of his skull. You also get a certain look in your eyes when you’re feeling frisky, and the moment he sees that, sexy with you is all that he can think about.

 N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

 Doing anything to you that leaves more than a bruise. Hickeys? Awesome. Speckles of bruises on your hips from where his fingertips dug into your skin a bit too hard? Hot.

Deep shadows around your throat left behind from him holding you a little too hard? NO NO NOPE THAT’S NOT OKAY.

It reminds him too much of violence, of someone trying to escape the touch of another and being denied freedom. Once, a German soldier had tried to choke you out so you wouldn’t alert anyone of his presence and Joe. Fucking. Lost it. His brass knuckles were nearly fused to his skin by the time Joe was done with them.

Tl;dr- deep marks on his girl? He’ll kick someone's ass. He’ll kick my ass. He’ll kick his own ass

 O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

 He’s a fan of both! When he’s going down on you, he’s all about results- what will get you off the quickest and hardest. Overstimulation King (but in a good way).

When you go down on him and make a point to draw the process out as long as you possibly can, he just about cries with need. He’ll beg you to give him more so he can finally cum, but secretly he’s hoping that you’ll keep edging him bc dear god you’re so beautiful and evil and wow your nails scratching down his stomach feels good.

 P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

 FAST. Like I said before, he’s all for getting you off quick and hard. He likes the feeling of his muscles trembling with exhaustion as he pistons into you with ruthless speed, likes the way it makes your body shake and bounce and sheen with sweat. He really likes being able to just fall asleep with you afterwards, so his goal is to tire out the both of you.

 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

 Ok, so here’s the thing- before you, most of his sexual history could be considered quickies. He didn’t like the idea of lingering too long after doing the do, so a quick fuck in the closet of a bar was his bread and butter. Remember: the quicker the better.

But since you, he’s decided that he’s good with both quickies and...slowies(?). If he’s feeling frisky while you both are out or just about to go out or in any sort of time crunch, he lets you know by coming up to stand behind you and wrapping his arms around your torso, gently pulling you back until you can feel his hardening cock against your backside. 

If you rest one of your hands on his forearm and squeeze it- then you’re not feeling it rn and he backs off (or excuses himself to take care of it bc he’s practical like that). If you lean back into him or turn your head to the side so he can kiss your cheek- it’s go time. Meet him in the bathroom, bc someone’s about to get their world rocked.

 R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

 JOe is fine with public sex as long as he knows/can predict who or what could possibly figure out what the two of you are doing. And even then, it’s going to be sneaky. You sitting on his lap with his dick in your pussy? Nice. pretending to lean over and whisper something to you while sitting at a booth (but actually fingering you? Dope.

He’ll basically go as far as you let him, but his big thing is not letting the two of you get caught by someone who will hold it over your ehad. Do’t fuck with his girl.

 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

 Two and a half rounds- he always starts with getting you off with his hands, thigh, tongue (that’s the half round), then he cranks out the next two fast and unwaveringly. Ideally, the outcome for him is two orgasms for him and three for you. Bonus points if he can wring four out of you, but he’s not going to push it.

 T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

 Probably didn’t own any of his own, but if you have a vibrator or something he’ll definitely use it on you. Would probably consider letting you use it on him, but only once he’s used it on you a couple times.

 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

 Not very much in terms of edging teasing, but verbally he can be very antagonistic. 

 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

 Loud and proud, but tries to keep the sounds in for as long as he can. You can always tell when he’s close by how vocal he’ll become. Huge whiner whenever you suck his cock or give him a handjob, bc you are so perfect and wicked that it literally overwhelms him.

 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

 Has at least one copy of the Kama Sutra. Bill gave it to him as a joke gift but Joe absolutely uses it for inspiration.

 X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

 Average length but girthy. He’s pretty proud of it. 

 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

 Pretty high, but something he can control. He knows it’s unrealistic to be able to fuck you whenever he wants (bc otherwise, you’d never leave his bed), so he’s able to channel that desire into anticipation for the next time he gets the chance to fuck you.

 Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

 SO FAST, OH MY GOD. But he doesn’t sleep long- it’s more like a power nap and then he wakes up and helps you clean up/cleans you up himself and then gets cuddly. Then he sleeps again. What a nerd.

~ ~ ~

He’s all for slowly kissing you while trailing his fingertips up and down your side, but if you just want to sleep beside him he is more than cool with it (he’ll probably still pet you a lil bit after you fall asleep bc he’s soft for you but shh shh shh don’t tell anyone). The only thing he isn’t very good at doing is pillow talk, especially right after sex. He’s too worried about saying the wrong thing and fucking up what he’s managed to establish with you. 

It isn’t until after he’s shot that he realizes how nice it feels to have someone else take care of him, and when you do so after sex it solidifies the fact that you don’t see him as a burden- you want him and you want to stay. Thank god, too. He doesn’t think he could recover without you (again, not that he’d ever tell you that)

 B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 Your AhhhhhhHSSSSssssSSSSSs!!!!!!

Oh wow, look at you- owner of the cutest butt he’s ever seen. Can he put his hands on it? Can he squeeze it? Please please puh-lease can you let him watch it jiggle as he fucks you? If you’ve answered yes to any of these questions, then you’ve made each and every single one of his dreams come true. 

He doesn’t discriminate in his love for butts- he’s an equal-opportunity appreciator of the Majesty of the Female Ass™. If it changes size throughout your relationship, he’ll love it even more. Absolutely shameless.

On himself? He likes his legs- especially his thighs. 

He likes how strong they are, despite how much he hates Sobel for getting them to their current strength re: Currahee. But he gets over it quickly bc oh wow is he happy with their endurance while trying to keep up with you, both sexually and otherwise. The day he realized you could ride yourself to orgasm on them was the day he died and went to heaven and was sent back to sin again.

 C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

 He likes cumming on your pubic mound and then watching it slide down your pussy, thank you very much. If you guys are trying for kids or in a position where you don’t have to worry about not having kids, he’ll cum inside of you happily but oh wow he likes watching it slide down your lower lips. BONUS POINTS if he gets to catch it on his thumb and either stick it in your mouth OR circle your clit with it in order to get you off one more time.

Also, you asking him where he wants to cum on you gets him hot under the proverbial collar. 

 D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 He’d do literally anything for you if you’d let him put his finger in your ass. He will genuinely kill an individual of your choice if you let him put his cock there instead. What a perv (jk it takes a lot of vulnerability for some people to convey their wants and desires to their partners plz remember that this has been a PSA).

The one thing he’ll never actually tell you about... EVER is that for a little while after meeting you for the first time in Georgia, he started hooking up with a girl who he didn’t realize (until much later) bore a striking resemblance to you. He’d had to end the relationship when he straight-up called out your name when he came (he was a lil drunk, just tipsy enough to slip up) and full-on booked it out of there bc not only had he pissed the girl off, but his shout had woken up her family- namely her very angry father- and barely escaped with his life.

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

 He’s had two lovers before you, but one of them was really experienced and patient and bless that woman. All he really has to do is learn what you like and he’ll commit it to memory. 

And you better be damn sure that he’ll use that knowledge against you/for his benefit. 

 F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

 Doggy style for all the reasons mentioned before. Or reverse cowgirl. Or normal cowgirl. His hands + your butt= dream combo.

 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

 He can be goofy, but more than anything else he likes it when you’re goofy. Chuck can get a little too in his own head at times, which can lead to frustration/self-doubt- ESPECIALLY while recovering from his brain injury. You reminding him that sex is meant to be fun does him a huge favor, bc poor lamb will forget that every so often.

So please, nibble at his earlobe in that way that tickles him. Make a quip at the expense of one of your friends. Mock the silly sound of the moan you just let slip out.

 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

 He’s not going to groom unless you tell him to, but he also doesn’t feel like you need to groom for him, either. Chuck’s not afraid to admit how much his personal hygiene has improved since meeting you. 

I can promise you that if you’re heavily invested in skin/hair care, he’ll probably be just as into building his own routine. 

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

 You always have Chuck’s full and undivided attention during sex, but he won’t necessarily show it unless he gets the guy feeling/you tell him that you want him to be. He’s going to whisper sexy things into your ear, call you a good girl (if not his good girl), and do everything in his power (at the time, at least (he can get a little distracted if you’re doing something particularly sexy)) to make sure you feel just how appreciated you are. He gets more and more confident in his PDA as your relationship progresses, but when it’s just you two? You’ll never meet a bigger sweetheart.

 J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

 Ok, so I’m deciding for you that mutual masturbation is a thing that you’re both into, m’kay? 

I'm also making the executive decision that you really enjoy watching him get himself off. You walked in on him one time, before you’d had sex, and were so stunned that you just watched in rapt attention until awkwardly backing out of the room and slamming the door shut. He’d nearly cum right then and there, and it got you extremely aroused. 

The next time you see each other, at some Georgia bar while on a pass, you offhandedly mention that you wish you hadn’t left and FROM THAT DAY ON he always lets you know when he’s feeling the urge and how you’re more than welcome to watch.

And when you do? It’s always a much shorter experience than he intends bc wow how hot are you?

 K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

 Frottage! Dry Humping! Grinding!

Allow me to explain:

In the months following D-Day, it was quickly understood that being on the frontlines meant having traditional forms of sex were no longer on the table (hehe) for you two. You’d experimented with rucking your trousers down your thighs, his thighs, both of your thighs, and each time it was a disaster (with one of the worst times ending up falling onto Tab after he’d inadvertently opened a door that Chuck had been fucking you against. Chuck had nearly thrown fists when Tab refused to look aware from your bare ass.)

So yall started grinding- quickly finding out that the bunches of fabric separating your bodies not only led to new forms of stimulation, but it also meant that you both started to utilize dirty talk. There’s something about your trembling lips at his ear, your warm whispers of ‘so good’ and ‘is this really all you need, Chuck? Me, writhing on you like this? What does that say about you, you desperate boy??’

Boy’s bought a one-way ticket to Boner City, USA.

PLUS! What a way to keep warm during Bastogne? Everyone is so jealous that they don’t have a super foxy megahot babe like you to grind upon.

 L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

 Hmm…..is saying anywhere a cop-out? Because he’s down for anywhere, he’ll follow your lead and rise to the occasion. Such a perv i s2g.

 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

 ♫ YOOOUUUUUUUU!!!!!! ♫

You have this one eyebrow quirk you do when you’re in the mood, and it just so happens to be similar to the brow raise you give someone trying to outsmart you (which is another turn on for him- you putting some overly-confident sonofabitch back in their place after allowing them to mansplain at you for a little bit. First boner he ever got (since meeting you, obviously) came after witnessing you telling Joe Liebgott to stfu in cutting German after he’d made some off-color comment about your ass.) 

So, more often than not, he'll get a little turned on when you argue with people. Maybe even when you argue with him- who knows? not me. (i totally do, and he totally is)

 N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

 Any sort of pain play, on either of you. 

After being in genuine agony for so long while recovering from all of the surgeries, the idea of seeking any more pain out just doesn’t make sense. Chuck also doesn’t want to see you in pain- even if you’re asking him to make you feel it. You’d both suffered through the pain of hunger, frostbite, insect bites, sunburn, and just war in general (all of which had emotionally taken a toll on him bc he felt completely helpless and hated that he couldn’t do anything to take your hurt away). 

Sex and pain just doesn’t go together for him. Sorry not sorry 

 O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

 He loves having you go down on him, adores the way your eyes look up at him as if you’re challenging him to withstand your beautiful ministrations. 

He also is a big fan of going down on you, but PLEASE PLEASE PUH-LEASE ride his face. Good lord. 

He’s a sucker (teehee) for it- something about you using him like it’s all you keep him around for gets him hot. You also get this certain snarl on your lips when you are getting close that makes him lose his goddamn mind bc WOW YOU ARE SO ATTRACTIVE and HOLY SHIT YOU CHOSE HIM OF ALL PEOPLE? WOWOWOW.

 P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

 He’ll follow your lead/body language in terms of pace. Most sex sessions shift between both slow and deep as well as fast and hard anyway, so he is a fan of both. 

 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

 A necessary evil, as far as Chuck is concerned. He’ll do them, and he’d be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy the spontaneity of them, but he would prefer not to be rushed when he’s with you.

 R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

 He was riskier until that one time Tab caught you guys, after which he chilled out. Which you are thankful for, bc you’ve spoken with Lieb’s wife and BOY have those two gotten into some embarrassing situations bc of how risky that kid is. 

 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

 The longest he's gone is 4 rounds (it was celebratory sex on VE day, with both of you in the best shape you'd ever been in and too high on relief to listen to your bodies. Ya'll were sore and dehydrated afterward but LORD was it worth it.

 T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

 He’d be very open to the idea of toys! On you, he’s automatically cool with it, but it does take him a little bit to get his head around the idea of using toys himself. Again, 40s/50s= somewhat repressed discussion about deviations from the traditional male sexuality- but Chuck is more willing and ready to challenge the societal norms than most. Very sexy of him.

 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

 He always intends to tease you, but more often than not he gets so turned on that he can’t follow that intention through. You are aware of this and ABSOLUTELY weaponize this knowledge. Get it, fam. 

During day-to-day conversation, however, you both tease each other constantly. It’s been like that since you’ve met each other- always making innuendos and one-upping the other and for some reason that never even went away.

When Chuck woke up and the doctors brought you in to see him, the first thing he told you was that you looked terrible. When you’d replied with a sniff, a smile and a “guess the doc’s were full of shit when they said there was no change in your vision, huh?”- Chuck had smiled so hard it hurt.

 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

 He’s a choked moan kind of guy. His face gets all scrunched up and his body shakes and he curses quietly under his breath (it’s vv cute and hot, FYI). he doesn’t even try and be quiet on purpose, he just seems to lose the ability to be vocal, tbh. If he’s drinking or if it’s been a hot minute since yall have gotten to do the do, he’ll probably be a bit louder. Like, maybe one loud cry of your name (see: the letter D)

It doesn’t bother him if you make sounds at all, just so you know. If anything, he likes that he’s a quiet cummer bc then he can hear any and all of your sounds.

 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

 biting your ass while eating you out from behind is *bang* *bang* *bang* *click* *cash register noise*.

Especially if you squeal and smack at him after he does it.

 X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

 Average in all respects but OH MAN does he know how to work it to his advantage. Get ready for a wild ride, my dude. 

 Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

 Higher post-war, tbh. Chuck had had to be on bed rest for so long that he thought he may never get the chance to have sex again, so he totally makes a point to indulge in you every chance that he can get (but he’s cool if you say no, too).

But, as I mentioned in ‘risk’, he’s not going to be humping your leg in public or anything (ok but imagine if you were a dom to his sub and you made him do that holy fuck)

 Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

 He does not sleep very well, poor bb. He will be asleep but his mind will be working through all kinds of things ranging from PTSD to what shoes he wanted to wear to dinner with your parents that weekend. Good thing there’s a remedy to this ailment- your pussy sex with you!

While he can’t konk out immediately, he is able to relax. He will allow himself to get lost in the rhythm of your breathing, the weight of your hand on his arm or your arm wrapped around his middle. He will sometimes nuzzle into you as you’re drifting off to sleep, and when you press a kiss to his forehead he finally feels safe.

~ ~ ~

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

 Ok, so our Shifty-kins is a huge fan of your neck. He loves the elegant slope of it, and he especially loves how it looks littered with hickies. Whenever the holidays come around, you can bet your ass that you’re getting a necklace- and your gift to him will be modeling said necklace without a shred of fabric covering your body. Plus! Winter means turtlenecks and scarves, so you’ve got built in coverage for when he gets a bit too...carried away. 

Come summer you’re on your own. Good luck fam. I’ll be thinking of you.

He loves how the skin of your neck feels against his lips and fingertips, and while he’s not big into choking he is big into neck holding while you fuck.

He’s very modest when it comes to complementing his own body, but if he had to choose a favorite part, it’d most likely be his torso. He likes the way that your hands feel across the skin there, and he really likes how it's strong enough to endure your pressing hands as you ride him into oblivion. Gently scratch your nails down his abdomen? He’s a goner.

 C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

 He doesn’t give a hoot or a holler about where or when he cums (he’s had a dick his whole life, it’s not interesting to him anymore), but when it comes to your cum,  Darre-Bear is borderline obsessive. 

He loves how you taste, he loves the wet heat of you and firmly believes that you taste differently depending on what you’ve cum on. Fingerfucking orgasms taste sweeter than the cum he’ll lick from you after fucking you with his cock, but his absolute favorite is when he gets to eat you out from the get go- when your taste is the purest and the most satisfying.

The way you whisper and coo down to him as he goes down on you also makes it impossible for him to see straight. You don’t even have to try to dirty talk him bc your voice is more than enough.

But please talk dirty to him, for the love of the Lorde. It will destroy him and destroying him is just. so. hot.

 D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

 (grabs you by the shoulders) HEY, YOU. LOOK AT ME. (shakes you by the shoulders slightly) Shifty Powers may seem like a sweet cinnamon roll prince, a sweet summer child who knows nothing of the darker thoughts of  sinful winter, but OH BOY ARE YOU MIS-TA-KEN.

He’d never voice these impure thoughts aloud bc the guy would explode from shame and embarrassment and WHAT IF HE HURT YOUR FEELINGS HE CAN’T DO THAT OH NO! But underneath it all, he’s an absolute horndog for you. He just never had the words to process and express what he’d like to do to (and with) you.

I’ll explain:

He grew up in a very small town with very few people, so all of his sexual education revolved around procreation and marital duty and maybe a lil bit of hanky panky but mostly procreation. The minute he’s introduced to clowns like Tab and Liebgott and Toye and Nixon and Bill Guarnere and Pat Christenson (you’ve seen Michael Fassbender, you know he’s got game), he learns about the birds and the bees from an ENTIRELY different perspective! 

It’s nasty. They’re borderline gross at times. He blushes like a goddamn old southern lady while clutching his pearls but hot damn do their scandalous stories take root in his mind.

So, upon meeting you and seeing what an utter babeasaurus/boss ass honey you are, can we truly blame him for envisioning you doing any number of mouth-wateringly carnal things he’s recently learned about? The answer is no and I’ll hear no other opinions, thank you for your time.

 E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

 Ok, not to plug a future work of mine, but here I go. The more I started learning about Darrell C Powers, the phrase “howling at the moon during barefoot summers and rosy-cheeked winters alike” popped into my head. Now, I’m still flushing out what that actually means myself, but I feel like he’s the type of guy who was always outside and running around in the woods. 

As he got older, girls (of which there were probably like 9 of in the lil bittle town he grew up in) took notice of him and just how hot/cute/kind-hearted he was and so he probably had a few sexual experiences in his later youth with one or two girls, but nothing long-lasting or serious.

 F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

 You on top! Please ride him and tell him how good you are feeling/how good he’s making you feel, bc that makes him feel like a king and when Shifty feels good EVERYTHING IS GREAT. Please let him take care of you, but more importantly, be a guiding light for him during his sexual development. He’ll make it worth your while (i pinky promise)

 G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

 Like, he doesn’t joke or anything but he does laugh joyfully as he comes down from his high bc wow that was awesome or woah that felt really good! He sort of laughs/chuckles lightly whenever he feels like his breath has been taken away, which in turn will make you smile and beam which then makes him kiss you somewhere that you’re ticklish and soon you’re both a mess of sexy giggles and affectionate looks and honestly, that’s really hot. Good for you guys. I’m the captain of your ship and I’ll get back to you with your ship name. (For your consideration: Y/Nifty?)

 H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

 I feel like I say this for all of the boys, but he doesn’t really do much. Like, if he’s showering he washes his pubic hair and if you were ever to ask him to trim he would- but he’d not be too keen on the idea of shaving it all off, ya feel me?

 I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

 Oh, if there’s no intimacy, sex is a nonstarter for this affectionate loser (I say this with a heart full of love). 

He needs to feel safe and loved and desired in order to get in the right headspace, and he can’t get into it unless he, too, wants his partner to feel those things. The great thing is, he’s very good at making you feel all of the above and then some. 

Shifty’s already pretty upfront with his emotions, but he’s never more candid than when he’s loving on you.  He calls you beautiful and perfect and will tell you just how good you taste and feel and oh my god he’s a fuckin champ when it comes to making you feel like you’re the only person that matters. Please accept how loving he is, I’m begging you.  You’ll never have to worry that he doesn’t love you, bc he wears his heart on his sleeve and Lordt knows that you’ll cut anyone who tries to abuse that lil heart of his.

 J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

 He’d much rather you jerked him off. As I alluded to in ‘C’, he already knows how to jerk himself off, it’s not a great mystery to him what he needs to do in order to make himself cum. But when you do it, he always cums harder. 

It’s the unpredictability of it all- what are you going to do this time? Are you going to use your nails (lightly plz) on him? What about your thumb? Are you going to tease the underside of his cockhead with it, or are you going to focus your thumb's pressure on the underside of his shaft? And good god, what will your other hand be doing? WHAT WILL THAT PERFECT MOUTH OF YOURS SAY TO HIM!?!

If he does need to masturbate himself, he’ll run through a list of dirty things you’ve done to him before in his mind until he can get himself there. But, ultimately, he likes your hand much much more.  

 K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

 He’s vv shy about it, but he loves it when you boss him around a lil. Like, he likes having you in charge but there’s something so UNGHHHH (*chef’s kiss*) about you holding his wrists above his head as you ride him or jerking him off from behind with strict instructions to keep his hands on the counter while you dirty talk him within an inch of his life.

 L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

 Somewhere and anywhere he feels safe. What a dork. 

 M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

 Any sort of adrenaline high gets him in the mood. War was a very odd aphrodisiac for him. He got the courage to kiss you (innocently) for the first time in the dark morning hours of D-Day after finally reconnecting with you after losing you in the fray, he kissed (dirtily) you while covering your body with his in the Chicken Coop of Nightmares™ in Carentan. Y’all horndogs barely waiting until the shooting had ceased in Foy before sneaking off and having. at. It

Post war (and pre and during) he’s aroused at the sight of you fiddling with a necklace or putting on perfume or any other neck based thing. 

 N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

 You being restrained, sharing you or being shared, any sort of pain play. He’s pretty vanilla but oh boy does he do vanilla well.

 O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

 He’d answer this question himself, but he’s already got his head between your legs and showing you just what his preferences are. 

That being said, he’s not going to say no to oral from you, bc as far as HE’S concerned- you are the sexiest thing since the dawn of time and you know just what to do to make him start speaking in tongues and beg you for mercy.

 P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

 He’s willing to go wherever you take him, my dears. Early days, he’ll tend to go quick and sensual with lots of kisses and face holding. Work with him, and get ready for greedier hands and slower nights.

 Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

 Actually, he’s fine with them! Prefers the real deal, but sometimes you’re just so gorgeous and beautiful and your mouth is so wicked that he can’t help himself.

 R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

 Same as with Pace, he’s willing to go wherever you lead him. The riskiest thing he’d ever done up until you started making your desire for him known was kissing you openly and bodily in front of everyone after the two of you had almost been shot in the Nightmare Coop.

 S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

 A solid two rounds with solid aftercare and solid pillowtalk. A dreamboat. A literal prince.

 T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

 As long as it’s something you don’t spring on him in the moment, he’s absolutely open to it. Get ready for him to be superawkward throughout the conversation, though. (He's going to like cockrings and bondage on himself shhshhshh)

 U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

 This guy couldn’t tease you even if his life depended on it. He can deny you nothing. But PUH-LEASE tease him. Good God, he’d never ask you to in so many words but he’s super into it.

 V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

 Ah man, he’s really bad about keeping it down.

He can’t help it! You just make him feel so good and don’t even get me started on how good you make him feel about himself as a man/soldier/partner/literally any other title you could give him. He’ll try to keep it down (esp when the rest of the company are literally in the next room) but he just cannot do it. 

None of his friends would ever give him shit for it though- they’d be like the most embarrassing and varied group of hypemen in the entire world. You’d joke that they all like him more but honestly, you also like him the most, so whatever.

 W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He cries when you say that you love him the first time. (happily)

He cried during your first fight (frustratedly)

He cries when he introduces you to his mother for the first time. (happily)

He weeps when you say that you’ll marry him. (happily)

He just barely manages to hold it together on your wedding day. (romantically)

He’ll sometimes just tear up bc you make him so happy and wow did he luck the f*ck out (he somehow manages to curse innocently what a cutie).

 X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

 He’s long but not too long. Average width. He’s doing just fine, thank you very much.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Pretty high but it tempers with time. But when he’s in the mood then he’s REALLY in the mood, ya feel me?

 Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

 No sleep until you’re both clean and watered and fed and pillowtalk-ed and not too hot or cold. And you’ve got to fall asleep first- it makes him feel like he’s done right by you that way.

~ ~ ~