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bobbyfloyd · 2 months ago

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bite the hand | bob floyd

description: in which a benevolent alpha and a wounded omega are brought together in a painful twist of fate

*listen to the playlist here

pairing: werewolf!bob x werewolf!reader

w/c: 20,310 (i am so sorry)

warnings: 18+ only, angst with a positive ending, blood and injury, mentions of death, depictions of grief, attempted murder, blood and gore, violence, smut, werewolf mating ritual, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, knotting, i'm probably forgetting some things

notes: this story has been over a year in the making. it is fully inspired by different conversations and an ask sent by @withahappyrefrain! this story is dedicated to you abby, the werewolf bob fic wouldn't be what it is without you!

wanna be added to my taglist? go here

You had never felt such terror in your life.

Rushing through your veins like ice water, fraying your nerves. Your fear was what pushed you to run, bare feet pounding against the forest floor, plants and branches lashing at your exposed skin, like slithering snakes trying to wrap around your limbs.

Your lungs burned with the labor of your breaths, slicing through you as if you’d inhaled shards of glass. But you ignored the pain, wild eyes searching your surroundings, desperate to find a place of solace.

You were almost there. Sanctuary was close, but you were so fatigued from running that you feared you might collapse before you found it. And to be out here alone and injured meant certain death. Even so, you pressed on, animal instincts taking over, allowing you to zip through the woods in the dark, based on memory alone.

You leapt over obstacles, throwing yourself forward, suddenly struck with an overwhelming sense of relief when you saw lights in the distance. Hope.

But as you lurched onward, you failed to see the slope of the earth until it was too late. The ground gave way beneath your feet, and you were free-falling, crying out in shock as your body tumbled down a steep hill. Down, down, down, until you came crashing to a jarring halt at the bottom. Battered. Covered in dirt. But alive.

And then you heard frantic voices. Shouting. The shuffling of feet. But you were not frightened. These voices did not belong to the enemy. They belonged to your saviors. When a light shone upon you, you held your hands out, palms facing outward, assuring them you meant no harm.

A woman’s voice cut through the air. “Oh my god,” she breathed. Then, desperately; “Get Bob! Hurry!”

She knelt in front of you, her face coming into your line of sight, illuminated by the harsh beam of a flashlight. Deep brown eyes swept over your trembling form. Recognition slackened her expression. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay,” she assured you, voice trembling. She looked frightened. Shocked.

Another voice rang through the night. One you knew so well. The moment you heard it, tears sprang to your eyes. He was here. Bobby had come to your aid. Everything was going to be okay.

He could smell you before he saw you. A familiar scent that hit him like a ton of bricks, stealing his breath away. His gait faltered momentarily, legs going slightly numb as he processed it. The scent was clouded by the sour smell of distress. It made his nose twitch and his mouth curl into a slight grimace. As he walked toward the pack, they parted to reveal you in the midst of them, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

He swayed slightly, as he took in the sight of you. You looked like you had been through hell. Old, unhealed slashes marred your skin. Your clothes were torn and dirty. Your eyes were filled with such sadness and fear that it made him physically ache.

“Natasha, what happened?” Bob heard himself ask, but his voice sounded disembodied, as if it was coming from somewhere else. His legs carried him toward you, as you tried to pull yourself upright. But you were too weak to do so. He was struck with a feeling so overwhelming, he knees almost buckled.

“She…she just came crashing down the hill,” Natasha informed him, her own voice trembling. She’d been on lookout duty when you arrived. So had Jake and Bradley.

Bob nodded, brow furrowing as he looked upon you. You turned your head, and your eyes locked with his. He gasped softly as you suddenly whimpered, irises flashing bright yellow, mouth parting as your fangs elongated.

You were struck with something so powerful in his presence. His scent, his demeanor. He was the alpha of this pack. A fact you had already been aware of. But it still hit you like a monstrous wave, and before you realized what was happening, you were bowed low upon the ground, right at his feet.

A display of submission.

But Bob found himself lowering to his knees, falling before you, his large hands coming up to so gently cradle your face. “Who did this to you?” He whispered, breathing ragged. Labored. He had a feeling who the culprit was. Who had put their hands on you with intent to harm you. There was a fresh, partially healed scar on the side of your neck. Surely put there by the claws of an angry wolf.

But you couldn’t speak. You simply whimpered, grabbing at his arms, silently begging him to grant you refuge within the confines of his pack. He would never turn you away.

Knowing he wasn’t going to get any answers out of you in this state, he looked up at Natasha. “Go get Penny,” he told her. She nodded somberly before she turned on her heel, moving quickly into the compound, seeking out Penny Benjamin, the pack healer.

Then Bob looked to the rest of the pack members gathered around him. Jake, Bradley, Mickey, Javy, Reuben, Pete. Awaiting the instructions of their alpha.

“Mickey, go ahead of me, make sure the house is ready. I’ll put her in my room.” With a nod, the dark haired beta turned, headed into the compound to do exactly as Bob had said.

Bob looked at the five other wolves. “Pete, stay here and watch the perimeter. The rest of you, sweep the woods. Make sure she wasn’t followed. Once I know more details, I’ll call a pack meeting and fill everyone in.”

“What if we find someone out there?” Bradley asked, face hard set.

“Bring ‘em back to the compound so we can get to the bottom of this.”

“And if they put up a fight?” Jake spoke up.

Bob squared his shoulders. “Do what you must to protect the pack.” His word was final. It left no room for debate. Threats to his family were dealt with very swiftly.

With that, the group headed off into the woods, and the young alpha let out a shuddering breath, turning toward you, still crumpled on the ground. His heart ached within his chest, heavy with sorrow as he gazed at you.

“What happened to you, little pup?” He asked, more to himself than you, as you were in no state to answer, barely conscious. He scooped you up in his arms, supernatural strength allowing him to carry you with ease. Immediately, you curled into him, face buried against the side of his neck, just over his scent gland, breathing in deep.

All the fight had left your body. But you didn’t need to struggle anymore.

“I’ve got you,” Bobby whispered, lips ghosting over your forehead. “I’m here, you’re safe now.”

With you cradled against his chest, he rushed into the compound, which was a small, gated neighborhood made up of well-built, modern cabins. Shielded from the outside world. Bob’s house was directly in the middle of the compound, and he reached it in minutes, where he found Natasha and Penny already waiting on his doorstep.

“How bad is it?” Penny asked.

“Can’t tell, but she needs help. Now,” he breathlessly replied as he carried you up the porch steps. Nat opened the door for him to hurry through, and he carried you up the open staircase and down the hall, where Mickey had already turned on the bedroom light and made sure the bed covers were turned down.

Bob ducked into the room and very carefully lowered you into his bed. Even in your delirious state, you could smell him on the sheets, and you curled up against the mattress, burying your face against the pillows and inhaling deeply.

He looked at Mickey. “I sent everyone else out to patrol the woods and see if she was followed. I want you at the gate with Pete. If they bring anyone back with them, come get me.”

“On it,” Mickey responded, already turning to head out the door, sidestepping Nat and Penny on his way out.

The two came into the room, Nat closing the door behind her. She looked at Bob. “Do you want me out there on the perimeter with them?”

But he shook his head. “Better if you stay here, I think she’d probably feel more comfortable with you in the room.”

Once upon a time, you and Natasha had been very close. Bob assumed her presence would calm you.

It had been two years since any of them had seen you last. Your packs had been friendly with each other, a long time ago. In fact, your families had planned to strike an alliance with Bob’s, joining together as one. But when a new alpha came into power, that hope was quickly dashed.

Your alpha took you away, and Bob thought he would never see you again. Yet here you were, having just stumbled back into his life, bloody and bruised and terrified out of your mind. Bob was not one to act rashly, but he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that your alpha was responsible for your state. And he determined right then and there that he would not let him get away with laying hands on you. Bob would make sure he could never harm anyone ever again.

He could not imagine harming any of his betas. Each and every wolf under him was family. Not by blood, but by a supernatural bond. They had all pledged their undying loyalty to Bob. And he took that loyalty very seriously. He would never abuse his power. To be their alpha was his greatest privilege.

They would be looking to him now, in this situation. Wanting to know how he was going to handle things. That was to be determined. First, he needed to speak to you, and get some answers. If you were even up for giving him any. He would not push you to talk if you weren’t ready.

Bob took a seat on the edge of the bed, reaching out slowly, placing his hand upon your shoulder. “Can you hear me, pup?” He couldn’t help but use the nickname. It was what he’d always called you, and although time had passed since you’d seen each other, the name rolled off his tongue with ease, as if you hadn’t been apart at all.

You stirred slightly, letting out a soft whimper. He took that as confirmation that you could hear him. “I asked Penny to take a look at you, and make sure you’re okay. If you want to stop at any time, just say the word, and it’s over, alright?”

You managed to open your eyes, though heavy as they were, vision slightly blurred. But you could see Bob’s kind face, and it put you at ease.

“A-alright,” you croaked. You would do whatever he asked, because you trusted him.

“Natasha’s here too,” he continued, “thought you might want that.”

Your gaze flitted to where she stood at the foot of the bed, and you attempted a smile. If you’d been more lucid, you would have seen the unshed tears shining in her eyes. It broke her heart to see you this way.

Then Penny was moving to sit in the space that Bob no longer occupied, speaking gently to you. “Hi there,” she began, “it’s good to see you again. I wish it was under better circumstances. I want you to know that I’ll do whatever I can to help you, okay?”

She held a medical bag in her hand, which she set on the nightstand beside the bed. Here, in better light, your injuries were easier to see. An array of slowly healing cuts and scratches marred your skin. Werewolves had the ability to heal from injuries, but the process often slowed when severe trauma was inflicted.

Bob and Natasha hovered while Penny examined you. Her touch was gentle, and she verbalized what she was doing before she did it, that way you were aware of her every move. She put a healing salve on the cuts that littered your arms, and then it came time to address the claw marks on your neck.

Up until that point, you had been completely fine, resting comfortably on the bed while Penny did her job. But when she gingerly touched the wound on your neck, you were struck with a visceral reaction.

A vivid, painful memory flashed through your head. And you were frightened. No, that wasn’t a strong enough descriptor. You were terrified. The seething voice of an angry alpha filled your ears, his frame hulking over you. The injured beta, unable to defend yourself.

His claws were at your neck, piercing your flesh. And his voice, venomous and cruel, spoke your name as he said, “I denounce you as my mate.”

And though Penny meant you no harm, her fingers touching your neck took you back to that horrific moment, and you screamed. Limbs thrashing. Jerking away from her. Trying to escape.

No more, no more, no more.

Bobby was there in an instant, throwing himself onto the bed, strong arms wrapping around your upper body, his heart pounding in his chest as he fought to keep you from hurting yourself or anyone else. You had begun to shift, claws sharp, tearing at the sheets. Canines elongating. Eyes flashing bright yellow.

“I’ve got you! You’re safe! No one can hurt you!” He called out, securing you against his body, even as you fought against his hold, growling. He had no choice but to wrestle you onto your back, pinning your arms down. His eyes flashed ruby red, and he spoke in a deep, rumbling growl.

“Enough.”

A tone only alphas possessed.

Instantly, you went limp beneath him, and your eyes cleared, as if you had only just realized what you were doing. Your face crumpled, eyes filling with tears. “I-I’m sorry! I’m sorry, please don’t be angry!”

Bob realized that you could smell his rage, so he took a deep breath, steadying himself. He wasn’t angry at you. He was angry at the wolf who had done this to you. “I’m not angry.” Voice calm, soothing. “Not at you.”

As he released you, you surged into his arms, hiding your face against his chest. Seeking him out for comfort, which showed him that you were not afraid of him. He glanced at Penny, who had moved from the bed to give you space. Holding up his hand, he silently told her to wait. He had an idea.

“Look at me.” He guided your face away from his chest, so that he could make eye contact. “The claw marks on your neck…they need to be cleaned and bandaged, so they can heal. Would you rather I put the bandage on you?”

You sniffled softly, nodding your head. Although you knew Penny would not hurt you, Bobby was the only one you felt genuinely safe with. Upon your confirmation, he motioned to Penny. “Hand me everything I need, I’ll take care of her,” he said.

Searching through her bag, she retrieved disinfectant, bandages, and healing salve. “Make sure the area is completely dry before you put the salve on,” she spoke up, and Bob hummed in acknowledgment of her instructions.

“Alright, c’mere,” he told you. Everything else faded into the background as he turned his focus to you. He hardly even registered Natasha and Penny quietly taking their leave from the room, deciding it best that you have this vulnerable moment alone with Bobby.

He guided you to lay on your side, exposing your neck to him. Now that he was able to take a closer look, he could see the extent of the damage. These weren’t just cuts. They were slashes. Deep ones. He found his hands trembling as he so tenderly tilted your head to give him full access to the injury.

He had so many questions. He wanted to know how and why you’d sustained these slashes. But first, he tended to you. Keeping his movements slow and predictable, so as not to spook you. “Deep breaths for me,” he whispered as he moved to disinfect the wound. His heart lurched at your pained whine.

You shook with the effort it took to keep still. To not go back to that terrible flashback you’d been plagued with when Penny had initially attempted to care for you. Your eyes squeezed shut. Your hands gripped the tattered sheets.

“I know it hurts. I’m almost done. Just hold on a little longer for me, pup.” He could barely stomach the pitiful sounds you made. Wanting your suffering to be as minimal as possible, he worked as quickly as he could, and soon, your neck was all bandaged, and it was over.

“Alright, it’s done.” As soon as he spoke those words, you found yourself seeking him out, grabbing at his shirt. He was the only solace you had, after all you had suffered. It was no wonder you found yourself curling into him.

Bob let you have your moment of comfort, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. He did not ask you the questions he wanted to ask. You were in no state to be interrogated. You were too weak. Too frail. You needed to rest.

So he simply held you, and if only for a moment, you could both pretend that no time had passed between you. You were back in a place where there was harmony between your families, and the hope that the two of you would enter into a mate bond, officially uniting your packs. Before it was all stolen away. Before you were stolen away.

But now that you were back in his life, he wasn’t going to let you go again. “You don’t ever have to go back there again,” he whispered against your forehead. A promise.

If you heard him, you made no indication of it. You were so exhausted that you found yourself drifting right to sleep in Bobby’s arms. It was the first time you’d found rest in days. He would let you sleep.

As much as he wanted to remain there with you, he had other business to attend to with the rest of the pack. The group he’d sent out to search the woods would soon return. He needed to know if they’d found anything.

So, reluctantly, he lowered you down into his bed, and pulled the covers over you, tucking you in with the tenderest brush of his lips against your temple before he slipped away, hoping you would remain blissfully asleep and not awaken in a panic when you realized he was gone.

Silently, he crept out of the room, turning the light off as he went before he stepped into the hall and shut the door softly behind him. Then he made his way downstairs, where he found Penny and Nat in the kitchen, the latter putting on a pot of coffee to brew.

He felt the intensity of Penny’s green-eyed gaze upon him, and he looked at her. She stood at the kitchen table, her hands clutching the back of one of the chairs.

“Were you able to bandage her neck?” She asked.

Bob nodded. “Yeah,” he answered. “Poor thing’s exhausted. She’s asleep now, hopefully she stays that way for a while.”

The woman hesitated, wanting to say more. Her expression was grim, her normally soft features hardening. “I don’t have to tell you what those claw marks mean,” she stated, holding Bob’s gaze.

He shook his head, swallowing thickly as he leaned against the door frame. “No.” He was well aware. In werewolf culture, when mating with one another, there was a process known as scent marking.

The scent glands were located along the side of the neck. When two wolves marked each other, they were mated for life. Unless, of course, one denounced the other as their mate. A severing of the mate bond would then take place. Claws pressed into the side of the neck. The tearing of tender flesh, effectively cutting any and all ties with the mate.

Bob knew that was what had happened to you. That your alpha had forcefully broken your bond. It was the only explanation for those angry slashes.

Heat crawled up his neck. Wrath, boiling just beneath the surface, warming his blood, sending his heart rate spiking. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself. He’d always prided himself on being in control. He wouldn’t lose it now.

“Did she say anything about what happened?” Natasha spoke up as she pulled three mugs from the cabinet over the coffee maker.

He shook his head. “No. I didn’t ask, either. She’s not ready to answer questions. But when she is, I want to know everything. I want to know why Finn did this to her. And then I’m going to hunt him down and make him pay for it.”

Finn. Your previous alpha. The one who had divided your pack from Bob’s. After the death of your father, who had once been the alpha, Finn assumed the position of leadership. It was clear from the beginning that he was power hungry. However, it seemed that Bob was the only one that recognized that.

Now, with you curled up in his bed with slashes marring your skin, caused by the cruel hand of Finn, Bob wished he would have fought harder for you. He wished he had challenged Finn. But you had gone willingly. You thought that becoming Finn’s mate was what was best for your family. And Bob could not force you to stay. He’d never force you to do anything. So he let you go, even though it broke him.

Nat spoke again. “If we go after him…if you challenge him…it could mean war.”

“I know.” Although he wanted to make Finn pay for what he’d done, he didn’t want to pit his pack against yours. He knew each one of those wolves. He’d once called many of them friends, and he wasn’t sure he could stand for their blood to be spilled.

The only one whose blood should be shed was Finn’s.

Just then, rushed footsteps could be heard outside, and moments later, Pete was stepping through the door. “They’re back,” he announced, “they didn’t find anything in the woods.”

Bob nodded, face solemn. “Alright. I’m calling a pack meeting. Have everyone meet back here.”

“Sure thing.” Just as quickly as he’d come, Pete left, ambling back into the night to round everyone up.

“Do you want me to go get Amelia?” Penny inquired, referring to her young daughter, who’d been asleep when she left the house.

“She should be here, that way she knows what’s going on,” Bob responded in confirmation.

With that, Penny headed for the door. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

That left Bob and Natasha alone in the kitchen. Her expression was pensive. Arms folded over her chest. Bottom lip caged between her teeth.

Bob had known her for a long time. He knew her tells. She had something on her mind. “What’re you thinking, Nat?”

“She’s in danger, Bob. God knows how long she was out there in the woods. Alone. Since her mate bond was broken, she was wandering around as an omega. Which means wolves for miles probably caught her scent and will come looking.”

He knew what she was hinting at. “You think I should mate her.”

Dark eyes flickered up to meet his pale blue ones. “Not now, obviously. She’s in no state to handle it. But something will need to be done soon. It’s the only way to keep her safe.”

He let out a sigh, pulling out one of the chairs around the table and taking a seat. “You’re right. But I have to take it slow. I don’t want to do anything she isn’t ready for.”

Becoming mates was a big step. And while it would ensure your safety, he didn’t want to just stake his claim over you. Not when you were vulnerable and frightened. Not after you’d suffered the unthinkable.

And then there was the matter of his status having an effect on you. Now that you had become an omega, your body’s natural response would be to desire an alpha. Bob knew the power he possessed. The power to alter your very chemistry makeup.

His gaze flickered to the kitchen counter, where a pill minder sat, filled with a daily dose of a very important hormone medication. Rut suppressants.

If he stopped taking them, and let his rut happen naturally, it would send you into heat. And within the sacred bounds of matehood, that was a good and healthy occurrence. Something to be celebrated.

However, now more than ever, it was very important that Bob made sure to take his suppressants daily. He wouldn’t risk sending you into heat before your body was ready. And although mating you would bond you to him, thus keeping you safe from other wolves, he couldn’t stomach the thought of pressuring you into such a thing. As he suspected Finn had done to you.

And yet, the longer you remained an omega, the more danger you would be in. That left Bob with a difficult decision to make. But first, he needed to discuss things with his wolves.

One by one, they entered his home, each clearly on edge from the night’s events. Bob had them take seats in his living room. Jake, Bradley, and Javy took the couch. Reuben took the easy chair in the corner. Mickey and Natasha took the small love seat. Penny soon came in with a disheveled Amelia, who’d been pulled from her sleep to attend the meeting, followed by Pete, who trailed after them and shut the door.

Bob stood in the center of the room and waited for everyone to get settled. Some had helped themselves to mugs of coffee from the pot Natasha had made. Everyone was somber.

“No trace of her being followed?” Bob addressed Jake.

The blonde shook his head. “We covered a few miles outside the compound. No sign of anyone. If they were there, they covered their trail well.”

“Any idea who could’ve hurt her?” Reuben spoke up, leaning forward in his seat, elbows resting atop his thighs.

“Yeah,” came Bob’s answer, “Finn. He broke their mate bond. S’where the slashes on her neck came from. But I don’t know the circumstances behind why it happened. Once she’s on the mend, I’ll see if I can get some answers.”

“So now what? If he decides he changed his mind and wants her back, then–” Bradley piped up, but Bob held up his hand to stop him.

“I won’t let that happen. She’s here to stay. “

But Bradley wanted to challenge that. He held the stare of his alpha as he responded. “All due respect, but she’s a huge liability. I want to help her too, believe me, but we shouldn’t forget how she just turned her back on us, on you, to join forces with that asshole Finn.” He was, in fact, one to hold grudges.

But Bob held his ground, never breaking eye contact with his beta. “It’s not that simple. I believe she was coerced into mating him. But I won’t know more until I talk to her.”

“So you wanna risk the safety of the pack for her?” Bradley continued.

“As opposed to what? Sending her back out there to die alone in the forest? I won’t do that, Bradley. We take care of our own.”

“She isn’t one of our own, though.”

“I will not turn my back on her. None of us will. Clearly, she came to us for help. If I toss her out to fend for herself, I’m no better than Finn. She’s staying. And we will protect her. That’s final.” Bob waited for Bradley to continue challenging him. He knew the other wolf’s concern came from a good place. Bradley would do anything to protect the pack. But Bob would be remiss in his duties if he turned you away in your time of need.

“Then we need to make sure we’re on high alert,” Pete interjected, from where he stood beside Penny. “Increase perimeter sweeps. Be prepared in case anyone tries to get the drop on us.”

“You’re right,” Bob agreed. “Bradley, Jake, and Nat, you three were already on lookout tonight. I want you to get some rest. Pete, Javy, Reuben, and Mickey, you can take the next shift.” Then, “as soon as I have more answers, I’ll call another pack meeting. Until then, back to business as usual.”

And thus, the meeting was adjourned, and everyone was left to go their separate ways. As Bob retreated into the kitchen to pour himself a mug of coffee, he became aware of Mickey’s presence behind him.

He turned to look at his friend. He’d known Mickey as long as he’d known Natasha.

Earnestly, Mickey spoke. “I get why Bradley’s on edge, but I want you to know, I think you’re right. We can’t just turn her away. She’s safest with us. With you.”

Bob smiled softly, nodding his head toward Mickey. “She is,” he agreed. But his face grew serious as he approached. “Mick…you and Nat know me better than anyone. You know I don’t like senseless violence. But I’m telling you right now, Finn will not get away with this. One day, I will find him. And I will kill him for what he did to her.”

Mickey nodded. “I know. And I want to be there when you do it. He needs to pay for what he’s done.” That payment would be made in blood.

Bob squeezed Mickey’s shoulder. “You will be. For now, we’ll lie low. I don’t want to potentially bring danger here.”

“‘Course not.”

With a nod, the young alpha turned back to his pending cup of coffee. “I’ll let you head on out for your watch shift. See ya later, Mick.”

When he left, Natasha emerged from the living room, carrying her now empty mug to the sink. “Mind if I crash here?” She asked. “I, uh, want to be here when she wakes up.”

Bob shook his head. “Not at all. Take the guest room. I’ll let you know if anything changes.”

With that, she excused herself to head up to the guest room, leaving Bob alone in the kitchen. Mug in hand, he finally decided to move back upstairs to check on you. He determined that he would stay in the room with you, that way he could immediately come to your aid if needed.

When he stepped into the dark bedroom, he was relieved to find that you were still sound asleep. Gone was the bitter scent of fear, replaced by a sweeter, more mellow scent. For now, you were at peace.

Carefully, he set his coffee on the nightstand before he gathered some blankets from the chest at the end of the bed, spreading them out on the floor and grabbing a pillow from off the bed. Then, mug in hand, he settled cross-legged on the blankets, his back against the edge of the bed.

There he would remain until you woke up.

As he listened to you sleep, your breaths deep and slow, his mind wandered. Transported back to a time when you’d still been in his life. The sting of betrayal had settled painfully in his chest as he looked at you, having just been told the news that you were leaving.

“Finn thinks it’s in the pack’s best interest if we become mates,” you said.

He stared at you, eyes watering. “And what do you think?”

“I want what’s best for my family.”

“I’m not asking about your family.” He stepped toward you. “Is becoming Finn’s mate what he wants, or what you want?”

You had no answer for him. All you could say was, “Bobby, my father is gone. Finn took his place as alpha, and it’s my duty to become his mate, for the good of the pack.”

Bob wasn’t letting you go that easily. “You have a choice. You don’t have to go with him.”

But you shook your head, fighting to hold in your tears. “Please, don’t make this harder than it already is. I don’t want to leave you. But I have to. I’m sorry.”

You left him reeling. Before your father passed, you had talked openly of becoming mates with Bobby. Your dad was getting up in years, and wanted to surrender his alpha status. As the daughter of an alpha, choosing to become mates with Bob would create an alliance between your packs.

But when your father grew ill, a shift in leadership took place. Finn, who had been part of your pack since he was a pup, emerged with the shiny new title of alpha. He claimed your dad had bestowed the title upon him.

Bob was suspicious of that. Something wasn’t right. But he was never able to prove that Finn had stolen the title. And even if he wanted to, the opportunity left when, one morning, he walked up to your compound to find it deserted. Your pack had relocated in the middle of the night.

Bob thought he would never see you again.

But here you were again, and he had a feeling that his suspicion of Finn stealing your father’s status was true. It was only a matter of time before it was confirmed.

For now, you rested. And Bob kept watch over you.

Coffee finished, he curled up on the arrangement of blankets, and pillowed his head. There he stayed until the sun’s first rays began to peek through the window a few hours later. He had dozed off but for a moment, allowing himself a cat nap before the day began.

But no sooner had his eyes fallen shut did he hear the sound of your pitiful whimpers. On high alert, he sat up, chest seizing when he saw you began to twist against the bed, clearly in the throes of a terrible nightmare.

Rushing to his feet, he climbed onto the mattress, just as you released a broken sob, crying out “No! No! Please, no!”

He gathered your trembling form into his arms, and spoke your name, even as you fought against him. “Hey, I’m here! You’re safe!””

When your eyes flew open, you realized where you were. Shielded within the four walls of Bobby’s bedroom. With his arms wrapped securely around you. Protected. In a place where harm would not come upon you.

You buried your face in the crook of his neck and began to cry. He soothed you, rocking back and forth, humming an old melody his mother used to sing to him. And after a while, you were calm again.

Cautiously, you lifted your head, and found him gazing down at you. He offered a sweet smile. “Hey there, little pup.”

“I-I’m sorry,” you whispered, fingers curling into the fabric of his white t-shirt. Unwilling to let go.

But he shook his head. “Don’t apologize. You had a nightmare. That’s expected after what you’ve been through.”

Tears welled in your eyes again. There was so much you had to tell him. But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak the words out loud. “Bobby, I…”

“You don’t have to tell me anything right now. You need to focus on resting up so you can heal,” he told you. In the light of the rising sun, you could see every shade of blue hidden in his eyes. Oh, how you’d missed those eyes. So warm and full of kindness.

“Tell ya what,” he continued, “I’ll go make some breakfast. How’s that sound?”

As if on cue, your stomach rumbled. That earned a soft smile from you, and you nodded. “I’d like that. But I don’t want to stay cooped up in here. I’ll come sit in the kitchen to eat.”

“You sure?”

When you nodded, he moved to slide off the bed, reaching out to steady you as you followed. You swayed a little, realizing just how depleted of strength you were, despite your night of rest. Your time in the woods had done a number on you.

Leaning on Bob for support, you allowed him to guide you into the hallway. As you headed toward the stairs, the sound of a door opening caught your attention. You looked up to find Natasha approaching.

She looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink, dark hair mussed, eyes tired. But she smiled when she saw you. “Hey,” she said, “how you feelin’?”

You opened your mouth, but found yourself overcome with emotion. Instead, you stepped toward her and held your arms out. She stepped into your embrace, returning it with her own, careful not to hurt you by squeezing too tightly.

“It’s good to see you again,” she whispered in your ear, “just wish it was under better circumstances.”

As you parted, you gave her a nod, unable to voice a reply. She squeezed your hand, free palm coming up to cup your cheek, and your heart warmed within you. After the way you had left, you didn’t blame her if she wanted nothing to do with you. Yet she welcomed you back with open arms. A true friend, she was.

Reluctantly, you parted from Natasha, and the three of you went down to the kitchen. There, you settled in at the table, and Bob brought you a blanket from the living room, wrapping it around your shoulders before he set about making breakfast.

Natasha sat across from you, running a hand anxiously through her loose waves. It was clear she had questions, but refrained from asking them. It was hard to know what to talk about. After seeing the way you had reacted to Penny tying to bandage your neck the night before, you were in a fragile state. She didn’t want to make it worse by interrogating you.

Instead, she decided to help Bob with breakfast, getting up from her seat and moving to the fridge to gather ingredients.

You sat huddled in your blanket, watching them work, comforted by the sight. It had been like this years ago. You and your friends crowded into Bob’s kitchen as he made breakfast. Happy and carefree.

Oh, how things had changed.

As you watched them, an ache blossomed in your chest, and tears sprang to your eyes once again, threatening to spill down your cheeks. You wished you had never left. If you hadn’t, things would have turned out much different.

But you had made your choice when you left with Finn.

Initially, you hadn’t wanted to. But he had convinced you that becoming mates was the right thing to do. He was very persuasive, and you wished that you hadn’t been so blind to his manipulation back then.

But the influence of an alpha was a very powerful thing.

Your eyes had been opened. You had finally seen him for who he really was. Wicked and power hungry. Murderous.

You had been certain that he was going to kill you, when he severed your mate bond. As his claws raked against your tender flesh, you’d looked into the blood-red of his eyes, and you knew you were seconds away from death.

But it never came. Whether he’d decided to have mercy on you, or simply neglected to make sure you were truly dead. Either way, you managed to escape.

You ran into the night, away from the horrific discovery you had made before Finn banished you. The deepest betrayal. Yet it did not surprise you. Perhaps, deep down, you had always known it to be true.

After you left, you spent days wandering the forest, putting yourself in grave danger by doing so. In your injured, newly unmated state, you were a sitting duck. That was why, when you found yourself in Robert Floyd’s territory, you began running. Searching, hoping, praying he would take you in. Otherwise, you were certain you would die alone in those woods.

You should have known that Bob would do anything to protect you. That his kindness knew no bounds. He’d always been known for his benevolence. A quality that gained him respect as an alpha. He didn’t have to threaten and coerce wolves into following him. They chose to do so, because they deeply respected him.

He had not come about his status by force. Many years ago, before you’d even known him, his family had suffered an attack at the hands of a rogue group of werewolves. This attack had resulted in Bob’s mother and father being tragically killed.

His father’s dying wish was for his son to carry on his legacy as an alpha, and had thus bestowed the gift upon him. A transfer of power, from a dying wolf, to a living one. Bob assumed his role with pride, though painful as it was to go on without the ones he loved most.

But he determined that he would do his parents proud.

Years later, he had built a pack of his own. Each one of them came from a different bloodline. A different backstory. They were a band of misfits, brought together by odd circumstances, but they were fiercely loyal to one another.

What a privilege to serve as one of his betas. If only you’d chosen to remain here with him. But perhaps you’d been given a second chance. You certainly hoped so.

Even after all this time, he still treated you with such tenderness. The fact that he was making you breakfast because he didn’t want you to go hungry made your heart ache. He was good, through and through. Pure of heart.

If only for a little while, you let yourself rest in his care. You ate the breakfast he made, you drank the coffee, you pretended that everything was fine. But when you excused yourself to take a shower, you were struck with a crushing feeling of utter loneliness.

Although Finn had been cruel, he had still been your mate, and now that you weren’t running for your life anymore, you were finally able to process what had happened. You were a lone wolf now. An omega. To be without a mate felt unnatural.

You didn’t yearn for him. Not after what he had done. But you did yearn for the ache in your chest to leave you. You yearned to feel whole again, and not utterly broken from the betrayal you had suffered.

This was how you found yourself curled upon the shower floor, weeping as the water cascaded over your body. Dirt and grime from days spent in the wilderness was slowly washed down the drain, yet you hardly noticed as you succumbed to your pain.

In the kitchen, as Bobby cleared the breakfast dishes, his sharp hearing easily picked up on the sound of crying. Even with you a floor above him, he caught the scent of your distress. Bitter. Strong enough that it dizzied him and had him grabbing the edges of the counter to steady himself.

“Go,” Natasha told him, touching his back. “I’ll take care of the dishes.”

With a nod, he turned, mouth dry, feeling as if it was filled with cotton. His legs carried him up the steps two at a time, and in seconds, he was at the bathroom door, knuckles against the dark wood.

Through the door, he spoke. “It’s Bobby.” But you already knew he was there. His scent carried into the room. And when you tuned in to listen, you could hear his heartbeat. “Do you…do you want me to come in?”

You tried to answer. Tried to say I need you. I can’t be alone right now. But all that came out was a choked garble as more tears spilled down your cheeks. Bob heard it. The heartbreaking sound drove him to close his hand around the doorknob and slip into the steam clouded room.

There he found you, huddled in the corner of the bathtub. He did not hesitate to approach you. You looked up at him and let out a pitiful sound that struck him so deeply, his knees buckled. The weight of your grief settled upon his shoulders as heavily as the moisture that hung in the air, carving him in half, rending his heart in two.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he whispered. He hurriedly shut the water off before he yanked a fresh towel off the rack next to the shower. Already, you were moving toward him, and he welcomed you, arms open, towel in hand. As you surged into his embrace, he wrapped you in the towel, guiding you out of the shower.

But your legs were unsteady, and you found yourself sinking down to the tile floor. Bob had you, though, arms secure around you as he knelt with you. He ended up with his back against the side of the tub as you curled up into his lap, your wet skin soaking into his thin shirt.

He trembled as he held you, chest tight. As if he could sense what you were going to reveal to him. He’d known all along, after all.

“He…he killed him, Bobby,” came your broken whisper.

Bob gently grabbed your face in his hands as he locked eyes with you. “Tell me.”

“Finn killed my father. And when I found out…he tried to kill me.”

He went still. Measuring his breaths. Swallowing the horrific rage that began to bubble up in his throat. The heat of it burned across his skin like fire. Unbearable. All consuming.

And then you took his hand in yours and brought it to your neck, where your slashes were still healing beneath the bandage he’d put there the night before. “I want you to see it.”

Hot tears welled in his eyes as he gazed into yours. “Are you absolutely sure that’s what you want?” He knew what you were asking for. You wanted him to access your memories. Something that only alphas had the ability to do. By sinking his claws into the base of your neck, he would be able to see the innermost parts of your mind.

“Yes,” you told him. Your voice did not waver.

With only a moment’s hesitation, Bob moved his fingers to the back of your neck, taking a steadying breath before he closed his eyes, opening them to reveal fiery red. At that same moment, his claws sank into the base of your neck, just beneath the back of your skull.

You whimpered, your own eyes glowing yellow, mouth parting, fangs sprouting from your gums. Gaze locked with Bobby’s, a searing memory ripped through your mind, and he could see it so clearly, as if he was experiencing it firsthand.

There was Finn, stalking toward you. You were stumbling back, trembling in fear, sick from betrayal. “Tell me!” You shouted, “tell me the truth!”

“You already know it!” He snarled.

“No! I want you to say it! Say what you did!” Hands held out in front of you, body partially shifted, ready to fight against him if need be.

He crossed the space between you swiftly, hand clamping around your throat before you could react. “Fine. You want to hear me say it?” The hatred emanating from him was venomous. “I killed your father, and I took his alpha status.” There was no remorse in his tone. In fact, he sounded proud.

Then he dropped you, and you hit the ground, hard. You’d known it was true. But hearing him say it made it real. A vicious wail tore itself from your throat. “I’ll tell the rest of the pack! They deserve to know!” You cried.

He was on you again, gripping your shoulders, claws tearing at tender flesh as you yelped, too weak to fight. “If you tell them, I’ll kill you.”

Even as you struggled against him, he held you down, using all of his supernatural strength, fueled by rage, to keep you in place. “You know what? I’ll just kill you now.”

And then his hand was at your throat once again as he hissed out, “I denounce you as my mate,” before he slashed his claws across your skin.

He left you to bleed out. Fading in and out of consciousness. Perhaps he was certain that you would die, and that you would take the knowledge of what he’d done to the grave. Or maybe, he intended to return and finish you off later. Either way, he abandoned you.

And when you managed to drag yourself back to the compound on which your pack had been living, you found it empty. Everyone was gone. You were alone.

So you wandered through the woods for days, until you came upon the Floyd pack, and strength surged through you, enough to send you running toward safety.

With a sharp gasp, he retracted his claws from the base of your neck, eyes wide, chest heaving. You fell against him, sobbing, and Bob could hardly process what he had just witnessed.

“Look at me.” Voice ragged. Barely contained. When you didn’t lift your head, he took your face in his hands again, forcing you to look at him. “He will not get away with this, do you hear me? I won’t let him.”

He was vibrating. Filled with such painful anguish and fury that his body ached. But he still remained in control, for your sake. He would not frighten you by reacting the way that he wanted to. Your safety was still his first priority, above all else.

“H-he’s gone. Took the pack with him. I don’t…I don’t know where they could’ve gone.”

Bob shook his head. “We’ll find him. Maybe not right away, but we will.”

Tears still falling, you shook your head. “He’ll kill you. He’ll kill anyone who challenges him. And I can’t…I can’t lose you.”

“You won’t lose me, little pup. I swear to you, Finn will pay for what he did.”

A promise that he intended to keep. No matter the cost. What this wicked alpha had done was a heinous crime. Punishable by death, in the werewolf world. If no one else would challenge him, then Robert Floyd would.

He wanted nothing more than to gather his betas and hunt Finn down. But he had to think logically. He couldn’t just go off in a blind rage. Finn was very skilled in combat. If Bob acted off of emotion alone, he would be defeated.

So he would wait. Anticipating. Calculating. Planning.

For now, his sole responsibility was to care for you, and make sure that you were on the road to recovery. So he would remain here. And he would do his job. Because, unlike Finn, Bob had not come about his status dishonestly. He counted his position as a sacred duty that he would fulfill to the very best of his ability.

So he took a steadying breath and guided you to your feet. Touch gentle. Tender. He wiped your body down. Smoothed lotion onto your skin. Wrapped you in another dry towel, leaving only for a moment to grab a baggy shirt and sweatpants from the depths of his dresser.

And then he was leading you back to his bedroom. A safe haven for you. A place that smelled like him. And now, his scent was your greatest comfort. It also acted as a form of protection. You were safer if you smelled like him.

As you climbed back into his bed, you looked at him, and he knew, in that very same moment, that he would move heaven and earth to keep you safe. You were always meant to be his. And now, he’d been given a second chance. He wouldn’t let you slip through his fingers. Wouldn’t let another alpha take you from him.

“Please, don’t leave,” came your whisper.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He climbed into the bed with you, and you curled against him, like a cat settling in for a nap. Lips brushing against your temple, he said, “sleep, little pup. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

So you slept. And Bobby kept watch over you. Just as he’d promised.

Your journey to recovery was a long, slow process. But he was with you ever step of the way. Handling you with tenderness. Never raising his voice. Never lifting a hand to harm you. He’d sooner cut off that hand than lift it against you in a fit of rage.

As days, weeks, and eventually, months, passed, you found yourself integrating well into pack life. The dynamic was different here. There was a mutual trust between Bob and his betas. You realized that trust had been missing in your own pack.

Finn’s wolves submitted to him because they had no choice. But Bob’s wolves did have a choice. If they wanted to leave, they could. Though none of them chose to do so.

Although some were wary of you, namely Bradley, who had originally believed you might bring danger upon this territory, they all warmed up to you as time went on. Each day, you got stronger. Your wounds healed. Your trauma still plagued you, but it became a dull ache in your chest, rather than crushing agony.

You connected with each beta under Bob’s leadership. You rekindled your friendship with Natasha. You developed a strong connection with Mickey. You even befriended Penny’s daughter, Amelia, who was the youngest pack member, but took a liking to you.

And as the months went on, you found your place with these wolves. They became your family, just as they had been before you left. You bonded with them, and most importantly, you bonded with your Bobby again.

When the cold winter gave way to warm spring, you were doing better than you had been in a long time. Although what had happened to you still lurked in your memory, and would never truly leave, you could lean on your newfound family for support.

And when your footing grew uncertain, and your mind went to those dark places, Bobby was there to carry you through it. Calm. Steady. Reassuring. There was solace with him.

The knowledge that he needed to make Finn pay for his crimes still lingered in his head, even with the passing of time. It was a bitter wave of heat that flooded through his veins every time he thought about it. Sometimes, his fingers would twitch, claws nearly lengthening as he pictured killing the cruel alpha.

Soon.

First, there was something very important that needed to be done. Something that would ensure your safety, by bonding you to him. He needed to mate you.

This was not something that he pressured you into. He would never force you into such a thing. But you made the decision yourself. You knew, just as well as him, that your omega status put you at risk. You also knew that you had let Bob slip through your fingers once before. You weren’t going to lose him again.

You wanted to be his. Wanted to willingly give yourself to him, joining your souls together as one. But it took time for you to decide that you were ready. And that was okay. Bob waited patiently, allowing you time to heal and recover.

And then, one night, beneath the light of a half-moon, you told him you were ready.

You had chosen to go for a stroll after a dinner shared with the rest of the pack around Bobby’s kitchen table.

In recent days, you had become a little more physical. Seeking out his touch, brushing against him when he was near, sitting with your thigh against his, intertwining your fingers with his. Now, as you walked, your hand was clasped in his own much larger one, as your head rested upon his shoulder. Your heart lurched as you considered your words. Bobby could sense your shift in demeanor. Something he was very well attuned to.

“Something on your mind, little pup?” He asked, thumb drawing comforting patterns on the back of your hand.

You tugged on his arm, so he’d come to a stop. Concern shadowing his face, he turned toward you. Gaze open. Expectant.

“I’ve been meaning to tell you…” You hesitated, stopping to take a deep breath. “I’m ready now. To be your mate.”

His breath caught in his throat. “Are you sure?”

You stepped toward him. The heat of his body was comforting. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

He never broke eye contact. Because of this, you could see the shift in his expression. The tightening of his jaw. The ragged breath of air he drew. You reached for his other hand, bringing it up to your breast, just over your heart.

His lashes fluttered. “If that’s what you want, then that’s what we’ll do,” came his reply. There was a tremor in his voice. He had been waiting for this moment. “I need a few days. There’s a little cottage not far from here. It’s a good place for us to…to have some privacy. I’ll need to get it ready. And then of course I need to stop taking my suppressants.”

You nodded in understanding. “Okay. Do whatever you need to do. I’ll be waiting for you.”

“How long has it been since you were in heat?”

At his question, you stilled. A memory, a painful one, flashed through your mind, and you flinched. “I…I’ve never been in heat.”

Bobby’s brow furrowed, puzzled. “What?”

“After we were mated, Finn made me take suppressants. Said he didn’t have time to deal with my heats, so he didn’t want me going through them.”

And there it was again. Fury, bubbling up in his throat. He swallowed it down like he’d taken a sip of bitter poison. Finn had no right to control that part of you. It was an alpha’s duty to guide their mate through heat. To deny you that was cruel. Not that Bob should have been surprised. Of course Finn would take away your autonomy.

Hands trembling, he cupped your cheeks, cool from the chilly night air. “I’m so sorry. I can’t…I can’t fathom doing such a thing. I would never—will never—do that to you.”

“I know, Bobby.”

He pulled you toward him, arms wrapping around you. “When you become my mate, you will be loved and respected in the way that you deserve.”

You had no doubt that he would make good on his promises.

After that night, you were given five days. Days Bob would spend readying the cottage, and you would spend preparing yourself. Becoming mates was a very sacred thing. It was a ritual, of sorts. And when you had become Finn’s mate, he hadn’t wanted to go about it in the traditional way.

There was no ceremony. He had merely scent marked you and that was that. And just as easily as he’d mated you, he broke that bond without a second thought.

You were eager to experience a true mating ceremony. And Bob would do everything in his power to make you feel special, loved, and cherished during it. You deserved as much.

On the day of the ceremony, you were filled with excitement and nervousness. But Natasha and Penny put those nerves to rest as they helped you get ready in Penny’s residence.

“You look so beautiful,” Nat breathed as she gently placed a crown of burgundy roses atop your head. Burgundy signified devotion.

“You think so?” You asked, gazing at yourself in the mirror. Uncertain.

She smiled that pretty smile of hers that lit up her whole face. “I know so. Bob is going to be blown away.”

Your heart warmed at her words.

“You’ve come a long way,” Penny spoke up, from where she’d been making two flower necklaces, which you and Bob would place upon each other during the ceremony. Pride shone on her face, and in her sea glass eyes.

“Yeah,” you agreed, “I’m not that scared little omega anymore.” A rueful smile tugged at your mouth. Part of you was ashamed, at times, over how you had been so easily overpowered by Finn. But you had nothing to be ashamed of. Few could survive the wrath of an angry alpha, but you had. That was a feat in and of itself.

Penny crossed the room, sincerity in her gaze as she reached for your hands. “You are so much more than that. You are about to become Bob’s chosen mate. That basically makes you queen of this pack. And I want you to know that you have my undying loyalty.”

“Me too,” Natasha agreed with conviction.

“Even though I walked away from him and left with Finn?” Guilt darkened your tone.

Penny squeezed your hands. “That’s in the past. What matters is that you’re here now.”

A soft rap at the door interrupted the sweet moment the three of you shared. “Sun’s setting. It’s time,” came Mickey’s voice.

Nat sauntered to the door and wrenched it open. There stood Mickey, dressed in a loose white button down, half unbuttoned, and a pair of nice slacks. When he saw you, joy and admiration filled his soft brown eyes.

“You look stunning,” he hummed. You thought you saw the mist of tears gathering in his eyes.

“Thank you, Mickey,” you shyly responded, not used to being in the spotlight.

He squared his shoulders. “Are you ready? Bobby’s waiting.”

You looked at Penny and Natasha, and they both nodded in encouragement. “As I’ll ever be,” you said.

Mickey held out his arm, and you let your hand rest in the crook of it. He led you through the hallway of Penny’s house, down the steps, and out the front door. Nat and Penny followed, each holding the flower chains Penny had made.

You closed your eyes and breathed in the spring air before you let Mickey guide you down the porch steps. You would cross the property and meet at the forest edge, where the ceremony would take place.

Soon, you came upon the rest of the pack, who were all gathered in their places. Jake, Bradley, Javy, Reuben, and Amelia stood together, while further ahead, on a small wooden platform, stood Pete, who’d been asked to carry out the ceremony, and, of course, your Bobby.

He looked exceptionally handsome in his blue button down, which was the same shade as his eyes, tucked into freshly pressed slacks. His feet were bare, because there was no need for shoes. After the ceremony, you would shift into your wolves, so the less clothing in the way, the better.

When he saw you, his face lit up like the sun. Tears welled in his eyes. They welled in yours, too. Hand still resting in the crook of Mickey’s elbow, you let him guide you to Bob.

The sun, which was sinking below the horizon, cast a dreamy orange haze over everything, and it made Bobby look as if he was glowing. Perhaps he really was.

All eyes on you, you made your way up to him, allowing Mickey to hold your hand for balance as you stepped onto the wooden platform. There, you stood before Bob. Your alpha. Soon to be your mate. Loving, tender, fierce, benevolent. The one you were always meant to be with.

He took your hands in his, and he gazed upon you with such love and adoration that it stole the breath from your lungs.

Beside you both, Pete spoke. “I’m honored that you asked me to lead this ceremony, Bob,” he said with a smile. “I know this has been a long time coming. I’m happy that you two found each other again.”

And thus, the ceremony began.

“Bob, state your pledge,” Pete instructed.

Bobby never broke eye contact as he made his promises to you. “I promise to uphold this sacred bond, as long as I live. I promise to protect, honor, and cherish you. No harm will come to you by my or anyone else’s hand, and I will not allow anyone to threaten the sanctity of this bond. I’m yours, forever.”

Emotion gripped you like a vise, and you worried you wouldn’t be able to speak. Somehow, you managed to make your pledge to him. “I, too, promise to uphold this sacred bond, as long as I live. I promise to love you with everything in me. I promise that I will be yours until the end of time. My loyalty is to you, and you alone, as my alpha, and my mate.”

Though the rest of the pack surrounded you, it felt as if you were the only two standing there. It was you and him, against the world.

You knew what came next. The moment that would officially bind him to you, and finalize your matehood. Slowly, you knelt, as did he, both of you finding yourselves on your knees, hands still joined.

Bob closed his eyes for a moment, steadying himself with a deep breath before he looked at you again. When he did, his eyes glowed ruby. Mirroring his action, your own eyes shone golden as the sun.

Then, he leaned toward you, and you tilted your head, baring your neck to him. The place that had been marred by Finn’s claws months ago, now healed completely, skin smooth and unmarked.

Bobby buried his face against the side of your neck, where your scent was strongest, breathing in deeply. It hit him like a kick to the abdomen, jarring, overwhelming, intense. You smelled sweet. Like a peach ripened beneath the summer sun. Like sugar fresh from the cane. Like everything good and pure in the world.

He rubbed his cheek against your neck, then his nose, then his other cheek. Transferring your scent onto his skin. When he reluctantly parted from you, you proceeded to do as he had done, nuzzling your face into his neck.

He smelled like pine trees and spring air warmed by sunlight. Deep, earthy, sweet, comforting. You let yourself nearly get drunk off of it. Now that you had marked each other, you were pledged to one another. Joined as one.

When you lifted your face from his neck, his hands came up to tenderly hold your face before he ducked forward. You welcomed him, head tilting back, mouth parting, just before he kissed you. Deeply, fiercely, pouring his love and devotion to you into that impassioned kiss.

“Mine,” he growled softly against your mouth, fangs lengthening, scraping lightly against your bottom lip.

“Yours.” An eternal promise.

You remained knelt together as the flower chains were placed upon your necks.

“Let this pack be a witness to this sacred ritual,” Pete said aloud, “our alpha has chosen his mate.”

A chorus of joyous howls erupted from each pack member, and your face broke into a smile as peace washed over you. You hadn’t felt a sense of peace like this when Finn marked you as his. But with Bobby, you did.

As you stood, you turned to your pack, breathing in deeply as elation warmed you from head to toe. Although everything you had been through had scarred you deeply, you realized that all of it had brought you here, to this point. To a new family. A new mate. A new life.

A celebration followed that night. Music and dancing, food and drink. Surrounded by warmth and love, your heart soared. You’d never been so happy.

And when the moon rose in the sky, full and bright and heavy, it was time for the pack to send you and Bobby off. Surrounded by your chosen family, you allowed yourself to shift into your wolf. Bones rearranging. Some lengthening, some shortening. Bare skin soon hidden beneath a layer of thick, gray fur.

In your animal form, you bowed low before your alpha, snout hidden beneath your foreleg. A show of submission.

Bobby in his wolf form, fur a rich chestnut, gazed down upon you, and whined lowly. Stand. His voice echoed through your head. Immediately, you stood, and as you did, he nuzzled his snout against your before the expanse of his body deliberately brushed against yours, further marking you with his scent.

The rest of the pack had also shifted into their various wolf forms, now surrounding you. Another collective howl carried through the forest, and beneath the light of the full moon, you were off, running alongside your Bobby, dashing through the forest like streaks of lightning.

You could not describe the feeling of running with your mate if you tried. It felt as if you were electrified. Aware of his every breath, every growl, in tune with his every instinct, communicating non-verbally.

You felt free, wind whipping through your fur, nothing but forest for miles. This was how it was meant to feel.

For what felt like hours, you ran, playfully nudging one another, pausing to nuzzle against the other’s fur. Gentle nips, soft, non-threatening growls and whines. Enjoying your shared animal nature.

And then, finally, you slowed to a stop when you came upon the little cottage Bobby had spent the last few days preparing. There, on the threshold, he shifted back into his human form, naked skin pale in the light of the moon. You followed suit, standing before him, awaiting his guidance.

He breathed deeply, your scent intoxicating, as he pulled you closer. “Tonight, we rest. We’ll need it, because I stopped taking my suppressants today, and once they’re fully out of my system tomorrow…”

“My heat will start,” you finished for him.

He nodded. There was something in his eyes. Unspoken, even as they narrowed slightly. You realized it was desire. “Since you’ve never experienced it…I don’t know how you’ll respond. It might take a little time. Or, you might wake up to it. No matter what, I’m there to help you through it, okay? I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

You nuzzled your nose against his. “I know. I trust you, Bobby. There’s no one else I’d rather go through this with than you.”

Once again, you were joined in a searing kiss, and you melted into him, bare body against his own. When you parted, he took a shuddering breath. “C’mon, little pup. Let me show you around the cottage.”

He swept you over the threshold, instructing you to wait a moment while he slipped into the back bedroom, emerging with two robes, the same color as the roses that had been placed upon your necks. The color of devotion.

Almost reverently, he placed the robe upon your naked body, before he shrugged into his own. Then, he took your hand. “This place has been sitting empty for a while, so I spent extra time making sure it was perfect for you.”

The place was cozy and quaint. Furniture accented with dark woodworking. An oak coffee table sat in the middle of the living area, a braided rug beneath it. A cozy looking couch, an easy chair, and a rocking chair were strategically placed.

Antique art pieces decorated the plaster walls. An old piano was in the corner. A floor lamp illuminated the room in a cozy yellow glow. The kitchen was small, but practical. Dark wood cabinets. Minimal appliances, just enough to suit the preparation of meals.

And, most importantly, the cottage smelled like him, because he had made sure to scent things like blankets and bedsheets, so it would feel like a safe haven for you.

You were overjoyed that you would get to spend the next few days here with him, undisturbed.

“What do you think?” He quietly asked, coming up beside you, large hand resting upon the curve of your hip.

You leaned into him. “I love it. It smells like you.”

“Hm.” He ran his nose along the side of your neck, breathing in. “When we’re finished here, it’ll smell like both of us.”

Your lashes fluttered as you allowed yourself to get lost in him. Floating, yet still grounded. He was the tether keeping you from disappearing into the clouds.

Gently, he turned you to face him. “I love you, little pup. I need you to know that. I’ve always loved you, and I thank my lucky stars that we got a second chance.”

“I love you too, Bobby. I’m yours forever.”

That night, you found yourselves under the warm flow of the shower. Bob took his time washing you, his eyes alight with worship as he ran the sponge over your bare skin. You did the same to him, the act of washing each other a way of displaying your respect and devotion to one another.

After your shared bathing, you ended up in the king-size bed that smelled of him, bodies curled around each other, whispered words fading into the sleepy atmosphere as you succumbed to your exhaustion. Safe. Content. Whole.

When you woke a few hours later, the first gray trickles of morning light had begun to bleed through the bedroom window. But the light wasn’t what woke you. No, your body drew to consciousness because of the deep-seated ache at the very core of your being.

As you awakened, the ache was dull, but as the sweet, earthy scent of your alpha reached your nose, it grew worse. More intense. Painful. You whimpered softly, squirming against the bed, turning toward Bob, who still remained asleep beside you.

Your head grew foggy. As if you were underwater. Your heart rate quickened. Your skin grew warm. It felt as if an electric current had crackled down your spine. Mouth open, you were suddenly aware that your body was beginning to shift.

You tried to speak, tried to call out his name, but all that came out was a pitiful yowl. Bob could smell you before his eyes opened. So strong it nearly knocked him right out of bed. Gasping sharply, his irises flashed red as his lashes fluttered.

His gaze locked with yours, and he grunted, struck with this powerful, all-consuming need to take control and claim you. Your pained whimpers went right to his heart, settling between his legs, an arousal so intense it was almost violent in the way that it overtook him.

“Bobby…i-it hurts!” You sobbed, grabbing at him, claws biting into his skin. He hardly noticed it, as the slight tinge of pain was nothing compared to the monstrous wave of desire that was spreading through him like wildfire.

“I’m here,” he grunted, “I’m here, little pup.”

You barely heard him, blood rushing in your ears as you tugged at his sweatpants. Why was there a barrier in the way? You needed him, skin to skin, now. Growing frantic, you yanked more insistently at the waistband.

“Hold on,” he said, stilling your hands, but in your heightened state, you snapped at him, growling sharply. Challenging him.

That drove him to action. Snarling, he surged forward, pinning your arms against the bed as his frame hovered over you. “Wait.” Using that firm tone that left no room for argument. The tone that immediately brought out your submission.

Mouth falling slack, you mewled, rubbing your face against his neck, seeking penance.

“I’ll take care of you, I promise,” came his whisper. He needed to steady himself for a moment. He felt reckless. Out of control. Head spinning, heart racing. God, you smelled so good. Intoxicating. It clouded his brain and made him burn with need.

He pressed his nose to your throat, inhaling. Yes, you smelled sweet, but there was something else. Something sharp. Irresistible. It wasn’t emanating from the gland on your neck. It was somewhere else.

Searching, he descended your body, using his supernatural sense of smell to locate it. Lower, lower, lower, until he found himself between your legs, burying his face in your cunt, clothed only by a thin pair of panties that were already soaked through, so much so that the fabric was nearly transparent.

He groaned, fangs elongating in his mouth. He felt like an animal. A beast. He remained in human form, but his wolf was still there, lurking inside him. Taking over his brain as he sank his canines into the meat of your inner thigh.

You let out a squeak of surprise, jolting against the bed. His large hands held you in place. “Mine,” he rumbled, tongue soothing over the bite, which had drawn blood. “My mate. All mine.”

Eyes hazy, you watched as he gripped your underwear, hesitating only for a moment before he tore them in two, discarding the tattered fabric and leaving you bare to him. There was something primal in his face. He was going to devour you. But you were not afraid. Even as he growled and showed you the red of his eyes.

He nosed at you again, allowing your scent to engulf him. Heady, sharp, threatening to suffocate him.

“Please,” you sobbed above him, and the sound made his heart wrench in his chest and the breath leave his lungs. “I need…I can’t…I…” but the words died in your throat.

Unable to stop himself, he opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against your dripping center, licking up the honeyed sweetness and moaning brokenly. You tasted indescribable, intoxicating. And as his tongue came in contact with you, your cunt brought forth even more of your sticky arousal, and he eagerly lapped it up.

But he couldn’t remain there for long, because your pathetic whines drew him back up, until he was hovering over you. As his hips slotted between yours, you could feel him, hard beneath the fabric of his sweatpants, pressed against you. All rational thought left your mind as you pawed at him, desperate for his cock, eager to be filled, sure that you’d die if you didn’t get him inside you in the next thirty seconds.

He soothed you quickly, kissing you fiercely, tongue delving into your mouth, letting you taste him as he reached down to hurriedly shove his pants down his legs. He parted from you only to toss the clothing onto the hardwood floor.

Your gaze was drawn down, falling upon the heavy hardness between his legs. Thick, leaking, blushed at the tip. If you thought you were filled with desire before then, it certainly hit you like a ton of bricks at that very moment. Crushing you. Suffocating you. Searing through your body as if your blood was made from molten lava.

The wave that hit you was so powerful, so jarring, that you curled in on yourself, unable to bear it. It was too much and not enough, all at once.

“Bobby!” You sobbed. Blinded by your hunger.

But he had you. Guiding you onto your back, pushing your legs apart, exposing you to him. “Look at me.”

Frantic eyes flickered to his own.

“I’ve got you, little pup. Breathe for me.” His palm splayed against your chest, and he guided your breaths. Although he, too, was in his own heightened state of arousal, his instincts still urged him to take care of you.

He buried his face against your neck once again, breathing in deep. And then, his mouth parted, fangs sharp, pressed against tender flesh, just as his aching cock nudged into you, inch by inch.

His canines sank into your flesh at the same time he thrust forward, mounting you, filling you whole in one motion. So sudden that you wailed, jolting beneath him. But you were not in pain. Far from it.

The feeling of him inside you, stretching you for the very first time, was enough to bring an overwhelming peace upon you. Your mind, which had been plagued with thoughts of primal desire, soon quieted. Your erratic heartbeat calmed. You became one with your mate, your alpha.

“I’m here.” He spoke, but his voice may as well have been inside your mind, echoing through the fibers of your very soul.

You gasped, your eyes widening as you gazed up at him. “B-Bobby,” you squeaked. You couldn’t find the words. You only knew how to speak his name.

“I know.”

Tears slid down your cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let out a broken sob. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders, tugging him closer to you. As he watched your tears fall, he ducked forward, tongue darting out of his mouth to lick them from your skin.

“This…this is…” you tried to form syllables, but your mouth felt loose around the vowels and consonants. “Is th-this what it was always meant to be like?” Your first heat, first experience with your true mate.

Though you had never experienced this with Finn, you knew it would not have been this special, this sacred, if you had. It was different with Bobby. He was gentle. Devoted. Kind. No cruelty resided in his bones. Only goodness.

“Yes, my love,” he whispered, afraid that if he spoke louder, his voice would betray him, “this is how it was meant to be.”

Arms tightening around his shoulders, you pressed your chest to his, and he kissed you, mouth open against yours as he slowly pulled his hips back, nearly leaving you empty, before he pushed forward again.

You gasped sharply, head falling back against the softness of the pillows. With each push and pull of his cock within you, your body reacted, providing you with even more lubricant until he was gasping, glancing down at your cunt, stretched around him. “Oh, honey, you’re…you’re dripping all over the place.”

“Ca-can’t help it. Feels…oh, feels so…so good.”

His mouth parted to let out a choked grunt, head dipping to rest upon your collarbone as he built a rhythm. Slow at first. Almost tentative. But the pace soon grew more deliberate. It wasn’t hurried. Not yet. Instead, he kept his body close to you, unwilling to create too much empty space between you. With the steady grinding of his hips, he rutted into you rhythmically, heavy cock pulsing within you.

The ache of your crushing need was gone, but it had been replaced with a different form of desire. One for him to move faster. Deeper. To stake his claim over you.

“Please…need it harder,” you rasped against his ear, canines scraping at the shell of it.

Bobby obliged, keening low in his throat. You found your legs wrapped around his lithe waist as he plunged into you over and over again, the wet sound of your cunt almost obscene.

God, he was so deep, impossibly so. You felt very ridge and vein of his cock, creating a feeling within you that could only be described as a growing, flickering flame. Increasing in temperature by the minute.

Wanting to stake your claim, as he’d done to you, you opened your mouth, teeth pressing against his neck. Your claws dug into his back as your fangs sank into the skin. Bobby snarled, but not angrily. You felt him twitch inside you.

His eyes flashed bright red once again, and he shuddered, nearly coming to a halt as he nearly lost control of his shift. You’d dulled his shaper senses, and therefore, it was more difficult for him not to succumb to his wolf.

Even so, a slight change in him took place. His muscles rippled beneath your touch. He gripped at the sheets, claws ripping into the cotton. “Can’t…can’t control it,” he managed to grunt. He screwed his eyes shut, vision fading out momentarily.

And that was when you felt it. His cock swelled inside you, not greatly, but enough for you to notice. You yelped. Not because it hurt. Because it made you see stars, as if you were exploding across the sky like a firework.

By some miracle, Bobby held on to what shred of control he had left, remaining in his human form, though the blue of his eyes stayed hidden beneath the glow of ruby, and his fangs and claws stayed extended.

You screwed your eyes shut and mewled as he rutted into you. This felt right. This felt natural. And it was.

Long before either of you were born, your hearts and souls were promised to one another. And although time and other circumstances had driven you apart, you were together again. Knit together by the very fabric of the universe.

“Oh, Bobby, you feel so good.” Breathlessly whispered into the air between you. Heady, smelling of sex and desire and something you couldn’t quite name.

“So do you,” he moaned, moving so his hands were braced on the mattress, caging you in, surrounding you in his warmth, making it seem as if you were the only two living beings in the entire world. And for all you knew, you were. Within the four walls of this home, nothing existed but you and Bobby. You were here, together, to fulfill a primal need to claim, and be claimed. To love, and be loved.

You held onto him so tightly, as if you were afraid he might disappear if you didn’t. Your trembling voice was in his ear, begging him to go deeper. Pleading with him to own you.

I’m yours. All yours forever.

With each nudge of him inside you, you were electrified. Spine tingling. Body shuddering. Your head felt hazy. Buzzing as if you’d consumed something alcoholic. But you were merely drunk off of your mate. His cock, his scent, his entire presence.

Once again, he let his eyes flicker down, to the place where your bodies met. Where you gushed around him with each thrust. “My perfect girl, taking me so well. Like you were made to,” he praised.

Then his forehead was resting against your own as he drove into you more deliberately. “I…I’m gonna fill you up, sweetheart.” He knew he was close. Teetering toward that edge, a flicker, a spark, gathering at the base of his spine.

“Please,” you begged, tearfully.

“And you’ll take it all, won’t you? I know you will. You’ll let me knot you like the good little mate that you are.”

You cried out, trembling against him when he thrust forward particularly deep, sending your body vibrating with ecstasy. “I will! Please, I want…I want you to claim me, want every wolf to know that I’m yours!”

Bobby kissed you again, swallowing your pleas, tongue slipping into your mouth. You feverishly kissed back, but you hardly registered what you were doing as your body began to climb that peak, soaring toward the clouds. For a moment, you thought you really had begun to float, but you remained anchored, grounded, tethered to your mate.

It rushed through you. Building, building, building. Flames growing higher, hotter, brighter. Your eyes rolled back. You couldn’t breathe. Yet you had never felt more alive than you did right then, It was immeasurable. Indescribable.

Your vision went black, flooded with endless galaxies stretching across a velvet black sky. It felt as if you were filled with celestial light, blinding and beautiful, surging across the sky in golden hues.

Your alpha’s name left your mouth in hushed whispers. Bobby, Bobby, Bobby. You knew nothing else but him. Only him. Inside you. All around you. Consuming you.

You were unraveling like a spool of thread. And he could feel it. The way you pulsed around him, so tightly that he almost couldn’t move within you. Grunting breathlessly, he clutched the already tattered sheets, flinching, as if a bolt of lightning had just fallen from the sky and struck him.

“Let go,” he rasped, knowing that he, too, was moments from coming undone. He needed to feel you, before he did. Pulsing, clenching, undulating beneath him.

You let out an animalistic little yip, locking eyes with him. Almost there, almost there, almost… “B-Bobby, I…I’m…”

He moved so that he was on his knees, with you wrapped around him, rocking against his lap. Then he held your face in his strong hand, and a deep growl—no, snarl—sounded in his throat. Then he was using his voice again. That commanding, powerful tone that reminded you that he was, in fact, the alpha. “Come.”

Then you were plummeting. Faster, faster, faster. Certain you would collide with the ground and disintegrate into billions of tiny atoms. But he had you. Arms encircling you, pulling you into his body, holding you close.

Eyes glowing yellow, your gaze locked with his. It hit you so hard you convulsed against him. Spreading through your body. Engulfing you. Swallowing you whole. You let out a wolfish howl, head thrown back as you came apart in the arms of your one true love.

It continued even as you cried, mouth open against his, unable to do anything more than take it. A seemingly endless, surging wave. Bobby held you to him, overwhelmed, watching your beautiful face shift into an expression of unadulterated bliss.

Even as you were still trembling against him, his own release suddenly rushed through him, your pulsing cunt bringing it forth from him. His seed flooded the very core of your being, surely claiming you, as he moaned openly.

As the haze cleared, you fell against him, exhausted. Gasping for breath. Your face rested in the crook of his neck, where you could feel his pulse, quick as a hummingbird. His grip loosened on you slightly, though your bodies remained connected, and would for some time. Slowly, you lifted your head, mouthing his lips sleepily. Whimpering as you felt his cock swell once again. This time it was to bind you to him.

As you looked into his face, you realized his eyes were back to their very human blue. Lovingly, tenderly, he swiped his knuckles over your exertion-warmed cheek. “How you feeling, little pup?” He asked.

It took you a moment to form words. “Li-like I just got claimed by my alpha.”

A delighted gnarl sounded in his chest. “Mm. You’re all mine, aren’t you? Nice and full of my knot.”

Satisfied, you nestled your face against the hollow of his throat. And then, you began to purr. A sound that he had never heard come from you before. It sent a wave of pleasing warmth through him, and he so very carefully moved to lower you both to the bed.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, as you remained tied to him. You could not begin to describe the peace that you felt. Here, in his arms, bodies joined together, you were complete. Whole.

“Thank you,” you whispered, as his fingertips began to trace abstract shapes against your spine. “I…I’m so grateful that I got a second chance to be your mate.”

He bumped his nose lovingly against yours. “So am I. Now that I have you, I’m never letting you go.”

You knew he meant those words with the whole of his heart. You could rest in knowing he was yours until the end of time. There was a sense of refuge that you had never felt before. Finn had never provided that for you, despite it being his job as an alpha to do so.

But Bobby? He did. His very being exuded the safety and security that you so desperately needed. And although he was gentle, kind, and loving, there was a quiet ferocity to him. A determination to protect that which was his. His pack, his mate, the sanctity of everything that he had built.

As you lay intertwined in his bed, basking in your love for one another, you had no idea that that very sanctity would soon be threatened.

For now, you remained unaware. Blanketed in bliss.

Bobby held you in his arms and spoke sweetly to you, breathing whispers of his love and devotion as you remained wrapped around each other still. And after you parted, thighs slick with his sticky spend, you found yourself once again filled with desire. Not nearly as searing as before, but strong nonetheless.

He took you again that morning, filling you once more as you writhed against the bed.

After that, as you lay exhausted, skin sparkling in a thin sheen of perspiration, he reluctantly slipped out of bed to make breakfast, adamant that you both keep your strength up.

After breakfast, you went on a playful run through the woods, which ended in Bobby mounting you and rutting into you against the forest floor as you cried out into the open air, delirious from pleasure.

It went like that for the next five days. The two of you in various states of erotic embrace, driven by your animalistic need for each other.

But it was also a time of bonding. All the in between moments allowed you to enjoy one another’s company. Whispering and giggling well into the night as if you were at a slumber party. Snuggling up on the couch while Bobby read to you out of a poetry collection. Domesticity.

You were truly, incandescently happy. It was as if a heavy, unbearable weight had been lifted from your shoulders. You knew you were exactly where you were always meant to be.

All too soon, however, it was time to return to the pack. Although you didn’t want to leave the cozy little cottage where you’d spent the past week with your beloved mate, he had duties to fulfill, and his wolves were depending on him.

So, after you spent time together cleaning the cottage and leaving it even neater than when you’d arrived, you began the trek back to the compound.

“How’re you feeling, little pup?” Bob asked as he fell into step beside you, the two of you choosing to make the walk in human form, so you could enjoy leisurely conversation as you ambled through the woods together.

You smiled, leaning into him as he wrapped his arm around your waist. “Like I just spent a whole week going through heat with my mate,” you replied with a soft giggle.

He hummed, mouth curving into a smile as he leaned in to kiss your temple. But he grew serious as he asked his next question. “I didn’t hurt ya at all, did I?” He’d already checked in with you before, but he still wanted to make absolutely certain that he hadn’t been too much for you to handle.

“You didn’t. I know you’d never hurt me, Bobby.”

You spoke with such conviction that it made his heart lurch in his chest. “I just…I had to make sure, y’know?”

Your head rested against his shoulder. “Trust me, I would tell you right away if you hurt me. But that’s not something I have to worry about. Not with you. You’re everything a good alpha should be.”

He beamed at the praise. Oh, how glad he was that you believed in him. That you trusted him, and knew he would never harm you. “I love you, little pup. More than anything.”

“I love you too.”

Together, you strolled through the forest, beneath the sun-dappled trees, and you were content. You spoke of anything and everything. Of your plans for the future. Of your hopes and dreams and everything in between. If only for a moment, all was right with the world. You were happy, safe, and at peace.

Until you sensed it.

A scent carried by the wind. It stopped you dead in your tracks, and you gasped, eyes widening as a rush of ice-cold fear swept through you. Bobby sensed it too.

He went still beside you, tilting his head, inhaling. Blood.

But that wasn’t what had stopped you. No, it was something other than the metallic tang of blood in the air. The scent that drove terror through your veins was woodsy and sharp. Liken almost to that of a fire-ravaged forest.

“No,” you whispered. “No, no, no.”

Bob turned to you, face masked in worry. He knew that something was horribly wrong. That the safety of the pack had been compromised. But as he prepared to run toward the face of danger, you gripped his forearm, and he felt the way you were trembling.

“It’s Finn,” came your fearful whimper, as you glanced around, as if the wolf might come out of the shadows at any moment. “He’s here, somewhere.”

His worry morphed into a vengeful snarl. “Stay close to me,” he told you, “do not leave my side.”

But as he spoke, the sound of a howl ripped through the air, and his head snapped up, eyes flashing red. The howl belonged to Bradley. A howl of alarm. Let out as a call to his alpha.

Bob grunted at the sharp pull in his chest. An intrinsic need to protect. He grabbed your hand, and within seconds, you were both running, sprinting through the woods as fast as your legs would carry you.

It reminded you so much of the night you had come to him for help. Then, you were running into a safe haven. Now, that safe haven had been breached.

As you neared the compound, the gate came into view. It was wide open, swaying in the wind, and there was no one watching over the perimeter. The closer you got, the stronger Finn’s scent became. He was inside the compound.

Together, you burst through the entrance, and came upon a horrific scene. Bob skidded to a halt, arm darting out to stop you, immediately yanking you behind him.

You were surrounded by members of your old pack, but that wasn’t what sent a flicker of nauseating dread through you. The worst part was the sight of each of Bob’s wolves on their knees, forced to surrender, because, in the midst of them, there stood Finn, who held Mickey by the throat, claws piercing his flesh, intent upon killing him.

Crimson blood trickled through Finn’s fingers, and down Mickey’s neck. It was clear that he’d been in this position for long enough to deplete his strength. The fight had left him, and he remained limp and pale in Finn’s grasp.

Finn had forced the other wolves into submission by threatening to kill Mickey. And by the looks of it, he was going to succeed if someone didn’t intervene.

At the sight of his dear friend in such dire straits, Bob grew desperate, thrumming with rage. He squared his shoulders and shouted in a thundering voice, “Finn! Let him go!”

Finn turned, Mickey still in his grasp. When you saw him, the one who’d tried to kill you so many months ago, your stomach turned. That same murderous rage burned in his eyes. And he had the nerve to smile.

“Look who it is,” Finn taunted, “I was beginning to think you’d never show up.”

Bob inched forward, unwilling to make any sudden moves that might result in Mickey’s death. His friend gasped, though it sounded more of a sickly gurgle than anything. Bob swayed, fighting to keep himself in check.

“Let my beta go. He hasn’t done anything to you. Whatever your reason for being here is, take it up with me.” His fingers twitched with the urge to rip the cruel alpha apart.

Finn sneered. A face that had once been so handsome to you now made ugly by the harsh expression of wickedness. “My issue isn’t with you. It’s with her.” He jerked his head in your direction.

Bob pushed you further behind him, frame shielding you. “You aren’t her alpha anymore. You have no power over her.”

“You hand her over to me, or I’ll tear his throat out.” For emphasis, he tightened his hold on Mickey’s neck, pulling a pained groan from him.

A shudder went through Bob, his very atoms vibrating with his desperation. He knew that when forced to choose, his chemical makeup would naturally drive him to choose his mate, every time. But he also knew that if Mickey died right here and now, he would never forgive himself for letting it happen.

“You left her for dead! Why do you suddenly care about her now?!” He kept you tucked behind him still, an unmoving barrier between you and Finn. He wouldn’t let him come near you again.

You trembled, pressed against Bob’s back, gripping his shirt. As your eyes darted nervously to each of the faces belonging to pack members you’d once been close to, you wondered if any of them knew. Had Finn been honest with them about what he’d done? You had a feeling that they were completely unaware. That they didn’t have a clue he’d killed their previous alpha and wrongfully claimed—stolen—his status.

“Let him go.” A voice you hardly recognized, but soon realized was your own. You still remained behind Bob as you spoke. But you forced yourself to look at Finn. To hold his gaze.

He looked at you with grave disdain. “You’re pathetic. How quickly you moved on to another alpha. You reek of his seed. But it shouldn’t surprise me that you’d whore yourself out for him. Of course you’d give him easy access to what’s between your legs.”

Bob snarled, incensed. How dare he speak of you in such an obscene manner.

Only briefly, his eyes flickered to his own pack, each one on their knees, forced into a stance of submission. He considered the odds. They were surrounded by Finn’s wolves, and there were a lot more of them than there were of Bob’s.

Bob was well in tune with his betas. He could potentially give Bradley or Jake the silent signal to cause a distraction. It was clear that Bradley was already seconds away from reacting, judging by the look of burning rage in his eyes. But as volatile as Bradley could be, he would not act unless his alpha gave him the signal to do so.

However, Bob knew that the moment he gave the go ahead, Finn would kill Mickey. But Bob also knew what Mickey would say. He would tell him to choose you.

But you couldn’t bear it. No, you wouldn’t let Finn hurt anyone else you cared about. Forcing the fear from your voice, you called out, “let him live, and I’ll go with you.”

“No,” Bob immediately interjected, tone firm.

“Bobby, I have to.”

“I won’t let you!”

“If I don’t, he’ll kill him.”

“He already took you from me once, I won’t let it happen again!” He didn’t dare take his eyes off of Finn, but if he’d been looking at you, you knew you’d see the intensity of his conviction burning in his gaze.

“Make your choice. The clock’s ticking,” Finn threatened.

Your stomach turned. The life was already beginning to drain from Mickey’s eyes, even as he weakly pawed at Finn’s hand around his bloodied neck. If you didn’t act now, it would be too late.

So you stepped forward.

Bobby grabbed your arm, grip tight, insistent, but not painful. “No.”

You turned to face him, and he saw something in your face then. An unspoken understanding passed between you. Silent words that may as well have been shouted at the top of your lungs as you looked upon his face. You knew what you were doing. He had to let you go.

Though it broke him to do so, he dropped your arm.

As you turned to look at Finn, you wondered what narrative he’d spun, to convince the rest of the pack to come here. None of them were cruel and power hungry like he was. If they’d followed him here, he had given a believable enough reason for them to invade Bob’s territory.

No matter what he’d told them, you intended to try to reason with them. Perhaps you could sway their loyalty to their alpha.

“What do you want with me, Finn?” You asked, hands out in front of you, surrendering, approaching him cautiously.

His upper lip curled into a snarl. Then he swept his free arm through the air, motioning to his wolves. “What do I want? Ask them.”

You lifted your head, gaze falling upon each pack member. You’d once been family, but now, you could see the hatred in their eyes.

Finally, one of them—Eleanor—spoke up. “You abandoned your pack. You betrayed your alpha. And now, here you stand, mated to a new alpha. You know how unforgivable that is. You need to pay for what you’ve done.”

“That’s not true,” came Bob’s voice from behind you. He stepped forward, but forced himself still. He would remain in control for as long as he needed to be. If he acted rashly, he’d lose Mickey, and his pack would likely be overpowered by Finn’s.

“You don’t get to speak for her,” Nathaniel, another of Finn’s wolves, snapped. “She answers for her own actions.”

Heart hammering in your chest, you hesitated, choosing your next words carefully. You had a plan, and you knew exactly how you were going to execute it. However, you failed to realize what was coming next, until it was too late.

Letting out a trembling breath, you locked eyes with Finn and slowly lowered yourself to the ground. Much like you had the day you’d been reunited with Bobby. A display of submission.

At the sight of you kneeling before the one who’d betrayed you, Bob’s stomach turned, nausea creeping up his throat. But this wasn’t his choice.

As you looked up, a dark flash of wicked elation crossed Finn’s face. “There, that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

It happened in the blink of an eye. Supernaturally quick, yet in slow motion, all at once. Mickey drew in a shuddering, choked gasp, just before Finn slashed his claws across his throat and dropped him to the ground with a sickening, lifeless thud.

A rush of blood pounded through your ears as your heart raced, and you felt as if you had been kicked in the chest, oxygen snatched from your lungs as you wailed out, “NO!”

The red of Finn’s eyes matched the red of the blood that poured from Mickey’s neck, as he surged forward, right toward you. You scrambled to your feet, attempting to bring yourself into a defensive stance, but before you even felt the impact of him colliding with you, the sound of a deafening roar cut through the air, and in seconds, you were hit from the side by a force so strong you went soaring.

Your vision went black for a moment as you hit the ground, and when your sight returned, you looked up to find a chestnut wolf standing in front of you, shielding you. Bobby.

You were suddenly surrounded by wolves of all shapes, sizes, and colors. You were the only one who remained in your human form as apex predators clashed around you. Growling. Pacing. Each side waiting for their alpha to make the first move.

Scrambling to your feet, you stumbled back, yanking at your clothing, throwing the offending fabric aside as your body shifted into your wolf. Without hesitation, you moved to stand at Bob’s flank, showing your allegiance to him.

Finn stood in front of him, and as he lowered down to his haunches, you knew he was preparing to lunge.

He and Bobby collided in the blink of an eye, snapping, clawing at one another. And then all hell broke loose. You watched in horror as your old pack, and your chosen one, broke into a battle.

You didn’t want to fight any of them. How could you? They were your family. It broke your heart to think that some of them might die at the hand of Bob’s wolves, and vice versa.

There was only one at fault for the events that had taken place. Finn was the perpetrator. He was the one who had convinced his pack members that you had turned your back on them. What would they do, if they knew he was responsible for killing their old alpha? And if you told them, would they believe you?

The time for reasoning was over. There was no stopping the violent conflict happening around you. Lives would be taken. The soil of this compound would be soaked with blood. It was already stained with Mickey’s. More would follow.

And as you watched your families clash, you were struck with a grief so intense you almost collapsed under the weight of it.

You tried to keep your eye on Bobby, hoping he would hold his own against Finn. Although Bob was very skilled and cunning, Finn was running off of pure rage and hatred. A powerful, deadly combination.

But you were soon faced with no other choice other than to defend yourself when you were cornered by Theo, one of Finn’s wolves. He growled, eyes trained on you. And then he lept toward you, and you collided with him, desperate to fight him off. If you had to kill him to protect yourself, you would, but you silently prayed it wouldn’t come to that.

Theo’s claws sliced into your flesh. You were holding back, but he wasn’t, so you shut off the human part of your brain and let yourself become the predator you were by nature, fighting for your life.

There was no telling how long the battle lasted. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. The chaos mounted in intensity. In ferocity. Teeth and claws, ripping and slashing. Howls, snarls, roars of pain and rage.

Everything was falling apart. In a way, it felt as if you were on the verge of losing everything. And maybe you were. Maybe you had been given a second chance with Bobby, only to lose him again.

And when the battle finally stopped, it was not because one side arose victorious. No, it stopped when a sickening, harrowing yelp ripped through the air.

Immediately, the wolves around you froze. Everyone went dead silent. Turning to face the source of the yelp. Immediately, Theo backed off of you, allowing you to scamper to your feet.

You’d already known who the howl of pain belonged to. It had struck you right in the heart when you heard it, as if someone had shot you with a silver arrow. And as you took in the sight before you, your world tilted on its axis.

Bobby had been forced into his human form, laying sprawled upon the earth as Finn’s wolf stood over him. Growling. Claws at his throat. Seconds away from making a blow that would kill him.

You were moving before you realized what you were doing. Bones shifting. Fur giving way to smooth flesh as you dashed forward. “NO!” You heard a ragged, primal scream cut through the air, and realized that it had come from your own throat.

You threw yourself to the ground, landing upon your mate’s injured form, putting yourself between him and Finn. Staring up at the cruel, violent wolf. Beneath you, you could hear Bob’s pained groan, and broken whisper, “d-don’t.” He couldn’t bear to watch you die.

But you remained there, shielding him. Protecting him. “I won’t let you kill him!” You cried out, even as Finn growled, bloodied maw dripping onto your bare skin. “I won’t let you kill him like you killed my father!”

When the wolf hesitated, you knew it was finally time to take your power back.

Emboldened, you glared up at him. “Tell them, Finn. Tell them how you killed him and stole his alpha status. Tell them how you lied about it. How you tried to kill me when I found out.”

Around you, wolves had shifted into their human forms. A voice called out, “is that true, Finn?”

“It’s true. All of it,” you answered for him, even as he snarled. He had yet to shift into his human form.

And you knew, as you looked into his face, that he was going to kill you. Even when he had severed your mate bond all those months ago, he’d never looked this murderous. Perhaps you had accepted that this was the end, because you felt no fear, even as he reared back. At least you would die in Bobby’s arms.

You closed your eyes, making peace with it.

But the blow never came. In a split second, another wolf was colliding with Finn, effectively saving your life. Your head shot up in surprise, eyes going wide as saucers when you realized who had intervened.

Mickey.

His sudden distraction was enough to let the rest of the pack gain the upper hand. In a split second, Finn’s own wolves turned against him. Although Mickey was injured, he’d been able to hold him down long enough for Finn’s pack to capture their wayward alpha.

Moments later, Finn was back in his human form, kneeling against the earth as Eleanor and Theo held him in place. “Is it true?” Theo asked. “Did you kill our alpha?”

Finn did not answer. Theo gripped him by the throat, eyes flashing yellow. “Answer me! Did you kill him?!”

From where he knelt, Finn locked eyes with you, and a sneer darkened his face. If he had his way, you would be dead, and he would be bathing in your blood. Now, it was his blood that would be shed.

“It was worth it,” he finally said. “I’m not sorry for killing him. I never was.”

Although you had known it to be true, and had heard him confess it before, it still felt like a slap to the face to hear him say it again. It made it real. He’d actually taken your father’s life. It wasn’t a bad dream. It was reality.

But the nightmare was over now, because, in seconds, Finn’s wolves moved to close in on him. However, this wasn’t their fight. There was only one who had the right to enact punishment upon him.

At that moment, Bobby struggled to pull himself upright, turning to you, taking your face in his trembling hands. He pressed his forehead against yours, and although no words were spoken, you knew what he was going to do. It was what he had sworn he would do from the moment you stumbled into his compound, bearing Finn’s claw marks upon your neck.

He parted from you, and you stood with him, as he called out, “Stop.” The authority in his command drew everyone’s attention to him.

Slowly, he approached the group that surrounded Finn. Gait wavering, because of his injuries. But he stood tall, despite his pain. He did not take his eyes off of Finn, and he realized that the corrupt alpha looked afraid.

Bob stopped in front of him, glowering. “You took something from me.” Tone sharp. Not an ounce of kindness or mercy in his voice.

Finn attempted a scoff, though it sounded nervous. Uncertain. “I didn’t take anything from you.”

With a growl, Bob gripped his hair and yanked his head back. “You took my mate, who was promised to be mine. You killed her father. You tried to kill her.” He trembled with the force of his indignation. “And because harm came to her by your hand, you are going to pay for it with your life.”

Bob leaned in close, so his face was inches from Finn’s. Eyes glowing red as ember, fiery with his rage. “You will never hurt her again. You will never hurt anyone again.”

When he drew back, you closed your eyes, unwilling to watch. But you heard it. The tearing of flesh. The strangled groan. The thud of a body landing upon the earth.

And then it was silent, save for the sound of footsteps moving toward you.

“It’s over.” When your eyes fluttered open, you found Bobby kneeling before you. “He’s gone.”

You were sobbing before you threw yourself into his arms. Face buried against his neck, body trembling. It was done. You were safe.

You remained there on the ground for what felt like hours, holding one another, unwilling to let go. When you parted, you found yourself frantically searching him for any injuries sustained. His chest and torso were covered in claw marks. A particular nasty gash on his side was what had driven him into his more vulnerable human form.

But as you placed your hand upon his chest, over his heart, he was very much alive.

“Bobby…” you whimpered, chin trembling. The gravity of the situation had finally set in. He could have died.

He reached his hand up, cupping your cheek. “Oh, my precious pup,” he whispered. “I’m okay.”

He held you close again, even as his gaze flickered up to take in the carnage. He searched for his own pack members. Counting each of them. And there they all were, now in their human forms. Natasha. Jake. Bradley. Javy. Reuben. Pete. Penny. Amelia. And, by some miracle, there was Mickey. Clearly injured, throat still bloodied, but alive. How he had managed to survive Finn’s violence was unclear, other than by sheer force of will.

Bobby had never been so relieved. As he locked eyes with Mickey, the beta nodded at his alpha. A silent way of saying I’m okay.

Slowly, Bobby rose to stand, with you by his side, arm wrapped around his waist, head resting against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, pumping his lifeblood through him. You hadn’t lost him. Not today.

Together, you limped toward the other pack members, who surrounded you, showing their support to their alpha and his mate. Natasha was the first to step forward and wrap her arms around you and Bob.

“We’re okay,” she whispered. “We’re all okay.”

And then there was Mickey. Leaning against Jake for support, he managed a weak smile. He could not speak, as Finn had damaged his vocal cords. But they would heal in time. Until then, he merely opened his arms and brought Bobby into his embrace.

“I’m sorry I was gone,” Bob whispered, “if I’d been here sooner maybe I could’ve stopped this from happening.”

But as they parted, Mickey shook his head. Although he could not voice his feelings, Bob could see them conveyed clearly in his eyes. It wasn’t your fault.

He lovingly squeezed his beta’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry too. If I’d realized Finn was going to do this…” you spoke up, unable to articulate your feelings as emotion tightened your throat.

But none of them held any of it against you.

“What matters is we’re all safe and alive,” Penny interjected. “And the one responsible for all of this is dead.”

At her words, you nodded, reaching out to squeeze her hand. Then you leaned back into Bobby, unwilling to be apart from him. Not after almost losing each other.

A voice drew your attention outside the intimate circle in which you’d gathered. There stood Nathaniel. As he looked at you, deep remorse gathered in his green eyes.

“I’m sorry we didn’t see it sooner. That we all just blindly believed him,” he said, voice trembling. The rest of his pack came to stand behind him. They all looked heartbroken and full of deep regret over what had transpired.

But you shook your head. “I believed him, too. He…he was very convincing.”

“Still. We should’ve known something was wrong when he claimed you abandoned the pack. You wouldn’t have done that without good reason.”

You didn’t hold any of them responsible. Finn was a master manipulator. He had you fooled, and if you hadn’t gotten wise to him, you never would have escaped his hold on you.

“It’s over now,” you finally said. “Finn can’t control any of us anymore.”

And thus, a heavy weight was lifted off of your shoulders.

You looked at Bobby, and offered a smile, though tired as it was. He returned your smile, and intertwined your hands. It would take a while to heal from this. But you knew that, when the time was right, you would join each pack together as one. Just as had once been planned, before a corrupt alpha had ruined it all.

Thankfully, all hope was not lost.

But first, recovery had to take place. In the days following the conflict, Penny was busy treating injuries. Mickey was a special case that required round the clock care. While Penny was preoccupied with him, you and Natasha worked alongside her, tending to wounds and making sure everyone was healthy.

The physical scars would heal, but the emotional ones would remain raw for a while. Your grief was just as painful as ever. It had been rehashed during the encounter with Finn.

You were relieved his wolves had wised up to him, but so much heartache had been endured in the meantime. Heartache that could have been avoided if you had seen him for who he really was from the start.

Bobby held you as you lay awake at night, weeping softly into the peaceful confines of your shared bedroom, and he assured you that it wasn’t your fault. He knew how you blamed yourself. How you wished you hadn’t been so blind.

“But you saw it,” you whimpered. “You knew something was wrong in the beginning. How could I not see it?”

And that was the thing of it. He had suspected Finn in the beginning. But he hadn’t pushed the issue as hard as he should have. “We both have to live with what happened,” he whispered, “but it doesn’t have to define us. The universe gave us a second chance. Not everyone is that fortunate.”

He was right. Although you had suffered great pain to get to this point, you were increasingly grateful that the universe had given you another chance.

It would take time for you to process your grief and guilt. But Bobby would be right there with you. Your mate. Your one true love. You didn’t have to go through it alone.

A little ways down the road, your packs would finally come together. They would pledge their allegiance to Robert Floyd, the benevolent alpha.

And you and Bobby would lead them. Together. Just like you were always meant to.

#bob floyd x reader #bob floyd smut #bob floyd fanfiction #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fic

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attapullman · 1 year ago

Text

Pretend | Robert "Bob" Floyd

Summary: You aren't sure what's worse: having to share a bed with the boy who was your first boyfriend who you haven't seen in years, or having to pretend he's your boyfriend when you wish he actually was.

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: f!reader, light smut, 18+ only as always, unprotected pinv, fake dating trope, one bed trope, lots of switching between present and past tense whoops

A Note From Mo: It's Choose-a-Fic! Thank you to everyone who voted and has been part of my 500 Follower milestone! Hopefully you like the fic I wrote just for you (with a little extra one bed trope as a special thank you)! 😘

Coupe glasses tinkle and laughter rings out as the rehearsal dinner draws toward an end. Everyone’s had a little too much of the hotel’s signature white sangria. On your left, Isabel and Reuben are frozen in blissed smiles, the outdoor lights casting an ethereal glow. An idyllic night before the wedding.

You should be relaxed. You’ve had a little wine, the most delicious dinner, and tomorrow your college roommate is getting married at this stunning resort. But every time that big hand grazes your shoulder or his breath heats the skin of your cheek, you’re reminded none of this is real and you desperately wish it was.

The only difference between six-year-old Robert Floyd and the man standing in front of you is the broad shoulders. Those pink cheeks are just as prominent and his eyes are wide behind updated corrective frames. Sandy hair politely brushed off his face. Even his thin lips warp in that same warm smile that instantly relieves tension. The only significant difference is those shoulders that fill out the entire doorway as he checks his rooming assignment with Isabel.

From where you stand behind her, suitcase in tow, you feel your cheeks warm and your gaze drop. You haven’t seen him since the engagement party where you muttered, “it’s a small world after all” more than once. It seemed all too coincidental that your college roommate would be marrying a guy who just happens to be in the same Navy squadron as your first grade boyfriend.

To be fair, you had “dated” Bobby Floyd for a total of a week before your parent’s divorce landed you on the opposite side of the country. There hadn’t even been a formal breakup. He’d simply been the guy you jokingly referred to as your “first love” at wine nights. Occasionally you remembered his collection of vintage Coke bottle caps.

He was practically a figment of your imagination until Isabel introduced you to the man in the nicely ironed pale blue button down and you sputtered out that you already knew each other.

You’re so lost in how bizarre the coincidence of it all is that you zone out through Bob’s check-in and the next few guests that arrive. It’s not until her line of relatives has dwindled that she remembers you’re sat behind her, sorting out the favors for after the reception.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, I should have given you your card earlier!” she apologizes as she flips back over her clipboard to find your room number. It’s all forgiven, you were waiting to finish up your bridesmaid duties before checking in. Get the work out so you can slip on your bathing suit and enjoy the amenities - pool, sun, and cabana boys - before dinner tonight.

She hands you a room card and walks you through the map of the hotel. You miss the second half while gathering up all your items, mentally trying to remember exactly how many rights before a left. Dinner is at seven and anything else surely she will remind you. With a kiss to her cheek, you head off to your room to begin the fun part of this destination wedding.

The property is stunning, all sun-washed sandstone and lush tropical plants. Deep blue terry cloth draped over the sun loungers you would live on all weekend. Some sun to compliment what should be a flawless wedding weekend. Maybe you’d get lucky and one of Reuben’s hot Navy friends would join you for some eye candy. You deserved a little one-weekend-in-paradise romance.

Suite 4. It’s a little deflating to remember that you’re in this big suite alone because all the other bridesmaids have dates. A least you have some privacy. The intricately carved door accepts your room key and you push the heavy wood open, ready to change and relax.

W-why was Bob in your villa?

Standing amongst the floor-to-ceiling windows draped with ochre that overlook the ocean, white oak furnishing topped with plush linen bedding, and a trailing pothos overtaking the wall, was Bob Floyd - right in the middle of changing his shirt. Equally wide eyes taking you in as he held the bunched heathered grey cotton right in front of his head, thumbs through the head hole, mouth open in shock.

“What are you doing in here?”

What was he doing in here? This was your room. “Why are you in my room?”

Despite knowing he’s not in the wrong, his cheeks tinge a deep pink. Takes a moment to pop his head in the hole of his shirt and brush out the wrinkles. You cling to to the annoyance of him interrupting your afternoon instead of focusing on how toned he’s gotten as an adult.

“This is my room. Suite 4. See?” He holds up a card identical to yours, the glossy ‘4’ reflecting the sunlight. The same ‘4’ that looks back at you.

Clearly there’s been some sort of mistake, someone at reception accidentally typing in the wrong number while going about their busy day or Isabel reading her meticulous list wrong. An easy fix.

You bite your lip. “Oh. Maybe I grabbed the wrong card. I’ll go find Isabel and sort it out.”

“I’ll come with you, she might have handed me the wrong card. Probably supposed to be sharing a bed with Fanboy.” He’s impossibly sweet as always.

You have no idea who or what a Fanboy is, but you accept his company back to reception, leaving your bag in the room purely because the bridesmaid dress alone weighs a half ton. The walk back there - with a few long turns - is a tad awkward as you both walk in silence, occasionally jerking your heads in the direction to turn.

Isabel has wandered away from reception, and is now soaking in one of the poolside bars with Reuben, their lovesick smiles contagious. She gives you the warmest smile when you approach, face splitting in two as she takes in your companion. “Hey, you two! You get settled in okay?”

God, this is awkward. Thankfully before you can muster the courage, Bob steps in. “I think there’s been a mix up with one of our rooms.”

Her eyebrows furrow as takes in what he said. Eyes flit to her lounger where her clipboard of rooming assignment lies within her tote. Reuben sips his frozen margarita in casual interest, not involved in the logistics.

“Which room are you in?” Even without her clipboard, Isabel is pretty sure she knows who is in what room. She spent months perfecting these details.

You hold up the glossy ‘4’, now slightly sticky with your sweat.

“Four? Hmm, I’m pretty sure that’s right. Was there a problem with the key? Both your keys?”

You give her a bewildered look. “One of us has the wrong key. We’re not sharing a room.”

“Why not? Your prude parents aren’t here to care if you share a room with your boyfriend.”

Every muscle in your body freezes. What is she talking about?

And while you’re paralyzed on the spot, Reuben looks like he’s about to throw up the margarita. Because he knows exactly what just happened. And not only is it his fault, but he does not have a solution.

Before you can question Isabel, the pilot is throwing his arm around your shoulders and grabbing Bob’s elbow, whisking you two away, calling out to his confused fiancée not to worry, he’s got it handled. The controlled hands of a fighter pilot steering you back in the way of Suite 4 while his face reads like he’s watching a plane crash.

Reuben won’t answer any of your questions, holding up a palm while you sputter out the who, what, where’s? of what is going on. Bob silently allows himself to be directed, confusion upon his brow, but patient enough to wait for an explanation.

Once you’re privately within the confines of Suite 4, the soft scent of bergamot and sandalwood wrapped around your bodies, Reuben finally confesses his mistake.

“Isabel thinks you two are dating.”

You expect to see eyeballs on the floor from how violently they pop out of your head. What? Bob doesn’t look much better. You two have barely spoken in decades, let alone are in a relationship! Why in the hell would Isabel think that?

Reuben drags a hand down his face, wishing he was back in the pool drinking. “When Bob over here told me that you two dated way back, I casually mentioned it to Is. When she asked the other week if he’d be good sharing a room, I thought she meant Fanboy or Harvard.”

You skip over the fact that Bob has talked about you to other people to focus on the details. “She meant me.”

“How was I supposed to know that?” By this point he’s rubbing the skin on the back of his neck raw, eyes wildly desperate. “Can you two share? It’s only two nights.”

Your eyes meet ocean blue as you both look at the single bed, then at each other. Bob intervenes calmly. “Why can’t you just tell her we need another room?”

Reuben crosses his arms across his chest, suddenly defensive. “We don’t have any other rooms. We booked the place out entirely. Short of Aunt Muriel keeling over, one of you would have to be at another hotel.”

“That’s fine,” you quip, grabbing your suitcase and ready to get the hell out of this situation.

“There’s nothing within a half hour drive. And you’re both in the wedding, that is not going to fly with Isabel.”

You’re tough, you can do hard things. Two nights at a gorgeous resort where you have to share a king-sized bed with the sweetest man on the planet? Could be so much worse. From a look at Bob’s face, he’s having the same realization.

And right as you’re about to tell Reuben that it’s not a big deal, he sends in the clincher.

“You’re also gonna have to pretend you’re dating.”

“You’re joking.” Your tinny voice rings out in the room. You can do a lot of things - go to a wedding alone, sleep in the same bed as Bob - but you draw the line at pretending you’re dating someone you hadn’t seen until an engagement party six months ago. Nope, no way.

You look at Bob, standing with his hand resting low on his hip, watching this entire scene unfold. Giving him an expectant look, he smooths out his face and gives you a little nod. He’s on whatever team you’re on.

And just as you were about to tell Reuben to get lost, Isabel’s sweet face floods your mind’s eye. That happy smile she always greets you with, and her dismay that something had gone wrong with your room. Her perfectly planned out wedding weekend ruined by her misunderstanding a minor detail. She would insist that you have separate rooms, even if it interfered with plans, and she’d be upset - the smallest tinge of disappointment clouding her bridal smile.

Isn’t the job of a bridesmaid to make the bride not have disappointment?

And now, sitting here at the rehearsal dinner, warm conversation all around you, you can still hear yourself let out a large huff of breath and agree. “Alright, we can pretend for the weekend.”

It’s a decision you stand by, but doesn’t make the subtle way Bob has been playing your boyfriend the last 24 hours any easier. He plays devoted partner a little too well. Carrying your beach bag down to the water that afternoon when everyone wanted to sit by the pool, sweetly rubbing sunscreen into that spot on your back that you can never reach. Grabbing a drink for you when he went up to the bar.

Your lonely wedding weekend is suddenly filled with this broad-shouldered Navy man who gives you a shy smile every time you make eye contact.

There wasn’t time to put in ground rules before Reuben threw you you to the wolves to socialize with the rest of the wedding party. When Isabel saw you, standing a healthy foot away from Bob and her sculpted eyebrow raised, it was the first test of this “relationship”. Your heart slamming in your chest as you slipped a hand around that thick bicep and rested your hot cheek against his shoulder. His own face fighting anxiety as he allowed you to set the pace. Isabel’s smile brightening as she beckoned you closer, instantly fawning over the two of you and the way Bob’s hand fits a little too nicely around your waist.

Thankfully the copious amount of relatives and friends constantly interrupting Isabel and Reuben prevented your friend investigating too close into this development in your love life. Happy to believe over some intentionally placed hands and the casual way he throws sweetheart in when asking if you want a drink.

“Now that I have you alone, why didn’t you tell me you were together? First loves reunited?!” Isabel drags you away to the other bridesmaids, Bob giving you a small wave as he joins the men.

You shrug, making a show of looking at the hibiscus to avoid her eyes. Desperate for a believable lie. “I didn’t want to…uh, distract from your big day?”

She wraps you in a warm hug you don’t deserve. “Not distracting in the slightest. He’s the best, you’re so lucky!”

You throw a glance his way, watching his good-natured grin as Reuben’s groomsmen, mostly aviators he’s worked with over the years, joke and jostle on the other side of the lawn. It’s side glances like these that carry through the night; when he pulls your chair out for dinner, asks the waiter to refill your water, and offers you half of his dessert. When your eyes do meet, you drown in the twin oceans that twinkle back at you.

By the time you’re heading back to Suite 4 to share that big bed, you’re pretty sure you’re not pretending to like him anymore.

You’re regretting not putting up the pillow barrier Bob so kindly offered to set up. It seemed childish at the time - you didn’t need a divider to stay on your side of the bed - but now you’re lying here in your little cotton pajamas you did not expect anyone to see and you can hear him breathing and the room is a little too warm. Every sense is on high alert and a pillow barrier would give you an inkling of privacy.

In the silhouette of the moonlight peaking through the curtains, you watch the planes of Bob’s face as he peacefully sleeps beside you. If he’s good looking in the daytime, he’s breathtaking at night. Pale eyelashes against his cheeks, lips slightly pouted, hair mussed from changing sides. You wish you could smooth your fingers over the planes of his face, appreciate the sharpness of his jaw, the roundness of his cheeks.

Tomorrow you have to pretend all over again to be in love with him. A feeling that’s already starting to creep inside you. A whole day of his gentle touches and laughs against your cheek. He was the perfect boyfriend that week in grade school, and even more perfect as an adult. Holding his hand made you want to never let go…which promptly made you want to jump out of your skin.

This was a tiny white lie to get through Sunday morning. That was it.

You keep replaying the last moment before you retired back to your hotel room for the night. The drunken group sitting around the fire pit, a bottle of tequila making its way around the circle. Not enough chairs so you ended up in Bob’s lap, body cradled in the firm comfort of his chest.

He made it so natural, the way his hand ran up and down your arm when you shivered in the night chill. You knew he could feel the shock up your spine when you noticed how intently he watched you during your story of how Isabel found a rat in your dorm room. He made you feel like the only person out there by the fire pit. The only person on this island.

When even the tequila couldn’t keep you warm any longer, the group disbanded in favor of cozy beds and hot showers. And even when no one else was in sight he still kept his arm around your shoulder to share his warmth, the pinching heels you’d shed in his hand as he asked whether you wanted to shower first.

Lips accidentally brushing your ear when he said he liked your dress; it matched the bougainvillea.

While you hadn’t spent much time together since your parents moved you away too long ago to remember, you were continually floored by how thoughtful he was still. He remembered how Isabel didn’t like ice, and that a few members of his squadron had allergies. Giving up his water because the woman next to him was without. Not to mention how he seemed to go the extra mile with you. All the years of boyfriends before this and not a single one had ever noticed you picked the pine nuts out of your salad; your new fake boyfriend requesting a fresh one sans nuts.

And it was borderline torture watching him get ready for bed post shower. Face and chest red from the scalding water and slick hair pushed back, towel slung a little too low as he dug through his suitcase. You were still speechless as he offered to put up a pillow barrier or something if it would make you more comfortable, making sure you knew he respected your boundaries.

His eyes were so blue without his glasses…

Caution to the wind, you run a finger over his cheek, brushing away a rogue eyelash and promptly turn away from him. Only one more day and you would be free of wanting a man that wasn’t yours.

The Fitch wedding day was perfect. Wide smiles, bridal lace, stunning hydrangeas, and not a dry eye in the house when Isabel and Reuben officially became husband and wife. It was the storybook start to a happy ever after.

The sunlight blessed ceremony was followed by a lantern-lit reception, dancing and drinking overtaking the sprawling beach-front lawn of the hotel. You stayed out until the evening ended, the wedding party laughing and overfilling glasses of champagne until the last lantern was blown out.

You barely remembered your rooming/relationship situation until a warm hand was on your forearm, asking if you were ready to go back to the room. It’s entirely unfair how good he looks in his suit. All day you’ve admired it, from the moment he emerged from the bathroom asking for help with his bow tie to an hour ago, when the wedding party did one last rendezvous on the dance floor.

Bob has an ease on the dance floor, clearly practiced, the hand on the small of your back gently guiding. A hand big and warm and more distracting than trying to remember your own footwork. The dark-haired woman he seems close with whooping out, “Look at those moves, Floyd!” every time you get close, her own date cheering along.

You shake the memory from your brain as Bob walks you back to the room. Keep the pining to a minimum until you can get to the airport and not have to see him ever again. You’re doing this for Isabel, your own emotions have no place. Even as you watch him open the door to the room and welcome you inside, looking so perfectly boyfriend-shaped.

Your skin feels too hot, your head clouded by bubbles and loud poppers exploding into the sky. Shedding this satin dress and getting into a warm shower sounds like heaven, washing away the buzzing ill-content flooding your body since you joined the wedding group that morning hand-in-hand with Bob. But a broken zipper interrupts those plans.

“Bob?” He stills on his way to the bathroom, bow tie loose around his neck. You indicate to the stuck zipper you’re fiddling with, warmth flaring at the top of your cheeks at your predicament.

The tips of his ears flush as he walks to you, chest a breath away from your back, admiring the way the satin flows over your curves and dips. Takes a moment to gather your hair over your shoulder before reaching for the zipper. The skin of his pinky accidentally brushes your neck, twin breaths catching at the shock.

Firm fingers guide the zipper onto the track. As they guide the cool metal down your back, the boiling point that has been simmering below the surface since yesterday afternoon comes to a head. The lace of your bra is visible. Now the silken band of your underwear. The air of the room is still, eagerly awaiting what happens next.

While his voice is shaky, his words are firm. “I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Your head turns to the side, eyes catching his profile, too scared to look at him directly.

“What are you pretending to do?”

His face falls into the crook of your neck, fingers tightening along the satin of your hips. “Pretending I’m doing our friends a favor. Pretending I’m not falling for you. Pretending every time I touch you it’s not the best part of my day.”

Your hand wraps around his, rough skin and satin beneath your fingers. Needing to tether yourself to reality to make sure this isn’t a champagne-fueled dream that he’s professing against your neck.

“In that case, I don’t want to pretend anymore either.”

While you can’t see him, you can feel his realization against your skin. Brow furrowing, lips parting. The soft brush of his nose as he straightens up, uses his hands to turn you to him. Finally forced to look at each other amidst the information divulged.

You aren’t sure who leans in first, who braved the waters of uncharted territory. Time stills and speeds up as his face grows closer. The scent of sandalwood and bergamot that’s followed you all weekend replaced by the woodsy mint of his cologne you’ve treated yourself to when tucked into his side. Anyone outside can hear two hearts beating erratically, anxious and excited.

His lips are warm and comforting, just like everything else about him. Pressing delicately against yours, taking his time and letting you set the pace. You’re torn between the shock of how divine he feels and the greedy need for more. Senses overwhelmed by him; you want to taste more, feel more, see more.

When he pulls away, a gentleman not wanting to overstep, you’re breathless.

“I’ve always wondered what it would be like to kiss you.” His confession is paired with pink cheeks and large hands playing with your fingers.

You can’t help but to tease him, the banter from your childhood coming back. “Did it live up to expectations?”

“Way, way better.” Your smile is swallowed in his kiss, chins knocking as you trade off enthusiasm. A groan leaving Bob as you grab his hands and walk back to the bathroom. That hot shower still sounds amazing, but you need more of him.

The travertine tiles glow in the soft light as you watch your childhood love remove his suit, taking time to fold the pieces on the counter, letting you indulge in unbuttoning his crisp shirt as you share another sweet kiss. His own hands twisted in the dress barely clinging to your skin. The sounds that escape him as your hands explore his chest are purely sinful, meant only for your ears.

He barely lets you bask in his body, honed from years of Naval training, before he’s stripping the satin from your frame. You beg for another kiss, but he denies you. He can’t be distracted from watching every inch of skin being revealed. From letting his fingers follow the fabric as it pools at your feet. From kissing his way back up your body until your head falls back against the wall, fingers beckoning him to the shower.

“You’re so beautiful.” It’s more breath than words, but ignite the goose flesh along your skin as he adjusts the hot water and shower head to your liking.

Minutes or hours passed as you reacquainted under the steam. Your fingers tangled in wet strands of sandy hair, fingers slipping along any skin you can reach. His own hands tightly hugging your body, holding you close as he appreciates your nude form. Swallowing each other’s moans as his fingers dip between your folds and you run your palm along his shaft.

The universe has ceased to exist by the time Bob kisses you against the shower wall, fingers wrapping under your thighs to hoist you to his level. Loving the way you giggle as your arms wrap around his neck, trusting him wholeheartedly. Eyes trained at where he lines up with you, relishing the way your breath catches in anticipation. He kisses your forehead as a promise to take care of you, a promise you know he’ll keep.

Once he’s seated deep in you, the moment about connecting rather than getting off, he tilts your head up to check in with you. A kiss as his eyes search you for discomfort. The flames of his eyes burning the brightest blue. One final clench around him and he knows he needs to move; if not for his sake, for yours.

It’s the most glorious dream as he fills you completely, hips rocking into yours as sweaty foreheads meet.

When he brings you to orgasm, a steamy moment punctuated by your muffled screams against his shoulder, there’s nothing fake about the affection as he peppers you with praise. Or when he fills you with his own release a moment later, exhaling thank you, thank you, thank you.

A pillow barrier isn’t even discussed as you lay in his arms that night, cheek against bare chest. His arm trails down your arm like it had the night before, a mindless action you now recognize as meaningful to him as to you. Sated and content, as it should be.

You sit up a little to run your nose along his neck, producing a low groan from him. “You need something, sweetheart?”

“I was wondering, after that,” you gesture to the shower, cheeks heating, “does this mean we’re, uh, dating again?”

He smiles at your flush, cupping your face with one of his large hands. Presses the sweetest kiss to your lips.

“You know, we never had a break up. Technically we’ve been dating this whole time.”

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rootedinrevisions · 5 months ago

Text

Everything to Me

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is my first time writing for the Robert "Bob" Floyd character. But for some reason, I felt like the Praise Kink would go really well with his character. I hope I've done this character justice!

PROMPT: "You have no idea how much you turn me on."

KINK: Praising

WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. SMUT (P in V)

WORD COUNT: 3.4k

The evening air was warm as you and Bob stepped out of the reception hall, the sound of laughter and music fading behind you. His hand rested gently on the small of your back, guiding you toward the car. He'd been quiet throughout the night, just like always, but you could tell he was happy. It had been so long since you’d been able to attend something like this together, and Bob was always at his best when he could just be with you, without the weight of his uniform or the pressures of his job.

As you arrived at the hotel, he opened the door for you, waiting for you to step inside before following. You took in the cozy, well-kept room with soft lighting, but your attention quickly shifted back to him.

Bob gently squeezed your hand and said, "You look beautiful tonight."

"You always say that," you replied with a smile, setting your purse on the small table near the window.

Because it's always true," he said, his voice soft but sure. He took your hand again, guiding you to the edge of the bed. "Sit down for me."

You settled onto the edge of the bed as Bob knelt down in front of you. His fingers were gentle as he slid your heels off one by one, the sensation of relief washing over you as he freed your aching feet from the tight shoes. His hands lingered for a moment, softly massaging the arches of your feet.

He smiled up at you, his shy, quiet demeanor making moments like this even more special. You'd known him for so long, loved him for even longer, but sometimes he still made your heart race.

"Bob…" you whispered, reaching out to brush a lock of sandy blond hair from his face. He caught your hand and kissed your palm softly, his eyes never leaving yours.

"I've missed you," he murmured, standing slowly and pulling you to your feet, his arms wrapping around your waist. "Missed this." His lips found yours in a slow, tender kiss that sent a shiver down your spine.

You melted into him, your fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you kissed him back with just as much longing. It had been months since you'd had this moment, just the two of you, without anyone or anything else demanding his time. You could feel how much he'd missed you, too, in the way he held you, the way his lips lingered on yours.

As the kiss deepened, his hands found the zipper of your dress, fingers brushing your skin as he slowly eased it down.

"You look stunning," he whispered between kisses, his breath warm against your neck. "So beautiful... I don’t know how I got so lucky."

You smiled against his lips, feeling the soft fabric of your dress slip from your shoulders as he worked it down, his touch delicate but deliberate. He paused for a moment, his eyes taking you in as if he couldn't quite believe you were here, with him, his.

"You always take my breath away," he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

His hands moved gently, as his lips brushed over your collarbone, your shoulder, as he praised you, each word making your pulse race faster.

"You're perfect… so perfect," he whispered, his voice filled with sincerity and love.

You sighed, letting yourself be fully in the moment with him. Every time you were together, it was like falling in love all over again. The way Bob cherished you, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world, made everything else fade away.

As your dress fell in a soft heap around your feet, you reached for Bob, your fingers trailing along the collar of his jacket. He smiled down at you, that shy, boyish smile that made your heart flutter, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

Your hands slid up to his shoulders, gently easing the jacket off. He helped you, shrugging it down his arms until it dropped to the floor beside your dress.

“You’re too handsome for your own good, you know that?” you teased softly, your fingers already moving to the buttons of his crisp white shirt. He chuckled, his eyes warm and full of affection as he reached up to undo the cufflinks on each wrist.

“Just trying to keep up with you,” he replied quietly, his voice low, thick with emotion. You could feel the gentle tremor in his hands as he worked, the same anticipation thrumming through him that you felt building in yourself.

One by one, the buttons came undone under your fingertips, revealing the toned chest you knew so well. It had been so long since you'd been this close, since you'd touched him like this. As the shirt parted, you pressed your palm flat against his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat beneath your hand.

He let out a soft sigh, leaning into your touch as you slid the shirt from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor along with everything else. His hands found your waist again, his thumbs brushing your bare skin where your dress had slipped down, leaving you in just your bra and underwear. He stepped closer, his breath mingling with yours as his lips sought yours again, tender but insistent.

You kissed him back, your hands sliding up his chest, over the defined muscles of his arms, savoring the warmth of his skin beneath your fingers. You had missed this—missed him. The long months apart had left a lingering ache, one that only seemed to ease when you were with him like this, wrapped up in the warmth and safety of his embrace.

With a soft hum of appreciation, Bob’s hands moved to your lower back, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you. His lips traveled from your mouth to your jaw, then to the sensitive spot just below your ear, where he whispered, “You’re flawless... I don’t tell you enough, but you are.”

You shivered at his words, the sincerity in his voice sending heat coursing through you. You tugged playfully at the waistband of his boxers, your lips brushing the stubble on his cheek as you murmured, “I think you’re the one who’s flawless.”

He gave a breathy laugh, shaking his head as if he couldn’t believe you’d say such a thing. But you knew that was just Bob—always modest, always humble, never fully realizing how much he meant to you, how much you adored him.

His hands slid up your sides, over the curve of your waist, tracing the lines of your body with a tenderness that made your heart swell. His lips found yours again, more urgent this time, and you could feel the longing between you—months of being apart, of waiting for this moment, all building up until now.

You leaned into him, letting yourself get lost in the feel of him—the warmth of his skin, the gentle yet firm way his hands moved over you, and the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred. Every touch, every kiss was slow and deliberate, like he wanted to savor every second, like he wanted to show you just how much he loved you in every way he could.

As his fingers gently traced the strap of your bra, you felt his lips brush against your ear again, his voice soft and full of emotion as he whispered, “I don’t deserve you.”

You pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “You deserve everything, Bob,” you whispered, your heart in your throat. “Everything.”

Bob’s hands, warm and steady, slid down to your hips as he kissed you, gently guiding you backward. His touch was firm but tender as he walked you toward the bed, the slow retreat making your pulse quicken. He broke the kiss only to catch your eyes, his breath shallow as he whispered, “You have no idea how much you turn me on.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you felt the heat between you grow. There was something in the way Bob looked at you now—like he was trying to make up for all the time you’d been apart, like he couldn’t get enough of you. And you could feel it in every touch, every kiss.

He gently laid you down onto the soft, fluffy white duvet, his hands never leaving your body as he knelt on the bed beside you. The room was filled with a quiet intimacy, the kind only you and Bob could share. His eyes roamed over you, full of admiration, and you could see the way his chest rose and fell with every breath he took.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice soft but sure, as if saying it wasn’t enough to express what he truly felt. His fingers traced the line of your bra strap, brushing your skin with the lightest of touches. “God, I’ve missed you.”

The sincerity in his words made your heart swell. You reached for him, your hands finding the waistband of his boxers and pulling him closer. He let out a soft, almost breathless laugh, his shyness creeping back for just a moment before he leaned down and kissed you again—this time slower, deeper, his lips and hands moving in perfect harmony.

His fingers worked to unclasp your bra, his hands moving gently as if he were unwrapping something precious. Once it was gone, he took a moment to simply look at you, his eyes filled with reverence. His hands ran down your sides, tracing the curves of your body with that same tenderness, his lips pressing soft kisses along your collarbone, down to your chest, then back up to your neck, each one more deliberate than the last.

“I don’t think you’ll ever understand how much you mean to me,” he whispered between kisses, his voice thick with emotion. “How lucky I am to have you.”

Your breath hitched as he continued his slow worship, each touch, each kiss, making your skin tingle with anticipation. His hands found your waist again, and he pulled you closer, his body pressing against yours as he kissed you, soft but passionate, like he was trying to make up for every moment he couldn’t be with you.

“You’re everything to me,” he murmured against your lips, his voice full of love. “Every single thing.”

His hands moved down your hips, his touch featherlight as he slipped the last remaining barrier of your underwear away. Bob’s kisses became more urgent, more filled with need, but there was never any rush. He wanted to savor this—to savor you. His lips traveled along the length of your body, each kiss slow and deliberate as he whispered praises against your skin, his voice low and full of desire.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmured again, his hands gently caressing your thighs. “So gorgeous… I’ve never seen anyone more beautiful.”

Your heart raced at the way he spoke to you, how his hands and lips moved like they were memorizing every inch of you, as if you were something sacred to him. And in this moment, with the warmth of his touch and the love in his eyes, you knew that you were. Bob had always been the quiet, reserved one, but when it came to you—when it came to showing you how much he loved and cherished you—there was no holding back.

As he continued his gentle worship, you felt the weight of the months you’d spent apart melt away. His words, his touch, his very presence filled every empty space that had been left by the time apart. Bob wasn’t just making love to you—he was showing you, in every way possible, just how much he adored you, how much he needed you, how much he cherished every moment he had with you.

Bob’s hands moved in slow, reverent strokes along your body, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through you. Every kiss, every whispered word of praise, was filled with longing, and as you gazed up at him, you could see the devotion in his eyes. His lips returned to yours, capturing them in a kiss that was soft yet filled with the undeniable hunger of months spent apart.

As your fingers found their way to the waistband of his boxers, you tugged them down, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. Bob shifted to help you, sliding the fabric off before returning his hands to your waist, his grip gentle yet firm as he pressed you closer. The feel of his bare skin against yours sent a shiver through you, heightening the sensation of every touch, every movement.

He hovered above you for a moment, his eyes tracing the lines of your body with a look of awe, as though he were seeing you for the first time.

“I can’t believe I get to be with you,” he murmured again, his voice thick with emotion.

The vulnerability in his words made your heart swell. You reached up, cupping his face in your hands, brushing your thumbs across his cheekbones.

“You’re everything I’ve ever wanted, Bob,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I missed you so much.”

His lips found yours in a soft, lingering kiss, his hands gliding over your body with deliberate care. Every touch felt like a promise—of love, of devotion, of everything you shared together. As he pressed you deeper into the bed, you felt the soft duvet beneath you cradling your body, but all your focus was on him—on the way his hands moved over you, the way his lips trailed soft kisses down your neck, across your chest, over your stomach.

Bob moved slowly, savoring every second, as if he were afraid to rush the moment. His hands slid beneath your hips, lifting you slightly as he pressed a kiss to the soft skin of your abdomen, his lips trailing lower in a series of worshipful kisses.

“You drive me crazy,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

Your breath hitched at his words, your body arching into his touch. His hands were everywhere, mapping out every curve, every line of your body as though he needed to memorize it all over again. And with each kiss, each whispered praise, you could feel the depth of his love—the way he cherished you, adored you.

He moved back up your body, his lips finding yours again, his weight settling over you in a way that felt both grounding and electric. His forehead pressed against yours as he whispered, “I’ve waited so long for this...missed you so much.”

“I’m here now,” you whispered back, your hands sliding up his arms, feeling the strength in his muscles as they flexed beneath your touch. “I’m not going anywhere.”

The moment felt charged with emotion, every touch filled with the kind of love that only grew stronger with time. His lips moved to your neck, nipping softly at the sensitive skin before trailing lower, pressing heated kisses along your collarbone and down to your chest. His hands followed, gliding over your skin, tracing the shape of your body as if he were trying to commit every inch of you to memory.

And as his hands moved lower, brushing against the curve of your hips, he whispered, “You’re everything to me. Everything.”

His words sent a wave of warmth through you, and as he positioned himself between your legs, his touch became more insistent, more urgent, but still so tender. Every movement was deliberate, slow, and filled with the kind of care that made your heart ache with how deeply he loved you.

The intimacy of the moment—the way he touched you, the way he whispered your name like it was something sacred—made you feel like the most cherished person in the world. And as you moved together, you could feel the connection between you grow even stronger, like two halves of a whole finally reunited.

Bob’s hands gripped your waist, his body moving in time with yours, every touch sending sparks of pleasure through you. And through it all, he never stopped whispering his love, his devotion, his admiration.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed against your skin. “So perfect... I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

Your hands tangled in his hair as you pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “I’m the lucky one.”

His eyes met yours, filled with so much emotion that it took your breath away. And in that moment, you knew—knew that no matter how far apart you were, no matter how many months or miles separated you, this love, this connection, would never fade. It was too strong, too real, too deep.

As you both reached the height of your intimacy, his forehead pressed against yours, and his breath came in ragged gasps.

“I love you,” he whispered, his voice raw, filled with everything he felt but couldn’t always say. “I love you more than anything.”

As the room fell into a comfortable silence, the only sound was the soft rhythm of your breathing, mingling with his. Bob held you close, his arms wrapped securely around your body, as if he were afraid to let go. His fingers traced gentle patterns along your back, soothing and intimate, a silent reminder of how much he adored you.

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, your head resting just beneath his chin as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

"You okay?" he whispered softly, his voice filled with concern and affection.

You smiled against his skin, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your cheek.

"More than okay," you replied, your voice filled with contentment. "I’ve missed this—missed you."

Bob's arms tightened around you, and you could feel the weight of his emotions in that simple gesture.

"I missed you too," he murmured, his lips brushing against your forehead. "I don't ever want to be away from you that long again."

You tilted your head up to meet his eyes, smiling softly as you cupped his cheek in your hand.

"We'll always find our way back to each other," you whispered, the certainty in your words unshakable. "No matter what."

He gazed down at you, his blue eyes filled with so much love it almost made your heart ache.

“You’re right,” he whispered, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek. “You’re my home.”

A peaceful quiet settled between you both as you lay there, limbs tangled together beneath the fluffy duvet. The weight of the world seemed to disappear, leaving only the warmth of each other’s presence.

Bob's fingers found yours, lacing them together as he held your hand against his chest.

“I’m going to make every second count while I’m home,” he said softly, his voice filled with quiet determination. "You deserve that."

You nodded, pressing a kiss to his chest. “We both do."

For a long moment, the two of you simply held each other, the closeness and warmth enough to fill the void left by the months apart. The soft glow of the moonlight filtering in through the window bathed the room in a gentle, comforting light, as if the universe itself was wrapping you in peace.

And in that quiet moment, you knew, deep down, that no matter how far away Bob’s deployments might take him, no matter how many miles or months separated you, this bond, this love, was stronger than anything. You had each other, and that was all that mattered.

Bob shifted slightly, pressing one more kiss to your forehead before settling back against the pillows, his arms never leaving you.

"I love you," he whispered, the words soft but filled with so much meaning. "Forever."

"I love you too," you whispered back, your voice carrying the same depth of emotion. "Always."

And as you closed your eyes, the warmth of his embrace surrounding you, you drifted off to sleep, safe in the knowledge that no distance or time apart could ever change what you had. You were his, and he was yours—now, always, and forever.

#Top Gun Bob #Top Gun Bob Fanfiction #Top Gun Bob Fanfic #Bob Floyd #Bob Floyd Fanfiction #Bob Floyd Fanfic #Robert Bob Floyd #Robert Floyd x reader #Bob Floyd x reader #Bob Floyd Smut #Robert Floyd Smut

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sometimesanalice · 11 months ago

Text

Make Me Your Masterpiece

Summary: Bob credits you for helping him to find his new hobby. And when he asks if he can you paint you, you find you quite like the idea of being his muse.

Pairing: Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader

Length: 4.5K

Warnings: fluff, smut, and basically an ode to Lewis Pullman’s hands (mdni)

(Author’s Note: smutty fics are the new friendship bracelet, spread the word! Happy Birthday, Ames! 🎉 @laracrofted)

You’ve always had a thing for Bob’s hands.

They were one of the first things you noticed about him that day at the coffee shop almost a year ago now.

You’d been reaching for your iced vanilla cinnamon latte when a big hand had wrapped around it just a half of a second before you could grab it. Which you wouldn’t have minded admiring them for a moment under any other circumstances, but after an endless string of meetings you’d been in a dire need of a caffeine fix- and not the weak stuff that people brewed in your office’s communal coffee pot.

“I think that’s-” you’d started.

“Oh, I’m sorry-” the coffee thief backpedaled.

The next thing you knew you were looking into the prettiest pair of ocean blue eyes.

The two of you were startled out of the moment when the barista called out the next order as they’d set it on the counter.

By some kismet or fate, they had been a matching set. But instead of embroidered towels, it was his and hers coffee cups with your names written on them in a hasty scrawl.

Realization dawned over his features as he gave you a sheepish smile, “Think this one might belong to you, Miss.” He spun the coffee until he found the spot with your name. That little smile becoming a full grin as he’d said it aloud before passing the cup to you.

The hands had been good, the eyes had been great, but Bob’s smile directed at you had left you weak in the knees.

You’d been a goner right then and there.

And while you’d ended up almost ten minutes late to your next meeting, you’d also gone back to the office with his phone number written on a cardboard coffee sleeve that was tucked away safely in your purse and a date lined up later that week.

As it turned out fate had a name and it was Robert Floyd.

Barely twenty minutes into your first official date with Bob, his ears had turned a delightful shade of pink as his anxious fingers straightened the silverware on the white linen tablecloth of the Italian spot he’d taken you to. He’d fessed up and apologized as he came clean, telling you that he’d purposefully ordered the same coffee as you in hopes of getting to start up a conversation with the pretty girl who’d been standing in front of him in line.

“I didn’t want to interrupt you, since you looked busy. But I didn’t want to miss my chance,” he’d confessed over candlelight.

He’d told you how he’d only been at the coffee shop because he’d recently returned from a deployment and was fighting the jetlag that came with adjusting to being back on Pacific Standard Time, and that he normally preferred tea but he needed something with a bit more to it to get him through the day.

Instead of getting up and taking the bottle of wine to-go as a consolation prize, like you would have if it had been anyone else, his genuine earnestness had charmed you instantly. And you’d settled on having a second date with him before the first one had even really started.

You only let him sweat it for about thirty seconds before you took pity on him. With a light fingertip, you traced along one of the veins on the back of his hand and simply asked, “So other than being a meet cute mastermind, what is it that you do for a living, Bob?”

It was the best first date you’d ever had.

For your second date with him, you’d bought tickets to a ‘Paint and Sip’ event at a buzzy new bistro in town your friend had told you about.

You weren’t an artist by any means, but during that dinner date his antsy fingers and expressive hands had clued you into how nervous he’d been. You’d found your eyes drifting to them on more than one occasion. Partly because they were so enticingly disproportionate to the rest of him, but also because you couldn’t look him directly in the eye for too long without feeling your face heating up.

You thought it would be a good way for the both of you to work past the getting-to-know-you jitters, something that would keep your hands and eyes occupied enough to relax a bit more and have fun together.

Although instead of the seascape class you’d thought you’d signed up for, you’d willingly paid $86+ tax to watch Bob’s lithe, long fingers delicately grip a paintbrush in a way you thought was going to make you lose your mind.

You’d spent the whole first hour trying and failing to mix the perfect shade of blue before giving up when you’d realized that the man next to you, in addition to having really great hands, was also very good at painting.

Bob had seemed surprised by that too because he’d kept flushing that wonderful shade of pink that had quickly become your new favorite color every time you complimented his piece.

He had steady, capable hands. But you were quickly learning that everything about Bob Floyd seemed that way. There was a quiet confidence about him. He didn’t shy away from the way he’d openly observed you, like you were a riddle he was enjoying learning to decode.

You’d never known a man to be so attentive until him.

Bob’s tongue was peeking out as he’d worked on adding some wispy clouds to the top of his piece. You weren’t even sure what step you’d technically stopped at before you’d given up to watch the visual feast of him painting instead. Only halfheartedly adding random bits to your canvas along the way to make sure it wasn��t totally blank by the end of the session.

You’d been so zoned out watching him create that it was like a slow-motion sequence in a horror movie. You’d reached out for your wine glass, lifting it to your lips to take a sip, it had only taken you a split second to realize it wasn’t the full-bodied red you’d ordered that was coating your tongue, but the murky, gritty paint water instead.

Mortified, you’d looked over just in time to see Bob’s empathetic wince. You’d been hoping to fly under the radar, but it had turned out that you’d had more than one set of eyes on you.

“And we officially have our first casualty of the evening, folks,” the instructor cheerily announced to the group, “The rest of you can breathe easy now!”

You wanted to be able to laugh at your own expense, but you’d groaned as you buried your face in your hands.

It was not the way you saw the night going. You wanted to be dazzling, you wanted that pivotal third date with him. But now you were the girl who drank paint water whose canvas looked like it had all the same efforts as an enthusiastic fourth grader.

Bob’s hands had gently wrapped around your wrists before he’d pulled them from your face. And then he’d leaned in close, taking your chin in his hand and kissed you squarely on the lips, his tongue dipping in and sliding against yours to taste the acrylic pigment from your surprised mouth.

“Huh,” he’d said, contemplatively. He’d pulled away only far enough to look into your eyes and give you a soft smile. “Celadon blue doesn’t taste like a Cabernet, go figure.”

He brushed a light kiss against your cheek as he’d passed you your wine glass so that you could rinse the paint water taste out of your mouth.

You couldn’t help but to still be a little embarrassed, but then you’d caught the way he’d shoot an unimpressed look at the instructor every time they passed by for the rest of the evening. You didn’t need a knight in shining armor when you had a Bob Floyd with a paintbrush and a cutting side eye.

You took him home with you that night and learned for yourself just how capable those hands of his were.

It was only later that you realized the exact shade of blue that you’d been trying so hard to capture earlier that night was the same color as the eyes that gazed down at you as Bob fucked you for the very first time.

There was no way you could have known that the ‘Paint and Sip’ date would have inspired him to pick up painting as a hobby.

First, he’d started taking classes at the Rec Center. His once a week classes later turned into him checking out books from the library. And then he’d turned his spare bedroom into a studio, as it has the best afternoon light in the Spanish style house he rents near the Naval base. He’d even bought a comfy chair for you to curl up in as he painted, a little nook of your own in his favorite space in his home. And steadily, the walls of both your apartment and his place fill up with all of his art.

You’d even had your favorite one professionally framed. The pretty landscape done in shades of soft greens that he gave to you for your birthday hangs in a place of honor above your bed. You like having that piece of Bob as one of the last things you see before you fall asleep and one of the first things you see in the morning on the rare occasion the two of you aren’t sharing a bed. You liked to imagine the hours he spent on it with the sunlight streaming through the open window as he lovingly and painstakingly created something just for you with his own two hands.

Although you did have to beg him to sign it for you. He claimed that since he does it for fun that there’s really no reason too, but you were adamant about it and he’d eventually caved and scrawled his name in the lower right-hand corner.

Now it’s become your personal mission to ensure that every Bob Floyd original has his signature on it when he gives his paintings out as gifts.

Everyone assumes that his art would be all straight lines and precise angles, but it’s your favorite moment when people get to see his abstract landscapes. He’d told you he spends so much time in the sky that he likes to paint what’s on the ground, the things he doesn’t get to see when he’s 50,000 feet in the air.

You could tell Bob was a little nervous when he first asked to paint you.

After almost a year with him, you’d think he’d know by now that you’d do anything for him. Not to mention, you were more than a little in love with the idea of being his muse.

“Are you saying you want to paint me like one of your French girls?” you’d teased with a grin, unable to resist the opportunity. You always did have a thing for men with perfectly floppy hair.

He’d tipped your chin up so that you were looking into his blue eyes- a color you were positive couldn’t be replicated- and stated, “No, I want to paint you like my girl.”

Which is how you’ve ended up naked on the floor of his living room.

You’d been surprised when you came downstairs to see that the furniture had all been pushed to the side to make space for the king-sized top sheet he’d laid out on the floor. You figured it must have been from some mismatched set he had stashed in his linen closet because you’d never seen it before and you spent more than enough time in his bed getting familiar with his sheets.

Bob was shirtless and wearing only a pair of loose-fitting and paint stained jeans that were hanging low on his hips as he worked on getting all of his brushes and paints set up.

You were pretty sure that Michelangelo himself wouldn’t be able to do proper justice to Bob’s body. He wasn’t as built as some of his friends on the Dagger Squad were, but there was an undeniable sturdy steadfastness to him. Those defined shoulders and arms often were the stars of your afternoon daydreams, since you got to admire his handsome face anytime your phone lit up.

He came and met you at the bottom of the stairs, giving you a low whistle, “Well, aren’t you as pretty as a picture in my shirt.”

“Oh,” you’d said, feigning surprise and toying with the hem, “So it is.” And then you’d slowly lifted it up and off of you, revealing more of your body to his artist’s eye.

You never felt as good about yourself as you did when you were naked in front of Bob. The color of his morning skies eyes would always darken to a deep shade of Prussian blue as he took in the curves of you. With him you always felt appreciated, wanted, desired.

His greedy hands came to grip your hips pulling you to him until you were pressed against him.

“Is this how you wanted me?” you asked, running your fingers through his hair.

Bob slipped his hand behind your neck and tugged you in for a heated kiss. “I always want you.”

You never knew true distraction until you’d felt Bob’s lips against yours all those months ago. You’d happily lose minutes, hours, days to them. The thing about Bob is that he never does anything halfway. If he’s kissing you, he’s doing it thoroughly until you’re out of breath.

The sound of the air conditioner kicking on and the light draft that it coasted over you reminded you that there were other plans on the agenda. And that the sooner he starts, then the sooner he finishes, and the sooner you can feel his lips on other parts of you.

“Where do you want me?”

“In my bed,” he murmured against your lips.

His name started as a laugh but turned into a sigh as he dropped a line of kisses down your neck, “I meant, like on the couch or on one of the chairs from the kitchen.”

Bob pulled away and peered deep into your eyes, “Darlin’, I wanted to paint you.” He trailed a teasing finger down your soft stomach. “If that’s alright with you.”

You thought you were just going to be his subject, but as it turns out he wanted you to be his canvas too.

You’re trying not to shiver as he meticulously coats your overheated skin with cool paint. Goosebumps follow in the wake of every delicate stroke he makes along your body.

His hair was curled over his forehead in a way that had your fingers aching to touch him. There was a slight furrow between his eyebrows as he concentrated on the deliberate lines and curves he painted on you. The paint smudge on his cheek only made him all the more attractive to you.

Bob had tucked a pillow beneath your head before he’d started, a gesture that you appreciated now because time had lost all meaning to you. You had no idea how long you’ve been lying there. You were pretty sure every inch of you had to be covered by now.

He’d started along the plane of your stomach and steadily worked his way out from there. Up your arms. Along your clavicle. Over your breasts and tops of your thighs. You didn’t miss the way he’d smirked when you arched into that soft to the touch paintbrush as it glided over your peaked nipple. Or the way he’d hummed pleased when you’d try to subtly rub your thighs together to relieve the need that had been building as you laid there.

Bob loves taking his time with you. In bed, he loved teasing you until you had tears in your eyes and were begging for his cock. And it became clear very quickly that this would be no different.

There was an electric thrum that was pulsing through your body with every dip and swirl and brushstroke. The muscles of your stomach jump involuntarily as the fine hairs of his paintbrush drift over your hypersensitive skin making you whimper.

He tsks, “Gotta stay still for me, pretty girl. I’m almost done, promise.”

You release a shaky sigh and nod, not trusting your voice to betray just how needy you were for him. Although the self-satisfied smile on his face told you everything you needed to know.

You try to control your breathing as he works on finishing, but your shallow breaths sounded loud in his living room. You love getting to watch him work normally, but the intense way he is looking at you- his eyes your favorite shade of Prussian blue now- is too much for your hummingbird heart.

Just as your skin was collecting layers of paint from his brush, the space between your thighs was steadily collecting your wetness. You were so desperate for him to touch you, the need made you want to crawl out of your skin.

You hear the sound of a watery swish and the clink of a brush against glass and your breath catches in your throat in anticipation.

“God, look at you,” Bob breathes, reverently, “You’re so beautiful. This might be my best work ever.”

Instead of the paintbrush, you can feel the path of his flame blue gaze traveling over you as he takes in the art he’s made out of you.

You open your heavy eyes and see Bob wiping off his hands with a frayed towel.

“There she is,” he says, giving you a smile that makes your toes curl. You didn’t notice it sitting there with all his paints until he was reaching for it, his dad’s old film camera. He holds it loosely in front of him like a question, “Can I take a few just for me?”

The answer is easy, “Yes.”

You trusted Bob more than any other man you’d ever been with. He’s never once given you reason to doubt his words because his actions always spoke for themselves.

The guys you’d been with before had been boys, Bob Floyd was a man.

The tension between the two of you is thicker than the acrylic he’d been using earlier as he snaps photo after photo. You admire the way his muscles shift as he bends and angles himself to get the perfect images.

He stands over you, the lens pointed down at you, “Look at me.”

You can barely breathe. You feel yourself getting even wetter at the thought of seeing yourself through his eyes. No one has ever made you feel the way he does.

“Bob”, you whine.

The camera clicks.

“I know,” he hums, “You’ve been so good for me.” He sinks to his knees between your legs and hooks a hand behind your knee, pulling it up so it’s propped on the floor. And then he does the other so that you’re sprawled open for him, just the way he likes you to be, “Just one more, darlin’.”

The heat in his eyes has dried up all the words in your mouth.

He trails a finger down the soft skin of your inner thigh and you gasp.

The sound of his camera reverberates in your head.

“You’ve made such a pretty mess,” he drawls, as he gently sets the camera on the floor next to you. “It’s a good thing I put something down. You’re damn near dripping.”

“Bob, please.” You arch towards him like a flower in the sun.

He settles between your thighs and pushes them apart further so that his broad shoulders fit between them. The paint is still drying on your skin, but neither one of you cares about that now.

“You were so perfect for me. I appreciate you staying so still.” He drops a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Don’t worry, I know just how to thank you.”

Your body jolts at the first touch of his tongue on your clit. You can feel his smile against you, he knows exactly what he does to you.

Bob has always eaten you out like it’s what he was put on this earth to do.

Normally, he’s teasing you with gentle licks and tracing nonsensical shapes on your clit with his tongue until you’re a squirming mess for him. He knows your body so well, always building you up to the point where you’re breaths away from tipping over the edge and then pulls himself back before building you right back up again.

But tonight, there’s nothing playful about the way his mouth is working against you. His hot mouth is sealed to your clit. Bob hums in satisfaction with every keen and whine that he pulls out of you. He laves at you until you’re writhing underneath him, your thighs already shaking.

“Wanna paint you just like this,” he murmurs, sucking at the spot where your leg and hip meet. “But I don’t think you’d stay still long enough for me to finish.”

Bob dips down and gives you another long broad stroke of his tongue. He pulls back only long enough to spit on your cunt before diving right back in, chasing after his own taste on you.

Your hands are in his hair. Clutching at his shoulders. It’s taken him no time at all getting you to the point where you’re trembling and taut.

All the air leaves your lungs when he buries two large fingers into you. Your hips cant into his mouth on their own and he moans. Bob wraps an arm around your hips and presses down on your lower stomach to hold you in place.

You feel the paint smear beneath his warm palm. You were dying to see it. You hoped there was a handprint- his handprint- that disrupted all the lines and swirls of color that he’d decorated you with. Something that was distinctly him.

You were wearing his art and now you’re wearing him. The evidence of this moment in time on your skin.

His fingers and tongue weren’t enough.

You needed more.

“You cock, Bob, I need your cock,” you pant, tugging at his hair.

He meanly sucks your clit into his mouth in a way that has you crying out and jerking against him. You love it, you love him.

“God, I love it when you beg for me,” he licks into you again, “Sweetest sound in the world.”

Bob drops a sweet kiss on your clit, it’s a stark difference to the filthy way he’d been using his mouth on you. He rises to sit back on his knees between your parted legs.

He looks so good kneeling above you the way that he is. His cheeks are flushed and his hair is a mess. That knot behind your bellybutton twists tighter because you did that to him.

He unzips his jeans and tugs them down low enough to pull his hard cock out.

It’s pretty enough to be featured in a gallery, you think to yourself, even in your desperate haze. It’s long, thick, perfect and yours.

Bob smirks when he notices you admiring him, pumping himself slowly a few times for your viewing pleasure.

The only time Bob Floyd was ever a show-off was when he was in bed.

He grabs your thighs and pulls them over top of his own, so that yours are draped over his obscenely, and then he thrusts easily into you.

You gasp at the sensation of being so full of him. It always takes you a minute to adjust to his cock, no matter how many times you’ve taken it now. His thumbs make little circles along your hipbones as your body relents and yields to the size of him.

“There you go,” he says, rocking into you, working you open, “Just needed this cock, didn’t you?”

You whimper your agreement. Your hips tilt into the pressure like you’re trying to get as much of him as you can. Wanting to show him how much you can take. You know you’ll never get enough of him.

He fucks into you at a reckless and unrelenting pace. You’re high off the feeling of seeing Bob like this, that you’re the one who gets to see him unreserved and uninhibited. He has your hips gripped so tightly, keeping you closer than close. And when you clench around him, you’re treated to a wrecked groan.

Your skin prickles with desire and the feeling of paint drying on you. His cock is hitting just the right spot inside of you and you know you won’t be able to hold off for much longer, not with the way he’s grinding against your aching clit.

Bob’s eyes glued to the spot where you two come together. You’re on full display for him. He watches the way you stretch and spread around him with every deep thrust with the same appreciative gaze that he admires his favorite artists.

It’s under his river blue gaze that your orgasm swiftly sweeps you away. And with your back arching and thighs quaking around his, you give yourself up to the endless current of it.

You know he’s close when his hips start to stutter.

Bob pulls out of you and wraps his large hand around his slick-shined cock and works himself with rough, purposeful strokes.

This time he paints you with himself, his come covering your stomach.

The only sound in the room is the two of you breathing hard, trying to catch your breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Bob huffs, raggedly, taking in his handiwork, “You’re my masterpiece.”

You’re covered in paint and come, but you’ve never felt more beautiful than you do right now as he looks down at you in awe.

“Did you remember to sign your work this time?” you ask, out of breath but teasingly.

“I think I left my mark, darlin’,” he says, with well-earned smugness in his voice. You can’t help but giggle. He flops down next to you, throwing his arm over his eyes, “Goddamn.”

You prop yourself up onto your elbows to look at yourself.

“Baby, I think you gave Jackson Pollock a run for his money.” You grin widely when he lets out an amused snort. “Wait, where’s your camera?”

He passes it to you, the fondness in his eyes makes your chest feel warm. You scooch in close to him and hold it up above your heads, the camera flashes when you kiss his flushed cheek.

That picture is the first one that gets put up in the new house, the one the two of you chose together when he asked you to marry him six months later. Followed by the soft green landscape that now hangs above your shared bed.

It’s your favorite picture of the two of you, happy and in love. You can just see a hint of the cloud he’d painted on your shoulder.

That night Bob had decorated your body with the place he loved best.

He gave you the sky and he made you his world.

Happy birthday, Ames! Your gift will be mailed eventually, it really was a lesson in chemistry, lol! Enjoy a Bob fic just for you in the meantime!

A big, bigggg thank you to the Bob Babes/Lew Crew girlies! @callsignspark and @attapullman I appreciate you two so much for being such ultimate hypegirls! And thank you to @theharddeck, you helped me out of my writers block and I've been so excited to write this since we talked about it back in January!

You can read my other stories here!

taglist:

@gretagerwigsmuse @sehnsuchts-trunken @callsignspark @notroosterbradshaw @tongue-like-a-razor @laracrofted @ofstoriesandstardust @bradshawsbitch @starryeyedstories @top-hhun-main @startrekfangirl2233 @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @angelbabyange @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @imaginecrushes @keyrani @chicomonks @artemissunn @mayempress @eddiemunsonreader

#bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd imagine #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #robert bob floyd imagine #robert bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #robert bob floyd fic #bob x you #bob x reader

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theharddeck · 1 year ago

Text

do you wanna make somethin' of it (Robert "Bob" Floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: turns out, our favorite WSO has a side hustle, as quinn's favorite cowboy.

word count: 10.4k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly unhinged amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, bob's raging size kink, overstimulation via vibrators (and otherwise), unprotected PiV sex, an unrealistic number of orgasms, some dumbification, as can be expected.

A/N: this is way late bc i had to make sure the people who reblogged the moodboard were legal, thanks everyone for the patience and support! esp thank you @hangmanssunnies for being so encouraging, @sometimesanalice for being a gem and betaing thank you @laracrofted for coming up with bob's (ahem) inspirational reveal, and thank you everyone else for letting me be feral. there were a couple people who reblogged the moodboard but I couldn't tag them, so for the record, if you ask to be tagged, pls do make sure you're taggable AND ALSO THAT YOU HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BIO I AM NOT KIDDING. the title is from Jo Dee Messina's 90s country bop, "Do You Wanna Make Something Of It" -- okay enjoy!

You paused, halfway into your flight suit, looking down at your phone.

It was probably a bad idea to open an audio erotica app forty minutes before you had to be in the debriefing room with the rest of the aviators in your unit.

But.

You were ovulating, your vibrator was charged, and you’d just gotten a notification that BullRiderRhett had posted a new audio.

Before you knew it, you were grabbing your headphones and folding your flight suit by the door, leaving your tank top and sports bra on, but shimmying out of your panties. You set an alarm on your phone, connected your headphones and opened the app.

Quickie During the Rodeo

After my ride, I don’t have much time before they call up the winners…but you look so damn good in that sundress. We have to be quick, though. [M4F] [Short Audio] [Established Relationship] [In Public] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [SFX]

Yeah, you thought to yourself, that’d do.

You slid into bed, pulling a muting blanket over the lower half of your body as you settled into your bed and clicked play.

Immediately, the sounds of a rodeo pushed through your headphones.

You heard the shuffle of hundreds of feet, a rowdy crowd cheering, and distant country music over a speaker. You could almost imagine the dusty air, the smell of fresh hay and sweat, and the clamor of barrel racing in another arena.

There was a steady clanking of spurs as a pair of boots walked towards you.

“There y’are,” a low voice said, the perfect combination of fond and gravelly. You heard a shuffle of fabric, and a soft inhale, like the cowboy was wrapping you in his arms. Your eyes fell closed so you could immerse yourself in the fantasy.

“How’s my girl doin’?” he asked, his voice muffled like he had buried his head in your shoulder.

You never responded verbally to these things; it broke the illusion to speak to an empty room, but you liked that Rhett paused, as if waiting for your answer.

“Ah, well, I always ride better when I know you’re in the stands, cheerin’ for me,” he said. He had such a fantastic voice, low and soft, with this drawl that was so unpretentious and alluring. His canvas jacket rustled like he was hugging you tighter.

“Just let me hold you for a sec, yeah?” he asked, as the ambient sounds of the rodeo seeped back in. You found yourself just listening for the sound of Rhett’s breathing over it, a slow and steady rhythm that was deeply centering.

You heard when his breath caught, followed by a shuffling sound and a choked gasp from the cowboy.

“Whoa, whoa,” Rhett’s voice was warm with surprise and delight. “Cut that out, darlin’, we can’t, they’re gonna call me back–”

His voice broke off on a low moan that had you biting your lip.

Why did guys in real life never moan?

It was such a pretty sound, deep and masculine, and full of desire. It was one of your favorite things about Rhett. Your hand slipped under the blanket, rubbing over your pussy gently, getting yourself used to the pressure.

“Darlin’,” Rhett’s voice had gotten deeper, like a warning. “Ya can’t tease me like that, ‘s not kind.”

Your hips shifted at that voice, and Rhett laughed, low.

“Y’just can’t help yourself, can you, sweet girl?”

It was your favorite pet name he used, just the way he said it. You were obsessed with the gravel in his voice, the melodic twang coupled with a gentleness that belied all his ruggedness. It was like he was being quiet to make sure no one overheard him, like his words were for your ears only.

His spurs clinked as the noise of the rodeo faded, as though he was leading you somewhere away from prying eyes. A second later, there was a gentle, wet sound, like he was kissing you.

How would he taste, you wondered. Would his lips be soft? Or would they be chapped? Would he be ravenous, turned on from the adrenaline of the ride, or would he be slow, savoring your taste?

You turned on your vibrator, on a low and warming setting. You traced it lightly over your pussy, acclimatizing, as Rhett’s voice and the soft vibrations sent a heat under your skin.

Rhett’s breathing was heavy, like being near you made him breathless.

“Shameless,” Rhett chided, amused and fond. “I know I can’t stop you, but I’m not about to let anyone see ya like this. You’re mine.”

Your hips canted up into the vibrator, spurred on by the idea of being his.

“Oh, you like that, huh, sweet girl?” Rhett practically purred, his voice like a caress, “You like being mine?”

Rhett’s words washing over you, and vibrator’s motions met less resistance as you felt yourself growing wet.

“What if I…” he asked, and you heard fabric shuffling, like he was reaching down and under your dress. “Fuck, darlin’, are you wet for me already?”

You pressed your lips together to trap in a whimper.

You knew it was formulaic, but that didn’t make you less turned on. In this fantasy, you were Rhett’s girlfriend, you were already wet for him, you were needy enough to risk being caught to have his dick inside of you.

“Ya sure about this?” Rhett asked, and you could hear the intensity in his voice. Like he needed you too, just as desperately. “Yeah? Yeah, me too…fuck—yeah, feel me through my jeans. Feel how hard I am for you.”

You turned the vibrator up, imagining the rough texture of denim against your pussy. How hard Rhett would be, how good it would feel to rock up against the dirty fabric. Probably not the most hygienic, but he’d be so hot, even through his jeans, impossibly tempting.

“Go on, take me out,” Rhett directed, his voice a low whisper.

He moaned in your ear as a belt buckle came undone, and your head fell back as you circled the vibrator over your clit. God, he sounded so good, he sounded unraveled. You imagined the weight of him in your hand, and you shifted your hips, wishing you could feel the heat of him.

“Shit, okay. We hafta be quick,” Rhett panted. “I know, I know, turn around for me, darlin’. Brace yourself against the wall here…Christ, you look so good like this…ya ready for me?”

You couldn’t help yourself; you slid a hand down your body, changing the angle of the vibrator so you could run a finger through your folds.

Rhett held his breath, like it was too good, too much, and you waited.

Then came his strangled, relieved exhale, and you pushed a finger into yourself as you imagined him sliding into you.

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Rhett praised, his voice breathless, awed. “Let me into that tight pussy, nice and easy...”

Your mouth fell open as you imagined him filling you.

Would he be thick? Long? Maybe a slight curve to his cock? Cut or uncut? You licked your lips, your mind spinning with possibilities, your fingers a paltry imitation of the thing you wanted so badly.

“Ah, that’s it, that’s it,” Rhett murmured, and you couldn’t help but add another finger. “Such a good girl, for me, aren’t ya?”

You wanted to be his good girl.

Rhett was breathing hard, and the rhythm of it was perfect. You circled around your clit with the vibrator, and you were panting now too, your hips canting up as you fucked yourself on your fingers. You could imagine him driving into you, his hips thrusting his cock into you. It would be thick, you decided, broad and heavy.

“Ah, you’re taking me so well,” Rhett grunted. “You were made to take this fat cock, weren’t you?”

His breaths were coming faster, and you could hear him slamming his hips into yours. You could imagine his balls swinging, could imagine him driving into you to reach that spot your fingers just couldn’t brush against.

“This pussy feels so good, darlin’,” Rhett whispered, “the way you’re clenchin’ around me…”

Your thighs fell farther apart as you tried to time your fingers’ thrusts to his cadence. He was grunting after each thrust, this beautiful soft sound of exertion and pleasure.

A faint cheer rose above the sounds of your panting; another event had concluded.

“Shit, we hafta hurry, they’re gonna–” Rhett broke off, his hips snapping faster. “C’mere, let me play with that clit, let me feel you–fuck yeah, clench around me, just like that.”

You turned the vibrator up, your fingers faltering inside of you at the increased vibration and his words. Rhett’s grunts were getting higher pitched, a delicate thread of need seeping into them and you were going to lose your mind; it was perfect.

“Ah, such a good girl,” Rhett groaned. “God, I don’t deserve you, ya feel so good…are you close, darlin? Tell me you’re close, I need to feel you cumming on my cock, will ya do that for me?”

You were bucking into your hand, chasing a release that had come on so fast, so strong and you were so damn close, you just needed–

“There ya go,” Rhett breathed, his voice tight. “You feel–oh, sweet girl, don’t stop clenching me like that. Oh, you’re gonna make me cum with that tight pussy, fuck, are you gonna come with me, darlin’? Please come with me, please…”

You pumped your fingers in time with his pleas, Rhett’s voice growing hoarse as his hips sped up. You were so close, he sounded so good, you were almost there.

“Feels so good…Ah, I’m coming, I’m there– ah, shit,” Rhett moaned, his voice choking, and you orgasmed along with him, collapsing back into the pillow.

Your legs shook and you jerked the vibrator away from your sensitive clit, stroking gently over your pussy with your other hand and easing yourself down.Your body felt like it was humming and you turned the vibrator off, sated and pleasure drunk.

Something about Rhett always had you timing it perfectly, feeling so in sync and so primed, and when he came, it was like your permission to.

Rhett was groaning softly in your ear.

“So beautiful, darlin’,” he whispered. “God, I’m so lucky, look at you…so damn beautiful…”

The audio would fade out in another few minutes and you fumbled for your phone to turn it off, and turn off the just-in-case alarm that you’d set.

There was a bittersweet moment with audio erotica that didn’t exist in traditional porn– aftercare. Instead of just ending a scene, most creators seemed to enjoy winding down with their listeners, saying soft things, silly things, fond things. It straddled the line between soothing and demoralizing, and you couldn’t say you loved the contrast between the care in Rhett’s voice and the emptiness around you.

An emptiness that was interrupted by a loud pounding on your door.

“Hey, I can see your light under the door,” Bradley called from the hallway, “you better not still be asleep! If we’re late to Mav’s briefing you know he’s gonna have us doing laps around the tarmac.”

You stuck your tongue out at the ceiling on principle, grateful for the quiet of your vibrator and the distance between the door and your bed.

“Calm your tits, Rooster,” you yelled back, “I’m practically ready.”

“Damn better be,” you heard Bradley say, loud enough to be heard, soft enough to know he wasn’t actually pressed.

You gave yourself another ten seconds to revel in that perfect orgasm, and then swung your legs over the side of the bed. You cleaned yourself off quickly, dressed even quicker, and were out the door in no time.

Some might even say, with a pep in your step.

“Told you,” you muttered as you walked by Bradley’s row in the debriefing room, on time, and he huffed.

You settled into your normal seat, waving good morning to Callie and lifting your chin at Mickey, who grinned back at you. Bob was in the seat next to yours, as you’d all agreed early on that WSOs had to stick together, and you bumped his shoulder with yours as you sat.

The sweet man smiled, a hidden thing, and looked away quickly.

Sometimes, you felt like you knew there was more to him than he let on.

You’d seen him in action, seen him make split-second decisions that kept him and Phoenix in the air. You’d seen him crank out 200 pushups with Jake and Javy like it was nothing. But at the same time, he never seemed to hold your eye for longer than strictly necessary, seeming more comfortable to address the floor (unless someone pushed too hard, and he’d snap something so sassy it’d make you bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing).

When you’d first met him, you’d thought he was cute, in an Old Hollywood leading man kind of way, soft muscles and deep eyes.

You’d wondered if maybe you made him nervous. You’d thought maybe there was interest in those ocean blue eyes, but time went on, and he remained sweet and polite and kind. He was the same to you as he was with everyone else, and you were led to the reality that he was just an incredibly decent person.

Crushes came and went like water, especially in a group as gorgeous as the one you flew with, so you let him have his secrets.

The lights clicked off as Maverick strode to the front of the room, already talking and clicking his way through some kind of demonstration.

The hours in the room flew by.

By the time he finished, your head was spinning with a blur of parameters and calculations and mission expectations. You knew pilots felt the same way about your job as you did about theirs, but you were always grateful that at the end of briefings you only had to worry about systems and odds, not about flying a plane. As you were dismissed, everyone crowded to the center aisle, trying to get out and to the hangar as quickly as possible. Someone sneezed, or someone pushed someone; Harvard dropped his coffee.

It wasn’t full, and you were all in flight suits anyways, but you still startled when it fell, splashing over the row you were sitting in. Black coffee flew over seats and notebooks (thankfully no phones), and someone laughed as Harvard’s attempts to catch it just served to further empty the cup. Bob took the worst of it, on the end of your row.

"Ah, shit," Bob muttered, and you froze.

It wasn't that Harvard's spilled coffee had ruined Bob's notes, and yours too.

It wasn't that everyone in the briefing room was looking back at your row in surprise.

It wasn't even that Bob had sworn, even though you'd never heard anything harsher than "gosh" from the WSO's lips.

It was that that cuss, in that voice, in that same mumbled tone, had pushed you to orgasm four hours ago.

“Alright, it’s just coffee,” Maverick called over the clamor. “We’re burning daylight, people, come on.”

Harvard was apologizing profusely, someone was passing paper towels out, but you felt completely out of your body, in shock.

Bob was BullRiderRhett.

The WSO who asked for ginger ale when everyone else did shots at the Hard Deck, who cleaned his glasses when he got nervous, who stayed up all night to help Payback’s kid put together a Lego Statue of Liberty last time he was in town …was the guy who had talked you through the last few months of orgasms.

(Yes, you had an annual subscription).

(Yes, you deserved it).

When you let yourself back into your room at the end of the night, it still felt surreal.

In retrospect, you should’ve been a million times more dialed in– you’d had a $73 million machine under your hands, and the only thing on your mind all day had been this revelation.

How had you never noticed before??

Now that you were thinking of it, Bob did have that slight accent when he was tired, or when he was mad enough at something stupid Jake said…but what were you even supposed to do with this knowledge?

You moved through your skincare much the same way you’d moved through most of the day – on autopilot.

A knock on your door startled you.

“Now’s not the time, Bradshaw,” you called, automatically.

“Uh,” called a too-familiar voice, “not Bradshaw.”

You winced at your reflection in the mirror, trying desperately to decide if you recognized Bob’s voice from countless drills or from your Favorites list. You crossed your arms across your chest, your sweatshirt dragging against the hem of your pajama shorts as you slouched over to the door.

“Robert,” you announced, as you opened it, mentally smacking your palm against your forehead. You had literally never called him Robert; what was wrong with you??

Could’ve been worse, you mused.

You could’ve said ‘Rhett’.

“Hey,” he said, and if he was thrown by the use of his full name, he didn’t show it.

He looked the same.

The same, but in the way that had made you catch your breath when you first met him, when you were relieved that he was so unassuming and kind, because if he’d been any kind of authoritative, it would’ve debilitated you.

Tonight, he’d clearly showered after drills.

His hair was freshly combed and still damp, darker than normal. A tendril fell in front of his glasses, leaving a small line of fog against the outer corner of one of the lenses. He was in a plain white tshirt and light sweatpants, and you made yourself stop from looking further because you were not about to objectify your friend just because you now knew that he could dirty talk with the best of them.

And now you were thinking about that.

“Are you mad at me?” Bob asked, and it snapped you out of your spiral.

He was frowning at the sill, his hands shoved in his pockets, and his chest tight. There was a purse in between his eyebrows, and you really could not understand him, because how could a man who was objectively gorgeous, subjectively sweet, be this adorable? He looked up and the moment your eyes met, you looked away.

“No,” you said quickly, clearing your throat. “Of course not. Obviously.”

“I mean, not obviously,” Bob said, rubbing a sneaker against the carpet in the hallway. “You practically sprinted out of the briefing this morning, refused to speak to me over comms during drills, and you won’t look at me for more than two seconds, and that’s normally someone else’s line to me.”

It was a weak joke, but it was funny, and you could hear in his voice that he was trying to set you at ease, and that really only made you feel worse.

So you stepped aside and held open the door, not really trusting yourself to say anything else. Bob looked nervous, and you wanted to tell him it was you, not him, but instead you waited in silence as he stepped into the room.

You only had the light over the sink on, and the room was in soft shadows, but you thought it might be more weird if you turned on a light, like you were calling attention to it. You shut the door and Navy rooms didn’t really come with guest furniture, so you gestured to the foot of your bed, while you paced.

“This is going to be awkward,” you warned him, glancing in his direction, and wishing you hadn’t.

He was sitting on the foot of your bed, as directed, legs spread slightly and his elbows resting on his knees. You could see the muscles of his shoulders through the tshirt, and his eyes seemed especially bright, in the dim light from the room.

“Okay,” Bob said easily, and you appreciated that he wasn’t rushing you. Maybe he was starting to understand that this was something you were working through, rather than something he had done.

You switched directions, walking the length of the room, and then the length again.

You had to say it.

You’d just have to say it, and that would explain it, and then it would be out, and then you could figure out how to move forward. Bob was a problem solver, like you, and you were both smart enough to figure this out. You were also both adults. You could just say it.

You stopped in front of him, and Bob sat up a little straighter, like he wanted to be sure he was being respectful to the weight of whatever you were saying. God, he was such a good person, why did you have to be such a creep.

“Iknowaboutbullriderrhett,” you said in a rush, clasping your hands in front of you. The words seemed to echo around the room and you stared at Bob, waiting for him to react.

He didn’t, not really.

He nodded, slowly, and you watched him process the day through the lens of your revelation.

“So, you’re disappointed it’s me,” he said, like he was clarifying, and you shook your head.

“What?” you asked, confused, and Bob shrugged.

“Like if you were expecting a ranch hand from Wyoming, I get it, it’s weird that it’s just me.”

You blinked. “That…that’s beside the point; I feel guilty, like this is a weird invasion of privacy, and isn’t that what you should be asking, anyways, is if I’m going to tell anybody? I won’t, but–”

Bob shook his head, his expression still pretty guarded. “Whose opinion do you think matters to me more than yours?”

And how the hell were you supposed to respond to that?

“What?” you managed again.

Bob looked at you.

It was maybe the longest uninterrupted eye contact you’d ever had, and you weren’t sure if it was because he initiated it, or if something was different. But it made you curious, it made you stop rambling, it made you be still, and let Bob look, because you liked how he was looking at you.

He smiled, that familiar, bashful, expression, and it calmed you slightly.

It wasn’t like there was a demon possessing your friend, it wasn’t a dark secret, it was just a part of him that he didn’t bring out at work. His smile reminded you that you knew him, that you trusted him.

Then his head fell to the side, his eyebrows lowering behind his glasses, his expression turning inquisitive as he said, “You didn’t answer my question.”

It was still Bob.

But his voice was lower, his voice was softer and you knew that voice, but seeing it fall from petal pink lips was a revelation and you shivered. You pulled the sleeves of your sweatshirt down over your palms, hoping you could disguise it, but Bob saw it anyway.

Of course he did.

He could calculate projectile trajectories while at supersonic speed; of course he could see when his voice made you shiver. The expression on his face turned smug, and that was new, that was nothing you’d seen before and you were pretty much infatuated with it immediately.

Objectively, Bob was the best.

You knew it, everyone knew it. This was maybe the first time you’d seen him look like he knew it, and something like pride blossomed in your chest at the thought that it was because of you.

“I’m not disappointed,” you said honestly, and Bob smiled fully.

That was how he should always be, you decided, proud of himself, pleased by you.

He pushed himself off the bed.

He walked towards you slowly, slow enough that you could tell he was giving you time to back away, or tell him to stop, but you sure as shit weren’t going to do either.

Instead, your head tilted back as he came to stop in front of you.

“We have two options,” he said, almost conversationally, like you weren’t this close to melting into a puddle at seeing this side of him. “One: I go back to my room; we’ve learned something new today, but we go on like normal. Or–”

“Or,” you chose, not waiting to hear what the second option was. “Whatever ‘or’ is, that’s the one I want.”

It truly didn’t matter; if the choice was him walking out the door or not, you wanted whatever made him stay.

He huffed an exhale of a laugh, a soft sound that you’d heard a dozen times but it still made your breath catch. You’d grinned fondly when you heard it over comms, after Callie calmly roasted Jake, you’d shivered when you heard it in your headphones, but now that Bob was physically in front of you, you thought this was the best iteration of it.

“What do you like?” he asked softly, and it felt like a loaded question.

Like maybe he was asking which audios, or maybe the themes, or if him, in front of you, was enough. The room felt suspended, like someone had paused the film of your life and you could see everything outside of yourself. The heat in Bob’s eyes, the way his fingers, held loose at his side, twitched slightly, like he wanted to reach for you. The way your own breath caught, like you were careful not to break a spell, like you wanted it to never break.

You kissed him.

You probably could’ve been more graceful about it, but he was standing just there, and you needed to know, needed to feel him against you. You reached for his arms, your hands grasping above his elbows to pull him down and press yourself closer.

He was so soft.

The moment your lips brushed over him, you felt him bending, moving. His glasses bumped into your nose as he adjusted and then his hands were on your waist, spreading over your back and how had you never noticed how big his hands were? They felt huge, and his chest was strong and warm as he pulled you into him.

You could smell his shampoo, something earthy and sweet, and it was intoxicating how pure it was. He didn’t feel pure. He felt hot, kissing you back with an urgency that stole your breath away. Bob kissed you with certainty, with earnestness, and you were obsessed.

You pulled back, staying in the cradle of his arms, needing to be this close when you answered the question he’d asked. Long lashes fluttered against the tops of his cheeks as you broke the kiss, and Bob pulled in a long breath through his nose. When he opened his eyes, the blue of them was so bright, cutting. You didn’t know how he held it all, his sharpness and softness, gentleness and intention.

“Can I show you?” you asked.

He blinked, the motion slow, as he looked between your eyes, trying to focus with you so close. You saw the corner of his mouth turn up in that bashful smile, and his arms around you tightened slightly.

“Show me,” he said, your question but now a command, and your mouth went dry.

His voice sent a flush of heat over your skin, and whatever he wanted, you’d say yes, for this man who was your friend and your fantasy, and asking you so nicely.

It amazed you how you didn’t feel nervous.

This was arguably the most intimate situation you’d found yourself in in a hot minute, but instead of nerves or anxiety, you could only think of how much you wanted Bob to see how much he affected you. From that first moment you’d met him, to the crush you’d packed away, to the voice that haunted your dreams, you wanted him. And you wanted to see how that would affect him.

You walked over to the sink, grabbing the vibrator from where you’d left it after you cleaned it this morning. Bob walked back over to the bed, taking up his original post at the foot of it, but his eyes never left you. He toed off his sneakers, and you slipped out of your pajama shorts, leaning over to arranging pillows against the headboard.

You climbed into the bed and rested your back against the pillows, nudging Bob’s thigh with your toes before you bent your knees. He turned himself to face you, his long legs unfolding outside of yours. It was like he was being careful not to touch you, and you liked that this was how it was going to start– just his voice and your pleasure. You hoped once he saw what a tight string was tied between the two, maybe he’d get a little more involved. A part of you wished that you’d deepened the kiss earlier, but it was just as well to have the anticipation of it.

It was ridiculous that you were already turned on.

You’d had eight hours to come to terms with the fact that Bob was Rhett, but as he sat across from you, it was like his gaze was scorching you. His bright eyes ran over you hungrily, and you rolled your neck, enjoying being the object of his gaze.

You’d been bold when you suggested it, but now the silence of the room seemed to stretch. You wondered if you should ask Bob to talk, or if that would be weird. Bob looked at you, his damp hair falling in front of his glasses again, and he brushed it aside absently.

“Is this where you lay, when you listen to me?” he asked, his eyes tracing over the simple bed, the regulation bedding, the pillows you’d brought in to spruce it up. His voice was low, curious, and now that you were listening for it, you could hear the traces of a drawl, hanging on the edges of it.

You nodded, unable to look away from him, and his nose flared slightly at the confirmation.

“You’re so pretty,” he said, and it washed over you. It was such a simple compliment, but the truth of how he said it, like every fiber of his being meant it, warmed you.

“God, thinking about you…” he trailed off, “just lying here, looking like this…getting off to my voice…do you touch yourself first? Pet that pussy before you use your toy?”

Your mouth actually fell open hearing Bob Floyd say ‘pussy’ so casually.

And he said it sitting in your bed, his eyes on you, his voice dropping into a deep drawl and yeah, you were going to do whatever he asked.

You shifted slightly, a hand falling between your thighs to press over your clothed cunt. You cupped yourself, loving the way Bob’s eyes followed your hand with rapt attention. The kiss, his words, his eyes…you weren’t wet yet, but you could feel your body warming, turning towards Bob.

“Love that you take your time with your pussy, warm her up, slow. ‘s not a thing you have to rush, not when the building feels so good. And I bet you feel so good, don’t you, so soft and warm…”

It didn’t feel slow, not with how hot Bob’s voice was. How good it felt to have him in the room with you, not just an empty echoing in your ears but physically here. You continued to tease yourself over your panties and you felt when they grew damp, when your arousal slowed your fingers, made the fabric slick.

“Fuck,” Bob breathed, and you whimpered.

The sound was involuntary, a reaction to seeing sweet, wholesome, Bob swearing over the sight of you. It made you feel regal, and if you had to guess, pulling sounds out of you made him feel the same. At the sound of your whimper, Bob’s eyes dropped to your mouth, and you watched the tip of his tongue push through his lips, as he wet them.

“Ah, you sound so good, too, I can’t believe–” he broke off, laughing quietly. “Can’t believe I’m jealous of my own damn self. How many times have I made you cum, and I’ve never gotten to see it?”

It was your turn to laugh, not quite willing to reveal how much you listened to BullRiderRhett.

“That many, huh?” Bob’s voice was smug, and it was such a good sound on him. You ground your wrist over your clit, pressing into the hard bone, craving the friction.

“Take your panties off,” he said, “touch yourself, not the vibrator yet.”

You followed his instruction, pulling up your legs to peel off your panties and resettling. You extended a leg down the bed, pressing inside of Bob’s long leg, as you trailed your hand between your thighs. At the first brush of skin against your sensitive folds, your head tipped back against the headboard.

It was just your hand, but with Bob here, it felt like it was almost his. It was his bidding at least, and you explored yourself leisurely, dragging your fingers through your wetness.

“Yeah, that’s right, bet you feel so good,” Bob said, his voice so low. “Feel yourself, sweet girl, tell me how it feels.”

You gasped, your hips rising in a pavlovian response to the endearment. It was somehow even more overwhelming when it was Bob who spoke it over you, here, in the flesh. When he could see that your skin prickled, that your breath caught, in response to him.

“Say it again,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand, and when you looked back at him, the expression on his face was one of adoration and hunger, awe and need.

“Sweet girl?” he asked gently, but his eyes were so dark. “You like being that for me, don’t you? My sweet, sweet girl.”

You nodded weakly, your fingers suddenly not enough. You rubbed over your clit, trying to stop the truth from spilling out of you as heat fanned out through your body from your touch.

“Yours,” you corrected weakly, and you scrambled for the vibrator and switched it on, using the intense humming of the toy as an excuse to hide from Bob’s reaction to your admission.

You felt one of his hands wrap around your ankle, and his long thumb stroked from your heel up to the joint. It was the perfect touch, and just grounding enough to keep you from being overwhelmed by the vibrations.

“You sound so pretty,” Bob murmured, “those little whimpers you make, fuck.”

Were you whimpering?

You felt like you noticed everything a bit too late, too loud. You realized you were pulling the vibrator over your cunt in a mimicry of the strumming motion Bob’s thumb was tracing on your ankle, and your hips canted up. Pleasure swirled in you, hot and tingling, but you felt something missing.

“Bob,” you panted, god, how were you already panting, “I need–”

You turned the toy higher and broke off, writhing.

“Darlin’, love you saying my name like this,” Bob drawled, and it was a proper drawl now, and how he said darlin’ made you feel like you might combust. “Can’t believe I get to see you like this, you look so good…knowing this isn’t your first time working yourself to my voice, makes me so damn jealous.”

You whined, pressing the vibrator more firmly against your skin, your hips starting to grind into it.

“Tell me,” you asked, your voice reedy, and Bob huffed a laugh, like you didn’t even have to ask. He ran a hand over his thigh, coming to rest at the seat of his sweatpants and you bit your lip as he adjusted himself through the thin fabric.

“So damn jealous,” he repeated, “thinking how many orgasms I’ve missed. How many times you came when I asked, how those thighs would tremble as you fucked yourself thinking of taking me…fuck, honey, you’ve heard me cum, and I’ve never–”

A moan pushed its way past your lips, as you realized that the groans and grunts and needy noises that you got off to weren’t incorporeal: they belonged to Bob.

You looked down at the foot of the bed where Bob was watching you greedily. His eyes roamed over your spread legs, the twitches in your thighs, the slackness in your jaw, and you looked at him too. His pale skin was flushed, color in pink splotches high on his cheeks, and his lips were parted. His chest rose and fell as he drew in deep breaths, and when he shifted slightly, you moaned again.

“Can you touch yourself?” you asked, almost shy, wanting to see him. You felt good, so insanely good, but the thing you’d always loved about the Rhett audios was how much pleasure it sounded like he was getting too. There was something so hot about knowing you were the root of someone else’s desire and pleasure, and you wanted so badly to be that for Bob.

“You’re gonna have to wait just a little longer, sweet girl,” Bob said, but he ran a hand over the thigh of his sweatpants, adjusting himself again, and your hips bucked up of their own volition. You guessed he was wearing underwear under his sweatpants because you couldn’t see an outline, but the idea of his dick hanging that far down his thigh had your mouth watering.

“Wanna see you,” you protested, hearing a sound like a pout in your voice and Bob’s hand on your ankle tightened. He looked at you hard, and you knew he was gambling, trying to decide if he wanted to play a card.

“I know, sweet girl,” he said, licking his lips, “but you have to earn my cock.”

Your eyes rolled back and your core clenched at those words. How many times had you heard Rhett tease you with that? But it was different now, because Bob was here. Because he was real, and his cock was real, and however many times you’d wondered about Rhett, your curiosity could be sated in Bob.

When you lifted your head to look back at Bob, he was slackjawed, watching you writhe. You were practically humping the toy, chasing an orgasm that suddenly felt so much closer. The vibrator felt stronger than normal, or maybe you were more sensitive, but you felt your climax building, and your thighs started shaking.

“I wanna see you,” you repeated, and it sounded pathetic, but it was true, you did. In a moment, this had switched from getting off in front of your friend to needing your friend’s dick, and you didn’t know how Bob knew it but he did.

He readjusted his grip on your ankle and before you could react he pulled.

You slid down the bed, your thighs parting around where he now kneeled; he braced himself over you, and you whined, needing his touch. He kissed you, his mouth wide and plundering, slanting his lips over yours. You moaned into his kiss, so different from the soft gentleness of your first embrace. This was Bob kissing you, and his tongue delved into your mouth and you opened for him.

“I’m too greedy for that, sweet girl,” he whispered, his lips against yours. “I know if I get between these thighs I’m going to lose myself, and I want to see how much you want it. I wanna be here, fully here, the first time I get to see you cum.”

He reached down, and you felt his hand trace over yours. You’d nearly dropped the vibrator when he pulled you down the bed, but now Bob tightened your grip, and guided it back to your cunt. You keened as the vibrator pushed between your folds, and Bob followed your lead, wanting to see how you fucked yourself for him.

It was better with him.

His strong hand bracketing yours, his other at the back of your neck, holding you steady. His hand was on yours but he brought his face close to yours again, and you drank in the reality that he was here, this close, holding you. His breath was hot against your skin, and his glasses were fogging up from how hard you were breathing.

“So are you gonna let me see it, darlin’?” he asked against your skin, and that voice, coupled with his touch, nearly had you there. “You gonna come for me, let me see what it looks like when my sweet girl gets off with just my voice and the toy we’re using on her? You’re almost there, honey, I can see it, come for me come on now–”

He sounded so good.

His voice was perfect and soothing and it felt like a dream but it wasn’t, it was real. He was holding you, feeling you, breathing the same air and working you. You’d never been so aware of your body and how it was tuned towards someone else. You cried out his name as you came, your back arching and your free hand fisting in Bob’s tshirt, reminding yourself he was there, he was there, he was there.

You felt like you were floating.

Pleasure coursed through your body and you could feel it pulsing in your fingertips, beating in your heart. You became slowly aware of the room around you. The air felt cold against your sweat-dampened skin, the hum of the refrigerator was the only noise other than your hard breathing. Bob was still over you, and he’d pulled the vibrator away from you, switching it off without really looking, running a soothing hand over your hip. The hand at the back of your neck was firm, holding you tightly so you could feel him.

“How’re ya doing, sweet girl?” he asked softly, and you felt him press a kiss to your cheek. “Did that feel good?“

You hummed in agreement, words still beyond you. His voice was so gentle, but had a raspy edge, like he was thinking over the last several minutes, holding them in his mind.

“You did such a good job for me,” he murmured, and you turned into his touch.

He was like sunshine, wasn’t he?

Just warm, and good, and you wanted to bask in him and his light like a dryad. His eyes darted away once he realized you were looking at him, and it made your heart skip a beat, that he could somehow be shy after coaxing you through one of the hottest orgasms of your life.

You were trying to think of how to say “your turn” in a way that wasn’t corny or cringey, but what you came up with was, “Can we keep going?”

Bob’s eyes snapped back to yours, and the world seemed to pause for a moment, hovering. Waiting, hoping, and Bob’s chin dipped, just slightly, and all was right.

“Baby,” he said, in the low, perfect, voice, “I’d like nothing more.”

When he kissed you, you were both smiling, somewhat giddy, and any nerves that had gathered during that pause dissipated, as you kissed his smile-thinned lips.

You shifted slightly, pushing yourself back up the bed and pulling Bob with you.

He moved easily, his long body spanning over yours, pressing you back into the mattress with the most delicious pressure. His hands were wandering, then, delicate fingers tracing over your sweatshirt, and when he lingered at the hem of it, you pushed him off. You didn’t want to be patient, didn’t want his chivalry, and so you pulled your sweatshirt over your head before you had time to second guess yourself.

The way Bob looked at you, you wished you’d done it sooner.

His tongue darted out to lick his bottom lip as he stared at your chest and you pushed yourself off the bed by your shoulders, so you could reach behind you and undo your bra. The moment the garment fell off, Bob’s hands were on you, his wide palms cupping your breasts. Your eyes fluttered shut at his touch, humming in the back of your throat as his fingers explored you. You felt the bed shift as he moved, and you gasped when a warm breath ghosted over your bared skin.

Bob kissed down from your sternum, wet kisses over you, and by the time he reached your nipples, he was practically lapping at your skin. You whimpered as his mouth closed over your nipples, his tongue swirling over you as his hand teased your other breast. When he hummed, you felt it all over, the soft vibration over your skin.

“Bob,” you gasped, and he moaned.

“Ya sound so pretty,” he whispered into your skin, “somehow better than I imagined.”

Your breath caught as his mouth moved to the valley between your breasts, and he laved the same attention to the other. He couldn’t have meant that how it sounded. As incomprehensible that this was happening, it was wilder still to think that he had imagined this, as you had.

“You thought of me?” you asked, your own voice sounding nearly breathless.

“Honey,” teeth grazed over your nipple, and Bob chuckled, that beautiful low laugh. “Who do you think I’m talkin’ to when I make those audios?”

His lips closed over you again, but the swirling of his tongue wasn’t enough to distract from the words he’d just uttered.

He wasn’t done, either.

“Y’know how many nights I’d wondered about the taste of your skin,” he murmured into it, “or what your tits would feel like in my hands? What sounds you’d make when I kissed you, how soft you’d be, everywhere? If you’d cry, or moan, or laugh when you came, or how you’d say my name…”

Your hand wound back into his hair and you pulled him back up to your mouth. This kiss was desperate, so much unsaid between the both of you. So much longing, so much wondering and now it was here. You couldn’t explore each other fast enough, and you were clawing at his clothing, trying to feel as much of his skin as possible. Bob was just as eager as you were, pulling off of you to shuck off his tshirt and sweatpants, and you reached for his glasses.

He blinked at you slowly as you pulled them off of him.

This sweet man.

He was so focused on you, his eyes so intent even as he struggled to focus, and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were. You leaned over to place them carefully on your nightstand, and when you came back to the bed, Bob’s arms settled around you in the most comforting embrace.

You loved the feeling of his skin.

He was so soft, pale skin covering deceptively strong muscles, and you were obsessed with the dichotomy. Your hands greedily traversed over his broad shoulders, thick biceps, taut stomach, and when you got to the hem of his boxers, you felt his breath catch as he shifted over you.

Fuck.

You’d thought it might’ve been a trick of the light, or a trick of sweatpants, some kind of trick, but under your hand, Bob felt hung. Your fingers rubbed over the bulge in his boxers, and Bob’s head dropped to your shoulders.

“We don’t have to–” he started, and broke off when your touch reached the end of him. You were just tracing the shape of him, but your breath caught when you felt his fat head, the cleft at his tip, even through the thin fabric.

“We do,” you said, swallowing quickly, not even trying to hide the way your thoughts were racing, “I really hope you have a condom, Floyd, because we really, really have to.”

He huffed, and then he pressed a kiss to your shoulder, pushing himself off you and reaching down to feel around the ground for his sweatpants. You loved that he had a condom on him – not because it meant that he was expecting this, but because it just confirmed for you that Bob was the type to look at birth control as shared responsibility, not just a matter of whether a gal took the pill or felt like risking going without. He fumbled for a moment, and you couldn’t help yourself.

While he was distracted (admittedly, this was probably a task you could have thought of while he still had his glasses on) you leaned over and traced your tongue over his collarbone. He smelled so good, and you could just taste the salt of his sweat. Bob’s breath grew ragged, and you loved the sound of it, kissing up his neck and finding that tempting spot where you could feel his pulse. You loved how frantic it was, loved the steadiness of him.

He found the condom.

You shifted back to your elbow, watching with blatant interest as he shoved his boxers down his thighs, tore the wrapper open and rolled the condom onto his dick.

Holy. Shit.

He looked like a work of art.

A beautiful flush had worked its way across his chest and throat, the tendons on his arms and hands stood out in stark contrast, but you couldn’t tear your eyes away from his cock. He really was that big.

“What is it?” he asked quietly, and your eyes darted back up to his face to find his brows furrowing slightly, since he couldn’t read your silence or your expression.

You pushed yourself up to kneeling on the edge of the bed, Bob still standing beside it, and reached for him. He stepped into your embrace easily, mollified by the shared warmth between your bodies, as you reassured him with soft kisses wherever you could reach.

“I thought it was a line,” you admitted, somewhat embarrassed at how wantonly you’d just been staring at him. “Just a cliche ‘oh, you want to choke on this big dick’, but…but you’re actually, you know…”

Bob smiled, somehow bashful, as you pitched your voice lower in an approximation of Rhett’s drawl.

“Is that an offer?” he asked, and oh you liked this side of him– teasing, relaxed, a little cocky.

And the thought of choking on him…it was a really great fantasy. He’d hurt your jaw something fierce, but you wanted to see if you could draw those breathy whimpers out of him. Figure out what your tongue could do to him, see how much he could take, push him a little further, and make him cum down your throat.

“Honestly,” you said, and yeah, your throat was dry just from the thought of it, “I really want to try that, sometime.”

At your tone or your words, you couldn’t be sure, Bob’s hips pushed forward slightly. With the height difference of you kneeling and him standing, his cock brushed against your ribs. You were both suddenly so aware of him, his thick cock resting between you, and Bob’s hips pushed forward again.

“You’re so soft,” he murmured, and his hips slid back, slowly. His hands were on your waist, holding you still as he ground against you. Your mouth fell open at the heavy motion, the promise of it, and the duration of it.

“You’re so big,” you whispered, another truth that should’ve sounded like a cliche, but instead was just a fact.

“You’ll fit me,” Bob said, with such confidence and certainty that suddenly you didn’t care if it was in your mouth or between your legs, you needed him in you.

“Please,” you asked, and Bob groaned, actually groaned, like you asking was the best thing he’d ever heard. His hands were so tight on your waist, like he needed that control and you knew how you wanted him.

You leaned up to press a quick kiss to his lips, and then turned back to the bed, your hand sliding up towards the headboard, your ass lifting like an invitation. Bob wasted no time, climbing back over the bed and shifting you so you were lengthwise on the bed again, and then draping his long body over yours. Your head rolled between your shoulders; he felt so good. Warm and strong, and all around you, and then you felt his big hand between your thighs. He opened your thighs gently, and then a thick finger traced between them.

“So wet,” he murmured, so close to your ear, and you shivered. “You’re gonna feel so good around me, aren’t you?”

You nodded, words failing you in your anticipation. But Bob wasn’t in a rush. His calloused finger teased through your folds, smearing the remnants of your orgasm up over your clit, playing with your cunt, until you were shaking.

You whimpered, your arms trembling as you braced yourself on the bed. You pushed your hips back into his touch, and you felt Bob’s breath shutter from his chest pressed to your back, but he didn’t move any faster.

“Don’t rush me, honey,” Bob said, his voice low, and you tried to hold still, you did, but his teasing was too much.

He alternated between spreading your folds, circling your clit, dipping his finger into you just enough to tease you, then pulling back entirely. You felt like you were aching, desperate for him, needing him. Bob spread you open with one hand, and you felt his thick head at your entrance, seeking. You saw the hand that wasn’t playing with your clit drop down to the bed beside yours as he braced himself, and you pushed your hips back, weakly.

“Ask me nicely, sweet girl,” he said, his voice so low, and you swear you nearly came on the spot.

“Please,” you managed, your voice sounding entirely too weak, “please, please, I need to feel you–”

You broke off when he pushed into you.

A steady, overwhelming pressure as that beautiful, enormous cock pushed into you. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets as he stretched you out, the gentle, even pressure nearly blinding. He was so thick, you felt like you could feel his heartbeat, like you’d been lit on fire, and the only thing you knew you needed was more, more.

Your head dropped to the sheets, even as your hips worked weakly back into his, welcoming him despite the burn.

Bob’s hand covered yours, his thick fingers tangling with yours on the bedsheets, and you felt cherished, you felt wrecked, you felt perfect.

Fuck, he felt so good.

You were full to the point of overwhelmed, and you realized he’d stopped pushing, was fully seated inside you. You felt so connected, so whole, even though you were heaving like you’d run a marathon.

Bob‘s nose traced your cheek, his soft lips kissed your jaw as his breath tickled your ear. “Does that feel good, darlin?” he asked.

You nodded, wordless, it felt like a dream come true. You felt every inch of him in you, every inch of him over you, and it was perfect.

“So,” Bob whispered, his teeth grazing the shell of your ear, “what do you say?”

“Thank you,” you moaned, you’d never been so grateful for anything in your life. “Feels so good, fuck, thank you–”

Bob groaned, and his hips pulled back before he slammed back into you. His thrust would’ve pushed you up the bed, except for his body over yours, holding you steady.

“Sweet girl, it’s like you don’t want this to last long,” he said, almost angry, and the sound of his voice had your eyes rolling back in your head. He sounded so good, he felt so good, he was so perfect, you were so full… “Like you’re trying to drive me mad with this tight cunt, with those sweet little whimpers, you feel so good, baby.”

You couldn’t do anything.

You were a molten mess of heat and driving need, your body aching and craving and sated by the thick cock pressing inside of you. Bob was thrusting so deep into you, his fat cock head prodding against a spot you distantly registered wasn’t made up, but might’ve been, for how perfectly he was hitting it. You weren’t aware if you were making sounds or just lying there, all you knew was how fucking good he felt in you, how you needed him to never stop.

“Feel so full,” you gasped, and Bob pushed into you again.

“Damn right,” Bob muttered, his voice dark, “full of my dick, like you’re fucking meant to be. Gorgeous girl, bent over, taking my cock like you need it.”

You whimpered, clenching around him. “I do, I do,” you babbled, “need you.”

Bob moaned, and it might’ve been the prettiest sound you’d ever heard. How was he real? How could he be this good, this kind, this fucking hot??

The sounds in the room were dizzying.

Bob’s hips slapping into your ass, the squelching sounds where you were joined, your gasps and his breathy grunts. It was perfect, and you felt the heat around you condensing in your core.

He knew, somehow.

The fingers that had been spreading you for his cock, moved to the top of your cunt, teasing over your clit. Your legs jerked, your mouth dropping open as Bob circled your clit, his fingers tracing over it, gently pinching it and coaxing you higher.

“I’m gonna cum,” you panted, heat and need rising.

“Christ, please,” Bob said, his voice so earnest, so dear, as you pushed back into him. “Let me feel it, sweet girl, let me feel this pussy I’ve been dreaming about. Want to feel you milking my cock, so damn good, you can do it, come on…”

He pumped into you once, twice, and you shattered. Your legs gave out, shaking, and then Bob’s hands were on your waist again, holding you up. You moaned his name, trembling and lost, and he held you, ever steady. He kept working into you, his thick cock pressing into you, like he was the only thing tethering you to this pane, and you felt drunk off of him.

“There it was, that was beautiful…fuck, you’re so hot, that feels so damn good. You sounded so gorgeous, sweet girl, you did so well…”

You moaned as his words coaxed you back.

He was still pumping into you, that steady, punishing pace and you were so sensitive but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. He felt so strong, so hot, so close to you and you needed it. Needed him. His thick arms cording around you, his strong grip digging into your hips, his fat cock stuffing you, you never wanted it to stop.

“You’re so good,” you whispered, needing him to know. Not just how he felt, or how he sounded, but who he was. How he was, and how much he meant.

Bob’s hips stuttered.

You were aching, you were spent, but you tightened your core and clenched around him.

“Baby,” he groaned, “I’m close you can’t–”

You rolled your hips.

Bob grunted, and then he was moving, faster than lightning. He swept your hands out, pushing you down by your shoulders into the mattress, his body draping over yours. You turned your head to the side, and like he knew, he was there, kissing you.

It was sloppy, it was messy, but your lips and tongue tangled together, like you both needed the sweetness of a kiss to balance the savage way Bob’s hips were fucking into you.

Each press of his hips ground your pussy into the mattress and the pressure was so fucking unreal. You moaned into him, and Bob seemed drunk off the sound, off of you. You were so overstimulated, so out of your body that pleasure was the only thing that made sense. Only the way his hips rubbed your clit into the mattress, only the way his cock was stroking into the deep part of you, only the way he was panting against your lips.

“You’re everything,” Bob whispered, just a breath away. “So much better, so much – fuck, you feel too good. Will you come for me again, sweet girl? I want to feel it so bad, need another one from you, can you do that for me?”

You shook your head, wrung out, but you felt it building anyways. Fuck, how was that possible? But Bob’s thrusts, the pressure on your clit, the weight of his warm body, the need in his eyes, it was driving you higher.

And then.

And then he got close.

He broke off from the kiss, his thrusts growing almost frantic. Each breath he drew ended on a gasp, a soft whine that reached deep into your gut and set off something primal. He was fucking into you but he was whimpering, and you knew he needed it, needed you, like he said. He moaned, a needy, beautiful sound, and before you could feel his orgasm, yours broke over you.

You collapsed into the mattress, Bob covering you, and you distantly heard him getting louder as your thighs shook. He sounded so pretty, those sweet moans and the desperate gasps driving you mad. The world was just molten heat, desperate thrusts, echoes of whimpers and you faded into the vacuity of it.

When you came back, you were on your side.

You were drenched in sweat, you both were, and a sheet was covering you from the cool room. Bob had taken off the condom, you noticed absently, and had pulled your sheet up over both of you, tucking you into his chest. His arms were warm around you, and when you exhaled, you watched the blond hairs on his forearms blow back and forth.

“How’re you doing?” Bob asked softly, and you could weep. It was him, so familiar, so gentle, and so much better than any recording, any fantasy, anything. Your arm swung halfheartedly in his direction.

“You jerk,” you sighed, “you’ve ruined my subscription.” Bob chuckled, the bed shaking with his deep laugh. “Think you can content yourself with the real thing?”

You shifted, turning to face him. In the dim light of the room, he somehow still managed to look like an angel. His soft eyes were unfocused, his mussed hair was snarled from your fingers, and he was the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen.

You leaned over to kiss him, Bob’s lips already thinning on a smile. “I think I can manage,” you said.

tagging: @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @sometimesanalice @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @sorchathered @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover

chances are high i'll do a part 2/followup with both of them recording an 'overheard' audio...let me know! comments and reblogs are the surest way to make that happen 💙

#bob fucks #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd #misskielwrites #International Bob Floyd Fucks Month

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sorchathered · 8 months ago

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Let’s do IT for our country

Pairing- President!Robert “Bob” Floyd x reader

Warnings- smut smut and more smut, breeding kink, language, mentions of pregnancy, us politics, I think that’s it?

Summary- Robert Floyd had never wanted to be the president, but here in the Oval Office on inauguration night with his First Lady? He could get used to nights like this.

A/N- It’s that time again! Another IBFFM, but this time with an older version of our sexy WSO. Mr. President is about 45 here, his First Lady is in her mid 30’s.

Also it’s @bobgasm ‘s birthday present!! Happy birthday to my precious Steph, love you so much baby!!

For as long as he could remember, Robert Floyd had been told he would be great.

His family name was synonymous with the likes of Kennedy and Roosevelt, the Floyd’s were some of the most influential in political history, and with that came high expectations. You must go to a prestigious college, you must serve your country (whether that be as a civil servant or military member), and you must marry the right kind of person. They talked about it as if they were breeding horses, and it never made any sense to him, so long as he found someone kind and supportive all of the bullshit that his family expected mattered very little to him. He would tick off whatever boxes they wanted, but it would be on his own terms.

He went to the US Naval Academy after high school, refusing to hop onto the Ivy League lifestyle his grandfather so desperately cherished. Moving on to aviation as a WSO and then becoming one of the top 1% in the country in his field. It was a distinguished career to be sure, but he’d been adamant that he had no interest in pursuing a political career, and certainly not the presidency.

He still wasn’t sure what had brought him to this point, or how he’d somehow managed to bag his dream girl in the process. A feisty junior senator from Delaware, good family, strong morals and drop dead gorgeous to boot, you’d been his match in every way. Sure you had hated his guts, he was the golden boy and you had dealt with his kind your whole life. But after a particularly long day in the senate he’d asked you to dinner, and while you’d had half a mind to tell him no the prospect of a free meal wasn’t worth passing up. So in a dingy dive bar with greasy burgers and cheap beer, you took a chance on him and fell ridiculously in love.

Four years had passed since you’d both sat in the creeky wooden booths of that shitty bar, and it felt simultaneously like yesterday and a lifetime ago. His family had pushed him into politics and while he had been adamant in the beginning that he would never pursue the presidency, the world had changed dramatically since he first refused the mantle. He may have hated the pageantry of it all, but at his core he truly did want to help people, and they certainly took notice. He’d run a clean and honest campaign with his best girl by his side, and won in a landslide. Everything moved very quickly from Election Day to Inauguration Day, it almost felt like he had blinked and he was here, wandering the halls of the west wing after skipping out on the last two of 10 gaudy inaugural balls he’d been forced to attend. He’d been going since sunrise and still couldn’t seem to get the jitters under control so he could rest; he suspected it would be quite a while before that feeling went away. Shaky hands moved to open the door to the Oval Office, completely renovated and designed by his beautiful wife to fit his style and personality, you’d made sure he would want for nothing, he’d be spending so much time in this room and it seemed only logical to make it a calm and safe space for him and his thoughts. It felt so much like his office at home, even down to the worn leather chair and the soft scent of sandalwood and tobacco from the candles you bought because it reminded you of him. You had told him you’d be heading to change and wouldn’t be gone long, he had plans to unwind with a bottle of bourbon and maybe a game or three of checkers, but as you slipped into the spacious and hallowed room belonging to the commander in chief, he nearly jolted out of his skin. There you were, his First Lady, in a skimpy little silk robe, intricate updo long gone in favor of soft curls, and the adorable little fuzzy cat slippers that he’d bought you for Christmas.

“Good evening Mr. President” you said with a smirk as you locked the door and padded over to his desk. You’d chosen well, the beautiful mahogany writing table had belonged to Theodore Roosevelt, and while it hadn’t been used in many a president’s term, you had made sure it was painstakingly restored and ready for his first day. Now that you were here, all he could seem to think of is how much fun it might be to test the sturdiness of the surface, perhaps he did need to blow off a little steam after such a stressful day…

“Sweet girl, you do realize there’s cameras everywhere right?” He said as you pushed his chair back just enough to fit between his thighs, very gently sitting on the edge of the antique escritoire. This desk had seen many a scandal, so many historical events, and you were quite sure she should handle the weight of what you had planned next.

“Already got that covered, Phoenix is on surveillance right now, you can go ahead and go dark Nat!” You said in the general direction of where they’d mentioned cameras were placed, a notification on your phone let you know she’d confirmed that the two of you had thirty minutes all to yourselves and you broke out in a blinding grin as you leaned forward to press a kiss to Bob’s jawline. The sharp intake of breath and his hands immediately going to your hips let you know he’d need this just as much as you, it had been embarrassingly long since the two of you had been together, and you filed away the notion that you would need to make sure you had the right security in play to make quickies like this a regular occurrence, policy be damned.

You’d drawn his lips to yours as you untied his tie and began unbuttoning the front of his dress shirt, his hands had drifted to palming your ass as he licked the seam of your mouth, a gasp from you was all he needed to slide his tongue against yours, squeezing you a little more roughly and all but pulling you into the plush office chair.

“Fuck I missed you,” he breathed into your mouth, you’d nearly gotten his dress shirt removed when he slotted his knee between your legs, large hands gripping the back of your thighs as he placed you back on the desk, this time swiping whatever loose papers off the top and sending them cascading across the plush carpet that held the presidential seal. You squealed and giggled, watching with rapt attention as he removed his dress shirt and exposed the defined freckled skin of his arms, pulling his undershirt off with less finesse as it joined the pile of papers on the floor. “I’ve never found a president to be sexy until just this moment, I have to admit, you look damn good in this office, sir” you said as you leaned back on your palms and ogled him, heat crept up his cheeks and chest at your praise, but his eyes had darkened at the honorific, you knew exactly what you were doing to him, and he could feel his dress slacks getting uncomfortably tight as you ran your bare feet up and down the back of his legs.

“You wanna be a good girl for me Madame First Lady? Let me lay you out and devour you where anyone could walk in?” His voice grew impossibly deeper and you let out a whimper in response, shifting to try and get some relief. You did want that, you wanted it so badly you could scream, it was the very thought of being dirty and unladylike for the man you loved that had you so hot and bothered, and he trailed one long finger down your sternum to remove your robe, fire in his eyes as he opened the sash and found you completely bare for him.

“Goddamn it, should have known you’d do this, you know exactly how to wind me up don’t ya? Whole world wants to know how to bring me to my knees and all they’d have to do is weaponize you and this perfect pussy.” He was completely fixated on your arousal glistening between your legs, and while normally you’d let him take his time, you knew it wouldn’t be long before some aid or agent came by to make sure he had everything he needed for the evening. If they only knew.

“Bobby, please? Don’t have a lot of time baby” you said as you squirmed on the polished wood and searched for some kind of relief. He seemed to snap out of his haze as lust clouded eyes fixed on yours, letting his index finger trail down your stomach and through your folds, watching your head fall back and chest heave at his teasing.

“Need to hear you say it sweet girl, you know what I want.” You blushed in earnest, he loved how dirty you could get, but that had always been behind closed doors in the comfort of your own home, you’d be mortified if anyone heard some of the things you’d said in the throes of pleasure; but it was his big day after all. If he wanted it, you’d give him the moon.

“Need your mouth on me Daddy, want you to make me cum and then fuck me with your big dick. Please? Please give it to me, ‘s been too long, fuck - I-“ you babbled at him as he continued to rub that one long finger up and down, it was maddening and had you choking on your words, thankfully he didn’t make you wait, spreading you open and pressing two fingers into you as he leaned forward and wrapped his lips around your clit. The relief was immediate, you moaned out into the empty room as he went to work on your aching pussy, drawing tight circles with this tongue as he scissored his fingers inside you. It had been weeks and he knew he’d need to get you ready, but he couldn’t help but feel like he was going insane over the little noises you made and the iron grip you had on his hair, tugging at his scalp as you bucked up into his pretty face to search for your release.

It was startling how fast he got you there, you were certain you were dripping down onto the desk now, wet smacks and moans coming from between your thighs as you peeked down to look at his deep cerulean eyes. He was too damn good at this and he knew it, had the audacity to wink at you as he nibbled on your clit and with a gasp you came all over his face, watching as he wiped his mouth with his arm and smirking like the cocky bastard he was. He controlled the entire free world now, but he would still consider it his greatest accomplishment that he could render his pretty wife to a babbling needy mess with his tongue. Disheveled looked good on you, blush spread across your cheeks and chest, hair a mess, and your release all over your thighs from what he intended to be one of at least three mind blowing orgasms.

You looped your heavy arms around his neck and kissed him languidly, you didn’t seem to be as worried about the time anymore and for that he was thankful. He wanted to take his time, and if somebody walked in they would find out very quickly to knock, he couldn’t give a shit about anything other than getting his cock inside you.

You knew the rule all too well; no visible marks. It had been that way from the very beginning, which was unfortunate because you wanted so badly to mark his pretty neck up and make sure everyone knew he was yours, but the compromise was that you could leave them anywhere below the collarbone, so as he fished for the condom he’d stashed in his pocket (hoping to end the night just like this), you licked down his neck and began nibbling on the flesh of his pecks, sucking a nipple into your mouth and looking up at him as his jaw went slack. “Oh Christ, you gotta stop that baby or we’ll be finished before we even get started” he panted out and tried not to buck up into you, the hand gripping your thigh was sure to leave a mark but you couldn’t give a shit, there was something so powerful in being able to bring the most powerful man on earth to his knees, and even better knowing that he was insatiable for you.

“Then fuck me Mr. President, and you don’t need that condom either. I think you should put a baby in me, fill me up so good that I’m dripping with you all day tomorrow.” You grinned at him but he looked completely debauched, he ran a hand through his graying sandy locks and blinked down at you, almost at a loss for words.

“You little minx, you’ve been just waiting all day to drop that on me haven’t you? Need me to cum in that pretty pussy and get you good and knocked up? Fuck you’d think it was my birthday or something, I don’t know how I got it so good.” He said as he spread you out and ran his hands all over you, you were whimpering and grinding into him and he was sure he’d pass out if he was any harder, slipping himself out of his briefs and sliding his length through your slick. You were trying hard to be quiet, sure it was late but there was bound to be someone on watch, Bob gripped your chin as he slid into you and kissed you sloppily, all teeth and tongue and moans, shallow thrusts to get you ready turned rough when you sucked his bottom lip and pushed your hips up to take him to the hilt. You gripped the front of the desk behind your head and let him pound you into it, the need for quiet long forgotten as you alternated between crying out and calling him daddy.

It didn’t take him long before he was close, the aftershocks of your second orgasm seemed to keep him gripped so tight that he could barely think straight, he was furiously rubbing your clit to get you there again as he watched tears drip down your flushed cheeks, he’d never forget tonight for the rest of his life. Not all the fanfare, not even the immense weight of the mantle he was about to take, but this moment right here, wrapped up in his gorgeous wife as he fucked her silly in the Oval Office. You wailed out “I’m cumming” as you gripped him tight with your pulsing heat and he tumbled over the edge right along with you, warming you from the inside out as he filled you up.

You cradled his sweaty form in your arms as you both came down from your high, giggles erupting from him as it really set in what you two had done.

“Ah shit, well everyone’s gonna know that we can’t keep our hands to ourselves after this, I imagine the press will have a field day.” He kissed your nose as you grinned at him, both of you still joined together but neither of you ready to separate.

A loud ring came from his phone and it sent a jolt through both of you, wide eyes trained on his as he leaned forward and grabbed it off the hook. His eyes were full of mirth as he nodded his head once, twice and bid them goodnight, pinching your cheek with his free hand before hanging up.

“What was that all about?” You said, trying to push him up so you could get decent and off his desk.

“That was Nat, she said we need to hurry the hell up before me going MIA causes a national emergency.” He was joking of course, but the secret service agents at the door couldn’t look either of you in the eye as you shuffled down the hallway with Bob’s hand in yours, and it was no surprise to anyone when you turned up pregnant by the state of the union.

Tagging- @bobgasm @attapullman @bobfloydsbabe @floydsglasses @sebsxphia @roosterforme @sunsetsimpsblog @seitmai @auroralightsthesky @withahappyrefrain @hangmanapologist

#top gun maverick #bob floyd #top gun maverick fanfiction #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert floyd #robert bob floyd x reader #top gun au #presidential au #top gun fanfiction #top gun #international bob floyd fucks month #ibff

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daisyfieldrecs · 1 year ago

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Bob Floyd Fics Pt. 2

Man of your dreams| One-Shot| Fluff| @sorchathered

Please Come Home for Christmas| One-Shot| Fluff| @nerdgirljen

bleeding love| One-Shot| Fluff, Smut| @bobgasm

do you wanna make somethin' of it| One-Shot| Fluff, Smut| @theharddeck

All I Want| One-Shot| Fluff| @cornishkat

Pride, Prejudice, and Flyboys| One-Shot| Smut| @sorchathered

Explicitly Yours| One-Shot| Smut| @roosterforme

Cards Close to the Chest| One-Shot| Fluff| @ohtobeleah

Sprinkles of Love| One-Shot| Fluff| @bradshawsbaby

Ruin the Friendship| One-Shot| Fluff, Smut| @withahappyrefrain

Stiff Competition| One-Shot| Fluff| @roosterforme

The Kind of Girl I Could Love|One-Shot| Fluff| @roosterforme

Stud on Board| One-Shot| Fluff, Implied Smut| @roosterforme

He Sees All My Colors| One-Shot| Fluff, Angst, Implied Smut| @peachystenbrough

i want you midnights| One-Shot| Fluff| @laracrofted

Bob and T Swift| One-Shot| Fluff| @peachystenbrough

The Perfect Pink| One-Shot| Fluff| @attapullman

Something in the Orange| Pt.2| Two-Shot| Smut| @sorchathered

A Lesson in Love| One-Shot| Fluff| @tip-top-cloud-surfer

Bob and the Moon| One-Shot| Fluff| @topguncortez

Baby Boy Bob| One-Shot| Fluff| @topguncortez

Dandelions| One-Shot| Fluff| @callsign-phoenix

there's a hole where something was...| One-Shot| Fluff| @bobfloydssunnies

you don’t have to be a star| One-Shot| Fluff, Implied Smut| @sunlightmurdock

color up my skies| One-Shot| Smut| @thiswaytwoinfinity

scenes from the kitchen sink| One-Shot| Fluff| @bradshawsbaby

High On Lovin' You| One-Shot| Fluff, Smut| @bradshawssugarbaby

Bob From Stats| One-Shot| Smut| @attapullman

six summers| Series| Warnings in Each Chapter| @lewmagoo

Mav's Reaction to Each Dagger Dating His Daughter| One-Shot| Fluff| @tip-top-cloud-surfer

I will ease your mind.| One-Shot| Fluff| @floydsmuse

Like Peas in a Pod| One-Shot| Fluff, Angst| @bradshawsbaby

Covering the Classics| Series| Warnings in Each Chapter| @roosterforme

good girl| One-Shot| Smut| @bobgasm

Some Things Take Time| One-Shot| Fluff, Angst| @roosterforme

All The Pretty Girls| One-Shot| Fluff| @bradshawssugarbaby

the legend of the great wizard bobernius| One-Shot| Fluff, Smut| @sio-ina-bottle

As you wish| One-Shot| Fluff, Smut| @sorchathered

Pretend| One-Shot| Fluff, Smut| @attapullman

Room for Dessert| One-Shot| Smut| @purelyfiction

I HEARD SCREAMING| One-Shot| Smut| @oncasette

Stupid White Car| One-Shot| Fluff| @attapullman

DIAL TONE| One-Shot| Smut| @oncasette

So Hold Me Close and Say Three Words| One-Shot (for now)| Fluff, Smut| @attapullman

Untitled| One-Shot| Fluff| @bussyslayer333

"i made a playlist for you, come sit and listen."| One-Shot| Fluff| @bussyslayer333

Make Me Your Masterpiece| One-Shot| Fluff, Smut| @sometimesanalice

four eyes.| One-Shot| Smut| @promisingyounglady

Grow Old With You| One-Shot| Fluff| @vivwritesfics

Vice| One-Shot| Smut| @ohtobeleah

Slice of Your Pie| One-Shot| Smut| @callsign-joyride

The Mug Situation| One-Shot| Fluff| @vivwritesfics

shopping lists.| One-Shot| Fluff| @sebsxphia

#ficrecs #daisyfieldrecs #bob floyd #top gun maverick #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd fic #bob floyd fluff #bob floyd smut

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withahappyrefrain · 3 months ago

Text

Unraveled- Bob Floyd

Summary: Bob Floyd likes to think he can keep it cool. Then along comes a sundress.

Warnings: friends to lovers, smut, so much pining, language,

Bob Floyd didn't like to brag, but he considered himself pretty dang smart and sensible.

He knew the ins and outs of every jet he has flown. Hell, he could break it apart and put it back together again within a few hours, if that. He was able to quickly assess a situation, weigh the pros and cons, and come to a sound decision. It’s why he was the top WSO for the mission in Miramar.

So why has a piece of fabric thrown him for such a loop?

All Bob was trying to do was be polite. You had mentioned taking an Uber to the Hard Deck tonight and Bob knew the polite thing to do was to offer a ride. After all, he wasn't going to drink. You would save money. It's what any good friend would do. It had absolutely nothing to do with the crush he had been harboring since your first debriefing.

He was just trying to be courteous. The gentleman his Mama worked hard in raising. Getting to spend time with you, without the other members of your shared squadron around or loud music, wasn't even near the forefront of his mind when he made the offer. Bob was just trying to be a good friend. A good friend who just wanted to help. A good friend who was forcing himself to look at you through a platonic lens, not a romantic one.

Bob liked to think he was doing pretty well at that.

That is, until a dress came along and unraveled him.

Perhaps you said hello when you opened the door. You probably did, considering how polite you were. But all Bob could focus on was the way the fabric of your dress hugged your curves.

And what little fabric there was. He had seen you in civilian clothes before. But never anything like this. His mind absolutely went blank when you hugged him and he could feel how much of your bare skin was exposed. Due to the halter style of the straps, nearly your whole upper back was now perfectly visible.

“Um you-you look um nice,” Bob barely got out. He was too busy trying to burn the feeling of your soft skin into his brain. You were warm, like a walking ray of sunshine.

“Thanks! I got it yesterday and I figured with the weather being so nice, today was the perfect day to wear it!” you said, giving a little twirl. Bob tried to focus on the pattern of dress; how the green brought out your eyes.

But all he could focus on was the curves of your body, now being highlighted. The way the halter style made your breasts swell and the lack of a bra very apparent. How the fabric stopped at the top of your thighs when you spun, giving Bob a peek of what he often thought about late at night.

This was bad.

“I take it you came early to watch an episode of Love Island before we leave?” You asked as he stumbled walked in.

The truth was, Bob wasn’t a fan of reality TV. But he watched because it gave the two of you a chance to talk to one another. Just as friends, nothing more. When watching the silly show, you two could make jokes, talk about things other than work.

“Yeah! Ready to watch hot people make poor decisions again,” Bob said with a nervous laugh. The joke failed to put him at ease. If anything, it reminded him that he was about to spend at least forty minutes with you and that did not include the drive to the Hard Deck.

“You’re using my tagline!” your smile lit up your whole face. Bob was certain it could light up the whole turmac. All he could do was nod, his heart fluttering when you grabbed his hand, leading him into the living room.

"I have some kettle corn in the microwave for you! I also made cherry seltzer water!" Bob could feel heat rush to his face. You always remembered the little details that no one else seemed to pick up on; that he loved salt but had an even bigger sweet tooth. How in an attempt to cut back on soda, he switched to sparkling water. His favorite flavor was cherry because it reminded him of cherry coke.

"Did you see the video I sent you?" You gently squeezed Bob's hand as you two sat down.

"Y-yeah. You're absolutely right, having three otters would be my dream." Ever since learning about Bob's favorite animal, you had sent him every otter-related video you came across while scrolling the internet. You even got him a pair of Otter socks for his birthday. It was the fact you paid attention to seemingly minor details that made Bob fall head over heels for you.

But alas, you were a coworker. The problem at hand wasn't whether it was allowed, ‘incest’ (as Jake unfortunately called it) happened all the time in the Navy. After all, there were only so many things you could do on a ship before switching to people. No, it was the potential issues that came with dating. Rejection being the main one. Bob had no trouble believing you and he could be professional should you two date and it not work out. That happened all the time. What worried him was rejection. Having to go to work everyday and put on a facade, that things were fine. When deep down, he knew he'd be heartbroken. And even worse, he'd no longer have your friendship.

So Bob settled, as he often did when it came to love. He took comfort knowing he'd still have you, albeit as a friend instead of a partner. That should be more than enough. For the last few months, he had convinced himself that it was enough.

But God was it difficult when you bent over right to grab the remote.

The hemline of your dress inched upwards, showing off the backs of your upper thighs and-

he could see the swell of your ass. He could see the flash of red lace. Your skin looked so soft and supple and you were so close he could just reach out and-

Oh God he was hard. Oh no.

This was bad. Worse than that time he popped an erection during sex ed in middle school. There, he at least had a jacket and a desk to cover it.

But here? He was a full grown adult and San Diego’s seventy degree weather didn't give him any additional layers. Bob looked around, desperate for something, anything, to hide his cock that was currently straining against his jeans.

Thank fuck for your love of decorative pillows.

He grabbed the closest one, shaped and designed like a pomegranate. You were so excited the day you picked it up from some Facebook Marketplace deal. He had driven you, partly out of wanting to spend time with you, partly because he wanted to ensure you were safe. It was adorable and definitely shouldn’t be used for nefarious purposes, such as hiding a boner. This was wrong, so fucking wrong.

Bob was trying to think of anything and everything that would kill this boner. But his spot on the couch aligned perfectly with the entranceway of the kitchen, where you currently were, rummaging around to fix Bob a drink.

What ever happened to doors? Why were people so opposed to doors? Doors were lovely. You could close doors. Every time he tried to think of something, you were right in his line of view, turning every thought into something more devious.

His family? His family would love you. If you two got married you could make your own family.

Work? You worked with him, in that damn flight suit that clung to your every curve. No one else could make that god forsaken green fabric look good.

School? God, you were so smart. The top of your class. And witty, always ready with a clever, underhanded comeback. It’s how you two originally bonded, both having muttered something about Jake under your breath.

Bob Floyd was screwed. Thoroughly.

He tried to comfort himself with the fact that soon you two would be watching people in their early twenties making the dumbest decisions over dating. If anything were to be a boner killer, that had to be it. He just needed to make it through then.

“Bob?” Your lithe voice broke him out of his thoughts. Not that it was much of a reprieve, with the way you were standing at the kitchen entranceway with a glass of sparkling water in each hand, “You good?”

“Me? Oh yeah, I’m great!” He said with an all too eager nod, desperate to convince you this was truly the case. Fuck, you were so beautiful. And you were showing so much skin. He had seen you on the beach before, adorned in athletic shorts and a sports bra. But this was different.

The dress was far too nice for the Hard Deck. No, you deserved to be taken to a nice restaurant, one with a lovely outdoor patio. The image of you sitting on a lovely chair with a glass of wine in your hand came easily to Bob. It was also the perfect dress for a picnic, particularly at the nearby park, specifically in that little secluded area. God, the idea of you laying down on a red and white checkered blanket, the hem of your dress pushed up your thighs as he leaned over you, ready to take you-

Bob leaned forward, clutching the pillow as he tried to will himself the strength to get it together.

“Bob? Are-are you okay?” You quickly placed the drinks down on the coffee table, rushing over to kneel in front of him on the couch.

Oh what a sight that was, you looking up at him with big eyes, full of concern. Your hands were on his biceps, and Bob knew if he looked down he would have the perfect view of your breasts.

It was so hot and also the very last thing Bob fucking needed.

“I’m good. Stomach doesn’t agree with what we had for lunch, that’s all.” Lying was never good, his mother instilled that in him at an early age. But in this scenario, Bob was certain the truth was much worse.

“I’ll go get you a ginger ale!” Bob opened his mouth to protest, though no words came out due to seeing not only the tops of your thighs, but a flash of your ass as you spun around to go back into the kitchen.

For a few seconds, the supple, plump flesh was so close to him. Practically within arm’s reach.

Maybe he should just leave while you were in the kitchen.

But that would be rude. Not only rude, but it would raise your suspicions if they weren’t high already. Plus, he had already promised you a ride to the Hard Deck. He couldn’t just leave you hanging, not after you brought a dress for the occasion. He may be in dire need of a cold shower, but the last thing Bob Floyd was going to do was hurt you. He squeezed the pillow, knuckles turning white as he tried to find strength. For once, he couldn’t wait to start an episode of Love Island. Hell, he would even take an episode of The Bachelor at this point.

“Here ya go,” You sat down on the couch next to him, glass of ginger ale in hand. You even remembered how much ice he preferred in his cold beverages. You were perfect.

“Thanks,” Bob slowly took one hand off the pillow, the other still holding onto it for dear life.

“You uh, like that pillow?” You chuckled, though your nerves still shined through.

“Huh? Oh yeah,” Bob looked down, ensuring his big problem was still covered, “It uh, helps my stomach!”

You raised an eyebrow, though you didn’t further question it. Instead, much to Bob’s delight, you reached for the remote, clicking through until you finally landed on the desired episode. With a shaking hand, Bob gulped down the ginger ale, promptly placing it on the coffee table so he could have both hands on the pillow.

The room was silent, saved for the ridiculous conversations happening on the TV screen. Normally you and Bob would be shoulder to shoulder, laughing as you both narrated your opinions on the contestants. But today Bob was rigid, his fingers still clutching to the pillow on his lap. He hadn’t even touched the bowl of popcorn.

"Do you like my dress?" It took everything in Bob not to groan at your question. The last thing he needed was a reason to look at you. But how could he deny himself such a chance? So he put on his best smile as he turned to face you.

"Uh yeah it's lovely. I'm sure everyone will love it-"

"I got it for you.” Your voice was soft as you hit the pause button on your remote, eyes remaining on the screen.

The words hit Bob like a freight train.

"What? Why would you-"

You shrugged, fingers toying with the short hem of your dress, "I thought maybe, if you saw me in something different, something that wasn't my flight suit or a tee shirt, that maybe you would finally notice me?”

You finally looked him in the eyes, “Maybe you'd finally notice that I've been trying to flirt with you for the last few months?"

Bob opened his mouth just to promptly close it. He thought back to the last few months, now analyzing every seemingly ordinary interaction he had with you.

The way you insisted on sitting next to each other during lunch. As well as during briefings. And when you went to the Hard Deck. Whenever a guy tried to flirt with you there, you turned them down, focusing your attention back on him, continuing your conversation about his latest D&D campaign or a Lego set you had found that reminded you of him. The way you always touched his arm, your hand lingering on his skin as you bore your eyes into his. How you always texted him. How you baked a cake for his birthday. The little trinkets you’d bring him.

Oh god, he was a fucking idiot.

The tension in the room was thick. You, sitting restlessly as you waited for Bob to acknowledge what you had said. Bob, processing your words and what they meant.

“How long?” Bob asked, his voice soft yet firm.

You chuckled as you shook your head, “Honestly? First day. We hadn’t even spoken yet. I saw you walk in and you just were….not only handsome but also looked so kind? Then you offered me a spare pencil, made that comment about Jake’s driving and I….was a goner.”

“I saw you talking to Halo before the briefing room was open,” He confessed, “She said something that made you laugh and it….it was the prettiest sight I had ever seen.”

“We’ve wasted a lot of time, huh?” You both stared ahead at the TV, still too fearful to face each other.

Bob dryly chuckled, “Yeah….a lot of time. Months, if we’re being more exact.”

The two of you remained in silence, your words sinking in. Neither sure what should be said, if anything should be said. Until finally, you spoke up.

“Bob? What’s underneath the pillow?”

His hips shifted, involuntary, “What?” For a moment, he forgot about the darn pillow and the erection he was covering with it.

The cluelessness in his voice brought a giggle, “The pillow? Why are you using it to cover your lap?”

Bob sighed, “Can I at least kiss you first?”

You nodded, moving to close the gap between you and Bob. Pillow be damned, his hands cupped your jawline, giving you a sweet smile before leaning in, closing the gap between your lips and his.

Bob Floyd’s lips were soft, no doubt due to the sweet mint chapstick you'd watch him apply countless of times. You didn't want to admit how often you'd wondered about the taste, what his hands would feel like on your body. God, they were huge. His thumbs rested comfortably on your jawline, but you could feel his other fingers spanning your neck, down to your collarbone.

The first kiss was gentle, practically modest. Your lips were only apart for several seconds, if that, before connecting again.

You easily found his shoulders, grasping them for purchase. The gap between your bodies was too much, Bob wanted to be as close as possible. So his hands trailed down your body, skimming along until they found the back of your thighs. Using his strength, he moved your body, situating you onto his lap.

A high pitched gasp fell from your lips upon feeling the bulge that was straining against his jeans. Good god, he was thick. You had heard whispers, chalking it up to typical locker room talk.

Nope, those rumors were one hundred percent true.

“I’m sorry,” Bob groaned, hands exploring your soft curves. Worst of all, he sounded earnest, only making you want to touch him more.

“I-I wore this on purpose ah-after all,” you confessed, finding it difficult to speak as he pressed open mouthed kisses along your exposed chest.

Right. You wore this on purpose. To entice him. To see if perhaps he felt the same burning desire. Once realization hit him again, Bob’s hands moved along your back, just stopping above your ass.

Wait, he was about to touch your ass.

“We-we shouldn’t,” Bob mumbled, retracting his hands from your body. You stilled, a crestfallen look painting your face.

“We shouldn’t?” Repeating the words felt like driving a knife through your heart. Had regret finally emerged, beating the rush of adrenaline? Was he going to regret this, ask that you two never speak about it ever again, pretend it never happened?

“I…” Bob sighed, “I need to take you on a date first.”

Bless his heart.

Sighing, you relaxed your body into his, resting your head in the crook of his neck, “You’re too sweet, y’know that?”

Bob chuckled, “That's supposed to be my line.”

His hands gave your hips a loving squeeze, causing you to nestle further into him, until your bodies were nearly molded as one. Your lips searched for his, trailing up his neck, his jawline, along the side of his button nose until finally reaching his soft lips. Bob shifted in his seat, causing you to do the same. As a result, you could feel his erection, despite the layers of clothes.

“Good lord Bobby, you've just been walking around with all that?” Bob groaned, but not due to your words. No, it was because you had started moving your hips in circles, his erection now pressed against your covered core.

“I’m- I’m trying to be a gentleman.” Bob couldn't even look at you. He didn't want to stop. He should stop. Maybe you two could skip the Hard Deck and go out to dinner. Then he could take you home and not feel as guilty.

“You can be a gentleman later,” by throwing your arms over his shoulder you finally had access to his neck. His skin was so soft, so delicate. How could you not sink your teeth into his neck?

Normally you'd have better self control than this. But you were ovulating and had six months of sexual frustrations and wet dreams-

“You had dreams about me?” Uh-oh. That wasn't meant to be said out loud. Granted, maybe it was for the best to get everything out in the open.

Timidly nodding, you explained, “Yeah. The days I didn't sit next to you were because….I had a dream about ya the night before.”

A band had snapped within Bob, no doubt due to the numerous times you didn't sit next to him during briefings.

Within seconds, you found yourself on your back against the couch, the bespectacled WSO hovering over you. There was a fire flickering in his blue eyes as he remained laser focused on your face.

“After this, you're putting this dress back on and I'm taking ya out to dinner, is that clear?” his voice was gruff and deep, similar to when he did a hundred pushes that one day (that you definitely didn't think about while masturbating).

Chest heaving, dress pushed up to your upper thighs, lips kiss bitten, God, you looked like an angel to Bob. He remembered learning about angels in church growing up. How pious they were, that seeing them was a sign of comfort, that they would guide one to safety, to a holy life.

There was nothing holy about what he wanted to do to you.

His mouth was hot, searing kisses along your skin. Your back arched into him, desperate for me. But he always seemed to pull away before you could get enough. Would you? Ever get enough of Bob Floyd?

Finding an answer would have to wait, for now you wanted to relish in the feeling of Bob’s hands kneading your breasts. It was obvious you weren't wearing a bra, a fact Bob ob had spent forty minutes trying not to think about. He still felt a smidge of guilt, as though the newly drawn line between friends and more hadn’t quite sunk in yet. Was he even supposed to be doing this?

“You can keep going. I want you to.” You sensed his hesitation. In all the time you knew Bob, he had never taken someone home for a one night stand. He wasn’t like that. He needed time to build a connection, to feel comfortable enough to be himself. That’s why he loved spending time with you. With you, there was no need to put up a front, no need to be fearful of judgement.

“And then afterwards, we can order some Thai food and continue watching the episode, if you want. Or we can just do that now,” your hands cradled his jaw, gently forcing him to look at you. He found a sweet, reassuring smile, similar to the one that made him smitten six months ago.

“I think I’m falling in love with you.” Bob could be blunt, and often was when it came to his colleague’s shenanigans. But with his own feelings? He always chose his words carefully.

Hence why his admission took you some time to process. Bob could see it on your face; first your eyes widened, lips slightly parting as if driven by the need to respond immediately. But then your lips closed, your brain quickly gaining back self control.

“I’m falling in love with you too Robby.” You were the only one who could call him that. It was that familiarity, that intimacy, that gave him the courage to move his hands to your hemline up to your hips, revealing the thin, lacy red fabric underneath.

You were breathtaking. Always were. But this? This solidified things for Bob. You two had made a step forward in your relationship. Many things would still be the same. But there were now new things to experience. Simply another layer of intimacy had been added.

His long fingers skimmed over the fabric of your panties, every touch sending a spark of electricity along your spine. Every stroke caused a small gasp to fall from your lips, music to Bob’s ears. Lowering himself, Bob decorated your hips with opened mouth kisses. Finally, gaining enough courage, his fingers pushed your panties to the side.

Fuck, you were wet.

If there was any hesitation left in Bob, it died upon seeing how visibly aroused you were. He had done that. No one else. Lowering himself even more, he was now at eye level with your wet cunt. This wasn’t some vivid wet dream.

When his touch licked a broad stripe up your slit, a broken moan fell from your lips, echoing off the walls. It was the prettiest sound Bob had heard. He wanted to hear it again. All the time.

With more confidence, Bob begins lapping up your arousal, determined to taste every inch of you. His fingers dig into your thighs, pulling you closer. Looking down, you see his glasses are now crooked, though you highly doubt Bob cares, given how his eyes are half closed in pleasure.

Wait, was he grinding against the couch?

The discovery caused your thighs to clamp over Bob’s ears, your hips thrusting upwards to get more of his talented tongue. Bob wasn't reserved around you, never had been. But this was a new side to him that you had wondered if it ever existed. Animalistic. Devouring. Loud.

His groans vibrate against your core, only heightening the pleasure. Slowly, his right hand goes from your hips to your core, mouth moving to your clit as the long digits trace your opening.

“Oh my God, please,” you all but beg, not quite ready to admit how often you thought about his fingers and how they would feel inside of you.

Always thinking about your comfort, Bob started off with just one finger. You tried to fuck yourself with it, your own fingers gripping the soft strands of his hair for better leverage. The thought of making you beg crossed Bob’s mind. Would you like that? Would you be open to that? There were so many new topics to discuss, so many new boundaries to explore now.

You happily welcomed the stretch of two, three fingers. Bob found the little moans you let out to be quite adorable. He could feel his cock throb against his jeans, but pleasing you took priority.

“C’mon honey. Wanna feel you come on my fingers.” His voice was low, husky even.

“C-can you be inside me? Like your…your cock?” A broken groan fell from Bob’s lips at the very thought of being inside of you.

“I don't….I don't think I'll last long,” he admitted sheepishly. Hell, he could probably come just from eating you out. It wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it sounded pretty good- bringing himself to the height of pleasure just from ravishing you.

“I don't think I will either,” you giggled, “But we’ll….we have lots of other times to go slow.”

Bob helped you sit up on the couch. “You wanna go to the bedroom?” He asked, thinking about how this could be more comfortable for you.

Instead, you shook your head, hands moving to his jeans, hastily undoing the buttons.

Now it was your turn to explore, to discover. There was a dark trail of hair that went past the waistband of his jeans. He wore boxer briefs. And Bob Floyd had the prettiest cock.

His face turned bright red at the compliment, “Oh it's…I mean it's like fine, but it's not-”

“Take the damn compliment Robert,” you all but scolded, eliciting a laugh from him, your favorite. The high pitch, near giggle one. The one that made your heart flutter.

Feeling at ease, you moved so that you were hovering over Bob’s lap. Your fingers moved to the base of his cock, making you realize you would have to ease yourself into it.

“I gotcha,” his hands found your hips, slowly easing you down. His sapphire eyes never left your face, searching for any sign of discomfort. He went slow, waiting until you made it vocally known you were ready for more.

By the time you reached the base of Bob’s cock, you were a mess. You wanted him to move, to fuck you within an inch of your life. But he was also so big. The stretch was nothing you had experienced before.

“Hey, we can take our time, okay? I know it's, that it's a lot,” he assured you, as though he could sense your internal conflict. His lips found yours, and in that kiss you found comfort. Bob grounded you, always had, whether it was up in the air or right here on your couch.

How much time had passed, who was to say? You could recall both your phones vibrating a few times, no doubt messages from the rest of your squad. Those messages could wait.

“I think I'm ready,” you whispered against Bob’s lips. He needed, digging his fingers into your hips to gain a better grip. With his help, you lifted yourself no more than a couple of inches off his cock, returning to the base.

“Fuck, you feel incredible,” Bob moaned. You just made Bob Floyd curse. Something not even a bird strike could do. That four letter word gave you the confidence to lift your hips up on your own accord, returning swiftly. Slowly, just an inch or two, which became several inches. Up and down motions turned to swiveling your hips in a circular rhythm. What was once a quiet living room, saved for a few small gasps and the static from the TV, had now become a symphony of melodic pants and groans.

Bob could tell you were close. Your pussy was tightening around his cock more and more, your fingers dug into his broad shoulders, as if trying to anchor yourself. You practically whined at the sight of Bob taking two fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his tongue. He lowered them to where your bodies connected.

Upon first contact with your clit, your head dropped to the crook of his neck, unabashedly moaning his name, hips moving in a now frantic motion.

“That's it, I gotcha.” Fuck, we he going to talk you through it? Was Bob Floyd a talker? Ironic, considering at work he was known as a man of few words.

“Feels s’good, being inside ya.” Fuck, he was a talker. You were doomed, “Wanna, wanna make us cum. Bet ya gonna feel even better when ya soak- fuck- soak my cock.”

Your brain was hazy. Was this real? If it was a vivid wet dream, you never wanted to wake up. Was it wrong to hope that you were in a medically induced coma, so that if this was indeed a dream, you wouldn’t have to wake up so soon? Surely, your friends and family would understand upon meeting Bob.

Then he pointedly thrusted his hips upwards, reminding you that no, this wasn’t a dream. No, you wouldn’t wake up feeling frustrated and unable to look him in the eye. After this, you two could go out to eat, on a real date. Not some hey let’s get dinner that feels like a date in everything except in name. You could also order delivery and cuddle up on the couch. Maybe you could even shower with him beforehand, and see his bare body, find out what was truly hiding underneath that flight suit. Oh, he was deceptively strong, you always knew that. But to see it, to feel the hard planes of his muscles? Oh, that would be quite the joy to experience.

“Sweet girl,” you clenched at that nickname, you wanted him to continue calling you that for eternity, “Let go. Know ya want it.”

“I-I do,” you all but whined. Bob found the noise cute. What other sounds did you make? What would you sound like if he kept fucking you after you came? What about if he ate you out for hours? Or teased you until you were teetering on the edge?

There were so many questions, so many areas to explore. But for now, Bob was satisfied with experiencing how tightly you clenched his cock, how you practically sang his name as you came. Your release triggered his, pulling your hips down until they were flushed against his. His lips smashed against yours, swallowing your moans.

Then there was silence. No words spoken. Only the sounds of panting, you both clearly trying to catch your breath, and kisses exchanged, ones that neither of you could resist giving.

Realization hits you like a freight train. “I’m on birth control.”

Bob’s eyes widened, “Oh thank God.” He was usually so good about asking, about pulling out. But you….you made his brain feel like cotton.

“You saying you don’t want to have kids with me?” You giggled, pressing a kiss to his warm cheek to let him know you were only saying it in jest.

“Not yet.” You sat up to find he had an earnest smile on his face, cheeks rosy and eyes shining in adornment.

Bob Floyd was going to be the death of you.

So you brushed several strands of sandy brown hair off of his forehead, replacing them with a kiss, "Gotta get me a ring first."

Luckily, you were going to be the death of Bob Floyd.

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creatchie8 · 4 months ago

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The First Daughter

Summary: Hopelessly in love with the agent assigned to protect you, you devise a plan to reveal his true feelings

Pairing: Secret Service!Robert Floyd/First Daughter!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Minors DNI! Oral (F receiving), alcohol consumption

A/N: I got obsessed watching the 2004 film, First Daughter, and took lots of inspo from that movie. I'd love to have him sworn to protect me ;) (Not proofread, I wrote this speedy fast)

Word Count: 3,500ish

The two of you had been playing eye tag the whole night.

And with every sip of the red wine you took, the more bold you became. Your cheeks felt warm as the alcohol slowly made your body buzz with excitement, ankles wobbling just a bit on the dancefloor in your red-bottomed heels. The orchestra that was hired played absolutely magnificently, the music changing between jazz and waltz, filling the (already full) large ballroom.

Marvelous gold chandeliers basked everything in a soft, warm glow. The regality of it all took you back in time, you imagine this is what it would look like if you were a princess in the 1920s. The paintings of your forefathers adorned the walls along with rich brown velvet curtains, a perfect contrast to the light walls and columns.

It was the second New Years with your mother as President, the first with Agent Robert Floyd by your side.

Robert was younger- mid thirties, some modest Navy man looking to change his career path when he got assigned to you after completing his training at the JJRTC in South Laurel, Maryland. He was incredibly unassuming, following you around quietly as you went about your day at Harvard or home.

How you ended up here at your mother’s party in DC trying to get a reaction out of the man, you don’t know. Maybe you were delusional, somehow you had convinced yourself that he felt something for you (love or lust, you didn’t know). It was the man’s job for god sakes, to follow you around and make you feel safe. You were not special to him in any way.

Within the last five months though, it felt like one of those steamy romance slow burn books you are always hearing about on social media. Lately, his gaze lingered longer than it should have when the two of you were in private. He opened up more, responding in detail when you would ask him questions about his life instead of the short one word answers he used to give before analyzing your surroundings again.

His voice was soft when he spoke to you, his hand finding your lower back like it was his own personal polar star when the crowd around you thickened. It was like the longer he was assigned to you the more his shell melted. Robert of course had time away from you, even as your agent he must eat and sleep. But when he would return and replace whoever was watching you before, he would ask to be caught up on when he was away.

No agent had ever had interest in you like that before.

You were probably just incredibly horny, being the President’s daughter doesn't get you much action, or at least not the kind you want. And you knew it was bad to want Robert Floyd, but somehow that made you desire him even more.

The dress you were wearing tonight may or may not have been picked out with your agent in mind. Floor length and velvety black, the soft fabric smooth against your middle. A neckline that was perfectly flattering of your chest, a simple necklace sitting on top of your collarbones delicately but also working to help draw eyes to your cleavage. Surely modest enough for the gathering but eye catching for sure.

He was stationed near a pair of opened doors, pressed against the wall in a neat black and white tuxedo, a metal american flag pinned neatly on his left lapel. It was standard dress for every agent that was there, but to you Robert stood out as by far the most handsome one. Light brown hair combed perfectly to the side. His blue eyes scanned the crowd in a zig-zag motion, stuttering and stopping on you when you were in view, his unique glasses glinting in the light.

The whole night you had been inching closer, using the excuse of mingling to hop from table to table (intermittently being taken to the dance floor by your father or some diplomat's son) and closer to his door. At one point you looked up from where you were leaning on a table, catching his eyes.

A few times tonight that had already happened only for him to look away swiftly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he straightened his shoulders. But this time he held your gaze, almost defensively as his brows furrowed the tiniest bit. He probably assumed you would take one for the team and back down first this time. But that second glass of wine you were halfway done with was leaving you valiant, his determination causing the side of your mouth to tick up the tiniest bit.

The muscles in his jaw twitched as he admitted a silent defeat, flicking his eyes elsewhere.

Never a rude host, you turned your attention back to the guest you were chatting with, letting her finish her story before politely excusing yourself elsewhere. With your clutch in hand and your wine abandoned at the table, you set off to the open door. With this newfound confidence you strut (albeit somewhat off balance) like you had every intention in the world to just leave for the bathroom and come back with no ulterior motive.

But you like to think Robert knew you like the back of his hand, watching him bring his right arm up, speaking into the microphone in his sleeve. An agent still had not relieved him as you passed by, eyes forward even though in your peripheral you noticed his head turn to you.

It wasn't until your heels hit the magnificent marble staircase that you heard his footsteps following you, echoing through the hall. Your left hand grabbed the front of the dress, hiking it well above your ankles as you climbed the stairs. Shockingly, there was no one loitering in this part of the building. Passing by a grandfather clock on the opposite wall you squint to make out the thin arms, concluding that it was in fact, almost midnight. The smell of pine lingered outside the ballroom, drifting into almost nothing the further you got.

You had already passed by two bathrooms as you led Robert on a wild goose chase through the building, trying to find the perfect spot. He was beyond patient with you, finally caught up and only a few short steps behind.

When you finally found what room you were looking for, you stopped short, letting his muscular body bump into yours before spinning around. Robert looked mortified, already stuttering beginnings of apologies as you grabbed the lapels of his jacket, thumb accidentally turning the pin askew before pulling him into the empty room (with remarkable force you might add).

In a whirlwind of moving bodies you suddenly found yourself back against the closed door, that same mortified look on his face as he stood there trapped in the room. In the shuffle you had dropped your clutch near your feet, the beaded satchel slumped against the dark mahogany floor.

The room was simple, a pool table in the center and a few chairs nestled close to the unlit fireplace. There was a bookcase somewhere in the room, hidden by the veil of darkness. The moonlight showed through two good sized windows on the wall facing you, his back illuminated by the light.

“I thought you needed to go to the bathroom.” He stated, clearly confused as his brows furrow. You could barely see his face and it might've been the alcohol but you were falling hard.

“I changed my mind.” You crossed your arms, body heavy against the great door.

“You wanted to play…” He turned towards the pool table then back to you, “pool?” His eyes continue to search the room, mapping out his surroundings like he always does.

Huffing at his lack of interest in you, you get straight to the point, “Robert, do you think I’m attractive?” It comes out brattier than you intend and you close your mouth with an audible click.

“What?” His attention is back to you in an instant, eyes wide behind his glasses.

“I asked, do you think I’m attractive?” Repeating yourself, biting your bottom lip hard at your own boldness. It takes a few seconds for him to respond to you, opening and closing his mouth a few times while he processes your question.

“Y-You're incapacitated, please let me help you back downstairs.” He says calmly, but you can see right through it. The mask he is putting on causes you to roll your eyes dramatically. Robert steps forward, hands outstretched to presumably grab your shoulders so it's easier to guide you back to your parents. The action makes your stomach light up in excitement, your first reaction is pushing yourself off the door and away from his reach, further into the room.

“I am anything but ‘incapacitated’. I’m tipsy.” You declare matter of factly, cheeks burning in the warm room. Now your back was to the window, your positions switched.

“That still falls under the definition of incapacitated.”

“I think you're attractive.” Your voice was suddenly much quieter, now toe to toe with a man visibly sweating bullets. “I've thought about it since I met you-” The sober part of you shuts your mouth, a nonsense love confession pushing against your teeth. He refused to respond, still as a statue sans his blue eyes tracing your face.

“Why were we playing eye tag from the moment the party started?” You press, determined to not back down until your question was answered.

“My job is to look after you.” A very real explanation to your question. The opposite of what you want.

“Is it your job to clench your teeth when I dance with other guys?” Just the mere mention of it has his upper lip twitching, and you know you've got your answer. You look up at him through mascaraed eyelashes, sweaty hands reaching up (surprisingly more shaky than you thought) to clutch at his black lapels.

You would've thought he’d stop you, it would be easy in your impaired state to grab your wrists and haul you down to the party in a cloud of shame. But he watched as you focused on his pin, pinching it between your forefinger and thumb to adjust it.

You don't process that he’s moved his hand up until he is brushing the hair out of your face that escaped your modest updo. His fingertips are gentle, and you begin to worry that this is the end before it has even begun, that he’s about to open his mouth and let you down easy. Pressing your hands firmly against his warm chest you weakly try to push back, the fear of rejection drenching your whole body.

He caught you unexpectedly by the shoulders, fingers wrapping around your bare upper biceps. Holding you close firmly, you gave up pushing away and dropped your arms to your side. Robert was searching your eyes before letting a long sigh out his nose.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that-” You close your eyes and tilt your head back to the ceiling, “I guess I am a little incapacitated.” Placing emphasis on the word to lighten the mood, not wanting to look at him to save yourself from embarrassment.

You were aware of everything on your body with your eyes closed. The tickle of your hair on your neck, the way your dress hugged your body, you could even feel the way your heels teetered on the hardwood. Worst of all, you felt his warm, calloused hands smoothing down your naked arms.

Then you felt one of his hands leave your arm, trailing up and up to your neck and cradling the back of your skull. Robert pulled your head up but still you kept your eyes closed.

“You don’t understand what you’re asking." A quiet waltz played from the floor below, accompanying his words that stung like rubbing alcohol in a cut. Your eyes snap open in an instant, rapidly blinking to clear them from the blurriness. You could barely think coherent thoughts between his hand still on the back of your neck and his painful words.

“I do know what I’m asking-” You exclaimed defiantly, “and I’m not stupid-”

“I never said you were stupid.” He cut you off abruptly, his warm breath fanned across your face in short puffs. You clenched your fists by your sides, your body itchy with annoyance.

“Robert. I swear to god if you interrupt me aga-”

And then he kissed you. And all you could do was rip yourself away from him in vexation, opening your mouth to hiss something at him about fucking interupting you again.

As you stumbled back you realized something. He was looking back at you like you had sprouted a third ear, and the disbelief in his eyes made you want to go search for a mirror to see if you actually did.

“Oh.” You touched your lips, desire starting a low buzz beneath your skin. He had kissed you. And it felt good.

“Yeah.” Robert said, almost sheepishly.

“Ohh-” Was all you could get out before he was on you again, his hands connecting with your waist while yours cupped his cheeks and jaw, pulling him closer.

It was frantic and messy, you felt light headed by the lack of oxygen. Your lipgloss had smeared all over your lips and his, the soft vanilla flavor all you could taste when you licked into his open mouth. Warmth blossomed in your chest as his hands sank lower to cup your ass through your dress, his lips migrating from yours to your jaw, leaving a light trail of saliva in their path.

Hands trailing up to rest against the nape of his neck, the short hair tickling your palms as you bit your bottom lip, stifling whines as his lips worked against the sensitive parts of your neck. It was too much yet not enough as his hands roamed over your body and yet managed to miss everywhere you needed him the most.

“S-Stop teasing me.” You managed to pant out, a gasp leaving your kiss-swollen lips as Robert’s cold glasses pressed into your neck. You grab his hand from where it was resting under your breast, walking backwards blindly in search of the pool table. Your other arm was outstretched behind you, acting as a buffer in case you trip and fall.

Robert stumbled along like an obedient dog, reaching up with his unoccupied hand to yank the earpiece from his ear so it just dangled from his button up collar. When your bum hit the pool table he lifted you up and set you upon the edge with no hesitation, making butterflies kick up in your stomach. You were still in awe over his strength that you didn't even realize he had delicately slipped your straps from your shoulders and his hands were behind your back, pinching your zipper.

“May I?” He asked softly, awaiting your response. He was absolutely gorgeous, the moonlight illuminated only one side of his face. His hair was tousled and his lips were red from the kisses. Fine lines carefully etched into his features, the only sign of his age.

Your stomach flipped as you nodded, inhaling a deep breath through your nose as he invaded your space, slotting himself between your thighs. Robert looked over your shoulder and pressed a few soft kisses there as he carefully unzipped your dress. Your hands drifted up and grasped at his belt, the silver metal burning your fingertips with cold as you clumsily fought with it.

His lips returned to your mouth as he slowly pulled the dress down over your breasts, urging your hands away from his now unzipped slacks and through the arm holes of your dress. Although the air was warm to your cheeks and back, it made goosebumps rise along your chest, nipples perking up as the top fell to your lap.

You hardly noticed his lips leaving yours until you felt him push on your left shoulder, guiding you back so you were propped up on your elbows on the deep green baize. A protest died in your throat as his lips wrapped around a nipple, his warm tongue lapping at the stiff peak. A startled cry left your mouth as you felt his hand tweak your other nipple, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

You let your head drop back as his mouth switched to your other nipple, his fingers pinching the other. The black dress still was around your legs, thighs straining the fabric as you silently begged for him to touch your now aching core. You lifted up a heeled foot, pressing one of his thighs closer to your center.

Robert takes the hint, much to your relief and slips his hands down your body. You can feel every callous, every fingernail as he presses them into your soft skin and eventually grips his fists into the dress gathered near your knees.

You try to focus on the ceiling, which looked like it stretched miles above the both of you, crown molding decorating the edges and hand painted vines adorned the flat space between.

Slowly, just as Robert lifts your knees up and over his shoulders and sinks to the ground, you lower yourself flat against the green, arms outstretched above your head.

Your lower half was bare, save for the midnight black dress pooling around your waist. Robert’s breath huffed against your clothed core, drawing your attention back to him.

“Fuck…” You hear him whisper hoarsely. And only then can you feel his fingers drawing your panties to the side, a sharp gust of cold air drifting over your dripping pussy. The praise heats your cheeks, a swell of shyness bubbles within your chest. The panties are placed over your core and Robert presses his face against the silky black fabric, startling you.

You start to sit up on your elbows again, a moan caught in your throat as you watch him bury his nose and mouth in the damp silk, taking a deep inhale with his eyes closed. Savoring your smell as he mouths against you. It was tortuous, his blunt fingernails digging into the meat of your thighs. His cheeks are red, his groans vibrating against you as his glasses begin to fog.

“Please, Robert. I can’t-” Is all you can get out before he is ripping your panties to the side and licking you whole. With that one motion your thighs are already quivering on either side of his head. His flush trails down to his neck, hiding under the tight collar of his button up.

Your stomach tightens as the tip of his tongue circles your clit, sucking it into his mouth and savoring it like a piece of hard candy. With your mouth open, all you can do is stare with blurry eyes. Robert was consuming you like a man starved, his ministrations relaxing your muscles and turning you into jello before him.

“Robert, I-” You begin, outstretching your arm to grasp at his hair.

“Hmmm?” He hums, his mouth still working against you, jaw clenching as you attempt to push him back. Robert looked up at you through long eyelashes, eyes glazed over as if he was the one getting the most pleasure out of it.

“Please more- oh god do not stop.” You were not above begging. And thank god because that was all it took to convince him. At once he returned to your needy pussy, his right hand slipping from the top of your thigh to your juncture. His middle finger prodded at your entrance, slipping in with little resistance.

Back arching, you drop down to rest fully on the soft baize. Gasping as he managed to press another finger in. They were big, stretching you. The sensation bites but is quickly soothed as he curls them, beckoning an orgasm out of your body.

Your chest heaves as your body tightens, moaning nonsense as you get closer and closer. The man between your legs doubling his efforts as if you had told him you were almost there.

And then your body snaps. It’s like submerging yourself in a warm bath, you cannot breathe, in fear you might drown in the water. But weightless nonetheless.

He rises to his feet, and you are still boneless on the table. Pussy pulsing, only to be covered up again by your wet panties. The feeling is terribly uncomfortable, drawing a whine from your chest.

Even more shockingly, you do not even get a moment to revel in the afterglow before he is pulling you up by your elbow.

“Hey! What are you doing?” You huff in half hearted annoyance as he is already pulling your straps up and attempting to zip your dress.

“It is almost midnight-” He finishes zipping up your dress, “I suggest we go celebrate it with your guests.”

You blink and look up at him, reaching up and fixing his hair as a soft smile graces his features. Your cheeks heat as you remember the party downstairs, how only the two of you know that his face was between your legs just moments ago.

“Y-Yes.” You clear your throat and adjust your straps, offering him your hand, “I suppose we should.”

#lewis pullman #lewis pullman characters #robert bob floyd x reader #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd fic #robert bob floyd smut #bob floyd fic #bob floyd x reader #bob fucks #bob floyd #bob floyd smut #bob floyd x female reader #bob floyd x you

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sebsxphia · 1 month ago

Note

Hiii babyy!! I love your content amd i really really wanted to ask you a lil freaky story if you'd like to (english is not my first language sorry:() but i was just asking if you could write a smutty where y/n and Bob have some shower sex??!?

Pls i really love your stories, i hope you notice me

Byeee 🤙

-🦋

sweet and slow sunday morning.

robert ‘bob’ floyd x reader.

￫ summary: you and bob share a steamy shower together.

￫ word count: 986.

￫ warnings: sex, shower sex, nipple pinching, praise, creampie and fluff.

￫ authors notes: i hope you both enjoy, my dear anons! we love smutty shower sex with bob 🤭 my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

The warm droplets of water from the shower head above, dripped down the curve of your neck, down your spine and merged with the ones dripping down from Bob’s toned torso. The constant flow of warm water soothed both of your angled bodies in the shower.

You were pushed against the cool tiling, which came as a sweet relief to the heat of your body. Your hands braced against the tiles and as your breasts were pushing against it too, your nipples pebbled with each thrust from behind.

Bob held your hips with both of his firm hands as he angled his thrusts, deep in from behind you. One of his hands left your hip and snaked up your damp, soft belly. His nimble fingertips pinched against your hardened and sensitive nipple. As he rolled it between his fingers, you let out a whine.

“Bobby!” You squeaked and then gasped for air, as his swollen tip bumped against the sweet spot inside of you.

“I know, I know, sweet thing…” Bob groaned from behind you, equally getting lost in the pleasure you shared.

Your clit was throbbing hot between your thighs. It hadn’t been long since Bob had gotten into the shower with you, ran his hands over your body as he gently washed you and angled you against the tiles, but he had a devoted touch that caused you to melt against him.

As he continued to tweak your nipples, it only added to your heightened sensitivity. It was enough to push you closer towards your high, but you desperately needed him to touch your clit.

“Bobby! Please… I— I need y’ t— to…”

“Words, darlin’. Words.” Bob gasped between his continuous thrusts. Even though this was a sweet and slow Sunday morning, Bob still demanded his dominance be recognised by you.

“Please, t— touch me! ‘m so close!” You squeaked out.

Your back arched further and his pelvis was met with the swell of your ass. You were desperately pushing against his thick cock, trying to obtain further pleasure.

Bob choked out a groan at your desperate movement and his hand on your hip squeezed you tighter, his hand on your breast palming mercilessly at the soft flesh.

His hand came down and gripped the other side of your hip to gain himself full leverage. He picked up his pace momentarily, delivering harsh and heavy thrusts. You let out a moan in pleasure and a cry of desperation.

“My beautiful, darlin’. Takin’ me so well. I’m here now, I’m here.” His voice was hot in your ear, hotter than the heat of the water, as it continually flowed over you both. Bob had arched over your back and was peppering kisses along the curve of your neck, along your shoulders and down your back.

His hand left your hip and moved between your thighs. As his fingertips came to apply a sweet pleasure to your throbbing clit, you let out a cry of relief, followed by a moan. Bob could feel how your body melted into his touch. You were still pushing against him as deep as you could get, yet somehow, you were relaxed against him. He savoured how softly and deeply you would fall when you were with him.

His cock twitched inside, as you squeezed him with every pin-point thrust. Steam was billowing out from the top of the shower screen door. The warm water was heating the temperature inside of this small, cubic space, and you and Bob were heating up with it.

He continued to run precise circles over your clit, as he matched his thrusts with the same rhythm. The hot and heavy steam made you gasp out breathy moans, with Bob groaning low in your ear and hushing words of sweet praise.

“You’re doin’ so well for me, my pretty baby. Keep goin’, I’ve got you… I’ve got you… Y’ close aren’t you? I can feel you, sweetheart.”

You nodded meekly against the cold tile, water pooling against your cheek. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your damp lips, a harsh comparison to the pin-point movement he was currently providing you. He bit down tenderly on your bottom lip and grunted out, “Come. Come for me, darlin’.”

That’s all you need to hear.

As he swiped over your clit and the tip of his bulging cock hit deep inside of you, you fell apart on him. You gasped out incoherent whines and fumbled over words of how good it felt. Your whole body began to tremble as wave after wave of pleasure rippled through you, but slowly it began to melt against Bob’s. His hips stuttered against your ass, but he maintained accuracy with his thrusts, as you felt his warm spend leak into you.

“Feel s’ good for me, darlin’. Fuck!” He cursed against your cheek, as he planted sloppy kisses there, down along your jaw and back up to your cheek.

Even though you were melting against him, your legs were now fully trembling. You were unable to keep yourself up through your post-orgasm high and the all-consuming heat from the shower. The front of your body gave in and you slumped against the tiles, but not before Bob caught you with his muscular forearm.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I’ve got you. ‘m here. I’m not letting you fall.” His reassuring voice was calm in your ear, as he guided you to stand upright. He would never let you go.

Further kisses and praises were shared, as you both beamed at each other with a lovesick haze. You adored how his damp hair fell out of its normal perfect placement. You adored how the droplets of water ran over his nose. You adored how he let you rest up against him, as he removed the shower head and gently washed away his sticky spend that was leaking out of you.

He would never let you go.

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown @flames-thebitch @birdy-bat-writes @thedroneranger @randomfandomfirl97 @kmc1989 @swiftsgirlfriend

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roosterforme · 1 year ago

Text

Explicitly Yours | Bob Floyd x Reader

Summary: When Bob met you, he fell for you hard and fast. He thought you might be his perfect match, the one that would make his days feel full instead of lonely. He never would have dreamed you had a secret. But secrets are known to be revealed at the most inconvenient of times, and Bob's surprised hesitation could cost him the thing he wants most.

Warnings: Smut, oral, fluff, angst, misogyny, language, mentions of adult film industry

Length: 11k words (what have I done?)

Pairing: Robert "Bob" Floyd x Former Pornstar!Female Reader

This was written for International Bob Floyd Fucks Month hosted by @attapullman. Check my masterlist for more! Banner by @thedroneranger

Bob was fresh off of a long deployment when he returned to work at North Island on Monday morning to find he would begin training as part of a new taskforce. He was tired and antsy, still overstimulated from being around so many people on the aircraft carrier, but he was also realizing how lonely he was.

He'd arrived back to a sterile, empty, dusty apartment, slept for two days, and now he was back to work. He couldn't even have a cat or a houseplant. He really would like to have a cat or a houseplant. Mostly he thought about how nice it would be to have a girlfriend. A sweet one who would wait for him to return home so his apartment didn't feel so sad. One who didn't mind that sometimes he preferred it to be quiet. One who would let him dote on her a little bit when he was home.

When he was told to report to Classroom Six in his uniform instead of the tarmac in his flight suit, Bob knew it was going to be a long day. That idea only grew as soon as he walked in and was accosted by his friends. "You're back!" Natasha screeched, streaking across the room like a brunette cannonball and slamming into his arms. "It's not even fair that we weren't deployed together. I missed you!"

"Missed you too, Nat. Thanks for all the emails."

Then he felt Bradley, Jake and Javy all jostling him around until his glasses were crooked on his face. That's probably why he did a double take when he saw you. There was no way you were that beautiful. His glasses must need to be adjusted on his face. But he was wrong. You looked the same after he pushed his wire frames back into place.

He swallowed hard and whispered, "Who's that?"

The guys all looked at him with matching smirks, and Javy told him your name. "Civilian. She's Warlock's new assistant. Got reassigned from a different department last week."

"She's real cute," Jake added. "And she looks so familiar."

"Why does she look so familiar?" Bradley asked, and Bob realized that the whole group was staring at you where you were conversing quietly with Warlock. "We've been trying to figure it out for a week."

You didn't look familiar to Bob. You just looked pretty with bright eyes and a friendly smile, both of which were trained on him now. Of course you were looking his way now, because everyone had mussed up his hair and wrinkled his uniform. He didn't mind so much that you caught him staring, because you were the kind of woman who must get that a lot.

"Lieutenant Floyd," Admiral Bates said as he stood, and Bob saluted his superior officer immediately. "Welcome back."

"Sir," Bob replied, doing his best not to let his gaze drift back to you. "Thank you."

Then Warlock called the room to order, and Bob ended up sitting in the front row, directly across from you. Barely six feet away. You were so pretty, it wasn't even funny. The curve of your face and your neck and the way you moved were mesmerizing. Smooth and fluid. Confident. Beautiful. You kept Warlock on task and seemed to have all the pertinent information about the class memorized. But all of it was lost on Bob, because he was way too distracted.

By lunchtime, he had sweat through his undershirt, and he was sure his uniform shirt wasn't looking much better. The way you turned to look directly at him with a slightly guarded expression when you stood made him blush. It must be obvious to you that Bob couldn't keep his eyes off your face.

"Hi," you greeted. "Lieutenant Floyd."

Bob swallowed hard before something that sounded vaguely like Hello came out of his mouth.

Your smile was tinged with a little sadness as you stuck out your hand. "I've been looking forward to meeting the last team member. Welcome back from deployment, Lieutenant."

And then you were walking away, but Bob was still sweating.

--------------------------

For the next four days, Bob got there early to ensure he had that same front row seat. He had a full blown crush. Heart pounding, palms damp, unable to focus on anything other than his crush on you. When he wasn't at work looking right at you, he was daydreaming about you. When he wasn't daydreaming about you, he was asleep and having actual dreams where you were his girlfriend. In one of them, you gave him a back massage, and he woke up with an erection.

He could barely even look at you for the nauseous feeling that took up residence just below his pounding heart, but he couldn't look anywhere else. He'd never been like this before. Sure, he'd been attracted to many women in the past, but this was something else entirely.

"But why is she so familiar looking?" Jake asked Bradley at lunch. "You sure you didn't fuck her?"

"Oh, I think I'd remember fucking someone that looked like that," Bradley replied with a chuckle. "Wait... did you fuck her?"

"I don't think so?" Jake replied, looking a little panicked. "She's not the one I went home with on my birthday, is she? Because you know I can't remember that night. And if I fucked her and can't remember it, then I deserve to be executed."

They both erupted into laughter with Javy, and Bob felt deflated. One of the three of them was definitely going to ask you out sooner rather than later, and instead of getting an occasional guarded glance in his direction, Bob would have nothing.

That night at the bar, he sat with his cup of peanuts and talked with Nat about work while everyone else played pool. "I guess we have another week or two of lectures ahead of us, but I can't wait to get back in the air."

"Yeah," Bob replied, glancing around the room in case the Hard Deck was your Friday night scene. It wasn't really his, but he came for his friends. And if he got to spend another week or two in the classroom, he wasn't going to complain; there would be no way for him to look at you when he was in the cockpit.

"Bob!" Javy called as if he'd been trying to get his attention for a few minutes. He was waving a pool cue. "Take over for me. I need to go shoot my shot."

As Bob stood, he watched Javy head off into the crowd toward a woman who looked like you. He did a double take, his heart leaping up into his throat as Bradley started to push him closer to the pool table. Javy saw you. He was going to ask you out. A feeling of devastation filled his lungs, but then the woman turned around, and it wasn't you. Her smile wasn't nearly as pretty, and she didn't have the same eyes.

Relieved, Bob sank the seven ball before running the table like he was some sort of pro. But he knew deep inside that he was going to have to ask you out himself or miss out on even having a chance with you.

Every day the following week, he tried to give himself a pep talk. He could do this. Even if you said no, it would be fine. It would be good practice for him. But he knew it would not be okay. He liked the sound of your voice and the way you moved, and he thought about you in every room of his apartment doing a wide variety of things. Some of them made him blush.

He couldn't tell if it would be worse to never even try or to have to live with himself after you looked at him and said you weren't interested. At least if he kept things quiet, the guys couldn't find a way to make fun of him. And although they all liked to talk about you at lunch, to his knowledge, none of them had asked you on a date. Maybe they were as intimidated as him.

On Wednesday, you dropped your pen, and Bob picked it up for you. He got a "Thanks, Lieutenant Floyd," in response along with a cautious smile. Then on Thursday, he helped you move the projector before class started, and you said, "Thanks. You're a lot stronger than I am." He felt like he floated to his seat after that.

On Friday, disaster struck. You were organizing your stack of notes at the end of the day when Bob stood. But then Bradley was there, leaning on the table in front of you after everyone had been dismissed. "Hey, so the guys and I were wondering if you ever made it out to the Hard Deck on Friday nights? I'd love to buy you a drink."

Bob nearly collapsed back into his seat as he watched your eyes searching Bradley's face like you were trying to tell if he was lying. "No, actually. I play Dungeons & Dragons most Friday nights."

A strangled sound escaped Bob. "You play D&D?" he asked before he could think better of it.

"Yeah," you replied easily, giving him a little smile. "Been into it for years."

"Me too," he added, and you set down everything you'd been holding.

"It must be hard to be part of a campaign when you deploy on occasion?" you asked, and Bob was convinced he wouldn't notice if a freight train was about to hit him.

He nodded and took a step closer, watching you stand up. "It can be, yeah. But I've been in the same campaign for a few years, so I'd like to think I'm an integral enough part of it that everyone else doesn't mind waiting for me."

You laughed. It was so pretty. "I'm sure they don't mind one bit, Lieutenant Floyd."

"You can call me Bob," he blurted out, eyes going wide as you licked your lips and grinned.

"Okay. Bob."

He could do this. He was already part way there, he thought. Just a little further. "Maybe you and I could get coffee this weekend and talk about our characters?"

When he was met with silence and your softly parted lips, he wanted to disappear. But your expression was trained on his face, and even though you still seemed a little hesitant, you asked, "Like a date? Because I'm free on Sunday."

-------------------------

You were laughing so hard, you had to set your coffee cup down next to your scone, and Bob was basking in the sound of it. "No, Bob! That's why I made my character a Rogue! Because I could never be such a scoundrel in real life!" He just listened to your laughter taper off while he grinned in the middle of the crowded cafe where you only seemed to be focused on him.

"Well, that's why I made mine a Sorcerer. I don't know if you knew this about me, but I can't actually cast spells."

You started to laugh again. "Could have fooled me." But he must have been looking at you for too long, because you brought your hand up to your lips and asked, "Do I have crumbs on my face or something?"

"No, your face is perfect," he replied without considering his words, but your look of slightly embarrassed delight outweighed the tinge of mortification he felt.

You searched his eyes, seemingly always trying to gauge his sincerity. Then you surprised him when you said, "You're really sweet. It's refreshing."

Bob looked down at his hands, unsure how to respond but pleased nonetheless. "Will you let me take you to a movie? Or dinner? Or both?"

"Yes."

The following morning at work, you were as focused on Bob as he was on you. The sweaty palms and erratically beating heart were back, only exacerbated by your alluring gaze and the promise of a second date on Thursday night. You agreed to dinner at an Italian restaurant, and Bob was already excited.

"Why are you acting so strange?" Nat asked at lunchtime. "You're like both weirdly quiet and also talking so much?"

Bob laughed and said, "I went out on a date yesterday." And when he said it was with you, her eyes went wide. "We're going out again on Thursday."

"Bob!" she gasped, and now all of the guys were looking at him, and there was no way he would ever recover from this as Nat told them he got coffee with you.

"Welcome to the big leagues, buddy," Jake drawled, while Bradley glared at him. "Just wish I could figure out why she seems so familiar. Like it's just stuck in the back of my mind somehow. Like I know her."

"None of you know her as well as Bob does," Nat said with a laugh that made him smile. Before you and he parted ways at the coffee shop, you'd squeezed his hand in your smaller one, and it was already one of the sexiest moments of his life.

"Fuck you, Bob," Bradley grumbled.

But it didn't matter. Bob really liked you and the fact that you talked about your Dungeons & Dragons character for a full hour. And your pretty face and your laugh. And the way you seemed interested in what he had to say. You were checking off all of the boxes for him. Smart, funny, kind of nerdy, interesting. He wondered how many dates he should take you on before asking you to be his girlfriend.

On Wednesday, as soon as Warlock dismissed everyone, you handed Bob a folded up note.

I can't wait for dinner tomorrow night. Here's my number.

He waited until he was home and sitting on his couch before he texted you. Less than a minute later, you responded. And that's how he spent the rest of his night. He didn't even eat until after nine, too wrapped up in what you had to say. Those intrusive thoughts and daydreams and real dreams about you in his apartment were starting to seem like they could be a reality. That's what he wanted. He could already picture you on the couch, wrapped up in the afghan his mom made, watching a movie with him. Or in his kitchen, helping him make dinner.

He fell asleep on the couch in his uniform, too absorbed in this conversation to even go to bed properly. But that was fine, because suddenly it was Thursday, and not only would he see you all day at work, he'd get to eat with you and learn more about you.

Once again, Bob slid into that front row seat, and you had to work at keeping the smile from your face all morning. When you did look his way, he felt his breath catch in his throat. He was sure he'd pass out if you kissed him, and suddenly that was the only thing he could think about. Warlock talked about aggressive maneuvering, and Bob thought about your lips. Warlock talked about safety protocols, and Bob thought about your lips touching his.

It would be a miracle if he made it through dinner, but he had to try. You stood and started walking out of the classroom at the end of the day, but you turned back and said, "I'll meet you there at 7:30."

Bob offered to pick you up, but you said you'd drive yourself, and now he had more than two hours to kill. He took a long shower and fixed his hair before dressing in the outfit that Nat had pre-approved for him. He made sure his glasses were straight and that he had his credit card. The only other thing he could do was hope the conversation would come as easily for him this time, as it had over coffee.

He shouldn't have been worried about that. What he should have been worried about was the way his heart stopped when you walked through the front doors of the restaurant and directly for him, wearing a pretty blue dress with your face all made up like he was someone to impress.

"Hi, Bob," you whispered. Then you kissed his cheek at the same time that he started to turn his head, and his lips nudged yours. He stood there shocked as you slipped your hand into his, and you started to tug him toward the waiting table when his name was called.

His ears didn't stop burning the whole night. His brain kept circling back to the idea of another kiss. An intentional one. A kiss after a second date was not something he'd ever attempted before, but he was going to do it tonight. Based on the way you were looking at him, he had to.

"Do you want more wine?" you asked, holding up the bottle.

"Yes, please," he replied, because that would definitely help his cause.

You smiled as you poured him some. "You have lovely manners." When you set the bottle down, you added, "And really pretty eyes."

Bob counted to three and then said, "I know we didn't even eat dessert yet, but I really like you. And tomorrow is your D&D night, but maybe you'll let me take you to a movie on Saturday?"

After dinner, in the parking lot next to your car, Bob kissed you. Intentionally. The first tilt of his head was hesitant, and when his lips met yours, he started to get nervous and pull away. But you let your fingers tangle in his hair, and you chased him for another kiss. "Which movie are we seeing?" you asked as you rubbed your nose gently along his.

"You can pick," he replied before kissing you again. "I just want to be around you." And then his hands found the small of your back and you inched yourself closer until your chest was touching his and your knee was bumping his leg.

You were smiling when he finally pulled his face away from yours. "I'll text you my address and the movie I want to see."

Bob smiled, too. "And then I'll pick you up, and we can go to the theater."

This was probably the best week of his life. He watched you pull out of the parking lot, and you waved to him through your window after you blew him a kiss. He went home and thought about what he might be able to cook for date number four. Perhaps you'd want to do the movie on Saturday and then have dinner at his place on Sunday? He'd figure it out. Either way, he was excited for more.

"A third date?" Nat asked on Friday when everyone was taking a break in the classroom. "Damn, Bob."

He eyed you where you stood talking quietly with Warlock, and you glanced his way, a soft smile on your lips. "I really like her. She's different. In a good way. And she makes me feel comfortable."

Nat rubbed his back in slow circles. "Make sure you put your arm around her during the movie. She might be expecting it. But if she doesn't snuggle against you, then you should remove it."

He nodded and swallowed. "Right. I can do that. Is it too soon to invite her over to my apartment for dinner?"

"I don't think so," she replied softly. "And maybe you should buy some condoms."

Bob's cheeks immediately flushed, but he didn't mind too much, since it was just Nat. "I don't think I'm ready for that yet."

"She seems sweet. Just tell her what you're feeling when the time comes."

Now everything was making Bob a little nervous as he drove through your neighborhood on Saturday night. He passed modern beachfront house after modern beachfront house, and then his GPS told him he had arrived. He saw your car in the driveway, but the house was gorgeous and must be worth a ton of money. Maybe you had a roommate?

He parked his old truck and headed up the sidewalk with butterflies in his stomach and a bouquet of flowers in his hand. You opened the door before he even knocked, and then you were in his arms and invading his senses. "Are those for me?" you asked, kissing his cheek and poking the flowers.

"Yes," he whispered, silently begging you to let him hold you for a few more seconds while he caught his breath and got himself under control. You turned him on in every way, and he'd never encountered this before.

Your soft voice next to his ear as you chuckled and said, "Thanks, Bob," was not helping. You led him inside, and your house was incredible. There were no signs of a roommate, but there was a view of the ocean from the windows along the back of the house. He watched you bend in your little dress to find a vase for the flowers, and he felt completely overwhelmed.

"Ready to go?" you asked, reaching for his hand a minute later. Your eyes were eager and sincere as you gazed up at him. Your fingers were laced with his, and Bob realized if he wanted to get to the next step with you, he needed to get through tonight.

"Yes." He kissed your lips softly, and you leaned against his arm as he walked you out to his truck.

You spent the drive to the movie theater telling him all about your Friday night playing Dungeons & Dragons, and of course Bob felt more relaxed. He bought the tickets, and you got the popcorn, and when he put his arm around your shoulders, you snuggled against him, so he kept it there. By the end of the movie, the empty popcorn bucket was on the floor, and you had your palm resting on his thigh.

"Did you like it?" you asked softly while the end credits scrolled.

"Yes, I liked it," he promised, accepting another of your kisses.

"It's still early. Want to grab a drink somewhere?"

Bob really only knew one place, because he spent an awful lot of his free time there. "Should we hit up the Hard Deck? And then I can take you home and hopefully get another goodnight kiss?"

You had one eyebrow raised as you considered him. "Even after the third date? You're not going to try to make a move?"

Embarrassment flooded his cheeks as he muttered, "Not yet." And then your lips were all over his like he'd answered your questions correctly, even though he felt like his thoughts on the matter were actually probably wrong according to most people.

Eventually the two of you made your way to the bar, but visiting the Hard Deck was a mistake that he didn't see coming. You were tucked perfectly against his side as Bob walked across the parking lot and listened to you tell him how much you liked working for Admiral Bates. Then you ordered two vodka sodas, and Bob had to pluck your credit card from your hand to keep you from paying for them.

"Hey!" you complained, but he just smiled.

"I'll give it back later." He was rewarded with another kiss on the cheek, this one very close to his lips.

"Well, look who's here," Jake drawled obnoxiously over the music from the jukebox and the noise from the crowd. "Bob and his friend."

You rolled your eyes and laughed, but you kept one hand linked with his as the drinks were set down. "Should we say hi to your friends?" you asked, and Bob nodded even though he really wanted to just find a small table on the other side of the room. But Nat looked excited, and the other guys looked annoyed, so Bob thought a short detour might be fun.

"Hey," Bob greeted everyone as you sipped your drink.

"How was the movie?" Nat asked, elbowing Bradley in the side before he could say anything.

"Pretty good," you replied. "You know, for one of those Academy Award bait films."

Bob laughed and looked at you. "I liked it a lot, actually." Or maybe he just liked sitting with his arm around you for two hours at a time, but he wasn't going to say that in front of everyone else.

Javy tapped a pool cue on the ground and asked, "Do you like to see a lot of movies?"

You nodded with a bit of an apprehensive look on your face that had Bob just about ready to pull you over to the table that another couple was vacating. "Yeah... I like films," you replied softly.

And then Jake's jaw dropped open and he slapped the edge of the pool table. "Oh my god!" His green eyes were wide as he looked you up and down from head to toe with a smirk that made Bob want to stand in front of you. "That's why you look so familiar! You're Roxy Luxxe."

"Oh, fuck," Javy said as he dropped the pool cue on Nat's foot, and Bradley choked on his beer.

But Bob just stood there and watched your posture stiffen and the look of apprehension on your face grow. "Who?" he asked softly, but you wouldn't meet his eyes.

"She's a porn star, Bob!" Jake said a little too loudly as he hooted. "A very memorable one, too. Played up different movie genres. Everyone I Did Last Summer. Sisterhood of the Traveling Sluts. Laid in Manhattan. Some real classics!"

"I retired," you said firmly, holding eye contact with Jake even though your voice sounded strained. "I left the industry five years ago."

"Guys," Nat said with a warning tone as she looked at Bob who was frozen in place, his head swarming with wild thoughts. An adult film star? You? But you worked at Top Gun and played D&D and liked scones. You went on three dates with Bob of all people.

Now Nat was physically moving Javy, Bradley and Jake back toward the game of pool, snapping her fingers at them as they continued to ogle you in your pretty dress. "So..." you whispered, turning toward Bob, looking anywhere but at his face. "That was... yeah..."

He had no idea what to say right now, and the longer he went without saying anything, the worse he felt inside. You used to have a job making adult films? Bob couldn't even handle watching those without blushing and stuttering. You must have had sex with dozens and dozens of different men and probably women too, and Bob suddenly realized he could go home and watch them for himself if he really wanted.

"Right," you said, finally looking at him as your eyes started to fill with tears. "Well... no hard feelings, Bob. I'll see you at work on Monday." Then you set your drink down, covered your mouth with one hand and made a beeline for the door.

Bob looked at the drink in his hand, and then at the one you set down. He left his on the table next to yours and followed you out to the parking lot. He looked around, calling your name and checking to see if you were by his truck, but you didn't respond. You were gone.

Roxy Luxxe. That name was made up, and he didn't think it suited you as well as your real name. That one was perfect, and he liked it. He liked you. He could drive back to your house, but if you didn't want to talk to him, then what was the point? He'd already embarrassed himself by clamming up. But even worse, he thought he might have embarrassed you.

"Damn it," he muttered, angry at Jake and all of them for making you feel small, and angry at himself, too. He got in his truck and drove himself home.

----------------------------

Well. You got three perfect dates before it all blew up in your face. Three amazing dates with Bob who was going to look at you like you were no longer worthy of his time now. Sure, you would have told him eventually. After another date or two, you would have brought it up in such a way that perhaps could have been a little bit more flattering or at least slightly tasteful. But of course you should have been expecting this. It wasn't the first time. Getting older only did so much for your face, and it didn't matter how much you changed your hair and makeup: Once Roxy Luxxe, always Roxy Luxxe.

You really thought none of them recognized you. It was almost refreshing that Bob had never heard of your alter ego. He probably never saw a single video of you having sex with Sam Slick or Dickie Divine. He didn't know exactly what your tits looked like, because you'd never taken your shirt off for him in person. He didn't know how you sounded when you faked an orgasm. As you ran down the block and got an Uber, you could hear Bob calling for you.

You weren't ashamed or embarrassed. You were not. This was your life, and you made every decision along the way for yourself. Nobody else. You put yourself through school. You bought the house of your dreams. You had an amazing job at Top Gun now for fuck's sake. But Bob was the first guy you met in a long time who made you think you could have a relationship with someone who wouldn't judge you for your past.

You walked from your Uber into your house and kicked your shoes across the entryway. More tears were filling your eyes, but you didn't want to cry again. Not over this. "But he was sweet," you whispered to your reflection in the hall mirror. His friends were kind of assholes, but he wasn't. Even if he didn't want to be with you now, which was understandable, those three dates were something else. Dungeons & Dragons discussions and coffee and pasta.

You sighed wistfully at the flowers in your kitchen. Maybe a few more years and you'd look even less like Roxy Luxxe. That might make things easier to navigate. You made yourself a cup of tea and grabbed some crackers and sat out on your back deck where the moonlight reflected off of the ocean. The way Bob had wrapped his arm around you during the movie made it easy to imagine him here with you, keeping you warm. Instead you grabbed a blanket and snuggled in as you thought about how he would have been an excellent boyfriend.

"You win some, you lose some," you told the night sky. If he was bothered by your past which you had designed so you could have a future, then he wasn't the one for you. You fell asleep outside in your dress, and the rising sun eventually woke you up. When you stretched and stood, the chilly air sent you running inside and toward your shower.

The memories of last night were hanging out in the periphery of your mind. Going to work tomorrow was going to be awful. If you didn't like Admiral Bates so much, you'd request to work under someone else. But then again, why should you have to go to work feeling bad? Yeah, it was going to sting to see Bob, but it was still your job, and you deserved to be happy.

You showered and took your time until all of your skin felt fresh and new, and then you threw on some oversized sweats after you moisturized. After breakfast, you could see if one of your friends from D&D was free to hang out. You were finally just about to check your phone to see if Bob had attempted to reach you when you heard a knock at your door.

Bob's truck was parked in your driveway just behind your car. You could see it through the front window. According to your phone, he tried to call you twice, and he'd send you a handful of texts. But now he was here and knocking again. It was obvious you were home, so you wrenched your front door open and stood before him with your chin held high.

"What do you need?" you asked, already feeling weak at the sight of his pretty blue eyes and his glasses.

"Hi," he said softly, just staring at you. He looked exhausted, like maybe he hadn't slept. Then he fumbled around in his jeans pocket and pulled out your credit card. "This is yours."

You plucked it from his hand and started to close the door. "Thanks for returning it. I'll see you at work."

Then he said your name. Your real name. "Wait. Please?"

You pressed your lips together. "What do you want, Bob?"

The soft rise and fall of his solid chest held your attention while he started stuttering. "L-Look. I'm really sorry about last night."

You nodded. "Me too." It wasn't like you wanted to know, but you couldn't stop yourself from asking, "I take it you went home and looked up my videos?"

His eyes went wide as you crossed your arms over your chest. "I didn't."

You actually believed him, but you felt like making yourself hurt anyway. "Your friends have all seen me naked. Watched me getting fucked."

He seemed surprisingly calm as he half shrugged and kind of nodded. "So what?"

As you shifted your weight from one foot to the other, you said, "I'm not ashamed of anything I've ever done, okay? And I would have told you about it after another date or two... before we slept together." When he remained silent you added, "I started out in the adult film industry when I was eighteen. I quit when I was twenty five. I just turned thirty last month, and I guess I was silly for thinking enough time had passed. But last night was a prime example of why I haven't even tried to date anyone. Ever, really."

Bob was gaping at you now. "Not ever? But you're... you're so..."

"I know," you said, cutting him off before he could finish. "I'm hot enough to do porn, but nobody wants to date me."

You started to close the door again, but he scrambled. "N-No, that's not what I was going to say. I was going to say you're flawless. A-And I shouldn't have let you leave the bar like that last night."

Your fingers loosened on the door, and soon it was drifting away from you, opening wider for Bob as he stood there with an eager expression. God, you just really liked him. And he seemed like he was being sincere. "What would you have done differently last night?" you whispered.

He started to reach for you before tucking his fingers in his jeans pocket. "I would have taken your hand in mine as soon as I saw tears in your eyes." You bit your lips as he added, "And I would have told you that I like you so much. And if you wanted to leave, then I would have driven you home right away and walked you to your door."

He liked you so much. If there was a chance that Bob could be the kind of guy who still liked you with your past as Roxy Luxxe but also wasn't just trying to get in your pants and meet her for himself, then you wanted to give him a shot. "What would you have done after you walked me to my door?"

He was breathing deeper like he was nervous, and you wanted to touch him. "I would have asked you for that goodnight kiss that I'd been hoping for all day."

You were rushing for his arms, clearly surprising him in the process, but he held onto you as you gave him just the softest kiss. "I would have let you have it." Bob's hands found their way to the most respectful spot on your back, and you kissed him a little deeper.

As soon as you broke the kiss, his fingers flexed against your back, and he said, "I want to go on another date with you. A bunch more. But I want you to be sure about me. I don't really care about Roxy Luxxe. I'm sure she was lovely, but I like you." You laughed. You couldn't help it. And he smiled as he asked, "Maybe you can think about it today and let me know at work tomorrow?"

"Okay."

He nodded and let out the breath he was holding. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

Your back felt cold where his hands used to be as you watched him walk back to his truck. He waved to you as he pulled out of your driveway, and you waved back with a different feeling in your heart than you had twenty minutes ago.

---------------------------

Bob was disappointed to find he would be in the air on Monday. When he arrived on base, he changed into his flight suit instead of his khaki uniform, wondering what that would mean when it came to seeing you. He'd slept poorly, wondering what your answer would be, hoping you'd say yes to another date.

"Hey, Bob," Jake drawled as Bob zipped up his flight suit. "How was your night with Roxy Luxxe?" He had a devilish smirk on his face, and Bob's skin was crawling. All of the other guys were looking at him now, and he knew his face was beet red.

"I guess she was as good as she looks on film if she rendered you speechless," Jake added with a laugh.

"Whoa, no," Javy said, shaking his head at Jake before looking at Bob. "Cut it out, man."

Bob counted to five, took a deep breath and then raised his forearm, and at least Jake had the decency to look panicked. Bradley stepped into the fray as Bob used his arm on Jake's chest to push him back against the lockers. Sure, Jake was more muscular, but Bob was no slouch, and he had a couple inches on him. "Don't call her that again. Don't even talk about her. While you're at it, don't look at her either."

Jake raised one eyebrow and nodded slightly, and Bob released him, walking right out of the locker room and making a quick detour to the classroom. But you weren't there. He ran his hands through his hair before he headed outside to find Nat.

"Hey, there you are," she said gently. "You okay? After the bar and everything?"

"I'm fine," he replied, still looking around. "Have you seen her?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed, pointing behind Bob, and he whirled around in time to see you walk out of the tower with Warlock and Cyclone. You looked as pretty as you always did, and Bob found himself wanting you the same way today as he had last week. All of the daydreams about making breakfast together after holding you in his arms all night were still there. So were the thoughts about you snuggled up, laughing on his couch. But now he could also imagine taking walks on the beach where you lived.

Your gaze met his, and he watched you excuse yourself from the admirals before heading his way. Nat squeezed his bicep, and muttered good luck before making herself scarce, and then Bob was standing there with you a respectable three feet in front of him.

"Lieutenant Floyd."

He smiled softly. "Good morning."

"So..." you began, looking down at his boots and pressing your lips together. "I'm free on Wednesday night. Or pretty much all day Saturday." Your eyes trailed up his body until you were nervously examining his face. "What did you have in mind for our fourth date?"

He felt like the wind had been knocked out of him. He'd been so apprehensive, afraid you were going to tell him to beat it, he hadn't bothered to come up with an actual date idea. "Cooking dinner at my place?" he blurted out.

You nodded like that sounded good to you. "Wednesday night then?"

He couldn't remember if he already had plans, but if he did, he'd cancel them immediately. "Yes. Wednesday. The day after tomorrow. Wednesday."

Your soft laughter filled him up as you turned and started to walk away, giving him just one word. "Wednesday."

--------------------------

You showed up to Bob's place with just a bottle of wine. He promised to take care of the rest. An hour later, a completely homemade pizza with fresh mozzarella and herbs was baking in the oven, and you had your arms draped around his neck. His lips tasted like the pinot noir the two of you had started drinking while you made the pizza, and his body felt strong and sure. As of right now, you thought you'd made the right choice by coming here.

"I really like you," he whispered for the third time this evening, and you believed him. You liked yourself. Why shouldn't he?

"I like you, too, Bob." You reached up and adjusted his glasses before letting your fingers trail back through his hair. As his hands slid slowly down to your hips, it was easy to imagine how he might be in bed. Authentic. Meticulous. Earnest. Just like he was at work. The thought thrilled you to no end, but you were also afraid of the way you'd feel afterwards if you rushed it just to get the first one out of your system. So you let him hold you like you were important.

The timer buzzed, and Bob laughed as you jumped further into his arms. You buried your face against his neck. "It's not funny." But you were laughing, too, and his lips met your hair. "Okay, it's kind of funny."

His stomach was growling, so you slowly pulled yourself free of his arms so he could put on his oven mitts. "Looks good," he remarked, but your gaze was fixed on him. "What do you think, Honey?"

Bob's eyes went wide as he set the tray down, like he couldn't believe what he'd said. Your heart was absolutely thundering in your chest. "Looks good," you whispered in agreement. You hadn't looked at it. You were sure it was fine. You'd eat anything anyway. But he called you Honey, and you didn't mind it one bit.

You shared the pizza side by side on his couch along with the rest of the bottle of wine, and Bob listened to you tell him about your friends you meet up with on Fridays. And then he told you about his deployment as he finished the last few drops of wine.

"I never really talk about this with anyone but Nat. This is nice," he said softly.

"Is it lonely?" you asked, your voice barely a whisper as he set down his glass and looked at you.

You didn't want to rush him, because you could tell what he was going to say was important. And it was. His voice was a little rough as he looked at you and said, "Somehow it's lonelier when I come home. It's worse than being on an aircraft carrier in that I can't really have anything for myself here. There's nothing waiting for me. And a lot of the time, I feel like it would be too much to ask someone to do that. To wait for me. It would be a lot for someone to accept."

When you crawled onto his lap, he didn't stop you. And when you tilted his face up to make him look at you, his cheeks flushed pink, but his hands found your hips again. "I understand exactly how you feel."

Then you kissed him, and you didn't stop for probably hours or maybe days. It felt that good. When you ended up beneath his warm body, you were so happy he came to your house on Sunday morning with your credit card. "Bob," you whimpered, and that seemed to bring him back from wherever his head was while he kissed his way down your neck and along your chest. His hair was a mess from your fingers, and his lips were a little puffy from the kisses, and you were pretty sure he wouldn't let you down again even if his friends were idiots.

You'd broken the spell, but he didn't seem to mind as he stood and pulled you to your feet. "It's getting late. We have work in the morning. Let me walk you to your car?"

At this rate, you were afraid you'd let him do anything he wanted, because he held your hand the whole way there. And he kissed you just right and told you he'd love to spend part of Saturday with you.

"Come over," you told him, and he promised he would.

----------------------------

It was chilly as Bob watched the sunset over the ocean from your back deck, but his body was warm from the combination of having you and your fleece blanket wrapped around him. You fit perfectly in his arms. Frankly, you seemed to fit pretty perfectly in his life. He wouldn't mind spending all of his Saturdays like this, listening to your gaming recap from the night before while you occasionally kissed the side of his neck. Your fingers were laced with his, and when you asked if he wanted to share a bottle of wine you got when you were in Napa Valley, he responded with a different question.

"Is there any chance you'd want to be my girlfriend?" You shivered in his arms, so he wrapped you up a little tighter. "I can't stop thinking about you being the one waiting for me to get home from a deployment."

You didn't speak right away which made him apprehensive. He'd somehow been the one to push things too fast. This was something he'd never managed to do before. You tightened your grip on his hand as you said, "Bob... people are going to recognize me. It's going to happen sometimes, no matter what I try to do about it, and I-"

He cut you off with a kiss. "I don't care about that, Honey." Then more kisses. The bottle of wine in your kitchen was left forgotten as you carefully slipped one leg over Bob's lap and sat straddling him. You kept the blanket wrapped snug around both of you, your body nestled against his as your foreheads met. "I just really like you."

The sun had disappeared below the horizon. Everything was pink and purple and dusky and dreamy as your cheek nudged his glasses making him smile. "If you think you can handle being my boyfriend, then I'm not going to try to stop you."

Heart pounding, he asked, "So is that a yes?"

"Yes." Your kisses were slow and soft, and Bob kept chasing the smile on your lips, because he couldn't get enough. With his eyes closed, all he could hear was the ocean below and the soft sounds you made. All he could feel was your body everywhere. You smelled familiar. You tasted good.

As you ran your fingers through his hair, your other hand trailed down to his shoulder, along his bicep and then across his chest. When Bob dared to let his hands dip from your waist to your hips and butt, you scooted a little bit closer. He realized when your fingers skimmed his abs that he had an erection.

Embarrassed, he tried to break the kiss and move his hands, but as soon as he started to move, you pulled away first. In the dying light, he could see your wide eyes and the alluring rise and fall of your chest. Part of your lace bra strap was showing, and your nipples were obviously hard. His cock throbbed in his jeans as you asked, "Do you want to stop?"

He knew you could read the desire on his face. When he started to shake his head, you rubbed yourself against his jeans where he was hard for you. "No," he grunted, head tipping back as he panted. "I don't want to stop."

"Good," you whispered next to his ear, lips barely grazing him. "Neither do I." You took his hands in both of yours and brought them back up to your body, encouraging him to touch every curve.

He gasped your name as he watched you slowly rolling your hips against him, seemingly in no hurry as you bit your lip. When he reached for the hem of your shirt, you didn't stop him, and he tossed it aside. Your body looked magical in the twilight, and as he reached for your bra clasp, realization hit him.

You were used to a certain caliber of partner for these kinds of activities. Standards he probably couldn't meet. "You're hesitating again," you whispered, voice breaking a little bit on the last word. "If you don't think you want to do this with me, I completely understand, Bob."

It was getting difficult to read your expression in the darkness, but when you stopped touching him and pulled your arms to your sides, he started to panic. "It's not that," he promised. "But you've been with... p-professionals. Guys who know what they're... doing." He ran his hands through his own hair. "And I'm not the most experienced. I've only had two partners."

"Oh, Bob," you moaned, and his cock ached at the sound. He wanted you. His whole body was screaming for it, and then he watched as you unhooked your own bra and let it slide down your arms and fall from your fingers. Your body was flawless, back arched, every curve designed to make him crazy. He made a sound somewhere between a groan and a whine as you leaned in closer and kissed him. "You'll be so much better."

Your bare skin was everywhere as the blanket slipped from around you. Bob's hands splayed across your back to keep you warm, but the supple feel of you had him thrusting against your core as he gingerly ran his thumb along the side of your breast. "So much better!" you whispered before pulling his bottom lip between yours.

He was still a little nervous, throbbing against you in his pants like a teenager as he cupped your breast in his rough palm. When you trailed your lips down his neck, he said, "I just want to be good enough for you."

Bob was thankful it was dark and you couldn't see him blushing as you nipped his earlobe and giggled. "Bob. You're better, because you're real. And you're turning me on, because we're not faking anything." You moved your right hand down between your bodies and squeezed his cock through his jeans as you sucked on his neck. "There's nothing fake about this."

He was gasping as he reached for your hand. "Honey." He couldn't take too much more teasing, or at this rate, he'd finish before his pants were off. "Can we go inside?"

You were off his lap and reaching for him with both hands, pulling him to his feet and closer to you. "My bedroom sound good?"

"Yes."

It was honestly difficult to walk. You led him through the sliding glass door and inside where the soft lighting somehow made your topless body look even more stunning. You brought him down the short hallway to your room, walking backwards and looking up at him with a smirk as you unzipped his jeans. He made another unintelligible noise as he watched the way your breasts swayed and bounced with each movement.

Your bedside lamp provided the only light, and Bob was still looking around, trying to get his bearings, when you pulled his shirt and undershirt off. "Oh," you gasped, running your palms up his flat stomach to his slightly broader chest. "God." He couldn't fathom that you liked what you saw and felt enough to leave you panting his name, but you definitely were. Then your hand was down the front of his unzipped jeans, and he grinned as you tried your best to wrap your hand around his length, your eyes growing wide. "Bob."

And now he wasn't really nervous, because this actually felt really easy and good with you. You were giving him all the queues that you wanted more. You were kissing him as you stumbled to the bed. You were trying your best to get your hand around his cock, but you couldn't. He picked you up and hauled you up to the pillows, and you squealed. All he could see was your beautiful smile as you kissed him over and over, only pulling away to run your nose along his cheek and whisper his name.

He watched you shimmy out of your yoga pants and underwear and push them aside, and it was no wonder you were able to make a career out of using your body the way you did. But if most of that was just acting, then he wasn't going to let you down now. He watched as your head tipped back, and you pressed yourself up against his hands when he gently squeezed your breasts. Mesmerized by all of this, he let his hands drift down over your ribs and along your sides until he was met by your hips.

Bob worked his hands slowly back up your body and down again, pausing to press his lips to your breasts as you arched for him again. You felt soft, and you were sensitive, running your bare foot up and down his leg as you whimpered. When he squeezed your hips again, he let his gaze fall below your belly button.

His voice was soft and deep as he asked, "Is it okay if I taste you, Honey?"

You instantly spread your legs a little wider, grabbed him by his hair, and said, "Please."

---------------------------

Bob's hands were huge, with thick veins and graceful, calloused fingers. All he was doing was touching you and kissing you, and you were very fucking worked up. This was already a treat, just being with a guy who wasn't grabbing at you and trying to shove his cock in your mouth. But it was more than that. It was the soft tone he used when he said your name and the way he was looking at you.

Gentle but strong. That was how you'd describe your newly minted boyfriend. You smiled at him as he stroked his fingers down your sides. You hadn't had a boyfriend in years, and Bob was so sweet and handsome, it was absolutely outrageous.

"Is it okay if I taste you?"

All of that and he wanted to go down on you? "Please." Your voice was needy, and your body was so ready for him. You eased your thighs further apart so he could see all of you, and you let your fingers tangle in his soft hair. You were so excited, and when the wire rim of his glasses brushed the inside of your thigh, you shivered with pleasure.

Then his lips met your pussy, and you almost went through the fucking ceiling. Those big hands were at your waist, holding you in place on the bed as he licked up along your slit, slowly tasting every inch before he hummed softly. You wanted to watch, but you could barely lift your head off of the pillow as he licked up again and again before kissing your clit.

When you managed to prop yourself up on one elbow, you got a great view of his big cock hanging out of his unzipped jeans when he lifted his head away from your body. "Does it feel good?" he asked, and you laughed. He pulled away from you further, concern on his face as you started to reach for him.

Your nails scraped along the day's worth of stubble on his cheek as you sat up and kissed him, tasting yourself. You licked at his lips and chin, cleaning up the wetness before you whispered. "It feels better than good."

A few seconds later, you were on your back again, legs over his shoulders as he ate your pussy with fervor. All of your nerve endings were singing his praises. He had you spread with his rough thumbs, and when he looked up at you, even his nose was wet. Your hands were fisted at your sides while you gently rolled your hips against his mouth and whined at the perfect feel of him. "Shit. Fuck," you gasped. He sucked on you with just the right amount of pressure, and your toes were literally starting to curl. "Bob!"

All you got in response was another hum of pleasure that made you squeal followed by some seriously lewd, wet sounds. His broad shoulders pushed against the backs of your thighs, and you felt him teasing at your opening with the tip of one finger. Tongue circling your clit, he glanced up at you over his crooked glasses. His cheeks were pink, and there was a sheen of sweat on his forehead as you reached for his hair again. "I want you to fuck me."

"Okay," he agreed, nodding his head like he hadn't brought you close with his mouth. He looked a little dazed and pussy drunk, and you thought you could fall in love with that expression on his handsome face.

"Come here," you whispered, kneeling so you could kiss him. "You taste like me," you added, licking his cheek and chin. "And I love it."

"Honey," he growled, and when you looked down, you could tell he was aching. You pushed him onto his butt and helped him the rest of the way out of his jeans and snug briefs, his thick cock bouncing for you. Then you looked at him there in just his socks and glasses, and your entire body clenched with a need you'd never known before.

You took his cock in both hands, leaned down and kissed away all of his precum while every muscle in his abs and both legs tensed up. "Holy shit," he gasped. When you tugged on his shoulders, he moved with you, covering your body with his own. His weight and warmth against your bare skin felt essential to your happiness, and when you kissed him, he said, "And you taste like me."

His cheeks flushed a pretty pink as you ran your tongue along his lips. You couldn't get enough. He shifted his body slightly, and his cock came to rest on your slick clit, making you moan into his mouth. You arched away from him, moving your hips back and forth a few inches at a time, using his body to bring yourself pleasure as you clung to his arms. "God, Bob. You haven't even been inside me yet, and I'm a mess."

The veins in his neck and forehead were more prominent as he panted, a bead of his sweat rolling down to the tip of his nose. You licked it away as you shifted your hips so he was positioned at your entrance. He was thick, and even though you were soaking wet now, you had to use one hand to help guide him. You shook your head from side to side, your body taking him slowly. He buried his forehead to your neck, and the bite of his glasses against your collar bone kept you grounded.

"Honey," he moaned, clutching at your hips as he finally, finally bottomed out. You were completely full, already clenching around him softly and enjoying the rough feel of his trimmed hairs against your clit. He thrusted a few times like he couldn't help himself, and you kissed his forehead. "Am I hurting you?"

His neck was a little slick against your fingertips. You'd been fucked too rough or without enough lubrication to the point of it being painful several times before, but this was the exact opposite. "Bob, you feel incredible." He lifted his head and kissed your lips, rewarding you with another thrust. Your legs tangled with his as you pushed his hair back from his forehead and kissed him harder.

His lips found their way to your neck and breasts, and his thrusts started coming quicker, but every smooth movement left you gripping at him, your body begging for more as you whimpered and whined. He murmured your name against your skin, sucking on your nipples until you were seeing stars. And each thrust filled you somehow better than the last. And every movement left you grinding your clit up for more.

You were going to come. You were going to come so hard. You could feel it. The buildup was delicious. Lips and stubble and glasses on your breasts. Hands on your hips. Bob everywhere.

"I'm not wearing a condom. Honey," he panted. "I'm not wearing a condom."

"It's okay," you whined loudly, suddenly gasping and clawing at his shoulders for leverage. "You can come wherever you want."

He chose inside you. And you came, hard and long and loud, hands on his face while you kissed him. You knew he was going to be so much better. You called it from the start. From when he surprised you by asking you out for coffee. He was immediately better than anything else you anticipated for yourself, and even when he fumbled, he recovered. You ran your lips along his cheek and back to his ear and whispered, "You're so much better than faking it."

He rolled both of you onto your sides, facing each other while he was still deep inside you. "Please don't ever do that. Fake it," he said, voice deep and raspy as he ran his rough palm along your cheek. "I want to know I'm good enough for my girlfriend."

You smiled and tucked your head under his chin, and he wrapped his arm around you. His skin was warm beneath your lips, and his words were soft and gentle. When he climbed out of bed, he asked where he could find a washcloth, and he came back with it a minute later, ready to help you get cleaned up. He even held your robe out for you and waited while you used the bathroom, but you did that quickly, finding you wanted to be right next to him as much as possible.

Bob looked delicious in his briefs and undershirt, and you wrapped your arms around his waist as you asked, "Do you want to go back out under the blanket? With the bottle of wine? We could look at the stars. Listen to the ocean before bed."

He kissed your forehead. "As long as I'm with you."

-------------------------

Six months later...

After eight weeks away, Bob was excited to get home. He really hoped this was the start of his deployments feeling lonelier than the time between them did. Especially since he was going home to you and the house where he moved all of his stuff as soon as you asked him to live with you. He couldn't wait to hold you all night and hear all about your Dungeons & Dragons campaign and ask how you'd been enjoying work.

As soon as the aircraft carrier started docking in San Diego, he was at one of the lower railings along with the other aviators, and he spotted you immediately. You were bouncing around at the front of the crowd shouting his name and waving like a lunatic, and he had missed you so much. "Hey, Honey!" he shouted, and you just jumped higher.

"Damn, Floyd. That's your girl?" asked one of the guys he'd flown with.

"Yeah," he replied, never taking his eyes off you. "That's my girl."

Six and a half minutes later, he was practically running down the long ramp with his duffle on one shoulder to the spot where you were waiting for him.

"Bob!" you screeched as he scooped you up in your tiny dress and kissed you until you were as breathless as he was. "I missed you. I love you so much, and I missed you."

"I want to go home, Honey," he said, kissing you again. "Take me home."

"Gladly," you gushed, grabbing his hand and leading him toward his own truck. "I have big plans for your big cock," you announced to everyone around you, and Bob felt his cheeks warm up. "Well, and the rest of you, too. We can make a pizza together and eat out on the deck."

"Anything you want," he promised, tossing his bag in the truck bed and pushing you against the door. "And I love you, too."

You only let him kiss you for a few seconds, before you were pushing him away. "I know you do. Let's go home." You held his hand on the short ride, and when he pulled in the driveway, you yanked him right out and led him inside the house.

This felt incredible, knowing you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, running hand in hand to the bedroom. Then you stopped short and turned to face him as he bumped into you with a laugh. "You know how you're kind of your alter ego right now when you're in your uniform? Lieutenant Floyd?"

"Yeah?" he whispered, leaning down to kiss you, but your lips curled into a smile as you backed away.

"Well... I thought you might like to meet my alter ego?" you asked softly, easing that little dress up to your hips and along your torso before pulling it over your head. You were standing there in the tiniest black thong and bra set known to mankind. "Do you want to meet Roxy Luxxe?"

Bob just nodded and reached down to palm himself through his khaki pants as he gaped at you and grunted, "Uh huh." If Roxy was just a playful extension of his girlfriend, then yes, he wanted to meet her.

You bit your lip and coaxed him toward the bed, running your hands down your body to your hips where you played with your underwear. "Good. Because she wants to meet you, too. And she wants you to know she's only going to be available exclusively for Bob Floyd's enjoyment."

---------------------------

Thanks for reading this long one-shot! I wanted Bob to get to fuck a former pornstar, because nobody deserves such a treat the way Bob does! But then I got attached to them and had to make it special. Bob and the artist formerly known as Roxy Luxxe are adorable together. Thanks to @mak-32 @beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger and @sylviebell for your help!

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