LIVE IN SIN

You carefully winded your arm back just six inches, lightly tapping the golf ball with about as much force as a heavy exhale. You watched as it rolled slowly, following the slight curve of the grass before sliding into the hole with a soft clatter.

“Yes!” You clenched your free hand into a loose fist, pumping your hand in the air as you quickly turned to your husband who was watching with a pleased smile.

“Good job, sweetheart,” He praised with a slow nod and a short clap as he tucked the club grip first under his arm. You shrug lightly as if this type of talent came naturally, stepping aside as your husband subtly jerked his chin towards Pernilla in a silent command to have her grab the ball from the hole. “So, that puts you at what… 35?”

You let out a small, sarcastic laugh, tapping the club head of the club into the damp grass as you approached your husband. “Close, but it’s actually 15.” Titus raises an eyebrow at you, tilting his head slightly.

“15? Is that accurate?” He watches you as the both of you subconsciously make your way towards one another, stopping just at the foot of the golf cart.

“Read the scorecard, baby. One-five, soak it in.”

He leans closer beside you as you pull out the scorecard with a dramatic flourish glancing down at the italicized flourish of your name with a whopping 35 next to it. Your eyes shift down to the neat, bold claim of Titus’ name beside your high score where his score is a gaining with a lower 32 (which was incredibly high even for him, but you knew he’d purposefully been fucking up the entire game). He hums lowly, looking over at you as you’re already looking up at him with a small look he’d gotten familiar with.

He doesn’t say anything at first, studying the little pout on your lips and the pointed look you gave him before quickly caving with a content smile. “Pernilla must’ve miscounted.” Your pout immediately goes away, like a flip is switched, an eager grin slips onto your mouth.

“So, we agree. But don’t worry, I’ll go easy during the last hole.” He laughs at that, letting out a quiet huff through his nose.

His arm finds its way around your waist, tugging you closer to him with a firm grip on your hip. “Thank you, baby. I really appreciate it.” With a steady movement, he guides you towards the golf cart, keeping one hand braced on your back as the other hovered in the air to ease you into your seat.

You accept his extended hand, stepping up onto the golfcart as Titus tilts his head down just a few inches to peer under your small black pleated skirt. But he’s barely caught a glimpse of the colored cotton of your panties before you’re already sitting down. You hand him your golf club without a second thought, as he quickly moves to put your clubs into the cart bag. He moved to slide into the driver’s seat, giving Pernilla four seconds to make her way into her own golf cart before pulling the cart back in drive.

The two of you make your way towards the final hole, golf cart gliding over long hills of bright green as the wind forced the thick dark leaves of the trees to sway loudly. You slid the sunglasses from the top of your head, allowing them to sit comfortably on the bridge of your nose as Titus’ hand made its way towards your thigh.

A comfortable silence stretched between the two of you, tires rolling quietly against the lawn as the cart moved towards the long stretch of empty space. Titus’ thumb rubbed up and down against the smooth expanse of your thigh, occasionally looking over at you to ensure you’re comfortable. You curiously glance over at Pernilla, who’s trailing behind the two of you, turning to look back at your husband. You rest your hand on top of his, rubbing his knuckles with your index finger as he actively fights back a smile.

The cart is shifted into a park as the two of you finally stop at the hole, Titus is the first to glide out of the vehicle. Immediately moving to help you down, though you probably could’ve easily hopped down, the two of you refused to allow yourself to do any simple task like that. Titus quickly grabs your club, extending it your way without you even having to look his way. You turn to him with a bright smile, leaning up to press a lipgloss sticky kiss to his cheek.

“Don’t go easy on me now, I can take it.” You lift up your shades, tucking them into the v-cut of your top as you press a hand to your eyebrows. Blocking the sun from your vision, you squint towards the hole, tapping the clubhead against your shoe.

Titus laughs, stepping beside you as Pernilla places a golf ball on the tee, adjusting it quietly. “I think we both know I don’t do easy,” You side eye him, giving him a blank look as if he wasn’t intentionally losing just to see you win. “Hey, don’t give me that look. It’s windy.”

You snicker slightly, nudging him forward as he makes his way towards the tee in the ground. You stand back just a few steps, watching as he positions himself beside the ball. Your eyes follow the movement of his arm as he reels it back, and for a second you’re actually convinced he’s gonna hit the ball force for. Y’know, taking the last round seriously. His hand ‘slips’, the clubhead barely nudging the ball two feet away from where you both stood.

You gasp loudly, pointing a perfectly manicured finger his way. “Hey! I said don’t hold back.”

His brows lift slightly in faux offense, motioning one hand to the club. “I’m not. My hand slipped.”

“Fine, I’ll try not to wipe the floor with you.”

You brush a stray strand of hair from your face, waiting as Pernilla placed your ball on the tee before positioning yourself in a familiar stance as your husband. Your eyebrows furrow, eyes glued onto the ball in concentration as you drew your arm back up into a 90° angle. With as much strength as you can gather, you swing your arm forward, your clubhead clacks against the ball in a loud thwack.

The ball flies out a good 70 something yards, stumbling over the grass as it rolls to a slow stop somewhere beside a neatly trimmed bush. Titus lets out a low whistle, meeting your excited smile with an approving grin. “Beautiful swing.”

“Thank you, thank you.”

Titus steps four steps towards his ball, as you move horizontally to watch him. Your eyes follow his arm as it moves back before rushing down in a crisp clip against the ball. It flies out, a small chunk of dirt flying off somewhere in the distance as his ball moves towards yours. It falls short by a few feet, perfectly angled towards yours. You clap excitedly, rushing up to Titus’ side. Your hand wraps around his arm as you jump up slightly. “That was perfect!”

He turns his head towards you, a boyish looking grin on his lips at the praise. He doesn’t respond, mimicking your nonchalant shrug from earlier. Instead of taking the time to walk towards the ball, the both of you turn towards the cart again. The thirty second walk time is cut off to a quick six second drive because Titus refuses to allow you to walk and potentially get your pretty little shoes fucked up.

It only takes another heavy swing for the ball to go into the hole, and honestly you were lucky. If it weren’t for that tree in the distance, you would’ve overshot by a foot. But thankfully the thick trunk knocked the ball backwards into the hole in a satisfying plink. Titus follows in suit with two more swings.

By the time you check the score points, your 35 has turned into a 15, which somehow turned into a 10. But considering the happy smile on your face, no one is saying shit about the obvious cheating. Titus sets your club into its corresponding pink bag, before ignoring his own club so he could help you into the cart. Pernilla is probably putting his equipment away as the two of you scramble into the vehicle, but Titus doesn’t check so neither do you.

Your arms are wrapped around his neck, lips pressing repeatedly against his cheek in eager, little peppers. One hand grips the wheel to keep from driving the two of you into a bush as the other is buried comfortably under your skirt. His large hand is heavy against your ass, palm squeezing and gripping your cheek as he revels in your kisses.

“You did great, hon. And that last swing?” He whistles again at the memory, earning a happy hum from you. You lean back slightly, giving a half hearted attempt to wipe away the gloss shining on his cheek. “Leave it, I don’t mind.”

Your hand finds its way back to his shoulder, squealing in surprise as he gives your ass a firm smack. “Stop that, Pernilla might see.” You whisper slightly, but you don’t make an attempt to move his hand away. He looks down at you with a slow grin, intentionally giving your ass another squeeze and a heavy smack.

“I think a little ass smacking is beyond her worries.” You smile despite yourself, running your other hand up and down the curve of his neck. He leans into you, tilting his head down to meet the loud mwah of your lips as you press another kiss to his cheek. His fingers dip under the sides of your panties, pressing against the flesh of your ass for better feel.

“I think I deserve a reward.”

“Yeah?” He looks at you again as he parks the car at the entrance of the Danforth Manor. “Whaddya want?”

You purse your lips as he helps you off, looking up into the sky while trying to recollect the newer things he bought you. A new pair of Jimmy Choo pumps, a new Dior handbag, a gold Chanel necklace. “Hmm,” you trail off as he rests a hand on your hip to keep you in reach as the two of you climb up the steps. “Oh! We should get matching bracelets. Wouldn’t that be so cute?”

“Don’t we already have matching bracelets?”

“Oh, phooey,” as the two of you step inside the Manor, you’re enveloped in a rush of cool air. “Fine, rings then.”

He hesitates, momentarily glancing down at the flashy wedding ring on your finger but being smart he doesn’t correct you again. “That sounds good.”

You turn to him with a soft smile, planting a kiss to his lips. “And I want another handbag. Maybe that Gucci one we saw last month.”

He shifts forward, pressing another kiss to your lips. “The ostrich one?”

“Mhmm… oh, oh! And I saw this cute pair of earrings too.”

“From Gucci?”

“No, Chanel. But I was looking online, and Prada has this gorg—” Titus’ hand moves towards yours, intertwining your fingers with his before kissing your forehead gently to politely shut you up.

“Maybe we should just go shopping this weekend.”

“Great idea.”

Your marriage with Leon was relatively new, being shy of just four years, most of your friends made sure you knew good and well how they felt about the relationship. Of course, many of your friends were supportive, because if you were happy and he treated you well nothing else mattered. They knew he was older, knew he had a job, spoiled you and cared for you like no one’s business.

But in every conversation where your friends would talk about their own boyfriends or their relationships, there would always be one person to remind you of the obvious.

It was painful, honestly. You knew the age thing would be controversial to some, and you knew the complications of it all. Hell, Leon was the one that kept rejecting you despite your adamance to be with him.

But you saw past the age difference and more at the man he was.

And being the doting, caring husband he was, he always put you before him. It didn’t matter the case, the situation or the scenario, if it benefitted you and made you happy, it was done. Which is why you were currently sprawled out naked on the warmth of the messy bed, legs spread apart as he propped himself between the softness of your thighs.

The two of you tried, key word: tried, to enjoy each other’s presences. A natural, soft kind of intimacy saved for nights where he wasn’t tired and felt particularly eager on pleasing you. And he so desperately wanted to please you. To soak in the warmth of your body against his, to press his lips against your neck and hear your soft little moans as he nudged his cock against the wetness of your walls.

Except that plan, that thought in his mind was evaporated about as quickly as steam from a pan. By the time he fished out his cock between slow mouth kisses and gentle squeezes of your ass, the damn thing just flopped out. Not hard, not even a half chub. It was like looking at deflated balloon, just soft and embarrassingly so.

The embarrassment had crawled up his spine and rushed to his neck so fast he nearly got dizzy. Of course, now was one of the times his dick decided to stop working. It wasn’t like he didn’t want to fuck you. How could he not when you were looking up at him so pretty and expectantly, glossy lips and wide eyes watching his every move.

It was terrible. Worse than anything he’s ever dealt with or any person he’s ever fought.

The arousal was there, the want was there. You were right there. But it was like his mind and body were disconnected, unplugged from the port. He tried giving himself a few strokes, busying himself with the smell of you and the taste of your skin hoping (and praying) that he would just get hard.

For a moment, he couldn’t even meet your eye. He was terrified. Would you take it the wrong way? Would you be disappointed? God, what would you think?

He tried to busy your eyes from anything but him, peeled off your shorts and guided you against him as he tried to work with what he had. The last thing he wanted was for you to see and immediately think the worse; the disappointment, the rejection, the dissatisfaction, the unattractiveness. Throughout all his inner thoughts and the waves of worries, he only thought about you.

And that’s how you suddenly wound up with a pillow under your hips and one leg pulled over his shoulder. He didn’t care for himself anymore, and despite the lack of warmth from your bodies pressed together just five minutes ago, he was more than happy to focus on the pretty wetness of your pussy.

His mouth was placed sloppily against your cunt, eyes glued onto your face to soak in every little gasp and reaction you had. His tongue dragged up in long almost frantic slides, moving up and down, then side to side. Your hips jerked forward, feet digging into the mattress below you as you moaned softly.

His lips were swollen and glossy with the thin sheen of your own juices, mouth inching further and further up to suck at your clit. Two of his thick fingers were shoved knuckle deep into the weeping mess of your cunt, pumping in and out in slow squelches. His digits turned, scissoring and curling against your walls as he flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit.

His other hand gripped tightly around your thigh, squeezing the flesh and guiding your hips against his face to literally smother himself in the taste of you. He let out a low, vibrating groan into your pussy, eyes fluttering slightly as you ran a hand through his hair.

Your fingers curled into his hair, back arching as his mouth latched around your clit again. His nose buried against the dampness of your skin, fingers pulling out with a quiet, wet pop. You let out a whiny moan at the loss of his fingers, pussy clenching around the cold air. “W-what, why’d you stop?”

You can feel his grin against your folds, eyes shifting up from the slick in front of him to the verbal disappointment on your face. “Patience, baby. Just getting a better angle, ‘s all.”

You huffed impatiently, shifting back as he gently tucked the pillow further under your hips. He planted his lips against your inner thighs in teasing, soft kisses as he angled your hips up just another fraction or two. Staring down at him, you let out another little noise of impatience only to be met with a smug grin from your husband.

“God, baby. Don’t get all worked up now.”

“Leon. Hurry up.”

He laughs, warm and muffled against your thigh before giving you a slow nod. He nips at your inner thigh, enjoying the way you squealed and squirmed against the bed. “Okay, okay. ‘M sorry.”

He gives you approximately two seconds to prepare yourself before immediately diving back into your pussy. He presses a firm hand against the soft of your stomach, forcing you still as he mouthed open kisses to your slit. Whimpering shakily as he firmly pressed a calloused fingertip against your clit, he dragged the base of his tongue along the slick of your arousal.

He peppers your folds in kisses, spreading your lips apart to gently slide the tip of his tongue against your fluttering entrance. He’s met with momentary resistance, before gently pressing his tongue an inch further.

“Oh, fuck.” You gasp heavily, fingers digging into his scalp as you subconsciously buck your pussy against his face. He sloppily slides just the tip of his tongue inside, curling the pink muscle and rotating it slightly. His thumb presses firmly against your throbbing clit, rubbing quick, tight circles against the nub.

Between your frantic squirms, moany gasps and the audible sounds of your pussy, Leon’s subtle sounds of approval are barely heard. A growing warmth spreads from the top of your head to the bottom of your toes. Tugging mindlessly on Leon’s hair, though he doesn’t seem to mind, his eyes are entirely fixated on you. He watches as your body tenses, hips stuttering forward at the heavy pinch of your clit.

Your orgasm washes over you abruptly between airy moans, an intense heat sprouting in your gut before breaking off into a long simmering buzz. Your thighs twitch against his head, his large, calloused palms wrapped around the flesh of your thighs to soothe you. He pulls back slightly, watching your chest rise and fall in labored breaths as he laps at the mess of juices against your slit. He licks the gloss from his lips, splattered with your own arousal and juices before hesitating.

You’re completely oblivious to the moment, slowly coming down from your high as he strokes your thigh. His eyes dart down momentarily towards the growing tent in his boxers and the persistent throb of his cock finally coming to life. Without thinking twice, he lets out a small chuckle, gaining your attention as he moved to wrap an arm around your waist.

“What’s so funny?” You asked between labored breaths, shimmying against him as he gave your hip a small squeeze. You ran a hand up to his forearm, glancing down as his other hand moved to free himself for the second time tonight.

“No nothing, hon’.” He rubs his thumb up and down the expanse of your waist, looking down at you as he allowed his hand to roam. “Just thinking.”

You smiled slightly, a bit dazed and confused as you tilt your head at him. “About what?”

“How many times I can stuff that pretty pussy full.”

His hand rested loosely against your thigh, fingers inching towards your inner thigh through the fabric of your jeans. His thumb mindlessly traced the seams of the stitching to your pants, occasionally giving the soft flesh underneath a gentle squeeze.

Between Blue Öyster Cult and Bon Jovi songs, the two of you have traveled through the infinite horizons of Kansas and the skylines of Illinois. The sun was dipping towards the ground, pushing out the darkness of the night as it got ready for its daily rest. Dean’s fingers tapped against the wheel in time with the beat of the current AC/DC song, eyes darting along the road as you seemed content in drinking the gas station lemonade he got you six miles back.

There was a comfortable, relaxing stretch of silence between the two of you, attentions split between the sight of the dark sun set and the comfort of one another. He glanced your way, a silent double check of a gesture to ensure you were okay before darting his eyes back to the road.

“Illinois is nice, right?”

“Much better than the corn fields of Kansas.”

Dean lets out a small laugh through his nose at your words, windshield wiper nosily swiping across the window as the car turned a sharp right into the warmth of a small town. The car passes a large catsup bottle tower, a bright red and blue striped bottle that read OLD ORIGINAL CATSUP in white font. The two of you look at each other at the sight of the tower before sharing a quick laugh.

“From the sight of corn to the love of ketchup. Cute.” He raises his eyebrows quickly, shaking his head slightly as the impala drives past a small family exiting a nearby diner. You glance at the large upside down horseshoe sign, quickly turning to Dean.

“Oh look how cute! The horseshoe, maybe they have pie.” Dean looks your way as you point towards the building, leaning forward to get a better view of the exterior.

“You know if they have good pie, you’ll never hear the end of it.” You snickered slightly as he gave your thigh another long squeeze.

The impala passes by the small parking lot that held the cozy, simple looking diner, moving down the street towards a stretch that revealed a gas station on one side and a short motel on the other. From the corner of your eye, you can see Dean checking the layouts of the town, his hand moving against your thigh to reach for your hand.

You reached down to allow his hand to engulf yours, fingers intertwining one another as he pulled up into the motel’s parking lot. You stretched your legs out slightly, watching the town bustle alive as people walked to and fro. You smiled at the sight of two kids running back and forth the motel’s sidewalk, tossing a soft football between each other. It was a cute sight that connected the relationship of the town and the soothing environments of a ketchup loving Collinsville.

Dean reaches for the keys, killing the engine with a low rumble as it cools beneath the hood. “Alright baby, I’ll be right back.” You turn to him as he opens the driver side door, quickly leaning towards him.

“Don’t you want me to come with you?” He hesitates, one foot out the door just hovering over the concrete ground before turning to look at you. He gently cups the back of your neck, brushing a few fly away strands of hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I’ll be quick. You just sit here and look pretty.”

You roll your eyes with a little laugh, shifting forward to meet his lips in another quick peck before he pulls back to file out the car. Your eyes follow him as he closes the door behind him, turning around to look at you through the windshield before giving you a cute little finger wave as he makes his way towards the motel office. You watch him for just a bit longer before turning to look out the window at the growing coolness of the sun’s absence. The sky paints itself in a light blend of greys and blues, the duo of kids rush around against the sidewalk screaming at each other as the smaller child throws the football into the roof’s gutter.

You nosily study the interaction, watching as the seemingly older child smacks the smaller one in the back of the head. A nearby motel door opens in a rush, and a woman who looks to be their mother comes out to scold them. You press your lips together, not wanting to laugh at the demise of the children before turning back to the familiar sight of your boyfriend.

He greets you with a smug grin, a dangle of a small set of keys in between his fingers and a quick jog through the lot to open the door for you. You hope out with a small groan, stretching the tightness of your muscles before looking down at his extended palm. You read the yellowed printed numbers on the small card dangling from the keychain, forcing out a deliberate stretch. “Our room’s downstairs. Hopefully we don’t have loud upstairs neighbors.” You hum quietly at his words, mindlessly running a hand up and down his leather sleeve before leaning closer to him.

“There’s also that food place we saw, but there’s a restaurant three minutes away if you want—” He stops as you gently tap his shoulder, glancing your way as you look towards where the two children were playing.

“These little kids dropped their ball.”

“Oh, really? That’s some bad luck. I’m sure the manager will help.”

He slowly turns back to you, falling silent at the look on your face. His eyes dart along your face, letting out a dramatic sigh as you gave him a sweet little smile and a quick bat of your eyelashes. “Aw, c’mon, Deanie. They were so sad.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ll be sad if I don’t get something to eat in two minutes,” your smile immediately fell, a blank look filling your face as you moved back to cross your arms over your chest. “Baby. Stop that, don’t sulk.”

“If you don’t help those kids get their football, an empty stomach is gonna be the least of your worries.” Dean immediately shuts up, the key jingling in between his fingers as he glanced over to the roof again before letting out a quick tsk of his teeth.

“Alright,” he looked back at you, handing you the key as he shrugged off his leather jacket. You grabbed the jacket before he could fully take it off, a bright smile slipping onto your lips. “Alright. I’ll get the ball.”

You hummed simply, closing the car door as you watched your boyfriend rather hesitantly, make his way around the back of the building. You folded the jacket over your arm, lingering by the car for a moment before mindlessly moving towards the sidewalk. You squint your eyes as he hops onto a garbage bin, awkwardly climbing up onto the roof with a heavy grunt. You enjoy the show of your boyfriend pulling himself up, eyeing the tight expanse of his muscles as he pulls himself up.

You can faintly see the flash of dirty orange hiding comfortably in gutter, craning your neck as Dean (not so) quietly makes his way towards the football. He makes a show of grabbing the ball and tossing it onto the floor before returning to safely hop down the roof.

You waited until he got down safely before quickly giving him a few golf claps, walking up to him as he moved to where the ball now rested on the asphalt. He turned to you as you wrapped a hand around his bicep, leaning up to press a soft kiss on his cheek. He smiled softly, quickly looking away as if he wasn’t practically puffing his chest out in pride.

“Thank you, baby. That was really kind of you.” He hums lowly, eyes following you as you walked past him to knock on the motel door where the mother and her two kids were. He quickly steps beside you, football in one hand as the mother swings the door open.

The kids curiously look around her, one of them immediately spotting the football in Dean’s hand. Before anyone can speak, the kid pushes past his mother with a broad grin. “My football! Thank you so much!” He doesn’t even wait for Dean to extend his arm out to give him the ball. He all but snatches the ball from his hand, eagerly pumping his fist as he shows his mom, who’s looking a bit shy.

“Thank you. The manager wouldn’t even pick up the phone.” You turn to look at Dean who just rolls his eyes before giving the mother a friendly grin.

“No problem, just reel back that arm in the future.” The younger brother shies away with a red face as his brother glares at him, but instantly seems to forget the situation as they toss the ball back and forth.

The door closes after the mother offers another tired smile and about ten more ‘thank you’s. You beam at Dean, moving to offer his jacket back to him before hesitating. “No offense, but I’m not going anywhere with you smelling like rain water.”

He lets out a gasp of fake offense, bringing a hand up to his chest as he steps closer to you. “You don’t like my natural scent?” Your nose wrinkles at the smell of rubber, rain gutter muck and roof tiles emitting from him as he steps closer.

“I think you need a bubble bath.”

“What about the pie?” You roll your eyes, shoving the keys into his hand as the two of you turn to walk towards the room.

“The pie can wait.” Dean groans dramatically but follows close beside you anyways. The two of you walk down the sidewalk, stopping at the end of the building to your room. He unlocks the door, pushing it open before stepping in after you.

His eyes are glued onto your every move, tossing the keys on the bed as he awkwardly clears his throat. “D’you like it? The bed is big, huh?” Your eyes dart to the yellow floral queen sized bed arranged strategically in front of a large square TV.

“It’s cute.” You agree simply, to which he quickly lifts a finger, approaching the bathroom with fast strides. You follow after him, peeking into the bathroom as he dramatically showcases the room like he was at a house opening.

The bathroom was actually pretty decent for a motel bathroom. Big, spacious, quaint little towel rack and a bathtub with a shower head attached. You nodded slowly with a pleased grin on your face, turning back to Dean with a happy smile. “It’s nice.”

“Yeah?” He breathes out a sigh of relief, shoulders dropping slightly as you nod at him. He steps to the side, moving towards the door but you catch him before he can make it to the doorframe.

“Where are you going?” He furrows his eyebrows in confusion, glancing towards the bed before looking at you again. “Come take a bath with me.”

“Oh, you were serious?” You give him a quick look to which he immediately steps closer, wrapping a hand around your hip. “Like right now?”

“Or you could watch me.” You’re squirming out of his grip, moving towards the bathtub as you kick off your shoes. He’s physically caught between the urge of joining you and the thought of stuffing his face. He watches you shimmy out of your shirt and quickly steps behind you, hands fumbling with the buttons of his jeans.

“Okay, but pie after?” You laugh loudly at his question, turning around to face him as you cup his face in your hands.

“I promise you, pretty boy. You’ll get all the pie you want.”

You give him an all too quick but silent nod, nervously chewing on your bottom lip as he worshipfully tugs your scrubs down inch by inch. You lift your hips up slightly to ease the fabric down, hands awkwardly gripping the blanket beside you as he takes his sweet time. His eyes follow the smooth expanse of your thigh, tongue darting out to wet his suddenly very dry lips.

He quickly pulls away, tugging the pants fully down before setting them somewhere on the corner of the bed. He immediately settles back into your spread thighs, sucking in a slow breath as his eyes dart back and forth as if he was trying to capture this moment with his mind. Your eyes followed his gaze as his attention shifted from your inner thighs to your clothed cunt right in front of him.

He turned to look up at you, leaning to the side to press an open mouthed kiss on your inner thigh. His teeth give you a quick nip, hard enough to have you yelping back in surprise before soothing the prickle with the tip of his tongue. You can’t look away, eyes stuck on him as he makes his way further up. And just when your breath hitches at his close proximity to where you needed him the most, he quickly moves his face to your other thigh.

Wrapping his hands around your knees to bend your legs back and to guide them over his shoulder. He scoots forward, tilting his head to suck on your thigh, kissing and teething at the flesh hard enough that your skin buzzed against his lips. You’re trying so, so hard to be patient, to just relax and let the two of you savor the moment. But the longer he maintains eye contact and deliberately ignores the ache in between your legs, the more persistent the throb of your clit is.

“Denny.” You speak out in a strained voice, fighting the urge to roll your eyes as he gives you a small tilt of his head.

“Hm?” He presses a chaste kiss against your thigh, hands sliding up to ghost over the waistband of your underwear.

“Can you— y’know..” You trailed off, waving your hand at him towards the general vicinity of your crotch. His eyes slowly trail down to where you’re motioning to, the corners of his mouth tilting up just a fraction.

“Oh, this?” He presses the pad of his thumb firmly against your clothed slit, quickly reaching out to hold you in place as you wince back.

“Yes.” You sucked in a sharp breath as he gives you a little shrug, thumb dragging up and up to rub against your clit. You arch up slightly, quickly grabbing at his hand around your hip. “Stop teasing.”

“I’m not teasing. I’m exploring.” He corrects quickly, pulling his finger away to rub the dampness that lingered on the tips of his fingers. You rolled your eyes, holding his heavy gaze as he pulled your underwear to the side. You hooked two fingers under the bunched up fabric, watching intently as he leaned down to press his lips against your slick mound.

You choke out on a broken moan, your hand shooting down to rest against the top of his head as he nudges his mouth in between your pussy lips. He sighs shakily against your cunt, messily dragging the base of his tongue up around your slit. He presses a wet kiss against your clit, lightly sucking on the throbbing nub.

Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you moan at the flick of the tip of his tongue against your clit. “Mm, you taste so good.” He gasps out against your clit, words muffling and vibrating up your spine. His lips slide down the slippery slope of your cunt, pressing another kiss by your entrance before lightly twirling his tongue in your hole.

His tongue brushes back up towards your clit as a spark of electricity rushes through your body. And just when you’re starting to get used to the feel of his tongue sliding side to side and up and down against your slit, he pulls away. He pulls back, leaving a trail of saliva and arousal in his wake before pressing a kiss on the top of your mound.

You fight back the urge to let a little sigh at the sight of him. His chin glistens with your juices as he gazes up at you with heavy eyes. He quickly licks his lips, moving up until his face hovered over yours, quietly capturing your lips in a slow kiss. You wrap an arm around his neck, pulling him closer as your tongues mesh together for dominance.

His hands fumble around for the waistband of his scrub pants, breaking the kiss as he let out strained, almost whiny breath against your lips. He clumsily tugs the fabric down, legs clomping against yours as he kicks the pants down onto the floor. Your eyes instantly zone down at the strain in his boxer briefs, sitting up slightly against the headboard as he plants himself back between your spread legs.

He quickly looks up at you, cheeks flushed a light pink as he frees his erection. You rest the palm of your hand on the back of his shoulder, sliding down as you guided his hips in slow rocks against yours. His hips stutter forward at the arousal coating his length, letting out a breathy sigh as he quickly leans his head into the comfort of your shoulder.

Your eyes slowly snap shut, the head of his cock getting caught at your entrance before sloppily sliding up again. The two of you breathe heavily in tandem, soft groans and quick little praises filling the room. The friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through you, making your head spin.

You feel the heat building between your legs, eyebrows furrowing slightly as he rolls his hips again, biting down on your neck to quiet himself. You shiver at the feeling, pussy clenching around the tip of his cock as it gets caught against your entrance again.

The bed creaks beneath you as he grinds into your mound, teeth nipping and biting at your neck. Your fingers grip his shoulders tightly, his hands roaming over your hips as he impatiently tugs at the hem of your shirt. You quickly raise your arms so he can pull it off and toss it aside.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, leaning down to trail soft, chaste kisses along your collarbone. “Can I fuck you?” He asks in between a whiny groan. You tilt your head back as he inches his kisses towards your jaw, quietly nodding at his question.

He eagerly wraps a hand around his cock to carefully guide himself towards your entrance before pulling back to look at you. “Oh—I uh, I actually don’t have a condo—”

You snicker slightly, ghosting your hand over his as you gently pulled him closer until your pussy stretched around his length.

“Okay, fuck. Oh, fuck.”

“I noticed you didn’t come home last night.” Dennis looks over at Trinity as she slides in beside him at the nurse’s station.

“What?” He tilts his head slightly, like he has no idea what she’s talking about.

“Have a good night? Did you sleep well?” She stares at the board above them, leaning back as she crosses her arms.

“Uh, yeah. I slept great.”

“Great?” She repeats with a little tone of surprise.

“Yes.” He says shortly, a hint of annoyance, looking at Santos who grins but nods.

“Yeah, sex’ll put you to sleep real quick.”

“Oh, please.” He huffs slightly, looking up at the board as he clears his throat.

“But you didn’t deny it.”

His eyes quickly dart over to her, rolling his eyes before turning to look over at you as you step into a room.

Your first chart of the morning is a teenager with a sore throat. Easy.

Or it should be.

You walk in to find a 15‑year‑old boy scrolling on his phone and his mother impatiently tapping her foot against the tiled floor. You give them both a quick grin, opening your mouth to introduce yourself but the mom cuts in.

“He needs antibiotics.” You hesitate, glancing at the teenager who just focuses on whatever game he’s busy with.

“Right, well, I can examine him and then we’ll determine what he needs.”

The kid shrugs. “It doesn’t even hurt that bad.”

You nod slowly, doing a quick exam anyways. Mild redness, no fever, negative rapid strep. Completely viral.

You explain that, but the mom doesn’t accept ‘viral’. She automatically assumes viral means in dire need of every antibiotic and medication out there.

“So you’re refusing to treat him?”

You pause for a second, inhaling slowly before rubbing the side of your head. “I am… treating him appropriately.”

“Well, he needs medication. Can’t you see how much pain he’s in?” She huffs, muttering something about ‘doctors these days’. You slowly turn back to her son who just shakes his head in boredom.

“Okay, well, I’ll let his nurse know that he’s in a lot of pain. I’ll be back.”

You step out the room, closing the door behind you with a short sigh and a quick handful of hand sanitizer.

Your next patient is an older man in his seventies, sitting upright but sweaty and pale. He quickly looks up at you as you enter the room again, gripping the rails of the bed. This is the second time you’ve checked him, and his symptoms don’t seem to be changing.

“Feels like the room’s spinning,” he complains. “Is there any way to get an AC going?”

You give him a small smile, glancing down at your chart just for the refresher. You had already ran through an extensive physical exam earlier. His strength is intact, but his gait is a bit unsteady. Could be benign vertigo. Could be something completely different and worse.

“I’ll have a nurse come by with an ice pack and maybe a cup of water to cool you down. How does that sound?”

He nods slowly, leaning back in the bed as he dabs the sweat from his face. “Yeah, send a whole bucket of ice while you’re at it.”

You laugh slightly, taking a note that you’d probably have to order labs and a CT head scan. “I’ll make sure you have enough ice to make an igloo.”

He lets out a content sigh at the thought, quickly sitting up as you’re about to leave the room. “Oh uhm, Dr. Maris?”

You immediately turn around, tucking your chart under your arm with a polite smile. “Are you in any pain?”

“Well, no, but could you uhm…could you send in a male nurse? I have to use the restroom.” He awkwardly fidgets in the bed, giving you a lopsided smile.

“Of course, one will come in soon.”

Your third patient is a woman in her thirties, curled on her side, knees pulled up, face tight with pain.

“Started last night,” she whispers, head propped up on the pillow under her. “It’s worse now.”

You palpate her abdomen and she flinches hard, tensing back like you smacked her. Right lower quadrant tenderness. Fever of 101.

“Did you have a fall or get hurt around this area?” You asked softly, slipping the gloves off and tossing them in the garbage. She shakes her head, leaning back as you slightly lower the bed just enough so she wasn’t too uncomfortable.

Could be appendicitis.

“Okay, I’ll order some labs and I’ll keep you updated.” She nods quietly as you step out the room, pumping another pump of hand sanitizer into your palm.

You’re halfway through ordering the labs, pain control, and a stat CT abdomen when Perlah saunters towards you. You look up at her giving her a quick smile before turning back towards your orders.

“You okay? You look a little pale.”

You don’t even look up. “Wow, thanks. Good morning to you too.”

She lets out a short laugh, studying you as you keep typing, the weight of yesterday still buzzing behind your ribs. “Seriously. You feeling okay?”

“Never better. Excuse me, I gotta get these to Dana.”

“Don’t worry I got it.” She pats you on the back, reaching for your files as she subtly shooed you away. You give her a grateful smile, quickly rushing towards a nearby bathroom while you had the opportunity.

You were halfway through your morning labs when a charge nurse calls your name.

“Dr. Maris? Room 13, you’re uh— Mr. Jackson, He’s not looking good.”

You grabbed your stethoscope and headed down the hall, your steps quickening with each step as you followed after the nurse. You stepped into the room, eyes stopping at the same pale man you’d spoken with earlier. The second you stepped into the room, it was obvious something was wrong.

He was pale, breathing shallow, lips tinged with blue. “Sir?” You quickly moved to the bedside, rubbing your hand on his shoulder. “Can you hear me?”

He didn’t respond, didn’t move, completely unresponsive. Your fingers moved towards his neck, looking for a pulse before shifting to his arm. You let out a small sigh of relief as you finally found the pulse, it was the easy but it was there.

You’re turning your head to tell the nurse to grab you a crash cart, but one’s already wheeling one in. The same clumsily male who electrocuted you rushed in, giving you a tight smile. “Hi—I won’t electrocute you again. I learned from last time—”

“Jordan, just step back.” You lowered the head of the bed, opening his airway and checking his breathing again.

“Oh it’s actual J—” He quickly shuts up at the look you gave him, as another nurse rushed in to help.

Nothing.

You started compressions. Your arms moved automatically, your mind narrowing to the rhythm, the pressure, desperation rushing through you.

“Pulse check.”

You lifted your hands.

Nothing.

“Resume compressions.”

You did.

Again. And again. And again.

Time blurred. Your arms burned. Your vision tunneled. You heard someone call out the time, but it didn’t register.

You just kept going. Because stopping meant admitting he wasn’t coming back. Because stopping meant the end of a life you refused to give up on. Your muscles are tight from the repetitive movement, skin hot from the exertion.

“Dr. Maris,” a nearby nurse whispers softly, but you’re unable to tell who it is. Your focus is straight tunnel vision on the patient, quickly looking over at the hand on your shoulder.“That’s…that’s enough.”

Your hands hovered over his chest, blinking up at Jack, or Jordan or whatever his name was. You look down at your patient, you swallow the tight lump in your throat, wiggling the numbness in your fingers.

“Time of death… 10:42.”

The words rung out in the silence of the room, settling like a puff of ash that you couldn’t wipe off your clothes no matter how hard you tried. The team slowly filtered out, the room emptying until it was just you and him. The man who’d been alive an hour ago. The man you’d promised you’d take care of.

You stood there, staring at his still chest, your own breath shaky and uneven. You’d done everything right. Should you have checked in on him sooner? When his labs got back would you notice the very thing that went wrong? Was he scared?

You blinked rapidly, wiping your hands before taking a deep breath. You held that inhale of air for four long beats trying to ease the blur and the ringing in your head.

You’re okay. It’s okay. This is… this is fine. You’re totally, one hundred percent fine.

You leaned against the wall, just for a second, your hands still shaking as you tried to collect yourself.

You’d lost patients before. But something about this one hit differently. A tight burn fired beneath your ribs, mind buzzing with different scenarios, different what ifs. You pinched the bridge of your nose, pushing off the wall.

You still had the rest of your shift to get through. You couldn’t stop and sit down. You had other things to do, other patients to see. You wiped the emotion from your face, writing down the time of death in the chart with a tense hand that wouldn’t stop cramping.

Keep going. Keep moving. Don’t think.

The rest of your patients molded together into one big ball of static. Room 12 was a simple case of a young woman with dehydration. The kind of patient you’ve treated before and could treat in your sleep. But you hesitated. Asking the same questions, wondering if maybe you were missing something, asking if Robby could just check over the labs and charts. Just in case.

But your thoughts kept drifting back to Room 13.

You stepped out of the room as Robby handed you the chart, giving you a pat on the back before disappearing. You took the opportunity to press your fingers to your temples, mentally scolding yourself.

Focus.

You pushed off the wall and kept going.

In Room 8, a man with a sprained ankle sat waiting for discharge instructions. Easy. In and out. You typed the note, but the words blurred. You blinked hard, trying to clear your vision.

The nurse in the room walked out with you, double back as she gave you a quick once over. “Dr. Maris? I’m really sorry to hear about your patient… are you okay?”

Your head snapped up at the mention, hesitating for a moment before nodding all too quickly. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

She opened her mouth to question you again but Trinity quickly rounded the corner and stopped by the two of you. She had a little smirk, getting ready to tease you about last night, but after noticing the look on your face the smirk quickly falls. “Oh, Dr. Maris.” You wiped away a strand stray of hair from your face, tucking it behind your ear.

“Yes?”

“Could you come with me? I have a four year old patient with bruises on his back. I’m kinda stumped.” You excused yourself from the nurse, rolling the tension in your shoulders as you followed Santos.

Your last straw came in Room 5, a middle‑aged man with abdominal pain. You started palpating his abdomen, testing where specifically his pain was.

“Does it hurt here?” You asked, pressing near his ribs.

He shook his head.

You pressed lower, quickly pulling away as he winced slightly.

“There. That hurts.”

You nodded, but your mind flashed back to your patient, replaying the compressions, the flatline, the ache in your shoulders. You snapped back, blinking a few times before writing your note and ordering labs as you walked out. Don’t think about it, don’t think about it.

It wasn’t until you were halfway down the hall that a nurse jogged up behind you. “Dr. Maris!” You sighed heavily, momentarily looking up at the ceiling before turning to him.

“What?”

“Did you mean to order a chest x-ray?”

You blinked, lips curling down into an annoyed frown. “No, because I ordered a CBC.”

“No, you ordered chest.” He held up the chart for you to see, your eyes darting back and forth on the form. You hummed slightly, looking back up at him with a small nod.

“Sorry. I’ll fix it.” You said, voice thin.

The nurse didn’t move, looking down at the chart as you grabbed it from him. You quickly fixed the order, handing it back to him as he lingered for another moment. You forced a polite smile, quickly walking down the hall again.

You made it all the way to the supply room before your body finally gave out on you. Not physically, you were still standing, leaning against the wall as you closed the door behind you. You rested the back of your head against the cool of the wall, letting out a shaky breath that almost physically hurt to let go. Your chest felt tight enough that you were certain you’d pass out, hands trembling and clammy, eyes burning past the bright lighting of the room.

You pressed your palms into your eyes, trying to force the feeling away. But the door creaked open anyway, footsteps quickly halting at the sight of you hunched over.

“Hey—”

You stiffened, pushing off the door as you looked up at Robby, who stood in the doorway, one hand still on the handle. His expression shifted from casual to concerned the second he noticed it was you.

“Whoa, hey hey,” he spoke softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Hey. What’s going on?”

He crouched down slightly to meet your eyes, one hand hovering over your back as you wiped your eyes eventhough you weren’t crying. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

Robby raised an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment before resting a large hand on your shoulder. “You don’t look so good, kiddo.”

“I’m just tired. I’m fine. I promise. I’m good.” You spoke quickly, words slurred into one long drag.

“I think you should go home.”

“No, no I’m good, Robby. I can finish the shift.”

Robby stepped closer, not crowding you, just anchoring you with a firm rub. “You’re clearly not okay. You’re burnt out. You’re going home.”

You pressed your lips together, fighting the sting behind your eyes and the embarrassment in your gut. “I can’t just walk out.”

“Yes, you can. And you’re going to.”

You blinked up at him, stunned by the certainty in his voice. You shook your head. “I can’t. They need me.”

“We can handle the shift without you. Rest.”

You stared at him for a second before slowly nodding. “Okay, fine.” He smiles softly at you, squeezing your shoulder gently before motioning towards the door.

“Good,” he murmured. “Come on. I’ve got you.”

Your apartment was too quiet, fan whirring over head as you dropped your bag by the door. You kicked off your shoes, sinking into the couch as you turned onto your back. You stared up at the ceiling fan as it spun around slowly, rubbing the exhaustion from your eyes.

You pulled a blanket over yourself and stared at the fan’s wings, letting the couch envelop you in comfort. You didn’t want to think about what happened. You didn’t want to worry over the what ifs or the fatigue in your body. You just wanted to sleep.

You must’ve zoned out, or maybe you fell asleep. Was it possible to do both? You were sure you must’ve done both somehow. You’re snapped awake at the ring of your doorbell, sitting upright on the couch as you looked around. You glanced over at your watch, wiping the sleep from your face as you pushed off the sofa and made your way towards the speaker.

You pressed the button without thinking, stepping away to change out of your now wrinkled scrubs. You tossed on an old graphic t-shirt and you were just pulling out your sweats when there was four quick knocks on the front door. You yawned slightly, tugging the pants up as you stumbled out towards the hallway. You dragged yourself to the door and opened it with a slow drag.

Dennis stood there. Hair messy. Scrubs swapped for a hoodie and sweats. A takeout bag in one hand. At the sight of you, his worried look quickly turns into a small smile.

“Hey. He speaks quietly, like he’s afraid you’ll run off.

You blinked at him, eyebrows furrowed. “What are you doing here?”

He lifted the bag a little. “Brought dinner.”

“Oh— I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were coming over.”

“I texted you but I figured I could just come drop you off some food.. figured you might need something.”

You opened your mouth to argue, to say you were fine, and that he didn’t have to come but you quickly opened the door a little more. “Thank you, I really appreciate that… do you want to come in or?”

“Oh, no it’s okay, I don’t have to.”

He reached the bag out towards you as you grabbed it from his hand, examining it before motioning with your head. You stepped aside, moving towards the couch. He hesitated for a moment, looking down the apartment hallway before walking in after you. He closed the door behind him, stepping over your cluster of shoes. He sat on the edge of the coffee table across from you, elbows resting on his knees.

You leaned towards the armrest to face him, pulling out the takeout and setting it on the coffee table. You carefully opened the milkshake lid, peeking inside before dipping a fry in the vanilla shake.

“You okay?” He asked after a moment of silence, eyes shifting along your face. “Robby told me you went home early.”

You winced, taking a bit of your fry. “Great.”

“Technically Santos told me, but he was just worried.. We all were.”

You sank back onto the couch, pulling the blanket around you again. “I’m fine.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence. He didn’t push for an explanation of what happened, you remained focused on the food in front of you. After a few minutes, Dennis hesitantly stands up, catching your attention.

You looked up at him, sitting back slightly. “You’re leaving already?”

“If I stay any longer Santos will think we’re sleeping together.. again,” you let out a breathy laugh, nodding slowly before wiping your hands on your pants. “I’ll text you when I get home, okay?”

“Okay, thank you for the food.” You nodded quietly, following him as he hesitantly makes his way towards the front door again. He twists the door knob, pulling the door open slightly before turning to look at you again. He gently rubs your hip with his free hand, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek.

“Get some rest,” he reminds with a gentle murmur, stepping out of your apartment as he walks backwards just to look at you for a little longer. “Good night.”