This blog and I are 18+ MDNI
Second blog for my writing @charcoalgrayswriting Honestly this account is just for me and I donāt know if Iām gonna upload anythin
Balancing your final year as a resident while raising a five-year-old is hard enough. Co-parenting with your ex Michael Robinavitch? Thatās a whole different challenge.
warning/tags: smut, minors DNI, porn with plot (lots of plot), age gap (but readerās age isnāt disclosed) jealous!robby, co-parenting, Robby is sooo girl dad coded, attempt of slowburn, they're down bad for the other, inadequate medical terms, longing, unprotected piv, pussy eating, fingering, handjob, creampie, multiple orgasms
āRobby,ā you repeated for the millionth time, staring at the way his focused eyes stayed glued to the computer screen. āRobby, are you even listening to what Iām saying?ā Your words went in one ear and straight out the other. His attention was completely locked on the patient charts, as if the world had temporarily ceased to exist.Ā
You let out a quiet sigh, then reached over the nurse station counter, fished a latex glove out of the open cardboard box, and with a quick movement, snapped it right against his back.
āOuch!ā Robby exclaimed, finally jerking his gaze away from the screen. He rubbed the spot where the glove had stung him, looking equal parts surprised and betrayed. āWhy the hell did you do that?ā
āBecause Iāve been trying to talk to you!ā You fought to keep your voice from snapping, though the frustration was definitely leaking through. āDid you call the bouncy castle people already?ā
He nodded, leaning back in his chair with a groan. āYeah, already did. Theyāre charging me two hundred extra for switching from the unicorn castle to the capybara one with less than a weekās notice, by the way.ā He tried to sound annoyed, but it didnāt quite land. Michael loved his daughter far too much for that. If he had to build a goddamn capybara bouncy castle with his own two hands so she could have whatever she wanted in the entire world, he would do it without hesitation. Instead of irritation, his expression softened into something almost endearing, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was fighting back a smile at her latest demand.
āAnd youāre paying for it without complaining because youāre a great father,ā you said matter-of-factly, unable to hide the fond smile tugging at your own lips. āRemember, the partyās at three. You still good for setup?ā
Robby exhaled through his nose, the sound almost a laugh but not quite. "They're delivering the capybara monstrosity at one-thirty. Said they'd set it up in the backyard." He rubbed a hand over his jaw as if he was remembering what other arrangements heād made. "Also confirmed the balloon guy with a helium tank, should be there by two."
You nodded, feeling the relief you always felt whenever Robby managed to take care of everything. Co-parenting with Robby has always been like this, efficient, practical, and competent. No missed pickups, no forgotten appointments. He'd never once let your daughter down, even when work tried to swallow him whole.
"And the cake?" you asked because you can't help it, even though you knew the answer.
He gave you a side-eye, the one that said do you even have to ask? "Chocolate with vanilla buttercream, extra sprinkles. Pickup at two-fifteen, I'll swing by after my shift ends, already talked to Shen and heāll cover for me.ā
Five years ago, you were a fourth-year med student rotating in this very department, terrified of screwing up in front of the mighty Dr. Robinavitch. Then Dr. Robinavitch slowly became Dr. Robby to youā¦ and eventually he was just Michael when you were moaning his name under the weight of his body in his bed.
What you and Robby once had was simple, and you both liked it that way. It was the comfort of each otherās company after a brutal shift when neither of you wanted to be alone. No strings, no labels, no complications of being a real couple. No whispered rumors in the hospital about Robby seeing a med student outside of work. No pressure on Robbyās well-known inability to commit to anything more than passionate sex at night and coffee in the morning.
But simple things didnāt always stay simple, especially not when two adults knew exactly how risky it was to keep skipping protection, and neither of you ever felt much enthusiasm about pulling out. āFuck, this is the last time, Michael,ā youād said more than once, breathless and frustrated. āWhy are you nagging me?ā heād reply with a half-smirk, still catching his breath. āI had every intention of pulling out before you wrapped your legs around me like that.ā
And thatās exactly how, six months after the first night you slept in Robbyās bed, you found yourself staring at the most terrifying sight youād ever witnessed in your life: two pink lines on a plastic stick.
The conversation that followed was painfully awkward. You told Robby you were pregnant, and Robby, being who he was, decided it was time to put on his big boy pants and play his cards right. Life had handed him something he never thought heād get, a baby, a real chance at a family. So he did what any traditional man would do in his position: he settled with you.
Youād moved into his house, and Robby and you had settled into a routine, not as two people who casually slept together on lonely nights, but as partners, and soon-to-be parents.
Robby took you to every single appointment. He insisted on every test to ensure his childās safety, blended you the best prenatal smoothies, disgusting carrot-and-spinach concoctions that made you gag but that he swore were just what you needed, and even pushed hard for you to take early maternity leave. But of course, you refused, determined to finish your last year of med school before the baby arrived.
The day your daughter was born was the happiest day of Robbyās life. Even now, it still brought him to tears whenever he thought about it, the moment his entire life changed forever, the day he met his greatest love, his reason to keep going, to keep living, to try harder every single day.
But even as Robby put in his best effort to be a boyfriend, it didnāt take long for the fantasy to crumble.Ā It wasnāt all sunrays and paradise, and after endless long shifts in the ED, endless diapers, and all-night cries that never seemed to stop, you were both running on fumes. It became painfully clear, day after day, that the only reason Robby had decided to settle down with you was because heād gotten you pregnant.
You could see how unhappy he was. He barely spoke a word to you when he got home from work. Heād just sit on the couch with distant, lost eyes staring at the wall like he was the most miserable person alive. The only times he laughed or smiled were in the presence of his daughter. You couldnāt help but feel crushing guilt for trapping him in a relationship he never truly wanted. Robby had longed for a family and for company, but once he had it, he didnāt know what to do with it.
Thatās why, after five months of fights and desperate trying, you decided it was time to do the most noble thing you could: let him go. Set him free instead of keeping him trapped beside you in a pretend marriage heād only started because he was too considerate to let you raise his daughter alone.
Hannah Robinavitch had never once envied her friends whose parents were still married. She never got sad or asked why the three of you couldnāt just be a normal family. Because she already knew you were one, a little different from the others, maybe, but still a family nonetheless. And having separate parents actually had its perks. It meant two houses, twice as many birthday presents, and two different vacation destinations every single year.
Sunlight slanted through the tall maple trees lining the backyard fence, painting patterns across the grass. Your yard was huge, the short green grass always perfectly maintained, and the swimming pool sparkled with crystal-clear water that seemed to catch every ray of light. It was the kind of house you could never have afforded on a residentās salary in a million years. But Robby had made sure you and Hannah had it anyway the moment the two of you decided to part ways and break up. Heād never blinked at the money when it came to his daughter. If giving her (and you) the nicest possible place to live during your half of the week with her, in a safe, beautiful neighborhood full of every comfort meant making his baby girl happy, then he would do it without hesitation.
Because fuck, Robby was such a good father. The kind who puts his little girl first and everything else second. He finally had a real reason to take days off work and actually go on vacations. He finally had something to look forward to, a future worth living for: taking care of his daughter, watching her grow up, teaching her things, just being needed by this helpless little angel who still demanded he check under the bed for monsters every single night.
Youād read once that when it came to having children, women should look for a man who would make a good father, not necessarily a good husband. Because love could run out. People broke up. They got divorced. But a child was a lifelong commitment. And youād won the lottery with Michael, even if sometimes you still wished he could have been as good a partner as he was a father.
The enormous capybara-themed bouncy castle Hannah insisted on dominated the grass as screams of delight and the rhythmic thump-thump of small feet echoed from inside it. All her kindergarten friends chased each other in circles as their parents clustered near the patio tables, drinking iced tea and making polite small talk about preschool and summer camps.
You were on snack duty, refilling the chip bowls, and right on cue, the side gate swung open. Robby stepped through, wearing dark jeans and a button-down shirt rolled to the elbows, the sleeves catching on the muscles of his forearms, revealing Hannahās name tattooed on his wrist.
He was carrying a large gift box wrapped in shiny silver paper with a bright red ribbon tied around it. The second Hannahād spotted him, the entire backyard might as well have disappeared.
āDaddy!ā She launched herself down the slide so fast the inflatable nearly tipped. She was sprinting with her bare feet on the grass before she even landed properly.
Robby dropped to one knee just in time to catch her as she collided into his chest like a missile. He laughed and wrapped his arms around her, lifting her clean off the ground for a second, even though she was getting too big for it. She squealed and buried her face in his neck.
āYou came! You came!ā
āWouldnāt miss it, babygirl.ā He set her down but kept one hand on her shoulder. āHappy birthday.ā
She was s already eyeing the box. āIs that for me?ā
āDepends.ā He raised an eyebrow. āYou been good?ā
āSuper duper good! Ask Mommy! I only ate two cupcakes and I shared my shovel in the sandbox with the other kids!ā
You caught his eye over her head, and Robby gave you the tiniest smirk, yeah, he knew ātwo cupcakesā was probably an undercount.
āGuess itās yours then.ā Robby set the box on the grass, and Hannah attacked the paper. A brand-new bike glints in the sunlight, purple with whitewall tires, training wheels already attached, and even a little bell shaped like a flower.
Hannah froze for half a second, then let out a shriek that made half the parents jump. āA BIKE! Daddy, a BIKE!ā
She flung herself at him again, hugging him so hard he had to brace himself. He laughed again, softer this time, and rubbed a hand over her back. āFigured it was time for you to have some riding lessons.ā
āI can ride it now? Right now?ā
He glanced at you for a quick check-in, the way he always does when big decisions happen, and you nod once.
āYeah, angel,ā you said, walking over. āBut helmet stays on, and daddyāll hold your seat until youāre steady.ā
Hannah was already trying to climb on, so Robby steadied the bike with one hand, using the other to guide her foot to the pedal. She wobbled the second her weight hit the seat, but she was grinning so wide it looked almost painful.
Robby shot you another look and then crouched beside Hannah again. āReady?ā
She nodded furiously, and Robby started walking her forward, keeping one hand on the seat, the other hovering near her shoulder to steady her in case she fell. She pedaled hard, poking her tongue out in concentration. The bike lurched, straightened, and lurched again. Robby kept pace easily as you watched from the patio steps. The man who once told you, half-asleep after a fifteen-hour shift, that he wasnāt sure he knew how to be anyoneās dad, was now the same man who walked backward in front of a wobbling five-year-old, talking her through every turn.
āPush harder with your right footā¦ there you go. Look where you want to go, not at the ground. Yeah, just like that.ā
Hannah laughed when the bike finally held a straight line for more than three seconds, and Robby let go of the seat, just for a heartbeat, and then grabbed it again when she tipped.
āI did it! I almost did it!ā
āYouāre doing it,ā he corrected her, encouraging like heād read in so many parenting books. āKeep going.ā
They made a loop around the bouncy castle. Parents pulled out phones to snap pictures of her, and someone even started clapping, making Hannah beam like she was crossing a finish line. You felt eyes on you, Robbyās, briefly. He didnāt say anything, but the look told enough: we made this kid. Look at her.
After another lap, he slowed her to a stop near the bouncy castle. She was flushed and sweaty, but utterly triumphant. āCan we take the training wheels off?ā she asked immediately.
Robby exhaled a laugh. āTomorrow, maybe. Today we celebrate the fact you didnāt eat pavement.ā
He ruffled her hair, then stood, brushing grass off his jeans. Robby walked over to you, watching Hannah show off her new ride to anyone whoāll listen.
āYou good?ā He asked you. āYouāve been running this circus solo all afternoon.ā
āIām fine. Exhausted, but fine.ā You paused, then added softly, āSheās having the best day. Because youāre here.ā
He looked at you then, and something about his eyes reminded you of the way he used to look at you when you were falling asleep on his couch with a newborn between you. āYeah,ā he said. āMe too.ā
Hannah zoomed past again, ringing the little flower bell. āFive,ā he muttered, almost to himself. āHow the hell did that happen?ā
You didnāt have an answer, you just stood there beside him, your shoulder almost brushing his, watching your daughter ride circles around the backyard.
Two hours later, you were cutting slices out of the chocolate cake while Robby stood right next to you, handing them out to the sugar-desperate kids swarming the table.
You passed another slice to Robby. He took it from your hands, brushing his fingers against yours for a brief second.
āYou know, I didnāt see Vet Guy over here,ā he said, pulling on a dramatically disappointed face. āBummer. I was really hoping to finally meet the guy.ā You decided to ignore the sarcastic, obviously ill-intended comment. Robby, never one to let silence win, kept going. āI suppose he was busy. Did he have a labradoodle to give a haircut?ā He let out a loud, self-satisfied chuckle that rumbled into a deep āHa!ā
āThatās a pet esthetician, you know?ā You mumbled, aggressively slicing the knife through the cake. āVets donāt do haircuts.ā
āOh, youāre right,ā he mock-apologized, not even pretending to drop the subject, not when he had weeksā worth of jokes lined up. āThen I guess he had some high-risk procedure. Open-heart surgery on a hamster, maybe?ā
āYouāre hilarious, Michael,ā you said with your biggest deadpan face. āHow long did it take you to come up with that one?ā
āOh, I have plenty more where that came from,ā he replied, grinning. āDo you even call him Doctor? I mean, vets arenāt even real doctors.ā
āOf course they are!ā you shot back with sudden, exaggerated respect for the veterinary profession, purely to piss him off.
Vet guy was nice. Youād met him at the hospital after he came in with a nasty dog bite on his leg. Youād tended to the wound while he respectfully flirted with you, not too hard, not desperate or aggressive, but just enough to make you feel seen. He asked genuine questions about you, shared funny stories from his own job, and somehow managed to pull real smiles out of you even after a brutal shift.
When he asked for your number, intending to take you to what he swore was the best Thai restaurant in Pittsburgh, youād hesitated. You didnāt need more distractions from residency and motherhood. But Dana had insisted you accept. She said you needed to spend time with adults outside the hospital, to do something just for yourself, and to let yourself be treated nicely for one night. Secretly, you knew she was cracking up at the way Robbyās jealousy flared every time Vet guy flirted with you, the way he clenched his jaw, cleared his throat, and rolled his eyes like a petulant child.
Youād gone out with him a couple of times. It was fun. He was a gentleman, smart, funny, handsome, the type of man most women would be thrilled to stumble upon. But then your stupid, stupid brain did that awful thing it always did whenever you started seeing someone new: it compared him to Robby. Robby wouldāve ordered that. Robby wouldāve said that. Robby wouldāve done that. As if your brain had never gotten the memo that you and Robby had broken up. That it hadnāt worked. That you were supposed to be looking for a guy who wasnāt like him at all.
āOh, please. WE are doctors. Theyāre frauds.ā Robby scoffed. āWhatās that guyās biggest life achievement? Getting vomited on by a dog?ā
āYouāve clearly thought a lot about a guy Iāve only gone out with like two times,ā you offered him your fakest smile. āIf I didnāt know better, Iād say you were the one dating him, not me.ā
Robbyās expression, which up until that moment had been mocking and sleazy, changed completely. His smile flattened into a thin, straight line, and his eyes turned serious. āFunny,ā he mumbled as he handed another slice of cake to a waiting kid.
āAnd to answer your question, no, I wasnāt gonna bring some random guy I had dinner with a couple of times to my daughterās birthday. You know me better than that.ā
He didnāt say anything else. Robby knew you were right, you werenāt the type of person who introduced someone new into Hannahās life unless it was truly serious. But behind all the mockery and cheap jokes, there was something dangerously close to jealousy. The thought of you deciding another man was better than him, more worthy of your time and interest, the idea of Hannah ever having a stepdad, of him no longer being the only male figure in both your livesā¦ it infuriated him.
Was he an asshole for wanting to keep you all to himself when he had no right to demand to be the only man in your life? Maybe. Was he stupid to pretend that a gorgeous, smart, and amazing woman like you would stay single forever, living on the memory of what you two once were, waiting for him to finally grow a pair of balls and give you what you deserved? The same thing heād had every chance to give you years ago, but had been too scared to reach for, letting it slip away Definitely.
As the party came to an end, kids hugged, and parents collected backpacks and stray shoes, mumbling thank yous to you and Robby.
You stood by the gate, waving and promising playdates. Robby was on Hannah duty now, helping her say goodbye to each friend, crouching so he was eye-level, reminding her to say āthank you for coming.ā
Most of the crowd thinned out quickly, a few stragglers lingered, one of them was Ethan, father of Mia, one of Hannaās closest friends from the four-year-old room. Divorced last year, or so the gossip went. Nice enough guy. Tall, with an easy smile. He was hanging back near the patio table, helping stack chairs while his daughter ran one last lap around the bouncy castle.
You walked over to grab the last of the empty cups. āGreat party,ā he said, straightening up. āHannaās in heaven. That bike was a killer gift.ā
āThanks. Robby picked it out.ā You smiled, tossing cups into the trash bag. āSheās been begging for one since she saw the big kids riding at the park.ā
Ethan nodded, lingering his eyes on your face for a second. āSmart move.ā He paused, then added, softer, āYou pulled this off like a pro. Solo hosting a kindergarten party? Respect.ā
You laughed lightly. āNot entirely solo. Robbyās been here all afternoon.ā
āYeah, I saw.ā His tone was casual, but there was a flicker of curiosity there, maybe appraisal. āYou two seemā¦ good. Co-parenting goals and all that.ā
āWe manage,ā you said neutrally.
He stepped a little closer, dropping his voice like he was sharing a secret. āListen, if you ever want a break fromā¦ all of this. I justā¦ figured it might be nice to talk to someone who gets the single-parent thing.ā He smiled warmly. āMia talks about Hannah nonstop. Be good for them to have more playdates. And for us toā¦ catch up. Maybe you could give me some tips for this whole co-parenting lifestyle.ā
It wasnāt subtle at all. The way he held eye contact a beat too long, the slight lean, the casual brush of his hand against yours when he handed you a stray napkin. You felt heat creepong up your neck. It wasnāt interest, exactly, just the awkward awareness of being seen that way.Ā
You opened your mouth to deflect politely. But before you could, behind you, a voice cut in.
āEthan, right?ā Robby was there suddenly, casual as anything, holding Hannahās new helmet in one hand. āMiaās dad.ā
Ethan straightened, his smile faltering only a fraction like heād been caught red-handed. āYeah. Hey, man. Good to see you.ā
Robby nodded once. āYou too.ā He flicked his gaze to you, then back to Ethan. āWeāre starting to clean up over here. You need help finding her shoes? Think theyāre by the slide.ā
Ethan blinked, then laughed it off. āNah, weāre good. Just saying goodbye.ā He looked at you again. āThink about what I said, okay? No rush.ā He waved, called for Mia, and headed toward the gate.
You exhaled slowly, but Robby didnāt move. He was quiet for a long minute, then: āSooo. Ethan.ā
You snorted as you started gathering stray plates from the patio table. āYeah?ā
Robby followed, picking up cups without being asked. āSeemed chatty.ā
āHeās friendly.ā
āVery friendly.ā Robby stacked the cups. āAnimated, even.ā
You glanced at him. His face was neutral, almost too neutral, a sign of how secretly annoyed he was. āRobby.ā
āWhat?ā Innocent. It sounded too innocent.
āYouāre being nosy. First with vet guy, and now again.ā
āIām making conversation.ā He set the stack down. āGuy was all secretive talking in your ear. Whatād he want?ā
You laughed despite yourself. āNone of your business.ā
He raised an eyebrow. āThat bad?ā
āNot bad. Justā¦ standard divorced-dad. He wanted to organize some playdates. The usual.ā
Robby nodded slowly, like he was filing that away. āHuh.ā
You waited, but he didn't elaborate. Instead, he picked up a stray balloon string, winding it around his fingers. āGuyās got some nerve. Hitting on you in the middle of our kidās birthday party.ā
Our kid. He didnāt say it possessively, just as a fact. You turned to face him fully. āJealous, Robinavitch?ā
He met your eyes without flinching. āCurious,ā he corrected. āBig difference.ā
āSure.ā
He didnāt deny it. āAnyway,ā he said, his voice back to normal without the edge of jealousy in it. āIāll help deflate that monstrosity in the yard before it blows away. Then Iāll get out of your hair.ā
After Robby had helped the bouncy castle guys, he hauled the last of the folding chairs back to the garage and carried out three trash bags without being asked. He stepped back into the kitchen through the sliding door. āHannah's out cold,ā he said, keeping his voice low so he didnāt wake her. āTried to get her to brush her teeth, but she rolled over and kept sleeping.ā
You laughed under your breath. āSheāll be up at six tomorrow demanding to ride the bike again.ā
āGood luck trying to talk her out of it.ā You felt the weight of his gaze as he pushed off the counter. āAnyway, I should head out. Early shift tomorrow.ā
You turned the faucet off, drying your hands on a dish towel. āThanks for everything today. Seriously. She had a great time thanks to you.ā
He shrugged one shoulder. āThanks to both of us. Weāre a good team.ā
You walked him toward the front door. At the door, he stopped, with one hand on the knob as he turned back to you. For a second, he just looked, not at your face, but at all of you.
His eyes started at your bare shoulders where the thin straps of your sundress sat, tracing the line of your collarbone, then they dropped deliberately down the front of the dress. You felt suddenly aware of every inch it covered, and of every inch it didnāt. Robby lingered his gaze on your waist, the flare of your hips, and the hem brushing just above your knees. Then lower, to your legs, and back up again, slower this time, until he met your eyes.
There was heat in the way he looked at you, nothing subtle about the way his eyes roamed your body. It was the look of a man who was remembering exactly what you feel like under his hands, what you tasted like, what sounds you used to make when he was inside you. The kind of look that said he wanted to back you against the nearest wall, hike that dress up around your waist, and fuck you until the only thing either of you could hear was your own breathing and the wet sound of skin against skin.
He didnāt say anything, there was no need for words. Your mouth went dry as the heat coiled in your lower belly, the same way it had many nights before. Five years since you stopped sleeping together. Five years of boundaries, separate beds, separate lives. And still one look was enough to make your body remember.Ā
He exhaled through his nose, almost an incredulous laugh, āHappy birthday to her,ā he said quietly, nodding toward the living room. āWe made something good.ā
āYeah,ā you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you meant it to. āWe did.ā
The weeks slid by in the same rhythm youād grown accustomed to: long shifts at the hospital, trying to be a present mom whenever you werenāt buried in charts, and the handoffs with Robby at your house.
It was a Saturday afternoon, the day of Hannahās ballet recital. You arrived a little early because she had been buzzing about it for weeks, her first real performance after long months of practice. Plus, you appreciated every rare opportunity life gave you to wear something that wasnāt scrubs. Youād gotten your hair done, put on soft makeup, slipped into a nice dress and high heels, and for once you felt like a whole different person. Someone confident. Someone who could take on the world.
You loved Hannah. You loved being a mom. But sometimes you missed the person you used to be before all of this. You missed being seen as more than just āMom.ā You missed conversations with adults that didnāt revolve around kindergarten, tantrums, or pediatric appointments. You were still young, and even though youād always been mature for your age, youād had to grow up fast the moment you became a mother. You had never imagined yourself with a child before you even became a doctor. You certainly hadnāt pictured managing residency at the same time you were raising a tiny human being.
But even if life hadnāt turned out the way youād once planned, you didnāt regret any of the decisions that had brought you here in this auditorium, about to watch your daughterās ballet recital.
You spotted Robby near the front row, saving seats for the two of you. When he saw you, he stood, waving you over with a half-smile.Ā āHey,ā he said as you slid into the seat beside him. āSheās backstage, losing her mind. Kept asking if both of us were coming.ā
You laughed softly, settling your purse on the floor. āWouldnāt miss it. Was she nervous?ā
āNot one bit. She made me practice clapping in the car.ā He glanced at you, his eyes lingering a second longer than necessary. āYou look nice.ā
You couldnāt avoid feeling the heat creeping up your neck, but you brushed it off. āThanks. You cleaned up nice, too.ā
Before he could reply, the lights dimmed, and the ballet instructor, a woman in her sixties, welcomed everyone, and then the curtain slowly parted.
There she was. Hannah stood front and center in her pink leotard and tutu, her hair,the same brown shade as Robbyās, pulled into a slightly lopsided bun secured with a sparkly clip. She immediately scanned the audience, spotted the two of you sitting side by side, and her whole face lit up like sunrise. Forgetting every rule about staying still, she waved at you both with both hands.
The routine was equal parts adorable and chaotic, little arms waving with enthusiasm, a few spins that turned into giggles, and tiny dancers bumping into one another. But when it came time for her part in the middle, Hannah nailed it,Ā twirling with maximum concentration, poking out her tongue slightly the way it always did when she was trying her hardest.
You were grinning so hard your cheeks ached as you recorded the whole thing on your phone, careful not to miss a single moment. Beside you, Robby was doing the same, leaning forward in his seat like he was afraid to miss even one second of his little girl shining under the stage lights.
When it ended, the room erupted in applause. You and Robby were on your feet first, clapping loud enough to drown out half the parents. Hannah beamed, blowing kisses at the audience, then bolting offstage the second she was allowed.
Backstage, Hannah launched herself at you both at once, her arms around your legs and Robbyās in a group hug.
āDid you see me twirl, Mommy? Daddy, did you see?ā
āWe saw everything,ā Robby said, scooping her up in his arms. āYou were the best one up there, angel. Hands down.ā
āYou were perfect,ā you whispered, leaning to place a big and loud kiss into her hair. āSo proud of you, baby.ā
Hannah tugged at your hand. āCan we get ice cream? To celebrate?ā
Robby raised an eyebrow at you as if awaiting to see what your answer would be, and silently hoping itād be a yes.
You smiled. āIce cream sounds perfect.ā
He set Hannah down on the floor, then crouched so she could climb onto his back. She wrapped her little arms and legs around him tightly, her favorite perch. With a soft grunt and an easy smile, Robby straightened up, carrying her like she weighed nothing.
The three of you headed for the exit together. You walked beside Robby, close enough that your shoulder brushed against his every few steps, but neither of you pulled away. There was something about the way the three of you looked, almost like a picture-perfect family to anyone glancing from the outside. It made your mind loosen the reins on old fantasies: how different life would have been if the three of you had managed to make it work. If being together had been a choice made out of love instead of obligation, the only option he felt he had at the time.
God, how much you still wished things had worked with Robby. What wouldnāt you give to see him truly happy to be with you, instead of miserable the way he looked every time the two of you came home from a long shift.
The ice cream shop had a neon sign flickering āOPENā in red letters, sticky vinyl booths, and the widest variety of ice cream flavors youād ever seen. Hannah insisted on extra sprinkles and chocolate sauce on her cone. She was perched between you and Robby on the bench seat, swinging her legs and recounting her ballet routine for the third time.
āI did the spin and everyone clapped SO loud! Did you hear it, Daddy?ā
āLoudest ovation in the room,ā Robby said, wiping a streak of chocolate from her cheek with his thumb. āYou owned that stage, babygirl.ā
You watched them as you ate your strawberry ice cream cone drizzled with hot fudge. It was uncanny how much Hannah looked like Robby,Ā like he had been cloned into a tiny, feminine version of himself. The same soft brown hair, the same big, puppy-brown eyes that were easily the warmest youād ever seen in your life. Eyes you could never say no to, because one single look from them melted your heart every time.
She was already slowing down, the adrenaline from the recital and the sugar rush from the ice cream finally catching up with her. Her head rested heavily against Robbyās shoulder as she munched the last bites of her ice-cream, her little eyelids starting to flutter.
The walk home was only ten minutes, but Hannah's steps turned sluggish halfway there. Robby scooped her up without a word, and she curled against his shoulder as sheād always belonged there, tucking her head under his chin as she fisted her little hand on his shirt.
At your front door, Hannah was completely out, her rosy cheek smooshed against Robbyās collarbone, with her mouth slightly open. You unlocked the door quietly and stepped inside.Ā
Robby carried her upstairs like she weighed nothing. You followed, watching the careful way he lowered her to the bed, tugged off her ballet slippers and pink tutu, and pulled the covers up.Ā
Downstairs again, you were suddenly aware of how quiet the house was without her chatter filling it. He stopped a few feet away. āSheās wiped..ā
āYeah.ā You smiled. āShe had a big day today.ā
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. āAnd youā¦ in that dress. Youāre punishing me. You have no idea what you do to me.ā
āRobby.ā
He didnāt back off. Just looked at you in the same way he did the night of the birthday party. Tracing his eyes over the neckline of the dress, the way it hugs your waist, the bare skin of your breasts.Ā
āStop looking at me like that,ā you said, but your voice came out quieter than you intended. As if part of you didnāt really want him to stop. You longed for the validation, for knowing you were still the woman who drove him insane, the one who made him feel things no one else could, his soft spot, his weakness.Ā
And for Robby, you still were. Until this day, you were the only one who could bring out the most vulnerable side of him. It wasnāt just the physical part, though God, your body drove him insane. He could still feel the ghost of your skin against his every night when he closed his eyes. It wasnāt the sex either, though in fifty-four years of life heād never found anyone who felt quite like you did, anyone who made him feel so many things, who woke up the most primitive, most virile part of him.
It was simply you. Your strength when you carried a pregnancy and still worked your ass off for your career. Your quick mind and the way you could deliver a witty comeback that put him in his place when he deserved it. Your competence, something he found extremely attractive, both at work and as a mom. And watching you raise his daughter with a patience and love only you could give, loving her so fiercely with every bone in your bodyā¦ it made him feel things heād never felt before.
āLike what?ā
āLike you want to eat me alive.ā
He huffed a half-laugh as he stepped closer. āCanāt blame a guy for looking.ā
You swallowed, using all the self-restraint you had in your body to stop yourself from jumping into his arms. āEvery time weāre close like this, I have to remind myself why this is a bad idea.ā
He tilted his head. He knew you too well, he could see how much you were trying to be strong and how much you wanted it too. āAnd whyās that, exactly?ā
āBecause we tried. We crashed. We hurt each other. Weāve got a kid now, itās not just us we gotta think of, but her. And weāve got a good thing going on, weāre good at this.ā You gestured between you. āAt being her parents. At not screwing it up. Addingā¦ whatever this isā¦ risks that.ā
Heās quiet for a beat. Then: āDonāt think. Just do what you want.ā
You stared at him. āIs that your new motto? āDonāt think, just do it?āā
He took another half-step, close enough you could smell the mint from his ice-cream on his breath. āOne night,ā he said. āDoesnāt have to mean more. Doesnāt have to change anything tomorrow. We used to be so good together. You remember that? Because I do, I remember it every single night.ā
Your pulse hammered in your throat, a rhythm that matched the sudden heat blooming in your belly. You remembered it too, every vivid and overwhelming detail.
The kind of chemistry you and Robby had in bed had been like nothing youād ever experienced before. The way your bodies responded to each other was like they were made for it, instinctive, almost frightening in its intensity. Every single touch felt magnetic and electrifying, sending sparks racing across your skin even from the lightest brush of his fingers. The way he knew exactly how to unravel you, and how you could do the same to him. You had both cried out in pleasure every single time, sounds that echoed in the dark of his bedroom, your bodies slick and trembling, chasing that peak until the world narrowed down to nothing but the two of you.
It was the kind of fire you only find once in a lifetime. But you couldnāt do it.
You couldnāt risk setting that fire loose again and burning down the delicate, carefully manufactured system you had built together. For Hannahās sake, you needed to keep Robby exactly where he was: your co-parent, your reliable partner in raising your daughter, not your lover anymore. One wrong move, one night of giving in to the pull that still crackled between you, and everything could crumble,Ā the peaceful handoffs, the shared birthdays, the stability Hannah thrived on. You refused to gamble with her sense of security just because your body still remembered how perfectly he once fit against you, how his voice sounded when he fell apart because of you.
Ā āOf course youāre horny. You just want a quick fuck. I shouldāve known.ā
His expression flickered, showing a little of something that looked like hurt in his eyes. āCome on. Itās not like that.ā
āThen what is it like?ā
āOkay, fine. Maybe I do want sex,ā Robby admitted, ābut come on, donāt pretend you donāt want it too. You remember how much fun we used to have.ā
He found your waist, pulling you gently against him. You gasped softly as he slid his palms lower, cupping your ass through the fabric, possessive squeezes that send sparks straight through you. He massaged your flesh deliberately, pressing his thumbs in just the right spots, drawing you closer until you were flush against his chest.
āGod, I want you,ā he murmured against your ear. āSo fucking much. Always have. Always will, probably.ā
He dug his fingers a little harder into the curve of your ass, kneading the soft flesh with confidence. You were so close that you could already feel the hard outline of his cock pressing insistently against your lower stomach. He was hard for you, just from being this close, just from a few lingering touches. It took every ounce of willpower you had not to give in, not to reach down and palm him over his pants until he groaned into your mouth the way he used to.
āKeep your hands where I can see them, Robinavitch,ā you warned, trying to sound threatening. It came out breathy and weak instead. You couldnāt fool anyone, least of all him. You wanted this, maybe even more than he did.
āYou donāt want my hands where you can see them,ā he replied with that stupid, cocky tone he always slipped into when he knew he had you right where he wanted you. āYou want them in places you canāt see. You havenāt forgotten how good I am with them, have you? Nahā¦ some things these hands did to you are impossible to forget.ā
You bit your lip hard to stop yourself from smiling. Cocky motherfucker.
Finally, with the last scrap of self-control you could muster, you pushed him away. āYou had your fun. Time for you to leave.ā
āI was barely starting to have fun,ā he said with a wicked smile as he took a step back, rubbing one hand over his face. āYou, cruel, cruel woman.ā
āYouāll live,ā you muttered. āGo chase some nurses. They love you. Wellā¦ the ones who donāt actually work with you do.ā
āYou hurt me,ā he exclaimed dramatically, pressing a hand over his heart in mock offense. āI donāt have any nurse to chase. And even if I did, nobody could compare to us. You know that.ā
āYou broke things off with the last one?ā you asked in mock surprise, playing dumb. āWhat was her name? Nora? Nā¦ Natalie?ā
You knew Robby had had his fair share of affairs throughout the years, nothing too serious, nothing that ever deserved a real conversation, and definitely nothing meaningful enough to introduce to Hannah. Still, it stung. You couldnāt exactly throw it in his face, youād gone out with people too. But you wished the asshole would keep his flings away from the hospital, away from the place where you had to watch him flash those stupid little smiles and do his little shoe-lace trick for whatever nurse had caught his eye this month. The same way heād once done it for you.
āI wonāt answer to those accusations against me,ā he said, shaking his head with a low chuckle. Robby stepped closer again and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the top of your head. āHave a good night. Iāll see myself out.ā
You couldnāt stop the smile from tugging at your lips as you watched him walk toward the door and finally leave the house. Five years later, and your body still caught fire whenever his hands were on you. Five years later, and you still loved your silly arguments and the way he could make you laugh even when you were pretending to be mad at him. Five years laterā¦ and you were still deeply enamored with Michael Robinavitch.
The clock on your nightstand glowed 2:17 a.m. when the first cry cut through the dark.
It wasnāt not the usual sleepy whimper or the āI had a bad dreamā whine. It was a sharp sound, followed immediately by the unmistakable sound of vomit hitting the floor.
You were out of bed before your brain fully registered it, rushing down the hall. Hannahās room light was already on, and she was sitting up in bed, with the bedsheets twisted around her legs, her face shiny with sweat, and her eyes glassy because of the tears. There was a small puddle of bile on the rug beside her, and another streak down the front of her pajama top.
āMommyāā
āIām here, baby.ā You dropped to your knees beside the bed, lifting your hand to her forehead. She was burning, her skin hot enough to make your palm sting. āOh, sweetheart.ā
She leaned heavily into you, her body trembling as another wave hit her. This time it was dry heaves because there was nothing left in her stomach to bring up. You lunged for the small trash can under her desk just in time, holding it steady beneath her chin while your other hand gathered her soft brown hair back from her face. With gentleness, you rubbed slow, soothing circles on her back, murmuring the same comforting nonsense you always did in moments like this.
Your voice stayed calm and steady for her sake, but inside, your mind had flipped into full doctor mode, racing through the mental checklist at lightning speed. Fever. Persistent vomiting. She had been fine at bedtime, tired from her long ballet practice, a little sniffly maybe, but nothing that had raised any red flags.Ā
Your heart clenched so hard it hurt. You scooped her up immediately, blanket and all, and carried her to the bathroom. You ran a washcloth under cold water, wrung it out, and pressed it gently to the back of her neck, hoping the chill would bring some relief. Then you offered her a small sip of water from the cup on the sink. She took it obediently, but almost instantly spat it back out, coughing and whimpering.
Reaching out for the thermometer from the medicine cabinet, you grabbed it and slipped it under her tongue, holding her close while you waited for the beep. 103.8. You managed to get a dose of Tylenol into her, but she could barely keep it down, her whole body shuddered as she fought the nausea, and her teeth chattered from the fever chills as she curled into you even tighter, shaking hard.
Helpless, thatās how you felt, completely helpless. And as a mother, feeling helpless was the worst torture imaginable. You were a doctor, and yet here in your own house, with your own child, there was only so much you could do. The cold washcloths werenāt bringing her temperature down fast enough. The medicine wasnāt staying in her long enough to work. Nothing seemed to help.
You couldnāt stand seeing your baby like this: so pale, so tired, her usual bright energy drained away, her little body trembling in your arms.. In this moment, more than anything, you wished Robby were here. Robby would know exactly what to do. He always did. Heād take one look at her, assess the situation and figure out what was wrong with Hannah right away. Heād fix it the same way he fixed dozens of people every single day in the pitt.
You sat on the edge of the tub with her in your lap, rocking her slowly, trying to keep her calm while you dialed Robby.
He picked up on the second ring. His voice was rough with sleep, but instantly alert when he realized you wouldnāt be calling this late at night if there wasnāt something really urgent going on. āHey. Whatās wrong?ā
āHannahās sick. Feverās 103.8, sheās been vomiting for the last twenty minutes. Wonāt keep anything down. Sheās shaking.ā
There was the rustle of sheets and the immediate creak of a bedframe on Robbyās end. He was already moving, even half-asleep. You could practically see him sitting up in the dark.
āOkay,ā his voice came through the phone. āDid you give her Tylenol?ā
āYes.ā
āMotrin too? You should alternate if the feverās that high.ā
āI only have childrenās Tylenol here,ā you answered. āMotrinās at your place.ā
There was a brief pause, then a quiet āOkayā¦ okay. Alright.ā You heard him exhale slowly, the sound of fabric shifting as he moved. āCool clothes? Cold washcloth on her neck or forehead?ā
āIām trying the cloth right now, but Iām not seeing any changes. The fever wonāt come down at all.ā
āAre you hydrating her? Give her small sips of water, tiny amounts so she doesnāt throw it right back up.ā
āI am,ā you said, glancing at the half-empty cup on the bathroom counter. āSheās spitting most of it back up. She canāt keep anything down.ā
Another pause stretched between you. Even for a man who could keep ice-cold composure during the most chaotic live-or-die codes in the ED, something in Robbyās voice betrayed how uneasy he really was. You heard the rustle of clothes being pulled on quickly, then the unmistakable jingle of keys.
āSo, feverās still not budging?ā he asked.
āNot yet. Sheās miserable, Robby. Keeps saying her tummy hurts, and the dry heaves are getting worse. Sheās shaking so hard her teeth are chattering.ā
You heard loud, hurried footsteps crossing his floorboards, followed by the sound of a door opening and closing with a firm sound.Ā
āTake her to the ER. Now.ā There was no hesitation left in his words. āIāll meet you there.ā
Your stomach dropped. āYou think itās that bad?ā
āI think 103.8 in a five-year-old who canāt keep meds or fluids down is worth getting checked. Could be viral, could be something else. Better be safe.ā
You nodded even though he couldnāt see it. āOkay. Iāll get her dressed. Weāre leaving in five.ā
āIām already in the car. Text me when youāre on the road.ā
He hung up, and you moved fast, changing Hannah into fresh pajamas, wiping her face, and wrapping her in the softest blanket she owned. She was listless now, her soft head lolling against your shoulder as small whimpers left her lips every time the nausea rolled through her again. You grabbed her insurance card, your wallet, a spare change of clothes for her, and the little stuffed unicorn sheād been sleeping with every night.
You placed Hannah in her car seat, with her blanket tucked around her. You buckled her in carefully, kissing her hot forehead. āWeāre going to see the doctors, okay? Daddyās meeting us there. Youāre gonna feel better soon.ā
She just nodded with her eyes half-closed. The drive to the hospital was only fifteen minutes at this hour through the dark and empty streets. You kept one hand on the wheel, and the other reaching back to hold hers. She was quiet except for the occasional gags into the bowl youād wedged beside her seat.
You pulled into the ambulance bay lot, killed the engine and unbuckled Hannah. She was burning up, her usually light body now felt heavy and limp because of the fever. You wrapped the blanket tighter around her and lifted her carefully into your arms as you hurried toward the sliding glass doors.
They whooshed open, and Lena, the night-shift charge nurse, looked up from the desk. Her face immediately softened with concern the moment she recognized you.
āHeyā¦ oh, honey.ā Her voice dropped gently. āIs that Hannah?ā
āFever hit 103.8 at home,ā you rattled off, shifting your daughterās weight higher on your hip, trying to keep your voice steady, as if you were presenting a case, not describing your daughterās symptoms. āPersistent vomiting, abdominal pain. I gave her Tylenol twenty minutes ago, but no improvement at all.ā
Lena nodded briskly, already waving you over. āBay six. Weāll get vitals right away.ā
āWhoās on tonight?ā you asked, walking fast down the familiar hallway. āShen?ā
āDr. Abbot. Iāll send him your way as soon as heās free.ā
āOh, thank God,ā you exhaled, the relief hitting you so hard it made your shoulders sag for a moment. If there was anyone in this entire hospital youād trust with Hannah besides Robby, it was Jack, Hannahās godfather. You still remembered the day Robby had asked him to be his daughterās godfather. The way Jackās eyes had filled with tears, the two men pulling each other into a tight hug like brothers, like two men who were the only ones who truly understood the weight of this life, the long shifts, the losses, and the rare moments of hope like that one. Abbot had promised right then that heād always have her back, no matter what.
You were halfway down the hall when Robby rounded the corner. The second his eyes landed on Hannah in your arms, his entire expression shifted to fatherly fear.
āHey, angel,ā he said softly, stepping close. He brushed a gentle hand over her back. āMom said youāre not feeling good, huh?ā
Hannah managed a weak, cracked little āDaddyā¦ā before turning her face back into your neck, hiding from the bright lights and the unfamiliar sounds.
Robby flicked his gaze up to yours, doing that assessing scan he always did, checking not just Hannah, but how you were holding up. āYou okay?ā
āFine,ā you whispered, though your voice trembled as the tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. āJustā¦ scared. I hate seeing her like this. Sheās never been this sick.ā
He nodded once. āIāve got her.ā
You handed her over without hesitation. Hannah clung to him immediately, wrapping her small arms around his neck and burying her face against his shoulder like he was her safe place. Robby carried her the rest of the way into the bay. He laid her down gently on the hospital bed, keeping one hand resting protectively on her stomach while the other smoothed damp strands of hair off her forehead with tenderness.
One of the night-shift nurses stepped in right away and rechecked her temperature. āItās up to 104.1 now.ā Her oxygen saturation was still holding steady, but she was clearly dehydrated, her lips cracked and dry, her eyes a little sunken, her usually rosy cheeks pale.
A couple of seconds later, Abbot strode into the bay, sweeping his eyes over the scene: little Hannah lying on the bed, Robby standing guard on one side, you on the other.
āHey,ā Abbot said, pulling Robby into a quick, one-armed brotherly hug, clapping his back once, and giving you a nod. āHeard our girl was here. Sorry, I was tied up with a gunshot wound, perforated lung. Itās chaos tonight.ā
āSheās been throwing up everything, couldnāt even keep the Tylenol down,ā Robby reported, giving the facts the way two attendings would, except this time his voice carried an edge of helplessness he rarely showed. He wasnāt the doctor tonight. He was the father. āFeverās up to 104.1. We should get an IV going, more Tylenol, Zofrāā
āIāve got this,ā Abbot interrupted gently but firmly, keeping his tone calm and reassuring as he stepped closer to the bed. He looked down at Hannah with the softest smile, dropping his voice into that sweet, playful tone he saved only for kids. āHey, Hannah Bananaā¦ weāre gonna get you feeling brand new before you even realize, okay?ā He offered her a warm smile and the gentlest pinch on her cheek.
āUncle Jackā¦ā she mumbled, her voice cracking pitifully as another wave of nausea rolled through her.
The nurse started the IV in her tiny hand. Hannah cried out at the poke, a heartbreaking whimper that twisted something deep in your chest. Robby was right there, holding her other hand tightly, talking her through it in that calm voice he used with every scared kid who came through these doors. āJust a little pinch, angel. Youāre being so brave. Almost doneā¦ thatās my good girl. Daddyās right here.ā
You stood on the opposite side of the bed, holding her foot gently in both hands and rubbing soothing circles over her ankle with your thumb, as if your touch alone could somehow absorb her pain and make it yours instead.
āWeāll keep her under observation for a while, wait for the fever to come down,ā Abbot told you both. āIāll come back in fifteen to check on her again, but sheās in the best hands tonight with the two of you right here.ā
āThank you, Jack,ā you said quietly with gratitude. He gave your shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze before stepping back.
āThanks, brother,ā Robby added right after you, his hand never leaving Hannahās hair.
Robby didnāt leave her side for even a second. He didnāt glance at his phone, didnāt step out to grab coffee, didnāt let himself get distracted by anything else. He stayed right there, anchored to the bed, resting one large hand gently on Hannahās forehead, occasionally stroking her damp hair back from her skin. Every few minutes heād lean in and murmur soft, ridiculous nonsense to her sleeping body, telling her she was tougher than any superhero, that the doctors here were the absolute best because they all knew her dad, and that meant she was getting the royal treatment, the best care in the house. You watched him from the corner of your eye. Even after everything, this was still who he was when it mattered most: steady, devoted, completely focused on the tiny human youād made together.
The hours dragged, and eventually, after the second round of meds, Hannahās fever finally started trending down. It had dropped to 100.7, and for the first time all night, some color began creeping back into her pale cheeks as her chest rose and fell more peacefully under the blanket.
You and Robby were slumped in the two chairs pulled up beside her bed. Robby broke the silence first. āI know what youāre thinking. You did everything right.ā
You let out a shaky breath, staring at Hannahās sleeping face. āMaybe I shouldāve brought her sooner. She wouldāve gotten better faster.ā
He shook his head slowly. āYou waited until it was warranted. Youāre a doctor. You know the signs.ā He reached over without hesitation, covering your hand with his on the shared armrest. His palm was warm and grounding in a way that made your throat tighten. āItās just viral. Sheās gonna be okay.ā
Without thinking, you turned your hand over beneath his and laced your fingers through his, holding on tightly. For a moment, you didnāt care what it meant, or what anyone walking past the bay might think if they glanced in and saw the two of you like this, exes, co-parents, sitting together holding hands. The exhaustion of the night had stripped everything down, and right now, all that mattered was that Hannah was improving and Robby was here.
āThanks for coming,ā you whispered, even though you knew the words werenāt really necessary. Robby would drop everything and be anywhere either of you needed him, that had never been in question.
āAlways.ā He brushed his thumb slowly over your knuckles, a gentle motion. āWouldnāt be anywhere else.ā
By the 6 a.m. check, Hannahās fever had already dropped to 99.8. The IV fluids had done their job, and she hadnāt vomited anymore, even managed a few sips of apple juice without it coming right back up.
She shifted under the blanket, blinking up at you both. āMommy? Daddy?ā
āHey, sweetheart,ā you whispered, leaning forward to brush her hair back. āHowās your tummy?ā
āBetter,ā she mumbled. āDid uncle Jack cure me?ā
āHe did.ā You smiled, feeling a wave of relief flood through you. āYouāre doing great now.ā
Robby reached over, stroking his thumb over her cheek. āMorning, angel. You scared us.ā
She managed a tiny smile, then winced. āSorry.ā
āDonāt be sorry.ā He kissed her temple, lingering there for an extra second. āJust glad youāre feeling better.ā
Jack came back a moment later for a quick exam and a review of vitals and labs, thankfully nothing alarming. Viral gastroenteritis, most likely, with a febrile response.Ā
āThanks for curing me, Uncle Jack,ā Hannah said softly with that radiant smile that could melt absolutely anyone in seconds. āYouāre the best doctor ever.ā
Abbot grinned widely, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at her. āWell, thank you, Hannah Banana. Thatās the nicest thing anyoneās said to me all week.ā
Robby cleared his throat dramatically from the other side of the bay, crossing his arms. āSecond best,ā he corrected, raising an eyebrow at his daughter.
āSecond best,ā Hannah agreed immediately, turning that same sweet, dimpled smile toward Robby now, like she was bestowing him with the highest honor.
āDonāt worry, Hannah,ā Jack said, leaning in conspiratorially and lowering his voice as if sharing a great secret. āI wonāt tell your dad that you actually think Iām the better doctor.ā He glanced sideways at his best friend with a mischievous glint. āA man with a fragile ego like him couldnāt take it.ā
Robby let out a low, genuine chuckle, shaking his head. āIs she clear to go back home?ā he asked, his tone shifting into something more serious, though the corner of his mouth still twitched. āSee? Iām asking for your professional opinion and everything.ā
Jack nodded, glancing once more at the monitor readings before looking back at both of you. āIād say she can go home. Feverās trending nicely downward, and sheās keeping fluids down now. Just keep checking her temperature regularly to make sure it stays down. If she starts vomiting again or the fever spikes back up, bring her straight back, but you two already know that better than most.ā
Robby stood, stretching his back with a low groan. āI should head out,ā he said, glancing at his watch. āShift starts in thirty. Gotta change, grab coffee, pretend Iām human.ā
You looked up at him, still holding Hannahās hand. āYouāre going in?ā
He shrugged, like it was obvious. āSomeoneās gotta run this place. Youāā He nodded toward Hannah, then you. āāshould take the day. Go home with her. Get some sleep, keep an eye on her. Sheās fine now, but sheās still wiped. And youāve been up all night.ā
You opened your mouth to argue, out of pure habit, mostly. The words were already forming on your tongue, something about not wanting to burden the team, about pulling your weight like everyone else. But they died the instant your eyes landed on Hannah.
She was curled up small on her side in the hospital bed, the blanket tucked around her shoulders. You couldnāt stay away from her, not today. The thought of leaving her for twelve long hours, of being stuck in the ED while she was at home, possibly starting to feel worse again without you to notice the fever creeping back up made your stomach drop. You wouldnāt be able to focus. You wouldnāt feel at ease for even a second. Every patient you saw would be overshadowed by the constant fear that Hannah might need you and you wouldnāt be there to catch it, to bring her right back in.
And honestlyā¦ part of you simply wanted the day off. You wanted to take her home, wrap her up in her favorite blanket, and spend the whole day curled together on the couch. Just the two of you. A Disney marathon playing in the background while she rested her head on your chest and you stroked her hair.
So instead of arguing, you closed your mouth and let the silence settle. The decision had already been made the moment you looked at her.
āYeah,ā you said quietly. āOkay.ā
Robby nodded, satisfied. He leaned down to kiss Hannahās forehead again. āIāll come by after shift to see how youāre doing.ā He straightened and hesitated for half a second, then reached out and squeezed your shoulder, brushing the side of your neck, just once, before he pulled back. āText me updates. Iāll turn off silent mode.ā
āWill do.ā
He lingered for another beat, like he didnāt quite want to leave the room, then turned toward the door. āSee you later, angel,ā he called softly to Hannah, who was already drifting again.
āBye, Daddy,ā she mumbled, half-asleep.
He gave you one last look, longer than necessary, before slipping out into the hallway.Ā You exhaled slowly, while Robby and Jack handled the last few details with the nurse, you gathered Hannahās things.Ā
Home sounded like the best idea youād had in hours. If there was one thing you truly hated about this life, it was how little time work left you to be the kind of mom you desperately wished you could be. Residency had already demanded so much, and motherhood had taken the rest. Every free moment you managed to carve out, you longed to spend it with Hannah. You didnāt want her to grow up one day and feel like you had missed it,Ā like you werenāt there for the special moments. You didnāt want her to remember a childhood where her mom was always rushing, always tired, always halfway out the door.Ā
By the time you pulled into your driveway, Hannah was already dozing in her car seat again. You carried her inside and laid her gently on the couch. The house felt wonderfully quiet after the night chaos of the ED. You changed into new pajamas, made her a nest of pillows and her favorite fuzzy blanket, then crawled in beside her, pulling her body against your chest. She stirred just enough to wrap one arm around your waist and mumble, āMommy, will you stay today?ā
āIām not going anywhere, baby,ā you whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. āToday is just us.ā
The rest of the day unfolded slowly. You started with her favorite movie, Encanto, because she never got tired of singing along to every song, no matter if she was just recovering. Hannah curled up with her head in your lap, as you gently played with her hair while she hummed to the songs.
When the movie ended, you made a simple lunch together, something easy on her stomach, a bowl of oatmeal with bananas and strawberries. She only ate half, but she kept it down, earning praises from you. After lunch, you moved on to Moana. She sat cross-legged on the couch, wrapped in her blanket like a burrito, occasionally lifting her head to point at the screen and say, āLook, Mommy, the ocean! Can we go to the beach too?ā You laughed softly and pulled her closer, letting her rest her cheek against your shoulder.
Robbyās shift ended late, as usual, and by the time he signed out, he was bone-tired, but the pull to check on Hannah overrode everything else. He texted you: Just got off. Coming by to check on her. You home?
Your reply wasquick: Yeah. Sheās asleep. Doorās unlocked.
He let himself in quietly, finding you on the couch where you were curled up with a blanket. āHey,ā you whispered. āShe crashed about an hour ago. Fever stayed down all day, no more vomiting.ā
Robby exhaled, shrugging out of his jacket and walking over. āGood. Thatās good.ā
You nodded toward the hallway. āYou want to peek in on her?ā
He did, already heading to Hannahās room. She was sprawled on her stomach, with one arm flung out and her stuffed bunny tucked under her chin. Her breathing was deep and even, Robby stood in the doorway for a long minute, just watching her chest rise and fall.
When he came back to the living room, youād poured two glasses of water and set them on the coffee table. He sank onto the couch beside you, close enough that your knees almost touched, far enough to keep the boundary.
āShe looks so much better,ā he said quietly. āColorās back.ā
āYeah.ā You tucked your legs under you, pulling the blanket tighter to your body. āI was terrified last night. Thoughtā¦ I donāt know. Worst-case scenarios kept running through my head.ā
He nodded. āMe too. When you called, my heart stopped for a second.ā
You took a breath, then another. āYouāre a great dad, Robby. You know that, right?ā
He glanced at you, surprised by the sudden moment of honesty. āTrying to be.ā
āNo. You are.ā You met his eyes so he could see how much you meant every word that left your lips. āI always knew you would be. Even back whenā¦ everything was a mess. When we were still figuring out how to be parents instead of just two people who accidentally made a kid. I saw it in the way you held her the first time. You stepped up. Every single time.ā
He looked down at his hands, rubbing his thumb over a callus on his palm, like he didnāt know how to take the compliment.
āWe might not have planned her. But Hannah got the best possible dad out of the deal.ā
Robby swallowed, his Adamās apple bobbing with the movement of his throat. His voice came out rough when he finally spoke. āIāll always be grateful to you for that. For giving me her. For making me a dad when I didnāt even know I could be one. When I didnāt even know if I wanted to be alive.ā He exhaled, sounding almost like a laugh without humor. āI look at her sometimes and thinkā¦ how the hell did I get this lucky? Sheās smart, sheās kind, sheās fearless. And half of thatās you. But the other halfā¦ I get to be part of it. Every day. Because of you.ā
The air between you thickened, it was full of years of shared history, good, bad, messy, beautiful. āI still love you for that,ā he said quietly. āNot likeā¦ not trying to cross lines. Justā¦ Iāll always have love for you. Because you gave me the best thing in my life. And you trusted me with her. That means more than I could ever express.ā
āI know. I feel the same way.ā You rolled your head to the side, trying to loosen the knot thatād been building since last night. The motion made your neck crack loudly, and it pulled a wince out of you.
Robby lifted his brow. āYou okay?ā
āJust the couch napping. My neckās killing me.ā
He didnāt hesitate, standing up right away. āCome here.ā
You did hesitate for half a heartbeat, long enough to consider the offer. You were too tired to argue, and you knew how good Robbyās hands were, so you stood up from the couch, then turned so your back was to him. He stepped in behind you, close enough that you felt the warmth of him before his hands even touched you.
He settled his fingers on your shoulders first, pressing his thumbs into the muscles along the tops of your traps, working in slow circles. You couldnāt help dropping your head forward on a soft exhale, closing your eyes as the pressure hit exactly where you needed it.
āGod,ā you murmured. āYouāre still really good at that.ā
He huffsed a quiet laugh against your hair. āMuscle memory.ā
Robby moved his hands, working down the column of your neck, tracing the tense line on either side of your spine, then out across your shoulders again. You melt into it without meaning to, dropping your shoulders and slowing your breath as the ache unwound thread by thread.
For a minute, it was just that: his hands on your shoulders. Then he slid his palms lower, intentionally, until they settled at your waist. He pulled you back gently, just enough that he had your back pressed against his chest.Ā
He brushed his lips along the side of your neck, teasingly soft at first. Then, firmer in a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below your ear.
Your pulse jumped immediately at the contact of his lips against your skin. āRobby.ā
He didnāt stop. Another kiss, lower this time, along the curve where neck meets shoulder. He tightened his hands on your waist, slipping his thumbs under the hem of your top, grazing your bare skin.
āThis is a bad idea,ā you whispered but it came out unsteady.Ā
Robby moved his mouth over your skin. āThen why does it feel so good?ā
You didnāt have an answer, you couldnāt think of one that made sense. He kept going, trailing kisses along the side of your throat, sliding one hand up your side, splaying his fingers across your ribs, the other staying firm at your hip, holding you against him.Ā
You tipped your head back against his shoulder in instinct, and he took the invitation, kissing the exposed line of your throat. Robby drifted his hand higher, brushing the underside of your breast through the fabric. Your hands came up in response, half to stop him, half to hold on, and they landed on his forearms, gripping them.
He murmured against your skin. āTell me to stop.ā
You didnāt stop it. Not one single part of you wanted to. Maybe if you werenāt so bone-deep tired, physically drained from years of resisting him, of constantly convincing yourself that you didnāt want this, that you werenāt aching for this every time he got too close, you might have found the strength to push him away again. To remind yourself of all the careful boundaries youād built for Hannahās sake. To remember why this was dangerous.
But right now, none of that mattered. Right now you needed Robby. You needed his warmth, you needed his touch, those large, capable hands that knew every inch of your body better than anyone else ever had, or ever would. You needed the intoxicating pleasure only he could ever give you, the rumble of his voice in your ear, and the way he could make you forget every careful reason youād built to keep him at armās length.
The resistance youād been carrying for years suddenly felt too heavy to hold anymore. In this quiet moment all you wanted was to let go. To stop fighting the pull that had never really gone away. To let Robby remind you, just for tonight, how good it felt to be wanted like this.
Under your shirt, one of Robbyās hands cupped the swell of your breast through the fabric of your bra. He traced slow circles over the peak, teasing the nipple into a tight point, making you arch without meaning to, and he rewarded you with a soft bite at the curve of your shoulder.
āFuck,ā you whispered, the curse slipping out before you could stop it.
Robby exhaled a rough laugh against your throat. āThere she is.ā He sounded proud of getting this reaction out of you, of remembering your body even if itād been years since the last time heād touched you.
He palmed your other breast now, both hands working in tandem to knead your flesh, brushing his fingers back and forth until the friction through your bra was almost too much. Your nipples ached, already feeling oversensitive, and every pass of his fingers sent heat straight between your legs. You could feel him behind you, his thick cock rigid, pressing against the small of your back through his jeans. The size of him, the heat of him, the way he rocked forward just enough to let you feel every inch, made your thighs clench.
You should stop this. You knew you should. But your hands were already reaching back, curling into the fabric of his shirt at his hips, holding him closer instead of pushing him away.
He growled with approval, leaving one of your breasts to slide his hand down the front of your body. He was slow, giving you every second to say no.
āWhen was the last time someone fucked you the way you deserve?ā he murmured against your neck, slightly tightening his fingers once he reached your thigh, dangerously close to the waistband of your shorts.
You stayed silent, like part of you didnāt want to admit the truth. Robby didnāt pull back, he kissed your neck again. āTell me, baby. When was the last time you were properly fucked? Deep and hard like I used toā¦ Until you couldnāt think straight?ā
You swallowed once, then answered honestly, barely above a whisper. āI havenāt slept with anyone since the last time we were together. About four years ago.ā
Robby stilled completely. He lifted his mouth from your neck like he was waiting for the punchline. āYouāre joking.ā
You shook your head. āIām not.ā
He stared at you for a moment, processing the new information. Then he let out a slow, disbelieving breath. āWhat about those guys youāve dated? The vet? That other guy a year ago, what was he? An engineer? What about him?ā
āTwo dates, maybe three at most with any of them,ā you said quietly. āNever went further. Never slept with any of them. Being a mom and a residentā¦ thereās no time. Between Hannahās schedule, shifts, studying, and trying to keep everything together, sex just wasnāt a priority.ā
Robby tightened his jaw, and a fix of emotions flashed through his face, surprise, heat, and a fierce kind of possessiveness. āFuck,ā he muttered. āYou canāt just tell me you havenāt been fucked in four years and expect me to act like itās nothing.ā
Before you could respond, he dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts, then under the elastic of your panties. āFour years. Four fucking years without anyone touching you the way you need. Without anyone filling this perfect pussy. Iām gonna leave you so fucking wet and satisfied when Iām done with you tonight. Youāre gonna be ruined for anyone else after this.ā
There was no hesitation now. He parted your pussy with two fingers, finding you already slick with arousal, your lips swollen, and he dragged his digits up through your folds in one long stroke, making your knees nearly buckle.
āJesus,ā he whispered against your ear, already sounding wrecked. āSo fucking wet for me.ā
Robby circled your clit, it was light at first, his touch feather-soft, just enough to make your hips jerk. Then it turned firmer, pressing down in tight circles the way he always knew you liked. The exact pressure, the exact rhythm. Muscle memory for him too, apparently.
You tipped your head back against Robbyās broad shoulder, fluttering your eyes shut so you could focus entirely on the intense pleasure flooding through your body. A shaky breath escaped your lips as his fingers worked you open with precision.
He kept his other hand on your breast, tugging your bra down roughly so he could give your nipples the attention they craved. He rolled the sensitive peaks between his thumb and forefinger, pinching and tugging in perfect time with the slick strokes between your legs. The dual sensation was devastating in the best way, making your pussy clench and flutter around nothing.
He slid one thick finger inside you, stretching you carefully, opening you up with a patience that drove you insane. When you pushed your hips back greedily, silently begging for more, he added a second finger, sinking them deeper. You were so tight, clenching hard around the intrusion, and Robby let out a guttural groan against your ear, like the feel of you was almost painful for him too.
āStill so fucking perfect,ā he rasped with want. āFuckā¦ the way you grip me. Like you never want to let go.ā
He curled his fingers deliberately, hooking them forward until he found that spongy spot inside you that made your vision flash white for a second. A broken moan tore from your throat as he started stroking your g-spot with every thrust. The sound was loud enough that you both froze for half a heartbeat, listening for any noise from upstairs. The house stayed quiet. Hannah was still fast asleep. Robby didnāt waste another second, he resumed his movements, going deeper now, fucking you steadily with his fingers while his thumb kept the pressure on your clit.Ā
Robby alternated the pace just to torment you, slow and deep, then faster and harder, then dragging it back to that torturous slow rhythm again. Teasing you right up to the edge without ever letting you fall over it.
You rocked back against his hand, chasing the pleasure, chasing him. Every curl of his fingers and every swipe of his thumb made your clit throb and your walls flutter around him. You were soaking his hand, the wet sounds of his fingers pumping in and out of your dripping pussy filling the quiet room.
Your breathing turned ragged. Small and desperate sounds slipping out despite your best efforts, whimpers, half-moans, his name once or twice when he hit the spot just right.
He kissed your neck again, sucking lightly and then soothing with his tongue. Robby couldnāt stop his hips from rocking against your ass in shallow thrusts, matching the rhythm of his fingers, allowing you to feel how hard he was, painfully so.
Your thighs started to tremble. The coil in your belly wound tighter and tighter. You were close, so close, and he knew it, still remembered how your body shook, how your pussy pulsed and clenched when you were about to let go.
āCome on,ā he murmured against your ear. āLet go for me. Iāve got you.ā He pressed his thumb harder on your clit, and crooked his fingers again, stroking that spot in quick pulses. āLet me feel you cum. Please, baby, I want it so bad.ā
It hit you like a wave. As you orgasmed around his fingers, your back arched, throwing your head back against his shoulder, opening your mouth on a silent cry that turned into a choked moan when the pleasure finally broke. You came hard, shuddering and clenching around his fingers. He had to tighten his arm around your waist to keep you upright when wave after wave of pleasure hit you, until your legs felt like liquid.
Robbyās arms stayed locked around you for a long moment after you came down. Slowly, he turned you in his arms until you were facing him. Your legs felt unsteady, so he steadied you with his hands on your waist.
When he lifted the hand that was inside you, the one still slick and shining with you, he brought it to his mouth without breaking eye contact with you.
Robby licked his fingers slowly, first one, then the other, dragging his tongue flat and thorough, tasting every bit of you.Ā
āFuck,ā he murmured, humming as if the taste of your slickness pleasured him. āStill taste the same. Sweet. So goddamn good.ā
Heat flooded your face, your chest, everywhere. You couldnātlook away, the sight of him, with his lips wet and his eyes locked on yours, while he savored you like that, made your core clench again. It felt so aching and empty without him inside you, and you desperately needed to be filled again, to feel the stretch of his cock impaled inside you, to have his weight over you while he made you feel owned.Ā
The words slipped out before you could think them through. āFuck me, Robby.ā
His mouth curved almost predatory. The words heād longed to hear for so long. āYeah?ā
āYeah.ā
He leaned in until his forehead rested against yours, allowing you to feel his hot breath on your lips. āAsk nicely.ā
You narrowed your eyes with defiance even through the haze of want. āGo to hell.ā
He laughed, the same laugh he used to give you in stolen moments years ago, when youād push back just to watch him unravel. āStill stubborn,ā he said, almost fond. āGood to know some things donāt change.ā
Robby didnāt hesitate. In one smooth motion, his hands were under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as if you weighed nothing. You wrapped your legs around his waist instinctively, nd your arms around his neck, as he carried you up the stairs. His mouth found your neck again on the way, kissing and nipping while he navigated the familiar hallway in the dark.Ā
He pushed open the door to your bedroom with his shoulder, kicking it shut behind him, and turning the lock with a click. Robby set you down on the edge of the bed but didnāt step back. He stood between your spread thighs, looking down at you with an expression that made your stomach flip.
āFuckā¦ I feel like Iām dreaming,ā he cupped your face, stroking his thumb over your cheeks. āYou, here, letting me touch you again after all this time. After everything.ā
Then he was on you, Robby climbed onto the bed, his knees bracketing your hips, and pressing you back into the mattress with his weight. He crashed his mouth down on yours in a desperate kiss while he ran his hands over your body.
He groaned like a man starved, staring at your chest. āThese titsā¦ God, I missed them.ā His mouth descended immediately, devouring you with almost frantic need. He sucked one nipple into his mouth, swirling his tongue roughly around the peak before he sucked it hard, hollowing your cheeks. He kneaded the other breast, digging his fingers in, flicking and pinching the neglected nipple until you arched off the bed with a loud moan. He switched sides, licking and biting, sucking marks into the flesh like he wanted to claim every inch. His stubble was scraping deliciously against your skin, making you whimper and thread your fingers through his brown hair, holding him to you.
He was almost desperate in the way he worshiped your body, groaning against your skin, grinding his hips down against your thigh so you could feel how painfully hard he was. āSo fucking perfect,ā he mumbled between sucks and bites. āThese tits were made for my mouth. Look at how pretty they look. I love sucking on themā¦ fuck, baby.ā
You were panting, pushing your chest further into his face as pleasure shot straight to your cunt. Robby spent long minutes there, alternating between teasing licks and rough hungry suction, until your nipples were swollen, sensitive, and glistening with his spit.
Then he started moving lower. His mouth trailed wet kisses down your sternum, over your stomach, pausing to nip at the soft curve just below your navel. He settled between your spread thighs, pushing your shorts the rest of the way down to bunch around your ankles. For a moment, he just stared at the damp spot on your panties with eyes full of lust.
āLook at you,ā he rasped, his hot breath right against your dripping pussy. āYouāre making such a big mess for me. You ruined your pantiesā¦ so fucking soaked.ā
He leaned in and mouthed at your pussy over the thin fabric, pressing kisses along your slit, dragging his tongue slowly from your entrance up to your clit through the soaked cotton. He sucked gently on your clit through the material, making your hips jerk. Then he pulled back just enough to blow cool air over the damp spot before diving in again, licking broad stripes, nipping at your folds, mouthing at you like he was trying to taste every drop of your arousal through the barrier.
You moaned louder, with your thighs trembling around his head and your hands fisting the sheets as he teased you mercilessly. Robby hooked his arms under your thighs, holding you open while he continued the torturous worship of his mouth. Every time you tried to grind harder against his mouth, he pulls back slightly, keeping you right on the edge, whimpering and desperate.
āRobbyā¦ pleaseā¦ā you gasped, but he only groaned against your pussy and keept teasing, determined to drive you insane before he finally gave you what you both needed.
He looked up at you from between your thighs, gleaming with satisfaction. Robby hooked two fingers into the thin cotton at your hip and ripped. The sound of fabric tearing filled the quiet room. You only had a second for the cool air to hit your bare, dripping pussy, because right away Robbyās mouth was on you, aggressive and devastatingly skilled.
He devoured you like a man whoād been starving for years. Thereās no gentle buildup or teasing licks. He buried his face between your thighs with a hunger that bordered on feral. He drags his tongue broadly, giving you flat strokes from your entrance all the way up to your swollen clit, lapping up every drop of your arousal like it was the only thing keeping him alive.Ā
He groaned deeply into your pussy, the sound was filthy. āFuck, babyā¦ you taste even better than I remembered,ā he said against your folds before diving back in.
He ate you out with aggression, swallowing your clit into the heat of his mouth, swirling his tongue around the bundle of nerves before releasing it with a filthy pop. The sudden loss of suction made you whimper, only for him to immediately flick the tip of his tongue rapidly against your clit as his stubble scraped against your inner thighs with every movement of his head.
Robby alternated between deep licks that plunged his tongue inside you, fucking you with it in slow strokes that had you dripping down his chin, and tight suction on your clit that made you curl your toes hard.
Every time you tried to muffle your moans, he only doubled down, sucking harder, licking deeper, devouring you like heād been dreaming about this exact taste for years. He gripped your ass, spreading you wider for his mouth, holding you firmly in place so you couldnāt escape the assault of his tongue.
āOh my Godā¦ Robbyāā Your voice cracked as he flicked his tongue rapidly over your clit. āFuck, right there, donāt stop, please donāt stopā¦ā
He ate it like he loved it. Like he needed it. His hands werenāt idle either. One arm banded across your lower stomach, holding you down when your hips started bucking too wildly. The other hand reached up to palm and squeeze your bare breasts, making you moan louder.
You pushed up onto your elbows, desperate to watch him. The sight was both obscene and intoxicating, Robbyās head buried between your thighs, his shoulders flexing as he worked, eyes closed in pure bliss while his mouth devoured your cunt. His jaw was moving with every lick and every suck, his lips and chin already shiny with your wetness. When he glanced up and caught you watching, his eyes darkened even more.
He pulled back just enough to spit directly onto your swollen pussy, a thick glob of saliva landing right on your clit. The warm sensation made you gasp, asd he watched it drip down your folds for half a second before he drove back in, spreading the spit with his tongue, mixing it with your own slick until everything was messy and glistening.
āGod, look at this pretty pussy,ā the words came out muffled against you. āSo fucking wet for me. Been waiting four years to taste you again.ā
He continued his relentless assault on your clit, and you couldnāt look away. The sight of this strong man, completely lost between your legs, eating your pussy like it was his favorite meal, was almost too much.
āYouāre so fucking good at thisā¦ shit, your mouthāā A broken moan escaped you when he sucked hard on your clit again. āIām gonnaā¦ I canāt!Ā Robby, Iām close alreadyā¦ā
Your second orgasm built fast, and it crushed over you without mercy, making you bow your back off the bed, tearing a broken cry from your throat as the pleasure peaked. Robby didnāt let up for a second, he sucked your nub harder, drawing the orgasm out until it felt endless.
Your vision whited out, tears spilling down your cheeks as the pleasure rolled through you while he kept licking you through it greedily.
You sobbed his name, āRobbyā¦ fuckāoh god,ā as your body shook uncontrollably, clamping his thighs around his head when the intensity bordered on too much.Ā
He finally eased off only when your cries turned into overwhelmed whimpers, your body limp and trembling on the bed. But even then, he didnāt pull away completely. Robby continued placing soft kisses to your folds, licking up every drop of your release like he couldnāt bear to waste any of it. His hands soothed your thighs, rubbing circles while you came down.
Robby lifted his head, letting you admire his lips and chin glistening with your cum between your spread thighs. āFour yearsā¦ and you still taste like heaven.ā
When he finally started kissing his way up your body, his mouth was soft, reaching your mouth and kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. He pulled back, hovering his face above yours. āYou okay, baby?ā he asked with an edge of worry in his tone, cupping your cheek with one hand, brushing away a tear. āTalk to me. Was that too much?ā
You managed a shaky nod, still catching your breath. āIāmā¦ fine. Justā¦ holy shit, Robby.ā
He chuckled softly, pleased with himself after seeing the effect his mouth had on you. āYouāve got the most perfect pussy in the world, you know that? So fucking pretty when you cum. And look at the mess you madeā¦ā He glanced down between your bodies at the soaked sheets, a proud and filthy smirk tugging at his mouth. āYou still soak everything when I eat you out. God, I love how wet you get for me.ā
Your voice came out breathy, needy, honest in a way you havenāt been with him in years.You were finally embracing what you truly wanted. āI need you, Robby. All of you. Please.ā
Something possessive flashed in his eyes. He didnāt make you ask twice this time, just sat back on his heels and stripped in a rush, yanking his shirt over his head, then shoving his pants and boxers down his thighs in one impatient motion. His cock sprang free, looking every bit as thick as you remembered it, with the head already flushed in a dark red, leaking precum.Ā
He was rock-hard, with the veins standing out along the shaft, curving slightly upward the way you loved, because it hit your g-spot so easily. He knelt between your spread thighs, pressing his into the mattress, and looked down at you with hunger. āStroke it a little,ā he asked you. āLet me feel your hand on me first.ā
You sat up just enough to reach him, wrapping your fingers around his impressive length. He felt hot in your palm as you gave him a firm stroke from the base to the tip, swirling your thumb over the leaking head to spread the precum. Your touch made Robby groan deeply, twitching his hips forward into your touch.
āFuckā¦ Itās so big,ā you whispered, locking your eyes on the way your hand looked around him. āI need it so much, Robby. Iāve missed this cock. Missed how full you make me.ā
He watched your hand move, his breathing growing increasingly ragged with every stroke. āSlow, baby. Just like that. Real slow.ā His voice was strained, like he was already fighting not to cum from your touch alone. āShit, Iām close already. Itās been so long since Iāve felt thisā¦ your hand feels too fucking good.ā
You kept stroking him slowly, twisting your wrist on the upstroke, squeezing just the way heād always liked. Robby's head fell back for a moment, a moan rumbling in his chest, before he looked down again, watching your tits move with each stroke, watching your slick pussy still glistening from his mouth, waiting for him.
He reached down and gently took your wrist, stilling your hand. Then he shifted forward, gripping the base of his cock and rubbing the thick head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness. The pressure against your clit made you whimper.
Robby leaned over you, bracing one hand beside your head, the other still holding his cock against your entrance. He locked his eyes onto yours. āShould we.. uhā¦ grab a condom?ā
You didnāt even hesitate, spreading your legs wider for him, sliding your hands up his arms to grip his shoulders. āIām on the pill,ā you whispered. āGo raw. I want to feel all of you.ā
A deep groan escaped him as he notches the head of his cock right against your entrance, pressing just enough to tease the stretch without pushing inside yet. He cupped your face with his free hand, brushing your lower lip while he held himself right there, waiting for the moment he finally sank into you after four long years.
When he finally pushed forward, you felt the blunt pressure increasing, letting you feel every inch as he sank into you. You both moaned at the same time, he was thicker than you remembered in the haze of memory, and the stretch was intense, bordering on overwhelming after so long without anyone inside you. Your walls parted around him, fluttering and clenching as he slid deeper, inch by slow inch, until his hips were flush against yours and he was buried to the hilt inside you.
The fullness was perfect, almost too much, pressing against that deep spot that made you curl your toes instantly. āFuckā¦ baby,ā Robby groaned, dropping his forehead to yours for a second. āYou feelā¦ Jesus Christ. So tight. So fucking wet and warm. I missed this pussy so much.ā
He stayed still for a heartbeat, letting you adjust, both of you just breathing each other in after four long years. Then he started to move. The first thrust was slow and deep, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in with a wet sound. The second was a little harder. By the third, heād found a steady rhythm, long and powerful strokes that dragged against every sensitive spot inside you. The drag and stretch were incredible, every time he bottomed out, the head of his cock kissed that deep place that made sparks explode behind your eyes.
āOh my Godā¦ Robby,ā you moaned, already trembling, and heād just started. āYouāre so fucking deep.ā
It felt amazing for both of you. For you, it was like waking up after years of numbness, every nerve lighting up, pleasure flooding your body in waves with every thrust. For Robby, the groan that left him is guttural, almost pained with how good it felt to finally be inside the only place thatād ever made sense in his life.
His hips snapped forward harder, the slap of skin on skin filling the bedroom as he fucked you with measured strokes. You were trying so hard to stay quiet, bringing your hand to your mouth to bite down on the side of it, muffling the moans that kept trying to spill out. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, then fluttered them open again. Robby was watching you like you were the most beautiful thing heād ever seen, flicking his gaze between your face, your lips parted, eyes glassy with pleasure, to your tits bouncing with every thrust, and down to where your pussy was stretched wide around his cock.Ā
He watched himself disappear inside you, the shiny wetness coating his shaft every time he pulled back, your folds clinging to him greedily. āFuck, look at that. Your pretty pussy taking me so well after all this time. Stretched so tight around my cockā¦ making such a mess on me.ā
You bit harder into your hand as a particularly deep thrust made you whimper loudly. Robbyās rhythm started to pick up, snapping his hips with more force, the perfect angle to hit your spot inside you over and over, making you clench around his length.
āShitā¦ right there,ā you whimpered. āThat spotā¦ fuck! I can feel every inch. God, Iām so full.ā
āStop squeezing like that,ā he groaned, almost pleading, tightening his grip on your hips. āYouāre gonna make me cum already if you keep clenching around me like that. This pussy is too perfectā¦ so fucking good. Feels like heaven. Iāve dreamed about this for yearsā¦ being buried inside you again.ā
He leaned down and captured your mouth in a messy kiss, swallowing your muffled moans, before he suddenly gripped the backs of your thighs and lifted your legs, hooking them over his broad shoulders. The new angle let him sink even deeper, and the next thrust punched the air out of your lungs as he bottomed out completely, pressed his hips tightly against your ass, grinding his cock against that deepest spot.
āOh my godāRobby!ā You gasped against your hand, rolling your eyes back. āLike that! Like thatā¦ Please donāt stop.ā
He fucked you harder now, making the bed creak softly beneath you. āSo perfect,ā he panted between thrusts. āYou feel so fucking perfect. This bodyā¦ these titsā¦ this tight little pussy squeezing me. I missed you so much. Missed fucking you like this.ā
He slid a hand between your bodies, finding your swollen clit with his thumb and rubbing firm circles in time with his thrusts. The added stimulation was pushing you toward the edge fast.
āCum for me, baby,ā he growled. āI want to feel you cum around my cock. Let me feel it.ā
When the pleasure started cresting, your words turned into fragmented, needy whimpers.Ā
The combination of his deep strokes, the pressure on your clit, and the overwhelming fullness after four years was too much. Your third orgasm of the night crashed over you even harder than the other two. Your back arched violently off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat despite your teeth sinking into your hand. Your pussy clamped down around him like a vice, pulsing and fluttering rhythmically as waves of intense pleasure ripped through you.
Robby groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he felt his own impeding orgasm approaching. āThatās itāfuck, yesāmilk me, baby. Iām cummingāā
He thrusted deep one last time, burying himself as far as he could go, and finally allowed himself to cum. You felt the thick pulses of his seed as he filled you up, rope after rope of cum flooding deep inside you, so much that you could feel it spilling out around his cock where you were stretched around him. Robby kept grinding his hips against you through his orgasm, drawing it out, making sure every drop stayed inside you as long as possible.
He stayed buried deep while you both came down, breathing hard, your bodies slick with sweat. Your legs were still over his shoulders, your pussy still gently fluttering around his softening cock.Ā
āFour years,ā he whispered hoarsely against your lips. āAnd youāre still mine.ā
An incredulous chuckle rumbled out of his chest, utterly satisfied. His brown eyes were in disbelief, like he genuinely couldnāt believe he just got to be inside you again after all this time. The lines around his eyes crinkled deeply as he smiled. āJesus Christ,ā he murmured, sounding a little husky froĀ the exertion. āI canāt believe I just got to be inside you again. That wasā¦ fuck. That was the best fuck of my life. Better than I remembered. Better than anything.ā
He stayed there a moment longer, savoring the connection, before he finally pulled out of you. You both groaned at the loss, a thick of his cum leaking out of you onto the already-soaked sheets. Robby rolled off you and onto his back beside you, reaching out with one arm to pull you against his side
He turned his head to look at you, brushing damp strands of hair off your forehead with gentle fingers. āHow was that for you, baby?ā he asked softly. āTell me. Was it okay? Did I hurt you at all?ā
You huffed a small, tired laugh against his collarbone. āYou already know the answer.ā
He hummed, but didnāt let it drop. āSay it anyway.ā
āRobby.ā You tilt your head back just enough to meet his eyes. āStop fishing for compliments. You already know exactly how good it felt. It was amazing. More than amazing. I donāt even have words for it. I came so hard Iā God, I needed that.ā
He smiled again with a satisfied grin, and pressed a lingering kiss to your temple. āGood. Thatās all I wanted, to make you feel as good as you made me feel.ā
As the afterglow started to fade, and reality started to creep back inā¦ the sleeping five-year-old down the hall, the careful co-parenting boundaries youāve both worked so hard to maintain. You shifted slightly, propping yourself up on one elbow to look at him.
āYou should get going now. Itās late. Hannah will be up early, and I donāt want her to wake up and find you here. It might make things weird or confusing for her.ā
Robby let out a genuine laugh, rolling onto his side to face you fully. āOh, so thatās how it is? You use me to break your four-year celibacy, three orgasms, mind you, and now youāre kicking me out?ā His eyes sparkled with humor, the corner of his mouth quirking up. āCold, woman . Real cold. I give you the best, and only, dick youāve had in years, and this is the thanks I get? Straight to the door?ā
You couldnāt help but laugh with him, swatting lightly at his chest. āIām serious. You know how she is. If she comes in here looking for me in the morning and sees you in my bed, sheāll have a million questions. Or sheāll think weāre back together and get her hopes up. We canāt do that to her.ā
He propped himself up on one elbow, too, mirroring your position, still grinning that cocky grin that made him look ten years younger. āThree orgasms,ā he repeate, holding up three fingers like he was making a point. āI ate that pussy until you were crying and shaking, then fucked you so deep you saw stars, and now Iām being evicted? Harsh, really harsh. I feel so used right now.ā
āRobby,ā you said, trying to sound stern but failing as another laugh bubbled up. āCome on. You know Iām right.ā
He sighed dramatically, flopping back onto the pillow but keeping one arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer so your bare breasts pressed against his chest. āI donāt want to go. Not yet. I want to stay here and cuddle you. Just hold you for a while. I promise Iāll leave early tomorrow morning, before Hannah wakes up. Iāll set an alarm, sneak out. Sheāll never know I was here. Please, baby. Let me stay. I missed this. Missed holding you after.ā
You hesitated, chewing your lip. The warmth of his body against yours, the beat of his heart under your palm, the way he kept tracing circles with hisĀ fingers on your lower backā¦ it all feels dangerously good.Ā
He sensed your wavering and leaned in, pressing soft kisses along your jaw, then to your lips. āYouāre perfect,ā he murmured between kisses. āSo fucking perfect. The way you took me tonight, the way you came for meā¦ You made me feel whole again. Nothing in my life has ever compared to this. You and Hannahā¦ you two are the best things that ever happened to me. Being inside you again, hearing you moan my nameā¦ it reminded me how much I still need you. How much Iāve always needed you.ā
He tightened his arm around you, pulling you fully against his chest so you were tucked into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Robby slid one of his legs between yours, tangling you together under the messy sheets. He kept kissing you, your forehead, your closed eyelids, the tip of your nose, then back to your mouth in lingering presses.Ā
āI mean it,ā he whispered against your hair. āYou made me the happiest man alive when you gave me Hannah, but nights like thisā¦ being with you like thisā¦ it completes something in me. I feel alive. Whole. Like the missing piece finally clicked back into place. No one else has ever made me feel this way. No one else ever could.ā
You melted into him despite yourself, and the night passed in fragments of deep sleep, the kind you havenāt had in years. Robbyās arm stayed across your waist the whole time, with his fingers splayed over your stomach like he was afraid youād disappear if he let go. His chest rose and fell against your back in an even rhythm, and the snoringā¦ God, the stupid snoring youād missed so much.
You woke slowly, first to the weight of him, then to the ache between your legs, the reminder of last night still dried on your inner thighs. You felt him stir behind you as consciousness returned. You could practically hear the smile before you even turned your head.
When you did roll over, he was already looking at you with his eyes half-lidded, sleepy, and crinkled at the corners. And yeah, there it was, that stupid and contented grin spreading across his face like heād just won the lottery.
āStop smiling,ā you muttered. āYouāre creeping me out.ā
He huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, didnāt even try to dial it back. If anything, it got wider. āCanāt help it,ā he said. āWoke up next to the most gorgeous woman in the world. Kinda hard not to smile about that.ā
Heat climbed up your neck despite yourself. You rolled your eyes, trying to play it off. āFlattery at six a.m. is a cheap move, Robinavitch.ā
āFuck,ā he breathed, roaming his eyes over your face like he was seeing it for the first time. āLook at you.ā
He dropped his gaze appreciatively, taking in the messy hair spilling across the pillow, the sheet tangled around your bare hips, the faint marks his mouth left on your collarbone last night. He reached out, tracing one with his thumb, gently.
āDonāt even think about it, Michael,ā you warned him. Youād had your fun last night. It had been amazing, even better than you remembered sex with Robby ever being. But it had been one time. One stupid lapse of judgment, one moment of weakness that couldnāt repeat itself again. You couldnāt let it. Not when the delicate balance youād fought so hard to maintain for Hannah was so stable. You refused to risk your daughterās sense of security just because your body still craved the man who used to know every inch of you better than anyone else.
Robby snapped his eyes back to yours, looking equal parts hungry and amused. āYou know how I get when you call me Michael.ā
āLast night was a relapse. I was tired, andā¦ Emotional. Not happening again today. Not happening again ever, as a matter of fact.ā
āYeah?ā He laughed before he shifted, rolling you onto your back in one smooth motion. His body came down over yours, caging you under his weight. Robby braced his forearms on either side of your head, his knees bracketing your hips. āYou sure about that?ā
You pushed at his shoulder. āRobbyā¦ get off.ā
He stirred above you, lifting his head. For a moment, he didnāt move, but you kept pushing, gentle but insistent, until he finally rolled off you with a sigh and propped himself up on one elbow.
āAll of thisā¦ It was a mistake,ā you sat up and pulling the sheet up over your bare chest, suddenly too aware of your nakedness.
Robby reached for you instinctively, but you shifted away, scooting back against the headboard. āWhy?ā he asked. āIt felt fucking amazing for both of us. You know it did. Weāre good at this, weāve always been good at this.ā
You shook your head, the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way your bodies still fit together like they remembered every single time beforeā¦ it made your resolve weaken. āYou know why not. I canāt just think about ourselves anymore. We have to think about Hannah. We canāt hurt her. We already crashed once, and Iām not putting her through big changes, through the uncertainty, the chance that everything falls apart all over again.ā You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to meet his eyes. āI know you, Michael. In a month youāre going to regret this. Youāre going to need space, and your head wonāt be in the right place for commitment. I wonāt do that to her. I wonāt do that to any of us.ā
Robby sat up fully now, the playful morning haze completely gone from his face. āItās different this time. The first timeā¦ everything was happening all at once. You know how fucked up I wasā¦ After Covid, afterā¦ everything that happened. Having to take care of the whole EDā¦ I was drowning. I couldnāt be what you needed. But Iām not that man anymore. You know Iāve changed. Youāve seen how much being a father changed me.ā He leaned forward slightly. āI want you. I want this. I want the family. I want the commitment.ā
You swallowed hard, and for one dangerous moment, you let yourself imagine it, waking up like this every morning with his warmth beside you, the three of you as a real family, lazy weekends and shared dinners and Hannah running between you both. The picture was so beautiful it hurt, but reality settled back in fast.
āYou should go,ā you whispered, looking away toward the window so he wouldnāt see the tears gathering in your eyes. āWe shouldnāt keep talking about this anymore.ā
Robby exhaled, running a hand through his messy, sleep-tousled hair. āItās not fair.ā
You let out a bitter little laugh. āA lot in life isnāt fair, Robby. You know that better than anyone else.ā
He watched you for a long moment. The silence stretched between you until he finally swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood. You stayed under the sheet, trying not to watch the familiar way his muscles moved as he gathered his clothes from the floor and got dressed.
When he reached the bedroom door, he paused, turning back to you with that half-smirk that you knew meant trouble. āYou can try, but I know you canāt stay away from all of this for too long. Iām a real catch.ā
You couldnāt help the tired laugh that escaped you. āGoodbye, Michael.ā
He gave you one last long look full of affection before he slipped out of the room and down the stairs. The sheets still smelled like him, your skin still remembered his hands, nd you were left alone with the echo of everything you wanted but couldnāt let yourself have.Ā
A/N: Oh my god, I finally wrote something!!!š Iād had this idea sitting in my brain for so long, and the other day I finally felt the urge to start it. After about a week, and using all the free time I have between work and college, I actually managed to finish it. Finally something with a bit of plot, lol.
I really hope you enjoyed this idea! Iād love to write a second part, but with my scheduleā¦ that could be anywhere from two weeks to a year from now. Itās been a while since Iāve posted anything, so itād be really nice to hear your thoughts, if you liked it, your favorite parts, anything reallyš«¶š»
My favorite scenes in the LotR books are the ones where Legolas has vital information and just decides it's not important to share.
Like when Gandalf spent literal PAGES trying to figure out why the vibes were off in Moria and Legolas chimes in with just "it's a balrog :) that shit's evil :) we're so fucked :)" like what do you MEAN you knew already and just didn't tell him??
Or at the beginning of Two Towers when Aragorn thinks there's something nearby so he puts his ear to the ground to listen, and then like 10 minutes later is like "hmmm i hear horses" and Legolas is just like "mm yep. there are 105 blond bitches with spears" like you just let your friend put his face in the dirt and you can SEE them??
It's because legolas hasn't spent enough time with non-elves to remember that they don't know what he knows.
gandalf is scratching his head in moria, and legolas is thinking "oh man, the wizard noticed something off *besides* the obvious balrog that we all are aware of??"
"I wonder what aragorn is listening for? must be hard to hear, what with all of the horses. How many horses are there, actually? 1... 2... 3..."
"What do your elvish eyes see?" is Aragorn saying, as politely as possible, "Because the REST OF US are at a significant disadvantage, Prince Dipshit."
Pairing: Titus Danforth x Personal Assistant!Reader
Summary: Titus puts you down as his plus-one for a gala, which means you need to go dress shopping as well.
The Refusal | Shawn Hatosy Masterlist
Titus Danforth was a hard man to please. Whatever he wanted, he'd get. When it didn't live up to his standards, he'd toss them to the side...or worse.
That was usually the case for his personal assistants. He was a busy man and he didn't have time to deal with schedules, reservations, what have you.
You'd heard rumors that Titus never kept a personal assistant for long. He never found the right one or when he had one for a while, he'd get bored of them, and fire them.
You were desperate for a job and, at this point, you had nothing to lose. So you applied, got a call for a hands-on interview.
When you arrived to Titus' office, he looked you up and down and then started listing off things he needed you to do.
You nodded, typing it all down in your phone. After he was done, he waved you away so you can get started.
You'd completed it all in four hours. Titus was impressed. He hired you soon after. You were quick, efficient, and not to mention beautiful to look at. So that was a plus.
Years later, you're still Titus' personal assistant. You two have become familiar with each other, but that still doesn't stop Titus for being a demanding prick.
But you're declines and refusals have become a staple in your work relationship with Titus.
He's made it clear he's attracted to you, and, while you reciprocate, you need the job more than his dick. So his requests keep coming and your refusals keep following. It's like a game.
Well Titus is a Danforth and Danforths love to play games.
_____________________________
Your heels clack against the floors as you follow Titus through his home and towards the front door, "-and they already have some suits picked out for you to try on when we arrive."
Titus walks, well, more like swaggers, out the door and towards the waiting car. A hand in his pocket and sunglasses on while he scrolls through his phone, "Have them pull out some dresses for you too."
"Huh?" you stop, looking at him confused, "This fitting is for the gala-"
"Yes and you're my plus one," he states nonchalantly, eyes still focused on his phone.
"Since when?"
"Since now. I need a buffer between rubbing elbows with the rich pricks there," he murmurs as he stops at the car. The driver opens the door for him.
Your lips twitch into a little amused smirk, "Need I remind you that you are also a rich prick, Mister Danforth?"
He looks over his shoulder with a grin, "Yeah and you never let me forget it."
Titus gestures for you to go in first. You do so and Titus takes the moment to check out your ass.
"Eyes up, cowboy," you immediately quip over your shoulder before you settle into your seat.
He chuckles as he slides in beside you, "You know what people always say, 'Save a horse, ride a cowboy'," the door closes behind him and the car gets moving. You ignore his comment and take out your laptop. You use your phone's hotspot to connect to WiFi and you continue to work out skimming through various contracts and signing them on behalf of Titus. After years of working for him, you've become one of the very few people he trusts with his personal and business affairs.
When you arrive to Bergdorf's, you walk in-step with Titus. Your laptop bag in hand since you planned to continue your work while Titus tries on various tuxes.
Once you get to the men's department, a stylist approaches you two, "Mister Danforth, welcome again. I've already have some options set aside for you. Your assistant was very thorough about what you were looking for."
Titus looks to you and gives you an approving nod, "Good girl," he rasps and you give a shrug. He then follows the stylist to the dressing rooms, you in tow.
"While I try these on, you should start thinking about what kind of dress you want."
You shake your head, "Mister Danforth, I can't. I shouldn't. I'm sure I have a dress at home-"
"You can and you should. I already put you down as my plus one. You're expected there. You're a reflection of me. You need to look the part."
You frown at him, "But I was the one that made the reservation."
"I called and made them accommodate for you."
You cock a brow at him, "Seriously?"
He shrugs, his mischievous smirk on his lips, "I'm capable of doing things myself. Just don't prefer to," he winks and slowly starts walking into the dressing room. He points at you, "Dresses."
You lower yourself onto the velvet couches in the dressing area, "Unbelievable."
Yet very much so believable considering who you work for.
______________________
Titus steps out of the dressing room every fifteen to twenty minutes or so in a different suit, asking your opinion about how he looks.
To be quite honest, he looked really good in all of them, but you wouldn't give him the satisfaction of him knowing that. So you gave feedback:
"Texture is weird"
"Color doesn't look right."
"Going all black is so boring!"
Each critique Titus actually took seriously because he did value your opinion. Also after all these years, you know probably know him best, aside from his twin sister, of course.
Eventually he settled on a navy blue Tom Ford suit with black lapels, white dress shirt, and no tie. A tailor will make adjustments to it so it'll fit him better and will be sent to his house.
"Well?"
You sigh, closing your laptop, "I thought of some styles. Told the stylist that I'd like something that works well with your suit."
"You wanted to match?"
You snort, "Well I certainly didn't want to stand out!"
He shrugs, placing his hands in his pockets, "You could if you wanted to, stand out that is."
You shake your head, "Absolutely not. I'm already going to feel weird since I've never gone to an event this big before."
Titus waves you off, "You'll do fine, angel. Now come on. Let's go see what dresses they picked out for you."
________________________
Titus is lounging on the velvet couch this time. He's scrolling through his phone while you speak with the stylist. She has Titus' suit for reference in regards to how each dress would look with it.
The first dress you try is one shoulder dress. It's white but has a blue ombre down the skirt that goes from light blue to navy.
Titus looks up and his breath hitches. You look at yourself in the mirror, turning side to side. He immediately sets his phone aside, his focus soley on you.
"Beautiful," he says just loud enough for you to hear, "Get it."
You snort and turn to him, "It's the first dress I'm trying on."
"And I'm saying you should get it."
You roll your eyes at him and he holds in a groan. You turn to the stylist, "I'll pass on this one. Thank you." You step back into the dressing room and Titus leans back in the couch.
His leg bouncing for you to come out again. He doesn't want to admit it, but he likes this. Watching you play dress up for him, him being able to spoil you. He always enjoys spending his money on you, even if you scold him for doing so.
He knows you can afford more luxuries now. He pays you well enough to do so. But the thought of him providing for you, well, makes him puff his chest out a little more.
"Dress number two!" the stylist exclaims as you step out.
It's a navy blue ballroom dress with a boat neck neckline. There's black embellishments sewn into the skirt that matches his suit well.
"It's pretty, but it's so...poofy." You play with the skirt, the fabric and tulle rustling as you do so, "Too poofy, right, sir?"
"Definitely, but it does match my suit."
You nod and murmur to the stylist before heading inside once more.
The last dress you try on makes his breath hitch and heart stutter. It's a black velvet drop waist dress. It's sleeveless with a sweetheart neckline. You look...delectable.
You look at yourself in the mirror, completely unaware of Titus feeling his length harden at the sight. The way the dress clings to you, the neckline pushing your chest up. You look so elegant, so...perfect.
It takes everything in him to not go up to you, to touch you, to claim you.
He clears his throat, trying to subtly adjust himself in his pants, "I think that's the one."
"Really?" you look at him through the reflection of the mirrors.
"It's perfect. It makes you look elegant and classy without being so in your face about it."
You hum, turning side to side, "Yeah. I think so too. I'll take this one," you sat to the stylist and she exclaims glee.
She proceeds to write down your measurements and any other adjustments you'd need on the dress, but Titus drowns at that noise because now his head is taking him somewhere else.
Underground. An altar. A sacrifice. And how beautiful you'd look standing before him in an all-black dress.
"Sir? Mister Danforth. Titus!" you say his name a little louder and he's brought back from his thoughts.
"Fuck, what?" he acts annoyed, more at himself than you.
"Was there anything else you needed? Shoes, cuff links, et cetera?" you ask him.
"No. Hurry up and change. I'm fucking starving," he grumbles, now putting up that rich prick front, a way to deflect his fantasizing. He turns and walks out of the dressing area, creating some distance from you. He hears your faint apologies to the stylist, your voice fading the further he retreats.
For years, you've been his assistant and for that same amount of time, Titus has pined for you. He's desired you. And it's fucking irritating because he can't have you. You won't let him, steady on keeping your relationship strictly professional.
There have been some...close calls. Late nights where you became a little more vulnerable, a little more forgiving. An almost kiss that he still thinks about to this day.
But again, Titus is a Danforth and Danforths love games. And he's playing the long one with you.
danforth. titus danforth. headcanons. (sfw mostly!).
a/n: so uhm, i hope it's okay.. i have no idea what i just wrote, i'm also sorry in advance for any writing, spelling or overall grammatical mistakes. english is not my first language and i wrote this pretty late so i'll take any criticism if i have to.
- jealousy. denied it at first. since honestly, he didn't think he would have a reason to be jealous, since he can pretty much do whatever he wanted to anyone and has a lot of confidence in himself. but it changed when he noticed a particular male friend of yours, younger than him, always trying to be around you, he suspected he was fancying you, to which you've told him that he is just being nice. "you name that being nice? honey, he was barely holding himself back from touching youā" he told you with a slight shift in his voice that he wasn't even aware was present. oh but you heard it.
- pet names. you really didn't think he would be the type. you've seen him ironically use them before in his sarcastic comments, like "oh really, sweetheart?" or " are you sure about that, dear?" maybe he got it from you? that was one of your thoughts, cause you did call him names like 'my love' or 'handsome' pretty often, it was your way of expressing yourself. honestly it still was a shock seeing it first thing in the mornings, when you've just woken up and he'd walk into the room "g'morning, how'd you sleep, my love?" or he'd be looking for something around the mansion. "sweet girl, have you seen my axe anywhere? i forgot where i left it."
- hand holding. he used to think small actions of affection were stupid before you came in his life. at the beginning of your relationship with him, you were often still hesitant and nervous about telling him some things, and he noticed it. one of your dates, you were talking and mindlessly, either fidgeting with the fingers of your other hand or picking at the skin around your fingernails. he was listening to you and without interrupting you, surprisingly gently grabbed your fidgeting hand and held it in a loose grip in his own, since he wasn't sure how'd you react and he didn't want to make it worse by forcing it with a hard grip. "why'd you do that?" you asked him confusedly but didn't pull your hand away from his to which he simply replied with a amused soft grin on his face "do what? go on, finish your story, i'm invested"
- softness. titus soft? yeah no one would've believed it, not even his sister, ursula, who spent most of their lives looking for her twin brother's softness. he was still him, no one would be able to change that but you sure bended that, making him care about you. ruthless danforth checking on you once again, afterwards doing it two times before, just to make sure you were okay with the organized hunt at the mansion. "s'gonna be a lot of blood, y'know?" he said as he stared down at you, he know you could handle it but he also knew you were not a big fan of it. "i know, you told me" you nodded a little understanding "maybe we could change the location, i could see if Ignacio would be up to let us do it at their compound?" to which you furrowed your eyebrows slightly "no, you're having your hunt here." to which he surprisingly didn't argue anymore, turned around and walked past his twin sister as he went to finish getting everything ready. "that was impressiveāhow'd you do that?" she asked you as you simply looked at her and shrugged.
ā teaser. who doesn't love a bit of teasing? sometimes it's sweet teasing and sometimes it can be a little more dirty teasing, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind while you're trying to figure out what to wear that day. "i seriously got nothing to wearā" you tell him leaning your head back against his shoulder to which he hummed and raised an eyebrow, leaning his chin on your shoulder. "wear nothing then." to which you rolled your eyes and let out an amused scoff "what's so funny, honey?" he spoke hushedly against your ear shell as he tightened his wrapped arms. "titus, my love, i can't just walk around the mansion naked" to which he moved one of his, wrapped around you hands to push upwards your blouse exposing your stomach and kept pushing it till it reached upwards to your collarbone. he then pressed soft kisses onto your side of your throat and untangled his left hand from your waist to close the wardrobe door before speaking again "look in the mirror, baby, look how pretty you are like this." what you did? you looked, of course, and there you were infront of the wardrobe mirror. afterwards he closed the wardrobe door and with your chest fully on display. you moved your hand to his wrist holding up your shirt and tried to get him to let it go. "okay, okay, i get it, i have clothesānow go, you pervert, let me change" he smirked and pressed one last kiss to your neck before unwrapping his arms from around you and giving you space and leaving the room letting you get changed in peace.
summary: It was a fun game of cat and mouse with a promise of a prize for the victor. While the "hunt" was practice for his familyās rituals, Titus reveals a much deeper, private motive for his new victory.
wc: 6.6k
Not edited.
warnings: small spoilers for the film but barely, softer!titus (but only with you) Titus is his sarcastic self, coarse language, brief mention of an age gap,pet names, satanism/occult mentions, mentions of death/ritualistic killing, blood, predator/prey dynamic, teasing, bro hunts you down on the estate!! knife play, mentions of a tranquilliser gun but no use of it- more of a joke, roughness, worship, possessiveness, reader has hair long enough to pull on/hair pulling, smut - public (but no one is around) mentions of oral (m!receiving), p in v, rough sex, doggy into prone, spanking, talks of breeding + pregnancy, creampie.
Let me know what you think!
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The Danforth estate was a monument of power, built on foundations of blood and sacrifice. To the world, it was a fortress of wealth - a grand hotel on one side of the grounds, the family home on the other.
It's stone walls encased everything like a gilded cage, hiding the outside world from the secrets within.Ā
"You're far too quiet tonight."Ā
Titus barely glances up from the cuff links he's removing, the gold catching the low light of the room. You stood on the marble balcony, hands resting against the railing as you overlook the now empty grounds before you.
The sun was setting, your mind deep in thought as you think over the near hunt.Ā Dusk was approaching, and you couldn't help but wonder what tonight had in store for you.
WhatĀ TitusĀ had in store for you.
"Sweetheart?" He speaks again, a small hint of displeasure in his tone at your silence.Ā
You didn't turn around. You didn't have to. You feel the heat radiating off of Titus Danforth as he steps up behind you, his hands sliding familiarly around your waist as he pulls you against him.
He leans down, his nose pressing into the crook of your neck as he kisses the skin.Ā
The smell of his cologne engulfs you, and you relax against him, angling your head as he presses kiss after kiss on your bare skin until he reaches your ear.
"Don't pick the cellar tonight," He all but whispers, finally causing you to break into an airy chuckle. "It doesn't count as a good hiding spot if I find you drinking the vintage."Ā
"You took too long to find me," You counter, turning around slowly in his arms until your back is pressed to the railing. "And it wasĀ goodĀ vintage."
"It was mine."
"And now it's gone," Your hands press against his chest. "How tragic."
"AndĀ if I recall correctly," He laughs with you, low and warm, and you smile at the sound. "I found you within two hours."
Titus watched you intently, eyes sharp, amusement and something else underneath that was undeniably him.
Hungry.
You reach up to undo his top button, slowly making your way down until his shirt hung off of him. He was yet to dress into his hunting attire, still wearing the suit he wore for the gala you had both attended.
Goosebumps litter his skin instantly as the breeze hits him, reminding you both of the very public space you had chosen to have a conversation.
"You and I have very different memories of that night," You murmur, dragging your hands softly down his bare chest until they reach his belt. "Either way, you won, no need to gloat."
"You won too."
"Being fucked in the wine cellar doesn't exactly count as winning."
"I don't remember you complaining," Titus grabs your wrists before they can reach for his zipper. "Are you trying to distract me wife?"
"Tire you out seems like the more appropriate description," You shrug once. "Is it working husband?"
You say his title back like an insult more than a name.
He rolls his eyes. "Fucking you on the balcony now won't stop me from finding you later tonight sweetheart," He scoffs, but there's a playful edge to it. "Playing dirty is rather beneath you."
"I could be beneath you instead?"
Titus says your name in warning, loosening his grip on your wrist before he turns to walk back inside. You follow after him with a smirk, stopping to lean against the doorframe as you watch him shrug his shirt off his back.
He looks over his shoulder as he removes the rest of his clothing, his eyes darting over the white silk dress he made you wear for every hunt.
It was a simple garment, devoid of any zips or ties that would make your run constricting. Your feet were bare, the only other item on you being the very ring Titus had put on your finger just years prior.Ā
"You remember the safe word?" He asks as he steps into his walk in wardrobe, not even bothering to poke his head out as you hum your reply.
He yells out for a proper response, to which you say yes even louder.
It was the same every year. Every time someone new married into the family, they were made to participate in the games chosen by Mr Le Bail.
You didn't have to participate being a spouse, but that didn't mean youĀ couldn't.Ā
He didn't let you regardless. The risk of you being hurt by the guest too high on his mind.
Last year, it was some nephew.Ā
ThisĀ year, it was a cousin in the Danforth line that you actually knew and thoroughly disliked. She was every bit egotistical, and her new fiancee wasn't far off.
They had both made snide comments when you had married into the family - not being from wealth, and Titus wasĀ itchingĀ for the two to be wed and dealt with.Ā
He called your hunts 'practice'.Ā
Not that you were ever in any real danger, save for the bruises he'd leave on your hips or thighs once he'd find you.
For one night a yearĀ sometimes more,Ā Ā when Ursula was away for business, his father tucked away with his care team on the other side of the wing and the staff all sent home early.Ā
You were his to play with.
You both had the entire estate to yourselves.
Titus steps back into the room. He's dressed for the chase, clad in his dark hunting leathers that flexed with every moment of his broad shoulders.
A knife was sheathed on his side, not that he ever used it on you - save for theĀ manyĀ dresses he had torn apart in the past.
His thighs looked distractingly bigger now that he wore his gear, and you bite your lip to stop the smirk from forming on your lips.
He looked every bit the apex predator that his father had raised him to be, yet when his gaze landed on you, the hardness in his eyes shattered into something softer, something he reserved just for you.
"Are you bringing the tranq this time?" You ask, still leaning against the door.
Titus lets out a short, dry laugh as he shakes his head - the kind of laugh he only shared with you.
"No sweetheart, I'm not," He steps forward until he stands in front, his now gloved thumb reaching up and tracing the line of your jaw. "There's no fun in that," He leaned down, his forehead resting against yours as you hum your agreement once again.
"Shall we go over the ground rules again?"
"No need, I remember, same as every year," You look up at him, heart fluttering in your chest. "Are you going to give me a proper head start this time?'
Titus doesnāt answer straight away.
Instead, he looks behind you, looking out to the vast stretch of forest that surrounds the manor. The woods will be completely covered in darkness in no time, the lights all switched off.
Dense and endless, most people wouldn't step foot out there alone.
Most people aren't you.
Most people aren'tĀ his.
Not yet at least. When his father finally croaks, the worldĀ willĀ be his.
But Titus didn't worry for that just yet, his world stood in front of him, looking at him like he was the only thing that mattered.
"Worried?" He says at last, voice calm despite the eagerness in his body.Ā
You scoff softly, an eyebrow raised. "Not the word I'd choose, you haven't told me yet what you want if you win, I'm curious."
If.
He always won. Every time.Ā
The longest you had managed to stay hidden was six hours - only because you had hidden in your bedroom of all places.Ā A memory he brings up often at the silliness of it all.
He chuckles at the idea ofĀ notĀ winning.Ā
"If?" He repeats, and he brings your head up with a tilt of your chin. There it is, thatĀ look.Ā Focused and predatory.
The kind of look that made grown men falter mid sentence. The kind that made rooms go quiet when he enters.Ā
The kind that reminds everyone exactly who - and what - he is in this family.
"If,"Ā You say again, "IfĀ you win. Planning something are we?'
His mouth twitches.
āIām always planning something.ā
Usually your husband would tell you days before what he wanted his prize to be before a hunt. Usually it was something that ended with you bent over some balcony in a country you didn't know existed.
Other times it was fulfilling some fantasy Titus had where you were dressed in some ritualistic getup, a bride of the damned made solely for him.
Rarely was it something you didn't also enjoy. His prizes still left you with a belly full of fine wine or your pussy filled with him.
"Do tell though," He continues. "If youĀ wereĀ to make it to dawn, what would you ask for? What would my love ask of me that I donāt already provide?"
The possibilities were endless. "If you make it to first light without me pinning you to the forest floor, what do you want?'
"Hm," You pretend to think, a small pout on your lips as he smiles at your expression. "I'm rather fond of the idea of tying you up, a little at my mercy."
"I'm always at your mercy."
"Not with your hands tied to the headboard you're not," You counter. "Tied up and aching, gagged even if you keep running your mouth. Maybe I leave you there until I'm ready? Maybe I use you until you can't take it anymore-"
"I'm struggling to see where I'm supposed to hate this idea," Titus interrupts you with a scoff of his own, eyebrows shooting up at the thought, his voice raspy. "You know I don't mind when you use me, Hell, you use my wallet and my cock all the time, I donāt complain.ā
"Bullshit," You drag the word out. "You hate not being in control of everything."
He doesn't respond right away, and you know you've got him pinned. Titus enjoyed a lot of things, but after years of being a punching bag by his father and sister, he revelled in you being the one person he could order around.Ā
Not that you minded either. He never hurt you, never manipulated you like others tried.
"You said I could have anything," You remind him with a playful tilt of your head. "And I want you tied up and begging for me. Does the idea scare you?"
"Terrifies me," He lies easily, eyes darkening with affection. "Being at your mercy seems to be the most dangerous position I could be in, I might never want to leave."
His sarcasm pissed you off. "Keep joking around like that Titus and I'll tie you up, leave you there for days, I won't even touch you."
"Bold little thing."
His watch beeps before you could cuss him out, the sharp sound immediately sending a thrill through you.Ā
Dusk was finally here, and you had until dawn to evade your husband.
"You get twenty minutes this time," He presses the side of his watch, a new timer being set. "I'm not cruel."
"Oh how generous of you," You roll your eyes as you go to move past him. "Bastard."
Titus catches your wrist before you can walk away, his thumb brushing over your pulse. Despite the confident look on your face, he could feel the consistent thumping of your heartbeat beneath him.
You were nervous.
You arch your brow, ready to tell him that he was cutting into your starting time. He leans down, lips brushing your ear as you swallow the words in your throat. "Be careful."
"You're the only thing out there that could cause me any problems." You murmur, but you nod against him nonetheless.
"Exactly," He inhales once, smelling the expensive shampoo you wore, his favourite. "I'd hate for this to be over too quickly."
"Cocky."
His grip on your wrist tightens, just slightly. Not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you that he could if he wanted too. He says your name in low warning. "Twenty minutes starts now.ā
You pull back, meeting his gaze, hoping your expression looks amused. āGood luck old man."
For a second, just a second, something softer flickers in his eyes. Not the predator. Not the heir to everything.Ā
Just Titus.
Yours.
"I love you," He says, finally letting go of your wrist as he pecks your cheek. "Now fuck off."
"I love you too."
Without another word, you turn and run out of the room, your white dress fluttering around you as you turn the corner.
Titus watches until you're no longer in view, a smirk on his lips as he hears your laughter through the now empty halls of the manor.
ā
The forest felt alive with the sounds of the night.Ā
Late last year, you had chosen the wine cellar in the main house. Earlier on, you had picked your bedroom. Your first year, you had picked the hotel.
Only once before had you picked the woods, and without the lights that usually lit the large labyrinth, you had nothing but shadow.
It was perfect.
You moved with a revered silence, your bare feet digging into the moss covered grounds, carefully avoiding dry leaves or sticks that could give away your location.
You weren't a hunter, you hadnāt trained for this, and you weren't tying to escapeĀ himĀ out of fear, but out of devotion.
Titus loved the chased - loved the way you challenged him and didn't bend to his every whim like everyone else in his life.
The Danforth's ownedĀ everything.Ā With a click of their fingers or a simple call, whatever they wanted was at their doorstep.
But for just one night, there was something Titus actually had toĀ earn. Something he actually had to put in the skill and effort for.
The cold hits you the further you venture. You assume your husbands choice of clothing for you was intentional - it wasn't meant for this kind of weather or terrain.
You would be stupid to run around during the night in something so loose.
Yet, here you were. The silence was deafening in a place that was usually full of staff and security. Here, the air feels thicker, wilder, the anticipation of what was waiting for you making your hands feel clammy.
You don't run immediately, you walk - fast and deliberate, your mind running a mile a minute instead as you work through routes and trials in your memory.
You knew these woods well, but Titus wasĀ bornĀ here,Ā raisedĀ on these grounds, even without the millions of cameras attached to every suitable surface, he would be able to find you.
Without a watch, it was impossible to know if your twenty minutes was up, but it was safe to assume your husband had begun his hunt.
You weaved between trees, doubling back once, twice, crossing a small stream without hesitation. The cold water bites at your skin, but you ignore it, climbing the opposite bank and continuing on.Ā
JustĀ once,Ā you want to win. JustĀ once,Ā you want to prove that you are more than capable of looking after yourself and being more than prey.Ā
Eventually, your feet begin to ache from the constant walking, and you're sure that it's beenĀ hours.Ā You've put enough distance between you and the house, no longer able to see the empowering building from where you stand.Ā
With nothing but the moonlight to guide you, you tuck yourself into a hollow beneath a fallen cedar, tucking in the bottom of your dress to ensure it doesn't stick out and reveal your location.Ā
Your pulse has settled, the adrenaline you had running through your blood subsiding by the minute, replaced by the urge to rest.
Titus is good.
Too good to underestimate.Ā
But for once, he's not right behind you - nor finding you within hours.Ā
You didn't mean to fall asleep, but as the hours passed and the cold took over, your eyes had closed and the hollow had become your makeshift bed. You praised Satan for not being born a snorer, and the sound of the birds and insects lulled you into a sleep you didn't realise you needed.
The hunt lasted far longer than either of you expected.
Hours bled into the dark.Ā
In the distance, you hear the frustrated snap of a branch, and your eyes open immediately, your heart hammering at the sudden sound. You look around, seeing nothing from where you were hiding.Ā
Ignoring the twinge in your neck from your position, you hold your breath when you hear a low, guttural growl of a curse.
Titus was losing his temper. There was two hours until dawn, and he hadn't found a proper track in awhile. You had circled over your own footsteps more than once, a moveĀ heĀ had taught you, and so he couldn't be mad.Ā
Wiping the sleep from your eyes, you adjust the way you're sitting carefully, hoping that nothing revealed your location to the hunter that was loose in the area.
He was used to being the master of his home, used to finding his prey within the hour. But tonight, you were becoming something he couldn't grasp.Ā
The thought made a thrill of pride bloom in his chest, he was both proud and pissed off that you had made it so far.
"No perfume tonight?" Titus' voice drifts through the trees, sounding much closer than you expected. "That's smart honey, that's usually the first thing that gives you up."
You don't move. You quieten your breathing even further.
"Although," He continues, and you can almost sense the way his jaw is no doubt clenched. "You're not as clever as you think, your tracks might be messy - sure - but they end up heading in the same direction eventually," His voice circles like a wolf. "I'm proud though, this is a good run time for you. Justā¦ I'm getting a little bored."
He goes silent, his footsteps continuing as he stalks around. He knows you're here, he just doesn't knowĀ where.
The silence stretches until his boots come to a stop.Ā
"Aren't you cold out here sweetheart?" He starts again. "Gotta be, that dress doesn't leave much to the imagination. Beautiful on you though, shame itāll be cut off soon."
The arrogance is back. Titus wants you to bite back, yell out some quip that'll reveal where you are, but you ignore the urge.Ā
He's right though, goosebumps were all over your skin, your nipples peaking through your dress as the chill of the night danced around you.Ā
Still, you didn't bite.
"I'll just buy you more, hundreds more, I don't mind," Titus speaks lowly again. You can picture him perfectly, the heavy stance he carries. "I'll buy you whatever the fuck you want."
The angrier he sounded, the hornier he was. He was getting beyond frustrated. Never had he lost a hunt, and although he didn't mind the idea of his little wife tying him up for once, the prize he wanted was far too great to miss.
It was apart of Mr Le Bailās deal. A prize had to be claimed, no if's or buts, even if your hunt didn't count as a part of his usual style of business - but if there was something Mr Le Bail enjoyed, it was a game signed in blood and pleasure.
You couldn't win. Maybe next year would be your year.
With no rebuttal, Titus goes quiet, his footsteps getting quieter until you could no longer hear his boots digging in the moss.
You waited. Five. Ten.
You waited until you were sure the distance between you both was enough. This position hurt. You didn't mean to be cooped up in such a confined space for so long.
Emerging from the hollow, you wince as you stand to your full height, stretching your shoulders and arms until you release a small sigh in relief.
Your dress was filthy, little cuts on your arms and legs from the trees you had run through, but still you smiled.
Satan,Ā you wish you brought a watch with you. It was impossible to know just how much time was left, but you knew that you'd made it far - judging by Titus' frustration.
You hitch up the straps of your dress before dusting off the dirt from your behind.Ā
Maybe the north side would be a good spot.Ā
You're deep in thought, planning your next move carefully.
Then -Ā
A voice.Ā
"You are just so beautiful."
You freeze. Your breath catches, not completely from fear, but from the sheer shock.
Slowly, deliberately, you turn your head, and leaning casually against a tree like heās been there all along, watching you, is your husband.
He's smiling, beaming from ear to ear.
"You-"
"Hello darling." His voice is soft, almost fond, a stark difference to the mischievous glint that no doubt rests in his eyes.
You narrow your own eyes. āHow long have you been standing there?ā
āLong enough.ā
āSo you knew I was hiding in there the whole time."Ā
āOh yeah," He nods, arms crossed over his broad chest. "Wanted to see if you'd come out yourself or make me pull you out."
āTypical,ā You straighten, masking the jolt of adrenaline with a cool expression. āYou still haven't caught me Titus."
You bolt before he can reply.Ā
Your bare feet hit the earth with frantic speed as you run. You hear your name from his lips with an angered yell. He was running out of time.
You're grinning regardless. The more pissed off he was, the more you laughed as you ran. His heavy steps can be heard behind you, moving with a terrifying efficiency.Ā
He wasn't playing anymore, he had to catch you before the sun came up.Ā
Titus cursed at himself for not bringing the tranq gun.Ā
He yells your name again,and you praise the heavy hunting gear for weighing him down. Your back is pressed against a tree as you hide again, your muscles screaming, your feetĀ aching.
But still, the adrenaline fuelled your fire, the hunt doing nothing but make your love for your husband grow further and further.
The rhythmic, heavy crunch of his boots came closer as you pressed yourself into the tree.Ā
You could see the stream nearby, and you know that you'd have a home stretch if you made it over.
"I know you're near baby," Titus tried his best to mask the desire in his voice. His tone was teasing, rich and worst of all,Ā close.
āWe both know you didn't make it over the water, just come on out," You hear him take another step, no doubt checking behind another tree, his eyes scanning the shadows with an intensity that made your pulse jump. "If you come out now, I might even let you cum when I fuck your brains out."
Your mouth opened in shock at his words. He was baiting you again. Titus always made sure you finished when you both had sex - he was cruel, but never to you.
That's how you knew he was losing his cool.
When you hear his steps come closer, you run again.
A blur of movement follows you. You spin, just in time to see his arms come up as he lunges, and you twist sharply to throw him off balance.
Your shoulder hits his chest instead, and for a moment, it works. He stumbles, a grunt on his lips, and you go to run again when a large hand snaps around your wrist, pulling you back towards him roughly.Ā
You drive your knee up, he blocks it. You throw a hit, he counters. Itās messy, it's chaotic, it'sĀ you. Itās a dance he craves.
You twist, trying to break free, your other hand raising to push against his chest. Before you can push him away, Titus manages to grab your waist, and with quick kick at your legs, has you both falling to the ground beneath you.
The sudden loss of your footing has you gasping, and he rolls, ensuring you're stuck beneath his weight as he pins you beneath him.Ā
It was a familiar, grounding pressure, his breathing heavy but controlled.Ā
Still, you attempt to buck him off of you, but Titus sits up just enough to roll you over onto your belly roughly, one hand pressing the back of your head into the grass below, his front pressed into your back.Ā
His thighs straddle you completely, and he waits for you to stop your movements, lets you catch your breath as you realise you're well and truly caught.
"Nearly had it, didn't you sweetheart?" He rasps, his head leaning down to see your expression. His hazel eyes burned with a mixture of triumph and pure, unadulterated lust. "You did good, just not good enough."
"Get the fuck off me." You hiss, attempting once more to move under him. Your ass brushes against his clothed cock, Titus having been hard the very moment he had first found you. He grunts again.Ā
"Shut up," He retorts, reaching down to push some hair out of your eyes. "No point having an attitude now," He pushes against you once more, eyes closing a little as his jeans feel tighter against him.
The hand on your head grabs at your wrists before you can protest, pinning them above your head. You moved against him at every chance. "StopĀ - stop fucking moving."
You oblige, turning your head to look at him clearer. "So," You breath, chest heaving. "Sun's not up, but you win fucker. What doā¦" You breath again. "What do you want?"
The witty, sarcastic mask he usually wore slid away entirely. He looked down at you with a seriousness that made the world around you fall silent.
He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear, his voice a low, gravelly vow that shook you to your core. "You almost had it." He says again.Ā
"Almost doesn't count."
"No," He agrees. "It doesn't."
You feel his knife gliding gently up your thigh before you realise, and your breath is stuck in your throat once more.
You didn't even notice Titus grab it from it's sheath, and you feel yourself stiffen as the tip of the steel drags up and under your dress.
Never once has Titus cut you, he was messy when he wanted to be, but he was precise more often than not.
"That's a good girl," He whispers, feeling you completely stop your fidgeting. "Not so brave now, are we?"
The air between you was thick with the scent of the woods and the sharp, metallic tang of adrenaline. Titus didn't move to let you roll over, instead, he settled his weight more firmly against you, his heavy hunting leathers pressing your thin silk dress into the earth.
The damp chill of the ground seeped through the fabric, but you barely felt it over the radiating heat of his body.
He looked down at you, his chest heaving in a ragged rhythm that mirrored your own. The shadow of his frustration was still there, flickering in the depths of his lustful eyes, but it was being rapidly overtaken by a terrifying, singular focus.
"Do you have any idea," He rasped, his voice dropping into a low, vibratory growl that seemed to rattle in your own chest. "What it does to me when I can't find you? When you just disappear?"
You so badly wish you could reach up and brush away the dark locks of hair that fell onto his damp forehead. Even in your state, you couldn't resist the spark of his fire. "Thought you liked the challenge."
He leaned down again, his face inches from yours, his gaze devouring every inch of your expression. "I love that smart mouth more," He let out a sharp, self deprecating huff of a laugh, his nose grazing your cheek as his knife slides higher.
"And I love you," He paused, his eyes softening into a look of such raw, unshielded devotion it made your throat ache before his jaw tightens. "But right now, I'm going to fuck you like I donāt."
"High praise," You huff out, ignoring the heat in your belly. "Makes me want to run again, see if you can catch me twice."
"Don't fucking dare," He warned, though there was no heat in it, only a possessive desperation. "Youāve had your fun."
You don't answer, your heart feeling like it was going to break from beneath your ribs at just how fast it was beating.Ā This was the part that you enjoyed the most, not that you would ever tell him.
The part where the doting husband was gone, and just the man who wanted to collect his prize was left.
Speaking of, Titus was still yet to tell you what he wanted from you, but you were too turned on and too anxious for his next move to speak.
His knife stops at the dress band around your waist, and with a turn of his wrist, he cuts through the fabric like it was nothing.
The dress falls loose to the ground below, and Titus cuts through your bra and panties next, not wasting a single second more to get you bare before him.
"Titus-"
He lifts himself up off of you again, giving you just enough room to hoist you up by your hips as he lets your wrists go. Your clothing falls to the floor, and a protest leaves your lips as you're left naked and shivering.
Your hands press into the ground, the thickness of the grass running through your fingers as you attempt to gather your bearings.Ā
His jeans bite into your skin, his hands are rough on your body as he pulls you up further onto your knees. You struggle back, his knife thrown somewhere to the ground as you feel and hear him undoing his belt from behind you.Ā
Titus didn't bother taking his pants off, pushing them and his underwear down just far enough to get his cock out. It slaps against his lower belly instantly, and he hisses at the feeling, pushing his pants down further until they banded around his thighs.Ā
He strokes himself once. Twice. He curses at the feeling.
āYou love this,ā He kicks your own legs apart with his knees, grinning as he sees the glistening mess between your legs waiting for him. "You fought back a lot for someone whose practically dripping."
"Shut up."Ā
He pushes your legs apart even further, your thighs burning now as you feel him right behind you. There's no check if you're ready, just a slap to your pussy with the tip of his cock before he buries himself inside of you in one quick thrust.
The air leaves your lungs, hands giving out as he fucks you into the ground. Your mouth opens in an attempt to say his name, but the only noise that comes out is a choked moan.
āYou remember,Ā fuckĀ - what I told you,ā He says in between his rough thrusts. āAbout what happens when I take over the family?"
You couldn't speak, focused on nothing but the grass your face is pressed into and the thick head of your husbands cock hitting that spot inside you with every push of his hips.Ā
"Answer me." Titus orders, reaching down to grab at your hair and pull you up roughly. Even through the aggressiveness of it all, you can't help but smile through perfect mix of pleasure and pain.Ā
"You said,Ā you - mppf," You can't help the squeal that leaves your lips as Titus grips tighter. "Shit, you said you would g-give me the world."
"I did," He nods behind you. "And I will."
His gaze drops briefly from your face to your pussy, watching the way his cock disappears inside and the way you grip him like you didn't want to let him go.Ā
"But first," He says, his voice low and breaking, his own control wavering as he becomes lost in the feeling of you wrapped around him. "I"m going to give you something - something that's mine," He groans. "Fuck, you feel so good."
You wiggle your hips against him, trying to meet him halfway as he picks up the pace. His hands connect with your hips, gripping too tightly, bringing them down to meet his thrusts whether you were able or not.
His words barely register, too overcome by pleasure and the building orgasm in your lower belly.
Titus' smile doesn't waver, even as he grunts your name like a prayer for Satan. "My prize," He says with a harsh thrust, his hips stilling for a moment so you can pay attention. You can't even whine at the sudden stop, eager to hear what your love wants. "Is an heir."
Your breath catches, the words settling between you, heavy and deliberate.Ā
Not a demand. Not a question.
Your husband thinks for just a small moment that you'll oppose, tell him to get off of you and to fuck off, but his eyes close with a moan when he feels your cunt clench around him.Ā
He wouldn't force you, even if the deal with Mr Le Bail meant you'd have to relent eventually.
But the idea of Titus filling you over and over, being the one to carry the future of the Danforth line did nothing but make you gush.
You nod over and over, hands squeezing at the grass again for leverage as you try to push against him once more.Ā
You had both talked about children in the past, seeing as it was something that you inevitably would have to do once joining his family.
But when you were intimate, he wore protection.
Or was quick enough to pull out and finish down your throat.
Titusā role in the world was far too important to be clumsy, especially when a baby in the family would open up a new member for the cult. You hadnāt been ready for that then, he didnāt think you were ready for that.
You were ready now. He knows it now.
Never had you exactly planned when it would be done, seeing as his father was still alive and controlling everything.
Ursula didnāt want children, refused to marry even out of fear that a man would try and take control over what the family had worked so hard for.
Titus on the other hand, loved nothing more than the idea of seeing you big and heavy with his child.
Already he was possessive of you, worried constantly that some other wealthy bloodline would try find some clause in the book of Mr Le Bail that meant they could take you from him.
But if you were properly claimed? No one would dare.
You were made to be his. You were meant to be his.
"I accept," You cry out, nodding more as you all but beg for Titus to move. "Fuck! I accept, move Titus,Ā please."
He obliges with a grin, his hips pressing against yours again, his balls slapping against your clit with each move.
Beads of sweat coats his forehead as he speaks, telling you just how good you feel, how beautiful you're going to look when you're pumped full of him.
Your ass bounces against him with every move, a sight Titus never gets tired of seeing. His hand smacks at the skin, spanking your flesh until his handprint shows, even through the leather he wore.
It only makes you moan louder.
Titus' head lulls back as he bites his lip, and he adjusts the way he ruts deeper into you. Your name escapes his lips anyway, your pussy fluttering around him as he grips your hips even tighter.
Just the image of you swollen with his child, his heir, is enough to nearly make him cum - and with the way your moans turned into breathless sounds, he knew you weren't too far away.Ā
Itās all too much. His rough thrusts, his desperate words, the exposure to everything. Youāre unravelling, skin hot as your thighs quiver. āTitus,Ā please. Iām close, Iām-ā
Your legs give out, your stomach and breasts pressed to the ground as his weight is completely on you once again. He feels almost deeper at this angle, and he ruts into you even messier than before.
His head dips down to your ear, lips biting at the skin as he moans. "Cimon sweetheart," He whispers. "Be good for me, want toĀ feelĀ it."
Your release comes within seconds of feeling Titus' voice in your ear. Hot and heavy, your vision goes as you tremble beneath him. "Fuck -Ā fuck,Ā Titus."Ā
He just nods, his eyes narrowed as his eyebrows furrow. "I know baby," His words sounded muffled against your cheek as he fucks into you, riding your orgasm out as his balls tighten.Ā "Fuck."
His cock twitches relentlessly, his hips pressed flush against your ass as he cums.
His hips stutter, his hands leaving your hips to rest beside your head, his fingers seeks yours as they entwine, Titus thrusting up into your leaking cunt until he's left spent and twitching.
He buries himself to the hilt, a cry on your lips at the feeling.
He stays there, gathering his breath until his cock softens, pressing gentle kisses to wherever he could reach from his position. "You okay?"
Your thighs hurt, your hips felt tight, your pussy - still full ofĀ him,Ā felt sensitive. Still, through it all, you grinned, your cheek still pressed into the grass while the other received kisses. "Mm."
"That's not an answer," Titus rubbed his nose against your skin, gloved fingers squeezing yours tighter. "Words Mrs Danforth, use them."
"M'fine," You manage to murmur, feeling incredibly full. The prospect of carrying the future leader of the world making your belly flutter again. "Just, feels too good, and you talk too much.ā
There you are.
"Still feel like doing another runner?" He quips, looking up to see that the sun was just starting to rise. Dawn was here, and you had no clothes.
"Fuck off and carry me home before someone sees us."
Titus chuckles, pressing another kiss to your temple before he slowly pulls out, a gasp leaving your mouth. If anyone else spoke to him like that, they'd never be seen again - but with you, he revelled in it.
He fixes his pants, tucking himself back in before he lazily fixes his zipper. He doesn't bother with his belt, knowing it'll just be off again when he helps you bathe.
He'll clean you up, have you dressed in your designer pyjamas and in bed before any staff in the manor wakes up - he always does.
Someone will come out and find his knife, throw out the torn clothes and make no mention of it to anybody.
For now, he watches as you roll onto your back, your hair a mess, small cuts on your face, stomach and breasts from where you had been pressed into the ground.
He didnāt dare look further down, he knows that if he sees the way you leak, leak with what he gave you, that heād take you again then and there.
You looked beautiful like this, fucked out, eyes tired, body shivering and quivering ever so slightly.
Yet, you still beamed up at him, hands reaching up for his support, eyes full of that love and warmth you gave no one but him.
His eyes dart to the wedding ring on your finger, a blooming sense of pride at being the man to put it on you, and now a difference sense of pride fills him, knowing you now could carry something else that belonged to him.
It was early, far too early to be excited - he knew that, but a deal was a deal with Mr Le Bail, and he knew it wouldn't be too long until he heard the news.
He helps you to your feet, catching you before your legs give out. You're lifted bridal style, pressed flushed to his chest as your feet dangle. You're completely exposed, a naked prize whilst he walks completely dressed.Ā
Ā As Titus Danforth's sugar baby, you don't know much of his secretive, wealthy lifestyle. But when he accidentally gets you pregnant with a potential Danforth heir, it's decided that you'll be joining the family. There's no manual as you're plunged into their world of extravagance and violence.
Chapter Summary: After finding out you're pregnant with his child, Titus must secure his family's approval in order to make you a unique proposal: Become the new Mrs. Danforth.
Tags/Notes: marriage before romance, established sugar relationship, also ft. ursula and daddy danforth, meeting the family, possessiveness & protectiveness, obscene wealth, predator/prey dynamic, brat!reader, piv, mating press, creampie, oral (f receiving), messy sex, edging, denial, spitting, mouth covering, titus lowkey whipped already
Content: pregnant reader, canon-typical content, a brief instance of body shaming
A/N: since I already posted most of what was initially chapter one as a teaser during my 3k celebration, i decided to be silly and give you a mega chapter one instead!
Word Count: 14.1k
Ursula Danforth slaps one perfectly manicured hand across her twin brotherās cheek. He doesnāt even flinch; heād been expecting worse. āYouāre so selfish. Stupid and useless like a child. Knocking up a sugar baby, of all things.ā
Father paces across the large sitting room with a clenched jaw. Eventually, he stops in front of his son. āHow dare you do this to us? Right before the most important hunt of this familyās life, too. I canāt believe youād be so irresponsible.ā
Ursula sneers, āI believe it. This is what happens when a spoiled brat grows up. Poor baby Titus always has to have everything exactly how he wants. Probably never bothered with condoms because āit just doesnāt feel as good, sweetheart.āā
āDonāt be so crass, Ursula,ā Father spits in her direction before returning to his son. āI assume youāve communicated that abortion isnāt an option.ā
āOf course,ā Titus replies, keeping it curt to avoid a verbal lashing. Or a physical one, given the tension thick in the opulent room full of blades and guns. Father demanded the conversation be moved to the innermost room of the estate when Titus told them in front of a few members of staff. This sort of thing is best discussed in private, even with the most discreet staff money can buy.
The abortion discussion had gone better than expected, considering you told him youād be keeping it before he could even get to the āmy family would sedate you through delivery and then discard you before they let you abort a Danforthā thing. Heād given you a line about supporting you however you needed in order to stall you while he discussed what to do with his family. Ultimately, your fate wasnāt his decision but a collective decision for the betterment of the Danforth name.
But Titus does, admittedly, dislike the idea of abandoning you. Despite your lack of status, money, or power, he feels anā¦affection for you. Similar to the affection one might have for an injured bird. Heād been raised to put creatures like that out of their misery, but your only brokenness was being part of the masses. That could be improved upon. So, to advocate for you, Titus swallows hard and offers, āThis may not be a bad thing. Our family needs an heir, after all.ā
āNot under circumstances like this,ā Ursula scoffs. āYou should marry advantageously. Within the seven families, at least. How could you even think-ā
Father raises his right hand.
Silence falls.
āYou may be right, Titus. Weāre long overdue for a new generation of Danforths and neither of you seem particularly close to finding anything akin to a real relationship. Your mother would be horrified.ā Father drapes himself in his authentic Jacobean austere velvet armchair in the corner, beneath a grand window heās spent hours and hours ruminating out of through the years, especially since his wife died. Without looking at his son, he asks, āThisā¦girl of yours: Is she good stock?ā
Titus considers that. He imagines how very lovely you look obediently presenting yourself for him on the hotel beds where heās taken you multiple times a week for the last six months, gazing up at him with reverent eyes and an innocent sort of expression that doesnāt necessarily match your occupation of choice. āIād say so. Sheās young. Pretty.ā
Ursula rolls her eyes. āOf course.ā
Father gives her a lethal gaze. āDonāt interrupt. This is important.ā His eyes turn back to his son and he asks, āHer personality?ā
āSweet,ā he answers right away. Thatās the first word that comes to his mind. Itās the thing he likes most about you; youāre so, so far from everyone he knows. Kind and tentative and eager to find reasons to smile. The kind of girl who brakes for pigeons. After a moment of thinking, he relents, āA bit stupid, at times, but charming. Docile. Iāve never seen her disagree with someone.ā
That seems to please Father. He doesnāt like women who fight back, even his own daughter at times. He probes further, āDoes she have any family?ā
āSheās estranged from her parents. No siblings.ā
āGood. How about education?ā
āSheās getting a masterās degree.ā
āIn what?ā
āI donāt know,ā he replies with a chuckle. āSomething with books, maybe. Iām not usually with her for the stimulating conversation, Father.ā
āDonāt be vulgar. Does she have a criminal history? Any connections in our world?ā
āNo. I vetted her thoroughly before selecting her as aā¦companion.ā
āBoring. But that could be useful in its own way.ā Father thinks it over as he watches the gardeners outside tending to the hedge maze across the pond. Winter is beginning to melt off the extensive grounds and theyāre preparing for the glory of spring blooms. For vibrant fresh blood, too, in the coming months with the vernal equinox and other traditional celebrations fast approaching. He asks the final question, the only one that matters: āCould she be a Danforth? Or will we have to be rid of her once the baby is born?ā
Titus thinks of your laugh, your ease, your total lack of darkness. Itāll be difficult to balance the reality of his world with you, but heās intrigued by the challenge. With a steady voice, he admits perhaps the deepest secret of this whole situation: āIād like to keep her.ā
The tension eases at that. Keeping up appearances will be best. And if thereās one thing the Danforth family does well itās keeping up appearances.
With the first smile of the day, Father stands, embraces Titus, and announces, āWe can make this work, son. We will.ā
Titus stiffens at the rare show of affection, trying not to reveal that heās pleased with the decision. That would only show a chink in his armor. He wouldāve handled the other option, keeping you in the dungeon as a toy of sorts until the birth, but itāll be better for everyone if he has a wife and his child a mother instead of a nanny. āThank you, Father.ā
āSheās going to have to move in,ā Ursula tsks as she, too, gives her brother a short but earnest embrace. āWe canāt take risks with the baby.ā
Father adds, āAnd there will have to be a wedding, of course. With all the families invited.ā
āA wedding?ā Titus gripes, āIsnāt it enough to just-ā
āNo,ā Father interrupts. His fingernails dig into his own palms. āJust because you started this improperly doesnāt mean youāll continue it that way. In two monthsā time, before she starts showing, weāll have a wedding.ā
āEveryone will know itās a shotgun wedding,ā Ursula points out. āEven the most asinine of our associates can manage basic addition and subtraction.ā
āThatās irrelevant,ā Father insists. āItās the 21st century. The baby will be born with its mother sharing the Danforth name. Nothing else matters.ā He levels his gaze at Titus. āGo and tell her. I expect to see her moving in here before the weekendās up.ā
āYes, Father,ā Titus agrees, already taking his phone from his pocket to dial you. Before leaving the room, he takes a deep breath and says once more, āThank you. I wonāt disappoint you.ā
Father gives him a wink. The thought of the first baby born to the Danforth family in four decades lifts everyoneās spirits. Itāll be a good change. āCareful, or youāll make us think you like the girl.ā
He expects you to make a fuss about it. Fully prepares himself to have to drug you, tie you up, kidnap you, and make it clear you donāt actually have a choice in the matter, as distasteful as that would be to him. At the very least, he anticipates resistance. For it to take more than one brunch. Modern women want careers, donāt they? Itās part of why heās always sworn off girlfriends and dating in the standard sense. Ever since it became relatively acceptable for the elite, heās strongly preferred paying for the company of simple, complication-free women procured by the family lawyers. He doesnāt want a girlfriend. He wantsā¦a pet. A well-trained companion. Something reliable and reliant. A pretty, obedient creature to recline on the couch who makes no demands and listens with rapt attention to his every order.
So heās pleased beyond belief at your reaction to his offer, outlined to you at your favorite chichi breakfast place in one of the nicer hotels downtown.
You gaze up at him over your streaming mug and ask bluntly, āWhatās the catch?ā
āThere isnāt one,ā he lies. Smooth as butter. āI want to take care of you and the baby and I have the means to do so.ā
āYouād already be doing that just by paying me at the rate you already do. With my job and your payments, I can afford a comfortable life,ā you point out. āBut you want me to marry you. Move in with you. So I have to assume there are rules. Catches.ā You take a sip of the caffeine-free tea heād ordered for you, savoring the spicy and citrusy notes. The ginger helps soothe your stomach. āLook, youāre obviously very wealthy. And I know youāre not rich because of somethingā¦normal, if you donāt mind the word.ā
Titus snickers, āNot at all. Go on.ā
āBefore you made us exclusive, Iād been with a lot of secretive, rich men,ā you explain slowly, ābut you donāt seem like most of them.ā
The waitress approaches your table. Titus rattles off quickly, clearly annoyed at the intrusion, āWeāll both do the three-course menu. Iāll have the foie gras torchon with prosciutto and figs, the filet mignon as rare as youāll serve it, and the caviar trio in lieu of dessert.ā
The order doesnāt surprise you after countless meals spent together. His food is always expensive and tastes of life cut short.
The waitress gives you a warm smile. āAnd for you, darling?ā
āDonāt call her that,ā Titus says, curt and emotionless. āSheāll have the yogurt parfait with the pistachio granola, lobster eggs Benedict, and the baked apple strudel.ā Then he gives you a glance that borders on affectionate. āAnd Iām guessing sheād also like the gelato flight after.ā
āYou spoil me,ā you lilt with batting eyelashes. Then you tell the waitress, āAnd a ginger ale, if you donāt mind. Thank you.ā
As she disappears, Titusā typically flat expression transforms into one of concern, which you havenāt seen on him often. He observes, āGinger ale. Ginger tea. Morning sickness?ā
You sigh and confirm, āThatās been the theme of week seven.ā
āSeven weeks,ā he muses, sounding almost wistful. āDoes that mean youāll have your first ultrasound soon?ā
āMonday morning,ā you tell him with a tentative smile. āYou can come, if you want.ā
āI will. Definitely.ā Titus sits up straighter and adjusts the sleeves of his charcoal-gray button-down, a nervous habit since his custom-tailored clothes always fit perfectly on his chiseled body. āYou were asking about rules. Saying I donāt seem like most men.ā
āRight, yes.ā You touch his hand across the table and he lets you. Titus never asks for affection, but you know he craves it. Deeply. Otherwise he would never have sought you out in the first place. Sex is cheap; companionship is priceless. While rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb, you muse aloud, āYou donāt brag about your money, which means youāve always had it. Itās just a part of you; youāve never been without it. Your schedule has too much freedom to be a doctor, you donāt dress like a lawyer, youāre too private to be a CEO or anything youād want to peacock about, and youāre not annoying.ā
He smirks at your analysis. āWhat does that rule out?ā
āTech bro. Anyone who works in blockchain or AI.ā
āSmart girl,ā he praises with a short chuckle. āWhatās your theory, then?ā
āSomething dark and secretive,ā you tease, clearly joking with the low, spooky voice like a Halloween recording you put on. He doesnāt react like itās a joke, though. So, more seriously, you say, āMaybe private security? Something with weapons; I know you try to be subtle, but Iāve always seen your carrying a gun.ā That pleases him; youāve already noticed his danger and didnāt flinch away. āI doubt itās really illegal, like drugs, because youāre so clean about everything. I mean, my main point of contact the first three months was your lawyer,ā you remind him with a laugh. Then you lean forward and continue, āRegardless, I can tell you have the kind of life where youāre not just going to marry and whisk away the first girl you knock up without some rules.ā
Sounding amused, he sips his expensive cocktail and teases, āI canāt just want to be an honest man for the mother of my child?ā
āYou can, sure. But thatās not you.ā
āYouāre right about that,ā he concedes after a moment. With a deep breath, he sits back in his chair and tells you, āI wouldnāt call them ārulesā so much as, perhaps, guidelines. Expectations. I wonāt force anything on you. And I wonāt abandon you if you go against them.ā
Thatās a patent lie, but he doesnāt think youāll defy him, so he keeps it to himself.
You cross your arms over your chest. āLetās get down to it, then, because I can imagine worse fates for this baby and me than having a rich, handsome daddy to take care of us. But I want to know what Iām getting into.ā
āVery sensible. I can appreciate that.ā The first round of food arrives and he gestures for you to dig in while he begins, āYour first priority would be growing a healthy pregnancy, of course. Go to all of your doctorās appointments, follow their recommendations to the letter. Youād quit your job. Continue your classes if youād like, but youāll need to cut out any unnecessary stress. Youād move into the family estate; you can decorate and rearrange our building however youād like as the lady of the house. I donāt care about things like that.ā
āWhat do you mean by āthe family estateā?ā You give him a teasing raised eyebrow; youāre the only person he allows to look at him like that. āYou live with mommy and daddy?ā
āMy father lives in the primary mansion on the grounds, yes. Mother is dead. There are a lot of different outbuildings along the property; it goes on forever. I donāt even know how many acres anymore; the lawyers buy up adjacent properties whenever they go for sale. Weād be in my private house, which is further back on the estate.ā
āLike a guest house?ā
āAn eight-bedroom guest house, but yes.ā Without giving you much time to process that, Titus goes on, āYouād have some social responsibilities as Mrs. Danforth. My motherās passed now, so youād be the official host when our family holds events, which we do often. Youād just have to look pretty, though, which youāre phenomenal at already.ā As your cheeks warm, he assures you, āWe have a whole team to handle the planning side if you arenāt interested in those sorts of things.ā
You give a timid smile. āI like planning and hosting parties. Itād be nice to have some occasions to show off all the fancy dresses youāve bought me.ā
That makes him smile. Really smile. Like he can see you slotting into his life. āGood. Great. Well, you can have as much or as little involvement in our social circles as youād like as long as youāre willing to put on one of those dresses and sit next to me adoringly when needed.ā
āSo far, that fits my resume to a tee.ā
āAnd, in that vein, there are certain standards of dress and, letās say, etiquette, for lack of a better word, that my sister can help you with getting used to.ā
āYou have a sister?ā
āYes. Ursula.ā He toys with his fork, hovering it over the decadent spread. āI suppose we still have a lot to learn about each other.ā
āIām an open book,ā you retort with a cheeky smile. āYouāre the one with the secrets. I donāt even know your last name.ā
āDanforth,ā he says quietly. Like itās a secret. Maybe it is. āTitus Victor Danforth.ā
āVery stately name.ā You wrinkle your nose a bit. āDoes our baby have to have a name like that? Itās hard to imagine calling a newborn Titus Victor.ā
āWeāll agree on a name like any other couple,ā he chuckles. āBut, for the record, I have family with much worse names than Titus.ā
āLike Ursula,ā you joke, earning a conspiratorial snort. You nod and drink some more of your tea as you consider everything thus far. āSo I have to learn to sit pretty and do tricks. Got it. What else?ā
His voice darkens and so do his hazel eyes. āThe most important thing is that youāll allow me to keep you safe and protect you. Against anyone and anything. By any means necessary.ā
Your own voice drops to a whisper. āYou say that like Iāll be in danger.ā
āSometimes you will be.ā
Not taking it all too seriously, you check. āBut youāll always protect me? And our baby?ā
He puffs up his chest and insists seriously, āWith my life.ā
No matter who or what tries to get in my way.
You narrow your eyes at him. āAnd youāll take care of everything financially?ā
āYes.ā Zero hesitation. āAlways.ā
You donāt doubt he can keep that promise, at least. When you take on sugar clients, you make sure to have proof of funds before agreeing to any arrangements. Titus passed that test with flying colors; youāre sure thereās incalculable wealth behind the many, many zeroes youāve already seen. Heās always driving around in tinted luxury cars, wearing suits by $10,000-a-piece designers, handing over heavy black cards for quadruple digit dinner dates with no dobut on whether theyāll clear.
With a tiny smile, you press, āAnd youāll marry me?ā
āAs soon as possible.ā
āCan I have a real wedding?ā
āHere I was thinking Iād have to convince you of that,ā he laughs. Something unfamiliar is knocking around pleasantly in his ribs. āOur wedding would be very, ah, socially significant. Youāll be impressed by the guest list, Iām sure.ā
āGive me a teaser.ā
āLetās just say if a bomb were dropped on it, the worldās economy would collapse.ā
āYeah, alright,ā you giggle. Heās looking forward to the day you realize heās telling the truth on that matter. āSo Iād be a wife. Hm, okay.ā You jokingly tap your chin and squint like youāre really thinking hard about it. āDoes that mean Iāll have to cook for you?ā
āNot if you donāt want to.ā
āHow about cleaning? Laundry? I hate doing laundry.ā
āThatāll all be handled.ā
āSo weāll haveā¦servants?ā
Titus canāt help but notice the way youāre already saying āwe.ā He doesnāt mind the sound of it; youāre right where he wants you. Needs you. āWe prefer to call them staff, but yes, we do.ā
Curiosity piqued, you press, āHow many?ā
He starts running through the mental rolodex; the estateās goings-ons donāt interest him much, so theyāre at the periphery of his mind. āFull-time, on-site staff? We have three chefs ā one in each houseās kitchen, of course ā and an estate manager who oversees a handful of groundskeepers, gardeners, and housekeepers. Thereās an incredibly effective security team. Part-time? Lawyers on retainer, naturally. And we have connections for anything youād want. Ursula has her tennis coach and her pet pool boy. Father has his favorite mixologist and, ah, massage therapist. Iāve got my golf caddy as well. Each of us has our own driver, but youād probably share mine a while. Thatās a high-trust position; Iād want to personally hire yours for the safety of the baby. Youād also have your own personal assistant to help with whatever you need day-to-day. And youāll be in charge of hiring out any childcare support you want, when the time comes. Nannies, tutors, those sorts of things.ā
āWow.ā Your fork is stuck mid-air. āSo you and your family areā¦rich rich.ā
His lips curl up slightly. Itās nice to be around someone who isnāt used to snapping their fingers and having whatever they want in moments. Charming. āThat would be a fair assessment, yes.ā
Titus notices a selfish, almost cute little shimmer lighting up your eyes as you ask, āSo I can have whatever I want?ā
He cocks his head to the side and considers that. What it might mean to someone who didnāt grow up in the world he did. āWithin reason.ā
Your eyes narrow. āHow about a car? Like a really ridiculous one ā a neon yellow Lamborghini?ā
Almost offended at the idea, he scoffs, āA car? Of course you can have a car. I thought you were going to say something ridiculous like an elephant.ā
You pout and cross your arms playfully over your chest. āSo youāre saying I couldnāt have an elephant if I really, really wanted one?ā
Feeling indulgent beneath your delight, he sighs dramatically, āI suppose I could reopen and repurpose the stables for the mother of my child.ā
āThe stables?ā
āMy mother loved horses. We were raised on dressage but never really took to it. When she died, my sister and I-ā let those wretched horses free and hunted them with arrows ā-decided not to keep up the responsibility.ā
āCould I have a horse?ā
He almost winces at the memory of countless on-site animals becoming casualties in the family games, intentional or otherwise. Still, because itās important, he relents, āIf you want, sure. I donāt see the appeal, but youāll have whatever hobbies make you happy and keep you occupied.āĀ
āDonāt worry; I hate horses. Just curious.ā You can tell heās amused by your version of an interrogation, so you go on, āWill you still take me on dates?ā
That puzzles him. Do you like these dates with him? Heās always assumed you just see him as a paycheck, which he doesnāt mind, but the idea of a real relationship does tantalize him to a certain extent. So he says, āIf youād like that. I do enjoy your company, after all.ā
āAnd sex whenever I want?ā
A laugh punches out of him. Theyāre rare from Titus, so it makes you grin, too, for a second. He rolls his eyes and nods. āOf course; thatās one of my favorite parts of your company.ā
āGood. I wouldnāt want to give that up with you, considering the, ah, quality.ā
Blush tinges the apples of his cheeks and you know better than to point it out. Titus has never been shy about his sexual prowess, but he also grew up in a family where itās not acceptable to talk about those things over brunch. Titus clears his throat and checks, āWhat else do you want to know to decide?ā
āTo recap, Iāll be fed and housed and safe and spoiled beyond my wildest dreams?ā
He nods, pleased. āExactly.ā
You bite your lower lip and ask, āBut what if something happens to you? Iād be giving up all my independence and relying on you. I donāt want the babyās security depending on whether or not youāre around for us.ā
He doesnāt assure you that nothing will happen to him the way youād anticipated. Instead, he admires your practicality. You can tell his life is dangerous, but you arenāt flinching. āYouāll be written quite handsomely into the family estate. Above my sister, actually, since youāll be the mother of an heir. Thatās permanent, even in the event of death or divorce.ā
āAn heir?ā You almost choke on your food. āYouāre not royalty, are you?ā
He laughs, āNot in the sense youāre thinking of, certainly.ā
Softer and more seriously as you consider the implications of everything said so far, you touch your lower abdomen and ask him, āWill our baby be safe?ā
āSafer than youāve ever been in your life here in the āreal world,āā he says with actual sarcastic finger quotes. Then he squeezes your hand, meets your eyes with a new kind of warmth in his, and affirms, āI swear that nothing will ever harm our children.ā
You smirk and tease, āDidnāt realize we had more than one on the way.ā
He shrugs modestly. āI always liked having a sister.ā
āAnd I always wished I had siblings.ā
āSounds like you agree.ā
You let out a sharp laugh, the ridiculousness of the conversation hitting you at once. This is the kind of arrangement people agree to in the dark romances you read when youāre ovulating and here you are actually considering it for the rest of your life. After a minute of eating and thinking, you tell him, āI just have one more question.ā
āAnything.ā
āWill you love me, Titus?ā
He takes his time thinking about the answer, which you appreciate. He isnāt just going to tell you what he thinks you want to hear. Honesty is more attractive to you than his silvering curls or glass jawline, though those definitely do it for you. Always have.
Youāve wasted a lot of time on men who lied to you, who strung you along, who took advantage of your lack of security. As strange as it may be, the thought of someone being very clear about their expectations and giving you everything in return has an appeal after all of that. Youād never have to worry about the things that currently absorb 90% of your time again.
Youāve finished your dish by the time Titus collects his response. Slowly and carefully, he lifts your hand to his lips and kisses each finger; you canāt stop the fluttering of your heart in response. Titus murmurs, āYou may have to teach me how, bunny.ā Gradually, he meets your eyes and offers, āIf it matters, in the time weāve known each other, Iāve already grown quite-ā he struggles to find the word; you wonder if heās ever been given ones for this variety of feelings ā-fond of you. Which is unusual for me.ā
A smile blooms over your lips. Relief punches Titus in the gut and heās not so sure why. You take your hand from his and press it gingerly to his silver-scruffed cheek. āFondness will do.ā
āAre you sure about this?ā Your best friend, Natalie, asks for the fiftieth time as you finish packing your suitcase. Titus had arranged for professional packers, movers, and cleaners for your entire apartment over the weekend, so all you had to do was pack for a long weekend. āIt just seems a little fast to me.ā
You shrug and try to brush it off, āIāve known him for six months already.ā
She balks, āAs a client.ā
āWell, unplanned babies tend to rush relationships,ā you cut back. āItās not like heās a murderer or something; heās just a rich guy who needs company. Plus, look at these pictures he sent me.ā
You unlock your phone and toss it to her where sheās rifling through your closet, taking her turn to pick over it since youāre going to be switching to maternity clothes soon enough and, it seems, designer after that. Natalie scrolls through the grand Danforth estate and her mouth slowly falls open the same way yours did when Titus showed you. Water features both natural and man-made, meticulously maintained flower gardens, a hedge maze, marble sculptures around the grounds. Not to mention the interior. Heād only sent pictures of his residence on the property, which was styled minimalistically compared to the opulence elsewhere, but you could already imagine outfitting it exactly how you want.
Natalie scoffs, āAre you serious? I didnāt even know places like this still exist. Are you sure this isnāt all, like, a catfishing scheme and heās just going to lure you into the woods and keep you chained up in a cabin or something?ā
You roll your eyes and tell her, āAfter he made the offer, he showed me everything on his iPad. Titles, holdings, all the legal stuff. I guess his great-great-times-a-million grandparents built half the trade infrastructure in America and then used the money for real estate and investments and now they just have mega money. He told me that there are a lot of families like his that have old money managed by lawyers thatās just accruing more and more money by being in banks.ā
She raises a curious eyebrow. āSo he doesnāt have to work?āĀ
āSort of.ā You try to explain to the best of your understanding, paraphrasing from the spiel Titus gave that you admittedly kind of zoned out during, āSince his dad retired, heās got a seat on the board of basically every company in the country, so he has a lot of meetings and travels a lot.ā
Natalie changes into one of your dresses and inspects herself approvingly in the mirror. āDoes that mean your baby is gonna have to be a boring businessman?ā
āOr boring businesswoman,ā you laugh. āThis oneāll be the oldest, so theyāll have responsibilities, yeah.ā
āThe oldest?ā Her eyebrows go up again. āYou and gramps are having more than one?ā
āHeās not that old,ā you start, a bit more exasperated now, āand heās going to be my husband. If I want more kids, who else would I have them with?ā
āJesus, youāre really serious about this, arenāt you?ā
āYouāre here pilfering my closet, arenāt you?ā The intercom buzzes by the door and you tell her, āFinish up; thatās my ride.ā
āIs that him? Mr. Moneybags?ā
You peek out the window and see the dark-tinted black Rolls-Royce idling in front of the door. The white-gloved, black-capped chauffeur whoās driven you around a handful of times before stands by the passenger side with his hands linked in front of himself. You mutter, āNo, itās his driver.ā
āHis driver? Damn.ā Natalie takes the things she wants off their hangers and starts to walk you out. āWhen do I get to meet this guy, anyway?ā
The two of you take the stairs together and you suggest, āAt the wedding, I guess. Two months or so.ā
Natalie scoffs and shakes her head. āTwo months to plan a bachelorette party for a pregnant bride.ā She squeezes you into a tight, warm hug. āItās a challenge, but Iām up to it.ā
āI know you are,ā you giggle. āI can have the driver drop you off somewhere, if you want. Iām sure Titus wouldnāt mind.ā
āNo, thanks; Iāve got a job interview right up the street.ā
Natalie insists on bringing your suitcase down the stairs, setting it on the stoop and scampering away before she has to āpretend to be fancy in front of one of your servants.ā As she disappears around the nearest corner, you wave and smile at the driver, hopping off the raised entry to meet him by the road. āHi, Chip, thanks for coming to get me.ā
āGood morning,ā he says warmly. He hefts your luggage easily into the trunk and assures, āItās no trouble at all, Mrs. Danforth.ā At your curious look, he explains before you can question, āMaster Danforth instructed all the household staff to refer to you with your new title so you get used to hearing it.ā
You raise your eyebrows. āMaster Danforth?ā
Chip cracks a rare conspiratorial smile. āThe usual title for the eldest son while his father is still alive. His father is Sir Danforth, but Iām sure youāll call him Father like Titus and Ursula do.ā He opens up the back door for you and assures, āItās a lot to get used to, but you can ask any of the staff for help with anything.ā
You slide onto the smooth leather, lowering the partition between the driver and the back, which Titus never does. As the car leaves the city and starts the winding path into the countryside, you glance at Chip and pose, āIāve wanted to ask before, but now that Iām gonna be family I think Iām allowed to know: How much do the Danforths pay you?ā
Surprised by your frankness, he just laughs, āMore than enough.ā
āCāmon, you can tell me,ā you lilt like youāre doing a heist together. āI can dig it up anyway; Titus says I get free rein of the whole property.ā
āReally?ā ChipĀ chuckles under his breath. āYou must be awfully special to him.ā
āWhat makes you say that?ā
āNot even Miss Danforth has full access to the entire estate. Their father mainly stays in the front house these days, too,ā he explains, āso Titus must think highly of you to allow you unsupervised access.ā
You joke, āOr heās lying to make me feel safe and thinks I wonāt meddle.ā
Chip glances at you in the rear view mirror, no joking in his expression. āThatās also a possibility.ā
You chew on that for a second and then press, āThat doesnāt mean you get out of answering me, by the way. If Iām marrying into a family where the staff are underpaid, then-ā
Chip almost wheezes out a laugh, caught off guard by the assumption. āI suppose I shouldnāt let you think that about your future husband.ā He takes a long breath and explains, āDiscretion is expensive. Security is expensive. And loyalty is priceless. Iāve worked for this family since Titus started high school and needed his own driver. Most of the staff have been with the Danforths for a decade or more. Iām sure the hiring process for your personal employees will be rigorous ā background checks, security clearances. My starting salary was $80,000. By year ten, that had doubled. Iāve never had to ask for a raise; my salary just gets silently adjusted at the start of the year. Especially since Titus took over the familyās management, their generosity has been staggering. If you include all the above and beyond benefits ā he pays for my daughterās private school tuition outright, covered every penny when my wife went through chemo a few years back ā and the bonuses, it has to be about a quarter million by now.ā
You let out a low whistle. āJesus.ā
āSecurity all makes twice that,ā he goes on as he pulls the car off the main road through a massive automated iron gate. Your skin prickles at the knowledge of getting closer. The view is shrouded by thick trees, making the whole estate feel hidden. āTrust me: Youāre surrounded by the most loyal, discreet staff in the world.ā
You huff out half a laugh. āShould that make me less nervous?ā
āNothing to be nervous about,ā he lies lightly.
As the car finally breaks through the trees, the magnificent grounds come into view and the air leaves your lungs. You press your forehead to the glass to get a better view of the property. At the base of the grand front house with its storied old stone and hand-carved Grecian details being devoured by brilliant green ivy, you see the unmistakable shape of Titus in one of his usual charcoal gray suits, strong and broad in a soldierās stance. Heās waiting at the bottom of a staircase which opens onto a large half-circle drive that reminds you of something out of The Princess Diaries. A man you recognize as a member of his security detail flanks him; youāve only spotted him at the periphery before, lingering at the entrances of the restaurants Titus takes you to or waiting in the lobby of hotels. He makes a point of being unnoticeable, but you make a point of rarely letting your guard down.
You hear the gate shutting behind you, a thud instead of a click. Deep. Final.
Stopping the car a few feet from Titus, Chip slides out, opens your door, and smiles earnestly. āWelcome home, Mrs. Danforth.ā
The moment youāre out of the car, Titus is lifting his arm for you to slip into, which you do.
āHello, darling.ā Titus loops his hand around your lower back and pulls you close enough to smell his brisk, masculine aftershave. He plants a chaste, claiming kiss to your forehead and then holds your chin between his thumb and forefinger. āHow are you feeling?ā
āGood. Nervous,ā you tell him sheepishly. Before he can jump on that, though, you add, āNausea hasnāt been too bad today.ā
He nods slowly, examining your expression carefully. āIām glad. Let me know if that changes; you can have whatever you want whenever you want now that youāre here.ā
āIām still waiting on my elephant,ā you reply lightly, leaning up onto your toes to kiss him.
He hadnāt been planning to let you kiss him in front of any staff, but heās pathologically unable to resist you when you look so soft and so ready to submit to his plans for you. Your wide eyes are longing for reassurance, for steadiness, for him to produce the scaffolding of your new life together. When you step back down, he cradles your face and teases, āAll in due time, princess.ā
Then Titus gestures for his bodyguard to step forward. Up close, you can see pockmark scars over all the skin visible around his dark sunglasses and black-on-black suit. Thereās also a feathery brown bruise on his jaw and you canāt help but wonder if he got it in the line of fire, so to speak. Titus introduces, āSmith, my personal security detail, will be yours while I hire a new one.ā
You cut him a sideways look. āYou donāt need your own security detail in the meantime?ā
He gives you a cocky, handsome smirk in return. God, heās devastatingly beautiful when heās like that. The ruler of his domain. āI can handle myself, bunny.ā
You needle, āThen why have one in the first place?ā
āI like to be underestimated,ā he replies easily. Not wanting to let you dwell on the implications of that, Titus continues, āSmith will check any and every room before you go into it and then remain stationed by the nearest door. Heāll also do some personal training with you on the family security protocols to make sure youāre prepared.ā
You swallow hard and nod, extending your hand toward the bodyguard. āGood to meet you.ā
Smith glances at Titus, who nods briefly. Only then does the security guard shake your hand ā once, firm, quick. More scars over his knuckles. āItās an honor, maāam.ā
You gesture between them with a suspiciously pointed finger. āWhat was that?ā
A smirk flickers on Titusā mouth. Youāre too observant for your own good and he hates how much he likes it. So he explains honestly, āNobody is allowed to touch you without my permission.ā
You narrow your eyes. āAnd if I give them my own permission?ā
You canāt.
My word is law.
A chill goes down your spine at the possessive darkness in his eyes. You might have your own security guard now, but thereās a level of safety above that, one that only comes from being under the protective wing of Titusā unyielding power.
Titus chews on his response a moment and then amends, āMale staff are not allowed to touch you unless itās an emergency.ā
You tsk and tease, āJealous, jealous.ā
āYou really shouldnāt talk to me like that,ā he admonishes, but you know itās more of a contradictory plea. Titus craves being challenged as much as he hates it. He canāt tolerate it in business or from family in case itās perceived as weakness, so he yearns for it from you, the one person who has no desire to actually challenge him. With a shake of his head, Titus dismisses Chip and then says, āIāll give you a tour of the central grounds and our home. Then I have to go out on business for the afternoon before dinner with my sister and Father in the main house. In the meantime you can get settled and play.ā
You laugh, āPlay?ā
āWhatever it is you want to do to entertain yourself,ā he replies with a hand wave and a shrug. āExplore the grounds, interrogate the staff, snoop around all the places you shouldnāt.ā
You offer a small conspiratorial smile. āSounds good to me.ā
Then Titus does something new and unexpected: He threads his fingers through yours. You get the sense that heās practicing behaving like a normal, convincing couple. But you still notice that his palm is slightly clammy. Nervous. Titus Danforth gets nervous about holding a pretty girlās hand for the first time. Cute.
For half an hour, he guides you around the few acres of land that sit between the three main houses, which are in a U formation. Thereās a hedge maze that he warns you not to go into unless you have a few hours to kill, a drone to map it out from above, or a helicopter on standby. Then a tennis court (āyou can page our trainer from the gateā) and a pool thatās half inside and half outside (āheated, of course, with a hot tub attachedā). At the center of it all sits a series of fountains with emotive sculptures captured in such vibrance youād believe they come alive at night.
āThe tableau of Artemis and Actaeon,ā Titus explains as he points out the features ā a beautiful nude woman in a righteous stance with a bow raised, a muscular stag fleeing, a hoard of gnashing dogs tight on its heels. āActaeon wandered away from his companions and found the virgin goddess Artemis bathing when she didnāt want to be seen. To punish him for breaking the boundary between the mortal and the divine, she turned him into a deer and sent his own dogs after him.ā
You study the series of sculptures, water running down features like blood, and ask softly, āAnd your family liked that story enough for this whole water tribute thing?ā
Titus chuckles and explains, āArtemis is sort of the Danforth version of a patron saint.ā His hand drags slowly, pointedly down the center of your back until you shiver. āGoddess of the hunt. Sheās a good omen for the family.ā
āGoddess of the hunt,ā you repeat curiously. āInteresting.ā
He raises an eyebrow and starts to lead you toward the second largest house on the left side of the property. āIs it?ā
You snicker and match step with him. āMost families go for, yāknow, saints of unity, love, that sort of stuff.ā
āSheās also the patron and protector of women and children,ā Titus adds on the walk through the rose garden that leads to your new home. āAnd she chooses when to bring wellness or illness. Sheās a good woman to have in your corner.ā
You give him a coy sideways glance and muse, āIāll try not to piss off her statue, as then. I want to stay on the good side of anyone whoās going to protect me and TJ.ā
āTJ?ā
āOh, yeah, the baby,ā you giggle far too adorably to be allowed on the deathly quiet Danforth Estate. āIāve been calling him Titus Jr. in my head to try to get used to all of this.ā
Something you havenāt seen before glitters in his eyes at the comment. āYou think itāll be a boy?ā
āItās too early for me to even think itās real,ā you reply with a soft laugh. āI canāt believe weāre going to actually hear the heartbeat on Monday.ā
āI canāt wait.ā He gives your hip a little squeeze that feels much more relationship-y than he usually gets. Then he gestures proudly at a large swath of empty land. āWelcome to the final stop of our tour before the house.ā
āItās, um, lovely,ā you offer as you gaze at the undeveloped ground, parts of it divided up with unintelligible spray paint marks. āIāve always wanted a half acre of empty space. My dream.ā
āItās going to be a space for the children,ā he explains with something close to softness in his voice. Like heās scared youāll reject the sweet idea from a man you know mostly to be harsh, biting. āI thoughtā¦Well, I thought it might be nice for them to have a playground, a splash pad, those sorts of things. The property isnāt very child-friendly; there hasnāt been a baby here in more than forty years now. Time to change that.ā
Your heart grows about three sizes at the thought. Titus isnāt just inviting you into his life; heās carving out space for your shared future. āIf you didnāt have anything to play with here at home, what did you and Ursula do for fun as kids?ā
āWe didnāt have fun,ā he almost scoffs. You can tell the memories behind the sound are painful but far away, like reaching through a broken chain link fence. If he pulls back, the pain will become real. āMy parents were-ā Titus searches for the right word a while before deciding on one thatās close enoughā-severe. Dour, often. They thought children should be trained and disciplined, not raised. Father thinks the idea of cherishing a child is the same as spoiling them.ā
You shrug and give his hand an affirming squeeze. āI guess they got what they wanted; youāre successful, clearly. Driven, strong, powerful.ā
āBut not fulfilled,ā he murmurs, only loud enough for you to hear. He wouldnāt want the staff knowing his feelings. He takes his hand and rubs your back almost absently, like a nervous habit. With a sideways glance, he labors out, āI think being a parent should be about giving your children more than you got. But I got everything. Always. So what can I give to my children, who will have more than theyāll ever need?ā
āA space to play,ā you finish for him. You lean up on your toes and plant a kiss on his scruff, unable to conceal the smile that comes at Titus talking about fatherhood so softly. āYouāre going to be a great dad.ā
He blinks hard a few times. His organs feel like theyāre in the wrong order, but itās not unpleasant. Winding his fingers with yours once more, he almost smiles. āYou really think so?ā
āWouldnāt have agreed to all of this-ā you gesture to the ridiculous property all around ā-if I didnāt. Iād kind of figured being the softie would be my job, but Iām happy to share the load.ā
Titus downright pouts. āI am not a softie.ā
You nod toward the grass and lilt, āThe evidence to the contrary is pretty compelling, sweet pea.ā
āThatās too far,ā he sighs, suppressing a laugh, āeven for you, my little terror.ā
As you approach Titusā house ā your house ā Smith steps out in front and opens up the ornate wooden door. Thereās a golden, roaring lionās head knocker that clicks slightly as the door swings open to reveal the marble foyer. No amount of pictures Titus texted you could do the place justice. Every detail is strikingly opulent from the golden chandeliers and Italian marble checkerboard floors to the sheer embroidered curtains and high ceilings.
The only thing you donāt love is, well, Titusās taste. You wrinkle your nose as he shows you through the sitting room and dining room. āYou really like black and gray, donāt you?ā
He watches you inspect his living space. Itās been a very, very long time since heās had a woman here. At home. āThey match everything. Itās easy.ā
āI guess,ā you mutter, running your hand over a black leather couch thatās smooth and cool beneath your fingers. You point out, āItās a little cold for a family. I canāt really imagine a baby toddling around, can you?ā
āNo,ā he replies honestly, ābut thatās why I have you. Iād like you to change it all so itāsā¦warmer. Hire a designer or pick out everything for yourself, whatever makes you happiest.ā
As your eyes rove along the under-decorated hallway toward the living wing, already imagining how you might redesign the space, you ask him, āAnd how would I do that? Will you give me a check or something?ā
Titus rolls his eyes and laughs. āA check would imply a budget and supervision; I donāt want any part in it unless you truly think my input would be valuable.ā
āThatās hot,ā you laugh. āMore men should act like that.ā
He hums, amused, and then reaches into his jacket, removes a sleek wallet, and hands you a heavy black card. The Black Card, you realize as you stare down at the centurion engraved on dark steel. āThat card is yours for whatever you like. Youāre already an authorized user on the account; I had the legal team take care of that. It auto-pays every month and I wonāt even look at it, so I better not catch you overthinking your spending habits.ā
āOoh la la,ā you say, taking the card from him and turning it over in your hand. Youāre more than familiar with money, even his money, but itās never been yours to spend however and whenever you want. No budget, no restrictions, no instructions. It feels almost like getting your first car; that shitbox meant freedom. Your eyes go to his and you ask, āWhatās the limit?ā
Opening up one of several bedroom doors, he tells you like it isnāt even interesting, āItās NPSL.ā You swallow hard. No Preset Spending Limit. Before leading you inside, he turns around and gives you a mischievous smile. āIn fact, thereās a minimum. To maintain our status with the company, youāll need to spend $350,000 a year on that card.ā He smirks at your open-mouthed shock and muses, all cocky and coy, and touches the tip of your nose affectionately. āCan you do that for me, princess?ā
āAre you joking?ā
āI donāt joke often.ā
You balk, āWhat would I even spend that kind of money on?ā
He laughs out loud. āUrsula could spend that much in an hour; Iām sure youāll find something. For example, where have you always wanted to buy jewelry from?ā
You bite your lower lip and reply, āTiffany.ā
āRight, of course. I got you those earrings for Christmas,ā he remembers fondly, especially fond of the mind-numbing orgasm youād ridden out of him wearing nothing but said diamond earrings. āAny time you want, you can take your cute little ass downtown to the shop and get everything else from that collection. Better yet,ā he goes on, taking his phone from his pocket and sending a few texts, āIāll get an appointment for you at their flagship in New York and you can use your fun new card on some first-class tickets for you and a friend and buy out the damn store just to show off.ā Before you can roll your eyes and scoff out a response, he presses his index finger to your lips, kisses your forehead, and coos, āYouāre filthy rotten rich now, kitten, youāll have to discover ways to act like it. Now, may I continue my tour?ā
You give him a giggly mock salute. āYes, sir.ā
He debates jumping on it but bites his tongue, trying to keep a modicum of self-control with his regular staff lingering nearby. So he takes a breath and leads you through the open door into a vast, relatively blank bedroom, leaving Smith stationed outside. He tells you, āUntil weāre married, youāll stay here in one of the guest rooms. Anything else would be inappropriate.ā
You nudge him with your hip, a little too confident. āInappropriate like all the kinky premarital sex weāve already had?ā
In response, Titus grabs you hard by the waist, flipping you around and pushing you against the nearest wall, hand behind your head. Thereās a caution to his touch, though, and it steals your breath away. Heās certain not to be too rough with you. He cups your face in one large hand and studies your features intently. Your eyes widen as you look up into his stoic hazels, finding something dark and unreadable in them.
And then he kisses you. Deep, serious, claiming. Your knees go weak as he presses the curve of your spine, pulling you as close as possible to his body. It feels like a warning more than an act of affection. When he pulls back, he gently touches the tip of your nose with his pointer finger, drawing out a smile, and tuts, āYouāre going to have to learn not to talk like that in front of others. Itās bad form.ā
āNo sex jokes in front of the posh folk,ā you tease with a serious nod. āGot it.ā
Titus gives a low chuckle, looking at you like a puzzle. He traces his finger up your neck and along your jaw until he reaches your chin, tilting it upward. He turns your face from side to side, examining you, and you shiver from the intensity. His lip twitches at the corner. āWould you really prefer to sleep in bed with me? Why?ā
You take his hand in yours and guide it down to your hip. His other hand instinctively follows and they roam around to your ass, which you arch out to be more enticing. He follows by squeezing your flesh and grunting softly under his breath. You ruck your hands up beneath his shirt and rake your fingernails over his abs until you feel him tremble ever so slightly. On your toes, you whisper against his ear, āI get cold at night.ā
Titus sucks in a sharp breath when you take his earlobe between your teeth and nibble ever so slightly. He leans his head back and groans, āMmm. Youāre too powerful for your own good.ā
āJust powerful enough.ā Then you nibble your lower lip, avert your eyes, and add bashfully, āAnd I might need you.ā
His brows furrow in genuine confusion. āNeed me? For what?ā
You shrug and try not to sound too vulnerable. āI mean, Iām pregnant. What if I wake up and somethingās wrong?ā
Titus sets his jaw, considering that. He brushes his thumb over your cheek and studies one of the many emotions he doesnāt have much experience with: Worry. Lowering his voice, he assures you, āNothingās going to go wrong. Not if I can help it.ā
With a sad little smile, you reply, āMoney can buy a lot of things, but it canāt stop me from being scared of complications. Or worse. I donāt want to have to wonder where you are if I wake up afraid.ā
At that, he nods solemnly, takes your hand, and starts leading you to the opposite wing of the house. He may not experience anxieties like that, but he understands that his job is to quell yours. āCome on, then; Iāll show you our bedroom. Donāt tell Father; he wouldnāt understand.ā
Your eyes narrow. āWill you get in trouble if he finds out?ā
āYes,ā he says with a dark humor in his tone and a glint in his eyes. āHeād put me in time out and take away all my favorite toys.ā Heād have one hour to hunt me while I remain unarmed. Titus presses a kiss to the center of your forehead. āDonāt worry, bunny; I can handle myself. Handling you is what Iām worried about.ā
As he pushes open a set of opulent double doors, you poke his firm shoulder and protest, āIām a perfect angel.ā
āPrecisely my concern.ā As you step into the suite, he raises a silent hand to stop Smith from following. Closing the doors, Titus strides to where youāre admiring the space, wide eyes greedy over the California king, the floor-to-ceiling windows with grand velvet curtains, the massive his and hers closets. āI know itās plain right now; I donāt have much of an eye for taste ā except in women, of course.ā
You smack him lightly on the arm. āFlatterer.ā
His deeply ingrained instincts urge him to flip your arm around, pin it behind your back, twist you into submission. But then you smile at him and itās so warm and open and trusting and earnest that he almost smiles back. āOnly for you.ā
āIām sure thatās not true.ā You traipse into the adjoining bathroom suite and gawk at the oversized soaking tub, practically its own pool with jets and a head rest, and add, āI get the impression you have to flatter a lot of people in your world.ā
āThey have to flatter me,ā he corrects. You feel his hand on your back and catch sight of him watching you in the large mirror above the double vanity sinks. His first finger trails up your spine and he smiles when you shiver. āAnd soon theyāll have to flatter you, too.ā
āIf they have to suck up to you, and you have to suck up to me,ā you muse, turning around into his arms, ādoes that make me the boss of the whole world?ā
Titus cradles your face in one hand. His expression is completely and totally confident as he tells you, āI spent the first thirty years of my life watching my mother snap her fingers-ā he punctuates it with a click of his own ā-and get whatever she wanted from whoever she was speaking to. She commanded attention, power, money. Everyone listened when she spoke. She was the only woman ā person ā my father ever acquiesced to or listened to. Nobody on earth has more power than Mrs. Danforth,ā he finishes, pressing a kiss to your forehead, āand very soon that will be you.ā
For a second, youāre breathless, taking in the intensity simmering in his eyes. Then you avert your gaze a second, swallow hard, and look back at him with your usual mischief. āMommy issues much?ā
Rolling his eyes dramatically, Titus swats your ass and laughs, āFather is going to hate you.ā
With a raised eyebrow, you needle him, āYou say that like it might actually be a good thing.ā
Titus confirms, āBeing hated by my father is always a badge of honor. He canāt stand me.ā Then he takes your hand, leads you back to the bedroom, and sits you down on the ottoman at the foot of the bed. āNow, I have to leave for some business before I introduce you to the family tonight, but I do have one thing I need to give you in the meantime.ā
āA welcome home gift?ā
āSomething like that,ā he replies, walking over to his bedside table and removing a black velvet box. He kneels in front of you, your legs on either side of his shoulders, and your heart starts to pound. As he opens it to reveal the ridiculous ring inside, he begins, āNow, bunny, if you want a proper proposal with a string quartet or a sunset on the beach, Iāll do that, but for-ā
āTitus, shut up,ā you whisper. āIs thisā¦for me?ā
Your eyes are glued to the ring. Youāve never seen anything like it. Clearly itās an antique piece; the metalwork and stones have been meticulously maintained and show a high level of craftsmanship. The large center diamond is black ā an almost surreal color, both drawing light in and flinging it out, seeming at once opaque and transparent from different angles ā and surrounded by a halo of small pearls and diamonds set in fine platinum. Itās not eye-catching so much as jaw-dropping.
Your heartbeat thuds and whooshes in your ears as Titus removes the ring from the box and takes your left hand in his. You splay your fingers to give him better access.
āMy great grandfather had it made for his wife and my mother held onto it for me to give to mine, not that she believed Iād ever find one. It wonāt be the most expensive piece in your collection, but itās the most precious and rare to our family name.ā Titus slides it onto your finger and then kisses the skin just above it, his lips softer than youāve ever felt. He holds your hand in his and urges.Ā āI never want to see you without it.ā
āI should take it off to shower and sleep,ā you point out absently, still staring at the ring. You flick your eyes up to his. āAnd I assume youād still like to see me those times.ā
āIām going to have to start punishing you for all this flirting, you know.ā
You raise an eyebrow. āIs that a promise?ā
He shakes his head and lets out a sharp, amused breath. āOh, youāre in for it now.ā
In the next breath, Titus smirks and lifts you easily, tossing you up onto the bed. As you shriek out a laugh, the plush fabric and thick mattress catch you like a cartoon cloud. Titus pounces on you like a panther while youāre still getting your bearings, hiking your skirt up around your waist and yanking your panties down hard enough to rip the elastic. You donāt complain; for every pair of your underwear heās ruined, Titus has always gifted you five more from nicer shops.
His fingers circle your clit hard and fast, working you up frantically, and you know exactly what his game is. Itās one he plays often and well. Youāve got no choice but to enjoy the expert way he touches you, months of knowing how to get you off and bring you down painstakingly memorized.
Then, as you expect, the very moment your walls start to clamp down, Titus stops all touch and slaps your clit hard. The sting rockets up your spine and you gasp. Your thighs shake and he laughs at your mewling.
Before you can even start to think , he pulls his shirt off, casts it aside, and crawls onto the bed next to you. Then his middle two fingers are on your clit again and his lips lock onto yours and youāre moaning and whining and hoping, hoping, hoping he wonāt-
He slaps your clit once more and you nearly knee him with the force of your bodyās reaction. He stills your leg with a smirk and coos, āCareful, princess, youāll pull a muscle. Canāt have that.ā
You challenge him with narrow eyes. āThen how about you pin me down and fuck me so I donāt squirm?ā
āSo goddamn greedy,ā he huffs. āYouāre lucky Iām in a good mood today.ā
āI wonder whose fault that is.ā
You watch, mouth watering, as he takes off his belt and slacks. You even notice the brief hesitation as the leather belt runs over his fingers; youāve been known to beg for a whipping with it on more than one occasion. But heās being gentle with you ā for Titus, at least. He returns to you on the bed with a wolfish gaze, spreading your legs apart and admiring you for long enough to make your breath hitch. When you feel the tip of his swollen cock nudging at your entrance, itās with a toe-curling gentility that makes your body sensitive.
Titus always thrusts into you agonizingly slow, no matter how worked up either of you are. He savors the little flutters and twitches that come with filling your pretty cunt millimeter by breathless millimeter. Once heās seated inside of you, feeling the way your hips instinctively roll back into his and how your cunt is clamping onto him like it needs reassurance, Titus presses his thumb to your lower lip and orders, āBeg.ā
And even though youāre having to actively hold back from squirming and moaning, you know he loves the chase, so you grip his curls tight and reply, āWhy should I?ā
āGod, you fucking brat.ā He spits on your face and you lick it off your lips, never dropping his eyes that trace your movements. āIf you wonāt beg for what you want, then I expect you to stay there and take whatever I give you.ā
Your eyes widen in a mix of lust and fear, right on the primal line that Titus so loves to play with. One of his hands goes down to cover your mouth. Thereās a millisecond where his eyes flick up to yours, asking permission, and itās gone as soon as you give an imperceptible nod. When you and Titus fuck, your minds run parallel to one another; the same temptations and ideas call both your attention.
Once his salty, heavy palm is clamping your mouth shut, Titus fucks you like he needs. Your pleasure becomes entirely secondary to him; he only touches your clit because it amuses him to watch you squirm and kick and writhe, unable to speak or moan or do much of anything besides take it.
When he hikes your legs higher, working you into a full mating press that lets him fuck you hard and deep, your eyes roll back and your moans turn into squeaks. His thumb continues its strumming on your clit as you start to shake from pleasure. He purrs, āThere we go.ā
And then he cums.
Unannounced, unplanned, unrepentant. He pulls out and gives your thigh an affectionate pat.
You grab his hand and wail, āNo, no, no no no nonono! Titus!ā
He lifts your fingers to his lips and kisses each one softly, āDidnāt I say this was a punishment? You have to learn to behave yourself.ā
You lean back, raise your arms above your head so that your tits are on beautiful display, and look up at him like an innocent, needy puppy. After a beat of charged silence where his eyes ravish your body, you say the one word youāre always careful to withhold from him until the right moment: āPlease.ā
Above the bed like a god, Titus gazes down at you, panting and disheveled and leaking his cum. He tsks and sighs, āHow am I supposed to punish you when you take me so well?ā Then he drops to his knees, hooks his arms beneath your legs, and tugs you to the end of the bed as if you weigh nothing. āWhen youāve done everything Iāve asked without complaint?ā He slides two fingers into your sopping cunt, curling them toward himself and grinning when you arch your back and whine out in pleasure. He nips your inner thighs with his teeth and rests his free hand on your lower abdomen, over your womb. Leaning toward your wrecked pussy, he murmurs at last, āWhen youāre carrying my child? I couldnāt possibly deny you.ā
And he descends on your swollen, aching clit. The taste of his own cum mixed with your juices drives him wild. The taste of his ownership. After all the edging, youāre mere moments from tumbling over the precipice.
He doesnāt make you wait any longer.
He growls into your cunt as you spasm around his fingers, the orgasm burning up your spine and boiling beneath your cheeks. Your back arches and he refuses to let you stop cumming, keeping his tongue just as firm and fast as you punch into overstimulation. Itās so good it borders on painful and thatās what he loves the most. The moment when you cry out his name and try to push his shoulders back because itās just too much and only he can finally release you.
Your chest heaves as you collapse back onto the bed. Titus slowly withdraws his fingers from your pussy and licks them clean, drunk on the taste of the two of you becoming one. You canāt talk or think as you rest the back of your hand on your forehead to cool it down. After a few moments of breathing, you smirk up at him and tease, āI knew youād cave, you big softie.ā
He kneels over you again. āI assure you it was completely selfish; making you cum strokes my ego.ā
āMhmm. Whatever you say.ā
Titus tuts out a chuckle and checks his watch before swearing under his breath. After a searing kiss that gives you the sense he wants nothing more than to start a second round, Titus sighs, āThree hours as my live-in trophy wife and youāre already making me late.ā
You nip his collarbone. āBite me.ā
āDonāt tempt me.ā He holds your chin and orders gently, āAsk Chip to take you downtown. Designer district. Buy an outfit that makes you feel perfect and be home in time for dinner at six.ā
At 5:58, Titus knocks on the door of his own home with a bouquet of white roses. He can already imagine you rolling your eyes at his display before Smith opens up the door on your behalf. Titus is pleased to see that you let him open it without argument, already beginning to accept having others watch out for you.
You step into the moonlight and Titus hands off the flowers to Smith, who falls back behind you. For a moment, Titus is at a loss for words. Youāve always made a point of dressing up and looking beautiful for him; thatās a part of your arrangement, a part of the business of being a professional sugar baby. Heās even paid for you to get plenty of lovely pieces to add to your wardrobe.
But this?
Youāve spent the handful of hours since he left (and attended several excruciating meetings) pampering yourself into a state more akin to divinity than humanity. He may not have the eye for fashion that his sister does, but he can easily identify the trappings of a woman feeling confident about herself: Freshly French-tipped nails, sleek high heels with a thin strap around your ankle, makeup subtle and feminine. The burgundy halter dress hugs your curves, the silk crepe just structured enough to be formal but swinging enough to be sweet and flirty.
He wants to devour you.
And when he kisses you hello, he makes it obvious, dipping you far backwards and gripping your hip like it owes him money. He can feel the designer quality of the dress, soft as butter, under his fingertips. Then he rakes his hands up your thighs and growls against your ears, āIām not going to be able to keep my hands off you in the one situation where I absolutely have to.ā
You give him a modest twirl and ask, āYou really like it?ā
Ā With his hand on your lower back, Titus guides you toward the main house and purrs, sounding both proud and possessive, āYou look perfectly at home in luxury, kitten.ā
You try to quell your nerves as you walk up the marble steps to the back entrance of the home, where Smith opens the large glass doors to usher you both inside. Unlike Titusā ā and your, you have to keep reminding yourself ā house, the main house is opulently designed, drenched in old-school grandeur. Everything is antique, hundreds of years old, in dark woods and rich silks. Itās more like walking through a museum than a home.
When Titus brings you into the grand dining room, you can see just how well his father and sister match the decor. Thin, severe, expensive. His sister is drop-dead gorgeous in a very ā90s leading lady way while his father has the sort of face and demeanor usually reserved for stereotypical evil wizards or vampire counts. Titus has to push you into their eyeline when you find yourself shrinking beneath their stares.
Mr. Danforth and Ursula both stand to greet you but donāt move otherwise. Titus takes a deep breath and announces, āFather, Ursula, Iād like to introduce the future Mrs. Danforth.ā
Father offers you his hand first, but youāre clearly not supposed to shake it, so you just present your own. He lifts your hand to his lips and kisses your skin softly. āHow lovely to finally make your acquaintance. My son has sung your praises extensively.ā
āThatās very sweet.ā You bite your tongue despite how easy it would be to tease Titus because you know for a fact he never wouldāve mentioned you to them at all if it werenāt for the baby. You stick with a polite albeit slightly stiff, āMr. Danforth, itās an honor to meet you.ā
Titusā gentle, affirmative pat to your arm almost makes you laugh ā the situation is too weird for words ā but you still hold back. Itās a truly herculean effort not to point out how otherworldly this whole thing is. You havenāt exactly met people who just reek of power and status, their presence so effortlessly commanding that you want to laugh so you donāt cry or hide.
Then itās Ursulaās turn with you. She doesnāt shake hands, doesnāt hug, doesnāt even speak for a solid thirty seconds. You can feel Ursulaās eyes on every inch of you, dissecting and analyizing. Itās like sheās trying to see through your skin or maybe telepathically peel it off your bones. Youāre holding your breath until she finally says, āYouāre very pretty.ā
āThank you.ā Swallowing hard, you force a wobbly smile and tell her, āYou look stunning, exactly like I expected from how your brother talks about your fashion sense.ā
She waves her hand dismissively. āPlease; Titus wouldnāt know fashion sense if I smacked him over the head with it. And Iāve tried.ā Before you can try to come up with any possible response, she gestures to your dress and asks, āWhere is this little number from? It looks appropriately expensive for the occasion. A gift from our Titus, I assume?ā
āUm, yes, he sent me shopping today.ā
She gives you a pitying sort of smile and squeezes your forearm in a way that feels truly predatory. āHeās always so generous with his playthings.ā
Titus clears his throat. āUrsula.ā
āIām just teasing,ā she laughs without any humor. Then her narrowed eyes return to you. āReally, though, where did you find a dress like this in our dingy little city?ā
You smooth out the fabric and tell her, āItās, um, itās Yves Saint Laurent.ā
āLooks like something I would wear.ā
You try on a soft, self-deprecating laugh. āI told Chip to take me somewhere you would shop.ā
āMaybe Iāll go and pick one up in my size,ā she muses, still scanning your body for every flaw, which youāre suddenly painfully aware of, coming up with brand new insecurities every second her focus moves. āIād ask to borrow it, but yours would drown me.ā
Titus cuts her off sharply, āThatās enough.ā
She pouts at her brother. āDonāt be so sensitive, ducky; Iām sure she can-ā
āNo.ā Youāve never heard Titusā voice as stone cold and commanding as when he tells her, an order and a punishment, āNever speak down to her. Never.ā
Ursula rolls her eyes and plops herself dramatically in one of the oversized dining chairs. She pouts and says, āFatherhood is already making you so boring. Now Iām going to have to weaponize her against you so I have someone to complain with about how boring you are. Sigh.ā
And dinner goes just about like that.
Mr. Danforth unabashedly interrogates you about your life, your family, your history. Ursula critiques your answers. Titus snaps at them both when they push too far. You just try to hold onto your fork and sneak bites of decadent food in between the family bickering. You can tell thereās a kind of affection entirely foreign to you in the way they jab and dodge each otherās barbs. The way rich people talk to each other ā all subtext and speed ā is surreal to listen to. Eyes rolled about memories in St. Barts and arguments over clients in Aspen; itās like theyāre speaking a different language from the one you learned growing up.
Ursula pouts, leaning across the table and snatching your left hand into hers for examination. āYou already gave her motherās ring and I missed the grand proposal? How tragically unromantic.ā
Father sighs, āTheyāre doing things a touch out of order, darling.ā
āI wouldnāt want an extravagant proposal anyway,ā you manage to squeak out. āA nice private moment between the two of us was perfect.ā
āAh, so sheās the one making you boring,ā Ursula laughs. Then she lowers her gaze and adds, āIf you donāt like extravagance, you may be marrying into the wrong family. Your wedding guest list is already 250 people long.ā
āIām definitely looking forward to all of it,ā you assure as you desperately try not to sound either meek or ungrateful, ābut Titus is being kind enough to ease me into the waters. Trust me: The beautiful estate and stunning, personal ring made as much of a statement as any proposal.ā
Father smirks at you with a pleased satisfaction that seems to surprise Titus and his sister. āWhat a diplomatic response. My daughter will be lucky to learn from your decorum.ā
As Titus stifles a laugh, Ursula stands up dramatically from the table and reminds him, āIām literally a diplomat, Father. Try telling the people of Monaco that Iām anything but diplomatic when I personally broke ground on the countryās latest arts center.ā
āThat was for optics,ā Titus cuts back, adding under this breath, āunlike my work in Geneva.ā
Ursula brandishes her knife like she might really use it on him, making you gasp gently under your breath, and thatās when Father officially clears his throat and stands with a curt, āI think thatās enough family time for one night.ā
āI completely agree,ā Titus replies, rolling his shoulders before he stands up. After pulling your chair out and guiding you to your feet, he says, āWeāll see you both at the Governorās Ball on Saturday.āĀ
Titus shakes his fatherās hand at the end of dinner and, once again, you have to remind yourself not to tease him. Thankfully, itās a surgical extraction from there and Titus has you walking back toward your house in no time.
After Titus dismisses Smith for the night and arms the extensive home security system, he meets you in the primary bathroom, where youāre unclasping your jewelry and examining yourself in the mirror. Titus mustāve had someone on staff put away your things because your bedtime skincare routine is laid out on the countertop. Before reaching for any of it, you bite your lip and ask Titus, āBe honest: Did I do okay?ā
He comes up behind you, slipping his strong arms around your waist. āYou did great. Iām only sorry Ursula was so very-ā he struggles to find the right word ā-Ursula.ā
āI expected worse,ā you tell him with half a smile. āI didnāt expect you to stand up for me, though. To your sister.ā
āUrsula is the family the universe gave me. Sheās my best friend and my closest confidant ā and sheās a nightmare. A hellion.ā Titus kisses your forehead and gently touches your stomach. āYouāre the family Iām choosing. That means you come first, button. Iām not going to have my children watch their father sit idly by while their mother is insulted. Iām practicing setting a good example.ā
You stand up on your toes and kiss him on the cheek. āThank you.ā
Titus runs his hands up your spine and fiddles with the halter tie at the back of your neck. āNow letās get you out of this very lovely dress so you can sleep. Do you need a back rub? Some ginger tea?ā
You raise an eyebrow as you slowly take out your cleanser and reusable cotton rounds. āAre those real offers or are you teasing me?ā
āReal offers. From either a masseuse I can have here in fifteen minutes and our chef or from me personally.ā He tugs the dress down your body, guides you to step out of it, and discards it in the bathroom hamper like you didnāt pay $3,200 for it a few hours ago. āNo funny business, just relaxation and rest, especially well earned after spending a few hours with my family.ā
āI could probably tolerate a foot rub before bed,ā you giggle as he kisses across the tops of your shoulders.
āGo on, then.ā He strips off his own shirt and makes quick work of his belt and slacks, too. Looking deliciously sturdy in just his black boxer briefs, he leans against the bathroom doorframe and says. āFinish getting un-ready and come lie down with me, princess. Iāll make sure to get you nice and relaxed before bed.ā
āYou want me to do my whole bedtime routine topless?ā
āIāll grab you something from your closet,ā he offers, frowning a little because he admittedly does like the idea of watching you traipsing around with your tits out. When he returns with a tank top and silky shorts, he notices you still havenāt started taking off your full face of makeup. Too knowingly, he strolls into the bathroom with the pajamas and asks, all low and teasing, āAre you nervous to take off your makeup in front of me?ā
You toy with the damp cloth, studying him in the mirror, and admit, āA little. And not just the makeup.ā
He crosses his arms over his chest and laughs, āIāve seen you naked, kitty.ā
You scoff, āNaked and made up with at minimum highlighter and mascara. Or in very manicured outfits.ā
He offers, āIāve also seen you in pajamas before.ā
āLingerie,ā you correct. āYou donāt really think I sleep in slutty little negligees and teddies, do you?ā
āA man can dream.ā
āWell, if you hadnāt noticed, typically you rip those off me, fuck me unconscious, and then leave before my actual bedtime routine,ā you reply, poking him in his hard chest. As you tug on the tank top and shorts, you go on, āI usually wake up around midnight, get room service on your tab, and sleep in my ugly sweats since you never spend the night.ā
Clearly amused by the whole thing, he presses, āAre you worried Iāll rescind my proposal to the mother of my child because you arenāt a model in your sleep?ā
Titus closes the space between you, each step stern and confident. He takes the makeup removal pad and cleanser from you, gently lathers the cloth, and starts to work it over your face without saying a word. Titus says the most when he's silent. Right away, you melt beneath his touch. His totally sturdy gaze. Quietly, he relents, āItās a lot. I know that. You donāt have to come to the big social events right away; we can start smaller than the fucking Governorās Ball.ā He smiles when you crack one of your own. āIf you arenāt ready to jump right into being my wife, there are plenty of other bedrooms you can stay in and have your own space.ā
āI donāt want my own space,ā you whisper back. āIām just scared of taking up too much of yours, I guess. Or not fitting into your life the way you expect. Of being Mrs. Danforth correctly. Not looking expensive enough or beautiful enough or-ā
āQuiet now,ā he interrupts, words harsh and clear but tone nothing but warm. āDo you know what I want from Mrs. Danforth?ā Titus finishes wiping your face of its mask and then examines your products and selects your moisturizer. He massages it into your face and neck with fingers so tender you could cry. When heās finished, he holds your face in one large hand and murmurs, āI want you to sit by my side and sleep in my arms. You. We have the rest of our lives to work out the details.ā
For the first time, you feel the real you slip out in front of Titus. No flirting, no pushing, no hiding. All you can manage to whisper is, āThank you.ā
He gives you a soft kiss and then goes on, quiet but urgent. āAs for worrying about your appearance, you have never been lovelier to me than you are right now,ā leading you to the bed and sitting you down with your feet in his lap, he finishes, ābecause youāre mine. And thatās the most perfect thing you can be.ā
need more EMT whitaker fics. him loving being able to push the gas pedal to the floor to make it to the rural calls, him having a special interest in improvising medical equipment, him coming off the rig ready to explain whatever weird life saving thing he thought of.
jack is obsessed with his battlefield medicine ways and robby is enamored by his steadiness despite seeing terrible shit. they both realize they have a crush on the same guy and start a competition for dennisās attention, only to realize that a man like dennis requires an extra set of hands anyway.
So I saw someone on tiktok say it was unrealistic of Santos and Langdon to be working together. I would just like to throw my experience in as to why I think that is wrong.
TW: Domestic abuse
My mom is an operating room charge nurse, has been for over 2 decades and is very good. My father was a specialized surgeon, a urologist, and was also very good before he retired. Their coworkers set them up, and they got married and had me.
Then my father hit my mom. She walked into work with thick makeup that hardly covered the bruises and my dads surgical partner, who he HATED working with saw mom and asked if the other guy looked worse. When she didn't reply, he put 2 and 2 together.
By the end of the day, the entire department knew what happened. The shit of it? Even with the police report (only filed as a misdemeanor, when it should have been a felony, because my father knew the cops) she still had to work with him.
Her coworkers protected her. The schedulers tried their best to not put them together, but my parents worked at a level 1 trauma center so if there was an emergency, my father would be called in, no matter who was working. If mom was in a room, there would be a train of people giving her updates as to when he entered the building, what he was doing, when he entered his room. No one let him see her. She didn't see him at work for the rest of the time she worked there, but he still worked with her.
Why do I bring this up?
Langdon may not have been supposed to work this shift, but shit happens. If a call-off happened and he was the only one available, oh well. We can see that Robby is actively deteriorating, it makes sense that he would not have the foresight or the care to help run interference between them.
Santos has no bonds like my mom did, save for Whitaker who doesn't appear to know much about the Langdon situation. No one knows/remembers how Langdon treated her and so no one is looking out for her and steering her away from him. Her feeling like an outcast, to me, makes sense because no one is even attempting to run interference between her and Langdon whereas if she had deeper bonds with people they most certainly would have done their best to try.
Sorry if this is rambly, its late and I'm a bit drunk ':)
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stormborns
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