Your honor i just want to tuck some of Eva Stratt's hair back in a rare moment of vulnerability with her where she finally confesses how taxing and tired she was, but how she was doing it for the greater good of the World and you're just soft with her and ask her who's looking after her while she's looking after all of Humanity
Summary: You and Ryland hate each other. Rocky doesn’t like that. trouble ensues.
Tags: forced proximity, kissing, rocky interruptions. yeah lmk what I missed idek
ladies ladies I’m lowkey new to this…this is my first fic since the Wattpad era (the Stone Age) so lmk what I can fix…but I kinda write this stuff for myself cause NO ONE ELSE WILL DO IT…anyways…my first fic!!! might be short so idk..
THIS IS NOT PROOFREAD IM SORRY LIKE GENUINELY
————————————
Ever since you woke up from your medically induced coma, you’ve had a sworn enemy, Ryland Grace. That little shit wouldn’t let you do anything on the Hail Mary, and it pissed you off to no end. He’d always take over on anything, which you’d understand if he stayed in his molecular biology lane, but he also took over on piloting. You’re literally the pilot. He can read it on your suit if he doesn’t believe you. Your interactions between each other were limited, only consisting of vicious side eyes from different sides of the hallway, and snide remarks made about the others work.
But then Rocky came around. He found it odd how two organisms from the same species couldn’t work together, so he’d always try to get you to cooperate. He’d force you two work together, for “efficiency,” he claims, though it doesn’t feel efficient when the literal devil is bitching over your piloting skills. Even after all of Rocky’s attempts, you two were still not able to be civil to each other, which leads to where you are now.
Rocky pushed the heavy door shut, locking you and Ryland in the cramped storage closet against your will. Even in the dark, you could feel Ryland’s cold glare piercing through you. “Rocky, what are you doing bud?” Ryland said, slightly exasperated. “Humans no work together. Not efficient. Needs efficiency to save Earth and Erid.” “Rocky, what does that have to do with us being in a closet?” Rylands tone grew steadily more annoyed. “Humans stay here till cooperate.” “What? No Rocky, let us out!” You both exclaimed and pleaded, until you heard Rocky scuttle away from the door, you both decided that begging was to no avail.
You huffed and sank onto the floor, making yourself comfortable enough to spend a lot of time in an enclosed room with a spawn of Satan. Ryland stared down at you, looking just as pleased as you were to be stuck in a room with him. He slid down the wall and sat down, making a point to stay as far away from you as possible. “You’re an asshole.” you mutter under your breath, half hoping that he heard you. “What was that?” apparently he did hear you. “Nothing.” there was a long pause after that, only breaking when he spoke again. “Well you’re not any better yourself.” “ What’s that supposed to mean?” you say defensively, your eyebrows pulling up to form an incredulous look. “ Look, I’m just saying, you think you’re so much better than me, but you don’t contribute or do anything around the ship. You’re kind of a burden.” “I’m a burden? You literally don’t let me do anything around the ship? I’m the pilot, you won’t let me pilot, I try to do science, and you won’t let me do that either! Yeah I’m a burden, but you’re a selfish prick who wants the glory of saving the world all to himself!” your tone rises as you speak, echoing across the storage closet and seeping under the door. Grace pauses at that, either offended by the insult or thinking maybe he actually should let you do things.
“Well maybe if you were good at anything, I would let you do stuff around the ship.” he says, a smirk pulling up his face when he imagines your intense glare. “I know you did not just say that. I’m trying to be civil so Rocky will let us out of this stupid closet, but you’re making it so difficult. Shut the hell up and make this a little less unbearable for the both of us!” You practically scream, you’re so frustrated with the situation and the evil man sitting right next to you. You didn’t notice before, but he started to inch closer. Your shoulders brush, and he leans down and whispers in your ear in a bratty tone, “Make me.” You turn around to tell him off, or to punch him in the face, but before you can do that, he grabs your face and cradles it in his hands.
You didn’t have time to react before his lips were on yours. You didn’t expect an outcome like this, but you can’t really focus on that when your teeth are clashing with his. He kisses you with such fervor and intensity that it knocks the breath out of you, and you can’t think straight. When you finally recollect yourself, you trail one hand to his shoulder, and the other to the back of his head. You tug at his messy golden hair and he groans into your mouth. You instantly swallow the sound, enthralled and and suddenly much more confident. The room suddenly heats up, and you feel Rylands fingers trace up your suit, fiddling with the zipper before dragging it down. You tug on his hair again to tell him you want more, and he clearly reads the signal. His hand slips under your shirt and rests on the curve of your waist, feeling your soft skin as you move closer to him. Your hand that had once rested on his shoulder trailed down to his suit, which was luckily wrapped around his waist for easy access. Your hand travelled down, down, down, until it reached where it was tied around his waist, and you ran your fingers over the hair that rested upon his pelvis.
You were halfway to reaching into his boxers when the door suddenly slammed open. “Success!” Rocky exclaimed, overjoyed with the fact you two had gotten along. You and Ryland froze in place like a deer in headlights, hands still under clothes and breaths still heavy. You opened your mouth to make noise, but nothing came out, overwhelmed by shock and embarrassment. You wordlessly got up, and ushered out of there with a rosy pink hue trailing down your neck. Rocky turned to Ryland, who was still sitting in the storage closet. “ Human mating ritual, question?” “Uhm, yeah?” Ryland said unsurely, still thinking about the situation before. “Rocky wingman!” Rocky exclaimed.
——————————
yeah sorry ladies and gentlemen idk how to end this but hope it was fire. Idk how many words this was cause idk how to count.
You are - were - a friend of Eva Stratt's. Well, friend is generous. You were two like-minded individuals; you both saw the bigger picture. You both knew that Project Hail Mary was a long shot. Unfortunately, you both hoped anyway.
She’d made you the team’s medic. You were only meant to work on the dosages for the induced coma, but when you’d heard she was planning to have only robot arms as caretakers, you told her it was stupid. And, for all of her pride, Stratt listens to boldness. Exhibit A, you. Exhibit B, Ryland Grace.
You couldn’t think of another reason she’d entrust the astrophage research to that guy. Nothing against him; he just didn’t seem suited for government work, especially not on a project so consequential. He was too spontaneous, too abstract, and just too pleasant. Though, you couldn’t blame Stratt, either. Grace woke up the workplace. His dumb science shirts made you feel something, even if it was just a dull annoyance, other than impending doom.
Stratt was less good at hiding her feelings than she thought. She wouldn’t share a cup of coffee, but she would sacrifice simplicity so her team could awaken to a real, living person taking care of them. You’d sometimes traded morbid jokes that you were their grim reaper; leading them to death, but kinder than nothing nonetheless.
You made jokes with yourself about Grace, too. About how his name was fitting. About how he was too kind for this world and too dumb for his job. About how maybe you could mean something to him.
What a funny thought. You hadn’t mattered to anybody before, not other than as a dutiful doctor, so why start now, on the way to your imminent end. If anyone should go on this journey it should be you. Nobody would be waiting with bated breath for your return. Your job, your life, had barely changed with the mission. You would still be waking up early to look after people with one foot in the grave. Alone.
You hadn’t known what Stratt did until it was too late. You wouldn’t have been able to do anything about it anyway, is what you told yourself as you watched them wheel Grace’s mummified body to the ship. But you wished you could have. You wished there was a better way. You wished Stratt would’ve trusted you enough to at least tell you this. You wished you’d have tried something, anything, with Grace. You wished you could have held his hand other than to guide him to a fate he didn’t choose.
But you hadn’t. So you take two shots - one for the coma and the other for amnesia. Grace would forget the way Stratt betrayed him and you would forget the way you betrayed yourself.
reader's role is to get up from the coma early to make sure the others make it the rest of the way there if that wasn't clear
Now I’m thinking about Reader waking up after Yao and Olesya have already passed away, wondering why they didn’t wake up sooner to prevent that from happening
OR Reader still waking up prior to them passing away and breaking down from guilt when it happens away, possibly not knowing what caused it which makes the breakdown/guilt worse
warnings: long; loosely adapted film plot; Reader accompanies Grace on the ship; Rocky; tears; memory lapses; Rocky is injured; kissing;
note : you and Grace wake up on board the Hail Mary - the mission begins.
A/N: I've had this in my file for a while. It's rather long. I hope those who are patient will make it through this. I was debating whether to post it, but there are a few scenes in it that I like. thank you.
[Ryland Grace masterlist] [main masterlist]
“Here.”
A long-haired, bearded man held out a transparent pouch filled with clear liquid. Through the tears blurring your vision, you stared at him in confusion.
“What’s this?” Your throat felt raw.
“Vodka. I think.” He lifted one shoulder. You noticed the name tag on his chest that said "Grace." His name. “You’re gonna need it.”
You pulled your knees tighter against your chest. “I don’t drink. I don’t want to.”
“Oh.” he straightened slightly, and only then did you notice he was holding an identical pouch in his other hand. “Does that really matter right now? I mean, we’re on a suicide mission, we woke up next to two dead crewmates, and I still don’t know how the hell we got here or what we’re supposed to do.” He exhaled hard. “Take it. Future You will appreciate Present Me.”
You hesitated, then took the pouch. Maybe he was right. Maybe it would help you forget. Or remember. Or stop feeling anything at all.
You’d been crying for over an hour. Your head hurt, your chest hurt, and watching Grace pace frantically around the ship was doing absolutely nothing for your mental state.
A tube stuck out from the pouch. Grace shoved it into his mouth, took a long pull, swallowed and immediately grimaced.
“Wow,” he muttered. “That tastes like industrial cleaner and regret.”
Despite yourself, your lips twitched.
“You know,” he continued after a moment, “they actually put a therapy room on this ship. Because apparently maintaining psychological well-being is important during a one-way trip to probable death.” He gave you a crooked smile. “Come on. Let’s go see what humanity thinks counts as emotional support.”
You looked down at the pouch in your hands. What else did you have to do?
You didn’t remember boarding the Hail Mary. Neither did Ryland. The only thing either of you knew for certain was that you were among the fifty percent of the crew who survived.
“Optimistic statistics,” Ryland had said earlier. “Terrible mission outcome, though.”
You got drunk that day. Very drunk.
+++++
“I don’t know if trusting me with scissors is a good idea.”
Ryland sat down on the stool in front of you and pressed the scissors into your hand anyway.
“I’m not letting the robot arms near my head again,” he said. “Besides, it’s just hair.”
“I could literally ruin your life.”
“At worst, I’ll avoid mirrors until it grows back.”
You snorted quietly behind him, and a small smile tugged at his mouth. It was the first genuine laugh either of you had shared since waking up on the ship. Ryland flinched slightly when your fingers brushed through his hair, pushing it away from his face.
“Okay,” you said. “But don’t blame me if this haircut destroys your chances with women.”
“It’s a risk I’m willing to take.” He sighed dramatically. “Statistically speaking, my dating prospects were already pretty limited. Long-term relationships seem unlikely.”
You laughed again, softer this time, while adjusting the scissors in your grip. The first blond strand drifted to the floor.
+++++
“Grace have mate, question?”
You pulled your attention away from the projected display and looked toward the xenonite sphere where Rocky sat, then at Ryland.
He blinked. “Uh. No.I mean, I did,.” His expression shifted faintly. “But she thought I had my head in the clouds and I didn’t really want to live in the real world. She was right. Anyway, now she’s with Mark.”
“Rocky hates Mark.”
A laugh escaped you before you could stop it. Ryland looked over at you, and although he was smiling too, there was still something sad lingering behind it. The memory clearly hurt more than he wanted to admit. You opened your mouth to say something, but Rocky spoke first.
“You? You have mate, question?”
“Ummm.” You pressed your lips together and glanced down for a second. “No, Rocky. I don’t.”
“Mark took yours too?”
You burst out laughing this time. When you looked back at Ryland, you found him watching you with something warm and understanding in his eyes, like he knew exactly how badly you needed that laugh.
“No,” you said, still smiling faintly. “I think I’m just... a little too much.”
Rocky shifted on his five legs. “Do not understand.”
You rubbed your temple, thinking of how to explain it. “People expect certain things from other people,” you said slowly. “Specific behaviors. Specific reactions. They want you to fit what they imagined.” You let out a quiet breath. “And I’m not very good at that. I try, but...”
Rocky tilted slightly to one side, the movement thoughtful rather than confused this time. “You try to become expected shape,” he said carefully. “But shape is wrong for you?”
“Something like that.”
“That is stupid problem.”
Ryland snorted from beside you. “Wow. Straight to the point.”
You leaned back, shaking your head. “Humans usually make relationships more complicated than ‘wrong shape.’”
“Yes,” Rocky agreed immediately. “Humans enjoy making simple things painful.”
“Okay, rude.”
“True, though,” Ryland added.
You shot him an offended look. “Whose side are you on?”
Ryland grinned. “Rocky’s. Obviously.”
Rocky swayed happily. “Grace is intelligent today.”
“Today?” Ryland repeated.
“Yes.”
You laughed again, properly this time, and the sound filled the control room so suddenly it startled you. For a second, nobody spoke. Then Rocky’s sphere rotated toward you again.
“You are sad less now.”
“I’m not sad,” you protested weakly.
Rocky clicked thoughtfully. Then, very seriously, he announced: “You should fist Grace bump.”
Silence. Ryland froze so completely he looked medically deceased.
You blinked. “I’m sorry? W-What?”
Rocky lifted one claw enthusiastically. “Fist Grace bump. Human comfort ritual.”
A strangled sound escaped Ryland as he immediately buried his face in his hands. “Oh my God,” he groaned. “Rocky, buddy. The phrasing.”
“I phrased correctly.”
“No,” Ryland said instantly. “No, you did not.”
Your lips trembled violently as you tried not to laugh. Rocky shifted slightly in confusion. “Humans strike fists together when emotionally attached. I observed this behavior.”
“Yes, that part is right,” Ryland said. “It’s the word order that’s killing me.”
Rocky went still for a moment. Then : “Grace fist your bump?”
That destroyed you completely. You doubled over laughing so hard your stomach hurt while Ryland made the sound of a man experiencing true spiritual exhaustion.
Rocky’s lights flickered rapidly. “I continue not understanding.”
Ryland looked over at you helplessly, red-faced and visibly trying not to laugh himself. And seeing him like that—awkward, embarrassed, alive—made something warm ache inside your chest. Still giggling, you finally held your fist out toward him. Ryland eyed it suspiciously.
“Come on, Grace,” you said. “Human comfort ritual.”
A reluctant smile pulled at his mouth before he bumped his fist gently against yours. Rocky chirped happily through the translator.
“Success. Emotional support achieved.”
+++++++
When Rocky said you could go home, it felt as though the gravity on the Hail Mary had suddenly stopped working. Your knees gave out beneath you, and you sank to the floor before you even realized what was happening, the tablet slipping silently from your lap.
“Grace...” you whispered.
You sensed movement beside you. You didn’t need to look at him to know what Rocky’s words had done to him. Hope and relief. The impossible suddenly within reach. Ryland lowered himself to the floor next to you, his forearms resting on his knees.
“Grace, go home,” Rocky repeated.
“Okay.” Ryland’s voice trembled.
When you placed your hand on his arm, he didn’t pull away. Neither did he move when you leaned your head against his shoulder. Tears burned behind your eyes. Rocky couldn’t possibly understand what he had just given you.
A future. A life. Hope.
You had both accepted the verdict long ago or at least convinced yourselves that you had.
“We’ll go home,” Ryland said softly.
He turned toward you, burying his face in your hair as his eyes slipped shut. Your body shook with silent sobs. He didn’t try to comfort you; there was no need for empty reassurances now. Ryland felt it too — the same overwhelming relief, the same fragile disbelief, the same desperate hope you were clinging to.
+++++
Rocky was asleep or at least as close to asleep as an Eridian could get. His xenonite sphere sat motionless near the far wall of the lab, silent for once. Without his constant musical chirping, the Hail Mary felt strangely empty. Only the low hum of the engines and the occasional click of cooling metal filled the room.
You sat at the laboratory table, slowly spinning a marker between your fingers while pretending to read the same line of data for the tenth time. Across the room, Ryland had gone unusually quiet. No muttering. No nervous jokes. No pacing. And that was unusual for him.
You glanced up and saw that he was staring at nothing. It was as if his soul and mind had left the deck of the Hail Mary and flown somewhere into space.
“Grace?” you asked softly.
He blinked and looked at you like he’d forgotten where he was. “Hm?”
“You okay?”
For a moment, he didn’t answer. Then he rubbed a hand over his face and let out a tired breath. “I remembered something.”
Your stomach tightened instantly. The memories had been returning more often lately—small fragments breaking through the chemical fog left behind by the coma drugs. Sometimes they were harmless. Sometimes they left one of you shaken for hours.
You straightened slightly in your chair. “What kind of memory?”
Ryland leaned back against the console behind him, crossing his arms loosely. “It was before launch,” he said quietly. “With Stratt.”
You waited, then his eyes lowered briefly to the floor.
“I was fighting with her. Actually, mostly I was panicking. I kept telling her she couldn’t force me onto the ship. That I wasn’t qualified, that I wasn’t brave enough, that astronauts are supposed to be…” He gestured vaguely. “You know. Functional under pressure. I was terrified. Like, really terrified.”
The honesty in his voice made your chest ache a little.
“And then you walked in.”
You stopped breathing for a second. Ryland looked over at you now, his expression distant with memory.
“Stratt told you what was happening. She explained that if I refused, they’d probably sedate me and throw me on board anyway.” He shook his head slightly. “And before either of us could say anything else, you just looked at her and said…” He swallowed once. “‘Then I’ll go with Grace.’”
The marker slipped slightly in your fingers. “I said that?” you whispered.
Ryland nodded slowly. “You didn’t even hesitate.”
You stared down at the table, trying desperately to find some trace of the memory yourself, but there was nothing there. Just emptiness. Is that possible? Why didn't you remember it? And why did Ryland do it?
“I don’t remember,” you admitted quietly. The voice was barely audible.
“I know.”
Silence settled between you. Then Ryland pushed himself away from the console and walked toward you slowly. You watched him stop in front of your chair. There was something fragile in his expression now. Confusion, disbelief and maybe even anger.
“Do you know what the weirdest part is?” he asked softly.
You shook your head.
“I don’t think you did it because you loved me or something like that.” A small smile pulled weakly at one corner of his mouth. “Honestly, I don’t even think we knew each other that well.”
Your eyes lifted to his. Tears pressed painfully to the corners of your eyes.
“I think…” He exhaled quietly. “I think you just saw someone who was scared out of his mind and decided he shouldn’t have to be alone.”
The tears hit unexpectedly hard after that. You looked away quickly, embarrassed, but Ryland noticed immediately.
“Oh, hey—” His voice softened at once.
Before you could wipe them away, he crouched slightly in front of you and gently took your face in his hands. He was so careful. His thumbs brushed beneath your eyes instinctively.
“Why would you do something like that?” he murmured, looking at you like he genuinely couldn’t understand it. “That’s such a ridiculously dangerous thing to do.”
You replied, your voice trembling. “You seem angry.”
“I am mad about it,” he said quietly. “You threw your whole life away because your first instinct was to protect someone.” His forehead tightened slightly. “Who does that?”
You couldn’t answer. Because maybe he was right. Maybe there hadn’t been some grand romantic reason. Maybe you’d simply seen another terrified human being and thought: No one should face this alone. And somehow, that almost hurt more.
Ryland looked at you for another long moment before sighing softly through his nose.
“God,” he muttered, voice thick with emotion. “You’re either the bravest person I’ve ever met or the dumbest.”
“Probably both.”
“Yeah,” he said gently. “Probably both.”
And then, seeing you so shaken and broken, his arms carefully wrapped around you. He wasn't sure he could do it, but you instinctively slid down, clinging to him with all your being. Your arms wrapped around his neck, burying your tear-stained face in his neck. And even though he knew you so well, he felt like you were at your most vulnerable now, and Ryland wanted to protect you even more.
+++++
The Hail Mary was dark and silent. Emergency lighting was working as you shifted in bed. Something was beeping rhythmically next to you. You opened your eyes.
"Thank God, you're alive."
Ryland's voice came from beside you, and you slowly turned your head. He was lying on the bed next to you, his eyelids heavy as he tried to move.
"What happened?" you asked quietly. "I remember the ship started shaking a lot."
"Gravity," Grace replied simply. "We were too close. How... What are you doing?"
The machine let out a strange squeal as you pulled the IV from your hand and tried to sit up. You hissed in pain. Your side ached terribly, and when you touched it, you felt bandages there. Pain shot through your entire body.
"Rocky..." you said. "Stay here, Grace, I..."
"I'm coming with you."
You wouldn't have stopped him, and he wouldn't have stopped you either. You both clumsily stepped onto the floor, then slowly moved forward. Charred remains littered the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest, and you unconsciously reached for Grace's hand. He didn't pull it away, gripping you tighter.
The sight of Rocky curled up in the xenonite dome was terrifying. He lay still, as if burned. Your knees buckled beneath you.
“He wanted to save us,” you said, a burning pain in your throat.
“And he did,” Grace replied. “He saved you and me. And now…” He hesitated, unsure what to say. Finally, he added, “Rocky needs sleep. It will help him. He’ll be fine.”
You nodded. “I’ll stay with him. You lie down.”
Grace sat down next to you. "No, we'll both stay here. We have to watch him, right?"
Even though everything still hurt, he didn't want to leave his friend. He didn't want to leave you either. He also didn't want to think about how this would end.
Your fingers found his hand; you were his anchor in this chaos.
+++++
The Hail Mary drifted quietly through space. Too quietly.
No musical notes echoed through the ship anymore. No clicking claws. No Rocky excitedly announcing impossible engineering ideas at three in the morning.
Just you and Ryland. And the awful emptiness Rocky had left behind.
The calculations glowed across the monitor in front of you while the ship hummed softly around you. Ryland had been staring at the same screen for nearly ten minutes without moving. Taumoeba evolved, able to escape from xenonite containers. The ones Rocky made. The same ones that were also on his ship too.
You felt sick. Slowly, you looked toward Ryland.
He was sitting hunched forward in the pilot chair, elbows braced against his knees, one hand pressed hard against his mouth. Thinking. You knew that look.
“You’re doing it again,” you said quietly. He didn’t respond. “Ryland.”
Still nothing. You stood and crossed the room toward him. “Grace.”
This time he finally looked up. God, he looked exhausted. You were too. And underneath it—heartbroken.
“I can’t do it,” he said hoarsely before you could speak.
Your chest tightened. There it was. The thing both of you had been circling around for the last hour.
You stepped closer slowly. “Then say it.”
His expression immediately pained. “Don’t.”
“Say it.”
“I can’t ask you.” you heard helplessness in his voice.
“Ryland...”
He stood abruptly, running both hands through his hair in frustration before turning away from you entirely. “I can’t make that decision for you!” he snapped.
The words echoed sharply through the empty control room. Silence followed. Then, quieter: “I can’t take Earth away from you.”
Your throat burned instantly. He still wasn’t looking at you.
“I know what I’m asking,” he whispered. “You think I don’t want to turn this ship around? God, of course I do.”
Finally, he looked back at you. And the sheer guilt in his expression almost hurt to see.
"But if we go any further..." his voice cracked. "Rocky will die. Maybe he's already dying."
The words settled heavily between you. Simple and horrible, but true.
Ryland swallowed hard. “And I can’t be the reason you lose your home.”
For a second, all you could do was stare at him. Then slowly, you moved closer until barely any space remained between you.
“You really still don’t understand, do you?” you asked softly.
Confusion flickered across his face. Your eyes stung suddenly.
“Years ago,” you whispered, “I stood in front of Stratt and chose to go with you into space.” Your voice trembled now. “I already made this decision, Ryland.”
His face fell apart a little at that.
“You were terrified,” you continued quietly. “And I was terrified too. But I looked at you and knew I couldn’t let you do it alone.”
“Don’t,” he whispered weakly.
“And if I had to choose again?” Your breath shook. “I’d still choose you. Every time.”
Ryland looked genuinely wrecked now. Like hearing those words physically hurt him.
“You’d give up Earth for me?” he asked softly.
You shook your head once.
“For Rocky,” you whispered. “For you. For the family we somehow found out here.” A tiny, tearful smile appeared on your lips. “And honestly? Earth stopped feeling like home a long time ago.”
Something in his expression cracked completely after that. Before he could say another word, you grabbed the front of his shirt and kissed him. Hard. Immediate.
Your fingers tangled into his hair as you pulled him against you, and Ryland made a startled sound before kissing you back with equal force, like he’d been barely holding himself together for hours. Maybe he had.
His hands found your waist instantly, careful even now, even while emotionally falling apart in front of you. The kiss tasted like fear and relief and grief all at once. Like two people standing at the edge of another impossible decision.
When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathing hard. Ryland rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed tightly.
“You make unbelievably reckless choices,” he whispered shakily.
You brushed your fingers through his hair again.
“And yet,” you murmured, lips still barely against his, “you’re always worth making them for.”
+++++
Sunlight filled every room, warm and golden against the pale walls of the house. Another beautiful day on Erid. You were finishing your coffee when strong arms wrapped around your waist from behind. Ryland pressed his face against your back, still half asleep, and kissed the side of your neck softly.
“Good morning,” he murmured. “You’re up early again.”
“No,” you corrected gently, smiling into your cup. “You slept in late again.”
A sleepy groan vibrated against your shoulder. You reached back automatically, threading your fingers through his soft hair. It had gotten longer again recently, curling slightly near the ends in the warmth.
“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” you promised quietly. “I’ll stay in bed longer with you.”
Ryland lifted his head just enough to look at you suspiciously. “I’m holding you to that.”
“You say that every week.”
“Because every week you abandon me for coffee and productivity.”
You laughed softly. “That sounds serious.”
“It is serious. I wake up and my favorite person is gone.”
Warmth spread quietly through your chest. Years ago, Ryland would’ve hidden words like that behind a joke. Now he said them easily, like he trusted them to exist between you. Like he trusted you to stay.
You turned slightly in his arms, just enough to brush your nose against his. “You’re very clingy for a former middle-school teacher.”
“I worked with children for years. Physical affection is how humans avoid psychological collapse.”
“That sounds fake.”
“It’s science.”
“You say that about everything.”
“Because science explains everything.” He paused thoughtfully. “Except why you still tolerate me before breakfast.”
You smiled and kissed him softly before he could continue rambling. Ryland immediately melted against you, one hand sliding lazily along your waist while the other settled at the small of your back, pulling you closer.
Slow mornings suited him. No rushing. No panic. No mission hanging over his head. Just warmth and sunlight and the quiet comfort of knowing the other person would still be there tomorrow.
When you finally pulled away, Ryland rested his forehead against yours with a quiet sigh. “You know,” he murmured, eyes still closed, “I was supposed to teach a few young Eridians orbital mechanics in twenty minutes.”
“And?”
“And currently I’m considering becoming unemployed.”
You laughed again, and the sound made him smile immediately.
summary: you and grace put on a puppet show for rocky at his request so he is able to understand human culture better. little do you know, the engineer is setting you both up.
tags: a lot, a lot of rocky. he thinks humans are gross and stupid and you and grace should mate already. statement ryland referred to as "grace".
Waking up to see a sentient alien creature waddling about in a glass looking ball in the Hail Mary is not something you could say you expected when taking on this mission.
Said creature being the most hilarious living organism you have ever encountered in your life was also not on your list of expectations.
Bracing a hand on the ball, you double over, wheezing at him just tearing Grace apart (likely without meaning to, though sometimes he's so intentional with it it cannot be a coincidence) with a clumsily translated string of words.
"Friend sick, question?" Rocky inquires, bracing a claw against where your hand is resting. Then, voice taking over a more urgent tone — how did Grace manage to convey that via code or translation system, you will never know —, another claw tapping to get Grace's attention; "Grace! Grace! Friend leaking! Emergency, statement!" Pressing his head to your side of the xenonite in a hasty attempt at comfort, "Grace! Intervention. Now!"
"They're good, Rock," Grace sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "They're laughing because they think you said something funny," Turning to you, he points an accusatory finger at you in such a way that an image of him scolding a rowdy student in a classroom flashes in your mind. "About my "inability" to pilot, by the way!" He even does air quotes to emphasize his point. Cute. "Ouch!" He presses a hand against his chest, then waving it off with a dismissive huff. "So pay no attention to the fact that they sound like they're dying."
"Friend alright, statement." Rocky pulls back from the xenonite as he awaits confirmation.
"Yes."
Visibly relaxing, "Grace so dramatiiiiiic—" Rocky drawls, and you're sure if he had eyes, he would be rolling them. "Grace is bad pilot. It fact. Friend try. See if better than Grace. Rocky thinks so. Grace worse than average."
"Mary! Back me up, please?" Grace looks to the ceiling for any kind of support.
"Dr. Grace has no previous records of pilot training received." Echoes from Mary's speakers, dealing the final blow as Grace purses his lips in a pout.
In Mary's defense, that does contribute to his argument. He can get better if he trains a bit more, but alas. The delivery of the line has comedic timing too good to ignore.
"Oh my God—" you cackle, snorting to catch your breath, "Let him live, both of you!"
"Rocky is no threat to Grace. Grace live. Odd human expression, question?"
Nodding, you manage to choke out a sound resembling yeah, wiping your eyes. As if remembering something, Rocky turns to you, and uh-oh, looks like you're next on the chopping block as the finger-like appendages meet into a point to gesture to you.
"Friend also! Inefficient human design. Leak for everything! Disguuust! Make Rocky worry. Apologize, statement."
Shaking with laughter, you lean against the xenonite, wrapping your arms around it in a hug. It's not like you can be mad at him for worrying about you, even though the things that worry him come with human anatomy itself. "Sorry for being human, buddy."
"Acceptable."
Rocky rolls next to your bunker when you're cleaning up your space a little.
"Friend. Time good, question? Rocky have question."
"Sure, hun. What's up?" you settle down to get comfortable. Rocky usually doesn't have simple questions, especially when seeking you out in private. If you're not the readily available human to ask in the first place, the reason why he seeks you out is to either get a second opinion (or confirm the information previously provided), or that he has not been able to get a satisfactory answer out of Grace.
"What word mean, question?" Rocky echoes, tilting his head, tapping a claw twice on the xenonite floor.
"Oh," This might be the first time you call him that petname, actually. "It's short for "honey", — a sweet subtance for consumption. It can also be used as a term of endearment for people who are close to you."
"Do not consume Rocky. Will not digest." You're still amazed at how well the humour carries on despite the translation device. "Eridian term of endearment not have "sweet" substance for consumption. We have ♫𝅘𝅥 𝅘𝅥𝅮𝅘𝅥𝅮♩ ♪___♩. ♪ ♬𝅘𝅥𝅭 𝅘𝅥𝅮 ... But not same word."
"Do you want me to add it as a word?"
"No. Rocky think for more similar word. Question, now. Statement," Rocky tumbles closer, "Rocky observe. Friend no touch Grace. Hand up," he raises a claw, acting as if he's going to touch his another claw, then suddenly puts it down and slumping in place. Putting a show for your dumb little brain, as Grace would say. "Then change mind. Display intention, but no act. Why?"
"That's a loaded question, bud," A long sigh leaves you before you can stop it. Shrugging, you opt for a mild; "I don't want to cross any boundaries, you know?"
"Rocky not know. That why Rocky ask."
Oh, great.
"Boundaries, Rocky knows." Rocky supplies after a brief moment of silence to prompt you into talking, "Grace has explained before. When Rocky first arrive on ship. But you Grace same. Species, same. Mission, same. Same same same. Why boundary, question?"
"... Humans are—" you start.
"Stupid. Statement." Rocky finishes your sentence for you.
"I was going to say complicated, but you know what? You are absolutely right."
Rocky makes a satisfied noise, "Rocky always right." There is a dolphin-like sound you pick up as Rocky shares up and down, laughing. You think he's being smug about being right until he adds; "Rocky is favourite. No boundary. More hug. Friend love Rocky more than Grace."
"Hey, now—"
"What counts as human mating behaviour, question?"
Unlike Grace, you live to yap with Rocky about the differences in species, perhaps owing to a personal interest in anthropology.
"Ooh, very sudden but flavourful question," grinning, you tap your chin in thought, "Do you mean like, courtship, or behaviour displayed exclusively between mates?"
"Second."
"You first, then. Just to provide an example."
Rocky gives a contemplative hum, one claw fluttering over the turquoise mark along his arm. "Mating mark, here. Rocky have Adrian mark."
"It's beautiful..." your eyes graze over the mark. Even with the sentimental meaning aside, it does look like something precious, like a gem or mother of pearl. "A little similar to that, humans have tattoos. We, uh... force ink under our skin to create patterns we like. But it's more of a personal expression, and not exclusive to mates, even if you get matching tattoos with another."
Rocky thrums, and he's definitely judging. You can tell.
"Otherwise, off the top of my head? Kissing, but... on the lips. That's exclusive to mates, I think. Kissing the cheek or hand for example, are not, and can be a display of affection or even respect, depending on the culture."
"... Matching patterns not sign of mate. Touching mouths is sign of mate." Rocky makes an exaggerated motion with his body, displeased at the mere idea, though before he can comment any further, you jut your hands out in a panic;
"We have wedding bands!" you blurt, pointing at your ring finger, "It's when you — supposedly and arguably — commit to your mate for life. You take a vow, and the collective recognizes you as a pair. Traditionally, you wear matching rings made of precious metal to signify the "unbreakable bond" or something."
"... Are you explaining the concept of marriage to Rocky?" You whip around to see Grace leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and with an amused grin on his face.
"Help," Pleading, you reach out for him, and surprisingly, he takes your hand momentarily as he sits down.
Unnecessary physical contact.
You might, in fact, be so touch starved that you classify the action as flirting before you bury it deep down.
"Rocky no understand. Do puppet show."
Both you and Grace blink.
"For... for what..?" Grace asks, putting the glasses hanging off his chin back on his nose bridge.
"For everything! Rocky study Earth culture. Do puppet show! Grace and friend as puppets for better understanding, statement."
Rocky opens and closes his claws in a very enthuastic display of jazz hands.
".... I can narrate." you offer dumbly, the mere thought of close contact with Grace frying your mind, "We both can, actually. ... Shall we?"
The two of you get up, casting one last awkward glance at each other before holding hands and interlocking fingers.
"Why does this feel like explaining reproductive biology to middleschoolers..." Grace sighs, and you bark out a startled laugh.
"Ryland Grace!" you squeak, putting on your best scandalized form, swiftly delivering a light smack to his bicep, "We're not procreating! Certainly not in front of Rocky!"
"Would procreate if Rocky leave room, question?"
"Don't even, Rocky." Grace raises his pointer finger at him, brows raised as the ultimate warning.
After a getting past the initial awkward phase of trying to talk through scenarios and where to put your hands, you realise both you and Grace have a knack for acting.
It starts off with showing Rocky an initial meeting, mostly consisting of explanation and dialogue. Then come the dates, with a lot more props involved, like a makeshift wheel made out of a large valve as Grace pretends to pick you up from your home. It's like a dam has been broken with how many ideas flood the two of you.
Neither of you comment on how you're essentially acting out on your fantasies.
You act out a fancy dinner date, blundering through explaining why mood lighting in the form of candles is so important. Then, a more causal dinner date, something like a diner; showing classic things like sharing a milkshake with two straws, and somehow it's cute and playful to steal fries off of your lover's plate.
Moving rooms, you start getting more specific.
Acting out beach dates and swimming together, and at some point the conversation derails so bad that Grace ends up having you sit on his shoulders while he sits on his knees, and;
"It's played with two pairs. The one on the bottom is usually the stronger out of the pair, both to be able to carry the other and to have a strong foundation so the other pair can't push you off that easily," He keeps a hand on your thigh as a safety measure while he gestures to his waist with his free hand, "You would be in the sea water waist-deep at the very least, though going higher is usually preferred. And then the ones on top try to topple each other, and the pair who stays standing wins."
"It's a bonding activity for all parties and induces some friendly competition," you add, a hand resting on Grace's head, absentmindedly noting how soft his hair is before you pat the crown of his head to signal you want to get off.
"Display of strength. Rocky understand."
Then come the cinema dates, and Grace, of course, does not miss out on the opportunity to show the classic "pretend-yawn-and-embrace" move, to which Rocky visibly looks confused at, and Grace covers all his bases as he mentions cuddling is much more common in more private viewings, like at home.
"Okay, and then— again, traditionally," Grace shoos you a few steps ahead before tapping your shoulder, sinking to one knee as you turn around, bringing his hands together, then opening it as close to a ninety-degree angle as he can, pretending to open a ring box. "The male gets down on one knee to propose."
"Propose what, question?"
"Marriage, Rock."
"Oooh. Ceremony, question? Knee down also part of propose?"
"Eh," Grace makes a small, non-commital noise, "Pre-ceremony, more like. As for the kneeling, yes, but I'm not sure of the reason."
"I heard it dates back to knights." Avoiding his gaze in favour of looking at Rocky, your hands cup his, "Like, bending the knee to take the chivalric oath, or to swear loyalty to their chosen Lady. Haven't checked my sources, though, so don't quote me on that."
"That... makes so much sense, actually."
"Ceremony over when knee down, question? Proposal just gesture?"
"Oh! No Rock, you actually give a speech," Grace tilts his head like a cat, "Let me think, uhh..." A short sniffle out of reflex, "Something like..." gears in his head turning, he takes a moment before clearing his throat, fixing his posture before looking into your eyes, a hand resting over yours, "I, Ryland Grace—"
No matter how nervous you feel, you must not flex your hand, he will feel it. Pull it together, deep breaths. Deep breaths.
"Promise to love and cherish you for all my days. I promise to be true to you in good times and the bad, in sickness and in health,"
Can he feel your pulse from your wrist? God, you hope not. It feels like your heart is trying to beat itself out of your ribcage.
"Will you marry me?"
Time stops.
Something in his gaze is different. You look for any semblance of humour or pretend, just something to let you know that he is doing this for the sake of the puppet show, and find... none.
"Yes," you manage to breathe out, the sound barely audible.
Grace— Ryland? Even if it was an act, you just proposed, and accepted the proposal respectively — does not take his eyes off yours as he rises, leaning a bit closer, breath mingling with yours, and—
He bypasses your face entirely, opting in for a hug.
"Couples usually kiss after that, since it's a happy event." He presses you closer to him, talking to Rocky over your shoulder.
You don't mourn the fact that you cannot see his face when you can feel his heart beat is just as thunderous against his chest when you're so close you can feel the heat emanating off his skin.
"Touch mouths after everything. Uuugh! Unsanitary. Disguuust!"
after talking with my counselor about my dad this morning, i think i understand a little more about why i like fictional older men
describing a few of the recent things my dad has done that piss me off made me realize it’s mostly been social ineptitude and overall idiocy without ever being willing to (fully) admit he’s in the wrong
and fictional older guys i like (at least in the fics i like to read) are smart, competent, and usually socially aware. and if they’re not socially aware, they’re willing to admit they’re unaware and know about their faults
WARNINGS: MATURE CONTENT AHEAD (MDNI) - face sitting, fem!reader, established relationship
A/N: well yes!🤰sorry this one is a shortish one, hope you enjoyed!
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“sit,” he orders.
he shifts you from where you were straddling him lap, pulling you up to hover above his face. your heart races, realization dawning, but his grip on your thighs leaves you with no room for move out of his grasp.
you hover, embarrassed, hesitant and scared. but his grip tells he’s not waiting for your hesitation. his hands are firm, dragging you down until you’re against his mouth. the first stroke of his tongue is slow, then the next deeper. he gets hungrier with each lick. you gasp and break the quiet of the room. your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard.
“wait—.” you try to say but your cut off by your own moan.
he just hums against you in response. the vibration jolting through your pussy and up your spine. it’s enough to remove any doubt that was coursing through you. he works at you with devastating precision, like he knows every part of your body. which he does. his tongue darts through your folds and into your hole. his mouth is unrelenting, wanting you to come undone on top of him. every flick, every drag sends you closer and closer to the edge.
you try to lift yourself off his face, overwhelmed with pleasure. it’s too much, thighs trying hard to not clamp down on his head and your legs shaking. it’s no use though, his hands around your ass anchor you down and hold you firm on top of him. how has he not stopped for a breath yet?
your thighs quake around his head, this time you’re not able to stop the clamping of them around his head. he just grunts into your folds which forces your cries of pleasure to grow higher. he works his tongue and lips, nose hitting your clit. over and over again until you hit your breaking point, shaking and spilling over his mouth.
but even then he doesn’t stop. he continues to kitten lick you, slurping up your cum while your hips give little jerks of pleasure into his face.
finally, he lets up. letting you move back off his face. panting as he looks up at you, mouth and chin slick. with a shit-eating grin on his face. and as you move down his body to sit on his lap, you swear that big wet patch on his pants wasn’t there before…
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader (mentions of Andrew "Pope" Cody x Reader, obviously!)
Summary: Three months is all it took for you to accept that Andrew “Pope” Cody has taken the identity of your husband, Jack Abbot. Three months is all it took for you to fall in love with Pope.
And three months is the amount of time Jack has been watching the two of you, sick to his fucking stomach. Because you're playing house with a criminal when your real husband is alive.
So now Jack has to become the criminal…
Word Count: 11.9k
A/N: This is the sequel to my fic, “There's Something Wrong with Jack Abbot”. If you haven't read that one yet, I highly suggest it so you have some context!
This time, the tables have flipped and Jack is pretending to be Pope. How does that go? Well I guess you'll have to read to find out! This does mean there is dubious consent again though so be mindful of that!
Also, this will be a trilogy so there is guaranteed a final part to this. There will be a happy ending for everyone but the way there is going to be a ride ~
For a full list of warnings, please check the fic on my AO3. Or go in blind. That's up to you!
I can't resist so…this is also mostly porn, but with actual plot! Hope it's a fun read ♡
The first time Jack interacts with Pope, it ends with him jabbing a needle into Pope's neck. And Pope would've seen him coming too.
If he hadn't been distracted texting you…
Pope finally started using Jack's phone. It was something he had avoided for a while because a lot of people were messaging Jack. It was overwhelming to see so many people care about Jack…something Pope has never truly experienced.
So he kept the phone off until recently.
Once his secret was revealed and you accepted him as your husband, you helped him reply to Jack's friends and family, since you know them all well. You are Jack's wife, after all.
Everyone seemed relieved that Pope was willing to talk again. Though he is still feigning to not know anything. Because he still doesn't know anything about Jack.
Like how Jack isn't affected by sedatives the same way other people are. He needs a higher dose to numb the pain. Meaning he needed a much higher dose to die.
Jack had woken up in the back of a car. He recognized it. It was his car. And he was on the road.
Whoever did this to him must've believed he was dead because he was wrapped up in a wet blanket, unrestrained. It smells like gasoline…
Everything clicks for him then. Someone is trying to blow him up in his car. He needs to get the fuck out of here.
Unfortunately for the person who is out to dispose of him, Jack has always been very paranoid. It's one of the traits he desperately tried to hide from you. He is always on edge. He is always looking for the worst case scenario.
That's why he didn't ask you to stay when you left.
Because if he asked you to stay, Jack knew he'd ruin everything again. Like he did with the infertility…
He felt inadequate to love you.
So he let you go.
It never crossed his mind that you still loved him.
Nor did it ever cross his mind that you loved him so much, you would let a man who looks like him bask in that love.
The same man who's driving Jack's car right now.
Jack is well prepared for a scenario like this. He had a hidden pocket built into his car and yours, in the off chance either of you got trapped in the trunk. He felt insane for adding this feature but now he's grateful for his paranoia.
He opens the pocket and pulls out a tool that allows him to open the truck and then close it the moment he gets out. It's a strange contraption with a string. He hooks the lock of the trunk with it and it pops open.
Jack waits for the car to stop at a light. It's quiet outside. No other cars around, hopefully.
He slips out of the truck, rolling out and then tugging on the string. It snaps the trunk back closed instantly. He purposefully rolls towards the car for a bit on the dirt road, so that if the driver looked back, Jack wouldn't be seen.
Once his car is far enough away, Jack gets up and brushes off the dirt from his pajamas. He doesn't recognize where he is. Somewhere on the outskirts of Pittsburgh.
Why was his car all the way out here?
He gets the answer to that question when he walks into a diner on the side of the interstate and asks to borrow a phone. He's about to call Robby when the TV in the diner shows a four car collision nearby. Everyone in the diner is talking about how horrible that must be and if there were any survivors.
There is one. A man…who looks a lot like Jack.
Jack stares at the TV in disbelief as he watches the EMTs lug his doppelganger into an ambulance. He must be seeing things.
Until someone at the counter asks him, “was that your twin brother or something? You look just like him!”
“No.” Jack replies. “I have no idea who that guy is…”
He goes back to calling Robby, who is thankfully doing the mid shift today and it's still the early morning. Robby comes to pick Jack up in his car. He would've taken his bike but Jack asked for a change of clothes so the car was easier. Jack changes in the diner and then gets into Robby's car.
“You look like you've seen a ghost.” Robby takes a tissue and rubs off some dirt from Jack's face. “What kind of fucking bender were you on? You smell like gasoline.”
“Don't take me to my apartment.” Jack tells Robby, ignoring everything he just said to him. “Take me to your house.”
“Why?” Robby has never seen Jack with this kind of expression before. It's a frighteningly blank stare.
“Because I need to check something before I go home.” Jack is purposefully vague because it's not something he's proud of. “Please, Robby.”
“Alright, alright, keep your secrets.” Robby starts the car.
“I'll tell you everything once I'm sure.” Jack would sound crazy if he didn't have any proof.
He knows exactly how to get that proof, though.
When he's at Robby's, he asks to borrow Robby's laptop. Robby is still confused out of his mind but he lets Jack use it. Only after he takes a shower.
Jack rinses off the grime as best he can. He finally doesn't smell like gasoline anymore. At least not too profoundly.
“I've got to work.” Robby needs to get there by noon and it's already half past 11AM. “I assume you'll be here when I'm back?”
“Most likely.”
"You better tell me everything then.” Robby is being very serious. He is concerned about Jack.
Especially when he gets to work and…Jack is in a hospital bed in the ICU upstairs.
“He was in that four car collision this morning.” Dana fills Robby in. “Did you see it on the news? Apparently he doesn't remember anything.”
Robby doesn't say a word about the fact that Jack is literally at his house right now.
So, who the fuck is in the ICU?
That's what Jack is trying to figure out right now. He opens Robby's laptop and signs into the private server he pays for that contains all the uploads from the cameras he installed all over his apartment.
Cameras that he never told you about…
Because how was he supposed to tell you that he likes to watch you sleep while he's on the night shift?
It started innocently enough. He set up one little camera in the bedroom, pointed right at the bed. Then at work, when there was a lull in the chaos, he'd go and look. He liked seeing you sleep peacefully. He liked the way you clung to his side of the bed. He knew it was because you wished he was there with you.
It grew less innocent when he started watching you touch yourself before you went to sleep for the night. Always and only on the nights he worked.
He knew then how sexually frustrated you must've been with him. Because you always came so hard when you touched yourself. And you always said his name. You never made those faces when he was touching you, though. He has never heard you call his name out like that.
You always held back around him. You were afraid that if Jack knew how deep your desires went, he would be repulsed by you. But he wasn't repulsed at all.
It took everything in him not to react to it at work. It became something he watched when he got home. When you were at work. Somehow, he fell into the same routine you had, touching himself to you touching yourself.
It became an obsession. He started installing cameras all over the apartment. He needed to watch you all the time. There's a button under the light switch by the front door that toggles them on and off so he would turn them on when he left for work. He can also turn them on using his phone or online if he happened to forget but that would mean opening the server while in public and he couldn't risk doing that now that there were intimate videos of you on there. His routine was to check if they were on when he got to the lockers at work. He could shield himself for a second behind the locker door to check and then he would leave his phone in his locker.
Because if he had it on him, he'd be tempted to watch you.
Every day that passed, Jack wanted to tell you. He didn't like keeping a secret from you. But he was so afraid that you would be disgusted with him. He tried to stop.
But…he couldn't get rid of the cameras.
There were some days where he resisted turning on the cameras. That's as far as he got.
Then, you told him you wanted to try for a baby. You felt secure enough at your job for it and talked it through with them. Jack didn't feel the same. He didn't like that it was a startup. There was too much risk that they could go under at any second. That's why he would work so much. So that there was never a risk that you wouldn't be taken care of.
But you wanted a baby so he tried. The two of you tried for a year. It became frustrating for him because he would have unprotected sex with you before work and then you would still go and touch yourself afterwards. Like it was never enough. Like he was never enough.
When the results came back and they told him he had a very slim chance of being able to get you pregnant, he knew then that he would never be enough. You told him that it didn't matter to you. That you didn't need a baby to be happy. That you two could adopt or just be child free.
But he couldn't find it in himself to believe you. And so, he lashed out, telling you that you're saying all those things for no reason. Because you could have kids if you wanted. It was just him that couldn't.
He grew distant after that. The two of you stopped having sex altogether. You even stopped touching yourself at night.
Then, you left.
He watched you pack and leave and he didn't say a word. He didn't ask you to come back.
He didn't feel like he was worthy of you anymore.
But he couldn't divorce you. He couldn't be the one who started the paperwork.
He loves you too much to do that. As selfish as that is.
So, he waited for you to do it. But you never did. Years passed and he wondered if you would ever come home.
Today, you did.
He logs into his camera server and sees that you are there, dropping off a suitcase. You're planning on staying there for a bit. Why else would you pack such a large suitcase?
But you aren't planning to stay long.
You slept in bed for the first time in years. Jack watches you sleep live on camera…after he watched you touch yourself. It was the first time he ever got to watch it happen live. You had always done it while he was at work. But today, you thought he was in a bed at the ICU.
Not in Robby's house, staring at you through a computer screen.
You fell right to sleep once you were done, exhausted.
Jack is thankful Robby wasn't home. He hasn't cum like that in years. He goes to wash his hand, trying to wash away the shame of stroking his cock while watching you. The shame does not wash away. The desire to touch you grows unbearable.
He misses you more than anything in the world. So, he lays his head down on the table, with you sleeping on the screen, and he falls asleep watching you. Wishing he was there beside you.
He does wake up before Robby gets home. He logs out of the server then and closes the laptop. He'd rather not have to explain that part of this to Robby.
When Robby is back, he tells Jack about the other Jack.
“I saw him. I didn't go in but…he looks exactly like you. Even down to the gray streaks in your hair.” That part gave Robby chills.
“What the hell do you think he's trying to do?”
“I don't know. Steal your identity, I guess? He will be discharged tomorrow.” Robby slumps over on the table, sighing. “What are you going to do?”
“I'm unsure.” Jack has no idea what anyone would do in this situation.
“I saw your wife too.” Robby's words make Jack snap his attention to him. “I asked her how she was doing. She said she was good. She didn't think you still had her as your emergency contact. She was surprised. She had that shy look on her face. You know, the one from when she first met you.”
Jack remembers. You both met at a colleague's wedding. You knew them from an internship in college. Jack and Robby knew them from work. He kept looking over at you so you had this cute, bashful expression on your face in response. Robby made him go over and ask you to dance. You said yes. The two of you started dating after that.
You only ever got that expression when Jack did something that made you all flustered. Which means…his double had done something to get you all worked up.
That must've been why you were touching yourself…
That angers him in a way he can't comprehend. He has never been the possessive type but the feeling boiling inside of him could only be described as the need to keep you as his and his alone.
“Shit, this is crazy.” Robby knows the Jack he's sitting next to is the real Jack. Only the real Jack would know about how the two of you first met. But to think there's a man out there pretending to be Jack with amnesia…
Jack buries his hands in his hair, frustrated. “What do I do?”
“You could go home and catch the guy when he steps into your house with your wife.” Robby suggests. “Or we can call the cops.”
Jack shuts that down right away. “We know nothing about this guy. He tried to kill me. I can't risk him getting spooked. He would kill her…”
It's then that Jack finally tells Robby everything from this morning. His escape from the trunk. The smell of gasoline.
“I still find it fucking freaky that your pulse is so hard to find.”
It's sort of like a party trick for Jack. His pulse can only be read via the back of his ankle. Everywhere else, it's so faint that people would think he's dead if he was relaxed and asleep.
“He thought I was dead. He wanted to kill me to steal my life.” Jack just can't wrap his head around why Pope would put the effort into doing this. Surely, it would've been easier to create a new identity. But taking over someone's identity requires a certain kind of person.
Someone crazy enough to do it…
“Aren't you afraid he'll do something to her?” Robby doesn't know what he would do in Jack's shoes.
“Of course but if I intervene…” Jack can't take the risk that his double would hurt you.
“So, what's the game plan then?”
“Can I stay here until I figure it out?” That'll be a good start.
“Of course.” Robby knows Jack would do the same for him in a heartbeat.
“I'm just going to observe from a distance. Maybe once he establishes some kind of routine, I can figure out a way to catch him outside and away from her.”
“That might be a while.” Pope is injured, technically.
“I can't make a move until he's away from her. And I can't enter my building or the security cameras will see two mes.” And that would just start a whole fucking mess.
“This is fucked.” Robby goes to grab a beer, handing one to Jack who accepts. He cracks it open as he says, “I hope he doesn't try to become a doctor.”
“Ah fuck.” Jack realizes his license will probably get suspended because of this.
“There's no way this con goes on for long. Maybe a few months, max.”
“I'm scared, Robby.” Jack admits, knocking back his beer in one go before he tells him, “what if she finds out he's not me before I get to him? What will he do to her?”
“Don't think about that. As of right now, it's in his best interest to keep her on his side. Makes the whole thing more believable I'm sure.” Though, Robby doesn't know if his words are all that comforting…
When Robby goes to bed for the night, Jack stays up, using his laptop again. He goes back a few days to see if his cameras maybe caught Pope drugging him. But he hasn't turned them on since you left. He's keeping them on now that you're back.
He needs to watch what Pope is going to do as Jack.
So, the next day, when you bring Pope home, Jack is watching the entire time. He watches the way Pope looks at you. There's something there but Jack can't pinpoint what it is. You seem flustered by it, though. By Pope's closeness.
Jack listens to you accept to sleep beside him in bed. That makes him clench his teeth. In his mind, he's screaming that's not me and wishes you could hear him.
Then, when you do finally lay in bed with Pope, Jack watches you kiss him. He watches Pope kiss you back. A rage bubbles inside of Jack. A feeling he never knew he was capable of.
And it overflows when you tell Pope, “I love you.”
Jack knows you're not saying it to Pope. He knows you're saying it to him. But he's not there. He's not the one making you cum.
And he certainly is not going to be the one that gets you pregnant.
What is he going to do if you do get pregnant? He will have to get rid of Pope then. There's no way he can let you have some stranger's kid. Even if that stranger looks just like Jack…
Over the next few weeks, Jack observes everything that happens in the apartment. He pays very close attention to what makes you smile. Like Pope giving you gifts. Asking about your day. Doting on you like he's in love with you.
Is Pope in love with you? Jack doesn't know if that's good or bad.
It could be good because then at least Jack knows you're safe. But it could be bad because what if one day, he decides he's tired of you loving Jack and not him.
Jack's paranoia only grows. He starts stalking Pope the moment Pope starts leaving the apartment more. From a distance, he sees Pope scope out places on the edge of town. Then, a few days later, those same places will get robbed.
Jack figured Pope was a criminal but this solidifies it. So, he has to begin figuring out how to nab Pope when he's out. It's not going to be easy. Pope does not follow a set routine.
Except to buy you flowers.
It's the only thing Jack has noticed that Pope does at the same time every week. Because that's when the flowers he got the previous week will have wilted by. You love those flowers. You smile at them every time you pass by them in their decorative vase in the apartment windowsill.
You smile a lot. Jack misses it so much. Staring at you from a computer screen is nothing compared to being in your presence. Pope knows that. He's enjoying every moment he spends with you.
Every moment that should be Jack's.
For a while, Jack was secure in the fact that despite everything, you were in love with him and that's the only reason you're entertaining his double.
That is…until you catch Pope doing something Jack would never do.
And then Pope tells you who he is.
And you tell him that you love him even though he isn't Jack.
You tell him you want his baby.
You tell him that he fucks you better than Jack.
It's at that very moment that Jack knows he needs to put an end to this. Because you're his wife. Not Pope's.
Pope can play pretend all he likes but Jack is the one you made a vow to.
A vow he will be holding you to.
Jack does extensive research now that he has a name. Andrew “Pope” Cody. He was in prison for attempted armed robbery. He's part of a suspected crime family. He's mentally unstable.
All things Jack will need to know if he's going to take on Pope's identity. Now that Pope is no longer pretending to be Jack, more of his true self is coming out. Pope is showing you his true colors.
And Jack hates that you don't mind them at all.
He hates that you aren't disturbed by the aggressive possessive behavior Pope is privy to. He hates that you moan his name when he's fucking you roughly. He hates that you are so willing to call him your husband and tell him you love him.
Jack hates that he ever believed he had to suppress that side of himself. If you truly do not mind him being obsessed with you, then you'll get the Jack you've always wanted.
The Jack that is crazy enough about you to do what he is about to do.
Like kidnap Pope right as he's opening the door to his car with flowers in his hands for you. He's distracted, smiling at a text you sent him. Jack can't imagine what that text could be to make Pope smile. Pope doesn't smile easily from what Jack has seen. He must really be in love with you to let his guard down this much.
It's almost too easy for Jack to inject him with a sedative. This time, Jack makes sure it's enough to knock him out. Just in case Pope is anything like Jack and has a high tolerance.
Then, Jack lugs his body into the backseat, buckling him in. Jack's eyes go to his wedding ring. The one Pope has been wearing all these months. He rips it off his finger and puts it back on where it belongs.
And then he takes Pope to a secluded warehouse that he has set up specifically for one reason.
So he can show Pope that you were never his wife.
You will always be Jack's wife.
Pope wakes up in a dark room. It looks like a freezer. It is a freezer because it's cold in here. He's not restrained. But he's trapped.
There's a screen on the wall. Like a small TV. A tablet?
And on the screen is a man who looks just like him…
“Hello, Pope.” Jack says with a smile. “Are you surprised to see me?”
“What the fuck?” Pope must be hallucinating. Sometimes that happens.
This is all in his head…right?
“I was wondering how long it would take for you to wake up. I'm glad I got here on time. I was almost late because I was having quite a fun time with my wife.”
Pope's blood runs colder than the freezer. “What are you talking about?”
He retraces his steps. He had gone out to run errands and was just about to head home since he got the flowers you like. But he can't remember anything after that…which means he's been away from you for hours.
And Jack took his place.
“Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were the only one allowed to pretend to be someone else.” Jack looks into the camera, his expression almost like a perfect mirror of when Pope is about to kill someone. It's lethal. “I would tell you about it but it would be easier to just show you.”
So, Jack does show him. On the screen, it's you and Jack. And Jack is acting exactly like Pope would.
A carbon copy of him.
“Enjoy the show. It'll be the last thing you see before you die.” Jack leaves Pope with the footage of what happened yesterday.
When Jack took his life back.
You're texting Pope while you're at work, giggling because he just sent you a picture of the flowers he bought you. He's so sweet. You love how he always changes them out before they get a chance to fully wilt. He told you that he wants you to always be in the presence of the freshest flowers. To match your radiance.
Pope is such a romantic. You truly feel spoiled. You text him back a picture of the ring he got you, telling him that you smile every time you look at it.
But it isn't Pope who reads that text.
Jack can't believe what he is reading as he scrolls through the messages between you and Pope since Pope told you who he truly was. It's all…happy couple stuff.
You never texted Jack like this. Maybe in the beginning but you were never this…adorable. Every message you had sent Pope is so precious that Jack's heart aches knowing none of it was for him.
He has to reply to you so he does one more scroll through to make sure he types exactly the way Pope would. He tells you that he's on the way home and can't wait to see your smile when you spot your new flowers. You send him back almost instantly a bunch of heart emojis.
This is almost cruel. Perhaps it is a punishment for the years Jack spent mulling over his insecurities. To see you so happy with someone else. Especially when he looks just like Jack.
Well, now you aren't holding back. So neither will he.
Assuming the facade of someone else helps in a strange way. Jack doesn't feel the same type of pressure he did before. Because he's not Jack.
He's Pope. And Pope can be romantic and possessive and aggressive with his affection without any of the baggage that you and Jack have.
A different kind of freedom.
That's why when you get home, Jack comes up to you and immediately hugs you, lifting you into the air a little. You chuckle so beautifully, resting your hands on his shoulders.
“Do you want your kiss now or when you're back on the ground?” He swings you around, making you laugh hard. What a beautiful sound.
“Now, please.” You lean in, kissing him.
Jack tries not to react to how soft your lips feel against his after all these years apart. He has to pretend that he's been kissing you like this for months. But he wants more than just the greeting kiss you and Pope do.
So, he takes it.
You're surprised when he leans more into the kiss, slipping his tongue into your mouth. He slowly backs you up against the door, still lifting you off your feet. Maybe that's why you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in closer. He slides his hands down, holding you up by your ass. He starts to grind his hips against yours, letting you feel how hard he is already and you moan against his lips. You find yourself wanting more but you just got off work…
“I should take a shower.” You breathe out, every breath coming out so heavy. “I've been at work all day.”
“We've fucked like this before.” Jack knows you have with Pope. He's seen it in the cameras. This isn't the first time you've experienced this.
“Someone's being greedy.” You nuzzle his nose playfully. “We can fuck after I wash up. Deal?”
“Fine.” He drops you gently so you can get back on your feet. “But you're coming out without any clothes on. I want to see my beautiful wife in bed, sprawled out naked for me.”
“Andrew…” You get that look on your face, all shy and flustered.
Jack hides how irritated he is that you said his name like that but his poker face is good. He practiced it extensively. “The longer you make me wait, the meaner I'll be to you later.”
You can't hide how giddy you are. You love when Pope gets into these more intense moods. Where he just wants to remind you that you're his.
You hurry into the bathroom, stripping off your work clothes and taking a shower. You have to stop yourself from touching yourself to the thought of what's about to happen. You love the anticipation so much.
Meanwhile, Jack is looking through the drawers. He knows you have something that Pope doesn't know about. You hid it a while ago, when you moved your stuff back into the apartment.
Jack finds it where you keep your scarves. It's warm right now so Pope wouldn't have thought to organize in here. No need for him to fuss with your scarves when you won't be wearing them. But Jack knows you well. You've hidden stuff before like this.
Like your favorite vibrator.
Jack holds it in his hands, having watched you fuck yourself with this toy over and over again as you screamed his name. All while he was at work. And you had no idea he knew this whole time what you were doing.
He's going to watch you do it live this time. No cameras. He wants to see you unravel right before his eyes.
By the time you're all refreshed and out of the shower, you notice that Pope isn't in the bedroom. You were expecting him to be waiting for you. Does he want you to just lay there and wait for him?
You feel the tension coiling in your stomach. You know he has something planned for you and you're dripping wet just trying to guess what it could be.
You climb onto the bed, laying exactly how he asked you to. It's strangely reminiscent of all the times you've touched yourself on this bed. Usually when Jack was at work.
Maybe that's why you can't resist dipping your hand between your legs, rubbing your clit a little while you wait.
“And I thought I was the impatient one.” Jack catches you with your hand between your legs.
“Sorry…” You couldn't help yourself. You've been thinking about him all day.
“That isn't what you should be saying sorry for.”
You snap your head over to look at Jack, who has your vibrator in his hand. Heat rushes through every inch of your skin. You've really been caught now…
“Am I not enough for you?” Jack climbs into bed, asking the questions he wishes he could've asked you as himself. But he'll settle for using Pope to get the answers. “How often do you fuck yourself without me knowing?”
“Never!” You haven't used it since…that first night before Pope was discharged from the hospital.
“I don't believe you.” Jack knows you haven't used it. But you're squirming at him believing you have, so he presses you more, “I bet you've been fucking yourself when you're home alone.”
“No, I haven't, I swear.” You can't tell if he's actually angry with you or not. His harsh glare is making your whole body tingle.
“Then why do you have this?” Jack needs to know.
You swallow, your throat suddenly so dry. Then, you confess, “I've had it for years now.”
“Oh?” He feigns like he doesn't know that. “So you had it when you were still living here with him?”
You nod, embarrassed. It's not a purchase you're all that proud of. That's why you hid it from Jack. You didn't want him to feel any lesser because you couldn't curb your libido.
“Was he really that bad of a fuck?” Jack is hoping you don't break his heart right here. Like when you told Pope he fucks you better than Jack does.
“No.” You answer way too quickly. You're unsure how to answer. You don't know if you should be honest or not. “I mean…”
“You can tell me.” Jack gives you that soft voice Pope puts on when he wants something.
It seems to comfort you so you tell him, “I loved having sex with Jack. Maybe a little…too much…because I felt so needy. Like I always wanted to cum more but I didn't want to ask for it so I bought that so I could do it myself and not have to bother him.”
“Would it have bothered him?” Jack knows that answer. It wouldn't have. He would've made you cum lots if that's what you wanted. But you always said you were all good.
You were being considerate to your own detriment.
“I don't know…” You have been very open with Pope about how much you like having sex and he has been very eager to satisfy you. Maybe Jack would've been too, if you weren't so scared of being a bother and asked for it.
“It doesn't bother me how needy you can be.” Jack climbs up onto the bed, settling between your legs. He hands you the vibrator then says, “I want to see how needy my wife is. Make yourself cum.”
You've never done this before. When you masturbate, it's incredibly private because…you get wrapped up in it. You've cum hard screaming Jack's name, wishing he was the one pounding you and not your hand thrusting the vibrator inside of you.
But you should've known this was something Pope would want to see. He likes seeing you depraved and full of desire.
“I'm not wet enough yet.” You usually have to cum once before the vibrator can slide in easily.
“Then make yourself wet.” Jack lays there, staring up at you between your legs. “I'm waiting.”
You're going to go crazy. You dip your hand back between your legs, letting Jack watch you rub your clit. His eyes are locked on the way you're so delicate with it.
You're hiding how you truly touch yourself. Jack has seen the relentless way you'd rub yourself until you couldn't breathe then you'd pound yourself with your vibrator. You were never gentle with yourself.
You're putting up a facade for him. A show.
He doesn't like that. “Don't pretend. Show me how you actually touch yourself. You won't cum any time soon if you keep touching yourself like that.”
You bite your lip, nervous about showing him. You know Pope wouldn't care. He knows you like it rougher. But you feel anxious about being that exposed. Showing that much of yourself.
Of your true self…
His gaze is burning a hole into you, churning your stomach in that nervous but exciting way. You start rubbing your clit harder, the way you need to in order to cum.
You cum harder than you ever have touching yourself because he's watching. You're gasping for air, looking down at how wet your hand is.
“You know what to do next.” Jack points to the vibrator you're clutching onto in your other hand. “Let me see my beautiful wife make a mess of herself.”
It kills Jack inside a little seeing how happy you look when he says that. You're flustered and shy but you're also thrilled and you feel wanted and loved. Something he should've done for you a long time ago. He won't make that mistake again.
He'll never let you feel unloved.
So he doesn't hide how attracted he is to you when he watches you slip the vibrator inside with ease. He licks his lips. He shows you his desire for you.
That's why you don't put on a show this time. You start thrusting into yourself roughly, just like you used to. Your orgasm builds and you find yourself thinking of Jack, like you used to. This is all too reminiscent.
It's like he caught you because he asks, “what did you think about when you touched yourself back then?”
You don't think you should admit to Pope how you thought of Jack doing the things Pope has been doing to you. But you know he won't take silence for an answer so you tell him, “about how good it feels to be fucked.”
“Is that all?” Jack wants you to say it. To confess to what you really do.
“I shouldn't—” You squirm when Jack grabs a hold of your hand, wrapping his around yours and hitting the button to turn on the vibration. “Wait, Andrew—”
You don't normally turn it on this early. You usually wait until you've cum once or twice.
“Tell me.” Jack moves your hand for you, driving the toy deeper than you would yourself. He's more forceful with you than you are to yourself. It feels incredible in a scary kind of way…
“I can't.” You shake your head, your orgasm building too quickly all of a sudden. “You'll get—”
“I'm already angry at you for holding back.” Jack sends chills through you with his words. “Don't piss me off more.”
He pulls your hand off of the vibrator and takes over, thrusting it into you at a speed you could never. Pushing it up against all the spots inside of you that drive you wild.
“Slow down!” You're going to burst if he keeps this up. “Please—”
“Say it.” Jack tells you in that demanding tone that Pope uses. “Say “I thought about my husband Jack fucking me while I touched myself.””
“I thought about my husband Jack fucking me while I—” You can't finish your sentence because you're cumming so hard that your breath is caught in your throat.
And he's not letting you breathe.
Jack presses down on the button again, increasing the vibration, so that he can pound into you with it, causing your body to convulse. You're sent right over the edge again, your eyes glazing over from the pleasure.
He pulls you upright by your throat with his free hand and says, all low and frightening, “watch how hard you cum thinking about him even though I'm the one making you cum.”
Your eyes glance down, seeing the way Jack is fucking you with the toy, the vibration hitting you so deep inside that you can't hold it in anymore. You squirt uncontrollably, soaking the sheets beneath you and in front of Jack. It doesn't stop. He won't let you take a break.
“Scream his name.” Jack sounds so menacing that he can't believe he's the one saying this. “I know you want to.”
You listen without a second thought, screaming over and over again, “Jack!”
Just like you used to. You fall right back into the rhythm, cumming hard, imagining it's Jack doing this to you.
Little do you know, it is him.
Jack tugs the toy out of you with a pop then presses the tip down against your swollen clit, letting the vibrations send you into a frenzy. His eyes drift down, to the way your pussy begging to be fucked as you cum and clench around nothing.
“I can't believe my wife is thinking about another man while in bed with me.” He shakes his head at you, shutting off the vibrator. “I'll have to remind you exactly who your husband is.”
He flips you over then, pulling your ass up towards him. You grip onto the sheets below you as three of his fingers easily slip inside of you. You moan into your pillow when he curls them right where you like it.
But it doesn't last as long as you think.
He pulls his fingers out of your pussy and then suddenly, you feel him pushing against your ass.
“Wait, wait!” You put your hand back, trying to stop him. “We haven't—”
“Jack hasn't touched you here?” That's a lie. Jack definitely has.
So why are you pretending?
It's because you don't know what Pope will do to you. There have been moments where you had an inkling he would want to play with your ass but you haven't let him yet.
Because the few times you've done it with Jack, you came way too hard and were way too embarrassed by how much you liked it.
Jack remembers. You never let him do it again. But he always wanted to do it again because he knew how good it makes you feel.
“H-He has but…” You're trembling.
Jack hates how much he loves how nervous you are. His depravity is leaking out. He has been so good at keeping his desires at bay.
But he needs you to remember who you belong to.
“Did you hate it?” Jack drags his finger along the sensitive ring. “Or did you love it?”
He pushes in a finger and you moan, giving him the answer he was looking for. He slips his other hand lower, so he can play with your clit while he works his way into your ass. You're biting into your pillow, the sensations compounding in an unbelievable way.
You cum when he fits two fingers in, spreading you open. The pressure is so intense that you're gasping for air. It feels like you're being split in two.
“Focus.” He brings your attention to his fingers swirling around your clit. “Let it feel good.”
It does feel good. It disturbs you how good it feels. That's why you have to bite back a whine when he pulls his fingers out. You can't believe you miss the feeling already.
Then, you're squirming when you feel Jack drag your vibrator up and down your pussy, covering it in your slick, before pushing the silicone tip into your ass. It slips in, like it has before.
“I figured you must've used it here too.” Jack knew because he watched you on occasion play with your ass. You rarely did it. Only on the nights after he would.
“Don't turn it on.” You beg. You don't know if you could feel normal again if you felt vibrations this deep. “Please.”
“I won't.” Jack lies too easily. “I would never do anything you wouldn't enjoy.”
He can't believe the sight in front of him once the vibrator hilts. You're dripping like a faucet down your thighs. Your ass is full but your pussy is so empty. You don't know what would happen if it was filled too…
“Hold steady.” Jack instructs as he gets up from the bed. “Don't move an inch.”
He goes to wash his hands, since he will not risk you getting an infection. Then, he pulls off his clothes, tossing them into the hamper. His cock is harder than it has ever been.
He gives it a few strokes to calm himself and heads back out.
Only to see you with your fingers buried inside of your pussy. You couldn't wait anymore. You wanted to be filled on both ends.
Jack comes up and yanks your fingers out of you, gripping your wrist hard. “My wife is very impatient today.”
“I need your cock, please.” You're not hiding your need anymore. “I want to cum on your cock.”
“You don't get to. Not until I've punished you for touching yourself without me.” This is everything Jack has ever wanted to do. It's all his desires wrapped up in a beautiful package.
His need to mess you up and make you all his.
You scream into your pillow when he thrusts three of his fingers into your pussy at the same time as he turns on the vibrator. He purposefully curls his fingers where he can feel the vibrations, teasing you on both ends. Your pussy tightens up so much around his fingers. He knows his cock will enjoy this once he's inside of you.
But first, he needs to ruin you.
You cry out, tears streaming down your face, when your orgasm hits and it's unbelievably intense. You're tensing up all over and that only drives you over the edge again because it amplifies the vibrations that are shooting through your core.
Jack pulls his fingers out and then lines up his cock. You bite down on your pillow to muffle your moans when he's finally inside of you, his cock stretching you out. The toy in your ass and his cock buried in your pussy has you feeling so full.
You cum when Jack says, “I knew you'd like having both of your holes fucked.”
That's why he starts a rhythm. He pulls his cock out as he pushes the vibrator deeper into your ass and then when he slams his cock back inside of you, he pulls the vibrator out. This push and pull has you drooling and shivering all over. You're clawing at the sheets, unable to hold yourself steady otherwise.
Jack can't last much longer. He hasn't been inside of you in years. It's better than ever. Especially now that you're letting yourself go to the very edge and topple over.
He leans forward, pressing his weight on top of you, forcing himself deeper than before. You're lost in the pleasure of it all, of being held down like this, of having every part you used.
You want him to cum. You want to feel the warmth of it. But, all of a sudden, he isn't moving anymore. He slows his strokes and then pulls out the vibrator, leaving you feeling empty. He keeps himself buried inside of your pussy though, so you aren't too hollow.
His question catches you off guard, “do you still love Jack?”
You don't know why Pope is asking you this. But he's not going to cum until you answer.
“What are you going to do to me if I say yes?” You can't answer unless you know he won't leave you if you still love Jack.
Because of course you do. Jack will always be the man you married.
“If you still love him, I'm going to let you pretend I'm him.” Jack resumes his slow strokes. You weren't prepared for him to start moving all of a sudden. So gently… “But if you don't, then I'm going to enjoy you being all mine.”
You bite your lip, not knowing what to do. Because you won't lie and say you don't miss Jack. You miss him everyday. You hate that he's dead.
So, the idea of Pope letting you use him as Jack for just a moment…
“I do still love Jack.” You admit to him. “I will always love him.”
Jack pulls out of you then and you pretend not to feel hurt by it. But then, he lays you on your back and slides right back in, needing to look at you. Needing to know what you look like when you're saying those words.
“You still love me?” For this moment, he gets to be himself.
You reach up, caressing his face, nodding. “I love you so much.”
He leans down, kissing you. You moan against his lips from how gentle his movements are, filling you up just like Jack used to. It really does feel like you're back in Jack's arms.
Because you are. But you don't know that yet.
And maybe he won't tell you. Because he's unsure if he wants to risk you learning what he has done and falling out of love with him.
At least right now, you still love the memory of him. And that's enough.
“I love you.” He tells you, kissing you all over as both of your orgasms build slowly. “I've missed you.”
You know Pope is just role-playing but…it feels so real. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him close, wanting to feel his body pressed against yours.
“I think of you everyday.” You confess, not wanting to hold that in anymore.
“You can say his name.” Jack wants you to say his name.
You swallow, then nod. “I miss you all the time, Jack.”
The way he kisses you is full of love and affection. He rolls his hips against yours and you meet him half way. You haven't made love like this in a while. It is a different kind of satisfying.
So when he cums inside of you and you cum from the feeling of it, you kiss him with all of your heart and then say, “thank you for letting me do that.”
If only Jack could tell you that it was more for him than it ever was going to be for you.
“Anything for my wife.” He leans down, nuzzling your nose, making you giggle. “You're so precious to me.”
You snuggle up against his chest when he gets settled on his side, breathing in deeply. He smells a lot like Jack today.
How strange.
You both cuddle until your stomach grumbles since you haven't eaten dinner yet. Jack chuckles, picking you up and taking you to the bathroom to wash up so the two of you can have dinner.
“What do you want to eat?” You and Pope have your usual places now but he always lets you pick. Today, you want him to pick.
“Maybe that Chinese place nearby.” That restaurant always makes food fast.
“I think we're out of drinks. We can stop by the corner store too.”
“Sure.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek. “Now go get dressed before I want to have a taste of you for dinner instead.”
You brush him off, smiling so wide that your cheeks hurt. You've been smiling so much lately. A part of you feels guilty about enjoying your time with Pope. You know he's a criminal. He confessed everything he has ever done to you. He gave you plenty of outs.
But you couldn't let him go. As fucked up as he is, you can't help but love him. It helps a lot that he has Jack's face. Though, sometimes you see too much of Jack in him.
Like right now, when you're at the corner store and he's staring at the beers in the fridge. He has a similar look on his face that Jack would get when he's thinking too hard. It happens a lot during tax season, him mulling over the forms.
“Are you going to try something new?” If you've learned anything about Pope, it's that he rarely strays from what he's used to.
“I don't know if I should drink.” Jack has seen the beer that Pope gets. He doesn't like it. He tried it, just so he was aware of it for this but it wasn't for him. He knows if he picks it but looks strange while drinking it, you'll get suspicious.
“Are you feeling okay?” You put your hand on his forehead.
“I'm fine.” He pulls your hand off of him but kisses your ring before he lets go. He knows that's what Pope would do.
You smile so brightly at him. “Well, you don't have to get a beer. Grab a soda or something."
That, Jack can manage. From what he saw, Pope doesn't usually drink soft drinks. But who can say no to a lemon-lime soda? So that's what Jack picks out and you don't bat an eyelash at it.
You do find it a little strange when he hands you the bag of drinks to carry once he grabs the takeout at the restaurant. Usually Pope carries everything for you.
But you feel a bit selfish for expecting that of him all the time. It's a nice gesture when it happens. You don't mind carrying some stuff every now and then.
Jack catches the curious look on your face. He must've done something out of the ordinary for Pope. Jack scours his brain for what that could be.
Then, he gets it. “I didn't mean for you to carry those this far. I was going to grab them.”
Jack takes the bag of drinks from you. You look up at him, asking, “are you okay?”
“Sorry.” Jack needs to make a good excuse. Thankfully he has one. “I keep thinking about earlier.”
“Oh.” You chew on the inside of your cheek. “Andrew, I—”
“It's okay.” Jack tries to reassure you the way Pope would when you feel a bit insecure. “You loved him and I killed him. It was the least I could do for you.”
“But it's bothering you…” You don't want your relationship with Pope to get strained because you miss Jack.
“It would be worse if it didn't bother you.” Jack says truthfully. “It's good that you still love him. Means you'd still love me if anything were to happen. I hope.”
“Andrew, of course I'd love you.” You haven't felt this way for anyone else but Jack. He will be a part of you forever. “Even if you stopped loving me.”
“I would never.” He responds in that curt way Pope would.
“I know.” You lean up to kiss him on the cheek. “I'm lucky to be loved by someone who loves me too.”
Jack knew Pope wasn't pretending to be in love with you but this really proves it. You feel Pope's love for you on the same level as you feel Jack's.
You love them both so much.
It's going to take Jack a long time to win your heart back fully. There's a chance he might never. It would be harder if he has to keep up this facade.
But how else is he going to keep you?
He can't possibly tell you now that he's been pretending to be Pope.
While Pope's grand reveal to you didn't end in disaster, Jack is almost certain this one will. Because his paranoia is getting to him.
So, he decides he'll stay as Pope for a while longer. Just until he can figure out the best way to tell you the truth.
Or whenever you find out and it all blows up in his face…
It's freezing in here. Pope has been watching the video of you and Jack having sex on loop. It's not like he can turn it off.
It's like a messed up kind of torture.
Jack expects him to die in this freezer. He might if he can't figure out a way to break out of it. There aren't any tools available, obviously. All he has on him is the clothes he was wearing when he got abducted. Jack took his wallet.
Technically it was Jack's wallet…
The sound of you cumming while screaming Jack's name is pissing Pope off. Not because you're making him angry. You could never make him angry. But because Jack did this on purpose. He wanted Pope's final moments to be wallowing in despair.
Pope is going to fucking murder Jack when he gets out of here. Because he will get out of here.
It'll just take every skill he has developed throughout the years to do it.
And then Jack will wish he died that night…
Being as paranoid as Jack is, it didn't slip his mind that there was the slimmest possibility that Pope could escape. The robberies Jack had witnessed him do were incredibly well executed. He could, theoretically, figure out how to get out of that freezer.
That's why Jack made sure that if he did get out, he would be very far away. He locked Pope up in the middle of nowhere.
It will take him a while to orient himself if he did get out. But Jack doubts he will make it back here anytime soon.
He debated putting a camera in there but he didn't want to risk hooking electricity up in the freezer itself. The tablet he installed in there to play the video on loop will die eventually and then the whole thing would be wiped, leaving no trace. Probably whenever Pope dies.
Plus, Jack doesn't like to watch anyone except for you.
His beautiful wife who he is spooning right now, fast asleep.
Jack slips his hand downwards, spreading your legs open enough for his fingers to graze your clit. You mumble a little in your sleep in reaction. You've grown an interesting habit since Jack has been gone.
You sleep in just his shirt and no underwear. It makes it easy for Jack to play with your clit while you're asleep. You stir a little but don't wake up.
He really loves watching you sleep. He also loves watching you cum. So getting to experience both at the same time satisfies a craving he knows he should not have.
But it gets him rock hard imagining fucking you while you're asleep like this. He wants to see your shocked face when you realize he's inside of you.
So, Jack adjusts you until he can line his cock up at your entrance. You're wet enough to take him. He definitely broke you in before the two of you went to bed tonight, fucking you to his heart's content. Jack can't get enough of you now that he has you back. He can't control the lust he has built up over these few years apart.
The way you squirm in your sleep when he slips his cock inside of you slowly satisfies something fucked up in his mind. He loves how defenseless you are. How easily you take him without even realizing it. How he had always wished he could come home from work and just slide right into you while you slept.
Jack lays his forehead against the back of your neck, taking in heavy breaths when he realizes how dark his desires go. Do they go any further?
He reaches up, laying his hand over your neck. You never let him do this. He never let himself try. He was always afraid you'd find it too scary.
But you're asleep right now. You wouldn't be able to stop him.
And he's not Jack. So, why does he care if Pope is the one who frightens you?
He has one hand wrapped around your throat and the other playing with your clit as he starts to roll his hips, fucking you gently so you don't wake up right away. You're letting out cute, airy breaths at his touches.
Breaths that get caught in your throat the moment Jack chokes you.
You wake up in a jolt and Jack groans at how tight your pussy clenches around his cock when your body reacts to what's happening. You can't ask what's going on because you can't make a sound.
You don't need to ask because Jack whispers into your ear, sending chills all over you, “this is your punishment. You need to be reminded that your body belongs to me and I can use you whenever I want to.”
It's incredible how easily you cum from the sound of his voice saying those words. Your body is convulsing so much that Jack has to press his hand against your lower stomach, holding you to him to steady your erratic movements.
But they only get more crazed when he tells you, “could you imagine if you woke up one morning pregnant because I've been fucking you in your sleep?”
You turn your head back to look at him and Jack wants to memorize how absolutely breathtaking you look with all that need in your eyes. You'd want that. You'd want him to use you.
Since you can't use your words, you simply close your eyes, pretending you've fallen back asleep. Jack smiles a wicked smile when you do that, thankful you can't see how insane you make him feel.
You are truly the love of his life.
Jack wraps his arm around your middle, bracing you against him as he pounds into you from behind. He loves how he can feel your breath getting choked up beneath his palm. You want to moan so badly but you physically can't. You're supposed to be asleep, after all.
You cum instead, your orgasm shooting through you in waves that only increase in intensity the harder he squeezes your throat. That's when he cums, filling you up with that warmth that feels oddly familiar. Because the way he rolls his hips reminds you a lot of how Jack always steadied himself slowly, as to not overwhelm you.
You open your eyes then, turning back to look at him. His hand lifts off your throat at the same time you place your hand on his, feeling for a pulse that isn't there.
You had forgotten that fun fact about Jack and yet you remember now. Because you know that Pope has one. You've felt it before. You should've known then that he wasn't Jack.
Just like you know now that this is Jack.
“Jack? Is it really you?” You pull yourself off of him so you can flip around, to look at him. “Or is this…some kind of…weird dream?”
You clutch your head, worried you might be going crazy.
But then Jack leans in and kisses you. You're not prepared to feel him kiss you with so much fear laced in every movement. Like he's worried this might be the last time he'll get to kiss you.
It reminds you of when you kissed Pope that first night. How you went in and hoped he wouldn't push you away. Because you were so scared Jack would, even subconsciously with no memory, push you away.
But right now, he is clinging onto you with all of his might, afraid he's going to lose you forever.
You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him towards you, reassuring him that you won't go anywhere. You kiss him with all the love you've held in your heart.
“I'm sorry.” He whispers against your lips, swallowing nervously. “I…I have a lot to apologize for.”
There's so many questions that swirl in your head. But you can only think of one that you have to ask right away.
“Where's Andrew?” You're nervous to hear his answer.
“I left him in a freezer.” Jack is brutally honest. “He tried to kill me so…”
“But that was three months ago.” You trace along the lines of his face that feel new, like he has more wrinkles now because of stress. “Where have you been all this time?”
“At Robby's.” Jack is trembling. He wasn't prepared to tell you everything this soon. He wasn't prepared to tell you ever.
But he should've known you'd figure it out sooner rather than later.
“Did you…know about Andrew?” Now you're the one who's trembling. “I-I'm sorry, I thought he was you and—”
“It's okay.” Jack doesn't want you to be afraid of him right now. He's not going to lash out about you and Pope. “You didn't know.”
“But…I did know.” You sigh against his chest. “He told me recently. And I…I stayed with him.”
“I know.” He finally tells you the whole truth. “I've been watching the two of you this whole time.”
“What?” You're so confused. “What do you mean?”
Jack goes to grab his phone and he quickly logs onto his private server. He hands you his phone, then scrolls down to a folder he titled “Favorites” before clicking it.
You can't hold in your shocked gasp when you see rows and rows of videos of you. Not just you sprawled out on the bed touching yourself, but of you walking around the apartment, humming to yourself. There are some of you watching TV and laughing. There's a lot of you and Jack, on those rare nights he's off, cuddling and talking.
“When did you…” You look around the room, at where the cameras must be hidden.
“A long time.” Jack can't even recall how long ago. Maybe when the two of you moved into this apartment. “I just wanted to watch you sleep while I was at work. To know you were safe. Then it…grew to more than just that.”
The sheer amount of footage seems to go on endlessly as you scroll and scroll and scroll. All this time, you thought Jack didn't love you anymore or that he just didn't care for you anymore. But he has been harboring an obsession with you.
“I'm sorry.” He doesn't know what else to say. What is there to say? He's fucked up for doing this and he knows that.
“So you…knew about what I'd do while you were at work?” You feel so embarrassed now. That whole time, Jack knew you were hiding your desires from him. He couldn't say a word about them. He knew you weren't showing all of yourself to him.
“I did. And I liked it.” His hand drifts down the length of your arm, resting his hand on your hip. “I liked watching you fuck yourself with your toy. I liked hearing you say my name. I liked all of it so much. But I could never tell you…”
You stare at his phone in your hand. Then, you click on a video of you. There are little marks on the video, so you drag your finger across the screen until you reach that timestamp. Every mark is a comment Jack made.
God, she's so beautiful.
I wish I could touch her right now.
This is my favorite part.
You watch yourself cum on screen and then you say, “I wish he was here.” Then, you pull the toy out of yourself, curling inwards, sighing. You look over at Jack's side of the bed and then you drag yourself over to it, taking in a deep breath. Because the sheets always smelled like him.
That video was one of those days where you missed him so much you just fell asleep right after, clinging to his side of the bed. You always woke up before he came home to change the sheets out and hide the evidence. Though, now you're realizing you never had to do any of that. You had nothing to hide. He knew the whole time what you were doing.
You have no idea how to react to any of this. It's all so…overwhelming.
“Do you hate me?” Jack moves his hand off of you, scared that look on your face is one of disgust.
“No.” You don't hate him. But you're confused. So confused. “It just makes no sense. If you love me this much, why did you let me leave?”
“Because I couldn't ask you to stay. If I did, I would be subjecting you to my sick fucking need to watch you because I knew I wouldn't stop. So, I gave you an out.” He wanted you to be free of him. You deserved a normal lover. Not…whatever the fuck he is.
“So yesterday…” You were fucking Jack. Actually him, not Pope letting you pretend he's Jack. “When you asked me…”
“I did that for myself.” Jack admits how selfish he was. “I just…I had to know if you still loved me. I understand if you don't anymore.”
It would kill him. He will have wished he had just let Pope kill him. But it would be your right to hate him for this.
But you don't hate him.
Just like how you didn't hate Pope for killing Jack. You should've.
But you would rather be loved by him in this fucked up kind of way than lose him entirely.
Which means…you can't lose Pope either.
“Jack, I will love you forever if you take me to Andrew.” You look him right in the eyes when you tell him. “I love him too. I can't let you kill him. If you do…I don't think I could forgive you, knowing I could've saved him. Because I would've saved you if I knew.”
Jack should let Pope die. He should let him die so that there's no other person in the world that has your heart. But then he would lose your love.
And that is not worth losing ever again.
“We can go now.” Jack is sure Pope is still alive.
“I should…clean up a little first.” You've been having this whole conversation with his cum leaking out of you…
“Would you hate me if I said I wished you would show up to see him with my cum inside of you?” Jack lets out his depraved thoughts and…you have that shy expression on your face that he loves so much.
“Jack…” You have never heard him so possessive before.
He reaches forward, sliding his hand down your stomach. Your breath catches in your throat when he slips between your legs and his fingers dip inside of you. You grab a hold of his shoulders, bracing yourself for the orgasm that will inevitably follow him curling his fingertips against that spot you like so much.
“If you want him too, then you'll have to deal with me reminding you that you're mine.” Jack isn't going to be second place in your heart. He'll fight for that top spot from now on. “You're my wife.”
You have dreamed of hearing him want you. You have never felt so loved before. Even if it's a messed up kind of loving…
But Jack knows everything about you that you've tried to keep hidden and loves you anyways. He loves you even though you love Pope too.
You tug him towards you, smashing your lips against his, kissing him the way you have always wanted to kiss him. With desperation and need and all the pent up yearning you've harbored for all these years missing him. He gets on top of you, his mouth never leaving yours, his fingers thrusting at a pace that has you even more breathless than his kisses.
The moment you cum, Jack pulls his fingers out of you and then you feel him sink his cock back inside of you. He's already hard again. So much relief washes over him when he feels you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him closer to you.
“I love you so much.” He says, kissing down your jaw to your neck, nipping at your skin. “I never should've let you go.”
“I love you too.” You wrap your arms around him, holding him close to you. “I'm glad you're alive.”
“Me too.” Jack won't pretend that he hasn't thought about jumping off the roof at work.
But right now, he is so glad to be alive. To see the lovely look on your face when he cums inside of you again. He loves how your body shivers when he rubs your clit until you cum around his cock. He doesn't slip out of you until you cum again.
He knows now what you like and you're letting him see how much you enjoy being touched. He thinks you're the most beautiful person in the world.
You love him, all of him. For that, he will always be grateful.
So, he will do this one favor for you. He will let you love Pope too.
Until the day he dies…
A/N: Even though I left this off a little ambiguous, I promise there is a final part to this! I'm unsure when exactly I'll be done with it so in the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this follow up! I'm sure a lot of people were expecting me to continue this on with a focus on Pope but I could not resist bringing Jack back in a crazy kind of way. I really loved writing him pretending to be Pope ♡
Pairing: Andrew "Pope" Cody x Reader (mentions of Jack Abbot x Reader, obviously!)
Summary: A new name. A new set of rules. But the same old bad habit of getting attached too quickly to the first person that gives him any sort of affection.
It's been several days since Andrew “Pope” Cody assumed the identity of Jack Abbot after a staged accident. So far, no one has noticed. Not even you, Jack's estranged wife.
Or, well, maybe you just don't want to admit it. That your husband seems different compared to the last time you saw him. That he's more particular than he ever was before. That he's rougher around the edges. You attribute it to the accident that caused slight amnesia. Jack hasn't been the same since.
And you're starting to wonder if that's okay…
Word Count: 12.6k
A/N: I just finished Animal Kingdom so I had to write this. I tried my best to avoid spoiling the show because I think it's worth the watch. You technically don't need to have watched the show to read this. I make some subtle references so people who have watched the show will catch those but this fic can be read without any knowledge of it! Same goes for people who have never watched The Pitt. The only thing that's relevant about that is that Jack is a doctor lmao…that's kind of all I use from his character. Of course, because of the “accident”, Jack isn't currently working at The Pitt so this will be its own divergence from the canon. It's pre-prosthetic as well, since it would be crazy for Pope to cut off his own leg for this bit (though is it really that crazy?). Not like any of this matters. This is fanfiction, after all.
I would warn that this does contain dubious consent because technically you aren't able to fully consent since Pope's pretending to be Jack and there's no telling if you would've consented had you known. I would also consider this a dark romance mainly because you're both lying to the other.
For the full list of warnings, please check the fic on my AO3. Or go in blind. That's up to you!
I'll be honest, this is mostly porn, very little plot. Hope it's a fun read ♡
The first time Pope sees you, he's laying in a hospital bed and you're talking with his nurse outside his door. He has no idea who you are but you must be important to the guy whose identity he's stealing. They wouldn't have let you in the ICU if you weren't on file.
When you enter the room, you shut the door behind you then say, “it's bright in here. Do you want me to shut off some of the lights?”
“Sure.” He would like that, though he doesn't mind either way.
You shut off every light except the ones directly above him. You hover there at the light switch for a little, taking in a deep breath. It's been a long time since you've seen Jack. A few years at least.
He's all cut up from the accident. Four car collision. He's lucky to be alive.
Even if he can't remember anything.
Like why you're not living with him…
“Do you remember me? The nurse said you have amnesia.” You try to be polite about it because you don't want him to feel bad for not remembering.
Pope shakes his head. “I don't even remember where I live.”
“I'll show you once you're discharged.” You tell him. “And I'll stick around until you're back on your feet.”
“Who are you to me?” He asks and he can tell you're nervous about answering.
“I…” You swallow the lump in your throat. “I'm your wife.”
“Oh.” In the few weeks Pope scouted Jack Abbot, he never heard him mention a wife. He isn't wearing a ring right now.
Neither are you.
“You're not wearing a ring.” He points out.
You pull on the chain around your neck, showing him the ring that dangles at the end. “I don't wear it on my finger.”
“Why?” His question makes you more anxious.
“It's not important.” You lie because you don't want him to remember if he doesn't need to. “I'm here now.”
“Did I do something to you?” Pope doesn't like the way you look at him. It's not with fear. It's like anguish…
You shake your head. “It's nothing you did. It's complicated. We're not living together.”
“Do you hate me?”
“No.” You reply quicker than you should've. Because that's the truth.
“Am I hard to live with?” He needs to know more about the man whose life he's taking over.
“You were never home.” You hate how bitter you sound.
“I'm sorry.” That's all Pope can say.
You sit down next to him in bed, reaching out to touch his face. “Don't say sorry for something you can't remember.”
It startles you when he leans into your touch. Jack has never been all that affectionate. Not like this, at least.
Pope kisses your palm. “Your hand is soft.”
You should pull away. But you don't. He notices the way you don't stop him from kissing down to your wrist.
Your heart is hammering in your chest for some reason. That's when you pull away, when you can hear your heartbeat in your ears.
“I-I have to go pack some things. I'll come back when you're discharged.” You get up then and leave without saying another word.
When you're in your car, you grip onto the steering wheel, your heart still racing.
What was that?
Jack has never looked at you like that before. With desire in his eyes.
You shake it off. Maybe it's because he doesn't remember anything. He doesn't have any recollection of the fights the two of you have had. He has no bad memories of you.
Pope only sees you as a beautiful woman who happens to be his wife. He didn't think you'd touch him so easily. He was surprised that you let him kiss your hand.
Will you let him do more than that?
He'll get the answer to that question when you're walking with him out of the hospital. He has a broken rib and some scrapes but other than that, he's fine.
“Did talking to the doctor help you remember anything?” You ask him when you get to your car.
“I can drive.” He tells you, putting his hand out for the keys.
“It's alright.” You unlock the car yourself. “You should rest.”
Pope feels strange being the passenger but he can't refute so he sits down. You start the car and then ask him again, “do you remember anything?”
He shakes his head. “I remember how to do things like drive but not memories.”
“What about work?” That would be important for him to remember. You don't know what'll happen if he can't remember how to do medical work.
“They told me I'm a doctor. I don't remember anything about that.” Which is the truth, because Pope is definitely not a doctor…
“Maybe you will with time.” You try to be optimistic.
Too bad he knows that will never happen. He won't remember his work or anything about you. He has to learn it all fresh.
“Will you tell me why we don't live together?” Pope turns to look at you.
You feel a little flushed at how he's staring at you, like he's demanding to know with just his gaze. “Um…well…”
“Did I cheat on you?” He would feel less bad about killing Jack if that was the case.
“No, no.” You shake your head. “Nothing like that.”
“Then do you not like me?” He understands if you don't.
“I love you.” You tell him, even though it hurts to. “I will always love you, Jack.”
Jack. Pope wishes you hadn't said his name. At least then, he could pretend you were talking to him. And not the man you see him as.
“Do I love you?” His question breaks your heart.
“I don't know.” You say with a shrug. “You let me move out. You didn't…ask me to stay.”
“Did you want to stay?” Everything he's asking pains you for some reason.
They're innocent questions but they probe you in such an uncomfortable way. Because you're forced to admit the things you've only kept to yourself.
“Of course.” You're honest with him. “I love our little apartment.”
You park in the underground lot and get out of the car. Pope follows your lead as you walk over to the elevator. You tap a keycard against the panel and then push the floor number.
“Oh, I forgot.” You open your bag and pull out a torn up wallet. It barely survived the crash. “They gave me your wallet. Your keycard should be in there. We live on the fifth floor. I mean, you do.”
Pope takes the wallet from you, opening it. He sees Jack's ID. The address is this building. Apartment 5H. It's creepy how similar Jack looks to him. Like they could be twins.
But he only has one twin. Julia.
It's been years since she overdosed. A part of him feels empty without her. Maybe that's why he moved across the country, to get away from Oceanside and to try somewhere new. It was only a coincidence that he found Jack, a perfect identity swap.
“Here we are.” You tell him when you get to the front door of 5H.
You insert the keycard and then input the code. You're surprised that Jack is still using your birthday as the code. You let him know what the code is, since you doubt he remembers.
“Is that a special day for me?” Pope wonders because the date is coming up in a few months.
“Ah, it's my birthday.” You feel sad that he can't remember. Even though Jack always missed it because of work…
“What do we usually do for your birthday?”
You shrug. “We haven't done anything for it in years. We used to go to a nice restaurant.”
“Why don't we do that anymore?” He sees the way you tense up.
And then you lash out, “it's not my fault you didn't want to.”
You catch yourself, cursing under your breath. You feel so bad for snapping like that.
“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to…” You turn around to look at him and your breath catches in your throat at how close he is to you. He's right in front of you, clenching his fists at his sides.
“I didn't want to celebrate your birthday?” He sounds shocked.
It's strange for you to hear Jack sound so remorseful. “You never took the time off. You were always working…”
“I see why you left me.” Pope doesn't blame you at all.
“I didn't leave you. I just…I wanted to see if you'd miss me. But you never told me to come home so I didn't.” That's the whole truth.
If Jack had said anything, you would've moved back immediately. But he never did. He never sent divorce papers either. It was like the two of you were at a complete standstill. Neither of you wanted to end things but he didn't make the effort to continue them and you were tired of doing the work.
“Will you stay?” Pope doesn't want to be left in this apartment alone. He doesn't know anything about it.
Your heart squeezes hearing him say those words. The words you always wanted him to say. But he doesn't remember anything so…it feels empty, almost. Or different than what you were hoping for.
“I will. Hopefully you regain your memory soon.” You glance over at the couch. “I'm going to go wash up. I'll throw your sheets in the machine while I'm in there.”
Pope steps through the apartment then, looking around. There's only one bedroom. One bed. He turns back to see you eyeing the couch.
“I'll sleep here.” He points to it.
“No, you're injured. You should sleep in bed. I'll sleep here.” It pulls out into a small bed. Not that he would remember.
Maybe that's why you don't tell him when he says to you, “it's uncomfortable to sleep on a couch. We can share the bed.”
You should say no. You really should. But you miss not sleeping alone. Even if Jack never held you. You just liked having someone warm next to you.
“If that's okay with you.” You don't want him to feel obligated to.
You're technically a stranger right now…
He nods. “I'll get the sheets.”
You set your bag down and then sift through the luggage you brought, pulling some clothes out to bring into the bathroom with you. There was a time where you wouldn't mind strolling through the apartment naked to grab your clothes from the bedroom closet but…it feels weird to do that now. Jack hasn't seen you naked in years.
Pope has never seen you naked before. He can tell you're shy, clutching your clothes to your chest to hide your underwear from his sight. He follows you into the bathroom since the washing machine is in there. You set your clothes on a rack nearby. You wait for him to load the washing machine and leave before you strip down and throw your clothes into the hamper beside the machine. It's been a long time since you've showered here.
Jack kept your soaps under the sink. He never threw them away. Maybe he thought you were going to come back one day. Maybe he just didn't want to waste them. Either way, you're glad you have a piece of yourself still here.
When you're all washed up, Pope goes into the bathroom. The washing machine finishes while he's in there, so he moves the sheets to the dryer before showering. His chest aches from the broken rib. He takes his time examining his wounds in the mirror. It's foggy from your shower. You must like your showers hot.
It smells nice in here. He picks up your soap and sniffs it. That's what you smell like. He likes it a lot.
Thankfully, him and Jack have similar builds. Albeit, Pope fills in the shirts a bit more, since he is constantly working out. This building must have a gym.
He asks you about that after he puts the sheets on the bed. You're standing in the kitchen, sifting through the cabinets. “Is there a gym in this building?”
“Yeah, there is.” You have no idea why he's asking you that. Maybe Jack started working out again when you left. It certainly looks like it from the way his shirt is draped over his muscles.
“Would you show me where later?” Pope wants to know there's a place he can take out the bubbling frustration that's building inside of him. He has to be able to release it, or he might hurt himself. Or you.
“Of course.” You place some takeout menus on the counter in front of him. “What sounds good for dinner?”
“You pick.” He gestures for you to choose.
“You used to always say that but then you would be disappointed in what I picked.” You don't like making choices for that reason. Jack always deferred to you but was never happy with it.
“I won't be. I promise.” Pope wouldn't do that to you. He's fine with eating anything.
“Okay.” You pick one of the Chinese restaurants nearby. “Are you alright with walking with me to pick it up? I can show you where the gym is on the way.”
Pope nods and you smile at him lightly before dialing the number on the menu and ordering over the phone. He likes your smile. It's timid but cute.
“It should be ready in 20.” You go back to your luggage to grab a hoodie to throw on so you can go out, since it's chilly outside. “Do you want to pick up some beer at the corner store too?”
“Sure.” Pope meets you at the door, putting on his shoes.
“You're going to be cold in just a shirt.” You notice how he's about to leave the apartment without a jacket. “You can grab one in here.”
You open the small closet by the door, which has Jack's shoes and coats in it. Pope picks one and pulls it on. He doesn't mind the cold since he's so used to the heat of California. It's a nice change.
The gym is on the second floor of the building. There's a pool too. Pope probably won't use it. Too many bad memories.
“You just tap your card on the machines to turn them on.” You show him. “Is there anything else you want me to show you?”
He can't think of anything so he shakes his head.
You walk with him to the corner store, picking up some drinks. You notice he picks a Mexican beer you've never seen him drink before. He must've developed a new liking since you've been gone.
The Chinese restaurant is only a block away and the food is freshly done when you two get there. Pope takes the bags, carrying them for you. You tell him you can hold the drinks but he says that you have to open the door so you'll need free hands.
It's not necessarily bad but you and Jack used to do everything equally. So, him taking over completely is also new for you. You didn't mind splitting equally since he worked so much but you do wish sometimes he'd spoil you more. He never really has. Too busy to do so.
Another thing that's different is that Jack never used to eat so much. He was used to smaller, quick meals since he barely had time to eat during working hours. So, you watching him devour food is…strange. You should've ordered more because you were thinking there would be leftovers.
Maybe Jack has just gained a bigger appetite since you've been gone.
That's what you're telling yourself. But there's this weird feeling in your gut that you can't shake off. That there's something very different about the man in front of you at the dinner table.
You will need to read up more about amnesia. It would make sense for him to be a bit off since he doesn't remember much. He knows how to wash the dishes, though. And how to clean the kitchen and dining table.
“You don't have to do that now.” You feel bad that he went from eating straight into cleaning.
“I don't mind. It's dusty in here.” Pope will need some time to deep clean the apartment. Probably when you're not here. “When do you work?”
“I usually start at 9. It's nearby.”
“What do you do for work?” He doesn't know.
You feel a bit nervous telling him because Jack never liked your job. It was too unstable, he'd say.
“I'm the social media manager for a small start up.” You handle all of the online posts, paying influencers, etc.
“That's cool.” Pope isn't very well-versed in the new age stuff but he knows people are always on their phones so it makes sense to have managers for that.
You're unsure how to feel about his reaction. When his memory comes back, he'll surely think differently.
Maybe you don't want it to come back…
You shake off that thought. That would be cruel. You can't keep him in the dark. You should tell him about the couch bed.
You should but then he goes, “it's getting late. You should sleep so you're not tired for work.”
“Right.” You head to the bathroom to brush your teeth.
Pope follows you and sifts through the cabinets, looking for another toothbrush. He doesn't want to have to use Jack's. He notices there's a few pregnancy tests under the sink, unused.
Were the two of you trying?
“What are you looking for?” You ask after you've finished rinsing your mouth.
“New toothbrush.”
“We keep that stuff over here.” You gesture to the shelves above the washing machine.
Pope sees the new toothbrushes right away and grabs one. He brushes his teeth while you wash your face and when you're done, he rinses his mouth. It's oddly domestic. You haven't had this kind of rhythm with Jack in a long time.
Nor have you shared a bed with him in a long time.
So, when you lay down and Pope lays close to you, your heart starts to pound in your chest. You're ill prepared for his hand to slip over your stomach, pulling you closer so your back is up against his chest. You can hear him breathing, the warmth of it tickling your ear.
“Is this okay?” He whispers, sending shivers through you.
You bite your lip, not sure how to respond. Because you like this, a lot. More than you know you should because once Jack remembers everything, he won't hold you like this.
So, until he does, you're going to enjoy being close to him.
That's why you flip around and kiss him. You grab him by his shirt, pulling him against you. You just want to feel him. You missed the way his body felt against yours.
“Sorry.” You breathe out against his lips. “I shouldn't have—”
Pope cups your face and pulls you back in for another kiss. You melt into it, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your hands in his hair. The moment his tongue slips into your mouth, you nearly moan at the feeling.
Have you really been this touch-starved? It seems like it…
He goes to take off his shirt but doesn't let your lips leave his, only parting to pull off the fabric. You lift your arms up so he can tug yours off too and he realizes you aren't wearing a bra. Your bare chest is pressed up against his and he starts to kiss down your neck until he reaches your collarbone. He takes a bite of your skin right there, marking you.
That shocks you because Jack's never done that before. But you don't care because it feels amazing.
“You're beautiful.” Pope tells you, his eyes looking you up and down. He can't believe you're his wife.
You are his wife. That much he has decided. He won't let you leave him. He won't be a fool like Jack.
“Should we be doing this?” You regret asking when his tongue swirls over one of your nipples, making you moan. “Oh god.”
“You're my wife.” His hand slips down into your pants, his fingers grazing over the fabric of your underwear. “And you're soaked. You want me to touch you.”
“I do.” You feel his fingers move your underwear aside. You grab a hold of his shoulders when he thrusts a finger inside of you. You haven't felt him touch you like this in years. It feels so good, it's scary.
“Then close your eyes and just let me.” He instructs and you listen, closing your eyes.
You squeeze them shut tighter when you feel him start to kiss down your body, placing warm kisses along your stomach before his fingers hook into your waistband and tug your bottoms off completely, leaving you completely bare. Your hand finds its way into his hair as he continues trailing down, his lips kissing lower and lower until you can feel his breath on your clit.
“Did I do this for you before?” He asks right before his tongue darts out, flicking your clit.
“Sometimes.” You craved it constantly but you felt needy asking for it so you never did.
“Do you like it?” He licks small circles around your clit, feeling how firm it's getting.
“Yes.” You confess. “I like it a lot.”
That's all Pope needs to hear. He spends the next few minutes watching how you react to his tongue. He's methodical, wanting to see what makes you react the most.
Everything feels good for you. Just him being between your legs like this makes you happy. So, when he suddenly starts playing with your clit exactly the way you like, you cum way too fast and way too hard. You can't help the way your hips grind against his face, begging for more. And he delivers, continuing to eat you out until you cum on his tongue again.
Your whole body is hot to the touch. You don't want him to stop but you're worried you'll want too much if he keeps going. You won't want this to end if he keeps going.
“You don't have to—” You're squirming when he slides a finger inside of you as he sucks on your clit. He thrusts in and out, trying to find where you'll tense up, when you pant out, “right there, touch me right there, please don't stop.”
You arch your back when his finger curls against that spot inside that you can never reach. You cum so hard that you must be milking his finger from how tight you got. Pope slides two more fingers inside of you then, stretching you out. You cry out at the feeling, the pressure intense but euphoric too.
“I want you.” You tell him, tugging at him to come up. “Please, I need you right now.”
Pope kicks off his pants, letting you see his cock. Maybe it's because it's dark in the bedroom or because you haven't had sex with him in a while, but his cock looks different. Thicker than you remember.
You feel the difference when the tip of his cock pushes inside of you. It's like he's prying you open.
“You're okay.” Pope guides you to relax. “Just focus on me.”
You nod, reaching up to touch his face. He leans down to kiss you and you wrap your legs around his hips, pulling him in closer. His cock thrusts deeper than before and you moan against his lips. It's splitting you in two.
“You're so…” You can't even finish your sentence because he forces more of himself inside of you, filling you to the very brim.
“Can I cum inside of you?” He asks because he remembers those pregnancy tests he saw. “Were we trying?”
You nod. “We were so you can.”
His gaze shifts down to your stomach and he lays his hand there, pushing down, making you wriggle a bit at the added pressure. “You want to have a baby with me?”
“Yes.” You won't tell him that the reason you and Jack have a strained relationship is because…he's infertile. It made him feel inferior and that's why the two of you kept having issues. You didn't care that he was but he did.
So, for now, you won't say anything. You'll let him enjoy the idea of getting you pregnant, even if he can't.
Even though, Pope isn't Jack…meaning you might be in for a surprise there.
“You need to cum more then.” He says, pulling out of you. “Flip over.”
You flip onto your stomach and Pope lifts your hips, lining his cock back up. When he sinks back into you, you bite your pillow, your eyes rolling back when he hilts. He starts with slow strokes, making you ache for more.
“Please fuck me.” You can't handle how gentle he's being.
“Let me savor you for a little longer.” He tells you, continuing his agonizingly slow thrusts. You've never felt so on edge before.
“I can't wait anymore, please.” You cry out when he thrusts deeper in response. “Thank you.”
“Don't thank me yet.” He grinds his cock upwards, hitting a new spot that makes your legs weak. “You have to cum a lot for me first.”
Pope grabs your hips and without warning, he pounds into you with no mercy. You're screaming into your pillow at how quickly you unravel, cumming hard enough to squirt. You feel it drip down your legs. You feel faint from how intense that was and it's not even over.
He keeps fucking you until your legs give out and even then, he just lays on top of you, slamming his cock into you, crushing you. You feel tension coiling in your lower stomach. You know your next orgasm is going to be big.
“Don't cum until I do.” Pope read somewhere that it helps with conception if you cum while he does. “Hold it.”
Tears build up in your eyes because stopping yourself from cumming is harder than you thought it would be. It doesn't help that he keeps ramming into you like he's just using your pussy for relief.
You're tightening around his cock so much that Pope is sure he won't last much longer. He knows you're desperate to cum. He needs to keep you there, so that when you do cum, it's because you feel him spilling inside of you. He wants you to get used to cumming from the feeling of his release.
That way, you'll surely get pregnant.
“Please let me cum.” You beg because it's getting too difficult to hold in. “Please, I can't—”
“Yes you can.” He doesn't let you cum. He loves the way you're convulsing beneath him in anticipation. “Almost there. Just a little longer.”
The moment you feel his hot release fill you up, you cum so hard that your whole body is shaking. You can feel how drenched the sheets beneath you are, a mixture of his cum and yours. And it won't stop. He's still pounding into you, still cumming inside of you.
You don't know how many more times you cum after that. The feeling of him pulling out of you leaves you hollow inside. You feel his cum dripping out of you, its warmth dizzying your mind.
“You're spilling it.” Pope dips his fingers into your pussy and you tense up around him. “You have to keep it inside of you if you want to get pregnant.”
“I'm going to cum again if you keep touching me.” That seems to encourage him because he starts looking for that spot again and when you're shaking all over once more, he knows he has found it.
Pope watches you cum over and over again on his fingers. He likes how worn out you look. How hot your skin is. How breathless you are.
“One more time and then we're done.” He tells you and you're thinking he means making you cum with his fingers but he flips you onto your back and you instantly feel his cock slam inside of you.
You don't know how he's already this hard again. You grab onto his shoulders, grinding your hips against his, not caring anymore how depraved you look. You want to cum on his cock again. You want him to cum inside of you. You want more and more.
“You're my wife.” He says in such a soft tone. “My beautiful wife. All mine.”
You pull him down to kiss you, wanting to feel his lips on yours when you cum again. You're so overstimulated but you can't get enough of him. You don't want this moment to end.
“I love you.” You tell him with every piece of your heart. “I love you so much.”
Pope is thankful you don't say Jack's name. Because he can pretend you're saying it to him. And not your dead husband, who you'll never see again.
“I love you too.” He says back with a smile. “Now cum for me.”
You do as he says the moment you feel him cum inside of you. It's easy to cum from that feeling now. He has practically drilled it into you.
You both lay there afterwards, just kissing. You like how hungrily he kisses you, like it might be the last time he ever gets a taste of your lips. You do that until he's soft and slips out of you. Then, he picks you up and takes you to the bathroom.
Pope hops in the shower with you, rinsing you both off. You let him wash you, your body weak from having that many orgasms in a row. You lean your head against his chest, breathing in his smell. He smells a little different. Like Jack's soaps but with an alternative layer underneath. You can't pinpoint what that is. But you like it a lot.
He dries you off with a towel then steps out to change the sheets so you can use the bathroom. Even though he can't remember being a doctor, he does still remember safe sex practices. Can't risk getting a UTI.
You're so tired that you climb into bed naked. Pope pulls on a shirt and underwear then he comes over to help you put some clothes on so you can sleep comfortably.
“Thank you.” You kiss him on the cheek. “Good night.”
“Good night.” He resumes the position he had originally, spooning you.
You fall asleep, wondering why he's holding onto you so tightly. He has never done that before…
It took Pope a few days of cleaning to find where Jack put his wedding ring. He debates for a while whether he should put it on but then decides to. He's happy it fits, albeit a little tight. It'll loosen with time, he figures.
You notice the ring when you get home. You also have been noticing how clean and well organized the apartment is. Almost too organized. Everything is perfectly stacked and arranged by color or shape.
You just assume Jack must've been bored in his free time. He's currently on medical leave since the accident. He will likely remain on leave until his memory returns. You don't know what the process is if it never comes back.
Do they make him redo med school?
That would suck but it might just be what has to happen.
“Should I start wearing mine again?” You ask him.
“If you want to.” Pope can't force you to. Even if he wants you to.
You walk up to him and turn around, “will you help me?”
He unclasps your necklace and pulls the ring off. You put your hand out, letting Pope slip the ring on for you. Then, he kisses it. You hold back how giddy that makes you.
“Did you have a good day at work?” He asks you, which is nice because Jack never really cared before, since he didn't like your job.
“It was good. We got some new investors.” You knew getting those ads during sports games would help. “So, lots of new funding to work with.”
Pope has to stop himself from asking about it. He's trying to rid himself of the habit of trying to find the next job to do. He can't really break into the startup you work at. It would be too close to home.
He does want to plan a job, though.
Something easy and small because he hasn't been able to get into Jack's bank information yet. The bank wants to wait a while longer to see if his memory comes back before releasing anything. He'll need money eventually. He doesn't like bothering you, even though you gave him access to the joint account.
It has been routine for Pope to kiss you when you get home so you wait for it. He likes that you anticipate it, smiling against your lips when he finally kisses you. There are other things that have also become routine. Like the sex.
You and Pope have been having a lot of sex. More than you have ever had with Jack, at least in a short span of time like this. There's an added passion that you hadn't felt with Jack before. You blame it on the amnesia but…you can't help but wonder if the accident changed more than just his memories.
He's more attentive to you now. He asks about your day. He brought you flowers yesterday. He tells you he misses you.
You feel like you're deceiving him. Maybe because you sort of are.
You should tell him about the infertility but it might stop him from wanting to have sex with you. That's what happened before. That's what killed your relationship.
But you can't keep being greedy…
“Jack, I have to tell you something." You decide it's time when you two are laying in bed and he's kissing your neck.
“Tell me what?” His breath tickles your skin, which makes your heart ache.
You push him off of you. Pope doesn't like that. He's confused. You look…scared.
“Did I do something wrong?" He goes through everything he has done up until now.
Did you not like the flowers? Did he clean too much? Are you bothered by how much he wants you?
“No, it's not you. It's…” You sigh. “I've been hiding something from you.”
You hate how his expression drops. You hate yourself for keeping this from him.
Pope can't be too upset that you are hiding something from him. He's hiding something big from you. Something he'll never tell you.
“We can't have kids.” You finally say it.
“What?” Pope is very confused now.
Do you not want to have kids with him? Even though you and him have been having unprotected sex these last few days…
“I'm sorry.” You cup his face with your hands, trying to comfort him. “We went a few years ago to do some testing and they said that you're infertile. So, we can't have kids.”
You remember when this happened, Jack said to you that he couldn't have kids, but you could. His tone was both envious and resentful. It hurt you so much to hear him talk to you like that.
“That's okay.” Pope is unsure if that fact remains true for him personally but he can see why you kept it from him. “We don't have to.”
“You're not mad at me?” You were expecting him to blow up in your face.
“No.” He never thought anyone would want a kid with him. But you do. And that's enough for him. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” You could cry. “I was scared that you wouldn't want to touch me anymore…”
“Is that what happened before?” Pope doesn't like that you nod. He's rationalizing killing Jack more and more everyday. Even when he definitely shouldn't…
“You were frustrated because we had been trying for so long but nothing changed. Sex became kind of…tedious for you, I guess.” You try not to think about how passionless it felt after a while.
The sex you used to have is nothing like the sex you're having now. You feel a bit guilty that you like him without his memories way more than you did before.
“How could it be tedious to hold my wife?” He can't wrap his head around that.
It is a privilege, in Pope's mind, to be loved genuinely. He can see how much you love him. Sometimes it bothers him that when you look at him, you don't see him. You see the man he killed. But he sets that aside to be with you. This is the only way you'd ever choose him.
“I think I…” You shake your head. You shouldn't say this out loud. “Never mind.”
“You can tell me.” He doesn't want you to keep hiding things from him.
You slump a little. “I was acting too needy. You were always so tired and I felt like a bother for wanting to do more than just sex…”
“That'll change.” Pope will make sure of it. “I'll never be too tired for you.”
“Don't push yourself.” You're still worried about his broken rib. “You need to heal. Maybe we should take a break tonight.”
“What if I don't want to?” He'll respect your wishes but he's been wanting to touch you all day… “Is that okay?”
“Do you really like touching me?” You're unsure why you ask. You might just need reassurance after being so used to rejection.
“I do.” He loves how you look when you feel good. “I want to touch my wife.”
You've noticed he calls you his wife a lot. Like he's proud to be your husband. You find it cute.
“I want to touch you too.” You press your lips against his then breathe out, “I love having sex with you.”
You're a bit shy to admit it but you have enjoyed it a lot. Though, that could be because Pope doesn't stop after one round. He always manages to go another after making you cum a few times in between.
“Will you move back here?” He doesn't want you to keep living out of a suitcase forever. “So we can have sex everyday?”
You chuckle. “I don't think that's realistic.”
“Why not?” He pulls you over to straddle his lap, sitting up in bed.
You can feel how hard he is through his sweats since you're not wearing any underwear. It seems wasteful to when he's just going to pull them off anyways.
“I'll move back but don't force yourself. I'm happy just being held by you again.” You snuggle your face against the crook of his neck, breathing in the smell of his freshly washed skin. “I'm glad we can be this close again.”
Pope grabs your chin and lifts it so you're looking at him when he says, “I want to fuck you until you're pregnant with my child.”
“That might not happen.” You bite your lip to stop yourself from sighing.
“Doesn't matter. I'm still going to try.” He leans in to kiss you and you love the way he grinds his hips up to tease you.
You crave him now. The feeling of him buried deep inside of you. You feel empty without it.
“I want you already.” You want him to slide in right now.
Pope shakes his head. “Not yet. You're not ready.”
“I'm ready.” You're very wet. You have been thinking about him all day…
“Show me then.” He tells you and your face heats.
“How?”
“I want to see how many fingers you can fit inside of you.” He takes your hand and brings it between your legs. “Show me you're ready to take my cock.”
You've never done this before. The thrill of it makes the butterflies in your stomach bounce around. You lean back, so he can see more clearly. Then, you slip a finger inside. It doesn't feel like anything, not after you've been fucked by his fingers and his cock these last few days. So you add another, then another. You're a bit tighter now with three fingers inside of you. Again, they don't compare to when he does it.
“Is that all you can take?” Pope lays his hand on top of yours, pushing your fingers further into you. “I think you can take more.”
You're not prepared for him to slide one of his fingers inside of you while yours are still there. It's a much tighter fit now. Especially when he adds another finger. You go to move yours out but he grabs your wrist with his free hand, holding you there.
“I want to feel you cum like this.” He demands as his fingers thrust deeper inside of you than yours can. “So you know how your pussy feels after you cum.”
Pope curls his fingers and you tense up when he rubs that spot inside of you that makes you feel faint. Your fingers unconsciously move too. You want to cum already, the orgasm building quicker than you thought it would.
“Almost there.” He tells you're close because your hips are grinding against his fingers. “You can do it. Cum for me.”
You had no clue how much your pussy tightens up after you cum. You can feel how it squeezes your fingers the moment you do, making it difficult to move them.
Difficult for you, but not for Pope.
He pulls your fingers out so he has free reign to finger you through your orgasm relentlessly. You're already getting close to another one. But you don't want just his fingers.
You pull yourself more forward on his lap so you can feel his cock beneath you. He catches how greedy you're being.
“Do you want me inside of you that much?” He asks as he stretches you out with his fingers, making you bite back a whimper.
“Yes, please.” You beg because you can't wait anymore.
“Alright then.” He pulls his fingers out of you then has you watch him lick them clean. “Take what you want.”
Pope kicks off his pants and then pulls off his shirt, letting you see him completely naked. You pull off your shirt as well because it's getting way too hot in here to have clothes on. You line yourself up above his cock and then slowly sink down. You use his shoulders for leverage as you start to ride him, moving up and down at a pace that sends shockwaves through you.
You nearly cum when he leans forward to suck and bite your nipples, playing with your chest when you fuck him. The dual stimulation is unlike anything you've felt before. You and Jack have never done anything like this before. He's never been rough with you.
Not the way Pope has been slowly working you towards. He marks your skin with love bites. He nibbles on your sensitive nipples until they're hard enough for him to swirl his tongue around. He pinches your clit with his fingers as you ride him, launching you straight into an orgasm.
You glance over to the mirror in the bedroom, which gives you a very clear side view of how you're bouncing on top of him. That alone makes you cum again and you watch yourself cum. Pope sees you staring at the reflection of the two of you, your eyes glazed over from how hard you just came.
So, he lifts you off of him and then picks you up, dragging you right over to the mirror. He places your hands on the sides of the full length mirror and then points at it.
“Look carefully.” Pope says, dipping his hand between your legs to spread your pussy for you to see. “Look at how wet you are.”
You can see how you're dripping between your legs, your clit practically twitching, aching to be touched. Then you watch as his cock rams into you, filling you up completely from behind. You gasp when you see yourself squirt right onto the mirror. It happens again when he pulls all the way out and thrusts entirely back inside.
“Do you like watching yourself cum?” He asks right into your ear.
“Yes.” You grip the mirror harder for balance. “Make me cum again. I want to see it.”
Pope grabs your hips and starts fucking you at a pace you've never felt before. It's rough and the sounds are incredibly erotic. Skin on skin, his cock slamming into you without a care. You look in the mirror, at the way he's staring at you, his gaze so intense.
You watch his lips curve into a smile when you cum so hard, you squirt on the mirror again. Seeing yourself cum like this is humiliating and yet you don't want it to end. You love how much he's pushing you to your very limits.
“You're making such a mess.” He shoves you closer to the mirror, so you can see what you've done. “Are you going to clean it up?”
You feel his hand pressing down on your back. You slide your hands down, shifting your upper body until you're bent forward. Your face is hovering right over where you came.
“Go on, clean it up.” He gestures to the mirror.
You don't know what he's expecting you to do.
Not until he says, “you need to learn how good you taste.”
Your heart is pounding so loudly in your ears when you glide your tongue along the slick you've spilled on the mirror. You moan as Pope starts fucking you again. You don't even register what you taste like. You just lap it up because you can see how heated it makes him. You want him to keep looking at you like that.
“Tell me when you're close.” He instructs. “Don't cum until I tell you to.”
You definitely feel like you're almost there. So when you know you won't be able to hold it in any longer, you tell him, “I need to cum.”
Right at that moment, Pope hooks his arms under your thighs and lifts you up, spreading you wide in front of the mirror. You watch the way his cock rams up into you over and over again, this position forcing him so deep inside of you because you keep sinking down onto him. The way his cock slides all the way out of you, letting you really see how big he is, then slams back inside of you makes you convulse uncontrollably.
You can't stop yourself from screaming when your orgasm hits and you squirt with every thrust of his cock. “I can't stop cumming!”
“Don't stop.” He tells you, his eyes glued to your reflection, to the way he's fucking you so ruthlessly that you're cumming past your limits.
The floor is soaked beneath Pope. You were like a fountain as he fucked you. You still are because he's not finished yet.
“I can't—” You keep cumming so hard that your vision is getting blurry. “I'm going to—”
Pope tosses you onto the edge of the bed and then buries himself inside of you, bringing your knees up to your chest. He makes you hold onto them so he can grab your hips and pound into you while he's looking you right in the eyes.
“Say you love me.” He won't cum until you do.
“I love you.” You say without any hesitation.
Your eyes roll back into your head when you feel him release everything inside of you, warmth pumping into you in waves. You cum from him filling you to the very brim.
“You're going to get pregnant.” Pope tells you with such determination in his voice. “There won't be a day that goes by that you aren't filled with my cum.”
That's a crazy thing to say. Having this kind of intense sex everyday can't possibly be doable. And yet, you're aching for more.
You pull him down to kiss you, needing to feel his lips on yours. You sigh against them and say, “promise?”
“I promise.” He lays down and wraps his arms around you, kissing you deeper than before. “I love you, my beautiful wife.”
You feel the creep of need inching up. You want this to last forever. You want this passion from him forever.
So, you make sure that you will not be getting pregnant, not even by some miracle. You get back on the pill and you leave it at work so he doesn't know.
It's better this way.
It's been three months since the accident. Pope has finally gained access to Jack's bank details since the doctors have not seen any progress with his memory loss. There's more money than Pope had originally thought. Makes sense though, since Jack was a workaholic.
He has been slowly withdrawing small amounts of cash every so often, putting it aside in a go bag just in case. He doesn't want to leave but there is always a chance you will figure out that he's deceiving you. Or he'll end up telling you the truth one day and he needs to be prepared for that to ruin everything.
The guilt is getting to him. You seem so in love with him that it's starting to hurt. You are so easy to love, too. You enjoy everything Pope does for you. He doesn't understand how Jack could mess this up.
You're lovelier every single day.
You have officially moved back in. He likes the smell of your clothes in the closet. It muffles the smell of Jack's clothes, a smell that still hasn't gone away even after several wash cycles. You no longer have that other apartment.
You're back home now.
The two of you have a routine going. Pope wakes up early, like he always does, and makes breakfast. You eat it whenever you wake up then get ready for work. There's always a kiss goodbye before you leave for the day. While you're at work, Pope goes to the gym and then researches possible places to hit that are on the outskirts of the city. If he can do it, he'll finish a job that day too. He is smart enough not to rob anywhere near home.
While he's out, he runs errands and picks up groceries and maybe a little surprise for you. He likes how happy you look whenever he gives you something. By the time he's home, he cleans up and reorganizes until you're home. Then, the two of you have dinner, wash up and have sex before falling asleep. There hasn't been a day that this routine has been broken, other than the weekends where you're off work so the two of you go out together. Pope enjoys your dates. He has learned so much about you.
But, it has been three months and still, you're not pregnant. There was always a chance Pope could also be infertile like Jack but he never really thought he would be. He has done plenty of research and the two of you have had plenty of unprotected sex. So, he's always surprised when you tell him you've gotten your period.
He doesn't like the look on your face when you tell him. It's the few times you'll look at him with fear in your eyes. You're scared he's going to get frustrated with you so he has to reassure you that he won't. There's nothing you could do that would make him angry.
Pope doesn't let his anger out. He punches it off at the gym. He's thankful no one uses it. He can be there for hours, punching away at the bag in the corner, letting out anything that's pent up inside of him. He has a lot pent up inside of him. He can't burn it off with just sex, unfortunately.
As for you, you have been torn about the birth control pills. You stare at them when you're at work, wondering if this will be the month you stop taking them. You should just stop taking them because Jack is infertile so there's no way you'd get pregnant anyways. But you have this strange inkling that the moment you're off of them, you'll get pregnant.
It's a ridiculous thought but…you listen to your gut. Because there is something different about Jack. More than just something. A lot of things. You're worried the accident has knocked a few screws loose in his head. The receptionist at your apartment building told you that he spends hours at the gym, just hitting the punching bag. You figure it's harmless. He must be bored since he's jobless for a bit.
You've been helping him figure out the steps to relearn medicine. Thankfully, it's not like he has to redo everything. There are re-entry programs for doctors who have not practiced in a while. They are several years long but still shorter than going fully back to school. The board has suspended his license indefinitely but he can test to unsuspend it once he has enough schooling and can demonstrate that he has regained enough knowledge to practice again.
Pope was a bit hesitant, at first, over the idea of becoming a doctor. He was never very good at school. But then, you tell him something that sparks his interest.
“You know, you don't have to go back to emergency medicine.” You casually talk about it over dinner. “Maybe you can consider other fields. It would help our future kid if you went into pediatrics.”
He laughs inside at the idea of him as a pediatrician but…Pope isn't Pope. He's Jack Abbot and Jack Abbot can be whatever doctor he wants to be. So, he decides he will start the re-entry program.
It makes you happy when he tells you his plans. You help him apply for disability, so he doesn't go without pay while he studies. You, of course, will help out since you're working and your job is currently more stable now that investors have been coming in droves.
“What exactly does your startup do?” Pope is curious because he has never asked. You don't like talking about work with him. It's one of the topics that sparks that fear in your eyes, so he had avoided it but he does want to know.
The two of you are having a lazy Saturday. You're laying in bed with him, snuggled against his bare chest. Neither of you are dressed and neither of you want to leave the apartment.
You lean into him, feeling more comfortable talking to him about work. “It's a biotech startup. The founders are these geniuses who create these products that “will revolutionize the modern world”.”
“Like what?” Pope starts to kiss down your neck and you know where this is going.
You keep talking as he moves down your body, “we recently sold this machine that can turn any solid pill into a drinkable packet. Imagine a ketchup packet but it's medicine.”
“Mmm.” He nods against your thigh, his lips trailing down. “Imagine dipping your fries in your Xanax.”
You laugh way too hard at that. Then your breath stops in your throat when his tongue drags up along your folds. You slip your hand into his hair, gripping onto it as he swirls your clit with those methodical circles of his. He knows exactly how you like it.
That's why he knows how to tease you to get you wriggling with need. “Please, let me cum.”
“Tell me more about work.” He wants you to talk while he does this.
“Seriously?” You chew on your lip when he stares back at you with that heated gaze of his. “Okay, um, we're developing something for the police right now.”
“What is it?” Pope dips two fingers inside of you, watching as your back arches from being filled.
“I shouldn't…” You gasp when he drags his fingertips along that spot inside of you that makes you want to cum right away but he moves away before you can.
“I won't tell anyone.” He doesn't have anyone to tell.
“Will you let me cum if I tell you?” You're getting desperate.
Pope smiles at you. “Of course. I want to see my wife cum lots today.”
“It's a camera.” You swallow back your moan when his lips seal around your clit at the same time as he thrusts his fingers deeper.
“Keep going.” His eyes are locked on yours when he starts to suck your clit.
It's hard to talk when he's torturing you like this but you press on, “it can scan a space and the AI will try to replicate what the crime scene looks like at different stages.”
“Technology has come very far.” He says with a smile. “Now you will too.”
You tug him closer to you by his hair as your orgasm hits, your hips grinding against his face and his fingers so it can last longer. You're bathing in unbelievable bliss.
It only gets better when he climbs on top of you and you see him line his cock up. You spread your pussy wide so it's easy for him to slip right in. You pull him down towards you, your hands roaming all over his skin while your lips meet his. You love kissing him, especially when he's rolling his hips against yours, drawing out moans from you. You both stay like that until he cums inside of you and you cum from the feeling of it. The gentle love making is as good as the rougher sex. Both make you feel incredible.
Pope kisses your temple before getting up, going over to the closet. “I have a surprise for you.”
“Really?” You sit up as best you can when he comes over with a cute little gift bag. “What is it?”
“Open it.” He hands it to you and then sits down beside you. “I hope you like it.”
You hide how excited you are. He has been giving you a lot of gifts lately.
But nothing could've prepared you to pull out a little black velvet box from the bag. You look at him and he gestures for you to open it. You do and… “Oh my god.”
“I figured we should start fresh.” He takes the box with the gorgeous ring inside of it then kneels in front of you. “Will you stay married to me?”
“Jack…” You can't believe this. This is so romantic. “Of course I will.”
Pope takes off your old wedding ring then swaps it for the new one. He wants you to wear something that he got you. He kisses your ring once it's on your finger. He'll pawn the old ring one of these days, since he doesn't want to think about it ever again.
You are his wife. Not Jack's.
“I love you so much.” He tells you and you immediately pull him in for a big hug.
“I love you so much.” You don't hide your smile then. “I'm so happy.”
“I like seeing you happy.” He says before he kisses you. “You're all mine.”
“Always.” You give him a squeeze. “You're the best.”
You two spend the rest of the day watching TV on the couch. Pope feels his heart warm every time you look at your new ring. It suits you, this happiness. He wants to keep it this way because he has never been happier.
The energy shifts when he sees a pained expression on your face and then you point to the screen, “can we change it to something else? I always feel so bad for the animals when I watch these nature shows.”
Pope glances at the screen. A vulture is digging into the corpse of a furry animal. Must be a coyote or something. His eyes are drawn to the way the vulture is pulling its flesh apart.
“Jack?” You shake him a little. “Are you actually watching?”
“No.” He turns his attention back towards you. “You can change it.”
“Do you remember liking shows like that as a kid?” You change the channel to a sports game.
“Yeah, I watched them all the time.” He nods, thinking about how his mother, Smurf, would just let him sit in front of the TV all day and watch animals kill each other. It was a great way to pass the time for him.
You get up from the couch then and tell him, “I'll be right back. Gotta use the bathroom.”
He watches you leave then turns his gaze back to the TV. He wonders if the vulture finished devouring that corpse.
You close the bathroom door and lock it. You walk up to the sink, staring at your reflection. There's panic in your eyes.
Because Jack hated those nature shows. He always avoided them. He told you that he would leave the living room when he was a kid whenever his dad would watch them. He found it repulsive.
So…what is going on?
You look down at the ring on your finger. A pit is forming in your stomach.
Who the hell is sitting in your living room right now?
And why does he look like Jack…
You get startled when Pope knocks on the door. He tries the doorknob but it's locked.
“Everything okay?” He's confused because you haven't locked the door like this in a while.
“Uh, yeah.” You need to make something up. “I'm just feeling a little nauseous. Probably because we haven't eaten much yet.”
“Why did you lock the door?”
“I didn't want you to see me puking. I'm okay, I promise.” You are definitely not okay. “Just give me a few minutes.”
“I'll order some soup for delivery and I'll bring you a glass of water. I'll leave it outside the door.” Pope goes to do that.
You wait until you can't hear his footsteps anymore and then you let out the choked sob you've been holding in. Different scenarios run through your head.
But only one of them makes sense.
Whoever is out there isn't Jack.
Even if Jack truly lost all his memories, he wouldn't suddenly gain new ones. That man you've been sleeping with is a completely different person.
You can see all the signs now, all the differences you had just been ignoring. He's bigger than your Jack. Stronger, scarier, rougher. He may treat you gently but…there's a darkness in him that you've been avoiding thinking about. Like how sometimes, he'll just sit up in the middle of the night. He thinks you're asleep so he doesn't know you've seen him just sit there for hours. You thought it was just trauma from the accident.
You never thought it could be because he was someone else entirely.
You dip your hand between your legs, feeling how wet you are from when he came inside of you earlier. You pull your hand out to look at the slick that coats your fingers. You feel sick.
You open the toilet cover and puke. At least now you aren't lying. You've been letting some stranger fuck you for the last three months. And you liked it.
You more than just liked it. You loved it. You craved it. You thought about him almost every moment of every day.
You wanted to have his baby…
“Fuck.” You wipe your mouth, flushing the toilet.
You're glad you were taking those birth control pills. You don't know what you would've done if you found this out while pregnant.
What do you do now, though?
You curl into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as you sit on the floor of your bathroom. You look at the ring on your finger. You think about how happy you were when he gave it to you.
Do you…love this other man?
You shake off that thought. That's ridiculous. You don't know anything about this guy. None of this was real. He must be playing you. This must be some kind of long con.
But why would he…kiss you so lovingly if it was all a ploy?
You crawl over to the cabinet under the sink, grabbing one of the pregnancy tests. You take it, then you wait. You sob into your hands, the nerves getting to you.
When enough time passes, you check. You don't know if you're relieved or not to have it come back negative. You rinse yourself off after, needing to wash away the feeling between your legs.
Once you're dried off and your pajama pants are back on, you collapse into yourself again, sitting back on the floor with a thud. You choke back another sob when you hear the door open. Pope drops to his knees in front of you, cupping your face with his hands.
“Are you okay?” He asks you in such a soft tone that your heart aches. “What's wrong?”
You don't know what to say. There's so many things wrong.
But you settle on telling him, “I'm not pregnant.”
You show him the pregnancy test then toss it into the trash can before you can't hold back the tears anymore. He wipes your tears away and then sits down, pulling you onto his lap. You hate that you lean into his embrace, letting him hold you as you cry. He rubs your back so gently.
“It's okay.” He kisses the top of your head. “There's no rush.”
You look him in the eyes and ask, “do you still love me?”
“Of course.” It hurts him seeing you so distraught. “I'd love you even if we never had children. We don't have to. I'm happy just like this.”
You don't feel any kind of deception. He doesn't look like he's lying. But maybe he's just a really good liar…
“For how long?” You hiccup, the sobs making it difficult to talk. “You won't be like this forever. You won't love me forever…”
“I made a vow.” He takes your left hand, kissing your ring. “I will love you forever.”
“Then tell me who you are.” Your words catch him by surprise.
You wait for him to lie again. You wait for him to tell you this was all fake and he just wanted to fuck with you until he had his fill.
You wait, then he tells you, “I'm not Jack Abbot.”
And everything falls apart.
Pope slipped up somewhere. He should've realized it would happen sooner or later. He just didn't think it would happen like this. With you crying in his arms.
“Then who are you?” You need to know the truth. “Where's my husband?”
That question pierces through his heart like a blade. His answer does the same to you, “he's dead.”
You cover your mouth, sobbing into your palm, before asking, “did you…”
Pope nods. “I killed him.”
“Why?” You can't believe it. Jack's dead…
“I needed a new identity.” That's the honest truth. “And I stumbled onto him while I was walking around. He looked just like me. He lived alone. I thought it would be an easy swap. No one would miss him.”
“So you just…killed him?” You don't even know what to think.
You don't even know why you're not repulsed by him. You're still sitting on his lap, clinging onto him for comfort. You should feel disgusted…but you don't.
“It was peaceful, I promise.” Pope injected Jack while he was asleep. He never woke up.
“What about the car accident?”
“I had to destroy the body and cause a reason for amnesia.” It was well-planned.
“So, would you have just…pretended to not remember forever?” You don't hide your hurt. “Would you have pretended to love me until you got tired of it?”
“I wasn't pretending.” He brushes his fingers along your jaw and you hate that you let him. “I love you.”
You shake your head, not believing it. “You don't. You just needed a good cover.”
“It would've been easier to keep my cover if I didn't love you.” He wouldn't have this risk if he had just let you remain estranged.
“I don't…know what to…” You're at a loss.
Because you should hate this man. You should run far away. You should kill him for killing Jack.
But your body clings to him. To the idea that maybe he does love you.
You've been wanting to be loved for so long…
“I can go.” Pope tells you, full of remorse. “I can leave you alone. You'll never have to see me again. I'm sorry.”
“Don't go.” You say that without thinking it through.
You don't want him to go. You don't want to lose this. You were finally happy…
“I'm not your husband. I'm not Jack.” He believes you're just saying this because you see him as the man you fell in love with and married. You don't see him.
“Who are you then?” You hold his face in your hands. “Tell me.”
He swallows and you can feel the way his neck tenses when he admits, “my name is Andrew Cody. Most people call me Pope. You could look me up…but you won't like what you find out.”
“Andrew.” When his name leaves your lips, Pope doesn't want to ever let you go.
“Say my name again.” He has to hear it.
You shouldn't listen to him but you do as he asks. “Andrew.”
He pulls you to rest his forehead against yours then he can't help himself. He kisses you. Again and again. He expects you to pull away but you don't. You don't want to.
You kiss him back, even though you know you shouldn't. His tongue slips into your mouth and you let it tangle with yours. You are filled with need. You want him to touch you.
That's why you don't stop him when he picks you up and takes you to bed, his lips never leaving yours. He lays you down at the edge, then he kneels in front of you, tugging off your pants. You sink your hand into his hair as he eats you out exactly the way you like.
You breathe out his real name when you cum. Pope is harder than he has ever been. It's impossible not to be. He stays between your legs, his tongue slipping in and out of you. He wants you to keep moaning his name.
You lift his head off of you so he can look at you when you ask him, “do you like making me cum, Andrew?”
“I love it.” He drags his tongue along your folds, making you shiver all over. “I love how you taste.”
“Make me believe you.” Because you're still scared he's faking it.
So, for the next hour, Pope dotes on you, making you cum over and over again with his tongue. By the time you're completely spent, his lips are swollen and you love the way he looks. You're overstimulated and incredibly sensitive but you can't stop here.
You push him off of you and then get up, turning around then laying on your stomach. You spread your pussy wide in front of his face and demand, “fuck me, Andrew.”
Pope stands up immediately and pulls off his pants, kicking them aside. He rubs the tip of his cock up and down, coating himself in your slick. You bite the sheets, your legs shaking from how sensitive the skin is after he ate you out for an hour. He doesn't give you what you want though.
“Please.” You beg, moaning when he drags his cock over your clit. “I need you.”
“Am I your husband?” He pushes the tip of his cock inside of you for just a second but pulls out right away, pulling a whine from your lips. “Tell me.”
“You're my husband.” You say with your whole heart. “And I'm your wife, Andrew.”
“Does my wife want her husband to fuck her?” He pushes your thighs together so he can slide his cock between them, rubbing up against your pussy, making you crave him more.
“Yes, please.” You know the moment he's inside of you, you're going to cum so hard. You're desperate for it.
“Are you sure?” He lines his cock up at your entrance. “I could get you pregnant.”
“Please, I want to have your baby.” You don't hold in your desires anymore. “Please get me pregnant.”
You haven't taken your pill today yet. You won't. You'll let him fuck a baby into you. You want it.
“I'm not stopping until one of those tests comes back positive.”
You scream his name when he rams his cock inside of you. You scream it over and over again as he pounds into you, his hand slipping over your waist to hold onto your lower stomach. The pressure builds inside of you when he kneads your lower stomach, making you too aware of how hard he's pounding against your womb.
You grip the sheets hard enough to tear them when your orgasm shoots through you. You're practically drooling when he keeps fucking you through it, scraping against every spot inside of you that drives you wild. Your inner thighs are soaked from how hard you came.
“Turn around.” Pope pulls out of you so you can flip over and look at him. “Keep your eyes on me.”
You nod, locking eyes with him when he grabs your legs, pinning them to his chest as he slams his cock back inside of you. You arch your back, helping him angle deeper inside of you.
“Touch yourself.” He snaps at you and you listen.
Your whole body heats up from how rough he's fucking you while you tease your sensitive clit, rubbing it until you unravel completely. You can feel how tight you've gotten.
Pope loves how you're milking his cock. Your body doesn't lie. You want him to cum inside of you. You want him.
Because he's your husband now.
“Do you want my cum?” He smiles at how glazed over your eyes are staring back at him.
“Yes.” You need to feel him spill inside of you.
“Say “We can't, Andrew. You're not my real husband.””
You lick your lips and then tell him, “we can't, Andrew. You're not my real husband.”
He pushes your legs back towards your chest then slams his cock deep inside of you the moment he says, “I'm your husband now. Say it.”
“You're my husband now.” You feel the tension building in your lower stomach with every rough thrust. This angle sends you into a frenzy.
“Who fucks you better: me or Jack?” Pope won't cum unless you say him.
“You.” You claw at his arms, your orgasm hitting you all of a sudden when you admit that.
You say his name over and over again as he cums inside of you, your mind going fuzzy from how full you feel. He drops your legs then hovers over you, his hands at either side of your head. He stares down at you, breathless.
You reach up, caressing his face. He leans into your touch, kissing your palm. You let him trail down your arm until he's right above your face.
“Do you love me?” Pope breathes out against your lips. “Because I love you. Even if you hate me.”
“I love you, Andrew.” You pull him in so you can feel his forehead rest against yours. “Promise me you won't stop loving me.”
“I will love you forever.” He seals that promise with a kiss. “My beautiful wife.”
You look at him, at his face that's so similar to Jack's, and then say, “you are my husband now.”
Pope nods. He is your husband.
Until the day you die…
A/N: I haven't written anything shorter form in a while so this was a lot of fun for me! Hope you enjoyed the morally ambiguous read ✿
Update (as of 04/25/26): This fic has a sequel now! It's called "There's Something Wrong with Andrew Cody", so if you liked this, definitely check that out! ♡
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