Welcome to my page! 💕 I’m Ava (18+), and I love writing just as much as I love reading. Thank you so much to everyone who sent me requests and supports my work—I truly appreciate every reblog, comment, like, and request! Have fun reading 🪄🗒️
i always see pope stories where they mention his hands being calloused like baby no. that man would have the softest hands ever he uses the best hand lotion he can find!
Doppel-banger: a double of a living person who you wouldn't hesitate to tap
summary: five times you think you stumbled upon jack abbot vs. the one time it's actually him
tags: shawn hatosy universe, brett richards, sammy bryant, andrew "pope" cody, terry mccandless, titus dandforth, jack abbot, terry is lowkey creepy, titus mentions sacrificing somone, brett sammy and pope are all nice, canon pope staring, second hand embarrassment, younger fem!reader but age is not specified
notes: okay, so I had this idea of making a full oneshot about a reader mistaking pope for a concussed jack for an entire day, but the I thought it'd be really funny to make a collection of all the major shawn characters. i haven't seen any of the tv shows, but i read so much fan fiction, I am sorry if some of them are ooc, if you'd like to join my permanent taglist please comment on this post ! enjoy!
word count: 9.6k
By the time you finally escaped into the ambulance bay, the Pitt had descended into the fog that made everyone vaguely mean and snappy to each other.
A car had decided to plow through the front of a convenience store three blocks away just before noon, which somehow evolved into a gas leak, a grease fire from the kitchen next door, multiple smoke inhalations, and one man who’d managed to impale his own hand on a display rack while trying to “help.” The Pitt had been drowning ever since with no floaties in sight. Stretchers lined the hallways, Robby was barking orders over the chaos, and a med student was getting publicly destroyed for contaminating a sterile field.
Your entire body ached with exhaustion, and it wasn’t even 2:30 yet. Your scrub top clung uncomfortably to your back, your ponytail was halfway falling out, and the iced coffee you’d brought six hours ago had long since melted into a watery disappointment sitting untouched at the nurses’ station under Dana’s watchful eye.
You only stepped outside because you needed thirty seconds where nobody was actively bleeding near you.
The bay smelled faintly like smoke and gasoline, engines rumbling low beneath the distant screams of sirens out in the city. Paramedics moved around in practiced patterns, unloading equipment while firefighters lingered near one of the firetrucks parked crookedly next to an ambulance. You barely paid attention at first, too busy rubbing at the ache gathering behind your eyes.
You had started to walk back toward the Pitt but stopped entirely when you saw him; well—the back of him anyway with his broad shoulders and dark, soaked curls resting against his nape. Even if you couldn’t see his face, he somehow was able to stand out in a crowd even surrounded by firefighters in full turnout gear. One hand braced against the side of the engine while he spoke to someone beside him, his jacket stretched over his shoulders.
No matter what, you’d always be able to spot Jack Abbot in a crowd.
Your eyes dragged slowly over his newfound bright yellow firefighting gear, the reflective stripes glinting. The heavy boots and radio clipped to his chest had you pausing and staring for a solid three seconds, mind trying to process how exactly the man had apparently gone from night shift attending and SWAT medic to volunteer firefighter without mentioning it to anyone.
But more importantly, mentioning it to you.
Actually, when you thought about it, knowing Jack, the change tracked perfectly. The man already had a self-sacrificial streak a mile wide. Of course he’d look at one incredibly dangerous side quest and think You know what would make my life even better? Fire.
A deeply offended laugh escaped your lips, and without thinking too hard about it, you started moving toward him.
“Seriously, Abbot?” you called out over the noise of the bay. “You take one shift off and suddenly you’re fighting convivence store fires now?”
The man beside him glanced over first, obviously confused, but Jack turned more slowly, still halfway shrugging out of his jacket as you continued your approach.
“No, because SWAT clearly wasn’t stressful enough for you,” you continued, tired enough that the words just kept coming. “You looked at armed standoffs and thought, wow, my life is missing a little spontaneous combustion.”
By the time you reached them, the stranger standing beside him was openly staring at you in amusement. Meanwhile, Jack had gone very still.
That should have been your first warning.
But against all self-preservation, you planted your hands on your hips and kept going. “Do you know how insane it is that this is how I’m finding out? I had to see you standing next to a fire engine like some kind of hot, emotionally unstable calendar shoot—”
Jack finally turned fully toward you, and your brain stopped functioning completely.
Because the man in front of you was not Jack Abbot.
In your defense, he was close enough to knock the air from your lungs for a second. He had the same dark, hazel eyes, the same rough kind of handsomeness that looked better the more exhausted and grimed up they got. They even had the same intimidating build that made people move out of their way without a second glance.
But somehow, this man looked older that Jack, more self-assured in a way that only grew as he looked deeply entertained by your humiliation already unfolding in real time. The silence stretched until the firefighter next to him snorted loudly into his fist.
Your stomach dropped straight through the floor.
“I’m flattered you think I’m hot.” The not-Jack’s mouth twitched slightly. “But is it a bad time to mention my name’s not Jack?”
Heat flooded your face so fast it physically hurt. “No,” you breathed, horrified out of your mind. “No, no, no.”
Now the firefighter beside him was fully laughing, turning away entirely as though witnessing your embarrassment firsthand had become too much for him to handle.
You covered your face with both hands. “I need someone to hit me with an ambulance immediately.”
“That feels awfully dramatic,” the man said.
Your eyes found him through the slats of your fingers. “You have my attending’s face.”
“I’m starting to gather that.”
“You even stand like him,” you accused, voice muffled by your palms. “Which is apparently enough for me to lose all critical thinking skills.”
He laughed softly, low and rough enough to make the situation somehow worse. “Well,” he said, “in fairness, you seemed pretty confident.”
You lowered your hands just enough to glare at him. “Because I really thought my friend had secretly joined the fire department.”
The stranger folded his arms across his chest, turnout jacket hanging loosely from one hand while he studied you with open amusement. “So this Jack guy—he always gets yelled at like this by you?”
“Only when he does something stupid.”
“I’m starting to think I should meet him.”
You shook your head, hands finally dropping back to your sides. “You abso-fucking-lutely should not. I think seeing both of you in the same room might kill me instantly.”
He grinned wildly, quick but devastatingly effective enough it sent tingles up your spine.
Great. Fantastic. Love that for you. One Jack Abbot was hard enough to not stare at as is; having them both in the same room would actually cause a spontaneous combustion of your body.
You sighed heavily, dragging a hand down your face. “Okay. Wonderful. I’m gonna go crawl into oncoming traffic now if you don’t mind.”
Before you could make your great escape, he stuck out his hand toward you. “Captain Brett Richards.”
You looked at it suspiciously for a second before taking it. His grip was warm, firm, and rough with callouses in all the right places. You gave over your name reluctantly, still unable to fully look him in the face without feeling embarrassed all over again.
Unfortunately for you, he spoke again, timber all deep and ragged. “For the record, I was gonna let you keep going.”
Your eyes snapped to his hazel ones. “What?”
“I wanted to see how long it took you before you noticed.”
“You are a bad person, Brett Richards.”
“I’m a curious person. There’s a difference.”
“You stood there and listened to me accuse you of having a hero complex.”
“Seemed important to you.”
“I’ve been publicly humiliated!”
“Just humiliated between me and my friend. I don’t think that counts as the public.”
You pointed at him accusingly. “You’re creepy.”
“What?”
“The tone you’re doing right now.”
Brett blinked. “What tone?”
“The exact same tone he uses when he thinks I’m being ridiculous.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You sound exactly like him too.”
Now he looked offended. “I do not.”
“You absolutely do. You’re even doing the whole arms cross and puffing out your chest while simultaneously stretching your neck to look taller.”
The other firefighter chimed in. “Honestly, Brett? She’s kinda right.”
Brett looked over, absolute betrayal on his face. “Whose side are you on?”
“Definitely not yours.”
You laughed loudly, fatigue finally cracking enough to let something lighter through. At the same moment, your phone buzzed in your scrub pocket. You pulled it out, eyes widening at the incoming message.
Jack:
Running late. Scene turned into a disaster. Save me a trauma room before some other resident does something stupid.
“I bet you two text the same,” you grumbled, shoving your phone back into your pocket before looking back up at him.
He laughed outright at that, shoulders shaking slightly. “Sounds like you know this man intimately. Do you possibly have a type? Or do you grumble at every silver fox in your area.”
You glared at him as best you could. “I don’t have a type. Do not make this my problem.”
“Feels like your problem already.”
“Oh, we absolutely aren’t doing this today.” Still, a smile grew on your face before you started backing toward the ambulance bay doors again. “I’m leaving before this gets more psychologically damaging.”
Brett called after you easily, “Tell Jack Abbot I’m apparently his hotter firefighter version!”
You stepped dead in your tracks and slowly turned around. “. . .You know what?” you said thoughtfully. “I actually think saying that out loud near him might start a physical fight.”
Brett’s grin widened. “Now I definitely want to meet him.”
_______________________
The worst shifts always seem to end quietly and not anywhere close to peaceful. The Pitt, you liked to think, was incapable of achieving peace. Even now, close to midnight (almost five hours after your shift “officially ended”), you left behind blaring monitors, patients in needed of doctors, and exhausted coworkers who had just started to trade sarcastic insults at the station just to stay awake. But compared to the disaster the evening had started, the hospital had tasted almost manageable to where you believed they had everything handled.
Your feet dragged as you stepped out through the ambulance bay doors, the night air cool against the lingering heat trapped beneath your scrub jacket. The city smelled faintly damp from rain earlier in the evening, asphalt still dark under the lights.
You leaned against the brick wall beside the entrance for a second, closing your eyes briefly.
Today had been brutal in the particular way only emergency medicine could manage. There had been too many patients, too many families crying in the halls, too many moments where things almost went wrong before somebody caught it at the last second. You’d spent more than twelve hours keeping yourself stitched together with caffeine and momentum, and now that things finally slowed down enough, your brain had apparently decided to stop all regular functions, effective immediately.
Which was probably why, when you spotted a familiar figure standing near one of the patrol cars parked on the other side of the street, the pieces fell into place, your brain beaming Oh, Jack just left too?
Jack stood with his back partially toward you, shoulders slumped slightly beneath a dark jacket while one hand rested against the roof of the cruiser. His head tilted down toward the coffee in his hand, dark curls shadowed in the lack of street lights.
You didn’t even think before walking toward the warm, familiar build that held the same tired posture Jack adopted after a nasty shift, almost preparing his body to show up the next day anyway.
“Please tell me,” you called out tiredly, “that your shift was somehow worse than mine so I can feel better about my life choices.”
Jack glanced over at the sound of your voice, but you kept talking before fully seeing his face.
“Because if I have to hear one more over pompous med student stay the words ‘technically speaking,’ I’m actually going to commit a felony.”
A low huff of amusement answered you. “Long night?”
“Long life is more like it,” you corrected, finally stepping slow enough to see him properly.
You froze when he fully turned, because the universe apparently had a personal vendetta against you for probably your past life’s sins. Because once again, the man standing in front of you was not Jack Abbot. Yes, he was close enough to make your stomach drop for a second. His eyes glinted with the same sadness Jack’s did. He even had the same rough exhaustion written lines around his mouth. However, this man looked like someone who absorbed the weight of things instead of fighting against them.
Also, now that he was turned to you, his officer badge and uniform stuck out like a sore thumb.
And unlike Brett earlier in the week, this stranger didn’t look quite as amused by your mistake. He just looked tired.
You stopped short of the cruiser, horror crawling slowly up your spine. “Oh.”
He blinked once before taking a slow sip of coffee. “Bad start to the conversation?”
“Fuck me; I did it again,” you muttered to yourself.
“Again?”
You covered your face briefly with one hand, humiliation already blatant on your face. “There’s apparently two other guys walking around Pittsburgh with your exact face.”
“Well, that sound concerning.”
“I’m very concerned for my mental status.”
The corner of his mouth twitched, subtle enough you almost missed it.
You let out a defeated sigh, face turned toward the sky, before gesturing vaguely toward him. “You are not Jack Abbot.”
“Nope.”
“Perfect.”
“You wanna try my name instead?” There wasn’t even a hint of annoyance in his voice. If anything, he sounded mildly curious about the situation unfolding in front of him.
You laughed weakly, hands lightly tapping your thighs. “Honestly, I think I should just stop talking to strangers forever.”
“You always this extreme when mistaking people for another?”
“Only when I keep finding multiple emotionally exhausted men who all look exactly like my attending.”
That earned you a slightly more noticeable smile as he pushed away from the patrol car, holding out one hand toward you. “Sammy Bryant.”
You shook it, still staring at him in disbelief. “I’m sorry, Officer Bryant, but this is all still genuinely ridiculous to me.”
Sammy glanced down at your hospital badge as you gave him your name. “You work inside?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Late shift?”
You shook your head. “You could say that. I started at seven this morning.”
His eyebrows lifted. “And you’re still standing?”
“Barely.” You looked down at your body. “I think my soul high tailed it out of there around hour nine and never came back.”
A soft laugh escaped him, quieter than Brett’s hand been, but still holding the same warmth that made you feel comfortable.
You mentally made a decision before leaning back against his patrol car beside him, rubbing at your eyes with one hand. For a moment, neither of you spoke and just listened to the faint noises of the night.
Sammy took another sip of coffee before nodding toward the hospital. “Was it busy today?”
A long, shuddering breath whistled through your lips. “One trauma after another. Half the city apparently decided today was a great day to make terrible healthcare decisions.”
“Sounds about right.”
“And one student almost gave a patient the wrong dosage because he was trying to impress our boss.”
“We caught it before it happened, but still.” Your hair moved slowly across your forehead as you shook your head tiredly. “At some point though you just start wondering if everyone should stop touching things altogether or find some patience before they kill someone.”
He hummed softly in agreement, hazel eyes drifting toward the street. “You probably already know, but that feeling really doesn’t ever go away.”
You glanced over at him, taking in his face properly. Like your Jack, Sammy seemed to carry the same heaviness about him, like emergency services hadn’t been kind to either of them.
“How long have you been on the force?” you asked quietly, taking his uniform details in as your eyes roamed.
“Twelve years.”
“Explains your expression.”
At least he didn’t sound offended when he asked, “What expression?”
“The one that says humanity was a big mistake.”
He chuckled lowly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “You nailed that one perfectly.”
A faint smile hooked onto your lips before your head tipped back against the cruiser window behind you. “Jack has that look too.”
Sammy looked over. “The guy I apparently share a face with?”
“Yep.” You looked down at your hands, fingers picking at the skin around your nails. “Him and this firefighter named Richards.”
“What does Jack do?”
“He’s the night shift attending, and he volunteers as a SWAT medic during his free days.”
Sammy nodded along, understanding settling across his face as he listened. “That tracks.”
“You say that like you know him.”
“Don’t need to.” He shrugged. “You can tell what kind of person someone is by the jobs they stay in too long.”
For a second, you watched him quietly beneath the moonlight, struck again by how strange this whole thing felt. It wasn’t because he looked like Jack—though that continued to be deeply unsettling—but because talking to him felt easy in the same dangerous way talking to Jack always did; honesty dripping from their mouths the more tired they got.
Similarly, Sammy studied you for a moment before speaking again. “Are you okay?”
His question caught you off guard. Again, that genuine earnestness they both seemed to have bled through even if Sammy had only met you moments ago.
Your eyes traveled back down to your hands for a second before a half laugh bubbled softly under your breath. “You ever have one of those days where you think maybe everyone should stop needing things from you for like . . . twenty-four hours?”
“Yeah,” Sammy answered. “More than once. My ex-wife used to call me all the time, and I just begged for break.”
It was now your turn to wince. “Logically, I know it’s a terrible mindset to have as someone working in healthcare, but after the fifth screaming family member and the third guy trying to leave with an IV still in his arm, I’m starting to reconsider my commitment to helping people.”
“You’re tired,” he said simply.
“I think cranky is a better term for what I’m feeling right now.”
“You’re human.”
You glanced back up at him. “You know, you’re both annoyingly and suspiciously good at this whole peptalk thing.”
“Me and Jack?”
“Yeah. You have this calm voice thing. It’s irritating.”
Sammy smirked into his coffee cup. “Maybe you just trust guys who look too tired for life.”
“Maybe I need therapy.”
“That too.”
You laughed a bit harder at that than the joke deserved, but exhaustion always made you a bit slaphappy. Once the sound subsided, the two of you fell back into a comfortable silence. Sammy stayed leaned beside the cruiser, quiet in a way that didn’t feel awkward, and you realized that the comfortableness was probably the strangest part of the whole ordeal.
As a senior resident, most people demanded every ounce of energy from you. Conversation. Reassurance. Attention. They picked it all apart until a hollow shell of yourself went home to recharge for another day. But standing here with him felt easy in the same way standing beside Jack did after a nightmare shift. There wasn’t pressure to perform, zero expectation to be cheerful, just silent understanding between two people trying to survive difficult jobs.
Sammy finally glanced toward you again. “Whoever this Jack guy is,” he said casually, “he must be worth confusing strangers over.”
“That’s still up for debate.”
“But you still like him.”
You opened your mouth to argue before realizing you had no real defense against that, and Sammy absolutely noticed. A knowing sort of amusement flashed briefly across his face before he looked back out toward the street and the Pitt again, giving you an out without pressing further.
You sighed dramatically. “Unfortunately I do. He’s annoyingly competent.”
“Dangerous trait to have.”
And he does this thing where he acts like indifferent while actively solving all the problems.”
“Real terrible guy.”
You rolled your eyes fondly. “He’s just the worst.”
Sammy laughed quietly, and you smiled before finally pushing away from the cruiser.
“I should probably head to my car before somebody sees I’m still here and decides they need me to pull a double.”
His eyebrows rose. “Probably.”
“It was nice to meet you, Sammy.”
“Likewise.”
As you started in the direction of the parking lot, Sammy lifted his coffee slightly in farewell.
“And hey,” he called out after a few steps.
You paused and turned back toward him with a raised eyebrow.
“If you run into another one of us,” he said dryly, “maybe lead with the name first!”
Your laugh echoed across the bay as you flipped him the bird to which his boisterous laughter also joined in with yours all the way to the parking lot.
_______________________
By the fifth twelve-hour shift in a row, the Pitt stopped feeling real.
Time blurred through patient rooms. Daylight disappeared without warning. Meals became whatever you could hork down before another trauma alarm went off. Entire conversations slipped from your memory the second someone started coding. By three in the afternoon, the Pitt finally settled into a lapping wave instead of a tsunami, something easier to wade through instead of drown in.
You’d be done in four hours.
That’s all you could think as you found yourself wandering the full surprisingly empty area near radiology with a vending machine coffee clenched in one hand and your pager clipped crookedly to your scrub pants after catching another consult.
The coffee tasted burnt enough to qualify as chemical warfare.
You drank it down anyway.
Your shoulders ached as you rounded the corner toward the quieter hallway leading to imagine, gravity pulled extra heavily at your limbs. Most of the overhead lights had dimmed this far from the trauma bays, leaving the corridor washed in soft blue-gray shadows only broken by the occasional flicker of a light lucky enough to have had its bulbs changed recently.
That was when you spotted Jack sitting alone against the wall near the windows.
Your steps slowed automatically.
Even half-curled into one of the uncomfortable chairs that had been brought in from check-in, you found the familiar dark curls along his forehead and broad shoulders hunched beneath a black sweatshirt. His long legs stretched out in front of him while his hands rested loosely clasped together between his knees.
Your mind should have caught up by now that there was a 95 percent chance that the Jack in front of you was not actually Jack. The past two times, the odds had been against you. Even as you approached, you honestly weren’t sure if he actually was Jack.
But his Jack-Abbot shape and Jack-Abbot demeanor mixed with your weighted exhaustion overrode every caution light fast enough you continued to walk steadily towards him.
“You know handoff’s not for another four hours, right?” you asked tiredly. “Or are you here early again to save the day?”
Jack’s neck twisted as he looked up at you, and for one brief second, your brain short-circuited again.
Three and oh.
You found yourself truly wondering if you had the most absurd luck in finding the men who shared unsettling similarities (hazel eyes, rugged kind of handsomeness, a stillness that carried respect that could command a room) or if you were just unfortunately a Jack-Abbot-doppelganger magnet.
In this instance, you wished for neither because this one looked sad.
Where Jack’s exhaustion usually kept him sharp and tightly wound, this stranger looked just as weighed down as you felt. His expression stayed completely unreadable as he stared at you, hazel eyes fixed so intently on your face that you had stopped walking altogether.
You paused in front of him. “Oh no,” you whispered. “I did it again.”
The man continued staring at you silently, and you stared back. After a beat, he slowly tilted his head just slightly to one side in a movement so subtle it almost felt animal-like. Your stomach dropped.
“I’m going to take a wild guess and say you’re name isn’t Jack.”
Still, he said nothing; such a stark difference from Brett’s flirty amusement and Sammy’s conversational abilities. He just watched you.
You laughed weakly into the silence. “Okay, statistically this is getting insane.”
He blinked once before his gaze dropped briefly to the coffee in your hand before lifting back to your face. “Is that good?”
His voice was the thing to catch you off guard. Where Jack could bark orders quicker than he could blink, this man spoke slowly, careful with his words like he though each one over before letting it leave his mouth.
A startled exhale flew from your mouth. “No. But, I think I’m legally dead at this point, so what I put in my body really doesn’t matter.”
Another long pause settled in the space between you, and he didn’t seem bothered at all by it. If anything, he seemed pretty comfortable inside it unlike everyone else you knew (including yourself).
You shifted your weight awkwardly. “Sorry. Again. I thought you were someone else.”
He methodically nodded once, already having figured that part out. “The same someone else?”
“Damn, there’s enough resemblance now that people are starting to notice patterns.” You glanced toward an empty chair beside him before looking into his eyes with uncertainty. “Can I sit, or will I disturb the quiet zen you have going on back here?”
Another pause.
“You can sit.”
You lowered yourself carefully into the chair beside him, fatigue instantly sinking deeper into your bones the second you stopped moving. The burnt-gas-tasting coffee warmed your palms while the quiet hallway stretched around you, distant hospital noises muffled enough to sound almost unreal this far away from the Pitt.
Beside you, the stranger sat perfectly still like he was scared to breach an invisible wall of containment. After a few moments, you began to noticed the differences between him and Jack. He avoided looking directly at the lights. His fingers slowly rubbed against each other every few seconds like he needed the repetitive motion to stay grounded. He kept a careful distance between himself and you.
“Are you waiting on somebody?” you asked gently.
His eyes shifted toward you, intense enough that it almost felt like physical pressure.
“My brother,” he answered after a second. “He got hurt.”
Concern softened through your exhaustion. “Is he okay?”
He gave another small shrug. “He’s alive.”
His words may have been flat, but you could sense the ache badly enough that you heard it anyway.
You nodded. “That’s usually a good start around here. Can’t do much on a dead guy.”
A small almost-smile curled his lip.
You took a small sip of your coffee and grimaced before the liquid even reached your throat. “Holy fuck that’s terrible.”
His eyes looked down at the cup.
“How can anyone call this coffee when it tastes like somebody filtered dirty water through cigarette ash,” you informed him.
He stared at you for a half second longer than most people would have before asking unexpectedly, “Why are you still drinking it?”
You giggled softly. “Because I still have a few patients to get through before handoffs.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. I feel the same way.”
A silence settled again, soft and comfortable where you found yourself glancing sideways at him occasionally while you sat there. Up close, the resemblance to Jack somehow became even more unfair. However, you guessed this is how Jack looked around 10 years ago with brownish-red hair and fewer wrinkles. But yet, the same feeling that both men carried too much responsibility around like extra weight strapped to their shoulders pulled at your heartstrings.
Also, where Jack’s emotions tended to sit close to the surface—irritation, protectiveness, frustration—this man kept everything buried so deeply you almost wondered if he realized that his expressions gave him away at all. Because despite how blank his face stayed while he either stared at the floor or stared at you, his eyes were devastatingly easy to read.
Lonely, your brain supplied.
You tore your eyes away. “So,” you said quietly after a while, “do you have a name, or should I keep mentally referring to you as Not Jack the Third?”
He pursed his lips. “Andrew.”
No nickname.
Not even a last name.
Just Andrew.
You smiled faintly. “Well, Andrew, for what it’s worth, you’re significantly less judgmental about mistaken identity than the last two.”
“The last two?”
“Long story.”
He nodded once like that answer satisfied him completely. Another few minutes passed quietly before your pager suddenly buzzed against your hip hard enough to make you jump. Andrew’s eyes tracked the movement carefully.
“Do you need to go help people?”
“Yep. Part of the job’s charm.”
“You’re tired.”
“There’s no rest for the wicked.” Your head tilted. “Or me for that matter.”
He looked at you again with that same strange, steady focus. “You should sleep more.”
“You sound like Jack.”
Andrew tilted his head slightly. “Is that good?”
“Yeah,” you answered softly. “It’s very good.”
His gaze lingered on your face for another long moment before he finally looked away first. You stood slowly from the chair, adjusting your pager against your waistband.
“I should go save the hospital from itself,” you muttered sarcastically.
Andrew nodded once. Then, just before you turned away completely, his voice stopped you again. “You looked happier when you talked about him . . . your Jack.”
You blinked before slowly looking back at him. Andrew sat exactly where you’d left him, hands loosely clasped together, sad eyes fixed on you under the dim hallway lights. He wasn’t flirting or trying to charm you; he was just stating something he’d noticed. His honesty hit harder than it probably should have.
You smiled warmly back at him. “Have a good rest of your day, Andrew.”
His gaze followed you all the way down the hallway until you disappeared around the corner and back into the Pitt.
_______________________
By now, you should have known better.
Key words: should have.
Three separate incidents should have been enough to teach your brain not to immediately trust broad shoulders and tired hazel eyes in low lighting, and yet apparently your never-ending exhaustion had burned away whatever survival instincts you normally possessed. At this point, the universe seemed committed to producing endless variations of the same emotionally damaged man just to see how many times you’d embarrassed yourself before learning.
Unfortunately, tonight really wasn’t helping your judgment.
Rain hammered steadily against your windshield as you pulled into the near-empty parking garage attached to the hospital, the concrete levels echoing faintly with the sound of tires and distant thunder. Your night shift was supposed to start soon, give or take an hour, but a last-minute emergency surgery had called you in early just in case Jack was held up or if the rain got too much for you to drive safely in.
All you wanted was to get inside, get your Dunkin from Shen, and live through this shift so that your following two days off were nothing but pure paradise.
Instead, you killed the engine and sat there for a second staring blankly through the rain-streaked windshield while tiredness settled heavy behind your eyes.
The parking garage was mostly empty this late at night. Lights buzzed overhead, washing the concrete levels in pale gray while rainwater dripped steadily from the ceiling near the ramps. Somewhere farther down the row, a radio played faintly form another parked car.
You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat with a tired sigh before climbing out into the cold damp air. The moment you were at full height, you spotted Jack leaning against one of the concrete support pillars a few rows over. You froze, hand still gripping your car door.
At this point, his face shouldn’t have been as shocking as it was, your stomach dropping every single time you got to lay eyes on him and his salt-and-pepper curls and sexy build partially hidden under a dark jacket while one hand rested causally in his pocket.
The faintest hint of This is probably another horrifyingly convincing copy of him. And honestly, who even knew anymore.
Jack glanced up at you as you started to walk; your footsteps echoed slightly. His face was partially shadowed by the buzzing lights. And before your brain could fully catch up, your own mouth betrayed you first.
Et tu, Brute?
“If you turn out to be another stranger, I’m actually gonna lose my mind.”
Jack’s eyebrows lifted slightly before the corner of his mouth curled into something that looked far too pleased.
“Well now,” he drawled, voice salted with a southern accent that instantly threw you off balance, “that ain’t usually how good-looking women start conversations with me.”
You stopped short, because absolutely nothing about that voice sounded like Jack or confident Brett or sweet Sammy or quiet Andrew. This one was different with something slick underneath his drawl like he found the entire interaction entertaining before it had even properly started.
“Oh no,” you muttered under your breath, arms wrapping around your middle to somehow protect you from his eyes.
The now stranger pushed off the pillar slowly, watching you with open amusement as he stepped fully into the lights. And unfortunately, the resemblance to Jack got worse the closer he got. Same face shape? Check. Same hazel eyes? Check (but his sent the wrong kind of chill up your spine).
However, unlike the others, this man looked at you like he already knew exactly how attractive he was, and that automatically made him the worst one to be around.
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously. “Gotta take a wild guess and say your name isn’t Jack Abbot.”
A wild grin slowly spread across his face. “No, ma’am but sounds like I oughta thank him for the introduction.”
You actually groaned aloud. “I cannot keep doing this.”
“Doin’ what?”
“Finding men who all have the same face.”
“That so?”
“Yes, and frankly it’s getting psychologically damaging.”
The stranger laughed softly, low and self-satisfied enough to make your skin prickle slightly. The same quiet internal warning that told you when patients were about to become aggressive before security even notices was sending a tingle up your arms.
You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder. “Okay. Great. Nice meeting you, mysterious parking garage man, but I’m gonna go before this gets more embarrassing for me.”
“Funny,” he said casually, “seems like you started this conversation pretty confident.”
You paused. “That was before you spoke.”
His grin widened somehow. “Little disappointed?”
“Concerned, actually. Very concerned.”
He laughed again, stepping away from the pillar entirely. “Damn, darlin’. You always this mean to strangers?”
The nickname landed wrong in your chest. Just the way he said it felt off. It wasn’t flirty, it was possessive, almost like he’d skipped straight past normal conversation and decided familiarity for himself. It all felt wrong; he felt wrong. Caution slowly sharpened under your exhaustion.
Still, you forced a polite smile. “Only the ones lurking dramatically in a hospital parking garage.”
He pouted, bottom lip jutted out dramatically. “You hurt my feelings a little.”
“You’ll survive.”
“Oh, I think I will.” His hazel eyes trailed up and down your body while he spoke.
Your stomach tightened faintly. This man felt dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with physical violence and everything to do with manipulation. Every work out of his mouth seemed like he’d already calculated it before he said it. The others had felt human and even awkward at times, but they had been grounded below it all.
This one, you understood a bit too late, was that he’d realized you were uncomfortable almost immediately and was enjoying watching you squirm under eyes that normally made you feel safe.
He tilted his head slightly, eyes moving over your face with unsettling ease. “So this Jack guy,” he said conversationally, “boyfriend?”
You sneered. “That’s none of your business.”
“Mhm.”
“Do you ask invasive questions to every woman you meet in parking garages?”
“Only the pretty little ones.”
You physically recoiled a little. “Ew.”
Somehow that only amused him more. “Do you always look this suspicious, or am I special?”
“You’re definitely something.”
Another slow grin spread across his face, but his eyes stayed sharp and watchful. You took a small step backward instinctively, and his gaze dropped to the movement. The awful feeling that he noticed everything tightened your chest.
“You got a name?” he asked.
Normally, under any other circumstance, you would’ve answered immediately. But something stopped you this time. The hesitation must have shown on your face because sick amusement flashed across his face and morphed into a look of interest.
“Smart girl,” he murmured.
Your spine stiffened.
The man straightened slightly before offering you a lazy, sleazy half-smile. “Terry. Terry McCandless.”
You nodded once carefully. “Okay . . . Terry. I’m gonna leave now.”
“Before tellin’ me yours?”
“Yes.”
His eyebrows lifted slightly at your blunt answer before he laughed under his breath, shaking his head like you’d surprised him. “Well,” he drawled, “now I’m definitely curious.”
You started backing slowly toward the Pitt, grip tightening around your bag’s strap. Terry noticed that too. For one long second, neither of you spoke. Rain echoed heavily through the garage, the entire level suddenly feeling far too empty. Terry tilted his head slightly again, studying you with blatant interest.
“You know,” he said casually, “most women would’ve already left.”
You forced a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Most women probably have better instincts than I do.”
“Mm.” His gaze lingered on you another second too long, so unlike how Andrew had watched you with a quiet curiosity. Here, Terry looked at you like he was hungry. “I don’t think that’s true.”
Suddenly, you understood with startling clarity exactly how dangerous his personality could become with the wrong person.
You took another step backward. “Goodnight, Terry.”
He smiled again, easy and handsome and entirely untrustworthy. “Night, darlin’.”
You didn’t breathe properly again until you got through the doors leading to the Pitt. And even then, as you walked down the hall and took a glance back toward the concrete pillar where he’d been standing, Terry was watching you the whole time.
_______________________
You hated when Robby voluntold you to attend hospital fundraising events.
The Pitt survived on donations almost as much as caffeine and trauma surgeons with superiority complexes. New equipment, expanded programs, research grants: all of it depended on wealthy people occasionally deciding to feel generous for tax purposes. However, that didn’t mean you wanted to spend your Friday night pretending to enjoy lukewarm champagne while hospital executives paraded donors around like show dogs ranked somewhere below “paperwork” and slightly above “food poisoning” on your list of favorite activities.
The ballroom glittered obnoxiously around you, gold light reflecting off crystal chandeliers while a string quartet played softly near the stage. Doctors mingled through clusters of wealthy sponsors in expensive dresses and tailored tuxedos, all perfectly polished smiles and practiced networking.
Meanwhile, you stood near the bar in horrifically high heel that you knew were actively trying to murder your feet and wondered if you could fake your own death before dessert was served.
“You look positively thrilled to be here,” a familiar, deep voice sounded behind you, causing you to sigh in desperate relief.
Without even turning around, you lifted your champagne flute toward him. “Jack, I swear if you’re actually not you and just another man with your face, I’m walking directly off the roof of this hotel.”
“Well now I’m interested.”
Your stomached dropped as you turned around slowly.
At this point, it honestly felt biblical like a divine comedy staring you as the leading role.
The resemblance hit just as hard as the others had: same hazel eyes, same shoulder width, same cutting-edge jawline, same good looks that apparently existed in endless horrifying variations across Pittsburgh. But where Brett had been charming and Sammy had been grounding and Andrew had carried that quiet sadness around him like a shadow and Terry had been intensely creepy, this man looked completely insane.
Sure, he exuded a I’m probably the wealthiest mother fucker in this room attitude. His black tuxedo was tailored perfectly across his shoulders, curls styled to perfection away from his face, large ring-adorned hands holding a crystal whiskey glass. He was rich, polished, and handsome enough that half the women in the ballroom had probably already given him bedroom eyes twice.
But there was something deeply unwell behind the hazel glint.
He smiled slowly. “How many of us are there?”
You stared at him in exhausted belief. “Enough that I’m considering neurological testing.”
“How funny it is that you’ve met them all.”
“I wouldn’t say funny. One of your little clones in a parking garage looked like he might actually kill me to swing a jury.”
Instead of reacting like a normal human being—wincing or flashing sympathy—the man had the audacity to laugh a rich, warm, delighted sound that absolutely did not match the deeply unsettling energy radiating off of him.
“Oh, I already like you,” he announced.
You took a cautious sip of champagne. “Somehow that made me less comfortable instead of more.”
“I get that a lot.”
You hummed. “Yes, I’m sure you do.”
He stepped closer easily, like your personal space was more of a suggestion than a rule. “And what exactly did this Jackdo to earn so such a reaction?”
“His face apparently exists just to humiliate me in public.”
“Do you seek his face out often?”
“Seems like it’s seeking me out more.”
“Ah. One of those situations.”
Your eyes narrowed questionably. “You say that like you know what I mean.”
“I know what obsession looks like, little dove.” Before you could respond, he extended his whiskey glass slightly toward you in a mock toast. “Titus Danforth.”
Oh.
Oh no.
For the first time, you actually recognized the same; not personally, obviously, but the Danforth family practically owned half the city at this point. Generational wealth that seems sketchy with endless political influence and charities where people pretended billionaires cared about humanity because they funded pediatric wings occasionally.
You straightened your shoulders and mused over his name in your mouth. “You’re that Danforth.”
His grin widened. “Now, don’t sound too accusatory, or I might think you have a deep resentment towards me already.”
“Who’s to say I haven’t always had a deep resentment.”
“Good.” He took another sip from his glass without breaking eye contact. “Most people here are too scared to insult me directly.”
“And that doesn’t concern you?”
“It mostly entertains me.”
You glanced toward the ballroom crowd again, briefly trying to find Robby and considering escape routes. However, Titus seemed to carry Terry’s unnaturally uncanny ability to notice things like that.
“Relax,” he drawled lazily. “You look like I’m planning to sacrifice you to Satan or something.”
A chill ran up your spine. “Are you?”
He looked down at you over his nose. “I’m still deciding on that.”
You blinked at hi, slowly. “I’m sorry. What?”
Titus looked downright delighted by being one the receiving end of your scrunched up face. “Oh, come on. You’re at a billionaire fundraiser. You have to know at least half these people are one blood ritual away from immortality.”
A look of horror washed over your face as your blood ran cold. He stared back, visibly trying not to laugh.
“You’re joking,” you finally decided on with a small, uncomfortable laugh.
“That’s the fun part.” He tilted his head slightly. “You really can never tell.”
Oh, absolutely not.
Every single alarm bell in your body started ringing simultaneously in a way that hadn’t happened yet. See, Terry hadn’t felt as dangerous as he was calculated and manipulative. Titus felt like mad chaos draped in designer fabric, like someone had handed a deeply unstable man unlimited money and simply hoped for the best.
“You have the exact same face as someone I trust,” you informed him cautiously, “and you’re doing irreparable damage the longer this conversation continues.”
“How will you ever recover?”
“Hopefully the moment we go our separate ways.”
Titus laughed softly again before gesturing out toward the ballroom. “So, what’s your role here? Underpaid attending? Morally exhausted nurse? One of those residents constantly on the verge of collapse?”
“You guessed all of those so confidently it’s a bit concerning.”
“I donate to hospitals constantly, and I’ve watched enough caffeine addictions develop in real time to identify the species.”
Despite yourself, a small giggle escaped, to which Titus noticed instantly. And the look on his face afterward morphed into something even more dangerous.
“So you are capable of laughing,” he murmured. “You look less miserable when you do that.”
The words hit unexpectedly hard because Andrew had said almost the exact same thing days earlier. However, when Andrew said it, it sounded like he did out of a deep concern, but when Titus said it, it sounded like you were a small bug under a microscope. Apparently, this entire cursed lineup shared one collective personality trait, and it was psychoanalyzing you against your will.
You pointed at him. “No. You don’t get to do that.”
His eyebrows lifted innocently. “Do what?”
“You are not allowed to suddenly become emotionally observant when you were just talking about devil sacrifice thirty seconds ago.”
“Is it a sin to be attentive?”
“It’s a sin to act like you care when obviously I’m merely just a game to you.”
Titus grinned into his glass. “Oh, I definitely like you.”
Before you could spit back another insult, another man suddenly appeared beside you with the kind of smooth interruption that felt almost rehearsed. You silently thanked everything that could hear you when the familiar height towered over you.
“There’s my favorite resident,” Robby announced as he took your right side.
You glanced over at him and tried not to melt at the sight of his navy suit that looked slightly less expensive than Titus’s but worn with significantly more exhaustion in the way Robby existed in. His expression softened as he looked down at you. You could have hugged him on sight.
Robby’s brown eyes, normally filled with kindness, bore fiery into Titus’s. “You don’t mind if I borrow her for a moment, do you? I think one of our department heads was looking into speaking to us on behalf of our emergency department.”
His lie was painfully obvious but deeply appreciated on your side. You started stepping away before Titus could start another conversation about ritual sacrifice, however, the sound of his voice made you pause and look back just as Titus was pulling out a sleek black checkbook from inside his tuxedo jacket.
Double oh no.
He scribbled something quickly before tearing the check free and holding it out toward you between two fingers. “For your hospital.”
You stared down at the number and tried not to faint on the spot.
“Titus—”
“What?” He looked genuinely amused now. “You people keep fixing rich idiots after yacht accidents. Consider it gratitude.”
“That is way too much money.”
“Probably.”
“You cannot casually hand people checks equivalent to a small lakeside house in Italy.”
“Sure I can.” His lips twitched into a smirk. “Watch me.”
You hesitated before slowly taking in.
Robby clanged at the amount over your shoulder and physically winced. “Holy fuck. Gloria’s going to be floored.”
Titus lifted his glass again with a lazy smile. “See? Devil worship pays well.”
You backed away after that. “Okay. I’m going to leave before you buy me a cursed mansion that makes me blow up or something.”
“How did you know that was next on my list?”
“It seemed very on brand.”
Thankfully, Robby took the break in conversation to steer you safely toward the other side of the ballroom, champagne still in one hand and a horrifyingly large Danforth charity check in the other.
Once the gap was large enough, Robby leaned down enough to whisper, “Tell me I’m not seeing things, and that he didn’t look exactly like Jack.”
You let out a large, exasperated sigh. “Robby, you have no idea.”
_______________________
At this point, you genuinely believed the universe was mocking you. There was no other sane explanation for the past few weeks.
One doppelgänger had been weird coincidence territory. Two had been unsettling. Three had crossed into psychological combat. Four had nearly gotten you murdered in a parking lot. And the fifth had tried to recruit you into what might’ve been a satanic cult before handing you a charity donation large enough to make a hospital board cry (Gloria did indeed faint as well).
You were simply done.
Officially. Completely. Done.
Which was exactly why, when you stepped out of the hospital just after sunrise (the result of a last-minute night-shift swap) and spotted a familiar figure leaning against the hood of a dark truck across the street, your immediate reaction wasn’t relief but unequivocal annoyance.
The city still looked half-asleep around you, pale morning light stretching across damp pavement while your exhausted coworkers shuffled toward their cars clutching coffee cups like lifelines. Your overnight shift had run disastrously long, leaving you tired enough that your thoughts felt wrapped in cotton. The added lack of a Jack Abbot didn’t do well to settle any wants of seeing the man again with your own two eyes.
And standing there beneath the weak gold light of sunrise was yet another salt and pepper-curly-haired man with nice shoulders and light hazel eyes.
Unbelievable.
You didn’t even break stride this time.
“Nope,” you called out while crossing the sidewalk. “Absolutely not. I’m not doing this again. You can’t pay me enough.”
The Jack-a-like straightened at the sound of your voice.
You pointed at him warningly before he could speak. “I don’t care if you’re emotionally repressed, weirdly observant, secretly corrupt, or involved in a ritual sacrifice. I’m done talking to Jack Abbot doppelgangers.”
A long silence followed before he said one word.
“What?”
You frowned at his voice and the way it felt familiar in your ears. None of the others had ever quite managed to get Jack’s timber down correctly. Your steps slowed, and the man pushed away from the truck fully now, confusion pulling at his features while dark circles sat heavily beneath his eyes like he hadn’t slept in days.
Your chest tightened achingly so, because that—that was Jack Abbot, actually Jack Abbot.
Your Jack.
For one horrible second, your brain refused to process it properly. After weeks of running into twisted reflections of him everywhere, seeing the real thing suddenly felt almost unreal itself. It made you suspicious.
You scoffed at him. “Okay. Which one are you?”
Jack stared at you with somehow even more confusion, your name coming out oddly through his lips. “Excuse me?”
“The firefighter was flirty. The cop was emotionally stable. The quiet one stared at me like a sad shelter dog in one of those ASPCA commercials. The southern one was definitely corrupt. And the rich one threatened me with devil worship.” You pointed accusingly at him. “So what’s your thing, and please make it quick because I obviously need more than six hours of sleep.”
Jack stared at you in complete silence.
“. . . You met a rich version of me?”
“You have no idea how bad this has gotten.”
“Sweetheart, what are you talking about?”
The utter bewilderment in his face finally settled something inside you, because none of the others had ever looked at you like that.
Brett had looked entertained.
Sammy had looked understanding.
Adnrew had looked curious and quietly lonely.
Terry had looked scheming.
Titus had looked delighted with a new play thing.
But Jack?
Jack looked at you like he’d been waiting long enough out here for you to start getting worried, like seeing you finally emerge from the Pitt had made him relax just enough. Suddenly, it all clicked at once.
“Oh.”
Jack’s brow furrowed deeper. “What?”
“You’re actually him.”
“Yeah?” He sounded almost offended. “Who else would I be?”
A helpless laugh escaped you before you could stop it as you visibly deflated, exhaustion and pure relief tangling together so suddenly it made your eyes sting.
Jack took a step closer, your name falling from his chest. “Hey. You okay?”
His immediate instinct to take care of you was what did it. It wasn’t his face or his voice or his tired eyes or broad shoulders or any of the things that the other had shared. His concern for your wellbeing that had seemingly been stitched directly into his bloodstream no matter how tired he got. Your throat tightened unexpectedly.
Jack’s expression softened as he moved closer. “What happened?”
“You happened,” you informed him weakly.
“That really didn’t explain anything.”
“It does in my head.”
“Which is terrifying.”
You laughed again softly, rubbing tiredly at your face before looking back up at him. Now that the real Jack stood in front of you, the differences felt almost embarrassingly obvious. Brett had been warm but too easygoing; Sammy had been grounding in a way that felt comforting but oddly distant; Andrew had carried gentleness around him so openly it hurt to look at; Terry had weaponized familiarity until it felt dangerous; and Titus had turned charm into performance art.
But above all, Jack felt safe.
Even as he was standing there exhausted and grumpy in front of you sleep-deprived with yesterday’s hoodie thrown over a wrinkled scrub top, something about him always made your world quiet enough to where it felt manageable, like you could get anything done without worrying about the next moment.
You stared at him for a long moment before realizing he was still waiting for an explanation. So, unfortunately, your exhausted brain chose honest-to-God honesty.
“You know what the worst part was?” you asked softly.
Jack crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m scared to answer that.”
“They all looked like you.” You voice quieted slightly. “But none of them were you.” You glanced away, trying to organize thoughts that had apparently been building for weeks now. “Brett was nice. Sammy was . . . easy to talk to. Andrew was sweet in this sad kind of way. Even the crazy rich one was weirdly funny.” You huffed out a tired laugh. “And every single time I kept thinking maybe that was why my brain kept confusing them for you.”
He stayed quiet.
“But each time, they failed horribly at being Jack Abbot for longer than a two-sentence introduction.” You looked back up at him with glassy eyes. “Because all they had was just your face. They didn’t have the way you make everything feel less awful when you walk into a room. They didn’t have the way you pay attention to people even when you pretend that you’re annoyed. They didn’t have the way I never have to wonder if I’m safe with you.”
Jack looked caught off guard.
“I kept meeting all these parallel versions of you,” you continued softly, exhaustion making everything spill easier than normal, “and every time something still felt missing.” Your mouth twitched faintly. “Turns out it was just . . . you.”
He kept quiet for a long moment as the morning traffic hummed somewhere down the street while patients and employees alike trickled from the Pitt’s doors. You bit your bottom lip, waiting with anticipation for him to say something.
Finally, very quietly, he spit out, “You compared me to a satanic billionaire before saying all that.”
A tired giggled burst out so suddenly it nearly doubled you over. “You can’t believe how thankful I am that it’s actually you this time.”
Jack shook his head slowly, but you caught the way his mouth softened slightly. “C’mere.”
The words barely left his mouth before he was reaching for you, hand gripping your forearm lightly before pulling you forward against his chest with the kind of familiarity that made your entire body finally relax for the first time in days.
That was another difference too.
None of the others had ever felt like home.
You buried your face against his chest with a tired groan. “If another man with your face talks to me this week, I’m filing a police report.”
Jack’s chest shook slightly beneath your cheek. “Again me?”
“Wouldn’t be entirely you,” you mumbled. “Just your face.”
A quiet laugh rumbled through him before his hand settled against the back of your head.
“C’mon,” he murmured. “I’m taking you home before you start hallucinating more versions of me.”
You tilted your head back just enough to look up at him. “You promise you’re the real one?”
Jack stared down at you for one long second.
“Did any of them kiss you?”
A blooming warmth covered your face. “What?”
“The firefighter,” he said evenly. “The cop. Satan guy.” His jaw tightened. “Did any of them kiss you?”
“No,” you admitted quietly. “Wouldn’t let them either because they weren’t you.”
His hand slid gently against your jaw before he kissed you like he’d been thinking about it the entire conversation. His lips felt warm; the kiss careful and tired in the same way you both were but all the same steady.
When he finally pulled back slightly, your forehead resting against his, nose brushing along the skin right under his eye, you smiled weakly.
“Okay,” you said softly out of breath. “Yeah. Definitely the real one.”
Jack laughed quietly against your mouth. “Are you 100 percent sure?”
You pretended to think for a second before shaking your head. “Nope. Gotta kiss you again just to be sure.”
He smirked before pulling you back into another soft kiss.
i always think about the line from your 'experimenting' pope fic where he's like "i'm good at sex, right?"
it made me laugh the first time just because of how unexpected it was in the moment lol. but anyway, maybe another fic exploring something new he saw? like maybe he was watching a movie and there was a sex scene. and there was something in the scene (up to you!) that got him hard and he's like. kinda embarrassed about it, but reader helps him explore it by recreating the scene <3
oh my dear sweet inky i love the way you think >:3 (thank you for the submission btw <3)
contains: sexually curious! pope, teasing but indulgent! reader, poor guy just does not have a filter if something bothers him enough, premature ejac, fingering, MIRROR SEX????? I THINK YES.
word count: 1.4k (i def got lost in the sauce, did not mean for it to be this long)
i'm trying so hard not to think about the fact that this is a smut drabble and this pic above is literally andrew at church with amy HELP ME T-T
it was another cozy night in the living room, you and pope snuggled together under a blanket while watching a romance movie. he'd never even touched the genre before he met you, the hopeless romantic you tended to be. what neither of you realized until you were already in the moment, was how raunchy the sex scenes would be. it felt like they were showing everything legally possible without the movie being uploaded to pornhub instead of a streaming platform.
you were about ready to turn the crazy shit off, but stopped short when you felt pope go eerily still next to you. you glance over at him, then back at the screen and took note of the scene. the couple on screen had positioned a floor length mirror in front of their bed. the woman was in doggy, hair being yanked back so she was forced to watch herself get pounded.
you had to admit, it looked really... hot. you look back at pope, whose eyes are still on the screen. you see the way the blush creeps over his cheeks, and that's when you start to feel something poking your thigh that was draped across his lap. you stifle a chuckle, which causes his gaze to snap towards you.
"why are you laughing at me?"
he frowns, his hands squeezing possessively at your thighs.
"seems like you really enjoyed that scene, andrew."
you can't hold back the smirk on your face, which honestly gets pope even harder against you.
"we have a mirror in the bedroom."
you blink, caught off guard by his unintentionally bold statement.
"yeah, we do."
he takes your unreadable expression as a sign of disinterest and slightly deflates, looking back toward the tv. you watch as a subconscious pout starts to form on his lips, something that you'd never tell him out loud because you know he'd never let it happen again. you reach over, placing a hand on his cheek as you slowly turn his face back toward you.
"are you saying you want to watch yourself while you fuck me?"
his eyes widen ever so slightly at your question. he could never get used to those filthy words that escaped such a beautiful, innocent-looking face. unable to even muster up a verbal response, he leans into your soft palm and nods slowly. his pupils are blown in the dim lighting from the television, telling you everything you needed to know. you smile at him as you swing your legs over and stand from the couch.
you extend a hand to him, watching as he tosses the blanket to the side. that's how you knew he was ready, not even taking the time to fold the damn thing before you two left the room. you walk with him into your bedroom, making a beeline for the floor-length mirror that sat in the corner. before you can lay a finger on it, he's there and carrying it over to its newly-desired spot.
"here...?"
he looks up at you after carefully setting down the wooden frame.
"only one way to find out."
you chuckle, climbing onto the bed. you position yourself right in front of the mirror, sat back on your heels with your thighs slightly spread. pope freezes when he sees your reflection, willing himself not to blow a fucking load in his pants at the sight. he climbs into the bed behind you, noting how he still managed to loom over you even on his knees. you glance over your shoulder at him, taking in his lustful expression.
he's not ready for what you do next, sitting down on your ass and slipping off your pants before spreading your legs wide open. you planted your heels on the bed, looking up at him through the reflection of the mirror. he glances at you nervously, unsure of what to do with his hands despite knowing exactly what he wanted to do.
"i'm getting cold sitting all spread out like this, you know?"
you feign annoyance, but he doesn't miss the smug tone in your voice. he relents and finally sits behind you, spreading his own legs just enough to fit around yours. you lean back against his chest, and he feels all the air rush out of his body. you looked fucking perfect like this, not being able to hide a single part of you. his hand slithers its way to your front, massaging your clothed center. he can't decide whether to focus on the way his hand looks between your thighs or to look at your face and the way it contorts in pleasure.
"keep touching me like that..."
you spoke softly, eyes trained on his, finding his focused expression really sexy. he starts to rub circles into your clit through your damp panties. he feels his cock twitch as he observes the growing wet spot in the fabric. you rest your head back against his shoulder, hips slowly grinding against his touch. fuck, this was a million times more steamy than anything they could put in a movie. gathering up some courage, he hooks his fingers into your panties and slides them down your legs, tossing them aside.
you shiver at the rush of cool air against your soaked core. but you aren't able to dwell on the feeling as you feel two of pope's thick fingers plunge inside you. you let out a surprised moan, thighs twitching as he curls them just right to hit that sweet spot. the combination of you clenching around his fingers just right and your hips subsequently rubbing against his growing bulge has him coming in an instant. you look up, hearing the harsh grunt that just came out of his mouth.
you see the look of embarrassment on his face and immediately can tell what just happened. he withdraws his fingers from you, already practically curling in on himself.
"i'm sorry, i tried not to."
he spoke weakly, eyes unable to meet yours out of shame.
"hey, it's okay..."
you spoke softly as you turned around to face him. you cups his face in your hands, kissing him softly as reassurance. he lets you straddle him right as his tongue greedily slips into your mouth, his momentary worry from before now completely vanished. you moan into his mouth, grinding your soaked cunt against the wet spot in is jeans.
"please... i need these off of you."
you plead with him, already undoing his zipper and button of his jeans. he immediately slides them down without having to move you an inch, followed by his boxers.
"watch me take it in."
you whisper in his ear, allowing him to peer over your shoulder and take in the way you looked while straddling him. he can't fight back the needy whimper that escapes his lips at seeing you like this. he wasn't sure he could ever go back to sex without a mirror after tonight. the way your curves sat so perfectly, round ass on full display. he moans loudly as you sink down onto his cock, his eyes trained on the spot where your bodies connect.
seeing the way you struggled to slide down on him whilst he stretched you out had his brain going fuzzy. he placed his hands on the globes of your ass and helped lower you down all the way. you looked even better in his hands like this. he was starting to feel euphoric, the sight of you now bouncing on his cock driving him crazy. he was all moans and whimpers, not even trying to hold back anymore.
"s-so pretty taking me... you look so f-fucking pretty."
he mumbles against the soft skin of your shoulder, hands gripping you tightly as if you might disappear. he starts to rock your hips against his, watching the way your back arched into him. you looked as though your body was made to be against his, your forms fitting together perfectly. he knew he wasn't going to last much longer, but neither were you when he moaned like a fucking girl in your ear like that.
"you first..."
he pants, placing soft kisses on the side of your neck. you start to rock your hips against his faster, your clit just barely grazing the skin of his lower stomach. you were falling apart around him within seconds, clinging to him with your nails digging into his back. no sooner than you clench tightly around him, he's coming deep inside of you. he rocks you gently through your orgasm before managing to lift you off and lay you down in front of him.
he plants himself on top of you, glancing up at the two of you in the mirror one last time before giving you a sweet kiss and cuddling you against his chest.
anyways- yes i got carried away... no, i don't care. EVERYONE SAY THANK YOU INKY FOR THE WONDERFUL IDEA!!!!! <3
taglist: @nyxmoretti @popecodysgirl @romantic-insomniac (thought you guys might like this one <3)
divider creds: @/saradika-graphics and @/cursed-carmine
summary: the three times you decided to flirt with pope cody and the one time you decided to take it one step further.
content/warnings: in my mind this takes place like during s4 but there's nothing really specific about it, pope calls himself andrew in his mind, canon typical violence/drinking/drugs, all the cody boys are here but mostly craig, reader is drinking alcohol and has hair/wears dresses/heels/perfume, sub!pope, fingering, a good ol handy, a little dirty talk, unprotected piv, creampie, really just an unseen amount of fluff from me tbh NSFW + MDNI! 18+ ONLY!
wc: 10.2k (oops)
notes: omg my popey.... i love him so much. i got carried away with the plot (kinda a first tbh) but i wanna take care of him so bad. i need to bite his arms. only slightly proofread so proceed at your own risk
credit: gif taken from this set by @wesandresons :)
—
The first time Andrew met you, it was in his bedroom.
Throughout Andrew’s life, many people have come and gone through the doors of Smurf’s house. It would take another lifetime just to count them all.
The parties started when he was young and never ended. The faces blurred together for Andrew now, not that he could really bring himself to care all that much in the first place. Just like Craig’s girlfriends or Smurf’s boyfriends, nobody was ever really a permanent fixture in Andrew’s life. Not if they weren’t family.
He knows that everyone thinks that he’s different. That he’s weird. He notices their looks when he lingers around the pool, in the kitchen, when he’s just sitting on the couch. His own brothers even, a lot of the time. Everyone eyes him like a ticking time bomb, just waiting for him to go off.
Andrew doesn’t really mind, though. Or, if he did, he'd become numb to the feeling a long time ago. In fact, he’s probably become numb to a lot of feelings. But Andrew doesn’t know any other way to be. He’s just Pope and he has been for a very long time.
This party in the Cody household wasn’t different from any other. Booze, drugs, and a big mess Andrew would definitely have to clean up later. The music is loud, bass turned up too high, and Craig is attempting to jump off the roof into the pool again. Amidst the cheers, Andrew thinks about the rest of his brothers and wonders for a moment where exactly it went so differently for him, or if he was just simply born that way.
His brothers seem okay with being in the spotlight. Even his nephew seemed to fare better than him, assimilating perfectly into every situation that arose, especially when people were involved. Andrew was never like that.
J must have gotten it from Julia.
Andrew was never a people person. He was always out of place, like the Cody that just didn’t quite belong, all jagged edges. The parties always send him into the corners of his mind that he didn’t really like venturing into.
The pounding of the bass is getting to him.
He pulls open the door to his bedroom hoping for a moment of silence, when he’s greeted with a pair of bare feet hanging off the edge of his bed. The figure doesn’t stir when he enters, so he creeps in further and shuts the door quietly. He turns his head, scanning now that he has a better view of who exactly is in his room.
You’re laid on his bed, eyes shut, hugging your phone to your chest like a stuffed animal. You’ve clearly come to escape the crowds of the party, same as him. Andrew can’t help as his eyes drag up your legs all the way up to where your short dress shows just a little too much of your thighs. He notices your heels as well, placed nice and neat beside the bed.
“Who are you?” It comes out a bit more gruff than Andrew anticipated and your eyes finally flutter open. It takes you a minute to notice him but when you do you’re shooting up to your feet, spine rigid. It’s cute, he thinks, the way you panic. You startle like a small puppy.
“Oh my god,” you squeak, clearly embarrassed. Your hands fall to adjust the hem of your short dress, much to Andrew’s disappointment. He gives you a once over; it’s half assessing what exactly you’re doing in his room and half just taking you and your skimpy outfit. “I’m so sorry. Is this your room?”
Andrew gives a small nod and you wring your hands nervously. You’re taking him in now, a Cody brother here in front of you, live and in the flesh.
“So which one are you?” you ask, head cocked. Now that you know this is his room, he notices you assessing him in a different light. People always do —it didn’t bother Andrew much anymore but with you he feels a twinge of shame in his stomach. “Deran? Or, um…”
Andrew knows that you’re searching for his name. His nickname. It had to be since there was a short list of people who called him by his real name. Pope Cody is known by everyone in Oceanside. Andrew Cody, on the other hand, is not.
“Andrew.” he supplies, voice softer than before. Now you’ve been added to that very exclusive list. You repeat his name back to him, voice a little warm, no doubt from one of the many drinks that the Cody’s provided. Then you introduce yourself and Andrew attempts to burn your name into his memory.
“Okay, Andrew. Are you hiding too?” Now that he hasn’t kicked you out, you take a seat on the edge of his bed. He notices the compression of where your body laid just a few minutes before on his neatly made and pressed sheets but doesn’t say anything. He likes the sound of your voice too much to interrupt you. “Or just making sure nobody is defiling your room.”
“I’m not hiding,” he replies, crossing his arm over his chest. The strap of your dress falls and Andrew tries not to get distracted. “This is my house. I’m free to go where I please.”
“Fair enough. I’m hiding,” you shrug. A beat of silence passes and you pat the spot next to you, inviting him to sit on his own bed. Andrew is curious enough to oblige, sitting on the other end of the bed, putting distance between you. He doesn’t miss how your shoulders drop slightly in disappointment. “My friend is here with Craig and they’ve conveniently disappeared... I don’t even want to know what they’re doing.”
“I have a few guesses.” Another one of Craig’s girlfriends. The giggle of a girl coming from Craig’s room that Andrew had heard when he was walking by suddenly made a lot more sense.
He wills himself not to flinch when you scoot closer to him, closing the distance he deliberately put between the two of you. Andrew was interested, too interested, and that worried him.
Pope Cody wasn’t allowed to want.
“Is it okay if I stay here with you?” you ask, and Andrew’s heart flips. He clears his throat, hoping that you don’t see the blush that’s creeping it’s way up his neck. “I’m just not really sure how long it’s going to take and I would much rather be in here.”
With you, hangs unspoken in the air.
“Sure.” Andrew likes the way you smile when he answers, a small flash of teeth. You scoot even closer and tuck your bare feet under you. You’re so close now that your knee is nudging his thigh. He can smell your perfume from here and it’s heavenly compared to the sweat and chlorine laced air outside. “I don’t really want to be out there either.”
“So, Andrew,” His name sounds like honey when it’s falling from your lips and he wonders how often he can make you say it. The feeling that settles in his chest when you say it is too addicting for him to live without it now. “Not really a party person?”
“No. But my brothers are.” He gestures vaguely to the door, the music pounding on the other side of the wall and then his hands retreat back to his lap. He can feel your eyes on him, but not in the usual way he always tends to notice. You scan him with a kind of curiosity that he hasn’t felt in a long time.
“I’m not really a party person either,” you agree, glancing at the door he had just gestured towards. You look a little sad, even. It makes Andrew’s fingers twitch.“My friend said she needed some moral support coming to meet this guy. So I came, and then she ditched me like an hour ago.”
“Sounds like you’ve got a shitty friend.” Andrew says plainly and he’s caught off guard when you let out a laugh.
“Yeah, I guess,” You shrug, shoulders still shaking with remnants of laughter. Andrew has turned his head fully now to look at you but he doesn’t really understand why you’re laughing. “But maybe it’s like fate, or something.”
“Fate?” Andrew echoes, even more confused than before. You lock eyes with him and he has to resist the urge to break it, enthralled enough by your gaze to ignore the awkward feeling settling in his chest.
“Yeah. Like maybe it’s fate that she left? Because then I wouldn’t have hidden in a cute guy’s room and got to talk to him.” He can tell that your mind is elsewhere, but his eyes are still on you. There’s a dreamy look painted on your face and he’s so distracted he almost misses the fact that you called him cute. Almost.
He opens his mouth to respond but your phone beats him to it, the shrill sound of your ringer filling the empty room. You look at him sheepishly and turn your head to answer as if that would give you the privacy you were looking for. It doesn’t work because as soon as you hit accept, he can hear what he assumes is your friend’s voice on the other side of the line.
You get up and he watches you nod along to the conversation. You’re not doing a lot of talking, but your friend definitely is; he can tell by the murmur of her drunken chatter and the sound of the music pulsing on the other side of the line. You’re kind enough to let her continue on for a bit longer before you let her know that you’re coming, don’t move!
Then you’ve turned back to Andrew, tapping your phone on your palm as you try to find the right words to say. You look genuinely apologetic —for what, Andrew doesn’t know. The silence stretches long, and Andrew is the first one to break it.
“You don’t have to stay,” he says plainly. You don’t really owe him anything, although the look on your face makes him feel otherwise. You take a step closer, poised like you want to take a seat next to him again. Andrew wants you to, but he won’t admit that part out loud.
“I know. I want to-” you start, but your phone starts buzzing like it’s possessed, cutting you off. A quick glance is all it gets; you’re quickly scanning the messages before returning your attention to him. Your phone doesn’t stop vibrating. “It’s hard to leave when you’re looking at me like a lost puppy.”
Andrew chooses to ignore that comment, instead turning to grab your shoes from the side of the bed next to him. He offers your heels to you, arms outstretched, closing the distance between you just like you had before. You give him a small smile as you take them from him, fingers brushing his just a beat too long. The way it sets his nerves alight is also something that he chooses to ignore.
“Thank you,” you say, slipping your strappy heels back on. Andrew looks everywhere but you as you bend down to tie them up, feeling the blush creeping up once again. Once you’re straightened up he gives you a small smile in return, watching as you pull your phone back out again. “Sorry for messing up your bed. I’ll make it up to you next time.”
You say it so definitively, like you somehow know there will be a next time. Before he can reply, you’re giving him a shy wave goodbye, sliding out the door. The music leaks in for a moment when you open it, blending in with the cheers of partygoers outside. When you close it he’s back to the silence of his room, alone. He had come in there looking for a moment to himself but now that you’re gone, he can’t help but want the opposite.
Andrew really hopes that there will be.
—
The next time Andrew met you, it was in Deran’s bar.
He could count on one hand the amount of times he actually sat at Deran’s bar for any other reason besides work. It was rare that he ever got to enjoy a beer, much less have a moment of free time. But between Deran’s insistence and Craig’s staggering frame, Andrew agreed to stay for one drink.
He’s on the dregs of his beer when he notices Craig straighten up in his seat and saunter over to the front door of the bar. Andrew’s head turns and suddenly he’s glad he came, perking up the same way his brother had just moments ago. A girl comes out to greet Craig, looking like his usual type, and he slings an arm over her shoulders, steering her towards the bar with a sly smile.
Then you walk in and Andrew almost falls off his stool in surprise. You’re dressed differently than when he first met you, softer and more casual. Both of you look like you’ve just come from the beach, donned in shorts and tanks, hair curled from the salt water in the air. It makes his heart skip a beat.
You walk in far more hesitantly than your friend, like you’re not too sure if you belong or where to put yourself. Andrew can empathize with the feeling. He watches as you scan the bar; maybe for your friend, or maybe for another place to hide. You lock eyes with him once you finally notice his presence at the bar and you begin to make your way over. Andrew isn’t sure if he should break eye contact but he can’t help it, eyes darting away before they make their way back to yours.
“Fancy meeting you here,” You take the seat next to him, flashing him a grin. Andrew mumbles something under his breath, but you’re not deterred. In fact, you scoot your stool closer to his. You’re laying it on real thick, but he has to admit that he kind of likes it. “You come here often?”
“You know Pope?” The moment is interrupted by Deran, who sets down a full glass of beer in front of you. He’s got a bemused look on his face, eyes darting between you and his brother. Andrew tries his best not to frown, especially at the use of his nickname when you only know him by Andrew. From the expression on your face, he can tell that he’s failing. Your eyes flicker with some kind of recognition, like you were suddenly recalling the name that you had forgotten the last time you met.
“Yeah, I do,” you nod, not even acknowledging the fact that his own brother had just called him by a completely different name. You gesture to his empty glass, the one that he had set aside to fully focus on you when you approached. “And I think I owe him a drink.”
“You do?” It slips out of both Deran and Andrew’s mouths, disbelief on both their faces. It comes out a bit rougher for Andrew, while Deran inquires like you just told him that unicorns were real. You handle both questions with grace.
“Well, I said I’d make it up to you next time,” You smile, pulling the glass that Deran set down closer to you. His brother leans in closer, clearly interested in what exactly was going on between the two of you. Andrew tries to shoot his brother a glare before you look back at him but he doesn’t have enough time. “So, are you going to have a drink with me, or what?”
“Yeah.” Andrew says, perhaps a bit too eagerly as Deran snickers under his breath. He slides him a beer as well, a knowing look painted all over his features. Andrew takes it with a scowl, but his expression softens when he looks back at you. You bring the beer to your lips with a smile and Andrew can’t help but smile back.
Two and a half beers later, Andrew’s face is a lot warmer and you are a lot closer. You’re so close that he can feel your shoes scuffing the edge of his newly polished boots, but he can’t bring himself to care. He likes when you giggle at his jokes; the way that your eyes shine. Andrew can feel his brothers’ eyes on the two of you; he even catches his nephew looking his way a few times.
But for the first time in a while, Andrew doesn’t really want to shrink away. He’s tuned out the background noise, even your friend’s obnoxious drunk laughter at Craig’s pretty mediocre jokes. Because, in reality, Andrew is not the type of guy that a lot of girls like. And Pope especially, is not. But here with you, he lets himself believe that maybe just this once, he’s allowed to have something just for him.
“I like your smile,” You break the silence the two of you were sharing once the conversation you were having earlier came to an end. Andrew hadn’t even realized that he was smiling. He had really just been using the silence to soak in your presence; you still smell the same as you did when you met the first time. Wearing the same perfume that you left on his sheets and pillows just a few weeks ago. He didn’t want to admit how many times he shoved his face into them, chasing your scent before it faded. “It’s cute. I like your teeth.”
There it was again. That word. Cute. It’s not a word anyone used to describe Andrew, probably not since childhood. Or possibly maybe never. He almost wants to swing his head around to see if the rest of his family had heard.
“You really think I’m cute?” He can’t help but ask. It might be the beers or the way you look at him or the fact that he can feel your body heat, but his brain is a bit fuzzy. You look over at him, eyes a bit glazed over from the alcohol. Now he can feel you examining him again, looking him up and down.
“I guess cute isn’t really the word for a guy like you.” His heart sinks at that, wondering what you really think about him now that you know Pope and not just Andrew. He knows the stories that circle around Oceanside about him and he’s not sure if he’s ready to hear the ones that you’ve heard.
“A guy like me?” Andrew echoes, trying his best not to sound so sad. His mood perks up when he feels the heat of your gaze taking him in, seemingly a bit unguarded, presumably from all the alcohol.
“Yeah. You’re all built and…” You look around, trying to place a word to describe him. Then you lay a hand on his arm and Andrew stiffens for a moment but he softens quickly, leaning into your touch. You look pleased that he allowed you to do that, smiling like you’re ready to take a bite of him right then and there. “I don’t know. Strong. Thick. Handsome.”
Andrew is sure that he’s red all the way up to the tips of his ears. He’s also pretty sure that he saw Craig choke on his drink at your comment a few stools down from you, but he decides that’s a later problem.
“Thanks,” he says gruffly and it’s really the only word that he can get out of his mouth, embarrassingly. You shoot him a smile, and it’s all sweet and a little too enticing. Andrew wouldn’t be surprised if he was leaning into you, ass halfway off his stool.
“Sorry, I’m being a bit forward, aren’t I?” you say, swirling whatever was left of your beer. He tries to shrug nonchalantly but it doesn’t really work. “I just get flirty when I’m tipsy.”
“So you don’t think us meeting again is fate?” He’s teasing, half smile tugging on the edge of lips. You giggle and Andrew basks in the sound. He can’t remember the last time someone made him feel like this. The last time he wanted to be so close to someone.
“I never said that,” You’re hiding a cheeky grin behind your glass and Andrew desperately wishes that he could see it. “You do believe in fate then?”
Andrew has to think about it for a moment. He’s not sure, really. Lots of fucked up shit has happened in his life and it would be cruel world if that was the fate that the universe had in store for him. Then again, he’s done some terrible things as well, so maybe it was what he deserved.
“I don’t know,” he answers truthfully. Andrew stares into his drink and reflects on all of the things he’s done, the crimes he committed. Julia. Cath. They swirl around in his mind, weighing on his conscience. Then he looks at you and they all seem to float away. “Maybe.”
“Well, let me know when you decide.” He thinks that you can probably sense his hesitancy or the spiral that it sends him down when he thinks about it too hard, so you pump the breaks. He almost can’t stand the way you’re looking at him, eyes wide open and curious. Andrew is unsure of which version of him that you’re seeing or what exactly is going through your head. He doesn’t have the courage to ask.
“Okay.” he says, a bit too distracted by the pieces of hair that have fallen in front of your face as you turned to take another sip, shielding his view. His hand flexes as he resists the urge to push them away.
Then, like you could read his mind, you tuck them behind your ear and shoot him another look. You open your mouth to say something, but you’re interrupted by Craig, who is steering your friend in your direction. Andrew’s hand flexes again as this time he suppresses the urge to hit Craig for cutting in.
“She just puked in the plant over there, and I’m pretty fucked up, so…” Craig isn’t subtle in what he’s asking and Andrew notices the worry flicker across your face as you take in your friend, who can barely stand up on her own without his brother gripping her shoulders. You mutter under your breath and he thinks he hears you basically cursing out Craig.
“Okay, just… take her outside. I’ll be out in two minutes.” you say, and Craig stumbles off, your friend in tow. Then you turn to Andrew, an apologetic look on your face that’s becoming all too familiar to him now.
“Is she going to be okay?” His gaze wanders to the door swinging shut behind the pair. You wring your hands nervously, standing up from the stool. Gathering your things a little frantically, you shrug. Andrew deflates a bit as he watches.
“Yeah, I think so. She’ll probably just puke into her purse on the way home or something,” Once you’ve gathered everything in your arms you give a deep sigh, turning your full attention towards him. He notes that you seem a little deflated too, but he’s not sure if it’s because you’re leaving him or because your friend and Craig seem to be deeply irresponsible individuals. “I’m sorry. Again.”
“It’s okay.” Your lips curl with a small smile, still tinged with a bit of anxiety. It’s cute when you lift your free hand up in a small wave, the same way you did last time, and then you’re gone. Your perfume is still lingering in the air when Andrew turns back around and it’s his turn to smile. It melts when he sees Deran standing behind the bar, a smug look on his face.
“You got it bad, man.”
—
After that, Andrew sees you a lot more often.
Your friend and Craig seemed to have made things very exclusive, because now she’s basically living at Smurf’s house. Which means that, since you’re her best friend, she invites you over quite frequently.
You two haven’t been able to have a moment alone since that night at the bar, much to Andrew’s disappointment. The brothers have been busy planning a job, which meant that he was in and out pretty often. His mind was elsewhere though, distracted by the way you brushed arms in the hallway on his way out or when your eye contact lingered longer than usual.
So, maybe that was why the job went a little awry.
They got what they needed to, but not without a fight. The boys trail into the backyard one after the other, everyone bruised and cut up. It always annoyed Andrew when his brothers were impulsive; he was the one that was always suffering the consequences.
He quickly notes that you’re laid out next to the pool in your swimsuit, your body shimmering with sweat under the sweltering sun. Andrew watches a bead of sweat drip from your neck to the valley between your breasts. Time slows as he watches, licking his lips. He barely has time to drag his gaze away before Deran is wheeling on Craig.
“Why are you always pulling this crap?” Deran almost has a finger in his face, gesturing angrily. Craig just rolls his eyes in response, pushing past him and giving him a glare. Andrew can see the tension tight in their shoulders as they both seethe.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, dude.” Craig shoots back, making his way back to the house. Tension has been high between the two lately, just like always, trapped in a toxic cycle.
It seems to snap for Deran, especially after the job, and he jumps on Craig’s back, knocking him over. The commotion is loud, Craig hitting the ground with a loud thud. Deran throws the first punch and Craig’s skull cracks hard against the pavement. Craig is quick to recover though, probably due to his size, and it’s a full blown fist fight in seconds.
The two exchange blows for a minute before Andrew and J rush forward to pull the two of them apart. They don’t put up much of a fight and the two of them stalk off in different directions; Craig into the house and Deran out of the yard. J shakes his head and follows after Craig, hands shoved into his pockets.
A quick glance proves that the pool chair you were on just moments ago is left empty, your drink still sitting on the ground next to it. He assumes that you snuck out once his brother hit the floor, probably wise enough to know how the situation was going to unfold. He can see your figure in the window padding around the kitchen, blurred from the distance.
Andrew closes the sliding door behind him when he enters the kitchen and he finds you there, skimpy bikini and all. You’re rummaging through the fridge and he takes the opportunity to take in the view before you shut the door.
You’re holding the carton of orange juice when you turn, finally taking in Andrew’s state. The cut on his eyebrow, the bruise beginning to bloom on his cheek and his torn up knuckles. You make your way towards him, your brow furrowed in concern.
“Are you okay?” He hides his hand instinctively when you ask, which you definitely notice. You rub the back of your neck with your free hand, a bit sheepish. “I heard, uh, your brothers fighting.”
“Oh.” Andrew frowns as embarrassment clouds his thoughts. Will this deter you from coming back? He really hopes not. He’s silent as his eyes follow you as you grab yourself a glass and begin pouring.
“Yeah, oh.” You shoot a glance in the direction of J and Craig’s rooms, eyebrows raised. “So, back to my question. Is everything okay?”
Andrew contemplates his answer for a second, not sure how much detail to go into. You eye him in the same way that you always do and he is suddenly keenly aware that this is the first moment alone you’ve had together in ages. Pushing that thought aside, he settles on two words: “It’s complicated.”
“Right,” you scoff, making your way around the kitchen island. Andrew can’t help but watch you move, all bare shimmering skin and he shifts a little as all his blood flows downwards. He sucks in a sharp breath as you settle in beside him, resting your arm on the counter. Your sweat and tanning oil smears all over the stone island but he’s too focused on how close you are to be bothered by it. “That’s why you guys all look like shit. Did you guys get in a fight or did you guys do that to each other?”
“Like I said, it’s complicated,” he repeats and you set your glass down, a serious look on your face.
“Andrew, I know who you guys are,” you say and now he’s shifting uncomfortably instead, the sentence shattering any sort of lust filled haze he was just on the precipice of falling into. “I can keep a secret, don’t worry. I just… want you to be careful, okay? That’s all.”
“I’m always careful,” he replies and you huff in disbelief, but it also seems like you can’t help but smile. It’s a nice sight and it even makes him brave enough to take a step closer to you, finally being the first to lessen the gap between you two.
The proximity and the way you look up at him has the haze settling in once more. Andrew wants to reach out and toy with the strings of your bikini bottoms but he thinks better of it. His tongue darts out to wet his lips and he almost has to physically shake his head to rid himself of the thought.
“I’m sure you are,” You scan him up and down, examining his cuts and bruises. Though, Andrew swears that he can feel your gaze linger on his arms and his chest. It makes a shiver run down his spine. “But if this is you careful, I’d hate to see when it gets messy.”
“I don’t do messy,” he emphasises, his mind wandering back to the oily smudge you’ve left on the counter. You give a familiar giggle and your hand comes to rest on his arm, and he immediately forgets all about it again. This is the first time you’ve broken the touch barrier between the two of you on purpose and Andrew’s stomach flips at the thought. The heat of your hand is searing through his shirt and he’s glad you can’t feel the goosebumps that are rising under your palm.
“I know, Andrew. I’ve watched you clean,” you joke. Andrew loves hearing you say his name, his lips parting as you do so. He tries to pull his mind away from all the different things he would do to you to keep hearing it slip from your lips.
“Where’s your friend?” he asks, desperate to change the topic to anything but him and his family’s line of work. You let out a sigh, making your way back to the fridge. The door swings open and you start rummaging through the freezer like you lived at the house. Really, at this point, you kind of do.
“I’m not sure,” you say, voice a bit muffled from behind the freezer door. “Her and Craig are probably doing lines off each other’s chests or something.”
You pull out a bag of frozen vegetables, shutting the door behind you and approaching Andrew once more. You hold it out to him and he cocks his head in confusion. Rolling your eyes, you grab his bad hand and place the bag on top of his knuckles, still bloody. The cold dulls the stinging that Andrew had learned to ignore too early on in life.
“Why do you hang out with her?” He all but blurts out, but he can't help it. There was plenty of time for Andrew to watch you two interact when you were over, and you seemed more like a tired mother than a best friend. Plus, Andrew figured that if he could keep you distracted with conversation, you wouldn’t let go of his hand just yet.
“She’s been my best friend since, well, forever…” Pressing the bag into his knuckles further, your hand grips his gently and he can’t help but look at you while you fiddle with the frozen bag. “And if I don’t take care of her, who will?”
“I know the feeling.” Andrew says sincerely. He can’t remember a time in his life when he wasn’t a protector, an enforcer, a guard dog. You look up at him now, eyes soft. He feels his gaze soften in return, lips parting.
“I can see that,” you hum like you’re contemplating his words. “Is there someone taking care of you?” The question catches him off guard and he almost jerks his hand back reflexively.
“I don't need anyone to take care of me.” It's a statement that doesn't fully ring true; he thinks about the people who have tried and what he’s lost. It's better off this way, perhaps. But he also thinks you probably wouldn't like that answer.
“Everyone needs someone, Andrew.” Coming from anyone else, he thinks he would refuse. But from you, he feels a bit more inclined to agree. You sound sincere, he feels. Or he just likes you too much to think about disagreeing.
Maybe he does need someone, but no one was ever up for the job. At least no one that knew him —all of him.
A door slams in the distance and you flinch at the loud noise. Not a moment later your friend is rushing past the pair of you, clad in a similar bikini to yours. She’s crying though, mascara streaking as she pushes her way into the backyard. Andrew watches as your head turns to follow her, eyebrows pinching in concern. She sits down on one of the lounge chairs outside, shoulders shaking as she cries silently. You look back at Andrew with a frown and just like always, he knows you have to go.
Maybe his fate is that the universe just wants to cockblock him forever?
“She and Craig probably got into another fight,” you sigh, chewing your lip. You take his uninjured hand and place it on top of the bag, looking up at him. Your face is stern as you speak, like he’s a dog that got caught chewing on the couch legs. “Keep it iced, okay? I’ll talk to you soon.”
You pat his hand gently, soft smile on your lips. You always say that. Soon. Like you know that you're going to cross paths again. That he’s a permanent fixture in your life.
He watches you walk away, eyes on your swaying hips in your cheeky swimsuit bottoms. He’s still staring when you sit down next to your friend, rubbing her back comfortingly.
Andrew stands alone in the kitchen, half hard, frozen bag of vegetables still pressed to his torn knuckles. The worst part is, he’s not even sure what exactly had made him hard; the sight of your body in your tiny swimsuit and the feeling of your hand in his or watching you take care of your friend so tenderly.
Yeah, Deran was right. He is so fucked.
—
If Andrew thought that he couldn't get you off his mind before that afternoon, now you were all he thought about.
When he was making lunch, when he was cleaning his guns, when he was fisting his cock in the shower, trying to keep quiet. All he could think about was you. Your perfume, your smile, your body. Your touch. He wanted to feel it all over his body, soft skin against the raised bumps of all his scars.
So the fact that you weren’t around as often anymore made things more difficult for him. Your friend and Craig seemed to be on the rocks, which means she was around less and less. Which means that you were barely around.
You said you’d talk to him soon and then promptly stopped being invited around, and the thought of how exactly he would get to see you again had him pacing. He didn’t want to scare you off, so he had to pivot towards more conventional methods. Which meant waiting around until Craig had finally got bored enough to start texting your friend back again.
Weeks passed and he rarely saw you, just in flashes; by the pool, walking through the front door, lounging on the couch. He barely had the chance to look in your direction lately, much less have any type of conversation with you. The distance made him hungry, desperate enough to try to flip the odds in his favour.
“What about a party?” He suggests to his family one afternoon, all of the Cody’s crowded in the living room. All three of them turn their heads, looking at him like he’s grown an extra limb. The room is silent as they all try to process the words that came out of his mouth. “What?”
“Pope wants to throw a party.” Deran states, like saying the words out loud may help him truly understand them. “Why?”
“Don’t worry about it,” He crosses his arms over his chest, aware that he’s become a bit too defensive just a beat too late. All pairs of eyes are still on him and he shifts on his feet uncomfortable. “Just do it.”
“You won’t hear me complaining, man.” Craig says on his way out, clapping a hand on Andrew’s shoulder before he goes. The remaining Cody’s watch him go, and then eyes are back on him. He doesn’t want to answer any other questions, so he turns on his heels before they can ask any and follows his brother out.
So that’s how he ended up here.
This party was the same as the rest. Andrew wasn’t around for most of it; he had some loose ends to tie up for his family and he always elected to be out of the house whenever there was something going on, especially now that he had the choice. When he returns, he sees the same damage as always; trash in the pool, people passed out on the lawn, empty solo cups and wet footprints littered across the hardwood floors.
And Andrew does what he always does. Starts cleaning up. He wasn't really sure what his plan was, if he's being honest. He knew you always liked to linger once the parties were done, to make sure your friend was okay. Andrew was hoping that you were a creature of habit with this idea. Seems like right now, it's just delegated him to the role of janitor with no reward.
He starts out by the pool; toeing the stragglers to wake up and get off his property, sifting the garbage out of the pool and throwing the random discarded bikini tops into the trash bag right after it. It’s already the late hours of the morning when he finishes up outside. The neighbourhood is silent besides the sound of the chlorine water softly lapping at the tiles of the pool. Then he makes his way inside and starts tossing out everything in the kitchen, trying not to think about exactly what was occurring when he was gone to make this sort of mess.
“Do you need some help?” A small voice asks and he whirls around on instinct. He turns to face you and he almost wants to drop the black trash bag he’s holding out of shock. Andrew gives you a once over and you look so similar to the first night that he met you that it makes his heart skip a beat in his chest. A short dress and barefoot, except this time your heels are nowhere to be seen. You seem a bit groggy, dark make up smudged around your eyes. He oscillates between dwelling on how beautiful you are and wanting to get on his knees to see exactly what you got on under your dress.
“It’s late.” Is what he says instead, continuing his job of cleaning up. There’s a thousand unsaid things with those two words and it seems like you somehow know him well enough to answer all of them.
“Craig said I could crash on the couch,” you say, beginning to collect some of the empty cans off the kitchen counter. Andrew tries to level a look at you, to let him do it, but you give him a look straight back and continue. “And I want to help you. Doesn't seem like anyone else is.”
He accepts that and you two clean in silence for a few moments, working alongside each other. His eyes can’t help but follow you as you flounce around the kitchen, picking things up and tossing them into the bag into his hand. And then you speak. “So, why am I the only one helping you?”
He furrows his brows, pausing for a second as your words catch him off guard. Andrew glances over at you once more and you’re looking at him expectantly. He can’t help but feel compelled to answer, although your big fluttery eyes may play a small part in that. Trying to ignore the blood rushing downwards, he answers. “What do you mean?”
“Um, I mean there’s like, at least two or three other people who live in this house,” He can basically hear your frown as you speak, unceremoniously throwing another piece of trash into the bag. “Why am I the only one helping you clean up? The mess of a party that they threw?”
Andrew has never really thought about it before. He supposes this has always been his role, cleaning up after his family. Solving their problems. Making the bad things go away. Doing the messy work.
“I don’t need any help,” he says simply, voice gruff. He tries to ignore the heat of your disappointed eyes on him as he turns around, but he can still hear your loud sigh. You notice that he’s trying to avoid your gaze, so you catch his forearm in your hand. His muscles twitch under your touch, warmth seeping through your skin. Andrew slowly drags his gaze up from your hand on his arm to your face and he can’t help but soften. “I got it.”
“I just meant that you’re always taking care of everyone else, Andrew,” you explain, hand still on his arm. Your voice is soft in the way that he likes; a tone that seems to be reserved just for him. “Cleaning up after everyone. Making sure they don’t kill each other. Craig’s told me that you’ve bailed him out plenty of times.”
Andrew frowns. He doesn’t like the idea of his brothers talking about him when he’s not around, especially to you. He scowls at the thought, tying off the full garbage bag and placing it aside. He tries to pull away to grab another bag and continue, but your grip tightens on his arm.
“I’m serious. Just leave it for them to deal with for once,” You pull him back towards you, but he feels conflicted. He doubts anyone would actually do it if he left it for them to do —he’s seen the state the house gets into when he’s gone. Andrew hesitates for a moment, but all thoughts fade from his mind when your hand slips from his forearm into his palm, fingers twining with his. All he can do is stare while his brain tries to catch up to what’s happening. “Come on.”
You pull him along and it doesn’t take much effort to have him following. Continuing to stare, he’s got half a mind to hope that his mouth isn’t hanging open. He realizes where you’ve taken him in Smurf’s just a beat too slow as he enters the room.
His room.
He turns to face you slowly and the expression on your face is unreadable as you shut the door behind you. It reminds me of the first time that he saw you all that time ago. The room is silent for a moment as you two take each other in. Andrew hopes that you can’t hear the shaky breath that he lets out from across the room.
“Sit,” you command, gesturing to the bed. Andrew doesn’t waste any time obeying, sitting on the edge of the bed, feet planted firmly on the floor. His hands rest on his thighs, clenching and unclenching anxiously. You approach him slowly, closing the distance until he’s face level with your torso. The position has him blushing —he’s sure his face must be red. He tilts his head up to look at you and you take one step closer. His legs part naturally to accommodate you, bracketing your figure.
“Will you let me take care of you, Andrew?” you ask, hand sliding into his hair. He struggles to not let out a groan, blood rushing straight to his dick. He’s so distracted by the feeling of your nails scratching along his scalp as he leans into your touch that he barely even registers the question.
“Okay.” It comes out quiet and breathy, but it feels loud in the silent room. He watches the ends of your lips curl up into a smile, his eyes fluttering. You take the hands that were settled on his thighs and place them on your hips. Taking the opportunity to appreciate your body, his hands run over your curves slowly as he sucks in a sharp breath. He doesn’t break eye contact with you as he does so, too enraptured to take his eyes off you. It makes him twitch in his jeans when you lean a little closer, breath fanning over his face.
A few moments pass as you let him feel your body; he’s practically drooling at the feeling. Once you’ve decided he’s had his fill you climb into his lap, straddling him. He’s sure you can feel how much he wants you, the heat of your clothed pussy on his jeans making him all the more hard.
You barely give him a second to breathe before you’re catching your lips in his, your mouth parting instantly. The kiss is slow and sensual and it has him letting out a broken whimper into your mouth. That seems to spur you on, fingers gripping the front of his shirt to kiss him even deeper.
Andrew doesn’t even know how many times he imagined doing this with you. At this point he’s lost count, but this was beyond anything that his mind could ever put together. The smell of your perfume envelopes him and your body is so warm under your thin dress that it sets his nerves alight.
He can’t help just taking a bit more, big hands gripping your hips and grinding you against him. The small moan you let out as he does so has his hips bucking. Hands still roaming, he instinctively slips his tongue into the kiss. The fact that you continue to rock your hips against his once he lets go of your waist makes him dizzy. The kiss is wet and desperate and all Andrew wants is to get closer, greedy hands grabbing.
Then he feels your fingers drift to the hem of his shirt and he lifts his arms, allowing you to pull it off. The sensation of your nails dragging across his chest sends a shiver down his spine. His hands had settled on your thighs, gripping so tight that he’s sure he’s leaving marks. He feels bad, but then he decides that he’ll kiss them as an apology later, if you’ll let him.
You stop grinding and scoot backwards a little, moving further down his lap. He opens his mouth to ask why, but then your hands are at his belt buckle and the words die in his throat. You’re quick to undo his jeans, wasting no time in pulling him out and taking him into your hands. Your hands are much softer than his rough and calloused ones, warm against the hot flesh of his length. His head tips back as you begin to stroke him slowly, eyes to the ceiling as he lets out another shaky breath.
He had always imagined what your touch would feel like wrapped around him like this, letting himself imagine it was you touching him instead of himself when he was alone. The way you twist your wrist languidly, like you know exactly just how to get him going, has his mind going blank.
“Do you like that?” You mutter, tucking your face into his neck now that he’s made the space. The way you kiss slowly up the sensitive skin of his neck makes his mind fuzzy. He can’t seem to get the words out, so he gives a slow nod instead. “Good.”
The praise makes his hips stutter, fucking into your fist. You let out a small laugh, presumably at how desperate he is for you. A low moan escapes his mouth as you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock, swiping away the precome leaking from the tip. Your touch disappears for a moment and he tips his head back forwards to you, looking at you through hooded lids. He watches as you spit into your palm and resume your actions, his jaw dropping open ever so slightly. Andrew feels drunk, the slick shlick of you stroking him filling the room.
He thinks you can tell that he’s getting close. He knows that his hips won’t stop rising to meet your touch: a dead giveaway. It’s almost embarrassing how fast you get him there, cock leaking in desperation as he whines. Your hand slips away and he groans out loud at the loss of sensation. His mind is still fuzzy and he almost misses your fingers wrapping around his wrist, guiding his hand across your body and under your dress. Looking down at where your hands meet, his breathing almost stops when you dip his fingertips past the waistband of your lacy panties.
“Don’t you want to feel how wet I am for you, Andrew?” you breathe into his ear. The words affect him deeply and he lets out a strangled noise, but he can’t bring himself to be embarrassed with you on top of him like this.
“Yes,” he says, voice hoarse. He sounds absolutely wrecked as he swipes a finger along your wetness, sickly slow, brows furrowing as he watches your lips part at his touch. You’re dripping for him; he can feel the wet patch you’ve left on your panties against his knuckles as he slides a finger into you. It’s your turn to moan, and he swears at the sound, “Fuck.”
He pumps his finger in and out slowly, basking in the feeling of you sucking him right in. You surge forward and capture his lips in yours, kissing him breathlessly. You let out a whimper into his mouth as he slips another finger alongside the first. His breath catches in his throat as he feels you flutter around his digits, velvet walls pulling him in even deeper.
Andrew loves having you like this, your dress bunched around your hips, giving him a full view of your pussy covered in lace as you grind your clit into the palm of his hand. It’s all too much for him; he drops his head to your shoulder, breathing in the scent of your perfume. He thinks of all the times he’s touched himself to the scent of you; whether that be from the sheets from the first time he met you or the way that it lingered in his room after a conversation with you, long after you’ve gone.
His pace quickens and he can feel your legs shaking against his while your hips buck, practically riding his hand. You’re mewling now, coming apart on his fingers the same way you do in his dreams. He feels you clamp down around him and he can tell you’re going to cum seconds before you tell him. He can barely hear it, words lost in your soft whimpers. A rush of wetness is slick against his palm as you let out a moan so loud that Andrew remembers there are other people in the house.
Eyes never leaving yours, he pulls his fingers out from your panties and brings them to his mouth. The way you taste has his eyes almost rolling back into his head, licking up the cum that had dripped down his fingers. He wants to get his head between your legs real fucking bad and eat you until the sun comes back up or until you’re begging him to stop. His cock aches with the desperate need to fuck you, eyes trailing down to your chest as you pull off your dress and toss it aside. He decides to save it until later. Maybe round two?
He’s appreciated your body countless times as you tanned by the pool, but the view of you on top of him, being able to touch you the way he wants, has his blood running hot in his veins. He could die under you right now and he’d die a happy man.
You push him down onto the bed with a soft push and his back lands against his freshly pressed sheets. Lifting your hips, you pull his jeans and boxers down, leaving them to pool at his ankles where his feet are still planting firmly on the floor. He kicks them off and moves further up the bed, loving how you giggle as he jostles you.
Your tongue swipes across your lips and you settle yourself into position, the lace of your panties scratching intoxicatingly against his cock. Mesmerized, he watches as you hook your fingers into your panties and pull them aside, not even bothering to remove them before lowering himself down onto his length.
The two of you let out a needy noise as you sink down, taking him to the hilt. You look absolutely beautiful, the sight of you absolutely fucked out for him making his cock impossibly harder. His hands fly to your hips as you begin to grind again, much like you were earlier.
He lets out a sharp inhale through his nose, eyes hungry. You’ve spread your cum across the short hairs at the base of his dick, whining as you chase your high. You get tired of the grinding and lift your hips, bending forward and resting your forehead against his. His eyes are on yours as you slam your hips back down, eyes fluttering shut.
The pace you set is brutal, hips pistoning as you ride him. The force of it has the frame of his bed swaying, headboard making impact with the wall every time you drop your hips. That combined with the volume of both the noises you two make as you ride him is more than enough to hear through the wall or the door.
“So good, baby. Feels so fucking good,” he coos, lost in the way you fuck him. The wet slap of skin on skin is absolutely sinful, echoing in the room and mingling with the heavy breaths you let out. He’s got one hand on your ass and the other on your breast, overwhelmed with the need to memorize every part of your body. “Been fucking dreaming about your pussy.”
“Oh my god, Andrew,” you whine, hips moving fast. He can feel you clenching around him, trapping him in your cunt like a vice. He can barely keep his eyes open, lids low from the pleasure. You’re squeezing him so fucking tight that he swears his vision is going white. You straighten up and place a hand on his broad chest, using it as leverage to hit a whole new angle.
Andrew feels himself brush against your walls and it has his jaw dropping open as his entire body shaking at the feeling. He’s close but you’re closer, nails digging into his flesh and your moans grow more high pitched, picking up the pace. You don’t stop moving your hips when you cum around him, barely able to keep yourself upright. The feeling of you tightening around him and the sight he catches of your cum glistening around the base of his dick has him moments away from falling over the edge.
“M’gonna cum,” he slurs, hands around your waist to hold you in place as he fucks up into you now. Still sensitive from your second orgasm you squeal, falling even farther forward into his chest. Soft grunts are punched from his chest every time his hips meet yours, taking what he needs from you.
“I want it so bad,” you babble mindlessly, voice dripping with pleasure. He’s never heard you like this before, but now he can’t imagine ever living without it. His thrusts are messy now, determined to hear you beg some more. “Please, I need it.”
“Yeah?” He barely even notices himself speak, too busy fucking into your pussy to think of anything else. He’s so close that his arms are shaking, thick muscles twitching in anticipation. He almost wants to cry, overwhelmed by the way he’s buried so deep inside you. “You want me to pump you full of my cum, baby?”
“Please,” you whine, voice cracking with need. The sound of it has Andrew’s hips faltering as he does exactly that, swearing sharply as he does so. His entire body jerks from the feeling, so wracked in pleasure that he can’t control it. You let out a moan alongside his as he fucks him cum back into you, nice and slow. Once the overstimulation gets to him his hips come to a stop, sweat beading on his forehead.
You fall limp on top of him, the deep rise and fall of your chest matching his. He wraps his two big arms around you instinctively, pulling you closer against him. Andrew basks in the quiet, punctuated by nothing other than your quiet breathing, closing his eyes.
“You okay?” Your voice is muffled against his chest, warm breath fanning over his skin. He’s got a hand running absentmindedly up and down the bare skin of your back, still sticky with sweat. “That wasn’t too much?”
“No,” he rumbles, voice soft. His fingers are still skimming as allows himself to take in the moment for just a beat longer. Then he’s got you under him, flat on your back. He loves the way you look up at him, legs still wrapped around his waist. He noses his way into your neck, noticing that his scent is intermingling with yours the more time you spend with him. His hands begin to roam once more and he can feel his blood rush downwards when you look at him with your big curious eyes. “Not enough.”
If Andrew had any say in it, you two were in for a long night.
—
In the morning, Andrew is the first to wake up. He always had trouble getting to sleep, sometimes staring at his ceiling for hours in the night, but the warmth you brought to his bed had pulled him under within minutes.
He turned his head to face you, eyes flicking over your face as the amber light of the sun painted your face. You were clad in one of his shirts, the plain black looking much better on you than it ever did on him. Andrew shifts slowly so as to not wake you and slides out of bed.
The walk to the kitchen is quiet, like it usually is in the morning considering the fact that the rest of his family regularly kept late hours, so he was surprised to find Craig, already seated at the bar, tucking into a bowl of cereal. He looks up and sees who it is, his face twisting into something much more smug as he takes another bite.
Andrew is quick to pull a face back, not interested in hashing out his night with Craig, who clearly wants to hear all the details. Instead, he starts to clear the mess that his brother had left out while he assembled his breakfast. Craig waits a beat, like he expects him to change his mind, but Andrew stays silent.
“Pope, man-” he starts, but a door creaks shut in down the hall that distracts him, leaving the unfinished sentence in the air. Then you turn the corner, still only in his shirt, and Andrew realizes that it wasn’t the noise that caught Craig’s attention. Your hair is still mussed and you’re rubbing the sleep out of your eyes when you approach him. You wrap your arms around his wide torso and his arm settles at your waist. Natural as if you’ve done it a million times before. Andrew allows himself to smile at the feeling, not even caring that his brother is watching with a shit eating grin on his face.
CW: canon typical violence and gore, explicit sexual content, nsfw, 18+, mdni
Tags/warnings: "enemies" to lovers, jealous!Titus, reader is just as bad as Titus, pet names (Titus calls reader bunny), murder, hunting, violence, getting turned on by murder, reader getting tied up, bondage, sex toys, edging, orgasm denial, lil bloody, unprotected piv sex, biting, claiming, possessiveness, ownership, breeding kink
Summary: Titus fucking despises you. That is until he notices a huge ass rock on your finger.
a/n: Titus Danforth I love you so much
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.
Titus doesn’t hate you.
No, that would be an insult to hatred itself.
Titus loathes you.
Absolutely despises you.
Every time one of his stupid cousins has the misfortune of getting married and they’re forced to play gracious hosts for a weekend, you’re somehow always here.
Right next to him.
And Ursula, who gets pleasure from making his life miserable even more than she hates having to play nice with their father’s business partner’s daughter, feeds right into it, having taken you under her wing almost instantly.
His dislike of you started a few years ago. Your father had been adamant to keep you as far away from their family business as long as possible, but when you finally graduated from college, he decided it was time to practically throw you right into the slaughter.
Literally.
It had been a wedding, as you’d established in your pattern moving forward. One of the Danforth cousins, twice removed or some shit. It didn’t matter. If they had Danforth blood, they needed to come to the estate and get married under the watchful eye of the family, foregoing any semblance of games and going straight for the hunt.
Titus watched you diligently as they explained the rules to the groom, some finance guy from Westchester that had moved to the city and now pretended to work at Wall Street.
His father didn’t approve of the union but unfortunately couldn’t do so out loud so Titus had already been ordered to put an end to him.
No, what had captivated him had been you, this new addition to their inner circle, their family affairs.
You who didn’t flinch. Who didn’t react at all. Who simply listened as the Lawyer, the most powerful man in the whole world, told a human being that he was about to be hunted for sport, and you didn’t even falter in your breathing.
You were too calm. Even if your father had coached you beforehand, there would’ve still been a reaction, a missed breath, a thick glob of spit to swallow.
But there was nothing.
It intrigued him.
He was even more surprised when your father pushed you to join the hunt and Titus’s own accepted.
What the actual fuck?
Your gaze turned to his then, as if you could read his mind, and the faintest smile curled the side of your mouth upward.
Titus spent the next six hours making every single mistake imaginable. He couldn’t get you out of his head. Couldn’t understand why his brain had become so useless.
This is what he did. Where he excelled. So why the fuck were you the only thing he could think about?
After losing the groom to the woods next to the golf course, Titus was forced to go on foot, following the faint smell of blood through the thicket, the graze he had inflicted earlier soaking the earth.
He would bleed out soon, definitely. But he was still alive.
Titus was close, so close to his kill.
And then he heard it, the unmistakable scream of pain from the spineless motherfucker followed by the sharp impact of a spear going through skin and cracking bone followed by eerie silence.
By the time Titus reacted, you were retracting the weapon from the groom’s lifeless corpse.
He should’ve allowed himself to be turned on by the sight. You, blood splattered all over your purple dress and your supple skin, eyes almost covered in darkness, panting deliciously—
But he didn’t.
All he saw was red.
You had taken his kill from him.
“Oops,” you said as you spotted him. “Better luck next time, I guess.”
Rage filled his entire body. You conniving little—
He blinks away the memory as his eyes narrow on your hand.
Why the fuck was there a rock on your finger?
At first he’s stunned by the size of it.
It’s too big, practically swallowing your finger whole in its attempt to display grandioseness but honestly it’s plain gaudy.
You deserve a classic ring. Vintage. One of a kind.
He would’ve never gotten you that monstrosity—
Why the fuck does he care so much?
What you do with your life is not his business. Better yet, if you’re finally off the market his father might stop trying to get the two of you to marry now.
This is a good thing.
A great thing.
So why the hell can’t he muster up a victorious smile?
Your father makes his way across the room towards Titus, whiskey in hand and an almost boisterous, cocky smirk on his lips.
He’s proud, egotistical, showing off the fish you managed to catch. But try as he might, Titus doesn’t recognize the doofus, which means, in the grand scheme of things, he’s a nobody really.
Definitely not deserving of you.
“Titus!” Your father slams his hand over his shoulder, squeezing too hard as he turns him around to face you and the most egregious man he has ever seen in his life.
He’s new money handsome, that overindulgence in filler, veneers and designer labels with logos that immediately give him away. He’s in his thirties, appropriate for you, more than Titus would ever be really, definitely works in tech since his hands are soft and manicured as the two of them shake hands while your father introduces him.
He almost looks out of place here, in Titus’s house, his home…your home too if he’s being honest. And you…you look right at place. Always walking perfection, a clever disguise to mask the darkness brewing within your sheep’s clothing.
Tonight you look especially radiant, rejuvenated. Your cheeks tinted with a gaudy amount of blush that highlights just how much you’re playing up your new role.
Titus fucking hates it.
Hates that your fiancé has taken your father’s introduction as an invitation to start running his mouth about some stupid, insignificant business venture, hates that you brought him here when you know these nights are sacred for his family, hates that he hasn’t let you speak a single word, so wrapped up in his own ego that he’s fully cutting you out of the conversation, hates that this is the loser you chose to spend the rest of your life with and he’s now going to have to endure him—
Your father laughs, reacts beside him but Titus simply cannot give a fuck.
It’s only when one of the waiters comes back into the ball room and rings a bell to get everyone’s attention back that you spring back to life, grabbing a hold of your fiancé’s arm and leading him away from the group, retreating upstairs.
You won’t be joining him in the festivities?
He’s never known you to hide from a hunt before.
You’ve literally made it a point to taunt him before each and every single one.
The two of you keep a scoreboard for fuck’s sake.
You’re currently tied. Tonight was supposed to be—
His sister meets you halfway up and leads you to his father’s study, it strikes him — you’re going to see his father and ask for his blessing.
Something constricts around Titus’s heart.
No, that cannot be. He cannot have feelings for you. That would be absurd.
He scowls at the thought, feet practically glued to the carpet beneath him as the rest of his family gets ready to initiate another poor fucker into their family.
That night Titus hunts like a man unhinged.
He doesn’t hold back.
Doesn’t falter.
Doesn’t make a single mistake.
Instead he quickly and skillfully finds his cousin’s formerly alive, now very dead new husband, shooting him in between his eyes because who the fuck cares.
No, there’s no use in savoring this unless you’re right there next to him. No thrill in the game anymore. No worthy opponent to fight against, to fill his heart with exhilaration, to give him a reason to be brutal.
He’s winning now. Up by one. But the success tastes bitter on his tongue.
By the time he returns to the house, a mere hour later, you’re in the family room, laughing at something Ursula said before he walks in.
“Oh Titus!” His sister greets. “Back so soon?”
He simply grunts, making his way to the bar and pouring himself another glass.
Ursula rolls her eyes. “Such a grump. You should be celebrating! Join us, congratulate her on the engagement.”
Titus doesn’t move, he simply turns to face you, eyes searing into yours.
“Congratulations,” he spits through gritted teeth.
“Thank you Titus,” you smile brightly at him, picture perfect happiness. “Can’t wait to see you at the wedding.”
That lights a fire under Titus’s ass.
Oh?
Oh.
He takes another sip of his drink, eyes shining brightly.
Yeah, he’ll definitely see you at your wedding alright.
It’s a few months later when the date finally arrives and Titus cannot contain his excitement.
He’s practically vibrating all the way through the ceremony.
You wear white.
A fucking disgusting color if he’s honest. But you still look incredibly beautiful, even if you look nothing like yourself.
Your hair has been slicked back into a low bun, your makeup is overwhelming and just that dress…whoever picked it has the worst taste of anyone Titus has ever had the misfortune of knowing.
His gaze bores into yours all throughout the ceremony and he knows you’re actively ignoring him by the way your body keeps drifting towards him subconsciously, only snapping back to face your fiancé when you realize you’re doing it again.
He smirks to himself before visibly flinching to look elsewhere as the officiant tells the two of you to kiss. He knows you do as the people around him, most definitely his family cheer and holler like a bunch of animals.
Ursula has to grab a hold of his arm before he springs to his feet, disdain already making him even more eager for the night’s coming festivities.
But it seems like he’s just being tortured. Wound up even tighter as you disappear into his home right after the ceremony, lover boy somehow not eager enough to follow you up and ravage you right then and there.
Titus honestly doesn’t mean to go looking for you.
In all honesty, it’s mostly because the Lawyer is taking too goddamn long to commence the hunt that he stalks upstairs after telling his staff to not let anyone, not even the groom, to come looking for you.
He understands why you’ve hidden yourself away the second he slides into your suite.
You’ve showered.
Taken off the mask.
You look like yourself again.
The woman Titus lo—
“Why do you want me to kill him?”
Your gaze finally snaps up to see him in the corner of your vanity mirror.
“Does it matter?” You try to play it cool. “You’re going to do it regardless.”
Titus smirks. He is, you know he is.
“Could’ve asked me to do it months ago.”
Now it’s your time to grin. “Where’s the fun in that?”
Titus stalks forward, standing right behind you now, his large, warm hands coming up to press into your shoulders, sliding closer to your neck with each movement.
“You didn’t have to marry him.”
“I did.”
Titus’s brows scrunch in confusion as he leans down to place a kiss where your neck meets your back.
“Could’ve had my lawyers bury him for you.”
You hum at the gesture. “Where’s the fun in that?”
He growls against your skin, teeth nipping now, unkind.
“I’m starting to think you just like to see me angry.”
You let out a breathy moan as his tongue soothes the barely there bite that he left behind.
“Among other things.”
That makes him bite down for real, leaving a bright and throbbing mark on your exposed skin.
“’s that all you wanted, bunny?” He groans in your ear. “For me to get jealous and kill the bastard?”
You let your head drop back against the crook of his neck.
“That and inherit his family’s fortune without having to lose a bunch of money fighting for it in court over the next decade.”
Titus groans. He’s been played, and played really well he might add.
“And my father?”
“Thrilled,” you turn your head so your lips brush against his jaw. “He couldn’t believe it was my idea.”
You plant a feather light kiss against his skin, watching intently as his eyes close in the purest display of pleasure you’ve ever seen from him.
“I don’t like being used as a pawn.”
He sounds angry but you know he isn’t.
A little embarrassed, maybe.
A little turned on, definitely.
But never angry.
You shrug. “There was no ring on my finger.”
That makes him turn his face towards yours, his lips ghosting over your own cruelly.
His gaze lowers to your mouth, watches how it quivers slightly.
Now he’s pissed.
You should’ve known better.
And the fact that you didn’t believe you were spoken for made the rage burn hotly in his stomach.
“Give it to me.”
You do as he says, never breaking eye contact as you slide both bands off your finger and hand him the weighty diamond. Your fingers brush his deliberately as you place it in his waiting palm.
“Fucking disgusting taste,” he sneers, pocketing the ring.
He opens his mouth to keep going, to finally tell you all the horrible things that he’s been thinking about doing to your husband when the unmistakable sound of the bell rings out across the cottage.
Titus almost begins to vibrate from pleasure once more and your eyes light up instantly at his reaction.
He’s always known you both derived a deeply carnal satisfaction from this ritual, but to see it up close and personal for a completely different, intimate reason almost makes him cum in his pants.
So instead he smirks, a Cheshire grin that has you practically melting into him.
“Would you like to watch, bunny?”
You’re sitting on Titus’s bed, back pressed against the headboard, arms tied up to either end while your legs are sprayed open, ankles restrained equally by soft, red silk.
He’s left you naked, your nipples perky from the cold air and the way he’d nipped at them with his teeth before forcing himself to walk away.
With one earbud secured to your ear and three different monitors in front of you displaying every single camera angle from the property, you’re practically salivating, the slick between your legs only dripping further into the silk sheets as anticipation builds.
But it’s the buzzing from the vibrator he’s left perfectly placed so it barely makes contact with your clit that’s destroying you.
You can hear Titus’s ragged breathing in your ear. It’s making you dizzy, your heart racing so fast as you watch him move through his property, pickaxe in hand.
You’ve always loved the family heirloom, the design being both regal and deadly. You also know how much it weighs, how much strength it takes to wield, and watching Titus’s arms tighten, the veins practically popping out from beneath his skin as he holds the instrument steady is only making you hornier.
“Titus,” you whine, legs thrashing against your restraints once more.
“What’s wrong, bunny?” He asks, condescendingly, the angle of the camera changing so that you can now see him straight on.
“Need you, please.”
He chuckles darkly, staring directly at you. Even in black and white he just looks delicious.
“You wanted this,” he chastises. “So be a good girl and wait for me to clean up your mess.”
You wail, tears already threatening to spill as you try to maneuver your body to catch even a hint of that comforting buzz against your aching bud.
“And so help me Satan, if you even think about cumming without my permission I will not let you find release until we’re married.”
You moan loudly, using what little you have to taunt him.
You watch him stop for a second, stiffen and shiver, shaking off the little restraint you know he’s desperately trying to hold onto.
He lets out a darkened belly laugh, hands gripping the leather handle tightly before he’s back on the move.
“Don’t worry, bunny,” he pants. “I won’t be gone too long.”
You whine again, the buzzing only getting louder and louder as you finally find a position that works.
“Or maybe I might,” he stops, crouching down to check out the way the grass has been flattened, the marks that your husband has definitely left behind. “I’d like to take my time with him, maybe beat him up a little before I watch the life dim from his eyes. He deserves it after all and you definitely deserve to get a little pent up before I have my way with you, teach you a lesson in trying to be a big girl and make choices without consulting me first.”
“Titus—” you’re losing it, half delirious from pleasure, half terrified of what it’ll mean for you to not allow yourself to come undone before he comes back to you. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—I just wanted to make you proud please.”
Oh he’s going to cave so hard.
You watch him get back on the move as you continue to babble mindless words into his ear, your cries becoming swallowed by the thick, velvet curtains of his room.
A branch snaps in the distance and both of you suddenly become quiet, predators sniffing the smallest shift in the air.
Pleasure courses through you as your heart hammers, the thrill of what’s to come making you even dizzier than the humming happening against your aching clit.
You shift forward, pushing the head away from you in the process, no longer concerned with something as pitiful as physical pleasure. No, you’re now craving something else. Something carnal and raw.
“How would you like me to do it, bunny?” He asks lowly.
You gulp loudly, saliva pooling your mouth as you’ve started to salivate. He shivers in satisfaction at your reaction. Satan, he can already taste just how wet you are everywhere, your desire intensifying because of your mutual bloodlust.
“Snap his legs,” you drool. “Break his bones, then smash his skull in.”
Titus’s cock twitches in his pants at the visual.
“Whatever my wife wants, she will get.”
You moan loudly in his ear and he takes it as his calling grace to pounce.
He dashes across the entrance to the forest and the lazy excuse of a husband you’ve married dashes out of his hiding hole like a terrified deer.
Someone’s already gotten him first, he’s bleeding from his right side, not enough to kill him or even have him bleeding out, but enough to make him angry he wasn’t the first one to draw blood.
You strain against your restraints, the silk stretching as you pull with all your might to get closer to the screens. Your eyes are glazed over, pupils dilated so much your eyes practically look black.
You hear your husband wailing a string of profanities that drip fear and patheticness.
Titus gains on him easily enough, nipping at his heels just to taunt him before he throws his body against his legs, bringing the man to the cold ground beneath.
The struggle is quick but not painless. Titus manages to pin his legs and arms to the side, the steel of his pickaxe handle pressed against his exposed throat to choke him, but your husband clearly doesn’t want to die as he thrashes against Titus’s hold, punching him square in the jaw, drawing a little blood.
You gasp, the silk burning your wrist as you snap it off the bedpost. Your hands shake as you desperately try to untie the rest of your body.
Titus can hear you distress, the rage in his belly burning hotter as he snaps back to the man beneath him.
How dare he make you feel this way?
Fucking weak, pathetic excuse of a man.
His fist connects with flesh, unrestrained and feral.
Blood splatters across his face and chest as the man beneath him slowly becomes limp. And yet he doesn’t stop, he just keeps going until the man becomes faceless and Titus has wiped his memory off the mortal plane.
You don’t even hear the door open, all your efforts on the final knot around your left ankle.
Titus watches you struggle. Watches how the fabric has left marks on your supple skin. Watches how your brow is creased in concentration, how your tongue pokes out of your mouth, how your cheeks are streaked with tears.
That’s what pushes him to move.
The heavy pickaxe slips from his grip and lands against the fur rug, the noise finally snapping you out of your haze.
Your gaze snaps towards him, relief flooding your face instantly.
“Ti—” a sob wrecks through you and he loses whatever composure he thought he’d have coming in here.
He dashes across the room to you, doesn’t even think about the blood covering his entire body as he scoops you up in his arms and holds you close to his body, your warmth instantly warming his stoned muscles.
You waste no time wrapping your arms around his neck, hands possessively bringing his face towards your own, nails digging into the creases on his neck.
Your lips are ravenous, desperately clashing against his own to make sure he’s real. He returns the sentiment tenfold, his own grip digging into you like he’s afraid if he lets go you’ll simply disappear.
It’s only when your tongue slips into his mouth, your saliva mixing with the tangy iron that your hips move on their own volition, rolling and grinding over his crotch.
He moans into your mouth, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip, a warning as much as an encouragement. He thrusts up to meet your movements, one hand slipping off your hip to undo his pants.
He doesn’t wait, he simply can’t. He just lines himself up with your entrance and breaches.
You scream into his mouth at the intrusion. It’s a tight fit even as wet as you currently are, but it’s what you desperately need.
He’s real. He’s here. He’s alive. He’s okay.
You’ve never once worried about him during a hunt. You know he can handle his own, he’s been trained for this his entire life after all. But tonight? Something snapped deep inside of you that made you realize he’s not immortal. He’s flesh and blood and he too can bleed.
“I was so scared—” you whine into his mouth. “Couldn’t even think about…”
Your thoughts disappear the second he rolls his hips up into you.
“No.” He growls against your lips. “I’m here now, bunny. I will never leave you, ever. Do you understand me?”
A runaway tear slips down your cheek then, the saltiness of it landing against his tongue. His chest thunders again as he licks up the streak. He picks up a steady pace, grueling and thorough, making sure to make you feel every single inch of him with each thrust.
He’s buried so far inside of you you can feel him bulge against your lower abdomen.
Determined to erase every single thought from your brain that isn’t his name and the feeling of absolute pleasure, his pace picks up, demanding you to submit to him, to let yourself melt into his dominance.
He pins you down on the bed, exactly how he had your husband minutes earlier, only this time he’s determined to gift you life over death, to fill you up to the brim, to force your families into a shotgun wedding before you start to show.
“Ti—” you sob, clinging to him like your life depends on it because it does.
“You’re mine, always have been,” he grunts, hot against your ear. “You belong to me, and I will make sure to remind you every single day of the rest of our lives.”
He accentuates his threat with a sharp thrust of his hips, his tip snapping against your cervix meanly.
You yelp, body instinctively shifting away from him to ease the contact but he’s having none of it. He pulls you back flush against him, his grip on your hips bruising.
“Say it,” he spits through gritted teeth. “Say you belong to me.”
Your mouth hangs open but no words come out.
So he stops, sheathing himself inside of you painfully.
“Fuck, Ti! I’m yours, I’m only yours, I’m sorry!”
He smirks against your cheek. “Good fucking girl.”
His hips begin to move again, slow and restrained, focusing on your pleasure now.
Your body relaxes under him, your hands allowing themselves to roam the expanse of his back, his shoulders, his biceps affectionately.
He shivers, a perfect pink tinting the apples of his cheeks as he leans down to capture your lips in his once more.
You smile dopily into the kiss, a little giggle escaping, snapping his eyes open to look at you.
“Whatever is so funny, bunny?”
You shake your head, the smile only becoming brighter.
“’s just funny that the—” you pant. “The great Titus Danforth is so easily undone by a little missionary and some physical touch.”
“Oh yeah?”
Fuck you should not have said anything.
In response he lies down over your chest, his body pressing down on yours to cage it underneath himself.
You whimper at the new angle, his hips picking up speed as he now nips at your neck, leaving a crime scene of bites and bruises in his wake.
Your legs open up further, heels digging into the swell of his ass, encouraging him forward, deeper.
“Look at you,” he groans. “Unravelling from a little missionary and physical contact.”
You moan loudly, pulling him further in you.
“Gonna fill you up now, bunny,” he threatens. “Gonna claim this pussy as mine and you’ll never even think about another man ever again. You’ll be so addicted to your husband’s cock you’ll be begging me to knock you up over and over and over again.”
You nod against his temple, desperate and needy, opening up for him like he’s the only path to salvation.
Your mind goes blank as it becomes consumed by pleasure. Nothing else matters. Only him and you, and the slapping of his skin against yours, the way you tighten around him, urging him to fill you up, to make you his.
And then he bites down on your shoulder and the band tightening in your belly snaps, leaving you breathless. Your legs shake uncontrollably, your tummy tightens as white bursts against your eyelids and all you can do is thank him like a prayer.
He falls off the ledge the second your walls clench around him and hold him captive. His hot release paints your insides with ease, spurt and spurt pouring from him like this is the only place he’s ever meant to put it.
He groans into your skin, tongue lapping at the indents his teeth have left behind, cleaning up the droplets of blood that he’s pulled from you.
You go limp in his arms, your beating heart the only indication that you’re still there with him. He kisses every inch of skin he has access to, reverent and humble, praying at the altar of you.
He manages to shed his clothes without having to pull out of you, a true show of his skills coming in handy. He feels you relax further into him as his skin makes contact with yours and his heart swells at the reaction.
He goes to move you further up the bed, to get you both comfortable as you come down from your high but your leg is still tied to the bed. He curses at his past self for not being more careful and pulls the hidden tab like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done, the knot comes undone swiftly.
With your leg free, you wrap them both around his waist, settling happily against his hard chest, fingers absentmindedly counting the freckles on his arm.
Your eyes meet his and you smile, not a single wrinkle of concern, of confusion, of doubt.
“All mine,” you hum contently.
“All yours," he kisses your nose. "My wife."
"My husband."
And it’s just that easy, your fate sealed like it was always meant to be.
Summary: Your life took a complete turn the moment you made one single decision: to help a billionaire with something so trivial that only a psychopath like him would mistake it for love.
Titus has found a lovely new obsession to focus all his energy on now and you're unsure how you're going to make it out of this unscathed…
Word Count: 20.3k
A/N: I had this itch to write a slow burn, grumpy x sunshine fic with a splash of angst, yearning and fucked up manipulative behavior so this is what I cooked up.
I will note, you call him "sir" and he really likes it! Because I like it! Whoops!
For a full list of warnings, you can check out the fic on my AO3. Though this one is quite mild compared to my other fics so you can go in blind if you want to!
Oh, and of course, there will be porn! Hope it's a fun read ♡
You let out a little yawn in the elevator after you drop off your thirtieth delivery for the day. Usually you don't do this many, but the fine dining restaurant you normally work at cut your hours so you've been needing to work on the apps to make ends meet.
You've been up since the crack of dawn and now the sun has set. You're ready to go back to bed.
Your eyes shift to the man in the elevator with you. He definitely is dressed like he is meant to be here. It is a luxury high rise that has both a hotel and residences. You just dropped off food for some rich asshole who barely tipped. You wonder if he is one of those rich assholes.
You glance downwards and notice that there's a tiny tear in his dress pants. He looks like he's dressed to go to some fancy event. He probably shouldn't have a noticeable tear like that. People in his world would spot it.
So, you tap him on the shoulder, saying, “excuse me, sir.”
Titus Danforth turns to glare at you. Here we go again, he thinks to himself. You must know him from somewhere. Though, he doesn't know many people who wear cheap, wholesale clothing that is likely made of plastics.
You must want his money, then.
But you point to the hem of his dress pants and ask, “do you want me to fix that for you? There's a snag. You must've caught it on something.”
You pull out a small sewing kit from your bag, which you have since sometimes you have to mend your work clothes on the fly. It helps your coworkers too, since fine dining requires a certain level of pristine.
He blinks at you, surprised. It's such a tiny tear that he wouldn't have noticed it if you hadn't said anything.
But his father would've definitely scolded him if he saw it.
There's no time to go back to his apartment and change. He needs to get to this fundraising gala right away. He spent a little too long fucking the help.
Titus looks up at the floor count. He knows there's a private floor that only certain members in the building have access to. He goes to scan his keycard and hits the thirteenth floor.
“We'll get out here and you can do it.” He shouldn't be accepting some stranger's help so he definitely can't be seen taking it.
For all he knows, you snagged his pants and this is some kind of ploy to get a pay out from him.
But he doesn't think that's it.
You must just be a good samaritan because the moment he sits down at one of the plush benches by the elevator, you are on your knees in front of him, sifting through the threads you have to find the one that matches his pants the best before you start sewing it back up.
Titus likes the look of you on your knees. You're very pretty. Much prettier than the maid he has been fucking.
You're so focused on mending his pants that you don't notice the way he's staring at you, like he could swallow you up with just his gaze.
You make a little small talk, completely oblivious to the desire in his eyes, “are you heading somewhere fun?”
“I wouldn't call being stuck in a room full of boring rich people fun.” He tells you and his heart pounds a little faster when you giggle.
That's a real laugh. Titus is used to hearing the dry, fake ones people give him, in a meager attempt to show him interest. You're genuinely amused.
“I totally get you.” You say back, still chuckling under your breath. “That's how I feel every time I go to work.”
“Do you usually deliver food to this building?” Titus doesn't know why he's asking. He shouldn't care. You're just a delivery girl.
But then you shake your head, your words intriguing him, “I usually serve at Opulence but they cut my hours recently. They hired this TikTok influencer and she's been driving in business so they've been giving her most of my shifts. I just deliver when I need to get by.”
“Opulence? The place that makes the cabrito asado?” Titus has eaten there a few times. His father loves that dish, since it's an herb-crusted, slow-roasted young goat on a bed of microgreens.
“Yeah, that's it! Though, I've never had it.” The restaurant owner doesn't provide free meals and the chefs are super stingy with their ingredients, since they're so expensive. Even the nice ones won't let any of you have a taste, besides that one influencer girl. She got to try everything to post about on her social media.
You're trying not to be envious but…you definitely wish you could do something like that. You can't afford the equipment, however. She has the latest phone model. Two of them actually, one for work and one for personal use. You're still using the phone you got on a deal a few years ago.
“You haven't eaten anything at the restaurant you serve at?”
You shake your head. “I can't afford anything on that menu. I can barely afford my rent as is—ah, shit, sorry, I keep complaining. Ignore me. You don't want to listen to some stranger yap.”
You do the final tie to secure the thread and cut the remaining with your compact scissors. You brush your hand over the fabric one last time then show him.
“Does it look good to you?”
Titus is impressed. It doesn't even look like there was a tear to begin with. “Have you done this a lot?”
“Oh, all the time! The owner is very particular about how they want us to look at all times. Even the littlest of snags will get you sent home and most of us can't afford—shit, sorry, I need to stop doing that! Bad habit…” You catch yourself before you complain about money again. You're sure a man like him doesn't even think about money.
Titus definitely doesn't. The idea of not being able to afford anything is a bit ridiculous to him. He could buy the world if he wanted to.
He could buy you the world if you wanted him to.
What a strange thought.
Why did that pop into his head?
Maybe because you get up and ask for nothing in return for helping him.
“All good?” You gesture to the elevator buttons. “Ready to go?”
“I should pay you for the help.” What the fuck is he saying? He has never offered to give anyone money before. At least not like this. He has offered money to people to get the fuck out of his way. Or to get something he wants.
Is that what this is? Is he doing this because he wants you?
You wave him off. “This cost nothing. Just a smile.”
You flash him a happy grin and he…can't help but smile back. Especially when you beam at him so brightly, like pure sunshine.
“I love ending my day by making someone smile.” You nudge him playfully as the elevator doors open then step inside.
Titus doesn't know what to make of that. Being touched so casually normally repulses him. But with you, he wishes you'd stay close to him.
“When do you work next? Maybe I can tip you then.” Again, he doesn't understand why he's saying any of this. The words just spill out.
“Hmmm.” You don't have your schedule yet. You should be getting it tomorrow, since it'll be the start of the week. “I won't know yet. If you want, you can call in and ask when I'm working. I just need to tell them your name so they know I'm okay with you knowing my schedule.”
Technically, it's not a good idea to let a customer know exactly when a server will be on shift. But since it is a fine dining restaurant, if a wealthy customer does want a specific server, the server just has to make note of the customers they don't mind sharing their schedule with.
“You don't know my name?” That's shocking to Titus. He is one of the wealthiest men on the planet.
“Oh shit, are you like super famous or something?” You scratch your head, trying to parse out who he could be. “My bad…I work so much that I barely have time to keep up with anything.”
“Titus.” He tells you. “Titus Danforth. And you are?”
You tell him your name and then give him another beautiful smile. “I will definitely look you up later so that if you do come into the restaurant, I will for sure know who you are, I promise!”
The elevator doors open so you head out first then turn around and wave goodbye to him.
“See you later, Titus!” You say his name so sweetly that…
He'll think about his name leaving your lips any time someone says his name from then on. Like when he's fucking that maid of his the next day and she's screaming his name and he's wondering what his name would sound like on your lips if you were bent over in front of him.
That might be the only reason he's able to finish today. He's been struggling this whole time to stay hard. His mind is so consumed by thoughts of you that he can't seem to cum unless he imagines it's you.
This can't be healthy. Though, he has never been mentally healthy before.
“I need you to get the fuck out.” He tells his maid the moment he pulls the condom off. “I don't want to see you again.”
“Titus—” She gasps when he wraps his hand around her throat, stopping her from speaking another word.
“I don't want to hear my name come out of your mouth ever again. Now, get the fuck out.” He tosses her towards the door. “You're fired.”
She scoffs and then heads out. He knows she'll likely sue him but he has the footage to prove it was all consensual. His lawyers will guarantee that he wins the case.
Titus grabs his phone, searching up the number for your restaurant. He debates calling.
Should he see you?
Why does he want to see you?
You're just some pretty girl who helped him out with a little thing. You definitely have looked him up. Your entire opinion of him has likely morphed once you realize how rich and powerful he is. You wouldn't want him for him. You probably want him for his money now that you know. And he definitely shouldn't want you.
But he calls anyway.
“This is Opulence, how can I help you?” The voice is so familiar. That's because it's your voice. You ended up being called in to fill for the hostess today.
“I'm looking to inquire about a server's schedule. How do I go about doing that?” Titus doesn't realize it's you until he tells you your name.
And you giggle that beautiful giggle that he is growing too fond of. “Oh my goodness, is this Titus? How are you! I didn't think you'd call in so soon. I haven't even looked you up yet. I was so tired after working that I—shit, sorry, I'm doing it again…babbling on and on.”
“It's alright. I don't mind.” What the fuck? Of course he minds. He hates it when people blab on and on.
Why is he acting like you're special?
Maybe because you are, when you tell him all cutely, “aw, you're so sweet. I knew I'd like you. I'll have to sneak you something good when you come in. I'm serving this Saturday if you want to stop by!”
“You aren't working all week?” Today is Sunday. Is your next shift really Saturday?
“Ah, yeah. It's okay. I'll be alright. Saturdays are typically good days so I should make a decent amount!” You are wildly optimistic, despite the struggle to make ends meet. “Should I book you a reservation or do you want to just pop in? I'll try to leave a table standing for you if you want!”
“You would do that?”
“Of course! How about I do that and if you show up, you show up! If not, the restaurant will live with one less table to serve. They make plenty of money as is.”
Titus doesn't get you at all. You don't know who he is but you're giving him the five star treatment regardless.
Would you do this for anyone?
He doesn't like thinking that you would. That he isn't special in any way. That you're only doing this because you're just a nice person in general.
He wants you to only be nice to him. He wants to monopolize your attention.
“When do you get off work?” He asks.
“I close on Saturday, so last reservation is at 9:30PM.” It goes completely over your head that he's asking when you're done with work. Other people would take that as a flirtation. You're too innocent to think of it as anything but a simple question.
“Then book me a table at 9:30PM.” He decides that's when he'll see you, so he has the chance to see you after work too.
Even though Titus is unsure if that's a good idea.
“Alright! Just you or are you bringing someone special?” You're only asking because you need to know how many people to put down on the reservation.
But Titus thinks you're asking because you want to know if he's single. “Just me. I don't have anyone special.”
“Well then, we definitely should fix that.” You say to him, chuckling. “You're way too handsome to not have someone to spoil. I can ask around to see if any of my regulars are single. They're all around your age, super rich too! I can play matchmaker for you.”
He doesn't want anyone special. He just wants you. But you aren't even putting yourself on the menu. You don't even consider yourself someone he would be interested in. Probably because you're so much younger than him and in a completely different tax bracket…
“Do you have anyone special?” The question leaves his lips and he regrets asking. It's too forward.
But again, you're totally oblivious to it, since you're so used to customers asking you all sorts of personal questions. You don't see it as anything out of the ordinary. “Oh no. I've never even dated anyone before. Too busy working, you know!”
Titus should not be happy to hear that but he is. He is very happy to know that you've never dated anyone before. Because that means there's a chance you've never been with anyone ever before.
And now he's invested in you.
His lovely new obsession.
“Maybe we can change that. I'll see you on Saturday.” He says, smirking into the phone.
You don't notice anything strange in his wording and just say back, “see you then, Titus!”
You hang up the work phone and go back to prepping the restaurant to be open. The hostess always comes in early in case people call in to make same day reservations, so you're glad you came in and caught Titus's call. You really need to look him up.
You make plans to do so when you get home but then you get a notice from your landlord saying that you have a week to move out since their kid flunked out of college and needs the room back.
There goes your cheap rent…
You then spend the rest of the week stuffing everything you can into your car and throwing out everything else. Thankfully the room was furnished so you didn't have any furniture to pack but…now everything you own is in your car.
You've been calling different listings for places to live but no place at the same price point as your old place stays available for long enough. By the time Saturday rolls around, you're still unhoused and living out of your car.
You have to buy a gym membership so you can shower and get ready for work. There's no way you can show up looking like you've been sleeping upright for the last few days.
You feel like shit but you still put on your best smile when you get to work. You could use the tips for your deposit.
But tonight, no one seems to want to tip you, specifically.
You didn't realize they booked you with that influencer girl, so most tables are requesting her. Which is totally fine, it makes sense that people would want to come to see someone they follow online.
You have a handful of regulars who tip you alright so you know you'll make it through this shift with some money in your pocket. Less than you'd hope, but enough to be okay.
That's about to change real quick.
Because the owner of the restaurant comes and grabs you, yanking you off the floor to ask you, “what the hell is Titus Danforth doing here?”
“Oh, he's here already?” You look at your watch. It's fifteen minutes before his reservation. You didn't realize he was an early bird or you would've had his table ready sooner.
“What do you mean “oh, he's here already"? You knew he was coming in?”
“Yeah. I booked his reservation.”
“You booked…” The owner looks like they're about to throw a fit. “Why didn't you tell me you booked a reservation for Titus Danforth? The books only had his initials!”
“That's…what we always do?” You're not supposed to put full names down, in case someone hacks in and sees an A-list celebrity has a reservation and then tries to come in at the same time.
“Do you not know who he is?”
You shake your head. You have been so busy all week that you haven't gotten to looking him up just yet. He must be a big deal if the owner is going nuts over him being here.
“He is one of the wealthiest men on the fucking planet and you reserved him a standard table.” The owner pinches their brow. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Excuse me?” You didn't realize part of your job description was to research every wealthy person on the planet in case they show up here. Nor did you realize that being verbally abused over and over was suddenly an okay practice to do. “Look, I'm sorry, but—”
“Get the fuck out of my restaurant.” They point to the staff room, which has the private entrance/exit so customers don't see you leaving or entering the building. “Get your shit and go. Thankfully we have an actually competent server to help Titus Danforth tonight. We don't need you anymore.”
You can't believe this. You're seriously getting fired because you didn't know who Titus is. This is actually ridiculous.
“You know I just got evicted, right?” You had told them when it happened, in hopes you'd get more hours.
“I don't give a fuck about your sob story. Just get out of my fucking restaurant now.” The owner shoves past you to go to the front of the house, presumably to talk to Titus.
You let out a sigh. You did want to see him. You brought him something you figured might make him smile.
So when you spot your now-ex coworker, the influencer, in the staff room on her break, you open your locker and grab it, giving it to her.
“Hey, you're going to serve a Titus Danforth in a bit. Could you give this to him for me? I wanted to give it to him myself but I just got fired so I got to go.”
“Oh shit. Is it because of Titus? Did he cuss you out or something?” Her words strike you as strange.
“No…? Does he do that?” She would know, since she's all over that online drama stuff.
“Oh yeah, all the fucking time. He gets people fired wherever he goes, like even over the tiniest little thing. I heard he's a fucking prick.” She takes your gift for Titus, looking at it. “Are you sure you want to give him something? Are you a fan of his? I know some billionaires have fans but I wouldn't pick him as my choice…”
“Just give it to him, please. Tell him it's from me and that I'm sorry I couldn't be here.”
“Alright.” She tucks it into her apron. “Good luck. Sorry you got fired.”
You shrug and wave goodbye as she heads out onto the floor. It does suck that you got fired but life happens.
What can you do about it but move on?
Titus can't seem to move on, though.
He hasn't spotted you at all since he got to the restaurant. He came early in hopes of just watching you work for a little prior to you serving him. He expected to see you.
But the person serving him isn't you.
The owner personally apologizes to him for not booking him a private booth but managed to get one situated for him, despite it being a busy Saturday night. Titus couldn't care less where he sat. He's here to see you and that's it.
But you aren't the one serving him for some reason.
So he asks the server where you are and she tells him, “I'm so sorry, Mr. Danforth. She was let go because she didn't know who you were and booked you at a standard table. The owner never wants their VIPs to ever be booked at a standard table. She should've known better.”
Titus scoffs. “What the fuck? I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for her. I have come here maybe twice with my father. He's the VIP. I'm just a regular customer. She booked me correctly.”
“You're a Danforth, sir.” Titus does not like the sound of the word sir coming out of anyone's mouth but yours.
“Where is she?” Titus looks around. “Did she leave already?”
“Yes, I think so. She probably finished packing up her stuff and left. She did tell me to give you this, though. And to tell you that she's sorry she couldn't be here.” The server hands him a little box.
He opens it. It's…a small sewing kit. The same one like you had in your bag.
With a cute note attached saying: For any future repairs ♡
You had planned to tell Titus that you'd show him a few different ways to sew up a snag, to go with the gift, but you can't now obviously. You probably will never see him again.
You put all your work stuff with the rest of your things in your car, sighing. You didn't think you'd be off so early, so now you have to figure out where to park. Most places aren't free to park until 10PM so you could wait in your work parking lot until then but you don't really want to stick around a place that fired you…
But then, you look up at the sky and decide it's okay to stay for a little. You'll miss working here. It's just a few miles out of the city, in a beautiful part where plenty of wealthy people live, with barely any light pollution.
There's so many stars out tonight.
You sit up on the hood of your car, staring up at the night sky from this vantage point one last time. You're so engrossed by the sight of the stars that you don't notice a figure walking up to you until a shadow engulfs you.
You turn your head to see… “Titus?”
How did he find the employee parking lot?
It's quite an uphill trek from the restaurant, which is on purpose since the restaurant valet would prefer to not have any “ugly” cars parked in that lot.
Titus just stares at you, at how pretty you look in the light of the stars and the moon. How they seem to add an extra sparkle in your eyes. How he is so grateful he caught up to you before you left.
There was no way he was going to wait any longer to see you again.
He wasn't going to let some fucking stupid restaurant owner get in his way.
“I heard you got fired.” He says to you, noticing how cleaned up you look in your work attire compared to the casual clothes from before. “I didn't end up staying since you weren't there.”
“Aw, you should've at least enjoyed the food.” You feel bad he just left.
“Did you like working at that restaurant?” He asks because he just bought it and if you wanted to, you come back to work there. He won't tell you he bought it, of course, but he would get you your job back.
But it doesn't seem like you want to, from the way you shrug. “It was nice while it lasted. Maybe this is the universe telling me I need to be somewhere else.”
“What do you mean?”
You pat the hood of your car, inviting him to sit with you. He would never normally do this. Especially on an old car like yours. But he does, for some reason.
For you. To be next to you.
Titus sits beside you in his designer clothes and you giggle, pulling your knees up to your chest, leaning your head against them as you look at him. “We really are from two different worlds, aren't we?”
“Are you going to move?” He noticed all your things packed in your car.
“I don't know.” You look back up at the stars. “I don't have a place to stay right now. I don't have a job. I don't have anything besides what I got right here.”
Again, he just stares at you. But this time, it's because he has never met anyone like you before. He has met people who are desperate, who would do anything to get out of whatever hole they dug themselves into.
But, despite whatever life has thrown at you, you don't show any signs of that same desperation.
You actually seem content to just look at the stars in the sky, basking in the moonlight, enjoying the moment, ignoring the reality of your situation for a second.
“Do you like stargazing?” You turn your head towards Titus again.
“I don't really look up.”
You chuckle at that. “I guess when you're one of the richest men on the planet, you only look down, right?”
“So you looked me up?” Titus figured you would eventually.
But you shake your head. “I didn't have any time to. Had to pack all my stuff into my car this week since I got evicted. I just heard that from the owner. Sorry, bad joke.”
“What else did you hear about me then?” He wants to know what you know.
“My ex-coworker said you're a fucking prick.” You reply, followed by another cute laugh. “I wonder what you must've done to give the internet that impression.”
“You don't think I'm a prick?” He would understand if you did. He is a fucking prick. The worst of the worst.
But you don't judge people based on the words of others. Maybe that is naive of you but you like to believe most people are good people. Though you have no clue who you're sitting next to right now…
“Do you want me to think you're a prick?” You nudge him playfully like you had before. “I can do that if you want.”
“How can you be so…normal around me? After learning who I am?” Titus hasn't noticed any change in your behavior.
You're acting exactly like you had when you first met him.
“Am I supposed to act a certain way around a man with money?” You tilt your head at him, feigning befuddlement. “Should I get on my hands and knees and beg you for a crumb of your wealth, sir?”
Yes. Titus wants to say but then you laugh, obviously having said what you said as a joke, so he bites his tongue. But it's hard not to imagine you on your hands and knees, with his cock buried inside of you from behind, moaning beneath him.
He needs to figure out how to curb his desire for you. This is getting out of hand.
Especially when you nudge him again and point at the sky. “Look, or you'll miss it!”
Titus looks up and a shooting star blazes across the sky, drawing a line of light for just a moment before disappearing.
“Did you wish for anything?” You ask him, still displaying that brilliant smile he's growing to love.
“No. Did you?” Titus doesn't make wishes. He can get whatever he wants.
Except you and your free spirit. “I wished for a sign from the universe to tell me where to go next.”
You're like a pretty bird, ready to soar towards your next adventure. You never stay in one place for too long.
Titus won't have that. He needs to cage you. To keep you.
So, he says to you, “do you want to work for me?”
You raise an eyebrow at him. “Doing what? Do you own a restaurant I can serve at?”
He literally owns the place that fired you but…he won't tell you that now.
Instead, he tells you, “I recently fired my personal assistant so I'm looking for a new one. You'd get your own room in my apartment and you can buy food and other necessities on my card.”
“What does a personal assistant for Titus Danforth do?” You lean your head against your knees, looking up at him. “Am I writing emails all day or…?”
“Just whatever I need help getting done for the day.” Like getting off. He really wants to get off. He hasn't cum since he fired that maid. He wants to cum inside of you.
Maybe even without a condom.
You don't seem to notice the lust in his gaze at all. Probably because no one has ever looked at you like that before.
“You should get someone with actual personal assistant experience.” You definitely aren't the right fit. You've mainly worked in restaurants, minus that singular stint you did at a retail store in your teens. “Also, you definitely shouldn't hire someone you've only known for like an hour.”
You chuckle, the sound so intoxicating to him. Little do you know, you have been on his mind every second of every day since the moment you left his sight. He tried his best not to let his mind wander to you but it always did.
“I was following your lead. The universe brought you to me when I needed a personal assistant and the universe brought me to you when you needed a job. Is that not a sign?” He manipulates your wish and uses it against you.
“I guess you're right.” You tap your finger against your lips, which makes Titus stare very closely at them, wishing he could kiss you. “But still, you barely know me.”
“You barely know me.” He counters and that makes you laugh again.
“Touché!” You lean against him a little as you giggle then move away. “Alright, why not! If I'm horrible, you can always fire me. I heard you're very good at it.”
Titus will never get used to the casual touches you do. You are so relaxed around him. You should be more guarded.
You have no idea what he has in store for you now that he has you in his grasp…
You don't get what Titus's last personal assistant must have done to get fired. This has got to be the easiest job you've ever had. And the benefits are incredible!
Titus gave you a super nice car, completely paid off, since he doesn't want his personal assistant to be driving something dingy. You have all brand new, designer clothes in your closet that fit you perfectly and match your style. He apparently had people come over once you moved your things in to sift through your closet and figure out what you would like so that you had clothes to wear when you went out with him.
You go out with Titus a lot. Mostly to restaurants he's scoping out, thinking of buying or investing in. You and him eat and drink and laugh and chat so much that you're shocked this is even considered work.
Your paycheck is also enormous too and he even helped you set up a high yield savings account at the bank his family runs with a very good rate.
You're making more money now than you have your entire life.
You don't have anything to use it on, either. Titus pays for everything, always. You try to pay sometimes, for groceries or for household goods, but then he just adds the money to your paycheck when you do, effectively zeroing it back out. You get that he is obscenely wealthy but you don't want him to always have to pay.
“It's an insult when you try to pay for me.” Titus tells you as he drives the two of you from the airport to a resort on the tropical island he's thinking of investing in.
“This rental car cost like a tenth of my check. You could've let me pay for it.” You pout at him and he shakes his head at you.
“A tenth of your check is not even a penny to me.” He will not have you spending any money when he has plenty.
“Oh, I'm sorry, I forgot I'm in the presence of an almost trillionaire. My apologies, sir.” You exaggerate a bow then giggle.
It has been months since Titus hired you to be his “personal assistant” and he still hasn't touched you. He has no idea how he is keeping it together, especially when you laugh so beautifully like that all the time and jokingly call him sir.
You are so playful and so cute that he just wants to eat you up.
But you are horribly oblivious to any and all of his advances.
You two go out to eat and you think it's just work. You two stay in a hotel suite together and you think it's just work. You two go on vacations together and you really, truly, seriously think this is just a work excursion.
That is totally why Titus paid for the all inclusive resort package for the two of you that includes a private pool attached to the room.
Though this time, he made sure there was only one bed. The last few times, the hotels and resorts you've been to have had other rooms available to swap to, so you and Titus have never had to sleep in the same bed.
That changes today. He booked out all of the available rooms to ensure you had to sleep in the same bed as him. You can't avoid him now.
“Are you sure this is okay?” You stare at the king sized bed in the very nice room. “I can sleep on the floor. Or the tub. I've done that before when I've crashed at people's places.”
“I'm not letting you sleep in a tub.” The idea makes him grimace.
“I'm surprised there isn't like a couch or something.” You would assume a fancy resort like this would have more furniture in the room but there's really only the bed and the desk and you can't sleep in a desk chair for a week.
Titus made sure there was no alternate sleeping places. They took the couch out and rearranged the furniture to make it look like this is what the room should look like. And Titus told you that you shouldn't ever look up anywhere you and him go since he wants you to experience it blind to get the best feel for the place. You listen because he's your boss.
Now you're going to be sharing a bed with your boss…
“There really weren't any other rooms?” It's a huge resort. Though, it does look like there's some kind of convention going on.
It's packed on the island right now!
“Is the idea of sleeping with me that horrible?” Titus tries to be playful with this question but there's a bite to his tone he can't hide.
You, again, are oblivious to it. “No, not at all. I just feel bad because you probably don't want to sleep with me.”
“I don't mind.” He wants to desperately.
“Hopefully I'm not a weird sleeper.”
“You've never slept with someone before?” He finally has a chance to casually ask this question.
“I've shared a bed with friends on trips and stuff like that to save money.” Again, it goes over your head that he's not referring to real sleeping. “They've never complained but like what if I kick you in my sleep? I would feel so bad!”
“That should be the least of your worries.” You'll be lucky if you have the opportunity to actually sleep.
“I know. If you don't think it's a big deal, then I shouldn't worry about it.” You appreciate that he's looking out for you.
Titus has no idea how you got to your age and you're so fucking oblivious to the fact that he wants to pin you down on this bed and fuck the brains out of you.
Maybe it's because you don't see him as a man. You only see him as your boss. You haven't put it together in your mind that he should be someone you should be careful around.
But you aren't careful at all.
You casually touch his arm when you're walking past him so you don't accidentally bump into him on the way to the closet to unpack your things. You place your hands on him to straighten out his clothes without warning. You nuzzle your cheek against his shoulder then flash him a big smile whenever you feel like bothering him with an ask of something kind.
Like, “can we get smoothie bowls? Please!”
“Please what?” He pokes your nose and you laugh, knowing what he's looking for.
“Please, sir. Can we get smoothie bowls?” You bat your eyelashes at him, like you always do.
It takes everything in his soul not to grab you and kiss you. He opts to clench his fist tight and gives you an even tighter lipped smile in response.
“Sure.” His heart races at how happy you look.
“Great, I'm starving and that place looked so good.”
It's one of the restaurants in the resort. A cute hut that makes smoothie bowls. It should be included in the resort package, though Titus wouldn't care how much it cost regardless.
As long as he gets to see you all giddy to eat a colorful bowl of fruit layered on top of a smoothie, he would pay anything.
“You know, you haven't called Pepper back.” You manage Titus's personal cellphone and his father recently sent him a bunch of potential matches for marriage.
Titus went out with one of them as a formality but hated being there. It meant he wasn't with you that day and he hates not being with you. Everyone else in his world is dull and power-hungry.
You're a breath of fresh air.
Except when you push him away from you. “She seemed really nice. She sent the yummiest fruit basket to the apartment. I was just thinking about it since these fruits are just as yummy.”
Titus digs his spoon into the smoothie bowl the two of you are sharing because he didn't want to get his own and you offered to share yours with him so he could try it. The fruits are good, in season, ripe, sweet. Like how he imagines you must taste.
“You do realize if I get married, you'd be out of a job.” Titus is harsher with his words than he intends but he can't hide his annoyance that you don't view him as someone of interest. You never look flustered around him.
Not even when he pulls you towards him by wrapping his arms around your waist so that someone doesn't bump into you as they run by. His hands linger at your sides. You don't seem startled at all that he's touching you.
“Oh my goodness, that person almost rammed into me!” You catch your breath, your heart racing. “Thanks, Titus.”
You pat him gently on the chest, then look up at his face. He almost flinches when you reach up and cup his jaw with your hand. He almost expects you to lean up and kiss him.
But instead, you wipe a bit of smoothie off the corner of his lip and then proceed to lick it off your thumb. “You had a little drip. Can't have you walking around with—”
Titus can't stand it anymore and just kisses you. His arms hook you in closer to him, locking you to his chest, before his lips crash down onto yours.
You don't know what's going on.
You've never been kissed before.
Is this a kiss? Why is Titus kissing you?
His lips are so soft against yours. You don't know what to do.
Should you kiss him back? But he's your boss…
A weird feeling pangs in your chest. The one you've been avoiding. Ignoring, because you figured it was just silly to imagine that he likes you.
Now that you're getting some proof that he does, maybe even just physically, you're suddenly afraid that everything is going to change. And you don't want things to change. You liked how everything was.
“Titus…” You breathe out against his lips when he finally lets you swallow air again.
You don't have any words to say. You can't form the sentence you want to speak aloud. Because you should tell him not to do that again. That he's your boss and you're his assistant.
But instead, you ask him, “is this why you fired your last assistant?”
Your words catch him by surprise. He wasn't expecting you to ask that of all things right after he kissed you for the first time.
“What are you talking about?” His head is all over the place, his heart pounding in his chest. He wants to kiss you again but you're looking at him with such devastation in your eyes. And he can't help but like the look of it.
Because is this not that same envy you had for that influencer?
“Did your last assistant…let you kiss them? Was that in their job description…” Your stomach is doing somersaults and you feel nauseous from the fear that everything is going to change forever. “Because I-I don't know if I can do that if it is.”
“You don't want to kiss me?” Fury causes Titus to dig his nails further into his fist, his palm bleeding.
There was always a chance you didn't like him. That your sweetness was just a facade.
Is that what you're showing him now? That you weren't the genuinely aloof, adorable girl he wants so badly to fuck up?
You glance down at his fist, at the blood dripping from it. “Titus, your hand!”
He watches as you grab a hold of his hand, opening his fist up, seeing the way his nails had dug into his palm.
“Oh no, shit, I knew we should've gotten manicures before we flew here.”
The edges of his nails are all sharp since it's been a while. You were planning on booking one of the resorts’ manicurists to come to the room. You should've thought of this sooner.
You quickly grab some napkins and apply pressure to the cut. “Are you okay? Does it hurt?”
“I just kissed you and you give more of a fuck about my hand?” He yanks his hand out of your hold. “Are you fucking serious?”
Your throat is closing up. This reminds you of when the owner of the restaurant yelled at you. Only this time, it's Titus. And seeing him angry with you scares you to the point where you can't control the tears that are blurring your vision.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry.” You try to find some words to say but none of them will come out. You're so nervous all of a sudden.
Titus has never seen you like this before. Flustered, scared, anxious, delicious. He wants more of this side of you. The one that you've been hiding under that confident mask of yours.
The girl underneath who wants nothing more than to be spoiled rotten.
Without letting you say anything else, Titus scoops you up into his arms, carrying you back to the room. You cling onto him, shocked that he's carrying you so easily.
Though, should you be shocked?
You have seen him practically naked before, wearing only his boxers around the apartment. You know he works out because he has a gym set up. You have watched him exercise before.
But for some reason, the thought of him without any clothes on is making your heart flip flop on your chest. You've never felt whatever feeling is stirring inside of you.
Is this…lust?
Titus opens the door to the room and then proceeds to toss you onto the bed. You scramble to sit up, backing up until your back is against the headboard. He climbs onto the bed like a predator stalking its prey until he has you trapped beneath him.
Your heart is going to leap out of your chest at this point. You've never seen Titus look so…hungry before. Like he wants to devour you whole.
“I don't care to wait anymore.” He tells you, looking you up and down like he's planning out how to feast on you. “I don't care if you scream. I don't care if you fight back. I fucking don't care anymore. I'm done waiting for you.”
“Wait, wait, Titus—” You can't stop him from kissing you, his lips sealing over yours, stealing your breath away when he slips his tongue into your mouth. The warmth of it mixing with yours makes you dizzy.
You didn't realize kissing could feel so…hot. You taste the smoothie bowl, that sweet fruit flavor on his tongue. You like it a lot. You like kissing him a lot.
That's why you have to stop him. You can't be doing this. He can't be doing this. He's about to marry someone else. His father will make sure of that. And then you'll just have been some blip in his memory.
That's all you'll be.
And you don't want that.
You want to be able to remember your time with Titus fondly.
“Please, Titus, let me talk.” You beg against his lips.
“I'm not going to stop so don't waste your breath.” He goes to kiss down your jaw, to the column of your neck, placing a bite right in the center that stings and shoots a tingle down to your core, something you've never felt before.
“I don't want you to stop.” Your words flip a switch in his head and he lifts up from your neck to look at you, confused.
That wasn't what he was expecting. Nor was he expecting the tears that are welling up in your eyes. They aren't from fear.
They're…from sadness.
Longing to be specific.
Yearning, more like it.
“But you need to know if we do this, you're going to break my heart.” You go to wipe the tears that spill from your eyes with your hands. “So if you want to do this, we can. But it will hurt me more than you will ever know.”
“Why?” He doesn't understand.
How can he break your heart when he doesn't even have it yet?
You cup his face, pulling him up towards you so you can lay your forehead against his, before you tell him, “because I know I'm just one of many people you've done this with. You like me now, sure, but there's no guarantee that'll last. And you can't promise me it will. I won't believe you. But…”
You let out a sigh, before you lean in and press a kiss on his lips. He's so stunned to feel you kiss him.
He's even more stunned when you tell him, “I don't mind if you break my heart. I just want you to be aware that you will.”
You give him a soft smile, like you always do, and it burns a hole in his chest.
“You aren't one of many.” He knows that to be a fact. He has never wanted to spend time with anyone like he has with you.
“Then tell me about the person before me. Did you kiss them too?” You know the answer from the look on his face but you want him to say it.
“I didn't have a personal assistant before you.” That's the honest truth.
But you know it's not the full truth. “Who did you have before me?”
“She was just a maid.”
“Will I be “just a personal assistant” one day?” Your words make him ache in ways he never thought possible.
“No.” He shakes his head. He doesn't want you to just be a personal assistant to him.
He wants you.
“Did you break her heart?”
“We just fucked. That's it. I didn't feel anything for her.” The words slip from his lips and you catch them.
“You feel something for me?” So this isn't just physical. What is it then?
“You have to understand.” Titus won't hold himself back anymore. “You are never going to be able to leave me. I would rather kill you than let anyone else have you.”
“Then kill me.” You pull his hands up to wrap around your throat, wanting him to squeeze. “Because I'd rather die than know one day, you'll leave me for someone else. For another pretty girl who caught your eye. I'd rather die than witness someone else having you after I've gotten a taste.”
“Then why did you push me towards Pepper?”
“That was before I knew you felt the same way about me that I do about you.”
You can't help yourself. You lean in and kiss him again, just so you can remember the feeling of his lips on yours before you die. Those soft lips. How you yearn to feel them all over your skin.
But the moment you do, your heart will surely shatter.
“I don't want anyone else but you.” He says so clearly that you almost believe him.
“Maybe for right now.” You brush your nose against his, that playfulness still shining through even in your despair. “But you should be honest with yourself. You don't want a relationship with me. I know you don't.”
You don't know how to explain it. But you're sure Titus doesn't want you to be his girlfriend. Or his wife.
He just wants you to be his.
And you can do that.
You can be his.
But it will hurt you tremendously in the process.
Is he willing to do that to you?
Titus moves his hands off of your neck and then gets up from the bed, straightening himself out. Then, he goes to the phone at the desk, dialing the front desk.
“I need another room.” He says to the receptionist, who is fully aware of all the rooms he has booked. “Either one that connects or a suite with two bedrooms. Just pick one and send the keycards here.”
“Right away, Mr. Danforth.” They hang up and before you have time to process what's happening, there's a knock on the door.
Titus grabs the new keycards and goes to pack your things up back into your suitcase and then he does his own. You're sitting there, stunned.
Because you realize he wanted to sleep next to you. That's why he booked this room in particular. There were rooms available. But he wanted to share a bed with you, so he convinced you there weren't.
And now, he doesn't anymore.
Because hurting you is something he can't do, for some reason.
He liked seeing you shy and flustered but hurt…that didn't spark what he thought it would inside of him. What it usually does inside of him.
When he gathers everything, he tells you, “come on, let's go to our new rooms.”
“Titus…” You're speechless for once. You normally have a quip of some kind but…you don't right now.
“You're right. I don't know what I was thinking. You can't mean anything to me and I would be a fucking idiot to think you could. I was just thinking with my cock. It won't happen again.” Titus gestures for you to take your bags. “Now come on, we have a resort to check out. Let's get to work.”
And that's all it is.
Work.
Because that's all it will ever be, right?
“A little birdie told me something interesting.” Ursula smiles that wicked grin of hers at Titus, while they're having brunch at the Danforth Resort together. “You haven't fucked your personal assistant yet. It's been over a year. I find that impressive, Titus.”
“Who the fuck would tell you something like that?” He rolls his eyes at her.
She's telling the truth, though. He hasn't fucked you. He hasn't even kissed you since that time.
“Your housekeepers will do anything for a little extra cash.” She only had to add a bit more to their checks to get them to spill the details about you and Titus. “From what I hear, your personal assistant is more like a roommate you pay. And you don't even fuck her. That's just weird.”
“It's weird that you give a fuck about who I'm fucking.”
Ursula shrugs. “I give more of a fuck that you've been acting like an asshole because you're all pent up. Just go fuck one of the people you have on speed dial and get it over with already.”
“Okay, I will.” He leaves the table then, done with this brunch.
But he doesn't go to one of the many fuckbuddies he has.
He just goes straight home to you.
Because he doesn't want to fuck anyone.
It's like there's something wrong with him. If he isn't thinking about you, he can't get hard. His body won't let him fuck anyone else.
But maybe that's his heart getting in the way.
You and him have found that rhythm from before again, albeit with a slight change. You do get flustered whenever he touches you now. And you don't touch him as casually as you used to anymore. He likes that you're finally seeing him as a man. But he hates that you no longer feel relaxed around him.
You apologize a lot more now. You aren't as playful because you're nervous you'll say something you shouldn't.
It's killing him inside.
Especially on days like today, where you seem like you're back to the way you were before, smiling at him when he gets home, “welcome back! How was brunch?”
“Horrible.” He pulls off his dress shirt, tossing it into the hamper.
You hand him one of the softer shirts he wears at home and he slips it on. He catches the way your eyes linger on his body for a second before you shake your head, like you're trying to shake away the thoughts you were having.
You distract yourself by asking, “did you bring me that pastry?”
“Fuck, I forgot.” He was in a rush to leave.
Usually when he goes to brunch with Ursula at the Danforth Resort, you would beg him to get this one pastry for you since it's a specialty dessert there. He always got it for you, so he could watch you happily devour it.
“Oh it's okay!” You wave him off. “No big deal. I will just dream about it until next time.”
“We can go right now.”
You look at him like he's gone crazy. “You just drove back. It's alright. I don't mind waiting.”
Waiting. Titus hates that fucking word.
He hates waiting. He hates it so much. He hates that he has to wait and wait and wait until everything falls into place so that he can have even the slightest chance of being with you. Of making you his, forever.
You seem content to wait but he doesn't know for how long.
He knows you've been looking for another job.
He knows you've been talking with other men.
Sure, they're "just friends” of yours but…he can't stand it.
He can't take another day of waiting for you to be his.
He needs this to work.
Titus cannot live without you.
So, he waits for everything to align exactly the way he needs it to.
Then, he will make you his.
But plans never do go the way he thinks.
Because you've caught the eye of a certain member of the High Council.
“Ignacio?” You see him at one of the events Titus brings you to and he comes rushing up to you, giving you a big hug.
Something that makes Titus's jaw tighten.
“Now where have you been, mi cielito?” He swings you around, making you giggle. “I have missed having you serve me. Opulence has declined since you left.”
“I got fired.” You tell him as he sets you down.
“They fired you? But doesn't Titus—”
When Ignacio meets Titus's deadly glare, he doesn't say another word.
Instead, he clears his throat and goes, “well, regardless, they were sorely mistaken in choosing to let you go.”
“If I knew you'd be here, I would've brought you something.” You used to bring him cute little charms for his guns.
“What are you doing here? I heard Titus had a personal assistant but I had no idea it would be you. How did you two meet?”
“It's a funny story.” You say with that soft giggle of yours.
Titus is learning right now that you show that side of yourself to others. Not just him. Ignacio seems well versed in how precious you can be, his eyes roaming your body. He must like how gorgeous you look in the designer dress Titus picked out for you for this event.
“Would you like a drink? I'd love to hear about it.” As much as Ignacio wouldn't want to light any fury in Titus, he has missed the chats you two used to have so he is willing to risk it.
Titus opens his mouth to answer for you but then you go, “oh sure! Titus, you don't mind right? I'll be right back!”
Of course he minds. Of course he fucking minds. You're not supposed to want to spend time with anyone except for him.
And yet you're choosing Ignacio? Over him?
He can't stop you from walking away. He can't stop you from smiling at Ignacio as you hook your arm in his, doing that affectionate cheek rub against his shoulder, making Ignacio pinch your nose in response. You laugh so beautifully as the two of you chat about something Titus is too far away to hear.
Ignacio touches you so casually, like the two of you have a deeper relationship. But you told Titus you never dated before.
But you never told him if you ever fucked someone before.
From the way Ignacio is holding your hip with one hand and his drink in the other, Titus can't help but imagine that you aren't the innocent girl he thought you were. Especially when you smile all bashfully before placing your hand against Ignacio's chest, using your finger to draw little circles over where his heart is.
“I think your boss wants me dead.” Ignacio whispers to you. “You shouldn't glance over there. You'll see quite the death glare.”
“He won't do anything to you, don't worry.” You know Titus won't.
“I heard a rumor about you.” He has been meaning to ask, since now he knows you're Titus's personal assistant. “You haven't slept with him. Is that true?”
“Is that…surprising?”
Ignacio shrugs. “He is quite fond of the help, from what I hear. Fond of firing them too, when he's done with them.”
That you are well aware of. You've seen it before. Titus fired all of his housekeeping staff recently and hired brand new ones, who only come when you and him aren't at the apartment at all. You still don't know why he did that but you don't ask. It isn't your place to.
“If you need a job, I have many places you can work. Just give me a call anytime.” Ignacio puts his hand out and you give him your phone, letting him add his personal number to it. “I should let you go back to your boss now. Adiós, mi cielito.”
Ignacio kisses you on the temple before heading over to say hello to another set of patrons at the event. You make your way back to Titus, who has maintained his glare this whole time.
The question he asks you when you're back by his side startles you. “Have you fucked him?”
“What?” You raise an eyebrow at Titus, shocked he'd ask you something like that.
“I said, have you fucked Ignacio?” His tone grows harsher. “Answer me.”
“I have not fucked anyone.” You scoff, setting your drink down. You haven't even taken a sip and now you definitely don't want to.
Because you know the moment your inhibitions drop, you'll say something you really don't want to.
But then Titus goes, “I bet you want to fuck him.”
And you can't hold it in anymore. “Why do you care? I'm just the help. Though apparently you always fuck the help so maybe I'm not even that to you.”
You have never snapped at Titus like this before. That's why he has no idea what to say. He didn't think you had it in you to feel any kind of jealousy. You normally are so chill, even when he talks to other people.
Have you been harboring envy this whole time?
You hate to admit that. You hate when your mind trails to the fact that he has been with other people and that he will be with other people after you. That you aren't anything but this weird pastime of his for right now.
But that ends today.
You can't keep doing this.
You can't keep pretending like you can stay by his side and nothing has changed.
“I'm going to work for Ignacio.” You tell him straight up, even though you haven't formally agreed to anything. “So, you can go and hire some other person and fuck them because I do not want to be here when you inevitably do. I'm leaving to pack my things.”
But he doesn't let you leave. Not without him.
Titus grabs you by the arm and drags you out to the underground parking lot, where he has his car parked for the event.
“Let go of me!” You tug at him but he won't budge. “Titus!”
“Shut the fuck up!” He yells right in your face and you're so taken back that you can't speak. He has never yelled at you like that before.
It makes your heart race in ways you've never felt before.
He opens the backseat of his car and tosses you inside. Then, he gets in and shuts the door behind him, climbing on top of you.
You should've guessed what would happen next but you're still shocked when his lips come crashing down onto yours as his hands slide up your legs, hiking up your skirt. You gasp against his lips when he rips off your underwear, tossing it aside.
“Wait, wait—” Your pleas are silenced by his lips, his tongue slipping into your mouth to hold it hostage. You can't breathe. You're getting lightheaded.
It only gets worse when you feel his thumb trail down your bare pussy, a feeling you've never felt before. You squirm, shoving at him, trying to close your legs but he has your thighs pinned down with his knees.
You're trapped beneath him.
You're at his mercy.
You can't let him do this.
You'll never be able to leave if you do.
You pull his face off of you and he snarls like a rabid animal in response but you have to get your words out, “please don't do this. You don't want this. You don't want me. You know you don't.”
He lets out the most menacing laugh you've ever heard before he responds, “that's where you're wrong. All I have ever wanted was you. All I want is to do this with you. How dare you try to leave me. Don't fucking try to stop me now because you're never getting away from me.”
“For how long, though?” Your words freeze him in place. “Titus, I don't want to do this if you're just going to fuck someone else later. Let me go, please.”
“What will it take for you to believe that I only want you?” Because he can't let you go. He can't.
You're everything to him.
He'd rather die than ever let you go.
What will it take, though?
Horrible, sinful, ugly things cross your mind. Thoughts of you caging him as much as he wants to cage you.
You both falling into the trap that is one another.
“Stop right now and wait until I'm ready.” You lean up, pressing your forehead against his. “Because I will be ready. But I don't want our first time together to be in a car after a fight. Please, sir.”
You're playing dirty, pulling that out now. But it satisfies Titus enough to nod.
“I want to kiss and touch you whenever I want.” That is his only ask as part of this deal. “I will wait to fuck you as long as you promise you won't go.”
“Okay.” You press a kiss against his lips, one that he immediately leans into, savoring. You smile then breathe out, your warm breath like heaven on his lips, “I'm not going anywhere. I promise, sir.”
“No talking to other men. No looking for other jobs. You sleep in my bed from now on. You aren't allowed to think of leaving me.” He nips at your bottom lip, his teeth sinking in hard enough to make it bleed. “Got it?”
You lick your lips, tasting the iron, then you lean in, biting his lip until he bleeds, before you kiss him, mixing yours with his. Then, you tell him with a little brush of your nose against his, “as long as you do the same. You're mine, Titus.”
He lets out that dark chuckle of his, the one that he has been keeping in, the sinister laugh that is flooding his system with the darkness he has been dying to let out.
“I am going to fuck you up.” His devilish grin sends such a thrill through you.
“Only me, okay?” You don't want him to look at anyone else like this.
“Only you. You're my obsession.” His gaze trails down the length of your body and he groans at the sight of your pussy, his cock wanting to sink inside of you right now.
Titus settles for burying his face between your legs. You try to push him away, “Titus! What are you—”
“Keep your voice down.” He instructs, his hot breath tickling your clit. “Unless you want people to know I'm eating you out in my car right now.”
“Can't we wait until we're home?” Your words make him smile.
So, you consider his apartment home.
He likes that a lot.
“I'm done waiting.” He says right as he drags the length of his tongue along your folds, making your whole body shudder. His hand slides down to knead his cock through his pants, which is getting terribly hard at the sight of you trembling from his touch. “You taste exactly how I thought you would.”
“I've never done this before.” You're scared. It feels so intense, his tongue swirling around your clit, the stimulation shooting sparks straight to your core.
Tension is building inside of you, coiling in your lower stomach, threatening to burst.
“You've never cum before?” Titus grip his cock harder when you nod in response.
He will have to lock you up in the apartment from now on.
Because if you have never tasted pleasure before, if he is your first everything, how is he supposed to ever let you out of his sight?
He needs to corrupt you. He needs you begging for him to make you cum once you've grown addicted to it.
But first, he needs to show you how good it feels.
“Put your hands in my hair.” He commands and you listen, lacing your fingers through his curls. “Now listen carefully. Whenever I do something you like, you tug or I won't know, okay?”
“I don't want to hurt you.” You let out in a quiet little murmur that he finds so precious.
Because he wants to fuck you up even more now.
His sweet little innocent girl.
“That's not how you answer me.” He takes a bite out of your thigh as punishment, making you yelp from the sudden sting. “Do it right. Are you going to pull my hair when you feel good?
“Yes, sir.” You immediately tug when he dives back in, thrusting his tongue deep inside of you. You've never felt anything like this before. “Oh my—”
You can't breathe when his hand slides between your legs, his thumb swiping over your clit as his tongue ravishes your insides. You're pulling so hard on his hair, holding him there, the pleasure building so quickly that you're feeling like you're going to explode.
“Wait, wait, Titus, I'm going to—” You squirm when his fingers start playing with your clit, which is getting firmer from his touch, easier for him to rub methodically.
The tip of his tongue presses up against that spot right beneath your clit inside of you, teasing it back and forth, and your body gushes.
You bite down on your lip as hard as possible when your orgasm crashes through you, flooding every inch of your skin with an unfamiliar heat. It's like your core has been set ablaze, warmth pooling between your legs that Titus is lapping up with his tongue.
“Good job.” He praises you, seeing how hard you came for your first time. “You even squirted a little.”
“Sorry.” You feel so embarrassed.
“I hate it when you say sorry.” Titus leans back in, sealing his lips around your clit then starts sucking on it, pulling a scream from your lips at the sudden jolt of pleasure.
“Titus! Stop, I just came, you can't—” You cum again before you can get any more words out, your vision going blurry.
“Your clit is throbbing.” He flicks it with his tongue, your body convulsing in response. “That was your punishment for saying sorry. All I want to hear is “thank you for making me cum, sir”.”
He waits for you to say it. Your heart is pounding so hard in your ears right now that you're unsure if you heard him correctly.
But you say it perfectly, “thank you for making me cum, sir.”
“Good girl.” He pulls you towards him, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pokes your nose with his before telling you, “now we're going to go home and I'm going to do that again. Got it?”
“Yes, sir.” You nod. Then, you don't stop yourself from giving him a peck on the lips.
And Titus knows, in that moment, that he wants to see this look on your face everyday.
With that heat in your gaze that will only ever be for him.
The drive home is unbelievably uncomfortable because you're so wet between your legs and every bump in the road tortures your swollen clit. Not having any underwear on makes it way worse.
Then there's the traffic. So much traffic.
It's going to take forever to get home.
Titus glances over at you and he can't help the smile that forms when he sees you squirming. He really likes seeing you all hot and bothered.
That's why he decides to have a little more fun. So he turns to you and says, “hold up your skirt.”
“What?” You don't know if you heard him right.
“I said hold up your skirt. Do it now.”
“Titus…” You glance around.
You know the windows of the car are tinted but you both are stuck in bumper to bumper traffic right now. There's cars on all sides of you. Someone is bound to see your bare pussy if they happen to look in.
“I'll punish you with something worse if you don't listen.” He makes his threat and you swallow. You're unsure if you can handle another one of his punishments…
“Okay, okay.” You grab the hem of your dress with both hands and lift it past your hips.
“Have you ever touched yourself before?” He asks, his eyes darting between the highway and your pussy, one hand still on the wheel, the other hand unzipping his pants. His cock is going to burst out if he doesn't give it some relief soon.
You confess. “Not really. I've never really been interested in sex until…now.”
If Titus could pull over right here and fuck you, he would. You gulp when he turns to look at you, his gaze more intense than you've ever seen it.
“Why don't you try right now?” He pulls his cock out of his pants and you see it for the first time.
Technically, you have seen the outline of his cock many times before, since Titus likes to, on occasion, walk around in just his boxer briefs at the apartment. There was one day that you saw the tip of his cock peeking out but you tore your eyes away before they lingered too long.
Now, your eyes are locked on it, on the way his large hand barely wraps around it as he strokes it up and down. Your mind is going fuzzy at the thought that he's this hard because of you. That his cock is leaking pre-cum because of you. That he's touching himself to the sight of you touching yourself, your fingers teasing your clit like he had earlier.
“Dip your fingers inside of your pussy then rub your clit. It'll feel better.” He instructs.
You do as he says, gathering some of your slick onto the pads of your fingers and sliding back up to your clit. You let out a moan when you start to swirl those methodical circles like Titus had. It does feel much better.
“Thank you, sir.” You tell him and he groans in response, gripping his cock harder. His other hand is gripping the steering wheel so hard that you can see the whites of his knuckles.
“Cum with me.” He's getting close.
And he cums when you reply, “yes, sir.”
His release hits the dashboard and the steering wheel. He hasn't cum that hard in months. He could cum again from the sight of his leather seats slick with your release. He wishes he was between your legs instead of stuck in traffic right now.
You quickly open the glove box, pulling out the car wipes you keep in there, since you occasionally clean Titus's car as one of your work tasks. You quickly clean up for him.
Then, when you're done, you look down at his throbbing cock and Titus catches you licking your lips.
Before he can say anything, you ask him, “can I clean you up?”
“What if someone sees?” He says playfully, smirking.
You feel a rush of heat spread through you. You don't know what you would do if someone saw you with him in your mouth while he's driving. But you definitely want to do it.
“It's okay.” You decide you don't care because, “you wouldn't let them live if they saw.”
Titus lets out that sinister laugh of his, amused by your words. “I always knew you were a smart girl.”
You unbuckles your seatbelt and proceed to bend over until your face is right above his cock.
“Come closer.” He urges you to get on your knees on the seat, pulling your body closer to him. Then, you jolt when his hand slides down the length of your back, pulling up your dress until your ass is exposed. Then, he sinks two fingers into your pussy from this angle without warning.
“Wait, Titus—” Now, if anyone looks through the passenger side window, they have a clear view of him fingering you.
“It's okay.” He smiles mischievously. “I'll kill anyone who dares to look, remember? Just focus on cleaning me up.”
You turn your attention back to his cock, which is surprisingly still hard. You don't know what to do, especially when his fingers are thrusting inside of you, spreading you open in ways you didn't know possible. They're terribly distracting, pushing you closer and closer to your next orgasm.
You drag your tongue along the tip of his cock, licking up any leftover cum that's still leaking out. He rewards you by curling his fingers inside of you, making your hips buck.
“Put me in your mouth and I'll make you cum real hard.” He teases that spot inside of you, your body trembling in response.
You wrap your lips around the tip of his cock then sink down, letting him fill your mouth. You can't fit him all the way in. You barely make it halfway. But that's enough for him to reward you.
“Suck and lick me clean while you cum.” He then starts to move his fingers side to side rapidly, sending you into a frenzy from the sudden roughness.
You cum uncontrollably, drenching your legs as you suck his cock, your tongue swirling around while you do. You moan with your full mouth when Titus pops his fingers out of you. You pull off of him and help settle him back inside his pants.
“Come here and kiss me.” He gestures for you to kiss him, since he needs to focus on the road still.
You press a kiss against his lips then sit back down, buckling in again. Then you turn to look at him, watching him lick his wet fingers clean. That makes heat pool at core again.
“Did that feel good?” He has both hands on the wheel again, now that the bumper to bumper traffic has stopped.
“Yes, sir.” You say bashfully, your cheeks growing warm.
You've never felt anything like this before. But you want to do it again. The pleasure is incredible. The thrill is addictive.
But a strange pain pricks you inside.
You try to ignore it but it picks at you the entire rest of the ride home.
Titus is so eager to kiss you the moment the two of you are home alone but when he goes to do so, you do not seem to match his energy. You kiss him back, sure, but not with the passion he had hoped.
“What's wrong?” He cups your face with his hands, feeling how fast your pulse is.
“I don't know.” You can't quite put words to what's bothering you.
Maybe you're just overwhelmed. So much has happened. It's going to take a while to adjust to the new rhythm of things.
But you have a feeling that isn't what's lingering in your heart.
“Titus.” You say his name when your eyes meet his.
He likes the sound of his name from your lips, but not when you sound so sad. It makes him feel something in the pit of his stomach he'd like not to feel.
“Have you done that with anyone before?” You know then what is tainting your heart.
It is that ugly envy again. The fear that you are just another one of his playthings. Or worse, a hole for him to fuck and throw away.
At least before, you were like a companion. Like a glorified pet. You didn't mind that because you knew no one else had ever been that for him before.
This, whatever relationship you are in now, is something else entirely and you are afraid you've just fallen into a position that can be filled by anyone.
You yearn to feel special but you don't know if Titus wants to make you feel special.
You're about to learn the truth.
When he picks you up and carries you into his bedroom, tossing you onto his bed. His sheets smell like him. Like the expensive soap in his shower and the cologne he likes to wear. It makes your heart ache.
Like his words do, “do you think I'd do that for anyone?”
Your throat is so dry all of a sudden. Swallowing your saliva brings no relief. You're so choked up from the fear.
You just mumble out, “I don't know.”
“I have never waited to fuck anyone in my life.” He climbs over you, trapping you beneath him. “If you were just a hole to me, I would've sunk my cock into you on your first day.”
“Then what am I to you?” You ask even though you know he can't give you an answer.
How can he? Titus could never marry you. Not with the kind of fucked up family he has.
So, what are you to him?
“Does it matter?” He doesn't want to put a label on this.
“I don't know.” You don't like answering like that but it's the truth. You don't know if or why it matters to you.
“You're mine. I'm yours. Isn't that enough?” He owns you and you own him. Mutual destruction.
“What if…” You whisper the next part because the nerves make your stomach twist, “I get greedy?”
“How greedy?” Titus likes this. This sudden turn.
At first, he was worried you'd try to run from this again and shove him away. But right now, you are pulling him in and not wanting to let him go.
“Have you…ever had a baby with anyone?” You ask because you're unsure. He could have children out there he has no clue about.
The chuckle that leaks from his lips sends shivers down your spine. “Are you planning to baby trap me?”
“You asked me how greedy…so I told you.” You may not be able to be his in any kind of official capacity but being the mother of his only child would put you on a pedestal that you can never be removed from.
“I've never fucked anyone without protection.” He refuses to stick his cock into anyone raw. There's too much risk.
There's no risk with you, his beautiful virgin who has never had anyone but him touch you.
“Are you going to wear a condom with me?” His answer to this question will tell you everything you need to know.
“The moment I get to sink my cock into your pussy, it's going in raw.” He smiles at how your expression shifts from that worry to delight. “Would you like that?”
“Yes, sir.” You pull him in for a kiss, sealing your words. “I would like that very much.”
“How much longer are you going to make me wait?” He's already raring to go again right now, his cock aching to be buried inside of you.
It's your turn to chuckle, letting him hear that laugh that is like music to his ears. “I didn't realize Mister Almost Trillionaire can't keep it in his pants. You want to fuck me that bad?”
“Desperately.” He finally allows himself to admit out loud.
“I don't want it to hurt.” You heard the first time always hurts.
“It won't.” Titus will prepare you well.
“Then, whenever you want, we can.” You press a little kiss on his cheek. “Just not tonight.”
He huffs out an annoyed breath. “What the fuck? Such a tease.”
“I want to sleep with you tonight. Just sleep. Tomorrow, we can do whatever you want. But tonight, I want to just lay and cuddle. Is that okay, sir?” You bat your eyelashes at him and he lets out a laugh in response.
“You know just how to push me.” He picks you back up into his arms. “You're getting in the shower with me. We're going to cuddle naked.”
“I'm okay with that.” You nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck, breathing in his nice cologne. “As long as we get to cuddle. I've always wanted to cuddle.”
“Is that the greed spilling out?” He asks as he opens the door to his lavish bathroom.
“Can I be more greedy?” You rub your cheek against his shoulder like you used to once he sets you back on your feet. “Please, sir?”
“What do you want?” He should not let you influence him so easily but it's hard when you're acting so cute.
“A hug.” You open your arms, since you and Titus have never hugged before.
He doesn't even think he has ever hugged anyone. Not like actually. He doesn't like casual touching after all. You've never tried to hug him.
But you want to now.
Titus steps forward, wrapping his arms around you and you smile all giddy, rubbing your face against his chest as you squeeze him with your arms. His heart is racing in his chest. He didn't know it was possible to find someone so adorable before.
“Now pick me up.” You beam a big smile at him as you wrap your arms around his neck. “Come on, please!”
He glares at you. You are getting bold. But he listens, picking you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist. You giggle so beautifully, laying your head against his shoulder.
“I've always wanted to do this.” You pepper his neck with kisses before trailing up to his lips, giving him a little affectionate peck there. “Thank you, Titus.”
Oh, he's fucked. He's actually so fucked. Because he thought he would be the one fucking you up.
But here you are, being the brightest ball of sunshine he has ever experienced, melting his icy soul with a warmth he has never ever thought possible.
He might just fall in love with you…
Much to your surprise, Titus does not fuck you the next day. Actually, he doesn't even touch you, at least not sexually. He grabs a hold of your hand to tug you towards him for a hug. He kisses you. He cuddles you in bed or on the couch. But nothing more than that.
You don't ask why. You like these more intimate moments. But it's making it harder and harder not to fall in love with him.
You know it's silly, though, to think you could ever be his love. Everyone around Titus believes he's incapable of love.
Do you believe that?
You're…unsure about that.
If anything, you think he is very capable of love but he would never admit it. He would never tell anyone that he has all your favorite things memorized. He would never let anyone find out that he knows everything there is to know about you, like what makes you laugh or how much he loves your laugh.
Or how much he loves you.
He loves you.
He does.
He realizes that on the private jet ride to another resort, this time tucked away in the mountains, with a private hot spring in each of the luxury cabins.
You're going over the itinerary you put together, since you're very excited to go on a little vacation now that you and Titus are being more affectionate. Since it's in a more secluded place with little to no reception, he feels safe about just being himself. It's a resort meant for relaxation and restoration so no phone use allowed anyways.
And he knows he loves you because he's excited to spend quality time focused solely on you.
Because that must be what love is, right?
To want someone all the time, to want to be with them all the time.
“What are you most excited about, Titus?” You ask him once you finish reading off your list.
He can't really tell you that he's excited to fuck you every night this week until you're unable to walk so he just says, “it'll be nice to soak in the hot spring.”
You giggle, nodding in agreement. “Me too. I like that it's private so we can cuddle out in the open.”
Or fuck. He really needs to fuck you.
He can't wait any longer.
Titus hasn't touched you since that day. He doesn't really know why. He just figured he wanted to enjoy being affectionate with you for a bit. The kisses, the hugs, the cuddling, they all have been better than he thought. He never realizes it could be like this with someone. He feels so at ease around you. You make it easy to be himself.
You aren't afraid of his darker tendencies at all. You don't mind that he glares at the concierge for staring at you for a little too long. You aren't repulsed by his need to keep you close to him now that he is allowed to keep an arm around you at all times.
You quite enjoy being the object of his obsession. You have never felt so special before.
You wish this could last forever.
So, you have a little gift for Titus. One that took a lot of maneuvering to hide from him, since he hasn't let you out of his sight for very long these last few days.
You aren't sure when you want to give it to him but when the two of you step into the beautiful hotel room, you decide the sooner the better. You want to see him wear it right away.
“Titus, I have something for you.” You open your suitcase and pull out a flat velvet box you had been hiding from him.
He stares at it, not knowing how the hell you managed to buy something without him knowing. You are a sneaky girl, aren't you?
“What the fuck? Who did you bribe to buy that for you?” That must've been it.
“I'm not telling!” You knew he'd think that. “Just open it!”
You hand him the box and he scoffs. He can't believe you got him a gift. He should've gotten you something. He definitely will now. He can't have you get the last laugh.
But he hears your beautiful giggle when he opens it and shock colors his features.
Inside the box is a necklace delicately woven with thick black thread. In the center is a cute note attached that says: to the threads that bind us ♡
Then, you show him the matching necklace you're wearing around your neck.
And he has never kissed you so quickly before.
You smile against his lips, saying in between kisses, “I assume you like it.”
“Did you make this?” You must've. That's the only way you could've snuck it by him.
You nod. “It's a super high quality thread, waterproof, last longing, the works. You saw me order it. You probably thought it was just for my sewing stuff.”
Titus definitely remembers you ordering it but he assumed it was just a restock of whatever threads you already had. He had no clue you were making something in secret.
“Sneaky.” He chuckles, and he finds it strange how authentic it is.
He hasn't laughed like that in a long time. Without fear of being seen as weak. It's a real, deep from the soul kind of laugh. One of happiness.
Maybe that's why the words leave his lips, “I love you.”
Because maybe, deep down, he wants to sabotage this. He wants you to rip out his heart and stomp on it so that he can never trust anyone ever again enough to show weakness. Because that would make him a Danforth.
But you blink back tears of joy and say to him, “I love you too, Titus.”
And in that moment, he realizes he isn't a Danforth.
He's just Titus.
And Titus is in love with you.
“I want to marry you.” His words catch you by surprise.
“What?” You never thought he'd ever say that. “Your father would…”
“I know.” He knows it's not possible, but not for the reasons you think.
Titus loves you too much to subject you to the trials of what it means to become a part of his family. The dirty, dark, fucked up secret he's keeping. The one he will tell you about one day, but not today.
Today, he wants to tell you, “I just wanted you to know that I want to. And I hope that's enough.”
You smile that lovely smile that has his heart racing. “More than enough. I want to marry you too.”
You untie the necklace and Titus holds still while you secure the knot around his neck. The two of you may never wear rings, but you will always be bound together.
“Now, can I please fuck you?” Titus cannot hold back anymore.
You giggle and then playfully say, “what would you do if I said no?”
“I might just pin you down and take you anyways.” It's a real threat because he is done with waiting.
“Can you wait just a little longer?” You bat your eyelashes at him, making him groan. “Just until we've unpacked and soaked in the hot spring once. Then, I'm all yours. But I know if we dive right in, we're not leaving that bed and I'd like to enjoy the amenities a bit before the love of my life fucks me silly.”
“The love of your life.” Titus grabs you and kisses you right then and there, the hunger in his kisses very apparent. “How the fuck do you expect me to keep it together?”
“I don't know, sir.” You giggle, brushing your nose against his cutely. “I guess you just have to figure it out.”
He growls, low, angry, menacingly. “You're on thin ice, love.”
“I can't wait to fall in then.” You say with a big smile before pulling him in for another kiss that he instantly melts into.
Titus hates that you take your sweet ass time unpacking. He knows you're doing it on purpose too. Like you're just sitting there, sorting your toiletries. You've never done that before.
He knows you're just doing it to stall because you like riling him up. You will grow to regret testing him like this.
But he is patient. He is waiting so patiently because he knows the moment you're in bed with him, his cock is not leaving your pussy for the next week.
Maybe the next month.
Maybe the next year.
He could reserve this place for that long if he wanted to.
Maybe he will. Why not?
He's one of the richest men in the world.
He can spend his money however he wants.
“Are you coming in or not?” You call out to Titus, who is obviously lost in his own thoughts. You know you've teased him to the breaking point now.
Which is why you pull off all your clothes while he's watching before getting into the hot spring.
Titus practically rips his clothes off to join you and you laugh so hard when he grabs you and pulls you onto his lap the moment he gets into the water. He is desperate to touch your skin to his skin like this, his cock throbbing against your lower stomach.
“I could fuck you right now.” He whispers into your ear before nipping at your earlobe. “You're making it very difficult not to.”
“You promised me you would make sure it wouldn't hurt.” You don't want him to rush this.
“It won't hurt.” He's going to make you cum plenty before his cock does.
You hug him and then say into the crook of his neck, “I am a little scared…”
And, for some reason, Titus holds onto you a little tighter when you say that.
“What are you scared of?” He starts rubbing small circles on your back, trying to comfort you.
He has never comforted someone before. But he wants to for you.
“You might be too big.” You feel a little flustered saying that out loud. “Like, are you really going to fit?”
He groans then slaps your ass, making you shriek. “You scared the fuck out of me! That's what you're worried about?”
“It's a valid worry.” You squint at him. “Have you ever taken a cock that big?”
“I never take it.” He says with a smirk and you chuckle then smack his chest.
“See! You don't get it. It's intimidating…” You glance downwards, highly aware of how deep his cock would go inside of you when it does.
“It will be fine.” He leans in, kissing you on the cheek. “I promise, love.”
“I trust you, sir.” You lay your head back on his shoulder.
“You'll end up enjoying how big I am.” He'll get you to crave being filled up with his cock.
“I hope so.” Your words make his cock twitch. “It felt really good to cum. I bet it'll be even better to cum together.”
“You're killing me.” He grunts against your skin, digging his teeth into your shoulder because he needs some kind of relief. “I want to fuck you so badly.”
“Hopefully it's worth the wait.” You are a tad bit worried about being boring in bed. You're sure Titus has preferences you can't quite live up to yet.
“You are worth the wait.” Titus pulls you in closer, kissing you softly. It's the softest kiss he has ever done. So gentle, so sweet. “I don't want to be anywhere but right here with you.”
“Who knew you were such a romantic?” You giggle, hugging him tighter. “I love you so much, Titus.”
Now, he is officially done waiting.
Titus lifts you up by your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist as he hauls the two of you out of the hot spring and back inside. He doesn't care how dripping wet he is.
He just needs you sprawled out on the bed in front of him as soon as possible.
He drops you onto the bed, climbing on top of you. You look up at him, and he knows that look in your eye is full of love.
“You have no fucking clue how much I've wanted you under me like this.” Titus stares down at your naked body beneath him, reveling in the sight of how shy and flustered you are. “You're so pretty.”
“Have you always been a flirt?” You giggle and he starts plastering your body with kisses, trying to draw more of that lovely sound from you. “That tickles!”
“Have you always been this cute?” His words warm your heart so much.
“I love you like this.” You tell him, seeing how relaxed he looks, the tension gone from his features. You brush your fingertips along his jaw until you cup his face. “Can we stay like this forever?”
Titus nods, pressing a kiss into your palm to seal his promise. Then, he starts to kiss down the length of your arm, until he reaches your shoulder. From there, he trails lower, to your chest. You bite back a sound when he drags his tongue over each of your nipples, which have perked up already.
“I've been waiting to do that and this.” He says before he takes one of them between his teeth, nibbling just enough to send shivers all over you. “Feel good?”
You nod. “Yes, sir.”
“It'll feel better with my fingers inside of you.” He nudges you to lay on your side, facing him. He spreads your legs, his hand slipping between them, groaning when he feels how wet you are for him already. “Is this for me?”
“Only for you, sir.” You wrap your arms around his neck, lacing your fingers into his hair, tugging it when he slowly thrusts a finger inside of you. That encourages him to add another, spreading you wide, helping you adjust to the size.
He latches back onto your breasts, playing with your sensitive nipples, swirling around the hard peaks as his fingers curl inside of you, looking for just the right spot to thrust against. You tug his hair when he finds it and moan when he starts to tease it, making you grind your hips against his hand.
“You better do that on my cock.” Titus is barely keeping it together. He wants to be inside of you already. But he promised he wouldn't let it hurt.
So, he needs to make you cum a few times.
You're getting close to your first orgasm already, the dual stimulation inching you closer and closer. Then, when Titus starts to palm your clit, you let go completely, letting the first wave of pleasure take over you.
He keeps his fingers buried inside of you, but starts to kiss down the length of your body. You know what's about to happen next, your hands still in his hair, ready to tug when his lips seal over your clit.
The burst of pleasure distracts you from him adding in another finger, the pressure building inside of you. You're clamping down on his fingers so hard. He wishes it was his cock instead. But he needs you to loosen up a bit more. You won't be able to take him if you're this tight.
“Relax, love.” His hand rests on your lower stomach, rubbing it gently. “You can take it. Just breathe. Focus on your clit.”
Easy for him to say. He isn't the one being pried open. But you close your eyes, tuning your attention to the softness of his tongue and the warmth of his hand on your skin. He eases his fingers deeper inside of you, until he's brushing up against a spot so deep, you start to squirm, tugging at his hair.
“Right here?” He curls his fingers and you squirt in response, finally loosening up, gasping for air.
That was more intense than the last orgasm. And Titus is tempted to tease you more, to thrust his fingers relentlessly right there, to see you convulsing and screaming. But then he sees that adorably flustered look on your face. He wants to enjoy that a little bit longer.
“Now imagine the tip of my cock grinding right here.” He pushes against that spot again, making your lower body shake so much that he has to hold you still with his other hand pinning you down by your stomach. “You'll be cumming like crazy.”
“I don't know if I can handle that.” You feel like you could pass out right now.
“You can. You will. Just enjoy it.” Titus starts to thrust his fingers in and out at a slow pace, letting you get used to the motion.
It feels better than you thought it would, the friction growing more and more intoxicating. You're going to burst at the seams again the moment he curls his fingers. He knows you will.
So, he doesn't. And you don't know how to react to the edging. You've never experienced it before, to be taken so close to the edge but then not all the way. He slows before you can cum then once you've rested enough, picks back up until you're close again.
“Titus, please.” You want to cum, your hips desperately grinding against his fingers but he won't let you.
“Ask properly.” He finally lets out that sadistic smile he has been dying to let free.
He loves seeing you like this. Your skin hot, your breaths heavy, your pussy aching to cum.
“Please make me cum, sir.” You plead exactly the way you figure he'd want you to.
And Titus rewards you well.
Maybe a little too well.
You're screaming his name when his fingers starts to fuck you without any care for how hard you're cumming on them. You try to pull away from him, to run from the sudden onslaught of pleasure but he's holding you steady, not letting you go.
Instead, Titus leans down, his lips sealing over your clit again, and when he lightly sucks on it, you're seeing stars in your vision, the orgasms compounding exponentially.
You don't know if you ever stop cumming. You definitely have soaked the sheets, along with his face. He licks it up happily, like it's his reward for making you cum so much.
You feel a little empty when he pulls his fingers out of you. You feel even more empty when he gets up from bed.
“Where are you going?” You try not to sound too sad but you can't control it.
“Just grabbing some water.” He cracks open one of the water bottles the place provides and brings it back to you, climbing back into bed. “I wasn't going to leave you.”
You didn't think he was but it definitely feels strange, coming down from the high of an orgasm. It's like it sinks all your other feelings down too.
“Come here, love.” He sits up in bed, patting his lap.
You straddle his lap, taking the water bottle he hands you and sipping it. You definitely needed to quench your thirst. Titus wraps his arms around you, pulling you right up against his chest.
Then, he goes, “help me with the water. My hands are full.”
You chuckle, finding this a little silly but you lift the water bottle to his lips and help him drink. You set the empty bottle aside so you can wrap your arms around his neck, laying your head against his chest, just hugging him for a bit.
He rubs your back, trying to soothe any worries you may have had. Thoughts you shouldn't be having cross your mind and he catches the light sigh you breathe into his skin.
“We don't have to have sex tonight.” Titus might actually fucking die if he has to wait any longer but he doesn't want you to be scared.
He wants you to fully enjoy it with him.
But can you, when you keep thinking about…
“Does it bother you that I'm inexperienced?” A part of you is afraid that taking things so slow is a burden. It is, but that's not because of you. That's only because Titus wants to fuck you so badly that taking things slow is killing him.
But he's okay with the slow death.
Because he knows the pay off will be well worth it. “I like that you are.”
“Really?” You don't think Titus would lie to you. At least not right now.
“I like knowing that I'm going to be the only person who ever gets to touch you.” You truly are his in that sense.
“I wish I could say the same about you.” You feel selfish saying that, but you let it out anyways. “I feel strange when I think about you touching other people like you have to me.”
“I haven't touched them like I have with you.” That's the truth.
“What do you mean?” You can't imagine that's right.
“Do you really think I'd go down on just anyone?”
“Well…yeah…”
He glares at you. “And here I thought you didn't judge me.”
“I'm not judging you! I just figured you must like doing it since you're so good at it.” He had to learn from somewhere, right?
“You think I'm good at it?” He pulls you in closer. “Did I make you feel good?”
“Obviously.” You are not going to stroke his ego any more than this. “That's why I feel like…if you made someone else feel like that too, I…”
“If they came on my cock, then they came on my cock. I wasn't fucking them to make them cum. I was fucking them to make myself cum.” Which is fucked up to say out loud but Titus is fucked up and you know that so there's no point in pretending he isn't. “But with you, I want to make you cum. A lot. Especially with my cock.”
“So, that was all for me? You've never done that with anyone else before?” You hate asking but you want the confirmation.
“You're the only one I've ever wanted to touch. You're the only one I've held naked.”
“What?” That surprises you.
“I despise being touched, especially skin on skin.” His words seem a bit ridiculous considering the fact that you're naked, pressed up against him right now while he's completely naked too. “But I like touching you. Only you, love.”
“Is it bad that I like that?” You want things that are for you and you only.
“Is it bad that I really wanted to make you beg to cum?” He refers to earlier.
“Yes.” You take a bite out of his neck as punishment for that. “That was mean.”
“You liked it.” He smirks, pulling you in for a kiss.
You smile against his lips. You can't help it. You love kissing Titus so you deepen the kiss, your tongue tangling with his, enjoying his lips on yours for a bit longer.
He lays you onto your back, never breaking the kiss as he settles himself between your legs. You can feel his cock throbbing against your stomach.
“We don't have to.” He breathes out onto your lips. “If you're scared.”
You look down, contemplating how daunting the thought of fitting him inside of you will ultimately be. But you want to have sex with him. You want to feel that close with him.
But you need him to promise first. “The moment you fuck me, you aren't allowed to fuck anyone else ever again. I'll kill you if you do.”
“My sunshine has a dark side.” He likes this version of you. The possessive you.
“You're a bad influence.” You say with a big smile.
“Definitely.” He nods firmly. “Because if you even think about fucking anyone else, you're never leaving my bed.”
“I like being in your bed.” You confess. These last few days sleeping beside him have been so wonderful. “Can I stay there forever anyways?”
“You don't have to ask. You're obligated to because there won't be a day that goes by where I'm not going to be fucking you.” Titus has waited long enough.
From this moment forward, your pussy will keep his cock warm forever.
And you can't wait anymore either. “Then I'm ready.”
You expect to feel Titus's cock but he slips three fingers back inside of you, just to make sure. You wriggle a bit when he thrusts them in deep again and before you can say another word about how he's curling them, his lips press against yours.
You've never cum while kissing him before, the rush making you all lightheaded from the breathlessness. His fingers don't stop moving, fucking you through your orgasm, making another one build all too quickly. But he pulls out before you can cum again.
And this time, he lines up his cock, the tip of it pushing against your entrance.
“Now you're ready.” He says with a smile against your lips. “Deep breath for me, love.”
You listen, taking in a deep breath as he sinks the tip of his cock inside of you. Titus lays his forehead against yours, groaning at the feeling of how warm and wet you are wrapped up around him. He isn't even fully inside of you yet but he knows there's nowhere else he wants to be from now on.
You were expecting some pain but it's mostly that pressure that Titus has familiarized you with using his fingers. He helps keep your mind off the increasing pressure with his lips on yours and his hands cupping your breasts, his thumbs rolling over your nipples as he sinks another inch of himself inside of you. You tug at his hair, wanting him to keep going, basking in the grin he gives you in response.
He's about halfway seated inside of you when he pulls off your lips to say, “I'm going to start moving now. You know what to do if something feels good.”
“Yes, sir.” You nudge him playfully with your nose and he nips at it with his teeth, his cock throbbing inside of you at your words. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Titus is so madly in love with you.
Because that's the only reason he's going so slow. If he had his way, he'd be pounding into you, forcing your pussy to take him instead of easing it into things. One day, he'll have his fun.
But today, he'll make love. He has always, secretly, wanted to fall in love. Maybe that's why when the opportunity presented itself, it wasn't difficult for him to dive right into you.
You're everything he isn't. The light in his darkness.
The love of his life, looking so beautiful as he slowly starts to move, finding a rhythm that adds a bit more of himself inside of you with each thrust. You tug at his hair when the tip of his cock teases the swallower spot closer to your entrance, so he makes sure to spend some time there before thrusting as far in as he can go.
“I'm going to cum if you keep doing that.” Your words don't dissuade him.
Actually, it encourages him to pull his cock completely out of you, the sudden pop pushing you over the edge, your orgasm overwhelming you instantly. He likes the sight of your body shivering all over from the pleasure. He likes it even better knowing it's because of his cock.
He goes to sink back in but you shake your head, saying, “wait, wait, I need a second.”
“No, you don't.” He knows you're just afraid to cum again so soon.
You are, because you cum the moment he thrusts back inside and then pulls completely out again, wetness pooling between your legs. That makes it much easier for Titus to slide back inside all the way, filling you deeper than he has before.
“I'm right here.” He presses down against your lower stomach, kneading where your womb is, the tip of his cock pushing right up against it. “How does it feel?”
“Too good.” You admit, feeling so shy at how easily he's making you unravel. “I'm going to cum again if you move.”
“You're very sensitive.” He's happy you are. He's going to drown you in pleasure.
“It's because of you, sir.” You pull him down to kiss you then you place a kiss against his cheek with such much affection. “Thank you for waiting for me.”
“You're going to make me cum if you keep acting so cute, love.” He peppers your face with lovely kisses, making you giggle.
“Cum with me?” You really want him to.
“Always.” He wants to cum feeling you clenching tightly around him from your orgasm.
So, he slides his hands down, grabbing a hold of your hips, and then starts to finally fuck you. You're not expecting to feel so much but his cock is rubbing up against every inch of your pussy with every stroke. It's going to be hard to hold your orgasm.
He feels the same. Now that he's wrapped so perfectly inside of you, he's getting close. He'll have to pace himself better next time.
But for right now, he is content to cum if it means you will too.
Your whole body tenses when he starts thrusting into you a bit faster, the sound of him slamming his cock inside of you filling the air. You tug him down so you can crash your lips against his, wanting to be kissing him when you both cum. His tongue slips inside your mouth, stealing your breath away, making you dizzy from how good everything feels all together.
You cum the moment warmth spills inside of you, unfamiliar but so very nice. Because you know Titus has never done this before.
And he desperately wants to do it again.
“Can I flip you over?” He asks, his cock still hard and throbbing inside of you.
“Don't you need a break?” You figured at his age, also being a man, don't they need time between?
“I need this. I need you. Please, love.” He just wants to pound you into the next oblivion.
You nod, letting him slip out of you before you flip over, getting on your hands and knees. Titus kisses a line down your spine, the sight of you like this better than when he would fantasize about it.
“My beautiful love.” He groans seeing the sight of your swollen pussy from him fucking you. “I'm going to fuck you up now. I'm not stopping, no matter what.”
Your toes curl at the thrill that sparks through you. “Go ahead, sir. I'm all yours.”
He growls, unable to keep the animalistic side of him any longer. “You are all mine. The very object of my obsession. I'm going to enjoy this.”
Your eyes roll into the back of your head when he thrusts into you from this angle, fitting so much more of himself than before. You're cumming already, your legs growing weak from the shivers. He smacks your ass, adding to the shakes.
“You won't last long if you cum that easily.” He makes it very difficult not to cum, though.
Titus doesn't ease you in this time. He pulls completely out of you then rams the entire length of his cock deep inside of you. Over and over, until you're squirting on his cock with every forceful thrust. You're digging your nails into the sheets, leaning your upper body down against the soft pillows to cushion how hard he's fucking you all of a sudden.
“Titus, it's too much, I can't—” He answers your pleads by sliding his hand between your legs and rubbing your clit with the same intensity as he's fucking you, pulling gasp after gasp from your lips.
You're going to pass out from the orgasms, your mind going hazing from the constant release.
“You're going to kill me.” You can't possibly keep cumming like this. You'll lose your mind if you do. “You need to stop—”
“It's okay, love. You can take it.” He feels you drench his fingertips when he says that, still abusing your clit. “Just let it happen. Cum your brains out.”
You opt then to just bite the pillow beneath you, muffling your screams as he pounds into you ruthlessly, his fingers rubbing your swollen clit raw. The pleasure is endless, sweeping over you in intense waves.
There's nothing in your mind except for Titus. He's consumed you completely. You call out his name as you cum again and again.
This is everything he has been dreaming about. You, lost in the euphoria, giving into him. You'll never leave him now that you've had a taste of what he can do for you.
“I love you.” He loops on repeat as his thrusts get quicker, his orgasm inching closer.
Your words in response are completely incoherent, just cute little mumbles. You're so far gone, which pulls the most evil laugh out of Titus.
You're an absolute mess by the time he finally cums inside of you, your body unable to hold yourself up anymore. He pulls out of you, letting you collapse onto your side and then he plops down behind you, wrapping his arms around you, spooning you. He places warm kisses along your shoulder blades, rubbing your lower belly as you come down from your intense high. You moan a little when his fingers press in, making you well aware of how full you are inside.
“Maybe we should get you some birth control.” He says, nipping at your earlobe. “I want to enjoy fucking you a bit longer before I put a baby inside of you.”
“I have the arm implant.” Your words make him still.
“What?”
You chuckle, flipping over to look at him, “you didn't think I'd let you fuck me that raw the first time, did you?”
“You sneaky little girl.” He takes a bite out of your neck in protest, marking you quite obviously. “How dare you hide that from me.”
“I didn't hide it. I just…omitted the truth?” You smirk, showing him that you aren't just a bundle of sunshine.
You trapped him just as much as he trapped you.
Truly his equal, in every way.
“You know I'm going to have to punish you for that, love.” He will have to think up something good. Maybe tying you down and edging you until you're crying and begging to be fucked.
“I look forward to it, sir.” You say with a big smile before pulling him in for a kiss. Then, you breathe out with all the warmth in your afterglow, “I love you, Titus.”
“You're lucky I love you, or I would be very fucking pissed right now.” He can't believe you hid that from him.
“Mmm, maybe I like you angry.” You nuzzle his nose with yours. “You're never angry with me. It's a nice change of pace.”
He glares at you. “You might be the only person in the world who wants to piss me off.”
“And you love it!” You wrap your arms around him, hugging him.
“Yes. I do love it.” He lets out a sigh of defeat, smiling as he hugs you back, loving that the two of you can cuddle like this.
He has truly met his match.
Because you're as obsessed with him as he is with you.
A/N: Are y’all impressed at my willpower? I wanted to challenge myself and not have them fuck right away and oh my goodness was that a challenge! I love writing smut so much (so of course I had to still add lots of naughty smut haha) but I was craving a lovey dovey, cutesy, fucked up slow burn after my last fic so I hope you all enjoyed this read! ♡
Pairing: Jack Abbot, Andrew “Pope” Cody, Titus Danforth x Reader (bc why the hell not!)
Summary: Your soon-to-be husband Jack has a secret. His family is…not normal. You had no idea how abnormal it really was, until you met his siblings. He never told you he was one of three triplets. Maybe because he didn't learn about his brothers until recently. Had he known the deal with the devil his bloodline had made, he would've never asked you to marry him.
Because now, you have to play a game. And if you don't win, he and his brothers will die too…
Word Count: 22.6k
A/N: The one where everyone tries to kill you. How fun!
I just finished Ready or Not 2 and you couldn't have expected me not to do something with that learned knowledge! So, welcome to quite the hefty crossover!
You don't have to have watched any of the canon content to read this. I explain everything that is relevant pretty well (hopefully lol) so you should be able to go into this just enjoying the ride. There will be characters from Animal Kingdom and Ready or Not 2 participating in the game but no one from The Pitt since Jack currently has no canonical family members.
This satisfies such an itch for me because I have been wanting to write a dark smutty thriller so apologies in advance for the fun I'm going to have writing this.
I will warn, there is a rape/non-con warning. So please be mindful if that triggers you!
For a full list of warnings, please check the fic on my AO3. I do not recommend going into this one blind (but you're an adult so that's on you bestie!)
Oh, and as much as this has plot, there is, of course, tons of porn! Hope you all find it an absolutely sick read! ♡
Jack Abbot has been dreading the drive to Danforth Resort and Casino since the moment his brother, Titus Danforth, offered to host his wedding there. All expenses paid for by the Danforth family, of course.
One of the wealthiest families on the planet…that Jack happens to be a part of.
He knew he shouldn't have agreed but after he had confided in you that an ancestry test he did revealed he has two brothers, who look identical to him, you urged him to reach out. He did and they have all been talking ever since.
“Cheer up, babe.” You nudge Jack playfully as you two pull up to where you'll be staying at the Danforth residence. “It'll be nice to be surrounded by family. I know I wish mine could've been here to see us get married.”
All of your family members live overseas, since your father is deployed. That's how you and Jack met. His father knew him from his time in the military and one thing led to another and you two hit it off.
Thankfully, Jack is an incredible man with a successful career in medicine or your father would've been a bit more iffy about letting you marry someone twice your age.
“I'm unsure if I can consider them family just yet.” The only family Jack has ever known is his foster parents, Mr and Mrs. Abbot, who ended up adopting him when he was a baby. He's sad they passed a few years ago. He would've loved for them to have met you.
“Well, they'll be our family soon.” You take his hand, squeezing it. “I can't wait to be part of your family. I love you.”
Jack looks at you with so much affection. “I love you too.”
He leans in for a kiss. You smile against his lips, pulling him towards you to kiss him back.
Then, there's a knock on your window, which makes you pull away. You nearly jump when you see Jack outside. But…it isn't Jack.
It's one of his brothers.
You have no clue which one, though. They look exactly the same. It would be creepy if Jack wasn't so handsome.
You assume this must be Titus since he's dressed in designer clothes from head to toe. He opens the door for you.
“Come on, lovebirds. You two can kiss at the altar.” Titus puts his hand out and you take it, letting him help you up. You pretend not to notice how his hand holds onto yours rather tightly before you have to pull away.
Jack hands his car keys to the valet and someone comes out to help take your bags into the estate. You have never stayed at such an extravagant place with staff all around.
Apparently the whole resort is booked out for your wedding. You find that so sweet.
The Danforths didn't want anyone else but immediate family on the premises, which is why you couldn't invite any friends to your wedding. You didn't mind. It makes you feel like part of the family already.
Jack takes a hold of your hand as the two of you follow behind Titus into the mansion. You can't take your eyes off all the eclectic artworks. They all…seem kind of eerie.
The color palette is dull and lifeless but with pops of harsh reds, which seems to be on purpose. Purposefully bloody. You wonder why.
“This is where you'll be staying.” Titus takes the two of you up the grand staircase and into a private suite. “I hope you feel right at home.”
He gives you a smile that you can only really describe as a half smirk. His eyes linger on you and you feel your cheeks warm up from the way he's looking at you so directly.
You breathe out a sigh of relief when he shuts the door behind him. Jack catches that. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” You touch your cheek with the back of your hand, feeling how hot your skin is all of a sudden. “Just a little surprised how much he looks like you.”
“That's how I felt when we first met.” Jack remembers how his brother flew out the next day to meet him when they first got in contact. Private jet then a helicopter directly on the landing pad at his work to pick up Jack after his night shift.
Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center got a huge anonymous donation that very same day. Jack told Titus to keep it anonymous. He didn't want people at work to associate him with the Danforths.
It's going to be impossible not to once people at work see the photos of the wedding but Jack will wait until then to tell people he suddenly came into a lot of wealth.
His biological father, Chester Danforth, welcomed Jack with open arms, given how good of a background he has as both a doctor and a decorated war veteran. He believes Jack will make a great Danforth.
The same could not be said for his other brother, Andrew Cody, who his mother Smurf and his half-brothers call Pope. Pope was raised to hate his biological father from all the stories Smurf told him about him growing up. About how his father made her give up his brothers because he didn't want so many children. He already had Julia and Ursula, twin girls who were a year older than the triplets. He could not handle a house with five children, so he picked Titus to keep as his male heir and had Smurf get rid of the other two. She gave up Jack for adoption but she kept Pope and took him away to the west coast, leaving Chester to raise three children on his own. It was punishment for what he made her do.
They've been separated since, only seeing each other occasionally for holidays with the children until Smurf got sick of it.
Chester couldn't risk divorce or he'd lose half his assets. Smurf couldn't risk divorce or she would lose access to her kids.
This is the first time they'll be in the same place in years.
“Janine.” Chester says when she steps into the parlor with Pope and his half brothers, Deran and Craig, in tow. “How are you?”
She gives him a curt smile then says, “where's my grandson?”
She shifts her eyes over and spots Josh, who everyone calls J. He comes up to her and gives her a hug. She hasn't seen J since he was a little kid. That was the last time she saw her girls too.
Julia and Ursula come up to their mother and give her a hug. From your perspective, it seems a bit strained. You try not to judge. Every family is complicated in its own way.
“And who might you be?” Smurf comes up to you and Jack, giving you a once over with her striking eyes. “You must my baby Jack's soon to be wife.”
Jack introduces you to her and then says, “it's nice to finally meet you, Smurf.”
“You have to say hello to your brothers.” She gestures for them to come over to you two. “I heard you've only met your father's side of the family. Now you get to meet the Codys.”
Jack shakes each of their hands, which makes Deran and Craig give each other a look that screams who the hell is this guy. They look completely out of place here, that casual California surfer look contrasting so much with the high class wealth vibe of the Danforths.
Pope has his eyes on you the whole time they're introducing themselves. He only knew you existed. He never knew how beautiful you'd be, standing next to a man who looks just like him. It's like he's inserting himself in Jack's position, imagining what it would be like to have you by his side like that.
“Andrew.” He puts his hand out in front of you. You shake it and he loves how warm your hand feels in his.
“It's nice to meet you, Andrew.” You notice, again, like Titus, Pope doesn't let go of your hand.
Actually, he slides his hand a little further up, grazing your wrist, noticing your quickening pulse. You have to tug it away, startled at how he touched you so casually.
“You can call him Pope.” Another man enters the room with a woman and a small child.
“Baz! I didn't think you were going to make it.” Smurf opens her arms for a big hug.
There must be tension between her and presumably Baz's wife because she doesn't hug Smurf. She goes right up to you and says, “I'm Catherine. This is my daughter, Lena.”
“Nice to meet you.” You say to her and Lena, introducing yourself. “I like that name, Lena.”
Lena smiles at you and tells you, “you're very pretty. You're my Uncle Jack's wife, right?”
“Soon to be wife, if everything goes well.” Pope answers for you, his words giving you goosebumps for some reason.
Jack doesn't like that Pope said that but he can't say anything when he's wrapped up in meeting Baz, who Smurf adopted when he was a teenager, effectively making him also his brother. Just not by blood.
“You didn't have to be here.” Smurf whispers to Baz. You can barely hear them, since you don't have the best hearing. “It's not your bloodline.”
“You are my family. I'll make the pact.” Baz whispers back, rubbing her shoulder affectionately. “Catherine and Lena will too.”
You're unsure if you heard him right. The pact. You don't know what he could be referring to. You ignore the sense of foreboding and focus back on Jack, who has slipped his hand into yours, squeezing it for comfort.
“Your fathers will be here soon.” Smurf tells Deran and Craig. “Then we can really have a reunion.”
They arrive almost immediately after she says that. Billy goes to hug his son, Deran, and Jake nods at his son, Craig.
Now, there's a full household.
You all have dinner at a ridiculously long table. You've never eaten so many courses before. You're stuffed by the end of it.
You joke to the table that his family must be fattening you up to slaughter you. Smurf laughs at that. Catherine gives Baz a concerned look. Everyone else stays quiet.
Jack doesn't like the energy in the room so he excuses the two of you from dessert. You go back to the room to rest up, since the wedding tomorrow will likely drain you of all your energy. You'll need your sleep.
But first, you want to touch your future husband.
You pull Jack against you, kissing him, moving him with you into the large bathroom. There's a tub. You love a good tub.
“Will you fuck me one more time before you become my husband?” You ask him, nipping at his bottom lip. “Please.”
“Just once?” He smirks, grabbing onto the hem of your shirt.
“Don't tease me with a good time.” You let him lift off your shirt and he lets you do the same to him. You love seeing his bare chest, with all his lovely freckles. “You are the most handsome man I've ever laid eyes on.”
“Does that mean you think the same of my brothers?” He teases and you scoff.
“You are the best looking of them.” Even though they do all look very similar. “And I bet you have the biggest cock too.”
Jack groans, rolling his eyes at you. “You're really thinking about what size their cocks are?”
“Can you blame a girl for being curious? I've never met triplets before.” You chuckle.
“Well stop thinking about theirs and start focusing on mine.” He unbuckles his belt and you lick your lips, already dropping to your knees in anticipation. “Someone's eager.”
“You know how much I love putting you in my mouth.” You pull his pants completely off and Jack steps out of them, letting you bask in how great he looks naked. “I can't believe I get to marry you.”
“I can't believe I get to marry you.” He says before you drag your tongue along the length of his shaft. “You're fucking incredible.”
You hum happily when your mouth closes around him, his hand slipping into your hair in response, pushing himself deeper down your throat. You can't help yourself so you slip off your pants so you're completely bare too and start touching yourself as you suck on his cock, wanting to be ready to take him once he's close.
Jack loves the sounds that fill the bathroom, echoing off the walls. You enjoy the noises he makes when you swirl your tongue around the tip of his cock just the way he likes it.
“Get over here.” He pulls you off of him by your hair, gesturing to the tub. “Hold on tight and wait here for me. I'll get a condom.”
“You don't have to.” You grab onto the edge of the porcelain tub with one hand, spreading yourself wide open with your other. “You can fuck me raw. I'm going to be your wife soon, after all.”
You saying that has Jack on his knees in an instant. He grips your thighs so he has the leverage to drag his tongue up and down your folds, tasting how wet you are for him.
“You're going to let me fuck your perfect pussy raw? Are you sure?” He makes it hard not to be sure when his lips close around your clit and he starts playing with it in his mouth, sucking and licking it until you're desperate for something inside of you.
“Yes.” You want him so badly. You and Jack have talked about having children but you both wanted to wait until after you were married to start trying.
There's no reason to wait now. He'll be your husband very soon.
His tongue dips inside of you, flicking against that spot that has you shivering, before he says, “I need you to say it, babe. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to fuck me, Jack.” You're gripping the tub so hard in anticipation, your knuckles showing through your skin. “I want to have a baby with you. I love you.”
Jack gets up from the floor, running his hands up along your back before placing kisses up your spine. You giggle at how ticklish it feels then you gasp when his cock rubs up between your thighs.
“I love you so much.” He says and you can hear the smile in his voice. “I can't wait for you to be my wife.”
You let out a lovely sigh when he finally sinks his cock inside of you. You've never felt him raw like this before. It's incredibly hot, how vividly you can feel him. It feels even better when he wraps his arm around your middle, holding you steady as he starts rolling his hips.
“Can we fuck on the floor?” You ask him, touching his arm, liking the feel of his tensed muscles. “I want to look at you.”
Jack pulls out of you and then helps you lay down on the plush bath rug in front of the tub. You wrap your arms around his neck, smiling up at him.
“I can't wait to marry you and do this everyday.” You tell him, sliding your hand between the two of you so you can line him up, making it easy for him to slip right back into you.
“We already do this everyday.” He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you. You love the sound of his laugh.
“Yeah, but I'll be fucking my husband everyday.”
Calling him that makes his cock twitch inside of you. You laugh. Jack can be so cute.
“I'm not going to last much longer if you're going to keep calling me your husband.” Jack likes it a little too much.
“Gives us more time for round two if you finish now.” You pull him towards you with your arms and legs, burying him deeper inside of you at the same time as your lips take over his.
You moan his name when his thrusts get quicker and you cum when he slides his hand between your legs and rubs your clit as he cums. It'll be hard to resist this now that you know how good it feels for him to cum inside of you.
Jack rests his forehead against yours, grinning at you. “I'm going to need to do that again.”
“You like cumming in your wife that much?” You brush your nose against his, grinning back.
“I like it very much.” He plasters your face in kisses, making you giggle, before he pulls you upright. “But I'd like to take a nice bath with my wife first.”
“Let me get cleaned up first.” You have to or Jack would scold you. He always makes sure you won't risk getting a UTI.
Jack fills the bath while you get situated and then you help him get in after he sets aside his prosthetic. You straddle his lap when you're in the bath, leaning your head against his shoulder, breathing in deeply.
“This is my favorite.” Bathing with Jack is always a treat.
He cups the soapy warm water with his hands, pouring it onto your back gently before pressing his fingers into your skin, massaging you. You feel utterly spoiled.
“Maybe you should quit being a doctor and become a masseuse.” You tease, kissing up the column of his throat before pecking his lips.
“These hands are for you and you only.” He trails his hands lower until he's grabbing onto your hips, dragging you forward onto his lap, right above his already hard cock, and you gasp, shoving at him. “What?”
“How are you hard again already? I thought old men were supposed to have troubles.” You will always be impressed by Jack's stamina. Though, you shouldn't be surprised.
This is the same man that works out after a twelve hour shift and then still finds the energy to come home and fuck you.
“It's easy when you're this beautiful.” He lines his cock back up with your entrance and then slowly pushes you down onto him, loving the face you make when he fills you back up. “You take my cock so well, babe.”
“Do you remember how long it took me to get used to you?” You and Jack have been dating for years now and the first year, you couldn't have sex because he was simply too big. You were worried he was going to get tired of having to wait for you to take him but he was so patient with you. You knew then that he was the man for you.
“I remember how much fun I had figuring out how to make you cum in the meantime.” He places his hand between your legs again, pinching your clit between his rough fingers until your orgasm hits. You tighten up around him when he does that and he groans with satisfaction when you start riding him. “Just like that.”
“Now I can't get enough of you.” You're splashing water everywhere with your movements, the water rippling every time you lift yourself up and sink back down onto him.
“I'll never get enough of you.” Jack loves you with all of his heart. You know that.
Pope knows it too, since he's been watching the two of you this entire time from the Danforth's hidden security room. He came here because he figured Titus had installed cameras in your suite to spy on you. He was going to disable them but then the two of you started fucking and…he couldn't stop himself from watching. From seeing how happy the two of you are as a couple.
It's real, the love you two have for each other. That makes Pope nervous because…love doesn't last in this fucked up family.
He sits down at the control panel, staring intensely at the screen, watching you ride a man who looks exactly like him, hearing you tell Jack how much you love him. You must love him a lot to be so enthusiastic while fucking him.
Pope has never experienced anything like that. You're so in love with his brother. He wishes that was him. He wishes you were riding his cock instead of Jack's.
He cums when you and Jack do, covering his hand with his release. He grabs a tissue and cleans himself up, tossing it into a nearby trash can and zips himself back up. Then, he disables the cameras in your suite and deletes the footage so no one else can watch the two of you. That's a memory for him and him alone.
He leaves the room then, only to run into Titus. Titus raises an eyebrow at Pope, noticing the tint of red in his ears. He must've watched something good in there.
“Enjoy the show?” Titus smiles in that creepy way of his to Pope.
“You should've given them privacy. It's their wedding.” Pope states coldly.
“You mean their funeral.” Titus says back with a dark chuckle.
“You don't know that.”
“I know she's not making it.” Titus pats his brother on the shoulder. “A pretty girl like her never lasts in a family like this. We're going to corrupt that sweet innocence of hers. Wouldn't death be better than that?"
He enters the security room, shutting the door behind him, leaving Pope with those words. Pope clenches his fists, rage boiling inside of him.
He has always hated Titus but it wasn't until this moment that he realized how evil he really is.
Why else would he tell Jack to have the wedding here without telling him what that would mean?
Pope needs to say something. He won't be able to live with himself if he doesn't.
Not after witnessing how much you and Jack love each other.
He would want someone to warn him if he was in love with that. Though, he knows that could never happen for him. He would never subject anyone to what his family has in store for you…
When you're all tucked into bed after a very nice bath time, Jack tells you he's going to step out for some water and you nod, falling right to sleep.
The moment Jack leaves, he's immediately ambushed by Pope, who pulls him into a nearby corridor.
It's some kind of servants’ corridor, so the staff can get through the house without being seen. Pope holds his hand over Jack's mouth so Jack can't make a sound.
“Listen to me and don't be fucking stupid.” Pope glares at Jack with so much intensity as he says, “call off the wedding.”
Jack shoves him off, cursing, “what the fuck is your problem?”
“You are.” Pope can't believe how much of an idiot Jack is to have agreed to bring you here. “If you love her, call off the wedding.”
“I love her and that's why I want to marry her.” Jack is getting irritated. “Do you like my wife or something? Is that what this is about?”
Pope scoffs, to hide how he feels about you. “If you don't want to take my warning, then it's your grave. Or, well, hers. I don't care for dead people.”
He walks back through the hidden door then, leaving Jack with a headache.
What the hell was that about?
Titus had told Jack that Pope was a violent person. He could definitely feel that aura just now. But he also felt…a genuine kind of fear.
But why would calling off the wedding solve anything? It would only make you confused. Jack isn't going to do that. He loves you. He wants to marry you. He wants you to be his wife.
If only he had known what it means to marry into this family…
The wedding goes beautifully. You are in a breathtaking white dress that hugs your body perfectly in every way. You love how you look in the photos you took with everyone. You especially love how Jack looks in his tux. You can't wait to rip it off of him later.
But your wedding night is getting put on hold.
“It's a family tradition to play a game to initiate a new family member.” Chester tells you as he walks with you and everyone else to the parlor. “We do it to honor the one who made everything we have possible, Mister Le Bail. He loves a good game.”
“What game are we playing?” You love games too so seeing a room full of them is incredible. The things money can buy will never cease to amaze you.
“We don't know.” Titus pops up behind you, his voice low. “But I know it will be very fun.”
He pats you on the top of the head before heading over to sit by the fireplace. He is joined by his sisters, who stand on either side of him. Everyone else files in, taking seats or standing. You and Jack stand beneath the bust of a tiger with its mouth wide open, fangs sharp. It creeps you out because you're certain it was alive once…
Chester pulls down a black box with the Danforth sigil on it that was set on a shrine of some kind. There's a painting of a man, who you figure must be Mister Le Bail, hanging there. You notice the way the black candles beneath the portrait are weeping wax. They've been lit for a while now.
He walks over to you, handing you the box after he slides open a slot on the side, revealing a playing card. On one side is the Danforth sigil, the other side is completely blank other than the intricate bordering.
“Now, we will see what game you get, my dear.” He gestures for you to slide the card back into the box and see what you pull.
You look at Jack, giggling at the theatrics of all this. Jack doesn't laugh with you.
For some reason, he feels anxious. He doesn't have any reason to be.
It's just a game, right?
You push the slot back into the box and then pull it back out. The card is face down so you pick it up and look at it.
In beautiful calligraphy, it reads…
“Capture the Flag?” You haven't played that game since you were a little kid in school.
Titus doesn't hold back his dark chuckle when you reveal the game to everyone. Pope meets Jack's gaze and then mouths the words you should've listened to me. Jack doesn't know what to think of how everyone's face in the room seems to drop. You don't notice it because you're thinking about how you're all supposed to play Capture the Flag.
“Now that is a game we haven't played in a long time.” Smurf glances over at Chester. “Do you still remember the rules?”
“How can I forget?” He says back to her. “It's the game you played to marry me.”
“Then, same rules?” She turns her attention to you once Chester nods. “Follow me, baby. Let me tell you how we play Capture the Flag in this family.”
You move to go to her but Jack grabs your hand before you can, keeping you in place.
“You can explain it to us all at once.” Jack doesn't want you to leave his sight.
Smurf shrugs then goes, "alright then. The rules are simple. Our lovely bride is the flag. She gets to pick a few people to “protect” her. Everyone else tries to get her. If she is captured before dawn, she loses.”
“That seems simple enough.” It's like a more complicated hide and seek so you ask, “are we really playing until dawn? That's a long game.”
“That's the fun of it.” Titus seems eager to get this rolling.
That is, until Smurf tells you, “since there will be twelve of us participating, I think it's fair for you to pick three people to protect you.”
Smurf did exactly that during her game. She picked Chester, Billy and Jake. And since they're all still alive right now, it proves she won her game. She doubts you will win yours, though, since she's on the playing field this time.
The twelve in the game are: Pope, Baz, Deran, Craig, Billy, Jake, Smurf, Chester, Ursula, Titus, Julia and Jack. You technically don't count as a player because you're the flag.
Lena and J are left out, since they're children, and Baz represents Catherine, since she's his wife, so she only has to participate if Baz is out of the game.
Now, you need to pick who is going to protect you.
And Titus clenches his jaw when you choose, “well, wouldn't it be fun if the triplets were my pick? That way, I don't get confused having someone who looks like my Jack chasing after me.”
Chester gives Titus a look. He knows what the look means. It's not pity. It's more like acknowledging a death sentence.
Because you've just picked who gets to die with you if you lose. But you don't know that yet.
Not until Chester states to everyone, “you four have fifteen minutes to set up and then we will be coming for the flag.”
He heads over to an old fashioned record player and plays a record titled “Capture the Flag”. It sings a tune about the game. The record is exactly fifteen minutes long. The moment the music ends, that's when the game begins.
When the needle hits the record and music starts to play, you are immediately dragged out of the room by Pope and you are not prepared for him to throw you over his shoulder and start sprinting.
Jack can barely keep up, given his prosthetic leg, when Pope is running at top speed. Titus is right in front of Pope, gesturing for him to follow. He may have gotten stuck on the losing team but that doesn't mean he's willing to make it easy on his family.
You are taken to the family graveyard, into a tomb. Titus shuts the stone door behind the four of you and hits a button on the wall, opening the adjacent wall.
“My sisters know about this place so we won't have long here until they think to check it.” He leads you all into a room with a bunch of stone coffins. “Now help me find her some real shoes.”
Titus starts pushing off the covers of the coffins, sifting through the dead bodies for shoes that could fit you. Pope drops you to your feet and goes to help Titus.
“Why are you guys acting like this?” Jack can't wrap his head around what compelled them to sprint all the way here. He's still catching his breath from the sudden work out.
“Maybe they just take this game really seriously.” You don't mind the enthusiasm. It's kind of cute.
That feeling doesn't last when Pope says, “you better take this game seriously because if you don't, you will die.”
“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jack practically yells at him. “What the fuck is going on here!”
Titus laughs under his breath before he answers, “you brought her here to die.”
“What do you mean?” You don't get the joke if they're making one.
But they aren't joking.
Pope sighs, then explains, “our families are fucked up. They believe that if they don't capture you by dawn, they're all going to die. But if we don't keep you safe until dawn, we all will die.”
“That makes no sense.” Jack doesn't see any reasonable explanation here. He has always been a very logical person. “Why would they die? Why would we die?”
“Because our family sold their souls to the devil. And we will die because they're out there, with weapons, ready to kill us to get to her.” Titus finally finds a pair of sneakers in one of the coffins and tosses them to you. “Put those on.”
“You can't be serious.” You're talking about both the killer family members and putting on some dead person's shoes.
“Look, I don't know you. You're just my brother's wife. I shouldn't be risking my life to protect you. But you chose me. You chose us. So, if you do not fucking listen, I will make you.” Titus is scaring you with how harsh his tone is.
You obey, taking off your heels and putting on the sneakers. They feel super dusty and gross because you don't have any socks on, just your skin colored tights. You grimace as you tie the laces securely, since you probably will be running a lot.
“Don't talk to my wife like that.” Jack could beat the shit out of Titus right now.
“I will talk to her however I want.” Titus glares at Jack. “I shouldn't even be here. I should've been the one hunting her. That was the whole point of me telling you to have the wedding here. My fun got fucking ruined.”
Jack should kill Titus right here. Because if he's being serious about leading you to your death, he has every reason to murder his brother.
“Well, now you have to protect her.” Pope gets between his brothers, trying to stop the conflict before it begins. “And I don't want to die because you two are going to fight over bullshit. We need weapons and we need a place to hide her. Any ideas?”
“I don't fucking know this place.” Jack knew he should've never agreed to having the wedding here.
“Titus?” Pope defers to him.
But then none of them can start planning because you start panicking. “Wait, am I really going to die? Is your family seriously going to try to kill all of us? Why would they do that?”
“Because we sold our souls to the devil. Did you not fucking hear me the first time?” Titus groans in annoyance. “You need to get your ears checked, you little—”
Jack throws a punch across Titus's face in an instant, knocking him down to the ground. You cover your mouth to stop yourself from screaming too loudly. Pope has to stop Titus from trying to fight Jack back.
“This motherfucker just hit me!” Titus pulls out a gun from his jacket, pointing it at Jack. “I should just kill you and make this shit easier on myself.”
“Don't!” You rush over to stand in front of Jack, shielding him. “Don't fight, please. Andrew is right. We need a plan. Let's focus on making a plan. I don't want to die here.”
You blink away the tears that threaten to drip out of your eyes. Titus clicks his tongue then puts his gun away. He doesn't know why but the sight of you about to cry disturbs him. He thought he'd like seeing your face all scrunched up but he doesn't.
Jack pulls you into his arms, cradling you, “everything will be okay. We're going to get the fuck out of here.”
“Impossible.” Titus illustrates the reality of your situation. “The whole resort is on lockdown. My father owns the police. They aren't going to help us. We have to make it until dawn. That's the only way this game ends.”
“Where can we find weapons? At least we have one gun between us.” Pope should've carried his with him. He usually does but he figured that there was only a slim chance you'd pull one of the few cards that had any kind of hunting involved.
You could've pulled Hide and Seek, in which case Jack would have to participate in hunting you. He remembers what happened when Julia's husband had pulled that card. She shot him herself, even though she was pregnant with J at the time. She did it without hesitation.
Pope is unsure if he could've done that to you. Though, you're not his wife. You are gorgeous, however. So, a part of him is grateful he doesn't have to kill you. But a part of him hates that he has to kill everyone else to protect you.
Luck of the draw…
“There's a few different security caches around the resort.” Titus maps them out in his head in relation to where you all are currently. “We could make it to the one at the south gate. That should put enough distance between us and them, at least for a bit. Thankfully, staff can't participate in the game so they're all away, including security. From there, we can hide in the private underground spa.”
“The what.” Jack grew up in a modest household, unlike Pope and Titus.
Who the hell needs a private spa, much less one underground?
“Hopefully there will be a change of clothes for her.” Titus stares at your wedding dress. “We have to get you out of that.”
Your skin heats at his words. He catches the face you make, smirking. He has been wondering what you look like under that dress. Delicious, probably. It's not difficult for him to see why Jack adores you so much.
“Alright.” Pope grabs Jack's wrist, looking at his watch. It's about to be ten past midnight. “We have a few minutes left. We should head over there now.”
Titus leads you all out of the crypt and purposefully leaves the door slightly ajar, in hopes that their family will go and investigate, wasting their time there. You have to hold up your dress to run with them to the south gate. At a certain point, Pope just picks you up and carries you the rest of the way. He doesn't want you slowing them all down and Jack can't risk taking on too much if he's going to be moving around this much on his leg.
Plus, Pope likes holding you. He won't say a word about that but he likes your shallow breaths against his neck and the way you cling onto him.
He sets you down when you all are at the south gate and Titus breaks the glass window, opening the security office. He finds a crowbar and pries open the weapons cache, pulling out two pistols and a shotgun.
“Can you shoot?” He wants to hand you a pistol but he doesn't want to risk you shooting one of them.
Jack scoffs, taking the gun from him and handing it to you. “You didn't look up my wife?”
Pope raises an eyebrow. “Why would we have? Is she like famous or something?”
It would be better to show them, so you step outside with the gun, pointing to a pinecone dangling off a tree in the distance. Jack steps up behind you, cupping your ears with his hands to soften the noise impact. You take in a deep breath then pull the trigger, hitting it perfectly. The pinecone explodes into a million bits.
You hit it dead center and Jack gives you the proudest little kiss on the head. “That's my girl.”
“What the fuck?” Titus can't hold in how shocked he is. “You hit that?”
“She's an Olympic gold medalist, you dumb fuck.” Jack takes the shotgun from Titus forcefully and Pope takes the other pistol. “Never underestimate my wife again.”
You feel shy whenever Jack compliments you so boldly. But it's because he knows how hard you worked for it. You sacrificed a lot of your hearing to get to where you are. A side effect of being around loud guns all your life. That's why he wouldn't stand for Titus making a comment about it.
Titus was not expecting such talent in such a small package. Maybe he did underestimate you. You're growing to be more intriguing by the second. He kind of wishes he had met you before Jack did.
Though, would it be that hard to steal you away from him? Titus does look just like Jack. Perhaps that will play into his advantage in the future.
Pope doesn't like the way Titus looks at you. Because he knows that must be the look he has on his face when he thinks about stealing you from Jack. Especially after seeing you hit that shot so cleanly.
He liked the way you smiled so humbly after. You knew you'd hit that shot but you aren't a show off about it.
You have no place to put the gun so you opt to hold it. Pope walks up to you and you nod at him, letting him pick you up again.
He whispers to you, his voice strangely soft, “just until you're out of this dress.”
Again, his words, like Titus's, make you warm all over. Pope can feel the heat radiating off of you. He made you feel that way. It makes him think things he shouldn't. Like how good your bare skin would feel against his.
He has a bad habit of lusting after his brothers’ lovers. He had to hide how thankful he was that Catherine doesn't have to participate in this. He wouldn't want her to die here and he definitely wouldn't want to have to kill her.
But he would, if it meant protecting you.
Like when a shot is fired and he shields you with his body, tanking the shot into his shoulder as he sprints forward.
“Oh my god, Andrew!” You look at the hole in his shoulder that's gushing blood. “You have to put me down!”
“Give her to me.” Titus shouts and Pope tosses you over to him. He catches you securely in his arms and you clutch onto him tightly. He looks at you, seeing the tears welling up in your eyes, and says, “you need to shoot them back.”
“What…” You've never shot a person before. Only targets.
“Fucking shoot them—” A bullet flies by, slicing a thin line across Titus's neck that he barely dodges. “Before they kill one of us!”
You look over his shoulder, aiming your gun. It's Deran and Craig, on a golf cart, heading your way. Craig is the one driving.
“I need you to stop moving for just a second.” You aren't good at running and shooting.
Titus slows to a stop enough for you to aim the gun. Thankfully, they're gunning straight towards you, so it won't be a hard shot. You take a deep breath and then pull the trigger.
The bullet hits Craig right between the eyes and his body slumps forward, the golf cart speeding up and swerving away. It crashes into a nearby tree and blows up, fire engulfing the bark in seconds.
Deran barely makes it out in one piece, clutching his rifle. He's going to make you pay for killing his brother.
You whimper against Titus's chest, trembling at what you just did. Again, he thought seeing you like this would make him feel happy. He usually likes seeing people in pain. But for some reason, he holds onto you a bit tighter, rubbing your back.
“The first one is always the hardest.” He says quietly to you, his voice sounding so strange to him with how kind it is. “Everything will be okay.”
You look up from his chest and you quickly place your hand on his neck, applying pressure to the cut. He shakes you off. It's barely a scratch. But you keep your hand there anyway, not wanting to risk it. He ignores how much he likes your touch.
“These motherfuckers are actually trying to kill us.” Jack has managed to dodge all of Deran's incoming bullets despite lagging behind a bit. The shots are getting more sparse since the four of you are running further and further away from him.
“We weren't fucking around.” Pope spits out, clinging to his shoulder. “I told you to call off the wedding!”
When did Pope tell Jack that? Titus catches the confused look on your face. Obviously, you had no idea that Pope pulled Jack aside the night before to warn him. But Titus puts two and two together. His criminal brother has empathy, something he does not. Because he wouldn't have warned Jack. Titus wanted this to happen.
Maybe a part of that was jealousy at how in love the two of you are. He wishes someone would love him the way you love Jack. He wishes you would love him.
He knows you're capable of it because you're tending to his wound so closely. You don't find him repulsive like other people do. You don't apply too much pressure on his cut because you're scared to hurt him. You might be the only one in the world who has ever taken care of him like this.
He'd let you hurt him. He's never had thoughts like this before, for anyone.
There's something about you that makes him think things he never has before. Like how much he wants to kiss you whenever you glance up to look at him. He's fucked people before, but he has never kissed them. He wants to kiss you.
Titus leads his brothers into the entrance to the underground spa. They can't stay here long, since Deran definitely saw what direction they went in, but they should be in the clear long enough to get situated a bit.
Jack quickly finds a first aid kit and helps cut Pope out of his shirt. Titus sets you down.
“We have to go find some clothes. Stick by me.”
“But your neck.” You worry because it's still bleeding. Jack should take a look at it first.
“He's going to sew up Pope. I'll be fine.” Titus likes that you're concerned about him. That might also be a first. Someone actually caring about him, without any ulterior motive.
He grabs your hand, dragging you down the corridor to where the employee lockers are. You don't know why you let him hold onto your hand like this. It must be because it's so similar to Jack's, with a more aggressive grip.
When you both are in the staff room, he lets go of your hand to start sifting through the lockers. None of them are locked since these aren't meant for long term storage.
You find another first aid kit so you call Titus over to sit down at the bench between the lockers. “Let me at least put a bandage on it.”
“You're making too much of a fuss.” It's just a little nick on his neck.
“It's still bleeding.” You sit down next to him, opening a small packet containing a disinfectant wipe. “This might sting.”
You notice how Titus doesn't react to the pain. Maybe he has felt worse than this. You try not to dwell on that, cleaning his wound and then placing a bandage on his neck, padding down the edges gently so you don't accidentally hurt him.
His face is so close to yours when you look up from tending to his cut. You stand up the moment he leans in, because you were so close to almost kissing him that your heart nearly stopped in your chest.
“I'm going to put this back and look for some clothes.” You go to do just that.
Titus should've just grabbed you by your dress and kissed you. He missed his chance. He won't miss again.
You find some staff clothes that should fit you and a shirt for Pope. You put your hands behind your back, attempting to unzip yourself from your dress but failing miserably. You can't seem to get a good grip on the tiny zipper.
“Can you help me?” You ask Titus, turning around, gesturing to the zipper of your wedding dress.
He is grateful you can't see him right now. You don't see the way he licks his lips, wanting to nip at your bare skin as he slowly unveils it when he pulls down the zipper.
You feel a jolt in your stomach when Titus brushes his fingertips along your spine. His hands are so soft, which makes sense since he hasn't had to lift a finger his entire life. You hold your breath when his hands slip into your dress, helping you pull it off your shoulders, his hands lingering on your skin longer than they should.
“You're so beautiful.” He whispers into your ear, his body pressed up against your back. “You make such a lovely bride.”
“I-I got it from here.” You clutch your chest, not wanting your dress to fall off any further.
“I should stay close, in case someone comes in.” Titus doesn't move.
How can he? He wants to see what you look like underneath that dress.
The flustered look you have on your face right now, he likes a lot. This is a face he wants to see more of.
“Titus…” You don't know what to say to get him to give you a little privacy.
“I like the way you say my name.” His voice is so low, rumbling in your ear.
You hate that he sounds just like Jack when he's touching you. Your body reacts even though it shouldn't, your core coiling up.
“Please look away.” You swallow the lump in your throat. You just need to change then you can get out of here and back to Jack.
“Kiss me and I won't look.” You turn around when he says that and he smirks at your startled expression.
“I-I can't do that.” Your breath catches in your throat when he steps forward, backing you up against the lockers, his body flush against yours. “Please, Titus. I just need to change out of this dress.”
“Either you let me watch or you kiss me. Those are your choices.” He glances down at your lips then back into your eyes.
He has you cornered. You should scream so Jack comes rushing this way. But if you scream, someone else might hear and you're all supposed to be hiding right now, especially since Jack is treating Pope. They need the time.
But both of those choices are horrible for you. You can't possibly kiss Titus when you're literally married to his brother. But you also can't let him see your naked body. You aren't wearing anything under this dress besides tights…
“Why do you want to…” You don't understand why he's doing this to you.
“I've never kissed anyone before.” His hand reaches up, cupping your face. “And I've never watched someone undress in front of me before either. If I die today, I'd like to have experienced at least one of those things."
“You've never…” You're surprised to hear that. He's as old as Jack, after all. No one has ever wanted to kiss him?
“I've never wanted to kiss someone before you.” He admits the truth. He's never wanted anyone before.
Not like this. Not like you.
You bite your lip. You need to just get this over with so you can change out of your dress and get a move on.
So, you lean up and kiss him. You reason in your mind that this is the quicker of the two options.
At least, it should've been.
But Titus doesn't let you move away. His lips stay plastered against yours as his body presses you further up against the lockers. You try to push him off but then you quickly have to cling onto his shoulders because he grabs your thighs and lifts you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around him or you'd slip. You try not to react when he grinds his hips against yours, letting you become very aware of how hard his cock is. It feels as big as Jack's.
You're squirming as he deepens the kiss, his tongue fighting yours in your mouth. You can't breathe. You can't escape how good it feels when his cock rubs up against your clit over and over with every grind of his hips. He feels too much like Jack, your body too familiar with your husband's touch that his brother's movements trick it into thinking they're one in the same.
You're scared at how wet you've grown already just from him kissing and grinding on you. Your heart is hammering in your chest and your head is so dizzy. You have to push him away!
“Please, Titus. You need to st—” You try to get words out but he simply just growls against your lips and shuts you up with a more forceful kiss.
You think it's over when he lets your feet touch the ground but then you hear a loud rip and you realize he only did that so he could rip your tights off your body. You're now bare from the waist down, the skirt of your wedding dress hiking up as he hooks one arm under your ass, lifting you back up, his lips never leaving yours.
His free hand slips between your legs and your breath catches in your throat when he touches your pussy directly, dragging his fingers through how slick you are.
“You're so wet.” His warm breath against your lips sends shivers through you. “All because of me?”
You shake your head, squirming from the sparks that shoot through you when his fingers graze your clit. “Please stop, Titus.”
“I'll stop if you don't cum.” He slips a finger inside of you, swirling it around, making you bite back a sound. “You're so tight. Jack must love fucking you.”
“Don't do this.” You pinch your eyes shut, hating how similar in girth his finger feels to Jack's. “Please don't do this.”
“You're going to cum, aren't you?” He can tell because you're milking his finger every time he curls it inside of you. “You're afraid that I'm going to make you cum. Because how are you going to explain to your husband that you just came on his brother's fingers?”
Titus thrusts two more fingers inside of you and to stop you from making noise, his lips crash back onto yours, his tongue slipping back inside your mouth. You claw at him, digging your nails into his shoulders, trying everything in your power to get him to move away.
Because he's right. You're going to cum. You're getting too close. Just holding in your orgasm like this is going to make it even more intense when it happens.
You hate that it feels so good, the tension winding up inside of you, threatening to burst.
You hate how much you like how rough his touch is. His fingers are relentless, spreading you open wide, moving side to side furiously, putting sloppy wet sounds into the air.
Jack would never do anything like this to you, out of fear of hurting you. It gives you a sick thrill, especially when Titus looks just like him.
A darker version of your Jack.
You cum harder than you should on his fingers, squirting all over his hand. He doesn't let you stop, not until you're shaking all over from how much you've drenched his hand. He revels in it, pulling his fingers out of you and making you watch as he licks his hand clean.
“Please put me down now.” You're on the verge of tears. You can't believe how amazing that felt. Your body is twitching all over from the intensity of cumming like that.
It only gets worse when you feel his bare cock rubbing up against your pussy. Your eyes widen. When did he unzip his pants?
“No, no, no, Titus, please—” You place your hand over your mouth and bite your palm when his cock slides inside of you all too easily.
Usually, you need to cum a few times to take Jack because he fills you up way too much. Titus must be a similar size because he feels too big inside of you. You nearly cum just from the stretch, his cock pushing into you until he hilts completely.
At this angle, the tip of his cock rubs right up against the sensitive spot by your womb with every slight twitch. You cling onto him, scared if you slip, his cock will keep grinding against it and you'll cum again too easily.
He closes his eyes, needing to memorize how warm and wet your tight pussy is. He loves how you clench around him more when he peppers kisses along your neck before he drags his tongue up along the side of your neck to your ear.
“Don't cum on my cock and I'll pull out before I cum.” He says right before he nips at your earlobe. “But if you cum, I'm filling you up with mine.”
You shake your head, begging, "please don't. Jack—”
“Just pretend I'm him. We look the same. I'm just your husband fucking you on your wedding night. My beautiful wife.” He grabs your hips, holding you steady against the lockers.
Then, he starts to pound into your pussy.
You bury your head into his shoulder, trying to muffle the moans that threaten to escape your lips because every stroke of his cock inside of you hits all the spots you love so much, especially when he's ramming his cock into you without mercy. It's like he doesn't care to be gentle. He knows you're tightening up from how rough he's fucking you.
If you cum, you're done for.
But you can barely hold it in.
Then, you clamp your hand over your mouth the moment you hear Jack knock on the employee locker room door. “Babe, are you in there?”
Jack tries the door but it's locked. Titus had locked it when you both came in earlier.
You should scream. You should tell Jack to come and save you. You should.
But you cum way too hard instead, at the thought of Jack catching you fucking Titus. You imagine how angry he'd be with you that you're cumming on his brother's cock. That's a sight you've never seen before but one you secretly crave. A meaner Jack.
Maybe that's why you're letting Titus make you cum.
You cum so much that Titus groans against your neck, needing to keep himself quiet or he won't be able to enjoy this. He will not let Jack interrupt him now that he has made you cum on his cock. He wants to do it again.
“I don't know where they went. Maybe further down.” Jack says and you hear two sets of footsteps walk away.
The moment Titus can't hear their footsteps anymore, he pulls out of you. You're shocked that you feel disappointed then you're shocked when he turns you around and thrusts his cock into you from behind. You cling onto the lockers as he grips your hips and starts fucking you so roughly, your legs nearly give out.
“Titus, please, oh god—” You can't handle how his cock is slamming against that spot deep inside of you over and over again, teasing your womb.
You need him to keep going. You need to cum. You have to cum. He has to cum. You need him to flood you with that warmth you're growing addicted to.
Stars flood your vision at the same moment you drench your legs from how hard you squirt on his cock from the merciless fucking. He pulls you back, sitting down on the benches between the lockers, driving his cock up into you. Then, he reaches down, rubbing your clit. You grip onto his thighs with your hands, needing some kind of leverage to handle how he's touching you without a care that you're overstimulated and on the verge of cumming again already.
Titus takes his other hand and wraps it around your throat, tugging you towards him so he can whisper in your ear, “you better cum hard on my cock when I cum.”
He chokes you at the same time as his cum fills your pussy and your orgasm hits you when you can't take in a breath. Your head is so fuzzy from being choked and how hard you came. You don't even fight Titus when he kisses you in your daze. He lays you down onto the bench, climbing on top of you, kissing you, his cock still rubbing up against you. You cum again from how sensitive you are down there and he smiles against your lips, completely satisfied.
“I won't tell him if you don't.” He says to you once you've regained your sentience, snapping back to reality.
To the reality of what you just did.
“Why did you do that?” You can't believe that you just had sex with Titus.
“Because you're the most beautiful woman I've ever met.” He looks at you with those same, affectionate eyes Jack would. “I couldn't die without knowing what you look like when you cum. I would do anything to see that again.”
He does exactly that. He slips his hand back between your legs, under the skirt of your wedding dress. You grab a hold of his arm but you can't stop him from slipping his fingers inside of you again.
“You need to learn to fight me if you don't want this.” He takes your hand with his free one, placing it on his face. “Slap me. Dig your nails into my face. Gouge my eyes out. Do it or I'm going to make you cum again.”
Why can't you do it? You should hurt him for touching you like this. But his fingers curl inside of you and you cum right then, panting from the sudden rush of euphoria.
He chuckles at your stunned expression, pulling his fingers out of you and stuffing them into his mouth, savoring your taste.
“Try harder next time, or I'm fucking you again.” He gets up and puts his hand out. “Come on, you need to get dressed and we need to get back to my brothers.”
“I can't…” You wrap your arms around your middle, curling into yourself, heartache shooting through you. “I can't look him in the eye after what we just did.”
“Just tell him I raped you.” Titus shrugs, like it's no big deal to him if Jack views him poorly. “He doesn't need to know I made you cum.”
“Titus, this is not something simple that can be explained away.” You wipe your eyes, the tears finally dripping out. “I shouldn't have kissed you. I shouldn't have done any of that with you.”
“Don't blame yourself. I forced myself onto you. You didn't do anything. You didn't betray him. Unless you want me to do it again. Then that's a completely different problem.” Titus kneels down in front of you, placing his hand on your side, rubbing it gently. “There's no way you want me, right?”
No, there is no way. You're in love with Jack. He's your husband. You love him with all of your heart.
But your pussy is throbbing from how roughly Titus just fucked you. You know, deep down, that you'll never forget how that felt.
And you won't be able to resist doing it again.
So, if you do die today, maybe you can take this feeling to the grave.
That you do want Titus, even though you shouldn't…
There's a restroom in the employee locker room so you clean up yourself as best you can so you aren't walking around with Titus's cum dripping out of you and then you check to see if you look presentable enough after you shrug off your soiled wedding dress and put on the uniform. You can't look freshly fucked, after all.
Thankfully you just look disheveled, which is understandable, given the circumstances.
You and Titus spot Jack and Pope in the sauna room and you hand Pope the shirt you had found. He puts it on right away. It's a bit small on him, the fabric clinging to his chest. You shake away any of the flustered thoughts you have about that, about how nice his body is. He definitely works out, like Jack does.
You already fucked Titus. You can't be thinking about Pope too.
But it's hard not to think about him when he's grabbing you and sprinting with you in tow as Jack and Titus fend off their sisters as shotgun rounds go off, blasting off the tiles of the walls.
Julia and Ursula figured the underground spa would be a good place for you all to hide. Their hunch was right. They run after you and Pope while Jack and Titus sprint after them.
Earlier, when Pope and Jack were looking for you and Titus, Pope had found one of those hidden employee corridors. He loops around, evading his sisters, then slips into it with you. His hand clamps over your mouth, keeping you quiet. Jack knows where it is, so surely he will know to come back here once they've chased off their sisters.
Though, Pope wouldn't be surprised if their sisters ended up dead. It's doubtful that Titus would risk keeping either of them alive. The less people playing, the higher chance of making it until dawn.
So when you two hear several shotgun rounds go off, you whimper into Pope's hand, so scared that Jack's hurt.
“Don't worry, I'm sure they're okay.” He tries to comfort you, rubbing your lower stomach.
He startles when you moan into his hand uncontrollably. You're still sensitive from earlier, his touch reminding you of how hard Titus was pounding against your womb with his cock. Pope leans in, and he can smell that musky scent of sex on you. It's not repulsive. But it's surprising, since he had been with Jack that whole time…
“Did you fuck my brother?” Pope asks you directly and the way you squirm in his hold answers that for him. “Why?”
You whisper once his hand lifts off yours, “he wouldn't let me change unless I kissed him so I did and…then…we…”
A kiss is really all it took for you to give yourself to Titus? Pope spins you around to look at him and he can see how you're keeping your legs together. Which can only mean one thing.
Titus came inside of you…he fucked you raw. Like Jack had last night.
“Why didn't you shoot him?” You can handle a gun. You could've shot Titus.
“I don't know.” You really don't. You set your gun down in one of those lockers, where you found the uniform. You forgot to get it… “I realize I left my gun back there.”
“We'll go back for it but…why would you fuck Titus? Do you like him?” Pope would be surprised to hear that. He's pretty crazy but Titus is like an even more fucked up version of him.
And Pope saw how much you love Jack. There's no way you suddenly had a change of heart and would cheat on him with Titus of all people.
“It was just…a mistake.” You let out with a sigh. “It shouldn't have felt good…”
Pope's eyes stare at you with so much shock in them. “It felt good?”
You bite down on your lip. Why did you say that!
“It was just a lapse in—” Your words are cut off by Pope grabbing your face and kissing you passionately. You're so stunned that his lips kiss yours so gently that you almost melt into it. This kiss is so much like the ones Jack gives you when you're making love. It's impossible not to think they're the same when you open your eyes and it's like you're staring at your husband. But it's not Jack.
It's Pope who is kissing you like you're the most precious person in the world to him.
He breathes against your lips, “can you make one more mistake?”
Pope doesn't want to die tonight. But he definitely doesn't want to die knowing he could touch you before he does. If Titus got to have you, there's no reason for you to deny Pope.
You're getting swept up in another brother…
Pope drops your pants, tossing them aside, and then drops to his knees, burying his face between your legs. You gasp, putting your hand in his hair as his warm tongue flicks your clit.
You bite back a whimper when he shoves two fingers into your pussy, curling them while he plays with your clit in his mouth. He knows you don't need any prep and yet your pussy is still super tight. His cock is desperate to burst out of his pants.
You need to tell him to get off of you. You need to tell him to stop. You can't let him make you cum.
You'll never recover if you do.
But then he says, his warm breath tickling your thighs, “I need you to cum. I need to know how you taste when you cum.”
He adds another finger, stretching you out as he spreads them inside of you, opening you up wide like Titus had. You expect him to be like Titus, and fuck you roughly with his fingers. That's why you're ill prepared for him to dip his tongue into your pussy too, the contrast between his calloused fingers and his soft tongue pushing you right over the edge.
You cum so hard all over his face and he laps it up like it's the best thing he's ever tasted.
You love the way he looks on his knees like this. It's not a thought you should have in your mind at all but you can't stop yourself from reacting to how he looks up at you, kissing your thighs like he worships you.
“Please let me fuck you.” Pope begs. He's never begged for anything in his life but he needs this. He needs to know what it feels like to have your pussy wrapped around his cock.
“We can't, Andrew.” You need to stop him.
But your words only motivate him more. “Say that again.”
“What?” You nearly shriek when Pope tackles you onto the hard ground, climbing on top of you, unbuckling his belt. “Andrew, stop!”
“Say it.” He pulls his cock out, brushing it along your bare pussy. You can't help but moan from how good it feels since you're still sensitive from earlier.
But you shouldn't feel good. He's literally lining up his cock. He's going to fuck you.
“We can't, Andrew!” You try to shove him away when you feel the tip of his cock pop inside of you, grinding back and forth against your entrance. “Please, stop! I'm married to your brother!”
“I know.” That makes him ram the entire length of his cock inside of you and he groans when you squirt in response from the sudden impact, tightening up so much around him. “I need you to do that again.”
You don't know if he means telling him to stop or cumming on his cock. He must mean both because he pulls his cock almost all the way out of you before slamming it back inside of you, pulling out another sudden squirting orgasm. He does this again and again, watching you drench the floor beneath the two of you with every thrust of his cock.
“No, don't do this, Andrew, please.” You're going to burst completely if he keeps this up.
You've never cum like this before. It must have to do with the fact that he's uncut, his foreskin rubbing up inside of you in a way that feels completely different than Jack and Titus, who are both cut.
Pope's cock grinds against every spot that drives you up the wall, your whole body convulsing. You feel him press his hand down on your lower stomach, forcing you to be aware of how harshly he's pounding into your womb. He starts to massage right there, drawing out moans you can't hold in anymore.
“Don't cum then.” He knows that'll be impossible from how much your pussy is clenching around him. You're desperate to cum again.
“I can't!” You try to push him off but he grabs your wrists with his free hand instead, pinning them above your head, leaning more forward, holding you down with all of his body weight. You're helpless, his cock pushing you closer and closer to your next orgasm. “I'm going to—”
“You're going to cum on your brother in law's cock?” He shakes his head at you before degrading you, “I didn't realize my brother married such a slut.”
Your eyes roll back and you cum so hard that Pope has to keep you held down or you'd surely push his cock out from the sheer force of your orgasm. You're gasping for air, crying at how every thrust of his cock is making you squirt, wishing it didn't feel incredible to be fucked like this.
You've never felt so defenseless before. He's forcing you to cum and your body loves every second of it.
You love every second of it. He's ruining you.
Pope and Titus have ruined you.
How are you supposed to look Jack in the eyes ever again when you're letting Pope kiss you as you grind your hips against his, needing more?
“Say you're a slut.” He breathes out, taking your bottom lip between his teeth, biting it hard before he demands, “say it.”
“I'm a slut.” You tell him and you believe it from how that bite sent such a thrill through you.
“Tell me why.” He loves the depraved look in your eyes. You looked so in love just a few hours ago. Now, you're tainted with a fucked up kind of lust because of him and Titus.
“Because I can't stop cumming on your cock.” You admit because it's the truth. You can't stop. He has rotted you to your very core.
“Good girl.” Pope presses a soft kiss against your cheek. “I don't want you to stop cumming until you feel me cum inside of you, okay?”
You nod. You have to listen. You wouldn't be able to hold back regardless.
You don't know how many more times you cum before Pope finally finishes inside of you, flooding you with that warmth you can't get enough of.
You were fucked raw for the first time yesterday and now you've had three different cocks fill you up since.
By three brothers who look exactly alike.
You're never going to be normal again after this.
How can you be, when your husband walks in right as Pope is pulling out of you?
You look up and see Jack covered in blood from head to toe. He looks down at you, at your pussy that is leaking out Pope's cum onto the floor. The heat in his gaze is enough to make you cum all of a sudden, pushing more of Pope's cum out of you with your orgasm.
He doesn't have any words to say to you.
Because he let that happen.
He let Pope fuck you.
Because right before this, him and Titus had caught up to their sisters and had a stand off. Everyone had a gun pointing at the other.
And Ursula goes, “I'm surprised you don't want to kill Titus.”
Jack is confused by her words. “Why would I kill him? He's on my team.”
“Is he?” Julia laces in more doubt. “I wouldn't considered a man who fucks your wife on your team.”
Titus scoffs, feigning ignorance. “Are you fucking high right now? What the fuck are you two talking about?”
Julia is definitely high out of her mind. But Titus can't hide from the facts when Ursula pulls out her phone, showing Jack the camera footage from the employee locker room, where Titus is fucking you in your wedding dress against the lockers.
Jack points his gun over at Titus, who keeps his gun on Ursula. “What the fuck did you do?”
“Can we talk about it after we kill them?”
Though, maybe he should take this opportunity to kill Jack. But then his sisters would just unload all their bullets into him. He needs to convince Jack to point the gun back at Julia.
“He fucked your wife.” Julia says to Jack, her words slightly slurred. “Are you seriously not going to do anything to him? She liked it.”
“What?” Jack doesn't believe what he is hearing. Why would you—
“She came so hard on our brother's cock.” Ursula practically cackles. “You should just give her up to us and let us handle her. We'll make sure she gets punished for being a little slut.”
“You don't want a slut like that as your wife, do you?” Julia pushes further, cackling like her sister. “You can do better than a woman who would fuck our psycho brother.”
“What did you just call my wife?” Jack's voice gets dangerously low. Titus's eyes widen, because he knows how he gets when he sounds like that.
It's how he sounds when he's about to kill someone.
Jack pulls the trigger on his shotgun and Julia's guts splatter all over the tile walls of the spa. There's a giant hole in her middle, where her stomach used to be. She collapses, going completely limp. He pumps the shotgun and points it at Ursula. He doesn't hesitate and fires. Her head bursts on impact, blood flying all over Jack and Titus. Jack wipes their blood off his face then his eyes shift to look at Titus.
He reloads the shotgun as he says, “give me a reason to keep you alive.”
“Your wife loves you.” Titus drops his gun and puts his hands up. “There's no reason she enjoyed fucking me other than the fact that I look like you.”
“But she liked it?” Jack clicks the shotgun back in place and aims it at Titus. “Answer me.”
Titus has never been nervous like this in his life. Other than when his father would slap him. Those were the only times he felt on edge.
Because he has no idea what he needs to say to convince Jack not to kill him. He figured Jack would when he found out but Titus was hoping he'd get to fuck you one last time before he died. That seems like a fever dream now.
“They weren't lying.” Titus points to Ursula's phone, since the proof is right there. “She came really hard when you knocked on the door. I think she liked the idea that you almost caught us fucking.”
Jack grabs the phone off the floor, his gun still pointed at Titus, and watches the replay of the security footage. He has never been that rough with you. He always treated you with so much care because you're much younger than him and he didn't want you to be afraid of him in any way. He was slow and patient with you.
But now he sees that you don't need him to be gentle.
You actually like being scared. You actually like being forced to cum. You love it, from the way you don't resist Titus slipping his hand back between your legs after he fucked you, making you cum again.
He had no idea about this side of you. And he can't pretend like it doesn't turn him on to see you give in to your desires. He loves you. Everything about you.
He shuts off the phone and tucks it into his pocket. Then, he looks Titus in the eyes and asks, “are you clean?”
Titus nods. “She's the only one I've ever fucked without protection.”
“What makes her so special to you?” Jack knows the answer for himself but he needs to know if Titus is willing to die for you. That's the only way Jack will let him live.
If he dedicates his life to you forever.
“I don't know. I've never felt this way about anyone before.” Titus is unsure if his confession is the smartest move but…he wants to be honest. “She's so sweet. She bandaged me up. No one has ever cared about me like that.”
“Do you think she wants to fuck you again?” Jack holds the shotgun steady, waiting for Titus to answer.
“Are you going to kill me if I say yes?” Titus would. Less competition.
“I'm going to kill you if you lie to me.” Jack is sick and tired of being lied to.
“I think she does.” Titus doesn't want to stroke Jack's ego but… “I'm pretty sure it's because I'm a more messed up version of you.”
It isn't hard for Jack to believe that his brother would fall for you. You're the most amazing person Jack has ever had the pleasure of being around. Anyone would fall for you. But you love Jack. You love him so much that the only people in the world that could ever sway your heart would be the two people who look identical to him.
“Listen closely.” Jack lowers his gun, his eyes remaining locked on his brother's. “You don't get to fuck her unless I say so. And you don't get fuck anyone else ever again. The moment you do, I put a bullet through your head, got it?”
“Are you fucking serious?” Titus knows he's serious about killing him but…letting him fuck you is unbelievable.
“You're right.” Jack steps up to him, leveling with him. “My wife loves me. Which, unfortunately, makes it really easy for her to fall for someone who looks just like me. I'm not looking to lose her and I'm not risking her falling for you. So, if she wants to fuck you, I'll let her fuck you. On my terms.”
That is something Titus can agree to. He isn't going to win your heart. He knows that. It belongs to Jack. But if he gets to be close to you, to feel your pussy wrapped around his cock again, to kiss you, he'll take that. That works for him.
“Alright.” Titus nods. “On your terms.”
“Swear it.” Jack wants no bullshit.
“I swear to Mister Le Bail that I will not fuck your wife unless you say I can.” Titus makes that promise. “But you will let me, right?”
“If she wants it.” Jack looks down at his blood soaked clothes. “Is there anywhere else we can get clothes?”
“Not here. You said Pope found the service corridor right? They're probably some clothes to change into in the laundry room.”
“I need a bathroom at least.” He doesn't want blood on his hands for much longer. It's going to crust up and get gross.
So, after they wash their hands in the nearby restroom, Jack and Titus head over to where Pope hid you and when they get there, they can hear you and Pope fucking from the door.
“She really gets around.” That comment lands Titus a punch in the gut. “Fuck, sorry, holy shit, that hurt!”
“Shut the fuck up.” Jack doesn't want you or Pope to hear them outside.
He wants to see how far you'll go.
Then he hears you call yourself a slut.
And he knows then exactly how far you would go.
So, they walk in right as Pope pulls out of you, his cum dripping out of your freshly fucked pussy. Your eyes look up to meet Jack's and you cum when they trail down to stare at your soaked pussy. That solidifies it for Jack.
You like being fucked by his brothers.
He stands over you, crossing his arms, the look on his face one of pure disappointment.
“Did you rape her?” Jack turns to look at Pope before turning back to face you. “Tell me he raped you.”
“Yes, I—” Pope is about to answer but then you shake your head. He furrows his brow at that. Why are you protecting him?
“Did you like him fucking you?” Jack's tone is so harsh. You've never heard him so mean before. “Did you like my brother's raw cock inside of you?”
“Jack, I'm—”
“Answer my question.” He kneels down, slipping his hand between your legs, feeling how wet you are and how swollen your clit is. You squirm when he pinches it. “I'm waiting.”
Tears build in your eyes as you nod, sealing your fate. “Do you hate me?”
He doesn't answer you. He looks up at Pope, pulling out a phone from his pocket and tossing it to him. Pope catches it, confused.
“Film this.” That's all Jack says before he thrusts three fingers inside of you, pulling a gasp from your lips.
He's dragging the pads of his fingers roughly against that spot inside of you that always makes you cum right away. “Jack, if you do that—”
“Do you love me?” He doesn't stop fingering you, his stern gaze engulfing you completely.
“Of course I love you.” You pinch your eyes shut, your orgasm building too quickly. “Oh god, I'm going to—”
“Titus, come here.” Jack snaps at him and he drops to his knees beside you right away. “Play with her clit.”
Your eyes shoot open when you feel Titus's fingers rubbing your clit. You burst completely then, squirting all over their hands, unable to control yourself. You don't know what's going on or why Jack is letting Titus touch you but they don't stop. You're going to cum again if they keep—
“Pope is right. You are a slut.” Jack's harsher tone sends you into a frenzy. He's never spoken to you like that before. It shoots an orgasm through you too easily. “Look at you cumming because my brother is touching you. Did you like fucking him too?”
Jack isn't expecting you to nod. Neither is Titus. That makes him harder than earlier, knowing you liked it too.
“I'm sorry, Jack—” You choke on your breath when Jack wraps his other hand around your throat.
“If you're really sorry, you'll show me how hard you cum from being choked.” He drives his fingers deeper inside of you as he tightens his grip on your throat. Titus starts rubbing your clit roughly, then he gestures for Pope to come in closer, so he can catch it on camera clearly.
You nearly pass out from how intense your orgasm is. Your vision goes blurry and you're trying to moan but they're getting locked up in your throat, which only pushes you further to your limits.
When Jack pulls his fingers out of you and moves Titus off of you, Pope pleads to him, “please let me taste her right now.”
Jack turns to you. “Do you want my brother to eat you out?”
Even in your daze, you manage to nod. You feel so crazed for doing that but then when Pope's tongue is dipping into your pussy, you can't seem to care about how you look.
If you die tonight, at least you will have experienced whatever the fuck this is.
You grip onto Pope's hair with your hands, riding his face as you cum again, his tongue eagerly licking it all up.
You're so spent that you don't even register Pope picking you up into his arms. He carries you, walking beside his brothers, trying to understand what just happened. He expected Jack to be mad at him for fucking his wife…not give him permission to go down on you.
Everything is cleared up once you all find the laundry room and barricade the doors. Then, Titus breaks all the cameras in the room, hoping that will stall anyone finding out where they are for a bit.
Pope sets you down on one of the folding tables and you shyly thank him when he gives you a pair of pants to change into, since you left behind the other ones out there.
“She should wear this.” Titus tosses a maid uniform at Pope. “At least then we'll have easy access. Better than ruining another pair of pants.”
You've never felt so feverish as you change into the maid uniform. You meet Jack's gaze while he strips out of his bloody tuxedo. You hop off the table so you can go help him. You take a wet towel and wipe off as much blood off his skin as you can.
“Thanks, babe.” He leans in and kisses your temple so sweetly. “I got it from here. Go help Titus.”
The look in your eyes screams are you sure but Jack nods so you go over and do the same for Titus, wiping off the blood where he can't reach.
“Do I get to kiss her too?” He smiles at you in that sinister but playful way.
“If she wants you to.” Jack says as he pulls on one of the staff shirts. He doesn't seem to care if you do or not.
You're so confused…
“Well, beautiful? What do you say?” He waits for you to reply.
“Jack, can we talk?” You don't know if you can accept what's going on right now without speaking with him privately first.
“There's an office back here.” Pope points to the management office. “You both can talk there.”
You put your hand out and Jack takes it, letting you lead him over there, shutting the door behind the two of you.
“How are we supposed to eavesdrop now?” Titus glares at Pope. “You always ruin all the fun. Like Christmas.”
“Are you still holding a grudge from when we were eight?” Pope rolls his eyes.
That was the last Christmas he ever spent with the Danforths. Smurf was done taking him there for the holidays after Titus threw a fit about Pope “stealing” the rifle Chester bought for Titus. Pope only stole it because Titus kept aiming it at Julia.
Titus has been a pain in his ass ever since, which is why they haven't spoken much until right now.
They're going to be speaking a lot more now if they're going to be sharing you with Jack.
Something you're still unsure about…
“Are we…okay?” You ask that first when you and Jack are finally alone. “I understand if you're mad at me.”
“I'm not mad at you.” He walks up to you, pulling you into his arms. “I promise, I'm not.”
“Why?” Surely you'd be mad at him if the scenario was reversed.
But then he says, “because I figure if you had two sisters who looked exactly like you, it would be hard for me to not feel something too when I love you so much.”
That should give you pause but…he's right. In a strange, twisted kind of way, it would be very difficult for you to be mad at Jack for feeling something for someone who looks exactly like you. You couldn't resist his brothers. You wouldn't be able to judge him if he felt the same if the scenario was flipped.
Though, it might just be because you're learning a little more about your personal preferences than you originally thought…like how much you liked being touched by all of them at once.
“Still, I'm sorry this happened.” You wrap your arms around him, hugging him. “You don't have to be okay with it, even if you love me.”
“Everyone in my family is trying to murder you. I think we're even.” He says with a chuckle, giving you a big squeeze.
“Oh my god, Jack.” You shake your head against his chest, then you giggle with him. “I don't think those are the same thing.”
“Arguably my brothers fucking you is not as bad as everyone else in my family trying to kill us.”
“Still bad though!” You pout at him and he cups your face, nuzzling your nose all cutely.
“It's okay, babe.” He reassures you. “All that matters is making it until dawn. Then, we can figure this shit out after.”
“Should we…figure it out…?” You glance out the glass window of the office, looking at his brothers who are bickering about something out there.
“If you like fucking them, I'd rather you be honest with me than hide it.” Jack doesn't want you to keep a secret from him that would blow up in your face eventually.
You bite your lip then confess, “it's hard not to like it when they look just like you…”
“Who has the best cock though?” Jack's question makes you shove him, making him laugh. “Don't act like you haven't thought about it. Tell me.”
You shake your head. “That's a trick question. I'm not answering that.”
“Oh, I get it.” He pulls you towards him, spinning you like you two are on the dance floor, then wraps his arms around you from behind, holding you securely as he leans in and whispers, “you need a bit more data first, right? You need them to fuck you a few more times before you can decide?”
“Jack…” You're flushed all over from his words and the way his hands are sliding down, lifting your skirt up with one hand and moving between your legs with his other hand. Your eyes snap to the window, aware that Pope and Titus could look over here at any moment once they're done with their argument. “They'll see us…”
“You'd like that, wouldn't you?” Jack starts to rub small, methodical circles around your very swollen and sensitive clit. “Imagine locking eyes with them as you cum on my hand.”
You grab onto his hand, holding it steady against your clit as you grind on it. Jack presses kisses along your neck before taking a bite out of the side of it, marking you. You cum when you feel his teeth sink in, the pleasure overwhelming you. The thought of an obvious mark on your skin for Pope and Titus to see is what sends you reeling.
“You'll always be my wife.” Jack tells you, pressing a light kiss against the mark he made. “And I love spoiling my wife. Is fucking my brothers a good treat for you?”
You say “yes” quicker than you should. Jack can feel how soaked you are between your legs. He needs to be inside of you.
“Get up against the window, babe.” His words make you gasp. “Let them watch me fuck you. Then I'll let them come in and do the same.”
“You're killing me.” You've never been more turned on in your life.
“Luckily I'm a doctor.” He chuckles against your skin. “I'll bring you back to life. Now hurry up.”
You make your way over to the window, looking out at Pope and Titus. They are still arguing, their hands flailing around. You can't imagine what they could be talking about.
But you don't have the space in your mind to think about it when Jack slams every inch of his cock inside of you from behind.
“Hold up your skirt.” Jack demands. “Show them how much of a slut you are.”
The window is large enough that they would be able to clearly see Jack fucking you if you lift your skirt up.
So, that's what you do. You hold it up and you can see the faintest reflection in the glass of Jack's cock driving deep into your pussy. You cling onto the window with your other hand, moaning way too loudly at how good it feels to have Jack back inside of you.
“Do you like having your husband fuck you while your brothers in law watch?” Jack is really leaning into this since you're clenching around his cock so tightly when he does. “You should let them see you cum.”
He's taken back by how much he reacts when you tell him, playing into it more, “please Jack, I don't want them to see…”
You swear he must've gotten bigger inside of you because every thrust seems to fill you up more than the last.
“Why don't you want them to see?” He whispers in your ear, his voice more seductive than ever. “Is it because you belong to me?”
You nod, turning your head back to look at him. “I'm your wife. I'm all yours—”
Jack grabs your chin and forces you to look forward and you lock up when you see Titus and Pope staring right at you through the glass.
“If you're all mine, then don't cum from them watching us.” Jack knows that's impossible for you, which only adds to the thrill. He never realized how fun it would be to tease you like this, especially when you're wriggling in his grip, the pleasure building too quickly that you can't stay still anymore.
“No, Jack, you know I can't—” Your shocked yelp gets caught in your throat when his hand slides down and settles around your neck. He doesn't squeeze but the threat of it is there. “No, please, don't—”
“You don't like it?” He chuckles in that same dark way that Titus does, making goosebumps rise on your skin. “I think you're lying to me, babe. I think you're going to cum real hard once my hand starts to strangle you.”
“Not while they watch.” You try not to meet their gazes or you'll surely cum from how heated they are, staring at you while Jack is holding your body hostage like this. “Please don't, I don't want to cum while they—”
“If you cum, they're going to get to use you however they want. Isn't that what you want?” Jack slips his other hand from your hip to your clit, pinching it between his fingers since he knows you'll break the moment he does. “My wife loves being a slut for me and my brothers.”
It's like a dam breaks inside of you. All the coiled up tension finally releases and you can't stop yourself from cumming anymore. Titus and Pope watch the way you unravel completely, squirting on Jack's cock all over the window. They look at each other.
“Truce?” Pope has already forgotten what they've been arguing about. He's more focused on how hard his cock is against the new pants he just put on.
“Truce. Do you think he'll let us fuck her?” Titus looks towards Jack, who gestures for them to come over. “Our brother is fucking nuts.”
“Runs in the family.” Pope doesn't hesitate to start the walk over there, his eyes never leaving your quivering body.
When the door opens, your scream is choked out by Jack's hand. He smiles at how you're trying so hard again not to cum.
“It's okay, babe.” Jack turns you away from the window and towards his brothers. “Show them how hard you cum when I do.”
You shake your head then gasp when you feel someone's hand on your chin. It's Titus. “Come on, beautiful. Show us.”
Titus takes over rubbing your clit so that Jack can have both hands gripping your hips, leaving your pretty neck all exposed. That's when Pope steps forward, wrapping both of his hands around your throat.
“Oh god, don't do this…” You plead to Pope. “Please, Andrew, I won't be able to—”
You'll never be able to have vanilla sex again after this. You'll crave being touched by all of them at once for the rest of your life.
There's still a chance you die tonight, too.
“This is just what happens when you become part of the family.” Pope tells you, his grip tightening around the delicate column of your throat. “You were never going to make it out of this unscatched.”
“I like her better like this, though.” Titus leans in, kissing you, making you more breathless.
“I love you like this.” Jack says right into your ear and that's all it takes for you to finally give in completely.
You grab a hold of Titus with one hand, kissing him back, while your other hand grabs Pope's wrist, tugging him towards you more, wanting him to choke you harder. Jack starts roughly ramming his cock into you, something he has never done before, and your moans are caught in your throat, desperate to come out but you can't breathe.
Your orgasm is unbelievable. Your thighs are soaked. Jack is pumping so much of his release inside of you that you'll surely be walking around with it dripping out of you after this.
But it won't just be his.
“Let me go next.” Titus breathes out onto your swollen lips, his hot breath intoxicating. “Let me fuck her next, please.”
He has never begged like that to anyone, not even his father. But he'll beg Jack for this. He needs this. He needs you.
“It's up to her.” Jack smacks your ass, jolting you back to reality from your orgasmic daze. “Do you want Titus to fuck you?”
Pope lets go of your throat just a little so you can tell them, “yes, please.”
“Please what?” Jack didn't realize how much of a sadist he really was. “You need to say it clearly, babe. Say “I want your brother Titus to fuck me”.”
Pope and Titus give each other a look. Is this really their straight-laced brother? They see too much of themselves in him right now.
You look right into Titus's eyes when you say, “I want your brother Titus to fuck me, please.”
He starts to laugh. “Holy fuck, she's perfect. You've got an incredible wife, Jack.”
Jack pulls out of you then cups his hand over your throbbing pussy. “Hurry up and fuck my wife before my cum spills out of her.”
Titus eyes the desk chair in the corner and says, “let's go over there.”
He goes to sit down as Jack and Pope drag you over so you can sit down on Titus's lap like you had earlier, sinking his cock into you from behind. You grab a hold of his knees again, squirming at the way his cock is twitching inside of you. Then, you have no idea how to react when Pope drops to his knees between your legs and leans in to lick your clit, his warm tongue making you dizzy with Titus's cock buried inside of you.
“You're a fucking freak, Pope.” Titus groans when you clench around him from Pope playing with your clit.
“Just fuck her already.” Pope wants to know what you taste like when you're being fucked.
You look up at Jack, seeing that his cock is still out, glistening from having been buried inside of you. You lick your lips then grab him by his pants, pulling him towards you. You aren't holding back anymore, so you proceed to stuff him into your mouth, licking him clean.
“Do you like having my brother's cock in your mouth while I'm fucking you?” Titus says right before he nips your earlobe and slams you down harder onto his cock. You gag on Jack's cock in response.
He really shouldn't like the way that feels, but he does, so he keeps his hand in your hair and starts fucking your mouth, stuffing himself deeper down your throat. Tears build in the corners of your eyes from the sudden forcefulness but draws an orgasm out of you more easily than it should.
“She likes it rough.” You can feel Pope's words against your clit, making you tingle all over. “I wonder how much your wife can take.”
You're sent into an instant frenzy when Pope slips a finger into your pussy, stretching you out wider than Titus's cock already is, his tongue still abusing your overstimulated clit.
You pull Jack's cock out of your mouth, heaving out, “wait, wait, wait—!”
Your hand laces into Pope's hair as he sucks on your clit, dipping another finger inside of you, curling them against that spot right beneath your clit. Titus is enjoying every second of you tightening up around his cock so he grabs your hips and starts thrusting up into you, driving the tip of his cock against that spot deep inside of you. Jack leans down and presses his hand down on your lower stomach, making you very aware of everything that's happening inside of you. He wraps his other hand around his cock, stroking himself to the sight of you in complete disarray.
When you feel Jack cum all over your neck, you cum so hard that you drench Pope's face, screaming from the intensity of the orgasm that shoots through you while Titus fills you up with his release. Jack clamps his hand over your mouth, since he can't let you give away where they are. They all need time to refresh after this before going back out there. There's no way he's letting anyone else catch you in this state besides him and his brothers.
Titus pulls you off of him and Pope is on his feet in an instant, grabbing you and slamming you down against the desk in front of them, burying his cock inside of you right away. You're winded from the sudden push but you don't get a chance to take a breath when Pope is holding you down, kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips.
It doesn't take him long to finish. It doesn't take you long to cum from him spilling inside of you like his brothers just had. But his thrusts don't stop. Not until he's sure you've cum again from him grinding the tip of his cock right up against your womb, coaxing his release deeper inside of you.
When Pope slides out of you, you're laying there on that desk, dripping their cum onto the floor. You clench your fists around the edge of the desk, pinching your eyes shut, trying to stop yourself from cumming again from the warmth of them slipping out of you. It feels too depraved to cum from this.
But then, you feel two fingers slip inside of you and then Jack's voice saying, “you need to tighten up, babe. You're spilling our cum. How are you supposed to have a baby if you can't keep it inside of you?”
You open your eyes when you feel another set of fingers dip inside of you, alongside Jack's. Titus has his other hand on your thigh, holding your legs open. He smiles at you, that frightening smile of his that sends shivers through you.
“You should listen to your husband, beautiful.” Titus curls his fingers inside of you, pulling a gasp from your lips. “That's it, tighten up.”
Pope holds down your other thigh then slides two of his fingers inside of you, spreading them. He whispers to you rather sweetly, “I bet you can fit two cocks inside of you soon. It'll be good prep for the baby.”
You try to wriggle away from them when they start thrusting their fingers at the same pace, completely in sync, rubbing up against every spot inside of you that's terribly sensitive from having been fucked so much today.
“No, please, you guys have to stop…” This will corrupt you forever. The feeling of the three of them coaxing you to an orgasm you know will shatter you. It'll haunt you forever.
You'll be chasing this feeling forever.
They know this. Somehow, they're very aware of it. Jack looks at his brothers, realizing something about himself that he never thought about before this moment.
That he was never a good man.
Not when it came to you.
Because the moment he had the opportunity to ensure that you would never be able to leave him, he took it.
Because there's no way you'll ever leave him now.
You're his forever.
He has defiled you to the point of no return, thanks to the help of his brothers.
And that is the devil in his blood.
The part of him that revels in the way you're so desperate to hold onto that final shred of innocence you have left in you.
It's gone now.
It's gone the moment Jack pinches your clit exactly the way he has taught you to love over all these years together and you arch your back, the orgasm shooting through you too quickly after that. You scream their names as your body releases all the tension you've been building up in the hopes that you could stop yourself from cumming so hard.
But it's impossible not to, when you have three brothers fingering you at the same time.
It only gets more difficult to stop yourself when they start to degrade you. Titus let out that dark chuckle of his, watching you squirt like a fountain on their fingers, “you're going make such a mess for the staff to clean up later. Is that how you'll be from now on? Are you going to be leaving your cum all over my mansion whenever we fuck you?”
Pope loves how you tighten up around their fingers in response, your eyes glazing over from cumming again and again. “Maybe we should just keep her locked up here so we can use her whenever we want. Keep her pussy nice and full at all times. As long as Jack is okay with that.”
Jack looks down at you, his gaze so intense that you could easily mistake him for his brothers. But you know it's your Jack. He speaks to you in that soft tone of his, asking, “what does my wife want? Does she want to be our little lived-in cumslut? Letting us use her body whenever we want?”
If you had any sense of rationality left, you would say no. You should say no. Because is this truly the life you wanted for yourself? To be made to cum over and over again, to feel this kind of pleasure on a daily basis, to be stuffed with their cocks whenever the feeling strikes?
They stop moving their fingers inside of you at the same time, and you nearly whine. You've gotten too used to cumming the moment you got close. Now they're not letting you. Not until you answer Jack.
“What does my wife want?” Jack asks you again. “Tell us.”
“I want…” What do you want?
“You want to be our little plaything, don't you?” Titus knows that's what he wants. He wants to be able to sink his cock into you whenever he's hard. He wants to be able to kiss you whenever he wants. He wants you.
Pope does too. He needs you to say it. “Say “I want my husband to let me be a slut for him and his brothers”. You can do it.”
You look into Jack's eyes. Your lovely husband. The man you married. The person you're going to spend the rest of your life with.
And you say right to his face, “I want my husband to let me be a slut for him and his brothers because I love him so much. I don't want to be anywhere but right here with you, Jack.”
You made your vows earlier and yet, this seems more substantial than the ones you made at the altar. Because Jack knows you'll be his forever.
He made sure of that, with the help of his brothers.
“I love you too.” He tells you with a beautiful smile on his face. The same smile he had when the officiant said he could kiss his bride. “Now I want to see my wife cum again. Can you do that for me?”
You nod and brace yourself when they start thrusting their fingers inside of you again. Then, the moment they all pop their fingers out of you at the same time, you cum harder than you have all night, gushing all over the desk. You don't know how you're even able to function right now. All you see in your vision is stars dancing around the haze.
“She's so cute.” Pope leans in, giving you a peck on the cheek. “Look at how precious she looks all cummed out that. Are you feeling okay?”
He sits down next to you, pulling you into his lap. You rest your head against his chest, nodding. “I'm okay. Thanks for asking,”
“Do you have a pharmacy?” Jack asks Titus, who has to think of how to get there from here.
“There should be a nurse's office for the employees somewhere along this corridor.” You all will likely find it just traveling down the maze.
“She'll need some painkillers and lots of water.”
“We got leftovers from that electrolytes sponsor a while back.” Titus is pretty sure the staff took whatever extra they had from that event. “We can head to a hospital once dawn hits and get her an IV infusion too.”
You feel kind of strange, hearing them talk about how to take care of you. You didn't think it would be like this. You figured, at least for Titus and Pope, that this would mostly be a physical relationship.
But Pope rubs your back so gently and kisses you on the forehead, whispering, “does it hurt anywhere?”
You shake your head. “Just a little sore.”
“Where?”
“My stomach.” You definitely cramped up a lot from all the orgasms.
Pope lays his hand across your belly and the warmth of it is oddly soothing. You like it a lot, leaning more against him as he rubs your tummy in small circles.
Once you're more relaxed, they find you a staff uniform that fits, letting you take off the maid uniform. As useful as the maid uniform was for the sex you just had, it probably isn't practical to be running around with your legs exposed.
“I can't wait to have sex with you when you aren't wearing any clothes.” Titus whispers to you out of earshot of his brothers.
Though, he shouldn't have been surprised that Jack heard him. Jack, unlike you, has very good hearing. “Keep it in your pants until we make it out of here alive.”
You all go back to where Julia and Ursula died, so you can grab their guns. From the looks of it, no one else has found them yet. You opt to take the revolver that Julia had and Jack takes Ursula's handgun, since the shotgun only has one round left in it.
Then, Titus leads you all to the nurse's office. There is plenty of water, along with that electrolyte powder, and some painkillers. It does look like the staff has been skimming off the top of the medication. Titus will deal with that later.
Jack portions out the medication for you and you take it, trusting him to prescribe you the right dosages. He gives you a nice kiss once you've taken everything and you smile against his lips.
“That should help.” He tells you, brushing his nose against yours. “How are you feeling?”
“I'll be okay.” You actually can walk pretty well, all things considered. Pope offered to carry you but you declined since his shoulder is still shot. Titus would but you'd rather save it for when it's necessary.
Like when a gas canister gets thrown into the room.
And a bright white flash fills your vision in an instant…
So many noises bombard your ears that you can't actually hear anything. All you can really make out is Jack shouting your name, trying to find you in the thick fog that has clouded the room. But a wet rag covers your mouth before you can call out to him.
Your limp body is dragged away from them…
“We need to get out of here!” Pope shouts to his brothers, who are violently coughing from the smoke.
“But they took her!” Jack needs to chase after you but Titus pulls him towards the side of the room that isn't covered in smoke.
“We'll die if we breathe in any more of this shit!” Titus wishes the ringing in his ears from the flash grenade would settle. All this yelling is annoying.
He tries to remember if there's a way to go underneath the spa. There has to be, for all the pipes. He looks around and then gestures for his brothers to come help him pry open the vent that leads down into the sewer.
“This is going to be fucking gross.” Titus cringes but Pope just jumps in. He has dealt with way worse during jobs.
Pope catches his brothers as they drop back to back and then they have to find a path back to the surface.
Before you get sacrificed…
You wake up tied down to a table. You're…in the parlor. The table is placed right beneath the portrait of Mister Le Bail, those black candles still weeping wax, nearly completely melted. Each flame is roaring, moving so quickly that you're getting lightheaded staring at it.
Though, that might just be whatever pungent smell is in the air.
Is that…a goat?
Your eyes shift over to Baz, who is holding a goat in his hands above you, a knife pressed to its throat. You scream when he slits its throat, its blood splattering all over you. You have to shut your mouth promptly so you don't accidentally swallow it.
You then look down and…realize you're wearing an exact copy of your wedding dress, though it's soaked in goat's blood now. You tug at your restraints but the bloody ropes won't budge.
Chester walks up to you, taking a handkerchief and wiping your mouth so you can answer him when he asks, “was it fun corrupting my sons?”
What the hell is he talking about?
You stare back at him confused and he proceeds to slap you. You wince from the sudden rush of pain.
“Don't play coy. I figured I had no control over Jack falling for you. He was the lost one, after all. But somehow you got to Andrew and then even Titus. The prophecy is true, then. Of a snake in my garden.” He walks around the table, your eyes following as you spot everyone else in the room.
It's all the people left in the game, except the sons he's referring to. Where are they?
Are they…dead?
You swallow back the lump in your throat, praying that isn't true.
“You are the forbidden fruit.” Smurf smiles at you, the sight frightening to say the least. “Now that they've all had a taste, they'll do anything to protect you. Even kill their sisters.”
“You killed Craig.” Deran points his rifle at you, stepping close enough to you that your hand brushes against his jeans. He assumes you're trying to touch him and he presses the gun harder against your temple. “You can't corrupt me. I don't like women.”
“I didn't want to kill him.” You're going to remember how Craig looked with that bullet between his eyes for the rest of your life. “But you were shooting at us. What was I supposed to do?”
“Can I just kill her?” Deran asks the family but Billy shakes his head so Deran moves away from you, standing beside his father at the foot of the table.
“We need to sacrifice her first.” Jake tells him, placing more black candles around you before standing beside everyone else. “That's the only way Craig's death will mean anything.”
“What are you going to do to me?” You've never been more scared in your life.
“They're going to offer you to Mister Le Bail.” Catherine answers, grateful that J is with Lena and neither of them will have to witness this. She walks up to you and you feel her give you something.
It's a gun. A very small gun. She conceals it with her body, so no one can see that you're holding it in your hand.
She leans over you, whispering, “end this, please.”
Your eyes dart all over the room. You have to make whatever shot you take count. You need to take out as many of them as you can. Is that even possible?
But then you see that bust of a tiger on that incredibly heavy wooden plaque hanging above where Deran, Billy and Jake are standing.
Baz is a bit to the left of them. Two bullets and you can take out those four. Then the only people left would be Smurf, Chester and Catherine.
Your eyes shift up to Catherine. You want to make sure she realizes what she's asking of you. She nods, signaling that it's okay.
Then, she moves out of the way so you can aim the gun and fire. One bullet hits the drywall, which breaks the integrity of the nails holding up the bust and it collapses onto the three men, the sheer weight of the frame crushing them beneath it, the tiger's fangs piercing through Deran until he's spitting blood. He can't grab his rifle. He can't reach it while he's stuck in the tiger's mouth. He bleeds out pretty quickly. His father and Jake suffocate under the weight.
Baz reacts quickly, pulling his gun out but you shoot a bullet between his eyes before he can shoot you. Smurf shrieks when she sees Baz fall over, dead. She has lost all her sons now, since she can't control Pope anymore. You stole him away from her.
She will make you pay for that.
But before she can, the sound of glass shattering fills the room.
They had secured the parlor doors but not the windows. Jack, Pope and Titus come swinging in on a makeshift rope they hung from the floor above, since they had to figure out a way to get into the room to save you. You breathe a sigh of relief seeing them.
That is, until Catherine grabs the gun from your hand and points it to your temple.
“Move one step closer and I kill her.” Catherine says, her voice eerily steady.
“Catherine…” You don't know what to say.
Why is she doing this after she just helped you?
She turns back to you and says, “I can't let Lena die because of you. But I couldn't be in the game and have the chance to kill you unless Baz died.”
There's a clause that you didn't know about. Where people on the same team can't kill each other. And people who aren't playing can't harm you. So Catherine needed you to kill Baz so she could play. She couldn't do it herself.
Thankfully Jack didn't end up killing either of his brothers because it would've resulted in his immediate death. They are all loyal to one another now. Because they have you to protect.
“Put the gun down, Cat.” Pope says, aiming his gun at her. “Please don't make me shoot you.”
“You should let me kill her. You love Lena, don't you? She'll die if I don't do this.”
“That's right, baby.” Smurf tries to coax Pope to join their side. “If we don't kill her before dawn, precious little Lena bear will die too. You don't want that.”
Titus and Jack share a look. A nervous one. Because they don't know what Pope will pick. As much as Jack values a child's life, since he works hard everyday to save them, he values you much more. Titus doesn't give a shit about children, besides the ones he hopes to have with you.
Pope is the wildcard here. He loves children. He loves Lena. He loves…he loved Catherine.
But he doesn't anymore.
And he definitely doesn't love Smurf enough to pick her over you.
Smurf knows this, from the look that Pope gives her.
That's why she shoots him before he can shoot Catherine.
You hear Pope's body hit the floor from the impact of the bullet to his heart. You let out a wail, a broken hearted sob, because what kind of mother shoots her child like that?
A cold hearted one.
Shots ring out in the parlor. Jack shoots Smurf. Titus shoots Chester. And Pope shoots Catherine, despite bleeding out on the floor.
The gun in Catherine's hand fires but misses you completely. It does, however, rupture your eardrum and you can't hear out of your right ear. That sucks…
“Go cut her out of her restraints.” Jack instructs Titus. “I'll see how bad the bullet wound is.”
Pope seriously got shot twice today. At least he got to fuck you twice before he dies. He didn't think this would be how he went out. He always assumed it would be in some kind of blaze of glory. Not because his own mother shot him for not picking her.
Jack examines the wound. It's bad but…if they get the medical supplies they need, he can stabilize Pope enough to take him to the hospital and Pope should live.
Dawn is approaching.
Just a few more minutes and you will have won the game.
After he unties you, Titus cups your face, pressing his forehead against yours, letting out a series of nervous breaths. “Are you okay? We were so scared when they grabbed you. They didn't do anything to you, did they?”
You shake your head. “My ear hurts, though.”
Titus can see that it's bleeding, most likely from Catherine shooting the gun so close to your ear. “I'll go find some medical supplies. There should be some nearby.”
When he's back with several kits, Jack stabilizes Pope and gets him to his feet. Titus plugs your ear up with gauze then takes over for Jack, since he can pick up Pope if they need to carry him. For now, he's just helping Pope walk outside.
Jack grabs a hold of your hand as you both walk alongside them out of the residence. He's squeezing your hand, needing the comfort.
“We won.” You say to him. “Everything will be okay."
“I'm worried about your ear, babe. And Pope.” Jack hopes by the time they get to the gate, the lockdown will be over and they can get the two of you to a hospital.
“We'll be okay.” You all file out of the estate and Titus sets Pope down on a bench so he can go grab one of the cars.
The sun is rising in the distance. This wedding night is almost over.
At least, it should be.
But then a bullet pierces straight through your chest. Blood spews out of the hole, the redness spreading and discolored your wedding dress more and more. You look up at Jack, your hand going limp in his before you collapse onto the ground. Jack turns around and…
J is there, with a gun in his hand. Jack has no time to react as J shoots him too. Jack drops down right next to you, blood pooling between the two of you, mixing together.
Your eyes meet Jack's and you whisper, like they're your last words, “I love you.”
Tears drip out of his eyes as Jack says back, “I love you too. And I'm so sorry…”
J walks up to the two of you, looking down at you both. “You killed my mother, which means I'm in the game. And now you'll die with my uncles and I'll inherit everything. Just as it was meant to be.”
J points the gun at you and right as he is about to pull the trigger, sunlight overtakes all of you, the light beams flooding past the tree line in the distance. It blinds him for just a moment.
And then J explodes into a million bits and pieces, coating you and Jack in his guts and blood. You've never seen anything like that before in your life. It was like a bomb went off inside his body and he completely obliterated.
What a sight to see before you die…
“Oh fuck, oh fuck!” Titus comes rushing out from the car. “What the fuck happened?”
“We won.” You tell him, coughing up blood.
Everything hurts. It's so sticky too. Feels gross. You go still as Titus lifts you up into his arms and settles you into the passenger seat, buckling you in.
He goes back out to Jack and Jack shakes his head. “Take her to the hospital. Save her.”
“Fuck you, dude.” Titus lifts Jack up into his arms and stuffs him into the backseat. “She won't fuck me if I let you die out here.”
He slams the door shut on that side and then rushes to go get Pope, shoving him into the other backseat.
To think, Titus would end up being the one to save you, when he originally went into this night wanting to kill you. He's even putting in the effort to save his brothers because…now he has a real bond with them. A bond he doesn't want to lose.
He pays an exorbitant amount of money to have you all treated immediately when he gets to the emergency room, which is the only way you all manage to survive. He pays the entire hospital to work on the three of you, ignoring everyone else in there. He can afford any civil settlements if the other patients want to sue. All he cares about is that you and his brothers live.
You wake up a few days later and Titus is sitting at your bedside, sleeping with his head rested on his arms. Somehow, you know it's Titus. Maybe you'll get good at telling the brothers apart.
You lift your hand up to put your fingers into his hair, brushing through his soft curls. He wakes up then, breathing a sigh of relief when he sees your eyes open.
“You're awake.” He grabs your hand, kissing your palm over and over again. “Thank the devil you're awake.”
“Should we be thanking the devil?” You say with a strained giggle. It hurts to laugh, unfortunately.
“Pope and Jack are up already. Their gunshot wounds weren't as bad as yours. Yours got infected. Probably because of the fucking goat's blood.” Titus stabbed that dead goat to his heart's content when he went back to the Danforth residence yesterday to organize the clean up.
“Gross.” You cup his cheek with your hand. “Thank you for saving me…and them too.”
“You would hate me if I let them die so I could have you for myself.”
“I could never hate you.” You pinch his cheek playfully. “You look too much like my husband. Will you get him for me? Pope too?”
Titus nods and then goes out to grab them. Jack rushes up to you, giving you a big kiss. He rests his forehead against yours, also breathing a sigh of relief.
“You scared the shit out of us.” Jack doesn't know what he would've done if you didn't wake up.
“Sorry.” You lean up to kiss him again. “I'm here now.”
Jack moves away so that Pope can look at you. He actually recovered faster than both you and Jack, so he has been worried sick with Titus this whole time. Even though he technically had two gunshot wounds to deal with.
You reach up, wanting to touch Pope, so he leans into your touch, letting you caress his jaw and then he kisses down the length of your arm, so grateful you're okay.
“I guess this means no crazy sex for a while right?” You make a bad joke but they all laugh, coupled with some pained groans from how much laughing hurts.
“We'll postpone our honeymoon until you're all healed up.” Jack wouldn't want to go on a trip while you're not able to fully enjoy it.
“Do they get to tag along?” You ask, looking at Titus and Pope. “I think we can all use a vacation after that night.”
Titus and Pope look over at Jack, since it's ultimately his decision. Jack turns to you and answers, “if that's what you want.”
“I'd like that.” You smile at all of them.
You'd like to spend a lot more time with them.
Though, you'd like to be spending time on vacation with them. Not whatever is about to happen.
A man walks into your hospital room in a suit, carrying an obscenely large withered book.
“Hello there.” He says to you all, shutting the door behind him.
“Who the fuck are you?” Pope is tired of not having his gun on him. He needs to start carrying from now on.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Mister Le Bail's lawyer and I have come to inform you all that given the results of the game, there is a clause you all must be aware of.” He sets the book down the tray table above you, so you all have a clear view of the by laws.
“What the fuck is it this time?” Jack does not like how many secret clauses there are to this mix.
“Ah, well, this one is about the game Capture the Flag. If the flag and their team wins that game, then they are bound to those people for the rest of their life. In this case, since you all are men and she is a lovely bride, it means that Mister Le Bail would like some form of security that you four will be tied together for life.” The lawyer flashes you all a brilliantly creepy smile. “I'm sure you're aware of your mother's choice in how to do that.”
The three brothers look at each other. Smurf had children with Chester, Billy and Jake, the three men she chose to protect her…
“There are many options you all can explore for a permanent bond. I'll send you an email with all the details. Mister Le Bail is quite lenient when it comes to this game. It is one of his favorites so there is no rush. Just be sure to stay together forever.” The lawyer closes the book then and grabs it, holding it securely in his arm. “I would prefer it if I never had to see you all again but unfortunately, you aren't the only ones to win a game recently.”
“What are you talking about?” There are only a few families in the High Council who participate in Mister Le Bail's games.
Who else got married recently?
“The Le Domas. They have met their end, I'm afraid. Meaning the High Seat is up for grabs for the first time in years. Naturally, it would've fallen to you, Titus, but since the bride survived, the ring is up for grabs. And you three are the only heirs left to the Danforth fortune so given that you're triplets, you all will have to compete together. How exciting. Would you like to host the game?”
For once in his life, Titus is not excited to participate in a game. But he should host it, so they have home field advantage.
“Will she have to play?” Titus points to you. He won't do it if you're in danger.
The lawyer shakes his head. “She will only have to participate if the three of you die, since she would be the last heir in that case.”
“When do we have to do this?” Jack would prefer to heal up a bit more if he has to kill people for some sick game again.
“Preferably within the next 48 hours. While the bride is still fresh.” The lawyer is referring to Grace Macaullay Le Domas, who won her Hide and Seek game against the Le Domas family. They all perished, including her husband. She's the only one left.
“Let's just get this shit over with.” Pope will kill her quickly so he can come back and enjoy your company now that he gets to be with you. A forever bond, thanks to the devil.
The lawyer leaves so that Titus can start making arrangements. You grab a hold of Jack's hand, saying, “will you be okay?”
“I have to be.” He's firm in his words. “This is our family now.”
What a fucked up family this is…
A/N: So if I do continue this, it'll likely be the alternate take on the events of the second movie (since this fic was kind of an alternate version of the first movie, but with Capture the Flag instead of Hide and Seek) + the honeymoon! Because well, how can I not write a honeymoon hehe ~
Hope you all enjoyed the read and I didn't scar you too much! I actually think I was tamer than I originally planned. The smut was so fun to write so I hope you enjoyed ♡
