#chapterthirteen

[afterdarkbydel]

✦ PULSE POINT ✦

PULSE POINT • 13 • THE EVERYDAY PARTS

Summary: He sees her world for the first time. Her places, her rituals, the softer parts of her no one else gets. What should feel ordinary doesn’t. It feels intimate. And the more natural it becomes, the more dangerous it is.

Warnings / Content Notes:

workplace power dynamic (attending / resident)

slow-burn romantic relationship

emotional vulnerability

domestic intimacy

consensual kissing / making out

references to injury/disability (non-graphic)

shifting personal/professional boundaries

mild suggestive content

Previous Chapter(s): | Chpt. 1 | Chpt. 2 | Chpt. 3 | Chpt.4 | Chpt. 5 | Chpt. 6 | Chpt. 7 | Chpt. 8 | Chpt. 9 | Chpt. 10 | Chpt. 11 | Chpt. 12 |

Recommended Listening:

Reader's Song: Cinnamon Girl – Lana Del Rey

Jack's Song: Coming Home – Leon Bridges

Bonus Track: Nightshade - The Lumineers

Chapter 13: The Everyday Parts

He’s already outside when you pull up, hands in his pockets, looking deeply unconvinced by the fact that you’re driving. Of course he’s early. Of course he’s ready. Of course he somehow manages to look composed and mildly judgmental before eight in the morning.

You park at the curb and lower the passenger window. “Get in.”

His gaze moves over the car first. Assessing. Then lands on you. And stays there. You’d told yourself you were going to keep today simple. No trying too hard. No carefully constructed version of yourself. Just you. Comfortable clothes. Barely-there makeup. Hair left however it wanted to be. The version of you no one at the hospital ever sees.

Comfortable. Real.

Yours.

Something unreadable shifts in his expression. Not confusion. Not surprise exactly. Something quieter. Warmer. You suddenly become aware of every inch of yourself.

“What?” you ask.

He opens the passenger door. “Nothing.”

Liar.

He gets in and closes the door behind him, but his attention lingers another second before dropping to the cupholder where a coffee sits. Then to the glassware container beside it.

“What’s that?”

“Your bribe.” You grin.

He reaches for the coffee first. No hesitation. Then he lifts the lid off the container.

Inside, two still-warm cinnamon rolls, thick with cream cheese frosting, soft and spiraled.

He looks at them. Then at you. “You made these?”

There it is—the reaction that mattered more than you wanted it to.

You try for casual and miss completely. “It’s not a big deal.”

“It is if you made them before eight a.m.,” he says, his eyes widening slightly.

“I wake up early on days off,” you reply.

“You were nervous.” He says, the corner of his mouth lifting. 

You stare at him. “That’s an impressive level of confidence.”

“I’m observant.” He tears off a piece and tastes it.

You grip the steering wheel a little tighter. This should not matter this much. It absolutely does. He chews slowly. Thoughtfully. Then looks at you.

“These are dangerous.”

Relief and delight hit so fast you almost laugh. “Good dangerous, or bad dangerous?” You ask. 

“Very good dangerous,” he says.

Warmth floods through you. You start the car before he can see how pleased you are.

Too late. He sees everything. You pull away from the curb. Beside you, he goes back for another bite. The frosting catches lightly at the corner of his mouth. You glance once, then immediately back to the road. Your pulse does something unhelpful.

He notices that too. Of course he does.

“What?” he asks.

“Nothing.” Your own lie this time. A beat passes. Then, without looking at him, you reach into the center console and hand him a napkin. He takes it. Then pauses. His eyes flick to the console. Then back to you. There’s a stack of napkins. A small pack of wet wipes. Even a folded grocery bag tucked neatly to the side. 

His brow lifts slightly. “You came prepared.”

You smile, still focused on the road. “You’re not the only one who does contingency planning.” A small pause. “Cinnamon rolls are a high-risk food.”

Something shifts in his expression. Amusement. Approval. Something softer.

“I’m impressed.”

You shrug, trying for nonchalant. “I learned from the best.”

He wipes the corner of his mouth slowly, still watching you. The movement should be completely ordinary It is not.

You glance at him sideways. “Any thoughts on my day so far?”

A faint pause.

“Only one,” he says.

You grip the wheel dramatically. “Should I be worried?”

“Yes.” His gaze moves over you once more, unhurried. “I’m glad you’re driving.”

Your brows lift. “That sounds suspiciously cooperative.”

“It’s practical.” He takes another bite. “You and those cinnamon rolls are distracting enough.”

Heat rushes instantly through you. You nearly miss your turn. He notices that too.

“And it would be difficult to do both jobs well.”

You stare at the road ahead, smiling helplessly. “So your professional opinion is that I’m a hazard?”

“My professional opinion,” he says calmly, “is that this arrangement is safer for everyone.”

The shop sits on a quiet corner just off the square, tucked between brick storefronts and a café with fogged windows. Warm light spills across the sidewalk. The painted sign above the door is softened by ivy curling around the frame, and the front windows are crowded with stacked hardcovers, handwritten staff picks, candles, and ceramic mugs no one strictly needs.

It looks like the kind of place built to make people linger. You park and turn off the car. Jack studies the storefront. “This is one of your places.” It isn’t a question.

You smile. “It’s my favorite one.”

Inside, the world changes instantly. Soft music. Wood floors worn smooth with time. The smell of paper, coffee, and something faintly floral drifts from a display near the register. You inhale the familiar scent. You feel safe here. At ease. You release a quiet, content breath.

“You like it here,” he says.

“I love it here.” 

You wander toward the fiction shelves. He follows at an easy distance, hands in his pockets, watching you like this version of you is new terrain.

“I’ve loved reading since I was little,” you say, running your fingertips along a row of spines. “I used to hide under blankets with a flashlight and stay up way too late.”

“That tracks.”

You glance back at him. “What does that mean?”

“You ignore reasonable limits when you’re invested.”

You laugh. “That also tracks.”

You stop at a display table stacked with new releases and familiar classics.

“I bring a book with me to every shift.”

His brow lifts. “You never read on shift.”

“I know.” You say. 

“Then why bring it?”

You pick up a paperback, turning it over in your hands before setting it back down.

“Because I like knowing it’s there.” You shrug slightly. “It’s ridiculous.”

“No.”

You look up.

“It isn’t.”

Something in his tone keeps you honest. You turn back to the shelves.

“I started reading because it felt like leaving for a while.”

He says nothing, letting the space hold. You appreciate that more than he knows.

“When I was younger, there was always something to do. Someone who needed something. Some problem to be managed.” You trace a finger over an embossed title. “Books were the one place no one could ask anything from me.”

The quiet between you deepens. You continue, voice lighter now, though the truth remains. “It was selfish.”

“No.”

You glance at him.

“It was self-preservation.” He says and holds your gaze.

You look away first. He’s getting annoyingly good at that.

You move farther down the aisle to recover, stopping beside a shelf of literary fiction.

“So,” you say, aiming for casual, “what do you read, doctor?”

He steps beside you, shoulder nearly brushing yours.

“History. Memoirs. Anything well-written enough to survive bad prose around it.”

You grin. “That was pretentious.”

“It was accurate.”

You pull out a worn copy of a classic novel. “This one changed my life at seventeen.”

He takes it from your hand, glances at the cover. “Ambitious choice for seventeen.”

“I contained multitudes,” you say, smiling.

“You contain opinions.” He corrects.

“Also true.” You agree. 

He slides the book back into place and reaches for another title higher on the shelf.

You blink when you see it. “That’s obscure.”

“It isn’t obscure.” His tone almost sounds offended. 

“It absolutely is. No one talks about that book.”

“I do.” His answer is simple, honest.

You laugh. “That doesn’t count.”

Now he’s smiling too. Small. Real. And something in your chest warms at how easily this is happening. You drift through the aisles together, trading favorites. The books that made you cry. The ones that made you feel less alone. The ones you reread when life feels too loud. At one point, you stop short in front of a shelf near the back. Your fingers move immediately to a spine tucked between two larger hardcovers. You pull it free with a small, satisfied sound.

Jack watches you. “That looked decisive.”

“It was.” You turn the book over once in your hands, then offer it to him.

“You’d like this.”

His eyes lift to yours. “You know me that well?”

“Yes.” No teasing now. Just certainty.

“It’s thoughtful. Quietly devastating. Smarter than it lets on.”

A beat.

“And a little difficult to get close to.”

The corner of his mouth shifts. “That description was suspiciously specific.”

“You’re welcome.” You grin. 

He reads the back cover, then opens to the first page. Actually interested. That matters more than it should.

“You really think I’d like it?” He asks, shutting the book again. 

“Yes.” No hesitation.

He studies you for a moment. Then the book. Then you again.

“Then I’m buying it.”

You laugh softly. “Confident.”

“Efficient.”

You shake your head and start toward the register with him beside you.   At the counter, the cashier smiles at you in recognition.

“Back again?”

You wince. “She knows me.”

“I gathered that,” Jack says dryly.

The cashier scans the book and slides it into a paper bag. Jack reaches for his wallet before you can protest. 

You point at him. “Absolutely not.”

He pauses. The cashier looks between you with open interest.

You lift your chin. “My day.”  

Then, to your satisfaction, he slides his wallet back into his pocket. You buy the book and the cashier hands you the bag like she’s blessing a victory. Outside, the bell above the door jingles behind you. The street feels brighter somehow. You glance at the bag in his hand. Then up at him. He notices immediately. “What?” 

You smile. “You liked my bookstore.”

His expression softens in that small, dangerous way. “I liked seeing you in it.” 

And just like that, you forget how to speak for a second.

The next storefront is smaller. Easy to miss if you didn’t know to look for it. A narrow brick shop tucked between a florist and a tailor, with painted lettering on the glass and a display window full of seasonal cookie cutters, pastel cake stands, and ribboned boxes of sprinkles arranged like treasure. 

Jack looks from the window to you. “This feels dangerous.”

You smile. “It is.”

A bell chimes softly when you open the door. The space inside is bright, warm, and somehow cheerful in an immediate way. Shelves lined with jars of sanding sugar in every color imaginable. Walls covered in cutters shaped like stars, ghosts, leaves, tiny houses, hearts.

Bins of piping tips are carefully sorted into rows. Stacks of parchment paper, cupcake liners, offset spatulas, cooling racks, and edible glitter no one technically needs but everyone wants.

The whole place smells faintly of sugar and vanilla. You slow down without meaning to. The same way you had in the bookstore.  

Jack notices that too. “You love this place too.”

“I really do.” You move straight toward a shelf near the back and lift a dark amber bottle with a familiar label. “There it is.”

Jack glances at it. “Vanilla extract.”

“My favorite vanilla extract,” you correct. 

He takes the bottle from your hand, studying it as if it were medical equipment. “What makes it superior?”

You gasp softly. “Everything.”

“That was not specific.” He shoots you a look of mock annoyance.

“It’s richer. Warmer. Better depth. No harsh aftertaste. It matters.”

He looks at you over the bottle. “I believe that you believe that.”

You take it back with mock offense. “You’ll taste the difference someday and regret this moment.”

“I look forward to being corrected.” He shrugs his shoulders.

Its ease makes you smile. You drift farther inside, fingers brushing over rows of piping bags and cutters. He follows beside you, less like someone being dragged through a hobby store and more like someone trying to understand why it matters to you. That lands deeper than you expect.

“I used to volunteer here,” you say.

He looks over. “You did?”

You nod. “When I first moved to Pittsburgh, I didn’t know anyone. Work was work. Home was… home.” You shrug lightly. “I needed somewhere else to be.”

The humor fades from his expression. So does yours.

“I taught an introductory baking class for kids on Saturday mornings.”

Something warm moves through his face. “I would have liked to see that.”

You glance at him. “Why?”

“I imagine you were very good at it.” The answer is simple. Certain.

And for some reason, it catches you off guard.

“I loved it,” you admit. “Tiny aprons. Too much frosting. Absolute chaos.”

“That sounds on brand.” He chuckles.

“It was delightful.” You say sincerely. 

You stop beside a display of cookie cutters shaped like dinosaurs and snowflakes.

The memory settles warmly through you.

“I think I did it because it got me out of the hospital and out of my apartment. But I kept doing it because I liked watching people realize they could make something.”

He studies you for a moment. “That sounds like you too.”

You look down at the cutters to hide how much that affects you. Then you set one shaped like a little owl in the basket.

He notices immediately. “You’re buying an owl?”

“It’s cute.” You reply. 

“That is not a practical criterion.” He says in his clinical tone.

“Neither is emotional repression, and yet here you are.” You say as you begin to walk farther into the store.

A pause.

Then he laughs. Real laughter. Low, brief, and completely worth the price of admission.

The sound lights you up. You move toward the aisle with mixing bowls and measuring spoons.

“Baking helps,” you say more quietly.

He follows. “How?”

You trace the edge of a stainless steel bowl with one fingertip. “It clears my head. You can’t think about ten other things when butter is browning or sugar is at the wrong temperature.”

He says nothing, which invites honesty instead of interrupting it.

“All you have to do is follow the steps,” you continue. “Measure. Mix. Wait. Pay attention. The rest of the world fades out for a little while.”

The words hang between you. Not sad. Just true. 

He leans one shoulder against the shelf beside you. “I understand that.” Of course he does.

Routine. Precision. Focus.

You glance at him and find him already looking at you.

“And then,” you add, lighter now, “there’s the best part.”

“Which is?”

You smile. “Feeding people.”

His brow lifts. “Very noble.”

“No.” You shake your head. “Very effective.”

He waits. You hold his gaze.

“Food is how I know how to care for people sometimes. It’s easier than saying certain things out loud.” The quiet that follows feels deeper than the sentence deserves. Or maybe exactly as deep.

His eyes soften. “That explains the cinnamon rolls.”

“It does.” You admit. 

A beat. 

“They were very good.” He grins slightly. 

Warmth spreads through you all over again. You look away first. “You already said that.”

“I’m reinforcing the point.” 

You smile helplessly. At the register, you set down the vanilla, the owl cutter, and a new set of piping tips you absolutely do not need. The cashier rings them up while Jack reaches for the basket and carries it without being asked. Outside, the afternoon air feels cooler than before.

You glance at the small paper bag in his hand. Then at him.

“What?”

You smile. “Nothing.”

His mouth shifts into a grin of his own. 

And just like that, the whole world feels a little quieter.

The market spills across three city blocks in rows of white tents and chalkboard signs, bright with late-season produce and the easy noise of a Saturday crowd. Fresh flowers. Crates of apples.  Bundles of herbs tied with twine.  Loaves of bread cooling on racks. Children weaving between strollers. A man at the corner playing guitar badly but enthusiastically.

The whole place hums with ordinary joy. You step into it as if you belong there. Jack notices immediately. The way you move without hesitation. The way you greet vendors you recognize. The way your face keeps changing—lighting up at tomatoes, softening at sunflowers, laughing at a stand selling aggressively expensive mushrooms. He falls into step beside you, carrying the paper bags from the bookstore and baking shop before you even ask. 

Very efficient. Very annoying. Very boyfriend.

The thought arrives uninvited.

It should feel flattering.

Instead, it startles something in you. How quickly this has become easy. How natural he looks beside you. How much you like it. 

You push the thought aside and stop at a produce stand, inspecting tomatoes with serious concentration. He watches for a moment. Then, “Should I be concerned?”

You don’t look up. “About what?”

“The intensity you’re bringing to that tomato.”

You hold one up. “The quality of the produce determines the quality of the meal.”

He glances from the tomato to you. “That seems like too much pressure for a vegetable.”

“It’s not pressure. Its purpose.” You respond. 

You place two into your basket and move on. He follows, still carrying everything. At the herb stall, you bury your face briefly in a bunch of basil and inhale. He goes very still beside you.

You glance over. “What?”

He’s already watching you. Not casually. Intently. Like he’s trying to understand something.

“Nothing.”

Liar.

You smile and hand the basil to him. “Hold this.”

He takes it automatically. The domesticity of that should not affect either of you as much as it does. It absolutely does. You continue through the crowd, picking up garlic, parmesan, fresh mozzarella, a loaf of perfectly baked bread, and a small container of strawberries you did not plan on buying but emotionally needed.  At a pasta stand, you pause long enough to sample something from a paper cup. Then hold the second cup toward him.

He takes it. Eats. Nods once. “Acceptable.”

You stare at him. “Do you compliment anything normally?”

“Yes.” 

“When?” You ask, paying the vendor for a bag of pasta, then handing it to Jack to place in your basket.

“I told you the cinnamon rolls were dangerous.” 

You laugh despite yourself. “That’s true.”

You weave around a stroller and glance up at him. He’s still looking at you with that same focused attention. “What?” you ask again. 

He shifts the bags in his hand. “You’re different here.” 

The words catch you off guard. “How?”

He considers it. “Softer.”

You go quiet. Because he’s right. You look around the market. At the flowers. The bread.

The people choosing peaches and talking about dinner plans. At the ordinary beauty of all of it.

“This is the most authentic version of me,” you say quietly. His attention sharpens.

“The one without walls up.” The crowd moves around you. No one notices the way the moment narrows. “No one here needs anything from me,” you continue. “No one is bleeding. No one is scared. No one expects me to have the answer in thirty seconds.”

Something shifts in his expression. You glance down at the tomatoes in your basket.

“In the ER, I have to be hard sometimes. Precise. Fast. There isn’t room for anything else.”

He says nothing. Which makes it easier to keep going.

“This is how I cope with all of that.” You gesture lightly around you. “Good tomatoes. Fresh basil. Perfect;y baked bread. Tiny, ridiculous things that shouldn’t matter as much as they do.”

“They matter,” he says quietly.

 You look at him. “Yes.” A breath leaves you. Relief in being understood. 

You smile faintly. “If you don’t learn to enjoy the everyday parts, the darkness takes over.”

The sentence lands between you with more weight than the noise of the market should allow.

His gaze doesn’t leave yours. “You find light on purpose.”

It isn’t a question. You shrug softly. “Someone has to.”

For a moment, he just looks at you. Not like he’s assessing. Not like he’s studying. Like he’s seeing something that matters, then he steps closer. Close enough that the noise of the market falls away. One hand rises to the side of your face, fingers warm against your jaw. You barely have time to inhale before he kisses you. Not rushed. Not hidden. Just certain. The kind of kiss that feels less like impulse and more like a decision finally acted on. You make a startled sound against his mouth that turns quickly into something softer. The bags shift in his other hand. He doesn’t seem to notice. Neither do you. When he pulls back, it’s only far enough for his forehead to brush yours.

“This version of you,” he says quietly, voice rougher now, “is very hard not to kiss.”

Heat rushes through every inch of you. You blink up at him. The market returns around you in pieces—voices, footsteps, music, someone arguing over peaches two stalls over. But everything feels altered now. Brighter. Closer. And far more dangerous. 

Your pulse shifts. Because standing in the middle of a farmers' market with him carrying your bread, basil, and flowers should not feel this intimate, but it does. And that scares you more than you’d like to admit. You don’t know if you can trust something that feels this good this quickly. You don’t know if ease is real or temporary. You only know you like it anyway.

So you move first. “What’s your favorite meal?”

He answers more quickly than expected. “Chicken parmesan.”

You stop walking so abruptly that someone behind you nearly collides with the back of your shoulder.

Jack steadies you with a hand at your waist. Warm. Certain. Too natural. “What?”

“That’s your favorite?” You ask with slight astonishment.

“Yes.” He says, a bit of confusion in his tone. 

A grin spreads before you can stop it. “That’s one of my specialties.”

His brow lifts. “Is it?”

You’re already turning back toward the produce stand. “Congratulations.”

He follows. “On what?”

“You’re coming to my apartment.” The words leave your mouth with far more confidence than you feel.

 He goes quiet beside you. Not resistant. Interested. “That sounds less like an invitation and more like a decision.”

“It can be both.” You grab another tomato, then hand it to him to hold. He takes it automatically. 

He studies you for a beat. “Are you just trying to get me into your apartment?”

You gasp softly, scandalized. “I am trying to feed you.”

A pause. Then,  “Professionally.”

The corner of his mouth lifts. “That explanation did not help.”

You laugh and move toward a cheese vendor. “It’s dinner. I swear I’ll behave.”

“You swear?”

You glance back over your shoulder. “No promises after dessert.”

He actually laughs at that. Low. Real. It sends a warm pulse straight through you.

At the flower stand, you stop short in front of a bucket of loose stems in cream, blush, and deep gold. Jack watches you touch the petals of a dahlia with absent affection. Without a word, he reaches for the bouquet beside it. 

You narrow your eyes. “No.”

“No?” He asks in disbelief. 

“My day.” You respond. 

He pauses. Then, it slowly sets it back down. The flower vendor looks disappointed in him.

You beam. “Growth.”

“I’m being extorted.” He grumbles.

“You’re being led.” You correct.

You choose three stems yourself and add them to your basket. He takes the basket from you before it gets heavy. Of course he does. By the time you reach the edge of the market, his arms are full. Bread tucked under one arm. Basil in hand. Shopping bags hanging from his wrist. Flowers sticking out at an angle. And somehow he still looks deeply competent. You stop walking just to look at him.

He notices instantly. “What?”

You smile helplessly. “You’re carrying all my things.”

“That was the assignment.”

“No,” you say softly. “It wasn’t.”

Something shifts in his expression. Gentler now. Then he nods toward the street.

“Are we making dinner or standing here evaluating my load-bearing capacity?”

You laugh. “Dinner.”

He opens the trunk for you to load up your groceries, despite carrying half the market.

Show-off.

As you begin carefully taking items from his arms, he leans down slightly.

“One question.”

You look up. “What?”

He holds your gaze. “Do I need to be worried about what ‘specialty’ means?”

You smile slowly. “Yes.”

And for the second time that day, he looks pleased to be at your mercy.

You become nervous the second you unlock the door, which is ridiculous. He’s already seen far more dangerous parts of you than your apartment. Still, your pulse shifts when you push the door open and step inside first. The space is small. One bedroom. Narrow kitchen. The living room is barely separated from the dining nook by a rug and wishful thinking. But it’s warm. Soft lamplight from the corner table. A throw blanket folded neatly over the couch. Bookshelves packed two rows deep with novels, cookbooks, and the occasional framed photo tucked between them. The kitchen counters are clean, except for the beat-up stand mixer that lives in one corner like a trusted piece of furniture. It smells faintly like vanilla. Always.

Jack steps in behind you and scans the room. He follows you inside a few more steps then stops. 

You turn too quickly. “What?”

He looks around once more.

 Then at you. “It feels like you.”

The answer catches you off guard. You laugh softly to cover it. “That’s either very sweet or deeply vague.”

“It was specific.” He closes the door behind him and sets the market bags on the counter.

There’s something about seeing him in your kitchen that immediately destabilizes you. Too tall. Too composed. Too naturally placed in a space no one else has occupied quite like this. You set your keys down and move toward the groceries before the feeling can root too deeply.

“Okay,” you say, brisker than intended. “You can sit there and be decorative.”

He takes off his jacket slowly. Folds it over the back of a chair. Rolls his sleeves once. Then again. “Or,” he says, stepping toward the counter, “you can teach me.” 

You blink. “Teach you what?”

“How to make your specialty.” The room seems to be getting narrower.

“You cook?” You ask. 

“I can feed myself.” He replies. 

“That was not the question.”

A flicker of amusement touches his mouth. “I cook adequately.”

“Dangerous level of confidence.” You say sarcastically. 

“I’m observant,” he says.

You narrow your eyes. Then point toward the cutting board. “Fine. Wash the basil.”

He obeys without argument. Which is somehow more distracting than resistance would have been. You season the chicken while he rinses herbs at the sink. He asks where things are. Finds them before you answer. Hands you ingredients without being told. Moves behind you once in the too-small kitchen, one hand resting briefly at your waist so he can pass. The touch lasts half a second. Your entire nervous system notices. This is absurd. You have handled trauma bays with less physiological response. He stands beside you while you bread the chicken, sleeves rolled, forearms dusted faintly with flour because apparently even competence can be attractive.

“You’re making a mess,” you say.

“You’re welcome.” He responds with a grin. 

You grin. “That did not make sense.”

“It didn’t need to.”

You laugh despite yourself.

He smiles back. And there it is again. That dangerous ease. You hand him garlic. He minces it properly. You hate that.

You shake your head and turn toward the stove. Oil warms in the pan. Garlic hits first. Then tomatoes. The kitchen fills with scent and sound. Something old and comforting unfurls in your chest. You glance over. He’s watching you. Not the sauce. Not the pan. You.

“What is it now?” You ask over your shoulder as you stir the sauce. 

“You’re happy.” He observes. 

The words land gently. You look away too fast. “I’m cooking.”

“No,” he says quietly. “You’re happy.”

The spoon in your hand stills. Because he’s right. Because you are. Because that feels more revealing than you intended tonight. You busy yourself with the sauce. Then with the pasta water. Then with literally anything else. But your movements have changed. Smaller. More careful. He notices that too. Of course he does. The room goes quiet except for simmering sauce.

When he speaks, his voice is softer. “What happened?”

“Nothing.” You breathe deeply, trying to think of a way out of this admission.

A pause. You close your eyes briefly. There is nowhere to hide in a room this small. You set the spoon down. “This feels…” You search for something honest enough. “Too easy.”

He waits.

You wrap your arms loosely around yourself. “You're in my kitchen. Cooking dinner. Arguing about how to mince garlic. It feels…” You laugh once, without humor. “Domestic.”

His expression doesn’t change, which makes it easier to continue.

“And I like it.”

That’s the real confession. You look at the floor. 

“I like it enough that it scares me.” The silence that follows is warm, not empty. When you finally look up, he’s closer than before. Not crowding. Just near.

“It scares me too,” he says.

You blink. “What?”

His gaze holds yours. “This.” One hand lifts, brushing lightly along your forearm. “How natural it feels.”

Your breath catches. Because you thought you were alone in it. Because you didn’t realize how badly you needed not to be. 

He tips his head toward the stove. “Your sauce is reducing aggressively.”

You laugh suddenly, helplessly. The tension breaks. You swat at his arm and turn back to save dinner. He stays close. Closer than before. And something inside you unclenches.

You eat on the couch, plates balanced on your knees, because your table is technically real but spiritually decorative. The apartment is dim now. Only lamps on. Shoes kicked near the door. A second helping is cooling on the coffee table. Jack leans back against the cushions, plate empty. You stare. 

“What?” He asks. 

“You finished all of it.” A small smile spreads across your face. 

“Yes.” He sets the plate down. “It was very good.”

Warmth blooms through you again. You tuck your legs beneath you and try to look unaffected.

“Thank you.”

Eventually, the plates are cleared. Containers stacked in the fridge. The kitchen reset in the quiet, efficient way two people fall into when they’re already moving around each other too easily. That thought catches you again. Too easily. You rinse the last glass while he dries it and sets it beside the sink. Domestic. Dangerous.

You turn before the feeling can deepen. “Tea or wine?”

He considers you. “Which one are you having?”

“Wine.” You answer.

“Then wine.”

You narrow your eyes. “That feels like pandering.”

“It’s strategy.” He smirks.

You laugh softly and reach for the bottle. A few minutes later, you’re back on the couch. Closer this time. No plates between you. Just two glasses of red wine resting on coasters.

Rain taps lightly against the window. Some playlist you forgot to turn off hums low from the kitchen speaker. You take a sip and glance sideways. He’s looking around the apartment again.

At the shelves. The framed photos. The stack of cookbooks on the side table.

“What?” you ask. 

He looks back at you. “You built something warm.”

The statement lands deeper than a compliment should. You look into your glass. “It’s small.”

“It’s yours.”

Your throat tightens unexpectedly. You set the wine down before you spill it. For a moment, neither of you speaks. The room feels quieter than silence should allow. 

Then, “I like it here,” he says.

You look up. “In my apartment?”

“In your life.” 

The breath you take feels different. Thinner. More dangerous. You smile faintly to survive it.

His gaze drops briefly to your mouth. Then returns to your eyes. You become aware of everything at once. How close his knee is to yours. The warmth of the room. The pulse in your throat. The fact that neither of you has touched the wine again.

He reaches out first. Two fingers brushing lightly along your wrist where it rests on the couch cushion. A question. You answer by turning your hand over beneath his. His fingers thread through yours slowly. The contact alone feels intimate enough to be its own event.

He shifts closer. You don’t move back. His free hand rises to the side of your neck. Warm. Steady.

Then he kisses you. Slowly. No rush. No hesitation. Like he’s been thinking about it since dinner ended and decided he’s done pretending otherwise. 

You lean into him immediately. Your glass forgotten on the table. The kiss deepens in stages. Careful at first. Then less so. His hand slides to your waist, drawing you across the cushion until you’re pressed close enough to feel the change in his breathing. 

You settle into his lap without meaning to. He makes a low sound against your mouth that sends heat through you instantly. Your fingers catch in the front of his shirt. Hold there. He kisses like he means everything he’s already said and everything he hasn’t. Warm. Thorough. A little devastating. When your hand slips into his hair, something in him gives.

The next kiss is hungrier. Still controlled. But only just. You feel it in the way his mouth lingers. In the way his hand tightens once at your waist. In the restraint threaded through every second of contact. You shift closer without thinking. His other hand slides up your back, spanning between your shoulder blades, keeping you there.

The room narrows to breath, warmth, and the steady strength of his hands on you. When his mouth leaves yours for the corner of your jaw, then lower to your throat, your head tips back on instinct.

“Jack—”

His name leaves you softer than intended. It stops him instantly. Not because he wants to. Because he’s listening, he lifts his head, eyes dark, breathing rougher now. You’re both right at the edge of something. And both of you know it. His forehead comes to yours. One long breath. Then another.

“I should go.” The words are strained. Reasonable. Infuriating.

You open your eyes. “Should you?”

“Yes.” He breathes. 

A beat.

“Do you want to?” You ask, almost a whisper. 

His mouth brushes yours once. “No.”

That helps and does not help at all. You smile despite yourself. He kisses you one last time. Slow enough to feel intentional. Dangerous enough to feel unfair. Then helps you off his lap like a gentleman after thoroughly ruining your composure. He orders a ride from Uber to take him home. At the door, he pulls on his coat. You follow him barefoot across the rug. Neither of you seems interested in creating actual distance. His hand finds the side of your face. Thumb brushing once across your cheek.

“I had a good day,” he says.

Something about the simplicity of it nearly undoes you.

“Me too.”

He leans down and kisses you softly. Different from the couch. Tender now. Then he opens the door. Pauses. Looks back at you like leaving costs something.

“Text me when you’re in bed.”

You smile. “Bossy.”

“Accurate.” He agrees.

You laugh softly. He steps into the hallway. Then turns once more before walking away. You close the door gently behind him and stand there in the quiet apartment, pulse still unsteady. Everything looks the same. Nothing feels the same.

@nosebeers, @777bambi777, @moonz33, @littlewolfbird, @21nainai, @tubby23

[miss-ing-letters]

“It doesn't matter whether it is a childish thing or not because even if you don't see them. They're still out there.” - Isla Verlaine (Blood of Temptations) Blood of Temptations - COMPLETED (Revised) - Jhaslyne Dane - Wattpad

[rachelsophielesch]

Retribution: Chapter 13

On Bastille Day, Adèle rose late. When she awoke, she noticed that Charles had already gotten up. The white curtains on the large window had been pushed back and there was a tray of coffee and pastries on the pouffe in front of the large round mirror. The clock on the bedside table read that it was almost eleven which was when Charlotte and her family were coming over for brunch. While Adèle was…

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[reesesxxpieces-blog]

Chapter Thirteen : Pregnancy, a sexy debate, and a safe word

Spencer It wouldn’t be until the following morning that the grumble of her stomach would awaken her.  She had asked John how tired he was as she truly wanted to go for pizza, but instead opted to just lay with him.  It seemed her stomach was linked to Scrappy’s bladder as he was already at their feet fussing for one of them to take him out.  “Alright, hang on there,” she instructed as she lifted John’s arm from around her, carefully placing it at his own side as she slipped from the hold, trying not to wake him up.  As she turned to get out of the bed, she was grumbling with the aches of her body, clearly not having fully recovered from that last go round between them.  As she stood, her legs felt as if they would give way, having her immediately reaching for the nightstand for support.  “Fuck,” she complained as she used her hand against the bed to support her until she got her footing back.  “Alright, two minutes…” she continued, though the pup was already at the door.  Within the bag, she retrieved her articles of clothing, managing somehow to get them on while complaining grumbles left her lips.  Once she was dressed, she went to John’s side of the bed, whispering into his ear.  “I’ll be right back,” just in case he was woken by the noise.  Grabbing her piece and her badge from the bag, she slipped them in place, leashing Scrappy and making her way out of the hotel room with the dog in tow.

John Not having heard much of anything, it was only the close of the hotel room that woke him up. Idly rolling onto his back. Feeling nothing but bed beside him as he glanced over. Taking a few moments to form that it was her that had closed the door as Scrappy was gone as well. He reached up, rubbing his hand over his face as he slowly managed to wake up a bit. Checking the clock on the wall to see that he had gotten quite a bit of sleep though he could have probably gone back for a few more hours should he be so brazen. In the meantime, he leaned up off of the bed. Knowing a shower was in order. Smelling her on his skin as he reached for the TV remote. Flipping it on to catch a few minutes of the news.

Spencer Once she and Scrappy made their way outside, she stood off at the far end of the building, allowing Scrappy to relieve himself.  A few minutes later, the two were making their way back up to the room.  Spencer unlocked the door with the room key, unhooking Scrappy’s leash as they entered, leaving it on the floor beside the door as she dropped off her gun at the small writing desk.  Making her way back into the bed with John, her badge was laid against the nightstand as she climbed into the bed.  Her body clothed against his, she slipped one hand beneath the pillow, closing her eyes.  “We need room service,” she whispered.  “With food for twenty.”  She added just past a yawn as her free hand was moving to unfasten her pants again.

John Watching her return, he whistled for Scrappy as he watched her return. Smirking softly as the dog jumped up to greet him. “Awh yeah. Wet puppy paws tell me you peed, hm?” he asked Scrappy who nuzzled under his arm as he glanced over towards Spence. Hearing her statement making him smirk softly. “Yeah, I agree…” he stated honestly, an idle hand finding his own stomach. “I know this diner around the corner. Might take a walk over. Get some food back and bring it back unless you’d rather come with me and we’ll just eat there…” he suggested, though the concept of not leaving this room unless it was for basic human needs seemed incredibly appealing.

Spencer “Yeah, he did a lot more than that.”  She stated honestly, hearing his offer for breakfast.  “Yeah we can do that.”  She whispered, a smile to her lips as she paused at her attempt to take her pants back off again.  She didn’t care how they got food, but it needed to happen.  “Wait… fuck…” Spencer whispered as it suddenly dawned on her that she had taken that day off for a reason.  “What time is it?”  She asked as she made the move to glance to the clock at the bedside table.  “Fuck!”  She exclaimed as she pulled up from the bed, refastening the button of her pants.  “I was supposed to be at Jefferson twenty minutes ago,” she managed as she was already off the bed, grabbing at her shoes, pulling them on before grabbing for her badge and gun again.  “Can I meet you at the diner in… an hour?  Hour and a half tops?”  She asked, knowing her father’s appointment was to be a routine check on her his last shunt placement.  The bruises at her neck were the furthest from her concern in that moment, having no time to attempt to cover them anyways.  This would stand as the first time she would see her parents since the day they dismissed her from their apartment at the news that she had married, though a week before it was her father that would reach out to tell her of this appointment.  Informative, but she took it as an invitation, assuring she would be there, and now she was late.  “Unless you want to… come with me?”

John Watching her as she hopped off of the bed like it was on fire, hearing her statement about needing to be at the hospital. “Don’t worry about the diner. Go ahead and do what you have to do…” he stated simply as he watched her reading herself, her final offer drawing a shake of his head. “That wouldn’t be good for anyone here. You know that. Spare your old man the heart attack…I’ll stay here and…you might wanna wear a jacket or something…for that…” he stated, reminding her of the condition of neck though he knew him coming along with her would do nothing but make her life more difficult than it needed to be.

Spencer Though she had hoped John might agree to go with her, she didn’t expect him to go into that situation willingly at this point.  She had no contact with her parents, though they only lived minutes away from she and John’s apartment.  They had all but cut her off with news that she had married without their consent or even knowledge of the relationship, though she had lied to them to tell them it had been going on for months when it had only been days.  The truth couldn’t be given.  It wouldn’t be accepted and her father would never lie for them.  When John offered to stay behind, she nodded her head, knowing he was more than likely right, though she knew at some point she would be putting the four of them in a room together.  Her parents could read her well and would easily be able to see that she truly was in love with this man without her having to say it.  A lie had become the truth, which stood to say that at some point, she could do just that.  His mention of a jacket had her back at the bag, withdrawing an oversized hoodie, pulling it over her clothes.  As she situated it into place, she came to the side of the bed, pressing her lips to his.  “I’ll meet you at the diner in an hour.”  She assured, not giving up on breakfast with him.  

John “Just do what you gotta’ do and stop worryin’ about the rest.” he insisted as he eyed her after her kiss. “Keep your phone on too.” he insisted, knowing that had to be around here somewhere as well as he pet Scrappy at his side who was already getting comfortable for his mid-morning nap. Putting John and her father in the same room together probably was not a good idea. Putting John anywhere where he was being sized and judged without escape was never a good idea and this was his roundabout way of telling her that. She should know that his rage didn’t exclude anyone just because they were part of her family. He fought enough with his own family. It was just another face and name for him.

Spencer Part of her wishing he’d come with her, she reluctantly slipped away from the bed, her hand giving his thigh a quick squeeze as she reminded him.  “One hour.”  She assured as she grabbed her car keys and phone from the bag on the floor, holding the phone up to show him she had it with a smile to her lips.  Once she was out the door, she paused, considering going back in to urge him to come with her, but she knew he was right, though in her mind, a time would come when the two would meet and she had to have faith that her father would see him as the man she loved and nothing more.  In just a few minute’s time, she was in the car, pulling out of the parking lot, the sound of squealing tires could be heard through the windows of the rooms facing the parking lot in her retreat.

John Hearing the squeal of tires, he could only shake his head. Glancing down towards Scrappy before he got up. “That mommy of yours is crazy.” he whispered to him, kissing his ear before he was standing up. Grabbing the basic essentials before he was walking into the bathroom to take a shower. Ever mindful of the bandage at the back of his head that would need to be changed. Pulling it off and wincing all the while, he cleaned the area to the best of his abilities before a fresh bandage was going on it. Running some cool water for himself and slipping into the shower to wash off the night’s events.

Spencer Wearing his scent on her, as well as his hoodie, she made her way to the hospital, arriving far later than she should have.  As she entered, she requested the location of her father’s appointment, being directed by the receptionist at the first floor.  It wasn’t long before she was stepping into the room to find the doctor already updating Brock on the condition of his shunt.  Spencer was in the room but a moment before she was being guided out by her mother, who was not in the know of Brock’s informative/invitational text message.  Words were exchanged as Spencer declared her right to be there, to which Addison made no qualms over telling her to leave, though their voices were maintained low and proper, as to not draw attention to the two.  

John Stepping out of the shower a few moments later, towel drying himself as he slipped into a fresh pair of boxers. Finding some fresh clothes in his bag. Taking his time in getting dressed as he took a seat on the bed. Knowing he had some time to get to the diner in that hour but not holding her to it. The feeling of strange foreboding making him thing that was the least place she’d want to meet.

Spencer As the door to the room closed with her mother within and Spencer on the outside, she pulled her phone from her pocket, typing out a quick text to John.  “I’ll pick you up at the hotel instead.  Mom’s not letting me see him.”  Pressing send, she started to walk down the corridor of the hospital towards the elevator, pausing to lean against the wall as she felt a dizziness wash over her.  Standing in that place for several minutes, she wasn’t feeling any stronger.  She had held back her emotion, refusing to become a mess in the hallway of the hospital.  Pulling her phone out again, she pressed the call button beside John’s name.

John Before he could even read her text fully, she was calling. Picking up as he was laid back in bed. Playing with the sleepy puppy who was his surrogate child in the wake of not being able to see River. “Hey…” he began. “You are still there right? Don’t go nowhere…” he instructed, a particularly loud and playful growl from the dog breaking the silence as he kept laying his hand back on his stomach amidst the clawing and scrape of puppy teeth.

Spencer The reception within the halls of the hospital was less than desirable, leaving her voice to break through the static intermittently.  “Yeah… I’m still… Jefferson… Need to… But I’ll be…”  As she attempted to tell him she was still at Jefferson, not feeling well and needing to just sit for a few minutes, but that she’d be on her way soon, knowing John didn’t have a vehicle.  The sudden hit to the floor resounded through the phone as she fell to the floor, her grip at the wall not being enough to keep her upright.  As she hit the tile floor, her phone shot across the hallway from her hand, alerting a nurse at the other end of the hallway to turn at the noise, running towards her, calling out ‘ma’am’ over and over until she got to her side, calling back to another professional for help.

John “Spence…” he began, hearing her voice breaking before hearing all at once the phone falling, nearly jolting it from his ear from the sound. Asking her by name again before hearing the sound of feet in the background. Only able to sigh as he hung up his phone quickly and glanced down towards the dog. This much was evident, he needed to get up there but what to do with the dog? Knowing he wouldn’t be able to leave him there but at least able to leave their shit. Spur of the moment, not knowing what else to do with him. He merely grabbed himself a hoodie with a large front pocket and tossed it on. Grabbing Scrappy and his leash as he quite literally tucked the still small puppy into the front hoodie of his jacket. Allowing his head to stick out as he grabbed his keys and made his way outside of the hotel room.

Spencer The first nurse to arrive at her side was immediately checking for vitals as the other nurse arrived.  Orders were exchanged between the two and immediately Spencer’s feet were lifted on the bent knee of the second nurse.  In the interim, Spencer was wrapped in darkness, completely unaware of her surroundings.  It would take a matter of just six minutes before she would regain consciousness, having no idea what had happened, though plagued with an instant headache.  The last she remembered, she was taking out her phone to call John, and perhaps she had heard his voice, yet she couldn’t be certain.  “What happened?”  She asked, only to be told that she had fallen to the floor.  She started to lift up, to which the nurses refused her, offering their assistance instead as a chair was brought for her to sit in.  “I’m fine,” she assured, though the instability on her feet would prove otherwise.  “I need to call John.”  The second nurse picked up her phone from the floor, assuring that she would call John for her, but that they needed to get her to a room to be sure she was okay.  Spencer nodded, agreeing to the terms as they were laid out before her, being wheeled down the hall to a room as she heard the nurse on her phone a few steps behind her.

John By the time the call come through, John had already taken things into his own hands. He could have called a cab, or he could have borrowed a car in the parking lot. An older car he could ditch in the parking lot, popping the door open with his knife. Especially equipped for these tasks as he glanced around for cameras. No harm, no foul. He needed it more. Getting the door opened quietly within the unattended parking lot. He slipped within. Popping open the console where a brief matching of wires had the car starting. Slipping Scrappy into the passenger seat for the moment, he pulled the car out of the lot. Making it quickly to a few blocks away from the hospital where he ditched the car in a back alley. Grabbing Scrappy back into his pocket where he headed into the hospital. His phone ringing just as he got there. Picking up where he listened to the nurse, instructing her that he was there and he needed the room number.

Spencer The voice of the nurse behind them could be heard as she spoke to John.  “A young woman here at Jefferson Hospital asked that I call you to inform you that she took a fall.  She seems to be alright, but there will be some testing that will need to be done just to be certain this was a singular episode and not indicative of something more serious.”  Her voice was kind and soothing, though the rapid steps she was taking towards the nurses station to alert a physician to come see her said otherwise.  “She’s being taken into room 309.”  She turned to Spencer to let her know that John was there, to which Spencer simply nodded.  As she was taken down the hall, the door to the patient room where her father was being seen opened, both of her parents filing out into the hallway right before her chair.  Instantly her parents were there at her side, wanting to know what was wrong and what had happened to her.  The nurse kept pushing the chair, as if they were not of any relation as Spencer’s mother demanded to know what had happened to her ‘daughter’.  With that, the nurse began to speak, yet Spencer interrupted, plainly stating “I do not wish my medical information be disclosed to anyone besides my husband, John James.”  With Spencer’s words stated as they were, the nurse was no longer at liberty to speak to either Brock or Addison about the condition of Spence as she was not a minor and had blatantly specified where medical information could be shared.  The nurse offered just a shrug of her shoulders with an apologetic expression to her features, able to do nothing further on the matter.  An outraged pair of parents then approached the nurse’s desk, demanding that they speak with a patient advocate on behalf of their daughter, as their daughter was clearly not in the state to be making such decisions.  Brock’s voice could be heard echoing down the hall into the elevator as he stated his case quite loudly in his authoritative manner he was known for during his prime as Addison took on the role of distraught mother beside him, not realizing this was greatly in part her fault.

John “Alright, Scrappy. Here is where it counts…” slipping his hands into his hoody, petting his cold snout. He seemed to know what this meant. Still giving up space in his hands for air as the dog quite literally fit neatly into his pocket. It had not been the ideal standards but it would have to work as he slipped out of the elevator at the proper floor. The volume of a voice instantly greeting him but he couldn’t be much bothered by it. Only one thought in his mind was finding the room. Any further thought processes were lost on him. Including identifying the family at the nurse kiosk which blended in with the rest of the room as he found the appropriate room. A knock of his knuckles before he was slipping inside.

Spencer Hearing the aftermath of her decision down the hall, her father’s rough voice, similar in many ways to her own, had her trembling in outrage.  She knew her parents would be in that room in a matter of minutes, as there wasn’t much of a force on Earth that could stop her father when he wanted something.  Though as the door opened, she was already bracing herself for another run in with her mother only to find John there opening the door.  Spencer nearly jumped from the table to get to him, but the grab of the nurse to her wrist would stop her, causing Spence to pause, allowing the nurse to continue taking vital signs, jotting them on blank paper as Spence had no chart in this facility.  “I’m sorry,” she immediately stated for the fact he had to come there at all.  “I’m fine.  They said I fainted, but I’m okay.”  She instantly was assuring as she always assured him of her state when something happened.  “So far, things seem okay,” the nurse added, leaving room for speculation that Spencer was simply not having.  "A few tests and you guys can be on your way.“  She added, slipping past John to leave the room temporarily.

John “Don’t apologize.” he stated in response as she said sorry to him, side-eying the nurse who was already looking at him. As if he didn’t already look like he beat the woman with her passing out, now she was apologizing. Approaching her where she stood, hearing her explanation. He nodded slowly. Watching the nurse write some things down before he spoke, watching her leave. Nodding before he turned back towards her. “Guess you better relax then…might be your sugar. Didn’t eat anything last night, I know that and then yesterday, did you?” he asked, raising a brow, knowing she more than likely did not as he kept his hands in his hoody pockets. His pagan snapback seated firmly over his head.

Spencer “I…” she began, having to pause to think about it for a moment.  She shook her head no, recalling most of the day before, realizing the only intake she had was a cup of coffee or five throughout the day.  “Just coffee,” she confessed.  “Was the weirdest thing.  One minute, I was fighting with my mother, then I was calling you, and then nothing.”  She confessed as she leaned back on the table as the nurse had originally wanted her to do in the first place, finally able to relax a bit knowing John was there.  Never had she thought she’d let John loose on her parents, but after everything that morning, now she wouldn’t try to stop him.  As the door opened, she didn’t bolt to look this time as the nurse stepped through with a tray for blood work.  Spencer made a disgusted look as she glanced from that tray to John.  “Want to know what your wife is petrified of?  Needles.”  She sighed, reaching her hand out for his.

John “Yeah…” he stated simply as he watched her, a moment later, glancing back towards the door as the nurse entered with the familiar tray. Hearing her statement, he had to shake his head. “Can’t get that tattoo if you can’t handle needles…” he reminded her playfully as she reached for her hand, his other still in his hoody pocket. A slight whining noise emerging from within causing him to clear his throat. “Stomach is growling…” he explained before the nurse could ask, a blatant lie but a cover up that seemed to achieve the desired effect.

Spencer “True…” she nodded, unable to mention the rest of what she was thinking, though the thought had her grinning at the distraction from needles she had asked him for previously, though somehow seeming even more inappropriate in this venue.  “Just get it over with.”  She spoke to the nurse, keeping her eyes up to John’s until she heard that familiar whimper in his pocket, causing that grin on her face to turn to a full smile.  “I want the other hand.”  She stated, releasing his hand and adding her hand into his pocket, slipping beneath his where she could be with the two she loved most within the confines of his pocket.  The nurse made quick work as the nine vials were filled, the pressure causing her to flinch as she did her best to keep her eyes to his.  Within a matter of minutes, the nurse was releasing the elastic from her upper arm to increase the blood flow into the tubes, one at a time exchanged for another.  Finally, she lifted a cotton swab to the place of insertion, withdrawing the needle and instructing Spencer to hold the swab there for a moment before a bandage was placed over top.  “I should get a lollipop,” she teased as the nurse headed out with the vials, a laugh at her lips.  As the door opened, the shouting at the desk could still be heard, to which Spencer sighed.  “So, those are my parents,” she stated as she scratched behind Scrappy’s ear, still within John’s pocket.  

John Shaking his head as she mentioned wanting the other hand, not sure if she realized before he felt her hand in his pocket. Knowing she felt him in there as he seemed to be falling asleep as he watched her filling up each vial. Only able to think that if that wasn’t enough to make someone pass out, he didn’t know what was. His attention was drawn back to her as she spoke, he nodded slowly. “Kind of figured.” he stated honestly as he felt her in his pocket. “So now is a good time to mention that there is both a puppy in my pocket and I’m happy to see you?” he asked, waiting until the nurse was out of earshot.

Spencer As the door came to a close and John presented his ‘happy to see you’ joke, Spencer couldn’t help but laugh, withdrawing her hand to take John’s free hand.  “Don’t be too happy to see me.  Don’t think I’m anywhere near good to go for that.”  Her words wrapped in her laughter as she tugged up against that hand to sit up.  “Doesn’t mean you can’t tell me just /how/ happy you are to see me…” she teased, her free hand patting against the side of the table for him to sit with her.  “Although, I think that puppy in your pocket is what got me through that nasty needle.”  The opening of the door again had a turn at Spencer’s head to find a man entering, clearly a doctor before he even had to speak.  His words telling the two just what they already knew.  A fainting spell could be indicative of something as minor as a sugar drop, stress, or something more severe.  The blood work would be rushed and back within the hour and they’d know more then, so to sit back and relax and press the nurse’s call button should they need anything.  Spencer nodded, thanking the doctor, before she was making a disgusted look at John.  “We should be at the diner.”  She complained, still just as hungry as she had been when she had left the hotel that morning.

John “Oh please.” he stated, he had already gotten his share out of her that night. Only able to think that overexertion could be the potential reasoning for all of this as she tried to get him up on that table. Leaning on it beside her as the doctor entered as he gave his news and left. Hearing her statement. He shook his head. “Shit happens…” he stated honestly as he leaned over, kissing her cheek. “I’m just glad you are alright…but…” he began, not sure he was going to tell her how exactly he got there. Especially with her old man around. “I think it’s in our best interests and his…” he stated, gesturing towards his pocket. “If i run out real quick. Head back to the apartment, get him in the kennel. The only reason I have him is because I couldn’t leave him at the hotel. Let me drop him off right quick and use your car and I’ll be right back…” he offered. “and I’ll try to smuggle you in some food.” he added, sweetening up the deal.

Spencer His offer was needed.  She knew Scrappy didn’t need to be there, but she also knew that she didn’t want to go toe to toe with her mother again.  She took a deep breath, nodding her head as she retrieved her keys from his hoodie pocket that she was wearing, slipping them into his hand, only managing that he had taken a cab or hitched a ride.  “Alright,” she agreed, though she already knew when he walked out of that room that her father would be in his face wanting to know what was going on with his daughter.  A squeeze of her hand at his as she leaned over, pressing her lips back to his cheek as he had done to her.  “Don’t be gone too long,” she requested, knowing the hour would drag on without him there with her if she was left to listen to her father attempting to use his daily allotted words on the nursing staff, knowing already he wouldn’t be giving up any time soon.

John “Deal. Just try to relax.” he stated, returning her kiss. Pressing it to her forehead this time. Knowing that confrontation was inevitable but his first action would be to get Scrappy home. The puppy was like his child. His surrogate son. He filled a gap, oddly. One that he wasn’t sure he could operate on alone without River there. Slipping out of the room and from the kiosk. Somehow not being recognized one way or another, keys in his pocket as he slipped back down the elevator into the parking lot where he began the task of hitting her chirp and trying to find the correct car.

Spencer “I will,” she promised, feeling the kiss to her forehead which was enough to make her smile again.  Watching him leave the room, silently praying he found a way off that floor without being spotted, knowing John wouldn’t restrain himself if he was approached in the manner her father would do so in.  Listening as the door closed behind him, she didn’t hear the escalating of voices any louder than they had been, nor did she hear John’s in the mix, meaning he had more than likely gotten past them without being spotted as her parents were far too interested in deeming Spencer unfit to make such decisions about her medical care at that point in time.  She was relieved, laying back down against the table as she stared idly up at the ceiling tiles, eyes glancing to the clock every few minutes as she awaited John’s return.  

John Taking her car, not taking it like a bat out of hell out of the parking lot. Taking his time, not trying to wrack up her car. Showing an uncommon amount of regard as he got back to the apartment. Letting Scrappy do his business before he took him upstairs and right into the kennel. Abruptly apologizing as he fed him and filled his water bowl within his kennel before it was back in the car, stopping at a Wawa for some food to smuggle in as promised before it was back to the hospital.

Spencer Somewhere between the voice of her father dying down outside of the room and the sound of the ticking of the clock growing louder, Spencer dozed off on the table.  Her sleep not deep, though enough so that when the door to the room opened, her mother standing in the doorway, she did not hear it.  Addison slipped back out, leaning against the wall with Brock, informing him that she was asleep and they would just wait to intercept the doctor, hoping to get further with him than they had the nursing staff.  The nurse who had originally helped Spencer instructing them that they could wait there, and perhaps get information from either Spencer or her husband, but that no member of staff would be able to provide such information.  The two agreed to wait patiently and keep tempers under control for the sake of Spencer.  The nurse came into the room, checking in on her for a moment before she too would leave the room to check for those results.

John Slipping back into the hospital and up the elevator, knowing he most likely would have an interesting time. More so as he spotted the tiny family collected to the outside of the room. Tiny by his standards anyway. As one of 5 kids, anything seemed petite in response as he tucked his hands into his jean pockets. His hoody pocket stuffed with food this time around rather than the dog. A few stares on his seemingly long stroll to the room yet the insignia on his hat and the mere look at him would surely set them off. Who he was and what he stood for yet he seemed to ride that moment of confusion clean into the room after a momentary glance. A nod in their direction. Not overtly friendly or rude all at once as he slipped inside.

Spencer The pair stood in shock as they stared at the man they knew to be their daughter’s spouse by the way he entered the room with such belonging and purpose, without a pause in his step.  The first official time they would lay eyes on the man would have looks of confusion written all over their faces, as this man was no Chris Wilson.  They held their tongues, as approaching the man was simply not an option.  As the door opened, Spencer did not immediately stir until the door was closing and she could hear her father’s voice in the hallway once more, though not loud, his natural tone holding a volume to it regardless.  As she opened her eyes, she offered a half smile.  “So you did come back.  Thought you decided you wanted out.”  She teased, lifting up to sit, offering him the space beside her on the exam table.  

John “Nah, you already know where I live…it’s too late for that.” he confessed, reaching into his hoodie pocket where he handed her a bottle of Wawa’s best. Iced Tea. A wrapped club sandwich to boot, knowing she was a newcomer to the ways of Wawa. “How are you feeling?” he asked curiously, a bag of chips following out of that hoodie pocket.

Spencer “You bought half the store,” she teased, commenting on how his pocket seemed to be endless at this point, instantly going for that sandwich.  “I’m good.  Hungry, but good.”  She assured, working to unwrap the sandwich without even going for a greeting kiss as she normally would have.  A bite within her mouth rather quickly as she nodded her head in thanks for the food before she was at it for a second bite.  “You get something for you?”  She asked, teasing, knowing every sandwich that had been eaten since their union was shared, offering up the sandwich to him just past her third bite.

John “No, I’m good…” he confessed, his hand at her wrist. Guiding it back to herself. She needed it more than he did. He didn’t have much of an appetite at this point and he had only been thinking about her for the moment. Placing his hands back in his hoodie pockets showing he had nothing else.

Spencer Waiting for him to withdraw something else from his pocket of tricks, she was surprised to find he had nothing else.  “What?  No cake?”  She teased, bringing the sandwich to her lips again as the door opened.  The doctor instantly making a comment over thinking he had smelled a sandwich from the hall before he was flipping open a chart with Spencer’s name on the end of it.  “I’m big time now.  Upgraded from the tab of paper from before.”  She teased, lowering the sandwich back to the wrapper.  “So am I free to go?”  She asked, eyeing the doctor hopefully.  “Sure are.  I’ve got a sheet full of negative testing here, but we did isolate the reason for your collapse.”  Spencer offered a raise of her brows as she heard they had found a reason for her episode, waiting for the doctor to come forth with it.  “The only test that came back as a positive gave us that answer.  Mrs. James, Mr. James,” he spoke, addressing the both of them.  “Congratulations.  Blood work shows you are approximately five weeks pregnant.”  Spencer’s face went blank as the words came forth, though not a sound came from her lips.  

John “I was going to get you a tastykake too.” the man confessed honesty, hearing the doctor enter as he was reviewing the chart. Glad to hear everything was coming about negatively, he reached out to steal her iced tea. Cracking open the lid, his mouth dry and figuring she wouldn’t mind as he took a sip. Only a moment later hearing the word ‘pregnant’ and instantly getting fluid in his lungs as it went down the wrong tube. Instantly coughing on it as he resealed the iced tea before he could drop it. “Jesus christ…” he managed, not sure if he was wincing it for the pregnancy or the fluid in his lungs as he gave up another deep cough.

Spencer “I think I’ll give you two a few minutes.  Your papers are right here and you’re free to go, but follow up with an OB right away.”  The doctor spoke as Spencer was off the table, her hand at John’s back.  As the door closed, she was rubbing her hand against his back, attempting to break up that which he was coughing against.  She wanted to ask if he was alright, but truthfully, she didn’t have the words yet, still too much in shock at what he had said.  Besides the fact the question was two-fold and one part of that had already been answered, he wasn’t alright.  “I…” she began, an apology ready at her lips, though she couldn’t force it through as she heard the door open again.  “We’ll be out in just a minute.”  She stated, expecting the nurse to be excusing them, instead finding her parents there behind her.  Her mother in just a state of shock, her face saying it all.  The two had heard the news through the doorway, seeing no other way since they didn’t expect to be brought in for the results.  It would be Brock who would speak up, his anger evident in every word.  “So first you marry our daughter without my permission and then you knock her up?”  Spencer’s eyes grew wide as she shook her head, not leaving John’s side, eyes glancing up to John.  “Let’s get out of here,” she whispered, attempting to direct John to the door, abandoning the sandwich and chips still at rest against the table, though her father stood firm in the doorway.

John Still too winded as he felt her at his back, hearing her speak as he tried to take in what he had just heard. Still not believing it. Having to shake his head as he set the bottle down on the bed as the doctor left. Giving up another cough before he was breathing in a deep breath, feeling the presence of someone behind him and instantly straightening. It was like cold water had been injected into his spine, knowing a little something was coming as he glanced in back of him. Tempted to smirk as he glanced down towards her, shaking his head. Guiding her off. He’d speak his piece to the man if he wanted to speak out to him. John had been good but he wasn’t a saint. “Your daughter is a grown woman. She ain’t a little girl and this ain’t your day and age. This also ain’t your town. You’d be wise to remember that.” he reminded the man, this was Pagan territory. His club ran these streets. Should anyone of his club be around that day, they’d expect a full out brawl from John who was still being good and not using his hands to speak as he so often did.

Spencer Spence was familiar with that guiding hand that would have her out of the way to let John handle things in his own way.  She’d seen it before with her partner and now with her own father.  Addison stared at Spencer, waiting for her to do or say something to defend her father, yet for the first time in her life, Spencer was not at the will of her parents.  Instead, she stayed back, watching as her father stared into the eyes of a man he already knew was dangerous, relying too heavily on Spencer’s badge at her hip, trusting that the daughter he had raised would not stand for this, yet sadly mistaken as that badge wore far more tarnish than he’d ever be aware of.  “So you got something on her, forced her to marry you, knocked her up to keep her.”  His words were unwarranted, but her father wasn’t backing down either.  At this, Spencer knew John was trying, more than he had to, but at some point he would be pushed too far.  “John, please, let’s go.”  She stated a little more firmly this time.  “You hit him, you get locked up.  We can’t do that right now.”  She reminded him, slipping her hand into his, her fingers curling around his in a final attempt as Brock stepped out of the way, sweeping his hand through the doorway as if to permit their exit at his own will.  

John Light eyes flaring at that statement, it wouldn’t be the first time someone suggested John was insuperior. He was and he knew it but that didn’t mean it was alright to try to run over him. He didn’t have much to lose like this man did and all the more to gain, his fist tightened. Only able to imagine the crunch of that jaw underneath of his knuckles at the statement. Nostrils flaring. The mere look in his eyes showing that if they were not in that hospital room right now that no amount of jail time would have stopped him. He didn’t fear it. It wouldn’t be the first or last time he did so. Feeling her pushing her hand into his fist somehow as he watched the man exit out of the room. “I don’t gotta’ force her to do anything.” he reminded the man, the so-called family patriarch. This kind of family dynamic sickened him. “Because unlike you and yours, she ain’t for abandoning those she supposed to care about…” he reminded the man as he watched the man sweeping the door. Knowing it would resonate with any man who dared to call himself a father and demand those rights when he’d force his own out of his comfort for something so insignificant.

Spencer In that moment, Spencer could not have been prouder of the words John was speaking.  It was the absolute truth.  From the day her parents were told of their union, though it was given to them in a lie to soften the blow, Spencer was not welcomed in their home.  This would stand as the first day they would see each other since that day back in June, and yet no growth had been made there.  They were still not accepting the union and were now officially alienating not only Spencer from their lives, but the child within her.  Her heart rate was increasing as she paused, no longer trying to urge John from the room, but trusting him to take the step when he was ready.  Brock glared into the eyes of John, only to glance down to Spencer, shaking his head.  “I raised better.”  He stated in a softer tone before he was taking Addison’s hand and making their way down the hallway.  Four months before, Spencer had fallen apart at John’s chest, tears into his cut at the dismissal of her parents, yet this time, she stood beside him, her hand remaining in his, without a tear in her eye.  She looked at the man not as her father, but as John’s enemy.  As the two left, Spencer remained firm at John’s side, her hand slightly tightening in his, the only sign that any of this had gotten under her skin.

John Feeling her hand tightening in his own, having gotten the man out of the room before him. Staking his claim. This was his place before it was the other man’s and even this mark of territory submission when a long way with him as he gave in. Listening to the man speaking to her as he finally helped her out of the room. His arm slowly slipping from hers as only to wrap around her shoulders, letting his hand drop and grab her hand once again only to get a more comfortable and protective grip on the woman. “You alright?” he finally asked, glancing down towards her.

Spencer Feeling John’s hold, hearing his question, she paused at her words.  She had learned a valuable lesson that day in standing beside him.  One that would resonate with her in the days and years to come.  No longer would she urge John to leave a situation.  She would stand at his side and allow him to do things his way, having decided halfway through that altercation where the cuffs would go should they have been needed and it wouldn’t have been on John.  “Yeah…” she spoke, nodding her head before she would lift her head upwards to look at him.  “I’m good.”  She promised, the phrase somehow not a lie in the slightest.  She had been dealing with the separation from her parents for quite some time and though she had gone into this day with some hope of rekindling their relationship, she now knew her place beyond all doubt at John’s side.  

John Spence’s best position in all this was to always step back and let him go. He couldn’t be contained then and there would be times where he was much worse and unable to be contained but he didn’t want her in front of him again when it happened. Her urging him or pulling him would only piss him off more and distract him. Trying to keep her safe put him at a disadvantage if someone swung on him. He needed to have his wits about him. Hearing her statement, he raised a brow. She was about as good as could be expected as he gave her a slow nod. “We good to go then?”

Spencer “Yeah,” she spoke, her tone just as raspy as her father’s, offering up a half smile to John as it was about all she had in her in that moment.  Through the altercation with her mother that had brought on the entire event, then the news of their pregnancy, followed by the incident between her father and John, she was more than ready to put this entire morning behind them.  She was sure her parents saw this playing out differently, with her running to them to go home with them, but leaving with John was exactly what she’d always do as it was where she truly belonged and for the first time felt completely secure in that.  She gripped his hand before releasing it to pick up the paper against the counter, giving the full lab results, folding it to slip it within her back pocket before she was returning to his side to leave.

John Watching her ready herself as she nodded, slipping his arm back over her shoulders as he guided her out of the room. The clean opposite direction of her family as they hit the elevator. Only able to imagine she might have felt the pull between her present and her past. Hell, if he had grown up decently, he might have felt that at times as well. Yet, what she was receiving now was what he had grown up with. Maybe that was why it didn’t seem so odd to him as it did to her.

Spencer Her mother’s sobs could be heard echoing through the hallways, yet Spencer made no effort to see where they were coming from, nor to look over her shoulder.  As far as she was concerned in that moment, she was done with them entirely, this day marking both the beginning of something and the end of something all at once.  As they reached the elevator, she reached out to press the button, still tucked closely under his arm.  She felt as if she should offer some apology on behalf of her father, but she couldn’t even manage it as she struggled to see him as anything more than John’s enemy at this point in time.  “You good?”  She asked, a loaded question, though she was more worried now with what he thought of those test results than anything, as neither of them yet had a moment to speak on it with the interruption in the room.

John Leaning against the back wall, he heard her question. It was a big one, to say the least but he glanced back towards her. Giving a slow nod. “Yeah, I’m alright.” he stated simply, reaching into his pocket to hand the keys back to her. “No point in not bein’ okay anyway. Right?”

Spencer “You’ve already driven it once now.  Suppose there’s no harm in letting you hold on to them,” she stated as she didn’t reach out for the keys.  His words were true and on point with what she should expect to hear him say.  “Yeah, I guess so.”  She added, nodding her head before she was at the wall beside him.  She glanced up towards him, then to the numbers on the wall as the elevator approached the ground floor, not much sure what she was supposed to say or think to any of this.  The results could be felt in her back pocket, proof that they were expecting, yet it hadn’t truly sank in yet.  “Are you… happy?  Mad?  Disappointed?”  She asked, trying to gauge his response.

John “I…uh…” he began, pausing. Proof that his genuine huge range of emotions was hard to pinpoint in that moment. Shrugging his shoulders as the elevator hit the ground floor. Taking back the keys. “I don’t believe it yet.” he began honestly, it was still too fresh. It would take him a while. Probably a few days to pull it all together. “Should be asking /you/ that though…” he confessed.

Spencer His description of how he felt about it was pretty much on point for her as well.  Aside from the fainting episode and the slight headache that still lingered, she didn’t feel what she thought pregnant must feel like.  She hadn’t been ill.  She hadn’t been tired.  None of the signs most women seemed to complain of.  All she had was a piece of paper that said it was so.  As they started out of the elevator, she took a moment before she would respond, wanting to choose the right words, though she felt as if the entire topic felt foreign to her.  “I think I’m supposed to be happy.”  She confessed, keeping her eyes forward as they walked.  “I’m not mad or disappointed.”  She clarified, pausing as she fell on the right word to describe what she was feeling.  “Overwhelmed.”

John “Feelin’ happy and feelin’ like you should be happy are two very different things.” he reminded her as they slipped out into the hospital lobby, not that he could say he could blame her as they were both facing similar emotions. “Guess it was kind of bound to happen eventually, wasn’t it?”

Spencer She nodded her head at his statement.  Truth was, she was far too invested in his emotions to even let hers run free at that moment on the topic.  “Yeah, it was.”  She looked up at him as she offered a slight smile in his direction as she found his hand with her own, linking her fingers through his as they headed for the doors to exit.  “I’m not sorry.”  She stated plainly, putting it out there for him, a statement of positivity in a terrifying situation as she gave his hand a gentle squeeze, leaning the side of her face against his arm as they walked towards her car.

John “Got no reason to be sorry, after all.” he reminded her as they walked towards the car, he stopped just short as he walked to the passenger side of the car. Cracking it open for her as he guided her within. Still breathing out a light breath. It had been a long few days. “I think a nap is in order for you…” he stated honestly, already having plans of his own once he got her back to the hotel room. To get back to the apartment and clean it up so he could get her back in and home.

Spencer She couldn’t deny that she’d need a nap after everything, having wanted to go back to sleep from the moment she woke up that morning.  Letting him guide her within the car, she looked up at him with a nod of her head.  “I think you’re probably on to something pretty good there,” she stated honestly as she released his hand so the door could be closed.  Fastening her seat belt, she looked up at him, pleased that he thought there was nothing to be sorry for.  It was a positive statement in the right direction in her opinion, which she could use some positivity right about then.

John Closing the door, he slipped around the car and into the driver’s side. Starting it as he glanced over towards her. “you know, pretty brave to let a biker drive your car…” he reminded her, pushing the car into reverse. Letting off of the brake only to tap it twice over just to make her think he didn’t know what he was doing before he was into drive and pulling out of the parking lot seemingly recovered.

Spencer “Yeah, well…” she started to speak before he was hitting the brake twice just to scare her.  “Funny.”  She shook her head, tugging on her seat belt to be sure it was secure, just to tease back.  “You seemed to make it alright the first go round, back safely and all that.  So maybe it’s time I trust you with my car.”  She offered, her hand reaching over to rest against his thigh.  “But how about we keep both hands on the wheel and eyes on the road, just for good measure.”

John Feeling her at his thigh, he rolled his eyes at her at that last part. “Yes, mom. Anything else, mom?” he asked coyly as he flipped on a turn signal, making a show of it before he was pulling off onto Market. “I’m going to drop you off at the hotel and see you in, go back to the apartment and clean it up so I can come pick you up and the bags and shit…” he decided as he glanced over towards her.

Spencer “Cute, John.  Really cute.”  She shook her head as he called her mom, though there was a part of that which was now partially true.  Not letting that one sink in too much before he was telling her his plan to which she was instantly shaking her head no.  “No, John.  It’s too much.  I told you we’d get someone to go in and take care of it.  There’s just too much.”  She stated honestly, though a part of her considered pressing that they never step foot in that apartment again after everything that had gone down there.  Her last take had more than enough to set them up in a different apartment where they’d never have to live with memories of a brutal fight between the two.  “Let me get someone to do that and we can stay a couple more nights in the hotel.”

John “It’s not too much. It’s just some blood…” he argued as he glanced over towards her, truth be told, he had cleaned up worse. Much worse. Though his brow was raising upon the concept of letting someone else clean his apartment with what little he had. “I don’t even know how that works.” he stated honestly, he didn’t have much but he didn’t trust people but breathing out slowly. If this was something she was choosing to stand her ground on, he would have to give it to her though he did clearly just want to go do it himself. It was where he called home. It might not have meant much to anyone else but he knew what it was to not have a place to call home at all.

Spencer Weighing it in her mind, she couldn’t help but find something endearing about him wanting to do it himself and to get them both back at home, where they belonged, even if it meant facing down the demons that could have destroyed them that night.  There was a silver lining to it all, where words were exchanged, and that would be enough for her.  “Okay,” she offered with a gentle squeeze there at his thigh.  “It’s just some blood.”  She repeated, giving it back to him to do with what he had wanted to do, though she felt she should be there with him to clean it up and get the clothes back where they belonged.  A genuine smile graced her lips as she looked over at him with a nod, learning when to push and when to let go with him a little at a time.  

John “Okay…” he stated simply as she gave in, nodding at the statement of the blood. Just a bit of blood. Nothing what was under the sink couldn’t take care of. Feeling her at his thigh again as he felt her looking at him as he kept his eyes on the road. Still surprised he had walked away with a victory on that one.

Spencer Her smile remained at her features as he agreed to her return offer, having matched exactly what he wanted to do in the first place.  She was learning, constantly, always a little bit better than the day before.  The process wasn’t always easy, but she was taking something from each and every step of the way.  “Yeah.”  She offered, a lift of her chin as the meaning of the word was clearly there as her hand slipped back from his thigh as to not distract him while driving.  Leaning back in the seat, she closed her eyes for a long moment before she was right back to looking over at him.  “What you said back there?  At the hospital?  It meant a lot to me.”  She stated honestly, as it truly had.  In those moments, perhaps without meaning to, John told her what he thought of her and one word resounded in her mind.   Loyal.  Of which she was.  When she loved, she loved greatly, and the way he had spoken to her father in that moment, pointing this out to him that she’d never do what was being done to her had gone a long way with her.  

John “You gotta’ stop lettin’ people talk to you like that. I don’t care who they are.” he stated honestly as his eyes remained on the road, exhaling a soft breath. “You know, my Ma might not have done a whole lot on the ‘raising’ topic but tell you what, she taught me that much. You don’t owe nobody shit. You don’t gotta spend your life in service to someone just ‘cause they had you.” he reminded her honestly, possibly the only positive thing he had ever said about his own mother as his teeth found his bottom lip.

Spencer As she listened to John, it only furthered what she already knew to be true.  Her parents had separated from her months before when she went to them with the false story of her marriage, albeit a lie, but.  Today, she was walking away from them.  As she looked at John, she simply nodded her head at first, holding her words within her tightened lips as they were so heartfelt and she didn’t want to put any more emotion on the morning than had already been there.  But, as always, she couldn’t do it.  She spoke her mind with him, that much she owed to him for him to be so forward with her.  “I’d do anything for my family.  It’s how I was raised.”  She stated, pausing a moment before she’d continue.  “And today, they proved that they aren’t.  But you?  You are my family, John.”

John “How you were raised is not an excuse…that’s a term people from good homes like to use like it means somethin’ to people like me who grew up havin’ to fight, steal and scheme for our dinners and we don’t get to use that excuse. We are just animals, don’t matter how we were raised. Somehow people like me can be saved. That’s what everyone always says, all the media. We can be ‘redeemed’, we still got some good left in us. Yet, when youse guys get that you don’t need two different forks to eat dinner, youse say it’s somethin’ in how you were raised.” he reminded her, side eyeing her, not meaning to upset her but it was true and she had to see it. “They are always gonna’ be your family, whether you like it or not. Blood is blood but there is a difference between the family you are forced with and the family you choose.”

Spencer His words were strong, perhaps even feeling harsh as they fell upon her.  She didn’t dare speak of the silver that donned their dining room table as a child.  The same silver that had been sold off the year before to help pay the medical bills.  She knew her upbringing had been privileged and knew enough to know John’s hadn’t been, but she thought that was part of what made them so good together.  It was also the thing that she saw in her father’s eyes that morning, though he couldn’t have been more wrong when he said he’d raised her better.  She was raised to love and be loved, and though not at first, that was exactly what she was doing.  “You’re right,” she offered quietly, that hand making its way back to his thigh as she unhooked her seatbelt at her hip to lean over, resting her head against his upper arm.  “And hey, we can take all the ways I was raised wrong and all the ways you were raised wrong and we can do it right.”  She mentioned, the first official mention of something positive in regards to the baby they had to start thinking about.

John Feeling her at his arm and hearing her statement, knowing where she was going with it. It was still hard to fathom. He knew they had that paper but it would take him way more than that to even be making sense of it. “You think your parents are ever going to come around for you?” he asked, knowing at some point, she’d want a relationship there. Even if she denied it. Watching the hotel approaching to the side of the road. Still giving out nothing about how he had gotten there in the first place.

Spencer “I don’t know,” she whispered honestly as she caught the glimpse of the hotel prompting her to sit back over to her own seat, though she really just wanted to be against him in that moment.  “I’d like to think so, but then it’s…”  She took a deep breath, pausing there as the weight was too heavy.  “If they knew me, they wouldn’t want me anyways, John.”  Her words were honest, knowing that the badge her father fought behind had been ruined by her.  It was something that clearly carried great weight with her, given how he found her the day before and the number of scars against her abdomen.  The economic need for her to do so had been long gone, yet she still continued.  “Dad was a good cop right up until the day he took a bullet to the head.  He’ll be a good cop again one day.”  She sounded sure, though all of that was just to prove how highly disappointed he would be in her when the truth did come out.  “Thought I wanted to be just like him.”  Though she didn’t have a lot to say about her mother, it was clear that she had thought the world of that man.  “And yet I’m exactly the opposite.  He finds that out, then no.  So maybe it’s better this way.  He can hate me for where I am instead of what I am.”

John Eyeing her as she leaned back in her seat and he pulled into an empty spot in the parking lot, ironically, the empty spot he had caused getting to her in the hospital. Shifting into park as he slowly glanced over towards her. “Spence, the right to govern between ‘good’ and ‘bad’ is reserved for people who sit up in nice houses and don’t worry about shit. For the rest of us? All we know is survival and the people who sat up in those houses? Their hands aren’t dirty either. It’s just them people up there, it’s alright that their roads are paved in the blood of the rest of us and yeah…that means cops. For people like me, there ain’t such a thing as a ‘good cop.’” he stated honestly as he killed the engine of the car. “Cops are the heroes and I’m the bad guy and your job is to take me off the street. Your job was never to come find me when I was a kid and look after me and make me safe. Now it’s to get me off the street ‘cause I’m a danger to everyone else. Meaning a bunch of other criminals ‘cause none of us could get ahead and the system never gave us a shot. Yet, all of us were little kids before and no one cared when we were bleedin’ or freezin’ or hungry so why the fuck should we expect the cops or the whole system to hear us out and give us a chance? We don’t want a fuckin’ chance because we’ll never have one. Dont’ drink the kool-aid about the good cop, bad cop shit. Both of youse cash paychecks in disadvantage to someone else somehow or another.”

Spencer As the car came to a stop and John spoke his truth of what cops were and what they stood for, she agreed with him now, though years ago, she would have preached a different story.  She would have gone on and on about how she wanted to fight the good fight.  She wanted to clean up the streets and make them safe, for the kids.  She wanted to do good, no harm.  She came at this from the heart of gold that she did still possess, but somehow crisis and opportunity had blended together to create the person she was now.  She hadn’t lost faith in all cops, yet she knew that she was in the majority.  “He was good cop.”  She returned, not able to put that part down.  Regardless of how the system worked most everywhere, regardless of the good vs bad arguments, it didn’t change the fact that her father had done all that she had hoped to do.  It didn’t change the fact that if he one day realized what she had succumbed to, even if it had been for his own benefit at first, he would be ashamed of her far beyond her marrying a biker.  “The minority, but he was.”  She added quietly.  She gave a shake of her head, finally dragging herself around to answering his original question.  “If they can’t accept you, then they aren’t a part of me.  The end.”  Her words so foreign compared to the girl who had cried four months before when her family turned her away knowing nothing of him.  Though now, she wasn’t just in a marriage to stay out of prison.  She loved him.  And for that, she’d stand at his side regardless of who that meant she stood against.  “You coming up?”  She asked as she reached for the door handle, a light bite there at her lower lip.

John He shook his head at the mention of a good cop, good apples didn’t come from poison roots. The whole institution was damned. It based on an operating system that was nearly medieval and she’d come to see this in her own time. There was no point in forcing her hand now but eventually, after she’d understand and seen first-hand how people such as himself were treated by the police force, she’d get it. “They ain’t ever gonna’ accept me. It’s not about me. If they can pull their head out of their ass, you can allow yourself to have a relationship outside of me ‘cause I can’t guarantee the next time I see your father, it’s going to go so well.” he reminded her, hearing her question as he slipped out of the car. At least planning to walk her to the hotel room.

Spencer As he opened his door, she did the same, slipping out of the car to meet him around the front, her hand instantly at his lower back as she slipped beneath his arm, wanting something more than just his hand this time.  “Don’t think you’ll be seeing my father again.  That would require him acknowledging that his daughter wasn’t raised better.”  She stated, those words obviously sticking with her and leaving a foul taste in her mouth.  As the two walked to the doors of the lobby, she glanced up at him, suddenly a bit puzzled.  “So… how exactly did you get to the hospital so fast earlier?  With Scrappy?  You hop a cab?”  She asked, as it had been her only thought before.

John “Who fuckin’ cares.” he snorted at her statement, suggesting to not let it bother her as she snuck under his arm and he guided her to the lobby. Opening the door which had him shifting his eyes around the room. “You wouldn’t even believe me if I told you.” he commented, and he wasn’t about to tell her. “You probably don’t want to know.” he stated, not to mention they were in public.

Spencer Her eyes instantly cut up towards him as the two approached the elevator.  “John… you didn’t…” she began, already having a pretty bad feeling what it meant he had done.  She knew there would be no discussing this in the lobby of the hotel, but her curiosity was peaked.  She’d have to save that one though, even if the slight grin on her face clashed terribly with that badge hidden beneath his hoodie she was wearing.  “You did.”  She resolved, stepping within the elevator with him, shaking her head.  “I’m sorry if I scared you.”  She offered, the entire series of events had been enough on her end.  She could only imagine what it was like on his.

John Hearing her mention that he didn’t like an old movie, a smile broke on his lips. Having to laugh, still saying nothing as they slipped into the elevator. Shaking his head at her as she mentioned that he did. “I don’t know, did I?” he asked, hearing her apology. He shook his head. They were past apologies.

Spencer Nodding her head, a telling smile there at her lips.  “You did.”  She confirmed, needing nothing more from him on the matter.  Slipping her arm further to his opposite side, she tucked herself in a bit tighter as she lifted her chin to look up towards him.  “Thank you.”  She stated in perhaps a surprising twist as she literally thanked him for committing a crime for her, furthering words exchanged the previous day as she looked up at him, that smile not fading in the slightest.

John “You thankin’ me for /that/?” he asked, not yet saying the words aloud because he wasn’t a dumb criminal and knew not to breath anything alive anywhere without the intentions of someone hearing. Feeling her tucking into his arm and getting comfortable as he watched the elevator floors.

Spencer “Yup.  I am.”  She confirmed, her free hand coming up to grip at the hoodie he wore, fisting the material in her hand as she tugged against him.  “I am most certainly thanking you for /that/ and maybe a little bit more than that too.”  The smirk on her lips saying it all as she tugged him down to her, lifting to her own toes to meet his lips suddenly, without much warning given.  It wasn’t the fact that he had broken the law.  That went without saying.  It was the fact that he pulled out all stops to get to her that was resonating with her the most in that moment, drawing her lips to his to press firmly against his own.

John “Hm.” he hummed in apparent interest as she leaned into him. Pressing his lips back to hers, not quite sure what she was thanking or kissing him for but he’d take it. Never one to deny those kisses of hers as he wasn’t nearly so sadistic as his hand reached up. Finding the side of her face.

Spencer Maintaining that grip of his hoodie bunched in her small hand, she kept her lips fused against his as the elevator doors opened.  Taking a step back, she used her hand at his hoodie to pull him along without breaking the kiss at their lips.  “Hmm mm,” she mumbled there at his lips, a version of nuh uh to stop him from daring to break as she brought her free hand to the wall of the elevator, guiding their way just as they were.  Ridiculously into the knowledge she now possessed of what he had done for her sending her into this appreciative kiss, though no longer built in appreciation and built a lot more in how surprisingly turned on she was by his bad behavior.

John Seeing her especially captured with this kiss in particular, letting her have this one as his hand remained to the side of her face. Thumb brushing over her jawline as he tasted her hum. Only leaning further into it and feeling a little more than thankfulness radiating out of her kiss in that moment.

Spencer Her hand grazing the wall off of the elevator towards their room, she paused at the door she knew to be their room, still not allowing her lips to part from his as she brought her hand around to her back pocket, searching for the room key only to realize it was in the other pocket.  Releasing the hold at his hoodie, she replaced it with her other hand, freeing her to find the key card in her other back pocket.  Bringing it to the door slot, her fingers feeling out the opening as she slipped her tongue through the part of her lips to trail against his as she pressed the card into the slot backwards, trying the handle before she was flipping the card in her hand to try again, to no avail.

John Knowing someone would have had to get this done with if they didn’t plan on staying in the hallway all day, he felt her tongue parting his lips. Returning that gesture no matter how awkward as he opened his eyes, reaching for the key card from her hand but unable to keep his eyes open and retain that kiss all at once. Smirking against her lips as he withdrew, getting the door open as he guided it open to her a moment later. “sorry, was too awkward.”

Spencer As he took the key card from her, her hand was at his side, gripping into him until she felt that smirk against her lips as the kiss was severed.  She leaned her head down, her forehead into his hoodie with a laugh at her lips, having no choice but to find the humor in it all.  “Your wife is not sexy.”  She stated into the fabric, shaking her head lightly against him, her laugh still there at her lips as she met the epic fail of a moment that could have been incredibly hot, should she have been able to pull it off.  

John “My wife is incredibly sexy. Say that again and see what happens…” he seemed to threaten seriously, knuckle tracing her jawline before a quick smirk suggested he was kidding, feeling her against his forehead as he now seemed to have to back her up and force her into the room. Making a backwards beeping sound all the way until he could dump her onto the bed.

Spencer “Your wife…” she began as he made his move to bring her into the room, the door auto-closing and locking behind them.  As the door closed, she withdrew her gun, badge, and phone from her person, reaching over to place them on the small desk of the room on her way towards the bed.  She lifted her eyes to his, still laughing only furthered by his little sound effects.  “Is not…” she dared as her eyes met his, the back of her legs coming to meet the edge of the bed.  “Sexy.”   She finally completed her phrase, just to see what would happen.

John “Pft. Maybe /your/ wife isn’t sexy but mine is.” he argued as she sat down. Reaching down to unzip the hoodie just to get her more comfortable. Guiding it free from her arms as he tossed it onto the nearby chair. “Sad to hear yours ain’t, that’s real unfortunate.”

Spencer Her mind still clearly not on comfort, she offered eyes up to him that he would easily recognize in her as the hoodie came off.  “My wife?”  She asked, hands reaching forward to his jeans which happened to fall relatively right before her eyes.  “I don’t have a wife, but I do have a husband who happens to be the sexiest man on earth.”  She spoke honestly as she unfastened the button, eyes lifting back up towards his.  “And he’s a badass to boot.”

John “Well then, don’t talk ‘bout my wife if we can’t talk ‘bout yours.” he reasoned as he cocked a brow, feeling her at his own jeans seeing she was onto the next thing now. Her comment about him not seeming to go too deep before he was reflecting. “I’m sure that’s hardly the case but you tell him that so he don’t feel too bad about himself. It’s like a charity kinda’ thing.”

Spencer “I don’t have a wife!”  She declared through a fit of laughter, her fingers making way to the zipper of his jeans, not stopping in her mission to get him in that bed with her.  “Nope.  I tell him that because it’s the fucking truth.”  She stated with a nod of her head, allowing his jeans to fall to his ankles.  “Maybe you tell your wife she is sexy so she won’t cry when her schemes to come off sexy fail and she falls flat on her face in front of you.  Maybe you just don’t like to see her cry.”  She accused, turning the charity case game around on him.

John “You better get one then! Get you an okcupid profile or some shit.” he stated as he felt her, pushing down his jeans as he slowly guided off his shoes so he could step out of his jeans. Still in his hoodie awkwardly as he unzipped it. Hearing her statement making him roll his eyes. “She cries durin’ the fucking Lion King. I’d only be sparing myself for so long.” he reminded her, narrowing his eyes.

Spencer Watching as he started to remove his own hoodie, she followed suit, lifting at the lower hem of her own shirt, slipping it up over her head, revealing battle wounds from the night before as she haphazardly tossed her shirt in the direction of the chair, missing and not even caring.  “The Lion King is a very sad movie!”  She argued, standing up before him to help him slip the hoodie off, leaving him in his shirt and her in her jeans, a full outfit between the two of them, causing her to start laughing again.  “If I did get a wife, you’d let her touch me?”  She asked, driving at that possessive side, quite enjoying when it came out, only for her own benefit as she was already turned on from his illegal activity that day, pushing it one step further with something that would always push her right over the edge.

John Watching her stand, his hands found the button and zipper of her jeans. Full-out knowing how ridiculous they both probably looked. Him least of all wearing a shirt without pants as she helped him out of his hoodie. Hearing her question, he shook his head at her. “No, not at all.” he stated, the man had a history with girls thinking bisexual dealings got them out safe. Like they weren’t supposed to mean anything to him. “That’s like saying…yeah, I’m left handed but I can hit you with my right hand and it’s okay because I’m left handed. Is my right hand still going to hurt if I hit you?” he asked, knowing the answer to that as his fingers found her zipper.

Spencer Lifting up the hem of his shirt as his hands were at her own jeans, the two seeming quite confused as to who was taking what off, but the job was getting done either way.  As she lifted his shirt, she leaned into him, pressing her lips against his chest as she raised the shirt up, needing his help to get it clear off as her height simply did not afford such a luxury from this stance.  Managing to press the toes of one shoe to the back of her other to slip out of the shoe, only to repeat the action on the other side as she hummed her answer at his chest.  “Hmm,” she pretended to think about it before her eyes were glancing back up at his, one hand remaining at the shirt in its lifted position, the other hand making a quick move to the front of his boxers, taking hold of his cock firmly as she lifted her chin upwards to take him in.  “Good thing I’ve got a thing for this then, huh?”

John Meeting her eyes at that hum, feeling her hand at the wrong of his shirt. Just ready to lift his arms as he felt her grip at the front of his boxers. Smirking lowly at her question, he nodded. “Good answer.” he stated honestly, probably the best answer she could have given him as he picked up his arms. Helping her pull his own shirt up and over his head and arms.

Spencer His response had a smirk there at her lips as she watched the sight of that shirt coming off, a maneuver that she’d always find to be one of the sexiest things in the world.  If she could just watch that a million times a day, she’d be a happy woman.  Releasing that hold through the fabric of his boxers, she slipped her fingers into the waistband, easing them down to fall at his ankles.  “Thought you were going to clean…” she reminded him as her hand returned where it had been, this time with the flesh on flesh feeling that she had originally desired.

John Hearing her statement, a low growl of a groan leaving him as he felt her hand finding him. The blood quickly rushing from his head and all blood flowing South, a moment to respond. “Yeah, I thought I was too.” he confessed, but she seemed to have better ideas for him at this point, his own hands determined to get her bottoms off as he guided them down finally so she could step out of them.

Spencer Taking that step free of her jeans, she assisted in the blood rushing to his piece, her hand firmly slipping the length.  “What happened?”  She asked innocently, as if she didn’t know, leaning to his chest again to place her lips against his bared flesh.  “Ooh, right.  I know.  Your wife tried to be sexy, but…” she mentioned, lifting her head so that her eyes could meet his again.  “She’s not.”  She smirked, returning it to where it had somewhat begun anyways.  Drawing one knee to rest against the bed behind her, she brought her other to join, allowing her to kneel on the bed before him.  “Sad really.  You deserve a sexy wife.”

John Feeling her lips against his chest, hearing her round it all back to that somehow. Knowing that topic wasn’t gone for too long, he shook his head at her as he watched her kneeling on the bed. Snorting at her as he felt the blood rapidly building in him. “Told you, you ain’t allowed to have an opinion on this…” he reminded her, according to his earlier logic as his hand found her midback, slipping up to where he found her bra strap.

Spencer “Riiiight.  Because I don’t have one.”  She nodded, feeling him at her back.  Her hand continually stroking the thickness in the palm of her hand as she drug her lower lip through the bite of her teeth.  “What makes you think I’m letting go so that can come off?”  She asked honestly, as she had no intentions of letting go anytime soon.  Her free hand coming to rest at the back of his neck, drawing her lips near his, yet not allowing them to touch for more than a slight brushing of hers against his, a tease as she kept the firmness only to her hand in the moment.

John Still unclasping her bra despite of any attempted distractions, letting her take it off at her discretion as he felt her brushing her lips to his. Stroking him firmly. His breath hitching in his throat as his lips teased over hers. His head slightly tilting where his lips took to her bottom lip.

Spencer All it would take was his lips taking control for her to release her hand, the bra slipping off her arm to fall to the floor as she brought her now freed hand to meet the other at the back of his neck as she backed across the bed on her knees, attempting to bring him with her.  A hum at her lips as her hands slipped to the back of his upper arms, tugging against him as she gave in to that kiss, no longer playing with the man as she had done so for long enough.

John Feeling her give in and give up the restraining fabric as she leaned back. Coming along as he felt her against his arms. Leaning into her and against the bed as his lips still restrained her bottom lip. One of his hands finding her side while the other pressed to the bed. His teeth gaining control of that bottom lip of hers.

Spencer As he came over the bed with her, laying her back, the warmth of his hand against her side had her arching slightly upwards into him.  The moment his teeth took her lower lip, she ceased her lips at his, drawing back slightly to allow the slight tug as she met his eyes with her own, that look of sheer desire replacing any sign of laughter that had been there minutes before.  Her tongue slipping through to tease at the underside of his upper lip, intending to draw him from her own lower back into her lips once more.

John Feeling her tongue against the part of his lips, allowing the sloppiness of that open-mouthed kiss as his tongue smoothed over hers before his lips sealed to hers around it. One of his hands slipping down where he was pushing at the side of her panties. Wanting her just as bare as he was in that moment.

Spencer Her tongue meeting his beyond the normal confines of their mouths, she was leaning into it, easily hungry for the taste.  Once their lips met, both of her arms were up and around his neck as she shifted her lower body to help him with the removal of that last piece of fabric.  Tongues smoothing against one another, she drew back slightly, her teeth nipping at the tip of his tongue, taking possession of it for a moment before she had her lips back at his, resuming just as they had been, each motion of her own stronger against his, one hand curling up against the back of his head, gently avoiding the bandage from the night before.

John Feeling her against his tongue as he was drawing down her panties. Slightly distracted with the task regardless before his lips smoothed back to hers. Feeling her against the back of his head as he guided her panties down to her knees where she could easily get rid of them all together. Re-engaging in something that had quickly gotten them to this point as it was.

Spencer The fabric slipped down her thighs as the guiding of his hand to her knees where she would take over the task, drawing each leg up, one at a time, to complete the removal, allowing them to fall off the end of the bed altogether.  Her lips feverishly at his, a reprieve from the stress of the morning, bringing them both to a place where everything was right and the rest of the world simply did not exist.  Slowly, she withdrew her tongue, meeting his lips with a softer kiss as she softened her hold on him, fingertips separating through his hair as she leaned her head back against the bed, taking the moment to simply take him in visually.  “This place makes sense.”  She stated honestly, her free hand slipping down the side of his face as she kept her eyes set to his.

John Meeting her eyes as she pulled back, feeling her hand to the side of his face. Giving a low nod of agreement before his lips slightly tightened as if in thought. “I think I might have to check you into rehab for sex addiction…” he lied blatantly, a solemn nod.

Spencer “Like you wouldn’t be in the room next to me,” she stated honestly as it seemed that if she had one, so did he.  “Then we’d have to like… find a way to sneak into the other one’s room.  Then it would be quickies.  And I don’t know if you’ve noticed… but we’re not very quick.”  She reasoned with him, pressing her lips to his before she leaned her head back against the bed again, maintaining that hand at the side of his face.  “Or maybe I’m not addicted to sex… maybe I’m addicted to you.”

John “No, quickies are not my strong suit. Never have been.” he confessed lowly, pressing his lips back to hers. feeling her still to the side of his face. Hearing her reasoning. He gave her a low smirk. “I think that’s the right answer, Missus.”

Spencer “Good.  I’ve got a two time minimum.”  A teasing thought, though partially true, and something she’d never had any complaints for with him.  “I think you should reward me for all of my right answers,” she smirked as she stroked the side of his face with the back side of her fingers, her hand coming to rest against the side of his neck.  “I want a smile, John James.”  A request, which shouldn’t take much considering that smirk he had already given her.  The way she saw it, he owed her several smiles from the night before and it was time to pay up.

John “Gotta earn a smile.” he reasoned, nose nudging to hers. Not to say that she didn’t make him happy but the man wasn’t much up for outwards displays of such. Meeting her eyes to see what exactly she could come up with as his weight shifted over hers. Feeling her against his neck.

Spencer “Wait… you told me a smile for every time I came for you.”  A lift of her brows indicated the number from the night before had been vast.  “Let’s see… you are indebted to me for at least… what?  Six?  Seven?”  She asked, her fingers working gently against the back of his neck, her body forming to his below as he shifted over her.  “I’ll make you a deal.  You give me one now and we’ll work out the rest of that debt some other way.”  A compromise as she knew he wasn’t a big smiler, her free hand coming to rest against the side of his face, her fingertip tracing against his lips.

John “I can’t just smile…don’t that look cheesy? Can’t you recognize a real smile to a fake one?” he asked, knowing she did and could pretty regularly. Though knowing their arrangement, he knew he owed her a few but still did need that genuine something to push him to a smile as he looked to her for it.

Spencer He was right, as per usual.  She frowned as she attempted to work out how to make him smile.  That nervous bite coming to her lower lip that she’d swear aided in her thinking process if called out on it.  “Uhm…”  She lifted her gaze to the ceiling, as if the answers lied on the tiles.  “Alright.  I’ll trade you then.  You can keep your smiles if you make me smile.”  Flipping the terms on him, though it wasn’t hard to get the smile from her, hoping that perhaps her own smile could prompt his and then she’d win either way.

John Hearing her ‘trade’, his eyes narrowed on hers. Knowing this was not too difficult as his eyes landed on hers. “Alright…” he stated simply, leaning in where he kissed the tip of her nose. “That is a good trade off, I think.”

Spencer The kiss to the top of her nose had her biting harder against her lower lip to maintain control of the upturn threatening the corners of her lips.  She wasn’t giving it to him that easily, especially as she didn’t think she’d get the return smile she was hoping for from the very first gesture.  The battle was real, as everything within her wanted to give that smile.  For Spencer, it would always be the little things he did and how he did them that would have her melting for him.  Instead of offering that smile, she lifted, repeating his own action as she placed a kiss to the tip of his nose.  “Thought you’d think it was fair.  But.  I have determination.”  She reminded him with a slight nod of her head.

John “And so do I…” he reminded her with a cock of his eyebrow. A steel plated resolve in all things. This would not be excluded. A slight moment of thought about how he’d get this woman right where he wanted her though that kiss to her nose had almost done the trick. Yet, choosing to use something a little more lucrative to his advantage as he pressed his hips forward. Shifting them to allow her to feel the hardness she had caused pressed fully to her. Knowing that might be enough to do the trick.

Spencer She knew well of his determination, one she knew would exceed her own.  As his hips shifted forward, her lips parted momentarily in the release of a breath at her lips.  The twitch of her lips evident as that smile was almost too strong for her to resist.  Hiding it best by lifting to his lips, a ploy to mask the imminent smile that was threatening her features.  Her lips brushing his, a whisper at his lips.  “You’re cheating.”  She reminded him as she stole his lips for her own to keep herself focused on something else instead of caving so soon to this mission she had sent him on.

John “I’m not cheating. Just using what you created against you…” he reminded her, as he wouldn’t have that if it wasn’t for her touch a few moments before as he felt her pressing her lips to his. Giving her a brief kiss before his hips shifted. Blatantly between her thighs before he pulled back. Not letting her distract herself as his free hand found the side of her neck.

Spencer Feeling his return at her lips, though only a brief exchange before he was denying her such rights, clearly on to her distraction techniques.  His shift had her drawing her thighs to either side of his own, lifting slightly to the pressure he offered.  “John…” she whispered, her expression serious as she felt his hand at her neck.  Leaning slightly into his touch, a slow honest smile graced her lips as she looked up to meet his eyes.  “Cheating, but it worked.”  She reasoned, her smile only growing brighter by the second, unable to hold out on him.  No surprise there, as she could never hold out anything from him for very long at all.  

John “Was not cheating…was being resourceful…” he reasoned as he watched her growing smile, he leaned in. Teeth finding her bottom lip with a slow drag. Tongue tracing that bottom tier only to stimulate her further as his hips remained between her legs, not stalling but continuing onto his quest for that smile even if he had already been successful.

Spencer He had earned that smile rightfully, yet she’d still tease him just the same.  As his teeth found her lower lip, her smile faded as the sheer intimacy of this act, followed by his next, would have her craving more.  Remaining mostly still beneath him, letting him have access to anything he wanted, it took but a moment before she was lifting her chin slightly, an attempt to capture his lips again as she brought her hands to find his.  “This is the one form of cheating that is totally acceptable, and highly encouraged,” she spoke honestly.  He could cheat to draw a smile from her anytime he wanted.  “But you missed the boat a bit, ya know.  All you had to do was tell me I’m the only girl you want and you would have had that smile instantly.”

John His hand lifted, finding the side of her face as he leaned in. Pressing his lips firmly to hers to force her head back onto the bed where it belonged. Words still ringing in his mind as he pulled back, tongue idly breeching his bottom lip. "Maybe I don’t mind working for it.” The man suggested idly, meeting her eyes as his head tilted.

Spencer The feeling of his hand to the side of her face had her already anticipating his lips to meet hers, yet not expecting that bit of force that would put her back against the bed once more.  As his tongue slipped through the part of his lips, she could barely taste him as he drew back slightly.  “Maybe I’d rather give it up to you without making you work for it.”  She whispered her response, her eyes held to his.  “Maybe it would give me great pleasure to hear you say it.  Then I smile for you.  And then I let you fuck me however you want.  Doesn’t sound like a bad deal to me…”  A smirk taking her features as the slightest lift of her brows became evident at her suggestion.  

John Hearing her give her idea of how things should go, his lips were back to hers. Narrowly allowing her to finish the statement before he was to her. Firmly pressed as if pushing her head back further into the bed. Inhaling slowly before he was guiding back, a nod of his head in conclusion. “Deal.”

Spencer Though she had rightfully been placed against the bed, which seemed to be not nearly firm enough, she pressed her lips to his, taking the fullness offered to her before he was drawing back again, leaving her breathless beneath him.  Pausing only a moment, her bravery there as she lifted up slightly, propping herself on bent arms.  “Alright, husband o’ mine.  The floor is yours.”  She stated, giving up that smirk that seemed to return to her lips just as quickly as he had masked it moments before.

John Leaning up slightly as she did. Shifting onto his side beside her as his palm smoothed down her stomach. Fingers plucking against the waistband of her panties. Flashing her a soft smile as he took his good old time getting out those words.

Spencer Almost surprised as he moved off of her, making no attempt to force her back where he had put her, she kept her eyes to his until the path of his hand captured her line of vision.  As she glanced downward, taking in his hand against her stomach, she couldn’t help but inhale, knowing now what resided within, placed there by the man himself.  Lifting her glance back to his, enough to catch the light pop against her flesh softened by the appearance of the smile upon his face, she drug her lower lip through her clenched teeth.  “Cat got your tongue?”  She asked, though a much different question had been there at her lips but a moment before, saved for another moment, as she wanted to see if he’d actually make good on this deal.

John “No, but it can…” clearly taking the wrong direction with that question in all the right ways as he leaned over her. Lips finding her stomach, a downwards trail as his hands slipped down her sides. “You are…” he began, lips lifting before he pressed his chin directly to her stomach. Smirking lowly. Letting her anticipate him

Spencer The anticipation was mounting within her as he made that path with his lips over her stomach, offering up only a portion of the requested statement as he toyed with the deal he had made with her.  Letting off a soft groan of disapproval, she felt his chin pressing against her stomach, unable to catch sight of that smirk.  Her eyes fell closed with a sigh at her lips.  “All at once.  Or the smile won’t come.”  She threatened, remaining propped on those bent arms.  Opening her eyes, she looked down towards him, her determination finding its way once more.  “While looking me in the eyes.”  She added.

John Hearing her groan, he knew he was getting to her as he pressed another slow kiss to her stomach. Hearing her follow up rules as he leaned up. Slipping back up towards her, nose nudging hers. “You are the only girl that I want.” He delivered, meeting her eyes.

Spencer As he came back up towards her, she couldn’t begin to anticipate that which would fall from his lips, even if she had asked for it.  The words shot straight through her in a manner in which she could not have predicted, laced with the sincerity offered there.  She knew him not to give into anything she wanted, nor to say things that were untrue.  As he said them so clearly to her, his eyes meeting hers as the words came forth, she couldn’t make good on her part of the deal.  Her smile did not appear, but instead a look of complete love and adoration for the man as she remained frozen, locked in time for a moment.  Stunned as her breath was taken away by his sentiment.  

John His eyes flickered between hers, only able to wonder about the high velocity storm taking root within those light eyes. He reached up, thumb pressing into the cavern of her dimple in attempt to force it. Showing he still wanted that smile.

Spencer She knew what she owed him, but what she felt within her was something much deeper than a smile could provide proof to.  As his finger took to the dip of her dimple, she was drawn from her thoughts, though still unable to come forth with it.  “I can’t.”  She whispered, her words and tone reflecting her own surprise at the lack of a display that had always come so easily to her.  “I’m sorry.”  She offered her apology with a look of somber proportions as she dealt with her own confusion on the matter.  Her own deal shattering before her very eyes.  “I have never been more in love with you than I am right now.”  She whispered the truthful phrase through barely parting lips as he had managed to somehow take her from playful to deeply sentimental with a simple phrase she had asked for.

John Tilting his head at the mention of her not being able to, the confusion palpable in his expression as he watched her. Pulling his thumb from her dimple as he heard her whisper leaving him even more confused. “Ain’t that supposed to make you smile?” He asked, truthfully knowing his own question would prompt a difference answer if launched back at him.

Spencer “I…” The woman was finally at a complete loss.  It had taken five months of marriage to finally render her stuttering over her own thoughts.  His confusion was just as evident as her own, though a part of her knew the best thing to do was just to get them back to a physical nature where they thrived, yet even that seemed too far away from her mind for once.  “It’s…”  Another failed attempt at speaking as her eyes nearly pleaded with his to save her from herself in that moment.  “It’s bigger than that.”  She whispered, trying to explain why a smile had still not found its way to her features.  She lifted her hand, bringing it to rest to the side of his face, not wanting him to read her wrong as she was not doing the best job expressing her thoughts in that moment.  “This.  This is more than a smile.”  She offered, turning herself into him.  “This is real happiness,” she attempted to explain, having promised him long before that she’d show him happiness, but in the end, it would be him that would show it to her to a depth she’d never understood before.

John Feeling her at the side of his face, his confusion did not dissipate at her explanation. Watching her carefully as he still was working on nothing. Only able to imagine that the course of the day had left them a little overwhelmed. Both of them. Yet, her more so. He had seen first-hand the family she came from. Ironically, coming up with a way to feel bad for her. His brows slowly released their tension as he watched her silently going through the motions.

Spencer Her attempts to explain were lost, evident by the look of confusion he still wore.  They had been through the I love you’s and the assignment of the word ‘yeah’, so why this was such a revelation to the woman was beyond her.  It was more of an overwhelming feeling than anything as she failed him of the smile she had promised.  The silence grew thick between them, yet she had no sudden need to fill it the way she normally would.  Instead, remaining locked to his eyes, allowing that feeling of consuming love to set in on her, even if she wasn’t sure if there was a similar feeling behind his mask of confusion that she too wore.  Her hand slipped to his neck, allowing her to pull against him to press her lips to his momentarily, withdrawing only to meet his eyes once more with the smallest hint of a smile finally taking the place against her face.  “It does make me smile,” she assured, as her love for him had made her feel a million things since the first day she had realized it, but a smile was certainly part of that, even if it had resonated a little deeper with her this time.  “I love loving you,” she promised, drawing her lips to his once more, giving him a place to meet her where he wouldn’t be expected to say a thing should he not want to.

John Watching as she drew into his lips, he pressed his own back to hers. Eyes re-opening, tasting her words as he finally caught that smile and the flare of the dimples in her cheeks. His hand finding the side of her face upon her next confession. He had a hard time believing that. Loving him was work. It was pain. But the woman was entitled to her emotions as he pressed his lips back to hers. Fingers curling smoothly over the back of her neck. “And I love the way you love me.”

Spencer The man of few words had managed to stun her twice in a matter of minutes.  Once by repeating a phrase she asked for, then by expressing his honest feelings in a way she could not have expected or seen coming.  As his lips left hers, she was hit with words she would not soon forget.  Finally drawing a full smile from her lips.  Loving him had been a rough ride, yet not one she’d ever step off of.  She’d felt love before, but never to such a level as this that it left her completely at the will of this man in nearly every avenue of her life, turning her into someone even her own parents didn’t recognize anymore.  Her smile firmly in place now, giving full depth to those dimples, she leaned her head back against his hand, taking in his features in the moments after the words left his lips.  She had made good on her end of the deal, even if it took her a minute to get there, leaving but one more part to be conquered.  “Show me.”  She requested, asking him to put physical evidence to how much he loved the way she loved him, giving the smallest window for a transition if he should so desire it.

John Watching her smile, finally getting what he was after as he felt her leaning into his hand. Hearing her request, it didn’t take much to sell him on it. “Oh, I will…give the cop the ‘rough ride’ for once instead of the other way around.” He teased, being frequently treated to the rough breaking and jolting of the paddy wagon once or twice. Yet, this one had another meaning as his arms swept her waist. Rolling them over. Forcing himself onto her back and her on top of him as his hands firmly smacked her ass. A double handed spank and grip with little to no lightness.

Spencer The feeling of his arms circling her was familiar to her, yet the result never the same.  In a moment’s time, she was over top of him, her ass lit on fire by the palm of his hands.  “For once,” she mocked, as it was more often than not that he provided this cop with a rough ride.  Her hands finding their place against his chest, pushing her to sit up over him, fingertips taking a softer route against his chest as she eyed the path they seemed to choose of their own liking.  “You like hurting me.”  She accused as she lifted her gaze from the path of her hands to find his eyes, showing no disapproval with the fact of the matter, leaning down over him, her lips coming to barely encompass the lower curve of his ear.  “I like it when you hurt me.”  She confessed, the words being ones she’d never imagine coming forth from her, yet time and time again, they went without being spoken as her body spoke loudly enough for her in those moments.  Her teeth finding a slight tug against his ear before she was whispering into his ear.  “But how far will you take it?”  She asked, flirtation dripping from each word she’d allow to pass through her lips as he had taken that small opening for transition and hurled her straight into a place so far away from proclamations and sentiment that her head nearly spun in the pass through.

John “Comfort is superficial. Good shit comes with pain.” He reminded her, not minding getting a bit of his own inflicted on him. Hell, if she returned what he gave her in spades, he’d be the happiest man alive. Gripping her ass firmly, feeling her at his ear. Earning a low hiss of approval from him as he heard her question. Peaking his own curiosity. “Within healthy bounds.” He reminded her, as they now had a little more riding on it now with what they had learned that day. His roughness would rapidly decrease one he saw her showing and it was no longer out of sight/out of mind.

Spencer Never having been this way with anyone in her life before, it still managed a bit of amazement at just how much she had found to love the lack of control, the restraint, and the earned moments that would always follow.  “I want the good shit,” she whispered, tugging at that lobe she had stolen, allowing her teeth to sink in slightly deeper as his grip at her ass tightened.  Drawing one leg between his, she drew her knee upwards, slowly making contact with the firmness she had inflicted on him, giving a shift of her knee to apply upward pressure.  “Push the boundary, John.”  A request following his mention of healthy bounds.  She was strong and could withstand much more than her small frame would indicate, a bit of academy that had never been intended to prepare her for these moments, yet it was amazing how it seemed to do just that.  “Get us kicked out of here,” she pleaded, knowing the notices on their own door could stand to be nothing into comparison if they pushed their limits to the extreme, which after the events of the morning, the release would be nothing but pure ecstasy.  

John Feeling her knee draw between his own, he inhaled sharply. Hearing her statement that sounded like a dream to him. He wanted nothing more to go there with her. Where few could walk in and walk out of. It was hard to resist, even with her follow up words. His hands slipped from her ass to her hips. Earning himself a glance of her eyes before his hands were slipping back down for another firm smack of her ass. “Seems like you have something in mind…”

Spencer The removal of his hands from her ass to her hips felt almost possessive, confirmed as they were lifted free from her entirely only to land against her ass once again, this time bringing her breath to hitch at the impact.  “Oh no.  Not at all.”  She assured as he asked if she had something in mind, finally vacating her place at his ear, lifting back into that seated position, finally allowing the full view of her face again.  The flirtatious smirk planted firmly against her lips as she slipped slightly lower to sit upon his thighs, her hands at his abdomen, threatening to continue the path along the bare body of the man.  “We could talk about it for the next hour or so.  Discuss just how you’d like to fuck me.  We could draw pictures and do some statistics on rates of pleasure too.”  She teased with him, a quick move of her hand, grasping his length within her tiny hold, stroking upwards in a quick, firm motion.  “Or… you could just fuck me.  I’m game either way, really.  But if you plan to maintain your dominance and keep my interest… sooner is better than later.”

John Hearing her suggestion about charts, he hummed. “Flow board of positions…” he confessed to himself before he felt her hand find his cock, teeth finding his bottom lip. Barely letting her get through that statement before he was flipping them over. Slipped on top of her with ease as he guided her leg around his waist. Using that same hand to slip down between them. Fingers guiding the fabric of her panties to the side, allowing him access to her before his hand found his hardened cock. No hesitation in him as he guided himself swiftly within her with one impatient jolt of his hips.

Spencer Fully taking the sooner is better than later statement to heart, it took but a second for him to have her on her back, looking up at him as he made quick work of shifting the fabric of her panties to the side, stealing the hold of his cock from her hand, impaling her with no preparation.  A sinister smile instantly found her as he took advantage of his strength and dominance to thrust within her.  The first cry would fall from her lips as both a natural response and reward to him for such resourcefulness.  Her leg tightening around his waist, she lifted her torso to meet him, bringing with it the tightened depth finding a sick enjoyment in the friction of discomfort within.  Her own hand coming between their joined bodies to take possession of that fabric, offering to hold it out of the way until such a time that he’d want them gone completely.  Her free hand coming to the back of his neck, nails unguarded against his flesh as she looked up towards him, her eyes fully set to his.  “Impressive.”  She commented, meticulously dragging her nails down the back of his neck as she maintained her eyes set to his.  

John “Like that?” He asked as she commented on how impressive it had been. The single words nearly breathless. His already rough speaking voice only made rougher as he inhaled sharply. The feeling of her body reacting to the sharpness of his thrust was without equal. Literally able to feel the moisture building within her as a result. Feeling her nails to the back of his neck, straightening as she dragged them down his back. Back nearly arching as he reached down. Hand finding the side of her panties for a firm tug and subsequent rip.

Spencer Remarkably drawing out the beast in the man was a miracle to behold, none of which was lost on the woman beneath him as she nodded her head to his question, unable to manage much more than that single word a moment before.  Seeing the reaction to her nails against his skin, she had no choice but to dig harder against him, an attempt to inflict as much upon him as that which he had done to her with his dry entry.  With a hard bite at her lower lip, she felt that tug of her undergarment, feeling it pull against her other side as he tore the fabric as though it were paper, the red mark against her side proving otherwise.  The corners of her lips turning upward even through that bite to her lower lip at the sensation it sent radiating through her body, somewhat matching the eternal burn she felt against her ass where she could still feel his hands even beyond their absence.  Her hand releasing the inner material of her panties, realizing there would be not much further need for her assistance there as the man had his own agenda for ridding her of them.  Drawing her free hand to his side, nails replicating the same fate as his back, determined someone would bleed before this was over.

John Feeling one side of her panties give, he went for the other. Giving easier. Able to pull the shredded fabric from her all together and slide it from the bed onto the floor. A new chew toy that should Scrappy be there with him, he’d hardly be able to resist. Feeling the dig of her nails, he gave up a low groan. “Fuck, Spence.” He hummed, taking everything in him not to suddenly launch his hips forward. Feeling the adjustment of her body as his hips instead rocked forward as he reached up. Fingers locking within her hair, winding within. Not much of a pull but giving her a little something to work with as his lips fused to hers.

Spencer Fairly certain she could count on one hand how many times she had drawn her own name from his lips in moments such as these, far less only a few moments in, her name on his lips had her fullest attention.  The grip of his fingers in her hair had her waiting for that tightened pull that would follow in a mild form.  The very feeling of it having her pushing her hips upward against his, an attempt to steal that rocking form from him, her body pleading with him for more as her lips were taken by his.  His hold enough to keep her head against the bed, her lips merely responding to his with as much force as she could manage nearly completely restrained by the man without a single mechanism to assist him as he possessed the full ability.  A turn of her hand against his back and her nails were making their way across his flesh in a different direction, leaving behind them a reddened path as she irritated the flesh relentlessly.  A quick turn of her head had her stealing her lips from him, deciding to make him work for that kiss a little harder, unable to hide the grin from her lips as she did so, as nothing bad could come of testing the man a bit, thus upping the ante that much along the way.

John Tightening his fingers in her hair, he forced her head back to his. Meeting her smile head-on. Knowing she’d make him do it but not quite kissing her. Stopping just short as his hips withdrew. Letting her go without him for several moments before plunging deep within her once again. Free hand finding the side of her leg to pull it higher over his waist.

Spencer As he took full control over her direction with a simple tightening of his hand within her hair, she was eye to eye with him once more, her lips eagerly awaiting his kiss yet denied of it as he withdrew from within her.  Those moments passed painfully as she had only begun to adjust to him only to have enough pause there for her muscles to contract, tightening within her.  As he plunged deep within her once more, the cry from before was only amplified this time paired with a raspy word at her lips.  “Fuck!”  She cried out as he lifted her leg higher, allowing for deeper penetration that would bring forth with it the first warm coating of fluid over him as her body finally came on board with assisting the two of them.  The path of her hand halted, the digging of her nails becoming localized to a singular place against his flesh as he continued to deprive her of the kiss she denied him moments before.  “You had better give my mouth something to do…” she warned, giving no implication to that which her mouth would do if not occupied.

John Smirking at her outcry as he felt her adjusting body put him in complete euphoria along with the scratch of her nails. Hearing her warning, he cocked a brow. “And what are you going to do about it?” He asked, tone suggesting he knew she was powerless. “I don’t think you are in the position to be making threats.” He reminded her, roughly pushing his hips forward against hers as his fingers remained tight into her hair without touching her lips.

Spencer The smirk painted to his features was perhaps the most rewarding thing she could have seen in that moment.  As he questioned her, his tone held all of the power he thought she was lacking.  “I’ll make you want to shut me up.”  She stated plainly, threatening the use of her words.  Pulling against the hold in her hair, attempting to close that gap with his lips herself, only hurting herself in the process to which she had no complaint to either.  Maintaining the depth of the claw of her nails against his skin, she drew her hands downward against his flesh, not releasing that tightened hold, effectively breaking through his skin after working in the same place against his side and back for long enough.  Her teeth clenched as she did so, her eyes glaring up towards him, giving him but a moment longer before she’d make good on her threats should he leave her mouth vacated for another second longer.

John Feeling her pulling harder at her own hair in the process, feeling her nails pressing into him. Knowing that without a doubt, these sheets they were on would wear his blood by the end of this. Fortunately, they weren’t theirs to worry about. Still not giving in, his lips brushing over hers as he allowed just the tip of his tongue to teasingly outline her bottom lip as he built his pace. Thickly pumping his hips into her at that quickening pace.

Spencer Barely feeling the sensation of his tongue passing over her lower lip, clearly teasingly, seeming to dare her to speak.  Sidetracked by that sensation for but a moment before she felt the quickening of his pace, each thrust within finding a depth beyond the one before.  Whimpers of pleasure fleeing her lips to fall against his tongue.  Drawing her hands back to their starting point, following the same trenches she was building against his flesh, each time able to dig her nails that much deeper until she felt the collection of his warm blood beneath her nails, staining the formerly pearl white tips.  With a strong tug of her head upwards, she managed only a swipe over his lips before she was back at the pillow, a scream of pain against her lips caused by herself.  “Never… stop… fucking… me!”  She cried, her words separated by broken breaths as her nails found the crimson warmth to repeat the action as she drew her leg down from around him.  Her foot finding the sheets beneath them, pushing up against him to match and further the pace he offered her, though slightly limiting the depth he could reach by her minor change of position.

John Feeling the unmistakable trickle of warmth over his back, he could feel she had completed the task. Her words forcing his fingers to tighten in her hair, feeling her hips angling to his as his lips finally found hers. Shifting his hips forward with each rough push as he felt his own breath hitch. Enjoying it all a little more than he should. The dig of her nails driving him completely up the wall as she gave in in a way he had not yet seen of her.

Spencer She would not be satisfied until she had drawn from him that which he was pulling from her at every turn.  Her cries now falling within the confines of his mouth as she met his lips, immediately forcing her tongue through the part of her own lips, stealing passage into his as one hand vacated that path at his side, taking placement against the back of his neck where he would find the same fate of her nails as her other hand remained the course at his back, deepening the rut she was forming there until she brought a flattened hand against the warmth there, smearing the trails together as she painted her hand with the crimson substance, fingertips gripping his flesh.  The hold at the back of his neck attempting to keep him there at her lips for as long as she saw fit, though she knew him too well for all of that.  Bringing that leg back up around him, giving the depth back she had robbed them of.  Each thrust from the man bringing her that much closer as her now bloodied hand came around to rest at his shoulder, serving as leverage for her attempt to fuck him while remaining beneath him.

John The pace wasn’t quite maintainable, but he tried to keep it together. To give the illusion of it at least as her hand trailed to his neck. Every nerve ending alive in him as her hjps lifted. Nearly lifting herself off of the bed as his hand trailed down. Managing to grip her ass. Her skin hot from the previous smacks he had ensued and pressed into her. His lips breaking from hers from the sheer need to breathe.

Spencer The feel of his hand to the red marks against her ass sent instant shocks of pain throughout her small frame, bringing her to only attempt to lift from the hold, while at the same time hoping it was not to stop.  Confusion setting in as she couldn’t keep a single thought or feeling going for more than a moment as she felt her body tightening beneath him.  Her fingertips gripping to the back of his neck tightly even after his lips were torn from her own.  Her hand at his shoulder falling to the sheets, leaving behind his own blood against his flesh and now the white sheets of the hotel bedding as she fisted the fabric in her hand.  The expression on her face giving forth the secret that she was there at the edge with no possible attempt available to hold back from it as her body forged beyond.  Her eyes fell shut as she drew her lower lip between her teeth, biting with the force she had used moments before against his back.  Tight constrictions of her innermost walls drawing him within before the familiar pulsing of those walls would be accompanied with a full release to coat his length while her body jolted beneath him, no longer able to actively push upwards, merely holding on to the man and the bedding with all of her might.

John Feeling the restriction of her body around him, he was determined not to go down so easily no matter how tempting. Tempting would prove to be an understatement as he felt her washing over him. His cock throbbing deep within her. Hand still gripping her ass as he weathered the storm. Stopping only when he was sure she had cum for him with all of her might as his hips stalled between her legs. Fingers loosening in her hair.

Spencer The last few moments a complete blur as she lost herself in the release.  Her body temperature hitting new heights as the sweat developed against her flesh, a glistening layer of external proof of that which only he could do to the woman.  Unsure how long ago he had ceased the motion of his hips between her thighs, she opened her eyes as if under the haze of a dream.  Her lips parted as she took in deep breaths that seemed ineffective as she could not draw in the full breath.  The tension in her body traded for complete relaxation of her body.  As the room stopped spinning, she was finally taking in that full breath she had struggled for.  A soft smile passing over her lips as she looked up at him, bringing her hand from the bed to the side of his face, his dried blood staining her hand though her eyes were too lost on his to even notice.  “You stopped fucking me.”  She accused through that smile in a quieted voice as the strain on her vocal chords would have her voice lower and raspier than usual.

John Though stopping hard been hard, the sight of her compensated him for it. Watching her smile as he spotted her hand. Feeling it to his face. Not too scared off from it as he heard her accusation. “Just an interlude.” He promised, quite breathless himself. Having needed to keep himself from cumming. Glancing down towards her hand and down over the sheet, having to shake his head with a quick smirk. “And you got no one else to blame but yourself for that. Make it too damn sweet for me.”

Spencer There was a moment there she had to be quite proud of herself.  She wasn’t sure he’d needed to take a break in the past with her, meaning she must’ve done something more right this time than usual, though she couldn’t speak to the difference.  She nodded in response to his promise, taken slightly back by the accusation at his lips beyond it.  “Blame me?  What did I do?”  She asked, her fingertips lightly passing down the scruff of his face.  “I just laid here and pretended to have a nice time.”  She teased, her body betraying such a statement as she had pretended nothing.  “I’ll take the blame, I suppose, but I swear… I did nothing.”

John “Oh yeah, pretended…must pretend to cum like a freight train too, huh?” He asked, knowing the truth of the matter very clearly as he narrowed his eyes at her. His head slipping as he pressed his lips over her chest. Leaning up on his knees slowly. Still managing to remain within her as he pulled her towards him on the bed. Guiding her legs vertically over his chest as his hands found here.

Spencer “Mhm,” she played along as she felt that kiss to her chest, bringing a sigh to her lips at the touch.  Her entire body more sensitive beyond that release.  As he drew up on his knees, she watched him as he drug her with him, her ass resting against his thighs as he guided her legs over his chest.  Each movement had a soft whimper at her lips though he had barely moved within her at all, proving her noise level would only be on the increase.  “You’re going to kill me.”  She stated, an honest thought as he found this new position that she already knew would have him deeper within her in a moment’s time.  “Don’t take it easy and don’t stop for nothing.”  A last request as she drew in a deep breath, attempting to prepare herself, though it was beyond her capability at this point in time.

John “You’ll die happy.” He reminded her, hands fingers filling the space of hers. Leaned over slightly as he heard her request, nodding at her statement as she attempted to prepare. Letting her momentarily think he’d allow her to as his hips rocked forward. Deeply stimulating her without the need to withdraw and repeat.

Spencer It had been her head she’d lose control of in their first segment.  Now it was her hands.  She wasn’t sure which would be of more torture for her to endure, yet she had not a single complaint either way.  As his fingers filled the spaces between hers, she curled her fingers around his, her grip indicative of the preparation she was taking.  Her body tensing already at the slightest shift of him within her as he leaned forward with that first rock of his hips just a moment behind.  “Go slow,” she pleaded, contradicting that which she’d just requested.  Each motion had a new wave rushing through her frame.  Either thankful or regretful of her request before he had made any advancements, a matter that was yet to be determined.  “Don’t.”  She immediately countered, clearly in no position to be making any decisions.  

John Continuing to rock his hips, thankfully not needing to contradict or agree with her desires quite yet as he met her eyes. Cocking a brow. “Which one is it?” He asked, one of his hands leaving hers. Dabbing his thumb to his tongue before he swept his arm around her legs. Sweeping over her clit.

Spencer Looking up at him as he asked her, she had a quick answer fleeing her lips.  “I don’t know!”  She declared in a moment of clear frustration as she felt his hand leaving hers.  As he brought his thumb to his tongue, she shook her head no.  “Don’t do it…. John….”  She warned as he brought his arm around her legs, pressing the back of her thighs to his chest as he gave that first sweep to her clit.  Her body lifting at that touch, coming to realize the first segment had been a warm up round as he seemed to be pulling out all stops this time to meet her request of getting them kicked out.  Bringing that free hand up to grip at his wrist, she attempted to draw him from the magnetic pull her clit seemed to have in that moment for him.  “Okay… wait.  Let’s make an agreement here.  Boundaries.  We need boundaries.”  She declared, quickly changing the tune of the girl who told him a short time back to push the boundaries before she realized just how far he would be willing to push them.  "You do your worst for… three minutes.  Then I get three minutes off.“

John Hearing his name fall from her lips, his best attempt to stunt her composure as he felt her hand at his wrist. Meeting her eyes at the mention of boundaries. His chin dramatically lifted to the ceiling as he glanced up. Groaning loudly at her indecisiveness before glancing back down at her. "So you are timing it? You want me to stop, go to Walmart and get you a timer?” He asked, a curious question. Regardless, he wouldn’t betray the woman in this way. He’d only play in the boundaries he had set for her. He had actual respect for her and it changed things. “We don’t need an agreement, you don’t want me to nail you through the bed and I won’t. Easy as that.”

Spencer “No!  I told you not to stop.”  She reminded him, having to laugh at his offer to run off to the store for a timer and his own dramatics as her head seemed to spin.  As he told her how it was, she nodded her head in response, though a part of her almost wanted to see him try to nail her through the bed.  She kept that thought to herself though as she released her hand at his wrist, allowing him the free reign he deserved from her as he had yet to push them too far.  Bringing that hand to the back of his neck, she tugged herself half up to steal a momentary kiss from his lips, even if the motion to do so had her whining at the sensation along the way.  “No boundaries.”  She promised him, dragging her teeth against her lower lip as she eased herself back again, giving him the full control as she knew he thrived in and in true form, she did too.

John “We need a fuckin’ safe word.” He stated honestly, not able to tell what was serious or her fucking with his head at this point. Regardless, he couldn’t be too sure as she lifted. Hearing her no boundary conclusion, cocking a brow as it was likely to change as she returned his access to his hand on her. “Is that your final answer?” He questioned dramatically as he took his first slow and even thrust of her from this new position and with the brush of his thumb to her clit.

Spencer “No safe words.”  She stated, shaking her head no.  A safe word would indicate she’d want him to stop and in truth, she never wanted him to stop.  “Ignore me always.”  She added as he asked if her last statement of no boundaries would hold as her final answer.  She nodded her head, giving him a reassuring smile.  “Final answer.”  She agreed just as he brought forth that first slow thrust within her.  That sweep of his thumb over her clit once more had her lifting into his touch only to draw down again, meeting his thrust.  How such a small motion could cause her entire body to quiver was beyond her, yet there she was, her hand locked into his, gripping tightly as she released that first held breath.  The absence of him going to prove to be the most difficult for her as her free hand found his thigh.  Her taut abdomen already trembling as he eased them into the next phase of uncharted territory.  

John “I’ll ignore you all day long if I have a safe word.” He told her honestly, countering her final offer as he watched her reacting to that first push. Feeling her at his thigh as he angled himself deep within her. Penetrating the depths of her furthest walls before withdrawing and repeating this. Assuring she felt each inch of him in the forward push.

Spencer Unable to bring forth a response right away, she was far too lost in the feeling he was inflicting on her with his repeated entry.  The motion performed so slowly, it was as if his cock had doubled in length as that push forward felt as though it lasted forever.  “I… uhh…”  she attempted, failing at her first attempt.  “Okay.  Words for I love you.  Words for stop.  I’m going to need a book of translations.”  A smirk there at her lips as she found his eyes, finally starting to adjust to this new angle of entry.  Unable to believe she, of all people, was in a position to need a safe word and sure they should have figured this out long before they were actually in a position to need it.  “Just pick one, John.  It’s never going to be used.”  Her words pleading with him.  

John Hearing her mention for him to just pick one, that might have been true. The idea of a safe word might have been more for him than for her too but so be it. Repeating what he was doing once again, the space between each slow action closing. Each sweep on the heels of the other. His free hand not occupied at her clit pressing his palm to hers. “Mmm…” he hummed, glancing around looking for word inspiration.

Spencer Her eyes fell shut as the motions began to merge together as he attempted to find a safe word for a girl that no one would ever believe it from.  Her hand captured between his and the sheets, tiny fingers wrapped around his larger hand.  The isolation of the position had her craving his taste more than anything, yet she wouldn’t yet alter it as it felt too good to stop now.  Lifting her eyes open, she found him looking around the room, leaving her dumbfounded how he could seriously be idly looking around with that hum at his lips.  “You need a safe word to stop me?”  She asked, her free hand leaving his wrist to quickly grasp at sheets with a particular pass of his thumb over her clit that had her ready to claw the wall.  “Act like… I’m the one killing… you.”  She managed through that stroke, fighting the urge to lift up to him entirely.

John “Ain’t for stopping you, trust me.” He stated honestly as there was nothing she could really pull out within logical means that would make him want to stop her. Merely that knowledge would make him feel safer to do what he wanted to her knowing if something was that bad, she could use it. Hearing the breath shift, he had to smirk lightly. Repeating this process again as he got a bit harder with each push but still not where he had been. His primary focus was making sure she felt each inch of him.

Spencer There was nothing the man could do to her that she’d try to stop him.  That much had been true since their first night as a married couple when she learned how rewarding it was to be at his mercy and would not be changing.  “Okay… safe word…”  She tried to get through the establishment of the word so the man would be at ease with the idea of pushing boundaries, as she truly desired.  “Red…  Fuuuck….” The second word escaping her mouth not being of a suggestion at all, but the proof that his slow consistent thrust within her was getting the better of the woman.  “Holy fuck, John…” she whispered breathlessly as she felt the spinning feeling coming over her again.  Gripping the sheets so tightly they started to release from the top corner of the bed.  The bite to her lower lip returning as she turned her head to one side, struggling to maintain any composure at all at the depths he was finding within her.

John “Red fuck. I like it.” He answered breathlessly, his hand slipping from hers to find the side of her face. Tilting her head back towards him. Leaning in where he pressed his lips briefly to hers. Putting her flexibility to the test as his hips angled and glided his length deep and easily within her.

Spencer Feeling his hand to her face, relieved that a word had been somehow established, though it wouldn’t ever be used by her that she could imagine.  In that brief kiss, she transferred through her every bit of passion she had for the man before she was forced to break it for the sharp intake of breath that would accompany his depth within her.  The tension of the position to afford the kiss radiating through her.  “Give me a reason… to use it…” she dared him, pushing those boundaries now that they had established a word, wanting to show him she’d never need it, but also see just what pushing boundaries with him would truly mean.

John Luckily for her, her words gave him a cause to move his hand. No longer working on the external stimulation as he focused on the internal. Her date ringing in his ears as he adjusted that position slightly. Leaning against his knees and towards her. Bending her at the waist as his hands found the sides of her thighs still pressed to his chest and stomach as he forced his hips forward.

Spencer If not for his hands at her thighs, she was certain she’d not be able to maintain her legs against his chest as he came over her.  The position creating greater pull as she felt his girth in its entirety with no room for error.  The level of the cries that left her lips with each thrust only progressively louder, but the word would not be found upon her lips.  “John…” his name carelessly falling against her lips as her hands found the back of his thighs, nails digging against his flesh with the same force that had taken the fitted sheet from its proper placement.  She had thought him relinquishing the stimulation at her clit would have eased the effects he poured out over her, yet the tightened position only seemed to increase his consequence on her body, feeling each thrust radiate through her.  “Fucking A…”  Scattered words leaving her lips in an increasingly louder, yet raspier tone.

John Hearing his birth name again on her lips, his hands tightening against the sides of her thighs. Holding her to place and to this position as she had given him the green light and he had taken it. Hearing her follow up terms, smirking slowly as his pace increased. Pushing each inch of himself into her as his hips met hers with each smooth sheath.

Spencer As he picked up the pace of his thrust, she knew she’d not last within this position.  She’d either die or cum for him.  Either way, she’d go happy as he had reminded her before.  The tighter hold of his hands at her thighs assured she wouldn’t slip from him, but it also guaranteed she’d not be moving either.  Restraint perhaps being her favorite discovery since the change of her last name, something she’d never fathomed before, though now found it to take them to a whole nother level, missing it when it wasn’t there.  Each inch of his length was felt throughout her in mass proportion.  Her nails puncturing against his flesh from the tight grip at his thighs, no attempt made to drag them, instead leaving small half-moon indentions against him.  Far closer to release than she had anticipated, she attempted to hold out on him this time, not ready, yet unsure for how long she could do so.  

John Feeling her nails embedded into his thighs, he exhaled a deep breath. His hand finding the side of her neck. An assured grip to her neck as his fingers curled to the back of her. His other hand at the grip of her leg. Hell bent to make up for that lost stimulation as his hips rocked against her. Pausing the deep thrusts she was becoming accustom to to rock her hips. Always trying to keep this woman on edge of one thing or another. Breath hitching to the back of his throat as he kept his eyes drawn to hers.

Spencer As one of his hands gripped her neck, she drew in a deep breath before his hand could tighten there, knowing it would be her last full breath.  Her eyes set upwards to him, finding the alteration of their previous position to be that much more intensified.  A feeling of being owned by the man washed over her, something her former self might have resisted, but in actuality, she was.  And she didn’t want it to change in the slightest.  The position of submitting to him, allowing him his dominance over her, would forever stimulate her in ways that were beyond the scope of reason.  She couldn’t explain it, nor would she attempt to.  It simply was.  That shift of his thrust had her gasping beneath him, not from the grip alone, but the mounting of the release threatening her.  Her grip at his thighs remained firm, only tightening as she wished for more.  She had dared him to give her a reason to use the word and she wasn’t backing down now.  Adding the drag of her fingers against his flesh, her nails remained deeply embedded against him, taking path against him slowly, digging at his flesh the entire time.  A firm bite of her lower lip as her eyes were cut up to his, desire and pleasure radiating through her hues.  Permitting him to do his worst with free reign now that a word had been established to finally give the both of them the power to take things to the extreme.

John Feeling her breath under his hand. A position of power as each breath she took was only one that he allowed her. Eyes watching her watching him. Hearing her gasp as his hips rocked in semi circles against her. Knowing exactly how to get to her if past experience was any indicator as his hands guided her legs to his sides. Supporting himself against his knees, one hand slipping down on the bed to support himself in that slightly inclined position as his hand remained to her neck.

Spencer Feeling him guiding her legs to either side of him, the tingling sensation radiated through her thighs as blood once again returned to the extremities after being positioned against his chest for so long.  As his hips took that familiar route, she would recognize it instantly.  Her eyes pleading with him no, knowing she was done for with that addition.  Yet it was far too late as she brought her hands against his back, attempting to hold to him, yet the strong arm at her neck would prevent her from fully achieving this.  She wouldn’t trade it either.  Her lips parted, drawing what breath she could as every muscle in her body tightened, a sure signal to him that just what he was doing would have her there in no time at all.  “J—“ his name failing at her lips as she felt the rush come forth within her.  Each pulse of her inner walls was matched with her nails scraping down the man’s back, her teeth clenching tightly together as she entered what would be the strongest orgasm he had brought her to yet.  Her trembling body beneath his, knowing the contracting walls would stop, eventually, but when was the question.  Her eyes flashed confusion feeling as though she would never come down from this.  Her hands falling from his back, gripping to the sheets beneath them, already disheveled from their rightful placement.  Both physicality and emotion working together in this moment, leaving her at the mercy of the release of his creation.

John Hearing the first syllable of his name leaving her, he knew she was done for just as intended. She was a constant source of exploration for him. Perhaps why he’d never get tired of this. Each time seemed different as he learned how to get her off easier each time. Feeling her nails at his back. Proud to wear such marks. Hand tightening as his fingers slipped over her throat. Feeling the vibrations of each moan under his fingers. His hips finally ceasing that rocking pace to pump back into her despite the hot contractions of her meshing walls around him.

Spencer As the rocking of his hips ceased, replaced with the thrusting motion that would fight against her still clenching inner walls.  Each push forward had her raspy groan fighting forth beneath the hold of his hand at her throat.  Feeling as if she were coming unglued completely, a release that would not seem to stop.  That confusion remained in her eyes until the point her eyes rolled back, her lids closing over them, completely submitting herself to both John and the release at hand.  The full release finally coming forth once she gave in, coating his cock in her warmth in a rush that could not be denied, through which she would make multiple attempts to draw in a full breath, yet only finding short gasps there enough to sustain her in this plateau of euphoria, not permitting her to come down.  

John Feeling her cumming roughly for him as his hand remained mildly tight to her throat. Forcing his hips forward though the contractions of her walls were assuring that he would not be able to keep up. So tempted to cum, knowing he had to stop to hold his stamina and ultimately doing that. Hand slipping down her shoulder as he took a sharp breath. Leaning into her where his hand slipped from her neck. Replacing it with his lips before he pressed his forehead to her shoulder. Cooling his breathing. Forcing a break for his own sake.

Spencer The absence of his hand to her throat was missed as the previous pressure had her feeling as though he was still holding her in place.  His kiss replacing that hand at her throat, she leaned into this touch.  Routine as it had been every time any type of force was used, always that closeness would follow, the moments she looked forward to, giving her the strength to endure most anything the man could throw at her.  Knowing he had not released yet, she was left to imagine he had gotten painfully close.  She knew him, well.  His breath against her shoulder, her own matching as she finally drew in a deep breath that had been missing since the time he brought his hand to her throat in the first place.  Coming down from the strongest release he had ever brought her through.  She made no attempt to kiss him as she normally would, her own head still spinning, certain if he had not been over her, the entire room would be.  He was grounding her in some way, keeping her still beneath him as she came down from the high.  The most she could manage would be her ankle crossing his, a light embrace of her lower extremity.  The side of her face finding his as her sole form of closeness as she laid weak beneath him.

John “And I finally killed her.” He teased at her lack of movement as he leaned up to look down towards her. This statement delivered with a certain pride as he breathed out another stable breath. The need to cum subsiding through him as his hands pressed gently up the sides of her thighs. Watching her with a playful smirk.

Spencer “Uh huh…” The most she could manage in response as she felt him lifting his head, her eyes barely meeting his with that glazed over look that had never quite been there before.  Normally, she’d have a comment about that smirk, something about it being almost a smile, something about how she owned it and had earned it, yet nothing further would come from the woman as she brought her hand to brush the side of his face, a million meanings there behind it as she continued those slow, deep breaths.  Another minute or two she thought would suffice, though with nothing to quite compare this feeling to, she couldn’t be certain on that either.

John “Uh huh…” he returned back to her, feeling her at the side of his face as he watched her attempting to work it all out as his lips gently meshed to hers. Eyes still on hers to make sure he hadn’t really killed her because he might come to miss her in those unfortunate events.

Spencer The returned sound from him had a faint smile gracing her lips as his own came to form against hers.  Her hand still there to the side of his face as she breathed through the exchange, not willing to give it up for the sake of fuller breaths.  The light movement of her fingertips against his face, an intimate closeness as she brought both arms around him, draping them over his shoulders.  A quiet whisper mid-kiss to fall against his lips regardless of any code word as it was the furthest thing from her mind in that moment, only feeling the depth of the sentiment.  “I love you…” she whispered, her lips already gently forming to his again, not needing to hear it back as she only needed him to know how deeply she felt for the man in that moment.

–October 1, 2015

[daddysjewelsfanfic-blog]

Chapter Thirteen

I'm a marquise diamond.

Could even make that Tiffany jealous, hm.

I sang along to the radio. I loved how the song fit my feelings so well. I correctly adjusted the collar on my trenchcoat.

I looked at myself in my inside rear view mirror. I didn't put on any makeup today. I wanted him to have all of me. The real me.

I tucked my hair behind my ears, and continued to drive on the highway.

Wanna show you how proud I am to be yours.

Leave this dress a mess on the floor.

And still look good for you.

I arrived at his house, and rang his doorbell. He answered only moments later, and the house was darker than usual. It smelled of something sweet and warm.

"Would you like to remove your coat?"

I nodded, unbuttoning it.

The lower I unbuttoned, the wider his eyes got.

Once I slipped off my jacket, his eyes came back to normal, but he grinned at me.

I handed my jacket to him and he said nothing but licked his lips. He put my coat on his coat rack, and held my hand.

No words said, he continued to eye me from head to toe. I looked down at my little red ensemble. I know he liked it.

Still, no words were exchanged from us, but he tugged on my hand leading me upstairs. It was so quiet, you could hear my heels clicking against the floor.

We got into his bedroom, and I didn't exactly know what to do this time. We weren't here to get high, or hang out. I came here because I feel ready.

He sat down, "Walk to me."

"Walk to you?"

"Yea. I want to watch you walk to me."

I smiled and did as I was told, nice and slow. Just like how I do when I'm at the club. Just like how the guys like it.

He didn't pull me on his lap like I expected him to. He ran his hands up and down my legs slowly while looking at me.

"I don't want you to take this off, you look so good in it. But I also can't take not being able to see all of you, yet."

My hands gently caressed his jaw, "How do you want me?"

"In every way possible," his hands raised to my ass. His huge hands massaged it so softly, "No panties?" He smirked.

"Was I supposed to?"

"No. I'm just shocked you knew how I liked it."

I couldn't fight my smile, and my cheeks couldn't help but to turn red.

"I didn't... I just assumed."

"What a lovely assumption," he looked into my eyes, making my soul melt. His voice was softer than usual, and I loved it.

I didn't say anything, as he lifted his shirt up and over his head. He was glistening, and he looked perfect.

I smiled to myself. How could I have such a perfect guy. How?

He took one of my legs, lifting it onto the bed. He held onto my hip with one of his hands, as his fingertips felt along the lips of my delicate flower.

That was enough to make me want to explode.

"What made you so ready for me?" He looked up at me, his thick lashes hanging over his beautiful brown eyes.

"I don't know," I tried to keep my breathing steady.

He pushed a finger inside me, making my bite my bottom lip. My gaze still didn't leave his.

"Do you know now?" He looked me in my eyes as he slowly dug into me with his finger.

I didn't know what to say but I continued to stare at him, keeping control over myself. But I don't think he liked that.

"What were you doing before you got here?" He roughly began to move his fingers in a 'come here' motion, digging against my g-spot.

My knees buckled before gaining strength again.

"Did you hear me?" He didn't let up.

And I couldn't hold it in. I moaned softly, "Yes, I heard you."

"So answer me."

His fingers felt as if they were doing magic. And I loved it, "I-I was playing with myself."

"Why?" He stared at me while he added another finger.

My soft moans turned to loud ones, "Because I thought of you."

He took his fingers out immediately and smirked.

He laid down, and patted the spot next to him. I still tingled down there as if I could still feel his fingers. I walked and laid next to him.

He hovered over me and kissed me, and this time it was slow and romantic. His tongue softly played with mine, as I ran my hands up and down his perfect chest.

He pulled away and kissed my neck sloppily, "You know we're gonna be doing less of this?"

I frowned, "Why?"

He left another kiss, "Cause what I'm about to give you is addictive. You'll never want a finger again. You're gonna want the better things."

"And how do you know that?"

"I just do," He pecked my lips.

I looked, as he went lower and lower, and soon his head was between my legs.

He feasted.

I screamed. Yelled. Moaned. Cussed. Everything.

His tongue did wonders, and he knew exactly how to keep me on the edge.

I felt it already. The feeling was arriving.

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck... don't stop." I whispered loud enough for him to hear.

He kissed my rosebud one last time before sitting up.

My legs were still shaking and he was no longer on me.

I saw him reach for his pants when I stopped him, "Wait.. can I do it?"

He wrinkled his eyebrows, "You want to?"

I could see him nice and erect through his jeans. I nodded, biting my lip, "Yes, papi."

He smirked and dropped his hands to his sides, "When you say shit like that you can have all you want."

I giggled before laying down by his lap, and unbuttoning his pants.

He assisted me by lifting himself up and pulling his points down for me.

My mouth dropped.

He was wearing grey boxer briefs, and I didn't know what to do with it. Should I touch it?

"Need guidance?"

I nodded, "Please."

He pulled his boxers down too, taking it off his ankles.

His member stood at full attention.

"Do I touch it?" I felt so embarrassed asking him.

He smiled, "Whatever makes you feel comfortable."

I hesitated before grabbing my right hand around it. I slowly moved my hand in a stroking motion before adding my second hand.

I was appalled that I could fit two hands on him. I was even more appalled that two hands still didn't cover him completely.

I've watched porn a couple of times, so I thought of things I saw there.

I looked up at him, "I'm so sorry if I'm boring you," I continued to stroke him. I was probably exploring more than actually trying to please him. But I want to know every detail of his little friend.

"Take your time. You look so sexy regardless," he reached over to slap my ass, before rubbing it in a circular motion.

"Should I... put it in my mouth?"

"Is that something you want to try?"

I blushed, "Sort of."

"Try it then. I'll guide you."

I smiled, rubbing my index finger over this head of his length. I grazed it with my lips before wrapping my lips around it.

His hand was gently holding onto the back of my head. I gently sucked on his tip, while slowly stroking him.

"Try going a little deeper," he tucked my hair behind my ear.

I pushed my mouth deeper onto him, and did as I saw in videos. Simply bobbing my head up and down.

"No hands, baby," He whispered.

I dropped my hands to the bed.

"Try spitting on it," his hand was on my chin.

"How?" I released him from my mouth.

"Well you have to go a little deeper."

"That's hard without feeling like I'm going to throw up."

"We'll build up your tolerance for that in the future.. for now did you experience enough?"

I frowned, "Well I want to make sure you feel good."

He pulled me up to his face and pecked my lips, "One day we'll practice it, okay? For now, I don't want to waste any time," he pecked my lips again, "Today still isn't about me, it's gonna be about you for a while, baby. You don't mind that, do you?" His fingers rubbed on my leaking flower.

"A little. I want to learn how to please you, too."

"You want to please me?"

I nodded.

"As beautiful as you look, I want to see you take all that shit off. I want to see you bare."

I nodded and took everything off. My lingerie and heels were in a pile in a corner of the room.

He laid me down, hovering over me. He kissed my forehead, then my cheek, and then my neck, before lightly sucking on it.

He lifted my legs up one at a time, still kissing on my neck.

Moans escaped my lips constantly.

He pressed himself into me, and chills ran up my body. He wasn't inside me yet, but I was so close to finally losing my virginity.. and to the most beautiful man I know.

"Are you ready?" He whispered in my ear.

"Yes." I whispered back.

My heart was racing but I truly was ready.

His hand reached down and I felt something thick and hard rub against my sensitive rosebud.

I moaned softly as he rubbed his tip along the lips of my flower. Then I felt a force.

I held my breath holding onto him tightly.

He pushed inside of me and I winced, closing my eyes.

It felt like a huge, murderous period cramp.

"Ow," I said softly, trying my hardest not to sound too scared. I didn't want to scare him off.

I was relieved of the pain when he looked up at me. He pulled himself out.

"Why'd you stop?"

"I don't want to hurt you."

"It's normal for it to hurt, okay?" I pecked his lips, "I'm fine."

"You want me to continue to go slow? Or quick, to get this part over with?"

I took a deep breath, "Quick."

He nodded, and positioned himself again.

This time he pushed himself all the way in. And fast.

I cringed, digging my fingers into his back. I felt like my uterus was... was breaking.

He slowed his strokes once he was all the way in.

I winced every time I could feel him all the way inside.

"Am I bleeding?" I whispered.

He looked down and then pulled out. He got up and went into the bathroom. I heard the toilet flush and I wrinkled my eyebrows in confusion. He came back out with tissue.

"I already cleaned it off of me," he sat down, and proceeded to wipe it for me.

I watched him, as he carefully cleaned me up. I was shocked he didn't make me clean it myself.

"I forgot this happens when a girl has sex for the first time," he wiped one more time before going back into the bathroom.

He came back with a towel, "Stand up."

I got up and he laid the towel where I was laying.

"Lay back down now."

I did so, and he came back over me and positioned himself between my legs again, "You may continue to bleed. I just want to make sure we don't have to stop again and this towel will clean up everything."

I nodded, listening to him. I looked at his golden, thick arms picking me up slightly just to position me correctly. I bit my lip. The shine from the moon through the blinds was glistening onto his skin.

"Ready?"

I smiled at how cautious he was being.

I nodded and held onto him tightly. He pushed himself in and I bit down on his shoulder, containing the pain till he got inside completely.

He nibbled on my ear, and his voice was groggy, "I liked that." He placed small kisses on my jaw.

I blushed. I actually did something to make him feel good without noticing.

"Drake?" I whispered.

"Yes?" He whispered back.

"Fuck me."

"That's what you want?" He stroked me slowly.

I moaned, "Uh huh," I nodded.

I still felt a pinch of pain whenever he'd go in and hit the end of my canal.

Now I knew why girls were so into sex in high school. Now I knew why grown women wanted it so much. Now I knew why Honey couldn't let this man go. This feels amazing.

"I don't ever wanna hear some other nigga got you like this, do you hear me?" His strokes were now super slow, like he he was teasing me.

"Yes." I whispered.

He bit onto my ear a little harder than usual. But I liked it.

"Yes, who?"

"Yes, papi," I moaned out.

"Shit," he whispered to himself as he speeded himself up, only slightly.

"What's wrong?" I bit my lip, refraining from moaning.

"Nothing, at all. You're so tight, and wet," he continued to stroke me, "You don't know how good you feel," he placed a gentle kiss on my lips, holding onto my thigh.

I kissed back, wrestling with his tongue before slightly sucking on it. I let go to let out another moan, "It hurts but.. I like it. Is that okay?"

He chuckled, "Nothing's wrong with you liking a little bit of pain, Selena. Just let me know what kind you want."

"Well... then can you go a little faster?" I bit my lip.

He increased his speed slightly, and slammed into me harder this time.

"Fuck." I threw my head back. It hurts so bad but I loved it.

I can feel him watching my facial expressions as he was stroking me but I kept my eyes closed. That's how good it felt.

I felt his lips wrap around my left nipple, and I was in bliss. He easily became my favorite person. Our little bond easily became my favorite thing.

"Oh, my god, Drake.."

"Hm?" He didn't stop sucking.

"P-please.."

"What's wrong?" He looked up at me, knowing what he was doing to me.

I sighed in relief that he let go of my nipples. Not because I didn't like it, but because it actually felt too good. I didn't want to orgasm, yet. I wanted to enjoy this moment with him.

"Look at me. Tell me what's wrong."

I looked down at him and his lust filled eyes were already stuck on mine.

My body bounced in sync with his, "You're too good at this. How?" I stared into him as I could hear the faint clapping sounds of our bodies.

"I'm not doing much yet. You still got a long way to go baby," I felt his finger reaching for my rosebud.

He rubbed it as he fucked me and I couldn't take it.

"Papi, you're going to make me..."

"Make you what?" He stroked me harder.

"Oh, Drake.." I moaned his name, feeling him pound inside me.

"Say that shit again." He continued at his pace.

I repeated myself, but louder.

"You're so sexy," he growled into my neck.

I closed my eyes, loving the moans and groans he's making.

I felt that feeling build up again, as he kept his fingers massaging my rosebud.

"I'm gonna cum soon," I whispered to him.

"That's my girl," he whispered back, planting kisses wherever his lips could land.

I kept my eyes closed till that moment arrived, and it was about to be seconds away.

"Oh.. it's coming, papi," I moaned out.

"Good," he continued.

I grunted hard as the feeling came over me, and he kept stroking. I then began to yell in pleasure, "Oh my god, yes!"

"Fuck," he grunted under his breath before getting slowing down his stroke completely. Although, his groans were still present.

Was he having an orgasm? Inside of me?

My screams calmed down, as he was still inside of me.

He pulled out and laid next to me, bringing my body close to his. He grabbed the blanket and covered us.

He wrapped his arms around me, and kissed my forehead.

"You weren't supposed to do that inside me, were you?" I looked at the ceiling.

He rubbed my back, "I'll take care of that. Don't worry, okay?"

"But what if I get-"

"Will you trust me that you won't? I'll take care of it."

I sighed, "Okay."

It was silence for about fifteen minutes until I heard his light snoring. His snoring helped me fall asleep easier, and soon, I was out.

I woke up to Drake coming into the room. He was fully clothed with a bag in his hand as if he just came from outside.

It was a bag from a pharmacy. He came over to me and kissed my forehead.

I smiled at him. He didn't say anything but he went downstairs and came back with a cup of water.

He took this flat rectangular box out of the bag.

"What is that?"

"I told you I'd take care of it," he sat next to me on the edge of the bed, placing the water on the night table. He handed me to the box.

Plan B.

"This is..?"

"To stop you from getting pregnant. It works best the sooner you take it, so I suggest you do that now."

I nodded and sat up, opening it to see just one pill.

"This box is this big for one pill?"

"Yup."

I shrugged my shoulders and took the pill out. I placed it in my mouth before grabbing the water and swallowing it down.

"How much did that cost you? I can pay you back."

"Fifty dollars. Don't worry about it, though."

I wrinkled my eyebrows, "Fifty? For a pill?"

"Yea," he said, "But we're gonna have to put you on birth control."

"The pills?"

"Whichever one you want to take. We're going to the doctor today."

I frowned, "But why?"

"Cause I want to make sure we can have our fun without worrying about you getting pregnant."

I frowned, "So after today, you can do what you did last night without a worry?"

"Well not after today. Usually, birth control takes 7 days before it's fully active. Until then, we'll need condoms."

"About that...," I looked up at him.

"What? Condoms?"

"Yea. We can't have sex without a condom if you ever decide to fuck Honey again."

"Are you afraid that I'll give you something?"

"Yes.. like, how do you know we don't have anything now afraid we speak? Cause I'm more than positive you didn't use condoms with Honey. And you didn't use one with me."

"We can get tested together when we go to the doctor for your birth control today. Will that make you feel better?"

I nodded, "Yes, please."

"So we have to use condoms from now on?"

"We don't need to, only under one condition."

"What is it?"

"If you ever decide you want to do something with somebody else, use protection with them. You have to promise me that."

"I promise."

"Do you mean it?" I played with my fingers.

It's like I was playing Russian roulette with my body.

"I mean it," he grabbed one of my hands to kiss it.

I giggled, "You're so... cliché."

"But don't you want a gentleman?" He smirked.

"Oh, please. Where are you are gentleman? Show me."

He raised his eyebrows, "Are you telling me I'm not a gentleman?"

I smirked, "Perhaps."

"That's ridiculous. I am one."

He still had the smirk on his face. And his smile made me smile.

"Says who? Admit it, Drake. You're an asshole."

He looked down and chuckled, "Okay, maybe I'm a little bit of an asshole. But I have to be."

"And why's that?" I folded my arms.

He smiled at me, "Because people don't respect the nice guy. They run over the nice guy. I don't have time to be that guy."

"But what if the asshole starts hurting the nice people?"

"And what nice people have I hurt?"

"Well, Honey isn't exactly nice. But she's nice to you."

"I'll tell you a story about Honey one day."

"What is it about?"

"Don't worry about it. Start getting dressed."

I got up, my body still naked from last night. I frowned, "My change of clothes is in my car. On the passenger's seat. Could you get it for me?"

He nodded, grabbing my car keys by the Cuba flag keychain I have.

He was gone and I went into the shower.

"I feel like I been locked up tight for a century of lonely nights,

Waiting for someone to release me,

You're licking your lips and blowing kisses my way,

But that don't mean I'm gonna give it away,

Baby, baby, baby."

I sang, as the water hit my face and ran through my hair.

"If you wanna be with me,

Baby there's a price to pay,

I'm a genie in a bottle,

You gotta love me the right way."

I felt the shower door open, and I turned to see Drake laughing at me.

I looked at his perfectly naked body. I was excited. But I made sure he didn't notice.

"You were listening to me?" I pouted.

He closed the shower door, and I saw how cute his little butt was.

"You sounded good. I just didn't think you were the type to sing in the shower. What was that, Christina Aguilera, 2001?"

I giggled and shrugged, "2000, maybe."

He was glistening with water and I couldn't help but stare.

"What are you doing in here?"

"Why waste water when we can shower at the same time?" He grabbed me, turning me around, pressing my body into his.

He wrapped his arms around my waist, and I could feel his member growing hard against my ass.

I smiled, "As if you're worried about saving water. Did you get my clothes."

"Yes, it's on my bed," he kissed my neck.

"Nuh, huh. Didn't you say no sex without birth control?"

"No, I said we can use condoms in the meantime."

"Do you have a condom?"

"Sadly, no."

"Exactly. So no. Soap your body up. And get out."

"Please? I'll pull out this time," he reached his hand down and started to rub in between my legs.

I bit my lip, "What if you do it too late?"

"You'll have my baby, then."

I slapped his arm, "Stop it!" I wined.

He chuckled, "I'm kidding, okay? I won't."

"Okay." I turned around to him, pecking his lips.

-

I walked to the car, with between my legs feeling all types of sore.

Drake opener the door for me, and I stepped inside the car.

As he drove off, he looked at me and smirked, "How are you feeling?"

"I feel fine because I'm sitting."

"You know you can always tell me to slow down if you're hurting too much."

"But I don't want you to slow down. I'm fine, okay?"

He sighed, "See you can't tell me I don't try to be considerate."

I smiled, "Hush, and drive before you crash."

"I can multitask, you know."

I looked at him, smiled, and rolled my eyes, turning on the radio.

[deememm]

Yes

Chapter 13 

Kath felt heat rushing to her cheeks from DJ’s heated stare as she stared back. After months of talking through a screen he was here. Right in front of her. In the flesh. Why was he so goddamn hot?

“Ahem.” 

Breaking her stare, Kath looked at her mother as she stared at her with knowing eyes. This is was her way of silently conversing with her, telling her to introduce DJ to her. Feeling her palms starting to sweat as she realized her mother was meeting a potential boyfriend for the first time, she looked back at DJ who was timidly smiling at her mother.

“Mama, this is DJ. DJ, this is Mama.”

Watching as DJ shook her mother’s hand, Kath felt herself lightly giggle while watching DJ act so nervous. It was like the confident heartthrob that was on stage suddenly disappeared as was replaced by a shy and nervous young boy.

“Ahhh Tita, I’m having an after party at my house. Is it okay if I could bring Kath?”

Kath’s eyes snapped back towards DJ, who was anxiously rubbing that back of his neck glancing between her mother and herself. Kath looked at him with questioning eyes. He never mentioned a party at all. 

“I’m okay with it as long as Kath wants to go. She’s old enough.” Kath heard her mother reply. 

“Kath, would you like to come with me?” DJ asked, pleading her with his best puppy dog eyes.

After finally meeting the person she spent months knowing face to face, it would be a waste for Kath not to spend more time than him. She owed it to him and to herself and the time they both spent texting each other to not explore whatever they were. No wasn’t an option for Kath. 

“Yes.” 

The grin DJ gave Kath made her melt into a pile of goo. 

“Before you two leave... Daniel, I would like your mama’s number just in case. Kath, I know it’s late but I still want you home at a respectable hour.”

Kath’s mom handed her phone to DJ as he tapped on the phone and handed it back to her. 

“Of course Ma.”

Putting his arm around her shoulder, DJ gave her a reassuring side hug. There it was again, the butterflies.

“Tita, I’ll make sure she gets home safe.” 

Kath’s mom looked at the two with a motherly warning look and nodded her head.

“I trust you both. See you later Kath. Baby, say bye-bye to Tita and Kuya Daniel.”

“Bah-boo Tita Kat, bye Kuya DJ.” Kath’s niece slurred as she rested her head, still half asleep on her grandma’s shoulder. The poor girl was so tired, she didn’t even know her idol was in front of her.

“Bye Ma! Bye baby!” Kath said as she watched them walk towards the exit of the area.

Feeling DJ’s arm slip off her shoulder and his hand now slip into hers, Kath looked up at DJ who was looking ahead also at her mom and niece leaving. Looking down towards her, DJ smiled. He then squeezed her hand and intertwined their fingers. Tugging on her hand, Kath felt herself being led towards a door near the stage where DJ came from. Still in a daze that this was actually happening, Kath watched as DJ looked back at her and winked.

“Let’s go?”

It was like they’ve known each other since they were young. The car ride to DJ’s house was filled with conversation about the concert, DJ’s music taste, Katy Perry and everything in between with a bit of flirty teasing on the side. Pulling up to a gate that was opening, Kath looked at the large mansion that appeared in front of them. No cars and no lights. It looked like no one was home.

“DJ, why does your house look empty? I thought this was an after party.”

Parking the car, DJ turned towards Kath and smirked before opening his door, “It is, but the only guest I invited was you.” 

Lightly jogging across the car, Kath watched as DJ opened her door and held out a hand to take. 

“But my mom’s going to phone yours.”

“It’s ok. She’ll explain everything.”

DJ pulled on Kath’s hand as they both walked past the the front door towards the back. Holding onto his hand tightly while maneuvering through the dark, they stopped at two sliding doors with curtains draped behind them. Kath looked up at DJ who fiddling with the keys and unlocking one of the sliding doors.

"What’s going on? Why is it so dark?”

DJ took Kath’s hands into his as he looked into her eyes with anticipation.

“Do you trust me?”

Suddenly suspicious, Kath gave DJ a questioning look.

“Why are you asking me this?”

Reaching into his back pocket, DJ held out a black blindfold and nervously smiled.

“Can I put this on you?” 

Feeling slightly uncomfortable with the situation Kath let go of his hands and started to back away.

“Deeejaaay...”

DJ reached out for Kath’s hands again and looked into her eyes with sincerity and confidence.

“Kath, do you trust me?” DJ huskily whispered as he asked again.

“Yes.” 

It was always a yes.

DJ smiled as he let go of Kath’s hands. Suddenly feeling body heat behind her, Kath felt DJ’s breath on her neck as he covered her eyes with the blindfold. With DJ’s mouth near her ear, Kath shivered as he lightly grazed her ear with his lips.

“Just trust me.”

Feeling two hands from behind on her waist, Kath heard the sliding door open as DJ steered her forward. Kath counted 20 steps until she felt DJ’s hands sweep her hair to the side and untie the blindfold.

“Surprise.”

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Ehhhh, not my best chapter haha. Sorry that this update took so long. Thank you for sticking with me and hope you enjoy reading! :)