#temp writing

it would never cease to perplex him how his crewmates celebrated a successful surgery, as if it were only theoretical when his success rate was factually among the highest in his field. park, however, had learned long ago that accepting their congratulatory platitudes need not even be verbal, as he nodded to the anesthesiologist. the crew parted as he began to devest from his surgical hood, gloves, garb, methodically removing and gathering them so they could be disinfected before they'd be used again.

but he stares at the slender expanse of nurse kim's neck, the thin chain of some charm resting against the crux. something akin to relief, a release of tension. his breath leaves him in a soft pant, mouth dry, pupils dilating.

park exhales through his nose. "nurse kim." clipped, controlled, more than he felt, as he motioned her to join him in his office.

"doctor park," she acknowledged him with a smile, dimples forming as she looked up at him through her lashes, following with a relaxed gait.

his swallow is instinctive. natural as the door closed behind her . "if you would please keep your mind to yourself when procedures are being performed, i would appreciate it."

a flush creeps up her throat, high into her cheeks as her brows draw together.-

her head thrown back as kiss swollen lips panting for air, as a soft whine still rings through the room. heat filling his head as he brings his lips to her pulse, feeling her blood tick faster beneath the flesh. when she breathes, he mirrors the action, unable to pull himself from her.

his face is hot as he… breathes, lungs filling before he expels the oxygen completely. there is a slight creak as the structure of the doorframe whines under his grip. he can smell the floral notes of her body wash, a ripe scent like a split peach underlying everything as he inhales again.

there is a distant sound beyond the thrum of her blood, echoing through his own.

he knows he can make sense of it if he could just focus.

park-

color is high in kim's face as she breathes through parted lips, dark lashes heavy, fanning across the dusting of freckles on her cheeks.

he could count ever one of them, he realized idly. and to be so close to another meant the space was practically nonexistent, the warmth he felt from her body radiating.

"doctor park?"

the way she said his name was melodic, the way her lips moved with the words.

it's… an accident.

her flushed skin is warm against his fingertips.

her lips are soft against his own.

his thoughts are not his own. but haze of pleasure is hard to deny as the heat of her own swirls into his. sigh of her pleasure swirls with his. the heat of him against her, and low in his belly, the cradle of her hips. there is a pulse, and the moan echoes.

her hips tilt off the bed to meet his thrust, despite the hold he has. that brings a feeling of pride to him, lips parting, the edge of his lip tugging. she was not fragile, aware of her strength even in the throes of passion and aware of him, what it would take. there's a euphoria to this free expression of self that sends a shudder down to the tips of his toes before building in his balls.

she whimpers against the expanse of his chest, crown of her head brushing against the fabric as she tried to steady herself, center her stance. he shift in her weight made him swallow. clearing his throat, he allows himself to lean closer, the warmth of her. she slots against him with ease. fluid in her movement he couldn't help but appreciate.*

her hips give an aborted stutter as her breath catches in her throat —- the solidness of his body made her throb. his arms braced on either side of her. humans made fun lovers but park was the first even partial vulcan she'd that'd made her feel like this. she really can't help herself.

her hips tilt and —-

park sighs in relief.

she rocks against his thigh, bracketed between her own. with a soft whine, kim leans her weight against him, allowing him to support her against the door as her hips roll languidly.

the drag of motion is like a balm.

—- and it's not enough. —-

his hand finds the sensible braid she kept her hair bound in, tugging to pull her eyes back to his.

kim moans.

it reverberates through every molecule of his being.

he can feel himself stiffen, face flushing.

her pleasure laps against his mind, and he cranes his neck down to find her lips, braid taut in his grip as he guided her to meet him. soft turned desperate as she raised herself to her toes as he urged her to stand taller.

it was the need for oxygen that had him release her. her shuddering breaths mirror the gentle rocking of her body, chest arching closer to him as her flush spread.

the tear of her uniform top is an accident, his usually sure hands fumbling as he released her, tried to steady, but the heat in her gaze is accompanied by a smile, tongue peaking out to wet her lips.

—- her hands jump to join his in some semblance of trying to slip her arms out of her sleeves, unexpected whimper leaving her as the movement dragged above her clit. it was embarrassing to realize how close she was from this heavy petting session.

the intensity of his gaze made her clench on nothing, the emptiness practically an affront —-

there's an attempt to help which only serves to get her hands in his way, and it was with ease that he took both her wrists in hand and held them above her head, free hand now working to shove her pants lower, fingers dipping beneath the band of her underwear.

he tries to prepare her for intrusion, but she moans wantonly when his nail scrapes against her inner walls, the bite of pain and pleasure too much.

her moan is park's as he thrusts inside of her to the hilt.

kim chants his name as he thrusts into her, matching his rhythm as if she knew before. she must've. but the pleasure was muddling what was his and hers. tightness clenching. the feeling of being filled. each time he angled his hips just right sending sparks.

he releases her hands wrap her braid around his fist. jerking up to a cry as he hadn't known pleasure could feel like that.

stars burst.

their breathing mingle as does his best to not put the whole of his weight onto her, thankful that starfleet had invested in their structures.

internally, he winces. he'd done so well not involving himself with his crewmates to this level.

"can you go again?"

again she wets her lips, expectantly.

But the specimen showed no signs of potato cyst nematodes.

Your sample was clear.

You announce your finding with barely contained excitement to Harry from across the lab.

A laugh leaves you, grin forming as you turned to your colleague, finding your joy mirrored in his eyes, the wrinkles around his eyes creasing behind his goggles the biggest indicator he smiled back.

If this wasn't an error, you might be looking at real steps forward in decontaminating soil, entire fields maybe.

This was a possible game changer.

There was no greater high than this moment.

You were on the mountaintop, overlooking the summit.

Finally.

Aisling shrieks when you tell her the news, apologizing afterwards as she wraps her arms around you, but you know you're still beaming. You haven't been able to stop smiling since you'd confirmed twenty samples showed no signs of infection. Assuming you'd be able to replicate it, and a partner lab. The next steps had you feel like you were electric, warm and blood singing in your veins with each beat of your heart.

You were glad to be able to share this moment with her, after all she'd put up with in your soap opera life.

And it's nice to catch up on her life.

It's not really a surprise when she announces Joe's finally proposed. They'd been together for ages. (And you don't like where your mind goes when you think back, smashing the 'what-if's that come with.) So it only made sense that they'd take that step forward, after they'd learned and grown with each other. That there was likely something to do with her grandmother talking her ear off about 'living in sin' , and your face heated unpleasantly because that had only started since Colin was born.

She's your best friend, has been for years, and you're so happy for her. And there's a part of you that feels terrible for the bitter part of you that wants that, wishes you had it.

You shove that even further down, pitch it from your mind while you clear your throat.

"I'm so happy for you." And it's true. You are ecstatic that she's able to move forward in her life with someone she loves beside her. Suddenly you feel an ache that you didn't shriek in excitement, like you were downplaying this huge news of hers, and-

"Perfect, because I need my maid of honor next to me, and I am even going to pretend I want start a sibling feud." She says it so earnestly, that it takes you a moment laugh.

But her face is still serious, and you feel your mouth go slack.

“Babes,” Aisling's fingers are so light on your arm but you stop, laughter dying. "Please be my maid of honor."

Of course you would. You nod your head frantically as you finally get the words out.

Why did you always forget that Ash was always in your corner and wanted to share her highs with you. Like you'd done with her.

It was really the reminder you needed that there was good in the world.

"And," the way she draws the word out has you blinking back your tears, so you could make out her face. "Colin could be my ring boy?"

Damn her.

There's no way you could deny your son the spot.

And you knew damn well he was going to look amazing in the photos.

Damn.

You end up crying as you hug her.

This was really happening.

It still didn't feel real.

There was a living being on your chest, breathing with you as he seeks the warmth of your flesh. You sought Ash's eyes as you tried to make sense of your situation. To confirm this was reality. That you'd really done it. All the months of feeling absolutely adrift while promising yourself another day, another week, another month and you'd know what you were doing.

And now he was here.

Your doctor is saying something, and you desperately try to pay attention.

And there is a living being in your arms.

This was real.

You'd done it.

You'd accepted a position at a lab that held your interests. You were going to make money doing the thing you wanted to do.

You'd had your baby.

Yours.

You were making your life how you wanted it to be.

Now there was just every day to come.

You could do it.

Before you pick up Colin, you opt to treat yourself to a coffee.

You still feel giddy.

All of this together felt like things were finally looking. All the work you'd put in was paying off. And you wondered if this could all work out, then there were more things to look forward to.

You were curious about the future, which the part of you that did want to be optimistic was relieved by.

Everything was going great.

Which is why you finally felt the courage to pause near him. The most beautiful man you'd ever seen, who'd been frequenting your favorite café this last month. You'd chatted politely while waiting for your orders.

So why not take life by the horns.

Live your life.

Kyle gives you his number, with plans to meet up Tuesday morning for coffee before work.

She just wanted to enjoy her time with him, to talk above a whisper about topics she'd wanted to bring up. Their conversation had felt stilted and — of course she knew it couldn't last forever but they needed to feel comfortable to confide in each other again. It felt like at times the kids would be telling her about his days. How he was still gone more often than he was home. In all honesty, she wished he would just let her hold him. Really tell him she was so proud of him for going to rehab. For getting help when he needed it. Instead of his slight nods, eyes meeting hers briefly, the ghost of a smile on his lips before he looked away.

Abby just thought they'd have a quiet night in, just the two of them, then pick the kids and Stitch up at his parents the next morning, ask them all about their Fourth.

He's pale as a sheet when he opens the door, keys dropping onto the table as he stands otherwise motionless. A smile starts on her lips as she raises her hand to greet him.

She doesn't even get the opportunity to ask how his day was before Frank's on her, mouth crashing against hers as his hands hold her face still. Pulling her flush to him, while he slotted his hips to hers, stiffness to her clothed mound. He swallows her gasp, her head beginning to feel light as he didn't let up, rather he kissed her deeper. When his hands slide up to her shoulders, she can't help but shudder, his moan lost in her lips.

It was like his presence was engulfing her, no part of her untouched. Her legs move instinctively at his guidance. Backwards as he led. There was a desperation to the hunger of his touch that frayed her at the edges of herself, heat at the blatant desire crashing against her confusion at the situation.

When he finally pulls away, panting for air, she feels dizzy, like her blood is practically vibrating in her veins, hands uncertain as they grasp his jacket to keep herself up. Tilting her chin up finds his eyes feverish, all previous thoughts leaving her head as a new question forms. Her brows knit in concern as she rests a hand over his heart.

"Fra-"

And his lips mash the words back, tongue twining with her own, stifling her words as he traces her teeth, exploring every inch of her mouth as if it's the first time. He rocks into her.

Abby whines into his mouth when his hands drop to her hips, cool fingertips shocking against the soft flesh of her belly as they moved beneath her shirt. Her hold drops with a shiver, as his slides further up, cupping her breasts before the backs of her knees finally find the edge of their bed.

Air fills her lungs as she stares at the ceiling, breathing as deeply as she can as she tries to collect her thoughts. A dull sound somewhere, like a weight dropping, registers vaguely as she inhales.

"I love you," Frank pants, before the feelings of her leggings being pulled down has her sitting up, fabric catching on her ass as his thumbs hook on the cotton of her panties, but still she lifts her hips when he tugs again, more insistently this time. His bare chest is flushed, his perfect dark hair mussed. There's an underlying dishevelment about him she hasn't seen before as he shoves down his scrubs and boxers, kicking off his shoes as he climbs onto the bed with her, hands sliding up her bare legs to make a space for himself. "I love you, just- please."

It's followed by a kiss that silenced her questions, the whimper as he pushed inside with no preparation, hips flush against her own in a matter of seconds. She wasn't ready. Her nails drag down the plane of his back, panting through her nose as she sought desperately for any hold she could find. Any attempts to ease her hips back only brought momentary relief before his followed, cock grinding deeper inside her.

A whine hums through her tense form.

He breaks away to kiss his way down her throat, quick hands tugging her shirt up, off, to leave her in just her bra. He even kisses the edge of it, as he traces his way down her sides, stilling at the baby fat that never seemed to leave despite her best efforts. His fingers knead the tender flesh almost delicately, reverentially. While his hips rock into her faster with each stroke. The discomfort of the situation settles on her, insides aching as he started to thrust in earnest, pulling her hips to meet his in time now that he's found his rhythm. Even as she works to even her breathing, there's a pounding in her head that refuses to let up. A dizziness at the edge of her consciousness she can't shake, even as she tries to focus, unable to make eye contact from their position.

She doesn't want to think about the ache, pushing the feeling further down in her mind, burying her teeth in the soft flesh of her lower lip to distance herself from the reality.

Uncertainly, she wraps her arms around his shoulders, hoping that keeping him close might anchor her in the haze she's found herself in. Her knees knocking into him as she shifts, and he moans into her ear at the action, hips stuttering before his pace picks up.

"God, I love you, Abby." The words are hot on her skin, mouthing at the edge of her jaw. "I fucking love you. You know that right?"

And of course she does, nodding as the knot in her throat makes speech seem impossible.

She can feel his smile, the brush of his lips as he nods. Before he nips at the spot behind her ear that makes her walls flutter, gasp catching as an unexpected pleasure pulses. A heady groan against her as he bucks instinctively. He releases his hold to grasp something behind her, raising her hips to shove a pillow beneath her. It's almost embarassing for her to realize the relief it provides.

"Frank," she tries again, each rock of his thrusts leaving her stomach roiling. Her exhales quicken, eyes cinching shut before he kisses the edge of her lips. "Can we slow down?"

But if he heard her, he makes no show of it, burying his face in the crux of her neck, hips snapping faster.

Abby focuses on the print she'd finally framed. She'd loved the way the flowers had been painted, pink and white blossoms on a blue she'd said reminded him of his eyes when he'd asked if it was overdone. But she'd liked it.

There's the broken sound of a sob that draws her attention, as Frank begins to thrust harder, pulling her hips to meet his with each drive into her core. "Don't leave."

Whatever the context is lost on her, but still she finds herself nodding.

"I love you." The words come out stilted, wetness that couldn't just be sweat smearing across her pulse.

Absentmindedly, she realizes she's running a hand through his hair, nails scrapping gently along his scalp as he moans into her throat. Wetness that couldn't just be sweat

" - please, baby-" The words barely register as he takes hold of her left leg, bending it to wrap around him, and the difference in the angle pulls a gasp from her, her hips bucking in unexpected pleasure.

He cums with a strangled moan, hips jerking harshly against hers once, twice, and a third time before he stills, letting his weight rest atop her as he catches his breath.

"I love you," Frank mumbles, kissing her shoulder.

And Abby echoes the admission softly, rubbing small circles against his spine.

Exhaustion lays heavily with them, eyelids heavy as she kisses his temple.

She loves her husband. She does.

When they go to pick up the kids the next morning, Frank is happy to give into Penny's insistence and let her sit on his shoulders as Tanner tells them all about what Stitch got up to. Abby can't help but smile as he explains how the dog had gotten onto the kitchen counter, hands spread wide above his head.

Her big little man waits patiently while his father buckles Penny up first, making sure her seat is secure before he moves to secure him next.

There's a grin on Princess's face when she places her order, a wiggle of her eyebrows. Of course, she knows. Her and Perlah know everything that goes on in the ER. At least she patted her shoulder as she took her own drink from the bar to cycling through chatting with who'd assembled, seeing what she may have missed, snickering in Tagalog to herself, though sometimes her eyes sought Santos's.

She finishes her first drink before opening the app. Nursing her second has her giggling, wondering if this was gonna even work, eyeing the bar to see if there were any potential hookups. Pointedly ignoring looking in his direction, not like he would meet her gaze. She could still hear his voice among the others, mingling. Kim slams her drink before she flags the bartender down to order a third.

"Do you really wanna go the app route?" Comes the sly question as Jesse slips into the seat beside her, grin showing teeth. "I mean, don't get me wrong, you'd probably find someone. But, I've been given pretty good reviews."

There's a promise on the curl of his lips, that sends a shiver down her spine, that makes her swallow thickly.

"Oh, so you have three references I could check with?" She ask with a raise of a brow, ignoring the heat in her face, chest, low in her core. Like they hadn't flirted around each other when he was separated. Officially divorced now, was the word, with his ring gone.

"Now, I don't kiss and tell, but I will say, I would make breakfast, if that sweetens the pot." And the light catches on his nose ring, the gleam in his pretty blue eyes.

Her pulse ticks faster as his eyes drop to her lips, tongue peaking out to catch the drop of Super Punch before it escaped. This thumb traces the neck of his beer bottle. The bartender sets down her third. She can still hear him in the crowd. When his eyes meet hers again, there's a hunger in them that thrills her.

Maybe it should take more than that.

Maybe she should take him home.

But they're kissing like drunk college students in the alleyway, hands roaming as hungrily as their mouths. As his lips fall to her throat, he tugs her closer, taking hold of her hips to keep her still from her rhythmless rolling. It's hard to argue when the short stubble of his cheek brushes against her neck, whine soft as he kisses his way across her collarbone, the scrape of his facial hair making her shiver.

She finds firm plane of his abdomen and can't stop the grin that spreads. She liked them strong, easy to imagine what those muscles were capable of as she hooks her fingers in his belt loops, tugging him closer.

Kim gasps when his hands finally make their way up her shirt, cool fingertips sending a shock through her as he palmed at the softness of her stomach appreciatively. Hips bucking as his thumb brushes against her navel piercing, giving a slight tug, before creeping further, pushing up beneath her bra. Her hips move instinctively, at the touch, but a whine leaves her.

"Too much?" He pants, pulling back to catch her eyes.

"No, god no, more, please," she tacks on the request as she pulls him closer, dragging him back into a kiss.

He's a smart man, letting her guide, fingers tight on his closely cropped locks. Mouth hot against hers as she twines their tongues. Her month long dry spell has made her greedy, uncaring, as she sucks, explores his mouth. And Jesse moans when her teeth catch his lip, nails scraping against his scalp.

She kisses her way down the tender flesh of his neck, after that, breath catching again when he tweaks a nipple, pelvis bumping into his, grinding against the stiff tent she finds in his jeans. When he repeats the action, so does she.

"Fuck," she hisses as he shoves her shirt and bra up, catches the other in his mouth as his fingers give another twist. Her hips buck with more whines in pleasure.

Even before she'd been a dancer, she'd never been ashamed of her body, aware that her tits were nice and her hips were fine, and after it was just her body, the flesh she lived in. One of Jesse's hand spanned nearly the expanse of her breasts, kneading them with ease as he kissed the delicate skin above of her sternum. Dragged his tongue along the same path. Like he was worshiping her.

Pleasure fanned hotter through her as he lavished attention to her chest, suckling and nipping, trailing a pattern she couldn't understand but didn't need to.

Kim's gasp is sharp when his other hand sneaks beneath the hem of her pants, the cotton of her panties to find her dripping. His mouth latches as one of his beautiful, slender fingers dip inside.

It's more than she can take.

Moan guttural, her own hands drop to unbutton, unzip, whatever was needed to get his dick out. "Inside, now."

"Whatever you want, baby." His grin catches he light of the streetlight as he pushes her hands to grip his shoulders, his own hands shoving the denim down with ease. Before he briefly returns his attention to her tits, a kiss each.

Of course, he decides it's less work to shimmy her leggings down than take them off, shoulders protected from the brick by her bunched up clothing, as he slots himself between her thighs. The chill of the night air sends a shiver through her as it hits her delicate skin, but any argument of their predicament dies on her lips when he hefts her up to dig her knees into his hips as if she weighed nothing. Another chill jolts her as he pulls her panties to the side.

Kim throws her head back as he notches against her core, sliding inside with no further preamble, moan high at the pleasure of being filled with a real cock. "Oh god. "

"It's Jesse," he supplies just as quickly as the words leave her lips, not even giving her a moment as he continues to ease into her.

She nods slightly, intent to show she heard him while her mind focused on the motion of his hips, knees firm against him.

Oh god, it'd been so long.

Kim tries to catch her breath when his hips surge, as he bottoms out, letting her forehead rest against his shoulder as she gasps.

Too long.

She lets the feeling wash over her as she pants for air, sure that her nails are digging into his biceps but brain unsure how to ask about his comfort, if it was too much. Instead, she whines.

"Oh, baby," she vaguely recognizes his coos, before the pressure of his hand is applied low on her belly. "You feel me, right here?"

And she does, nodding desperately as she hums her affirmation, clenching instinctively as it felt she were being stretched taut. The weight of him inside of her, against her, so warm and firm and real. There was something…different. A new whine built as she clenched again, brows furrowing before she understood. A hoarse moan escaped as she confirmed the piercing through the head of his cock, hips rolling back to try and take him deeper.

When he pulled back she begged for more, arms wrapping around his shoulders as she tried to follow his retreat. The moment he thrust back in was sudden, cry high in her throat as she dug her knees into his hipbones, back arching instinctively as she felt his dick brush past all the right spots inside of her before he pressed his hips firmly against her thighs, rocking on his feet and swaying her between his own body and the wall.

"Oh fucking hell, Jesse," she moans as he uses the opportunity to kiss his way back down her neck, scruff tickling and sending tingles through her spine, straight down to the cradle of her hips.

He moans in turn as she pulses around him, teeth burying into the tender crook of her neck.

Kim drags her nail across his back, up the back of his skull. And his mouth remains firm, only releasing her after he'd started a rhythm, tongue lapping against the throbbing flesh in steady time.

"Knew you'd feel good," his lips brush against the bottom of her chin as she rocks against him, sighs of pleasure following. "Been trying the low and slow route, but I ain't mad."

That gets a giggle from her. "Oh, yeah, I can definitely see that." And it's not her fault her brain is capping out at three syllable words, before he starts a brisk pace, pulling out only an inch or two before slamming back in.

Her lungs empty of air as she throws her head back, pleasure setting off starbursts behind her eyelids. She can't even get a full moan out as he drives into her, each thrust feeling faster than the last. His hands are heavy on her breasts, making her whimper.

"I woulda begged on my knees to fuck you, Kim," he pants into the shell of her ear, hands sliding down her sides to take hold of her hips again. "You want me to do it right now? Because I will-"

A ragged moan finally escapes as he stills for a moment, thighs firmly against hers. She can feel herself fluttering but couldn't stop it. "No! Please don't stop, oh godJesse-"

"Baby girl, are you seriously already close?" She can feel Jesse smile against her cheek, tilting his neck to catch her lips for a moment while he ground his cock further into her.

Thankfully he accepts her desperate moans as an answer, as she rocks against him, cooing a 'baby' to her as his hands tightened.

Jesse planted a kiss on her lips, while he held her pinned between himself and the wall.

When he pulled away, Kim realized he hadn't moved an inch, keeping her held tight as he turned to kissing his way across her jaw, stubble once again tickling, shiver right to her pussy. Catching her breath, she raised her eyes to meet his own, question the tip of her tongue but brain struggling to form the words.

The streetlamp caught the edge of his nose ring, his teeth as he grinned down at her. "Gotta hold on, okay?"

And while his voice raised, it wasn't really a question, as he rocked languidly into her, weight of his body making it feel like he'd somehow gotten deeper. A sigh of a moan escapes from between her lips as she tried to do as she'd been told.

Wrapping her arms around his shoulders was enough to make her whimper, though she stops herself from rolling her hips, lower lip between her teeth.

This time, after he kisses her, he lets his forehead rest against hers, delivers a few kisses to the corner of her mouth as his cock sits heavy inside of her. "If you come, I swear I'll spank your ass raw, got it?"

It's the only warning she get before he pulls back, head barely inside before he snapped his hips and buried himself back to the base. A choked moan starts and dies high in her throat, before another follows, grunts of exertion joining them as he lets himself fuck the weight of himself onto her. She can't stop her teeth from parting, the scrape causing him to buck suddenly in the middle of his thrust, angle shifting.

Kim whined, nails clawing against his shirt as she tried to stop herself from orgasming. The pulse of pleasure washing over her like a wave, only to crash into a pain as the bricks grazed against her back firmly enough that she felt the sting. Her arms felt so tense she might hurt something

He lets her catch her breath, lips ghosting along her hairline as he languidly rocked against her. Pleasure still a tight knot in her belly as he barely moves, instead taking the opportunity to palm at her breasts. "Fuck, you're perfect." He sighs into her temple. "Squeezing me so good, but still listening, good girl."

Of course Jesse feels the way she spasms around him at the praise, grin turning sharp.

He lets himself pull back a little further, tilts his hips just enough that the brush of his stud makes her thighs shudder.

"Oh, fuck!" She hisses, clenching her eyes shut as she tensed, desperately tried to will herself to not come.

There's a chuckle on his breath. "You know it's Jesse, baby. Hold on just a little longer for me."

"Uh-huh," Kim affirms, drawing a lungful of air.

Tried not to notice that his pace was picking up, and instead on the bite of stone against her shoulder blades. Couldn't just focus on the pain, though, when he started praising her, sloppily kissing across her mouth as he fucked into her harder.

She gasps around his finger when he shoves his thumb into her mouth, against her tongue. Kim sucks instinctively, and he moans.

It shouldn't be a surprise when he presses that same digit against her clit, pulling a hoarse cry from her. "C'mon, Kim, come for me, baby."

It should maybe take more than that, but she orgasms with a scream, shoving her face into his shoulder in an attempt to muffle the sound, as her vision goes white.

Kim's cheeks were flushed, color high in her face as Jesse's fingers tapped against the curve of her hip, as they waited for the bartender to reappear with their tabs. They must not have been gone that long, though the ache in her hips would disagree.

"Ohhh, we thought you skipped out on us," Princess giggles as she reaches over to squeeze her arm, leaning on the top to raise a brow at Jesse. "And Jesse. You find our Kimmy for us?"

If her face could feel hotter, she might pass out but he laughs.

"'Course, but I'mma take her home, because someone's a bit of a lightweight." His smooth response is accompanied by a toothy grin. "Always good to have someone who lives in the same direction and all."

"That's what you get for drinking Super Punch," she tries to shrug, ignoring the pang, while doing nothing to remove his hand, which had edged up the hem of her shirt.

They're out the door when Ahmad snaps his fingers. "I told you."

"Oh, they live in the same direction?" Trinity asks with a wiggle of her eyebrows at the news.

"No, I am one hundred percent sure Jesse takes the rail in every day he works because he hates our parking lot," Donnie snorts.

"Except that time Perlah's brother-in-law needed her car, so he picked us up." Princess shrugged.

"And that time Mateo's bike got stolen." Ahmad reminds them.

"Okay, sure, he hates the parking lot, is he parking in Kim's garage?" Trinity instead tries again, cutting to the chase.

Cool as a cucumber, without a care in the world.

He can't help but wonder what makes a fella like that tick.

Turns out, Simon doesn't have to wonder when he'll see him again, morning commute aside.

Johnny'd cancelled, the damn mutt getting his usual shag pal in for a surprise visit. Didn't even let him know till he'd checked his phone and found half an hour had passed since they were supposed to meet and instead of an apology for running late, in their text chain, found a singular eggplant emoji from the Scot.

He can't stop the snarl that builds in him. Annoyed that he was out here, without an actual purpose now, where anyone was.

His skin crawled.

With a grunt, he stood, meaning to flag down the bartender and pay for his beers when he sees him entering.

It doesn't seem like his kinda place at all, if Simon were a betting man.

Seemed too polished for the lads pub he was currently standing in the doorway of.

But he makes his way to the bar like it's the same shit every day, ignoring the sneers he quickly draws. There's such an ease in which he holds himself that Simon can't tear his eyes away from.

He means to go up to him, to say something.

Simon orders himself another pint and nurses it as he builds up the nerve, observes the man for any opening. Anything he could comment on that wouldn't immediately flag him as a creep because he wasn't. Not like that.

He watches as he settles in, sips his own pint.

Their eyes meet and Simon's heart freezes before it begins to thunder in his chest.

He drops his gaze to the bartop, as he tries to figure out what to say to him. He should just get up and go talk to him, figure out what he can instead of staring like a schoolkid who balks and freezes at the slightest sign of anything else. Too scared of his own shadow.

His mental hype up gets his eyes back up, searching for the man and instead finding the spot empty.

Yeah.

Just his luck.

"Seat taken?"

Simon doesn't jump.

But he freezes, before he lets himself turn.

There's a slight grin on his face, and for the first time he clocks the scars on his left cheek.

"Yea' nah, feel free mate." He finally groused out, tipping his glass in an offer. "Need a top up?"

Luv goes unsaid but the idea of it forms on the tip of his tongue.

He traces the neat scars, wondering at what had caused him before the man sits.

"Sure, wouldn't mind." As he takes the seat beside him, Simon lets himself sit straight, bones aligning properly.

He doesn't so much as flinch, he's flagging the bartender down.

It's not a pride, but almost everyone Simon had ever met was wary of him, at the start and they all expressed it differently.

There's not a touch of apprehension in him.

"'m Simon," he hopes it's as nonchalant as he tries for, dragging his gaze back to the football match on the pub's screens.

(Bournemouth's forward made keeping up seem like a breeze, Arsenal running around like a bunch of muppets on the field.)

Mister Handsome is nodding, like he already knew that, raising his pint to drink.

How could he think someone who looked like him might even give a man with a mug like his the time of day?

Some absolute knob appears, ugly mug a smear on what should be something for him to keep in his mind. There's a sneer on the muppets face, a look in his eyes that Simon knows well. Mean for the sake of it. Because he's bigger than others. "You're in my seat, lad."

He can feel his jaw tick.

If Johnny were here, he'd laugh as he stood himself up, bottle still in his hand as he returned it with his own toothy grin. And Simon's got a mind to, to get this fucker out of the way for interupptin'-

There's a flash in his eyes that sends chills down his spine, as Handsome sets his drink back down. A set to his jaw, that flexes his neck.

Simon swallows instinctively as the man stands, height easily surpassing the man.

"Nah, mate, think yer mistaken." With the curl of his lip, he knows. This man is much more dangerous than he lets on normally.

And the dumb muppet realizes it too. A faux predator backing down when teeth were bared. A mouth that had tasted blood showing fangs to a pup with a head too full of itself. Those neat scars suddenly sharper in his mind.

Of course he flees.

Tail tucked between his legs.

There's a roll to his shoulders, as Handsome sits back down, finally getting to take a sip of his pint, eyes flicking over the bartop up to the screen. To the goal being made. A slight smile ticks up on his lips.

Simon traces the profile of his throat as he swallows, instinctively mimic the action, before he takes an actual swig for himself.

"Kyle," he offers, "but my mates call me Gaz."

Gaz.

Si tries the name in his mind as he pretends to focus on the screen while he can't pull his eyes away from him.

He can't help but wonder what he's gotta do to be his mate.

Flagging the bartender down, he orders them another round.

Only one way to find out.

Gaz's lips are soft, pressed against his own in the alley outside the pub he'd stepped into for a quick smoke. Simon'd been surprised when he accepted the offered cig, but lit it for the man, leaning closer as he cupped his hand to keep the cold breeze from putting out the flame of his lighter. He'd taken the moment to flick his gaze up, found beautiful brown eyes staring into his soul from beyond the open flame.

Save a smoke for later after they'd both taken a drag.

Before Gaz had taken a fist full of his shirt and pulled him in.

Surprise gave way to a funny kind of pride as heat fanned low in his belly. If he'd known it'd take a fag in the alley, he'd have opened with the offer rather than downing a half a dozen pints before.

When he finally drags himself away, soft pants for air, he feels lightheaded, sure that this is some kind of cosmic joke, but no television crew burts out into the cool air.

"Yours close?" Gaz asks instead.

Simon nods, maybe a little too fast.

But he doesn't have an ounce of shame in that.

And maybe he'd thought he'd known where this was going.

Brought Gaz back to his, pulled him in for a kiss as the door shut behind them. Let out how hungry he was for it, for him. The sparks that had been low in his guts igniting.

His teeth clack against Kyle's with the fire finally going. Tongue tracing his teeth while he tried to steer them back to the bar without tripping on anything. A fucking miracle when he can finally grasp the doorframe. He kisses him like he's oxygen, like he wants every part of him, and no one had ever kissed Simon like that before.

He almost felt like he was floating when he finally pulled away, sucking in as much air as he could. There's a grin on Gaz's face, the flash of teeth shown like a white flash. That pleasure building beautifully.

If he's blushing? What's wrong with that?

He leans in to kiss him again, lips slotting together with a calm ease that belies Simon's wonder if this was a dream. Gaz pulls away, kissing down his jaw, throat — surely feeling the butterflies that have started to thrum through his blood — before he nipped gently at the tender flesh.

Si can't stop the way his hips buck, the moan that escapes as he throws his head back in the burst of pleasure.

"Like that, luv?" he feels him snicker as he asks, kissing the spot gently while he nods dumbly against the wood of the door. "Yeah, thought you would, don't you worry, ol' Gaz'll take care of you."

His hand is steady as he loops his finger into the belt loop of his jeans, tugging him closer, hips nudging his just briefly before he leads him backwards. The edge of his bed behind his calves, and with a slight push, Simon finds himself seated.

His brain has completely blanked out, not a fucking thought possible in the space between his ears. That's why… no, it's not why Simon does what he does next, but it's an easy enough excuse — he'd never done it before, but he leans forward to let his cheek rest against the stiffening bulge in Gaz's trousers.

The cool touch of the zipper sends a lovely shock through his spine, as he breathed in.

"Fuck, luv, you're so sexy like that," the dulcet tones of his voice rolls over him like waves as Simon gazes up at Gaz, beautiful brown eyes crinkled at the corners, grin like sin on his face. And part of him wants to say that he didn't know what came over him, but the adoration in those has his cock jumping to attention in his own jeans, while he mouths at the outline of the line of his.

"Good boy," Gaz purrs, as his thumb catches the edge of Simon's lips, fingers splayed across his jaw to tilt his head up so their eyes could remain in contact. "So good for me."

And to prove him right, Si traced his tongue on the tip of his thumb, lids heavy.

"Fuck," he hisses, and he tries not to disappoint, as he reaches for Gaz's belt, only lifting himself away from the cradle of his thighs, to free his cock.

Of course, it's the prettiest cock he'd ever seen in his life. He wasn't even suprised, really, just knew, confirmed, kissed the head of it before drawing it into his mouth.

Not his first time, but damn if it'd been a while since he'd done this. Most everyone assuming he was a dom, who needed to be serviced — not that he minded, but this was, fuck Kyle's cock was really just perfect. Heavy on his tongue, heady. When he bumped the back of his throat swallowed back a gag to trace the underside of him. Simon sucks him nice and long, letting the younger man fuck his throat idly. Minute thrusts inching down his throat before pulling back enough to allow him oxygen.

So considerate.

He smiles around the dick in his mouth, up to the prettiest man he's ever had in his room.

Did that make him a cocksucker? Sure, but Simon reckoned anyone would be if Kyle Garrick asked 'em to. (Not that he'd had to.)

Gaz moans above him, fingers twinning in his short hair, and for a moment he panics, tries to relax because he's been on the opposite side of a throatfuck. Gags slightly in preparation.

But no.

His hands smooth over his skull, caressing, as he eases back. It's natural that Simon feels some relief, eyes finally raising to meet a raised brow, concern clear in his brown eyes. He rubs circles with his thumbs on Gaz's hips, and is glad he seems to understand.

He's clumsy, he's not too proud to admit that, sure maybe a little embarassed, but he knows what feels good, tries to replicate it as he hallows his cheeks and sucks. Drags his tongue along his length inside his mouth.

"Fuck, babes," Gaz hisses, and when his eyes turn up, his head is thrown back, lips parted in pleasure.

Si hums in pride, loving the way the other man moans again, halted thrusts urging down his throat. His hands edge higher, under his shirt to find muscle.

"Wanna see what that'll do to you?"

The husky question goes straight to his cock, but he has enough mind still to nod.

The rush of oxygen in his lungs is accompanied with a strange loss. Somehow he knows he tells Gaz where his lube is, watches in a confused awe as he motions for him to scoot back. Only one brain cell is churning in the hamster wheel of his mind, as Simon rests against the headboard, hard cock weeping against the blonde hairs of his belly.

"Just relax, luv, yea'?" Gaz's strong hands run along the firm fat that covers the muscles of his own abdomen, nails grazing the edge of his cock and making it bob as Simon's balls tightened in unexpected pleasure.

"Fuck yeah," he forces himself to rasp out.

But all his bravado leaves him, when he reaches for the lube.

Face burning as he stutters out he's never done this before. That before.

Gaz kisses him, and a shiver runs through his spine. Face burning but greedily returning it, as he feels his hands easily sliding across his skin, before dipping back.

Easing a finger into him. Like trying to calm a spooked horse, he talks him through it, but there's something to this.

Maybe it should have taken longer, but it feels like no time before his knees are to his chest, cock in him.

It felt like Kyle’s cock was rearranging his guts, and Si didn’t even try to stop himself from moaning. Thoughts were hard, forget stringing actual words together. There was only the mindblowing feeling of getting fucked by someone who knew what they were doing.

He panted for air as another thrust has his back practically arched off the mattress, sharp cry of pleasure leaving him. He'd never thought it'd felt like this. That it could feel this good. He'd thought toe-curling pleasure was just some flowery language. But he swore his toes curled with each movement, whine building in his throat as he rocked back against him, doing his best to take as much of him as he could.

The pleasure made his brain feel hazy, lids heavy as he found himself moaning for more, desperately clenching his walls against him to further the bliss.

Simon blinked hazily up at Gaz's beautiful brown eyes, balls tightening up as the took in the burning hunger in them.

A grunt leaves him as he pulls back before the pace abruptly changed. The change of rhythm had him rolling his eyes back, every single muscle locking beneath his skin as stars burst in his eyes.

"C'mon, babes, cum on my cock," he purrs, hooking under his lips and tilts his head further back, mouth opening wider as his lungs suddenly become desperate for air.

The sound doesn't register, until the saliva lands .

Of course that's what gets him cumming.

Gaz's hips slap against the fat of his thighs as Simon sees god.

"Shit, sorry, sir, had a surprise," Johnny's grin is in his voice as he seats himself to Simon's right.

Only then, of course, does the Scot recognize that someone else was there. Greets Gaz with a toothy grin and a firm shake of their hands.

The bastards get on like a house on fire.

Simon swears he can feel his cum drooling out of his hole, minds eye supplying the image of the puddle forming in the seat of his trousers, as Gaz's hand rests on his thigh.

He couldn't wait to see what made him tick.

What ways he'd share.

The word is one greeted by immediate movement by his so called bodyguards, henchmen at best, as they quickly evacuate his office. Roman swallows the little blue pill he keeps in his desk for times like these. The sound of loafers is almost soothing. The only problem, of course, being, when she turns to follow suit.

"Li. Stay."

Sensible heels stop their clicking retreat like the parting of the Red Sea.

He downs the scotch he'd poured himself. Waits. And not a shed of remorse from the others as the door seals her to whatever fate they've imagined for her.

Her eyes never give anything away. A near constant state of calm, seemingly regardless of what was happening in front of her. Her collected nature had been what had first garnered his interest. Had he thought 'Li' was a man when he'd started looking for a second in command? Yes.

But he could work with a woman.

As long as she remembered her place.

Did as she was told.

"C'mere."

Like a well trained dog.

She stands before him, at arm's reach, one brow finally raising as she must have wondered the purpose of her needing to be there.

"Get on your knees."

There it was, that glint of distaste she almost never showed, that she covered up better than anyone. And in his slacks, his cock twitches with interest, anger disappating as he watches her kneel, eyes still working to meet his own.

Part of him wants her to argue, to seethe verbally, like he knows she can.

He wants to see the look in her eyes when his rings connect with her cheek. Dainty hand coming up to delicately touch the spot of impact. Blood on her lip.

Instead, she unclasps his buckle. He almost fists his hand in her hair and yanks. But he's hard enough from the idea, it'll work.

He could work with this.

Li takes his cock out while he strokes me down ioher hair as gently as he can with his right hand.

His left falls to her throat, urging her to stretch her spine with the motion.

A grin ticked up, knowing this would give her no pleasure.

Her tongue laps at his cockhead as her gaze finally drops. He loved a broad who knew her place. How she knew how to get him off. He'd worked hard to get her to learn. The handful of hair he'd been tugging to force her to throat his cock had come out of her neat ponytail. Dried mascara tracked down her cheeks, crusts around her eyes from when she'd cinched them shut while he dragged her down his length. She was practically perfect.

Just that damn tongue.

Finally making it do something that didn't make him wanna blow someone's brains out. Because she was right. Always some fucking detail she'd brought up and he'd ignored. Rage made this better. Sharper. The puffs of air from her nostrils brushing against his curls.

Li’s dark eyes glare up at him as he forces his cock deeper down her throat, tears building but refusing to fall from behind her glasses.

The bitch.

Always pressing her fucking place. Needing to be reminded.

Roman presses the pad of his thumb under her chin, the soft flesh underneath her tongue, forced to the bottom of her mouth by him. He can see the panic as he brings down his other hand to pinch her nose closed. Below him. There's a stretch before it finally hits. Her throat spasms around him as she tries to breath.

Right where she belonged.

The prick of her nails on his thighs is what pushes him over the edge. Perfectly manicured. Nude. She's moaning for air as he cums down her throat.

"Fuck!"

He finally releases her, lets air try and fight its way back into her lungs.

Her lipstick was smeared, staining his cock as she eased herself back to her knees, off his length. Hands shaking as they gripped his legs as if he were the only thing keeping her upright. He probably was.

It was sweet how the feeling ignited something low in his stomach. Beyond the pleasure.

His cum staining the pristine white of her blouse.

No piece of her, untouched by him.

They were both in this filth and only he was the one people saw.

Finally, he reaches for the square in his suit pocket to drop to her.

Clean yourself up.

And she never needed more prompting. Doing the best she could do to remove the excess lipstick around her lips, before dabbing at her eyes. Pristine so easily, aside from his jizz on her shirt. She even tucks him back away, and buckles his belt for him.

"I'll get this washed, sir." She offers, as she raises to her feet. Handkerchief carefully folded so nothing would stain the inside of her pocket.

Fucking. Pristine.

Roman admires her black hair, slight muss practically obscured, as she turns to make her way out of his office.

There's a niggling in the back of his brain.

“Li?”

She stops, face entirely neutral despite her smeared make up as she turns back to show he has her full attention. “Sir.”

He traces his back molar with his tongue, sure his math was right.

“How long you been off the pill?” The question gives her a start that she tries to cover, tries to smooth away as if it were nothing, but Roman’s already seen it. 

Yeah, that’s what he thought. Treat one bitch like she was special and she’ll take a mile. Like he didn’t look her in the eyes when she’d tried to date, the scrawny prick’s blood staining his suit, knuckles raw, in a remind that he owned her.

And that meant everything.

“Desk, face down, ass up.”

There’s no disagreement. Li knows better, tidying the loose papers before bending over his desk. Her fingertips lace in front of her as she lowers her head to the wood, letting her forehead rest against it in order to get semblance of a relaxed position. 

Roman loves her like this. 

A woman who knows her place, presenting herself to her better. He can make out the edge of her pantyhose below her skirt. His cock is stirring in his slacks again. Roman couldn't tell if it was due to her submission or that beautiful fucking pill. And he was fine with that.

His thumb catches the edge of her skirt to slide the fabric up.

The nylon of her hose gives easily to his grasp. Tearing along the seam like a dream. Catching on the stones of his rings to pull and run as he smooths his hands hands down her legs.

Li had such nice thighs. Perfect, smooth, the scars of his bites standing out so starkly on her otherwise pristine flesh.

He palms her pussy through her panties. Hot. His fingertip presses harder against her slit, searching for her clit beneath the fabric. When she grunts softly, as he forces the digit harder against the bundle of nerves.

Good.

He needed this to hurt if she was going to learn.

The black satin tears easily.

Roman makes a show of unbuckling himself, palming his cock through his boxers as a finger haltingly made its way inside her.

"Sir." Li hisses out as he mashes his thumb against her clit, bucking against the discomfort of her situation.

The clap of his hand coming down against the fat of her ass the only warning she needs. He can hear the exhale from her nose as she allows her body to go lax again. She doesn't even start when he tears her panties off.

There's little fanfare to his fucking into her.

Li's tight little pussy is dryer than he likes. It felt like the dry hand of a maid who’s worked dipping her hand in cleaning solution her whole life was rubbing his dick raw, and he hisses as he tries to work himself into her faster, needing some kind of lubricant. She can't stop the soft grunts that escape when he bottoms out, picking up the pace with each thrust.

He knows she wants to ask if she could touch her clit, if she could do something to get him off quicker.

But this wasn't for her.

This was for him.

He needed this.

Finally, his cock was sliding smoother as he pistoned into her, one hand firm on her hips while the other kept her shoulders down. Shoved down against the wood while he used her.

Her nails scratch across the surface as she tries to find some leverage, heels skating in a horrid set of cries.

Music to his ears, as her pussy spasmed around him. No part of this had to be comfortable for her, as he put everything he could into his thrusts. Each slap of skin-on-skin was punctuated with a soft grunt. He wants to wrap his hand around her throat and squeeze.

A heat is building in the base of his spine, as Roman realizes he's hunched over her.

"-take it, you fucking bitch. C'mon, fuck-"

There's a glint in the corner of his eye.

The chain of her necklace, gold, because he knew what women liked. Perfect on the curve of her throat. Graceful line of her spine.

His teeth break skin as he chews on the crux of her neck, accompanied by a guttural cry from her lips. Blood whets his tongue as he ravenously lapped at the wound he'd created.

"Show 'em your mine, get pregnant," as he smears the blood along her beautiful skin.

"Mine," he snarls, driving in faster.

Mine. Mine. MineMinemine-

There's a snap of euphoria that ignites every pore, tingles through his muscles. His balls feel tight as he fills her.

Mine.

The angry pulse in his head finally lessens. Climax clearing this mind.

The blood had crept down her neck, clinging to the collar of her white shirt.

With a sigh, he runs his hands across his face, eases himself out of her, finger what cum tried to leave her aching cunt back in.

"Li, I want this bastard taken care of, do you understand me?" Roman asks as he tucks himself back into his boxers, wiping his fingers on the nylon of her hose. Rough edges of his nails pull runs. His ears pick up the soft groan of pain, smile tugging up his face.

"Understood, Sir."

And what was she gonna do? Report him to HR?

(( AN: Also called: Roman is a full on misogynist who fucks his assistant and is trying to knock her up

You worked hard, pushed yourself as much as you could without keeling over.

You know how unprofessional it is to become involved with a patient, to intertwine your lives and confuse the professional relationship you'd formed, and to integrate yourself into their family's wasn't fair. So… you do not have an interest in Logan Walker, despite the fact that he ticked all your boxes. And he treated you like you were a responsible, capable adult.

Your dad said you had the eye of a detective. It was probably the nicest way anyone could say your particular brand of anxiety made you highly perceptive, perfect for your job where a keen eye for details could help a client.

He had a habit of turning the conversation around, digging for more information on you, as you checked how his time had been going. You knew, of course, how you were being led. You would never say that you're biased, that you know when to cut off, it didn't take a genius but part of it was also… nice, having someone show interest, to ask about you. You always answer him, as long as the information is relevant, carefully bringing him back on track when the silence takes over. Reeling him away from the pit in his mind.

And you were a professional who didn't want to potentially hurt a man who'd given almost everything for others.

So you take a breath, collect yourself, and lock in.

You were here to help Logan Walker re-acclimate.

This was a job.

You are a professional.

You take pride in how far Logan had come since he'd been discharged. And you could tell he was rather proud of himself too. His brother had put him in contact with a man that was willing to let him rent his cabin. (You hoped this was a step in the right direction, ignoring a worried voice.)

It was only when you offered alternatives to your twice a week routine if he wanted, or a referral for a closet specialist that he seemed the man first brought into your life. So still you could swear the back of your neck prickled in some prey instinct directly from your hindbrain. Not of fear but… well you didn't really know how to describe it.

Logan's eyes flicked across your face, shoulder, examining your posture and expression like… you were a target.

Then his brows draw together and his eyes drop.

You're a professional. Not a schoolgirl with a crush. You tell him that there seemed to be a shift in his comfort level, and ask if your observation was correct.

When he nods after a moment silence, you nod as well. You apologize, not having meant to cause any distress, realizing that your excitement may have gotten the best of you.

But, your mistake leads to Logan slowly explaining his worries, but pausing to also state that he knows his anxieties are unlikely.

He thanks you at the end of your session, smile lighting his brown eyes as he shakes your hand. You wonder if you should let him, sometimes, but it can't hurt.

You hope.

Logan Walker decides to go to the cabin for a half a month to start, and you are not biased towards any patient. But you're proud of him. Proud of this step he was taking. Had to believe it was for the best.

And you know this is probably a sign.

You have to have more of a divide between you and your clients.

You're going to start making those steps that you've been putting off.

And you're going to be the professional doctor that Logan deserves.

Which is why the sudden feeling that you are not alone in your home even more unsettling, after you'd made your vow.

After your dad had died, you… lost time sometimes. These loses made you feel a little on edge.

But still every day it felt like something else was just a little off than how you remembered it.

You swear you heard someone inside, weight shifting being unrelated to wind. You would go to work unsure if you'd washed your dishes before leaving and come home to them dried and in the dish rack waiting for you to use the same mug, fork, spoon, knife, plate, whatever as the day before. Sure you'd left shoes a mess at the door to find them neatly put on the shelf.

Your toothbrush put itself away.

That's what made you wonder the most.

You knew you'd left it sitting on the edge of the sink the night before. Because you'd been tired with yourself and your inability to recall things correctly. You'd chided yourself in bed about how easy it was to put away a toothbrush but you couldn't muster the energy.

And the next morning, it's in the toothbrush holder.

You feel like a rat in a cage.

And the observer is testing you.

You feel sick.

Your appointments had been cancelled suddenly.

It didn't take a genius to know something was up.

It comes to a head when you know you're being followed.

Your job was never going to be completely safe, you knew that. Knew that there were some things that you heard that other people might want to know, enough to hurt you over.

You helped people at your job.

And you can feel your neck tingling when you're out and about constantly.

You don't sleep anymore.

You decide it's time for a vacation, something (ironically) you've been putting off.

Someplace where you could just unwind by yourself for a little bit.

Your tire goes out while driving.

You should have seen that coming, all things considered. You let your forehead rest against the steering wheel. Think. Breathe. The temperature had dropped last night, a cold front moving in. Breathe. You were not walking distance to even the nearest gas station. Breathe.

What do you do?

What do you do?

There's a knock on the window, pulling you from your spiraling.

Logan Walker flashes a slight smile as he waves, now that your eyes are on him. Of course you return the gesture, doing everything in your power to ignore the tingling in your spine. To not let on.

He offers you a ride, stating that the cabin he'd rented wasn't far. That he'd be able to come back for your car with his truck while you warmed up. As long as you were okay with that.

And you nod, preferring to focus on the relief for having an answer to your current situation. The most pressing concern for you. If Logan wanted to hurt you, he could have easily done it by now.

It's easier than it should be to grab everything you'd packed, especially with Logan's help. Groceries, essentials, clothes. It all fits easily into the back seat of his still running truck.

"I wasn't planning to pull over," he admits as his buckle snaps into place, looking to you afterwards to make sure you've already put yours on before he finally shifts gears. "But, well, it got cold. Thought it couldn't hurt. But imagine my surprise when I found you, doc."

A chuckle leaves you, as you think about the humor of the situation. "Well, if I didn't know any better, I'd think you'd planned it."

It's just a joke.

You try to tell yourself it's just a joke.

Logan's jaw tightens, you think.

"I'd have to be a really good planner."

You think you can hear a smile on his voice, amusement.

Yeah.

You're pretty sure you laugh.

It makes the ice in your gut easier to ignore if you think you can hear a joke in his tone.

"I- sorry, the truck's old, tape players busted, and the radio's no good either." Logan keeps talking, and you let yourself listen to the words instead of the road passing by.

You were just overthinking things.

Breathe.

You finally get an apology out, admitting that you'd been stressed. "But it's good to see you, Logan," you tell him with a half-smile. "You look well."

He tilts his head to look at you, slow smile spreading across his own face before he turns back to the road. "Thanks, doc."

It's easy to chat, catch up. A relief that things are finally going right. It's good see that Logan's doing well. That his time out of the city'd done him well, and he'd been talking to his brother, thinking about getting involved with a shelter that'd allow him to get out with the dogs before he might foster. The edge of excitement, pulled a real smile from you.

When the truck finally stops, you felt better than you had in weeks.

"Looks cozy," you comment as you peer through the window. Logan's mumbled agreement is almost instant as he kills the engine.

"I'll get the door-" His start stops as you reach for the handle, words fumbling on his tongue.

When it doesn't give, your mind doesn't question its refusal to open, checking the lock. You don't panic. Of course it's unlocked.

Instead you are filled with the numb realization that this was all a plan.

"It's not what you think," and despite the softness in his voice, you swallow thickly as you turn to face him.

"Logan-" reason is hard to keep a grasp on but you're trying.

"I wouldn't hurt you."

Your mouth feels like it's filled with ashes as you nod. "Did you…" You don't even know how to ask any of the questions swirling in your head. "Logan, I think maybe-"

"Please," he interrupted you, "don't say it's not real. You care about me."

Why couldn't you regulate your breathing? "Could we go inside, Logan?"

"Don't run." You can hear the plea in his voice and find yourself nodding along despite yourself. "Okay?"

You mouth the word, agreement.

Okay.

He fixes you with a look before he finally takes his keys out of the ignition. It takes less time for him to appear outside the passenger door, than your brain can process that he's left the cab and scramble across the seat to freedom. You start at the cool air, shiver beginning instantly as you look back at him owlishly.

Logan offers his gloved hand, and you take it, once your screaming brain can't find a way past him. The slight smile that had been playing at his lips dropped when you yanked, though, jerking his arm to pull him towards the vehicle so you could slip past.

With a thump you can hear the wheeze of your escape leave with all of the air in your lungs.

The edge of the frame had caught you in the spine when he'd tried to scoop a hold on you with his free arm. You can hear him apologizing as you try to breathe.

You're still disoriented when you feel his hands on your face, his lips pressing against yours, before he pulls back.

Brows crease as he looks into your eyes. You thought maybe there'd be something in his eyes, something negative, anger, teeth gnashing as he snarls at you. But there's only worry.

Fear.

Of you?

No. For you.

You wouldn't know he was breathing except for the puffs of fog that flow from his lips.

"I think we should go inside," you start, still darting across his features as the words sink in.

You were a professional, but this was a bit outside of the ordinary. And the heat in your belly was hard to ignore.

As his mouth crashed into yours once he'd gotten you inside. His calloused hands slip under your leggings, smoothing across the edge of your panties.

You wish you could say you were patient. But it was never your strong suit. You were struggling to unbotton his jeans after you'd gotten his belt undone. An annoyed growl left you and that seemed to pull Logan's attention to you, in his home, in his hands.

He helps you, of course he helps you. Before he froze, cursed softly under his breath. "I- I don't have a condom."

"Logan, I'm really gonna need you to fuck me right now, okay? Okay." Refusing to lose your momentum, you pulled him in for a kiss.

You wish you could say that you hadn't thought how sex with him would be. And the slow nudging his cock sliding into you definitely lives up to your expectations. A shuddering moan leaves you as he bottoms out, lips suddenly on your pulse as Logan praises you.

"Oh fuck." You can hear your words but it doesn't feel like you say it. Your thighs are shuddering.

He lets you control the pace for a moment, rolling your hips to feel the sweet stretch of being filled.

The grip of his fingers on your hips holds you still as he nodded against your throat. His hips snapped back against yours, pulling your body closer to him like it was nothing. "Knew it, knew you wanted me. Didn't wanna scare you."

His pace didn't waver, sure thrusts filling you as you dug your nails into his back, for some sense of purchase as you rocked your hips in time with him.

"Stay." Logan pants against your lips.

Stay, stay, stay.

The words chanted as he brought you closer to orgasm faster than any of your partners ever had. You could feel his grip shift as he snuck a hand between you, searching for you clit as continued to rock your world.

You nod feverishly. "Yes."

Logan's pretty brown eyes never looking away from yours.

You came with a cry, bucking your hips into his as you arched your back almost completely off the bed as your nails dig.

His lips crash into yours again, grinding deeper into you as a broken moan leaves you.

It’s a rare occasion when Mr. Lineker hosts a soirée. Rarer still that his daughter is in attendance. His only biological child, from his first marriage, she rarely appeared in the public eye. The black sheep of the Lineker family already bearing the smudge of embarrassment even though she was the only of the heirs to bear the name. The only actual blood descendant.

And Simon was in love with her.

Or however close to love he could understand.

A kind young woman who always smiled when she greeted him, asked about his day, and only called him ‘Lt. Riley’. She only ever attended events when asked, chatted politely, then excused herself before the night got too late. Her rooms were never made up like when Mrs. Lineker’s niece or nephew come to visit. There’s no need to put fresh bouquets in the small room, left forgotten while she attended schooling, then university… and now that she's in the middle of some further schooling there is no attention given. (But the sheets still vaguely smell of her perfume, delicate floral notes strongest on the pillows as he held them to his nose, cock in hand.)

With Graves already in charge of everything, Si offers to pick her up, voice even, despite the quickening of his pulse, his heart starting to ebb up his throat. But the Texan shakes his head, already gave the job to the newbie, and his heart stops, seizes. 

He swallows it back down like a dog in a choke collar, knows it's not his place to step in.

It's not like he won't see her, he tells himself, after they're dimissed and he goes to lick his imaginary wounds.

He doesn't hate John MacTavish, but the younger man gets under his skin like a bad itch, when the flesh healed over but there was still the damage below that hadn't fully healed. Followed him like a stray looking for a home, talking off his ear.

The Scot was good at his job, he could admit, if a bit too damn chatty. From what Simon had been told, he'd been honorably discharged due to a wound, and had thought private security might be more up his alley. Probably didn't expect his jobs to be mostly parameter surveillance. But Linekar boarded on property and that sweet draw had been what got him, seems it had got the younger man too, as he continues to chatter.

And of course he asks about her.

It's an understandable curiosity, he reasons to himself. But still that has him feeling like he's raising his hackles. There's something about this sniffing that raises a warning bell in his brain. It's not because he's interested, Simon tries to reason, but even that thought does nothing to calm him.

The fact that he asks professionally about the woman, makes him dig his heels in more, curt answers given as there's no reason to expand on anything. There is no personal, he reminds himself. There is only a professional relationship, and this mutt, for all he may rile him, Simon knows that's all it is.

So of course the mutt has to shove his damn nose into a place it doesn’t belong. 

“What’re ya wearin’?” He cranes his neck to get a closer deep sniff of her neck, pawing at her waist to keep her still. And of course, she lets him, doesn't snap at him like Simon wants her to, despite the sudden closeness. Despite the straightening of her spine, a smile plays at the edge of her lips like he doesn't have his mitts on her.

He can feel his teeth grinding in his skull, jaw so tight he’s worried he’ll crack something.  That molar he'd gotten a crown on after his service, finally having the time for it.

With a soft laugh, she shuffles closer to him. She chose him. "Oh, it's just uh-"

"Thinkin' it'd make a grand gift fer my sister," MacTavish continues to chatter and the back of Si's neck tingles as he glowers at the daft mutt. He couldn't fathom interrupting her when he'd started the damn subject.

But her shoulders relax, her smile spreads as she names the scent, offering sites that she's found good discounts on, shops she'd been able to get it at for lower than the offical.

Simon doesn't feel anything.

The popping of his knuckles is just to keep the digits limber.

It's just a job.

He snaps at the pup to take her luggage inside, not seething, just his normal stoic self.

She laughs beside him, flashing a smile that he stores in his memory. "Looks like you've got your hands full, Lt. Riley," her clear amusement sends tingles low in his stomach.

"Not my fuckin' problem," he forces out, because his heart is beating fast, and he knows he has to say something.

And her smile dips, eyes on him so big, like the sweet lamb she is. If he could make himself say things normal-like he woulda by now.

She excuses herself with a soft laugh. It's not at him, but that might make things easier. Probably.

MacTavish finds him later, tail practically wagging between his legs as he crows that she's a peach.

He forces out an agreement.

The party is nothing that requires the security they offer, not really.

But they never are.

In the week since her arrival he'd been unable to stop himself from putting his foot in his mouth at every opportunity when he could even get a word out.

It's idling securely, while people with more money than sense rub elbows, chat happily while they scan the wealth of the others, their worth, and compare it to their own.

It's just work.

That she stays in his eyesight at all time is just part of his job. Hair done up

And MacTavish glues himself to his side, eyes wondering the scenery, despite the fact that he shifts his weight like a dog that's been kept in a kennel too long.

She drifts closer, as the night goes on, same flute of champagne so tenderly nursed. He could count each sip.

"So what do ya do?" MacTavish's voice makes her start, appearing so suddenly near her when Simon had done everything in his power to stay as still as he could, so she wouldn't notice. So close he could almost touch her.

"I, uh- I was doing NGO work but I'll be starting at a clinic in little under a month." There was already a smile playing at the edge of her mouth as she spoke, relaxing so easily while the mutt nodded along.

Simon could feel his jaw tighten, throat constricting. She was smiling at him. "Bit o' a fuckin' waste innit?"

If he could eat his own words out of the air, he would, from the way her eyes drop, throat tightens, before she nodded stiffly, a sound leaving her before she turned to MacTavish. "Well, I'll let you be, sorry for interrupting."

They stand in silence as she weaves her way through people, polite smile on her face.

He can feel the mutts eyes on him, jaw setting as he watches her move.

Fucked up again.

When he turns to snap at him, Simon's almost surprised by the blue eyes staring into him. Quizzical, but… a mirror.

A smile ticks up on MacTavish's lips before he nods as well. "Got this, L.T., just needs a bit o' time reckon."

Before he can ask, the mutt continues his perimeter walk, whistling softly to himself.

That should have been it.

Of course, Simon knows he should try to say something that doesn't make her freeze like a deer in the headlights, but she never stuck around long after her father's events.

Again MacTavish is assigned to drive her back to the station, grunt work for the newest grunt, and he doesn't make a move to intervene, still mentally licking his wounds. It's not like he doesn't notice how more at ease she is with the Scot.

But the man approaches him, mumbling about a mistakenly picked location, requesting him for backup, with the weather bound to change and a cabin already reserved for their return.

Only the weather had been worse than predicted. She agrees readily to simply turn in for the night and figure out a ticket the next day, insisting that getting on a train isn't worth any possible accident, despite MacTavish's offer.

It would have been a squeeze just the two of them, but the sleeping quarters made it obvious that it was a more normal rental for a family with children.

They're…bulky in comparison to her, it makes sense for them to share the larger bed, and she beelines for the smaller mattress, already checking her phone, likely to see when the next available ticket would be. He should say something. Something normal that'd make her smile, and look at him again. Instead of Johnny.

He should make her laugh.

His trigger finger taps against his thigh as his tongue ties in his mouth.

It's a bit of a surprise when she agrees to drinking as they play cards.

Of course the mutt liked Scotch. Packed it with, as well as a bottle of burbon.

Her laughter rings in his ears, eyes darting to her, and he knows he stares but god he wishes he could reach out and touch her. A tingle in his neck has his eyes on MacTavish, blue eyes so… clear that Simon finds himself swallowing. It was strange, how there seemed to be an understanding, though they never discussed it.

When his eyes fall on her again, she's looking at him, smile playing at the edge of her lips.

Another round before she mumbles about sleeping. They exhange some words, Simon can't quite hear, before MacTavish passes her something.

He waits till after she'd bid them goodnight, brushed her teeth.

Only then does he raise a brow at MacTavish.

The mutt's grinning like a wolf. "Don't worry your pretty little head off, L.T., 's a surprise."

A niggling part of his brain tells him to ask.

Instead, he sets his glass down to a refill as he shuffles the cards for their next round.

He wakes with a start, squinting at MacTavish's beaming face before his lagging, potentially hungover brain can even think to check the time. "Johnny, w-"

"Surprise, c'mon."

The questions stop in his brain as he throws the covers off to follow the younger man.

His breath catches in his throat, when he walks into the other room. Her chest rising and falling in sleep.

And he knows he shouldn't be there.

"C'mon, she's wanted you, just makes it easy."

Easy right.

Just make it easy.

She's soft. He'd always figured, in the back of his mind, but to the touch, he couldn't even believe it. So warm and soft.

Simon parts her puffy pussy lips with his thumb and pointer finger.

Presses his tongue flat against her folds as he laps his way up, savoring every moment.

Fu-ck." He grumbles to himself as he shucks his briefs down, giving himself a good tug so he could make this moment worth it. Easy, like he said.

It's like sliding home as he eases himself into her.

“Steamin’ Jesus,” Johnny hisses behind him, reminding Simon of his presence to his utter annoyance, as something that should be between the two of them is shared. “Should see her poor kitty, stuffed to the brim.”

The most he can exert to the Scot is a grumble, but even that's cut off, turned into a soft pant as he bottoms out, forehead resting against her collarbone.

It was… Euphoric.

Easy to get lost in the motions, as he bore down, in, through.

Before he's even realized, he's cumming, pressing his face against her neck, almost dizzy with the closeness of her.

Lips finding his have him kiss back instinctively.

Opening his eyes to the blue ones of Johnny. And part of him panics, fully comprehends everything going on, before he tilts his head, as the Scot presses closer.

The twinge of his cock, pulls a moan from him.

"Go on, L.T."

Yeah.

He could do this again, shifting his hips.

All Simon can hear is the plap-plap-plap of his fucking into her pussy, each kiss of his pelvis to the fat of her thighs leaving a wet smear of mess on his heavy balls. Cum making a creamy ring around the base of his cock. She’s so hot, it’s like she broke his brain. And she had, had distracted him from living his quiet life, from his job, smiling at Johnny like she’d wanted the young pup. When he’d been right there. Always had been.

His heart was on his throat as he leans down to press his lips against hers, soft sighs of moans in her sleep sending lightning down his back.

When he pulls back, he's careful, raising his weight to his knees, and-

He's pulled into another kiss by the Scot, his own sigh broken as he tangles his fingers through his mullet, tugging him even closer before he breaks away. "In this together, eh? Your turn then, Johnny."

And it's almost like he can see his tail wagging, as he pulls his pants back on to let him take his place. Their place.

If Johnny minds having his cock covered in his cum, he doesn’t let on to it. He kisses across his their girl, her tits, her neck, her lips, as he ruts into her, unable to hold back his moans.

Despite himself, despite that this would be the third for him, Simon palms himself idly, as he watches. For the first time in his life, he wonders at how they look. It was nothing like the porn he'd watched.

It was better.

He let himself feel the tingling in his thighs as his cock twitched with interest. The heat low in his belly.

Their soft moans.

Simon cums again with a shudder, as he watches Johnny lean down to kiss her.

Again, he pulls him in for a kiss after. Leans down to press a kiss against the edge of her lips.

At breakfast, he nurses his tea while he watches MacTavish's back as the Scot whistles to himself, making breakfast.

She enters the room with a yawn, asking how they'd slept. "Lt. Riley, you look rested, that's a nice surprise."