st★rgirl

Girls nights were no different. You, JJ, Penelope, and Emily would get together and share bottles of wine, food, gossip, and laughter. Tonight however, Penelope begged to play a few rounds of never have I ever.

“Okay okay okay guys let me go first,” Penelope waved her arms around the room to shush the groans of protest both JJ and Emily gave her.

“Never have I ever gotten a drunken tattoo,” Penelope excitedly put a finger down.

“Isn’t the point of this game to have as many fingers up as possible?” JJ asked with all ten fingers in the air.

“The point of this game is to bond. Don’t you want to know how and why and where I got this tattoo?” Penelope quipped.

“Pen, I know everything about you. If we bond any further we’re going to fuse together,” JJ replied.

“Fine then Jennifer, since we’re so close why don’t you go,” Penelope faked annoyance.

“Ladies, ladies come on please no fighting tonight,” Emily started, “I’ll go. I have a good one,”

You laughed to yourself watching JJ and Penelope taunt one another like sisters. Emily looked over at you before she took her turn.

“Never have I ever had sex at work,” Emily put a finger down and nudged your side for you to follow suit.

“No!” Penelope drew out the word. You rolled your eyes.

“I thought we said we wouldn’t tell anyone about that!” You covered your face in embarrassment.

“When did this even happen? Where? Is the better question actually. Start there, where?” JJ questioned both of you.

“it was when we first started dating. In the filing room,” you couldn’t get yourself to look at Emily but you could feel the smile radiating off of her.

“How- guys, come on ew! It’s so dusty in there,” Penelope faked disgust.

“Trust me Penelope we were not worried about dust,” Emily beamed.

“JJ, come on, it’s your turn,” you desperately wanted to move on to something more tame.

“Ok. Oh!! Never have I ever faked an orgasm,” JJ pointedly kept her hands raised without a finger down. Both you and Penelope put a finger down.

“You guys are such liars. Never?” You asked.

“I don’t have the time to fake it, you’re either doing the job or you’re not,” JJ said nonchalantly.

“Wow I wish I had your confidence in my early twenties, I thought orgasms were a myth until I was 26,” Penelope joked. You, JJ, and Emily, all laughed with Penelope who turned to you.

“I can’t imagine you not being up front about anything,”

“I get nervous sometimes. Like if I’m taking longer than I expect to, or if I’m tired,”

“Honey, you’re speaking in present tense,” Emily chuckled.

You look away from Emily. Not wanting to embarrass her in front of your friends and coworkers. Penelope picks up her glass of wine from the coffee table averting her eyes to take a long sip. There’s a stretch of silence that you all uncomfortably sit in until you try to muster up the words.

“I-“ you don’t know what to say to Emily, how to calm the storm that you’re sure has already started within her.

“When?” She asks fully turning her back on the company you presently have in your house.

“Em…” you motion with your eyes that you still do in fact have company over.

“Last night?” She asks in shock.

“Emily…” you plead.

“This morning????” Her voice raises by an octave or two.

“Emily!” You groan closing your eyes and rubbing at your temples to lessen the mortification.

JJ tries to jump in, changing the topic, “I absolutely love this rug! Where did you guys get it again?”

Penelope rests her free hand on JJ’s shoulder, “this night just got so much more interesting, please do not ruin it with interior design questions,”

You break eye contact for a moment from the scorching brown looking back at you.

“Anyone want more wine?” you ask meekly.

Penelope and JJ look between themselves and you and Emily. Before they can reply you’re already up on your feet and to the kitchen. Before you can return you hear JJ’s voice politely make an excuse to leave. Something about it getting late and getting back to the boys. JJ who has to practically drag Penelope out, waves goodbye to you as she mouths sorry as she passes the kitchen to the front door.

You pull a glass down from the cabinet and grab some water from the sink. Wanting to extinguish the growing fire of embarrassment inside of you as you see Emily picking up empty glasses and dirty plates to bring them over to the kitchen.

“My angel…” she hugs you from behind after she sets whatever she has down in her hands.

“Why didn’t you just tell me?” She asks. You turn to face her and you can’t help the pit of anxiety that’s started to form in your stomach.

“I’m sorry Em… I just.. I didn’t want… I don’t know. I thought everyone faked it sometimes,” you couldn’t make eye contact with her. She was holding your face in her hands, caressing the sides of your cheeks.

“Sometimes?” Emily asked hopefully.

“Most times,” you conceded. She kissed the top of your forehead before she started to kneel in front of you.

“Em? What are you doing?” You asked as she rubbed the sides of your thighs up and down. She leaned forward off of her heels to unbutton the jeans you were wearing.

“I’m going to take my time. And make you cum as many times as I can,” she kissed just below your belly button and you could feel the prickle of goosebumps starting to form.

“Emily, come on, it’s okay really, I take way too long, it’s not you,” you lean down slightly trying to get her to get up.

“Baby, I don’t care if I have to go down on you for two hours, I want you to feel good, and I want you to be able to tell me that you do, I should know your body,” she pins your arms to your sides and all you can do is gulp at the thought of her head between your thighs for as long as you’d like.

“Let me make up for all the other times my love, please,” the tone of her voice sends you into a spiral. Emily pouts as she looks up at you and you almost lose it. With your hands caressing her face, petting her hair, you nod imperceptibly and she’s slowly dragging the denim down your legs. leaving kisses in the wake of exposed skin. Your fingers clutch onto the counter behind you as you close your eyes and let yourself get lost in the sensation of the intimacy with Emily. When she sees the small damp spot in your underwear she groans into your clothed pussy. You let out a soft moan and she looks up at you with those beautiful long lashes that frame her doe eyes.

“Baby,” Emily’s voice is breathy, and she can’t stop herself from touching you, rubbing the backs of your calves and running her hands up to your thighs. You lick your lips and anticipation but suddenly she’s up on her feet again, kissing you.

“Let’s go to our room Angel, I want you to be comfortable,” she says against your lips. She takes your hands and pulls you down the hallway. She kisses you against the wall of the room, her hands sliding beneath your thin t-shirt, “is this what you want?” Your breath hitches as her fingers trace the underside of your bare chest. You go to nod your head and her other hand tangles in your hair pulling your head back as she leaves a trail of kisses up and down your neck. “Tonight. You’re going to use your words baby. So I know exactly what you want.”

You can only muster up a weak “ok,”

“Then answer me. Say, ‘Yes Mommy, this is what I want,’” her hand dips below your underwear. Staying above where you desperately want her. You repeat the words back to her and she moves her fingers to collect your wetness. She starts to play with your pussy.

“You’re dripping my love,” she laughs into the crook of your neck and you feel yourself tighten around nothing, “I’m going to make you cum on my fingers first, and then my mouth, and then I want to watch you cum on your fingers. Okay?” You can feel yourself get wetter as she talks to you. You know she can feel it too because she picks up the speed on your clit making you moan out. You shake your head yes as you say “okay,”

“And you better not fucking fake it,” she kisses you deeply as she finally plunges her pointer and middle finger into you. Your body arches off the wall as your head is thrown back. You’re practically riding Emily’s fingers as she raises your shirt over your tits to take a nipple in her mouth.

“Fuckk, Em, I’m close,” you can feel a knot building in the pit of your stomach as she pumps her fingers in and out of you. You’re close to climax when she pulls her fingers out. You open your eyes to a smug Emily sucking your juices off her fingers. Your eyebrows furrow when you’re about to ask her why she stopped, she takes your shirt fully off and turns you around so you’re facing the wall before you can even get the words out.

“I’m sorry baby, I know you were close. I have to make you work for it a little bit, spread your legs for me my love,” she taps on either side of your thighs to get your legs open. Her fingers dip from your opening to your clit as she kisses your left shoulder blade. She slides back with ease and you let yourself fall against the wall a bit. Emily finds the perfect rhythm and you can hear your wetness echoing in the room between both of your grunts. She leans over you to take one of your boobs in her free hand and she toys with your nipple. Emily’s fingers start moving slower but harder and your eyes roll to the back of your head as you chant, “fuck, fuck, fuck,” she slams her perfect slender fingers into you again and again.

“Let me hear you baby, does that feel good?” She checks in which only makes your pussy wetter.

You let out a shaky reply, “fuck, yes, Em, I’m going to cum,”

Emily pounds into you, “you better. I want you to make a mess on my fingers baby. Go ahead, take your time angel, cum when you’re ready,” she squeezes your nipple and you can feel your orgasm hurdling towards you. You push back on her fingers and hear the lewd noises your pussy makes every time she pushes deeper into you. Emily leans down to bite your shoulder and you see stars with how hard you come on her fingers.

“I’m cumming, em, fuck, I’m cumming,” she slows her movements letting you ride out the wave of your orgasm. Your body jerks when she fully pulls her fingers out. You turn yourself around shakily,

“Mmm that was perfect,” you lean against the wall boneless as Emily towers over you with one hand supporting her, her other hands comes up to her mouth, you see her two fingers covered in a milky sheen before she pulls them between her perfect lips. She closes her eyes as to savor the taste and you feel a warmth growing low in your belly. You bite your lip to hold back a moan that still somehow escapes. Emily’s fingers leave her mouth and she licks her lips, she leans in closer to you, “get on the bed. Now.” You do as you’re told and sit perched on the bed as you watch Emily saunter over to you taking off items of clothing one by one. Yours eyes don’t know where to focus when her bra comes off revealing her perfect tits. The long expanse of her toned thighs makes your mouth water. When she finally gets to the bed she’s naked and you’re wetter than you were before. She’s on top of you in an instant kissing you slowly as you trace your fingers tips against her back, dipping down just above her back dimples. She pulls you closer by guiding your legs on either side of her waist and you whimper against her mouth. You take a fingers and trace up and down her spine, feeling each vertebrae. You know the sensation drives her crazy and it does. She repositions both of you so that you’re now on top of her. Grinding against her, you hear her moan between kisses, her tongue entering your mouth slowly. You let yourself melt into her touch, into her mouth into the moment. She takes your bottom lip between her teeth and yanks, causing you to grind harder into her.

“Sit on my face” Emily sounds desperate for you to follow her instructions. You follow them without hesitation. You move above Emily, trying to find the perfect position as you feel her hands forcibly yank at your hips. “Sit baby,” you feel your stomach tighten at the possessiveness. You hold onto the headboard as you feel Emily’s tongue flat against your opening, making its way to your clit as she moans into you. You let out a low moan yourself as you lightly rock your hips against her mouth. “Fuck baby, go ahead ride my face, use me,” she says with her mouth full. You can feel yourself practically dripping onto her chin. Emily sticks out her tongue as you rock your hips back and forth. You drop a hand down to find the top of her head. Her perfect silky hair between your fist as you literally fuck yourself against her mouth. Emily places a hand over one of your boobs finding your nipple and pinching as she begins to rub her nose against your clit, making your hips falter in movement as you get closer to your second orgasm of the night.

“Emily- fuck,” you screw your eyes shut as she repositions her hands on either side of your hips to move you up and down so her tongue can enter your dripping opening. You hear a muffled “mmm,” the vibration bringing you over the edge. Your hips jerk before you dismount from Emily’s face.

You lay on your back with a smile plastered on your face. Emily who’s looking up at you with nothing but love in her eyes, sits up slightly, “you okay?” She asks.

“Yes, baby, I’m perfect. I believe I owe you one more orgasm, don’t I?” You ask innocently as your hands wander your own body. You smile at an idea that comes to you. “Can I ask you…” you look over to Emily. She’s on her side closer to you so that she’s looking down into your eyes, tracing patterns into your bare shoulder.

“Yes angel, anything you want,” her voice is above a whisper.

“Can you to touch yourself while I touch myself,” you pull the corner of your lip into your mouth as the request comes out.

“I didn’t think I’d be able to stop myself while I watched you,” Emily leans down to kiss you.

You move yourself against the headboard as she sits opposite you, propped up on an elbow. She licks her bottom lip as she watches you move your fingers to your mouth coating them before they move to your clit in slow and precise circles.

“Fuckk look at you. Playing with your perfect pussy for mommy?” Emily puts a hand between her thighs as she watches you fuck yourself. When you see her middle and ring fingers plunge into her opening you moan as you begin to rub your clit a bit faster. You bring your free hand up to fondle your tit.

“Yes, mommy fuck,” you keep your eyes locked on your girlfriend’s fingers disappearing inside of her, listening to her squelching pussy as you start for your entrance.

“I want to see you come on your fingers for me,” her eyes flutter close for a second as she curls her fingers, finding the perfect spot. You nod with your mouth agape a croaked moan escaping. You can’t believe your eyes, looking over at a naked Emily Prentiss splayed out on your bed knuckles deep in her pussy. you feel yourself flutter around your fingers at the thought of cumming at the same times as her.

“Mommy I’m so close,” you can barely get the words out as you work yourself towards bliss, “come with me? Please?”

Emily breathing is ragged as she nods her head furiously, relentlessly pounding into herself as you watch her bring her fingers almost completely out and plunging back in. “Mhm, yes, fuckkk,” she lets her elbow rest, laying completely on her back with her legs wide as you watch her with heavy eyes. Your fingertips touch the ridges of your g-spot bringing you closer to your third and final orgasm. Looking over you see Emily’s thighs begin to shake.

“Baby, I’m going to cum, cum with me,” she says breathlessly.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head as you feel your stomach drop like you’re on a rollercoaster.

“I’m cumming, fuck, fuck,” you slow your movements as Emily comes at the same time. You feel your orgasm move through the tips of your toes to the top of your head. You pull your fingers out and crawl over to Emily who pulls you into her side bonelessly.

“That was..” Emily starts to say but you finish for her, “fucking amazing,”

“See what can happen when you’re open and honest with me?” She chuckles, ushering for you to rest your head against her chest.

“If this was the consequence of my actions maybe I should keep it up,” you joke.

“If you think you weren’t cumming before, wait until I edge you for months on end,” she rebuts.

“You don’t have it in you,” you challenge looking up at her.

“Want to find out?” She looks down at you with an eyebrow raised.

The hum of the wind hit your window; your room was dark but lit slightly by the moonlight. You sighed, lying down on your bed, trying to keep your mind busy and not on your mom's best friend.

For the past couple of months your mom's best friend came over more and more; it could’ve been because your mom was sad from her separation, but when you first heard of Emily, she just said, "A coworker who was nice to me." It never really stuck out as anything more.

Then you actually met her. When your mom introduced her to you at dinner those couple of months back, she was wearing slacks, a dark red buttoned-up silk shirt with just enough exposure at her chest, and her hair was curled loosely, framing her perfect face. “Nice to meet you," your throat choked out. She smiled.

That smile made your face feel hot, trying to hide the clear blush on your face. You looked away. You moved out of the way and to get the table set. Your mom went to get the food as you and Emily sat across from one another. "So how do you like your new job?" you broke the silence. "It's nice, not too different from my past jobs, but I’m glad to have friends like your mom around." "Aw, well, the team is happy to have you, Emily; you know that!” Your mom yelled from the kitchen. You studied Emily’s face although you knew her, and your mom worked for the FBI and, quite literally, studied people.

You weren’t too worried about your mom just because she was on the technical side of the FBI, but you knew everyone else she worked with was a different story.

“Wine?” Your mom came over asking Emily, “Sure, can I get some too?” You asked sarcastically butting into the conversation, “Only a little?" Your mom sighed and poured a little into the glass. "Are you not 21 yet?” Emily asked if her gaze was different. But you couldn’t tell why. "No..." You looked a little embarrassed; you really didn’t know why your mom never cared if you drank and you were almost 21. “She’s almost of age, and plus it’s wine." Your mom shoved Emily’s shoulder, and her face didn’t really move but just kept looking at you, and you took another sip of her wine.

"Well, what did you do before the BAU?” You asked, sipping from the glass. Trying to break whatever tension you were feeling. You could only gulp just loud enough for you to hear. She studied you and kept her gaze on you. " Well, I worked at the BAU years back and then moved to London and then came back to the BAU," she laughed.

That laugh made your stomach turn. You nodded. "That's pretty cool," you said, staring at your hands. "Here you guys go," your mom said, breaking the silence and placing the food onto the plates. “Thanks again; this is very sweet of you to invite me over," Emily said swiftly to your mom. She just gave her a reassuring smile. You just grabbed your fork, trying to eat. And ignore your stomach tightening from every glance. You looked at her fingers. The way she held the glass and the way she would rub the glass made time freeze.

Emily switched her eyes to yours, calm and yet fiery all in one. You tried to not make it obvious that you could see what she was doing. But what was she doing? "Your mom talks a lot about you, you know," she finally said, taking a bite of her food. You just raised your eyebrows. "Really?" "Oh, you know that, come on!” Your mom laughed; you just shook your head at Emily analyzing you. "So why the BAU? What is fascinating about knowing people’s deepest, darkest secrets?" you asked, almost like it was just you and Emily in the dining room alone…

“I like challenges; I also love teasing people about things maybe they never even knew about themselves." She smirked, taking her last sip of wine. Your mom said something, but the words were blurred as your center felt a heartbeat. You tried not to make any obvious tells, but you knew she saw how you reacted. Once you registered, you looked up and said, “Hey, I'm heading up; I feel a little tired. " Your mom gave you a sad face and gave the okay. Your eyes lingered on Emily's, like you both were playing eye tag.

You ignored her gaze, trying to keep your cool. You headed off trying to figure out what the fuck that was. You could hear Emily’s voice from downstairs just complaining about the current case she was working on.

You ended up falling asleep when you woke up to a buzz on your phone. Are you ok if Emily comes over to check on you and my plants while I’m away for vacation in a couple of weeks? What the fuck? You picked up your phone. You didn’t care, but why did you care? Whatever. Yeah, that’s fine lol, but I’m an adult. You sent it, trying not to overthink it, and then you picked up your phone again. Wait in a few weeks? You typed quickly. Yes, and also this weekend I have a date, so she might stop by to check on you. You sighed and ran downstairs. “You have a date?” “Oh, perfect! I was about to tell you to come down." Your mom smiled, and Emily had a grin like she knew something you didn’t. “You have a date?” You looked confused with your arms crossed, trying to ignore Emily’s grin.

Your mom looked down a bit, embarrassed. "It's fine, but Emily doesn’t have to come by genuinely," you said, trying to push down your crush on Emily. She was still looking almost like she knew you were just saying that. “I know, sweetie, but last time you didn’t water my plants, and they died but this weekend I just want you safe" your mom said, sighing, and Emily let out a chuckle. You rolled your eyes, and you agreed to let Emily come over.

Later that night, after a while or so, you just laid in bed, not trying to think about whatever that was. Once she left, it was over. Well, not really.

You were needy for her touch. Needful for that hung smile she gave you the whole night, like she knew all of the disgusting thoughts you had about her. Your hand slipped down your waist under the gentle underwear you had on. You were soaked just from the sheer thoughts of Emily’s hands and voice. Your fingers slipped into your needy cunt, moving in and out slowly. You pictured Emily teasing your entrance and just fucking the shit out of you. After a while you were a fucking mess. You were on edge needing relief from her. Instead, you just forced yourself to sleep.

Now there was the weekend, the day you knew Emily would be over; honestly, ever since you had that conversation the other night, it's been all you could think about. You frantically looked for what to wear. Flashy?... No. Cute maybe? Hot maybe? Ugh, you didn’t know what to do, so you just put on a pair of sweatpants and a tank top. Fuck it, this will have to do. You had just been lying on the couch on your phone, and you heard a knock. You opened the door to see Emily in her black slacks, boots with a heel, and a silk shirt that showed her cleavage. Her hair was perfectly shaping her face. Before you could say anything, she stepped closer. "Are you going to say anything?” You stood there dumbfounded. "Oh fuck yeah, come in, Emily!” you said, stepping back and letting her in. She chuckled at your remark.

"You've been here all day?” She asked softly. You looked up at her and nodded. “You don’t have a boyfriend?” She asked, swiftly moving to the living room where the plants were. It was silent as she held the leaf, checking it with a delicate touch. You could only look at her fingers when her voice threw you out of your trance. “Hmm?” “Oh, um, no, I don't, and I don’t have a girlfriend either…” you spilled out almost like a confession. “That’s hard to imagine," she said almost too calmly. "Why do you say that?" you added, moving closer to Emily. “I think you know why." Emily’s hand moved to your waist, pulling you in as her neck nuzzled into your neck. "W…we can't," you breathed out almost as if you were saying it for decorum's sake. It wasn’t like you were thinking about her fingers down your mouth. Emily pulled you back to get a good look at you. "It's okay," she said, planting a kiss on your lips.

You kissed her back hungrily and like you needed her. Her taste. You could taste the faint cigarette she had smoked. It was so fucking intoxicating. You let out a whimper as her hands gripped your waist. “I haven’t even gotten inside you yet," she said in a mimicking tone, holding your face and squishing it so you were forcing a duck face. “Such a pretty girl, so perfect. " You closed your eyes from the praise, feeling your center just get wetter.

"Emily…" you groaned softly as her hands were all over your body. Soft moans came from both of you, almost like the thrill of what you were doing was turning you both on even more. “I want to fuck you on your bed," she said, whispering in your ear. Unconsciously, a shiver was sent down your spine. Your makeout was messy as she held onto you as you guided yourselves to your bedroom. Emily’s hand was steady on your lower back as you got inside, and she kicked the door with her foot. Her hand went to hold the back of your head as she laid you down. Instinctively, you pulled down your sweats. "Such a slut, already getting undressed for me." Her words made you stop. In your tracks, "well go on, slut." "Show me how needy you are for me." She pulled on the waistband of your panties the sound of the band hitting you, making you somehow wetter than before. You slowly pulled off your shirt, your nipples hard from the cold air. Emily just stared in admiration; her hands grabbed your tits, kneading them. Moans fell off your tongue as her hand pulled off your panties. She slapped your pussy lightly; all you could do was groan, "You want to get fucked?” She cooed playfully, slapping your cunt. “Yes, Emily, please fuck me," you begged; you didn’t care how embarrassing it sounded. “Such a pathetic little slut." She huffed, slamming two fingers into your needy cunt. You gasped as she fucked you with no mercy, hitting your g-spot perfectly. The sounds filling the room were pornographic. Any time you moaned Emily’s name, she responded with a moan back like it was fueling her. “I want to taste you," you breathed out while she kissed your inner thigh. You could feel her smirk and continue kissing you, then slightly look up. "Do you?” You nodded frantically, Emily’s fingers were still inside you moving painfully slow knowing it was desperate, but you needed it. You needed her to know she'd been the only one on your mind; she pressed into your arms, whispering, "Use your words, princess." "Please let me taste you." You gasped while her fingers slid into your pussy harder. "You are so adorable," Emily hummed, amused by how she had you; she continued thrusting into your tight hole. “So fucking needy," she cooed. Her words were making you fall more and more over the edge, and you knew she could feel it. "Don't, not yet, beautiful." You let out a fit trying to contain your orgasm. Emily’s fingers left your center; you could feel your warm slick on her fingers. Some traced up your belly, and you whimpered at the loss of her inside you, but quickly you were right back where she wanted you, hand on your chin still wet from you; it was so fucking hot yet so intimate.

She let out a low whistle as you twirled, giving a little spin to show off your outfit. “Lookin’ good.” 

You could feel heat crawling up your neck at the way she looked at you, practically devouring you with her eyes. “Thanks.”

“You ready to go?” 

“Almost,” you said, glancing around like you were looking for something. 

Dana stood from the couch. She handed you your purse – the one she always teased you about for being impractically tiny. You’d left it somewhere you had forgotten. Typical. Dana had made sure to find it while you got ready so you didn’t have to panic search when you were finally ready to leave. 

You unzipped the little brown bag, tossing your lipgloss in. You pressed your glossy lips against her cheek, leaving residue behind. 

“Let’s go,” she said, rolling her eyes like she actually was annoyed. But you knew she didn’t mind. 

Dana was nursing a beer, one hand on your thigh under the table, while you talked with Mel and Victoria about something you’d all seen on the internet she didn’t fully understand. But she was content to just listen. Her thumb moved back and forth, absentmindedly tracing patterns into your skin. 

You grabbed her hand as it slid underneath your skirt. “What are you doing?” you asked as Mel and Victoria got roped into a conversation with Samira. 

“Nothin’, doll. Something wrong?” She took another sip of her beer, looking at you with that infuriatingly smug smile of hers. 

“We are in public, Dana.”

She shrugged. “You chose to wear that skirt. Y’know how I feel about it.”

You did know how she felt about that specific skirt. It was tiny, barely covered your ass. But it was hot outside! And it was a barbecue so you wanted to feel cute and summery. The only downside (not really a downside) was that your girlfriend couldn’t keep her hands to herself. 

You huffed softly, rolling your eyes. You laced your fingers through hers to keep her hand from inching up any further. 

“You are trouble.”

When you two had started dating, Dana would’ve never dared do something like this. 

She had been in her late forties and freshly divorced when she met you. Learning to date again had been a learning curve, especially with someone so much younger than her. 

And the sex? Well you were insatiable, always wanting to try new things — things that had never crossed Dana’s mind. You had given her a taste and now she was worse than you. 

“You love me.”

You did love her. You loved how passionate she was about her work. You loved how she took care of people. You loved her smile, her eyes. Everything about her.

And you did love that she was comfortable in her own skin, expressing her desires for the first time, even if it was a little inconvenient for you in the current moment.

“I do love you, but we’re with your coworkers,” you said, looking around to make sure no one was paying too close of attention. It was clear you were embarrassed at the thought of getting caught with Dana’s hand up your skirt. So she relented. 

“Alright, alright,” she chuckled. “I’ll behave.”

And she did.

That was until you had slipped inside to use the bathroom. She waited about three minutes, made sure everyone was preoccupied, before following inside. 

You were just stepping out when she appeared in the doorway. 

“Dana—” you started but she gently pushed you back inside, closing the door behind her. Then she locked it. She stepped further into your space, backing you up against the bathroom counter. 

You tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, worrying the skin as Dana’s eyes raked over you. The pure want in her gaze had heat curling between your thighs.

You pressed up on your tippy-toes, pushing yourself up onto the counter. Dana stepped between your parted legs, hand skimming your thighs. 

She leaned in. You could feel the ghost of her breath against your lips before she finally kissed you. Her lips were soft against yours and you could taste the hint of beer as she slipped her tongue into your mouth. 

Your lips were slick with a mix of both your salivas as she pulled away. 

“So pretty, doll. Y’gonna let me have my fun now?” she asked.

“We shouldn’t…” you whispered. 

“Everyone’s busy. No one’s gonna know.”

You looked between her and the door, contemplating it. The thought of getting caught in Robby’s bathroom during a barbecue was mortifying. But you were a weak woman when it came to Dana. You could never deny her anything. 

Finally you nodded. 

“Good girl.” 

It didn’t take long for her to have your panties around your ankle, skirt hiked up over your hips.

Your head fell back against the mirror as Dana swiped a finger through your folds. You were already squirming. She knew your body like the back of her hand, always knew exactly how to work you up. 

“Dana,” you whined. 

“Gotta be quiet or ‘m gonna have to make you.”

You tried your best, you really did. You bit down on your bottom lip in an attempt to stifle the moans threatening to pour out. You didn’t want to get caught. But you were doing a poor job at keeping quiet. 

One hand clamped over your mouth, her palm catching the noises that slipped from your lips. Her finger curled into a ‘come-hither’ motion. Your hips bucked into her hand, chasing the feeling. She added a second finger. 

Despite her covering your mouth, you could still hear the squelching coming from your dripping pussy as she played with you. 

“Fuck,” Dana groaned. “You’re so messy, baby girl.”

Her thumb was brushing up against your clit. Your back arched at the touch. You could feel the knot tightening in your stomach. 

“Gonna cum for me?” You nodded, hips chasing her hand. “That’s it. Just let go for me. I got you.”

Your eyes nearly rolled back into your head as your orgasm washed over you, heat rushing through your body. Your toes curled and your thighs shook. But Dana didn’t stop until you were crying out against her hand. 

“Good girl,” she cooed.

She pulled her hand back, bringing it up to her lips. She took the digits in her mouth, tongue lapping up every drop of your arousal. 

She pulled her finger from her mouth with a wet ‘pop’. 

“Let’s get y’cleaned up, yeah?”

Dana made quick work of it — wiping down your thighs, tugging your panties back up along with your skirt. Your legs were shaky as you got back to your feet.

“You go out first, hon,” she said. “I’ll meet you out there in a few minutes.”

She patted your ass as you walked out of the bathroom. 

You returned to the backyard, with no one the wiser of what had just happened. A few minutes later, Dana slid back into the seat next to you. She went back to sipping her beer, hand on your thigh. 

It started like a normal date night: wine—the expensive kind—and seemingly never-ending conversations about your personal lives. Normal. The only thing out of the ordinary was the relationship you shared. Unethical, some might say. Convenient, you and Emily would argue.

The steak you ordered was delicious. Not $70 delicious, but delicious nonetheless. Almost as much as the woman sitting across from you, salt and pepper curls sitting below her neckline and makeup done flawlessly, dressed so nicely it's almost surprising what she does for work. FBI, Emily once told you over the phone before meeting in person.

You're quick to notice the bags under her eyes, signifying her exhaustion. Long weeks full of death and stress do that to a person. Or it could be age, which she wears elegantly.

But now, that didn't matter. What mattered to both of you was the company you kept. No more lonely nights, restless sleep, empty pantries, silence unbroken. No more of that.

Just smooth sailing.

After the plates of too-expensive food are taken and Emily waits for the bill, you continue to talk. The conversation carries on for what feels like hours—words flowing together delightfully, making you wish you'd met this woman earlier than you had.

All you wanted to do all night was keep talking with Emily—to learn about her. Her favorite color, where she grew up, her favorite ice cream flavor, her—

"Alright, ladies, before I hand over the bill, are we ordering any dessert?" The waiter says with a kind and innocent smile. Emily looks at you for a moment, the sparkle in her eye silently telling a story that has you adjusting in your seat.

Emily shakes her head, her expression purposefully unreadable. "Not tonight," she looks at you from across the table again, "I have something very sweet waiting at home for me."

Emily pays; however, each word hangs in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning, leaving a bittersweet ache in the following silence.

── .✦

"Fuuuck, holy shit!" a moan rips through your throat, loud enough to embarrass you if not for the arousal pumping in your bloodstream. The same arousal that makes equally disgusting sounds while being slurped up by the woman below you.

The whole act is intoxicating. Never before have you met a woman who made you scream this loud, who made you infatuated with her the second you met, who wanted to please you as much as you wanted to please her.

"Shit, ride my nose like that, baby," your hips circle around the tip of it, cutting off her air supply. Clearly, she could care less. "Yeahhh, just like that...good girl." Emily's tongue slides in and out of you, moans of her own following.

"Oh god, Emily, I'm gonna come!" Your hips grind down and buck into Emily's face, earning you a dark chuckle and a suck on your clit that makes you gasp louder. Her hands guide your hips over her face, nose hitting the same spot deliciously.

Between the grinding and pressure, you come undone on Emily's face, soaking her skin with your juices and tainting her for anyone else. Both of you gasp and moan in unison, and your knees nearly give out. Thankfully, the latch between your thighs is broken, and you crash onto the mattress face-first.

Despite your shared exhaustion, the question hangs in the air, warm and as sticky as your thighs and Emily's face. She looks at you with that same dangerous smirk.

"Round two?"

it’s quick the first time, just a flicker, barely anything, the kind of glance she could probably deny if she really wanted to. then it happens again, slower, her eyes lingering near your chest before lifting back to your face like nothing happened.

by the third time, she isn’t as subtle as she thinks she is, and there’s something almost delicious about watching someone so composed get ruined by the shape of your boobs beneath fabric.

your shirt doesn’t hide enough, not really. it stretches softly across your chest, the fabric resting over the swell of your boobs and shifting whenever you breathe. you’re not sure whether it’s the cold kitchen air or emily’s attention that makes your nipples tighten, but either way, the reaction is obvious enough that her eyes catch on it instantly.

she sees the little peaks pressing against your shirt. she sees the way your chest rises a little harder when you notice her looking. she sees the way your body gives you away before you can decide whether you want to tease her for it.

and the longer she stares, the more aware you become of every inch of yourself, your boobs feeling warm and sensitive beneath the thin fabric, your pussy already starting to feel wet between your thighs.

you stop mid-sentence, letting the silence settle between you with purpose, and emily only realizes something is wrong when your voice cuts off completely. her eyes snap back up too fast, sharp and guilty despite the calm expression she tries to arrange over her face.

“what?” she asks, and it would almost be convincing if her voice didn’t come out lower than before, rougher at the edges, like she had been thinking about something entirely different from what you were saying.

you raise an eyebrow, staring at her while she holds your gaze with the stubbornness of a woman who refuses to confess without being cornered. the pause stretches.

her thumb strokes once along the stem of her wine glass, a tiny little tell that makes heat curl low in your stomach. then you ask, “were you even listening to me?”

emily’s mouth curves into that smooth, dangerous smile, the one she uses when she knows she’s been caught but hasn’t decided whether she wants to admit it yet.

“of course i was,” she says, far too easily. you stare at her. she stares back. then, like her body betrays her before her pride can stop it, her gaze drops again, dragging right back to your chest for one brief, shameless second.

when she looks up this time, there’s no saving it, and the faintest flush rises across her cheekbones. you laugh, quiet and disbelieving, and emily exhales through her nose like she’s irritated with herself more than with you.

“don’t start,” she says, but there’s no bite in it, no real warning, just that low velvet tone that makes your thighs press together.

“you’re staring,” you say, and the words come out softer than you meant them to. emily sets her wine glass down with a quiet click, slow and deliberate, like she’s making a choice. “i know,” she says. not defensive. not embarrassed. just honest enough to make your breath catch.

the simple admission changes the air between you completely, taking the conversation from playful to charged so fast it leaves you warm all over. she doesn’t move toward you yet, which somehow makes it worse. she just stands there, eyes darker now, letting herself look at you openly, and the weight of her attention feels almost physical, like her hands are already on your skin.

you step closer because you can’t help yourself, because there’s something addictive about watching emily’s composure fray in real time. her gaze dips again, slower now that the pretense is gone, and her lips part just slightly when your chest rises with your breath.

she notices everything. the way your boobs shift beneath your shirt, soft and full enough to pull her attention down again. the way your nipples are hard now, straining against the fabric like your body is begging for her mouth before you even say a word.

the way your thighs press together because your pussy feels slick already, warm and wet and aching from nothing more than being watched by her.

“you wore that on purpose,” she says quietly, and it sounds less like an accusation than a confession of weakness. you tell her you didn’t, but your voice is already thinner than it should be, already giving too much away. emily’s smile turns knowing, almost cruel in how soft it is.

“maybe not consciously,” she says, and her eyes drop again, taking in the way the shirt clings to the rounded weight of your boobs. her attention makes your skin prickle.

it makes your nipples tighten further, your stomach flutter, your pussy throb with that slow, needy pulse of arousal. the dampness between your thighs is impossible to ignore now, your underwear clinging wetly against you every time you shift.

her hand lifts slowly, giving you every chance to pull away even though both of you know you won’t. she touches your waist first, fingertips light through your shirt, dragging up your side in a patient line that makes your stomach tighten.

she’s watching your face now, because emily likes proof. she likes seeing the way your lips part, the way your breath catches, the way your eyes flutter when her thumb brushes just beneath the curve of your boob.

the contact is barely anything, just the edge of a touch, but it makes your whole body feel too warm. your boobs feel heavy and sensitive under her attention, your nipples aching for more pressure, and your pussy gives another wet little pulse like it knows exactly where this is going.

“emily,” you warn, but it comes out more like a plea. she hums, innocent and unbearable, letting her thumb skim a little higher until she’s brushing over you through the thin fabric.

the pressure makes your breath hitch, especially when her thumb grazes the hardened peak of your nipple. your body reacts instantly, your back arching just enough to press more of your chest into her hand.

emily sees it. of course she sees it. her eyes darken like the sight of you getting needy from one touch is almost enough to ruin her by itself.

“what?” she asks, like she didn’t just spend an entire conversation staring at you. you open your mouth to answer, but she kisses you before you can say a damn thing.

at first, it’s controlled, warm, almost teasing, her lips moving against yours with the kind of patience that makes you ache. then your fingers curl into the front of her blouse, pulling her closer, and something in her restraint gives.

the kiss turns deeper fast, her body pressing yours back against the counter until the edge digs into your lower back. her hands slide to your waist, then up, slow and deliberate, as if she’s giving herself permission inch by inch. when she finally cups your chest over your shirt, her palm warm and firm around your boob, you gasp against her mouth.

the sound does something to her. you feel it in the way she groans softly, in the way her fingers tighten, in the way her kiss gets rougher for one messy second before she reins herself in again. her hand fits over you like she’s been thinking about it for ages, squeezing gently at first, then with more confidence when your body melts into the touch.

your boob feels soft and full in her palm, your nipple hard against the fabric, every slow press of her fingers sending sparks down your stomach. your pussy feels wetter by the second, slick gathering between your folds, warm enough that you can feel it soaking into your underwear.

“i was trying to be respectful,” she says against your lips. you laugh breathlessly, tilting your head back as her mouth drags to your jaw. “you failed.”

“miserably,” she says, and then she kisses down your neck like she wants to prove it. her mouth is hot and slow, lips dragging over your pulse, teeth grazing just enough to make your hips push forward without thinking.

one hand stays on your chest, kneading through the fabric, while the other settles at your lower back and pulls you closer until there’s barely any space left between you.

she’s still composed in pieces, still careful, still attentive, but there’s hunger underneath it now, dark and obvious and impossible to ignore. every touch feels deliberate, like she’s been thinking about your boobs under her hands for longer than she wants to admit.

when her thumb rubs over your nipple through your shirt, your knees nearly weaken, and emily’s mouth curves against your skin.

“that sensitive?” she asks, voice low enough to make you shiver. you try to answer, but she does it again, firmer this time, rolling your nipple beneath her thumb until a soft, broken sound slips out of you.

the pleasure goes straight between your thighs, making your pussy clench around nothing. you can feel how wet you are now, how slick and swollen everything feels, how badly your body wants more pressure.

emily pulls back just enough to look at you, and the expression on her face is devastating. smug, affectionate, starving. like she wants to tease you for falling apart so quickly and kiss you for it at the same time.

“you have no idea how distracting you are,” she says, her eyes dropping again, shameless now. “standing there, talking to me like i’m supposed to focus, wearing this little thing like i’m not only human.” heat rushes through you so fast it leaves you dizzy.

you tell her she should have said something, but the words barely survive the way she’s touching you. emily’s fingers hook under the hem of your shirt, slow enough to make anticipation crawl over your skin.

“i was trying to behave,” she says, and there’s a smile in her voice now. “clearly, that was a mistake.” then she lifts your shirt, waiting just long enough for your nod before pulling it up and off you completely.

the fabric drops somewhere near your feet, forgotten immediately, because emily is staring again. only this time there’s nothing between her eyes and your bare skin, nothing to soften the way her composure cracks wide open.

your boobs are exposed to her completely now, warm and soft, rising with your uneven breaths. your nipples are hard from the cool air and from the way she’s looking at you, tight little peaks that make her eyes go darker the longer she stares.

the silence that follows feels filthy in itself. emily looks at your chest like she’s been handed something sacred and obscene, her eyes moving over the fullness of you slowly, taking in the curve, the softness, the way your body is already reacting for her.

her hands settle on you carefully at first, palms sliding over your ribs before she cups both of your boobs with a reverence that makes your throat tighten. then her thumbs brush over your nipples, and the soft moan that leaves you makes her inhale sharply.

your boobs feel almost too sensitive beneath her hands, heavy and warm and aching as she squeezes them with slow, possessive pressure. she watches the way they fit in her palms, the way your nipples stiffen under her thumbs, the way your whole body arches when she touches you just right.

“pretty,” she says, almost under her breath. then, rougher, like the word isn’t enough, “fuck, you’re so pretty.” and before you can even process the way her voice has changed, she lowers her mouth to you.

the first touch of her lips against your boob is slow enough to be cruel. she kisses around your nipple first, soft open-mouthed presses that leave damp warmth behind, while her hand kneads the other boob with steady, possessive pressure.

you can feel how badly she wants to rush, how much effort it takes for her to take her time, and somehow that makes it worse. when her tongue finally flicks over your nipple, your back arches off the counter, and emily makes a quiet sound like she’s pleased with herself.

she does it again, dragging her tongue over the sensitive peak before closing her lips around it. the suction is gentle at first, teasing, but when your fingers slide into her hair and pull, she groans against you and sucks harder.

your whole body reacts to her mouth. heat pools between your legs, slick and insistent, every slow pull of her lips sending another pulse of want through you.

your pussy feels soaked now, wet enough that your underwear clings uncomfortably to you, every shift making the damp fabric rub against your swollen clit. emily knows exactly what she’s doing, and worse, she’s paying attention to every single reaction. when you gasp,

she repeats the motion. when your hips twitch, her hand tightens at your waist. when your fingers tug at her hair, she looks up at you with your nipple still in her mouth, eyes dark and smug and completely ruinous.

the eye contact makes you throb. it makes you feel exposed in the best way, like she can tell exactly how wet you’re getting without needing to touch you there yet. your boobs rise and fall beneath her mouth, one wet from her tongue, the other held firmly in her hand while she rolls your nipple between her fingers.

you feel warm everywhere, flushed and sensitive, your pussy pulsing with every drag of her mouth. there’s a slick ache between your thighs now, needy and impossible to ignore, and the worst part is that emily can tell.

she can tell from your breathing. from the way your thighs keep squeezing together. from the way your hips keep shifting like your body is trying to find friction all on its own.

“this is why i wasn’t listening,” she says against your skin, lips brushing damply over your boob as she speaks. “you were talking, and all i could think about was this.” her hand slides down your stomach as she says it, fingers spreading over the soft, warm skin there before dipping lower.

she doesn’t rush, because emily is a menace when she knows you want something. she kisses across your chest, giving the other boob the same slow attention, tongue circling before she sucks your nipple into her mouth.

your thighs press together, desperate for friction, and she notices immediately. of course she notices. emily prentiss notices everything.

her hand slips between your thighs over your clothes, pressing just enough to make your breath break. “there it is,” she whispers, like she’s found the answer to a question she already knew. your hips roll into her touch, needy and automatic, and she smiles against your chest before kissing lower, then back up again.

she keeps one hand on your boob while the other rubs slow, firm pressure between your legs, not enough to give you what you need, just enough to make you ache for more. it’s maddening. it’s perfect.

you’re hot everywhere, trembling against the counter while emily takes you apart with her mouth, her hands, and that steady, devastating focus she usually saves for interrogations.

“you’re soaked, aren’t you?” she asks softly, and the way she says it makes your stomach flip. not mocking exactly, but pleased. deeply pleased. your pussy throbs at the words, wet and swollen beneath your underwear, and you hate that she can feel how hard you react through the layers between her hand and your body.

you try to glare at her, but it falls apart the second she presses her palm against you again, firmer this time. “all because i got caught staring?” she continues, her voice warm with amusement. “or because you wanted me to?” you say her name, half warning and half surrender, and emily’s smile turns downright wicked.

she kisses your nipple once more, slow and open-mouthed, then lifts her head to look at you properly. “tell me to stop,” she says, and the softness of it hits just as hard as the hunger.

because beneath all the teasing, beneath the dark eyes and the greedy hands, she’s still emily. still careful with you. still waiting for you to choose her back.

you shake your head, already breathless, already ruined enough that pride feels pointless. “don’t stop.” emily’s expression changes at that, something hot and tender flickering across her face before she kisses you again.

this time, there’s no pretending either of you are going back to the conversation. she kisses you like she’s done being patient, mouth deep and hungry while her hands move over you with more confidence. she palms your chest, thumbs circling your nipples until you’re making soft, helpless noises into her mouth.

every sound seems to pull her further under, making her touch rougher, her breathing heavier, her body press harder against yours. she slips one thigh between yours and lets you grind against her, just once, just enough to make you shudder.

the pressure against your soaked pussy makes you gasp into her mouth, your wet underwear dragging over your clit in a way that sends a sharp pulse of pleasure through you.

“good girl,” she whispers against your mouth, and the praise goes straight through you. she feels the way you react, feels the tiny jerk of your hips, and her smile is slow and knowing. “oh,” she says softly. “you liked that.”

you don’t answer, because answering would mean admitting how badly those two words affected you, and emily already knows anyway. she kisses down your throat again, her mouth returning to your chest like she can’t stay away from it now that she’s allowed to touch. her tongue traces over your nipple before she sucks it back into her mouth, her hand sliding lower to keep pressure between your legs.

the combination makes you dizzy. your boobs feel swollen and sensitive under her mouth and hands, your nipples slick from her tongue, your skin hot everywhere she touches.

your pussy feels even wetter now, slick spreading messily into your underwear, your clit aching from the pressure of her thigh and the teasing rub of her palm. every time you grind down, the damp fabric drags against you, and every time you make a sound, emily’s mouth gets greedier.

your fingers tighten in her hair, your head tipping back, your body trapped between the counter and the warm, relentless weight of her attention. emily looks completely gone now, composed mask finally cracked, replaced by something hungry and intimate and almost reverent.

and the worst part is, she still manages to sound controlled when she leans in close, lips brushing your ear. “next time you want my attention,” she whispers, her hand squeezing your boob again while her thigh presses between yours, “just wear this.”

your laugh breaks into a moan when she moves against you, slow and deliberate. “or don’t,” she adds, voice dipping darker. “i seem to get distracted either way.”

It takes you a minute to find the right position where just the right features are visible: your slightly parted mouth, your soft breasts, your bare tummy, and your slick cunt that you have two fingers buried inside of, and once you do, you click the big red button to record.

You allow a few squelching pumps of your fingers inside your slick cunt before muttering a few chosen words, "Do I look pretty, daddy?". After a few more seconds, you cut the recording off before making to share it. You type a simple R into the search bar, click the first contact that comes up, and it's on its way to the desired recipient.

Closing out of the camera app, you redirect into your messages... And then your entire body grows cold while your heart jumps so violently into your throat that the squeezing sensation feels quite painful.

Swiftly removing your fingers from inside yourself, you wipe them off on the fluffy white towel you left folded beside you incase things got messy tonight, then stare down at your phone with a horrified open-mouthed expression.

"Oh no," you squeak while sliding toward the side of the bed and planting your feet on the floor. "No, no, no!" you scream. "Fuck!"

Google, yes, you'll Google it! He hasn't seen it yet.

Swiftly typing, you become enraged when you're given an unsatisfactory answer to your question of how to undo such a monumental mistake.

What do you fucking mean there's no way to unsend it? Even Gmail gives you a so many second window to unsend an email, but a text, once sent, is irretrievable?! Stupid piece of shit!

Switching back to your texting app, you stare as blue dots fill, indicating that he's viewed it.

Your superior.

Your damn attending!

R, it was supposed to go to R, not Robby!

typing...

Pause.

typing...

You can feel a panic attack coming on. You're going to lose your job. What you just did can and will be considered sexual harassment. Doesn't matter if it was a mistake. You have absolutely no way of proving that. And once the entirety of the ED hears why you were fired? You'll be the laughing stock of the Pittsburgh medical industry when the news spreads like wildfire across hospitals and ambulance bays.

Stupid, stupid, stupid girl! And for what? To get yourself off?

You had already been halfway there, so you should've kept going, or just watched porn for Christ's sake!

Was that meant for me?

You bark a hysterical laugh while hot tears slip down your cheeks.

Trying to type an apologetic reply is fruitless with you continually making typos because your hands are shaking so terribly. Backspacing the entirety of it, you instead opt for voice-to-text.

"No, I am so, so, so, so sorry, Dr. Robinavitch. It absolutely was not. I was trying to send it to someone else whose name starts with a R and hit the wrong contact. Please forgive me for such a humiliating mistake."

You reread the message once, twice, three times, then hit send once you've confirmed beyond a doubt that there're no typos.

typing...

No worries.

No worries?! That's all he has to say? You just sent your naked body—your whole vagina to the man and he says 'No worries'?

Tossing your phone back onto your bedside table, you consider slapping yourself across the face as punishment before wrenching the towel from the bed and padding into the bathroom to clean up before slamming the door shut behind you.

You consider many things overnight. Like assuming a fake identity and moving to a tropical island, like the one in Castaway where the only company you'll ever keep for the rest of your days will be a volleyball. No chance of sending salacious videos from there to the incorrect party.

Maybe you should invest in a rotary phone.

You check your cell more than once, but when the clock reads well past midnight and there's been no further contact, you finally lock it and force yourself off to sleep for the day ahead.

When you come into work the next day, you tell yourself to keep your head down. At least until you reach your locker and store your personal effects away. But never one to listen to yourself, you bother glancing up just once, and you bristle when you meet the unwavering gaze of Dr. Robby at the nurses station.

Your cheeks burn in mortification—a rush of blood which spreads across your nose, causing it to prickle, as well as the tips of your ears which start to itch—so you promptly look away before speed-walking past him to a place of hopeful solitude.

Rounding a corner at the end of the hall, you sigh when you find the corridor empty, then make a beeline for your respective locker. Once you've popped it open, you hang your head inside while trying desperately to gather yourself. "It's fine. You're fine. You know you didn't mean to," you mumble while taking a few therapeutic breaths.

Once you've safely tucked your things away, you slide your stethoscope around your neck and resolve to get to work and put your very stupid, yet nevertheless silly mistake behind you.

Maybe he didn't even watch it, but only viewed the thumbnail. While that would've undoubtedly given him a full view of everything, it would at least save you the shame of him hearing your...arousal, as well as the horny little question you asked. Dear God, you cannot imagine calling that imposing man daddy.

This is the worst thing to happen to you since you threw up in front of your 7th grade class because the teacher insisted on you signing out first before she would excuse you to the restroom.

Avoiding Robby at all costs, you go to join McKay on whatever case she's already grabbed this morning.

It's midday before you manage to grace the nurses station to check the board to snag a case of your own. Studying the multi-colored blocks, you debate between a cakewalk and something a bit more challenging, but your decision making is cut short when a familiar frame steps up beside your own.

The corner of your mouth twitches, and you fear you may break into a fit of nervous laughter over the close proximity.

Hopefully Robby is just grabbing something real quick before—

"I haven't told anyone," he whispers while leaning in slightly toward you. "So you have nothing to worry about."

You continue staring, but with impossibly wide eyes. "I'm so sorry," you mutter shamefully.

He chuckles and you look at him out of the corner of your eye. How dare he find humor in this?

"Nothing I haven't seen before. Well, I suppose it technically is, but..." he turns to walk away. "You know what I mean."

You half want to ask him if he watched it, but refrain when you head for Chairs instead.

Grabbing a small snack, you decide to take a quick break outside before grabbing a new patient after your last discharge. Compound fracture, which Park was forced to come down for. He'd not been pleased about the page, but had softened when Dana told him that it came from you.

You're not sure why he seems to hate you a little less than... Well, everyone, but you're also not complaining about the fact, either.

Munching on a meat, cheese, and nut medley, you scroll idly through social media while the ambience of sirens, car horns, and distant voices fill the air.

"This seat taken?"

You jerk your head up and nearly drop your phone and snack both when you see that it's Robby looking down at you with a thoughtful expression.

You silently shake your head before returning your attentions to your screen. Not that you'll be paying much attention to whatever is on it now. Perhaps eating isn't such a good idea either for the moment being. You might choke, and then he'll be given cause to touch you when he administers the Heimlich maneuver, and, well, things are already bad enough.

"Was it, uh..." Robby scrubs a hand down his beard. "Intended for someone here at the hospital?"

You blink stupidly at your phone. "N-No," you stutter. "Just...someone I met in a chatroom a long time ago."

He hums while crossing his arms and turning to look at you. "Is that safe?"

You raise a brow. Why must he discuss this?

Why must this be your fate?

"I don't ever put my face or defining characteristics in any photos or videos, so... We don't know each other's real names, either."

He nods. "Might be showing my age, but that sort of thing seems a bit dangerous to me. May I ask why you do it?"

You pop a salted almond in your mouth and chew very, very slowly while trying to think up a non-embarrassing reply. "I get lonely sometimes," you say quietly. "It can feel nice to hear someone else's voice. Or...read flattering messages."

You'd like to peel your skin off now.

"Wouldn't you prefer it to be someone you actually know and trust?" Robby questions while turning even more toward you.

You take a couple more bites of your snack. "Maybe. But if things eventually came to a close, it could make facing them in-person difficult."

Robby hums in understanding. "Well," he says while resting a palm against your thigh fleetingly. "If it means anything to you to hear, I was interested in what I saw last night."

You look at him in surprise.

"Just something for you to consider next time you think about sending yourself to a complete stranger." He stands. "You have my number, and it can stay just between us, if that's something you think you'd want."

Your jaw is left slightly hanging when he heads back inside.

You've tried occupying yourself tonight with Netflix and reading and browsing random internet forums, as well as studying medical textbooks, but it's all done little good when your interest continually drifts back to a small electronic communication device.

After your and Robby's conversation, you'd tried telling yourself that he didn't entirely mean it, even if he thought he did. Give it a few more hours, and he would be regretful for ever making such an offer.

But every time the two of you ended up in a room together, it was all he could do to not look at or touch you, even covertly. It was almost like it was a silent invitation, or encouragement every time he did: please, think it over, I want more of what I saw last night.

So here you lie, fingering the hem of your panties while staring at an empty chat with Robby's name at the top.

This is insane to even consider. You could both wind up in massive trouble if something so indecent were discovered to be going on between you. But, God, that makes it impossibly hotter, doesn't it? You having a dirty secret with him of all men, who you practically worship. Someone so much older and wiser and handsome and smart and—

Did you really mean what you said?

You double over in bed while staring at your screen, expecting either no reply at all, or a succinct one in which he expresses regret for the offer he extended.

typing...

I did.

Your heart leaps in your chest. And then your thumbs hover above the touchscreen keyboard while you try and think of what to say next.

Have you ever sexted before?

typing...

typing...

It'd be a first for me.

You grin. You'll get to take his digital V-Card if you follow through. Not that that's even a thing, but...

Would you want to right now? You consider the message at length before pressing send with a slightly shaking hand.

typing...

If you do

You sink down in bed while squealing and kicking your feet excitedly. Does that mean you'll get to see him without clothes on? His chest? Belly? Cock? Will you learn what it sounds like when he cums?

The possibilities are truly endless.

How would you like to? There's FaceTime, phone calls, voice messages, texting, photos, videos...?

You don't mean to overwhelm him, but there is admittedly a wealth of options.

Does a phone call make me sound old?

You grin while shaking your head, even if he can't see it.

Of course not.

When his name pops up on your screen, accompanied by accept and rejection buttons, you shoot up in bed. "Oh God..."

With a shaking index finger, you slide the green symbol inward and lift the phone to your ear. "H-Hello?"

"Hey," drawls an all-too familiar voice.

You stay quiet for a moment.

"You there?" Robby asks.

You shake your head to snap out of it, then nod. "Yes. Sorry."

"Is a phone call how you normally do things?"

You flop back against the pillows behind you. "Sometimes. It just depends. But, yes, I do like hearing his voice and him being able to hear mine while I'm...y'know."

He clears his throat. "Have you and he known each other long?"

You shrug. Always with the physical mannerisms, when he clearly cannot see you. "A few months. Like I said, we haven't even exchanged names. It's just the one thing we have a common interest in."

"Orgasms," he says with a quiet laugh, which causes you to squeeze your thighs together.

"Yes," you confirm quietly. "Did... Did you watch the video, or just look at the thumbnail?"

You don't know it, but he smirks at your question. "Oh, I watched it."

And? And?

"Oh."

"Would it bother you if I told you I got off to it?"

Your heart is pounding so hard that you wonder if he can hear it through the speaker. "No," you say breathlessly.

You may pass out, you think.

"I worried that I went too far after our conversation. It's why I sort of hovered for the rest of your shift."

You smile warmly at his concern. "You didn't. I was just...very surprised that you were that interested in me."

He chuckles again. "Kind of hard not to be after watching that a few dozen times."

A few dozen?

"That many times?" you ask with surprise.

"At my age... Things can take awhile to work the way they used to twenty something years ago."

You toy with one of your breasts. "Oh. Do you take anything for it?"

"I have Viagra, but I haven't had much reason to use it." You can hear the grin in his voice when he continues. "'Til now, anyway."

The line goes silent for a moment.

"That bother you?" he asks.

"No! Of course not. I like it, actually."

You hear him shift on the other line. "I don't think I've ever heard of a woman liking a man having ED," he replies with mild disbelief.

"Well," you begin with dragging a hand beneath your camisole. "For one, it's a sign of your age, which I like. But also...to think that a man desires me that much that he's willing to take medication, and also wait for it to kick in because the drive is that strong..."

"Thought you might've just been trying to humor me," he remarks.

You giggle. "Nope. I'm telling the truth."

He feigns a cough. "I did, y'know?"

Your eyes shift this way and that in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Think you looked pretty. Since you asked in the video."

You deadpan while removing your hand from beneath your clothing. "I was mortified. Not to mention terrified that you might report me."

He laughs. "And lose out on the chance of this happening?"

You nibble on your lower lip. "So, um..." You sigh. "I'm sorry, I'm just so nervous."

"That makes two of us," he states. "But just relax. Do whatever you normally do, and I'll do my best to play along."

You swallow thickly. "Okay." A pause of silence. "Should I just... Call you Robby?"

"You can call me whatever you like, sweetheart. Whatever makes you comfortable. But I'd prefer Robby, yes. Or Michael. But no one I know really calls me that anymore."

Michael. Feels so intimate. Maybe you'll try it when things get hot and heavy just to gauge his reaction.

"Okay," you sigh. "I'm gonna take my clothes off now."

His brows raise in response, though you can't see it. "Take your time."

You consider your bedside table for a moment. "Hold on. Let me put my earbuds in."

Leaving your phone in the middle of the bed, you stretch and yank open the drawer to your nightstand and retrieve the wanted devices. Removing them from their charging case, you pop them in, then wait a moment. Once they indicate that they've paired, you speak. "Can you hear me okay?"

"I can," he replies.

With your hands now free, you set your phone to the side, then take off your shirt and toss it onto the floor.

With all your limbs freed, you feel a bit braver, in terms of getting down to business. "Do you want me to sort of lead things?"

"That might help a bit," he says with a quiet titter.

"Well, I just took my shirt off." You hook your thumbs under the waistband of your underwear. "And now my panties. They're already wet, by the way."

You can hear him swallow. Poor man is probably more nervous than you.

"Do you, uh... Are... Do you get wet pretty easily?"

It endears you to him knowing that he's so flustered. "I do. In particular when I think about you. I've had a crush on you for a really long time, Robby."

He snorts. "Can't imagine why."

You frown and your brows furrow. "Why do you say that? You're incredibly attractive."

"I guess I just don't see myself that way anymore."

You wish you were there with him to rid him of such insecurities. "I'll tell you everything I like about you, then. Are you ready, because it's a pretty extensive list?"

"Ready," he replies with a chuckle.

You use one hand to roll a nipple between your fingers while the other drifts down between your legs. "In no particular order," you sigh, starting off. "Your voice; how deep it is and how easily you wield it to command authority. Your hair, which I'd love nothing more than to run my fingers through. Your beard, which I've fantasized having between my thighs and the silver throughout it."

You hear a quiet moan.

"Your hands, and how much bigger they are than mine. And speaking of size, your height—how I have to lean my head back to meet your beautiful, warm brown eyes. The way you dress—Carharts and boots and hoodies that I wish I could try on just because you wore them first. How intelligent you are, and steady; reliable and someone I know I can come to. For anything."

He's quietly panting now.

"Even the fact that you're Jewish."

He snickers. "Really?"

"Yes," you sigh while dipping fingers between your slick folds. "It's a part of you that means so much. I like the necklace you wear, with the Star of David on it. Do you wanna know what part of you I like best?"

"Tell me," he rasps.

"Your belly. I have no interest in abs. There's just something so erotic about a man who's grown comfortable in his body. God, Robby, even your name. Everything about you turns me on."

"Are you touching yourself?" he groans.

"I am, baby. Things are really slick between my thighs right now. All because of you." You sigh quietly. "Are you hard for me yet, sweetie?"

"I am," he huffs.

You drag your fingers over your clit. "Good. You like that I'm playing with myself while you listen? Hm?"

"Fuck," he moans while sliding through his fist. "I do."

"Tell me what you liked about my video. About watching me fuck myself with my fingers." You circle your clit a few times, then dive back inside.

"Everything, sweetheart. You were perfect. The sound of your voice—the pitch, since you were so turned on—how wet your pussy was, asking me something like that." Even though the question wasn't meant for him then, he deems that it was now.

You smirk, then go for it. "Am I? Am I pretty, daddy? Can you tell me if I am?"

Robby laughs while continuing on with stroking his weeping cock. "You are, baby. Very much so. Naked or otherwise."

You hum. "But you prefer me naked, don't you? All wet and ready to take whatever you have to give me?"

You listen to his ragged breaths, punctuated by the sound of skin against skin.

"I wish I was there right now, fuck."

"What would you do to me, Michael? Tell me."

He groans. "Don't call me that again unless you want me to cum."

You laugh musically. "Oops."

"Lie you back on the bed, kiss you between your thighs like you wanted. Taste you."

"Would you let me cum on your tongue?" you whine.

"However many times you wanted," he grates.

Your body shudders. "More, more, tell me more."

"I'd sink my cock inside you, once you're good and wet and ready for me."

"No condom," you state. "I want you to be able to finish inside me."

He snorts. "Horny li'l thing."

You laugh and ease a third finger inside yourself. "When it comes to you, I think I'd let you do anything you wanted to me if it made you feel good."

Robby continues. "And I'd make love to you. Until we both finish. Until you do around me. Spilling myself inside of you until we can't breathe because we're both so spent."

So old-fashioned. Making love. Not fucking, screwing, or any other derivative. It brings you impossibly closer to finishing already to hear it.

"I want that," you sigh. "To feel you inside of me. To come all over your cock so you can know how much I want it. You." You whimper. "Could I see it?" you ask softly.

"What? My—"

"Yes," you reply with certainty. "I showed you mi-ne," you say in a sing-song voice.

Robby chuckles, then sighs. "I need a solemn vow that it's for your eyes only."

You roll said eyes. "I'm far too selfish when it comes to you to think about sharing. And uh... Could you maybe use the front facing camera? So I can see your belly, too?"

The other line goes quiet for a moment. "You're sure you want that?"

You giggle excitedly. "I really do."

He sighs. "Alright, hold on."

You quickly grab your phone and wait with bated breath for the notification to arrive.

"I sent it. Just...don't judge the bush, alright? I don't prescribe to the whole waxing trend. That or...my slight gut."

"I'm glad to hear it," you say breathlessly, with a giddy smile. "I asked for the latter because it's what I'm most eager to see, baby."

As soon as the text pops up, you press on it, then proceed to stare in awe. "Oh my God, you're perfect," you moan, letting your eyes roam the heavy swell of his stomach that hangs just above his long red cock, which is smattered with dark brown hair. "But I...I don't think that'd fit inside of me."

He barks a laugh. "It would if I took my time with you. Trust me."

"It's so thick," you say while swallowing down pooling saliva. "And veiny and... I like the bush, just so you know. A lot. But your belly really is the icing on the cake. I hope you know I'd ride it if I could."

He exhales with relief while shaking his head and grinning. "You're somethin' else."

You giggle excitedly. "I'm having so much fun."

He smiles broadly on the other line. "You and me both, honey."

You swipe your fingers repeatedly over your clit. "I'm getting close, though. Are you?"

You can hear him lick his lips. "I'm workin' towards it."

"Where would you cum?" you inquire while teasing yourself toward your climax. "I'd let you finish anywhere on or inside me that you like."

He sighs. "Generous of you."

"Only because it's you, Michael."

He curses quietly. "Inside of you. Between your legs."

"Why?" you whimper, desperate for an answer.

"It's more intimate. Somehow anywhere else just doesn't seem right. Not with you."

"I'd like that," you intimate. "So, so much."

You continually circle your clit with lubricated fingers. "I'm so close, baby."

"Let me see."

You raise a brow. "My pussy?"

He chuckles. "Yeah, sweetheart."

Feeling generous, you decide to record a quick little video again, up close and personal. You spread your labia in all its dripping glory, swipe your fingers through your messy folds, advertise your swollen clit, then send it. "Hope you like it," you say lowly.

"It just came through," he confirms. Then, "Oh, sweetheart."

You gasp when he says it like that—wantonly, like he's been overtaken by lust.

"You like that? You like seeing how wet you've made me?"

"Christ," he groans.

"You're watching it on repeat, aren't you?"

"Fuckin' right I am," he rumbles. "Do you have any idea how pretty you are, sweetheart? How absolutely perfect?"

"Tell me. Please." Between porn and social media, you're not so sure anymore...

"I'd give anything to be inside of you, honey, even just one time. Not even for myself but for you."

Your chin wobbles. "Really?"

"Really."

"Please, Robby, come with me. Come with me, baby."

You listen to his ragged breaths as they grow in fervor. "I'm so close, sweetheart."

Plunging your fingers rapidly between your dripping folds, you lick your lips and nod. "I am, too. Just a little more. God, I love it."

"Fuck, I can't remember the last time jacking off felt this good."

Hearing him speak so filthily about his own self-pleasure only heightens your own. "C'mon, baby. Come for me, Michael. Come all over my pussy. Come right inside of it like I want you to."

"Oh fu—Oh fuck. Oh, fuck!" he groans, and you curl your legs back toward you while fingering yourself into oblivion.

You hardly speak a coherent word as you cry, whine, whimper, and squeal from your overwhelming finish. Once you come down from your passionate high, you do your utmost to catch your breath, and listen as Robby does the same on the other line.

Just hearing his labored breathing serves to make your loins stir yet again.

"So... Was it good?" you ask shyly.

Robby tosses his head back. "It was perfect, sweetheart. Never thought the first time I put eyes on you that I'd eventually hear what you sound like when you orgasm."

You're a naked, slippery mess, but somehow that's what makes you flush. "Same here," you murmur. "Um... thank you." It comes out sounding more like a question.

"Thank you," he replies with a gravely voice. "God, that felt good, baby."

Nibbling on your thumb, you can't keep yourself from smiling gleefully. "I'm so glad to hear it," you whisper. "So, uh... I'll see you tomorrow?" God knows how you'll face him after this, but you'll just have to figure it out.

"Oh," he chirps. "You wanna get off?"

You both chuckle at the same time.

"Yeah, guess we already did that, huh?" he jokes.

"We certainly did."

"Yeah," he replies. "I should probably clean up."

"Mm," you hum with interest. "Make a mess, did we?"

"On a towel, thankfully, but yes," Robby says with a quiet laugh. "Alright, honey, I'll see you tomorrow morning. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

Once the call has ended, you remove your earbuds, then throw a pillow over your face and squeal to the high Heavens with delight.

The next morning, you and Robby arrive in PTMC's parking lot at around the same time. Ironic, you muse to yourself while gathering your things before climbing out of your vehicle.

Coming around to the driver's side of your car, Robby slips his hands into his pockets while smiling down at you rather sweetly. "Mornin'."

You smile in return while your cheeks warm from a feeling of utter enchantment. Oh, this is no good. You shouldn't be forming some juvenile attachment this early-on. But if you let on that you have, last night will be the one and only instance of such intimacy between you.

It had made you feel so special, so you don't want to lose the possibility of having it again.

"Hello," you say quietly while glancing down to your shoes.

"You, um... You don't regret—"

Your jerk your head back while staring up at him, and the way the rising sun has practically formed a halo around his head. Maybe you're more than just a bit fond, after all. "No," you say while reaching out to touch his forearm. "No, Robby, not at all. I just don't know how to meet your eyes now," you say while chewing your lip.

Resting a hand on the crown of your shoulder, he slides it around to the small of your back while leading you toward the hospital. "Just like you always have. Hell, maybe," he begins with a shrug, "It'll make things easier. Talking, I mean. Being around each other now that we," he gestures with his hand. "Have this between us."

You giggle quietly. "I still refuse to believe it'd fit," you state while glancing toward his waist.

He throw his head back and laughs. "Oh, sweetheart, I have moves you've yet to see."

"Decreased breath sounds on right side, BP holding steady at 109/70, pulse dropping and down to 62."

Racing around to the other side of the gurney your patient lies unconsciously upon, you pull open one of her eyelids while flashing a small flashlight across it. "Eyes are PERL, but that airbag nailed her in the face—"

Robby shakes his head while pressing his chest to your back and assessing the broken nose she came in with. "It just knocked her out. I'm not worried about head trauma at this time if pupils are reactive." He points to the gaping wound on her abdomen where a piece of shrapnel sliced through. "Hey!" he says—calling to someone you don't glance up to see. "Have Perlah page the OR and tell them to prep for a laparotomy. They've got one incoming."

Pulling you back by the elbow, Robby releases the brakes on the gurney and you stand back, watching as a team rolls it away. Snapping off his gloves, he tosses them into a nearby waste bin. "You did good, sweetheart," he whispers while squeezing your hip reassuringly. "There's something I wanna talk to you about on your next break, though, alright?"

Pulling off a dressing gown, you bunch it up. "Did I do something wro—"

He shakes his head while pushing out of the room. "Not about that," he interrupts with a wink.

"She gonna make it?" you ask when Robby walks over to you from the ambulance bay doors.

He nods. "Already out of surgery and in a recovery room. Apparently things were touch and go for a minute, but she'll be fine."

You loose a sigh of relief.

"You wanted to talk to me about something?" you ask when he sits down next to you.

"Yeah," he rasps while settling his palms atop his thighs. "I just... Thought it might be good for us to lay some ground rules if we choose to continue this."

You nod hesitantly. "What did you have in mind?"

He grins while running a nervous hand through his hair. "I've never done any sort of "friends with benefits" thing before. Especially not for phone sex. That said, I can still tend to be a jealous guy. Now," he states while holding up his hands. "This isn't me trying to tell you what to do or stake a claim or anything, but I would prefer if I was the only one you were carrying on with like this."

Oh, so he's the territorial type, huh? You rather enjoy hearing that, actually.

"So, no more talking to your other friend," Robby requests while looking at you.

You nod. "Done."

He shrugs and sweeps a hand over his beard. "And if you wouldn't mind, no dating while this is ongoing, either."

You frown. "I'm sorry, Robby, but that feels a step too far for me."

"How so?" he asks while crossing his arms.

"I'm a young woman exploring her options. I want to at least try and find someone to start a life with. I can't do that if I keep myself strictly tied up with... Well..."

"The man you're sexting at midnight?" he asks with a chuckle.

You look at him from beneath your lashes. "Yes."

He sighs while gripping the brick half-wall you both sit upon. "Yeah, I can respect that."

You scoot closer. "If it would help, I don't have to tell you when I have a date scheduled, or about when I go on one. Could make things easier? Jealousy is a normal, human emotion, and I get it, so this is my way of trying to prevent it if I can."

He licks his lips. "Deal."

You swing your legs out, then let the heels of your tennis shoes bounce off the wall. "Anything else you were thinking about?"

Robby tries—quite poorly—and fails to bite back a smirk. "Are you, uh..." He pinches the bridge of his nose while wrapping an arm around himself and breaking into a fit of laughter.

Unable to stop yourself, you start giggling almost hysterically at the sight. "What?" you question with a snort, which makes him double over.

Gosh, I adore you, you think.

When he eventually begins to calm, he swipes tears from his eyes. "I'm sorry, honey, I don't know what the hell happened," he says between occasional chuckles.

You beam. "That's okay."

"I was gonna ask," he says lowly while leaning in close. "If you're aware of the little noise you make just before you cum."

You bite your lip. "I am now."

"It's pretty cute," he drawls while sliding a hand over your knee. "So, are we gonna talk tonight so that I can hear it again?"

You grant him a sultry expression. "Sure."

"On my knees," you pant while shoving a vibrator between your fluttering walls. "Sucking your cock while you spill down my throat when you finish."

"Fuck, that's good," he moans. "You'd do that for me, sweetheart? Swallow?"

You circle your clit with the sex toy. "I'd do anything you wanted. Of course I would, baby."

"Oh yeah? And if I fucked you after because I haven't had enough? If I need to feel you squeezing around me?"

"It might be slick," you whine. "You'd have a pretty easy time slipping in and out. I'm just that wet for you, Michael."

He curses. "You're dripping, aren't you?"

You circle your lips with your tongue. "I'm lying on a towel, if that tells you anything."

He chuckles. "You're not the only one desperate to give oral, I can tell you that."

"Oh yeah? You like my pussy that much, baby?"

"It's all I can think about. It's why I keep watching those videos. I want you to send me more."

You open up the camera on your phone. "Well, Dr. Robinavitch," you begin while pointing it between your spread legs. "That I can do."

It's been almost every night for the last two weeks. After a few days, however, you did have to crush Robby's libido by telling him that you needed a break for at least a day because you were starting to get a bit sore.

Unable to help himself, however, shortly after eating dinner, he sent you a photo of his semi-erect cock with an accompanying text that read Thinking about u

So you sent him a photo of your tits pushed together and a voice message asking, once again "Am I pretty, daddy?" while also worrying that maybe he finds being called that rather odd.

Until he replied with a voice note himself—you could hear his wet cock in the background—"Fuckin' beautiful, baby."

You went back on your promise to refrain from masturbating for a night when you ran to your bedroom and stripped down naked before hopping on a FaceTime call with him so you could finally watch each other get off.

You genuinely gasped when you saw the amount of semen that spurted from his cock when he came, then shoved the camera between your thighs while spreading your labia so he could see the way your tight little hole pulsated when you finished.

After cleaning up, you fell asleep on the phone together—a very charming gesture.

"We on for tonight again?" Robby asks quietly and with a soft, affectionate smile.

You click your locker shut and turn to him. "I'm actually busy tonight. I'm sorry, sweetie," you state regretfully while resting a palm against his upper arm.

"May I ask with what?" he inquires.

You study him from beneath your lashes while shifting on your feet. "We sorta agreed not to talk about it."

His brows knit together while brown eyes flit between your own, and then they unfurl when a look of realization dawns across his handsome features. "Oh. You're going on a date?"

You nod while nervously massaging one of your shoulders. "I am."

He shrugs nonchalantly. "Does he work here? Or...he's not the guy you used to—"

"No. No to both," you interrupt while waving your hands. "I couldn't even tell you what state R lives in."

Robby nods. "So, is it pretty serious, then?"

Your brow raises, curious as to why this conversation is still ongoing. "Well," you begin while skirting past him. "Considering that it's due to be a first date, no."

He turns and matches your strides to keep up. "What does he do? Is he—"

You turn back to him on your heel. "Robby?"

He crosses his arms and leans down, watching as you purse your lips and shake your head while looking at him with wide eyes.

He sighs, then chuckles. "I'm sorry; being nosy. Just—you're being safe, right? Taking precautions? Like," he glances away, then back to you. "You've told someone where you plan to be, who you're going to be with—"

"Yes," you interject with a smile. "Cassie is kinda my go-to girl for those sorts of things. I've sent her his profile, told her where I'm going to be and what time, and we even have a location tracking app. So, if my phone shows me somewhere I shouldn't be, she can contact the authorities. But I very much doubt that will be necessary."

"You hope not," he deadpans and your smile begins to fade from his suddenly dry tone. "But, y'know, meeting strange men on the internet, you have no way of knowing their true intentions."

"Which is why we're meeting in a public place," you state firmly.

"And if he follows you home?" he insists while stepping closer.

You huff, then step around him again.

"Alright, I'm sorry," he says while grabbing your forearm. "Just trying to show a bit of concern. I'll back off."

"I appreciate it," you assure. "But I'll be fine. Promise. You have no reason to worry."

Wouldn't have to if you just offered yourself up instead...

"Call me if you need anything," Robby utters tenderly. "An excuse to get out of there, or whatever else you may need, alright? And...have fun."

He doesn't truly mean the last part. Whatsoever.

You nod while also deflating just a little. "Alright, and I'll see you in a couple of days."

"Wait, a couple days?" he asks while squeezing your forearm in question.

"Tomorrow is my scheduled day off," you quip simply.

"Are...Are you planning on taking him home, then? Is that why—"

"Okay, Robby, for one, that's none of your business. But if you must know, no, I don't do that. Not on the first date."

He crosses his arms again, but in irritation this time. "Not on the first? So, what? The seco—"

Saved by the bell, Whitaker comes around the corner and tells Robby that he's needed in a trauma bay.

That's when you make a break for it.

Flipping your phone over, you check the text that's just come through.

Everything going ok?

"Do you need to get that?"

Glancing up to the young man who sits across from you, dressed in a crisp white button-up shirt with perfectly quaffed hair, you smile while shaking your head. "No, I'm sorry. Just one of those automated texts that tells you that you're about to be billed for your car insurance in a couple of days."

He sighs. "As if we need any reminders."

You chuckle while turning your phone on silent mode and flipping it back over. "You're telling me. I should probably look into opting out of them at some point."

He's far past the age of waiting up by the phone, waiting to hear from an opposing party who's clearly more interested in another. But he'll be damned if he hasn't checked his cell at least thirty times tonight, just waiting for even one little text that will finally grant him relief.

Just a simple he was an ass will do.

Good thing McKay has your location and not him, because if Robby had any idea where you were at right now for dinner? He's not entirely sure that he wouldn't show up and crash it.

Maybe it's a difference in generations. Yours, which seems to think of intimacy as a casual thing, whereas his often took it as the beginning of something more serious.

He paces, tells himself to get a goddamn grip, considers calling Abbot to see if he has a way of tracking a cellphone with his military and SWAT expertise, then finally falls into bed when he can no longer bear to keep his eyes open, while praying that this prick isn't whatever you've been looking for.

"So, how'd it go?" Cassie probes with an eager smile as you grab a mask to tuck away in your scrub pocket.

Almost like magic, Robby appears at your side and grabs an iPad, but of course doesn't leave.

You turn your back to him to face McKay instead. "He was very polite and sweet, but he brought up his ex more times than I felt comfortable with. So, I questioned him on it and—"

"Rebound?" she assumes.

You nod. "Three years, only broke up two month ago." You sigh and shake your head. "I don't even think he's aware that it's what he's doing. But he will eventually," you state wearily.

"Whole point of a first date," she replies while giving your hand a squeeze. "Weed 'em out."

"Starting to think they're all weeds," you grumble with disappointment while following her to Chairs.

Unable to fight the feeling of smugness which fills his chest, Robby walks into an exam room with a satisfied smirk and his head held high.

The only "breaks" you were allotted today were those you spent relieving yourself in the restroom. You had nearly a dozen patients, one of which ended up in the morgue after they were brought in by an ambulance: a husband working on his wife's car when the jack stand collapsed and he was left trapped under the vehicle for nearly half an hour until she came to check on him and found him aspirating on his own blood due to his chest caving in.

You can still hear her screaming over his body as you lie in bed scrolling mindlessly through your phone while looking for an escape via social media or stupid YouTube videos.

Until a text pops up.

U awake, sweetheart?

"Not in the mood tonight, Robby," you mutter while swiping the text away.

You did everything you could today. Just want 2 make sure you're alright.

You soften then. Pressing on the text, you type a reply. I know & I am. Thank you.

typing...

Worried you were mad at me.

Your brows wrinkle. Why?

typing...

Didn't speak much to me today, even when I pulled you onto my cases.

You huff. How to politely say that you were more concerned with patients than a silly office romance? Just trying to focus on the medicine.

typing...

typing...

Understood. Want me 2 leave u alone?

Your stomach sinks. Great, now you've hurt his feelings most likely.

You type your reply, then wonder if perhaps it's a bit too much, even if it's only one word. But he doesn't really seem to have anyone. He's lonely. And sweet; concerned.

Never.

typing...

Mind if I call so I can fall asleep to your voice again?

You smile contentedly while pressing the phone icon.

It's been over a month now, and while you and Robby have continued with sexting and the like, more and more, you're just generally talking. FaceTiming while you're cooking, calling when he's running errands in his truck, sending mundane photos of your days to each other—like pretty flowers you see on your walks, or he the two new pairs of boots he was trying to decide between, ultimately allowing you to be the deciding factor.

When he comes into work with them on, you can't help but to grin at the sight. Something so simple and dumb, but it's like another little secret. Hey, everybody, he's wearing the Rockies because I picked them out!

He even gets a bit brave by giving you swift kisses on the cheek when you're leaving work, or one on the forehead when you're just coming in before the two of you throw yourselves into a mess of waiting patients.

But no matter how domestic things may seem, you make sure to hold true to the promise you made to yourself to keep your options open. Because you know it's nothing serious to him, whereas that sort of connection is what you're desperate for.

"He's gorgeous," Samira exclaims while scrolling through your phone.

Robby glances up from the counter he stands at, overlooking results from a CT scan.

"A lawyer?" she asks with interest. "Aw, cute kitty. Wait, is that his daughter?"

You smile while shaking your head. "No, his niece. He said she loves playing doctor." Warmth blooms upon your cheeks. "He told me that if things go well, he can't wait for me to meet her."

"Wants kids," she mumbles, reading various tidbits he's provided. "Homeowner, goal of marriage.." she trails off, then sighs dreamily. "He could seriously be the one this time," Samira remarks while wheeling closer. "Have you heard his voice?"

Robby's jaw is clenched so hard a fucking tooth might crack.

"I have," you mutter bashfully. "The call was only a few minutes long because he had another client about to come in, but he said he couldn't wait any longer to hear what I sounded like."

You giggle.

"Ok, he sounds dreamy, actually," Javadi says from behind you.

You throw your head back and she smiles while waving a hand. "Sorry, I wasn't trying to eavesdrop or anything..."

Shaking your head, you spin around. "Oh, it's no problem. Wanna see his picture?"

"Yes!"

Tossing down a pen in irritation, Robby stalks off with a pissed-off shake of his head.

He's had an absolutely shit day. Two deaths, a patient who insisted they knew more than him because they spend all their spare time watching fucking Grey's Anatomy and listening to RFK Jr's bullshit, one of the new med students nearly making a critical mistake because they wanted to do more than they wanted to listen, and a patient high on opioids tackled a phlebotomist in the hall.

He knows he should just take a breather. Go outside for some fresh air and count backwards from a hundred. Instead, however, he goes in search of you.

"So, a lawyer this time, huh?"

Running on empty, you have no energy to deal with this tonight. "Yes. We go out tomorrow night."

Wrapping his arms around himself, Robby shakes his head while chuckling sarcastically. "Another dead-end first date? Sounds like a waste of time to me. Probably just some rich asshole who doesn't know the first thing about y—"

"Robby?" you hiss while stalking toward him. "I don't know what the hell your problem is right now, but you need to back off. Got it?"

"He know?" he whispers while bending at the knees to meet you at eye-level.

A gesture which just sets you to burning all the hotter, but not in a good way.

"That when you get bored and needy, you send photos of your pussy to someone else?"

"Fuck you!" you shout. "As of this moment, this is over," you spit. "You understand me?" you seethe through clenched teeth.

An expression of hurt flashes across his features and a lump forms in your throat when something between the two of you snaps and breaks.

He rises to full height again and snorts. "Until your date goes sideways and you go home lonely, just like always. So, you better be sure of that when you find yourself wanting for me in the middle of the night."

You choke back a sob then shove past him while heading directly for Chairs to get the hell out of PTMC, and even further from Robby. How the fuck were you stupid enough to get involved with him in the first place? If he wishes to make your life a living hell here at work now, he can. Easily. And it's not like reporting him to HR would lead to anything good.

That's not who you are—someone who stirs up trouble if you can avoid it by any means—but of course you're now afraid for your future here.

"You know that you never even fucking asked me?" Robby bellows from behind you, refusing to just let the matter go.

So close. Another thirty seconds and you would've been gone from this damn parking lot.

"Excuse me?" you cry while swinging around.

"You made this assumption," he growls. "For whatever reason that apparently I'm only interested in one thing." He marches closer. "Maybe you think I'm too old for the prospect of anything meaningful. That my bed is made and that's just the way it is." He gets in your face and you back up against the side of your car. "But it was more to me than just some stupid little tryst. The fact that you never even considered me?"

He shakes his head while pressing a hand to the back of his neck. "What?" he asks, and his voice breaks. "I'm not enough for you? Not good enough? Too old and broken down and—"

Realization slams into you in that moment like a speeding train.

He's desired more all along, hasn't he? But how could you have ever known? Did it hurt him when you went on your last date? Have you made him feel used?

You throw your arms around his neck then and your body against his, deciding that your forgiveness has already been granted. "Sweetie, no," you whisper while carding your fingers in his disheveled hair. "You're right. I assumed that you were content with bachelorhood. Baby, I'm so sorry that I did." You lean back just enough to gaze into his glassy eyes. "You could've told me," you mutter while brushing tears from under his eyes with the pads of your thumbs.

"Why didn't you?" Robby murmurs.

You sigh. "Robby, I felt attached to you after the first night we talked. But I was so..." you blink back tears yourself. "It's why I chose a stranger before: no risk of developing feelings. Not really. But I kept things going between us, despite knowing that I was going to get my heart broken, because I deemed it worth it. Getting to have that kind of intimacy with you? I was terrified of losing it."

Robby presses his forehead to yours while sliding his arms around your hips.

"Tell me that you want me to be yours and I'm yours, Michael."

"I want you all to myself, then," he grates. "Don't go with him. Just you and me, like it's been, but more. We'll be together."

He sucks his teeth. "I'm just... I'm no good at it. I have commitment issues. I know it sounds fucking ridiculous and stupid," he starts while pulling back and staring at the blanket of sky behind you. "My mother left when I was eight, and ever since—"

Your face crumples. "Oh, sweetheart..."

"So, I have a tendency to push back or run if someone gets too close, because that reminder is always fucking there that no matter how close you may be to them—no matter how much you may care, maybe they don't. One morning you might wake up and they'll be gone."

You cup the back of his head in one hand while the other cradles his cheek. "Robby, I am not going anywhere. Honey, if you could feel how I do about you—could read my mind and see how I think of you—you would know that you have me wholly. I wanted you, before my last date, to stop me. But you didn't. So I went..."

He slides a hand to the curve of your neck and holds you still while pressing his lips to yours.

Grasping gently at the soft protrusion of belly that hangs over Robby's Carhart trousers, you fist your hands in his shirt and hold yourself to him. "'M yours," you mumble against his lips and the scratch of his well-groomed beard.

He nods with a solemn expression. "Yeah, you fuckin' are."

Robby holds you so close that you're sure he'll never let go.

That makes two of you.

"Guessing Robby is running a little late today?"

You smile up at the nurse that stands over you and shrug. "Probably. He said he'd be here. But you never know what's going on down there."

You fiddle with the ring on your finger.

A quiet knock sounds at the door, followed by his entry. "Sorry, sorry," he says while coming around to the side of the exam bed before planting a kiss on your forehead and plopping down in the seat provided.

You extend a palm and cup his cheek while brushing your thumb along the corner of his mouth. "Do I wanna know?"

He shakes his head with a feigned, sarcastic expression.

Turning back to the screen beside you, you stay quiet while a probe is pressed to your swollen belly, and a rapid heartbeat soon fills the silence of the room.

"There's our girl," Robby murmurs with shimmering tears—same as always—while taking your hand between each of his and holding it to his lips.

"Hi, baby," you whisper while grinning from ear to ear.

"Oh, shoot," Hannah, your nurse, says quietly. "Ran out of paper. I forgot to refill it earlier." Removing the probe, she looks at you. "I'm gonna grab some real quick so I can get you both a few prints to take home."

You nod. "Take your time."

Once she's stepped out, Robby rises and kisses you, and with tongue no less. "I've never thanked you," he says quietly. "For marrying me, having my child..."

You shake your head. "Those are things I wanted just as much as you. You don't owe me thanks for being your wife and choosing to make a baby with you, honey. For loving you. We've both given the other things they thought they may have to one day settle with not having. That's what marriage is. What love is."

He kisses both of your cheeks. "How the hell'd I get so lucky, huh?"

The end of the semester was finally here, and my trip to DC was this weekend. The thing is, after months of underlying tension with my professor, you knew this was going to be a problem.

Why, well, because she and I had to travel to another state with two other students and one other professor. We had signed up for some program; honestly, I had forgotten about it until four months ago when my professor told me I needed to come up with lesson plans for workshops.

Since then we had been spending more time together after school before school and even on the weekends if we needed to. I won’t lie; it was hard being around such a smart woman who also was drop-dead gorgeous. I would always be so excited to see her, but I’d never show it even when her hand would graze over my shoulder or my lower back to guide me out a door. Until we got to DC.

Present

“No no no!” “I’m sorry, Mrs. Prentiss." “Miss Prentiss," she snared. The worker looked horrified, and I was just sitting on my suitcase, waiting for her to be done, not really knowing what the hell was happening.

She turned around and gave me a doomed face and gave me a card. "Um, so we have to share a room, but they said it has two beds. I’m sorry; I SPECIFICALLY SAID I WANTED TWO ROOMS!” She yelled out, and I giggled. "It's fine as long as you don’t mind," I said, moving my suitcase and hers together. "Yeah, it’s really not a problem; it’s more annoying, and I just didn’t want you to feel uncomfortable." I nodded and tried to contain the smile, anxiety, and nervousness running through my body.

I was just about to share a room with Emily Prentiss, what the fuck. I smiled and followed her to our room, where we were surprised to find only one bed… "Oh my god," Emily’s voice was low and pissed. I knew it. "It's ok; it’s a king. Are you a kicker?” Emily sighed, "No, are you?" I shook my head. “And there are two desks?” “And if you want we can ask for a different room?” “True, didn’t know you hated me that much," I said, putting down my bag and opening up my suitcase, trying to hide the grin on my face. “Whaa?” Emily looked dumbfounded. "You are cute. I’m kidding." “I know I don’t mind and I like you; I just don’t want…it’s just you are my student…” she said softly. "Well, I’m also an adult, and I’m okay with sharing this big ass bed if you are!” “I think yes," she said, putting up her suitcase on the desk. “What time do we have to be at the conference?” “Two hours?” I nodded. "Are you cool if I take a nap? I’m so tired from the flight," I groaned, plopping on my side of the bed. “Of course. I might have to join you in a little." She giggled, laying down with her back on the headboard.

I caught a glance at her glasses, the way her hair was up loose with hair strands out her beautiful nose. I tried to keep myself distracted and closed my eyes. I fell asleep to the shuffling of her book.

Emily’s POV:

Once I had seen y/n’s eyes were fully rested, I put my book down, glancing at her face; my heart skipped a beat. I was so hesitant because I knew how I felt about her, the way she looked at me or asked if I needed anything. She was a sweet girl and smart. Always attentive and caring…

Hell, I’ve had better conversations with her than I ever had with anyone else. She’s my student, and she might not even feel the same way.

What the fuck am I talking about, Emily? Get it together. I took a deep breath and tried to close my eyes and sleep for a little until I actually did.

I finally woke up to see y/n still asleep, beautifully calm, her nose twitching a little; it was so adorable. I sighed and looked at my phone. "Crap," "y/n," I said, rubbing her back to wake her up. “Hey, sweetheart, we have to go." "Mmm," she groaned. “Fuckkk, I'm somehow more tired," she giggled. Her laugh made my heart sink; there’s just something about her that’s so alluring.

y/n pov:

I put on a jacket and slid into my shoes. “How did you nap?” Emily asked, "Eh, my neck kind of hurts now." "Maybe I can give you a massage later." She winked. My heart dropped to my ass. What the fuck? No way she just said that. Which could also mean nothing. “I like your glasses; you look cute," I said, walking down to meet everyone.

"Thanks, I can’t see; I’m blind as a bat." She laughed, nudging my shoulder. My face turned red trying to contain the giddy feeling I’ve been having all day long.

Once our forever-long intro to the conference, we were able to head back. “Don’t you think we should have waited for everyone else?” I whispered to Emily, "Nah, fuck it, let’s just go back to the room and call room service?” She said, pulling my arm across the street, basically giving me no choice, not really like I minded either.

“I guess you also hated how long they went on about how men need more safe places," I said, shaking my head, causing Emily to laugh. "You are something, y/n." I didn’t know what she meant by that, but I do know it made me feel seen in a way.

Once we got to the room, I groaned and threw my jacket off, showing my tank top underneath with no bra, leaving really nothing to the imagination. I felt Emily’s stare from behind me. She probably is uncomfortable. What am I even saying?

"Sorry, I hate bras," I breathed out almost like I had to confess something. She smiled. “Me too. My boobs are just too big to not wear a bra if not they look awful," she said, sighing. “Oh god, no. If anything, yours are perfect. They sit nice, and you can hardly tell if you are even wearing one." I laughed, throwing on a baggy t-shirt, then stopped in my tracks, realizing what the fuck I just said.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean… I think you have awesome boobs. I just…fuckkk, I just need to shut up." I started saying frantically, "You think my boobs are perfect?” Emily moved closer to me. I couldn’t even look at her until her hand cupped my chin upward. “Do you?” "Yeah," I muttered, embarrassed; it was almost pathetic. She smirked slightly. “I notice you too, y/n; your hair, your makeup placement perfectly around your lips." Her voice was low and seductive as her fingers trailed to my bottom lip. She moved closer and placed a delicate kiss on my lip before biting the bottom one. "Fuck, you are so perfect, Emily." I was too desperate to even process what just happened, and I shifted us to the bed, laying on top of her. “Someone’s needy…” she said, taking off my shirt and sliding off my pants. "Mhm, I’m needy," I said, kissing her as I undid her shirt. “Are you sure you want this?” “I’ve never wanted anything more in life than this." Emily wasted no time and pulled me in, kissing my neck hungrily. I moaned at her touch; it felt like she’d done this so many times before.

Everything I ever thought was true. My hands explored her body, her perfect fucking body. I kneaded her boobs with my fingers, her nipples getting hard at the touch. "Fuck, I want to taste you so bad." She pulled me in desperately, and I won’t lie, I was just as desperate; it was like we had been craving one another.

“Please just fuck me, Emily," I begged, which caused Emily to shift without hesitation, moving herself between my legs and pulling on the waistband of my panties. "These are so cute," she said softly, admiring me, staring at how I was for her already a mess. I whined a little and tried to buck my hips; I could feel myself throbbing from the lack of stimulation. “Mmm, baby, be patient…” she cooed, her voice just making me more and more needy.

I could feel myself getting wetter when she placed her thumb on top of my clit over the thin fabric. “All for me?” She said with shock and smugness, "Yes, I need you so bad." She chuckled and moved my panties to the side, sliding in two fingers into my core with ease. “Holy fuck," I moaned as she slowly entered and disappeared into my cunt. "Mmm, that’s good," I huffed, gripping the sheets. Emily pulled off my panties and kept her pace, collecting my arousal.

“Please fuck me faster." I begged. Emily smirked and moved down to me, still not leaving me and, if anything, just at a painfully slow pace. "Mmm, but I like how you look right now, just all messed up for me, desperately begging me to fuck you faster, and I’m guessing harder too?” She said and slammed her fingers into me, curling them and the perfect spot. I couldn’t even moan before she stopped. "Look at you dripping for me, being such a good girl." She laughed, kissing my neck and speeding up her pace, her palm hitting my clit perfectly.

Our moans mixed with the sounds of her fucking me were filling the room. “Look at the way your tits bounce so fucking perfectly," I groaned at her praise, feeling myself tighten around her fingers. "Do you want to come, baby?” She asked, "Y... yes... fuck, Emily." I breathed out, feeling my stomach tighten. Emily kissed all down my waist and sucked lightly on my clit. "Oh my god, Emily." I whimpered. Her tongue glided over my clit, lapping and collecting my taste. "You taste so good." She buried her face more; it felt like I was seeing stars. “I’m going to cum." I moaned louder, coming undone for her. "Just like that, princess," she praised, slipping out of me and licking her fingers. "You taste amazing, baby," she said, kissing me while I was still trying to catch my breath. “You are something else, y/n, like an angel" she said, kissing my body, causing shivers down my spine. "You are so hot," I said, kissing her lips. "Well, we don’t have to wake up early tomorrow…” she said, smirking suggestively. “YES PLEASE YES!" I said, laughing, “Well, I was going to say let’s get some food, but—" "Oh, that’s fine too; we have a whole week here." I giggled, kissing her again.

Dana’s eyes look you up and down like you’re a piece of meat, she’s not visibly tired, which scares you more. She’s too calm. You’d gone out for drinks with Trinity and Dennis, before you had left the house, Dana made it clear that you had to be back by 1am. Promising her that you left and now you were back at 3:30am.

“I can explain—"

“Over my lap. Now.” She downs the last bit of her drink and places the glass on the side table. You stand up and walk over to her with shaky knees, you’d only see Dana this mad once, and it was when a patient was violent with you. Dana pulls you over her knee, slowly pulling your skirt and panties down and rubbing your exposed ass.

“You know why you’re being punished, right, baby?” She’s still rubbing her hand on your bum and thighs, you slowly nod, tears gathering in your eyes.

“Y-yes, Mama, I stayed out past my curfew.”

“I thought you were my good girl and would follow my rules, but you didn't, so now you’re here. You’re getting 20 hits.” You nod once again, tears running down your face. You feel so disappointed, you always wanna be good for Dana. She’s the first person to really see through your tough act, she clocked it on the first day of your R1 rotation when she found you sobbing in the parking lot. Dana knew you needed guidance and a stern hand, and she was more than happy to give it to you.

The first hit comes down hard, you let out a little yelp. Dana tells you to count, and you do not, wanting to upset her more.

“One! Thank you, Mama."

Another hit comes down on your ass, and you thank her once more. They keep coming and coming, and you can’t stop yourself from crying. The alcohol is making you more emotional and has heightened your senses.

“20! Thank you, Mama.”

“You did so well for me, baby. So proud of you.” Her hand rubs all over your bum, trying to soothe the feeling a bit, but you’ve grown uncomfortably wet from the punishment, and Dana knows. Her hand trails in between your thighs, and her fingers find your soaking wet cunt.

“Someone enjoyed their punishment a little too much.” Her fingers sink into your cunt, and you let out a small moan, she thrusts them in and out of you, her finger coming to rub circles on your clit. “F-fuck, Mama feels so good!” You moan out, your senses overwhelmed with pain and pleasure. Dana only goes faster, you feel yourself getting closer to the edge.

“Yeah you gonna cum, sweetheart? Come for Mommy like a filthy slut?” The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a broken moan; the pleasure is too overwhelming. She continues to move her fingers in and out of you, rubbing your clit. Your orgasm washes over you like waves, Dana lets you ride it out until you’ve calmed down.

She pulls her fingers out, and you whimper at the loss of her fingers, but she brings them down to your mouth, and you suck them clean for her. She helps you get up and takes you to the bathroom, where she takes off your makeup and applies some ointment to your bum. She helps you get into your PJs and leaves the room for a moment.

You get caught up in your head. What if she actually hates me? Or she’s actually really upset. You don’t notice that she came back with some Advil and water.

“Hey, hey, kiddo, why are you crying? "Mama's here." She gets into bed beside you and tucks you into her chest, you can’t help the sobs that come out of you.

“I-I’m—I'm sorry, please don’t leave me I’ll be good.” She understood now, you felt insecure and vulnerable. You thought she left you.

“Sweetheart, look at me. I’m never leaving you, okay? Mama's not mad anymore, you took your punishment well and you apologized. All is forgiven, okay? You’re my sweet girl, and I’m so lucky to have you.” She presses a kiss to your lips, and you melt into her. “I love you, angel."

“I love you too, Mama." With that, you fall asleep safe and sound in her arms.

Divider credit / cursedcarmie

Disclaimer: YOU DO NOT HAVE PERMISSION TO REPOST MY WRITING ANYWHERE ELSE WITHOUT MY CONSENT. REBLOGS ARE ENCOURAGED THOUGH. YOU MAY NOT FEED MY WORK TO ANY AI DATABASES OF ANY KIND OR TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI. FUCK AI.

The day is actually perfect.

You can’t believe it.

The sun is shinning bright, perfectly warm and burning for your skin to get a nice tan.

The pool in front of you glistens under the light, rippling almost seductively.

You can't wait to get in.

But right now you're practically toasting yourself so that the change in temperature will be that much more satisfying.

You're perfectly waxed, body lathered in sunscreen and tanning oil, the tiny little bikini you have on leaves nothing to the imagination.

You've laid yourself out like a sultry present, stomach turning itself in knots as you wait for your boyfriend to wake up, to come out to find you.

You can barely contain yourself with anticipation sparking your nerves, the slickness between your thighs only becoming more and more prominent as you hear rustling through the house behind you.

You shift in your sun lounger, positioning yourself again so that every single one of your assets is in full display.

The glass door slides open.

Your heart does a leap in your throat.

You turn towards the noise and—

"Jesus fucking Christ, sweetheart."

The yelp that pours out of your throat is almost unnatural as you instantly heat up everywhere, and not in a good way.

You pull the towel over your body, quickly covering yourself up, absolutely mortified as you lock eyes, again, with one of your boyfriend's dads.

You’ve been dating your current boyfriend officially for a little over two months having met both Jack and Robby, in this very house, a little prior to that.

They'd been complete gentlemen, open and kind, absurdly in love with each other to a point that it made you swoon.

You'd ridden their son aggressively that night, his hot dads the only thing in your mind as you came around his cock, making sure to pull him out of your tight hole before he could finish inside.

You'd brushed it off as having forgotten to take your birth control that morning but the truth was much more nefarious than that. You simply couldn't let him do that when all you wanted was for his dads to fill you up instead.

Having not seen them until now had helped to alleviate some of those feelings. You had been ovulating then, clearly, and there was no way you were going to listen to what your thoughtless, horny mind wanted.

So when he suggested you take advantage of the Fourth of July weekend to take a trip to his parents' home since he knew for a fact the two of them were going to be working instead, you agreed.

A whole three day weekend where you could lounge by the pool, fuck on every surface imaginable, and not have to come into contact with the two of them?

It was the sexiest plan you've ever heard, especially after your summer research job at the university had been kicking your ass and your brain was definitely fried.

Well, unfortunately, none of those things have come to fruition.

You're still unfucked, barely tan and now definitely not not coming into contact with the hot doctors.

You watch as Robby comes rushing out onto the deck, instantly bringing a hand over his eyes unlike his, honestly, worse half, as he catches even the slightest glimpse of your uncovered skin.

There's nothing to look at now, you've made sure of it, but Jack's gaze lingers on your legs, as if he keeps thinking about the memory it'll somehow become real once more.

Heat explodes in your core at the thought of him memorizing what your body looks like, his hungry gaze almost predatory in nature, as if he's waiting for a reason to strike.

"Jack—" Robby's not subtle about it, slapping his husband's arm in embarrassment.

Jack gives your body a once over, subtle enough if you weren't also staring intensely at him, before he casts you a wink and turns slightly so that you can finish wrapping the towel around your body.

Once you're covered up you return to staring, taking them both in before you let them know you're done.

They've both put on slight weight since the last time you were here, their bellies budging out over their scrubs. The bags under Robby's eyes look somehow deeper, a detail that makes your heart constrict in a desperate desire to fix it. And Jack...he just feels unhinged, like he's holding in so much energy he honestly doesn't know what to do with.

"Okay," you whisper. "I'm decent."

Jack is the first to snap his eyes back to you, pouting slightly, teasingly or not, you simply can't tell, but your lips are instantly curling into a shy smile.

Robby peeks through his finger first, earning himself a little giggle from you which causes his cheeks to flush a satisfactory pink.

"Sorry about that, honey," Robby apologizes profusely. "We didn't know the two of you would be here."

You frown. "Well I was told you would be working so..."

Robby cracks a smile as Jack moves to sit on the lounge chair beside yours.

"Damn kid never tells us anything," he complains, causing you to laugh, airy and warm. "I tell ya, the only reason we know he's been here is cause half the fridge is empty and there's an absurd amount of laundry we gotta do."

You bite your lip, watching as he settles into the hot mesh, resting his leg for a little respite which you're certain he hasn't had in the past twenty-four hours, especially since you know he insisted on driving the two of them here from the hospital.

"I promise I'll do all the laundry and wash all the dishes and go grocery shopping before we leave."

"Absolutely not," Robby cuts you off. "He's the one who brought you, he's the one that has to do it."

Your cheeks heat up instantly, the desire starting to bubble over into your stomach.

"Where is he anyway?"

And as if talking about the devil will make him appear, your boyfriend finally makes an appearance, stepping out to join the three of you on the deck, dressed up in his golfing attire?

What the fuck?

"Dad, what're you doing here?" He stumbles over himself, coming over to give both of his parents a little side hug.

"Holiday weekend," Robby answers. "What are you doing here?"

"Same."

Jack scoffs. Yeah right. If anything this looks like three days of uninterrupted fucking and drinking and more fucking.

Ah to be young and in that carefree phase of their relationship.

Only...

Jack's eyes drift back to you as his son walks over to place a chaste kiss over your lips.

You lean into his touch more than he leans into yours. It's subtle but the vet picks up on it right away.

Last time they saw the two of you, it was impossible for him to behave, always needing to have a hand on your body in some way.

But now?

Barely a hand over your leg to steady himself.

Weird.

"Where are you going?" Jack asks his son, gaze narrowing.

He gulps in response, stepping away from you, leaving you practically deflating as he removes his touch without a second thought.

"Golf with some friends from high school."

You instantly snap your gaze up to his, pouting like they've never seen anyone pout ever.

"What?" you whine. "What happened to pool day?"

If your boyfriend feels guilty in any way, he doesn't let it show, instead your words are processed like an inconvenience, as if you have no right to demand his time and attention now.

"Sorry babe, change of plans. But I'll be home for dinner, yeah?"

You open your mouth to complain, to keep fighting back against the plans that have been made without your knowledge or input, but he doesn't let you utter a single word.

"Don't start, please. I haven't seen these guys since spring break, we'll still have one more whole day together before we have to head back."

You don't want to be clingy, he's right, he hasn't seen his friends all summer, he deserves to spend time with them too. You've gotten to see him every day, even if it’s for a few minutes or a few hours.

So you simply nod, forcing a tight lipped smile that he clearly doesn’t process as anything but your blessing to do whatever he wants.

It makes Robby’s blood boil and Jack’s gaze sharpen on their boy.

Have they truly raised such an emotionally unintelligent man?

“Thanks babe,” he claps his hands. “I’ll see you later,” he moves to leave before swiftly turning back to you. You light up again, thinking he’s going to kiss you again, give you any kind of attention before he leaves you for the entire day. “Could you make that roast chicken I love, with the broiled veggies for dinner?”

If Jack wasn’t in so much pain he’d leap to his feet and beat the shit out of his son.

For a split second Robby’s convinced you’re going to fight back, to get up in his face and curse him out.

But you don’t. You just smile again, the picture perfect face of complacency.

“Of course.”

“You’re the best,” he turns around and leaves. “Later pops.”

And with that he leaves. You hear his dad’s truck engine starting and the vehicle leaving the property a few minutes later.

You don’t acknowledge any of it, staring off into space as you process what just happened.

You’re so completely and absolute embarrassed.

Who the fuck does he think he is? And to make that type of scene in front of his dads.

You’re mortified.

And now you’ve got to spend the entire day with them?

Alone?

Fuck.

You’re so flushed, the shame practically rendering you into a dumb mess, so much so that it’s made Jack so fucking stiff in his pants that his leaking tip is making uncomfortable contact with his clothes.

"His loss," Jack winks at you again, positively breaking the spell you’ve been under. "Y'want a beer?”

Half an hour later you've got a nice buzz going on.

Robby’s been relegated to kitchen duty as you and Jack continue to lounge outside. It’s like he's made it his personal mission to keep you company, to include you in whatever vague plans they had for coming over to their house today.

You let your laughter die out as Jack finishes telling you a story of how he made Robby look a fool a few shifts ago.

“Stop that’s so mean Mr. Abbot,” you playfully chide him but you simply can’t stop laughing.

You’re unsure if it’s the sun hitting him directly in his eyes or if maybe you’re seeing things, but you can swear his eyes darken ever so slightly.

“If you’re not gonna call me by my first name at least call me doctor, sweetheart.”

He winks, playfully, causing your cheeks to heat up instantly.

You roll your eyes as Robby comes back out, handing you and his husband fresh, cold beers.

“Don’t let him charm any more clothes off you, kid,” Robby jokes and you’re certain you’ve stopped breathing.

You watch in stunned awe as Jack huffs an offended breath at his partner, pulling him down to place a soft kiss on his lips before the chief attending settles down on the lounge chair by Jack’s legs.

God, they’re so—

Your thighs shift together slightly as you sit up, tilting the bottle against your lips, suddenly thirsty as all hell.

You try not to look at them as they definitely watch you gulp down the amber liquid. There’s no way they’re flirting with you. They’re fucking married and you’re dating their son, you’re just sun drunk and horny as fuck.

Right?

You set the bottle down on the ground before you reach out towards the little plastic table separating the lounge chairs and picking up the sunscreen.

Standing up from your seat, a sudden rush of alcohol to the brain makes you dizzy with courage, stupidly so honestly, so you simply smile down at him, stepping up to stand in front of his outstretched legs.

“Can I charm you into taking some clothes off,” you turn to Jack briefly. “Doctor Robinavitch?”

Robby becomes a fucking tomato and you and Jack both know that you’re gonna take that as an excuse to lather him up in sunscreen.

Fuck you’re good.

You’d been flirty when the three of you met but it was a tame, meet the parents type of casualness that didn’t pierce through their defenses, only lingered on their minds enough for them to actually want to see you again. At the detriment of their son, but who could care less about him now?

Jack nudges Robby with his leg and it’s like the older man comes alive, swiftly and uncoordinatedly discarding his t-shirt.

Your eyes definitely darken as you take in his soft, hairy belly, the little patches of scattered tattoos decorating his skin, the freckles and spots that claim his body with age.

Jack snorts beside you, forcing you to blink out of the spell Robby’s got you under.

Self-esteem has never been an issue in the Robinavitch-Abbot household. Jack is…practically a greek god carved from decades of dedication to his body, the ingrained routine of military life and an honest to god ego that forces him to keep looking his best for himself and those he chooses to invite into his bed.

But with Robby, it doesn’t matter how many times his husband has told him he’s beautiful, has taken his time kissing down his body and worshipped every single inch that he believes will never be perfect enough — the way your eyes rake over him like he’s a delicious piece of meat is enough to make him feel like he’s the most desirable person in the world.

His chest puffs out slightly, muscles flexing as he reaches out for your hand, grabbing the sunscreen and handing it back to Jack.

“Do you mind, handsome?”

Jack smirks, sitting up and placing a lingering kiss over Robby’s shoulder, eyes never leaving yours all because he needs to see you react to them.

And boy do they get a treat as you actually shiver.

Jack squirts a big dollop of sunscreen on his hand, rubbing the two together before he begins to run them all over Robby’s expansive back, digging into the muscle, causing him to moan and groan at the diligent action.

You find yourself taking a step back, literally forcing you to stop staring at the two because if you stay there, if you so much as give them another second of inaction, you will definitely find yourself planting your core against Robby’s practically tented cock and that’ll be the end of your story.

So instead you pretend to not care, to not desperately want, with every fiber of your being, to ogle at them as Jack makes his parter feel good, to fight the urge to get your hands tangled within the mess as well.

You take another swig of your beer, enjoying how the cold washes through your insides and now you desperately need your outsides to match. Without a second thought, you sprint towards the edge of the pool, jumping in gleefully.

The older men watch as your ass and breasts jiggle satisfyingly, water splashing them as you breach the pool before them.

“Oh we are so fucked,” Jack huffs through gritted teeth.

“You think she’s torturing us?” Robby mumbles as they watch you resurface.

“Are we not doing the same thing to her?”

Robby’s gaze snaps back to his partner. “Is that what you’ve been doing?”

Jack doesn’t answer, only grins before he spreads more cream over Robby’s face.

“There, all done,” he kisses Robby’s nose. “Why don’t you go join her?”

Robby’s entire body tenses, swiftly erasing any and all playfulness from Jack’s face.

He opens his mouth to speak, to tell Robby he doesn’t have to do anything that makes him uncomfortable. He was just teasing, sure, he’s wanted to be gross and weird since the opportunity presented itself, but—

“Could you pass me my hat, please?”

Your sweet, angelic voice stops them both dead in their tracks.

A long, electric beat passes through them as Jack searches his husband’s face for any more uncomfortableness. But he surprisingly finds none.

“I got it, honey.”

Robby gets up on tired knees, shuffling over to your discarded seat picking up the silly little animal bucket hat he’s certain you got a few months ago while on your trip out to see your family on the west coast.

What? He’s definitely not been stalking your Instagram. He just wants to know what his son is up to since he definitely won’t tell them.

He walks over to you, leaning down to hand you the adorable garment but just as you’re about to grab the fabric, your delicate hand wraps around his wrist and you’re pulling him into the pool.

Robby never even saw it coming, but Jack did. The mischievous glimmer in your eyes, the sly wink at him before you used every ounce of strength you have to pull the bigger man into the depths with you.

You’re a laughing mess as Robby resurfaces, a bright smile threatening to take over his entire face as he tries really hard to not let it pierce the faux frown of disappointment that he’s shooting your way.

The hat floats its way towards you and you pick it up, putting it over your head.

“Thank you for the hat, doctor Robinavitch.”

That has Robby erupting into a Santa Clause laugh, menacingly moving across the pool towards you.

“Oh, you are so not welcome, kid.”

You yelp, trying to get away from him but you’ve practically cornered yourself against the wall.

His large hands are on you swiftly, one grabbing your waist while the other digs into your leg, picking you up over his head, turning around and tossing you towards the other end of the pool.

“You sure you’re not doing it too?” Jack calls out to Robby as your body sinks for a few seconds.

The older man turns back, cheeky grin now adorning his own lips as well.

“She’s really soft, Jack.”

“Oh fuck off—”

You flail to the surface, determination on your face like never before.

You leap against Robby, hands digging into his shoulders as you lift yourself out of the water to try to sink him back down.

But he’s too strong, like an unmovable tree.

The two men watch you struggle for a while, laughing warmly before Jack cuts in.

“Put her out of her misery, please.”

Robby turns back to you, expression soft yet bordering on patronizing.

It takes him no effort to pull you off him, trapping your arms in his big hands and wrapping you up in his embrace, your back pressed tightly against his front.

You try to thrash against him, barely, as he shushes you, calming you down instantly as you allow your body to finally catch its breath again, panting deeply against his neck.

“You tried your best, kid,” he murmurs. “’twas a good game.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “‘m still gonna be a sore loser.”

“I’d expect nothing less.”

The second he feels you chuckle against his skin, his hips press further into your round ass. Curse his body and the way it reacts to your warmth.

He pushes you forward then, almost too quickly, almost as if he’s ashamed and is in desperate need to hide something.

You don’t dare turn back to him because you know what he’s trying to bury so deep within himself.

With flushed cheeks, you get out of the pool, pulling yourself up, breasts pressing together for Jack to ogle as you jump up on the ledge.

You watch Robby start to swim, doing grueling laps as you too take a second to calm the fuck down.

You simply can’t think, can’t try to make sense of it because if you do you’ll literally go crazy.

So instead you get up, dry yourself off a little, and join Jack in your favorite activity of being lazy fucks together, unashamedly staring out at the water at Robby’s gorgeous body cutting through the water powerfully.

Jack doesn’t try to engage in small talk. He knows that if he opens his mouth now you’ll shut yourself off for good. It’s a delicate balance, teasing you and also making sure none of you feels bad for it.

None of you wants to think about it, but it’s a looming threat, consistent and present, one that he’s determined to not think about once until the three of you get what you clearly, desperately want.

When Robby finally comes back out of the pool, he’s like a wet dog, shaking the water off himself right above Jack who groans loudly at the little droplets of iciness disrupting his warm glow.

Robby goes to sit next to him but Jack is quick to push him away.

“Go somewhere else,” Jack barks. “You’re too wet.”

Robby practically pouts at his husband. “There’s no more chairs out.”

“Not my problem.”

“You can share with me,” your voice is mousy but clear.

Both men stop their bickering and turn to stare at you as you shift towards the other end of the lounge chair, making a tiny little space for Robby’s massive frame to somehow fit.

Robby’s tentative at best, almost shy as he crosses the small space towards you.

He sits on the edge by your feet at first. It doesn’t matter that his back is aching and he wants nothing more than to lie down and enjoy the sun for a little while like his husband and you have been doing.

It’s only when you grab his bicep and pull him back that he lets himself fill the space.

He lies down awkwardly at first, trying to make himself as small as possible, the minimal contact with your skin driving him mad again.

Fuck, he just spent the past fifteen minutes swimming like his life depended on it so that his disgusting erection would subside and now you’re—

And then you get up and place him under your body, getting him comfortable before you turn onto your side and place your head on his shoulder.

It’s barely there, just enough for the two of you to fit, but your breath dances over his pec, inching too close to his heart with every exhale, and he knows for a fact that you can feel just how fast the blood is pumping through his body.

Jack practically bursts with raw and unbridled pleasure beside the two of you, his pupils swallowing his eyes whole as his hand begins to tease the stark outline of his cock over his swim trunks.

Robby shoots him a darkened look to stop and for the first time in his life, Jack listens.

If Robby can’t get himself off then neither can Jack.

They’ll be tortured together, just like their wedding vows definitely did not intend.

 Jack turns away, eyes closing. That’s that then.

Robby does the same, comfortably getting lulled into slumber by your own steadying breath.

Before he succumbs to it, he drapes a towel over your heads, at least some respite from the fire burning everywhere else in his body. And yours. Not that he knows that yet.

He finds out just how hot you are about half an hour later, when he’s awoken by your leg draping over his.

He cranes his neck slightly to see you’re still fast asleep. Embarrassingly so.

You’re dreaming.

Clearly.

Thankfully.

Your hips begin to move slightly over Robby’s crotch, his cock springing awake at even the smallest form of contact.

He bites back a groan, the feeling so incredibly delicious.

Jack needs to see this too—

He pulls the towel off his head and turns to where his husband has already pulled himself out of his swim trucks.

Robby shoots him a disappointed look but Jack doesn’t give a fuck, can only shrug as he continues to pump himself in tandem with your movements.

And then something snaps in Robby’s brain, primal and possessive.

He softly cradles your body in his hand, pulling you further onto him so your barely covered core can make full contact with his erection.

You snuggle further into him. 

Must be one hell of a dream.

Most definitely, as you pick up your movements slightly, hitting your clit against Robby’s head with every roll.

Robby sucks in sharply, biting down on his tongue to stop himself from screaming out in pleasure.

Jack smirks, making a show of spitting on his hand as the slick mixes with the oozing precum leaking from his own slit.

The men stare at each other as they let you have your way with Robby.

It’s only fair.

You’re family after all. And family takes care of each other, right?

You mumble a strangled moan against Robby’s chest, your body shivering slightly as a surge of electricity washes over you. 

You just came.

You definitely just came and Robby feels like a teenage boy at how the way your body sparks sends him hurdling towards his own release.

He cums in his pants shamelessly, biting down on his fist so he doesn’t make a single sound.

Thankfully the dark blue fabric is still damp from the pool so his spend just blends in with the blotches of wetness already there. But the smell of sex is in the air, a disgusting reminder of what he’s just done, what he’s let you do.

Fortunately he doesn’t have a second to think about it as he catches Jack making his way over on his crutches, standing just beside Robby and aligning his crotch towards his husband.

Robby dutifully opens up his mouth and Jack wastes no time jerking himself to completion over his tongue. He hisses, allowing himself that simple pleasure as thick ropes of cum paint Robby’s throat white.

Neither of them feel you still as you wake up, peeking through the little hole in towel up at them, practically having to stifle a moan as you watch Jack’s eyes close in pleasure.

Your heart thrums in your chest as if you’ve just ran a marathon and yet you can’t look away.

Robby rolls his tongue over his husband’s tip, placing a cute kiss on it before he stuffs Jack’s dick into his swim trunks.

And then Jack, very loudly, states— “I think something’s burning in the kitchen, handsome.”

Robby leaps out of your embrace swiftly, rushing into the kitchen as your hazy brain plays catch up.

Were you just…draped over him?

Why do you feel so sticky down there?

And then it hits you.

The dream. The way your brain is just the right amount of dizzy and light.

You’ve done this before. Many partners have told you. But the shame of now having done it to your boyfriend’s dad sends an embarrassed chill down your spine.

You take the disruption as a blessing, practically running after Robby and hiding in the guest bathroom instead.

What the fuck is going on?

Jack and Robby almost look disappointed when you come back out with a t-shirt and the shortest denim shorts they have ever seen, the slightest sliver of your ass hanging out from underneath the trim.

Jack’s already sat at the table and he has to fight back the urge to tell you to come sit on his lap, you know, just to tease you.

But instead he lets you sit down beside him, his status as head of the household one that he’s never taken seriously, not until right now.

He can see how your gaze shifts from him to the empty seats beside him. One for you and one for Robby, almost equal in a very weird way, forming a triangle.

“What’re you having, kid?” Jack asks you, pulling a rolling cart towards him, their portable bar as your boyfriend has so literally described many times.

You desperately want some liquor to help dull the shame boiling in your stomach. It doesn’t matter that it’s the root cause of why you’ve found yourself in this particular situation, no, you just need to stop feeling like your heart is going to leap out of your mouth for three seconds.

Maybe all you need is to be buzzed all day so hopefully you won’t remember a drop of this tomorrow.

“Vodka tonic with a lime please.”

Jack smiles devilishly. “Coming right up.”

You watch as he reaches over to grab one of his whiskey glasses, portioning out two ounces of vodka…and then two more into your glass. He shoots a smirk your way and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Either he’s trying to keep you tipsy so you’ll loosen up or he’s just being a good host and making sure you at least have some fun on your day off with them, you can’t tell, secretly hoping it’s a mixture of both.

He tops your glass off with tonic water before pouring a handful of ice into the mixture. Your cheeks heat up as you watch him work, deftly fingers working a pairing knife into a ripe lime and peeling a garnish before he cuts the fruit in half and squeezes it in.

Lime juice drips down his hands and you practically have to force yourself not to lean forward and lick it up. His eyes darken as you lean forward for a millisecond before you quickly straighten back up in your seat, catching his knowing stare as he tops it all off with the little garnish.

He sets the glass in front of you before bringing his hand up to his own mouth instead, his tongue skillfully cleaning up his freckled skin.

Your eyes practically bulge out of your skull as you watch the sinful display before you.

“Drink up,” he murmurs, settling back as if he’s just done the most casual thing in the entire world.

Your chest is practically heaving, whatever mental faculties you've got left practically screaming at you to not show him just how much your hands are shaking as you reach down for the glass and bring it up to your lips.

Savoring the cool drink and letting the alcohol do its thing, you hum contently as you swallow the bitter yet refreshing liquid.

“It’s really good,” you beam. “Thank you Mr. Abbot.”

He huffs out a ragged breath at your teasing, bringing his own beer back up to his lips.

You settle back, getting comfortable as the two of you wait for Robby to finish up in the kitchen.

“D’you do anything wild today?” You ask before taking another sip of your drink.

“We performed an emergency c-section. Saved a mother and her baby,” Jack tells you, not boastful, simply proud.

Your eyes widen in excitement. “That’s incredible.”

Jack beams. “Glad you think so, sweetheart.”

He swears he can see your cheeks heating up at his comment, suddenly becoming shy and trying to hide behind the liquid courage of your drink.

“What about you?” He inquires next. “How’s your research project coming along?”

The smile you throw back at him is so bright it could rival the summer sun. He remembered what you’re doing, that’s so kind of him.

“It’s going well,” you try to maintain his own humbleness. “We were almost finished last week but one of my peers found a research paper that practically blew a hole right through our main argument so we’re having to reconstruct a bit unfortunately.”

Jack groans, feeling your pain. “Hate when that happens, why can’t academics just keep their logic to themselves?”

You giggle, shaking your head. “It was a valid point sadly.”

“Yeah, they usually are,” he shrugs. “Hope you’re not having to work overtime because of it.”

You sigh. “It’s…been an issue.”

Jack eyebrows shoot up, a silent encouragement for you to continue.

“I’ve been having to spend more time at the lab and with…your son working late as well…it’s just been difficult to see each other is all.”

You’re being vague on purpose, wishing upon every star that Jack won’t prod.

Unfortunately for you, the sky is very, very clear right now.

“So that’s what this weekend was,” he smiles into his beer. “A honeymoon of sorts, tryin’ to reconnect.”

You’re certain your entire body is now set on fire with just how hot you’ve become.

Jack chuckles. “Hey, I’m not judging. We all need to do that sometimes. Hell, I know Michael and I are trying to do the exact same thing this weekend.”

Trying not tried. The truth settles deep in your stomach, igniting that desperate pit of want back up again.

Did they…are they…

Oh god, what if you cock blocked them?

You down the rest of your drink as Jack relishes in your embarrassment. Something deep inside of you pushes then, like its reacting to a dare that hasn’t been issued yet.

“Well I mean, have at it, God knows I won’t get any action so you might as well enjoy.”

The second the words leave your mouth you desperately with you could go back in time to take them back.

Jack opens his mouth to reply, practically beaming with glee at the newfound information you’ve served him up on a silver platter, but you beat him to it, leaping across the table and slapping your hand over his forearm.

“Oh my god please forget I said that,” you blurt out.

Jack lets out a hearty laugh, his own hand coming up to rest atop your own, holding you hostage with both his touch and his gaze now.

“Don’t worry kid, your secret is safe with me.”

Luckily, you don’t have to think about it much longer as Robby returns with plates overflowing with the BBQ takeout they got for themselves.

If you weren’t completely dying of mortification, you probably would’ve caught how Robby’s own face was deeply crimson, how Jack ran his hand along his husband’s leg, how the two of them came to a silent agreement over you.

There’s honestly no better feeling than your stomach full and your blood coursing with the perfect amount of alcohol.

The sun is high up in the sky, the water perfectly cold against your skin.

You’re back in the pool the second your twenty-five minutes are up after finishing up your lunch, Jack and Robby following out after you and returning to the scene of the crime boldly now.

It’s Robby’s turn to observe as Jack settles on the edge of the pool, helping his husband lower himself into the pool before he retreats back to the shade, settling down against your discarded shorts and shirt.

He watches, almost drunk on your skin, as sunlight reflects off the surface of your supple body, how the rivets of water caress the expanse of your back down to your ass and then further south across your legs.

He’s never been so thirsty as he is right now, his tongue begging him to move, to touch, to allow himself to clench his need for you and just—

“Mr. Abbot!” You squeal, positively breaking the spell he’s been under.

Robby instantly flinches, body jerking forward in case he needs to step in.

Jack’s never been one to shy away from his needs. It’s what he most admires about his partner. He knows what he wants and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t go after it.

And right now…well let’s just say he’s going after it alright.

The two of you seem to be engaged in a very physical fight, his front pressed against your back as he tries to steal the beach ball from your grip.

He’s not shy about it either, doesn’t feel any kind of shame, at least not one that’s as noticeable as Robby’s.

It took Robby a good fifteen minutes of hiding in the kitchen to get himself together after you came against his thigh, another ten to convince Jack to get him a new pair of swim trunks, and then another five as his husband took him in his hand and jerked him off again to the thought of you.

Robby has never wanted for anything ever since he and Jack got together. Sure, they’ve dabbled with bringing people in to share their bed, but it’s never been like this.

They should not want you.

They certainly cannot have you.

It’s not just morally wrong, it’s…

Another yelp erupts from your throat as Jack throws himself over you, causing you to lose your grip on the ball and drowning dramatically as Jack pulls the ball towards him, swimming to the other side of the pool to “score a goal”.

Robby watches as you resurface, spitting water from your mouth as you wipe your hair off your face.

It’s then that Robby notices it.

Your top has come undone and your breasts are now…

He clears his throat. “Uh, honey?”

You look up at him like he’s hung the moon, eyes wide and your chest practically pushing out towards him.

Robby blushes instantly, a sheepish smile adorning his lips as he points down. He just can’t say it, doesn’t dare himself to bring any more attention to it.

He watches, practically drooling, as your spacey brain processes it, another yelp escaping your lips, this time followed by an embarrassed giggle that brings Jack’s attention back to the two of you.

At the sight of your bare back, the SWAT medic crosses the pool in what feels like two powerful strides, swiftly pulling the strings back around your neck but not before shamelessly stealing a peek at your hardening nipples.

He sucks in a breath sharply, using the excuse of contact to have his fingertips linger over your overheated skin.

He’s unsure if you’re even aware you’re doing it, but the contact makes you hum contently as you pull your hair off your back and almost make daring eye contact with Robby.

You may be tipsy but the way his eyes definitely darken now and the way Jack’s touch lingers more than necessary confirms whatever doubt still lingered in your brain—

They want you.

And fuck it if you don’t want them too.

It’s unfortunately you who ends up getting out of the pool first and retreating back into the house.

The sun is still out and proud but it’s getting to that time when dinner prep simply must get started so you make your way into the guest bathroom and take a thorough shower, flinching in pain as you realize you’re definitely sunburnt.

So much for being careful.

You do your best to be gentle and wrap a fluffy towel over your body before you go back out into the common areas of the house. You’re sore everywhere so the longer you can stay without having to put on actual clothes the better.

You start on dinner prep, preheating the oven, cutting up vegetables, prepping the chicken, readjusting the towel cause it just keeps coming undone and almost flashing—

“Damn, kid,” Jack sucks in a breath behind you. “You’re really burnt.”

You turn to him and nod, annoyance clear over your features as you watch him set the two beers he’s taken out of the fridge on the counter.

“Does it hurt?”

You nod, your brain somehow emboldening in mischief as you respond.

“Yes, doctor Abbot.”

Jack doesn’t even hide the Cheshire smirk that pulls his lips.

Oh, this is how it is now, huh?

He steps forward, cold hands coming up to rest just below the base of your neck where it meets your spine. You moan at the contact, the iciness the perfect contrast to your burning skin.

You can feel his lips ghosting over your neck, causing goosebumps to erupt down your back and arms. He hums satisfactorily before he guides you out of the kitchen, pushing you towards his bedroom.

You don’t question, you just do, falling down onto the soft, cold comforter as he retreats into the bathroom. It’s only then that you realize he’s put his prosthetic back on, able to move himself and yourself wherever he needs. It sends a thrill down your spine, most definitely.

He comes back a minute later, a bottle of cooling gel in his hands.

“Towel off,” he tells you. You hesitate for a split second, the sudden realization of where you are and what he’s asking almost too much to process. “Doctor’s orders.”

It shouldn’t have worked, but it just does.

You lift off the bed just enough to pull the towel off your body, throwing it beside you on the bed for easy access before settling back down on the bed, doing your best to cover your front as much as you can.

“Good fucking girl,” Jack groans and you hear him adjusting beside you, the mattress dipping from his weight and the gel squirting over your skin.

You hiss at the change in temperature but quickly relax as his hands begin to massage it into your skin.

Your eyes close in bliss as Jack takes his time, making sure to cover every inch of your skin, from your upper back and arms, the pads of his thumbs digging into your sore muscles, all the way down to your lower back before trailing the expanse of your ass.

You moan into the sheets as his hands travel lower, barely ghosting over your slit, your legs opening up for him slightly. He smirks at the action, teasingly continuing their path down your thighs and calves instead.

You huff in annoyance causing him to chuckle.

“What’s wrong, kid?” He spits meanly. “There something you want?”

“No,” you pout.

“No?” Jack continues his movements, making sure to press a little deeper, returning to the swell of your ass. “Okay.”

He stops his movements abruptly, picking up your towel and wiping his hands.

You whine then, your hand coming up to grab his wrist, turning your face to look up at him.

You give him the most intense puppy eyes you’ve ever given anyone in your life and you’re certain if he were Robby instead, he would’ve caved instantly.

But he’s not.

And doesn’t.

“Aw, poor baby,” Jack coos. “Just say what you need and I’ll be happy to give it to you.”

You huff, staring back at him defiantly for a total of five seconds before you’re spreading your legs wider, your left knee bending up to rest over his own.

“Please doctor Abbot,” you whimper. “I need your fingers.”

It’s the bare minimum but it’s enough to spring him into action.

His clean hand instantly slides against your soaked folds, causing him to groan at the contact.

“You’re so wet, kid,” he whispers.

You roll your eyes, letting yourself go to the pleasure. “Duh, I just got out of the shower.”

He chuckles. “The mouth on you.”

He slips two fingers into your entrance without warning, curling them forward as they bottom out to the knuckle.

You wail then, your grip on the sheet and his bicep tightening.

“What?” He leans down to whisper into your ear. “No comeback?”

You let out another moan as he starts to move his fingers in and out of you, settling on a thorough pace that quickly has you tightening around him.

“Such a needy little girl,” Jack huffs into your ear. “Is he not treating you like you deserve?” Another curl of his fingers. “Leaving you so pent up you have to go ask his dad for help?”

You moan louder at that and Jack sheathes his fingers deep inside of you, focusing on wiggling his fingers against your spongy flesh.

“Touch yourself baby,” he commands, the hand clutching the bedsheets slithering in between your body and the bed without question.

You’re so close, so freaking close—

Robby clears his throat at the door and you freeze, your orgasm taking you by surprise as you cum around Jack’s fingers.

“One second, handsome,” Jack tells his husband as he continues his ministrations, fully working you through it as you writhe and pant against him. You try to pull away once, overwhelmed and sensitive, but Jack’s having none of it, grabbing you tightly and pressing you against him as you squirm.

“Jack, you’re gonna break the girl,” Robby chides, his heart beating a million miles a second as he watches you contort in pleasure.

“Just one more,” he turns to Robby. “Please.”

It’s at his husband’s plea that Robby comes over to the bed, his large hand coming down to the small of your back to soothe you as he pulls Jack’s own out from inside of you.

You jerk at the feeling of wetness pouring down your entrance, brain so fuzzy you can barely make out what’s happening as Robby turns you over onto your back, displaying everything they hadn’t been able to see until now.

You don’t try to hide, instead you simply lie there, completely at their mercy.

“Doctor Robby,” you whine for him, your hands greedily coming up to grab at him.

“‘M here honey,” he soothes, coming down to place a kiss on the side of your mouth sweetly before he trails a path of kisses down your neck, your chest, your tummy, all the way down to your hip and then—

His mouth is hot over your clit, his lips unbelievably soft as he starts out slow, chaste almost.

Jack settles back on the bed, watching Robby as he finally takes what he wants, unhurried and unbothered.

Your hips buck up against his mouth and it’s all the encouragement he needs to grab your legs and pull you down so he can kneel in front of the bed and bring his mouth over your slit.

You scream in pleasure at the gesture, hand coming up to grab his hair, the other tangling itself on Jack’s swim trunks. 

Robby doesn’t slow down then, his tongue swirling over your entrance before it comes back up to your clit, hungry lips sucking and biting and swirling, repeating the pattern until you’re writhing against him.

Jack is entranced by the sight, palming his cock over his pants as he watches you react to his husband. 

“That’s a good fucking girl,” he reiterates his earlier sentiment, causing your hand to unfurl from the fabric on his body and trail up under the waistband, tentative fingers wrapping around his leaking tip.

He hisses at the contact, causing Robby to smirk against your clit, the two of you in cahoots now. 

“Make him feel good, honey,” Robby encourages you before he slides further down your body, his tongue breaching your entrance without any more preamble.

So you do.

You pull Jack’s impressive erection out of his clothes and wet your palm with his precum, your hand barely able to wrap itself around him entirely. 

He barely contains himself, moans spilling out of his mouth almost instantly as he leans forward into you, his lips catching yours passionately.

You moan into his mouth as tongues clash sloppily, your movements only intensifying in tandem with Robby’s.

When he feels your attention pulling away from him too much, he slides two fingers into you, his mouth returning to latch itself around your clit.

You wail into Jack’s mouth and the vet lets you go, wrapping your hand with his and picking up the pace to his liking. 

“Handsome, spit on my cock,” Jack commands Robby who detaches himself momentarily from you to come up and spit a large glob on his spit and your wetness over his husband’s tip. “Thank you.”

Robby smiles hazily before returning to the task at hand, making you cum.

You clench around his fingers as he adds a third, stretching you out so deliciously you squeeze Jack’s cock accidentally.

The man beside you tenses, erection twitching as his hips thrust up into your grip.

He pulls you further into him, his strong arm wrapping around your body so he can pinch your nipple.

“Oh my god, please,” you mewl. “I’m so close—”

“Cum for us, baby,” Jack groans in your ear. “Let go and I’ll be right there with you.”

You focus on the feeling of it all, on the knowledge of Robby between your thighs, on the way Jack’s cock feels in your palm, on the power you hold over them right now.

It’s all too much, Robby’s breath on your pubic bone, Jack groaning into your ear, the wet, slurping sounds echoing through their bedroom—

Your body succumbs to them happily, flooding with bright, hot pleasure as you cum for them. You spasm blissfully, grabbing onto them tightly as they work you though your high. You can feel hot spurts of cum drench your hand as Jack lets go after you, his hand taking control over your limp one as he strokes himself through the aftershocks.

But it’s his hot breath against your ear, the way he whispers praises that are only meant for you to hear that cause you to let go completely. You press into him tightly, whimpering against his skin as Robby removes his fingers from you, holding them out for Jack to wipe them clean with his tongue.

You barely register as the chief attending gets off his knees, the joints popping hilariously before he settles on the bed behind you, pressing you tightly in between their two bodies.

“Such a good girl for us,” Robby praises, kissing over your shoulder, neck and jaw dotingly as Jack runs his fingers down your thigh. “You’re all good honey, did so good.”

It takes you no time to let sleep take over, so content all you can really do is just let it happen.

You wake up after the sun has set, disoriented and naked underneath the thick comforter. Your body feels sticky, the cooling effect of the gel the clear indication of the culprit. Surprisingly, your inner thighs do not feel wet, no more than normal and you’re almost able to pretend like what definitely happened was nothing more than a dream.

Except you don’t want to.

Not when you hear warm laughter outside the room—their room.

Called to them like a moth to a flame, you groggily get out of bed and search their messy floor for one of their t-shirts, forgoing underwear entirely since you’re pretty certain you know where the night is going to lead.

Your heart is practically beating out of your chest as you approach the dining room, dread already creeping as you half expect you-know-who to be back.

Relief floods your system like a drug as you take in the two men before you. They’re wine drunk, their cheeks the perfect shade of pink, the dinner you started to cook laid out on the table before them, their plates already empty.

You’re unsure if it's the warm glow from the overhead lights or the way their laughter settles richly in the bottom of your stomach or the fact that you feel so satisfied for the first time in months, but you simply cannot stop smiling, staring straight at them as you try your best not to break the spell.

A girl can get used to this…and that’s what scares you the most.

Unfortunately for you, your traitorous stomach gives you away, a loud enough growl as the smell of that buttery chicken fills your nostrils.

Their laughter dies, replaced by a different kind of hunger.

“Hi sleepyhead,” Jack greets you first, beckoning you forward towards him.

You smile shyly at him before you turn your attention to Robby who is looking oh so bashful. He tries to hide behind his glass of wine, a hand over his mouth to shelter the glowing smile from view.

You’re instantly drawn to him, making your way towards him first.

“Hi,” you mumble, standing next to the man before you lean down to press your lips to his. 

He’s shocked at first, definitely, but you simply need to know what his lips feel like on yours after all that happened, after how good he made you feel.

He swiftly loses himself to the kiss, humming against your lips before granting you entry.

The kiss is gentle and comforting, shy and honestly tame in comparison to how Jack practically staked claim when it had been his turn.

Robby’s the first to pull back, his hands running up and down your exposed thighs as he jerks his head back towards Jack, a clear command to do your due diligence.

You giggle, leaning down to press one last sloppy peck as he smacks your ass playfully before you can make it around his seat to Jack.

“C’mere kid,” Jack doesn’t hesitate, pulling you onto his lap as his lips claim yours once again, one hand around your neck while the other playfully slips under your—his—t-shirt.

Your own arms fall against his chest, fully relinquishing control over your body for him to do what he pleases. It’s only when your stomach growls again that he finally lets you go, your lips puffy once more.

He doesn’t release you entirely, opting to twist your body and have you settle on his lap facing Robby and the dinner table instead. You squirm, rolling your hips teasingly before Jack smacks the side of your thigh.

“No.”

You huff dramatically yet settle as Robby serves you a piece of chicken, some steamed veggies and those creamy mashed potatoes that you were supposed to make yourself earlier.

Jack’s hands continue to roam over your body as Robby cuts up your food, sticking his fork into the soft flesh before holding it up to your mouth.

You open without hesitation, humming contently as the richness hits your tongue.

“What’ya say?” Jack pipes up.

“Thank you doctor Robby,” you say sweetly, causing Robby to blush once more and Jack to hum approvingly against your ear.

They keep this up until the majority of the food is gone, Jack going as far as to top off his own wine glass so that you can take a sip every time he does.

By the time you politely decline another bite, you’re full, warm and fuzzy, practically melting against Jack.

You feel so…

A dopey smile pulls your lips upward. This truly is everything you’ve ever wanted.

And then Jack’s phone lights up on the table beside you, reality sobering the three of you like a sharp knife to the heart.

It’s a text, from him.

You tense against Jack, panic flooding your once peaceful body with dread.

It suddenly becomes too hot, too hard for you to breathe. You heave as Jack picks up the offending device and reads the message.

You take advantage of his attention going elsewhere and leap out of his lap. Unfortunately, you’re crowded by the table you’re not swift enough, your brain short circuiting long enough for Robby to stand up himself, his strong frame tightly wrapping itself around you.

He shushes you gently. “It’s okay, honey, you’re okay.”

You fight against him, slapping the sides of his body to get him to let you go, to stop caring, to stop—

But he doesn’t, he just lets you do whatever you need to in order to calm down.

“I have to go, I can’t be here, I need to—” you cry against his chest.

“No you don’t,” his tone leaves no room for pushback. “Just follow my lead, breathe in,” he inhales deeply. “And breathe out.” 

He exhales until there’s no more air in his lungs.

It takes you a few seconds to finally relinquish to him but ultimately you follow his lead, following his breathing until your arms go limp to your sides, until you rest your head against his chest willingly, until you step into his body and cling to him.

You can feel Jack’s hand trailing your back gently, another comforting presence as you come back to yourself.

“‘M sorry,” you mumble against Robby. “I just…I don’t know what to do.”

Robby sighs, the first and only admission of guilt he’s allowed himself. “We don’t either, honey.”

Tear brimmed eyes look up at him and he honestly wishes that he could somehow snap his fingers and make everything okay. This is so fucked and yet he simply cannot feel anything other than gratefulness at the twisted circumstances that brought you all together.

“Whatever this is,” Jack chimes in. “It stays between us, sweetheart. You don’t have to keep going, you don’t have to see us ever again, hell, we’ll disappear from your life if it’ll make it easier—”

“No!” You practically wail, turning to face him as Robby loosens his grip on you. “I…I don’t want that.”

Jack smiles brightly, relief flooding his body as he grabs your hand, pulling you back to him as Robby settles back down on his seat.

“We don’t want that either,” Jack states and the air in the room turns electric once more. “How about we focus on tonight? Huh? Use the time we’ve got left and leave our brains to decide tomorrow.”

You nod, interlacing your fingers with his as he brings your hand up to his mouth and kisses your knuckles softly.

“Good girl,” he praises. “Did you like dinner, baby?”

You nod, a sharp thrill running down your spine as your brain realizes what he’s about to ask you to do.

“Well then shouldn’t you say thank you to the chef?”

You match his mischievous smirk, turning in your heels to face Robby as Jack lets you go completely, sitting back to enjoy the show.

Robby watches you like a deer caught under headlight as you approach him, your hands coming down to grab onto the chair handles for support as you lower yourself to the ground, on your knees, between his open legs.

He hisses in anticipation as his brain processes what you’re about to do.

“Thank you so much for dinner doctor Robby,” your hands slide over his lap now, teasing him over his pajama pants as you all notice the tent that has swiftly grown at your barely there touch.

“You’re very welcome, honey,” he pants, causing you to giggle sweetly.

Oh you truly are a little devil, just like Jack.

“Enough teasing, kid,” Jack snaps. “Get to it before he cums in his pants again.”

Your brow scrunches slightly until you remember. Your face heats up instantly, sharply turning to look at Jack with wide, shocked eyes.

“Oh yeah,” Robby groans, leaning down to grab your chin and pull you back to him. “And Jack oh so kindly came in my mouth. You made us so hard with your little sounds, we simply couldn’t resist.”

You’re sure the room is spinning now, your head instantly going fuzzy and dizzy as their confession practically pulls the rug from under your knees.

“Now, baby,” Jack breaks you out of your haze. “Robby was mighty generous earlier, return the favor like a good girl.”

Snapping out of it for real now, you slide your hand under his waistband, pulling out his even larger dick and staring at it in awe for a few seconds as saliva begins to pool in your mouth.

“You can take it, honey,” Robby coos.

You nod, lifting off your heels and leaning over his purpling tip to let all the slick drip from your mouth onto his length.

He hisses at the contact, causing Jack to chuckle darkly behind you as he pulls out his own cock and begins to slowly pump himself.

You waste no more time, coating your hands with your combined slick and swiftly jerking him off at a moderate pace. The second his entire length is coated, you lean further down, taking his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue over his slit.

Robby can’t hold back any longer, his hand fisting your hair possessively as his hips begin to jerk up into your mouth, causing you to gag with each thrust, but you don’t slow down, don’t tell him to stop, you simply let him have his way with you.

Saliva drips down the sides of your mouth as you desperately relax your throat, the sounds filling the room obscene. Robby’s moans mix with your throat constricting as you desperately try to swallow, to work your hands faster, to open up for him.

But it’s no use.

He’s too big, too long.

So instead you just let him do what he needs to do.

“That’s it,” he groans. “Such a good girl, such a good fucking mouth.”

Jack spits on his hand then and Robby’s attention swiftly turns to his husband, the display before him so lewd he forcefully pulls you off his dick so that he can turn you around to face Jack.

You moan as you stand up, gasping for air desperately while Robby turns you around and pulls you down onto his lap, his erection and his chest caging you against his body.

You watch as Jack’s hand pumps his length again to the sight of you coming undone by Robby, your wet folds sliding against his dick, mouth hanging open as you pant.

“Robby please,” you whine and the man behind you effortlessly lines himself up with your entrance, thrusting his tip inside of you before he finally cums inside of you.

You moan at the intrusion, burying him further inside of you as his hot spurts paint your insides. He moans against your ear, his fingers digging into your hips bruisingly as his body spasms in ecstasy. 

“So fucking perfect,” he murmurs. “You feel so good, honey, such a—” a strangled moan escapes him. “Such a perfect girl, so tight and warm.”

You hum happily, staying right where you are until you feel his cum dripping out of you that you make an effort to move off him.

“Come here, sweetheart,” Jack demands and you shuffle towards him on shaky legs, straddling his hips as you take him in your hand and ease him inside of you instantly.

His hands wrap around your lower back, pulling your shirt over your head swiftly before he leans down and wraps his mouth around your nipple. You moan loudly as his teeth pull on your sensitive bud, your hips jerking at the pain mixing in with the pleasure.

You start to move then, the sounds of your body and Jack’s coming together a choir of wetness as the knowledge of Robby’s cum and your own arousal being used as lube for Jack to easily slide in and out of you makes you clench around him.

As if knowing exactly what thought led to your reaction, Jack smirks against your nipple, releasing it with a pop before he hovers his mouth over yours, teasingly.

“You like it when we both use you like this baby?” His breath is so hot against your lips. “Yeah, so cock drunk you can barely speak,” he turns to Robby. “I think we’ve created a monster, handsome. Such a spoiled brat.”

You whine, unable to take it any longer and pressing your lips to Jacks desperately. He chuckles into the kiss, letting you take control up there while he rolls your hips back and forth to his liking.

He’s so deep inside of you, hitting every single spot that makes you see stars. You could honestly stay here forever, satiated and cared for, all the attention you could ever want directed exclusively at you.

Robby comes up behind you, his tall frame adding extra support before his hands snake in between your bodies, fingertips rolling over your clit expertly.

You moan into the kiss, detaching yourself to look up at the man behind you with such devotion it honestly makes Robby forget he’s ever felt bad about himself.

He leans down to kiss you then, soft and caring, the perfect contrast to Jack’s rawness.

“Cum for us, honey,” Robby asks against your lips, pressing his fingers harder against your needy bud and just like that the floodgates open.

You tense over Jack like your life depends on it, clenching around his dick, causing him to shoot his load inside of you without warning.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jack curses into the night, holding you firmly against him, not letting even one drop go to waste.

Robby continues to kiss you, his hands running down your arms soothingly as Jack slumps against the chair, spent and silent for the first time all day.

You lean back into Robby, enjoying how he’s towing over you.

“You feeling okay, honey?”

You nod, pulling back from his kiss to pepper even more against Jack’s jaw.

“And you?” Robby chuckles at his husband, the blissed out expression causing Jack to look adorable you can’t help but giggle.

“Yeah, yeah,” Jack pants. “Calm down.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Yeah Robby, gotta give the old man a second—”

Your laughter dies instantly as Jack jerks his hips upward, nudging his tip against your cervix.

You fall forward against him, a string of unintelligible apologies falling from your lips.

He smirks proudly, leaning forward and giving you a quick peck on your lips. You smack his arm playfully in return before hiding your face behind your hands, heart definitely beating out of your chest for a completely different reason now.

“What…um…” you stammer. “What did he say?”

“He won’t be home tonight,” Jack answers as if it’s the most normal information ever. “Staying over a friend’s house.”

Happiness blooms through you once more. “Can we cuddle?”

Robby kisses your temple. “Of course, honey.”

“And maybe we’ll be ready for round two.”

“Speak for yourself, old man,” Robby leans down to kiss his husband lovingly.

“Oh I definitely am.” He winks at you and just like that, everything is just as it should be.

a/n: this turned out way sweeter and way longer than intended but idc. lmk if you have any requests for them or any other dark!rabbot scenarios

It’s already a problem the very first time you say it.

Robby’s having one of those awful, slogging days in emergency medicine where nothing’s going his way. It’s heavy and exhausting and frustrating all at once. By the time he’s heading to lunch, he just wants to sit in his car and scream.

Then he sees you.

At the nurse’s station where you‘ve returned to work, his perfect chubby eleven-month-old on your hip and a grin on your lips as you talk to Dana.

And he melts.

Everything falls away as he closes the distance keeping him from his family. Not even caring that he’s interrupting your conversation, Robby engulfs you and the baby into his huge arms, breathing in your shower-fresh hair and finally feeling his body relax.

When he manages to let you go, you stand up on your toes, kiss him warmly, and smile when Ella reaches up automatically for his attention. As he adds a kiss to your cheek, you greet him,  “Hi, daddy.”

Robby’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline as he shifts Ella into his arms. He buffers for a few seconds before asking, “What did you just say?”

You shrug innocently and explain, “One of the girls in our mommy-and-me group says we should be calling each other ‘mom’ and ‘dad’ now that she’s learning words so that she doesn’t start calling us by our first names.”

“Is that so?” He kisses Ella’s round cheeks until she giggles and then tickles her belly until she reaches maximum squirmy laughing. Only then does his mind start to calm down. Nestling his nose in her wispy dark hair, he asks, “Are you and mommy having a good day, princess?”

She babbles into his chest and you translate, “So far so good. She did great having some of that fancy baby food we’ve been wanting to try and did her first nap like a champ. Now we’re raring to go for daycare.” You open up your purse then and remove a stack of folded cards for him to look at. “On the way here, we got her first birthday invites from the printer; they’re exactly how I wanted.”

Robby takes a card in one hand and opens it up like he’s reading Ella a baby book, expression warming at the brightly themed invitations for her “Chapter One” birthday party in a few weeks, full of Dr. Seuss style illustrations and whimsical colors. He hands it back to you and grins. “Do we get to hand these out now? Everyone’s been begging me for their invitation to the hottest party in town.”

“You can start giving them out as soon as you’ve dropped this one at daycare,” you confirm with a beaming smile, brushing Ella’s round cheek with your thumb. You plant a kiss on her forehead and murmur, “I’ll see you later, sprout. Love you.”

She gives you one of those smiles that makes it feel impossible to say goodbye for the afternoon. You’ve been doing half shifts since your maternity leave ended, bringing her in during Robby’s lunch break for daycare at the hospital’s complimentary staff center. Thank god for that job perk; you’re not sure you’d make it without being able to peek in on Ella whenever you miss her too much. You’d feel clingy and pathetic about it if Robby weren’t twice as bad, lingering near the daycare every time he has a second to breathe.

Today, though, he uses one of those brief breaks for something different. The moment he sees you shouldering your bag and stepping away for your first break in the private pumping room, he slips in behind you and closes the door. Leaning against the wall, he watches you turn back to him with already rolling eyes. He gives you a sweet smile. “Hi there, mama.”

Unloading your pumping accessories onto the side table next to the cozy recliner Gloria ordered for you, you cut him a suspicious glance. “Something you need, Mikey? Could I interest you in a mini cooler, an extra bra, some sanitizing wipes?”

“All I’m interested in is my girl,” he murmurs, closing the distance between you right away and tugging you into a searing, claiming kiss. His fingers slide beneath the waistband of your scrubs just so he can hold the bare skin of your waist. He presses his forehead to yours and sighs, “Needed my hands on you.”

You giggle as his touch warms you to the core. “Why are you so worked up?”

Robby looks you up and down seriously. “You called me daddy this morning.”

You give him the nastiest eyeing he’s ever experienced, so amused that it borders on sadistic. “If I recall correctly, all I told you was that we shouldn’t let our baby call us by our names. I swear hearing my toddler say ‘Robby’ would be the end for me.”

He puts a hand on either side of your head against the wall, doing that thing where you’re caged against his chest, looking into his rich coffee eyes, breaths coming fast because you want him to make good on what his body’s promising. Gazing firmly at your lips, he points out, “You didn’t say ‘dad,’ though. You said daddy.”

“I assume our one-year-old is probably going to call you that,” you laugh as his hands traverse lower, holding you against the wall now, “unless you have a different idea.”

“I always thought of myself as more of a ‘papa,’” he says nonchalantly. Like he’s not being disgusting. And hot. Always both. “I much prefer the sound of you saying that one particular moniker,” he purrs, pulling you into a deeper kiss. He drags needy lips up your neck and murmurs against your ear, “Say it again for me, sweetheart.”

Robby grabs your ass, digging his fingers into your flesh just enough to make your knees weak. Desperately trying not to get horny at work, you roll your eyes, turn the kiss into a peck, and say, “You’re a pervert.”

“And you’re so insanely sexy back in your scrubs,” he groan as he lifts you up slightly by the curve of your ass so that you lose balance a bit and have to lean in fully to him. “I swear these things hug you like nobody else.”

You huff, trying to suppress a giggle, “Because someone keeps picking up a smaller size for me at the scrub exchange even though my boobs are constantly swollen.”

“I’ll have to say thank you to them,” he chuckles as his hands slide beneath the front of your top now, palms brushing the elastic of your nursing bra. Running his thumbs over the place where your nipples beg against the thick fabric, he murmurs, “You need to pump?”

You roll your eyes. “No, I just like to hang out in here by myself on my breaks.”

“Beats listening to the ducklings whine about their love lives over lukewarm leftovers.” You move toward the recliner where you usually set up shop, but Robby stops you with a strong hand on your waist. He gives you those ridiculous puppy dog eyes of his and muses, “You know, the daycare has an extensive supply of your breastmilk and we’ve got a whole freezer full at home.”

Knowing exactly what he’s asking for, you raise an eyebrow at his reddening cheek and challenge, “And that’s a bad thing? I was under the impression that breastmilk was something of a necessity for Ella.”

“Ella’s weaning,” he replies, maneuvering you into the recliner and kneeling in front of you. He pushes your knees apart and waits to see if you’re going to stop him. You definitely aren’t. The privacy of the pumping room as the only breastfeeding person on the floor had become, admittedly, a little bit of a problem for your and Robby’s ‘we should try to fuck less at work’ rule/attempt. Not feeling each other up between patients had never been a strong suit of yours. With his fingers looped in your waistband at your hips, Robby looks up at you and pouts. “The baby has plenty and daddy’s thirsty.”

“Michael, ew!” You throw your head back and laugh even as you lift your hips slightly so he can tug your scrubs down and away from your body. “You could not have possibly said something less sexy than that.”

“You doubt my abilities,” he tuts. Then he pulls on the hem of your top, clearly a request, and you resist the urge to make fun of him as you strip it off. You expect him to get right down to business, muttering something about only having a few minutes the way he usually does, but he doesn’t. Robby sits back for a second and just takes in the glory of your frumpy nude bra and your practical cotton underwear. To Robby, there’s absolutely nothing hotter. Gazing at your postpartum stretch marks just beginning to turn silver, your widened hips, your swollen boobs, he sighs lovingly, “You’re fucking perfect.”

“You’re delusional, but I love you anyway.”

Robby narrows his eyes at you and tilts his head to the side. Even as he gives you that admonishing stare, he slides his hand down the front of your underwear and finds your clit with his thumb, gently nudging the hood upward to expose your sensitivity. As you gasp from the light contact, he presses, “Are you saying my fiancée is anything less than fucking perfect? I could take you to court for slander over a lie like that.” When you just purse your lips in response, any joke or argument fizzling away as your pussy starts to flutter in want for him, he smirks. “That’s what I thought. Now just be good and take those pretty tits out for me.”

God, when did you get so pathetically weak for him? Just over a year ago he had to kiss your feet just to get your attention and now you’re here misusing hospital facilities so that he can get on his old man knees and use his only break to get you off and- Yeah, he’s still whipped, actually. So at least it’s mutual. As you slide your bra off, he does the same to your panties.

And, the moment you’re naked, laid bare for him when he’s still clothed, he’s done screwing around.

Robby spits onto your pussy and then watches his own fingers sliding over your slit, rapt as his saliva mixes with your glistening wetness. He curses under his breath when you squirm slightly in response, widening your legs further to give him better access. You rasp out, “Did you lock the door behind you?”

He meets your eyes. “Who’s going to interrupt you when you’re pumping?”

“Maybe someone looking for the chief attending they watched follow me in?”

He clicks his tongue, relenting, and tells you firmly, “I locked the door. Now relax and let me enjoy myself down here.”

“Let you enjoy yourself? Is that what’s-”

Your words strangle off into a moan as he plunges his middle finger inside of you, curling it back toward himself. Your eyes close and your head goes back against the headrest and nothing else matters anymore. Robby slips in his second finger and praises softly, “There you go. Good girl. Just let me play with my pussy for a minute.”

You can’t even tease him for saying it because he’s just too stupidly hot. It is his pussy, plain and simple. So, with nothing but mischief and need in your tone, you murmur, “Yes, daddy.”

“Oh, fucking hell,” he grunts, rocking upward on his knees so that he can kiss over the top of your chest, nibbling the base of your neck and dragging his tongue down your sternum. Pumping his fingers firmly but slowly inside of you, Robby uses his thumb to focus attention on your clit. With his breath ghosting one of your tingling nipples, he says, “You’re too powerful, you know that?”

“No idea.” Your back arches into his touch and the pressure building behind your nipples builds and aches. The distance between his mouth and your tits is so, so close and way too far. You whine unabashedly, knowing he’s not strong enough to deny you, “Mikey, please. It’s gonna start hurting and leaking.”

“Can’t have you hurting,” he soothes. You can feel how much he means it, deeper than the sexy teasing. He’s protective of you, more and more every day, and his lust is only an extension of that. His eyes flick up to yours one more time, reminding you, “Remember you have to be quiet; we aren’t at home.”

You bite your lower lip and assure him, “I won’t get you in trouble, Dr. Robinavitch.”

“That’s my girl. Enough trouble all on her own.”

Before you can come up with any kind of reply, he latches onto your left breast. Because he’s made this something of a habit – you’ve been incredibly lucky with milk production, to the point of annoyance at times – Robby knows exactly what to do. His lips and tongue and suction are just right and suddenly you’re being flooded with sweet oxytocin that mingles with the pleasure between your legs. Delight prickles up your spine and you gasp, stifling the sharp sound with the back of one hand while the other flies into Robby’s hair. Pleased, he groans around your nipple and swallows the constant stream of your gentle, mild breastmilk until the flow slows enough to switch to the other side. He even takes the care to quickly grab one of your breast pads to catch any overflow from the breast he’s leaving behind.

God, he’s sexy.

Your body can’t help responding to Robby’s intoxicating mix of tenderness and gluttony that blur together into one entity. He’s building you and consuming you at the same time. And he definitely doesn’t miss the way your moans turn high-pitched and needy as your pussy gets wetter around his fingers. He stays the course. Steady. Much as he craves you cumming on his hand, he wants to make sure you’re thoroughly comfortable first, your breasts tended to with a meticulous desire he didn’t know existed until the first time he tasted you like this. Before you gave birth, he fucked you voraciously, so ravenous to have you that the world stopped existing until he came.

Then, once you were ready to be intimate again after being cleared, Robby felt a seismic shift inside of himself. Sex became an act of devotion. Gratitude. He thanked your body for its abundance and its giving with every touch. You’re not just his girl anymore; you’re the person who gave him the world. The woman who raised him from the dead. He needs to have you, to make you comfortable, to keep you safe. To taste you is to be blessed by you.

And, fuck, is it a blessing when he feels your cunt clenching slowly around his fingers.

You’re gripping his hair so he stays on your breast and your toes curl, legs locking him to you, and you’re blossoming. Your hips buck upwards and he stills you with his free hand, firm, demanding, insisting that you take as much pleasure as he can give you. He only releases you when you’re physically squirming and biting your lip hard to stop the moans from the overstimulating sparks filling you.

Robby eases you back to earth with a few final licks on each side of your chest, slowly pulling his fingers out as your body relaxes. He closes his eyes and savors the taste of you as he cleans off his fingers with his tongue. You take a minute to catch your breath, just gazing down at Robby as he looks at you with so much love it tightens your chest.

After he helps you get dressed again, Robby takes a swig of water and grins. “Thanks, baby, now I can skip the vending machine.”

You smack him on the chest and duck your head to hide your warming face against his shoulder. “I hate you.”

He catches your hand and kisses it. “I love you.”

Of course, it only becomes more of a problem from there. Eight out of ten times, Ella’s in your arms or his and your voice is sappy and ‘daddy’ is just something that slips from your tongue as easily as ‘mommy’ does his. He can keep his mind out of the gutter when it’s ‘Want daddy to read you a bedtime story?’ and ‘Show daddy your finger painting.’

But those other times?

Those other times are driving Michael Robinavitch clinically insane.

In the week leading up to Ella’s first birthday party, there are several particularly damning instances.

Robby takes the night shift when Ella’s particularly fussy after you’ve had a rough day, letting you sleep and staying in the nursery with her as long as he has to (and then some more because he just can’t bear to leave when she’s asleep on his bare chest, heartbeats synching up and breaths slowing). When she’s finally settled, Robby slides back into bed next to you. He tries not to rouse you at all, but you feel his weight and warmth, your subconscious recognizing him. When you flip over, your tee rides up around your stomach. Your hips are beautiful beyond belief. He can feel the heat and dampness growing between your legs as you throw your thigh over him and nestle close to his chest, happily murmuring, “Mmm. Thank you, daddy.”

He’s fucking you back to sleep in a matter of minutes, spooning you with needy hips and coaxing out gentle, half-awake whines that drive him crazy. The whole time, he groans quietly under your ear about how much he loves you, how good you feel, how he’s always going to be here for you. He only gets up long enough to throw away the condom before passing out into bliss with you.

The next night, Robby’s in his study, glasses on the tip of his nose, huffing through paperwork while you do Ella’s bedtime routine. Once she’s sleepy and warm from her bath, you knock gently on the study’s glass panel door and push it open. “Wanna join us for story time?”

Absently, he replies, “I’m sorry; I need a minute to finish these notes.”

You bat your lashes playfully and pout, propping Ella, who’s too sleepy to care, adorably on your hip. “Pleeeeease, daddy?”

Ella yawns as Robby’s eyes snap up at the word. He tilts his head to the side and examines you carefully. The mischief in your eyes. The swing of your hips as you balance his baby on your plush body. Ella is such a perfect blend of you both – Robby’s dark waves and inquisitive eyes, your nose and cheeks – and he absolutely melts seeing her falling asleep against your chest. Whenever you’re like this, in one of your comfortable pajama sets with your makeup long gone, he’s punched in the gut by the fact that he missed the first two-thirds of your pregnancy with Ella. He wants to be there with you when you first take the test, when you first hear the heartbeat, when you first notice your bump. When you pair that with the word ‘daddy,’ the potent reminder of how you made him a father and vice versa, it launches him to his feet.

He can’t miss another moment.

Ella’s knocked out not even halfway through “Oh, The Places You’ll Go!” so Robby drags you into the bedroom and starts kissing you feverishly. He’s got you pressed against the wall with his hands between your legs in no time. You’re dizzy from his lust and cumming a second time before he’s even taken his clothes off, his beard scratching your neck and cheek as he praises you. You’re such a good mom, angel. You saved me. Thank you for our family. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Robby finally loses all composure at Ella’s party.

You’ve spent the morning ordering him around – foreplay in its own right – and now the living room, kitchen, and dining room are decked out in all of the homemade decorations you’ve been working on for weeks. It’s like walking into a children’s book with inviting colors and textures on every surface. Cupcakes frosted with the colors of Ella’s favorite story, candy red-and-white striped hats you’d custom-ordered, cotton candy on striped sticks for truffula trees. It’s so whimsical that even your most serious coworkers gently gasp and smile as they take everything in.

Ella’s whisked off into a sea of cooing and kisses, so you and Robby are on full hosting duty. With his friends and family gathered around to celebrate your daughter’s first birthday, you seem determined to give him a heart attack.

Called across the room: “Can you grab us a cupcake, daddy?”

With a sweet smile: “Daddy, you wanna open the next present?”

A freshly manicured hand on his bicep as you breeze by:  “Love you, daddy.”

It’s positively unrelenting. He’s trying to stay focused on hosting the party, but the fact of the matter is that you’re wearing a flouncy little dress that swishes just right and you’re positively glowing as everyone dotes on his daughter and every single time you glance back at him it’s with a total, unending love that he’s worked so damn hard to be worthy of. It’s so distracting that, with Ella on hip, he spills half a pitcher of Yink Pink Ink Drink down the front of your dress when you say ‘daddy’ a little too flirtatiously as he turns the corner out of the kitchen to top off glasses.

The neon pink juice saturates your chest and you’re already laughing at the slack-jawed look of horror on his face. As you flick beads off your hands, rivulets running down onto the floor, you scoff, “Michael Robinavitch, they let you practice emergency medicine and you can’t even walk a pitcher from one room to another?”

Ella tries to squirm away from the disaster and Robby calls, “Dana, would you mind-”

She stands up, puts out both her hands, and grins. “Gimme that baby.”

Ella squeals with delight as Dana takes her and starts making silly faces. At the same time, Trinity heads over and starts to clean up the mess, ushering you away with something firm about how she’s not going to have you cleaning up at your own party.

So you and Robby, with matching pink stains, escape up the steps and steal away into your en suite bathroom. Grumbling under your breath, you shimmy out of your dress and turn on the tap to work on the stain. Before you can get to work, though, Robby snatches it out of your hand and turns off the water, closing the distance between you in a few steps. He’s already shed his own shirt and your eyes rake hungrily over his bare torso. Some of his chest hair had gone silver since Ella was born, matching his beard, and it makes you ravenous.

Faux exasperated, you protest, “Robby, I need to rinse that.”

He tosses the dress into the bathtub, tugs you into his arms, and practically growls, “I’ll do it in a minute.”

You suppress a smirk, seeing the lust building in his expression, and push once more, “I need to grab a change of-”

“No you don’t,” he interrupts as he turns you around by the hip. Palming your ass, so much of it exposed by the delicate lacy thong you must’ve put on just to ruin him, he amends softly, “Not yet.” He kisses the top of your shoulder and plants more up toward your neck. You can’t help the way you sigh, releasing tension, when his hands roam over your stomach and up to your damp bra. “I need you, baby. You make me crazy.”

You roll your hips backwards and he tugs them flush with his so you can feel his hardening cock against your ass. Meeting his eyes in the mirror, you tease, “Need me, huh?”

“So fucking bad,” he confirms, voice rough and gravelly. His hands go to the sides of your panties and he begs, “Can I have you? Please?”

After nibbling your lower lip for a second, you can both tell you’ve already given into the idea. You were hoping to save the big reveal of your intentions for after the party, but he looks so damn good with his chest hair and thick thighs on full display. Turning around so you can wrap your arms around the back of his neck, you check nervously, “You think nobody’s gonna notice us being gone?”

“They’re all cute baby drunk,” he replies pointedly. As you agree with a nod, he cages you against the counter and kisses you hard, hands gripping your waist, the need obvious in every touch. You reach for his boxer briefs and tug them down urgently; he chuckles and kicks them off before doing the same to you. Then he turns you around and kisses you toward the bedroom, guiding you onto the bed and gazing down at you and your beautiful body. The body that gave him his daughter. The body that gives him life. When he has you laid bare beneath him, he whispers reverently, “There’s my girl. So fucking pretty.”

Then, knowing the clock is ticking, Robby drops onto the covers in front of you and laps at your clit. He still makes a point of not rushing you, but he sets an urgent pace that makes it perfectly clear your pleasure is his singular focus. The moment he tastes you, he’s rutting his cock down against the bed, pathetic like a humping teenager because he gets to have you, please you, be yours.

When he slightly nudges up the hood of your clit to make you even more sensitive, you dig your fingers into his scalp and groan, “Fuck, daddy, just like that.”

Robby’s next moan into your cunt is rumbling and low and so drunk it almost surprises you. Almost. The sound borders on pathetic. He’s never wanted anything more than your orgasm on his lips. You’re powerless to deny him that simple pleasure, especially when his tongue rolls insistently over the exact place you need exactly how you need it. He doesn’t let up through your orgasm, arms looped around your hips, tasting starlight from your core until he’s high on it.

When you’re blissed out and breathy, he crawls up above you on the bed, presses his forehead to yours, and groans, “You’re driving me absolutely nuts lately, you know that? Daddy this, daddy that. Please, daddy. Yes, daddy. Thank you, daddy. Fuck, daddy, just like that.” He buries his face in your neck and breathes hard. Then he reaches into the top drawer of the bedside table and fishes out a condom. Before opening it, he gives you another peck and muses, “How am I supposed to stop wanting to fuck you when you’re making me think about you having my babies every five minutes?”

After a second of letting him agonize, you wind your fingers in the hair at the back of his head, turn him to center to face you, and reply, “You’re not supposed to stop.”

His eyes go straight to your lips. His heart rate spikes as he considers the implication. Not wanting to trip face-first into wishful thinking, he clarifies, “What are you saying, sweetheart?”

“You think I don’t know what I’m doing?” You spread your legs wider, exposing the shiny fresh desire between them, and give him a heady, wanting gaze. He sucks in a sharp breath when you yank him forward, his bare cock nearly touching your pussy, the condom still dangling from his fingers. You run your hand down the center of his chest, scratching his hair just right, and purr, “Wanna make a baby, daddy?”

With a grin splitting his lips, he cups your face in his hand. “Are you serious?”

“Completely,” you giggle back, thrilled to finally admit it after ruminating on the idea for a few months, debating if you were ready physically and mentally to be pregnant again. Now, all you can imagine is how great it’ll be to share all of the early milestones with Robby by your side and Ella old enough to understand some of the moments. “I know it’ll be a lot with the whole ‘two under two’ thing, but-”

“I’m convinced,” he interrupts with an enthusiastic, infectious laugh. “This last year with Ella has been the best gift. I can’t even imagine how good doubling that will be.” He lines up his cock with your entrance and holds your hip steady as you try to squirm for more. “Tell me one more time.”

“C’mon, Robby,” you plead, reaching up to grip his bicep, “knock me up.”

As he slides into you bare for the first time since Ella was born, he shudders and sighs contentedly. “You feel so fucking good, baby.”

You pull him into a kiss and whimper in response, his thick cock stretching you just how you fantasize about all the time, his lips forever marrying yours, his eyes shut tight in ecstasy. The way Robby’s mouth falls open in that tiny shattered ‘O’ when he feels your walls holding him close will never fail to give you an ego high. He looks almost innocent as he fucks you, like he’s praying at a service, his whole body trembling slightly as he tries to hold back. You’re luxurious for him, silky as a sunbeam, and he wants to bury himself inside of you for the rest of time.

Feeling the way his hips stutter and beg, you press your lips to the curve of his ear, breath hot and loving, his beard scratching your cheek deliciously, and urge him, “You don’t have to force yourself to last, Michael. Cum inside of me. I need it as bad as you do.”

Robby locks his hips to yours with short, deep thrusts as he grunts, “Fuck, angel.”

The feeling of his warmth coating you is cozy and safe and intimate. The two of you curled up by the hearth of a shared fire. He stays slotted inside of you for a long time, savoring the way your body holds onto his, and kisses your cheeks and collar and neck as many times as he can.

A knock on the door yanks you both into reality. Jack’s voice, of course. “There’s still a party out here, you freaks. C’mon, we want to cut the damn cake.”

Robby laughs and calls back, “Be right there, Uncle Jackie.”