“can i open my eyes now?” you asked excitedly, kicking your feet as pope held up the diamond anklet he stole from his recent job with the guys. pope lived for your reactions every time he brought you back something and surprised you with it, his own small smile playing on his lips as he answered with a hushed ‘yeah’. removing your hands from your face, you gasped as soon as you saw the twinkling gems reflect off of the light from your bedside lamp, your eyes widening ever so slightly. “oh, andrew!” you stared in awe, the small ‘p’ pendant catching your attention as pope’s chest bloomed with pride. “do you like it?” he couldn’t help but ask, needing the reassurance that he did something good.
you nodded, a high pitched squeal leaving your lips as you threw your arms around him and littered his face with kisses. “it’s perfect, i love it so much!” pope felt relieved upon getting your approval, his skin flushing as you swung your leg over his lap and straddled him. handing over the anklet, pope watched as you inspected it— fascination written all over your face. “you’ll only be able to wear it around the house for now since people will be on the lookout for it, so don’t forget not to go out with it on or anything.” pope explained, his rough palms skimming the tops of your thighs as you hummed. “can you put it on for me?” you asked, handing the anklet back over. “i’m glad you asked, i was hoping to see it in action..”
at his words, your eyebrows knitted in confusion. “what do you mean?”
“andy—!” you cried, choking out a sob as pope forced your knees to be pinned to your chest, your ankles on either side of his head. hiccuping with each harsh thrust inside your cunt, pope eyed the diamonds clasped around your ankle, a groan rumbling from his chest as the pendant winked back at him in the form of a twinkle. you gripped your bedsheets, your eyes screwing shut at the pleasurable force his cock was hitting your cervix. “ah, fuckkk,” pope drawled out, his chest heaving up and down, “are you sure you like it?” you didn’t know if he was talking about the absolute pounding he was giving you right now, or the string of diamonds adorning your ankle, but to say you loved both would be an understatement.
“yes— i love it so much!” you screamed when he repositioned your knees to the mattress, his body now flushed against your own as his lips rested by your ear. “i thought about you all day.” pope said through gritted teeth, his lips ghosting your earlobe as he spoke. “did you think about me?” he asked, his voice carrying a small hint of insecurity. tangling your fingers in his curls, you made sure to look him in the eyes when you said your next words. “i think about you all the time, andrew.” his thrusts slowed down, his gaze flickering over the features of your face. “you worry me sick every time you go out on a job,” you stroked his flushed cheeks with your thumbs, “i’m scared one day you won’t come back to me.”
pope can’t remember anyone who truly worried for him and cared for him like you did, your words doing more than just tugging at his heartstrings. you gasped when you felt his cock twitch inside of you, thick ropes of hot cum filling you up in no time as pope grew desperate to give you an orgasm of your own. aching with overstimulation, pope shuddered as he continued rocking into you, the long, slow strokes of his hips paired with his rough fingertips on your clit making you tremble and shake. studying you closely, pope watched as your teeth pulled on your bottom lip, your skin growing hot as the coil in your tummy grew tighter and tighter. “andrew..” you whispered breathlessly, gazing up at pope through your lashes.
pope knew that look all too well, his fingers working relentlessly as he brought you over the edge, your thighs clamping tight around his hand. “keep them open, baby, just let it happen.” pope forced your thighs open, his lips ghosting over yours as tears slipped down your cheeks. you could never get used to the size of him, his length hitting you in places you had never felt before he came along. your blood was rushing through your ears, your limbs falling weak as you gave into pope and let him have his way with you. nails digging into his flesh, you tapped out as soon as the pleasure subsided and a dull ache began to form on your sensitive clit. “no more, no more!” you cried out, your hips instinctively backing away.
pope pulled out with a slick pop, a groan leaving his lips as he watched you clench around nothing, the sight of your abused cunt making him curse under his breath. you laid there, fucked out into oblivion and brainless, your body still trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. leaving you for a moment, pope went to get something to clean you up with, his hands working gently to put you back at ease. eventually, your breathing slowed and all you can feel was pope tucking you against his chest, his large hands running soothingly down your back as he brought your comforter up to cover both of you. “please don’t get into that pretty head of yours so much,” he kissed your temple, “i’ll always come back to you.”
backing up against him to spoon in the morning. he’s still asleep for the most part, but he opens up to you. his arm folds over you, hand cupping your breast. his leg stretching over yours. you’re his for him to keep there, soft and warm, and you’re not sure he’s even conscious about it as he starts grinding his growing morning wood against your ass
Andrew “Pope” Cody who is perfectly fine just watching his girl dance at the club with her friends. He’s not much of a dancer, but he loves watching you lose yourself in a song, glossed lips pulled up into a smile while moving your hips from side to side. It was a Saturday night in downtown San Diego, and the weather is warm and breezy. All the guys (mostly Craig) were determined to get Pope out for a fun night, so they proposed making the forty minute drive down from Oceanside for a more lively shot at the club scene. This leads to you invite your girlfriends, two of whom Craig’s already charmed his way into dancing with. Deran, Adrian, and J are at the bar taking shots with the rest of your friends. Pope is a couple seats away, arms resting on his thighs, posture rigid while he watches you. Drinks you in.
You don’t mind that Pope doesn’t dance with you, because the bigger treat is what he’s going to do to you when you get home. So you let him watch, manspreading and mesmerized by you at the bar. “Agora Hills” by Doja Cat comes on. You squeal in excitement, jumping up and down and clapping. Pope’s only familiar with her because you’ve played her in the truck a few times before. He once caught shit from the guys for a week because “Go To Town” was playing one day when you’d gone with him to pick them up from a job. You are clearly having the time of your life now as the music floats through the speakers, bass boosting over the sea of people yelling to hear themselves over it.
‘Who that man with the big strong hands, on her ass in the club with the paps?’ Baby, that's you
You get a boost of confidence from the tequila racing through your body, so you begin dancing over to where he’s sitting. You’re mouthing the words to the song, gesturing at him and giggling. Soon you’re standing between his legs, turning so your back is pressed against him. You grind your ass against the front of his jeans to the pace of the song. You spin back around to face him, beaming with what only he knows as a mischievous look in your eyes. His hands reach tentatively for your waist, his chest rising up and down in shallow breaths. You lean forward so he can better hear you.
“You can touch me, Andy. Don’t have to be shy,” you coo. You love how he looks like he’s barely holding it together. Like it’s taking him every morsel of self restraint he has not to scoop you up, and take you home to fuck the ever living shit out of you. This wasn’t exactly his scene. Sure, he drank with the guys but he never got shitfaced. And when he was a little shitfaced, he got aggressive. And he’s been trying to keep you safe from that part of him. Like tonight, he was only having a beer or two. He never does shots or any heavy shit when he’s out with you. He has to be locked the fuck in - to protect you, of course.
God, he hopes you know how much he loves you. How he’s been watching every guy in here look you up and down, in his head about what kind of sick fucking thoughts they were having about you - his baby. How he’ll break the legs of any twat here tonight if they even try to breathe in your direction. How he’s holding your sparkly clutch in one hand, and your drink in the other to ensure no shithead frat boy does anything funky to it. You look like a dream in the tiny pink dress adorning your body, pulled together with silver strappy heels and matching diamonds he had gifted you after the last job.
He presses your clutch against his bulge, which is actively growing at the sight of you dripping in jewels he got you. The necklace alone was over $18,000. There certainly wasn’t a motherfucker your age in here that could gift you that kind of luxury. ‘This is why you need a big, mature man like me, angel. The boys your age don’t know how to handle pussy like yours,’ he always tells you. And you love when he shows that confident side of himself, because it isn’t often.
Kissin' and hope they caught us, whether they like or not. I wanna show you off, I wanna show you off. I wanna brag about it, I wanna tie the knot
You’re moving your hips around in circles, holding his gaze while you dip down lower and lower until you’re eye level with his cock. Then you move the same, slow pace back up. During ‘I wanna tie the knot,’ you hold your left hand out to him, wiggling your ring finger for emphasis. He uses the chance to grab your wrist and pull you flush to him. He grabs your left hand and presses it to his lips while staring into your eyes.
“Are you having fun, honey?” You nod your head up and down eagerly. “You okay? You thirsty? Here, I got you some water. Humor me and drink some, yeah?” He hands you a cup of ice water. You accept, knowing he’s just looking out for you. And it’s not that you’re drunk. No, you’re just happily buzzed. But you humor him anyways because you love how he takes care of you. You drain the cup in three big gulps. He actually smirks a little, pleased with himself because he knows you so well.
Boy, you're the one, you're the only man. Me and you on my OnlyFans. Holy cow, you're the Holy Trin.’ Hold me down when a hole need dick
As most of us know, it’s not a night out with the Cody boys without some bullshit happening. Only in this case they don’t start it. Anddd enter the obnoxious wolf whistle that comes from behind you. You turn around anxiously at the unwanted attention. You’re not a fan of confrontation, and this isn’t going to go anywhere good. Pope steps down off the barstool and puffs up his chest.
“Damn baby, why don’t you leave your dad here and come home with me? Come hop on this dick, huh? How ‘bout it?” Your cheeks burn beet red and your face scrunches in disgust. Pope takes one look at how uncomfortable he’s made you and before you can tell him to leave it, he’s swinging at the guy. Craig and Deran both lunge forward and pull him back before he can do any damage. He’s breathing erratically and his eyes are burning holes through the guys’ skull.
“Come on man, you’re on fucking parole. Relax.” Craig is trying to talk sense into him while they struggle to hold him back. J has to run over to help. For as shaken up as you are, your pussy can’t help but flutter at the fact he’s able to give not two, but three grown men a hard time restraining him. You walk up to him and press a hand to his chest. His gaze flickers back and forth between you and the douche bag, finally settling on you.
“Come on Andy, fuck that guy.” You lean in closer so the others can’t hear you. “We both know whose dick I’m sucking on the ride home tonight.” You press a sweet kiss to his cheek. “Take me home and make love to me, handsome.” You can see in his eyes that you’ve got him. And whether it’s out of insecurity or pride or both, you don’t know - but as you’re walking out of the club this man grabs your ass cheek and kneads it to the point your dress slides up above the fat of it. So he’s literally walking out in front of everyone with your bare ass cheek hanging out in one of his hands. Meanwhile the fucker that was catcalling you is staring slack jawed, his friends jeering and busting his balls about how he was rejected by you for an older man.
The night ends with Pope fucking you doggy, shoving your face deep into the mattress. He’s gripping your hips in his strong hands and snapping his own against the plushy fat of your ass, grunting while he watches it jiggle. Your toes are curling and you’re crying into the sheets, clawing and pulling at them.
“F-fuck. Looked s’pretty tonight. You dancin’ for me?”
“Mhmm,” you muffle into the bed. He wraps a hand in your hair and picks your head up.
“Uh-uh, can’t hear you baby. Come on, tell me who you were dancin’ for,” he grumbles.
“Y-you! You, Andy. Was only dancing for you. Don’t want anyone but you,” you whine.
“Yeah? Jus’ me? Tell me again, angel. Say you want only this cock for the rest of your life.”
“Oh god yes!!! Yes Andy, want your cock inside of me forever. Nobody could ever fuck me like you, fuck!”
“That’s right baby, nobody is ever goin’ to take care of you like I do. Nobody.”
Thinking about in S4 when they’re at family dinner eating ribs and Deran is like ‘Pope, slow down.’ Imagine reader lovesss to cook and on his days he fights in the ring, you always make sure Pope comes home to a big homemade meal. You’re skipping around butt ass naked in a lil’ frilly white apron with strawberries all over it - and pretty red pumps to match. Each time you walk over to top off his water or replace his beer, he grabs a handful of your ass. He massages it while you dote on him, and gives it a smack as you saunter back to the kitchen - leaving fingerprints of whatever sauce he’s been sucking off his fingers on your ass cheek. 🥵
In the morning you’d make him an omelette with bacon and eggs, coffee and fresh squeezed orange juice. You set it down in front of him with a couple advil and a sweet kiss to his cheek. When he’s done, you take his empty plate and start the dishes. He comes up behind you and spins you around to face him. His beefy, veiny arms lift you on top of the counter.
“What are you-? Andrew!” You squeal, squeezing his shoulders tight while he picks you up like it’s nothing.
“Not finished eating, baby. Need something sweet.” He crouches down til he’s eye level with your pussy. He looks up at you with intense, hazel eyes surrounded by swollen cuts and purple bruises. His eyes are glassy as he holds your gaze for a moment, before diving into your glistening cunt. Your hands reach for his curls, tugging them as your back arches against the kitchen cabinets.
He eats your pussy like he didn’t just have breakfast seconds, just absolutely fucking devours it. He’s swirling his tongue around your folds while sucking on your puffy clit. And while he looks all dark and brooding with his injuries, he gets insecure and keeps looking up at you every so often to ensure he’s making you feel good.
“Oh Andy, yes! Right there,” you moan, giving him the reassurance he needs. He pulls away to put one finger - then two - into your sopping cunt. His chest vibrates with a low groan watching you clench around his thick digits, the squelching sound music to his ears. He puts his mouth back on your clit, resuming his previous movements while pumping his fingers in and out of you. It’s slow at first to get you used to them, and then he picks up the pace and curls his fingers, eliciting a particularly high pitched whine from you. You push his head down a little out of excitement, shoving his face deeper into your weepy pussy.
Pretty soon you’re coming undone on his mouth and fingers, legs squirming over his shoulders. He eats you through your orgasm, lapping and slurping up every last drop. When he’s finished he licks his fingers, savoring the taste of you. He was right, you were sweet. He presses soft kisses against the insides of your shaky thighs, nuzzling his nose into the plushy skin. He stands and helps you climb off the counter.
“Wrap your legs ‘round me, sweet girl.” You do as you’re told and wrap your legs around his waist. “Come on baby, let’s get you cleaned up.” Safe to say you had round two in the shower - back pressed against the ceramic tile while he’s holding you up off the ground in the position you’re in now - fucking up into you and tearing up when he cums inside because he just can’t believe he has the love of a woman like you.
hi hi. just want to say i love your drabbles and everything 🫶
but, uh… i hope this isn’t too weird or freaky to say but i love the idea of fat!pope cody; it just makes me feel some type of way, i can’t explain it. like, i desperately need him 🙈 need something written for him, ughhh (no pressure and you absolutely don’t have to!) 🥺
I LOVE FAT POPE and thank you so much!! here’s something i wrote more private ab him! ->
fat Pope who could just pick u up and fuck u on himself. like from under your ass, u don't even have to do much but keep your hands steady on his shoulders, occasionally grabbing his chubby biceps that bulge up ever so slightly. letting him bounce you on his cock, essentially using you like a fleshlight.
“god baby, feel so fucking good. love using you like this, know that? my pretty little doll..” he’s got his glasses over his sweaty curls, mouth agape and chubby cheeks reddening.
and when his triceps get tired, hell wrap his arms around your body (yes and your arms) and just shove you down while he fucks into you from underneath. simple. the former feels amazing, but the switch in position makes you both go crazy every time :3
simon loves everything you do during sex. when you clench your cunt around his cock and make him see stars, the pretty noises you make as he stretches you open on two thick fingers, the way you taste when you gush all over his tongue- everything.
but his favourite thing? when you scratch down his back while he's pounding you into the mattress. the way you desperately claw at his shoulders as he shoves his cock deep inside you. he's reaching places you didn't know could be reached and you need to grab onto something- anything to cope with the overwhelming pleasure he's bringing you.
the first time you did it he was caught off guard, his hips stuttering in their rhythm as your nails raked along his back, leaving a streak of red irritated flesh in their wake. you noticed the way he hesitated, noticed the groan that left him, and the way he adjusted his pace of his hips against yours.
you force your hands off him, opting to tangle them into the sheets instead. simon scowled- actually looked visibly upset, and a moment later he was grabbing you by the wrist, placing your hand onto his back again. you were confused now- you thought he didn't like it.
you couldn't have been more wrong.
he leans down so his mouth is pressed right next to your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "keep doin' that," he groans, tilting your hips so the tip of his cock grinds against the squishy spot inside you that makes your eyes roll back in your head. "keep doin' it and don't you ever fuckin' stop- y'hear me? want you to mark me up, yeah? want everyone to know i fuck you so good you start clawin' at me."
please leave a comment/reblog if u liked this!!! it means the world & keeps me motivated!!! <3
The heat woke you up before John got the chance; the room gone thick with it, fan dead since two in the morning. You awoke in a body that wasn't entirely yours anymore — one leg slung over his thigh, your cheek glued to his shoulder with a film of dried sweat, the sheets kicked to the foot of the bed, twisted into a rope over your ankles.
You could smell the night still on the both of you. Him mostly. Salty, sticky skin, the back-of-the-throat musk of a man who'd just come home off a four month run somewhere he won’t name, fallen on top of you before he'd even got his boots all the way off, worked you over thrice, then slept like the dead in the heat he created without so much as wiping either of you up with a washcloth — his cum and your slick gone tacky between the press of your thighs, pulling at the flesh when you shifted.
Everything ached the way it only ached after him: low in your belly, raw where he'd been, a bruise coming up on the back of a knee from where he'd folded you in half, thick fingers pressed into the meat of it sometime past midnight.
You wanted to get up to finally rinse.
To feel like a person again.
But his calloused hand came down flat on your hip the moment you moved, before your knee had even cleared his leg.
"Where?" is all he managed, voice wrecked and low and gravelly with sleep, the word barely fully formed on his tongue.
"I'm disgusting," you complained, a whisper.
"Mm." His thumb moved across the jut of your hipbone, finding crust of himself there. His eyes hadn't opened yet. The corner of his mouth had, though, dragging up at one side. "Yeah… y'are."
"I'm glad you're happy with yourself," you huffed sleepily.
His hand kept going, palm dragging down over your hip and around the back of your bent thigh, and then up again into the real mess of you, fingers finding where you were still half-open and swollen from last night, slipping through the sticky wet, the pad of his middle finger circling your sensitive entrance. It was too much and not enough at once — the drag of him over flesh that hadn't settled, a wince folding straight into something hotter, your hips pushing into his hand.
He made a sound; pleased, throaty, his brows pulling in for a second.
"Look at that," he murmured against your temple. "Bet you don' even wan' it cleaned up, do you?"
"Shut up," you half-heartedly murmured.
"Mm-mm," he protested.
Then he rolled, the whole heavy heat of him coming over you in one move, knee shoving your thighs apart before you'd even agreed to anything, and the air between your bodies went humid and ripe, his chest sticking to yours, the dense hair on it dragging over your tender nipples. And your body answered him — thighs falling open the rest of the way, some primal part of you glad of his weight, glad to be pinned under it, glad he was solid and here and breathing on you. He braced up on a forearm and looked down at you, cyan eyes cracked open and bloodshot, lashes still gummed together. He looked like hell. But so did you, you were sure, and he was staring down like you were the best thing he'd ever seen.
He spat into his own hand without breaking from your eyes, crude, and reached down between you to slick his cock with it. You spread more open for him, your hands coming up to his back where sweat was gathered at the base of his spine.
He sank all the way in on the first stroke, stretching your sore walls, an obscene wet crackle of air pushing out to make room for him, Your whole body remembered him in one shoved open rush. He dropped his forehead to the side of your neck and let out a long breath through his nose.
"Four months," he rasped, almost to himself, the syllables coming apart as they fell. "Four months this was the only thing in my fuckin' head." Then, against your mouth, the gravel coming back into it, his throbbing cock bumping your cervix, your nails scrabbling over his sweaty skin for purchase: "That's it, dove. You can take it. You can take it, look at you, you've had worse than this off me."
You could hear his grin.
"Since last night?" you managed to get out. "Or— generally?"
A huff against your lips, almost a laugh, his hips not stopping. "Both."
He fucked you like he hadn't slept it off at all, like four months of going without you had only stored it up, his cock dragging thick and deep through the wreckage he'd already made of you. Every push of it pressed the sweat-slick of his furry belly against your clit so you got it both ways at once, inside and out, until your spine wanted to leave your body.
He talked the whole time — clipped, half-swallowed, filth pouring out of him like silver.
"Feel that," he asked. "That's last night still in you, that is. Didn't go anywhere." His teeth caught your jaw, dragged, overgrown beard scratching at your skin. "Gonna add some more to it." A deep grind of his hips that pushed the breath out of you. "Was lying there, every night, in the dark thinking about this. You under me, made a mess of, soaked through and still begging for more. Had to think about something else quick or I'd've embarrassed myself." His mouth is in your ear, hot and foul. "Four months of that. And now here you are. Wetter than the inside of my own head."
"John— you're so—," you couldn't get anything else out before he'd angled up and a moan tore out of you instead.
"Gross? Annoying?" he offered, hips snapping now, the bed knocking the wall, his hand slipping between you and the mattress to cant your cunt to his liking. "Yeah. And yet you're clenched down on me like you've never been happier. Funny, that."
It built faster than it had any right to. You'd stopped being able to do anything but hold on — one hand fisted in the wet sheet, the other clamped to the flexing muscle of his ass, your heels skidding down his back for purchase that wasn't there, every thrust knocking another broken little sound loose from a throat you no longer had any say over. And when you came you spasmed around him with your nails dug into the meat of his shoulders and your mouth open on a noise you'd have been embarrassed by if your brain hadn't been simmered down and reduced to nothing. He cursed and pushed his face into your throat and licked the salt off it, tongue flat against the tendon, groaning into your flesh as you fluttered and squeezed and dragged him over the edge with you.
He spilled deep with a groan you're not sure you've ever heard from him before, and then stayed there. Heavy. Crushing. His heart going hard against your chest, his breath sawing at your collarbone. Neither of you moved — both of you a single disgusting glued-together animal. Roadkill, maybe.
Underneath the slowing wreck of your own pulse, the feeling you'd been fending off since he walked through the front door finally claimed you — he was home. Your throat went tight, and you turned your face into his damp hair so he wouldn't catch the sound that squeezed out of it.
He exhaled a warm gust against your throat, then he dragged his lips to the corner of yours and kissed you — sloppy, tasting of sleep and salt and the both of you mixed past telling each other apart.
cw: degrading, minor spanking, power dynamic, spitting, john being a bit of a bully, choking, soft!dom john
husband! john price whom told you not to leave the cabin but you never listen, do you?
You knew the second John found out about what you’d done, that he wouldn't let it go by scolding you with a few words. John had always thoroughly enjoyed physical punishment, which meant he would fuck you senseless until you’d listen. John also knew that you very much enjoyed defying his words just so he’d touch you.
And what’s fun if not being a bit of a brat from time to time?
John had explicitly told you ''Don't ever leave this cabin unless I'm right behind ya, got it?'' and yet you had defied his words. And John didn't take disobedience lightly.
That’s exactly what you'd done that day. Having decided to leave your shared cozy little cabin and sneak out to pick some berries.
You knew it was stupid; he’d make you feel it the second he caught onto your little adventure. But you wanted that and enjoyed going against what John said.
You long for the outcome just as much as John love giving it to you.
Giggling at the thought as you trekked further into the forest. It was beautiful here at this time of year, making you feel all warm and content. John had bought the cabin a few years back, wanting some place where the two of you could enjoy the scenery and the company of each other.
You hadn’t even been out for ten minutes before a branch nearby made a sharp crackling sound, and the sign alone let you know that John had discovered your absence from the cabin.
''Did you forget what I told you, love'?'' John’s voice echoed from somewhere in the distance, and your eyes averted to every direction, trying to spot him. But he was nowhere to be seen. Though it grew silent after that, like you had imagined his voice and the sound of him approaching altogether.
So you turned back around, bent down to gather a couple more ripe and juicy berries. Straightening up you feel it, that familiar scent rushing up your nose, pine, gun oil, and the distinct bodily smell that belonged solely to him.
You knew you hadn't imagined hearing him earlier. He was a military veteran after all. Years spent hunting down enemies who didn’t wanna be found, learning how to approach prey without making the slightest sound, unless he wanted you to know he was there. Lurking, waiting for the right moment to come up on you.
You stood frozen for what felt like an eternity until a hand snaked around your stomach, yanking you back against a solid and warm chest. ''I'll always find you.'' John's voice was calm, voice lowering ''You know that right?''
He nuzzled at the side of your neck, his beard scraping deliciously against your skin, his hand tightened around your stomach, trying to press himself even closer to you, if that was even possible. ''Are you... mad?'' The question was dumb, yet it came out of your mouth automatically.
He chuckled as he turned you around to face him, your eyes locking with his blue ones. ''Mad? Oh love... I'm furious. You know what happens to wives who don't listen.''
''They get punished.'' You answered, slotting your bottom lip between your teeth, hands tightening on the basket filled with berries.
He hummed in response, hand lifting to pull your bottom lip free, ''No biting. That's my job, love''
And later on, he'll have you right there on the forest floor, begging him to slow down his pace because it's just too much. His hips snap against yours as he slides the fat head of his cock in and out, as you're barely able to keep up with it.
Your knees are pushed up against your chest, giving John the perfect angle to hit that sweet spot. He’ll lift your hips up and pull almost all the way out and hold you there for a bit, before slamming right back in. Hands clutching and clawing at his back, as your cunt welcomed him back.
‘’Yeah that’s it. Sucking me right back in.’’
Because John doesn't do soft. This is always how it goes; he does rough and harsh. He wants to remind this pretty body that only he's allowed to be inside it, and use it whenever he damn pleases.
He is your husband after all.
As your husband, the thought of another man even breathing in the same direction as you would have John threaten to put a bullet right between the guy's eyes. Which is why there will never be another man, ever.
Till death do us part and all that.
Which is why he's so determined to go all the way in everything he does, especially when it comes to you, his wife.
''John... please.. it's..mphf.. too much.'' You whine as your nails dig into the soil of the forest floor, head going numb from the overwhelming sensation of him moving inside you. He stretched you out so well every. single. time.
Everything about John was so big. Large hands and forearms to pick you up whenever he wanted. His weight pinning you down on any surface he could find. Manhandling and putting you in any position he’d like. There was absolutely nothing small about this hunk of a man.
''You asked for this the second you decided to step that pretty arse out the cabin door.'' He growled as his hand reached out to grasp your throat, constricting your airway just enough to show you who’s in control, whilst the other was occupied with feeling his cock hitting that sweet spot inside your tummy.
The pad of his finger smears the cherry-flavored gloss you had applied earlier that day, ''Now open that fuckin' mouth for me.''
You did as he said without much thought, opening your mouth for him.
His eyes darkened, and if his pupils weren't already blown out, they certainly were now, ''That's a good wife.'' He praised, then spat into your mouth at the same time as he delivered a harsh thrust, making your breath hitch before you swallowed.
''This pussy is so greedy for me, isn't that right, love?'' His eyes were locked on your face, watching the way your eyebrows scrunched up, the way your tits were bouncing and before you knew it, he was leaning down to drag his teeth over one just enough to sting before soothing it with his tongue.
''These tits, this cunt, that mouth, they belong to me all the same.'' He added as he moved to the other one, ravishing that one just the same. You could almost not hear what he was saying, your brain felt all floaty and numb, only able to reply back with a, ''Mhm...''
John snickered at your response, ''Going all dumb already. Pathetic little thing.'' He taunted as he slid his cock out of you, a trickle of pre cum dribbling down his shaft and onto your glistening cunt. You whimpered at the loss, already reaching out for him again.
He smacked at your hand, making a tsk sound before grabbing your waist to force you onto all fours. ''You don't make the calls here. Especially not after disobeying me.''
''John...'' You whined, eyes glassy and bottom lip pushing out into a pout.
You could barely register how rough the forest floor felt against your knees, brain dumbed down to a puddle, and the only thought swirling around in that little head of yours was his cock.
He delivers a smack to your left ass cheek, making you jolt forward and your eyes closing on a whimper. ''I told you not to leave the cabin without me, didn't I? But you just had to go and act like a brat. You did it just so I'd fuck you.''
He wasn't wrong, not in the slightest. You knew he'd correct you for your actions. John was protective by nature, and the rule of you not leaving the cabin without him was set simply to keep you safe.
John groans as he slips back in from behind, hands gripping your hips so harshly they'd be blue and purple by morning. He drove into you at a steady pace, your soft moans and his grunts mingling together. John grabs a fistful of your hair, twirling it in his hand and pulls your head back.
You met his eyes over your shoulder, ''You gonna start being a good little wife and behave, ay?'' You nodded, lips parting as you push back against him, meeting his rhythm. Your lack of verbal response has him swatting at your ass again.
''Words, love.'' He demands, the hold on your hair bordering on painful.
''Yes... yes.. I promise ah—'' You replied, hips twitching as you felt your orgasm inching closer. John notices and slips one of his hands down your front, finding your clit. The other letting go of your hair to grasp at your hip. Pleasure licks up your spine as John's cock drives into you, faster now, along with his digits rubbing at your swollen bud.
It was almost too good, almost too much.
''You say you promise, but I know you're going to do it again. I'm not an fuckin' muppet. You -thrust-know -thrust-that -thrust- don't you, wife?'' Every word punctuates with his cock kissing your cervix. You cry out as your head bows forward. Soft little sounds slipping out from your lips.
He was being a meanie.
''You gonna cum, hm?'' You bobbed your head in response, feeling too fucked out to give him a proper answer this time. Hoping that was enough for him.
John was nearing his own end, but he was holding himself back. Although you'd been bad, he always made sure you came first.
Soon enough your orgasm crashes over you like a wave, body shaking and twitching. Overwhelmed and starting to turn into jelly as you cry out. John wraps his arm around your waist to make sure you don't fall face-first right onto the ground. ''Easy there, love.''
He mouths at your shoulder blades as he delivers a few more thrusts into you before his own climax comes. John swears ''Fuck.. yeah that’s it, so fucking good....'' as ropes of cum paint the gummy walls of your cunt, his sweat-slicked front molding against your back.
For a moment, there was nothing but the sound of your breathing, the rush of your heartbeat in your ears. You both stay connected as the pleasure was slowly ebbing away, and exhaustion came. John pushes your damp hair to the side, leaning down to kiss your shoulder.
''You alright?'' He questions. Despite his roughness just moments ago, he’d still slip in with soft-spoken words.
''Uh huh...'' You lean back against him, trying to catch your breath.
John let out a gruff laugh, ''You’ll go against what I say next time, won’t you?'' You can't help but laugh, the sound light and breathless, tilting your head back to give him a chaste kiss on his jaw.
''I would never. I’m a good wife who listens to her husband.'' You try to sound serious, but you were never really good at hiding what you mean. John raises a brow, the look on your face betraying you as you hold back from smiling.
Because you both knew that it wouldn’t go long before you’d do something like that again.
‘’Cheeky little thing.’’
a/n: i tried a more present-tense writing style, since it’s such a habit to switch between them in the same fic. hopefully it turned out enjoyable!!
Contains: wanting sister-in-law, m masturbation semi-public m masturbation, fingering, f and m orgasm, p in v, build up in tension, jealousy, tammi mention so cheating but she's kinda mean, pregnancy mention, police mention, creampie
Author's Note: thank you for the great request @hatosypascalbaby!! I hope you like it <33
🩷
Sammy was officially in hell.
You were sat on the sofa, chatting and laughing with Tammi, excitedly telling her a story about college. You used your hands as you spoke, your smile infectious, despite telling her how you were just kicked out of college.
He could never see anyone struggle, and it was just a few weeks. Of course he'd offered for you to crash there. You were family... and another pair of hands to wrestle Richter in line.
Sammy had such a huge heart. You were crashing on the couch, your bags spread around you. You were wearing vans sneakers, a tiny pair of shorts and a crop top due to the LA heat. Sunglasses perched on your head, perfume wafting over as you laughed.
Sammy watched you both intently. He hadn't seen you since their wedding, you were a bridesmaid and, despite only being 5 years younger than Tammi, had looked considerably younger then. Pre-college. Excited to be an adult. But now...
But if he was such a good guy, he thought guiltily, then why did he feel his cock twitching when you moved beneath your crop top? He tried not to notice how you clearly weren't wearing a bra, how your nipples were starting to stand to attention as they brushed against the material.
His gaze flicked to Tammi, who clearly hadn't noticed. Sammy bit his lip and looked at the ceiling. What the fuck, he thought. That's your sister in law.
Just a few more weeks...
-- 🩷 --
Sammy had gotten up to use the toilet. Already, your things were spread along the shelf, and the steam in the bathroom smelled like your shampoo. Sammy tried not to take a deep breath or think about you in the shower. He tiptoed through into the kitchen to grab a glass of water.
There you were. You had the lightest sheet they had covering you due to the heat. Your damp hair surrounded your head like a halo. Richter lay loyally at your side along the floor, whose eyes tracked his movements but didn't lift his head up. Sammy had tried to stay quiet but now he was frozen to the spot.
You made a soft noise in your sleep, something between a little moan and a contented sigh. Sammy wondered what you were dreaming about, as a big smile spread across your face, then realised he was staring. He turned and ran the tap as quietly as he could.
'Tammi?'' Your little voice, thick with sleep, called out.
'Um, no, sweetheart,' Sammy turned slowly, 'just me. Sorry to wake you.' A slow, guilty heat rushed to his face, even though he knew you were completely unaware of his gawking.
'Oh, sorry,' you smile, yawning and stretching your arms together above your head. Jesus christ.
'Did you, er- d'ya need something?' Sammy asked, clearing his throat.
'Oh no, I'm perfect,' you smiled. Yes you are, Sammy thought.
'Good. You, um... know where I am if you ne-need me.'
You nodded and lay back down on your side. 'Night, Sammy.' The sheet was half falling off your side, the oversized tee barely covering your thigh. If he was to move just slightly to the right, he would be able to see up it.
Before he could follow through with that thought, he quickly left the room. Climbing into bed next to Tammi, she pulled Sammy's arm around her waist and up to touch her chest.
'Unfhhh, you're half-hard for me already,' she whispered. 'I've been taking my prenatal vitamins.' Tammi tugged on his arm to pull Sammy up and on top of her. He bit his lip as she started touching him, trying desperately not to think of you two rooms away.
-- 🩷 --
You were making pancakes for everyone, a first day thank you for letting you stay. Sammy could hear yours and Tammi's voices, laughing in the kitchen as he wrestled with his tie. He hadn't heard Tammi so giddy in months. Richter flopped down in the bedroom, grumbling, pulling a flash of red between his paws. Sammy dived down to take whatever it was off him before he could chew it to bits. Richter whined as it left his grasp. Sammy looked at his fist and realised what it was. Your silky underwear, some sort of lacey see-through French knicker. He looked down in confusion at the panties which were not his wife's. It was crumpled, and Sammy realised Richter had stolen it from the bathroom after you'd showered last night. Your used panties. Jesus Christ.
As he stared at the scrap of fabric in his hand, he heard footsteps outside the bedroom. Panicking, he stuffed it into his suit pants pocket and began walking out of the room. Sammy almost collided with you. 'Morning!' Your smile was wide and genuine. 'I made pancakes!'
'Thank you,' Sammy replied, throat suddenly thick like molasses. You didn't seem to notice, your eyes dropping to his throat. 'Oh, let me!' Before he could protest, you were reaching up on your tiptoes and easing the tie from his grasp. Sammy felt your fingers brush against his, and he pulled them away as fast as possible. Your face was close to his, and he could smell your perfume and the shampoo in your hair. Sammy tried not to look at you as you worked his tie. Every time you touched his neck, it felt electric; burning hot lightning brushing against his skin. You were concentrating and seemed completely oblivious to the effect you were having on him.
Sammy curled his toes within his suit shoes as he desperately fought to keep his face neutral. Sammy's neck was sensitive, so sensitive, and it was like you knew. He felt his cock twitch against his leg, all flustered. Sammy tried to think of boring things, gruesome crime scenes. 'There,' you smiled, 'come on.' Your red underwear burned a hole in his pocket, just a thin strip of fabric separating your panties from his boxers.
-- 🩷 --
'Quickie before work?' Nate asked, grinning smugly.
'No thanks, I'm not that hard done by,' Sammy replied, as he jumped into the passenger seat.
'One - I'm way out of your league,' Nate raised his eyebrows, 'and two, I meant these.' Nate held up the red slip of fabric between his fingers, which had slipped out of Sammy's pocket into the footwell as he jumped in. 'Jesus Christ,' Sammy's face flushed bright red.
'Still trying then?' Nate asked, pulling down the street. 'What?' Sammy replied. 'With Tammi?' Nate shook his head, amused. 'Yeah, I mean, yeah... still trying.' As Nate drove further down the street, Sammy wound down his window and threw the panties out into the street. 'Well, that was normal.' Nate snorted.
-- 🩷 --
As Sammy unlocked the door and walked into the living room, he came in to see you sat on the sofa, straddling a man. Your back was too him, those tiny shorts riding up so he had a full view of your ass. Large hands were splayed round your waist as you kissed your visitor, who was pulling you slowly against his pelvis. He heard you moan.
Sammy coughed loudly and you jumped a mile into the air. 'Sammy, you're home,' you blustered, smoothing down your hair. 'This is my boyfriend, Josh.'
Josh looked like the sporty frat type, younger than Sammy with defined muscles and messy blonde hair. It was hard not to notice his bulge beneath gray sweatpants. Josh grinned at Sammy smugly, tipping his head back in acknowledgement. ''Sup.'
'Yeah, 'sup,' Sammy shook his head for half a second before moving into the kitchen. You followed him. 'Sammy, I'm so sorry, that was really disrespectful.'
Sammy carried on walking, trying not to picture what he'd just seen. ''sfine,' Sammy mumbled, a light sheen of sweat glistening over his face. 'No, it's not!' You insisted, pushing in front of him and placing your hand on his forearm.
The proximity of your body as you looked up earnestly into his eyes was almost worse than seeing you dry humping on his couch. 'Seriously, s'fine.' Sammy's rough voice was low and he avoided eye contact. He looked into your eyes for a second before removing his arm gently from your reach. ''m having a shower, s'ya in a bit.'
Sammy desperately tried to ignore your guilty eyes following him as he left the room.
-- 🩷 --
The hot water pounded over Sammy's shoulders as he closed his eyes. Tammi wasn't home yet and he was very aware he was naked, a room over from where you were probably kissing your boyfriend again. Sammy let himself picture you were kissing him for a second. His cock pulsed against his thigh. Sammy's intake of breath was ragged, the sound covered by the water. Sammy knew he should put the shower on cold, think about something else, think about his wife. But yet.... in his mind, he was sat flush on the couch, your body pressed up against him. He could smell your shampoo from the shelf. Sammy bit back a moan and closed his eyes. In his mind, you were wearing those little shorts, and he was just in his boxers. You were straddling his hips, and his hands were on your soft waist. Sammy whimpered, his cock throbbing as it grew harder. He knew he should stop this train of thought but he was too far gone, and Sammy's meaty hand was guided to his cock. As he slowly began pumping it, he imagined using your hips to guide your body, your hot core already wet with anticipation. It would leave a smear along his boxers, because you wanted him, needed to use him. Sammy's eyes closed as he tipped his head back, pumping a little faster. He replayed the small moan you'd made as you rode Josh. The head of his chubby cock would find the seam over your clit. It would be sensitive and you'd moan as he pressed against it, using the tip to grind against the little bud of nerves, against the spot you really needed. There, Sammy, you'd moan in his ear. Oh fuck... right there.
Sammy groaned, imagining how much you'd want it, how much you'd beg him for it. Sammy, please. How you'd tell him to shut the fuck up so he didn't wake Tammi, swallowing his whines with your mouth.
'Oh God,' Sammy found himself whispering. 'Yeaaahh.' He began fucking up into his fist, wet with pre-cum and the shower, one hand pressed against the wall to steady him. He was getting close. Sammy tried to shut out any feelings of guilt. He wasn't acting on it, doing anything with you, he was just thinking... Sammy imagined your tongue against his neck, sucking and licking. He groaned again, his stomach beginning to tingle, his muscles stiffening. You'd use your teeth, scraping behind his ear as you rubbed yourself on his cock. You wouldn't be gentle. No, you'd use him to take what you needed, to lift yourself higher and higher and higher. Sammy couldn't even imagine how it would feel for you to grind down hard on him, growing more and more desperate, crying out that you were gonna cum.
'Ahhh.. ahh.... mmmmf,' Sammy tried to keep quiet but it was too late. His stomach tightened and he began to see stars. 'Hi Sammy, I'm home!' Tammi poked her head around in the door. Sammy jumped in surprise, dropping his cock, the orgasm keeping him suspended on the edge receded. 'Uhh, hi,' he panted. 'Won't be a sec.' Fuck.
-- 🩷 --
Sammy was convinced you were trying to kill him. You were padding around in a little onesie. The buttons were open dangerously low, and the shorts were barely shorts, high-rise on your perfect thighs. Sammy was trying to focus on his paperwork, but his gaze kept dropping to your mouth, parted in concentration.
'All done!' You announced, pushing a plate in front of him. Homemade pasta and meatballs, covered in a spicy tomato sauce. You were bending over the counter, oblivious to the view of your tits you were flashing him down your onesie. Sammy quickly lifted his gaze to your eyes, hoping you wouldn't notice. He looked between each of your eyes, feeling a flush creep across his face. Had you held the eye contact a second too long? He looked uncomfortable and was squirming in his seat.
''smells amazing!' Tammi announced, sitting next to Sammy and squeezing his thigh in greeting. Sammy smiled at her and shifted sideways slightly so she couldn't feel the bulge straining against his jeans.
'Oh God, it tastes amazing,' you squealed, licking then sucking sauce from your index finger. Sammy made a squeak and tried to cover it with a cough as his eyes followed your wet tongue. 'It does,' he agreed, fighting to keep his rough voice low and even. 'Are you sure?' Your face fell, looking in concern at him. 'You don't seem to like it?' 'No, no, I like it,' Sammy rushed, aware he was flushing even more. A slight sheen of sweat reached his forehead. 'It tastes amazing.' He agreed in a whisper.
-- 🩷 --
You were driving him crazy but he was in heaven. The three of you were watching a movie, Tammi and you curled up on the sofa, underneath a blanket, and Sammy on the recliner. His eyes were on you more than the movie. Sammy couldn't tell if you were doing it on purpose, or if you were even aware, but you were sucking your thumb.
Each movement of your mouth on your thumb, deep inside your mouth, made your wet lips tighten around it, moving slowly up and down. Your eyes stayed forwards, intently watching the screen, but you had to be doing it on purpose.
Sammy gratefully reached for the cushion behind him, and tried to cover his hips with it, as surreptiously as possible. His cock pulsed, and his wedding ring bit into his finger.
You laughed at the film, your beautiful face lighting up, a slip of tongue revealed through your parted wet lips. This was better than watching porn. His cock throbbed insistently against his thigh, straining against his jeans. It twitched against the cushion, and Sammy breathed out in relief. No way. There was no way he was dry humping a pillow in the sitting room watching his sister-in-law, in front of his wife. And yet...
Sammy's grip on the cushion was a vice, fighting to keep it completely steady as he slowly rolled his hips against it. His cock pulsed as it brushed the rough fabric, desperate for relief. Sammy held his breath, eyes fixed on you. He felt like a creep, but he couldn't help it. There was no way he could survive a few weeks without doing something about it. Sammy was a really good guy but... maybe he wasn't that good. Tammi hardly paid him attention anymore, he was surprised she had initiated sex the previous night. She was usually mean and spaced out on weed. Sammy had guiltily pictured you making that little moan again as he fucked into Tammi, and he had finished so early Tammi didn't have chance to cum.
The friction started to build as Sammy guided his cock against the cushion. Rolling his tongue over his lower lip and biting down hard on it, he looked to the ceiling and tried to keep quiet. But his gaze soon found you again, so beautiful, your mouth working on your thumb. Sammy imagined it was his cock your lips were tight around, sucking in a light vacuum, whilst your tongue made circles around his head. Sammy was close. You laughed again at the movie and resettled on the sofa. Why did you never wear bras? He could see your nipples through your onesie, pert and waiting for him. Sammy wondered if you were wearing another pair of French knickers under there. If you had a lacy, see-through black pair, or if you had a baby-pink thong on. Fuck, he was right on the edge.
He was gonna cum in his boxers like a teenager. Spill into them with his warm load and sit in the pool, before walking out with them plastered to his cock.
He gripped the pillow even tighter. Would those panties be pushed to the side? Were they damp against your skin right this minute? Were you getting wet sitting there, smearing them with your arousal? Were you even wearing any?
'Sammy!' Tammi interrupted his train of thought, with the tone of someone who had said his name more than once. 'Hmmmf?' Sammy asked, immediately stopping his movements against the cushion, guilt filling him. 'Ice cream? Freezer? Can you get it?' 'Mmm'kay... just need to give me a minute.'
-- 🩷 --
It was Saturday. Tammi was out taking photographs in the park. It was burning hot and you were in a deck chair in the garden. Sammy walked out to join you, bringing a beer for both of you. He stuttered when he saw you, wearing what was probably sold as a bikini but in reality was a torture device. Sammy couldn't believe his luck.
Your bikini bottoms were obscene, the sides reaching way up over your hips with a tiny V heading towards your core. The top was all spaghetti straps, with little triangles of black fabric which barely covered your tits. They strained against it, giving a view of side boob and under boob, all pert and pressed together. Was this heaven or hell?
'Thanks,' you smiled, gratefully taking the beer. 'Are you not boiling?' You nodded at Sammy's tee. 'Um...' Sammy squirmed a little, sitting down on his chair. You could tell he was flustered by something, his meaty hand dragging down his face. 'No, I'm good.' His low, rough voice managed. 'Oh, come on!' You playfully tugged at his sleeve. 'It's only me!'
Sammy swallowed thickly. Only you was the whole problem. He decided to be honest. 'I've er- I've put on a little weight. 'rather not.' You lifted your sunglasses up onto your head. Fuck, you were so beautiful. 'Don't be silly,' you chided gently, looking at him with wide eyes. 'Besides... dad bods are in. Come on,' you tugged at his sleeve again.
Sammy realised he wasn't going to win this one and slowly removed his shirt. Your eyes took on his arm pits, full of thick auburn curls, and smelling faintly of body wash and deodorant. The freckles dusted across his chest matched his face. Sammy sat, embarrassed, his squishy tummy overhanging his swim shorts. You tried not to stare, or at his thick, meaty arms, or the pale, chubby hand gripping his beer tight.
Sammy squirmed under your gaze, flustered, heat blazing across his face. A slight sheen of sweat dampened his curls. 'S'stop looking,' Sammy mumbled, and you flipped your sunglasses back down over your face. 'Why? You're hot,' you shrugged and went back to your book. Sammy shifted in his seat and tried to think about his taxes.
--🩷--
You were both a few beers in and slightly buzzed. Sammy felt more confident in stealing quick glances at you. You sat up and moaned, stretching your arms out, pushing your tits forwards. The view of your breasts made it impossible to ignore and Sammy's mouth dropped open a little. He wondered how else he could pull that moan from your mouth... preferably made into his mouth.
'Please put some cream on me, Sammy?' 'What?' Sammy stared at you, guilty. Had his face given away his thoughts so easily. 'Sun cream?' You shook the bottle at him, a smirk on your face. 'Oh, right... yeah.' Sammy cleared his throat and sat sideways on his chair as you turned your back to him. 'My neck and back always burn.' 'Uh huh.'
Sammy took the bottle from you and squirted some lotion onto his hands, warming it between his fingers. He took a deep breath and bit his lip, starting along your spine and your lower back. As his hands rubbed up and down your sides, he tried to break the silence with the first thing he could think of... your body, your rolling hips, your moan...
'How're things with Josh?' Sammy tried to keep his voice even. Your skin was so smooth and soft under his thick fingers. They slipped under the string around your ribs. 'Oh, that's over,' you replied breezily, holding your hair up and out of the way of your shoulders. Sammy leant forwards, breathing in your smell, then feeling very guilty. 'That's too bad,' he murmured, trying not to feel pleased. Smug prick. 'Nah, he was a cheating loser,' you replied.
Sammy couldn't believe that anyone would cheat on you. On you. 'He must be insane,' Sammy muttered before he could stop himself, moving up to your shoulders. You snorted, 'yeah, well... he wasn't that great anyway. I had to keep faking it in the end.' Sammy nearly choked. 'Sorry,' you grinned, looking back at him. 'TMI.'
Sammy couldn't help but imagine you prone on the bed, that fucking prick above you. You look bored and sad, receiving no pleasure as Josh just used your body. It made Sammy seethe.
'No, sweetheart, you deserve better than having to do that.' Sammy's chubby thumbs pressed lightly against your neck, rubbing into the tight muscles. You moaned softly and leant back into his hands. The sound went straight to Sammy's cock, twitching in his shorts. It was just biology, he told himself. It didn't mean anything. It's just... his body doesn't know that. It's like it's a separate entity, ignoring his instructions and responding to your voice. He couldn't help it. 'Mmmm, feels so good,' you hum as you leant back harder into his thumbs. Sammy was fucked.
Sammy rubbed up your neck and back down. Nearly finished, nearly finished, nearly finished... 'Thanks!' You turn around with a bounce, smiling at him gratefully. 'Your turn!'
'W-what?' Sammy stuttered, putting on his own sunglasses to hide some of his panic. 'You don't have any on,' you explained slowly, gesturing to his chest and tummy. 'Oh er... 'sfine, I'll do it in a minute.' 'Don't be silly,' you laughed, taking the bottle from his hands, and pulling your seat closer. 'I can reach it all myself,' Sammy squeaked, gesturing to his front. 'Oh, shut uuuup,' you teased, rolling your eyes.
Sammy breathed a sigh of relief that his shorts were dark and baggy, hoping you wouldn't notice how ridiculously hard he was. His hand clenched tight around his beer bottle.
You warmed the lotion in your hands as Sammy had done, and then started along his chest. Sammy didn't dare breathe. You leant forwards and Sammy could see all of you escaping your bikini top now. Your round tits were pressed together, nipples hard and scraping across the glossy material. Sammy swallowed and had to look away.
Your hands pressed gently into his chest as you rubbed the lotion in, running your fingers through his chest hair, and Sammy had to press his mouth shut so he didn't whimper. He had dreamed of you touching him like this and, now that you were, he didn't know where to look or what to do with his hands.
You reached his tummy and Sammy bent away. 'Please don't,' he whispered. You pushed your sunglasses up off your face again and looked at him, even though he was still wearing his. 'I told you,' you repeated, softly and gently. 'Dad bods are in.' The wine was giving you a pleasant buzz and made you feel brave. 'Besides,' you said, rubbing your fingers into his squishy tummy, 'it's kinda really hot.' finally admitting to yourself that you wanted it pressed against your back, with his big, solid body wrapped around you.
Sammy dared not breathe. He must have misheard you. 'Mmmm, don't think so..' Sammy shook his head, desperate for the conversation to be over. Your hands reach beneath his belly button, then were rubbing the underside of his tummy. Sammy was frozen on the spot. The air between you shifted somehow, grew thicker. It sat heavy and charged. Your fingertips were inches, inches, away from the waistband of his shorts. You could slip them under without even moving your wrist. 'Sammy-,' you whispered, but were interrupted by a door banging shut.
You and Sammy immediately sprang away from each other, and Sammy found himself panting. His want and his frustration were warring for first place. 'You would not believe this awful... oh jesus christ, put some clothes on. Your sister doesn't wanna see that... and Sammy sure as hell doesn't.' Sammy could have burst into tears. His jaw clenched and his cheeks twitched. You glanced at him, an apology and a guilty look in one, and then stood. As you turned, Sammy got a view of your plush ass, right at eye level. 'Whatever, Tams,' you groaned, rolling your eyes. You poke her in the ribs as you walk past and she just sighs impatiently. 'Besides,' your voice floats away, 'anyone would be lucky to have this.'
--🩷--
Sammy's cock was weeping as he took a shower, the water pounding over his shoulders. It found his hand again, his meaty fingers struggling to wrap around the chubby length. He thrust his hips and fucked roughly into his fist, desperate and impatient. The tension in the air, the way you had looked at him, your fingers inches from tugging at his waistband, touching the top of his auburn pubic hair, scratching your nails down, down, down... Sammy bit his lip and tried to quieten his grunts as he pulled on his cock, imagining you taking him out of his shorts... Sammy stifled a wounded groan, he was gonna cum, he was gonna cum... 'Ah, ahhhh, aaaahhhh, mmmf,' Sammy turned his head into his bicep, biting down so hard to muffled his grunting he could taste blood. Fuck, here it comes. He was right on the edge, his balls tightened up, his stomach coiling, his toes clenching... A knock at the door. 'Sammy! Hurry up! We have takeout.' Sammy cried out in frustration. '.... you okay?' Tammi asked. For fuck's sake. 'Yeah! Fine!' Sammy hung his head and pressed it against the cold shower tiles. He couldn't remember a time he had ever been as frustrated as this.
--🩷--
Sammy barely spoke during the movie. He didn't know what to do with himself. You were back in tiny sleep shorts and a crop cami, relaxing into the sofa and laughing along. He couldn't help but take you all in. You were glowing from an afternoon outside in the sun. You were starting to get sleepy, your face all soft and relaxed, your thumb grazing your mouth. Every so often your eyes would flick to his and then quickly away, leaving Sammy insanely flustered. He had never been so desperate to fuck someone in his life.
The way you walked around in skimpy clothes, the amazing homecooked meals you made as if you had to earn your place (you didn't), the big smiles you gave him every time he came home. But then there were your nipples, always in his vision. Your peachy butt he wanted to bite down on until it bruised. Your gorgeous legs he wanted wrapped around his ears. Sammy was desperate for you with a carnal intensity, like a dog in heat.
It was heaven watching you float around his home, and hell that he hasn't had you yet. It was too much. He was going to have to do something about it.
Sammy was aching for you, so much so that it hurt. He was constantly half-hard just watching you, and his balls were so heavy; full and uncomfortable. His cock was sore for you. He hadn't even been able to jerk himself off to you, spraying the shower tiles with his cum like he wanted to, because Tammi always interrupted and ruined it. There was no relief for him. He had to fuck you. He had to.
Tammi went to bed early with a headache. For about half an hour, you didn't speak, sat in comfortable silence as mindless nonsense played on the TV. Sammy moved onto the couch and joined you under the blanket, after pushing Richter gently off. You were his favourite person, and Sammy could see why.
You turned to look at him and found him already looking over your face. You took a sharp breath, and Sammy's eyes dropped to your mouth, just for a second, and then back into your eyes.
'Sammy,' you breathed. 'I know,' Sammy's voice wavered at the end, deep and rough. He looked between your eyes with a blazing heat. 'I want to,' you whispered, searching his eyes for reciprocation. 'Fuck, I want you,' Sammy's voice was low but he was shaking slightly. 'You know we can't, though,' but you moved closer, so much so you could see the dusting of freckles over his forehead and cheeks. His hazel eyes burned into yours, darkened with want and blown pupils. 'No, we definitely can't,' Sammy agreed, moving closer still, lips inches from yours; closer than your fingers were to the waistband of his shorts. 'So we just go to sleep, then,' you whisper against his lips.
Sammy couldn't take it any more. The anticipation, the want, he had to have you. He had to fuck you. Sammy had to act upon it. 'Nuh-huh,' he disagreed, closing the space and pressing his soft lips against yours.
You made a soft moaning sound, which made Sammy groan into your mouth. As you kissed, he gently held your jaw, before pushing his thick fingers into your hair and curling them round a handful. He didn't pull hard, just enough to let you know that he could. The kiss was soft, gentle, tender. 'This okay?' Sammy whispered against your lips. You just nodded and made a soft sigh against his mouth, as if finally finding relief.
Sammy ran his tongue gently across your bottom lip, which you opened, and the kiss became more intense; full of the frustrations and anticipation of this moment, which you both knew deep down was coming. 'D'ya wanna stop?' Sammy panted, knowing how wrong this was. His wedding ring cut into his finger like barbed wire, but he didn't feel guilty. Not in this moment. Not with how Tammi treated him, and the way you were looking at him right now. 'Fuck no,' you whispered, pulling him closer to you and kissing him again. Sammy made a sound, a low whimper, and you put your arms around his neck, fingers toying with his auburn curls.
Sammy pressed his body closer to you, his solid frame soft against yoir body, large but plush at the same time. Another moan escaper your into his mouth, and he greedily swallowed it. '... 'hope that's not fake,' Sammy murmured, his hands running down your waist, finding your shorts and pulling you closer. You almost laughed. You were half-straddling him, his heat radiating onto you. He smelled so good, he felt so good. 'Somehow I don't think I'll need to fake it,' you whispered back.
Sammy growled in response, pushing you down onto your back on the couch, legs still intertwined. 'We're gonna have to be quiet,' you whispered, the door to the sitting room still open. Tammi could walk in at any time, and you felt a flush of wetness at the thought. Sammy was painfully hard, pressing against his jeans, which were damp from your wetness. He pushed his body weight down onto you and you thought you might cum there and then. 'Real quiet,' Sammy agreed as you unbuckled his belt. 'Don't want anyone to walk in 'ncatch us,' he murmured between kisses. 'Definifely not your wife,' you whispered, pushing his jeans down and pulling him close. Sammy groaned at your words, and then again at your hot cunt, as he slipped his cock against the thin fabric of your sleep shorts. 'And defnitely not my sister,' you agreed.
Sammy let out a loud, pained whine, and you covered his mouth with your palm. 'Gotta be quiet, baby,' you shook your head. 'Can't get caught before you cum inside me.'
Sammy made a pathetic, wounded sound. Pre-cum soaked the front of his boxers, smearing against the material as he slowly moved against you. The thick, mushroom head of his chubby cock rubbed against your clit, making you gasped. Your head went dizzy as the thick head made lazy circles against your bud, before roughlt flicking back and forth against it. You felt your pussy clench around nothing.
'Oh fuck,' Sammy panted. 'Ah.. uhhhh, please take me out. Please.'
When you placed a hand inside his boxers and felt the size of his cock, you inhaled sharply. This was gonna stretch you out. 'Wha..?' Sammy asked, kissing your face, your ear, your neck, your jaw. ''something wrong?' 'Nope,' you smiled, pulling him out of his boxers and shrugging them down past his knees. His cock waved against his stomach. 'Pulll these aside for me, baby,' Sammy begged, tugging your sleep shorts.
When he had access, he ran his fingers through your wetness. 'Fuuuuuck,' he breathed. 'Is this just for me?' 'All for you, Sammy.' You gently sucked along his jaw. 'Your pussy's so pretty, baby,' Sammy moaned as he circled your clit lazily, before flicking it sideways, up and down, circles, up and down, sideways... He was bringing you to the edge and letting you teeter there.
'Please le-let me touch youuu,' Sammy whimpered. You nodded against his lips, pulling him tighter to you. Sammy slid a thick finger inside you, swiftly followed by a second.
You gasped, feeling the enormous stretch as Sammy's fingers scissored inside you. The pressure and tickle felt almost too much to bear. Sammy began sliding his fingers in and out, and the obscene squelching noises filled the silent room. You pressed your head against Sammy's bicep, embarrassed. 'Hey, look at me, baby.' Sammy lowered his head to be back on your level. ''love you makin' a mess for me.'
You moaned in response, glad that it seemed to turn him on more. You felt his cock press insistently against your hip, twitching as Sammy added a third finger. You gasped. 'Sammy, I can't-' 'Oh you can, princess,' Sammy moaned, getting close to cumming from just this. 'Fuck, yeah, you can.'
He shifted slightly so he had more access to your cunt and curled his fingers, gently rubbing against your squishy spot. Your legs shook underneath him. 'There?' Sammy asked, looking up at you. 'Oh fuck,' you panted, 'there.'
Sammy continued massaging you, pulling his fingers in and out, the base of them covered in your cream. You felt yourself leaking out around his fingers, running down your ass and onto the couch. You were too far gone to care.
Sammy nudged your legs further apart with his knee when you tried to tighten them together. Sammy was fucking into the couch, humping against it, hips rolling up and down. His thrusting into the fabric became rougher as his fingers deep inside you began to speed up. His thumb circled your clit, palm pressing on your mound. 'There it is,' Sammy moaned. 'Cum for me.' Your orgasm hit you like a train. Your back arched as you saw stars, heat radiating through all of your muscles. 'Good girl,' Sammy whispered into your mouth, swallowing your moans. 'Theeere you go... you're doing so good.'
Sammy slowed his fingers down but didn't stop touching you until you had fully come down from your high. 'Fuck,' Sammy breathed. 'You're so beautiful.'
'That was amazing.' You fought to catch your breath. Your cum glistened all over his fingers from gushing into his hand. The couch was soaked from when you surprised yourself and squirted. Sammy dragged his finger down his tongue, sucking your wetness with his eyes closed. Then he leaned in and kissed you, so you could taste yourself on his tongue. ''made such a mess f'me,'
'Can I fuck you now?' Sammy's voice was cracked and hoarse. 'Please yes... fuck yes,' you replied, wriggling out of your shorts. ''m not gonna last long,' Sammy warned. 'Good,' you ran your fingernails up and down his neck, making his eyes roll back. 'It's so sexy that you can't stop yourself from cumming over me.'
You pushed his cock along your cunt, through your lips and covering it with your glistening wetness. 'Uhhh... uh. St-stop that,' Sammy stuttered. His face was completely red and screwed up, and he shuddered as you moved him. You loved seeing him, a big police detective, so flustered and falling apart for you like this. 'Why?' you asked innocently. ''cos I'm gonna cum,' Sammy let out a long groan, his eyes rolling back, and biting down on his lower lip. ''n-o, seriously... stop... 'wanna fuck you so good.'
You ran your fingernails up and down his biceps, and along his soft chest. Sammy groaned again, a guttural, pained sound, squirming as you clapped your hand over his mouth. 'Baby, you gotta shut the fuck up if you want fuck me.'
Sammy nodded desperately, obediently, too lost in the need for you to let him. He lined himself up with you and slowly pushed halfway in to you. 'You're so tight,' Sammy moaned, his head thrown back. 'Fuck, you feel so good.' 'Keep going,' you whispered, hands on his hips and pulling him closer, making him move further into you.
Sammy let out a series of broken sounds until he bottomed out; he was coming undone already.
You rolled your hips in slow figure 8s, dragging his cock along every part of your wet, warm walls, stretching you out. As his thick head bumped against your spot, your pussy helplessly clenched around his cock. 'Don't- don't do that,' Sammy begged, trying desperately not to just blow his load inside you straightaway.
'Sammy,' you pleaded, rolling your hips against his pelvis. 'C'mon... fuck me. This is what you want. This is what you needed. Come get it.'
Sammy nearly came. There was nothing gentle or romantic about the way he fucked you. He pushed you deep into the couch, thrusting down on you. His heavy weight pressed against you, and you could feel his big belly squishing hard into yours.
Sammy grunted in your ear like an animal every time he bottomed out. He fucked you with the aggressive energy of a dog in heat, mindlessly mating with its partner. Sammy's sweat dropped onto you, his face all red and screwed up. 'Uhhh... uh... huh... uhhhh,' Sammy grunted every time he buried himself in your warm, soaking cunt. You pulled on his hair and he moaned, which turned into a whine. ''m gonna cum,' Sammy's voice was broken, his eyes glassy. One was half-rolled back into his head and his mouth hung open as he buried himself deep within you.
'Cum for me, Sammy,' you whispered, one hand raking his back down hard with your fingernails, the other one reaching under him and gently holding his balls. 'Mmmmmf,' Sammy was getting louder. 'Oh I'm gonna... hnnnfgh.. I'm go-gonna...'
His hips moved rougher and sloppier, slamming into your cervix with uncoordinated precision. ''gon' fi-fill... oh fuck, 'm cumming.' You felt the load pumping into you immediately, warming you from the inside and sluicing around his cock because there was just so much cum.
Sammy let out high-pitched squeals, like a hurt dog, as he buried his face in your hair. He gave one, then two more thrusts before he stayed bottomed out, deep inside your cunt, as throb after throb of his cum spilled into you. Your insides were thoroughly hosed down, dripping out of you and onto your thighs.
Sammy lay on top of you, heavy weight pressed into you, sweaty and flushed red. You smoothed his auburn curls. 'Feel better now?' You asked. You could feel his cock softening inside you, but Sammy made no attempt fo move. 'Yeah,' Sammy's voice was shaky. 'Just for the record,' you whispered, 'none of that was fake.'
Sammy laughed against your lips, and began to kiss you - a satiated, content kiss; softer than before. 'You can't fake squirting all over me like that,' Sammy smiled smugly. 'Shut up,' you laughed. 'Can I just stay here like this?' Sammy asked, gesturing to him lying on you, cock still soft inside. 'If you're prepared to say you tripped and fell,' you snorted. 'I did,' Sammy grinned. 'I tripped and fell over and over and over and over,' Sammy tickled you, and you tried not to squeal as you squirmed underneath him. Sammy closed his eyes, his cock so sensitive still as you moved and clenched around him. 'Careful,' he warned. 'You're gonna make me hard again.'
authors note: thank you for 600 followers!! kisses to every single one of you <3
—
they’re getting ready in his apartment, low jazz humming softly from the speaker she gifted him somewhere near the kitchen.
his place still smells like the coffee she made this morning, with a mix of his cologne. she stands near the bedroom doorway smoothing her hands down the black dress she bought last saturday.
across the room, jack adjusts his watch at the dresser mirror. his eyes catch hers in the reflection immediately.
“you keep doing that,” he says, raising his brows.
her hands stop. “it keeps wrinkling.”
“it doesn’t, honey.” he says as his eyes drift over her slowly.
she’s nervous but she’s trying to hide it— she’s giving him that small smile. his jaw tightens.
“sweetheart,” he says quietly, “is that little number new?”
her cheeks warm instantly.
she looks away, embarrassed by how easily he does that to her.
after fastening his watch, he stalks toward her slowly, sleeves rolled neatly at his forearms. tie still undone around his neck. the closer he gets, the more she can feel her chest rise and fall.
his hands settle absentmindedly on her curved waist when he reaches her.
“mm— hi,” he murmurs.
she lets out a small breath. “hi.” she quips. “would you be shocked if i told you that i’m nervous?”
his brows pull together. “about tonight?”
she nods, looking up at him through her lashes.
jack’s thumbs stroke lightly against the silk at her waist. “talk to me.”
her gaze drops to his tie and starts to tie it. “everyone there knows you… and all those surgeons and department heads and board people…”
he waits patiently.
“…and then there’s me.”
his hand slides higher along her side before gently tipping her chin upward.
“yeah,” he says quietly. “there’s you.”
her chest tightens at the warmth of his hands.. and the rasp of his voice.
“they’re gonna stare,” she whispers.
jack blinks, “let them.”
“jack.”
“what?” his voice is calm. “you think i care what anybody at that damn charity gala thinks about who i bring?”
she doesn’t answer.
because maybe he doesn’t care.
but she certainly does.
she notices the looks. the assumptions. the way people glance between them when they’re running errands, or getting dinner. they immediately decide what they think this relationship is!
heck, before she met him she’d give those couples the look.
jack studies her face for a long second before sighing through his nose.
then he steps closer.
close enough that her back lightly brushes the dresser behind her.
“look at me,” he says gently.
she obeys and her eyes widen at that big mistake.
because the second their eyes meet, his expression changes into something hungrier.
his gaze drifts slowly over her again.
her breath catches.
“jack…”
“do you have any idea,” he murmurs, voice lower now, “how hard it is to focus on this fucking dinner when you’re standing here looking like this?”
she tries to hold in her surprised giggle but fails.
his hands slide around her, his fingertips reaching the area of her exposed back.
“you’re beautiful,” he says simply. “that’s all anybody’s going notice. understand?”
“yes.”
she shakes her head a little, shy under the intensity of his attention.
“stop looking at me like that.”
he gives her his sideways smirk. “can’t.” he tuts.
and then, because he’s impossible, he leans down and kisses just beneath her ear.
his hands tightening briefly when she melts against him almost instantly.
“jack,” she giggles, trying free herself from his grasp.
he hums softly against her skin, entirely too pleased with himself.
“mm?”
“we’re gonna be late.” she tries to fight.
“tempting argument.” his lips brush her jaw before pulling back to look at her again. “but i think i can spare another minute.”
the look he gives her then nearly makes her forget the gala entirely.
—
at the gala, jack has his fingers at her back, then her wrist, then intertwined with her fingers as they walk through the mingling crowd.
and somehow, she thinks that it’s okay.
it’s actually better than okay. she’s having fun.
everyone she’s met is kind, they’re a little curious— but in a way that doesn’t feel like judgment. robby jokes with her like she’s always been around, and dana smiles at her like she’s a good friend.
for a while, she even forgets why she was nervous.
and jack— he’s quietly relieved every time she laughs.
eventually, she drifts toward the bar alone to get a drink while jack is engaged in a conversation a few feet away.
she’s standing at the bar, rolling her ankles as she feels her heels pinch at her skin. when she suddenly feels someone step in beside her.
“this thing is dragging.”
she turns to see brendon park looking down at his phone, unimpressed. she vaguely remembers jack calling him shark.
“oh—um, it’s not too bad. i’m hoping the food will be good though.” she lets out. clearly taken aback at that conversation starter.
he nods and lets his eyes drift over her. like he’s trying to figure out where she fits into the room.
“you with someone tonight?”
her grip tightens slightly on the glass of champagne that the bartender just handed her.
“yeah,” she says simply. she doesn’t know if she should say ‘dr. abbot,’ or ‘my boyfriend,.’
so she just says, “jack.”
that gets a faint reaction.
“abbot?” shark says. “huh, i didn’t realize he was bringing residents to this thing.”
the words land wrong immediately.
her stomach dips.
“oh—no, i’m not—” she starts quickly, shaking her head a little. “i’m not a resident.”
shark’s brows lift slightly. “medical student?”
“no,” she says again, softer now. “i’m not— i’m not in medicine.”
his gaze lingers as realization hits.
“huh,” he murmurs. “just didn’t peg you for his type.”
her smile falters before she can stop it and she looks down at her sore feet.. wishing she hadn’t even entertained a conversation with this asshole.
she’s suddenly hyper ware of everything—her age, her dress, the way she probably looks exactly like what people assume she is when they see her next to jack.
“what does that mean?” she quivers, trying to keep her voice steady as anger starts to boil through her veins.
shark shrugs slightly. “nothing. just that he’s a serious guy.”
she gapes at him. and it feels like someone had just punched her in the gut.
“you’re, you know…”
he can’t be serious?
her throat tightens and she opens her mouth to respond but before she can even let out a sound she hears a voice.
“dr. park” the voice cuts in calmly. “problem?”
jack.
he’s there now, one hand snaking to find her waist. like he’s been tracking this conversation from across the room without even needing to hear it clearly.
she doesn’t realize how much she relaxes until he touches her.
shark straightens slightly. “no problem. just talking.”
jack’s eyes don’t move off him.
“about what?”
shark hesitates. “I just didn’t realize residents were invited to this thing.” he says, clearly trying to gage a reaction.
her mouth falls agape in disbelief as she watches shark smirk.
jack’s hand tightens at her waist to anchor her. to anchor himself.
then he speaks. his voice cold but deathly controlled.
“she’s not a resident.”
shark gives him a mock expression.
“she’s my girlfriend.”
shark blinks once. shrinking under jacks gaze that she can’t see. it’s like he’s recalibrating the entire situation. “oh. I didn’t know it was like that—”
“you do now,” jack says simply.
jack doesn’t even look at him again after that.
instead, his attention drops immediately to her as he pulls her away from the bar. her dress flows as they walk towards their table.
“you okay?” he asks quietly, draining his neck down to look into her eyes.
she nods, a little breathless, “well.. he’s an absolute asshole.”
jack’s thumb brushes the crane of her back and lets out a bemused chuckle. “yeah. i hate that guy.”
he watches her as she looks at him though her lashes, pouting her lips softly before looking down at the table setting.
jack abbot who really likes to perv on his girl. he doesn't care when or where, he's grabbing a handful of ass if you're beside him. it's not his fault that your ass looks so soft in those leggings and begging to be grabbed. he especially likes date nights when you're wearing a little black dress for him. maybe it's got some low cuts on the side or front and his finger tips are grazing the bits of plump skin so gently. he certainly doesn't care when you're at a fancy bar standing between his legs while he's kissing down your neck, reaching behind to squeeze your ass between his hands. his lips and scruff dragging further across your skin, alcohol make your head feel like fuzz and skin tingle when jack's tongue dips out as he leaves a wet kiss on cleavage. your trying to suppress the squeal in your throat has your hand digs into his hair, tangling in those grey curls. his other is keeping your hip steady. "such a sweet girl, letting an old man like me paw at you like this..." he's murmuring against your ear.
even in the elevator leaving the roof top bar, he reaches down just enough to drag his hand from your calf, up the back of your leg and finally dipping between your thighs from behind. his whole hand cupping your pussy feeling the slick panties as his fingers run teasingly back and forth. "'m gonna treat her real good tonight, baby, i'll make sure you got something else dripping out of you later..."
Random Morning Thoughts: I still haven’t gotten over the fact that Sammy Bryant wasn’t getting ass.. like you’re telling me season 4 and 5 Sammy wasn’t getting anything.. seriously.. because I would let him do absolutely filthy things to me. Like that man could tell me to do anything and I would say yes. I need that man now honestly. Let’s be honest Shawn Hatosy in general could do filthy things to me also.. and I would say yes to whatever he wanted.
synopsisyou and Trinity decide you've had enough of being the casual booty call, agreeing to play hard to get to prove to your partners you can go without them. easier said then done
warningsmut. oral (f! receiving) fingering, language, pinv, unprotected sex, MDNI. slight praise kink. no use of y/n
authornotethe way in which i need to be driven mad by this man using me is concerning to feminism
main masterlist. other Robby fic
“I don't get it!” said Santos for... well, you had no idea how many times she'd repeated herself but you were considering making it a drinking game. Every time she said she 'didn't understand' you resolved to take a shot. “I thought we were fine, doing great and casual- what- what is casual?”
Whitaker's hand hesitated in the air like they were in class. “Well I think by casual she means-”
“I know what casual means, Fuckle-berry,” said Santos quickly. “But it was casual now it's just weird.”
You nodded along, humming.
She groaned, hands running through her hair in frustration. “I don't get it!”
You took a long gulp of your wine.
“How do you handle it?” Trinity asked, arms wide in question at you.
“Me?”
“Yeah, how do you and Robby do casual?”
“Oh- we... it's- um-” you stumbled over your words, hoping that if you let it up long enough she'd take it back and start on her problems again. She didn't and she stood in front of you and Whitaker, waiting for an explanation.
The whole thing between you and Robby had started about the same time Santos and Garcia started. In an awkward confrontation that was you and Trinity bumping into each other in your shared bathroom, both your hairs messed up and both supporting bruises suspiciously in the shape of lips on your necks.
When you returned to your room you and Robby waited eagerly to see who would flee Santos's room. Neither too shocked to find Garcia.
“It's um?” Trinity asked.
“It's going,” you said into your wine glass, finishing it and pouring in more. The truth was for a while things had been odd, on your end more so.
Casual was a label you thought you could do, that when Robby said to you a week after sleeping together, his sheets over the both of your bodies that he liked keeping it simple. Sex. Release. You thought you could do it.
Almost three months since then and you were regretting it because every time you saw doctors eyes lingering over Robby, every time you heard his 'seven-week rule' and every time you saw happy couples fawning over each other in the ED your stomach twisted.
You didn't realise you wanted that until it was dangled in front of you and snatched away all in the same minute.
Trinity's brows rose. “Oh?”
You looked to where Whitaker was next to you, hoping for sympathy. You only found curious eyes. “It's just different than before.”
“Different how?” asked Dennis.
“Is it still casual?”
You scoffed, mumbling under your breath. “Yeah to him.”
“You want to be more?”
You didn't know if she was accusing but your room-mates expecting eyes on you heated your body in shame and embarrassment. “And you don't with Garcia?"
“Ok, enough!” suddenly Whitaker stood up. “The two of you, we need to sort this out.”
With a vacant seat next to you Trinity plopped herself down and you gave her your wine. You just decided to take the bottle.
“I cannot stand it anymore, okay! The two of you, we're gonna change this,” he said. “Trin- no more pining and waiting for Garcia to call at like one am.”
She was wanting to retort but only folded her arms over her chest as he carried on.
“And you-” he focused on you. “Need to stop crying over Robby. You guys can do better.”
“Yeah in a world where we're not working twelve hour shifts five days a week,” you said. The idea of casual hook ups wasn't anything new to the ED, not even the hospital. It was easy way of escape without the pressure of dating when all their time was spent saving lives or charting about saving lives or studying how to save lives.
On the coffee table in front of you Trinity's phone pinged and she reached for it like it was seconds away from self-destructing.
She tucked her phone into her chest to read the text before slamming it back down.
You caught a glance at the words and the contact. Can't make it tonight, I'll hit you up tomorrow- G
“You're gonna leave them,” he said.
You and Trinity sat up. “What?”
“No!”
There was a flicker of fear in his eyes.
“Okay- I take it back,” he said, surrendering. “Then how about give them a taste of their own medicine.”
“Their medicine?” you asked.
Whitaker gently nudged the empty glasses and cans of beer aside, perching on the edge of the coffee table, appealing to the two of you. “How many times have they cancelled plans, or said you couldn't come over to ask you to come over two hours later?”
You hadn't realised how perceptive he was.
“Now, make it so you guys call the shots. They want to come round, you say no.”
The idea was new to you. You'd always wanted Robby. You spent half your spare time wanting him and the other half having sex with him. You'd never even wanted to say no.
“So then we what, don't have sex?” asked Santos.
“You will,” he said. “You create distance, get them wanting and crying or what-whatever and then they'll realise they've messed up.”
You thought we was giving them too much credit.
Santos chuckled. “Huckleberry, are you telling us to play hard to get?”
He thought about it, eyes moving as if he was calculating it. “Yes!”
That's how plan 'hard to get' started. It was agreed you and Santos, the next time Garcia and Robby asked you to come over you'd say no.
Easier in practise when you work with them.
The next day was a slower day, un-usual in that sense. It meant everyone had more time to linger around each other.
“And so I said to him- officer-” said Myrna, lying on the bed between you and Robby. She'd seizure, hurt her leg and needed it disinfected and cleaned- not for the first time in her life. There was a mix of glass and gravel that needed plucking out and apparently the attending of the ED had nothing better to do that join you in the task. “What would you have done if you caught your third husband eating out another woman?”
“And did he say shoot him?” asked Robby. He was bent over the same leg as you, your heads so close you were either gonna head butt or kiss. Not likely over the state of her leg.
“No, he didn't say anything, he just arrested me!”
Robby hummed, his glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose. “Imagine that.”
“You know Myrna sometimes I can't tell if all these stories are true,” you said, taking a small bit of glass and adding it to the pile you'd already created.
“Oh they're all true, honey, I never lie. Unlike Mark that two faced bastard.”
“Which one was Mark?” you asked.
“The fourth husband. Good body and shit everything else!” she said with a wheeze. Abruptly she grabbed your hand. “Are you single?”
Robby glanced up at you, creases of amusement at the corner of his eyes.
You looked away first. “Why, you asking me out?”
“If you're single, stay single!” she said. “Men, all they are are liars! Lying bastards! And babies! I hardly even shot the guy!”
“Am I so bad, Doctor?” asked Robby looking over the frames of his glasses at you.
Was he so bad? No. He was short-tempered sometimes, moody, didn't accept help from anyone. But you knew he could be gentle, you knew his true belly laugh and the smile he gave at mornings when you were still in bed. You just wish you knew if he ever saw himself staying in that bed a little longer, if he ever wanted to make breakfast and take the day together, stealing moments throughout.
“No,” you said, looking back down to her leg that was almost clean. “You're not.”
Myrna was oddly silent but you could see her head moving between the two of you. “Don't go there sweetheart,” she said, a word of warning. “This one might look fun but he's all danger and heartbreak.”
“Me? No,” said Robby with an air of un-care. “I'm a teddy bear.”
Five minutes later you and Robby were instructing Perlah wrapping her leg before throwing off your gloves and leaving her to it.
“How many husbands you think Myrna had?” he asked.
“Oh there's no telling,” you replied, fetching her chart to finish off the notes. At some point someone had put a star next to her name, as if she was VIP.
Robby leant next to you, scanning around the ED. “Any plans tonight?”
“On a Wednesday? Nop.”
“Wanna come over?”
There was an abrupt and loud clear of a throat.
You hadn't realised Whitaker was there but he was watching the two of you, closely. When you met his eyes he gave a small subtle shake of his head.
Robby looked. “You got a cough, Whitaker?”
He cleared his throat, sliding down in his chair. “No.”
The agreement. It was all fine in practise but how were you supposed to say no when you just said you had no plans and you really wanted to have sex with him! It was the glasses, you were sure that was what did it. The way he pulled them on and pulled them off, the focus it gave him and the way they slipped down his nose.
“So, tonight?” he asked again, voice low.
Only a few people knew, like your room-mates and you were sure others had guessed. Robby wanted to keep it private. Or a secret, you'd never asked for clarification.
You caught Whitakers gaze on yours, watchful. He didn't say anything but you wondered if he'd be disappointed. Would you even be disappointed in yourself? “I can't tonight.”
“Oh,” he said, nodding. “Okay.”
He didn't sound annoyed. He didn't sound anything. It was impossible to tell.
“Yeah, we just- there's this thing-”
“Thought you had no plans?” he asked, an almost amused rise in his brows.
Ah. “It's like- not a plan- just a- a room mate thing. You know?”
Robby looked to Whitaker as if to confirm.
He nodded. “Yeah! Every Wednesday. We watch films.”
“Films,” you confirm.
“And talk.”
“We talk.”
Robby nodded. “Sounds thrilling.”
“Robby!” Dana called. “Got a trauma, woman in her thirties. Five minutes.”
“Got it," he said but he was still slumping over the counter. He took his time moving, stretching up till his shirt rode up enough to expose that slither of skin that held so many promises. “Some other time then.” His hand ghosted the small of your back before he disappeared.
You watched him go, realising you wouldn't spend the night buried in his bored but sleepless and restless.
Whitaker replaced Robby at your side. “See? Doesn't that feel good?”
You answered truthfully. “No.”
That night you, Santos and Whitaker sulked on the sofa, face masks over your faces with a bowl of popcorn left on the table and a shitty movie filling the silence.
Your phone lay face up with nothing from Robby and from Trinity's expression you figured she'd had nothing either.
You'd been to the bathroom once, took your phone with you and debated texting him but you never got that far. You only flicked through texts, casual one's at first. Small 'Are you coming over?' or 'You left your shirt at mine.' There were some dotted from him, on times you were both too busy to meet where things got more... riskier. His texts started simple but you could always catch on to his wants, leading his want.
Things like 'Thought about you today,' or 'you looked good today,' but he never just complimented you for the sake of it.
The texts didn't help so you turned your phone off and re-joined the two all the while your head and heart were in bed with Robby.
The next day passed like another dry spell.
It was busy- too make up for the quiet day beforehand. You didn't have time to greet Robby before being thrown into the chaos from a pile up on the highway. All day your bodies shuffled past each other, his hands lingering on your arms when he passed or always standing next to you in trauma.
It felt something like punishment.
Or a test.
By Friday you were crawling out of your skin, still dealing with the ramifications of the last two days. You hadn't even seen that Robby had text you the night before, so exhausted from work you crashed only spotting his name on your phone the morning you woke from the blare of your alarm.
“You're avoiding me,” he said, kneeling at the computer you typed furiously at to get your charting down. It was a casual move he used, usually un-tying and re-tying his shoes. This time, he simply knelt, seemingly done with pretence.
“What? No.”
“I've barely seen you the last few days," he said, wetting his lips. “Is there something wrong?”
“No, no, I've just been super busy,” you said, tapping on the computer.
Robby shuffled next to you. His hand laid next to yours. He didn't take your hand or stop you but his fingers fidgeted like he didn't know what else to do with himself. “Did I do something?”
You looked down at him, spotting the crease between his brows. “No.”
It was the closest you'd got to seeing him vulnerable.
“So tonight?” he asked. “Feel like I'm losing my damn mind.” His finger was light as it traced your hand, slowly drawing circles.
Tasting Robby was like the first sip of alcohol. It always left you wanting me. Sweet. Bitter. Whatever. You were just left wanting and nothing else, which was why you went crawling back every time. Why saying no had never crosse your mind before. Why the smallest touch from his hand was leaving you in shivers.
You squeezed your eyes shut. “I can't tonight-”
Robby smirked, breathing out a puff of air.
“I would,” you said quickly, turning in your chair to face him. “Believe me, I would, it's just... Trinity is going through some stuff and I just- I don't want to leave her alone, you know.”
It was the truth. Trinity was taking Garcia's silence worse than you or Dennis had anticipated. You knew there was more going on, you only wanted to be there to help her.
Robby perked. “You need me to speak to her?”
“No, no, it's just stuff. She'll be okay I just, want to be safe.”
He nodded but his finger fell from your hand. “Okay.”
“Doctor Robinavitch!” his name was called by the familiar dread of Gloria.
He sighed under his breath as he pushed himself up. “Oh so help me, God.”
By Saturday you were sure Robby thought you were lying and sort out to punish you. He was practically glued at your side all day long. He didn't ask to see you, didn't put his lips near you. But he lingered.
“Okay we don't have a lot of time, there's a lot of bleeding,” said Robby in the face of a trauma, looming over you. “We'll do a Hilar flip.”
“A Hilar flip, are you serious?” said Trinity.
“No other choice.”
You gulped, staring down at the bleeding and misplaced lung. “I've never done one of them before.”
“I'll talk you through it, we'll go easy,” he said, coming at your side. “You're gonna rotate the lung one-eighty, very slow. Very gentle.”
Perhaps it shouldn't have been as erotic as it was. The way his chest heaved against your back, his arm stretching along yours to hold your hand and guide it through the blood to his lung. His face was concentrated next to yours but his breath was hot on your cheek and breathless.
“Go slow.... go slow. Easy.... gentle.... just like that, there we go,” he uttered against your ear.
“Blood loss is slowing down.”
“There we go, you got it,” he mumbled as you slotted it back into its place. “Okay-” Robby moved on like your whole body wasn't trembling. You had to carry on trying to save the guys life after it, like you weren't picturing his entire body draped over yours, whispering filthy things in your ears.
“Thought I was watching a porno there,” said Santos as you all fled the room when the guy was stable.
“Jesus-” you caught your breath, throwing off the gloves and running your hands through your hair, trying to get some air to your neck that sweat.
Santos chuckled to herself. “So does Doctor Robby talk you through it?”
“Trin-” you snap.
“Does he praise you? Is that the kind of thing you're into.”
You didn't respond, hiding in the bathroom to throw cold water onto your face and calm the rush of blood but you could hear Santos outside the door. 'This is a teaching hospital!' she teased.
It became a thing you had to do, get away from him. You couldn't be distracted when dealing with patients. It was bad enough working with him when all you could think about was fucking him!
But Robby seemed to insist in helping you.
“Gaping wounds like this, under the skin we use sub-Q to bring it together,” he instructed as started the stitching for a mans wound on his leg. It was just like anything else, hardly a teaching wound when you knew how to do it. As it was under tissue and there was just no other nurse around Robby insisted.
“Five-O under skin, three-O after that,” he said.
“You think you could show me?”
You both knew you didn't need to be shown but Robby still gave you a small smile and sat on the stall, coming close to you till his meaty thigh was against your own. His hands- though gloved as yours were- still grazed yours as he took the instruments to do it.
“Guide it through... it's finer so you want to extra gentle... lotta care...”
You hummed but you couldn't say you were watching it with keen eyes. You weren't watching the way the stitches came together just the way his hands flexed, his fingers moved.
“Start deep... all the way in... bury the knot in... yeah, see how it comes together just like that?”
You nodded with an absent mind.
Robby held the equipment out to you. “Go ahead.”
You hesitated. Maybe you should have paid more attention.
He all but shoved them into your hand. “You're a big girl, you got it.”
Santos's voice played it your head. Were you into this?
With a breath you steadied yourself and went in. As he had before Robby leant over you, his body practically weighing you down.
You took the thread under the skin, pulling together just like he had.
“Bit deeper-” Robby's hands guided your arms. They were as light as a feather at your elbows before slowly sliding down your arms with a firmer hold, leading the threads.
You remembered his tight hold on you when he wanted you in place on the bed, when he was was dragging clothes off your body or wrapping a hand around your neck-
Robby called your name, watching you expectantly. His eyes were softened at the edges but they grew darker, the smallest bit of a smirk at the corner of his lips. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you.
“Right... sorry-” you went as deep as he instructed, knowing his face was concentrated on you and your hands.
“Do you want me to leave?” asked the patient.
If he could leave his leg and leave it would've been great.
“We'll get you out of here in no time,” said Robby.
You'd thought that maybe the stitching at taken so long it was almost time to leave. Maybe you could talk to Whitaker and Santos about this hard to get thing. It was only eleven and you had more than six hours left with situations that constantly brought you and Robby together. Even when it didn't, there he was, whispering words of encouragement.
“You got this... nice and easy.... doing really good there...”
Or the simple phrase that had you hiding in the bathroom for five minutes.
“Good girl.”
When the end of the day came you ran out of there, gasping in air and rushing back back to your place.
“Hey,” you greeted walking through the door.
Trinity was already there, looking like she was ready to leave, jacket thrown over her scrubs she hadn't changed out of even though she finished an hour before you. “Hey.”
“Where's Huckleberry?”
“Oh he's at Amy's tonight.”
You scoffed. “Woah. What a speech about doing better and playing hard to get but as soon as the chance comes to play farm. So, movie tonight? I can order pizza?”
“Actually, I'm just on my way out too,” she said. “Garcia called.”
You slumped. Your entire body slumped. Your heart gave up. “What? I thought we all made a deal?”
“We did, I played hard to get now she wants to see me,” she said.
“I haven't seen Robby in three days!”
“So go to his, get dicked down, girl,” she said, moving past you with a breeze. “I'm sorry, we can talk about how much of a bitch I am when I'm back from having the best sex yet! Later!”
She was out the door before you could chastise her. You shut it after her, falling upon it.
You'd ran from the ED to stay strong, to avoid another interaction with Robby that would have you climbing his bones in an empty room. You'd happily have done it with the teasing he'd subjected you to all day. For your friends and the promise you'd made you remained strong.
You'd never do that again.
Saturday night after the longest shift of your life and you had the place to yourself. It was rare. Either Denis or Trinity were home or you were spending the night at Robby's.
Your phone was heavy in your pocket.
Call him.
But the problem still lied un-answered. You were still at Robby's beck and call, begging for his attention. Begging him to be hard thinking about you so he could fuck you into the mattress to be professional the net day and treat you like you were just another MR.
You didn't want special treatment so to say, didn't want him to give you the easy patients or get you into the traumas more. You just wanted a smile, or a glimpse of .... love.
Maybe your friends were okay with what they had. You weren't.
You turned your phone off for the night and stripped from your scrubs, changing into a large shirt and blasting music Trin hated and Denis claimed to hate (but you'd heard him playing your playlist in the shower). For a crazy night alone you caught up on washing several pairs of scrubs and anything else, cleaned out the freezer leaving you barren of anything to eat. Maybe you'd even iron some normal clothes-
That's at least what you were thinking when there was a knock at the door.
You'd hoped it was Denis or Trin coming back, tails between their legs, keys forgotten.
Robby stood on the other side of the door.
You stood, frozen, shocked to see him there. He was just as still, waiting with raised brows. “Doctor Robby. Is everything okay?”
His backpack was slung over his shoulder, his scrubs only slightly dirtied from the day. But his eyes were alive and his body didn't sag with exhaustion like usual. His eyes darted back behind you. “Can I come in?”
You held open the door, closing it slowly behind you.
Robby had only been to your place once before. He looked the open living space open with interest. Typically your meet ups were at his, on account he lived alone and his bed was much nicer to be down on than yours.
“Er- Whitaker and Santos aren't home, if- if this is a hospital thing.”
“It's not,” he said, lowering his bag at the sofa.
“Oh?”
He turned, leaning against the back of it. “It's a me and you thing.”
“Oh.”
His arms flexed as he folded them over his chest, the green of his top under his scrub bunched at the forearms. His head ducked, trying to get a read on you. “So?”
You rocked on your heels, realising the shortened of the shirt you wore. Not that it wasn't anything he had seen before. “So...”
“What's going on?” he asked. There was still nothing in his voice to give away his true thoughts, only a slight edge of urgency.
“What-what-what do you mean?”
Robby listed off what he saw was wrong like symptoms. “You've been avoiding me, you never answered my texts, you didn't want to see me the other night nor tonight though you have the place to yourself-”
“I didn't realise they were gone,” you said.
“Okay so every other time?” he asked. “If I did something you can tell me. I'm a big guy, I can take it.”
It was a chance to voice up every ill thought you'd had but all you could think about was how big he was. Standing there, jutted on the back of the couch with his scrubs around his arms and thighs.
“You didn't do anything,” you said, though you weren't looking at his eyes more his arms.
They flexed again like he knew what he was doing. His voice dropped, finally to something you could name. “So tell me. what's going on.”
If you threw yourself at him you knew the chances of him taking you to bed were high, but the chances of you regretting it in the morning when he had rolled out of bed, dressed and left you were higher.
“I just-” you blew out a breath, readying yourself for the dismiss. “I don't think I can do this anymore.”
Robby waited like he was listening to the words re-play. His head lowered as he nodded, taking it in. “May I ask why?”
“It's the casual thing,” you rushed out before you could take it back. “I don't think I can do casual. I thought I could, but I-I can't.”
He nodded, chin tucked into his chest and for a moment you thought you really had upset him. But then he straightened up, pushed himself from the sofa and shrugged. His boots thudded heavy as he stepped to you slow. “Okay then.”
Was this the moment when you got the door for him on the way out?
“Okay, so... um.... I guess I'll see you-”
Robby's hands grasped your cheeks and he kissed you quick, hard. His lips tasted as they always did with a hint of mint-freshness. They were rough as always as they worked against yours, opening you up to him as always-
You brushed away, shaking your head. “I um- Robby I can't-”
He took a deep, shuddering breath. He stepped closer to you, the heat of his body waving over you. “We don't have to be casual anymore, I don't want to be casual- not anymore.”
Everyone knew Robby only knew casual. Only selected few ever got past seven weeks. Heck you hadn't counted how long this had been going on for, maybe ten weeks but that could be nothing. You were good sex, that was all.
“Robby-”
“Listen, listen-” he said, arms waving around you before settling on your forearms. “You don't want casual, neither do I. You want me to ask? You want me to ask you to be my girlfriend, I'll ask.”
“Robby you don't date,” you tried to tell him.
He scoffed. “I date. But not anymore, not if I have you.”
Had word of the deal got out? Was Robby just tired after his shift? Delusional?
“Hey, hey-" his hands ran through your hair, cradling your cheeks. “I should've said it earlier, I know but I want this. I want serious.”
His eyes crinkled as he looked at you, the edges of his gaze soft. “You don't just have to say this. You can have anyone else-”
Robby's head ducked into the crook of your neck, brushing your hair back and pressing light kisses to the expanse of your neck. “I don't want anyone else, I want you.”
Your body awakened in shivers that he elicited.
His fingers wound to the front of your body, slowly peeling away the buttons of the shirt till it pooled at your ankles. He didn't move to ravage you, his lips remained light as they kissed down your neck, finding your collarbone and working a mark there.
Your hands wound up his arms, clutching at his shoulders. “Robby-”
“Not this time,” he uttered against your collarbone.
You knew what you called him when it was you and him. “Michael-”
“Good girl.”
You moaned out at the words, the moan you'd held all day revibrating around your flat.
He slowly kicked odd his boots and helped you throw off his scrub top before he kissed you again.
You only got a short glimpse at the body you craved before his tongue, hot and heavy, slid into you mouth, bathing in the warmth. His hands were rough as they studied every inch of your body, fingertips digging into skin.
“I want you, sweet girl,” he mumbled against your lips as you scaled your hands under his shirt and along his stomach till your fingers skimmed under his waistband.
His mouth opened against yours, groaning at this slightest touch. “Oh-”
His arms scooped you up, bringing your body up and flush against him as his arms were strong on your back, kissing you. It was all wet tongue and soft lips as he stumbled back on the edge of your couch.
“Santos will kill me if we have sex on our couch,” you gasped.
Robby rose a brow. “Oh, we're having sex?” he teased.
“I should hope so.”
You kissed you hard again, wetting the both of your mouths in delectable smacks of your lips. The two of you stumbled away to your room and his body caged you in as the two of you fell atop your sheets.
You crawled up the bed as Robby's face fell between your chest. His tongue made wet paths from each breast, taking a nipple in his mouth and his hand groping at the other one till you withered against his body.
“Michael-”
He moaned into your breast and shoved a meaty thigh between your legs. “Grind on me,” he demanded.
Your body did against him as if it only listened to his command.
He mouthed your other breast, groping where his tongue had pressed before. All the while you body moved against his thigh, dragging your pussy against him.
“Yeah.... jus' like that... god.... can feel you.... so good,” he uttered as he jutted his thigh against you.
Your hands went to his shoulders, messaging the skin there until he came back up your body and shoved his tongue down your throat again. Your arm wrapped around his neck, keeping him into you.
All the while you wet down his scrubs.
“You want serious?” he uttered against you, pulling back enough to see you.
You nodded, hair splayed over your pillow.
Robby nodded along, eyes hooded. His hand slid down between your bodies. “I can do serious.”
His finger slid into you, working in and out in slow thrusts. But even the meassured curl of his finger had you holding him, back arching from the bed.
“Mmph-”
“Don't be quiet,” he said, nuzzling his head in you neck, biting the skin there. “Don't do that.”
Another finger curled in and you moaned on. You weren't quiet usually, there was nothing more than Robby liked than being loud. Everything was measured in the ED, out of it, buried inside of you or hot mouths on each other had Robby groaning, moaning and wanting you to do the same.
His fingers thrusted knuckle deep in and out again, the soft moving of skin moving around the room as your breaths covered the sound.
His fingers moved quick as your breaths grew laboured. He sucked the skin of your neck, thrusting and curling as his hips sort some sort of friction.
You withered against him. “I'm gonna- Michael I'm gonna-”
He released your skin with a small bite and laid his mouth open on yours. “Cum,” he uttered.
“Michael-”
His voice turned harder, the hand that wasn't inside of you wrapping around your neck, pushing you into your bed. “Cum.”
With just the right curl Robby had your pussy in the palm of his hand, slick with your release as he worked you through it, rubbing his hand along your clit with jolts of your body.
“God so good,” he said, looking up at you as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on your bodies. “And all mine?”
You nodded, cheeks flushed. You could feel the heat of your body as strong as it was when he walked in.
“All mine, huh?”
“Yes,” you said, breathless.
Robby slowly took out his fingers from you, putting his fingers in his mouth and licking them clean like it was nothing. He fell back on his feet, fingers working on the ties of his scrubs. “That why you were avoiding me?”
“I wasn't-” your words died in your throat as he dropped his scrubs and boxers in one.
You'd seen his cock enough to know it by memory but the size and fullness of him always rendered you speechless.
Robby knew it to. He stood there with a smirk. “You weren't avoiding me?”
Slowly, he sank to his knees.
“No,” you said, mesmerised by the sight of him going down.
Robby's hands grabbed your thighs, spreading them. He tapped your ankles, getting them on the bed as he got closer to your heat, still leaking from the last orgasm. “Promise?”
The words had hardly left your lips before his tongue pressed into you.
Your entire body moved into his but his arms wrapped around your hips, keeping you pressed into the bed. He moved further up, burying himself in you.
“Aw- fuck-” your hands waved for purchase before curling into the sheets.
He licked a stripe up and down before nudging your lips open and finding himself in there. It wasn't the slow drag of fingers but the desperate kisses and licks of a man hungry. He pulled back, spitting against you. “You won't avoid me again, will you baby?”
You shook your head.
Robby's eyes remained on yours until he buried himself in your pussy. You watched his eyes roll into the back of his head as he moaned into you.
His hands kept you spread open every time they quivered but it didn't take long for his hand to wind down to his cock. You prepped yourself up onto your elbows to watch as he pumped his cock agonizingly slow.
“Want your cock, Robby-”
He halted his movements and you but down on your lip.
“What did you just call me?” he asked, slowly moving up your body.
You knew you were supposed to call him Michael but watching the full swing of his cock stand to attention as he made his way over you was far too distracting.
“Hey-v his hand cupped your chin, forcing you to look up. “Michael.”
You nodded. Your hands reached for his cock, straining to wrap around him.
The only notice of the effect you had was the clench of his jaw.
“Michael,” he repeated, voice almost a growl.
“Michael.”
He nodded.
“Condom?” he asked, jutting back on his heels.
Your hand slowly worked his cock, the pre-cum beading at the tip. You shook your head. You were both clean, you were on the pill but tonight you wanted to feel everything, wanted him to even fill you-
Robby bent his head, spitting down on his cock and your hand. For a moment that's all it was, you hand moving on his cock as your other circled your clit. “God... your hand.... missed you...”
When your strokes got heavier, faster Robby's head fell back and he groaned. His cock was pink, heavy in your hand-
Quickly he grabbed your wrist and threw it off before grabbing the hilt of his own cock and slowly pushing into you.
His throat strained as he groaned at the push in and your back arched into him. “Fuck!” he fell atop you, arms braced at either side. “Shit- ah-”
Your arm wrapped around his shoulders, keeping you in.
“God, you make me crazy,” he uttered, searching for your lips.
The two of you collided in a mess of salvia, tongue, lips as he pushed into you, catching your gasps.
Eventually the rock of his hips grew steady. The creak of your old bed echoed the moves of him against you.
“Shit- ah-” he groaned, shaking off the sweat and the tension.
“Michael,” you said, holding him in closer. “I want you to... go hard.”
Hard he could do. Soft he could do. He would do anything you asked.
His tongue darted out, swiping your lips. “You missed me?”
“So much, so much, so much,” you pulled him down till his weight tested yours, cock deep. “On me.”
“Okay, okay,” he mumbled to himself. He put all his weight down, crashing your body into his bed. He wasn't as young as he once was. By no means but if you wanted it, he'd give it.
Pressed into you his cock went far and deep and he couldn't fully withdraw so it was small, maddening movements.
“Oh god,” he uttered.
You moaned, loud, as he wanted and he was breathless, groaning.
The dull thump of your headboard banged on the wall and something on your bedside table fell off.
Robby's arm stretched out, grabbing your hand and stretching your arms to the headboard, trying to steady it. With the stretch of the bodies he reached that spot in you.
“Aw fuck!” You yelled out, louder than anticipated. “Michael I'm gonna- I'm gonna-”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck-” he grunted with you. His other hand threw to your hip, holding your pelvis flush into you. “Fuck!”
In seconds he let go inside of you and the gush of his cum and the sound of the wet bodies threw you over the edge. His clutch on your hand grew tighter as his body trembled with yours, the spurts of your releases cooling down.
If this was casual Robby wouldn't have lingered, he'd have pulled out, flashed you a smile before using the bathroom.
He moved slower, staying till the both of you were spent. He kissed you, soft and sweet, lips moving around to remember the taste. “I'll move out,” he whispered as he took out his cock.
You stole a glance of both of your release leaking from you and around him before Robby moved aside.
He didn't flee, he didn't go to the bathroom. He pulled the sheets from under your bodies and got the both of you into bed. He laid beside you.
Robby tucked you under his arm, sweat on both your bodies cooling as you laid together. “Feels better when we're serious.” His fingers moved slow on your shoulder, delicate touches like a feather.
If he woke with a new thought, woke with regret you'd deal with it. For the moment you allowed yourself to feel the thump of his heart as the two of you slowly lulled to sleep.
Your alarm was the first thing you picked up in the morning. It's beeping ringing in your ear as you moved to turn the thing off or throw it at the wall-
A weight over your stomach made the effort harder but you got it.
Last night came back to you in the spill of scrubs on the floor and the ache between your legs.
Robby stirred next to you. Last night.
He stayed.
“You on today?” he asked, morning voice rough. You got a look at him, it was a rare sight you got to see him in morning light. His eyes were still shut, his face without the stress the day job gave him. He asked so casual, as if this was a morning routine you'd slipped into years ago.
You hummed, nodding and readying to move-
His arm tightened, drawing you in. “Call in sick.”
You chuckled, but your eyes closed. You promised yourself five more minutes. “My attending might have something to say about that.”
Robby grumbled. “Have a word with him, I'm sure you can be very persuasive.”
Somewhere in you apartment you heard the front door open and close, voices moving around the place.
You hadn't closed the door.
“Hey! We brought coffee and bagels!” called Santos.
“We're sorry for leaving you- we- huh?” you heard Whitaker. “What the?”
The clothes on the floor. The scrub top that would have his doctors badge on it.
You groaned and suddenly Whitaker and Santos were passing the doorway, one smirking, the other shocked.
Robby beside you didn't even stir.
“Good morning, Doctor Robby!” called Santos.
He only lifted a hand in greeting before making sure the covers were over the two of you.
You reached for something heavy, landing on a cushion and aiming at the door. It closed in front of your laughing friends.
being brett richards’ pretty young thing— walking into the station in your little white kitten heels, tiny little dress and shoulder bag. <33 he’d be bent over, working on something when someone calls out to him, “richards!”
looking up, he sees you standing there, hands behind your back as you smile all pretty and he coos, “awh, look at you, princess. visitin’ me at work?”
as he starts to walk over to you, you nod, biting your lip. when he gets close you reach up, putting your arms around his neck to kiss him deep—can’t help it when you see him in uniform like that. <33
