︎ ❤︎ bitchy gf ❤︎

truly. the week was a mash of him restraining her wrists from touching, holding her ankle beneath the dinner table as she travelled to his cock, and bringing her up from her knees when she surprised him in the shower.

now, while he is a tad scared, he’s exactly where he wants to be. he usually hates leaving you at home to go and meet with his brothers, knowing he likes to keep you out of business, but wanting you around every second of the day. but now that you’re official? he loves the sound of your flip flops suddenly appearing on the concrete where the boys eat dinner. grabbing andrew’s hand and pulling him to his bedroom without a word other then a pouted, teary “andrew :(“

he loves turning to his brothers as you pull, shrugging his shoulders and holding up five fingers in a communication of “gimme 5 minutes to tucker her out and i’ll be back”

now when you actually get in the house, still clutching his wrist before letting go & stripping your shirt off as you walk to his room, the story changes. you turn to him with dark eyes, hands cupping your tits over your bra, “need you so bad, popey.” biting your lip, you turn to keep walking, swaying.

the message changes very quickly. andrew swallows, holding his cock through his jeans before turning to knock on the glass door next to his brothers. he holds up all ten fingers with a sure nod before stalking off.

when you push forward and press a kiss to steve's cock, steve's words don't falter. he doesn't hesitate, because this little display of affection and desire from you isn't unfamiliar. worshipping your stevie isn't nothing new, just as it's nothing new for him to worship you.

then, your hands hug each of steve's hips, fingertips dipping into the empty belt loops of his well-loved jeans for purchase. you start to nuzzle at his cock, alternating between shamelessly rubbing your face into his bulge and pressing lingering kisses along the shape of him, searching for his tip all the while.

steve continues speaking, probably understanding that you're barely listening at this point but he doesn't drop the façade. he simply continues as if he's not steadily hardening in his pants.

his fingertips find your scalp once more, sitting near the base of your skull this time, as if he's ready to cradle your head in the way that he does when you're sucking him off.

maybe this will lead to that, but likely not anytime soon. you're not rubbing at his crotch with hopes to get his dick in your mouth. it will be a welcomed next step, but not the intention.

there is no intention, you don't think. you just need to feel steve's cock.

slowly, you reach for his button and then his zipper when the round piece of metal is out of the way.

steve stops speaking.

"what're you doing down there?" he finally acknowledges you.

his tone isn't accusatory. he's simply asking a question. when you look up at him, you see that gentle, dominant smirk he wears so well. the corner of his plump lips pulled up towards the moles on his cheek, brown eyes squinted just enough to show the humor in him.

"is this okay?" you ask when you have his zipper pinched between your fingers.

steve nods. "yeah, of course it is, baby," he assures. and his tone is so sweet. so gentle and understanding, as if he knows that you just need to do this, whatever this is.

"do whatever you need to do."

so you do.

steve doesn't even bother continuing his story. you'll probably ask for a recap later.

for now, you continue your movements but on steve's boxes. you don't pull his jeans down, and neither does he. you rub your nose against the checkered cotton, kiss at his concealed tip, and then wrap your mouth around him.

steve moans as if there's not any fabric between your mouth and his cock. his hand at the back of your head gets a little firmer but he doesn't push, pull, or even nudge.

you can't tell if the hand is there to ground you or himself. maybe both.

you continue like that, not bothering to do much more, and when you make contact with steve's bare skin it's a complete accident. your tongue goes rogue, licking a wide damp spot in steve's boxers, and it accidentally slips into the opening.

steve gasps and jumps as if you've hurt him. then, he swears under his breath. you know he wants more, but he doesn't say anything. he lets you take your time. he lets you do what you want with him.

but it's not submission. steve's still in control, and if he asked, you would do what he wanted.

note: because this is an intimate shaving fic, reader is described as having pubic hair. reblogs and comments are very much appreciated!

It’s past midnight, and you’re scrolling in bed with your phone screen’s brightness turned down low. You just want a basic wax or a facial to relax for thirty minutes. You type body waxing near me to scroll through the results until a place called Angel Estetica catches your eye. The website looks exactly like what the actual place looks like. You click the link to check the menu.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀──⠀⠀ ꒰ ︎ WELCOME TO ANGEL ESTETICA ! ♡ ︎ ꒱ ︎

SERVICES ╱ treatment menu ﹙ click to view ﹚ ❣

Full body waxing

Bikini laser

Sugaring

Dermaplaning

Intimate shaving

“Intimate shaving?” you mumble. You tap the option to see what it is, and a new page loads up with the logo in the corner.

PACKAGES ╱ choose your service ﹙ select one ﹚ ❣

Bikini line ꒱ This treatment focuses on the edges only to keep things neat for a swimsuit. The session includes a warm towel and an application of our aftercare balm.

Brazilian soft ꒱ This option removes all hair from the front to the back for a completely bare finish. The package includes an optional rinse, a calming balm, and a warm towel.

Signature bare ꒱ This service focuses specifically on the labia and excludes the backside. We use a sterilized razor with hypoallergenic cream for a perfectly clean shave. A warm towel and aftercare balm are included at the end.

REMINDER⠀♡⠀The technician will walk you through each step, and they may request gentle repositioning to ensure full access. This service is strictly non-sexual, discreet, and performed only by trained hands.

Your eyes read the offers on the screen, and you realize that paying a stranger to use a razor near your cunt sounds crazy, but it also sounds really nice. Your legs squeeze together beneath the blanket as you think about it. It’s been a long time since you let someone get that close to you. You just want to lie there while a professional takes care of you without making a big deal of it. “Fuck it,” you mutter before you hit the book button, and the screen loads to a new page for your contact details.

You type in a nickname instead of your real name, and you use a burner email just in case. You leave the phone number blank before clicking next. A small calendar pops up to show the available appointments. Tomorrow morning is way too early, so you scroll down until you find a spot right after lunch on Friday. “That works,” you mumble while tapping the screen to select the time. A checkbox appears at the bottom of the page, right after. The box is just another reminder stating the service is strictly non-sexual. You click it to confirm you understand, without thinking it through too much.

The final step asks if you have a preferred technician. There’s a short list of names to pick from, but you ignore it. You just want someone professional who won’t make things weird while they do their job. Leaving it blank automatically assigns someone, so you just press the submit button. The screen loads for a second before showing a message that your booking was received. You lock your phone to roll over your bed. Your screen lights up thirty seconds later with a new notification.

⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀──⠀⠀ ꒰ ︎ INBOX : 1 NEW MESSAGE ♡ ︎ ꒱ ︎

APPOINTMENT ╱ confirmation ﹙ click to view ﹚ ❣

Hello. Your appointment has been successfully booked.

Service ꒱ Intimate Shaving - Signature Bare

Date ꒱ Friday

Time ꒱ 2:00 p.m.

Technician ꒱ Art Donaldson

REMINDER⠀♡⠀ Please arrive 5-10 minutes early if possible. Arriving 15 minutes late means your appointment will be given to others. See you soon.

You blink at your phone, as if you did something that offended you. “Art Donaldson?” you say out loud as you sit up in bed to read the screen again. It made your stomach drop when you realized you really left the technician option completely blank. You stare at the male name on the screen and wonder what you just got yourself into. You tap back to the website page and scroll down until you find the specialist section. There’s a photo of Art Donaldson where he’s wearing a polo, with a good haircut and stubble. He looks young with a friendly smile that makes your skin prickle. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me,” you whisper while staring right at his picture.

His brief bio says he’s fully trained and has years of experience under his hands. The profile about him includes reviews from past clients who call him gentle and professional. You scroll down further to read comments from other women as you try to reassure yourself. One of them says she was incredibly nervous, and another mentions it was her first time getting bare. You find a review that calls it the most relaxed she ever felt with her legs open towards a man she doesn’t even know. “Well, at least he’s got good reviews,” you mutter when you finish reading the comments.

You tell yourself that this is just a job for him because he’s a trained professional. You’ve been to the gynecologist before, so this shouldn’t feel any different. You glance at the clock to see it’s already 1:31 a.m. and realize you shouldn’t be worrying this much this late. You let your head fall back onto the pillow, but your stomach flips when you picture his hands holding a razor between your legs. You’ll just show up at your appointment like a normal adult because it’s only shaving. “I just need to go to sleep,” you groan while yanking the blanket over your face, and you manage to fall asleep eventually, but Friday afternoon arrives much quicker than you expected.

The first thing you notice when you walk into Angel Estetica is that the place is completely covered in different shades of pink. There are orchid-pink chairs and rose curtains everywhere, while jazz music plays to make people feel relaxed. The whole place looks like it was designed to make women feel completely comfortable. The receptionist wears clear lip gloss, and she smiles immediately when you walk up to the front desk. “Hi there, do you have an appointment with us today?” she asks while looking up from her computer. “Yes, I have an appointment,” you reply, and tell them the nickname you used while leaning against the counter.

She checks her screen to look up your details. “Found it, you’re booked for the Signature package at two o’clock afternoon with Art Donaldson,” she says before pausing to check your reaction. “Just, so you’re aware, Art is a male technician, but he’s fully certified. I can see if anyone else is free if that makes you uncomfortable,” she adds while watching your face. You take a quick breath because you just want to get this over with. “No, that’s totally fine,” you say to reassure her before you smile at her. She doesn’t question you further, so she leads you down a pink hallway toward the treatment rooms.

She stops outside the third door and turns the handle to let you inside. “You can take everything off from the waist down and wrap yourself in that robe on the rack,” she explains while pointing toward the clean bed. “He’ll knock before coming in, so just take your time getting ready,” she mentions, then steps back into the hall. “Thanks, I appreciate it,” you say when she closes the door behind her. The private room is just as pink as the lobby, with a comfortable bed and a small shelf on the wall. You undress slowly, and you’re trying to stop your mind from racing. You fold your clothes into the little basket and tie the robe loosely around your waist.

You sit on the edge of the mattress with your naked legs touching the sheets, and you stare down at your knees in the quiet room while you wait for him. It’s funny how you’re about to let a strange man touch you there, but you tell yourself it’s just a normal aesthetic treatment. A knock on the door interrupts your thoughts. “Come in,” you call out while wrapping the robe tighter around yourself. The door opens, and Art walks in like it’s a normal day. You sit on the edge of the table with your knees pressed together while you’re trying not to look like someone who booked a male technician at one in the morning.

He looks tall in his beige uniform and shuts the door behind him before he looks right at you. He carries a small tray of clean towels, with a new razor resting alongside the other things needed for this session. “Are we doing the Signature package today?” he asks, and he steps further into the room to walk over the table. “Yes, that’s the one,” you reply and nod your head to confirm the appointment. “I’m Art, I’ll be taking care of your service today,” he says before he sets the tray down on the rolling cart right next to the table. Art gives you a polite nod, and you feel a sudden relief when he gestures toward the bed.

“Go ahead and lie back. I’ll get the towels ready,” he instructs before he turns around to prep his station. You hesitate for a second, but he doesn’t move closer. Art puts on his gloves and then turns to grab the clean towels from the tray. You grip the sides of the table while you slowly lie down onto the sheet, and the robe slides down your thighs when your legs part slightly. Your breath hitches when Art places the first towel right at your navel and puts the second one over your upper legs to leave the center open. Cool air brushes the exposed area before his gloved hands press against your hips to adjust the fabric.

He applies pressure to tuck the edges under your thighs. “I’ll start with a warm compress. Let me know if anything feels uncomfortable,” he explains before he walks over to the warmer on the counter to unfold a hot towel. You nod when he steps back to the table to start, and you’re not used to the feeling when Art wipes the warm towel over your mound. He presses a little firmer each time, but the fabric doesn’t feel rough against your thighs. He places the towel down after a moment and grabs the cream from his tray. His gloved fingers trace downward to the outside of your lips, and his palm presses against your pelvis to force an unexpected noise out of your mouth.

“Nnh- fuck. S-sorry,” you murmur when you realize you made a sound out loud and brace your body against the mattress. Heat blooms across your cheeks as you stare at the ceiling. You feel embarrassed about a noise you didn’t mean to make, and you hope he didn’t hear it, but you glance down and catch his jaw tightening. “I didn’t mean to-” you start to say before you cut yourself off because you feel too exposed. “Hey, you don’t have to apologize,” he says after he pauses his work, but his reassurance only makes the heat spread further. Art talks to you as if you did something brave just by lying there under his hand, and prepares the rest of his supplies.

His fingers spread the cream along your folds. He acts as if he deals with nervous clients all the time, so your reaction doesn’t surprise him. “Seriously,” he murmurs and keeps his attention on you as he leans closer. “You’re okay,” he says and moves his hand back up to rest right on your mound. You want to thank him for not making a big deal out of it, but you just stare at the ceiling. You feel ridiculous for making the situation weird, but Art simply ignores it. You twitch when his hand glides forward again, and your fingers squeeze the sides of the table. The cream shocks you with cold when his glove wipes across your cunt.

Art rubs the cream evenly across your labia and keeps his gaze down, without a word, to let you adjust to the temperature. Another sound slips from your mouth as he smooths the cream higher up your pelvis. “Nh- mhm,” you mumble and try to keep your legs open despite the urge to close them. He glances at you briefly and then looks back down to focus on his task. “It’s okay,” he says when he rests his hand right against your thigh to support you. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he whispers. Art picks up the razor from the tray and treats you gently as he holds the tool with one hand while his other hand flattens the surface.

Your neck burns when you look down to where his gloved hand rests right next to your clit, but he keeps things strictly professional. “You’re doing fine,” he tells you and lines the blade up against your mound. You want to say something funny, but you just stare at the ceiling again. “Mhm- nghh,” you whine from the back of your throat when the razor starts moving along the top of your cunt to shave the hair. He shaves the area clean. Heat burns your face, and you pray Art doesn’t notice how wet you get under his touch. His gloved left hand rests on your thigh while his right hand holds the razor.

The top of your mound is bare now, so he looks at the hair right next to your slit. The towel rests across your hips, and you realize leaving the technician preference blank on the website for the Signature package was a mistake, especially after you declined the receptionist’s offer to give you a female technician earlier today. “Can I move the towel down a bit?” he asks and points his left hand toward your hips. “I need to reach the rest of the hair,” he adds and waits for your answer. You sigh when you remember the whimper you let out earlier, since you already let him see more than you planned today.

“Nngh- okay,” you whisper back and squeeze your eyes shut. Art keeps the razor in his right hand, and his left hand grabs the edge of the towel. He pulls the fabric down an inch to expose your cunt and then moves his left hand to the inside of your knee to push your leg out. Your stomach drops when he looks at the wettest part of you without saying a word. “Thank you,” he murmurs and moves his left hand to dip his fingers into the cream container. You have no idea what he is thanking you for, but heat floods your face. He spreads the cream over the left side of your labia, and his fingertips glide right above your clit to coat the area.

You flinch when he touches that spot, yet he ignores your reaction. Art works the cream along the edge of your slit, and you squirm when his glove gets close to your opening to prepare the area. “Is this okay?” he asks and looks up at your face to check your comfort. “Mhm- y-yes,” you answer and try to catch your breath. He places his left hand back against your thigh to pin you in place and then brings the razor in his right hand down to your labia to shave the left side. The razor glides over the cream on your pussy to shave the hair, and he reaches over to wipe the blade on a towel every few seconds.

It doesn’t hurt since the cream protects you, but your clit pulses from the continuous touch. He works in silence as you lie on the table and soon gets right next to your slit to shave. You know he has to look, and the realization makes your face burn. Your hands grab the towel underneath you, and you try to close your legs. He notices your reaction and pauses what he’s doing with the razor. “You’re doing good,” he says as he looks up at your face to offer reassurance. “Almost done with this side, so let me know if you need to stop,” he adds and pulls a small stool over, so he can finally sit down.

You force out a nod instead since you cannot find your words. Art leans back in to prep the right side next and grabs a towel with his left hand to wipe the cream from the shaved side on the left. He wipes close without touching your opening, but you feel too worked up under his focus. “Thank you,” he murmurs when he sets the towel aside. You have no idea what he keeps thanking you for, but heat blooms across your cheeks again. His left thumb pauses right above your clit, where the cream sits on your flesh. “I can get this part now,” he says. His eyes flick down, then meet yours to gauge your reaction.

“Can I put my thumb here to spread the cream?” he asks while his thumb waits right above your clit. You stare at the ceiling and feel like you can hardly breathe. “O-okay,” you whisper back and force your knees wider to give him access. He rubs his left thumb in circles to spread the cream over your clit, and you close your eyes when the attention becomes too much. He pushes his thumb against the sensitive spot until a sound slips out to break the quiet of the room. “Nnh- mmph,” you gasp, and your legs squirm against the table.

You grab the sheet beneath your hips because your cunt reacts to his hand. Art stops moving his thumb after he hears the noise. “It’s okay,” he murmurs as he looks up at your face to catch your eye. “You don’t have to hide it,” he adds. He keeps his left hand resting against your thigh to hold you in place and then uses the razor in his right hand to work on the right side of your pussy. He slides the blade down to shave the hair and reaches for a towel to clean the razor after every stroke. It doesn’t hurt despite the blade, but a shudder ripples through you anyway when he shaves all the way down the edge of your labia.

He sets the razor down on his tray, then grabs a clean towel to wipe the cream off your thighs. He drops the towel into the basket and then stands up to pull his gloves off. “The right side is done,” he says and looks at your face to check your status. “Do you want some water before we finish?” he asks and walks over to the counter to gather his supplies. You nod because your throat feels dry from the tension. “Yeah- thank you,” you whisper back. You prop yourself up on your elbows to drink, and he fills a cup with water before bringing it over.

You swallow the water and slightly dent the paper cup under his gaze when he watches you finish the drink. “This is more intense than a wax,” you admit. You hand the cup back to him, and he throws it into the trash before a smirk crosses his face. “Really?” he asks and pulls new gloves out of the box to snap them onto his hands. “Yeah,” you mutter. Warmth spreads across your face when you confess that you think it’s just having a guy do it, and you lie back down against the table. Art snaps the new gloves on and then steps back to his place by your legs to resume.

“Well,” he says and picks the razor up from his tray to finish the task. “I’ll try to make the rest of it easy for you,” he adds and looks down at your cunt. He rests his left hand on your inner thigh, and then he brings the blade down to shave the rest. You twitch when he gets close to your opening because the sensation spikes again. “Are you good to keep going?” he asks after he checks your face to make sure you can handle it. “Mhm- yes,” you answer to let him complete the job without delay. He dips his fingers back into the cream and then leans closer to apply it to the bottom of your slit.

You watch his thumb slide the cream under your opening, and the razor waits in his right hand. The room feels quiet when he focuses on your cunt, so you force yourself to speak. “Hey- isn’t it weird?” you ask to, sound casual. Your legs twitch on the table when you try to distract yourself. “Like- do you ever get bothered touching pussies all day without getting tired of it?” you add to force a conversation through the silence. Art keeps his attention on his work, but a smirk shows on his face when he hears your question. “It’s just part of the job,” he replies as he lines the razor up against the cream at the base of your opening to continue shaving.

“You just have to be professional,” he explains and scrapes the blade down your labia. You let out a laugh and feel stupid for asking. “I just thought you’d be grossed out by it,” you mutter and bite the inside of your cheek in regret. He brings the razor down to shave the hair, but then he stops to look up and hold your gaze. “It’s just part of the body,” he points out, and then his eyes drop back down to your cunt to resume his task. “But some clients are more interesting than others,” he adds and drags the blade over the cream. You stare at him because you don’t know what to do with that comment.

“What do you mean by that?” you ask and swallow hard. Art wipes the razor on a towel next to him and then places his left thumb right above your clit. “Some bodies are just easier to read,” he murmurs as he looks into your eyes to hold your attention. “They tell me everything,” he finishes, and his thumb rubs over the top of your mound to emphasize his point. Your stomach drops because you know exactly what he means by that statement. “Nnh- that’s messed up,” you whine when his thumb pushes against you.

He ignores your comment and breathes out through his nose before he goes back to shaving the bottom. You feel exposed under his hands. Art works the blade in strokes to shave the end of your slit and finally sets the razor down on his tray to reach for a towel. He uses the towel to wipe the cream away. You try to catch your breath when his hand moves around the outside of your labia to clean up the mess. The towel feels warm when he cleans the area, and you force yourself not to move. He works for a moment before his hand suddenly stops.

He tilts his head and looks down at the bottom of your opening. He stares at the spot where the wetness from your cunt mixes with the cream. Art clears his throat and then looks up from the wetness between your legs to check your expression. “Hey,” he says and keeps his hands away from you to give you space. “There’s some cream that slipped down,” he observes. Your stomach drops because you know exactly why it slipped down. “I can wipe it up, but I need to get deeper if you’re okay with that,” he adds and waits for your answer.

He asks like it’s a normal question, and even though you lie on the table with your legs open for him. You swallow and then nod your head to confirm. “Mhm- yeah,” you whisper back to let him do it despite your embarrassment. He breathes out through his nose and then leans closer to your cunt. His left hand rests against your thigh, and his right hand brings the towel down to your opening. He wipes the cream from the bottom of your slit to clean the area, but your body reacts without your permission to the sudden friction.

Your toes curl against the table, and your thigh flinches to touch his hand to try and seek the warmth. “Nnh- s-sorry,” you gasp and squeeze your eyes shut. You feel like an idiot for twitching over a towel, but Art doesn’t move his hand away. “You’re fine,” he murmurs and waits for you to relax your legs against the table. “It happens more than you think,” he tells you and watches your face to make sure you are calm. Your legs are worked up, and you stare at the ceiling to cope with the intense embarrassment. “Is it clean now?” you ask. Your voice shakes, and he looks down at your pussy to check the spot.

“Almost,” he answers. His eyes flick back up to meet yours to deliver the news. “Some got inside,” he explains. His left hand rests right on your thigh, and you try not to think about how wet you are right now. “Oh- um,” you mumble and try to close your legs to hide yourself. “I can just clean it if you want,” you offer to save yourself the humiliation of him doing it. Art pushes his fingers against your thigh to stop you from closing your knees, but he doesn’t react to your panic. “It’s alright,” he says and keeps his voice steady to reassure you. “This is my job,” he reminds you, and then goes back to wiping the opening with focus.

The towel drags over the wetness when he wipes right next to your slit, and you squirm backward on the table to get away from the overwhelming feeling. “I think you got it all,” you say. You want him to stop touching you there, and you try to shift away. “You can just put the balm on now,” you add and grab the sheet under your waist to pull it down. He stops moving the towel and looks up at you to challenge your sudden movement. “Are you sure?” he asks and checks your expression to see if you are lying.

“Cream can get stuck in the folds, so I want to make sure it doesn’t bother you later,” he explains, and his right hand waits right above your slit to finish the job. You know the wetness between your legs has nothing to do with the cream, but your body aches for him to finish. “Haaah- yeah,” you whine and force your knees apart to give in to his logic. “I’m sure,” you tell him so that he will move on to the next step. Art gives you a nod and then drops the towel into the basket to clear his hands. “Okay,” he murmurs and turns back to his tray to prepare the balm.

Art grabs the jar of balm and unscrews the cap before he dips two fingers inside. You take a breath when he rubs the cold balm over your freshly shaved labia. Your thighs twitch against the table, but he ignores them and keeps working. He smooths the product from one side to the other. He avoids your opening at first, but you get wetter the more he touches your folds. The wetness makes his fingers move easily, and your hips tilt upward on their own. You grip the towel tighter when his fingers go lower and swipe right over your wet cunt. He brings his hand back up and slides two fingers between your folds to drag them straight down from your clit to your entrance.

Your breath hitches after your hips flinch at the contact. You stare at the ceiling with a burning face, but he just spreads those same two fingers against your labia to part your lips. He looks down at your pussy so that he can see everything. Your cunt twitches under his fingertips, and slick spills out over his glove because you are so turned on. He exhales through his nose before his thumb moves right against your clit to show he feels your reaction. “Is the balm feeling okay?” he asks when his fingers drag through your wetness again. You swallow hard because you feel too worked up, and his hand is right between your legs.

“Nngh- yeah, it’s good,” you answer while your hands grip the sheet underneath your waist. “Just try to relax for me,” he instructs and leaves his fingers resting right at the bottom of your slit. You need a distraction from the intense feeling, so you force your brain to come up with a topic. “Mmh- do you actually like doing this more than waxing?” you ask to force a conversation. His fingers pause at the bottom of your slit before he moves his hand to rub the balm along the outside of your labia. “I prefer it,” he answers and keeps his attention entirely focused on your cunt. You can’t believe you started this conversation when your legs are wide open for him.

“Haaah- I mean, you probably see a hundred of these a week, right?” you ask to cover up your embarrassment. “More than that on a busy week,” he replies before his thumb rubs right next to your pulsing clit. Art dips his fingers into the jar again to gather more balm before he brings his fingers back down to your cunt. You tilt your head against the towel and try to focus. “Do they all look identical to you, or do you ever get bored?” you ask softly, then watch his face for a reaction. The corner of his mouth twitches, but his expression doesn’t change.

“Not really,” he answers after his fingers slide down to spread the balm across your labia again. You squirm against the sheet because his touch feels too much. “So mine is not boring, right? Is it cute?” you whisper and look away from his face out of pure embarrassment. Art huffs out a breath and keeps spreading the product without answering your question. You are already too deep into the conversation to stop your rambling thoughts. “If you had to rate it from one to ten, what would you give it?” you ask while your hips move slightly under his fingers. He doesn’t say anything, so you keep talking to cover up your mortification.

“I won’t get mad, but I’ll definitely cry if you say a five,” you promise quickly when you watch his jaw tighten. His gloved fingers make a soft, sticky sound when they rub your folds. “Do you guys rate everyone in your heads? Like, do you remember the perfect ones later?” you ramble blindly because you can’t control your mouth anymore. “Alright,” he interrupts firmly and stops his fingers right above your slit. “I need you to stop moving,” he instructs before looking directly into your eyes. You blink up at him. “I’m not moving,” you mutter back to defend yourself.

Art doesn’t argue with your claim, but he moves his fingers directly onto your clit to prove his point. His thumb firmly circles the sensitive spot to make you react. “Nngh- ahh!” you gasp after your hips jerk upward against his glove. A smirk shows on his face when he sees you squirming against his touch. “What are you doing?” you ask breathily and try to keep your legs open. “I’m just applying the balm,” he replies casually, then continues to rub your clit to show you exactly how squirmy you are. Your body reacts completely to his thumb and more slick leaks out over his glove.

“Fuck- nn- please don’t do that,” you whine while you grip the sheet tightly to keep from moving. He ignores your plea and rubs the spot even faster to keep you completely helpless under his control. “It’s part of the job,” he explains smoothly and watches your mouth part from the pleasure. Art continues to rub your clit while he slides his middle finger between your wet folds to drag it right down to your opening. The sensation feels incredibly good, but it only makes you realize how empty your pussy is right now. Your body reacts on instinct, and your hips tilt upward.

You try to grind your cunt directly against his fingers instead of pulling away from the touch. He stops his thumb right on your clit, then looks down at your squirming hips. “What’s the matter?” he asks quietly as he waits for your answer. You feel too embarrassed to say the actual words out loud, but your legs fall wider apart on their own to expose yourself even more. “Mmmff- nn,” you whine and stare up at the ceiling. Art moves his lower finger up and down through your slick as a replacement for his thumb. He watches your mouth part from the sensation. “Do you want me inside you?” he asks smoothly to force you to admit it.

You want to act like you hate this unprofessional behavior, but his glove feels entirely too good against your wet cunt. You try to say no, but you can’t think straight anymore. “Nngh- p-please,” you beg accidentally instead of pushing him away. Art hears you say that and stops moving his fingers. “Please, what?” he demands as he leaves his finger resting right at your hole. You are completely overwhelmed by how wet you are, so you just drop the act and look right at him. Art doesn’t say a word, but he grips your thighs to drag your body down until your hips rest on the very edge of the table.

Your legs dangle off the end while you prop yourself up using your elbows to watch him. You look right at him and watch him peel the gloves off his hands before he directs his attention back to your exposed body. He rubs his fingers over your cunt, and the touch makes your mouth part. “Mmmf- ahh,” you gasp when he slides one finger straight inside your cunt to test if you’ll actually try to stop him. You don’t push him away because having his finger inside feels too good, but you suddenly remember your appointment is almost over.

“W-what if our hour is almost up?” you ask breathily while you stare at his calm face. Art thrusts his finger a little deeper inside you. “Then we’ll just make this quick,” he answers and grunts when your walls tighten around him. You look toward the door and wonder if the walls are thick enough to hide your noises. “Is this room soundproof?” you whisper because you’re terrified that someone outside will hear you. A smirk shows on his face when he hears your question. “Don’t worry about that,” he replies, then slides a second finger inside your tight cunt.

Art starts moving his two fingers in and out of your tight cunt. Your toes curl off the edge of the table when you feel him touch a sensitive spot inside you. You drop your head back against your shoulders as your eyes roll from how good it feels. “Ahhn- fuck,” you moan loudly and grip the edge of the table. You wonder how you are ever going to look him in the eye after this appointment ends. His fingers don’t stop moving inside you while he places his other hand on your waist to hold you in place. He angles his hand upward to rub against your walls.

“Nngh- r-right there- ahh,” you stutter breathily as your hips buck toward him. Art grunts in response before he pushes his fingers even deeper into your dripping cunt. You can’t believe he is actually doing this to you in the middle of a session. He watches his fingers slide in and out of your cunt. “I haven’t ever done anything like this before,” he says calmly and keeps his eyes focused right between your legs. You look down at him, then part your lips to catch your breath. “Mmmf- you haven’t?” you ask because you assumed he did this with other clients, too.

“No,” he answers simply before he spreads his fingers slightly inside you to make you squirm. Art starts moving his two fingers in and out of your tight cunt. Your toes curl off the edge of the table when you feel him touch a sensitive spot inside you. You drop your head back against your shoulders as your eyes roll from how good it feels. “Ahhn- fuck,” you moan loudly and grip the edge of the table. You wonder how you are ever going to look him in the eye after this appointment ends. His fingers don’t stop moving inside you while he places his other hand on your waist to hold you in place.

He angles his hand upward to rub against your walls. “Nngh- r-right there- ahh,” you stutter breathily as your hips buck toward him. Art grunts in response before he pushes his fingers even deeper into your dripping cunt. You can’t believe he is actually doing this to you in the middle of a session. He watches his fingers slide in and out of your cunt. “I haven’t ever done anything like this before,” he says calmly and keeps his eyes focused right between your legs. You look down at him, then part your lips to catch your breath.

“Mmmf- you haven’t?” you ask because you assumed he did this with other clients, too. ⁠“No,” he answers simply before he spreads his fingers slightly inside you to make you squirm.⁠ He pulls them almost completely out, then pushes them back inside you until it’s knuckle deep with each thrust. You look down to see his fingers sliding in and out of your wet cunt. Watching him do this right in front of you makes you clench tightly around him. You squeeze around his fingers so much that he stops moving entirely. “You need to let me move them,” Art tells you calmly as he looks up to meet your eyes.

You just shake your head because you have no control over how tight your cunt gets. “Nngh- I c-can’t help it,” you whine breathily since your body reacts entirely on its own. He hums quietly in response while he waits with his fingers buried deep inside you. Your walls eventually loosen up on their own. Art starts thrusting back into your cunt once it’s okay for him to move again. “Ahhhnn- mmmf,” you gasp loudly when he hits that sensitive spot inside you. You spread your legs a little wider, so he has better access to you. Your clit throbs, and he can feel it every time his knuckles brush over it as he slides deep inside you.

You wonder how he knows exactly what to do to make you feel like this. “Oh god- nngh- it f-feels, so good,” you admit breathily while you stare down at his fingers. A cocky smirk shows on his lips after he hears your praise. “Yeah?” he asks simply before he slows down on purpose. He drags his fingers out of your cunt as slowly as possible just to tease you. You want him to move faster, but you don’t know how to ask without sounding completely desperate. “Haaah- p-please- mmf,” you whine quietly and bat your eyelashes at him. You bite down on your lower lip because you hate how slow he moves.

His other hand rests on your waist while he watches you beg him. “Tell me,” he demands right before he fucks you slowly. “Please- m-move faster,” you plead after you look right into his eyes. Art finally speeds up his fingers inside you, just like you asked him to. You can hear the loud wet sounds after every single thrust he makes. His hand holds you in place on the table so that he can fuck your cunt at a much faster pace. “You aren’t going to report me for this... right?” he asks manipulatively when he pumps his two fingers in and out of you.

You nod your head desperately since you don’t want him to stop what he is doing. “Nnngh- n-no- no- no,” you stutter breathily, and your hips buck up against his hand. He pushes even deeper into you, so you grab the edge of the table tighter. “Promise me,” he demands right before he angles his fingers up. You look right into his eyes, so he knows you mean it. “Ahhhnn- I s-swear- mmf,” you gasp loudly as the new angle hits that sensitive spot inside you. You look down between your legs to watch his hand working. You can see exactly how wet you are when slick covers his fingers after every thrust.

Art watches your face and pumps his fingers in and out of your dripping cunt. “You just officially became my favorite client,” he tells you casually while he moves his hand. You wonder if he says things like this to everyone. “Haaah- s-shut up- ahhn,” you whine breathily once the feeling builds up. He chuckles quietly before he pushes his fingers all the way down to his knuckles. “You asked me to rate it earlier,” he states simply as he watches you squirm on the table. You gasp out loud after he rubs against that spot inside you again.

“Mmmf- w-what about it- nghh,” you stutter out, and your toes curl. “I can’t even give it a number because it’s completely perfect,” he answers confidently. His other hand moves off your waist so that he can reach right between your legs. He finds your throbbing clit right away and starts rubbing it with his thumb. You buck your hips toward him the second he touches your clit while his fingers keep moving inside you. “Oh god- ah- f-fuck- mmph!” you gasp loudly once the sensation hits you. You tilt your head back as his thumb circles your clit and his fingers slide in and out of your wet hole.

Your legs start shaking after his fingers move faster inside your wet cunt. You bite down hard on your lower lip, but you can’t stop your body from trembling. Art notices the way you shake before he smiles down at you. “Are you close already?” he asks knowingly while he watches your face. You nod your head when you realize you need to come. “Hngh- yes- please- mmf,” you gasp out and stare right into his eyes. He drags his fingers in and out much slower to tease you. He stops rubbing your clit and starts tapping it with his thumb instead.

His thumb just tapping your clit makes you squirm on the table when you actually want him to rub you. “Mmmph- Art- hahh- faster,” you plead after you try to force your hips against his hand. He leans closer to your face before he moves his fingers faster inside you. You let out a breath when he speeds up, but he slows his hand down the exact moment you start to enjoy it. His thumb pushes harder against your throbbing clit. You grind your hips up against his hand so that you can take him deeper. “Nnn- Art- don’t stop- ahh,” you whine loudly and arch your back.

He watches your face with a smug look after you buck your hips again. “I’ve never seen anyone this desperate to cum,” he murmurs mockingly while he keeps his thumb right on your clit. You pout at him even though your body shakes on the table. “Th-that’s because nobody’s ever tried to tease me this much- hngh,” you snap breathily and try to take his fingers all the way in. You think he does this completely on purpose just to see you beg. He chuckles at your tone before he tilts his head. “So you’re used to having everything given to you?” he asks knowingly right before he starts fucking your cunt fast again. The deep thrusts make you grab the table tighter.

“Y-yes- ahhn- oh god!” you cry out when his knuckles rub against your clit. He pumps his two fingers in and out of you as hard as he can. “You’re so spoiled,” he grunts softly and watches you squirm. “Mmmph- hah- f-fuck- nnngh,” you whine loudly while you squeeze your eyes shut.

Your cunt tightens around his fingers when you start to cum. You squeeze your thighs together, but he doesn’t stop thrusting inside you at all. He keeps pumping in and out while your elbows prop you up on the table. “Oh god- I’m- ahhh- f-fuck- mm,” you cry out loudly and arch your back from the feeling.

Art watches your face before he looks down to see you coat his fingers completely. The squelching sounds get louder in the room with every single thrust he makes, as you get so much wetter. You think you’ve never been this wet for anyone before this moment. “Hngh- Art- mmmph- hah,” you stutter out breathily while you look down at his hand. He chuckles at how much you came before he finally slows his hand down. He drags his fingers a little slower, but he keeps sliding all the way inside your dripping cunt.

“You take my fingers, so fucking well,” he praises you bluntly and continues to fuck you. You feel completely embarrassed by his words, but your hips still twitch up to meet his hand. “Nnn- y-you- haaah,” you whine quietly while your legs dangle off the table. He slides his wet fingers out of your dripping cunt and holds them right in front of your mouth. You see your own wetness coating his skin when you try to catch your breath. “Clean it up,” he orders gruffly while he taps his fingertips against your bottom lip. You know you should refuse, but you open your mouth anyway to slide his fingers past your lips.

He watches you suck his fingers clean as your tongue licks them off. “Mnn- hahh- f-fuck,” you mumble around his knuckles before he takes them back out. Art immediately drops down between your legs right after you finish cleaning his hand. He kneels on the floor and spreads your thighs wider, so he can get a better view. You feel the cool air on your wet cunt before his warm tongue laps straight up your slit. He licks your pussy clean as he catches every drop of your juice. “Nngh- Art- wait- mmf,” you gasp out loudly when his tongue touches your clit.

He acts like he wants to clean you up, but he starts sucking on your clit instead. You sit up and grip his hair to pull him away. He ignores you while he continues to suck on your throbbing clit. He clearly has another plan to make you cum again as his tongue laps faster. You try to push his shoulders off you, but he only grunts against your thighs. “Haaah- stop- nnngh- it’s too much,” you plead breathily while your hips grind against his mouth anyway. Art looks up at your face after he finishes cleaning your pussy and stands up to grab a clean towel from his cart.

He steps right back between your legs while you sit on the edge of the table. “Keep them open,” he orders bluntly before he wipes the towel over your cunt. He dries off your inner thighs carefully to make sure you’re completely clean. You watch him clean you up as your skin feels incredibly sensitive. “Can you pass me my stuff?” you ask quietly and point to the chair in the corner. Your folded clothes are stacked there with your lace panties peeking out from under your jeans. He pauses what he was doing before he looks over at the chair.

He turns his head back to look at your thighs and walks over to the chair to pick up your pink lace panties first. You slide off the edge of the table, so you can stand up on the floor before you untie the robe around your waist and let it fall from your shoulders. You toss the fabric onto the table so you can finally get dressed. You feel way too exposed now. “I don’t even know why I wore those today,” you mumble quickly to fill the silence while you avoid looking at him. You want to hide your face when he looks at the tiny piece of fabric. “I just grabbed whatever,” you add nervously because you instantly regret saying that out loud.

Art holds the underwear out to you with a raised eyebrow. “You sure about that?” he asks before a smirk forms on his lips. You snatch your panties from him while your face gets hot. “I swear I’m not usually this weird,” you snap breathily and slide the panties up your legs. He picks up your jeans next and holds them out to you calmly. You quickly grab the denim and step into the legs, then tug them up to your waist. He turns around to toss the dirty towel onto his cart. “Lace,” he says casually while he wipes down his tray.

“People pick things without thinking sometimes,” he points out mockingly. “Okay, yeah, that was a lot,” you admit nervously while you zip your pants up. He focuses on arranging his tools, and you finish buttoning your jeans. “Not in a bad way, obviously,” you ramble awkwardly when he doesn’t respond right away. “So do I get a sticker or something for being good?” you ask playfully and wait for his reaction. Art finally looks over his shoulder with a small smirk. “I’ll check if we have a star one in the back,” he replies teasingly.

You clear your throat again and rub your palms down your jeans. “Yeah, I should probably get out of here,” you mutter awkwardly while you try to fight off the embarrassment now that the adrenaline is gone. “I’m going to go pay at the front desk and pretend I wasn’t just spread open for you five minutes ago,” you joke nervously to fill the room just before Art drops another tool into his tray with a loud click. You look over at him while he faces his cart. He turns his head just enough so you catch the corner of his mouth twitching.

He acts like he didn’t just make you cum your brains out on that table a few minutes ago. “You’re smiling,” you point out playfully when you see his expression change. “Am I?” he asks without looking back at you as he continues to arrange his tools. “You totally are,” you insist, and grab your phone off the chair to give your hands something to do. “No proof,” he replies bluntly and tosses a rag onto his cart. You bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning. You walk toward the door to finally leave this room. “I think I’m booking a woman next time I need this done,” you announce confidently when you reach the doorway and turn back to face him.

That gets him to look over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow. “Not that you weren’t great,” you ramble quickly and raise your hands up defensively. “You just act like nothing even happened, and it’s a little intimidating,” you admit honestly while you watch him stand there completely unfazed. He turns around to face you completely now. “Intimidating,” he repeats like a question while he crosses his arms over his chest. “Yeah,” you breathe out quickly as your face gets hot all over again. “Anyway, I hope you forget all about me by dinner,” you say awkwardly and reach for the door handle, so you can finally escape.

You hope the door doesn’t squeak when you open it. “Not planning on it,” Art says smoothly right before you turn the knob. You freeze in place and look back at him. Your heart skips a beat when he says that. He stands by his cart with his head tilted. You wonder if you heard him right, but he looks straight at you with a smirk. “Dinner,” he clarifies casually while he maintains eye contact. “You said to forget by dinner, but I’m not planning on it,” he tells you directly, so there is no misunderstanding. Your mouth opens, but you can’t think of a single thing to say back to him. You just huff out a breath and push the door open with your shoulder.

“Yeah, well, that makes two of us,” you mumble quietly before you step into the hallway. “And don’t bother booking anyone else next time,” Art adds firmly right before you can leave completely. You pause with the door held open. “Why not?” you ask quietly while you wait for his reason. “Because I’m the only one taking care of that from now on,” he states bluntly as his gaze drops right to the zipper of your jeans before he looks you straight in the eye again. You just stare at him for a second without knowing how to respond. You let go of the door and walk away before you say something stupid. You realize you’re grinning all the way to the front desk.

⠀⠀⠀

⠀⠀⠀ twenty-twenty-six © addie / musingsofheaven.

⠀⠀⠀

and when another hour passed she just couldn’t focus anymore. her book long forgotten.

because every time a nurse appeared through the doors, her head lifted hopefully before sinking again.

the fever hadn't broken and if anything… it felt worse.

her body ached. her throat burned from the constant coughing, and the room was too bright and too loud.

twice she'd considered walking up to the desk and asking how much longer it would be.

twice she'd lost her nerve.

everyone else looked like they needed help more than she did anyway.

so she waited… and waited… and waited.

by the time someone finally called her name, she nearly missed it.

"miss?"

her head snapped up.

a nurse smiled.

"we've got a room for you."

relief hit her so hard she almost cried.

the exam room wasn't much quieter than the waiting room. voices carried through the hallway. monitors beeped somewhere nearby, and stretchers rolled past every few minutes.

she sat on the edge of the bed, hands folded in her lap, trying not to feel overwhelmed.

was she sitting weird?

what should she say when the doctor arrives?

she sighed, closing her eyes to calm her nerves before the door opened.

a young nurse stepped inside.

"hey, i'm mateo." he offered a friendly smile while pulling up her chart and read her name aloud.

his brows furrowed, recognizing her name but he pushed it to the side as she coughed into her elbow.

“sorry.” she sniffled.

some of her tension started to ease though, because mateo was easy to talk to. he was kind and he was nice to look at.

"so..” he gave her a smile. “what brings you in tonight?"

she explained her symptoms softly.

the fever that just won’t break.

the cough.

the exhaustion.

and the fact that she had barely eaten all day— her stomach would churn and turn whenever she tried to take a bite of anything.

mateo's expression became more serious as he listened.

"how long has the fever been running?"

"um.. about three days, i’d say.”

his head lifted from the notes he took. "hmm, three days?"

she nodded, coughing in the process making her gasp for air.

“sorry.”

"have you seen anyone before tonight?" he wanted to know.

"uh no."

mateo stared. "you waited three days?"

she looked down immediately, clutching her hands tighter together.

“i thought it'd go away." she let out a nervous chuckle.

a cough following suit. she apologized again, mateo smiled, dismissing it with a wave of his hand.

but before he could say anything else, movement outside the room caught his eye.

someone was passing by.

dark scrubs.

broad shoulders.

a coffee in one hand and a chart in the other.

jack abbot. his attending.

mateo looked up.

jack looked in and halted.

for a second, neither man moved.

mateo frowned in confusion.

"what?" he said to jack.

jack didn't answer.

his eyes were fixed entirely on the patient sitting on the bed. a knowing and surprised look plastered onto his tired features.

she was deathly pale.

flushed with the fever.

and suddenly mateo understood.

"oh."

the single word carried far more meaning than it should have.

because mateo knew.

he pulled it out of jack one night, after he came in for a shift with one of those schoolboy smiles— and jack never did that.

jack abbot wasn't dating her.

but mateo kept telling jack that he could if he grew some balls.

jack stepped into the room, opening the door slowly.

"what are you doing here?" his question wasn't harsh.

it was concerned.. deeply concerned.

she blinked up at him.

clearly startled to see him.

"oh! uh.. hi."

mateo physically had to stop himself from smiling.

“he’s my neighbor.” she said to explain.

mateo nodded. he already knew but he’d never tell her that.

jack crossed his arms.

"you're sick."

she looked down at her hands.

"yeah?"

"how’s the fever?"

she hesitated and gaped at mateo.

mateo answered for her.

"well, she’s had it for three days."

jack's jaw tightened.

"three days?"

she shrank visibly beneath the attention.

"i thought it would get better!”

neither of the men in front of her looked impressed.

jack rubbed a hand over his face.

for a moment he looked less like a trauma attending and more like a man trying very hard not to be worried about someone.

yet unfortunately for him, he was failing miserably.

like, really badly.

"have you eaten?"

a pause between her and mateo. jack winced.

"n-no.” she finally let out.

jack closed his eyes.

mateo immediately looked away towards the ceiling, fiddling his thumbs awkwardly because now he was witnessing something deeply personal.

when jack opened his eyes again, he looked directly at him.

"did we order labs?"

"already done."

"fluids?"

"i was about to hang them before you came in." he pointed.

jack nodded at that.

then he looked back at her.

his expression softened immediately.

"so you're gonna sit here," he said calmly, walking towards her bed.

he stoped so close that he felt her knees against his thigh and spoke again, “and you're gonna let us take care of you. and your going to stop apologizing for coughing."

her cheeks turned pink despite the fever.

because she had been apologizing.

constantly.

and of course jack had noticed.

his voice lowered.

"you understand?"

she gave him small nod.

"good."