summary: you are nowhere to be found one night and ben worries he might have lost you for good.
a/n: the inspo for this weirdly came from a scene in modern family?? don’t even ask — alsoo d2 vibes anyone?
wc: 2k
warnings: hurt/comfort
where is she?
ben came busting down your dormroom door after receiving a text about your disappearance. he looked alarmed, standing in the doorway. his chest was rising and falling quickly, his heart hammering against his chest. he looked around the room franticaly, a slight waver to his voice.
“well obviously not here.” mal mumbled. evie turned around and shot her friend a warning glare before answering ben.
“we don’t know...” she looked desperately at him, her shoulders slumping slightly as she sighed.
ben held a blank stare. he looked lost, like he didn’t quite understand what he was told. “what do you mean you don’t know?” he asked, his eyes darting between each of his friends.
carlos cut in. “we’ve searched the entire campus and found no sign of her.” he looked between evie and ben as he answered, equally as worried.
“she texted me saying she was going on a walk to clear her mind. she hasn’t answered any of my calls or replied to my texts since.” evie added.
ben couldn’t decipher any thought that was going through his mind. his ears started ringing. only a couple minutes left until midnight and his girlfriend had simply vanished. his thoughts ran wild, yet they all circled back to one truth: it was all his fault.
he closed his eyes, trying to drown out the world around him, feeling a force, threatening to take advantage of his state and let loose.
evie moved without a single word, her touch light yet steady on his shoulder, taking him out of it. his chest heaved, breath catching on something he couldn’t name.
“she’s been worried sick about you, ben.” evie started, her eyes searching his face. “she really likes you, you know that? she keeps saying how she wants to talk and sort things out. it’s killing her that you’ve been pushing her away.”
ben’s heart ached at evie’s words. he knew he had hurt you. distancing himself from you was one of the hardest things he ever had to do. but at the time, he thought that he couldn’t do it any other way.
you first noticed something was possibly wrong when he would blow things out of proportion. as if he had become a perfectionist overnight, the littlest of details made him tick and kept him tossing and turning at night. it was so unlike him to act this way.
still, you let him be. ben was the most straightforward person you knew, if he ever needed help with something, he’d come to you to talk about it, the way he’s always done. at least that’s what you thought.
one weekend, while he was staying at his parents castle, something growled to no end in his bedroom. it wasn’t him— or rather he didn’t want it to be. he didn’t remember what happened that night. all he knew, was that he felt lighter afterwards. his mother had heard him, though. always being on the lookout, she ran to his room and as soon as she saw the fangs and the long nails, she knew. she’d seen this before.
ben quickly came to understand what happened that night, his father being quite helpful with filling in the blanks. he hated sharing this in common with him, though. it was basically like granting his father the right to think that they were one and the same, which ben tirelessly tried to disprove ever since he became aware of his father’s ways. he was aware that a transformation like the one he experienced could happen, being warned about it very young. however, he never thought it would happen so soon.
as he started imagining his life with this new aspect, the thought of you crept up in his mind. if he ever lost his mind in your presence and harmed you in any way, he would never forgive himself.
ensued a week and a half of ben ignoring you the best he could, missing lunch and classes, hoping he wouldn’t run into you.
at least, when he pushed you away, it was hurt that he could control. however it was wrong.
it was funny how ben had spent so long convincing himself and everyone else that he wasn’t like his father and yet, there he was, behaving just like him.
only now, you were missing and ben didn’t know what to do. were you hurt? were you still in auradon? he couldn’t protect you. the perspective of you being out there, alone? it terrified him. he had to find a solution. he had to find you.
he absentmindedly fiddled with his family ring for a bit before having the semblance of a plan. he needed to act as the leader he’d been taught to be if he wanted any kind of result. “okay, evie? i’m gonna need you to try the phone again—”
evie typed your phone number on her phone for what felt like the millionth time when mal cut ben off.
“ben we’ve already tried this.” mal sighed, “maybe it’s time we give her her space.”
ben’s voice came out strained as he snapped back at mal. he would never stop trying for you. “her space? she’s missing, mal! and i just can’t sit back and do nothing while she’s out here, possibly hurt or—” he exhaled deeply, the thought too painful to finish. his jaw was clenched tight as his eyes closed by themselves. he was doing everything in his power not to succumb to the dark forceful force within him begging him to give in, but it was getting harder as each minute passed, the last bit of composure he had slipping through his fingers.
he ran a hand through his hair, his mind torturing him with the worst case scenarios. “i CAN’T, okay??” he raised his voice in both frustration and as an attempt to quiet his mind. the three looked up at him. this wasn’t the usually calm and collected ben they knew.
he sat on the edge of a bed, burying his face in his hands as he groaned, the situation heavily weighing on him.
“i love her. and i know that pushing her away was the wrong thing to do and it ended up doing more harm than good. i thought i was keeping her safe.” he shook his head, “i should’ve been honest with her from the start but i can’t…i can’t let anything happen to her, especially not because of me.” his voice wavered again, his emotions overwhelming him.
“she’s my world, mal. i love her more than anything.” he concluded firmly as he stared into space.
evie’s gaze lifted from ben to the doorway. she couldn’t help the smirk forming on her lips. “i think she knows ben.”
“still, she deserved better than what i gave her, evie. it’s all—”
“no, ben..” evie insisted as she looked at him and back in the direction of the doorway, “she knows.”
ben looked up and followed evie’s gaze and here you were, standing in the doorway like a deer in headlights. he stood up immediately and opened his mouth to say something but the words escaped him. your presence was enough to still the storm of emotion raging inside of him.
“y/n.” his eyes never left your face as a mix of relief and trepidation washed over him. he ached to close the distance between you but he was frozen in place, only thing he could do was drink in the sight of you.
“you’re…you’re here.” ben continued.
you nodded, taking tiny tentative steps into the room. “yeah, evie called and never hung up.”
ben’s heart skipped a beat at the sound of your voice, his gaze flicking to evie. he tried to think about the implications of you hearing everything he just said but he was hypnotized by your presence and just as quickly his attention was back on you, the only person that mattered at the moment.
“you’re here…you’re okay. thank god, you’re okay.” ben didn’t trust himself to speak for much longer, opting instead to act on the feelings of raw need and lack that had been eating away at him for the past week. so without a second thought, he ran to you, and in one swift movement, he cupped your face with his hands, his lips finding yours.
the kiss was urgent and needy, a testament to the whirlwind of emotions that ben had been holding onto. his touch was desperate yet gentle, and he pulled you so close that it felt like the world around you disappeared. his only focus was you— the girl he was so desperate to protect, even if it was from himself. he needed to show you how very sorry he was, how much he ached for you.
his hands roamed over your body, holding you like he never wanted to let go of you again. the world started spinning again when he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. you could feel the profound relief in the way his arms engulfed you.
“i thought i’d lost you.” he whispered as his forehead rested on yours, his voice thick with emotion. “i’m so sorry y/n—”
carlos cut ben off to say that evie, mal and him would leave you to reunite in private. which, of course, left a very confused mal to whisper things like isn’t it our dorm? why should we leave? while evie was dragging her on their way out.
you rubbed circles on his wrists with your thumbs, thinking about what you would say to him. after your long walk, you had come back with a clearer head. your mind was no longer clouded by your sadness or anger. for the past week or so, you thought that you’d lost your boyfriend and evie’s call only proved that he was still there, he just needed some help.
“i just want to know if you meant what you said to mal.” you simply said.
ben pulled away just enough to look into your eyes. he understood that you needed reassurance, that the uncertainty had been eating at you just as much as it had been eating at him. he used his index finger to make you look at him, his voice soft and sincere.
“i meant every word. i’ve been trying to tell you for a while, but i was scared. most of all, i was stupid." he paused, gathering his thoughts. his eyes never once left yours though, he was continuously boring into them. “i messed up, big time. i thought the only way i could protect you was by keeping you away from me.” ben took a deep breath before speaking again, his voice firm yet soft, “i was scared, scared that i’d lose you, scared that i’d hurt you. but i realize now that i should’ve told you everything. and for that, i am so, so sorry.”
ben took a deep breath before carrying on.
"i love you, more deeply than i ever thought i could love someone. and when i thought that i had lost you tonight i—" the emotions threatened to overwhelm him once again when he thought about it. when his breath came out shaky and you noticed it, you took his face in your hands, so he would focus on your words.
“then i don’t need to know anything else, ben. i’m here for you and i know we’ll get through this if you love me, and i love you.”
your words acted as a soothing balm on ben’s worried mind, miraculously ending the battle he’d been fighting against himself. with a relieved sigh, ben pulled you close once again. you were his peace, the secret to keeping it all together.
“you’re right, and i promise, no more secrets and no more shutting you out. i’m not letting you go ever again.” he whispered, his forehead against yours.
the night continued with quiet yet heartfelt talks, expressing feelings that had longed to be spoken aloud. ben finally told you about the night at the castle, his fears and his hopes. and you didn’t run away immediately like he thought you would. no, you stayed and made a promise to help him embrace this side of him.
eventually, the fatigue of the day caught up with the both of you. the two of you settled under the covers, wrapped in each other's arms, protecting eachother, as sleep slowly claimed you both.
A soul that's born in cold and rain, knows sunlight
Looking at him felt like breathing for the first time.
The stories they whispered; the ones about blue skies, about warmth that didn’t burn, about people who smiled without wanting something, they all took shape in him. Things you've never believed in until now.
The sun made his hair look like a halo, and it stung your eyes to look too long. Maybe that’s what divinity was, something so bright it hurt. Maybe you could worship him, the way everyone else already did. All eyes turned to him, pulled like metal to a magnet.
He looked every inch like the leader, the kind of person you ran toward when trouble came, not away from.
And you, born of rust and shadow, felt something in your chest unclench, something you didn’t have a name for.
His gaze moved across the line of Isle kids like sunlight crawling over metal; warm, deliberate, a little too kind.
You didn’t expect it to stop on you.
For a second, you thought it was a trick of the light, that he was looking past you, at Mal, or maybe at the guards behind you. But then he smiled. Not the polite kind people gave to royalty, this one reached his eyes, softened something there.
And it felt like the world went quiet, no cheers, no rusted wind howling through broken ship hulls, no sharp laughter echoing off the Isle’s cliffs. Just that look. Like he saw you, not the grease under your nails or the frayed jacket or the metal hanging from your belt.
You.
He stepped forward, hand extended, the sunlight catching on the golden cuff around his wrist.
“Welcome to Auradon,” he said, voice steady, warm, impossibly gentle.
You stared at his hand. It was too clean, too perfect. You’d stained everything you’d ever touched; why should he be any different?
But his hand didn’t waver.
So you took it.
The warmth of his skin against yours was dizzying. It felt like being touched by something alive for the first time, like every cold part of you was being rewritten.
Ben’s smile widened, and the sunlight spilled closer. “I hope you’ll feel at home here.”
You almost laughed, home? The Isle was rust and ruin, but at least it was honest. Auradon glittered too much to be real.
Still, when he let go, your fingers curled in instinctively, like trying to hold on to the echo of his warmth.
Maybe you were foolish. Maybe everyone who looked at the sun for too long was.
But it was warm and comforting.
You didn’t notice when the others started walking, not until Mal nudged you forward or when the limo doors shut behind you with a soft click. The air here smelled different; cleaner, sweeter, almost unreal. It made your lungs ache.
You’d spent your whole life breathing smoke and salt, air thick enough to taste. Here, it felt wrong that something invisible could still be heavy.
The path stretched ahead, sunlight spilling like gold dust across polished stone. And he was up there; still smiling, still radiant, waving as though this was all normal, as though you hadn’t just stepped out of a nightmare into one of his fairy tales.
Maybe he didn’t understand what that meant.
Maybe he didn’t know what it did to a person, being seen like that.
Because for him, sunlight was something constant.
For you, it was something to chase, and, maybe, something that could burn you alive.
arrangedmarriage!rafe who loves hearing you say degrading shit. he loves laughing at you in your face while you cry, not being able to speak but moan. his favorite sentence to tell you to ‘thank your daddy for selling you to a cameron’ who then he rewards you with orgasms when you obey and gets meaner when you’re bratty.
arrangedmarriage!rafe who is is ridiculously turned on by your changing body. as soon as your tits start swelling and getting sensitive, he’s on them constantly, sucking, biting, and leaving marks all over them. always sucking bruises into the soft flesh, making you whimper because everything feels more intense.
arrangedmarriage!rafe who’s honeymoon phase with you is absolutely wild. he keeps you in the bedroom for days, only letting you out to eat. multiple rounds every single day, morning sex where he wakes you up by eating you out until you’re crying, lazy afternoon fucks on the balcony where anyone could see, and rough nights where he ties your wrists to the headboard and edges you until you’re begging.
arrangedmarriage!rafe who is so horny during the second trimester when your belly really starts showing. missionary is out of the picture, he loves fucking you from behind or spooning so he can wrap one arm around your bump and the other around your throat.
arrangedmarriage!rafe who didn’t want this marriage at first. he saw it as another one of his dad’s power moves; merging families for business. but the second he saw you walking down the aisle in that white dress, something dark clicked in him. that night he didn’t even wait to get to the honeymoon suite properly; he had you bent over the nearest surface in the reception hall bathroom, dress shoved up around your waist, while he fucked you hard enough that your legs shook for the rest of the night.
arrangedmarriage!rafe who makes shower sex become a regular thing because the water helps with the extra weight and rafe loves watching soap run down your pregnant body. he’ll press you against the tiles, one hand supporting your belly while the other rubs your clit, fucking you until your legs give out.
✧･ﾟ:you have to convince him you want it. Clark worries every time he fucks you that he’s going to break you, and it takes days of begging to convince him you’ll be fine. You kneel between his legs and rest your head on his thigh, pouting and pleading while he pets your head. His jaw ticks, and he closes his eyes in something close to a prayer. His eyes flutter, and you know he wants it as bad as you do. You feel it, every time he’s inside of you and presses down a little too hard. Every time he picks up the pace then slows down. Every time he throws you around and his cock twitches. You promise to tell him if it’s too much, rubbing that thick, demanding tent in his pants. He gives in, and you’ve never degraded yourself for something better.
✧･ﾟ:clark holds you in a headlock. His massive bicep wrapped around your throat, pinning you against his shoulder, forcing you almost fully off the broken mattress. You cling to his arm, your eyes rolling back and drool falling from your swollen lips. He’s everywhere like this. The heat rolls off of him like a summer storm, everything wet and humid and sticky. His thighs bracket yours, forcing them together while his free hand splays on your stomach and forces your ass backwards. The angle makes his cock feel like it’s cleaving you open, the thick head bumping against the deepest spot inside of you as his balls press against your cunt.
✧･ﾟ:every deep moan and filthy word is snarled into your ear, and vibrates through your body like electricity. A dazed, cockdrunk smile paints your lips as you take thrust after thrust, your body limp and overwhelmed with pleasure. The headlock limits your breathing to shallow gasps of Clark and more, but the pressure makes your head spin and every sensation all the more powerful. Clark kisses over your neck and face, skin slapping against skin, enough friction between your bodies to start a wildfire.
✧･ﾟ:“that’s a girl, huh,” he rasps, thick, calloused fingers dragging down to rub your clit in tight little circles. Your whole body writhes, back arching and a broken moan leaving your parted lips. You arch, unsure if you’re chasing more or trying to get away. Clark chuckles, pressing down hard on the hypersentive bundle of nerves and readjusting his grip so his fingers wrap around your throat. He forces your head backwards and swallows your hopeless moan with a rough, claiming kiss. “Needy little brat, takin’ my cock like you’re made for it- Shit-“
✧･ﾟ:clark groans and kisses you harder. His thrusts are getting sharper and shorter, and your own orgasm begins to wash over you like flooding sunlight. Clark fucks up into you like an animal, fingering your clit like a toy, and stars form behind your eyes. You scream with delight into his open mouth, your pussy flooding and gushing around his thick cock. He moans, squeezing your throat, and doubles over. You fall face first into the mattress, and Clark forces your ass up into the air. You sob, the pleasure overwhelming, and Clark kisses everywhere he can reach as he desperately ruts into your warm, gooey little cunt.
✧･ﾟ:he cums with a moan of your name, burying himself deep inside and painting your insides with hot, thick ropes of cum. Another orgasm shivers up your spine like lightning, making you boneless and ditzy. You giggle into the sheets as Clark folds over you like a massive blanket, and he smiles against your back, kissing over your spine and shoulders.
✧･ﾟ:“did so good for me,” he murmurs, twining his fingers through yours. “That was… Geez.”
✧･ﾟ:you laugh softly, still at a loss for words, and just curl under his body. Safe, empty-headed, and warm.
✦Clark Masterlist - Main Masterlist - Read on aO3!✦
✦Author's Note: dirty clark ily <3✦
✦Buy me a coffee!☕️✦
𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: age gap relationship (rafe is late 30s, reader is early 20s), secret relationship, making out, heavy petting, praise, soft dom dynamics, emotional intimacy, yearning, reader lives with her parents, sneaking around, angst if you squint, 18+ only, mdni
𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: after another late-night date, neither of you is ready to say goodbye. parked a block away from your parents' house, you steal just a few more minutes together before reality finds you again.
𝑎/𝑛: welcome to my little older bf!rafe universe ♡ i've been sitting on this idea for a while, and i finally gave in. this is just a little glimpse into their relationship—hope you love them as much as i do!
2.4k word count
the engine idles low and smooth. his car smells like leather and that cologne he wears. woodsy, expensive. it always clings to your clothes hours later, and you can already tell it’s settling into the silk of your dress, into your hair.
you know you'll have to change the second you get inside. hide the dress in the back of your closet behind the winter coats. take off the bracelet and tuck it into the velvet box at the bottom of your jewelry drawer, under the tangle of cheap necklaces from high school.
the dashboard clock reads 1:47 AM. your dad's alarm goes off at six. four hours and thirteen minutes.
you should go, you know you should. your hand rests on the door handle, cool metal against your palm, but you don't pull it. it feels like cement under your fingers and your throat feels dry.
"you're stalling."
his voice cuts through the quiet, low and amused, and heat crawls up the back of your neck. you don't look at him yet.
"i'm not."
"yeah?" there's a smile in his voice that feels smug and knowing, teasing. "then why are you still here?"
you twist the hem of the silk dress between your fingers—the one he’d handed you through the passenger window two nights ago with nothing but a “wear this friday.” it's way too nice. more expensive than any article of clothing you’d ever owned. the fabric is cool and slippery against your fingertips, the kind of material that catches on rough skin. nothing like the cotton sundresses hanging in your childhood closet.
"i'm going," you say, but you still don't move.
rafe shifts in his seat, the leather creaking softly beneath him. you can feel him looking at you now, that burning attention that makes your skin prickle. he doesn't push. he just waits.
finally, you glance over.
he's leaning back against the driver's seat, one hand draped over the steering wheel, the other resting on his thigh. his shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows, the fabric perfectly pressed even this late. there's that faint smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. the dashboard light catches the edge of his jaw, the shadow of stubble there.
"what?" you ask, defensive.
"nothing." his eyes drop to the bracelet on your wrist, then back to your face. the gold catches the light. "just wondering how long you're gonna sit there pretending you wanna leave."
heat crawls up your neck. "i'm not—"
"you are."
"i’m just… savoring it."
"come here." he says it like he already knows you’ll listen. and you do.
you unbuckle your seatbelt, the click loud in the quiet, and shift across the center console, awkward in the cramped space, your knee bumping the gearshift. his hands come up immediately, steadying you, guiding you until you're curled against his chest, your head tucked under his chin. his watch presses cool against your shoulder blade through the thin silk.
his arms close around you. the tension in your shoulders releases all at once.
"there," he murmurs.
you close your eyes and breathe him in. the smell of his cologne has already settled into your dress, but this close, you can still find the warmth of his skin beneath it. his hand comes up to cradle the back of your head keeping you tucked against him.
"better?" he asks.
"yeah."
"good."
you let yourself sink into him. somewhere beneath the cologne, you catch the smell of laundry detergent and clean cotton. your cheek presses into the soft fabric of his shirt, and for a little while, neither of you says anything. outside, the neighborhood is asleep. yellow streetlights, sprinklers spraying, nothing moving.
"you looked really pretty tonight," he says after a moment, quieter now.
your face heats. "you already told me that."
"i know." his hand slides down to your wrist, fingers hooking under the bracelet. the metal is warm now from your skin. "doesn't make it less true."
you press your face into his chest, hiding. the fabric of his shirt is soft, expensive. it probably costs more than most things you own.
he huffs a quiet laugh. "shy now?"
"shut up."
"mm." his fingers trace the gold links, one by one. "you're gonna take this off the second you get inside, aren't you?"
you feel the guilt twist in your stomach and you pull back slightly to look at him. "you know why…."
"it's fine." he's smirking again, but there's something sharper underneath. "hide it in that jewelry box. i get it."
"it's not—" you start, but you don't know how to finish. it's not that i don't want them to see. it's that i can't explain where it came from. can't explain you. you glance up at him, the corner of your mouth tugging into a reluctant smile. “you make it sound like i’m hiding evidence.”
he watches you for a second, amusement flickering across his face. “aren’t you?”
your eyes drift past his shoulder to the dashboard again.
2:03.
you try not to think about everything that comes next. shoes off at the door. skip the third step so it doesn’t creak. hold your breath past your parents’ room. don’t let the bedroom door click shut—
he tilts his head, studying you. "look at me."
you do. his eyes are dark in the low light, almost black.
"you worry too much," he says, and his hand moves to cup your jaw, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "they're asleep. you're here. we're good, alright?"
"i know, but—"
"but nothing." his voice drops lower. "stop thinking about the clock."
you try, you really do. but then you start counting. fifteen minutes. ten. five. and then you’ll have to leave him again. climb out of his truck and disappear back into your parents’ house. watch him drive away alone.
"hey." his thumb presses gently into your chin, pulling your focus back. "where’d you go?"
"nowhere. i'm here."
"you sure?"
you nod and he searches your face for another moment, his gaze is steady.
"good." he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. then your temple. the corner of your mouth. each one so carefully placed and unhurried. you go still.
"rafe—"
"what?" he murmurs against your skin.
"i should—"
"should what?" he pulls back just enough to look at you. "go back inside?"
the words hit harder than they should. you look away, focusing on the stitching of his collar.
"i just…” you swallow. “i wish i could…”
he's quiet for a moment. his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair.
"i know, baby," he says finally. “not yet."
not yet. like it's inevitable. like it's just a matter of time. like one day you'll walk through his front door and stay. and maybe it is.
"but one day," he says, quieter now. "you're gonna wake up beside me and you won't have to leave."
god, you want that so badly it scares you.
to fall asleep with your head on his chest and wake up there too. to feel him pulling you closer before either of you says good morning. to hide your face in his neck while he laughs quietly and kisses your hair. to stay exactly where you are because there’d be nowhere else you had to be.
"yeah," you whisper.
his eyes flick back to yours. "yeah?"
"yeah."
his hand tightens slightly in your hair, and then he's kissing you.
it's soft at first. but then you make a small sound and pull him closer, your fingers curling into his shirt, and he groans low in his throat. you taste the whiskey from dinner on his breath, warm and sharp, and it makes your head spin.
his hand slides down your back, pressing you against him, and you arch into it. his other hand finds your thigh, fingers splaying wide through the silk. the cool metal of his watch presses against your ribs as he pulls you closer.
"c'mere, sweetheart." he murmurs against your mouth. "closer."
you still weren't used to hearing him call you sweetheart. the first time he did, you'd looked over your shoulder because you were sure he couldn't have been talking to you.
you shift closer, your knee pressing into the seat beside his hip. all you can focus on is him. the crispness of his shirt beneath your palms, the weight of his hand at your waist, the warmth of his body.
you kiss him harder, more desperately, your hands sliding up to his hair. your fingers rest in it, tugging slightly, and he makes a low sound, his hand tightening to an almost bruising grip on your hip.
"jesus…" he breathes, pulling back just enough to look at you. the blue of his eyes is almost gone, swallowed by his pupils in the dark. "look at you."
you can't say anything. can't think. you just pull him back down, kissing him like you're running out of time. his hand slides higher on your thigh, fingers pressing into the soft flesh, and you gasp into his mouth.
"easy, baby," he murmurs, but there's a smile in his voice. "we've got time."
"do we?" you ask breathlessly, and he laughs—a real laugh, quiet and warm.
"yeah. we do."
he kisses you again, slower this time, deeper, his hand cradling the back of your head. you’re still gripping his shirt, still not ready to let go. you can feel his heart pounding beneath your palm, as fast as yours.
his hand settles at the small of your back before you realize you’ve started to pull away.
you don’t.
“stay a little longer,” he says quietly. “just… twenty more minutes. please.”
"okay," you whisper, nodding softly.
"yeah?"
"yeah."
he says nothing after that. just pulls you back against him, like the conversation never needed another word. you don't say anything either. just hold him tighter. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt and you settle into the space beneath his chin, your dress bunched awkwardly around your legs, his jacket sleeve cool against your bare arm. for the first time all night, you stop thinking about getting home.
the minutes tick by too fast. the clock on the dashboard glows 2:28, then 2:29. the numbers feel accusatory.
"i really should go," you whisper eventually, even though the words hurt.
his arms tighten around you for just a second before he forces himself to let go.
"i know."
you pull back to look at him. his jaw is tight. his eyes don't leave your face.
he cups your face in both hands and kisses your forehead. soft. lingering. his lips warm against your skin.
"text me when you're inside," he says.
"i will."
"good girl."
you feel heat spread across your cheeks and he smirks, satisfied.
he helps you out of the car, his hand steadying you at the small of your back. the night air is cold against your skin, sharp after the warmth of the car, and you shiver. goosebumps rise on your arms.
he notices immediately.
he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, even though you're only walking a block. it's warm from his body, smells like him, heavy with the weight of expensive fabric. the sleeves hang past your hands.
"rafe, you don't have to—"
"go," he says, nodding toward your house. the porch light is still on. "before i change my mind."
you smile despite yourself. he reaches out, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering against your jaw.
but you don't move.
your feet stay planted on the pavement. his jacket heavy on your shoulders, and you can still feel the ghost of his hands on your waist.
he notices. just like he notices everything else about you. his gaze settles on your hands, twisting the sleeve of his jacket.
"you don't wanna go."
it's not a question.
you look up at him and your throat feels tight. you shake your head, just barely.
a few months ago, you would’ve laughed at yourself. you weren’t usually like this. usually saying goodbye was just that—a goodbye. somehow, with him, it always felt like you were leaving something behind.
"c'mere," he murmurs. he doesn’t wait for you to close the distance this time. one hand cups your chin, pulling it up closer to him, and the other settles at your waist before his mouth finds yours again.
you kiss him back, your hand resting against his chest, and when he pulls away his forehead stays pressed to yours. you’d kiss him forever and ever if you could.
"you gotta go, baby," he whispers. his voice is rough.
"i know."
but neither of you moves. his hands slide down your arms and he squeezes once.
"i’ll see you tomorrow night, alright?" he says.
you nod. your throat is too tight to speak.
"good girl," he murmurs against your hair.
he kisses your forehead. then your temple. then the corner of your mouth. lingering. gentle.
finally, he steps back, his hands falling away from your arms and the cold air rushes in where he was.
you turn and start walking, and you can feel his eyes on you the entire way. the sidewalk is uneven under your heels. his jacket hangs heavy on your shoulders. you don't look back yet because if you do, you'll turn around.
when you reach your front door, you glance back. he's still there, leaning against his car, arms crossed, waiting. making sure you get inside safe.
you slip inside as quietly as you can. the house is dark and silent. the floorboards don't creak. you hold your breath as you pass your parents' bedroom door.
you pull out your phone: inside. safe.
his response comes immediately: good. sleep well, baby. dream about me.
you smile, hiding his jacket in the back of your closet and the bracelet in your jewelry box. the silk dress gets hung carefully on a padded hanger.
tomorrow you'll see him again and for now, that's enough.
a/n: thank you for reading!! i can't tell you how excited i am to finally start posting on here. if you enjoyed this little glimpse into their world, i'd love to hear your thoughts! reblogs, comments, and messages genuinely mean so much to me. requests are open, and i can't wait to write more. thanks for giving these two a chance ♡
Warnings: hookup, swearing, overstimulation, size kink, Rafe is hung, praise kink, calling him Sir (once)
Word Count: 2.4k
The night you met Rafe wasn’t like any other. You’d been dragged out of the comfort of your tiny two-bedroom apartment for some avant-garde event held by your best friend’s parents. Kiara’s parents are loaded, not that she spoke of it outside of nights like these. She’s humble, too prideful for help, but she knows you have a dream to make it in architecture, and for you, she’ll pull any string to get you to the top.
So there you stood. In a yellow little slip dress, carefully woven with artisanal fabric and embedded with tiny Swarovski crystals that glittered in the lowlight like a disco ball.
At some point in the night, Kiara disappeared, most likely to spread your name around the room like a living legend among aristocrats.
You stand by the drinks, sipping from a glass of chardonnay that tastes like it’s the same price as your rent. People’s eyes run across your outfit as they pass by, assessing your endeavors through style alone. You shift, hips swaying side to side as you try to find a comfortable, confident stance. Anything that says, ‘Talk to me, I’m successful’
Then he shows up.
Rafe Cameron, looking stoic as ever, with sharp eyes and a focused frown. He doesn’t look angry or brooding, no, he looks untouchable. It’s when your shoulders tense that his eyes meet yours. For a fleeting moment, his face seems to soften, the air around him shifting from business-casual to intriguing familiarity. You didn’t expect him to walk up to you, in his tailored suit and shiny black shoes and that gold ring glinting on his finger.
“Kiara’s friend?” he asks with a curious smile. “Yeah!” you smile back smaller, flattered to have someone as powerful as Rafe Cameron recognize you. He holds out a hand for you to shake, his large palm enclosing your smaller one like a snake around prey. “Nice to meet you, sweetheart.” Your smile grows a bit brighter, his term of endearment settling over you like a warm blanket. Snug, comfy, and so right. You forget to reply, but he’s already on to the next topic.
“What are you here for?” he asks, looking around like he’s searching for someone. Your eyes remain on his face, too handsome to tear away from. “Uhm, business.”
“Yeah?” Rafe’s eyes meet yours with a raised brow. “For what?” your eyes meet the floor for a second, suddenly hesitant to share your passion with the man. “Architectural design.”
“Oh, so you’re into making things look all pretty and cohesive?” he asks with a newfound interest, which catches you off guard. “Mhm.” you hum, nodding with more security in your stance. “Maybe you can help design the new house I just bought on The Cut.”
Your face scrunches in confusion, your mind trying to catch up with what your ears picked up. “The Cut?”
“Yep.” Rafe nods. “Bought one of those little shacks. Hoping to flip it, get some gullible rich kid to buy it, then let everyone around town know that The Cut is the new Figure Eight.” he explains. The first thought to cross your mind was JJ. Then Kiara. Kiara would be pissed if she found out.
“Oh.” you murmur, and on cue, Kiara spots you. She stands by your side, shooting Rafe a glare before turning her attention to you. “I spoke with Topper’s mom,” she says to you. “They’re remodeling the entire first floor of their house and want your input.”
Your breath hitches, excitement and nerves racing through your veins with the opportunity. “Really?” you ask, almost breathless. You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. It’s only an offer. But an offer with a family as respected as the Thorntons could change your life if you play the cards right. “Yeah, she wants to talk to you.” Kie nods, trying to pull you by the wrist in the direction of Topper’s mother. You catch sight of her, standing there all pompous while chatting up some other rich woman.
You stay in place, remembering Rafe who’s still there quietly watching. “Wait.” you stop Kie. “What?” her face scrunches, eyes darting between you and Rafe. Her mind was already placing the pieces together, knowing instantly that something was going on. “Dude…” she mumbles, giving you a disbelieving look. “Just a moment, please.” you tilt your head. Her nostrils flare with controlled annoyance, but she steps back. “Hurry.” she turns, marching over to the women to keep them occupied.
“I’ve gotta go too.” Rafe’s voice rings out, making your head whip around to look at him with a few blinks. Was he already blowing you off? “Okay, yeah.” you nod, playing it cool though your stomach twists. “What’s your number?” Rafe asks, sounding a little too excited. “For the job, I mean.” he adds, saving face.
Two nights pass with nothing from Rafe, but it doesn’t cross your mind. You’ve been too wrapped up in work, Kiara and JJ’s fights, and speaking with the Thorntons. When you finally have a moment to yourself, in a bubble bath with candles lit and a book in your hand, your phone pings. Thinking it’s one of your friends, you pick up your phone from its place on the edge of the tub, jolting and nearly dropping it when you see the name.
Rafe Cameron
Hey, y/n. It’s Rafe.
You quickly send a text back, fingers trembling with electricity. From nerves or exhilaration, you’re not sure.
You
Hey! How are you?
You send back, and it feels lame. Too giddy. God, why’d you have to put the exclamation mark?
Rafe Cameron
I’m doing good.
He shoots back. You tilt your head, watching as the chat bubbles appear then disappear again.
Rafe Cameron
Look, I know it’s late and this is probably wildly inappropriate, but do you want to maybe come over?
You stare at the screen, feeling frozen in time despite how hot the water is surrounding you.
Rafe Cameron
We could watch a movie.
He adds, and you wonder if he’s just as nervous.
You
Yes, I’ll come over. A movie sounds fun :)
You leave the text open-ended on purpose. To see if he’ll push the line between work and romance.
Rafe Cameron
I’ll send you my address. ;)
So he does.
Within twenty-five minutes, no more, no less, you’re driving to Rafe’s house. You drown out your thoughts with music, the playlist an eclectic mix of rap and indie, but it’s enough to keep your nerves at bay. There is one recurring thought, however, that you can’t escape.
Like what if Rafe has a really big dick? Oh, who are you kidding, of course he does.
𐂯 ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰ 𐂯
When you arrive at his place, you sit in your car overthinking. Your finger hovers over the ‘Here!’ text, like a wedding vow to a man you’re not ready to commit to. Three minutes turn to four then tick to eight as you keep your head against the steering wheel, foot tapping against the floorboard anxiously.
Then a knock on your driver’s side window makes you jump, managing to hit the horn which makes him jump next. You cover your mouth in amused embarrassment, rolling down your window as Rafe grins at you with the shake of his head.
“How long have you been here?” he asks smoothly.
“Uhh,” you glance at the time on your phone, debating if it’d be cooler to lie or cuter to tell the truth.
“Five minutes..?” you reply unassuredly, expecting Rafe to call you out and say he’d been watching you on his security cameras.
“Sure ya have.” he mutters, looking toward his front door before his eyes meet yours again with a teasing glint. “What are you waitin’ on? Let’s go.” he says, opening your car door before you can even unbuckle.
Rafe spots the duffel bag in your passenger when you climb out of your SUV. His eyes narrow, flickering down to you with faux-suspicion. “You stayin’ the night, sweetheart?”
Your eyes widen, embarrassment flushing your face. “Uhhh…”
He grins, a huff fracturing the tension in the air as he reaches over to grab it for you. “I’m messing with ya.”
You let out a breath you didn’t realize you’d been holding, “Mean-ass.” you mutter under your breath, noticing the way his shirt lifts just barely before he stands up straight.
Rafe leads you inside, telling you to sit tight while he runs your bag upstairs. While he’s gone, you look around, getting a feel for his place.
There’s a rustic coffee table, grey-black couch, and brick-built fireplace with a flat screen above it. Each piece comes together to create a dark but cozy living space. The spacious area feels like it has bits of Rafe’s soul embedded into everything, including the walls.
Everything about his home so far eases your mind.
“Maybe this won’t be terrible after all.” you mutter out loud by accident. “What was that?” Rafe’s voice carries down the stairs. Your head whips around with a shy smile. “Nothing!” you walk closer, meeting him at the end of the staircase.
The corner of Rafe’s mouth pulls upward into one of those little smiles of his. “Want to order takeout and watch that movie?” he suggests, but his eyes are hungry. You can see how he’s keeping himself together.
“Maybe that can wait.” you slowly wrap your arms around his neck, feeling emboldened by his obvious need for you.
𐂯 ⁰ᨵᩥ⁰ 𐂯
Rafe’s thick cock sinks deep into your pussy, forcing your cunt to spread to accommodate his size. “It’s too big!” your head falls back with a moan.
“You can handle it, Sweetheart.” he murmurs, taking a sharp breath as he feels your cushiony walls squeezing him, making his dick throb. “Fuck, you feel so good.” he groans, pulling out slowly, causing you to whine at the empty feeling.
He pressed deeper the next time he entered, his pelvis meeting yours with a slowly building rhythm.
“It feels so good—“ you begin to say, gasping as he hits your cervix. “Rafe!” you cry, dragging your nails down his back as he speeds up. “Let me hear it, baby.” he picks up your legs, holding them in the air so he can hit deeper in your leaking warmth.
“Faster, fuck!— Go faster, Rafe!” you beg, feeling your legs tremble and pussy trying to tighten around him already.
He lets out small grunts, his jawline sharp and teeth gritted against themselves as he fucks you deeper.
“Tell me how good my dick feels, baby.” he commands roughly, folding your legs over and laying his body over yours. His weight on top of you makes his dick feel so much bigger, and your pussy even tighter than before. The sensation of his veiny cock twitching inside your hole leaves your head feeling foggy.
“Sooo good!!” you mewl, feeling his thrusts grow sloppier against you. Rafe takes a sharp breath, letting your legs drop as he holds himself up over you. Your breasts bounce in tandem with his harsh movements while pretty cries fall from your lips.
“Your body is fuckin’ perfect, Angel.” he grits, his lip twitching into a snarl as he presses deeper. “So sexy.”
Your mouth falls open with strangled gasps, legs wrapping around his hips and bucking back up into him. Rafe groans, his head dropping to your shoulder while his hips grow tired from the effort. “Can I cum in you?” he whispers in your ear, sounding like he’s on the verge of breaking. You nod, unable to think clearly. “Please.”
Rafe pumps his length in and out of you a few more times, deep and slow until he releases inside of you. He continues rutting against you, biting his lip as he watches your body shake with your orgasm.
He collapses on top of you, rolling off and pulling you on top. “Ride me, Princess.” he says, out of breath. You climb on top to straddle Rafe, slipping him back inside. His hands go to your hips, while yours find his chest. You start steady, letting your body readjust to his size.
“You fill me up so good.” you breathe, rutting your hips against him. Rafe groans, wrapping his big hands around your thighs.
He keeps you in place as your hips roll against his, forcing you to take him all the way. “Best pussy I’ve ever had.” he tells you through a half-lidded gaze. “Are you about to cum, sir?” you ask with a cheeky smile.
He chuckles, the sound rough with lust. “I’m getting there, Doll.”
A few more steady bounces on top of him leave you leaning back, feeling his tip tapping your cervix. It’s enough to make you throw your head back in pleasure, sweet noises filling the quiet room.
You speed up your movements, feeling your pussy squeeze his thick cock with a vice grip. One of Rafe’s hands leaves your thigh, reaching up to cup your tit with a delicate squeeze. “Fuck, that’s so good.” he whispers, exhaling through his nose as his orgasm builds.
You lean forward, grasping the headboard as you move with urgency. Your thighs tremble, muscles twitching from overexertion. Rafe’s hands slide up to your ass, his fingers sinking in with a bruising grip.
Your moans grow louder as your stomach grows warmer, the knot in it twisting tighter with each twitch of Rafe’s cock. He bites back groans, his nose scrunching as his dick throbs for release.
“Rafe- fuck- fuck- I need you!” you babble, feeling your body start to give up. “Cum for me. Cum all on my dick, Angel.” he groans, lifting his hips to buck into you. You bury your face in his neck, calling out his name as you finish all over his length. Rafe’s orgasm follows soon after, his member pumping a sticky load deep inside your abused cunt.
He stays inside of you, wrapping his sweaty arms around you and kissing your cheek. “You did so good for me.” he says lowly in your ear. The words barely make it past the sound of ringing in your ears. “I loved that.” you nuzzle your face into his shoulder, struggling to keep your eyes open.
“How about we go for round three in the morning, hm?” he looks down at you softly. Your eyes open just enough to see the flush of his cheeks and thin layer of sweat on his face. “Mhm.” you hum noncommittally, feeling his hand run up and down your back lazily. You relax into his touch, listening to the soft sound of his breathing. The room and earlier moments slip away from your drowsy mind as sleepiness wins the war over you.
SUMMARY: Lando has a seven-year-old son from a previous relationship and they co-parent him. Lando's girlfriend of three years has seen him grow and tries her best with him, but sometimes it just seems like she cant to anything right.
WORDS: 1452
_____
When I started dating Lando three years ago I didn't know what to expect, but it certainly wasn't a four-year kid, the racing and being famous part and Lando managing to juggle all of it. In the beginning, Finn was “Lando's son” a title he just held, because how else was I supposed to approach the fact that the person I am newly dating is co-parenting a child he had pretty early in his life and who is kind of part of my life now as well. Lando was pretty careful at first and I didn't meet his son until we were absolutely sure and deeply into a relationship and so "Lando's son” became just Finn over time.
Three years have gone by so quickly and watching Finn grow was something so special. As well as the first time he held my hand in a scary situation or fell asleep on my shoulder during a movie. And somewhere between bedtime stories, scraped knees and watching cartoons in the morning, Finn has become an important part in this relationship.
And still Finn has a mom, a wonderful woman he calls mama and she is absolutely fire in her job and taking care of Finn. Figuring out the co-parenting with Lando was long done before I entered the picture and they both always manage to put Finn first. Still, I learned a lot of things in the last three years. Dinosaur facts, playing endless rounds of Uno and that children somehow manage to survive on apple juice, chicken nuggets and laughter.
Of course it was never my intention to replace his mama, I just want to be someone Finn can count on, someone else in his corner, but sometimes this just feels harder than I thought it would be.
One time, while Finn was still practising tying his shoes, he insisted on doing it himself, but just couldn't get it. “I don't know how anymore.” He told me and I knelt in front of him. Slowly showed him how to make the loops and tie them together. Finn watched my movements, but then just shook his head.
“My mama is better at that.” He says with an honesty only kids have, but I still smiled. “That’s why I am practising getting better at this.” I just told him because I never taught someone how to tie shoes before and Finn accepted that explanation with a thoughtful nod.
A few weeks later, Finn and I were decorating cupcakes, colourful sugar bombs for the next family gathering. And well, maybe Finn was more content about decorating anything but the cupcakes with the icing. His cheeks covered, my sleeves as well, and I am pretty sure that one of the dogs got a splash of pink as well. When he gets bored, Finn takes a look at my cupcakes.
“Mama does this differently.” He announced and I looked at my swirls of icing which cover the tops of the cupcakes. “Better or just different?” I ask Finn, because just because those cupcakes look different like he is used to doesn’t mean they don’t look good.
“They look better.” Finn decided with a tilted head, before hopping off the barstool again. I laughed, startled by the honesty, but just said “I suppose I still have to practice then.”
On the next rainy Sunday, it happens again. We were building a blanket fort that barely held out ten minutes, before collapsing on top of us. Finn crawled back out of it, holding one of his favourite blankets, looking at me thoughtfully.
“Can you do this like mama does?” He asks me, before doing some complicated folding technique that leaves me with question marks. “Nope.” I said and he giggled. “We can figure something out together.” I then told him and apparently that was fine. We got every pillow in the house and when Lando returned from getting some takeout, he found us on something that was more of a pillow mountain than a blanket fort. He laughed loudly and served us lunch on top of the pillows.
Finn's comparisons never stopped, but they were never meant to be cruel. He is simply living in a world where his mama does things one way and I do them differently. Still, his comparisons are leaving tiny bruises on my inside and they kind of pile up by now.
I wait until Finn is in bed that day before I finally say something to Lando, who is currently loading the dishwasher, while I just stare at the towel in my hands.
“Do you think that I am bad at acting as a mother figure to him?” I ask him and Lando freezes in his movements, plate just halfway in the dishwasher, when he turns around. “Why? Has somebody said something?” He quickly asks and I slowly shake my head.
“He compares me to his mama, which is fine, but sometimes it hurts.” I explain how those thoughts came to my mind and Lando sets the plate aside and takes two steps in my direction. He takes the towel out of my hands and tosses it on the counter before taking my hands in his instead.
“Love…” He mumbles that thumb brushing over the back of my hand. “Finn loves to compare everything.” Lando says before adding. “My cooking to his grandmas, my driving to Oscar's, his football shoes to his friends and most importantly, ice cream flavours.” A tiny smile tugs on my lips before Lando continues.
“And you know why?” He says, not even waiting for an answer “Because he is an annoying little seven-year-old.” I laugh over the lump in my throat and Lando lifts my chin so that I look at him.
“He doesn't compare you because he wishes for you to be different. He compares you because it is normal for him.” Lando explains and I sigh, somehow knowing that, but it still stings. “You are not there to replace his mama.” He gently says and I answer, “I know” Because that’s not what I want to do, but Lando just mumbles “But you are becoming another safe place for him.” And while a tear rolls down my cheek, I lean against Lando's chest, listening to his reassuring “You are perfect with him.”
A month later I feel better when Finn compares me to his Mama and just try to see it as Lando explained it. It is normal for someone his age to do so. I am just making breakfast when Finn tiredly enters the kitchen but has a determined look on his face. He doesn't greet me, just shuffles from one foot to the other, before he just blurts out.
“Can I call you mom?”
Everything inside me stops, before my heart and head start racing. Setting the knife aside to turn to Finn, crouching down to his height. “If you really want to and if your mama is okay with it.” I say, because I don't want to overstep any boundaries here, but Finn just nods quickly.
“I talked with her about it.” He says and I blink once, twice, before reassuring myself that I heard him right. “You did?” And Finn enthusiastically nods again. “She said families don't have to be blood they just have to be loved ones.” And at this, I have to blink quickly, fighting back the tears.
“Then I am fine with it.” I give him my okay and the biggest grin spreads on Finn's lips. “Thanks, mom.” He says that, arms wrapping around my neck and just when I hug him back, I see Lando entering the kitchen, eyeing us with a tilted head. Finn leans into me for another moment and I just feel warmth in that moment. Then he lets go and runs off to the living room, like he hasn't just changed everything.
Lando looks after his son, then back to me, before softly asking. “Did he just call you mom?” I laugh, but sniffle slightly, getting back onto my feet. “Yeah, asked me if I was fine with it before.” Lando comes closer, wrapping his arms around me and kisses the top of my head.
“You can cry if you want to.” He tells me, because he obviously seen the tears and heard me sniffle and I don't hold back those happy tears anymore, letting them wet Lando's shirt while he just holds me.
After a moment, he leans back, hand tilting up my chin to look at me, still the softest smile on his lips. “See, he loves you.” Lando tells me and while listening to Finn's laughter coming from the living room, I know that I am exactly where I want to be.
i’m literally BEGGING you, PLEASEEEEE write another scott miller fic!!!!! i just finished reading the one you have right now and it was fucking amazing!!!!! perhaps a series as well??? idc what it is i am just so obsessed and need more
Matters of orgasm quota
Pairing: Scott Miller x Storm Par partner!reader
⟡ Main Index | ⟡ Archive for Earth-181938
PSA: I’ve been informed by the lovely @davidcoresnwet that someone has used an excerpt of Lessons on sex to create an AI bot. It's not me and I do NOT consent to my work being used or adapted in AI tools in any form. If anyone is able to, please report it and request its removal, the link will be at the bottom of this post.
Summary: By convincing Scott you were a one-orgasm girl, despite what your one-night stand proved, you thought you'd be letting him down gently. What you didn't expect was how eagerly he'd call your claim "insufficient data" and just how determined he'd be to run the numbers himself...Care to play a game?
Classification: Smut +18 | coworkers to friends with benefits, inappropriate workplace behavior with sexual banter, voyeuristic risk and exhibitionism kink, power dynamics at work, emotionally repressed idiots in love, several smut scenes, rude/arrogant Scott Miller, mention of a breeding kink, protected rough sex, oral sex, mild jealousy, guided (?) fingering, orgasm control, overstimulation and multiple orgasms, dirty talk and condescending praise, groping/nipple play, dom/sub dynamics in bed and mild manhandling.
Word count: 10,7k
You'd been struggling at work lately…just a little and it certainly, definitely, wasn't because you'd finally gotten fucked.
Being dickmatized wasn't a real thing…you were about eighty-six percent sure of that, though the number seemed to drop every morning you woke up thinking about Scott before your alarm even went off.
Your lack of focus had absolutely nothing to do with the way he'd ruined your standards a few nights ago…the problem simply was the men around you. You were back at the office now, which meant instead of dealing with one irritating man, you were surrounded by twenty.
None of them understood the concept of an inside voice, half of them apparently thought deodorant was optional and for reasons beyond your comprehension, at least one of them always felt compelled to announce that his balls itched to whoever happened to be standing nearby. You'd abandoned your desk before lunch and barricaded yourself inside one of the glass meeting rooms, the thicker walls muting the chaos outside without cutting you off completely.
You could still see everyone moving through the office and they could still see you buried behind your laptop, which was enough to keep people from accusing you of hiding, which you were definitely NOT doing. Unfortunately, the spreadsheet glowing on your screen had long since blurred into meaningless numbers. Instead, you sat staring at it while trying to figure out how to fix yourself before weather alerts put you and Scott back on the road together.
Maybe celibacy deserved another shot and maybe one incredible night was enough for another long while. You'd had great sex, you'd been thoroughly fucked and that could be the perfect place to stop, before it got so good it stopped fitting anywhere on your stupid little scale.
You pressed your hands over your face and groaned into your palms. “This can't be that fucking hard,” you muttered, the words muffled against your skin. “Let's not be greedy,” you sighed then, forcing yourself to sit up straighter and look back at your laptop.
The spreadsheet waiting on the screen might as well have been written in another language because every time you tried to focus, Scott found his way back into your head. It had been days and your brain refused to let it go…his hands, his voice, his touch and the way he'd looked at you afterward. The memories barged into your thoughts whenever they pleased, leaving you staring blankly ahead instead of working.
Your eyes weren't even seeing the numbers anymore, they were vaguely fixed on Javier outside the meeting room enthusiastically demonstrating what looked like an attempted backflip to someone unfortunate enough to be watching as a knock against the glass wall snapped you out of it and your head turned so fast your neck almost protested.
Scott stood on the other side, dressed in his usual Storm Par shirt and cap, one hand already wrapped around the handle. He didn't wait for permission before pushing the door open and letting himself in, softly closing it behind him.
You let out a slow breath through your nose and immediately looked back at your laptop, pretending you'd been deeply invested in your work instead of daydreaming about being folded like a Samsung all over his apartment.
“What’s up?” you asked as casually as you could manage, clicking through random tabs and typing complete nonsense onto the keyboard with sufficient confidence to sell the act.
Scott pulled out the chair across from you and sat down. “Nothing.” He shrugged, resting his forearms on the table like this was the most normal visit in the world. “Just checking in.”
Your eyes flicked toward the glass wall briefly as you hummed softly. “You could've done that from outside.”
“I could've,” he agreed easily. “Just wanted to make sure you understood that hiding from me isn't gonna solve your problem.” He motioned lazily toward the floor-to-ceiling windows surrounding the room. “Especially when you pick the fishbowl office.”
You let out a quiet huff of laughter before catching yourself, disguising it with a small clearing of your throat as your fingers kept tapping aimlessly at the keyboard.
“Where are you hiding then?” you asked, finally sparing him a glance. Scott hadn't been around much the last few days, at least not anywhere the rest of the team could bother him, though that wasn't exactly unusual, given the choice, he'd avoid every person in the building.
“My office,” he replied flatly.
“Your office?” You frowned. “Since when do you have an office?”
Scott leaned back in his chair. “Turns out when enough people complain about how snarky you are and the company likes your results too much to fire you, they stick you in your own office.”
You stared at him for a second before giving up on the performance entirely. The laptop clicked shut beneath your hands and for the first time in seventy-two hours, you looked directly into his eyes without immediately finding an excuse to look away.
“You done pretending?” he asked.
“I wasn't pretending.”
“No?” His voice stayed soft, almost conversational but the corner of his mouth twitched with the beginning of a grin. He tilted his head to watch your reaction. “'Cause you've barely been able to argue with me for three days…Doesn't seem to be a problem right now.”
Your eye twitched, God, he was trying to bait you. You refused to give him the satisfaction of reacting the way he wanted, especially not to a man who wore a baseball cap indoors like the sun might suddenly appear over the conference table.
“Those great results you're so proud of benefiting from have another name next to yours at the bottom of every report,” you shot back evenly. “Last I checked, you're not out there watching your own back, no matter how self-centered you happen to be.”
You would've sworn you saw the very corner of his mouth twitch upward again. Damn it.
“My point exactly,” he said quietly, settling deeper into his chair with the smug confidence of a man who knew he'd gotten exactly the reaction he wanted. The same confidence he'd had a few nights ago when he'd been ordering you around his apartment, rewarding you every time you listened.
The memory flashed through your head before you could stop it. Was he thinking about it too? You blinked hard and shoved the thought aside, straightening your shoulders.
“What exactly are we talking about?” you asked.
“My office and your smart mouth. What else?” He paused long enough to let the words hang. “If I started casually talking about how good it felt to fuck you silent, you'd probably throw that laptop at me.”
Your heart lurched so violently it genuinely annoyed you. Your eyes darted to the glass walls surrounding the room to make sure nobody outside could somehow hear him before snapping back to his face. He looked completely unbothered, sitting there like he'd commented on the weather.
“What do you want, Scott?”
“Besides your pussy in my mouth?...” He tipped his head back, lazily rocking his chair as he seemed to remember why he'd actually come in. “Right.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a key and slid it across the table until it stopped between you. “The key to our office.”
You looked down at it, then back at him, narrowing your eyes. “I think I'll pass.”
“It's at the end of the hall, far from the elevators,” he continued as though you hadn't spoken. “Big windows...private bathroom…and its own Wi-Fi router. We could probably fit a couch in there for those midday naps you keep pretending you don't need.”
You let out a quiet scoff and leaned back in your own chair, mirroring his position. “I think all of that thunder finally got to you, Scotty,” you teased, genuinely wondering if the man had started losing his hearing along with his common sense from being exposed to such weather.
“No, but your moaning probably did,” Scott replied without missing a beat. “It echoed pretty well.”
You stared at him for a second before sighing long and steady. “Blame your complete lack of furniture, playboy.” you muttered. “Your apartment needs a rug…It might actually absorb some of the noise and save you the trip to the ear doctor.”
“I can get a rug,” he nodded thoughtfully. “Just need someone to test how effective it is–”
You leaned across the table before he could finish, eyes widening in warning as you pointed a finger at him. “Stop…just stop.” Your voice dropped instinctively as you glanced through the glass wall, checking that nobody outside was paying enough attention to lip-read the conversation.
A few people walked past carrying laptops while Javi argued with someone over a radar image, nobody seemed interested in the meeting room.
You looked back at Scott. “We're at work…You can't say shit like that in front of everyone.”
“You're right,” he admitted with a slow nod, looking almost disappointed in himself for all of half a second, then he tapped the key sitting between you. “Take that and follow me.”
A laugh escaped you immediately as you shook your head. “Scott, I'm not going to a second location with you…We both know how that ends.”
“First time I've heard you complain,” he said, completely unfazed. “Usually ends pretty well. Sure, there's quite a bit of cleaning after and being sore doesn't help…but it’s a small price to pay.”
You snorted and pushed the key back across the table with one finger until it stopped in front of him. “Yeah and unsurprisingly I don't need the whole office hearing about it.”
“So you admit you're loud.”
“I'm not admitting to anything during work hours,” you clarified. “I'm trying to work so we can keep our numbers up. Unlike you...” You leaned forward again, lowering your voice until he had to do the same. “...who's trying to lure me into some dark office so you can fill me up like a fucking Twinkie.”
Scott's eyebrows lifted noticeably. “A breeding kink?” He hummed thoughtfully, rubbing his jaw like you'd presented him with a serious research topic. “Interesting...” He nodded once. “I'll get tested. Can't say I've ever wanted to skip the condom step before but I'd consider making an exception for you.” His fingers slid the key back toward you again. “In the meantime…don't knock it until you've seen it…Big windows, no vis-à-vis and if you're good and quiet, we could have a remake of–”
“I’m not letting you fuck me again, Scott,” you disputed. You weren't entirely sure whether you'd made that decision before he walked into the meeting room or only after he'd spent the last five minutes trying to talk you into following him somewhere with a lock on the door but it was the right one…it had to be.
Scott blinked once, let out a slow breath through his nose, then stood already facing the exit. “Get up.”
Another laugh slipped out as you leaned farther back in your chair, folding your arms across your chest. “No.”
“No?” He turned fully toward you, giving a small, thoughtful nod. “You know, I like to think we've got this communication thing figured out but I feel like I'm missing a few pieces here.”
You nodded as if his confusion was perfectly reasonable. “Sure...uh...” You shrugged innocently. “We're incompatible.”
“Incompatible,” he repeated flatly with enough sarcasm packed into the word to make you roll your eyes. He'd spent the last three days replaying every second of that afternoon in his apartment and there hadn't been a single thing incompatible about it. You two fit like pieces of the same puzzle, one he intended to keep building. “And you know this how?”
“Once is a mistake, twice is a coincidence…third time is a pattern.” You counted each point off on your fingers before pointing at yourself. “Celibacy is a choice and it's the one I'm making.”
Scott stared at you for a long second before pulling off his cap and dragging a hand through his hair, looking toward the ceiling like he was asking for patience. The cap went right back on.
“Okay,” he sighed. “Now give me the no-bullshit answer.”
You shrugged again. “That is the no-bullshit answer…but if you'd like, I can make you a graph…maybe throw in a pie chart, some percentages...” You gestured toward the hallway. “It's gonna take a while though, so you should probably wait in your office.”
“Our office,” he corrected automatically, then he looked around the meeting room, motioning toward your laptop, the scattered papers beside it and the whiteboard behind you. “I’m sorry, I figured you already had the presentation ready...I assumed that's what all this was.” He stepped closer and planted both hands on the table, leaning toward you. It forced you to lift your chin to keep eye contact. “Explain it to me like I'm stupid, it’ll save you some time.”
You leaned forward until both forearms rested on the desk, making sure he had nowhere to look except your face. If Scott wanted to play games, then he could deal with the consequences.
“The sex we had was absolutely...” Your voice softened into something dreamy, bait wrapped in honey.
Scott took it immediately. His shoulders loosened, the tension he'd walked in with bleeding out of him as he leaned closer over the desk, one brow lifting. The corner of his mouth almost curled into a smug grin, convinced he knew exactly where you were going.
“Mhm,” he hummed quietly.
“...interminable,” you finished flatly. “Too many rounds for me.”
The grin died before it had the chance to fully appear. His shoulders deflated, followed by a slow blink as the realization settled in that he'd fallen for it. His jaw twitched, eyes narrowing at you with the familiar look of a man who'd just been expertly baited.
“And that matters because...” he asked after a beat, his voice noticeably flatter now. “...you're a numbers person?”
“I don't need to run the numbers to know I'm a one-orgasm girl,” you replied with a careless shrug. “Always have been.”
Scott shook his head slowly. “So the extra two you had...”
“Were just excessive,” you nodded, grinning when his expression darkened further. “See? I knew you'd understand…You're a smart guy, Scott. I've never actually believed your mother dropped you as a child.” You shook your head and flipped your laptop open like the conversation was already over. “Whoever started that awful, tasteless but admittedly very funny rumor around the office should go get fucked.”
“So...you.” he noted immediately. He wasn't stupid, the only person in the building with enough nerve to insult him to his face and behind his back was the same woman he'd spent three days blaming for every inconvenient hard-on he'd had since the storm. “Which is exactly what I've been trying to do.”
You gave another innocent shrug. “It’s just not my thing.”
Scott pushed off the table and straightened to his full height again, looking down at you with that infuriating conviction that usually preceded a terrible idea. “You just haven't been with the right man.”
You couldn't help laughing, even though a small part of you hated that he was probably right. It wasn't the multiple orgasms that bothered you, it was the thought of getting used to someone like him. What happened if this became your new normal? What if nobody else ever measured up afterward? You refused to let some man permanently recalibrate your sex scale.
“Is that you insinuating you've got a magical dick?” you asked, resting your chin on your hand.
“You've seen it...you've felt it...” Scott replied with a maddening grin, his voice dropped, making your stomach tighten. “You tell me.”
You nodded thoughtfully. “Okay...I'm telling you it was a one-time thing. It can't...” You caught yourself, deciding you owed him at least one honest sentence. “Statistically speaking, I hadn't had sex in a very long time, so it was a direct consequence of that. You just happened to cash in on it.” You shrugged and turned back to your laptop, fingers returning to the keyboard. “Should be used to lucky strikes by now, considering your track record at work before we partnered up.”
Scott didn't answer immediately. He simply watched you, piecing your logic together with the same concentration he used to read weather models. “So...” he said after a few seconds. “You're leaving me because you don't think I can consistently make you orgasm more than three times.”
Your hands stopped typing as you genuinely considered it. “If I say yes, will you leave me alone?”
He looked like he was weighing the offer for a solid twenty seconds before quietly stepping around the desk. Without warning, he pushed your laptop shut, stopping your hands beneath your own surprised stare, then picked it up before you could protest. “We work with probabilities and success rates,” he said matter-of-factly. “I'll just have to prove you wrong.”
“That's...not what I said.”
“Then maybe my parents really did drop me.” He tucked the laptop in front of himself as he headed for the door, conveniently hiding the growing outline in his jeans. “I know just how much you like being right…enjoy it while it lasts.”
You pointed after him, biting back another smile. “Keep rubbing my laptop against your boner and you won't hear the end of it.”
A quiet laugh rumbled in Scott's chest as he kept walking. “Come get it then. Might still be early enough for you to get the upcoming flood under wraps.”
He glanced back over his shoulder, the grin he wore making you roll your eyes before you could stop yourself. You shook your head, laughing under your breath as you reached for the key he'd left on the table. Your chair scraped softly against the floor as you stood, pocketing the key before following him to the door.
“You're actually deranged.”
“You liked it once,” he replied without missing a beat, stepping aside to hold the door open for you. “I'm confident you will again.”
You clicked your tongue as you brushed past him, your shoulder bumping his on purpose. “You smug prick... Are we keeping count now?” you asked, looking up at him just long enough to catch the satisfaction on his face before heading into the hallway.
Scott waited until you were ahead of him before letting the smile spread properly across his face. He wasn't unprofessional enough to put his hands on you in the office, no matter how private it was. If he started, neither of you would stop and he wasn't about to deprive himself of the sounds that had been replaying in his head for three straight days. Your question, though, lodged itself somewhere in the back of his mind.
Keeping count...now that was an idea worth exploring.
The sexual tension around your shared office had become something you were going to have to live with sooner rather than later.
The door stayed wide open from the moment you walked in until the moment you left, partly for appearances and mostly to keep either of you from acting on a bad idea. Your desks sat at opposite ends of the room, separated as much as the space allowed and every time you stood at the whiteboard scribbling down data or arguing over storm paths, you caught yourself turning your whole body whenever you heard footsteps behind you.
More often than not, it was Scott wandering over to look at what you were doing and the sharp look you'd throw over your shoulder was enough to stop him a few feet away, one corner of his mouth twitching before he'd silently retreat.
All that tension had to go somewhere and unsurprisingly, it ended up back at your house, though not for any reason either of you would've admitted to. You sat cross-legged on your bed in an oversized t-shirt that barely covered the tops of your thighs, wearing nothing underneath but panties because there was no point pretending modesty around a man who had already seen every inch of you.
Across the room, the television you'd impulsively bought to fill the quiet evenings and keep your hands from wandering under the covers to thoughts of him, leaned against the wall while Scott fixed the crooked mount you'd spent an hour unsuccessfully fighting with the day before. He worked with the same concentration he gave everything else, drill humming steadily in his hand as he checked measurements twice before sinking another screw into the wall.
The room was quiet but not uncomfortably so. Ever since his apartment, conversations between you had become strangely careful. The morning after, you'd simply asked him to drive you home, thanked him with a kiss that tried far too hard to be casual and climbed out of his truck like nothing had changed. Since then, your texts had stayed light, mostly work-related, occasional teasing and both of you acknowledging that neither of you regretted a second of it.
The silence stretching between you now felt heavier than any conversation.
“You know I can feel you staring, right?” Scott asked without looking over, the low whir of the drill cutting through the room before he released the trigger and tightened the bracket with one hand.
“Is it only okay when you do it?” you shot back immediately.
"Given it took you two years to realize I was looking at you in the first place...yeah," he replied without hesitation. He straightened, checking the level one last time before wiping his hands down the front of his jeans. Satisfied, he lifted the television with ease, the muscles in his forearms tightening as he guided it onto the bracket until it clicked into place.
Only then did he turn to face you, that infuriating grin tugging at one corner of his mouth. "You also could've called me for this," he pointed out. "Or texted me sometime between telling me how thoroughly satisfied you were and dodging every question about when I was seeing you outside of work again." His eyes flicked briefly toward the mounted TV before settling back on you. "I'm exceptionally good at screwing stuff."
"I'd rather you weren't," you answered before you could stop yourself, the words escaping so naturally they made you sigh the moment they landed.
Scott caught it immediately. You tried to keep your attention on the television but your eyes betrayed you, drifting back to his arms as he gave the screen a firm shake to make sure it was secure, his veins stood out beneath tanned skin, reaching very capable hands...you looked away a second too late.
He folded his arms across his chest, studying you with the same calm expression he'd worn for the past few days. He still hadn't let the conversation from the office go and judging by the look on his face, he wasn't planning to. "You're not a one-orgasm woman," he said matter-of-factly. "If you think you are, you're only fooling yourself."
You leaned farther back against the pillows, drawing one knee up lazily as you looked at him. "Are you saying you could've gone longer?" you asked. "The living room, the kitchen and then the shower wasn't enough?"
Scott walked to the foot of the bed without answering right away. The mattress dipped beneath his weight as he planted both hands against it and leaned toward you. "I've been in a truck with you long enough to know when to quit," he said quietly, his eyes moving over your face before settling back on yours. "We were both exhausted." A faint smirk tugged at his mouth. "That's not the same thing as being sated."
"Isn't it?" you asked, your gaze slipping almost involuntarily from his face to the veined length of his forearms braced against the mattress before climbing back to meet his eyes.
Before you could say anything more, one of his hands wrapped around your ankle and pulled you smoothly to the very edge of the bed, your legs parting naturally to make room for him standing between them. He wasn’t even that close yet but you could already feel yourself growing wet, the slow throb of arousal building low in your belly from nothing more than the way he looked at you. "Weather models aren’t the only thing I read well," he rasped, his voice dropping lower.
"What are you reading now, Scotty?" You teased, fingernails trailing lightly up and down his forearms as you looked up at him.
“That you have more than one…or three meek orgasms in you.” He assured, hands trailing slowly up your legs, the rough warmth of his palms sliding over your skin as he held eye contact. “I just need you to let me show you.”
Your eyes narrowed at his unshakable confidence. “And how are you gonna do that?”
“We’re gonna play a game.” He grinned as he let one finger hook into the waistband of your panties, yanking them down slowly. “Numbers excite you,” he started, eyes lifting to yours for any sign that he should stop but when he found none, he continued pulling the fabric lower, sliding it down your thighs until your glistening pussy was fully exposed to the cool air of the room.
You chuckled under your breath, the sound barely cutting through the charged space between you. “They don’t excite me, Scott. They are part of my job.”
“I’ll put you to work then.” His mouth curved into something faintly amused as he leaned in closer, hands easing the panties off the rest of the way and letting them fall aside onto the mattress. “Condoms?”
You held eye contact with him for as long as you could, whether it was an attempt at challenging him or calling his bluff, it didn’t work. “Bedside table,” you replied, chin tipping slightly in its direction.
The mattress dipped as he moved away and you followed him with your eyes, watching the way his shoulders moved under the fabric of his shirt, every motion unhurried as he reached the bedside drawer and slid it open.
A low chuckle slipped from him as he pulled out the brand new box of condoms, turning it between his fingers. You had bought it after that night in his apartment, unsure if anything would happen again but wanting to be ready. “I don’t know if this is wishful thinking,” he murmured, glancing at you over the edge of the box, “or if I should be worried about competition.”
“Focus on your little game before I dry up,” you shot back with a grin, chin tilting slightly as you held his gaze without blinking.
That earned a short, amused huff from him. Scott walked back toward the end of the bed, the condom foil caught lightly between his teeth as he worked his belt loose with ease, the sound of metal sliding through leather punctuating the silence. He kept his eyes locked on you the entire time, moving with unhurried confidence as he pushed his jeans down and let his heavy cock spring free.
“I am not in the business of droughts, sweetheart,” he said, voice edged with amusement as he straightened above you, tearing the wrapper open and finally discarding it to the side.
“There is a first time for everything,” you replied, watching him with a calm that didn’t quite match the pace of your heart.
He knelt on the mattress between your parted legs as he rolled the condom on with unbroken focus and you moved back a little to give him more space, which he took gladly.
He hovered over you, warmth pressing into your skin before he even fully touched you. “Listen to me,” he started, one hand sliding down between your bodies, thumb beginning to circle slowly over your clit, drawing a sharp inhale out of your lungs as your shoulders loosened against the mattress.
His voice stayed authoritative yet gentle, one hand braced beside your head. “I want you to count every thrust and when I ask you, I want a clear answer…”
Your lashes fluttered as your focus wavered between his words and the way your body reacted against them. “What kind of game is that?” you asked, though it came out uneven, breath catching mid-sentence as your hips shifted slightly beneath him, instinctively chasing the pressure he was already controlling.
He didn’t react to the question beyond a faint shake of his head, like the answer didn’t matter as much as obedience to the structure he was setting. His thumb continued its firm, steady movements over your clit, each pass measured enough to keep you suspended between anticipation and release. “Then you'll count the orgasms too.”
“What happens if I lose count?” you whispered, chest heaving as warmth began spreading through your core, fingers flexing lightly against the sheets as your body started to respond more openly to him.
“Don’t and you won’t have to find out.” When your hips started to roll up into his hand, searching for more friction, he tsked softly, refusing to let you set the rhythm. “Can we start or do you have any questions?”
“Make this quick, my date will be here soon,” you teased, though it barely held its edge anymore, breath catching around the words as your focus kept slipping.
“Never had an audience but it’s not too late to start,” he grinned, eyes drinking in the way your chest heaved beneath the thin fabric of your oversized shirt. Your nipples had hardened into tight, sensitive peaks that poked prominently against the material with every quick, shallow breath you drew. Your lips parted on a soft sigh as your eyes fluttered shut, lashes casting faint shadows on your cheeks while you gave yourself over completely to the steady, knowing movements of his thumb.
The pressure against your clit was exquisite, firm circles that never faltered, gliding smoothly over the swollen, sensitive bundle of nerves with just the right amount of slick friction. Each rotation sent fresh sparks of pleasure racing up your spine and down through your core, making your inner muscles clench with need.
You could feel yourself growing wetter with every passing second, the warm arousal leaking steadily from your entrance and coating his fingers as they worked you loose. Your legs fell farther apart around his body, thighs quivering with the effort to stay open for him as the tension deep inside you coiled tighter and tighter, like a spring being wound to its limit.
Scott never looked away, his gaze locked on your face and then drifted lower to watch the way your cunt responded to his touch while his free hand rested heavily on your inner thigh now, holding you steady and spread wide so he could see everything. He varied the rhythm to keep you on edge, alternating between those perfect, consistent circles and broader strokes that dragged over your clit before returning to focused pressure right at the apex. The wet, obscene sounds of his thumb sliding through your increasing slickness mixed with your growing moans, filling the bedroom and making the air feel thicker, hotter.
Your breaths came faster, turning into soft pants that bordered on whimpers. The heat in your belly expanded rapidly, spreading outward in heavy, pulsing waves that made your toes curl against the sheets and your back arch clean off the mattress. Every muscle in your body seemed to draw tight as the pleasure mounted higher until it finally broke over you in a devastating rush.
The orgasm crashed through you with breathtaking intensity, starting deep in your core and radiating outward in rhythmic contractions. Your cunt fluttered and squeezed hard around nothing while your moans turned raw and unrestrained, echoing softly in the room while your entire body shook and trembled beneath him, thighs clamping around his hand as the pleasure rolled on and on, leaving you gasping for air and dizzy with satisfaction.
Even as the peak began to fade into warm, lingering aftershocks, Scott kept his thumb moving in gentler strokes, drawing out every last bit of sensation until you were left panting on the bed.
“That’s one,” he announced, using the slick in his hand to lubricate the condom further before fisting his cock and adjusting to push in slowly, the thick head stretching your entrance as you gasped at the sudden fullness. “Isn’t this what you’ve been thinking about?” He teased, giving a tentative thrust out and then back in, letting you feel every inch of him sliding home.
“You’re so full of yourself,” you moaned, the words breaking apart on the way out, breathless and uneven as your body adjusted to the depths he reached.
“Not the one being stuffed at the moment,” he answered with a low grin you could feel more than see as he bent down to press a slow kiss against your jaw and then lower along the sensitive skin of your neck. Against your ear he mumbled, “Focus…start counting.”
His hips began to move then, rolling into a steady rhythm that stole what little composure you had left. His shaft dragged heavily against your still pulsating walls, the thick length stroking every sensitive spot inside you with wet, filthy sounds that filled the room and made the mattress rock beneath you with every impact.
“Count,” he reminded you again, lips brushing the shell of your ear as he maintained that same unbroken rhythm.
You counted under your breath each time his pelvis collided with yours, though you didn’t truly believe there would be any substantial consequence if you didn’t. The steady slap of skin on skin mixed with the slick glide of his dick pumping into your drenched folds, every thrust pushing deep, stretching you open and rubbing perfectly against that spot that made your toes curl. Your inner walls clenched around him rhythmically, still fluttering from the first orgasm as he fucked you through the lingering sensitivity.
The wet sounds grew louder with each movement, your arousal coating his cock and dripping down to soak the covers beneath you.
“I still think about the first time I made you cum,” he grunted between thrusts, voice roughened by effort. “Do you?”
Your breath caught on a sharp whimper as your fingers curled into the front of his shirt, knuckles tightening. “Not a good time…”you managed. He huffed a low laugh at that, the sound rolling through his chest and into you where you were already pressed too close to think clearly.
“Good time as any,” he murmured, breath warm against your skin. “You’re good at multitasking.”
“Uh…it doesn’t–” you started, though the thought trailed off completely as you lost it to the deep, relentless thrusts. His hips snapped forward with controlled force, driving his cock into you over and over rhythmically. You could feel every vein and ridge as he filled you completely, pulling out just enough for the head to catch at your entrance before plunging back in and making your pussy squelch wetly around him.
“Doesn’t what?” He asked, gaze fixed on your face as he noticed the way your thighs tensed tighter around his waist and the way your grip on him changed from holding to clinging.
“Apply to sex,” you blurted out, breath coming fast now, words clipped between shallow inhales. “‘m gonna cum.”
“Mhm,” he hummed condescendingly. “Nobody’s surprised.”
He kept going at the same pace, cock plunging deep and pelvis grinding against your clit with every forward motion until your breath hitched sharply and the second orgasm crashed over you even harder than the first.
Your entire body seized as a guttural cry tore from your throat. Every nerve ending lit up at once with a white-hot surge that radiated outward in concentric pulls. Your cunt clamped around his cock with a strength that surprised even you, muscles attempting to milk him in rapid, involuntary contractions that made his thick ridge drag against your swollen walls with each desperate squeeze.
The moment it hit its peak, he spoke again. “How many was that?” He asked, hips still rolling smoothly to prolong the orgasm, drawing out every shudder as your walls continued to flutter and squeeze him. The wet sounds of his thrusts turned obscenely louder as your slick flooded around his shaft in a gush of warm fluid that coated his pelvis and dribbled down your ass crack onto the mattress. You could feel the way your inner walls fluttered and gripped, the textures of your own flesh squeezing every vein and bump of his length while your thighs locked tighter around his hips, heels digging into his lower back as if to trap him inside you forever.
Your vision swam, the ceiling light blurring into streaks of gold. A sharp, keening moan spilled from your lips, broken by gasps as his unrelenting rhythm continued, even as your peak made your whole body tremble like a plucked string.
“Mmm, twenty seven,” you moaned, hand digging into his forearm as the orgasm slowly subsided, leaving you trembling and breathless. “Second orgasm.”
“Smart and attentive,” he grinned, slowing his pace to allow you to breathe.
You nodded against the mattress, trying to catch your breath as the warm aftershocks of your orgasm continued to pulse through you. “Attentive enough to remember you said–” you swallowed hard, voice still shaky as your chest rose and fell rapidly. “And I quote ‘leaving me’ during our conversation at the office…I thought you of all people would understand what casual sex is,” you grinned, looking up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. “Can’t leave you if we’re not together.”
“Oh, I am aware…If we were together you wouldn’t doubt your ability to cum more than three times,” he said, immediately thrusting into you with one long, measured stroke. His cock pushed through your still-sensitive walls, making them flutter and grip around him as you gasped in surprise at the sudden overwhelm. “It’d be a shame for that box of condoms to go unused though.”
You grinned despite the way your entire body trembled, your breasts bouncing freely with each thrust as he picked up an uninterrupted rhythm again. The length of his cock stretched you so perfectly, sliding through your soaked pussy with maddening precision.
“It’s okay…my suitors don’t always use them,” you managed to tease, the words breaking into a breathy moan as he drove in particularly deep and ground his hips in a slow circle.
“Funny…” he replied dryly, dark eyes locked on your face as he watched every reaction closely. “Have any favorites?” He asked then, never once slowing the pounding of his cock into your dripping cunt.
You shook your head, trying desperately to keep your voice steady even as intense pleasure sparked through you with every single thrust. “I know you don’t make the list though…you haven’t been–uh…fuck,” you moaned loudly, pelvis tilting back for him to effectively hit target. “Performing particularly well.”
He hummed low and amused right against your ear in response, breath hot and ragged on your skin. “One data point from each category doesn't make for a reliable average…Can’t base a whole hypothesis off two results, you know that.”
“Scott–”
“I’m serious. You called me a pervert just to cum all over my dick? What the hell does that make you?” His hips didn’t slow for even a second. If anything, they found a devastating new pace that made your next protest die somewhere deep in your throat. His cock plunged into you again and again, the heavy drag of his length rubbing relentlessly against every sensitive inch of your walls while the wet slap of his pelvis meeting your soaked pussy echoed through the room.
The pressure inside you built rapidly once more, that familiar heavy warmth spreading through your core as your walls fluttered and squeezed greedily around him.
“This isn’t–” you gasped sharply as he changed his angle slightly, driving even deeper to fill you entirely. “...science. Far from it.”
“Everything is science.” He caught your jaw firmly in his hand, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look directly at him. His expression remained cocky and unbothered, jaw clenched with concentration as sweat glistened on his forehead and along the strong line of his neck. His eyes burned with raw lust and focus as if he could keep fucking you exactly like this for hours without tiring. “If you want accurate data on my performance, you’re gonna need way more trials than this…statistically speaking.”
“You’re an ass–”
“I’m thorough.” His mouth dropped to your neck and you felt him smile against your overheated skin as he continued pounding into you without mercy. His cock slid in and out with slick, filthy ease, your abundant arousal coating every inch of him and dripping messily with every powerful thrust. “Guess I’ll just have to keep coming back…purely for research purposes.” He turned his mouth toward your ear, voice dropping into a low, teasing growl. “Twenty nine condoms left in that box and with the ones at my apartment we should have enough margin for trial, don't you think?” He grinned, hips snapping forward sharply to emphasize his words. “When we run out I’ll just cum inside of you.”
You gasped sharply, your entire body tensing and seizing as another orgasm ripped through you without warning. The pleasure hit hard and deep, making your pussy clamp down around his thick cock in strong pulses as your thighs quivered violently, mouth falling open in a long, broken moan as the overwhelming sensation consumed you completely, leaving your mind hazy and your body pulsing with need.
“That breeding kink of yours is gonna do miracles,” he marveled, voice rough and strained with arousal as he kept moving through your climax.
“Don’t have one,” you whimpered, the words barely forming as the orgasm continued to crash over you.
“Then why does the thought of it make you cum? Might need to notify the rest of your body of that,” he groaned, looking down between your bodies to watch intently as his cock pistoned in and out of you. The sight of his thick, slicked shaft plunging in and out of your swollen, dripping pussy was obscene, your lips stretched around him, plump and glistening, your hole gripping him with every withdrawal, trying to keep him inside.
“Trying to milk me dry…fuck.” He kept thrusting steadily, prolonging the pleasure until your body tensed firmly beneath him. “Number?”
You could barely form words, your head shaking weakly from side to side as you remained lost in the overwhelming haze of pleasure. Your chest heaved with each ragged inhale, your skin flushed hot all over as your pussy continued to flutter and squeeze around his thick cock even as the peak of your orgasm slowly began to fade.
“Irrelevant,” you managed to reply, your voice hoarse and breathless.
He shook his head, pulling out of you with a wet pop. The sudden emptiness devastated you, you moaned loudly at the loss, your hand instinctively shooting down between your legs to cover your sore pussy. Your fingers pressed against your puffy, sensitive folds as if trying to hold in the overwhelming ache, walls clenching desperately around nothing while slick arousal continued to leak out against your palm.
“Think,” he said, voice rough.
You grabbed onto his shirt desperately with your free hand, tugging him closer as you tried to collect your scattered thoughts through the lingering fog of pleasure. At the same time, Scott wrapped his hand around his own cock, giving it a few firm pumps as he hovered over you.
The wet, glistening length looked painfully hard, flushed dark at the tip but after only a few strokes he hissed sharply through his teeth and abandoned the motion. His chest heaved with heavy breaths, rising and falling visibly as he looked down at you with dark and hungry eyes.
The sight of you lying there needy and trembling, one hand cupping your dripping pussy while you stared up at him, seemed to affect him just as badly.
“I want a total,” he pressed, still breathing hard.
“Third orgasm,” you breathed, fingers absentmindedly pressing a little firmer against your sensitive folds for relief.
“Mhm…I’ll congratulate you when we reach double digits. What else?”
Your eyes widened as you pushed yourself up onto your elbows, staring at him in disbelief while your body still buzzed and trembled. “Double digits? Scott–”
“I want a number,” he repeated firmly, his voice low and commanding, chest still rising and falling heavily.
“Or what?” You challenged, still trying to catch your breath, hand remaining protectively over your aching pussy.
“It’s basic math,” he tried again, his tone teasing but unwavering as he looked down at you with that heated, predatory focus.
You sighed heavily and dropped back onto the mattress, your limbs feeling heavy and your pussy still throbbing with sensitivity as you tried to gather your thoughts. “Forty…two?”
“Is that a guess?” He asked, tilting his head as he grabbed the back of both your legs and pushed them closer to your chest, folding you nearly in half beneath him and exposing you completely.
“Am I wrong?” You asked, eyes drifting from his face down to his heavy, glistening cock dangling between your bodies. You gasped sharply as he pushed back inside in one smooth, devastatingly selfish stroke.
“Close enough,” he groaned as he began thrusting again, hips snapping forward with renewed purpose. The new angle allowed him to drive deeper, thick cock stretching your sensitive pussy wide open and rubbing relentlessly against every nook and cranny inside you repeatedly. The filthy sounds of him fucking into your dripping heat grew louder, your arousal coating his shaft completely and leaking out around him in messy rivulets with each thrust. The overwhelming fullness and friction left you moaning helplessly, body rocking beneath him as pleasure built rapidly once more.
You laughed breathlessly between your own broken moans. “You’re so full of shit, Miller…You can’t even admit the fact that you don’t know the rules to your own fucking game.”
“I know what the outcome should be,” he confessed, face twitching with pleasure as every deep thrust pulled fresh, uncontrollable noises from your throat. His cock plunged in and out of you steadily, the heavy drag of his length filling you completely and making your soaked pussy squelch obscenely around him with every movement. “Keep count. If we’re gonna do this more often, I can’t be responsible for our success rate decreasing…I need to know you can function after being thoroughly fucked.”
“I realize now…” you paused, swallowing hard as you tried to focus through the overwhelming haze of pleasure clouding your mind, the erotic sounds of sex making it nearly impossible to string thoughts together. “That you think very highly of your dick.”
“If it’s anything like your…glorious pussy, you will soon too,” he replied, voice low and rough with the effort of holding back while buried inside your tight heat.
“Glorious?” You giggled, the sound dissolving quickly into a breathy moan as he angled his hips just right and dragged the thick head of his cock across your g-spot.
“Never been good with words that aren’t insults…I’ll get back to you on that,” he groaned deeply, the sound vibrating through his chest. “I’ll understand if you want to gatekeep it from me…I’m turning into a fucking addict and I’m not above begging if you keep it to yourself,” he leaned down to press his lips firmly to yours because he knew that if he heard that breathy-moan hybrid once more, he would probably cum right then and there.
You kissed him back to the best of your abilities, one hand pushing off his baseball cap so you could run your fingers through his hair and grip the strands tightly. Your tongues danced messily together, tasting and exploring as his thrusts refused to slow or stop. Each stroke stretched you open wider, filling you completely and rubbing against every sensitive inch of your walls. The slick glide of his thick cock pumping in and out of your dripping pussy created constant wet sounds that mixed with your muffled moans into his mouth. The overwhelming fullness, the heat of his body pressed against yours and the taste of him on your tongue all blended into a storm of sensation that left you dizzy and desperate for more.
Eventually, your doorbell rang loudly through the house, the sound cutting cleanly through the heavy breathing and slick sounds of sex. Scott pulled back from your lips to look at you, eyes widening in brief surprise, yet his hips kept moving, driving his cock deep into you with relentless thrusts as if the interruption barely registered. You laughed breathlessly, both hands flying up to hide your face before he could see just how completely undone you had become, your expression wrecked every time he snapped his hips forward just right and ground against your clit. Between your splayed fingers, you watched his eyes flick toward the bedside table, lingering briefly on the box of condoms before returning to you. His brows pulled together, confusion settling across his face as he searched yours for an explanation.
“Were you serious?” He asked. Had sleeping with you that first night somehow triggered some carefully planned rotation of men? He wouldn't be angry and he wasn't exactly hurt, but the reality of someone else showing up at your door while still buried balls deep inside you was unfamiliar territory. Between your hands, your breathy laughter only deepened the crease between his brows, doing absolutely nothing to ease the knot forming in his stomach.
You suddenly gasped sharply, your hands flying away from your face to dig into his arms for support. “Fuck…fuck–fuck!”
“Yeah, I’d rather do it uninterrupted,” he muttered, breathing still uneven as he rested his forehead briefly against yours and kept thrusting into your soaked, clenching heat without missing a beat. “Who’s at the door?”
“Dinner…oh!” You whispered, the words cutting off as another orgasm hit you hard and fast. The pleasure exploded through your body with a heavy throb that made your cunt pulse and squeeze tightly around his cock, as fresh slick gushed out around him and you moaned loudly, the sound echoing through the room so intensely that you began doubting just how soundproof your house really was. You'd ordered pizza earlier as a simple thank-you for helping mount the television, a gesture that had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time but now, as the doorbell rang again, you couldn't help wondering whether it had ever been necessary. Judging by where the evening had ended up, you probably would've let him fuck you either way.
“Should have asked,” he started, voice strained as he forcefully pulled out of you with a loud, wet pop that left your empty pussy clenching and fluttering around nothing. He dropped to one knee, then the other, settling quickly on the floor at the foot of the bed and put his face right between your spread legs, staring hungrily at the sight of your puffy, glistening folds still twitching from the recent orgasm. “Usually like to start off with a sweet drink,” he said with a wicked grin before diving in without hesitation.
You moaned loudly, spine bowing off the mattress as his hot mouth offered sudden, intense relief and new pleasure after the constant stretch of his cock. Your shaky thighs rested heavily on his broad shoulders while his big, veiny hands wrapped firmly around them, massaging the trembling skin there and pulling you even closer against his face. His nose pressed and rubbed deliciously against your swollen clit with every movement, sending sharp sparks of overwhelming sensation shooting through your already sensitive body.
The first stroke of that wet muscle against your oversensitive flesh made you jolt, a high, keening whine escaping your throat as he peppered your soaked slit with slow kisses and gentle, exploratory licks, savoring the taste of your abundant arousal as it coated his lips and tongue. He licked broad stripes from your entrance up to your clit before circling the swollen bud with focused attention, the wet sounds of his mouth working you over filled the room alongside your ragged moans. The warmth of his breath, the wet heat of his tongue and the firm grip of his hands all combined to keep you right on the edge.
His lips sealed around your clit, sucking it hard momentarily before withdrawing solely to speak.
“I am all ears,” he prompted between kisses and licks, looking up at you with dark, hungry eyes while you still tried desperately to catch your breath but the longer you failed to answer him, the more indifferent he became, knowing he was gradually losing you to the pleasure again. One of his hands reached up your body, pinching your nipple between two fingers and rolling it firmly, making you gasp sharply at the sudden sting of pleasure. Your hand moved up instinctively to cover his, holding him there as he massaged the sensitive peak and soothed the sting away with slow but firm handfuls.
“Four,” you swallowed hard, voice coming out hoarse after the intensity of your previous orgasms. One hand fisted the sheets, knuckles light, as he alternated between deep, probing licks inside you and teasing, featherlight touches on your swollen nub.
“Mhm…almost half way there. That it?” he prompted, warm breath ghosting over your slick, swollen folds as he remained positioned between your spread thighs.
“Lost count,” you slurred, the words barely coherent as jolts of lingering pleasure made it difficult to focus on anything else.
He hummed in clear disappointment, slowly shaking his head while his eyes stayed fixed on your dripping pussy. This whole thing had become a test of restraint for him, he needed to know he could keep his composure at work, that he could sit across from you in a meeting room, argue over data and not immediately think about getting you in bed. What better way to prove it than by denying you while forcing himself to watch?
He released your breast, fingers trailing lightly down your side before pulling away, expression calm despite the battle he was clearly fighting with himself. “I don’t like the sound of that.”
Your lips curled into a tired but undeniably sultry smile, your tone teasing despite how thoroughly spent your body felt. “You’re already down there…and it’s clear we aren’t getting any pizza…so get to licking. I would hate for such a big man like you to go hungry.”
“I’ll stay down here…but you’re gonna put those pretty hands to use. Give me something to look at,” he replied, darkened eyes gleaming with hunger as he watched you intently from his position between your legs.
“You must not want to reach double digits that badly,” you teased, trying to maintain some semblance of control even as your core throbbed with fresh need. You stretched across the mattress with a quiet moan, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing just how much the denial had gotten to you.
“No, I do…just want you to want it too,” he admitted, gaze dropping down to your glistening, puffy pussy before lifting back to your face. He could see the subtle flicker of disappointment cross your features when he held back from giving you exactly what you craved. “If you saw how I cleaned a yogurt lid, you’d stop playing hard to get,” he grinned, voice dropping into that low, teasing register you were starting to love. “I know you’ve been thinking about it…that night, on your dining table…”
“You could just remind me,” you shrugged, attempting to sound indifferent while your body betrayed you completely.
“You could just earn it,” he shot back, refusing to give an inch.
Once again, you held challenging eye contact with him, the tension crackling between you as neither seemed willing to fold first, though the insistent, needy pulsing of your greedy pussy eventually won out.
Your hand moved lower with shaky determination, fingers inching across your lower belly until they reached your wet and puffy clit, while Scott’s eyes followed every movement hungrily, watching as your fingertips made contact with the glistening bud. Your cunt looked thoroughly used and beautifully plump, the outer lips engorged and parted to reveal the slick, shiny inner folds that still fluttered slightly from your release as clear arousal continued to leak slowly from your entrance, trailing down toward your ass and making everything look obscenely wet and inviting under the bedroom light.
You began rolling your clit gently under your fingertips, the direct stimulation sending sharp sparks of pleasure shooting through your tightly coiled body. A shaky huff escaped your lips as you threw your head back against the pillows, thighs trembling around his shoulders while he drank in the sight greedily, specifically the way your fingers moved in small, unsteady circles over your clit, occasionally dipping lower to spread your abundant wetness back up and make the entire area glisten even more.
Your pussy clenched visibly at the touch, the tight entrance winking and pushing out another bead of slick that slowly dripped down as your breasts rose and fell rapidly with each breath, nipples still hard and flushed from his earlier attention. The visual was almost too much for him, your body laid out open and responsive, fingers working your most sensitive spot while he watched from mere inches away.
He breathed a stream of cool air directly onto your heated flesh as he continued to observe every detail. “That’s it…you won’t have to do this much often, if you agree to just call me every time your fantasies aren’t cutting it,” he murmured, blowing another gentle puff of cool air across your clit that made your fingers falter for a moment and your hips bucked. “Let’s just remember to skip this part during our quarterly partner reviews.”
His eyes stayed locked on every movement of your hand, intense focus fraying as he failed not to lick his lips. This was the last time he'd let himself acknowledge how unprofessional this was. It was purely selfish now, the thought dissolving until it barely qualified as one.
“There you go,” he murmured, voice low and condescending in the most delicious way. “Look at you playing with that pretty pussy just because I told you to. I knew you could do it…and you almost didn’t complain.” He leaned in and puffed another stream of cool air directly onto your heated clit, making a shiver run through your thighs. “Keep those fingers moving…nice and slow just like that. I want to see exactly how you touch yourself when you’re thinking of me.”
Your breath hitched as you obeyed, rolling your clit a little firmer under your fingertips. You could feel his gaze burning into you, watching as your pussy fluttered and leaked more arousal with every circle. Your other hand moved up to squeeze one of your breasts, pinching your nipple as your hips started to rock subtly against your own hand.
“Attagirl,” he praised, the words dripping with smug satisfaction, watching with dark eyes as your entrance clenched hard in response and more slick dripped out. “So fucking greedy. Don’t you worry, I’ll stuff you right after, I promise…I’ll fill you up nice and deep once you cum for me like this. You know I’m a man of my word.”
The combination of his words, his watchful stare and the occasional bursts of cool air had you trembling. Your fingers moved faster, sliding easily over your slick clit as the pressure built heavier in your core, muscles tensing as you chased the frantic crescendo.
Scott’s hands stayed firmly on your thighs, holding you open wide so he could see everything.
“You’re getting close already, aren't you?” he teased, cocky and unbothered. “I can see it, your pussy’s clenching like it’s begging for my cock…but you’re going to cum on your own fingers first, huh?” He puffed more cool air directly onto your clit right as your fingers pressed firmer, the sudden sensation making you moan loudly and arch your back. “Look at that pretty pussy dripping everywhere. Such a good, messy girl for me…I’ll fuck you so deep you’ll feel me for days…just cum for me and it’s all yours.”
Your fingers moved desperately now, circling and rubbing your clit with increasing urgency as the pleasure coiled tighter in your belly. The slick sounds grew louder with a squelching noise that swallowed the room while your arousal dripped down in messy uncontrollable rivulets.
Scott kept watching intently, occasionally blowing cool air directly onto your hypersensitive folds to tease you, each breath made your hips jerk and your pussy flutter visibly while his praises never stopped, they were a continuous stream of condescending encouragement that pushed you closer to the edge, reminding you exactly who you were coming for.
He blew one final, longer stream of cool air right against your opening just as the tension snapped. Your spine curved like a drawn bow as molten heat spread through your entire body, making your cunt clench and flutter wildly as the internal muscles squeezed tight.
Your hard and engorged clit pulsed rhythmically under your fingers, sending fresh spasms to your nerves that kept the climax rolling. Loud moans spilled from your lips unrestrained as you lost all composure, you weren't just peaking, you were drowning in it, leaving you shaking, chest heaving and gasping for air.
Scott stayed right where he was, eyes fixed on every twitch and contraction of your soaked pussy, watching the way your walls continued to ripple and clamp down even as the intensity began to fade and ensuring he didn't miss a single second of you coming completely undone for him.
He pushed your thighs gently off his shoulders and moved up your body again, keeping his eyes locked on your face as you gasped, still trembling from the intense oblivion. His lips glistened with your arousal and the sight of him crawling back over you, cock heavy and painfully hard between his legs, sent another shiver through your exhausted body. “If I’d known a few orgasms would shut you up,” he said, voice rough with amusement, “I would’ve bent you over the back of the truck the first week.”
You grinned tiredly, chest still rising and falling rapidly as you watched him wrap a fist around his thick cock and pump it slowly over you. The sight was mesmerizing, veined hand sliding along the glistening length as the head flushed dark and leaked into the condom. “You wouldn’t have…otherwise you wouldn’t have discovered arguing turns you on.”
“Not something I’d advertise,” his voice had gone rough, any pretense of composure slipping..
“Too many names on the roster?” you asked absentmindedly, eyes following every stroke of his fist along his cock, mesmerized by the way the muscles in his forearm flexed with each movement.
“None you need to keep count of,” he grinned, positioning himself at your entrance and slowly sinking back into your pussy. The thick head stretched you open once more, sliding deep with a wet, smooth glide that made you moan loudly at the overwhelming fullness. Your walls fluttered and clenched around him, still sensitive and slick from everything he had already put you through. “Except for yourself.”
“That made five orgasms…” you started, smile deceptively soft as you ran your nails slowly up the nape of his neck, threading them through his hair. You took a firm handful and pulled back sharply, your smile turning razor-sharp as he groaned deep in his throat, cock twitching hard inside you. “Every time you make me work for an orgasm is a day I won’t spend in that office of yours…So start earning your quota, Miller.”
He let out a deep chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hips began moving again, driving into you with renewed intent.
Numbers had never been Scott’s favorite part of the job, he was far more a man of action, preferring tornado chases and results over spreadsheets and tallies but if his tasks now included counting your orgasms and hunting something far more thrilling than any cloudburst, all while naked in your bed, he could definitely get behind it…or rather, on top.
⚠️ Please report wisely (Click the username, then select “Report”. Thank you for your help!)
A/N: If you enjoyed this story, feel free to explore the archive for more! Liking and reblogging helps others discover my writing and comments always make my day, they’re a huge encouragement for me to keep creating. Thank you so much for reading!
TAG LIST (currently includes people who requested a part 2 in the comments of "Lessons on sex" I’m open to having a tag list for Scott!): @thinchampagne @mxbluess22 @appreciatefics @girlwithbluehairrr
pov. it’s about time that daddy comes back home to his baby momma and his son.
content warnings. ⸝⸝ fem reader, fluff, angst, dad!rafe, angst with a happy ending, love triangle, no proof read
the next afternoon arrived warmer than the one before, sunlight poured through the kitchen windows, turning the countertops golden while cartoons hummed quietly from the living room television.
josh sat cross legged on the rug, pushing his new monster truck over the hardwood floors, making soft engine noises under his breath.
he never played loudly, josh was gentle all over, even his imagination was gentle.
the knock at the front door came just after lunch, but before you could stand, josh’s head snapped toward the sound. “is it him?” he asked, his voice lit up with excitement, and you smiled. “probably.”
he was already halfway across the living room before you’d even unlocked the door.
rafe stood on the porch wearing a faded gray t shirt, jeans, and sunglasses hooked into the collar of his shirt. he looked less tense today, he still was nervous, and still so uncertain, but definitely lighter than he’d been the night before.
his eyes immediately found josh. “hey, buddy.” he said, and josh hugged the monster truck tighter against his chest. “…hi.” josh replied, there was still shyness, still a tad bit of distance, but it wasn’t fear anymore.
it was the kind of hesitation children had around someone they wanted to know better.
rafe crouched. “thought maybe we’d go do somethin’ today.” rafe mentions and josh tilted his head. “…like what?” josh asked, curiosity in his tone. “i don’t know.” rafe whispered with a smile before rafe shrugged dramatically. “figured you’d be the expert.”
josh thought for a very long time, his little eyebrows pinched together.
“the playground?” josh asked and rafe grinned. “playground it is.” rafe answered, his smiling growing even softer now, which made josh smile back, it was small, but very real.
he turned and looked at you. “mom?” josh asked and you looked at him. “yeah?” you ask. “come with us.”
you stared at him and then cleared your throat. “honey, i don’t wanna interrupt your time with your dad.” you mutter, josh frowned immediately. “please?” he pleads, and you glanced toward rafe. he rubbed the back of his neck. “please?”
josh asked with those big eyes of his, the exact same eyes that still have the big sparkly light in them that he’s had since he came out of you and laid eyes on you for the first time ever.
he wasn’t asking because he was nervous, and he definitely wasn’t asking because he thought something bad would happen, he simply wanted both of you there, like, in his six year old mind, that was the most obvious thing in the world.
“please, mom.”
you sighed dramatically. “okay.” you agree and josh gasped. “really?” he asks. “okay, fine.” you say, and before you could finish the sentence, he threw both little arms around your waist.
“yay!”
you laughed, smoothing down his messy curls. “all right, all right.” you say. he pulled away just as quickly and looked between the two of you. “let’s go!”
rafe chuckled quietly. “think somebody’s excited.” rafe acknowledged as josh nodded. “i am.” josh corrected, as josh reached for your hand automatically then he looked over at rafe, he hesitated, then slowly he reached his other hand toward him.
it was such a tiny gesture. one little hand, small fingers stretched awkwardly into the space between them. rafe stared, almost like he couldn’t believe it was being offered.
carefully, so very carefully he took it. his large hand swallowed josh’s completely. you watched your son’s gaze drift down to their joined hands. he gave rafe’s fingers one experimental squeeze, then another, apparently deciding he liked it, because he smiled to himself before starting toward the driveway, dragging both of you along behind him.
“come on!”
rafe looked over josh’s head at you, he didn’t say anything, he didn’t have to, the look on his face said enough; hope. the smallest, most fragile kind, the three of you climbed into rafe’s truck together. josh insisted on sitting in the middle.
he claimed it was because he wanted to ‘see both windows’, but halfway to the park, you looked over, his head had leaned against your shoulder, his little hand was still resting on top of rafe’s where it sat on the center console.
neither of you moved it, because neither of you wanted to be the one to break the moment.
the playground was almost empty, probably because it was the middle of the afternoon, the sun hanging warm overhead while a light breeze pushed through the oak trees surrounding the park.
the laughter of a few children drifted across the mulch covered playground.
josh had already disappeared toward the tallest slide. he climbed carefully, always one step at a time, never rushing. his little tongue poked against the corner of his mouth whenever he concentrated, his tiny sneakers finding each rung before moving to the next.
“look!”
he waved from the platform. you and rafe looked up at the same time. “i see you!” you called. “you’re way up there!” you added. josh grinned before disappearing down the twisting slide.
a few seconds later, he shot out the bottom, landing with an excited laugh before immediately running back toward the stairs to do it all over again.
rafe couldn’t stop watching him. “he’s fearless.” rafe said, and you smiled softly. “not really.” you corrected and he looked over. “he checks everything first.”
sure enough, before climbing again, josh stopped to press one tiny foot against the first step, testing it like he’d done a hundred times before.
“he likes knowing things are safe.” you continued, softly smiling. rafe watched quietly. “…guess he didn’t get that from me.” he mentioned, and you looked at him. he smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
neither of you spoke, you simply watched your son play. his laugh carried across the playground every time he reached the bottom of the slide.
every few minutes, he’d glance over to make sure the two of you were still watching. when he saw you both sitting there, he’d smile to himself before running off again.
rafe rested his elbows on his knees. “i’ve been thinkin’.” he starts and you hummed. “about us.” he added and your stomach tightened. he kept his eyes on josh. “i love you.” he told you, the words were quiet and simple, like he’d been holding them in for years. “i still do.”
you didn’t answer right away, and he finally looked at you. “i know i don’t deserve another chance.” he commented while his voice stayed steady. “i know i screwed up.” he adds.
“rafe…” you start. “let me finish.” he said gently, and you nodded. he took a slow breath. “i can’t change the years i missed.” he whispered, and his eyes drifted back to josh. “i can’t undo what i did.” he added as he paused. “but i wanna spend every day i got left trying to be better.” he assured as he looked at you again.
“for him.” he starts. “for you.”
your eyes burned. “i want us to be together.” he said, brows furrowing softly. the breeze stirred your hair, somewhere nearby, a swing squeaked rhythmically. you looked down at your hands. “…do you love me?” you ask.
his answer came without hesitation. “yes.” he answered as you searched his face. “how much?” you questioned, he couldn’t help but smile sadly. “more than you know.” he whispers, and you swallowed.
you looked away, you simply watched josh race across the playground, his little arms stretched out like an airplane. he looked happy, looked so very safe and most importantly loved.
then finally, you looked back at rafe. “will you promise to stay like that?” you ask, and he frowned slightly. “like what?” he asked. “loving me.” you answered, your voice was barely above a whisper. “loving him.” you continued.
“staying.” he added to your sentence, showing he understood. this wasn’t about saying the words, it was about proving them. slowly, he reached across the bench, he didn’t pull you closer, didn’t assume anything.
he simply offered both of his hands, waiting for yours in response. “i promise.”
his thumbs brushed gently against your fingers. “i’m done runnin.” he told you, his voice was rough with emotion. “i’m done leavin.” he said, his eyes never left yours. “please.”
you closed your eyes for a second to hold back your tears, then when you opened them again, you slipped your hands into his. “okay.” you say softly.
it wasn’t forgiveness for everything, and it wasn’t a promise that tomorrow would be easy. it was something smaller, something quieter. the first brick laid after years of broken ground.
across the playground, josh reached the top of the slide again. he looked over, seeing the two of you sitting together, he beamed. “mom!” he yelled. “dad!” he yelled again.
“watch this!”
before either of you could answer, he pushed himself down the slide, laughing all the way to the bottom. you and rafe laughed together, too. it felt different, more loving and happy that you’re sharing this moment together.
soft!reader who has absolutely no business falling in love with someone like rafe cameron. you're gentle in every sense of the word. you wave at strangers. you cry when animals get hurt in movies. you apologize to furniture when you accidentally bump into it.
then there's rafe. broad shoulders. military haircut. calloused hands. a permanent crease between his brows that makes him look angry even when he isn't.
people cross the street when they see him. little kids hide behind their parents. meanwhile you're reaching up to brush a leaf out of his hair because "you've got something right there." and rafe just stands there, letting you. he'd let you do just about anything.
military!rafe who is so impossibly careful with you. everyone assumes he'll be rough by nature and somehow they couldn't be more wrong.
the man who's trained to kick down doors and carry seventy pounds of gear across miles of unforgiving terrain treats you like you're made of spun glass.
every touch comes with a silent, "is this okay?" one hand resting on your waist to guide you through crowds. fingertips brushing your cheek before every kiss. always slowing himself down because he never wants you to feel rushed. never wants you to feel scared.
soft!reader who sends him the sweetest care packages while he's deployed. homemade cookies that arrive slightly crushed because shipping never goes the way you hope. handwritten letters covered in tiny doodles around the edges. polaroids of your everyday life: the flowers blooming outside your apartment, the coffee shop you both love, your dog wearing the hoodie he accidentally left behind.
you think they're silly. rafe thinks they're the greatest things he's ever received. he keeps every single letter folded neatly inside his duffel bag & rereads them on the nights when home feels impossibly far away.
military!rafe who never tells anyone how much he misses you. his buddies know, though. every time mail gets handed out, rafe suddenly disappears somewhere quiet with another envelope covered in your handwriting and when he comes back, he's smiling. not the cocky grin everyone knows but the smile with something reserved entirely for you.
soft!reader who worries about him constantly but never wants to make him feel guilty for leaving. so instead of saying, "i'm scared," you ask things like,
"are you sleeping enough?"
"did you remember your jacket?"
"have you eaten today?"
and rafe always smiles because that's just you. always taking care of everyone else first, even when your own heart is breaking.
military!rafe who comes home after months away and almost forgets how small you are until you're standing in front of him, looking up with watery eyes and smiling so brightly it nearly knocks the breath out of him. "hi." that's all you manage before your lip starts wobbling.
rafe immediately opens his arms. "c'mere, sweetheart."
you don't even hesitate. you practically melt into him. for the first minute neither of you says anything. words could never compete with finally being able to hold each other again.
soft!reader who absentmindedly plays with his dog tags whenever you're cuddling. turning them over between your fingers, tracing the engraved letters. never saying anything, just needing something to keep your hands busy. rafe notices every single time. eventually he starts unclasping them himself and placing them in your hand before settling back against the couch.
he knows they'll end up there anyway.
—
military!rafe who absolutely adores how trusting you are. not naive. just kind. you still believe people deserve second chances. you still stop to help strangers. you still think the world is mostly good. after everything he's seen, he can't understand how your heart has stayed so gentle. and selfishly he hopes it never changes.
military!rafe who is fiercely protective of that softness. if someone raises their voice at you, he's beside you before you've even processed what's happening. if you get overwhelmed in crowded places, his hand quietly slips into yours. if you're nervous meeting his military friends, he keeps a reassuring hand on the small of your back the entire evening.
not because he thinks you're incapable. the world has been hard on him and he'll be damned if he lets it be hard on you too.
soft!reader who always asks him to tell you about his day. not the classified parts, the ones you'll know bring that look back into his eye, the one that ever rarely comes out whenever the two of you are together..
just the little things. who made terrible coffee, who lost a bet. what the sunset looked like. you know some memories are too heavy to share but you still want to know about his life. you still want him to feel like he can bring pieces of it home to you.
military!rafe who never tells you when he's had a particularly bad day overseas but somehow you always know. the phone rings later than usual, his voice is quieter. he lets you ramble about absolutely nothing: what you bought at the grocery store, how your neighbor's cat keeps visiting. the flowers you planted.
he barely says a word, just listens. your voice reminds him that somewhere beyond all the noise, there's still a life waiting for him. there's still you.
military!rafe who comes home harder every deployment. a little quieter, a little more tired. carrying things he doesn't know how to put down but every single time, you greet him exactly the same: with a smile so full of love it almost hurts, with your arms already reaching for him, with that same gentle, "welcome home."
and every single time he thinks the same thing. if there's one truly good thing he's ever done in his life... it's somehow convincing someone as soft as you to love someone like him.
