ghostyeyestohide

[ghostyeyestohide]

you so wrong for edging us like that…..

Sweet Escape, Part 2

Pairing: Bodyguard!Terry Richmond x Singer!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, trying out some angst, teasing, mentions of loneliness, mental health, power imbalance. Mentions of violence, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some.

Summary: You are on top of the world as one of the world’s most popular R&B singers. But behind the glitz and glam, you were unmoored, lonely, and aching for something you couldn’t put a name to. Terry makes you breakfast, bringing a sense of normalcy to an otherwise chaotic life. Still shaken from the shenanigans of your stalker, you enjoy the break Terry offers you. But all too soon, you’re forced to adapt to an ever-changing schedule. Your label makes you go to a club to promote your new single.

Word Count: 7,152k

AO3 Link

A/N: Idk why I keep doing this to myself, LMFAO. But ya'll see that man show out with his gold chain? Lordt help me, I love that man. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You stood beside the door to your balcony staring at the brightening day. The cry last night was everything you needed to reset. Perhaps it had just been too long since the last time you did. That was okay. It was okay to cry.

You clenched your fists and felt your nails dig into your palms. It was a terrible grounding technique. But pain was good. Pain meant you were alive. And as long as you were alive, your stalker wouldn’t win. He wasn’t winning when you worked hard for this shit.

All the blood, sweat, tears, predatory producers, dickhead managers, trashy bitches with their “gossip” websites, all of it. You didn’t survive this shit to let an anonymous motherfucker get you down. 

You took a deep breath. One day, you’d be able to open the balcony and actually feel the sun on your bones. You had to agree with Terry that it was too easy for someone to take a pot shot at you. Though the stalker seemed to only want to scare you so far. Killing you would kill his fantasy, wouldn’t it? 

It was too morbid to think about on such a pretty Las Vegas day. It was nearing the end of your run here before you would travel to LA. You turned and pulled your robe tighter while walking to your bedroom door and flinging it open. 

It smelled like home. Like warm biscuits, sizzling bacon, and fresh eggs. You followed the smell to the common kitchen and peeked around the corner. Terry stood in the kitchenette in a gray tank top and matching lounge pants.

Your eyes tracked the subtle vein in his arm and followed it to where it ended in his hand gripping the pan. Terry looked up at you and smirked. “I figured after what happened we could all use a little normal,” he said. 

“This…is your normal?” You asked. You hopped onto the nearest barstool and leaned over the bartop to look at the spread. He actually did make biscuits. Fluffy ones with butter melting in the middle. You were tempted to grab one but something told you Terry didn’t play about his kitchen.

You grinned and glanced at Terry who lifted his eyes to yours. You peeked down at yourself and noticed that your girls were threatening to slip out. “I am so sorry,” you said. Though you flirted and harassed the man, you weren’t predatory about it. You truly didn’t mean to let them hang out. You fixed your robe and sat back in your seat like a proper lady.

“It’s all good. Biscuits look good, don’t they?” He asked, his lips dipping in the corners. He almost smiled. Hot damn. Terry brought his thumb to his mouth to lick it and he hummed. The sound vibrated in his chest and you couldn’t help thinking what the hell he was doing as a bodyguard. Bottle that sound and package it into a vibrator and there wouldn’t be a dry cooch in the house.

“Mhm,” you said absently. Maybe the cry hadn’t done its job. Now you were just stuffy and foggy and clearly off your damn marbles. You watched Terry as he finished with the bacon. He moved on to a bowl of eggs he had already cracked and watched his arms work as he whipped up the eggs.

“I really only know how to make scrambled eggs. An omelet if I’m feeling fancy. If you want something else –”

“No, no, this is…sweet of you. I can’t remember the last time someone actually cooked for me. It’s been mostly dining out,” you said. 

“You don’t cook when you’re home?” Terry asked. 

You had to turn away from Terry. He looked downright delicious and he was being sweet. The last thing you wanted to do was make him uncomfortable by eye fucking him. 

“No, not really. There’s not usually enough time. When I have downtime, I’m usually writing a song or working out or preparing for the next tour. Gotta do something with this brain of mine,” you said. 

Terry nodded. “Shame. Nothing better than some good food cooked with love,” he said. His voice grew hoarse around the word love. Did he have an ex-wife? Did someone break his heart? There was so much you suddenly wanted to know about your bodyguard. You wanted pieces of him that no one else got. You were hungry and greedy for it. Though you had no right to be. 

“So you can’t make anything other than scrambled eggs, huh?” You asked.

Terry scooped out butter and placed it on the hot pan. It immediately sizzled and Terry’s bulging muscles worked back and forth to spread it around. He added the eggs and then turned to you. “I did say an omelet, too. Give me some credit,” he said.

“But only when you’re feeling fancy,” you said.

Terry chuckled. “You get me,” he said.

“So what makes you feel fancy?” You asked. Your eyes drifted to Terry’s every so often and it was bordering on creepy. So you hopped down from the stool and rummaged around in the cabinets.

“What are you doing?” Terry asked. 

“Setting the table,” you said. You grabbed two plates and placed it on the counter. 

“This was my gesture for you. You’re not supposed to set the table,” he said. 

“My grandma would roll in her grave if she knew I didn’t help some kind of way. You wouldn’t want to hurt poor Grammy Bean, would you?” You turned doe eyes to him and added in a cute pout, sticking out your bottom lip. 

Terry chuckled, turning back to the eggs. “I suppose I can’t hurt poor Grammy Bean,” he relented. You grinned and continued setting the bar top with plates, two cups, and forks. By the time you were done, Terry had finished up the breakfast. 

You stood behind him and handed him the plates one by one while he loaded up the eggs, bacon, and biscuits. He handed you the full plate and you set it down. “That was for you,” he said.

“Oh,” you said and giggled. “Thank you.” You rounded the edge of the bar top, suddenly feeling shy and girly. There was no reason for it. You just…fuck, how long had it been since someone did something for you just because? Not because you were paying them to do it? No hidden agenda?

Technically you were paying Terry too, but to guard you, not cook for you. It was unprompted and there was nothing you could do in return for him. There was nothing you could do to feel like you earned it. 

Terry grabbed his own plate and joined you at the bartop. He sat down and spread his legs to accommodate the long length of them. Feet planted firmly on the ground. “Don’t be too harsh on me. I know it’s not the fancy restaurant stuff you eat,” he said.

You laughed. “Don’t believe the hype, Mr. Terry. I am a southern girl at heart. This is way more up my alley than that french reduction, tuna tartar, or whatever else they think people want to eat.”

Terry chuckled and waited until you took a bite of your food. You sighed in appreciation and smiled closed-lipped at him. “This is delicious, Terry,” you said.

Terry grinned, showing off his beautiful smile. It was gone just as quick and he nodded. “Good to hear,” he said. 

What you wouldn’t pay or do to see him smile like that again. You ate beside Terry, soaking in the domesticity of it all. You were burning with questions. But you bit your tongue and just enjoyed the stillness. The peace. The quiet. 

Terry finished in record time, wolfing down his meal like he had just come back from jail or something. He stood up and grabbed two more biscuits. You didn’t know where the fuck he put it all. 

“Did Grammy Bean get you into singing?” Terry asked. 

You smiled and nodded, thinking of your grandmother. “Yup. She had a piano that she let me toddle on until she buckled down and got me piano lessons. She was a mainstay in the jazz scene. She knew them all. I was always following after her, so she ended up getting me started with singing. Encouraged me to do it for me if I was going to do this professionally. She bought me my first audition dress,” you said. 

Bless Grammy Bean, but whew, that dress was hideous. You were twelve at the time and she somehow transformed you into a little version of her. A blue and purple paisley dress with swirls and waves and too many clashing colors. Old lady shoes. If it weren’t for the studio rep who actually listened instead of laughing at you, you would’ve been sent home with tears to keep you company. 

“She sounds like an amazing woman,” Terry said. 

“She really was,” you said softly, remembering the pain of losing the most important person in your corner all over again. “How about you? Any grandma stories?” 

Terry wiped his hands on the paper towel beside his empty plate and then wiped his mouth. He missed a crumb in his mustache but you decided not to tell him. If anything, it made him more endearing. He followed the towel with his hand, swiping away the crumb anyway. Bastard.

“Yeah, my grandma was no joke. Me and my cousin Mike were terrors. Always running in and out of the house, always getting into trouble. One time, we had been play-fighting in the rain. We were covered in mud. When grandma saw us, she hosed us down, gave us a proper whuppin’ for tracking mud on her porch, and then made us clean off her porch before we could come inside,” Terry said, smiling at the memory. 

You smiled with him and shook your head, trying to imagine Terry at such a young age. Was he an awkward teen? Probably not. He was probably born with “responsible" stamped on his forehead. 

“Oh, she was really no joke,” you said.

Terry smiled and shook his head. “Not a one. She’s the one that got me into the Marines. She would tell me all her stories of the Air Force and how she was in charge of making sure the women who served were in bed by curfew. A lot of them tried sneaking out to meet up with boys. My grandma was there with a clipboard and her service weapon telling them to try her,” he said, chuckling to himself. 

“Not the clipboard too,” you said, chuckling with him. 

“They could either get checked off or checked out,” he said, pitching his voice to sound like an older lady. With his deep voice, the sound didn’t quite manage what he went for. You continued to laugh at his impression, waving your hands. 

“I’m not trying–” you kept laughing, unable to apologize. 

“It’s all good. She was a funny woman. She’d want us to laugh,” he said. He sobered and looked at you while you tried to catch your breath. Giggles escaped you as you calmed down yourself, finding yourself getting lost in his stormy eyes. 

You cleared your throat and sucked on your bottom lip. You both opened your mouth at the same time and then giggled. “You go,” he said.

“No, please,” you said.

“Ladies first,” he said. You sighed and rolled your eyes just as the doorbell rang. You cursed under your breath. You almost forgot for a few moments that you weren’t a normal person.

Terry stood up from the bar stool and went to the door for you, checking to see who was there. But you already knew. In five, four, three…

“There you are! Didn’t you get my text?” Mirage asked, walking into the room. 

Joya followed close behind with a shy, pained smile on her face. She clutched her calendar to her chest and you smiled. You nearly had a heart attack looking at Terry. There was no way in hell your sweet assistant could handle Terry’s muscles on full display. 

“I did not. I was eating breakfast, forgive me. Remind me what we’re doing today?” You asked. Because at this point, Terry effectively made you forget for a morning that you were a singer. 

Terry re-entered the room silently, moving around Mirage and headed towards the kitchen. He began to pack up the plates. “Let me help,” you said, hopping off the stool. 

“I got it. Go be awesome,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and giggled. You followed Mirage and Joya into the living room and sat down on the huge, white pleather couch. Joya sat down in the armchair, faced away from Terry, and opened her calendar. 

“I managed to push your LA costume fittings to eleven to let you sleep in. You have an interview with Essence at three. Here is the list of questions,” she said, sliding over a piece of paper to you. You looked them over. Nothing too bad, not much you hadn’t answered before. 

“Okay, pretty light day,” you said. 

“Jake called. He needs you at the club tonight, rather than tomorrow,” Mirage said.

“What? Why?” You asked. 

“Lord AK flew in early and will be there and Jake needs you to hype up the single,” Mirage said. She cringed at your expression as you sighed and fell back against the couch. 

“I was looking forward to staying in,” you said. 

“I know, babe. I’m sorry,” she said. “I couldn’t push it. I tried telling Jake about what happened yesterday-”

You waved off her incoming apology. “It’s not you. I know Jake is only thinking dollar signs right now,” you said, thinking of your good for nothing agent. 

“How long do I have to show my face at the club?” You asked. 

“You can’t go to a club. There’s no way to secure your safety,” Terry chimed in from the kitchen. 

“I have to. If I don’t, the single won’t get promoted. If the single doesn’t get promoted, it doesn’t sell. If it doesn’t sell, my ass is out of a job,” you said. 

Terry’s jaw flexed as he took in the information you gave him. “There’s no way around it?” He asked.

“Ah, sorry. No,” Mirage chimed in for you. 

“There’s going to be a lot of influencers there. Lots of cameras. I don’t know if you could have a bodyguard close by,” Mirage said. 

“I can blend in,” Terry said. 

You looked at Mirage and Joya before glancing guiltily at Terry. He caught on, a smirk stretching his lips. “Don’t think I can hang?” 

“I mean…I wouldn’t call you a square…” you said.

Terry chuckled and nodded his head. “I can blend in, princess,” he said.

You stuck your tongue out at him and he chuckled, returning to cleaning up the kitchen. You shook your head and turned back to your team. You went over a few more details for the day, the logistics of everything. 

“Ugh, I didn’t pack club clothes,” you said. 

“Already have you covered. After the interview, you’ll have a few choices the label is sending over,” Joya said. She consulted her calendar and thousands of tabs and sticky notes. You marveled at the way her mind worked. 

You smacked your teeth thinking of the type of clothes your label wanted you in. “Oh ye of little faith, girl! I already told them nothing silver, nothing sparkly, and nothing that’ll have your ass hanging out,” Joya said.

“I love you,” you said and giggled.

“I love you too, miss lady. We have fifteen minutes to get on the road before we’re late for your fittings,” Joya said. 

“Ugggghhhhh,” you groaned, sliding off the couch like a toddler. 

Mirage laughed and shook her head. “It’ll be painless. Well…as long as it isn’t Francois,” Mirage said.

You shivered from the floor. “I’m convinced he pokes me so many times to see if my ass is real,” you said. You all laughed and for a brief moment, you pretended that you were sixteen again with a circle of good friends, having a movie night. But those days were long past and gone. 

“Alright, alright, alright. I’m getting up. Fuck,” you said. You stood up from the floor and collected yourself. You squared your shoulders, threw your head back, and took a deep breath.

Movement to your right made you turn to Terry who had stopped cleaning to watch you. He nodded his head at you and you nodded back. Yeah, you had business to attend to.

The fitting was a breeze. Luckily Francois was nowhere to be found so you didn’t have to grab bandaids as you were done with the fitting. That was the secret part you loved about being a musician. Playing dress up. Seeing the mix of fabrics and clothes and getting to see the hidden seams to allow for quick costume changes on stage. 

The interview went just as well, talking with Brandi Harper, a journalist for Essence. She was cool, down to earth, making the interview feel like a conversation rather than a Q&A. You had bonded over your love for anime, discussing the different shows you watched. 

She did end up asking about the A’Kierra interview that you did and you had to fight everything in you not to drag A’Kierra’s nasty ass. You only ended up shrugging and dismissing it. Why give that clown more ammunition? 

Now, you were back at the hotel, getting dolled up for the club. Terry sat on the couch watching everyone like a hawk. He only allowed one make up artist and one hair stylist and only after he did his little background investigation on the both of them. Your team was loyal. You told him as much. Yet he still looked at everyone like any one of them could snap. 

Angie worked on your makeup while Nicky worked on your hair. “You gon’ sweat this out?” He asked.

“Probably, yeah,” you said with a grin. Nicky rolled his eyes but laughed with you as he switched tactics. He quickly abandoned what he was doing and then undid your hair from the ponytail. 

“You gon’ stress me out, chile,” he said.

“I love you, Nicky,” you said. 

Nicky harrumphed and you blew him a kiss while he started to braid your hair. “You lucky I stay ready, miss thing,” he said. He grumbled about you while he got to work, braiding quickly and efficiently. That was why you paid to bring Nicky wherever you went. No one had hands like him. 

Joya entered the circus that was your hotel living room carrying a garment bag over her shoulder. Mirage was in the corner, on the phone with Jake setting up details about the club. 

You snuck a glance at Terry who caught you looking. You rolled your bottom lip into your mouth and Angie groaned. You apologized to Angie who had to switch tactics as well. “Every time, girl?” She asked. 

You giggled. “You’re right. I’m a bad client,” you said.

She sighed and shook her head. “You’re lucky I like you,” she said. 

“Oh, it’s my lucky night then. I need to do some gambling before we leave Vegas,” you said. You let Angie remove the gloss from your lips and went with a lip stain instead. It was a darker red than what you were used to but some sneaks in the mirror had you feeling yourself.

You may be a homebody but deep, deep down in your crevices, you liked to party too. Liked to dance and move and sing your heart out. Get some drinks going and you were the life of the party. 

Joya managed to get closer and tapped the bag. “Got what you needed,” she said.

“Thank you,” you told her. “Terry? Can I see you please?” You asked.

Terry was by your side in a second, crowding your space. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome. You pointed to Joya. “I had her get some outfits for you as well. If you’re going to blend, I need you to really blend. And I doubt you have a club outfit in that duffel you carry,” you said. 

“I’m good, thanks though,” he said.

“And just what do you plan on wearing to blend in then?” You asked.

He spread his hands and you looked at the black T-shirt and jeans he usually wore. You giggled and shook your head, much to Angie’s and Nicky’s frustration. “You cannot go to a club like this wearing your uniform, soldier,” you said.

“It’s a club,” he said. “No one’s worried about me.”

“Sheeit,” Nicky whispered. Angie elbowed him and he cleared his throat, returning to braiding your hair. He was already halfway through your head. 

You were tempted to lick your lips to keep from laughing at the adorable, confused expression on Terry’s face. “You’ll stick out like a sore thumb if you don’t make some kind of effort. Please, indulge me. Otherwise I’d have to go in by myself and without you there to guard me, who knows what could happen?” 

Terry’s jaw flexed. “I know what you’re doing,” he said. He grabbed the clothes bag from Joya who looked like a deer caught in headlights. She lowered her eyes and tried to back away as nonchalant as possible. Poor tink. You understood though. Terry was intimidatingly sexy as hell. 

“I wouldn’t dream of pulling anything,” you said. 

He gave you a blank stare before disappearing to his side of the suite. You turned to Joya with a grateful smile. 

In no time at all, Nicky had your head braided and put on a wig. He flat ironed it and then pulled it into a half up, half down style. “Oh, I like this,” you said, looking at yourself in the mirror he brought. 

“I know, I know. I’m the greatest,” he said.

“We’re running behind, let’s wrap it up soon,” Mirage called out, returning to her call. 

What was taking Terry so long? You wondered which outfit he chose or if he’d stick to his uniform. You had to get dressed yourself so you went into your bedroom with Angie and Nicky to help put on your club outfit and make sure you didn’t mess up your hair and makeup. 

The jumpsuit was sheer and looked painted on when you got it on. The back was out but it made your ass look extra fat. Oh, you were so keeping this. It had a tropical flower design on it that looked fun and perfect for the club. Partnered with your hair and makeup, hell, you’d fuck you tonight. 

You left your room and Terry stood up. You paused, your heels near skidding on the floor. Got. Damn. He chose to wear a navy dress shirt with gold flowers on it. He left it buttoned all the way to the top and his black jeans made him look extra delicious. 

He smoothed the shirt and looked at himself like he couldn’t believe how he got here. You giggled to get over your initial shock. “Not bad, Mr. Terry. Not bad,” you said.

“Don’t look so bad yourself,” he said. 

You smiled and followed your army of people out of the hotel, to the waiting car. Terry opened the door for you and helped you inside. He went around to the other side, climbing into the back with you. 

“Oh, not driving tonight?” You asked. 

“I gotta blend, right?” He asked. 

If he did any more blending, people would think he was a famous movie star. He pulled on some shaded glasses, completing the look while a member of your security team got in the front seat. Mirage and Joya would be in the follow car. 

Sometimes they were your best friends. And sometimes they were your best employees. The ride beyond to the club was short, really only going from one hotel to the next. But because you’d be spotted instantly, it was somehow easier to take the car than walk. 

Paparazzi lined the entrance to the club and those flashing bulbs immediately turned to your car when it was your turn. You took a deep breath, looking out at the sea of vultures. There were some fans mixed in. 

“Guess word got out that I’d be here,” you said with a rueful smile. “Wondered who leaked that.” 

Jake was such a leech. But you kept him around because if nothing else, he could hustle a dollar from a beggar. And for an artist determined to do this shit right, you needed all the money you could scrounge up. After living paycheck to paycheck growing up, robbing Paul to pay Peter, you had plans. You didn’t ever want to go back to the poor little girl you were before. 

“We can turn around,” Terry offered.

You sighed. “No. We really can’t,” you said. You took a deep breath and pulled on your metaphorical armor. You pictured it encasing you in the hardest known element. Not a chink or weak spot to exploit. 

You pulled on your own shades because the flashing lights left you dizzy. Terry’s counterpart got out of the car and then swooped around to open the door for you. Terry got out by himself and quickly walked around the car, offering you his arm. 

The paparazzi resembled a feeding frenzy at the zoo. They called your name endlessly, squawking with demands to turn here, look here, give us a smile, give us a pout, who’s your man, and on and on it went.

You posed and waved to them all, playing into your persona. You singled out a few fans and took pictures with them, signing some autographs. You blew kisses as you walked up the club’s doors and the bouncer let you in without any fuss.

The sudden darkness of the club’s interior foyer after all the flashing lights gave you whiplash. You swayed on your feet and Terry steadied you with a hand on your hip. “You okay?” He asked. 

You shook your head to clear it. “I hate that shit,” you said. But you were fine. You’d live. 

“We made it,” Mirage said, coming up from the side entrance. She wore a simple black party dress that fit her full figure well. She pulled her braids back into a ponytail and added on makeup. You hugged her and then Joya who peeked out from behind Mirage. She had changed as well, into a pair of dark jeans and a flirty shirt. 

“You both look amazing!” You said. 

“Not as good as you!” Joya said. You waved them off. They were too adorable. Linked arm in arm, you passed through the curtains and entered the club proper. Nothing was small in Vegas on the strip. The place was huge, a mass of people gyrating on the dance floor, hanging out by the bar, or trying to make moves on each other.

You made your way to the VIP section. The section was already bumping with multiple artists bopping their heads to the music. Groupies hung around the various rappers and singers, each all similarly dressed in baggy pants and jerseys or oversized coats. 

“You’re here!” Another singer, Alexandra Crane, beamed and then wrapped her arms around you. You screamed with her. The cute little singer from Atlanta had become a friend during a concert you performed together. You were glad to see that she ditched the other two in her group. 

“It is so good to see you!” You said. You introduced Mirage and Joya and true to form, Joya fangirled. 

“Oh, and who’s this?” Alex asked. 

“This is my-”

“I’m her toy for the evening,” Terry said, extending his hand to Alex. She shook it but gave you an exaggerated wink. You waved her off and let your eyes adjust to the dizzying array of spinning neon lights in the club.

The dance floor was full of uncoordinated people jumping up and down to the same four club remixes on repeat. Ugh. “Have you seen Lord AK?” You asked.

Alex shook her head. “Are you meeting up with him?” She asked. 

You nodded and bent closer to be heard over the music. “We’re promoting ‘Down Bad’,” you told her. 

She smiled and nodded her head. “Oh my god, I love that song!” She said.

You flopped onto the couch with Alex and caught up, leaving Terry to sit beside you and scan the club for potential threats. You relaxed as the night went on, going shot for shot with Alex and your girls. 

As the night progressed, some fans dared to approach and ask for pictures. Terry tried to deter them but you went against his orders, taking pictures anyway. It was incredibly brave to even ask. You wouldn’t deny them a quick picture and wave. 

The club finally changed the music to something you could actually shake your ass too. The alcohol warmed your belly and had you feeling yourself. You grabbed Alex’s hand and made your way to the dance floor. 

Terry grabbed your hand as you reached the bottom step of the VIP section. “I can’t protect you around all of them,” he said.

“I wanna dance. You can join meee, boy toy,” you sang, crooking your finger. Terry tilted his head and if you could see his eyes, you were sure he would be judging you. Ah well. You hadn’t had fun in a long time. Your stalker preferred to catch you unawares. The mask had been the creepiest contact so far. 

The fanboy letters and poems were what really creeped you out. You shivered just thinking about it. But that was the point. You didn’t want to think about your stalker. You wanted to have fun. 

Terry let your hand go and then you squealed, getting onto the dance floor and immediately started shaking your ass to the Ying Yang Twins song. You let go. You just followed the rhythm of the music and danced with Alex, pretending you were just a girl in a club, quietly hoping some man would come holler at you for a second. 

You danced in a circle so that it would make you face the VIP section. Terry’s profile was turned towards you, eyeing you as you danced. You put extra flair into your sexy dancing. Swaying your hips, shaking your ass, flirting with him with your body from across the room. 

He watched it all. He didn’t even pay attention to those around him. Didn’t give the waitress a glance as she lingered, hovered, trying to grab his attention. He lifted his fingers to wave her off and she left with a huff. That only made you smile and roll your body to the music. 

The DJ scratched the record, getting everyone’s attention. Everyone turned to the DJ in the middle of the club, up on stage surrounded by a paneled wall full of screens with colors dancing in the display. 

“Ya’ll ready for some hot, new shit? Fresh off the tracks?” The DJ asked. The club screamed. 

“Ya’ll ready or not, damn!” The DJ asked. 

Behind him, Lord AK stepped out with a microphone. “Call me a simp, ‘cause that ass got me mesmerized…” he started rapping the opening lyrics to your song. You screamed, just as shocked as everyone else.

Why didn’t Mirage tell you this was part of the plan? You looked towards the VIP section but Mirage wasn’t there. Were you supposed to sing as well? Were you just there to witness? This mickey mouse shit was unprofessional as fuck. 

Lord AK seemed to know what the hell was going on because he made a beeline through the crowd to you, serenading you with his rap, grinning widely. Gahh, he was so damn cute. If he didn’t have some deep seated fucking issues, that would be your man for real. But after the scare last year at a party, he had disappeared for counseling. 

Fuck it. You grabbed the mic from him when it came time to your part, singing to him, flirting with him and the crowd. You involved them, making them think that they were the ones you were down bad for. 

Mirage’s head bobbed in the crowd. She gave you a harried look, waving a microphone covertly. You pushed on Lord AK’s chest and sang while backing him away. You grabbed the microphone from Mirage just as Lord AK leaned in for a fake kiss. You tapped the microphone on his lips and he grinned, grabbing the microphone and began the breakdown of the song. 

There was a call and response in the middle of the song, getting quicker as the lyrics turned nastier. You and Lord AK circled each other, getting closer and closer, until you reached the climax of the song where you belted out the final lyrics. The club exploded with cheers and whistles. 

The DJ played another one of Lord AK’s songs. The idea was to get people focused on the music, not his hiatus. You felt bad for him, really. He was a talented rapper. People should already focus on the music and not that he was going through shit. Everybody was going through shit. 

Mirage fought her way to you, grabbing your microphone and Lord AK’s. “Fuckin’ Jake sprung this shit on me. By the time I knew, he was already in place and I couldn’t find you and…”

“Babe, breathe,” you said. Mirage stopped mid sentence and took a deep breath. 

“I’m going to fuckin’ kill him,” she said, shaking her head and walking away. 

“I’m sorry, I thought you knew. Somethin’ told me this shit wasn’t right, ‘cause I almost didn’t find you out here,” Lord AK said. 

You waved him off and hugged him, covertly taking a deep whiff of his cologne. He smelled heavenly, like a mix of spiced flowers and sandalwood. You should’ve been having his babies. You inwardly groaned at the loss of your fictional family as you pulled away. 

“It is so good to see you. Need some familiar faces, for real,” you said. 

His grin was wide and genuine, his eyes no longer cloudy now that he got rid of most of his entourage. That whole group had been toxic and you were glad to see him on the other side of it. Healthy looked good on him. 

However, back in his presence, his luminance seemed to dim. He no longer really turned your head. You only had eyes for – him. Terry remained in the VIP section but there was some unknowable expression on his face. You didn’t know him well enough to decipher this particular look. 

He was always so damn grumpy. “How long you here for?” You asked.

Lord AK shrugged his shoulders. “Enough to be seen. Then I’ma dip. This club is ass,” he said. 

“True that. Don’t leave without me seeing you again,” you said.

“You’re gonna see me in LA, girl,” he said.

“And what that mean!” You tapped his shoulder and made your way back to the VIP section. Most of it had cleared out but there were still a few movers and shakers talking, their phones out recording everything. 

The lights began to go crazy, turning the VIP section darker as the lights danced in time with the club remixes again. “Having fun?” Terry asked when you got up the stairs.

“Are you? Have you gotten up once?” You asked.

“Mhm. Just sitting here. Enjoying the free concert,” he said.

You giggled, looking away. You wanted so desperately to ask what he thought of the performance. The words to excuse the behavior were at the tip of your tongue. You wanted to make it clear that it was all an act for you and Lord AK. That you weren’t really into him, ya’ll just had good chemistry. 

But there was nothing to really explain, was there? You didn’t owe Terry an explanation. You grabbed two shots and handed him one. “If this was what you call blending in, it’s so bad. You scream cop,” you said.

“I look good, what you mean?” He asked. He smoothed down the front of his shirt and you shook your head with a giggle. 

“You gotta drink. You gotta dance. Those are the rules,” you said. 

“I don’t drink,” he said. 

“Like a you can’t handle your liquor thing or is this a health nut thing?” You asked.

Terry chuckled. “Health nut?” He asked. 

“You know you can be addicted to working out, right?” You asked. 

Terry shook his head. “I don’t drink on the job,” he said. 

“This isn’t a job. You’re blending. Blending means going method,” you said. Terry sighed and grabbed the shot out of your hand. He knocked it back without a grimace and you matched him, tipping the shot glass back and grinning at him. 

The DJ gave the club remix a break and turned on Post Malone’s “Rockstar”. You squealed and threw up your hands. “I love this song! Dance with me,” you said. You grabbed his hand and tried to pull him to standing. He remained firmly planted in his seat.

“I definitely don’t dance on duty,” he said. 

The alcohol made you petulant. At least that was your excuse and you were sticking to it. You gave up trying to get him to stand so you took another shot for courage and then began dancing in the VIP section.

The neon blue and purple lights danced across the shades he still wore. You couldn’t see his pretty eyes and you pretended that he was a famous person. Someone who understood what it was like to feel lonely in the middle of a crowd. That image quickly disappeared though. You didn’t want a fantasy. 

You wanted to remain yourself. You wanted Terry to remain Terry. The inflexible, professional, gorgeous man who took your safety seriously. The same man who let you peek behind the curtain of his control earlier today. The same man who made you feel in ways you hadn’t in a very long time. 

You turned around and began dancing for him. Just for him. Rolling your ass in a slow circle to the song, bending down as you did so, making your knees do most of the work to entice Terry. 

He adjusted himself in the seat, tilting his head at you. “What are you doing?” He asked, his voice rough. 

“Dancing with you since you won’t dance with me,” you said. You continued to dance, looking back at him every so often to make sure he was still looking. You grew more bold as you danced, now doing it just because. Just because he made you feel normal when so much of your life wasn’t. 

You backed into his lap and mimicked bouncing on it. You grabbed his knees and ground your ass in lap, used him for support while you danced slower and slower. The thrumming beat matched the beat of your heart, turning you bolder. 

You looked over your shoulder and bit your lip, still grinding in his lap. Terry took a deep breath but you weren’t making it easy for him. “You know you want to dance with me,” you said over your shoulder.

Terry leaned forward and grabbed your hips, slamming you down onto his lap. You yelped, feeling a third leg pushing at the fabric of his jeans. He placed his lips next to your ear and whispered, “Behave.” 

You grinned and kept grinding and dancing on him, giving him a lap dance whether he wanted it or not. He didn’t stop you, only gripped your hips harder with his thick fingers. He slowly began to move with you, rubbing his bulge into your ass.

He moved one of his hands from your hips to trail a finger along your exposed, sweaty back. You gasped, feeling electricity pass from his fingers to your skin. You took back control by abruptly standing up, turning around, and climbing into his lap. 

You continued your dance, wriggling in his lap. You bent backwards, stretched, and then rolled forward. Terry dragged a finger down your chest and you wished it was open in the front too. You liked his hands on you. You really, really liked his hands on you.

Your skin grew overheated, waves of heat rolling through your body. Terry gripped your ass and squeezed. You gasped and fell forward, knocked off your rhythm with just a firm grip. You ought to be ashamed you were that easy, but hell, who could blame you? 

When he looked that good? Smelled that good? Felt so damn good? 

Terry leaned forward and you steadied yourself on his shoulders. You braced for those full, lush lips to touch yours. Watched as if in slow motion as he leaned in. Your breathing was so rapid, your chest rose and fell. 

Terry moved one of his hands to your face, bringing you closer by cupping your cheek. Your eyes drooped, too eager to get this over with yet wanting to savor every little second. His hand was hot against your cheek. His breath fanned across your face.

He bypassed your lips to bring his closer to your ear. “I don’t take advantage of drunk women,” he whispered. He licked your neck and you moaned, shivering as if someone dumped a bucket of ice water down your veins. “I like my women sober when they’re riding me.”

You gasped while he stood up and gently placed you on the couch. “Stay here. I’ll grab you some coffee.” 

You stayed put while he disappeared to do just that. You stared after his retreating form, at a complete loss for words. You were hot and bothered. Your flabbers were ghasted. And you were so damn horny you thought you’d pass out. 

Such a bastard. You fanned yourself as Terry returned with coffee and water, making you somehow drink both. He escorted you out of the club with a few stops to take pictures with fans. Despite whatever the hell he thought, you were not drunk. 

He had you tucked into the car before you could say, “Cinderella”. There was nothing to talk about in the car. The interior was too tense. Too thick. Too cloying with the mix of cologne, perfume, sweat, and hairspray. You rode in silence back to your hotel, escorted to the room, and stood silently while Terry checked every nook and cranny of the room. 

“Goodnight, Mr. Terry,” you sang lazily, heading to your bedroom doors. Terry crossed the living room to his side.

“Goodnight,” he said. 

You stared at each other as you closed the doors at the same time. Finally alone, you turned and leaned your back against the door feeling like the biggest fucking loser on the planet. 

Whew. Help yourself to some more treats! The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

Tag list: PLEASE. I love ya'll FRFR.

@planetblaque @chaos-4baby @amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide

@browngirldominion @iv0rysoap @thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00

@judymfmoody @multiversefanfics @tvchi @xo-goldengirl @superhoeva

@avoidthings @lovedlover @blackgurlnhermoods @flydotty @sageispunk

@semi-yah @halfreal-and-halffiction @motheroffae @melaninpov @pinkpantheris

@slutsareteacherstoo @blackerthings @dreamsinfocus @brattyfics @mermaidchansons

@monaeesstuff @henneseyhoe @blowmymbackout @charismablu @playgurlxoxo

@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl7

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[ghostyeyestohide]

the most fun a girl can have is finding parallels, noticing patterns, making connections, contemplating

[ghostyeyestohide]

#Denzel has no business being this funny

[ghostyeyestohide]

The IPASOY Finale, titled ‘What If My Heart Beats Faster?’, will be out by Saturday or Sunday…..we really here.

[ghostyeyestohide]

THIS IS WHAT I WANNA SEEEEEEEEEEEE, MY GAWDDDD

CROWN ROYAL

Your hands on my hips pull me right back to you

I catch that thrust, give it right back to you

You're in so deep, I'm breathing for you

You grab my braids, arch my back high for you

You're diesel engine, I'm squirting mad oil

Down on the floor 'til my speaker starts to boil

I flip s***, quick slip, hip dip and I'm twisted

In your hands and your lips and your tongue tricks

And you're so thick and you're so thick and you're so

Crown royal on ice, crown royal on ice

Crown royal on ice, crown royal on ice…

Brandy is married to a successful, D.C Detective named Alex Cross. They have a happy marriage filled with love and passion, but things become interesting when Alex has an old friend visit for an extended period.

His name is Terry Richmond and he’s a former Marine.

A single, hunk of a man with a strong silent presence.

And apparently a rather sizable…

It wasn’t Brandy’s fault she’d crossed paths with him when he was…

[ghostyeyestohide]

I have an idea for an Alex Cross & Terry Richmond

THREESOME

👀👀👀

[ghostyeyestohide]

They know their audience, hence why it was included!

We not talking about this scene thoooo!! 👀👀👀👀

[ghostyeyestohide]

The Exotic Travelers: Prologue

🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲

do not copy or repost my work. I do not authorize it.

🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲

In the ever growing world of sexual desire and needs, here comes an agency that takes a perfect form of it through a photography.

Eros is one of the most popular erotic photography agencies in the world, generating a lot of attention for its outstanding photos that sells very well at private parties, art galleries, and met galas.

Founded by Mayola, a mid-30s gorgeous, stacked photographer who’s very well known in this. She teaches a new generation of erotic photographers the style of taking pictures of people, things, places, or animals in a suggestive or provocative nature and seeing it as art.

Each employed or freelance photographer is hired by a person or people to shoot them in a city or country of their choosing. Sometimes, they are asked to participate in it, if they consent to it. Which results in a steamy session that makes it hard to choose which photo is the one in the end.

As Mayola sometimes takes a task, she encourages the newcomers to tackle it, including Shai, the newest member of the agency. Doing this out of curiosity, she isn’t sure if she wants to continue this style due to some restrictions she has with it or just go all out after getting into an open relationship with her boyfriend.

When it’s all said and done in the end, they were all: exotic travelers.

🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲 🜲

A/N: So, if you ever heard of the mostly unknown Cinemax After Dark show (which I had no business watching as a kid), you would know the plot.

But for everyone else, it basically follows these two women: one is late 30s (as to me, she didn’t look young, but she was definitely not in her 40s) and the other is the early 20s newbie, who are erotic photographers. Meaning they take pictures of people or a couple doing something sexual, with permission. Both of them do participate (BISEXUALITYMANIA) sometimes, and the older one tells her the stories of pictures that she took or others did, which always ends with….sex, either she’s involved or not. Sorry if this was short and a little ass, it’s the prologue after all!

[ghostyeyestohide]

HE LET THE GOOFY SLIP AGAIN!!!! 😭

i knew it i knew it i knew it i knew it i KNEW IT

the fact that it was the tongue and peace sign immediately made him my age again LOL

im so done for 😭

[ghostyeyestohide]

donate to black trans groups

the following organizations accept donations via Venmo, PayPal or Cashapp:

Homeless Black Trans Women Fund: supports Black Trans women that live in Atlanta and are sex workers and/or homeless

Trans Justice Funding Project: supports grassroots trans justice groups run by and for trans people, focusing on organizing around racism, economic injustice, transmisogyny, ableism, immigration, and incarceration

Trans(forming): membership-based organization led by trans men, intersex, gender non-conforming people of color, to provide resources and all around transitional support

Black Trans Men Inc.: the first national nonprofit social advocacy organization with a specific focus on empowering Black Transgender men by addressing multi-layered issues of injustice faced at the intersections of racial, sexual orientation, and gender identities

Kween Culture: provides programming towards social and cultural empowerment of transgender women of color

Heaux History Project: a documentary series and archival project exploring Black and Brown erotic labor history and the fight for sex workers’ rights

Tournament Haus Fund: mutual aid fund for protesters and trans/non binary BIPOC in the ballroom scene in Portland/Tacoma/Seattle

Black Excellence Collective Transport for Black NYC LGBTQ+ Protesters: raising funds to provide safe transport for Black LGBTQ+ protesters (NYC)

F2L Relief Fund: provides commissary support (and legal representation & financial assistance) for incarcerated LGBTQ+ and Two-Spirit POC in NY state

Trans Sistas of Color Project Detroit: uplifts, impacts and influences the lives and welfare of transgender women of color in Detroit

Black Trans Protesters Emergency Fund organized by Black Trans Femme in the Arts Collective: supports Black trans protesters with resources like bail and medical care

Black Trans Travel Fund: a mutual aid project developed to provide Black transgender women with the financial resources to self-determine safer alternatives to travel, so they feel less likely to experience verbal harassment or physical harm

Reproductive Justice Access Collective (ReJAC): a New Orleans network that aims to share information, resources, ideas, and human power to create and implement projects in the community that operate within the reproductive justice framework

the following organizations can be donated to individually or all-together via this split donation form that will split your donation amount to equal parts:

Okra Project/Tony McDade and Nina Pop Mental Health Fund: provides Black Trans people with quality mental health & therapy and addresses food security in Black trans communities

For The Gworls: provides assistance to Black trans folks with travel to and from medical facilities, and co-pay assistance for prescriptions and (virtual) office visits ⁣

Third Wave Fund: an activist fund led by and for women of color, intersex, queer, and trans people under 35 years of age to resource the political power, well-being, and self determination of communities of color and low-income communities; rapid response grantmaking, multi-year unrestricted grants, and the Sex Worker Giving Circle

Unique Womens Coalition (Los Angeles, CA): supportive organization for and by transgender people of color, committed to fostering the next generation of black trans leadership through mentorship, scholarship, and community care engagement work

Black Trans Women Inc.: a national nonprofit organization committed to providing the trans-feminine community with programs and resources 

SisTers/Brothers PGH (Pittsburgh, PA): A transgender drop-in space, resource provider and shelter transitioning program

Love Me Unlimited for Life: helps transgender community members reach their goals and fulfill their potential through advocacy and outreach activities

My Sistah’s House Memphis (Memphis, TN): designed to bring about social change within the Trans Community in Memphis by providing a safe meeting space and living spaces for those who are most vulnerable in the LGBTQ+ community

Black LGBTQIA Migrant Project: builds and centers the power of Black LGBTQIA+ migrants through community-building, political education, direct services, and organizing across borders; provides cash assistance to Black LGBTQ+ migrants and first generation people dealing with the impact of COVID-19

Taja’s Coalition at St. James Infirmary (San Francisco/Bay Area): navigating housing, medical services, legal services, and the workplace, as well as regularly training agencies

Marsha P. Johnson Institute: helps employ black trans people, build more strategic campaigns, launch winning initiatives, and interrupt the people who are standing in the way of more being possible in the world for black Trans people

Black & Pink Bail Fund: national prison abolitionist organization dedicated to dismantling the criminal punishment system and the harms caused to LGBTQ+ people and people living with HIV/AIDS who are affected by the system 

Black Visions Collective (MN): healing and transformative justice principles and develops Minnesota’s emerging Black leadership, creating the conditions for long term success and transformation

Middle Tennessee Black and Indigenous Support Fund (Middle, TN): a community fund for Black and Indigenous queer and trans folks to foster wealth redistribution in its larger community, direct the funds to Black and Indigenous community members, and build the leadership of Black and Indigenous community members

SNaPCo (Atlanta, GA): a Black, trans-led collaborative to restore an Atlanta where every person has the opportunity to grow and thrive without facing unfair barriers, especially from the criminal legal system

Brave Space Alliance (Chicago, IL): created to fill a gap in the organizing of and services to trans and gender-nonconforming people on the South and West Sides of Chicago

House of GG: a nonprofit, founded trans activist Miss Major Griffin-Gracy, that is raising money to build a permanent home for Transgender people  and be part of a growing network of Southern trans people who are working for social justice

TGI Justice Project: a group of transgender, gender variant and intersex people inside and outside of prisons, jails and detention centers challenging and ending human rights abuses committed against TGI people in California prisons, jails, detention centers

Trans Women of Color Collective: creates revolutionary change by uplifting the narratives, leadership, and lived experience of trans people of color

Youth Breakout (New Orleans, LA): seeks to end the criminalization LGBTQ youth to build a safer and more just New Orleans, organizing with youth ages 13-25 who are directly impacted by the criminal justice system

Translash: a trans-led project uses the power of individual stories to help save trans lives, shifting the cultural understanding of what it means to be transgender, especially during a time of social backlash, to foster inclusion and decrease anti-trans hostility

TRANScending Barriers:  empowers the transgender and gender non-conforming community in Georgia through community organizing with leadership building, advocacy, and direct services

My Sistah’s House: a trans-led nonprofit providing first hand experience and field research to create a one-stop shop for finding doctors, social groups and safe spaces for the trans community, providing emergency shelter, access to sexual health services, and social services

TAKE Birmingham: focuses on discrimination in the workplace, housing advocacy, support for sex workers, providing trans-friendly services, and working to alleviate the many other barriers that TWOC face

Dem Bois: provides charitable economical aid for female to male, FTM, trans-masculine identified person(s) of color ages 21 years old and older for them to obtain chest reconstruction surgery, and or genital reassignment surgery

G.L.I.T.S: approaches the health and rights crises faced by transgender sex workers

Emergency Release Fund (NYC): aims to ensure that no trans person at risk in New York City jails remains in detention before trial; pays cash bails

HEARD: Helping Educate to Advance the Rights of Deaf Communities: supports deaf, hard of hearing, deafblind, deafdisabled, and disabled people at every stage of the criminal legal system process, up to and including during and after incarceration

Black Trans Advocacy Coalition COVID-19 Community Response Grant: works daily to end discrimination and inequities faced in health, employment, housing and education to improve the lived experience of transgender people

Princess Janae Place: provides referrals to housing for chronically homeless LGBTQ adults in the New York Tri-state area, with direct emphasis on Trans/GNC people of color

The Transgender District: aims to stabilize and economically empower the transgender community through ownership of homes, businesses, historic and cultural sites, and safe community spaces

Assata’s Daughters (Chicago, IL): Black woman-led; organizes young Black people in Chicago by providing them with political education, leadership development, mentorship, and revolutionary services

Collective Action for Safe Spaces: A grassroots organization that uses comprehensive, community-based solutions through an intersectional lens to eliminate public gendered harassment and assault in the DC area.

The Knights and Orchids Society (TKO) work for justice and equality through group economics, education, leadership development, and organizing cultural work throughout rural areas in Alabama

The Outlaw Project (Phoenix, AZ): prioritizes the leadership of people of color, transgender women, gender non-binary and migrants for sex worker rights

WeCare TN (Memphis, TN): Supports trans women of color 

Community Ele'te (Richmond, VA): provides safe sex awareness and education, linkage to resources, emergency housing assistance

TAJA’s Coalition (San Francisco, CA): ending violence against Black Trans women and Trans women of color 

Black Trans Task Force: intersectional, multi-generational project of community building, research, and political action addressing the crisis of violence against Black Trans people in the Seattle-Tacoma area

The Transgender District: stabilize and economically empower the transgender community through ownership of homes, businesses, historic and cultural sites, and safe community spaces

Black Trans Media (Brooklyn, NY): #blacktranseverything storytellers, organizers, poets, healers, filmmakers, facilitators that confront racism and transphobia

Garden of Peace, Inc. (Pittsburgh, PA): for black trans & queer youth, elevates and empowers the narratives and lived experiences of black youth and their caretakers, guides revolutionary spaces of healing and truth through art, education, and mentorship

House of Pentacles (Durham, NC): Film Training Program and Production House designed to launch Black trans youth into the film industry and tell stories woven at the intersection of being Black and Trans

Minnesota Transgender Health Coalition (Minneapolis, MN): committed to improving health care access and the quality of health care received by trans and gender non-conforming people through education, resources, and advocacy

RARE Productions (Minneapolis, MN): arts and entertainment media production company for LGBTQ people of color that promotes, produces, and co-creates opportunities and events utilizing innovative artistic methods and strategies

Baltimore Safe Haven (Baltimore, MD): providing opportunities for a higher quality of life for transgender people in Baltimore

Transgender Emergency Fund of Massachusetts: recently helped organize a Trans Resistance Vigil and March through Boston, in place of the Boston Pride Parade that was cancelled due to COVID-19

Semillas: in Puerto Rico, the trans, gender non-conforming and queer communities are facing many obstacles to survival

Street Youth Rise Up: change the way Chicago sees and treats its homeless and street based youth who do what they have to do to survive

[ghostyeyestohide]

Exactly what I needed to see after watching the first episode!

Baby, I'm Yours

Pairing: Alex Cross x John Sampson x Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, threesome, D/s lite, SMUT, PWP, PIV, oral (male receiving), hair pulling, praise kink, spanking, dirty talk, rough sex, orgasm denial, use of vibrator, rope, and blindfold, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. There is a tiny spoiler if you never read the books or watched the first episode.

Summary: You traveled often for work and it was rare to make it back home to D.C. But when you did, your first call was always to your very best friends, John Sampson and Alex Cross. Falling back into old routines, you reminisce over your college days. But, when things turn steamy, both men prove that they still have some tricks up their sleeves.

Word Count: 7,300k

AO3 Link

A/N: If you see this, no you didn't. Can you blame me????? The first five minutes broke me. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

Your hand paused on the restaurant’s doors as you caught a glimpse of your two favorite guys in the entire world through the glass. They never aged a day, both always looking good as the day you met in college. They had a little seasoning now but just looking at them had you out of breath.

John had let his beard grow out, nice and thick. Alex wasn’t too far behind, with a sheen on his beard from the overhead lights that just made him look extra delicious. These men…

You sighed and opened the door and a cold blast of wind hit you in the face, whipping up your hair. You fought with stray hairs as the hostess greeted you and asked for your name. “I’m meeting up with friends, they’re over there,” you said, pointing to your men.

Two of MPD’s finest and they were clueless that you had even walked in. They were engaged in some kind of intense conversation, heads bent towards each other. The hostess took your coat but you only had eyes for them. This. This was what you needed.

On the rare occasion you swung back home, your first stop was always them. Always. 

Finished with the hostess, you made your way through the new and hip restaurant that opened up. It catered to the yuppie Georgetown crowd with its distressed white brick, low ceiling, and mason jar candles on every table. It was supposed to give off old money vibes while remaining current. It only came off pretentious.

“I seem to have found two handsome men who have no business being single at their big ages,” you said by way of announcement. 

John and Alex had their heads ducked close to each other, but each lifted their heads at your announcement. John broke into a wide grin, immediately standing up and giving you a hug. He smelled so good, like honey bourbon and woodsmoke. His thick arms wrapped around you, enveloping you in the way you secretly craved. He made you feel tiny and delicate. Soft.

Alex was slower to get up, that rare grin on his face transforming him into someone more boyish. He stood up and tapped John on the arm. “Let our girl go. Hogging her and shit, man,” he said. 

He pried John’s arms off of you and you giggled while Alex took his turn hugging you. He smelled equally as delicious with something more subtle, more clean. You inhaled deeply and felt your body relax in the presence of two such strong men. 

Alex held out your chair for you and you sat down first, because you knew they wouldn’t until you did. There was a glass of wine already waiting for you. You looked between the two, narrowing your eyes.

John hid his grin behind his hand but you turned your attention to Alex. He lifted an eyebrow at you and you tapped the side of the glass. You lifted it and took a tiny sip, sighing in pleasure at the taste.

“Alex ordered this for me,” you said.

John slapped the table and laughed, looking between the both of you. “You just as bad as him. How did you know?” He asked.

“You have a tell, Johnny,” you said. 

John groaned playfully and rolled his eyes. “Beautiful, gorgeous, love of my life. What must I do to get you to stop calling me that?” He asked. 

You giggled and shrugged your shoulders. “Give it up man, she just likes the way you respond when she does,” Alex said.

You rested your chin in your hand and looked at him. “Are you trying to shrink me, Sugar?” You asked.

John laughed while Alex’s shit eating grin fell from his face. “Alright now,” he said.

“Oh, he can dish it out but can’t take it, huh?” You asked and laughed. A waiter swung by and handed you the menu. You googled the menu before you arrived. You didn’t want to dilly dally. You were only in town for a few days and you knew they were in the middle of a tough case. You didn’t want to miss a second of tonight.

“Alright boys, you know the drill. Drop them drawers,” you said. 

Johnny and Alex laughed, shaking their heads at you. You were oh, so, very serious but it was time to eat first. You all ordered your respective dishes, getting right back into the swing of things as if you never left Washington D.C. 

Alex and John regaled you with all the little things you missed. Things Jannie and Damon had gotten up to. 

“Yeah, Damon got accepted to early Mozart,” Alex said, beaming with pride. His little cheeks puffed out and you fell even more madly in love with him. 

“Get out, really!” You said. “Go head, Damon. I know that was Maria’s doing. She always played so beautifully,” you said. 

Alex’s eyes dimmed but it didn’t snuff out. Not like before. You looked at John who gave you a subtle nod. You took a sip of wine to hide your own nod of acceptance. Good. John had your boy’s back, as always. 

“She really did. He plays just like her,” Alex said.

“I’m so glad. Let me know if there’s ever a recital. I don’t care what I’m doing, I’ll catch a quick flight or train right back here for that!” You said. 

Your food arrived and you thanked the waiter. Steam rose off your lamb covered in a light gravy drizzle, with mashed potatoes with chives, and a vegetable medley. It smelled delicious and the taste was even better. You took a bite, moaning at the taste.

“That never gets old,” John said with a chuckle. He opted for a good old fashioned steak, nearly mirroring Alex’s plate down to the sear marks. 

“Oh hush. Ya’ll act like ya’ll don’t enjoy food too. Like when we were shit faced at three am trying to look for a taco spot,” you said.

“Oh, see, why you gotta bring that up?” Alex groaned, cutting into his steak. 

You giggled, pointing your fork at him. “Because a certain someone thought it’d be a great idea to sing in the quad,” you said. 

“She is never going to let you live that down,” John said with another chuckle. You looked at him and savored that deep chuckle. He was so damn fine, so warm, so welcoming. Your panties had been damp since the moment you stepped into the restaurant, but the more you spent in their presence, the more your panties were soaked. 

“Says the man who ran naked through said quad on a dare?” You asked and swung your gaze to him. John grimaced and dug into his food, muttering under his breath.

“You know, she fails to realize that she’s the mastermind behind all of these little dares and mishaps. Was it not her idea to get shitfaced at 3am instead of studying?” Alex asked, bringing a piece of steak to his mouth. 

He wrapped his lips around the fork deliberately, methodically, and your eyes dropped to his lips as he chewed. He even licked the corner of his mouth. Bastard. You shifted in your seat while John leaned back in his.

“Yeaah, and wasn’t she also the same one who dared me to streak?” He asked. He gave you an assessing look. The type of look that could probably melt the North Pole. You blinked innocently at both of them. 

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. I offer suggestions. You two are grown. Little ole me can’t change your minds,” you said, making your voice extra sugary sweet. You took a tiny sip of your wine and cut into your lamb once more.

The table was so quiet, other sounds of the restaurant started to filter in. The clash of silverware on plates, cups hitting the table, chatter. You looked back up to see twin expressions of “bullshit” stamped all over their faces. 

You burst into laughter, hiding your mouth behind your napkin lest they see any food. Your stomach cramped from laughing so hard, pushing the napkin into your mouth to muffle your sounds. 

“Ya’ll gon’ get us thrown outta this fancy place,” you said.

“Us?” John asked.

“Girl, you must have our roles reversed. You have always been the dangerous one here,” Alex said. He leveled you with a stare hot enough to make heat flash through your body. Your thighs tingled so you looked away, allowing him that small victory. But your eyes only caught on John’s, whose eyes were on fire. You were pretty sure he was undressing you with the way his eyes slowly drooped down to your generous cleavage. Your dress grew a little tighter.

Your lower belly flipped with desire and you struggled to swallow. Did they turn the temperature up in the restaurant? Good god, you were not going to survive the night. You took a deeper pull from your wine glass. 

“I am the innocent one here. An innocent bystander in your shenanigans. A passerby, if you will,” you said. 

John and Alex shared a look before erupting into laughter, shaking their heads and mumbling to each other about the crazy things you got into as a youth. You waved your napkin in their direction.

“I can’t stand ya’ll,” you said with a giggle. 

You updated them on your work and the last few places you visited. You sat back after your meal with a contented sigh and draped the napkin across your lap. “I hadn’t stayed long enough in the past few cities to even visit anywhere. I was in New York last week, didn’t even make it to the museum,” you said and pouted.

“Whaaat? You didn’t get to visit a museum you’ve been to at least a hundred times?” John asked. 

“Shut up,” you said, sticking your tongue out at him. He lifted an eyebrow and you schooled your features, giving him a sweet smile. “It’s still one of my favorite museums, so yes, I have the right to be bummed.” 

Alex chuckled. “Do you remember when you came up with an entire, elaborate plan to break into the museum just to see the tattoo exhibit?” Alex asked.

“Can you blame me? Tattoos are art,” you said. 

John huffed. “Tattoos are a statement. Nothing more, nothing less,” he said. 

You rolled your eyes and looked to Alex for help. “Will you get your boy?” You asked. 

Alex chuckled and waved off John. “We had some crazy times, didn’t we?” Alex asked looking between you and John.

“Crazy, amazing times,” John said, looking pointedly at you. You fingered the stem of your glass, trailing your nail against it. 

You grew unexpectedly shy, feeling as if this was somehow new and familiar all at once. Every time you all came together, it was like lightning in a bottle. You wanted to store it and stare at it, day after day. Night after night. Forever. Instead, you smirked at both of them. 

“We gotta create new memories too,” you said, finishing off your glass. 

“I like the sound of that. Sugar?” John asked, not even glancing at Alex. You did, however. You always worried what this was like for him. If he even enjoyed it. If it somehow hurt him. 

Alex glanced at you as well, giving you a wink. “I think our girl is used to getting what she wants. And she’s been mighty quick with the jabs tonight,” Alex said, lowering his voice. You gasped softly. You looked to John for help but he only smiled and leaned back in his seat.

“Quicker than the Greatest himself,” John said.

You giggled to hide the fact that you didn’t know what to fucking say. You always had some kind of lick back, but fuck, they were making you sweat tonight! You shifted in your seat and shrugged. “Why shouldn’t I get what I want? Don’t I deserve it?” You asked, turning doe eyes to John. 

He faltered, his lips parting a fraction. You blinked a few times and reached out to touch his forearm. “Haven’t I been good?” You asked. 

“And she fights dirty as hell,” John said, shaking his head and recovering. Alex’s chuckle brought your attention to him and he leaned forward, quirking an eyebrow at you. 

“She thinks you’re her ally,” Alex said.

“You can’t read minds, Dr. Cross,” you said, leaning forward to match his energy. 

Alex hummed and nodded his head. “You wanna test that? Want to see if John’s on your side or mine?” He asked. 

You looked back at John who had leaned forward as well. You stared into his big, warm brown eyes. His eyes narrowed, testing you. You tilted your head. He lifted an eyebrow. “Game on, Sugar,” you said to Johnny with a wink. 

He chuckled as Alex called for the check. The anticipation nearly killed you as the waiter approached. He told the waiter, no, you did not want dessert. You shrieked and Alex chuckled, requesting one slice of chocolate cake to go. You grinned with a giggle. You were going to need something after they wore you out!

“Always getting what she wants,” John said, shaking his head. 

“That’s what she thinks anyway,” Alex said. 

You glanced between them, at the shared looks and smirks. You gasped and pointed to both. “You’ve been plotting!” 

They laughed. John shook his head. “Why would we do that?” Alex asked with a wink. The waiter returned with Alex’s card and the chocolate cake in a small paper bag, cutting off your protests. 

You sputtered as the men stood up. John pulled out your chair while Alex grabbed your hand and helped you stand. John whistled low and hummed. “Missed that ass, for sure. You look beautiful. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything earlier,” he said.

Your thighs practically burned at this point. Tingling pinpricks of desire. “You can make it up to me in about ten minutes,” you said.

Alex stepped closer to you and lifted your hand to his mouth. He kissed the inside of your wrist, sliding his rough hand against your softer one. “For someone so drop dead gorgeous and intelligent, you still don’t see the danger you’re in,” he said as softly as if reciting poetry. 

“Danger?” You said.

“Mhm, you sure you don’t have anywhere to be in the morning?” John asked. You looked over your shoulder. You forgot that quick how damn tall John was. You craned your neck as he tilted his head down at you. 

“Oh, we’re cocky tonight,” you said. 

John answered with a grin. He stepped back and allowed Alex to take the lead on escorting you out. Alex grabbed your coat from the hostess and helped you get in while John went ahead, grabbing his car from the valet. 

While you waited by the booth, you stood between both men not feeling an ounce of D.C. weather. Earlier, the wind about your ankles at the bottom of your dress was cold enough to make your teeth chatter. Now, there was just the inherent heat rolling off two powerful men. This was it. This was heaven.

You smirked at your own little joke while the valet brought John’s huge truck around. John helped you climb into the front seat while Alex took the back. “We couldn’t take Alex’s car…?” You pouted. It was damn hard to climb in heels, in the winter, after a six hour flight with a screaming baby in your ear. 

“I can’t fit in that matchbox car,” John said, pulling away from the restaurant. 

“Hey, easy,” Alex said. You giggled and turned around to look at him. 

“I happen to like your car,” you said. 

“Sucking up gets you no favors,” Alex said.

You gasped. “I was not sucking up!” You said, offended he would read you so well. You turned back around with a small huff and John laughed. 

“You would like his car. It’s low to the ground so your ass could fit,” he said. 

You shrieked again, turning wide eyes to Johnny. “You take that back,” you said.

“Is she…did she try to give me an order?” John asked, looking in the rearview mirror at Alex. Alex’s dark chuckle was downright nasty. Your belly clenched listening to it. 

“You know what, I think she did,” Alex said. They laughed and joked on the short ride to your hotel. Somehow this morphed to an understanding that this would always take place at your hotel. 

Alex had his kids and Nana Mama at the house and while John’s bed may have worked, you all agreed that you needed the biggest bed available at all times. Plus, at the hotel, you were guaranteed not to be interrupted. 

John slipped into an available parking spot and you led the way inside the upscale hotel. Alex whistled as he saw it and you waved him off. “Oh you know the company, looks matter,” you said, waving him off. 

At the elevator doors, the boys naturally took up their places on either side of you. You almost felt like royalty, getting escorted by bodyguards. Very sexy bodyguards. This was like every bodyguard romance you ever read and you grinned. 

An older couple joined you just as the gilded elevator doors opened. You pinched your lips but didn’t say anything. Fuuuuuck, you hoped their room was on the next floor or something. You wanted to tell them to catch the next one. But John put his hand on your lower back and pushed you inside when the doors opened.

You followed, if only to hurry everything along, and the couple entered behind you with a smile. Before the doors closed, a man in a hotel uniform entered carrying fresh towels. Good fucking grief. 

You shifted your weight to one of your heels, putting you closer to John. He wrapped his arm around your back, hand sliding down to your ass. You gasped, looking up at him and he licked his lips. “Behave,” he mouthed to you. 

You ran your tongue over your canine, ready to tell him about himself, when he squeezed your ass and you almost collapsed against him. The elevator rose and rose and rose while John fondled your ass. You were all the way in the back and everyone else faced forward. The gilded elevator was shiny enough to show parts of your reflection and you looked at John. Was he aware? Was he doing it on purpose? This seemed new, even for him. 

You gasped again when rough fingers grabbed your thigh through the slit in your dress. You turned to Alex who winked at you. The elevator stopped and the staff member got off to deliver the towels. 

The doors slid closed and then the ascent made you jerk. But the dueling hands on your body, pawing at you in public, made you tremble with need. You had other lovers, some you tended to hit up when you reached their city again, but there was no one like your two best men. Absolutely no one. They worked in tandem, pushing into your fleshy skin as if it were practiced.

Your clit throbbed, pressure building in your lower belly. You were going to faint, you just knew it. It took all of your concentration not to fall to your knees and suck them both off in the elevator. You knew a guy who could break into the hotel’s security cameras and delete the footage.

The elevator mercifully dinged again and the old couple waved and said goodbye as they got off. Without the cover, John and Alex’s hands disappeared to save your modesty. Fuck that. You were panting and shaky, beyond horny. 

“You do not play fair,” you said, breathless. 

“Never did,” John said as the elevator stopped on your floor. He held the door open for you and waited for you to pass him. Alex followed behind.

“Never will,” Alex said, placing his hand on your lower back and walking with you to your door. Johnny was almost like a real bodyguard, standing a little ways behind you since the hallway wasn’t that big. 

You rolled your eyes as you approached your door, opening it, and the men let you inside first. You turned on lights as you walked further in, immediately shucking off your heels. You moaned as your feet sank into the plush crimson carpet. 

The door closed and then some of the overhead lights winked out. You turned to watch your boys stalking towards you. Alex looked edible in his dark gray turtleneck and dark slacks. He rubbed his beard, smoothing it down as he gave you a full body scan. 

John had a long sleeve wine colored shirt paired with gray slacks. You watched as he rolled up his sleeves, exposing his forearms. He left the lamp light on, but crossed to your window and opened the curtains. 

City lights filtered in, turning the room from just another hotel room to something otherworldly. You were focused on John so you jumped when Alex’s hands rubbed your shoulders. “Relax, it’s just us,” he cooed in your ear. 

John smirked as he crossed the room and turned off the lamp light, bathing the room in a mix of reds, blues, and golds across your floor and the king sized bed. 

“That’s not why I’m jumpy,” you said, out of breath as if you ran a marathon. If they didn’t start soon, you were going to fucking lose it. 

“Where’s your bag?” John asked. 

“Why?” You shivered as Alex’s hands roamed your body, taking in your curves. 

“Damn girl, this body get thicker every time I see you,” he said. You nudged him with your elbow and laughed. 

John opened the closet door and pulled out your bag. “I know your nasty ass always comes…” he said and rummaged through your open suitcase. “Prepared.” He held up your travel vibrator and you giggled. 

“This sounds more like torture than a fun evening for me, boys,” you said. 

“Aww, you think this is for you,” Alex said. His fingers found your zipper and he pulled. The rip-like noise was loud in the suite. He pulled, exposing your back. His fingers followed the zipper, his finger moving down your spine. He hissed. “No bra, John.” 

John groaned, crossing the room to join you. He tugged at the front of your dress, pulling the straps down your arms. He yanked until your breasts popped out and he groaned. “So fucking beautiful,” he said.

You looked down to see him pitching an impressive tent. You reached out to cup him but John tsked at you and moved his hips away. You grunted, blinking through a foggy mind. “Aw come on. Don’t start with the teasing,” you said.

You wanted to cum, dammit. Alex unexpectedly grabbed your arms and drew it behind your back. You gasped, flush against his equally impressive bulge. You couldn’t help arching your back. He rested his head against yours, kissing your cheek. 

“We thought we’d try something a little different tonight. Trust us?” He asked. He nodded to John who tugged off the rest of your dress. Cold air and red light hit your skin and you moaned at the rough way John slipped off your dress. 

“You know I trust you,” you said. John tossed your dress against the couch on the far side of the suite. 

“You remember our safeword, gorgeous?” Alex asked. 

“Safeword?” You tried to look over your shoulder to Alex but he held you firm. Wrists clasped in his much larger hands. Fuck. You hadn’t needed a safeword with these two for quite some time. The sex was never boring, it just evolved into lots of touching and rubbing and slow lovemaking. This…this was definitely different.

John crossed the room once more, licking his lips as his eyes dipped to your nipples. He produced a rope and blindfold in his hand, your vibrator in the other. “What’s your safeword?” John asked. 

John handed the rope to Alex who tied it around your wrists. When he was done, you tested his knot skills. You couldn’t break free even if you really tried. Your thighs trembled. “L-Lemon,” you said.

“There’s our girl. She earned a kiss,” John said, leaning down to capture your lips with his. You moaned, suckling his lips and tasting the bourbon he had earlier. 

John pulled back with a wink and then handed the blindfold to Alex who promptly placed it over your eyes. You pouted, denied the pleasure of seeing them now. John moved away and he started moving in front of you, probably taking off his pants.

“Wait, so I don’t even get to see your dicks?” You asked. Maybe you needed to re-think this whole trust thing. They clearly didn’t know you at all. Best friends your ass. 

Alex swatted you so fast that it took a moment before the sting blossomed on your ass. “Oh, fuck,” you shook, knees buckling. He held you up with one arm around your middle. He pulled you against his still clothed body and then sunk his hand into your panties.

“Fuck, you been like this since the restaurant, haven’t you?” He asked.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned. He didn’t touch you. Instead, he swirled his finger through your damp hair, rubbing the outside of your slit, gathering up all the essence you leaked out. 

“Fuck, fuck,” you moaned, moving your hips. Trying to guide his hand where you wanted. 

John chuckled. “I got her,” he said. John snatched off your panties, yanking it down your legs, over your feet, before you had a chance to yelp. You were completely bare before them and you couldn’t see their reactions.

“Only say your safeword if you mean it,” Alex said. Damn mind reader. You huffed and deflated. 

“Look at that, she earned another kiss,” John said. He gripped your elbow and spun you around so Alex could grab your cheeks and kiss your socks off. He groaned, pushing his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues dueled before John tugged you away. You whimpered, leaning forward. 

“What do I have to do to earn another?” You asked. 

John laughed and kissed below your ear. “Be a good kitten,” he said. 

Your clit throbbed as John pushed you down onto the bed on your knees. Your ass hung in the air and John wasted no time giving you a few swats. You hissed after each one. He smacked your ass like a punching bag, hard as hell. Each bloom of heat went straight to your pussy, making you drip down your leg. 

You heard more rustling as Alex presumably took off his clothes as well. You missed the slow teases. The easy loving. But you could definitely get used to this. Used to the way they pushed you around. 

Soft buzzing clicked on and then John shoved it into your pussy, to the highest setting. “Oh shit!” You screamed out, falling flat on your face with no arms to support you. 

“Shh, shh, shh, you’re not allowed to cum yet,” John said. 

“Why?” You gasped, biting your bottom lip to keep from screaming out. Your body had been hyper aware all day, stuck in a state of lust as you pictured how tonight would go. The easy banter, the memories rushing to the forefront. The way you liked to give each other shit and tease. 

You barely focused during your earlier meeting, thoughts of playing hide the sausages on constant repeat in your mind. The multiple orgasms, that was your favorite part. So far, they held the reigning count for how many times you could come in one night with no break. And now….they said you couldn’t come? 

“And before your bratty ass thinks of cumming anyway, just know, you won’t like that punishment,” Alex said. “If you think John hits hard…”

You shivered and shook, your whole body bowing under the weight of that dangling thought. You were tempted to do it any fucking way. Who did they think they were? But it was really nice when they gave you your two rewards. You wanted more. Okay…fine…you’d play along. For now.

“Fuck,” you moaned as the vibrator moved as your pussy clenched around it. John kept a firm grip on it, not allowing it to go too deep inside. 

John leaned down and bit your ass. You moaned, kicking your feet. He stepped forward and trapped your feet between his legs. He bit you again. “Good kitten,” he purred. 

Once you were done fighting, he maneuvered you on the bed with ease. Until you straddled a corner of the bed. Alex stepped in front of you, pushing strands of hair from your face. You moaned, already smelling the husky scent of his heavy dick. 

It was cruel that you couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see how hard he was or if he was already leaking pre-cum. You moaned, pussy clenching around the toy once more. John chuckled cruelly behind you. “I don’t think we’re gonna have to wait that long, Sugar. She already did half the work for us,” he said.

“Naw, she can give us more. Open your mouth,” he commanded. 

You whimpered but complied, opening your mouth. You swore that you could already taste him on your tongue. You waited a beat, then two, before Alex chuckled and slapped your face with his dick.

You moaned, feeling the thick tip slap against your cheeks and bounce on your bottom lip. His pre-cum left a few wet spots around your mouth and you leaned forward. John grabbed your hips and pulled you back towards him.

You groaned, denied from both of them. “Let me cum,” you begged. Alex slapped your face with his dick. 

“I said mouth open,” he said.

You pouted but quickly opened your mouth again. John pulled at the vibrator, pushing it in and out of your dripping hole. You moaned, fucking back on it. John groaned, his free hand rubbing and squeezing your ass. 

Alex finally shoved his dick in your mouth, down further than where you would have started. Your jaw popped trying to fit all of him inside. Alex groaned, and gripped your hair to start fucking your mouth. 

The vibrator disappeared and John sank into your pussy on a long, sustained groan. Like he was coming home after being away at war for a year. They were somehow both out of sync and in it. Pulling and pushing you between them like you were a live finger trap for their dicks. 

John gripped your hips and fucked you, fingers digging into your skin, as he stretched you completely around his monster. You screamed around Alex’s dick, wishing more than anything that you could see. 

Male pleasure was its own aphrodisiac between the moans and the looks on their faces. When they threw their head back and lost themselves in you. Fuck, you never got used to that feeling of power. That feeling of sexiness that it brought. That you could tame not one but two powerful Black men. And they denied it to you. 

Alex was no better, gripping your hair and forcing you to take his dick as if John wasn’t there pulling you away. Saliva pooled on either side of your mouth, dripping down your chin. You moaned around his dick, feeling it rub against the inside of your cheek.

Pressure built in your lower belly. Your moans turned frantic, desperate, as you rode them both. As a unit, they both stopped pumping into you. 

“Nooo,” you moaned around Alex’s dick. John treated you to a smack on the ass. He gripped your hair out of Alex’s grasp and pulled you back to lift onto your knees. 

“You. Are. Not. In. Control. Right. Now,” John kissed into your neck and ended it with a lick. Alex grabbed your breasts in his hands, smashing them together so he could lick both of your nipples.

“Fuck,” you moaned. Alex stopped and then the bed dipped as Alex climbed on top, kneeling in front of you. “Now take his dick like a good kitten, and you’ll get to cum. Suck him real good. I’ve seen that nasty ass mouth suck him dry in five minutes flat. Can you beat that?” John asked, nibbling at your earlobe.

Um…what? Your mind was a blur. Empty. Gone. Deceased as Alex shoved his dick back into your mouth and fucked you like there hadn’t been a factory reset on your brain. Your instincts kicked in, aided by your fierce competitive side, as you busted out all of the tricks. It was no longer about playing their game. You just wanted to beat your personal best. Alex moaned and gripped your throat, alternately squeezing and letting go.

John kept his grip on your hair as he fucked into you, slamming your ass on his dick. Loud, lewd smacking and sucking filled the room. Filled with frantic, rushed groaning and grunting. Your moans were pornographic, sucking down Alex like your life depended on it. 

You used your tongue more, teasing the underside of the head while he stroked. “Fuck, fuck,” Alex moaned. 

“She squeezing the fuck outta my dick,” John moaned, slapping your ass just because. “You like taking dick, don’t you?” John asked.

“Mhmm,” you moaned. How long had it been? How long did you still have to go? You took a deep breath and trusted Alex to get deeper, down to his base. You sucked and Alex groaned, his grip on your throat getting tighter. 

“Hmm, fuck,” Alex moaned, cumming down your throat without a warning. 

“Swallow it down,” Alex cooed. “Swallow that shit.” 

You drank deeply, letting his thick cum slide down your throat with ease. Alex tapped your cheek, huffing with spent breaths. He eased out of you and let John push you forward.

“Good kitten, you earned another reward,” he said. He kept a hand on your back as he stroked into you. He pushed forward, making you take all of him, making you take him while he bottomed out and slammed his dick inside. 

“Fuck, fuck, I can’t-, I can’t hold–,” you whined.

“Yes, you can. You want a bigger reward?” John grunted.

“Yesss,” you moaned. 

“Hold on,” John said. “Fuck, good pussy. Good pussy. Good pussy,” he said, getting more and more breathless with each punishing stroke. He slammed into you one last time, unloading a thick load. He filled you to the brim. Tip throbbing against your core. 

You began to whine, limbs shaking. “You can cum, kitten,” John cooed.

You came instantly, flooded relief coursing through your veins as you added to the mix of juices spilling out of you. John fucked you through it, his dick still rock hard and lethal. He brushed against your sweet spot and you leaned forward, trying to get away.

“Mhmm, take that dick, baby. We’ve been dreaming ‘bout this ever since you said you were coming back to town. Dreaming of you taking us again and again and again,” Alex said, pushing you back into position. He kept his hands on your neck, keeping you in place.

“Fuhhh-” you cried, falling into another orgasm. One rolled right into the next one, your eyes rolling back into your head. Your body was slick with sweat. You shivered on John’s dick. Your wrists burned from trying to get loose. Trying to get away. 

You stopped convulsing on John’s dick and he sighed, slapping your ass while he slipped out of your pussy. You groaned, pushing his load out. “Fuck, fuck,” you moaned. 

John gave you one last smack and then grabbed you, yanking you to the edge of the bed and then flipped you over onto your back. You groaned. You were spent. You were done. There was no way you could survive more. 

“You came without permission. Which is okay, you won’t get punished for it. But now we’re going to play a game,” Alex said. The bed dipped under his weight as he got up from the bed. 

“How you feelin’, kitten?” John asked. 

You licked your lips. “Good,” you squeaked. 

Both men chuckled. Like it was sweet. You turned your head listening for any clues on what they were up to. 

“Are you sure?” Alex asked. They moved about the room, switching places, checking in on you as you recovered from a powerful orgasm. 

“Be honest,” John said.

“I’m sure. I can keep going. I like this,” you said. “I missed this.”

John came closer and pecked you on the lips. “So did we.” 

Alex was next to peck you on the lips and then they were gone again, leaving you on the bed alone. 

“We’re going to take turns back in that sweet pussy of yours. If you can guess correctly each time, you get to cum after. If not, we get to fill that pussy up before you get to cum,” Alex explained. 

“Both of you?” You asked. A little panicked. How could you hold off an orgasm with both of them using you until they both filled you? They said it was a set up but it didn’t sink in just how much. They were fucking you like they wanted to keep you. Like they wanted you to stay. You promised yourself that you couldn’t let them hold onto that dream.

You wanted both of them. Heaven knew you couldn’t choose. Both had qualities that you were drawn to. And while you had fun for these trysts, these passionate affairs, you knew that they would hate you eventually. That they would make you choose between them. Both were too proud and possessive to settle for anything less. 

“Both of us,” Alex confirmed. 

“Fuuuck,” you moaned, dropping your head to the bed. They chuckled, growing quiet. A pair of hands gripped you and shoved in. You were still a bit sensitive so you hissed, hands flexing, wishing you could reach out and grab them. 

The dick was huge, massive, splintering you but fuck if you could tell off hand who it belonged to. They were both big. A few more strokes before he stilled. “Uh-uh, Alex?” 

“Very good,” Alex said. He slipped out and then there was a beat before hands pushed your thighs apart. He entered you, stretching you very fucking well. To the point that you were seeing fireworks behind the blindfold. 

“J-John,” you moaned. 

“She thinks she knows us,” John cooed and leaned down to kiss you. You kissed him back with hungry fervor before he pulled away, pinching your nipple as he slipped out of you. You moaned as he stepped away.

Next, hands pushed down on either side of your waist and he entered you slowly, methodically. “Oh fuck,” you moaned. “John,” you cried.

He chuckled and rewarded you with another kiss. “She’s too good at this, Sugar,” John said. 

Alex chuckled as well as John slipped out. Your lips were fucking parched, tummy ready to cave in. You were so close to the brink again. Too close to tipping over. 

One entered you for a few strokes before stepping away and the other took over. They went back and forth, making you dizzy, unable to keep up with the differences between the both of them. “Fng, ung, ung,” you moaned, getting wetter by the second. 

“Making a sexy fucking mess,” Alex moaned while he was in you, balls deep, having you making incoherent sounds, singing the national anthem in latin for all you knew. 

He left and then it was back to the silence. Nothing but your squelching pussy accepting both of them. Both of them were a perfect fit. You were pretty sure that it was John who entered you this time, slamming into you a little rougher. Your legs shook pathetically. 

You whined and moaned, a cramp stabbing you in the lower belly from the overwhelming need to cum. To release this tension. This one slipped out and your pussy was still clenching, still seeking to be filled. 

You cried in frustration, tears leaking down the sides of your face. “Please,” you whispered.

Alex’s scent washed over you as he leaned down and gave you a sweet, scorching kiss. “Which one of us entered you first?” Alex asked against your lips.

“What?” You asked. Did he…did this motherfucker really think you remembered who entered you first?????

“Time’s ticking, kitten,” John asked, slapping his dick against your pussy. He rubbed his tip through your slick folds and you cried out, twisting, trying to get away from how good he felt. 

“I-I-.” Fuck, who had it been? You tried to think past the haze, past the fog, but you were coming up empty. Fuck it, you had a fifty-fifty chance of being right. “Alex. It was Alex,” you panted, but said it with enough authority to convince them you were right. As if you could will it.

They were silent for a moment. So long that you thought you got it wrong. Fuck, how were you going to survive? 

“Very good, baby,” Alex said. He kissed you once more, moaning around your lips. He pulled away and gently pushed you to the side, freeing your hands from your restraints. He rubbed feeling back into your arms with John’s assistance. You moaned and sighed as feeling returned to your limbs. He gripped your thighs and pulled your ass to the end of the bed.

He didn’t tease, thank god. He just fed you his dick and you moaned, loudly. John chuckled, dropping onto the bed with a huff and grabbing your left titty. He wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking, teasing, nibbling as Alex rocked into you quickly but softly. 

John played with your other nipple, sucking it into his mouth. “Can you take me too, kitten?” John asked, rubbing his beard against your skin. You moaned, reaching out to grip and tug at his hair. 

“Let me taste you,” you begged. 

“That’s our girl,” Alex cooed as John scooted up the bed to land next to your face. He leaned on his side while he pushed his dick through your lips, stroking in and out with more gentleness than he displayed all night. You stayed connected like that, being the bridge between them.

“I’m gonn-” you moaned around John’s dick as you came on Alex’s. His dick throbbed as you flooded his dick with your essence. He moaned, stroking until he followed right after. John followed shortly behind with a soft grunt, spilling down your throat. You drank him down as well, slurping up every single drop. 

The room filled with your combined heavy breathing. Both men slipped out of you and then the blindfold was lifted. You blinked into the dark room, the window all but a distant memory in your mind. 

The city was still so bright and vibrant, cars moving up and down the road. You looked between your sexy men, grinning up at them. You yawned and stretched, your arms popping from being held behind you for so long. 

“Come on, let’s give you your real reward in the bath,” John said.

“I can’t survive another one,” you said sleepily, leaning forward to drop your cheek against Alex’s stomach. He chuckled and lifted your chin, stealing a kiss. 

“Yes you can. Unless there’s a certain word you wanna say?” He asked.

You bit your lip as you looked at him and then over your shoulder at John. His smile grew and then you turned back to Alex. 

“Lead the way then,” you said with a put upon sigh. You all chuckled as you headed to the bathroom with your vibrator where they proceeded to let you cum a few more times. 

The end.

Ya'll know me by now, I can't help it! The Secret Alex Cross Files

Taglist: @planetblaque @westside-rot @babybratzmaraj @chaos-4baby @blackerthings

@amethyst09 @ciaqui @we-outsiiiide @browngirldominion @iv0rysoap

@thecookiebratz @harmshake @00aijia00 @judymfmoody @multiversefanfics

@tvchi @softimgyu @thecapodomme

[ghostyeyestohide]

Terry is gonna go insane when he finally gets his hands on her, AHHHHHHHHHH

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for. 

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries? 

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex? 

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit. 

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time? 

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate. 

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan. 

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors. 

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent. 

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner. 

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad. 

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief. 

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend? 

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it. 

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest. 

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice. 

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not? 

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes. 

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit. 

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body. 

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy. 

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you. 

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing. 

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun. 

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks. 

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic? 

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off. 

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut. 

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath. 

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed. 

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box. 

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick. 

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia. 

“That was…different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits. 

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies. 

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire. 

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out. 

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness. 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said. 

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said. 

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?” 

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips. 

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes. 

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said. 

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser? 

It was impossible. Hopeless.  

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn? 

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release? 

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said. 

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body. 

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro. 

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again. 

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question. 

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said. 

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man. 

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute. 

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had��nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. 

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell. 

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them. 

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands. 

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal. 

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it? 

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent. 

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas. 

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside. 

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with. 

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face. 

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring. 

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered. 

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files

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@misskiki90 @miyuhpapayuh @satoruya @starcrossedxwriter @yamst3rdamctrl

@steampunkprincess147 @sweettea-and-honeybutter @theblacklewinsky @soft-persephone @notapradagurl

@thegreatlibraryofalex @amyhennessyhouse @hihellogoodbyebruh @becauseimswagman1

[ghostyeyestohide]

Save Mohammed ….

Hello, Please Help Me – My Son May Die at Any Moment. Donate or at Least Share This Appeal. I am in desperate need of your help. My son’s life is hanging by a thread, and he may not survive without urgent medical treatment. Time is running out, and we are facing a critical situation. I am asking for your generosity to help us save him – either through a donation or by sharing this urgent plea with others.

I beg you, kiss your feet, to help my son. My son may die at any moment

Donate now:👇👇 gofundme.com

gaza #free_palestine #Save_Mohammed #genocide

please help if you can 🙏🏽

[ghostyeyestohide]

about time you made gifs of this!

AARON PIERRE Prime Suspect Tennison (2017)

redoing these because i'm procrastinating doing genius

[ghostyeyestohide]

Decided that the first shot of the planned Exotic Travelers series is going to be thee Terry Richmond because it just makes sense to do him first…….

[ghostyeyestohide]

Black women are powerful

[ghostyeyestohide]

Bellerose, #Queens