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soaps-hoe-141 · 2 years ago

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Drowning In The Depths

Part 9

Pairing: Captain Price x Male!Reader

WC: 12.8k

Synopsis: Smut, getting a bit more Speck lore for those of you who are now invested in this man because honestly same

Warnings: 18+ Smut I mean it's like half of this chapter, I needed to be fed too, mentions of past traumas

Warmth enveloped you in a cocoon of safety, of happiness. Pulling you so deep into the void of your subconscious it felt like you'd never be able to emerge from it again. “Hey Peaches,” your eyes shot around the dark dome of your mind, looking for the source of that name, that voice. The eyes that stared back at you were so familiar, so blue, but they weren’t accompanied by the British accent you’d grown so accustomed to seeing them with lately. He was American and had dark hair with reddish highlights, his face square as was his jaw, with an upturned nose, and freckles dotting every expanse of skin you could see including his neck and shoulders.

For the first time you saw his face as you originally remembered it, not the burnt husk you’d been forced to stare at for an hour as they dug you out from under that wall. Not the man who had reached for you while he cried and begged for you to have mercy on him. This was the man who had been your best friend through thick and thin. The man who had let you sleep at his apartment that night your wife had locked you out of the house because she thought you'd been staring at another woman. This was your number two, your right hand, and the team jokester.

A hand reached out for him, the desire to touch him slamming into you suddenly, but he backed away from you with a shake of his head and a sorrowful smile. “Sorry boss. I'm here, but I’m not really…here, Peaches,” it hurt to hear that name come out of his mouth again but God if it didn’t make you smile still. The team would never have dared to call you that name on duty, but when yall were just joking around? It was the only name they seemed to ever remember. As if they'd forgotten you were their boss and would have them running laps the next day until they puked. Peaches, Peach, Peachy, as many forms of that name as they could come up with. All because they’d walked in on you eating a peach one damn time after you’d just gotten out of the shower with a towel around your waist.

Your head tilted and a smile found your mouth as you nodded in understanding, “Figured as much McCann. A man can dream though can’t he?” The other man gave you a full mouthed smile then, teeth and everything. You'd really missed that damn smile these last couple years. McCann’s hands shoved into his pockets as he rocked forward on the balls of his feet and then back on his heels. How did he look so carefree even though he knew he was dead? Hell that was just McCann though, always smiling and itching for a good time.

His shoulders shrugged before he answered in his typical joking tone, “That’s exactly what you’re doing right now, isn’t it boss?” Your eyes darted around the dark expanse of the void of your consciousness before you nodded your agreement. You hadn't realized it until he pointed it out but yeah, you were definitely asleep right now. McCann’s head moved a bit to catch your attention again though before he said, “It has been a while though, hasn’t it?” You nodded again, your smile falling from your lips at the thought before he continued, “It’s ok though.” Inspecting his form closely your head tilted in question as you watched him glance behind you before he added, “Everything’s great boss. Me and the boys are happy, even Xena,” a bark accompanied that and you turned around quickly, surprise evident in your expression.

The warmth that had been encompassing your body dissipated slowly, but the safety remained. Wherever you were you knew you were going to be ok until that warmth returned. Especially when the Malinois reared back on her hind legs and her front paws found your chest. Nearly twelve years old her face was gray and her body had matured, rounding her belly a bit more than when you had first been introduced to her. But Xena still had the boundless energy of a puppy, tail going a mile a minute as you reached for her head but even as you pet it you felt nothing. It chilled your body even quicker as you realized there wasn't any kind of feeling to accompany her, not even as her tongue ran over the skin of your chin.

There was no pressure or warmth of a body touching you, only the sight that your hand was on her face. Before you could dwell on the fact that her paws felt weightless against you though, she was bounding off behind McCann, circling around him to sit at his side facing you with her tongue out as she panted. “Good to hear, Ryan,” the smile on the man in front of you widened at the name. You’d always melted at that smile and it was no different now, “Can I ask you a question though?” His brows rose before he nodded, his head tilting curiously, “What are you doin here, man? I mean it's been two years, kinda late to give me the 'Wasn't your fault, boss'" you mimicked him nearly perfectly as you continued, "Don’t you think?” McCann’s smile seemed to falter then, a look of confusion sweeping over his face.

Did he not know? How could he not know? Please don't make me have to tell him he's dead. “Well, boss," he let out a sigh, "You haven’t exactly thought about us in two years have you? Not since we died,” the deadpan way he said it made your jaw clench painfully. So he did know then, your question had just upset him, or maybe annoyed him. McCann shrugged before that crooked smile found his face again, his joking tone returning a second later, “We knew you’d get there eventually though Peaches. Just didn’t think it would take that long. Guess we should have known though, you were always the type to box it all up for later, weren't you?” You swallowed hard and took a step closer, this time he didn’t back away though, his body steady in front of you.

McCann stood less than a foot away, a few inches shorter than you with that crooked smile beaming up at you without a care in the world. “I’m sorry,” you forced the words out in a cracking voice and the smile before you softened at the sound. You cleared your throat and forced out even more, "It never should have been you, you were always the one that was supposed to get home." That dark haired head tilted, as did the furry one sitting beside him.

His hand found your shoulder and again you felt nothing, no warmth, no pressure, not even when he squeezed your shoulder. It was painful to realize even if he was here, dream or something else, you'd never feel that warm, friendly touch again. Your eyes focused back on his light blue hues before he said, "It was never your fault, boss. It sucked, yeah. I mean it well and truly sucked, but it happens sometimes. War's a bitch man, and eventually it gets us all. It'll even get you one day too, just a matter of when and where, bossman," you let out a pent up breath and nodded back to him. He wasn't wrong, he rarely ever was. McCann might have put on the clown shoes everyday but he was one of the most intelligent operators you had ever seen and had the pleasure to work with.

When he stepped closer to you you nearly backed away, he'd been your best friend in life. While you had always wanted more you never would have dared to betray the wedding vows you took, no matter how you felt about the woman you'd been pressured into marrying. So when his hand cupped your face it shocked you, your mouth opening in surprise and not only because he was rubbing a roughened thumb over your cheek but because you could feel it. It was like he was actually there. Warmth was flooding your body again, the safe haven you'd found the night before had returned it seemed.

McCann leaned forward, his lips pressing against yours in a gentle kiss before he pulled back. You stood there shocked, brows in your hairline and jaw hanging slack. It wasn't him, logically you knew that, your chance with McCann had long since passed. But you'd felt something right then, some kind of tenderness from a human body. A body you were growing to know very well too, those were John's lips you'd just felt.

When you focused back on Ryan he was watching you curiously. That crooked smile was on his mouth again as he joked, "Are ya really that eager there Peaches?" Your head tilted questioningly and his eyes traveled down, staring at the tent in the jeans you were currently wearing. Shifting awkwardly on your feet you huffed a bit and reached down to cover yourself, but he stopped you before you could. "Let me help you with that, boss," he palmed at you through the fabric and you sighed at the sensation. At the thought of him doing anything to you down there.

His hands worked quickly on the buttons and the zipper, pulling at the waistband of your jeans and the underwear beneath it with hurried fingers. Those blue eyes were staring at the tent before flicking back up to find you. Asking you a silent question you weren't sure you knew the answer to. Your subconscious was playing cruel tricks on your mind, and you shut your eyes for a moment, trying to clear your head so you could think. "No," the words came out before you had a chance to really even consider them. And while you rushed the first time you firmly stated it again, "No Ryan. I can't."

McCann's gaze was already on you when you managed to finally look down at him again. His hands wrapped around the bones of your hips as he watched you. "Our timing was always terrible, Peaches. Makes sense we keep the same theme even when I'm dead right?" Pain lanced through your heart at his statement. Hearing him talk so easily about it was enough to nearly send you into the same state you'd been in yesterday. The man leaned into you for a moment, hands still on your hips as he asked, "Does the Brit make you happy at least?" More shock found your expression and you watched that crooked smile spread over his face turning into a cocky grin you remembered so well.

Slowly though you answered him, "He…" John's face flashed in your mind, his little chuckles, his quiet smiles and smirks, the beanie he'd worn at the bar the night you'd first talked to him. It was the little things that brought a smile to your face. Things you doubted he'd even remember, but you did. They stuck in your mind like a glue trap. It was the little things you'd never had before that were what you always thought about. Sure the memory of the amazing sex was nice, but it wasn't just about the sex. Not for you anyway.

A nod finally had your head bobbing as you beamed a smile down at the dark haired man in front of you, "He does yeah. At least I think he does, I've never really felt like this before so I think that's what this is. He's stubborn and fuckin annoying sometimes sure. And Lord does he make me feel good. Ryan, I haven't been this happy in…" Your sentence trailed off slowly as you thought and then finally managed, "Ever." God that was sad. Even when you'd been happy with the SEALs, with your brothers, you'd always known you'd have to go back to her. To that house.

At the end of the day, no matter how much you'd enjoyed your time away she was always waiting for you when you got home with some new complaint, some new gripe. You never could enjoy your time away unless you were on a deployment because otherwise the second you got home all smiles it was like she made it her personal mission to get rid of it. She'd sit you down at the dining room table as she lost her mind because the bulb in the garage went out. Or God forbid she served you dinner. Every time she did you were always afraid she'd do it again. Spike your food with something to get what she so desperately wanted from you. There had been one point in your marriage you'd told her to just go find a man she enjoyed so she'd leave you alone and quit asking you for that. She'd responded by breaking down into sobs asking why you wanted a divorce, and you'd ended up giving in and joining her in the bed that night just to get her to stop crying. Every day with that woman was an exhausting roller coaster of bullshit.

McCann could read your thoughts as he whispered, "Good, you deserve to be happy, boss. Now stop thinking about her. There's a reason we always called her the Warden, bossman, she's a bitch, she doesn't deserve anymore of your attention." You couldn't disagree with him, that woman had certainly always had a way that made her completely unlikable. McCann stepped back away from you slowly, "You keep thinking about her you're gonna kill your boner, Peaches. Now go say hey to your Brit for me. Go on, go have fun," the crooked smile disappeared slowly until you were alone in the black void. You weren't there for long though.

Swirls of heat flooded up to your cheeks before flooding through the rest of your body. It was almost uncomfortably hot but it was accompanied by such a pleasurable shock you gave a small smile instead. Your teeth grazed over your bottom lip, drawing it in as you pushed up into the warm sensation below the sheets. A low hum came from low in your throat, wrecked by sleep and lust in equal measures. Brows raised on your forehead before you blinked open an eye lazily to glance around the room.

Confusion hit you as you looked around the darkness. This wasn't your bunkhouse, it wasn't your room, and it especially was not your bed. Where in the hell were you- A gasp of air into your lungs as a tongue teased at your entrance. Then a low moan echoed through the room as your thoughts went quiet, the tongue continuing its work as their hand pumped up and down your length. Your hands shot down in search of them, but you found only the sheets to wrap your fingers in. “Ohhh,” you breathed out the air you’d just sucked in before lifting your head to look down. The white sheets obscured the large figure between your thighs, but it didn’t matter because when the mouth left your entrance and returned to its task before that you could feel them suckling at the head of your cock eagerly. It was like they were sucking on a damn jolly rancher and it had you both speechless and thoughtless in their ministrations.

When the low hum answered your quiet pants your hips bucked up towards the mouth, searching for more of those delicious vibrations. A hand pressed against your abdomen though and stopped you from making it very far, apparently they wanted you to keep still and they weren’t going to let you have your way with them. Your limbs were still weak and you couldn’t manage to push past the resistance they were pressing down on your hips with.

You felt the tiniest prick of frustration reach the back of your mind in response, a reaction you couldn't help as you tried once more with a desperate thrust upwards with your hips. The lips wrapped around the head of your cock didn’t deny your quiet request for more this time as you felt the mouth slide down the length agonizingly slow, their hands still holding your hips in place as they went. The tip of your erection hit the back of the person's throat as they held their mouth in place for a moment. Then just as slowly as they had sunk down they slid back up, their mouth pulling off for just a second as their hand took its place on your member.

The flat of their tongue suddenly drug across the head, the tip of their tongue dipping into the slit as your head pressed back into the pillow and your eyes shut tight. Your hand shot to the side of the bed, gripping it hard with a moan that you did your best to restrain and failed completely at. As the lips wrapped once more around you and you suffered pleasurably through another few moments of torturous suckling on the head of your erection you simply couldn’t take it anymore.

Hurriedly you grabbed at the edge of the sheets and pushed them down over the brunette haired man with his lips currently wrapped around your cock and the slightest hint of red burning his cheeks and the tips of ears. His face tilted up even as his tongue swirled around your member slowly, those blue eyes finding you through dark lashes as his mouth pulled off your length. A string of saliva dripping down his chin that you could see glistening even in the darkness shrouding yall.

A cocky smirk found his mouth as his hand pumped slowly up and down your length. “Why are you awake so early, Love?” His voice was just as sleep wrecked as yours, deeper than normal and scratchy beyond belief after he'd been sucking on your cock for who knows how long now. Oh God you’d forgotten about falling asleep in his arms yesterday. Falling asleep in his bed as he’d hummed in that quiet, rumble and rubbed gentle circles into your temples. His voice penetrated your very soul, it was already deep enough he didn’t need the assistance of a morning voice to help him sound any sexier.

Your head tilted back into the pillows, looking up at the ceiling with a deep intake of breath. Damn his hand felt good. Warm against your skin, pressure firm as it slid up the length and then back down, and the fuckin calluses. God his calluses caught on seemingly every sensitive vein of your erection in all the right ways. Walking the line between pain and pleasure like he always seemed to be doing. “What a fuckin mornin’, hun,” your southern drawl came out in harsh contrast to the way you normally sounded.

Most of the time you hid your southern roots in the way you spoke, and acted. It wasn’t often you used the phrases and words so common to where you had grown up, all in your attempt to blend in as well as you could. Not until you’d started to feel comfortable and let your guard down, and boy was it down right now. When you glanced back down you saw the smirk that had grown into a full blown smile. The corners of his eyes were crinkled and his forehead was showing off his wrinkles and God he looked like a saint framed by the moonlight, barely filtering in through the window.

As you sat up on your elbows his head lowered again, tongue dragging down your length before he was lapping at your balls. Suckling on them with renewed fervor as your hands curled into the sheets in an attempt not to grab him by the head and attempt to fuck his face again. Another low moan pulled out of your throat before he once more pulled his mouth away. You responded with a quiet, needy whine as you started to shift on the bed, searching for his hand at the very least.

"Do me a favor?" His question caught you off guard at first and you blinked a couple times before giving him a hesitant nod, a bit worried about what he was going to ask you to do in the middle of this. You doubted you’d be able to do much with how far gone you already were and still weak with sleep. He glanced to your right where the bedside table was and you followed his gaze, "Drink something.” The hell did he just say? You didn’t even have a chance to react though before he continued, “You fell asleep before you could yesterday and I didn't want to wake you up."

You turned your head to glance at the bedside table then, staring blankly at the two bottles sitting there. Was here…serious? Who were you kidding, of course he was serious. This is the same man who’d destroyed you in his car twice and then proceeded to ask if you were fucking hungry. The man had some kind of kink for taking care of you. Was that even a thing? Probably. You glanced back down at him, studying his smiling gaze for a second before you finally turned back to two bottles once more.

One was just plain water while the other was a Powerade. Man he was a fuckin saint. His hand drug up your length slowly, wrapping around you just below the ridge where your head flared out. You couldn’t help the breathy moan you let out as his tongue found the head and shot out, swirling around it as he watched you and then he stopped again. "Oh God," you breathed out and found his burning gaze below you once more, "You- Oh lord-" His hand continued to work you, occasionally his tongue added its support as he licked at the pulsing veins on your shaft in short, teasing swipes of his tongue.

Until he wasn't and you whimpered at the sudden loss of the friction, the sudden loss of him. Your eyes shot down, watching as his head tilted and he glanced at the bottles on the bedside table again. Oh yeah, that's right, he wanted you to drink something. He’d just said that and yet you’d already forgotten about it. This man was one hell of a memory loss drug, that was for sure. You sat up, his eyes following you slowly as yours trailed down his bare back to the waistband of his underwear. The waist you just wanted to grab and hold onto and never let go of.

The man between your thighs started to move then, like he was about to sit up or move from the only place you wanted him to be right then. Your hand pressed between his shoulder blades, stopping him from moving and you muttered, "I'm goin, alright? I’m getting a drink." His lips pressed into the skin along the inside of your thighs as he nodded and waited patiently for you to do just that, and you could feel the hint of his smile against your bare skin. Leaning back you grabbed the Powerade bottle off the bedside table quickly, feeling his hand return to your aching member in response.

Stifling a moan you twisted off the cap, nearly forgetting again that you were supposed to be drinking. Pressing the bottle to your lips and tilting it back you swallowed a sip. The rest happened of its own accord as you downed nearly the whole bottle in one go. Thirstily chugging the bottle as you replenished all of the liquids and electrolytes you’d lost the day before. As you pulled it away from your lips to take a breath his mouth found the base of your cock. Mouthing at it with his lips and tongue as he worked his way up the length, traveling up as saliva trailed in his wake.

When his lips found the head and wrapped around it once more your head fell back at the blissful sensation. God he worked miracles with that mouth. A tap hit the bottle still in your hand and you looked down with a couple slow blinks before you saw the finger of his freehand pointing to the Powerade with a warning in his eyes. Anything to keep him suckling on you like that. By God you’d give him anything he wanted. The bottle found your lips again as you tilted it back and downed the rest hurriedly.

The second you swallowed though a disgustingly loud moan of need left you as both his hands wrapped around your cock pumping up and down the length as he slid his mouth down to meet them. You didn't have the strength to stay up then, falling back to your elbows slowly and then all the way onto your back once more, the bottle clattering to the floor at the side of the bed somewhere along with the cap.

You couldn’t have cared less though, not while you were beginning to see stars because of him. His hands were working your entire length, enveloping it in that warm, firm pressure as he continued to pump them up and down your sensitive flesh. All the while he sucked the tip of your cock like he was trying to suck a milkshake through a goddamn straw. God the man was sucking the air from your lungs, since when were those two even connected.

Your head hit the pillow again, eyes shutting tight at the hard throbbing that was beginning in your member. Jesus you were getting close, so close you could nearly taste it now. How long had he been down there before you woke up? Shit you weren't even going to last another five minutes at this rate. Your breaths were coming in short gasps as you felt his mouth slip a little lower down your shaft as he removed one hand, tongue pressing firmly against the underside and another explosion of euphoria had you slamming a hand above your head into the wall for support. When he put both hands back along your length was when he really started to go to town. God you thought just the suckling and slow pumping was good?

The moment he added a twist of his hands as they followed his mouth up and then another twist on the down stroke with his mouth trailing behind, you turned into an absolute mess. Groans fell out of you that would have made a whore blush had they been standing within earshot. "J-John," you stammered out and he hummed questioningly, refusing to stop his ministrations.

Fuck you really should have just stayed quiet because now you really were close as hell and you could feel your abdomen tightening in expectation of the release of the building pressure. Your body anticipating the release you so desperately wanted, needed. Before he could hum again you managed to stammer out, "I'm- I'm close, hun. N-Not gon-gonna last if-if you keep-" His hands twisted again on the upstroke, catching right at the underside of the head and you couldn't help yourself but to buck up into his mouth, stopped only by the fact that he was currently double fisting your cock.

A rumbling chuckle found your ears and you looked down. His mouth had pulled off as did his hands and you let out an embarrassingly loud and needy whine into the air with a few quick shakes of your head. Quickly your hands shot down down to grab at his brunette hair, urging him gently back down and thank fucking God he listened and was feeling merciful because you couldn't have taken any edging right then. One hand wrapped around the base, his eyes flicking back up to find you as his mouth slipped back around your length and you felt yourself sink into that wet, warm heat. His mouth was positively sinful.

John's eyes stayed locked on yours as you felt your tip press against the back of his throat, holding your length steady in his mouth as he swallowed around it and then pulled back off. He let you set his pace, your hand still tangled into his hair as you pulled him up steadily and then back down. When your hand fell away he didn't even seem to notice, just kept going at the pace you'd already set for him. "John," your voice came out barely above a whisper, "Oh fuck, I'm close, hun. So fuckin close. Don't stop," he happily obliged, keeping up the steady rhythm and taking you even deeper into his mouth every time, humming every time your hips jerked up into his mouth.

God you were burning up. Sweating so bad you were sure you were going to be soaked by the time this was over. Your hands pulled at the hem of your shirt as the Brit watched with a raised brow until you were raising up again just enough to jerk the shirt off over your head. It found the ground in the next second and the entire time the man never even let up. John was impaling his throat on your length with reckless abandon, sloppily drooling all over you and he felt so damn good doing it. And good God he looked fucking phenomenal, so beautiful.

You gritted your teeth and then pulled your bottom lip in between your teeth, head shaking on the pillow as you fought every instinct not to reach down and just start fuckin his throat. Glancing down at him you let out a pent up breath of air. It was like he could sense when you were looking at him as those blue eyes shot up to find your eyes through those dark lashes. “So beautiful,” you whispered, the hand you’d been bracing against the wall above you dropping back to the bed as you held onto the sheets once more. “Pretty as a fuckin peach with that mouth around my cock,” your moan fell out as he hummed in answer, the corners of his eyes lifting in amusement.

The throbbing was relentless now, the pressure built up so much you were struggling to remember to keep breathing. Your hand smacked against the wall beside you, fingers scratching wildly at the paint as you tried to find purchase on its smooth front, your other hand still digging into the sheets relentlessly. And yet still he didn't stop, just steadily sucked around your length with one hand around it following every movement of his mouth up and down your length. His other hand had moved to hold onto your thigh at some point but now it was trailing lower. Below his mouth and his other hand and you felt the feather light touch of the rough pads of those fingertips against your entrance.

They massaged gently against you, running over the tight muscle before massaging the skin directly between your entrance and cock. Sparks lit up your vision as he did and your back arched at the sensation. Holy- What the heck did he just- And then he did it again, harder this time as his fingers fell into a rhythm. A string of moans left your mouth followed by a loud, drawn out, "Ohhhh fuuuuuuck-" You couldn't even stop yourself, couldn't warn him before it happened.

Right as his mouth came up along your length you came hard. Filling his mouth in pulses as one hand shot to his hair and the other braced on the wall above your head once more, keeping him from pulling off your release filled his cheeks. Your back arched off the bed even more as short gasps filled the air around yall. He swallowed around the head of your cock eagerly, milking you dry until the sensitive nerves couldn't take it anymore, becoming more pain than pleasure now. "Stop, please, oh God, I can't-" Immediately his mouth pulled off in compliance and he sat up on his elbows looking up at you with smiling eyes.

John watched as you caught your breath, the bristly hairs on his chin running over the top of your thigh slowly as he nodded his head, lips tilting down to press a light kiss to your skin. As the heaving of your chest began to slow you felt his nose nudge against the bone of your hip. Felt his body shift over the top of you as he kissed and suckled his way up your now bare torso. A wet tongue dipped between your abdominals, before he nipped at the skin with his teeth and sucked it between his lips. John left hickeys all along the expanse of your stomach, claiming you without either of you really even thinking about it.

When he reached your pectorals he did the exact same thing. Leaving light teeth marks and sloppy kisses along your skin with a pleased smile. His tongue ran between them into the valley of your chest before he suckled at the skin, no doubt tasting the salt of your sweat and he seemed only to enjoy it more. His nose nuzzled against your chest, the tip of it running over a nipple and drawing out a lazy, tired smile from you. When you felt his hips run over your softened member you glanced down between both of your bodies.

John was holding himself over you with a heated look as his hips grinded into you, clothed only in the thin layer of underwear he was wearing. You could feel his barely contained erection running against your own now softened and sensitive member. Hell you could see it plain as day even in the dark. The outline as well as the patch of wetness on the fabric.

And then he laid down on top of you, driving the air from your lungs for a second before he lifted up to adjust himself and wrap his arms around your torso. His nose hit against your neck and his beard scratched at your bare shoulder as he relaxed on you like you were his mattress and pillow. "John?" He hummed in response to you and you felt the deep vibrations course through your chest before you asked, "What about you?"

You could feel the way his face lifted against your skin and you knew he was smiling, or smirking, one of the two. His lips pressed a gentle kiss against your neck before he shrugged his shoulders, "I'm not worried about it. It'll go away in a little bit." When you didn't respond and instead shifted your hips underneath him he chuckled on top of you, "Not if you keep doing that though. Be still, sweetheart, and go back to sleep. It’s way too early to be awake." You smiled at him and reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into his neck.

A huff of surprise left him as you rolled him over, laying your weight on top of him instead as you kissed a trail up his neck, across his bearded jaw, and ended at his lips. Sitting up you glanced at the water bottle still left on the bedside table and your head tilted, "If it's so early where did you get the water and Powerade from?" The Brit ran his hands along your back before lacing them together behind you and turned to look at the unopened water bottle on the bedside table.

John smiled up at you then before pulling at your back to drag your weight back down on top of him, "Got them from the squad room." His answer was simple, matter-of-fact. Yet the knowledge he had traversed in the dark of night all the way across base and back just to get you a bottle of water and Powerade made something in your heart hurt, but in a…Good way? Was that possible?

You leaned down with a light hum of amusement and shook your head as you settled your body back against his, "So you went all the way across base to the squad room just to get me a bottle of water and some Powerade?" His face had buried back into your neck a moment later as he hummed an affirmative against you. Your cheek pressed against the pillow, nose nudging against his neck just as he was doing to you.

His cheek rested on top of yours then, effectively burying your face between the pillow and him and shrouding you in his warmth and the thick scent of oaks and…Chocolate? Dark chocolate, yeah, that was a new one you hadn't smelt before. Typically he smelt more like smoke, he must’ve had himself a cigar before he came back with the scent still so distinguishable on him right now. Your voice quieted and you whispered against his skin, "You're a fuckin dream, you know that right?"

The man huffed in amusement and shrugged, "I don't know about a dream, Love. Pretty sure I'm real," you rolled against his still hard length, cutting off his words with a teasing grind against him. He gasped lightly against your neck at the feeling before growling out low, "I'm tired right now, go back to sleep." Fingers grazed along your back in light strokes. One of his hands wound up in your hair as he massaged the base of your skull as well, trying to put you back to sleep.

You never even stood a chance to stay awake as he pulled the sheets up around your shoulders, shrouding you in his warmth and safety once more. There was no way you could keep yourself awake though, especially not with the way he massaged and his nails drug across your skin with gentle scratches. Slowly your body relaxed on top of him, your arms sliding up around his neck and wrapping him up in a death grip he had no chance to extricate himself from. John wasn't leaving this bed again unless you said he could and you were bound and determined even in sleep to make it happen. And whether you knew it or not, or even if you believed it, he didn't want to be anywhere else either way.

Sleep enveloped you in its embrace for the second time that night. John's cocoon of safety and warmth clinging tight to you like you'd never felt before. How had you ever slept without this? Without him? Oh that's right, you hadn't. Sleep was rare for you nowadays, it had been for a long time actually. The longer you went without having someone to pull against you, or to pull you against them, the worse you slept.

You'd been so devoid of this intimacy for so long it was a miracle you even found comfort in it anymore. Honestly it was a bit of a surprise that you weren’t trying to pry yourself away from him. Maybe you hadn’t known it but you were so touch starved even the part of your mind that told you to keep your distance craved even the smallest touch from him. Peace radiated through you, the pleasantness of his sudden wakeup call still coursing through you warmly. It was fading slowly, you could see the bad thoughts slowly trying to creep towards the light of that dying fire now.

God though, this had to be heaven at this very moment. As close as you would ever get to it anyway. This was the touch of an angel, that was what this Brit possessed and it made part of you begin to worry that you would corrupt him. You couldn't handle doing that to anyone else, not again. No one loved you, and you kept everyone away, it was the way of your world, a solid fact even if it did sometimes become lonely it didn't matter. It wasn’t your happiness that mattered if you cared about someone else, it was theirs. Everything you touched you destroyed, you'd heard it over and over and over again your entire life. And the one thing that scared you more than anything else in the world at that moment was that you'd do it to John too.

Everyone your whole life had told you that you wrecked everything. That you broke it down so completely there was nothing left to even attempt to fix. Like when the tractor's engine had overheated while you were using it and your Dad had smacked you over the back of the head for not realizing it before you'd blown the head gasket. Even at twelve years old you'd been a force of destruction. You should have known not to drive the tractor that long but you'd forgotten to ask. Hell you'd nearly put your family into debt that year trying to keep the whole farm running without the help of a tractor. The work that summer had been back-breaking. Your dad had you pulling you twice the hours of your other siblings, but you couldn’t blame him. It was your fault that yall had been in that mess.

That hadn't been your only fuck up though, it hadn't even been your worst. When you'd missed your daughter's first ever solo choir performance, now that had been a mission you wished you had never come back from. Wished you hadn’t had to see the heartbreak written on your little girl’s face the second your work phone had lit up. You had promised her, promised your baby girl you'd be there for her. And then you'd gotten the call and you watched as she broke down, begging you not to go. Crying and pleading with you relentlessly to be there for her just this one time. Your wife could have done that for hours and you merely would have been exhausted, but seeing your daughter doing the same thing had nearly broken you.

Your wife had just stood there watching and refused to help. Refused to pull your daughter's arms off of your neck, or even to move her out of the way so you could back out of the driveway. It had broken your heart and your relationship with the only lights in your life at the time. Both her and your son had rarely talked to you after that, even when you’d come back broken and nearly dead they hadn’t afforded you the time of day. That had been the straw that broke the camel's back. And when you came home you ended up having to watch your daughter crying in her room while your wife screamed that you had done this to her. God you still felt the sting of her nails in your neck after she'd nearly clawed your skin to shreds that night, not giving a care in the world to the bruises that littered your skin.

There were so many good things you had ruined, so many relationships and people, it felt almost irresponsible to take that risk with John as well. Even the ones you cared about you’d destroyed so completely. And John? He was different, he was, well he was important, more than anyone else you’d met in the past two years, that was for sure. How could you stand to hurt him? To make him think that the job, that your work, mattered more than him? You couldn’t take seeing him cry because you had to leave again and again and again, and you were never there when he needed you.

That risk weighed on you heavily, altering your dreams even as that cocoon of safety pushed them back as best it could. Nothing was indestructible though, not even the comfort John provided. The thoughts made it through the safety net, clouding your mind not in nightmares but in disheartening unpleasantness. Somehow that was worse, you’d rather have been forced to watch tragedy strike over and over again than have the highlight reel of your worst moments playing on repeat in your mind. The reminders that you weren't good, that you'd done so much bad in this world, and that John deserved so much better floated around in your subconscious thoughts. He deserved the world and you couldn't have even given him a pebble you'd found at the edge of a lake without somehow managing to blacken his soul with it.

You were a sickness, an impurity in the diamond that was earth that should anyone have ever tried to grade it, it never would have made it above an i3. You were the inclusion so big and disgusting that it was visible even to the naked eye. The cloud and indents were your heart and mind and not a reputable vendor in the world would have tried to market you to anyone. John deserved someone flawless. Someone who wasn't turned so easily into a wreck as you had been yesterday by something as stupid as a few lost items. He deserved to have someone to cry on, not to have someone breaking apart on him. John deserved someone pure, someone loving, someone who wasn't broken and cracked and falling to pieces already. He deserved a blank slate where he could write his name without having to see the names of those who had come before to shatter the delicate ceramics of your heart.

You didn't deserve him. How could you ever hope to live up to what this man truly deserved. You could never do anything to be worthy of the kindness he'd already shown and you certainly could never repay it. He was better than you. So much better than you. There was no simpler way to put it, you didn't deserve him. And he certainly didn't deserve to have to deal with you.

A sudden shift underneath you jostled you awake. Rough fingertips ran over the skin of your cheek and you blinked open your eyes, trying to clear them as streaks lined your vision. It wasn't just bleariness that was clouding them though. You felt the patch of wetness beneath your cheek. When did you start crying? John was holding your face in his hands, looking up at you with concern and confusion in his eyes.

His thumb ran over your cheek to wipe away the tears as he frowned down at the sight of you once more crying in his presence, "What's wrong?" Well this was embarrassing beyond belief. Two times in less than twenty four hours, really? Get it together Speck. The man had already let you cry yourself to sleep the day before, then he'd woken you up in the middle of the night to give you the best early morning, or was it late night, head of your life. Yet here you were still bawling like a little bitch. When your eyes shut and you tried to hide your face back in the pillow and the curve of his neck, his hand at your jaw stopped you cold. He drew your eyes back to his face and shook his head before whispering, "Tell me. I'm here to listen, whatever you need, Love."

Well that only made it ten times worse. A fresh well of tears were making their way to your eyes and before he could see them you reached a hand up and pulled him down towards you. Your mouth found his hungrily, needing him so completely your entire chest hurt at the thought of not having him. The tip of your tongue teased at his lips and you felt him rut against you in response, unable to stop the reaction after denying himself his own release earlier. You sighed at the feeling of his still covered length grinding against your own naked one.

Your bodies were so entwined as he rolled your both over it was hard to tell where one began and the other ended. All you knew was that your arms were wrapped around his neck pulling him into you with one leg thrown over his hip so he could keep dragging his needy erection over yours. Vaguely you knew one of his hands had traveled down to grope at the plump flesh of your ass while the other hand was against your face, but it barely even registered. His slow grinding against your hips was already driving you mad with desire. Sweat was beading up along your flesh as the heat of the rising sun caught in the room and even the thin sheet was becoming too much.

A finger slid between your cheeks, grazing over the tight entrance he had neglected to fill earlier. Your hips pushed back of their own accord and he smiled against your mouth as he massaged your entrance with a few quick circles before sliding the tip of a rough finger inside of you. A quiet sigh left you before he whispered, "So tight for me, Love. Always so tight for me, yeah?" You nodded vigorously in answer, his mouth a hair's breadth away from yours. He was done pampering you though it seemed as his whispers turned into a quiet growl, "I asked you a question, don't make me repeat it." Oh yeah, you'd forgotten about that. He liked to hear you, your quiet nods weren't going to cut it this time around.

Tilting your head forward to press your forehead to his, your answer danced over his skin, "Always for you. Only ever for you, Angel," he went still the second the word fell from your mouth and you felt your heart stop just as suddenly. You'd messed up. Ah shit, why in the hell did you say that? That's not what he wanted to hear, that was absolutely the last thing he wanted to hear. Always, how do you always do this, Speck? You always fu-

His mouth surged forward eagerly, tying the two of you into another kiss. Passionate and not only wanting but needing to feel your sincerity, your warmth. His tongue slid against yours, the hairs of his mustache scratching against your upper lip and nose, though by now after more than a few days of growth on your face you knew your own beard was beginning to return the favor. Especially when you felt him twitch his nose at the sensation. When he pulled away taking in deep breaths you caught a bright smile as he ducked his head, pressing his whole body forward to bury his red face against your skin.

A laugh fell out of him and you felt his face burning with heat against your neck, his lips pressing into your skin. Finally you asked, "What?" He just let out another light chuckle and shook his head against you, his arms locking you in place against him. Lips suckled at your neck greedily even as your own face heated up with embarrassment. "What's wrong John? What did I do? I'm-I'm sorry I didn't mean-" The brunette pulled back watching you with those still squinted and smiling eyes as he shook his head at you. Stopping your thoughts with another, shorter kiss.

When he pulled away he was still smiling when he managed an answer, "Nothing's wrong, sweetheart." His eyes fell and you saw his beard twitching as he fought to control some kind of reaction. Finally he turned those impossibly blue hues back up to you still smiling wider than you'd ever seen from him, "Can you call me that again?" Your head tilted in confusion as you watched his nearly giddy face.

What did he mean? Was he talking about, "Angel?" His eyes closed as you said the word before he was ducking his red face again, burying his face in your shoulder as he rolled the two of you until you were pressed underneath his weight. "Oh you like being called Angel then, Captain?" You felt him laugh lightly against the slick skin of your shoulder before he nodded. "Alright then, noted, Angel," you felt him shift as he pushed up on his elbows again. His hands grabbed at your cheeks as he stared down at you, like he was investigating the depths of your very soul. God he always brought some new level of intimacy that made you feel…special.

Intent, searching, entranced, captivated, you didn’t know what you were but you knew you liked it. You simply couldn't move, either of you. Watching one another as his thumbs ran over your cheekbones, mapping them out with the rough pads of his fingertips. Your fingers found his sides, running over the muscle between every rib and down to his hips, fingering the waistband of his underwear. The little smile that slowly formed on his face was mirrored by your own. He leaned down slowly, nose bumping into yours as his mouth teased barely an inch above your own. God he was always such a tease.

John needed to get on with this. You were getting impatient now and there was no telling how long you'd be able to keep yourself from absolutely begging for him. "Hey," his head tilted in response, inviting you to continue, "When are you gonna fuck me, Angel?" His tongue slid out of his mouth, running along his lips as he wet them and then his smile turned into a knowing smirk. His clothed hips grinded down into your own naked ones, drawing out a half lidded sigh of pleasure at the friction before his hand was reaching for the bedside table.

Those burning blue depths never left yours as he searched for the bottle he was looking for. Finally finding his query he sat back on his heels, affording you the sight of his glistening body slicked with sweat just as your own was. Your legs were framing his thighs and kept you from closing your legs as he gathered some lube on his fingers. When his fingers disappeared out of your sight you tensed up. It was something you couldn’t stop but he didn’t even seem to notice. The tips of his fingers grazed over your skin, sliding smoothly over the tight ring of muscle as he massaged at your entrance.

As your body relaxed he slowly pushed his finger inside you, earning him a low moan from you at the delicious feel of his digit dragging along your walls. Your cock jumped as you clenched around his intrusion and he smirked at the sight. Pulling his finger out he added a second, slowly working them inside you and scissoring diligently. When he added more lube and curled his fingers up he pressed against your prostate. You gasped at the sensation, abdomen tightening instinctively and your hand reaching for his forearm.

You leaned forward as you tried to sit up and reach for him but he stopped you before you could. John leaned down over you and pushed you back down into the mattress, his mouth finding yours as he continued to run his fingers over the sensitive nerves. Relentless in his desire to hear your quiet moans and needy whines. When his pace began to quicken and he added a third finger, your mouth opened in a silent plea for more, for him.

"Shh, Love," he whispered against your mouth as he leaned down over you. You sucked your bottom lip in-between your teeth in response, muffling the next moan as his fingers spread you again. Your hands groped blindly for him, finding his chest first and then his sides as you worked your way down, fingers ghosting over the scarred skin of his hip. Slowly you pushed at the waistband of his underwear, wanting to see him. To touch him. To feel the weight of him in your hand and for the love of God you needed him inside you.

A whine left you when his fingers slid out and you whispered, “No, please, I need more.” Your eyes were still half lidded tiredly as he reached a hand down to shove the waistband of his underwear down just enough to free his cock. The weight laid against your own erection as he thrusted slowly a couple times across your sensitive skin. Nevermind, you could wait, you could be patient. Precome dripped into the soft hair on your stomach, leaving a wet trail across your skin. Please good lord just get on with it, John. His head tilted and for a moment you wondered if he could read your mind.

Slowly you felt him sit back on his heels to guide himself down, the blunt tip running over your entrance slowly. You couldn't help but grind down towards him and he let out a light hiss of air as he felt your entrance graze over the tip of his member. Need had wrecked this man after denying himself the first time he'd woken you up. You doubted he would last long this morning. Especially with how hungrily his gaze was watching the way you opened around him as the tip pushed inside. The slight burn made you smile up at him lazily. He stopped as his head slid in and he let out a hard breath before looking up at your eyes.

That look, you recognized that look. You'd only ever seen it on him once before, all those months ago when he had laid you down in his bed and rewritten the entire makeup of your being. When he had gotten you addicted to him in not only just the way he felt seated fully inside you but how amazing he smelled even when he was sweaty and musky and the room smelled of sex. How his eyes burned every inch of skin they landed on. How his smile seemed to light up every neuron in your mind with something you had never even felt before. How his kisses and lightly suckling mouth soothed those scalding patches of flesh left behind by his scratchy beard. Christ the beard.

His hips jerked forward suddenly and you let out a loud groan that was bordering on a near scream. Ecstasy ran through every limb though as he hooked your legs up and over his shoulders before his hips drug backwards slowly. Oh no, not this. There was no way you could stand the slow yet heart racing fuck you knew he could provide, that he would provide. But God you'd missed this you had to admit. This is what had gotten you hooked on him that night. The rough fucks were good yeah but this…this was beyond perfection.

The slow rhythm was already driving you to the edge. No, not yet, too soon. Your stomach tensed, flexing hard and you saw his hand shoot down to the base of your length. A firm squeeze at the base as he stilled and your breaths were coming back in harsh gasp. "Not yet, Love. Let me have some fun with you, yeah?" You barely managed a nod and another breathy moan as his hand unwrapped from your length and ran across your lower stomach. Another deep, slow thrust and he was leaning down over you again.

John folded you in half, legs still hooked over each shoulder as he braced himself on his hands over the top of you. Suddenly his hips slammed flush with yours. His pace stayed agonizingly slow but every time he was about to thrust inside you his hips jolted forward striking home brutally. God he felt so big like this, the burn edging on the line between pain and pleasure. You could feel him brushing against your prostate with just about every stroke with those perfectly aimed thrusts of his and you knew this was going to be the end of you. He was too much, this man was going to burn you up body, mind, and soul.

How were you supposed to keep from cumming when he just kept doing- “Oh fuck,” you groaned as he grinded hard against your hips, pushing you up the bed and almost causing you to hit your head on the wall. “Please, I can’t wait-” he cut you off with a sloppily placed kiss as he resumed his brutal strikes deep within you. You were moaning into his mouth and his throat was producing the same damn noises. John was just as far gone as you always were. Just as close and just as ready.

The man above you was exploring your mouth with his tongue between desperate gasps for air. Your bodies were working together to reach a common goal. Pure fucking bliss. Every breath was in sync, every time you grinded your own hips towards him he was thrusting his own forward with a hard strike. He bottomed out and his face fell forward by yours, his mouth right against your ear as he whispered, “Cum for me, Love.” One of his hands dropped your leg and then found your length, pumping over your sensitive cock in time with every thrust. “Cum now,” your eyes shut tight at the words and instantly your body responded to his demand.

Pressure that had built up released like a snap of a rubber band. You painted both of your stomachs, abdomen tightening and chest heaving as the waves crashed over you. His thrusts never stopped, never even faltered as he fucked you through your high. The man didn’t even stop his hand stroking your cock, not until you groaned out and your eyes began to water. Your fingers reached desperately for his wrist and stopped his hand that was pumping quickly now.

His hand braced on the wall just behind your head then as he buried himself as deep as he could inside you and you felt his thrusts beginning to falter. When you opened your eyes he was already watching you with his mouth hanging open, his face red as he panted. You felt the twitch of his cock inside you, felt his pulse, and you didn’t need to see the need in his eyes to know it was there. He pulled out again and then slammed home, his hips moving faster as he chased his high.

Pulling him down to you, you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips that he tried to return but he merely groaned against your mouth barely a moment later. As you pressed another kiss against the line of his jaw following it up to his ear, burying his face against your neck before he started to suckle at the skin of your neck. Your breath fell out against the shell of his ear with one hand against the back of his head and the other against the swell of his ass. He was moaning into your neck now with need and you felt him falter again as you hooked your free leg behind him and helped to guide him inside you.

A low whisper came out of your mouth against the skin of his ear, “Cum for me, Angel. Let me see the face you make,” you pulled his face back out of your neck, hands cupping his cheeks as you watched his eyes close and the veins of his neck pop as he clenched nearly every muscle in his body. Then you felt the warm spray against your walls as he emptied inside of you, his mouth opening in a quiet groan.

His voice let out a quiet whimper as he rutted up into you in shallow thrusts riding himself through his orgasm as you still helped to guide him with the leg currently wrapped around him and the fingers digging into the flesh of his ass. When you clenched around him he hissed aloud and his head tipped forward, burying his face in your neck. Rough teeth scraped against your bare skin as he tried to come down from the intense high currently coursing through him. His chest still heaving against you and his breath coming in hard pants against your skin.

He released your thigh that he still had hitched up around his shoulder and it fell stiffly back to the bed as your muscles unwound from the tension of being folded up like a lawn chair. You’d never known you were so flexible until you’d met John. Your body would have done anything he asked of it, you were certain.

When he slid out of you it was obscene the mess you could feel dripping out of your used hole. Not another soul alive could make you do the things he had. Hell not a soul alive had ever removed you so completely of inhibitions and made you want to do what you did with him. Your hands were running through the hairs at the back of his head with gentle fingers as you whispered quietly to him.

For once it was him on the brink of consciousness and not you. John was completely out of it with his body laid out across yours and suffocating you in the growing heat of the room. The man was working completely off of instinct at this point it felt like. You couldn’t have cared less though. It was John on top of you. It was John who was currently breathing heavily in your ear and kissing at the sensitive spot just behind it while you whispered words dripping like honey in his ear.

His hips still were rutting into the mattress as if he was already trying to get ready for another round even though you could tell that he was well and truly fucked out right now. “It’s ok, Angel, I’ve got you,” your hands trailed down his back lightly and he sighed against your skin. The tip of his nose grazed over the side of your throat. You could tell he was starting to finally come back to himself when his mouth turned up in a smile against your neck.

Slowly his arms wrapped around your back rolling you over to your side as he settled back on the mattress and tucked you into his side. There was a satisfied smile that turned up the corners of his mouth, his entire face seemingly lit up in the blissful post-orgasmic haze he was currently in. You watched him while his eyes were closed, his thumb running over the curve of your shoulder and as he did you felt the beginnings of your own smile spreading over your face, just as warmth spread through you that wasn’t just the growing heat of the room.

Your hand splayed across the expanse of his chest just in front of your face as you played your fingers through the soft, dark hairs there. A deep hum resonated through him at the touch and you felt him shift against you before he propped his head up with one hand behind his head. The silence in the room was peaceful, just as the natural light coming in through the window was.

A scene from a storybook, that’s what the two of you were. Your bodies were still slick with sweat while you were naked laying against his own barely clothed form. Hell he still hadn’t even tucked himself away yet, the waistband of his underwear just barely pushed down his thighs and over the curve of his ass. Slowly your hand went still against his skin and your eyelids grew heavier as you lapsed into another light nap.

Light streamed into the already semi-lit room pulling you out of the short rest you’d been allotted. Then a familiar Scottish voice broke through the barrier of yours and John’s privacy, jolting you out of the peaceful moment you’d just been sharing, "Price wake up we have a problem. No one can find-" A scream echoed around the bunkhouse as both your gaze and John's flew to the now open door and the dark-haired man currently staring wide eyed in horror and shock a few steps inside of it.

In an instant the brunette beside you was cursing wildly at the Scotsman and pulling his underwear back up into place before he scrambled for the sheets tangled at the bottom of the bed. “What the- Soap what in the fuck are you!?” John was immediately yelling at the young man. In response you rolled to your stomach and shot a quick look in the Scotsman’s direction. The sheets pulled up around your body as John scrambled to cover your naked body for you. All it really did though was tangle around your legs and just barely cover the curve of your backside and the absolute mess that the Brit had made there.

"Johnny!" A worried voice came from just outside the door right before Ghost barreled into the room as well with Ceberus at his side with his lead clipped onto his collar. Oh good Lord it just keeps getting better and better huh? Even from here you could see the Lieutenant's blank and blinking stare as he began to process the scene before him. Well at least until Soap's hand shot up to cover those hazel eyes in an attempt to maintain Ghost’s innocence. Now what innocence that man possessed was a mystery to you, you’d heard what they said to each other while they were doing the same damn thing you and John had just been doing. And it was a lot worse than what you and your Brit said in bed.

Just as quickly as Soap’s hand shot to cover his eyes, you watched a black glove with a skeleton pattern settle in front of Cerberus' eyes even as the dog attempted to move towards you. “Steamin’ Jesus mate, yer geein’ me the boak,” the Scotsman made a gagging noise and tried to force his eyes away but something seemed to occur to him just when he did. Soap blinked between both of you as his eyes trailed down your flesh and stopped where the sheets were just barely covering you.

Suddenly the man gasped in shock as his eyes widened and his mouth opened wide, "That's it! I remember ya now!" You glanced at his pointing finger, almost looking like there was an accusation in his gaze. What the hell was he talking about? Price’s eyes shot to you nervously as he slid to the edge of the bed.

"Get out!" John’s voice was higher in pitch than you’d ever heard before while Soap was still pointing and shaking his head. The man wasn’t listening to a damn word anyone else was saying. His attention focused completely on you. While you were currently laying naked in the Captain’s bed with only a sheet between their prying eyes and the evidence of what had transpired a few minutes ago.

Ghost peeked around the hand still in front of his eyes and you saw the glare at your naked form even from here, "How the fuck do you know him?" Narrowed eyes shot to the Scotsman then almost with an accusation in them. You couldn’t really blame the Lieutenant, it was weird that it’d taken any of them this long to actually remember you from the bar. It was especially weird that it took you getting naked and absolutely wrecked for someone to finally figure it out though. However Soap was in full detective mode now and he was none the wiser to the angry look coming from the big man behind him or the waves of frustration currently pouring off of his Captain.

He started forward towards the both of you as John scooted up the bed blocking Soap’s view of your face with his almost naked form. "That was you,” he was near shouting at this point as his mind worked and he clarified, “At the bar! The one Price was always watching and whining about. Ye remember Lt," the Scotsman glanced back to gesture between you and Price before returning his gaze to you. "When he was blootert, man would always go on about how he wanted ta fu-" Before the Scot could finish the sentence the pillow you’d been laying on flew out from under your head and into his face, smacking him with a loud thwack!

Soap recoiled from the hit before finding his Captain’s gaze and the dark anger that had settled there. "I said get the fuck out Sergeant," his voice was dangerously low. His eyes turned to Ghost next, "You too Lieutenant, get out of here. Now." Blue eyes flared with nervousness as he watched his Captain before taking a couple steps back to stand beside Ghost again.

The Scotsman glanced your way, just barely catching your eyes around John’s tense form. Just before the Lieutenant, who you could have sworn was smirking underneath that mask, asked, “You want the dog back?” Price was on his feet in a moment as the two started to take off. You watched as they shoved one another towards the door in their haste, dragging your poor dog along behind them.

Price leaned down to grab the pillow off the floor, his eyes shooting up to the two again as Soap stated, “Ya know Cap, good on ya, mate. You’ve been needing a goo-” The big man grabbed the Sergeant’s arm as he jerked him out of the way of another thrown pillow. Soap disappeared around the frame of the door, his loud cackles audible even from where you were still laying in bed.

John stalked towards the door, leaning his head out to yell after them, “Stay out of my bloody room!” The door slammed shut in front of him and you watched as his chin tilted down to let his forehead rest against the smooth wood, shaking his head slowly. You threw the sheets off of you now that the two intruders were gone and slid to the edge of the bed. Standing up you made your way over to him, your brows furrowing with worry when he didn’t turn around to meet you. It was almost as if he was trying to calm himself down after being caught in bed with you.

Slowly your arms wrapped around his torso, your chin resting on his tense shoulder, the sound of your beard scratching against his skin audible and making you file away a quick note that you needed to shave. The second you touched him though it was like his tension began to melt away with your warmth flooding into him. Your fingers interlocked over his stomach, pulling him backwards against you as he let himself go for a moment. Accepting your quietly comforting gestures.

It was a foreign feeling this. There’d never been anyone you had willingly wanted to comfort before. Sure you’d played your role, and you had played it well in times when you had needed to. Like when your ex-wife’s grandmother had passed and she’d needed a shoulder to cry on. This though, it wasn’t anything you felt like you had to do. It wasn’t like you knew John would scream and slap and claw at your heart and skin for not doing it. Hell he probably didn’t even expect it from you with how closed off you typically were around others.

This was something you wanted to do, and not just for yourself but for him. You raised up on the balls of your feet and turned your face to press a quick kiss to his cheek before settling back flat on the floor, your chin still resting comfortably on the apex of his shoulder. Watching the side of his face you saw his chin finally lift again before he turned to find your gaze. “I’m sorry about that. I didn’t think they’d go looking for you so fast. I thought we had more time this morning." His typically upturned features were shrouded in something you couldn't quite pinpoint. The corners of his mouth turned down, the usual crinkle at the corners of his eyes had disappeared.

Your hands released him before you turned him around to study his face carefully. "Don't be sorry, Angel," you whispered with a good natured smile that for once wasn't brought about by some instinctual need for politeness or some kind of joke. It was genuine. And God it felt so fucking good. Reaching for his face your fingers ran through his beard and your palm cupped his cheek before your smile widened and you tacked on, “Not your fault they don’t know how to knock.”

There was a humorous snort from the man before he shook his head again and leaned his face into your touch. “They never learn. Trust me, Love, they never learn.” You sighed at that and then gave him a knowing nod, that was something you understood well. Slowly your arms wrapped around his waist, pressing him backwards into the door as you buried your face into his neck. His arms wrapped around your neck, his cheek scratching against your shoulder as he laid his face on it. Taking in a deep breath you let the smell of him coat your senses, floating out to sea on the wind of subtle cigar smoke and rich oaks.

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vanmccannsfridge · 11 months ago

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another van edit! blu shirt boy!

#listened to this song this morning and knew exactly what to do!#loveeee nieve ella sm she sings the song!! definitely check her out!#van mccann edit

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catb-fics · 1 month ago

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Speaking of signing official documents. If you look on Companies House at the accounts that were uploaded 16 Feb 2017 his name is printed as R McCann but that signature definitely says Van McCann 😂

https://find-and-update.company-information.service.gov.uk/company/OC399271/filing-history?page=2

Ha ha that is definitely sighed Van McCann… an imposter 😂

#catb asks

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homesickwhispers · 17 hours ago

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after he went (Away.)

- pt 4

(van mccann x reader)

5 years after the events of before he went (Away.) 🌸

We pulled up to Van’s parents' house just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm, golden glow over the familiar neighborhood.

Anya unbuckled herself as fast as she could, practically flying out of the car. Van laughed, reaching for her before she could dart up the steps alone.

“Hold on, little sprinter,” he called, catching her hand. “Let’s go together.”

I trailed behind them, taking a moment to soak in the sight of Van holding Anya’s tiny hand. The way he looked at her, so full of love and pride, made my heart ache in the best possible way. This felt different—like a step toward something I couldn’t quite name yet.

Before we even reached the front door, it burst open, and Mary appeared with open arms and a beaming smile. “There she is! My brave, tooth-losing girl!” she exclaimed, crouching down as Anya ran to her.

Anya grinned, showing off the gap in her teeth. “Look, Grandma! It fell out!”

“Oh my goodness, look at that!” Mary gasped, cupping Anya’s face. “You’re growing up so fast! Come inside, sweetheart. Grandpa’s waiting to hear all about it.”

Anya tugged Mary’s hand, already chattering away about her tooth, leaving Van and me standing side by side on the doorstep. He glanced at me, and there was something almost shy in his expression.

“She’s grown so much,” I whispered to Van, my voice soft with emotion. “She doesn’t even call her grandma ‘Nana’ anymore…”

Van chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “Remember when she had the ‘calling us by your names’ phase?”

“Oh my god,” I laughed, shaking my head. “That was terrible! She probably felt so grown up calling you Van instead of Daddy!”

Van smirked, clearly amused. “Yeah, I definitely didn’t feel very fatherly in those moments.”

“By the way…” he started “Thanks for letting me be part of this,” he said, his voice low. “I didn’t realize how much I missed these dinners.”

I touched his arm gently. “You belong here, Van,” I said softly. “With us. Always.”

He didn’t say anything for a moment, just looked at me with a mixture of gratitude and something deeper. Finally, he gave a small nod, and we stepped inside together.

Inside, the house was alive with the comforting smells of Mary’s cooking: roasted vegetables, warm bread, and something sweet, probably a pie cooling in the kitchen. Anya was already perched on her grandfather’s lap, her excitement contagious.

Van’s dad, Bernie, looked up as we walked in. “Well, there’s my boy! And the lovely (Y/N)” he greeted, his voice warm and welcoming. “Glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for having us,” I replied, my smile genuine. The familiarity of it all washed over me, grounding me in the moment.

Mary bustled back into the living room, wiping her hands on her apron. “Dinner’s almost ready,” she announced. “But first, tell me all about your tooth, Anya!”

As Anya launched into a detailed story, I found myself catching Van’s eye. We shared a smile, both of us soaking in the coziness of the evening.

We settled in around the dinner table, plates heaped with food and laughter filling the air. Anya sat between her grandparents, and I could hear her little legs swinging excitedly under the table. The warmth of the meal, the familiar chatter of his parents, and the joy on Anya’s face made it hard not to feel sentimental.

Van reached for my hand under the table, a simple, steady touch. When I looked at him, his eyes were soft and full of something unspoken—something that made me feel both vulnerable and secure.

“Thank you,” he said again, so quietly that only I could hear. “For letting me try again.”

As dinner went on, the evening unfolded with an ease I hadn’t felt in ages. Anya was the star of the night, eagerly telling her grandparents every detail about her lost tooth, from the moment it wobbled to the exact way it finally came out. Bernie listened intently, nodding along and throwing in exaggerated reactions that made Anya giggle uncontrollably.

Van watched them with a soft smile, his arm resting on the back of my chair. Every so often, his fingers would graze my shoulder, a subtle but grounding gesture that reminded me he was right there beside me.

Mary turned to me at one point, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “(Y/N), how have things been for you lately? I hear you’ve been busy.”

I nodded, setting down my fork. “Yes, work has been non-stop, but it’s fulfilling,” I said, glancing over at Van. “And of course, keeping up with Anya is a full-time job in itself.”

Van chuckled. “She’s definitely keeping us on our toes,” he agreed, his voice warm. “But we’re managing, right?”

I looked at him, feeling the connection between us in that shared moment. “Yeah,” I said softly. “We are.”

Mary’s gaze softened, and she exchanged a look with Bernie, one that spoke volumes. There was something about the way they watched us, like they were holding onto hope and relief, like maybe they had been waiting for this moment as much as we had.

“Van,” his dad called, breaking the silence, “how’s work going for you?”

Van straightened a little, running a hand through his hair. “It’s good. We’re working on some new projects,” he said, and there was a familiar spark of excitement in his eyes. “I might even have something to show soon.”

Mary clapped her hands together. “Oh, we’d love that! It’s been too long since we heard you play.”

Van’s smile grew. “Maybe we can have a little performance sometime soon,” he said, giving Anya a playful nudge. “Right, Anya? Would you want to play something too?”

Anya’s eyes widened with delight. “Yes, Daddy! Can we play music together?”

I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of them, the pure joy on Anya’s face and the pride in Van’s expression. It was moments like these that made everything worth it.

Dinner slowly wrapped up, and Mary stood to start clearing the table. I moved to help her, but she waved me off. “No, no, you sit and relax,” she insisted. “You’ve been working too hard.”

I laughed. “Okay, but just for a bit,” I said, settling back in my chair. Van got up to help his mother instead, and I watched him, feeling a mix of admiration and affection.

Bernie turned to me, “(Y/N), dear.” his voice quiet enough so only I could hear. “You remember that talk we had a few years ago?,” he said.

“Yeah, I do.” I looked at him, and there was something sincere in his eyes, a recognition of everything Van and I had been through.

He nodded slowly. “Thank you for listening to me and giving him another chance…Van’s lucky to have you,” he said. “And so are we.”

His words touched something deep in me, and I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat. “Thank you,” I whispered, feeling the weight of it.

Van returned to the table, and Bernie shifted the conversation to something light and funny, making Anya giggle again. But for a moment, I let myself linger in that feeling—the sense of belonging, of hope, of a future I could finally imagine.

“Let’s go, big girl,” I said after thanking Bernie and Mary, reaching for Anya’s hand. “It’s almost bedtime, and the tooth fairy is waiting!”

Her eyes widened with excitement, and she scrambled off her chair. “Oh, we need to go!” she said urgently, making both Van and me smile.

We took Anya upstairs, her tiny hand gripping mine as she babbled about her tooth and the magic that awaited her. Once we were in the bathroom, I helped her into the shower, making sure the water was warm and gentle. Anya tilted her head back as the water ran down her face, her thoughts clearly swirling.

“Mommy,” she said, her little voice thoughtful, “can the tooth fairy be a man?”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, taken aback by her question. “What, baby?” I asked, rinsing shampoo from her hair. “Why do you ask that?”

Anya shrugged, her big eyes serious. “I don’t know. I was just thinking about how she would look.”

I smiled, wrapping her in a soft towel as I lifted her from the tub. “Well,” I said, thinking it over, “I suppose the tooth fairy could look like anything you want. But I always imagined her as very pretty, just like your dolls. Maybe with wings and sparkles.”

Anya’s eyes lit up, her imagination running wild. “Oh, I like that! Do you think she has a sparkly dress too?”

“Absolutely,” I said, drying her hair gently. “And maybe she leaves a trail of fairy dust wherever she goes.”

Anya giggled, her laughter filling the room. I glanced over my shoulder and found Van standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. He had that look on his face—the one that made my heart squeeze. It was a mix of pride, nostalgia, and something unspoken, something we both felt but never quite put into words.

“Ready to help Daddy set up your tooth?” I asked Anya, handing her over to Van. “He’s got a special spot picked out for it under your pillow.”

Van caught her in his arms, lifting her effortlessly and making her giggle all over again. “Alright, little one,” he said, his voice playful. “Let’s get this tooth situation sorted so the fairy can work her magic.”

I followed them into Anya’s bedroom, where Van was already helping her into her pajamas. The room was warm and inviting, with soft nightlights casting a golden glow across the walls decorated with hand-painted stars and moons.

“Where do you think the best spot is, Daddy?” Anya asked, holding up her tiny tooth wrapped in tissue paper. Her eyes were wide with anticipation.

Van put on a serious expression, pretending to think hard. “Hmm,” he said, tapping his chin. “The tooth fairy is very clever, so we’ll need to make sure she can find it easily. What about right in the middle of your pillow?”

Anya nodded eagerly. “Yes! Right there.” She slid the tiny parcel under her pillow, patting it carefully as if that would make it extra secure.

I sat down on the edge of her bed, smoothing out her damp hair. “Are you ready to sleep now?” I asked softly.

She wiggled a little, still buzzing with energy. “Mommy, what does the tooth fairy do with all the teeth?” she asked, looking between me and Van.

I glanced at Van, who grinned. “Oh, that’s a good question,” he said. “I think she uses them to build a magical castle.”

Anya’s eyes grew even bigger. “A castle?”

“Yup,” Van continued, his voice full of wonder. “A beautiful, sparkling castle made of teeth from all the brave kids like you. Each tooth shines like a star, and it’s the most magical place you could ever imagine.”

Anya let out a little gasp of amazement. “I want my tooth to be part of the castle!”

I smiled, brushing a kiss across her forehead. “It will be, baby. Now close your eyes, and when you wake up, the tooth fairy will have come to visit.”

She finally settled under her covers, hugging her Barnie close. “Goodnight, Mommy. Goodnight, Daddy.”

“Goodnight, sweetheart,” Van and I said in unison, sharing a small, knowing smile.

We both stood quietly in the doorway for a moment, watching her drift off. Her breathing evened out, and the excitement of the day melted away into peaceful sleep.

Van turned to me, his voice hushed. “She’s growing up so fast.”

I nodded, feeling a pang of nostalgia. “I know,” I whispered. “It feels like just yesterday she was taking her first steps.”

Van leaned closer, his shoulder brushing mine. “You’re doing an amazing job with her, you know,” he said. There was something so sincere in his voice that it made me pause, looking up at him.

“We are,” I corrected gently. "Think I have time for a shower before we work our fairy magic?" I teased.

"Yeah, of course, love, take your time.” Van said, settling onto our bed.

I stepped into the cold shower, hoping to calm my nerves. It was always the best way to clear my mind, especially after a long day. As I stepped out to dry off, I realized my towel was missing.

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath.

"Um... Van?" I called hesitantly.

"Yeah, love?" he replied from the other side of the room.

"Can you... grab my towel, please? It's the red one."

"Just a minute, baby," he said, and I heard him rummaging around. Moments later, he knocked softly and cracked the door open. "Found it," he said.

But as he handed it over, his eyes caught a glimpse of my body. His cheeks flushed, and he immediately looked away. "Shit, sorry, love," he stammered, shutting the door quickly. "Didn't mean to see that."

I felt my own face heat up, but I managed a soft laugh. "It's okay," I said, trying to sound casual. "It's not like you haven't seen it before, right?"

Van paused for a moment before he spoke again, his voice a little rougher than usual. "Yeah, I suppose you're right," he said, his tone shifting slightly, like he was trying to regain his composure.

I wrapped the towel around myself and stepped out into the room, meeting his gaze. His eyes lingered on me for a second longer than I expected, before quickly darting away, like he was suddenly unsure what to do with himself.

“Are you okay?” I asked, noticing the discomfort written all over his face.

“No... I mean, yes!” He rushed out, running a hand through his hair. “Yes, I’m fine. It’s just... wow, you drive me crazy and you don’t even notice it.” He chuckled, but I could hear the tension in his voice.

I couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Van, you sleep next to me every night. You saw me give birth. And this is what drove you crazy?”

“It’s different…” He trailed off, glancing down at his hands. “It’s been five years, (Y/N). I just... I don’t know.”

I knew exactly what he meant. It had been five years since we’d last been intimate, that one time after Anya was born. And after that night, I promised myself that Van would be my partner in every way—except in bed. The emotional bond was there, but the physical part? That had been harder to navigate.

“I know,” I said softly, my voice barely a whisper. I didn’t want to push him, but I also didn’t want to pretend like the past five years hadn’t been an uncomfortable mix of want and hesitation for both of us.

There was a quiet moment between us, the kind where you could hear each other’s breathing, feel the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

Van shifted a little, his eyes meeting mine again. “I just don’t know how to... fix it, you know? It’s like there’s this wall between us.”

I sighed, gripping the towel a little tighter as I sat down on the chair in front of him.

“Van…” I started, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?” He asked, his eyes hopeful, like he was waiting for me to say something that would lift the weight between us.

“Honestly… when we started this whole “living together” thing, I… I didn’t even know if we’d ever have sex again.” The words felt heavy as I said them, like a confession I wasn’t ready to make, but it was the truth.

Van nodded slowly, his lips pressed together, his expression growing serious. He wasn’t angry, but I could see the tension in his jaw, like he was holding something back.

“I’m trying,” I said, my voice trembling a little as I looked down at my hands. “I really am. Look at how much progress we’ve made. I just… it’s so fucking hard to give myself to you that way.”

The silence between us felt thick and suffocating. I wasn’t sure if he understood, or if he was just trying to process it all, but I could feel his presence in the room, and I didn’t want to pull away from him anymore. But every time I thought about taking that step, it felt like I was facing a mountain I couldn’t climb.

Van didn’t speak right away, and I couldn’t tell if he was hurt or just trying to make sense of everything I had just said. His eyes stayed on mine, searching, like he was waiting for me to give him something more.

“I don’t want you to feel pressured,” he said quietly after a moment, his voice soft, yet firm. “I just want you to feel safe with me. And I know it’s been a long time, but I’m not going anywhere. Whenever you’re ready, we’ll take it at your pace.”

I looked at him quietly, watching as his fingers fidgeted with his ring. The small motion felt like it spoke volumes—like he was nervously playing with something that had deeper meaning.

"Do you remember when you put Anya to sleep a few days ago?" I asked, my voice soft.

"Yeah... why?" Van replied, his gaze lifting to meet mine, his curiosity piqued.

"I asked you to tell her a love story… and you told her about us," I said.

Van's expression softened, but there was a slight blush creeping across his cheeks. He fiddled with his ring again, avoiding my gaze for a moment. "Yeah, I did," he said shyly.

I took a deep breath, shifting in my seat as I gathered my thoughts. "Did you think... you would have fallen in love with me if it wasn't for Anya?"

Van paused. For a moment, I could see him searching for the right words, the weight of my question hanging in the air between us. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and sincere. "I... I don't know," he confessed. "I was a shithead when we met, (Y/N). I was always stoned, and I treated everyone badly. I was hooking up with so many people, I barely remembered their names.."

I nodded, my lips pressing into a tight line. "I'm aware," I said, my voice tinged with the sting of truth.

There was a long pause before Van looked up at me, his eyes filled with regret. "I wasn’t the person I wanted to be back then," he said quietly. "But when Anya came into our lives... everything changed. She made me want to be better. Made me want to love better."

I swallowed hard, the knot in my throat tightening. It wasn’t just about the love we shared anymore—it was about everything we had built together, the family we were becoming. It was about forgiveness and growth. "And me?" I asked softly, my heart pounding in my chest. "Did I have anything to do with that?"

Van’s eyes softened, and he reached for my hand, his touch warm and comforting. "You had everything to do with that," he said, his voice steady. "From the moment I met you, something clicked, but I didn’t understand it until much later. You were the person I needed, whether I knew it or not. And now... now I can't imagine my life without you in it."

“I... I know I was an idiot,” Van admitted, his voice cracking slightly. “But I really wanted to marry you back then.” His eyes drifted to the ring on his finger, the one he always wore, a constant reminder of what we shared and what could have been. “You gave me my girl. You had the courage to keep the baby when I was being nothing but an ass to you. You had no family around, and your friends had no idea about Anya, you only had one person and I screwed up over and over again and I—I don’t think I’ll ever forgive myself for the way I let things happen.”

A pang of emotion gripped me, and I felt my throat tighten. “To be honest, it's still hard to believe you got us the rings and everything,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

Van gave a sad smile, his gaze never leaving the ring. “Yeah,” he murmured. “I thought having them would mean we’d always have a future together, that no matter what, we’d find a way back to each other.”

I looked at him, my heart aching at the vulnerability in his eyes. The years hadn’t erased the scars or the regrets, but they had deepened the love we shared, making it something more raw, more real.

“Well... we did find our way back to each other,” I said softly.

“Yeah, we did,” Van agreed, and I reached out to hold his hand. He squeezed it gently, his thumb brushing across my knuckles.

“This is not just about the sex, you know,” he continued, his voice calm but sincere. “It’s just... I feel like when you finally let yourself have this, you’ll be letting me back in, completely. Into every part of your life.”

Van’s eyes searched mine, filled with understanding. “I just want to be there for all of it. For everything you are and everything you’re feeling.”

I took a deep breath, the tension slowly easing. “Maybe we just have to keep trying,” I said. “One step at a time. I want to let you in, Van. Even if it’s a little more each day.”

His expression softened, a hopeful smile playing on his lips. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted,” he whispered. “To find our way back, together.”

“Do you want to... take another step now?” I asked, my voice low as I leaned in closer.

Van’s eyes searched mine, his expression soft yet serious, as if silently asking for permission. I nodded, my heart pounding, and he closed the distance between us, his lips brushing against mine in a gentle, hesitant kiss.

His hands cupped my face, and I melted into the moment. Yes, we had kissed once or twice since we started living together, but this... this was different. It wasn’t just a simple gesture of comfort or routine affection. It felt like the beginning of something deeper, a cautious unraveling of all the walls we had both built over the years.

I pulled back slightly, catching my breath, and looked into his eyes, seeing the same longing and hope that mirrored my own.

"Thank you," he said quietly, his voice full of sincerity.

I let out a soft chuckle. "You don’t need to thank me every time we kiss, you know.," I replied, trying to lighten the moment.

"Yeah, I do," he insisted, his gaze steady and warm. "I’m proud of you for letting me in. I know it’s not easy."

I sighed, feeling the tension and longing mixing together. "You’re making it hard to stay away," I admitted, my voice barely above a whisper.

His smile was gentle, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. "Then don’t," he murmured. He kissed me again then, more urgently this time, standing up from the bed and pulling me from the chair into his embrace.

I gasped at the sudden intensity of his touch, but he didn’t pull away. His lips were fervent against mine, and my towel barely stayed in place, slipping dangerously low. I let out a soft groan, my body trembling, and in that moment, Van paused.

He pulled back just enough to catch his breath, his eyes dark with longing. Gently, he reached down and adjusted the towel, pulling it back into place, his fingers brushing against my skin in a way that sent shivers through me.

“I’m sorry” he murmured softly, his voice thick with emotion. He cupped my face briefly, his thumb grazing my cheek. “I shouldn’t have done that. I’ll just… I’ll let you change,” he said, taking a step back, his body tense but his gaze full of care, determined to respect the boundaries we were still working through.

Van left the room, leaving me breathless. I could still feel the heat of his closeness, my body still shaking from the intensity of it all. His sudden touch had unsettled me, but it also made me realize how much my body wanted him. The battle between what my heart craved and what my mind was trying to control was overwhelming.

I quickly changed into my pajamas, trying to gather myself before going downstairs. When I walked into the kitchen, Van was already there, leaning against the counter.

"Hey," I said softly, my voice steady, though my heart was still racing.

"Hi," he replied, his tone shy, eyes avoiding mine for a moment.

I stepped closer, reaching out to gently touch his chest. "We're okay," I assured him, my hand resting there as I looked up at him. "It's okay."

Van’s gaze met mine, and for a moment, everything seemed to stop. "Yeah?" he asked quietly, his voice almost fragile.

"Yeah," I nodded, my smile small but sincere. "We're okay. I just... need some time. But I’m not pushing you away, I promise. And it’s natural that..you feel this way.”

He smiled softly, but I could see the uncertainty in his eyes. "I can wait," he said, his voice low but filled with certainty. "I’ll always wait for you."

I felt my heart swell a little at his words, even though I knew I had so much to work through. "I know, Van," I whispered. "I just need to figure some things out. It's not about you, it's me. I just need a little time to work through it."

He nodded, his face softening with understanding. "Take as long as you need," he said gently, his hand brushing against mine. "I’m not going anywhere."

I let out a small sigh, grateful for his patience. It was in these quiet moments—these small, shared exchanges—that I remembered how much we had both been through and how much we still had to go through together.

"Let's make our little one happy now, shall we?" I said, looking up at him with a soft smile.

The house was quiet, and the only sound was the soft creaking of the floorboards beneath our feet. As we reached the living room, Van pulled out his wallet, rifling through it until he found a crisp dollar bill.

“Think this will do the trick?” he asked, holding it up with a grin.

I nodded, leaning against the doorway with a soft smile. “Perfect. She’s going to be over the moon tomorrow morning.”

I laughed softly as he placed the bill in a small jewelry box we had found earlier. He added a sprinkling of glitter we had stashed away for crafts, making sure everything looked just right. The glitter sparkled in the dim light, and it almost did feel magical.

“Think the tooth fairy’s work is done for the night?” he asked, his eyes crinkling with a smile.

I nodded, the warmth returning to my heart. “Yeah, I think she did a pretty great job.”

We stood there a moment longer, side by side, before finally heading back to our room. The evening had been full of surprises, laughter, and a touch of magic—just like it used to be, and maybe, how it could be again.

As we quietly left Anya's room, we came back to our bed, slipping under the covers. Van caressed my hair gently as I adjusted my pillows.

"We made it, huh?" he said, his voice soft and satisfied.

"Can you believe it's almost been a month?" I asked softly, looking up at Van.

"Not really," he replied, his voice tinged with disbelief. "It's crazy, love. Our lives turned upside down so quickly."

"I know," I said, a knot tightening in my chest. "I still remember the day the news broke... it shattered me, Van. But I'm just so thankful she's safe."

Van’s hand gently squeezed mine as he stared ahead, the weight of our shared history hanging in the silence between us. "Yeah, it was hard. The press, the rumors... it felt like everything was crashing down around us. But we made it through."

"We did," I agreed, my voice barely a whisper.

I shifted closer to Van, my voice quiet. "I'm sorry about Lorenzo, by the way. I didn’t know he’d be here."

Van glanced at me with a slight grin. "What are you sorry for? You couldn't have predicted that."

I sighed, a little embarrassed. "I guess…I’m sorry for dating insufferable men.”

Van raised an eyebrow, a playful laugh escaping him. "Ouch, love."

"You deserved it," I replied with a grin, nudging him lightly. "But yeah, Lorenzo’s just... complicated. Thank you for not losing it with him though. And for making jokes about my ex, who would probably kick your ass in a fight."

Van chuckled, rubbing my back. "Hey, I’ve got thick skin. Besides, I like making you laugh more than anything. And speaking of that…He's kinda hot, isn’t he?” Van said, his tone teasing.

I rolled my eyes "Van!”

"What? I have eyes, (Y/N). I would never lie to you... the guy's good looking, love. You have taste.”

I grinned, leaning in a little closer. "Yeah, he kinda looks like he's photoshopped sometimes, it’s annoying…You should’ve seen him naked," I teased, watching Van's reaction.

"Now that's enough!" Van said, crossing his arms dramatically, a playful grin tugging at his lips. "I'm going to sleep imagining Lorenzo's perfect abs, aren't I?"

I burst out laughing, playfully smacking his arm. "Good luck with that, babe."

Van scoffed. "I swear, you always know how to mess with me, don't you?"

I laughed softly and leaned closer, brushing my hand across his chest. "You know I do, love. But seriously, you don’t have to worry about him. He’s my past... and you're my present. And future."

Van smiled, his lips softening as he pulled me closer. "I know that," he said, his voice more serious now. "But if it makes you feel any better, he’s got nothing on you."

“Oh, come on, you flirt,” I teased, nudging Van playfully. “He’s like a Greek god. I’m used to dating men hotter than me— I mean, look at you!” I grinned, throwing a wink his way.

Van raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. "Oh, really? Lorenzo’s a Greek god, huh? he said, striking a mock-serious pose.

I laughed, shaking my head. "Please, don’t let it go to your head. You’re hot too, but he’s got those abs that could probably stop traffic."

Van snorted, rolling his eyes. "I’ll have you know, my abs are just as impressive.”

I raised an eyebrow, teasing him further. "Oh, really? You want me to judge them? You know, in a totally objective way, of course."

Van grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. "I think I could be convinced…But seriously, love, what the hell did you two talked about?” Van asked, his tone dripping with disbelief. “He seems like he has the personality of a door…”

I couldn’t help but laugh. “Well… we didn’t exactly spend much time talking,” I teased, giving him a playful look.

Van rolled his eyes and threw his hands up in mock frustration. “Okay, we’re done with this conversation. Please, let’s forget about Lorenzo forever now.”

“Deal,” I said chuckling, while I kissed his cheek softly. “Should we sleep, then?” I asked, my voice a gentle murmur.

Van nodded, pulling the blankets up over us. “Yeah.”

I settled into his arms, the quiet of the night wrapping around us like a blanket. It didn’t matter what had happened before or what might come next. Right now, it was just us. And that was enough.

“Bet Lorenzo didn’t snuggle you like this,” he said, squeezing my waist gently.

I smirked, shifting closer to him. “Thought we had forgotten about him?”

Van chuckled, his hands tightening around me. “I’m just making him very jealous in my mind right now. He’s probably downing some terrible green juice while I get to cuddle the most beautiful woman in the world.”

I laughed softly, my fingers tracing the outline of his chest. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I know,” he replied, his lips brushing my forehead. “But it’s true. You’re incredible, and only I get to hold you like this.”

I let out a sigh, my head resting on his chest. “I’m glad you’re here with me.”

Van’s arms tightened around me, his voice a low murmur. “Always, love. Always.”

#catb fanfic #catb imagines #van mccann imagines #van mccann fanfic #van mccann x reader

2 notes · View notes

pygmypyncher · 1 year ago

Note

Hello, hope this is ok. Just to say how much I have enjoyed your writing for Bodies. Your writing is so beautifully detailed, and the internal nuances are delightful to wander amongst. I have read all TRC books, not my favourite, but I really like your fics, but Oh boy, I can see how your writing has developed since then. So, just a big thank you for writing all these pieces. (Do you have any recs for queer media that you have enjoyed?)

Thank you so much for messaging! It's really lovely of you to say!

Also very glad to hear my writing has come on since the TRC days! I was very proud of those fics at the time, and really do still think of them fondly, but I am aware of how much I've grown as a writer since then (hence the slight jumpscare this morning, for which I can only apologise!).

Queer media! Let me dredge my memories for a bit, and I will no doubt mention stuff you've heard of or watched/read already. There are doubtless SEVERAL things I've forgotten, as it is well past my bedtime, but if any glaring omissions occur to me I'll send them on! Shows: Recently I've really enjoyed Our Flag Means Death - you've probably at least heard of it (and as you've been looking at my AO3 you'll have seen I've written for it), and it's completely different from either TRC or Bodies tonally bc it is, in essence, a pirate sitcom, but there is honestly nothing so unashamedly and joyously queer out there at the moment. The fandom is a bit of a terrifying juggernaut, so I suggest treading neatly round the edges and delving into some absolutely top-tier fic (of which there is no shortage) if the whim takes you. On the other side of the pirate scale is Black Sails (DO NOT compare these directly they are very different beasts). Excellent story, very dark and gritty, great pay-off. Deadloch is another great show - Australian detective black comedy, filled to the brim with lesbians! The Haunting of Bly Manor is just a gorgeous ghost/love story with some brilliant characters. Feel Good is one of these unexpectedly heart-breaking sitcoms that I can't recommend enough even though it took me a year to build up the courage for a rewatch A League of Their Own (TV) is just brilliant, and i am GUTTED we're not getting a s2 I'm gonna stick Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries here too, bc even though it isn't actually all that queer (but it DOES have Miriam Margolyes, which definitely qualifies it), it's super camp and has what is possibly the only straight mc romance i've ever been invested in which is saying something Books: KJ Charles is a favourite of mine. She writes really great, quick-to-read queer historical romances that always have a great mystery and body count. The Will Darling Adventures (1920s pulp action-mystery with a romance between an ex-soldier who now runs a second-hand bookshop and a disgraced aristo) are my absolute favourites of hers, but everything she writes is very solid. I've also really enjoyed The Locked Tomb by Tamsyn Muir series so far - very complicated Space Opera, again chock-full of lesbians. Sex: Lessons From History by Fern Riddell is a really interesting non-fiction book about, shockingly, attitudes to sex through history, and takes a delightfully non-heteronormative approach to it that I wasn't expecting going in. As Meat Loves Salt by Maria McCann is an all-time favourite read of mine, but is quite challenging as the main character is Not The Greatest Guy and it does carry some hefty stuff and warnings. Girl Meets Boy and How to Be Both by Ali Smith are both just brilliant stories with some great Gender Stuff going on.

Like i say, I'm sure I've missed stuff! And it's a bit all over the place because, as well as replying to your AO3 comments too early this morning, I am now answering this too late at night. I am sorry, but can do nothing about it :P I hope this is a little bit helpful at least! <3

#vmcgmidlifecrisis #ask #answered #dammit i meant to answer this privately sorry #but can't undo it without deleting everything

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hotcinnamonsunset · 9 months ago

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okay jumping off of the tags in the ballerina/PT novel (💀) — do you have a your ballet media reclist? signed, former dancer and struggling 🩰

from one former dancer to another, let me tell you. the prospects are grim. (at least if you’re picky. which I definitely am.) (also after I reblogged that post I was already combing over my goodreads to see what ballet books I rated recently to see if they were as bad as I remember lol)

wordy meander below where I try to gather some thoughts coherently🩰:

my preferred type of fiction/writing style is more literary fiction as opposed to quippable “chick lit” (god I hate that term but I feel it gets the point across unfortunately) fiction - so I feel like that’s already a big ask of ballet fiction.

I also (as a former dancer) like there to be some depth to the ballet knowledge presented because I feel that most authors that take on ballet in fiction do it for the “expose the gritty underside of ballet” perspective and they just want to have a female lead that can be cute/little/girly/submissive/etc without even trying to understand that that simply isn’t what all dancers are like. that being said, I do find works where ballerinas just go off being fully unhinged is fun from time to time. ballet and perfectionism can make you do crazy things and the glass in pointe shoes myth didn’t stem from nothing.

furthermore, while I understand that people want to read romance, for some reason if a book is about ballet I want romance to be very inconsequential? maybe it’s because for me ballet is a kind of love that personally never mixed with romance or that there is so much to relationships between dancers that can be so much more engaging than some romance plot about choosing between love and dance or something but most authors don’t feel this way.

all that being said, it’s no small wonder that my rec list of good things is a bit hodge podge. (and sometimes I’ll read things regardless of how bad just because sometimes it’s soooo bad all I can do is laugh)

memoirs are always accurate and enjoyable, albeit obviously not fiction. although! Dancer by Columbia McCann is a fictionalized take on Rudolf Nureyev that reads quite nicely.

fiction really is a mixed bag and often there are ports of stories that’ll be okay even if on the whole it’s not quite up to snuff. like, the last ballet book I read a few weeks ago was The Turnout by Megan Abbott and while I wanted to strangle each of the main characters repeatedly and shake them and ask them why are you like this??? the author had an atmospheric quality to their writing about ballet studios that transported me back to the smells and groans and quirks of old buildings repurposed as dance studios so acutely that I felt more empathy towards the ballet studio in the book as a character more than anything else.

so anyways. according to goodreads some ballet fiction that I did enjoy includes Ballet Shoes by Noel Streatfeild, Swing Time by Zadie Smith, Up to This Pointe by Jennifer Longo as well as Filthy Animals and The Late Americans by Brandon Taylor, both of which aren’t ballet centric but have genuinely realistic dancer characters.

as for other media…I feel like most things I watch, unless it’s really captivating, go in one eyeball and out the other. that and I’m really bad at watching movies. as for ones I have seen and appreciated though - And Then We Danced is a top one that I can recall, Suspiria is insane but a romp nonetheless, Bird of Paradise is also a bit of a romp.

all this to say if you’ve made it this far I am always always open to recs and suggestions silly and serious because it really is a struggle out there for content like this and we’ve got to stick together.

#asks #dreamofpeppermints #ballet #please tumblr at large come at us with ballet recommendations!!!#thinking about dance movies and in my head it's a scale of cheesy Center Stage to psych horror Black Swan - i need more to fill it out a bi

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your-divine-ribs · 8 months ago

Text

In Good Hands Part 1

Words: 3.8k

Yet another AU! // Doctor/patient to lovers ❤️‍🩹

Warnings: no smut in this part as such but a very embarrassing and inappropriate reaction to a medical examination 😂

Imagines Masterlist Main Masterlist

"Mrs Parker."

You feel your gut clench as the receptionist calls a name, a small exhale of relief leaving you when it's not yours, your hands twisting, clenched in your lap. You shift in your seat, smoothing your short dress down over your thighs.

You're nervous, really nervous. Going to the doctors any time is bad enough, but this appointment had been really difficult to make. Every time you'd drummed up the courage to key in the number you'd ended the call before it had connected, but after yet another upsetting incident last week you'd finally come to the conclusion that enough was definitely enough.

You were in your twenties and had never had an orgasm, and it wasn't just that. Sex was downright uncomfortable, even painful at times. You'd had a few sexual partners, all of them steady relationships apart from one impulsive one-night stand a few years before, and bizarrely that particular encounter had been the closest that you'd ever come to feeling anything remotely resembling sexual satisfaction. For a long time you'd told yourself that you just hadn't met the right man yet and therefore you'd not felt comfortable enough to let yourself go, but recently you'd started to convince yourself that something was horribly wrong, that maybe you were damaged in some way. A hurtful comment from your latest boyfriend, something along the lines of "at first I thought you were just a frigid bitch, but now I know there's definitely something wrong with you" had been your breaking point. You'd slapped him hard and ordered him out of your bed and out of your life, but that hadn't solved everything. Now you were just unsatisfied and lonely, but you couldn't even think about getting back into the dating game until you'd had your health checked out and your confidence restored.

So here you are in the doctor's office, waiting nervously for your name to be called, hoping that you aren't wasting your kindly doctor's time.

"Miss Y/L/N."

Your heart skips a beat as the receptionist calls your name, her eyes scanning the waiting room until they come to rest on you as you reluctantly get to your feet.

"Hello there, Dr McCann will see you now," she says, indicating to the corridor behind the desk. "It's the last office on the right. Just walk all the way down to the end, past the bathrooms. You'll see the name on the door."

But you aren't listening to her directions, you'd stopped the moment you'd heard the unfamiliar name, nerves gripping you.

"But I didn't book my appointment with Dr McCann, I booked it with Dr Price, my usual doctor. I always see her."

A small frown creases the receptionist's forehead. "I'm sorry dear but Dr Price isn't in this week. She was taken ill, it was all rather sudden. But don't worry, you'll be in good hands with Dr McCann, he's very good. He's newly qualified and just moved to the area."

Your nerves increase, your chest feeling tight. "He...?"

She smiles reassuringly. "Oh yes, he's a man, but don't let that worry you. He's very friendly, very professional... you'll see."

And with that she's gesturing to the corridor behind then looking back down at her computer screen, effectively dismissing you. You stand for a moment, hesitating, contemplating turning around and walking right back out the door, but you reason with yourself that now you've plucked up the courage to actually make the appointment you should just go through with it, knowing that if you walk out now you might never come back. So you take a deep breath, trying to clear the worries out of your mind and start down the corridor as instructed.

"Come on in."

The voice emanates from behind the closed door as you timidly knock, and you grasp the handle, pushing the door open as you step through into the room.

You aren't sure what you're expecting from this male doctor who you've never met, but the man who's sitting behind the desk certainly isn't it. He's young, much younger than you imagined, with stunning pale blue-green eyes and a friendly smile on his full pink lips. His hair falls forward on to his face as he gets up from his chair and he pushes it back with a hand as he offers his other hand to you to shake in a greeting.

"Hello, I'm Dr McCann. I'm really sorry your usual doctor couldn't be here, but hopefully I'll do as a replacement!"

"Hi..."

You smile and take his hand which he firmly shakes before gesturing to the seat across the desk from him. Fuck... he's attractive. Really attractive. Nervous butterflies take flight in your belly at the notion of sitting here and telling him all of your intimate worries. You can already feel your cheeks warming at the thought and you haven't even started yet.

"So... Miss Y/L/N..."

"Oh you can call me Y/N," you say quickly, taking a seat.

The doctor grins back at you, his handsome face lighting up in a way that sends a warm glow through you.

"Great... Y/N it is then, and if we're on first name terms you can call me Van. So what can I do for you today?"

Shit... here goes...

You shift in your seat, pulling on the neckline of your dress which feels like it's sticking to your skin. All of a sudden the small office seems too hot, stifling in fact. You wonder whether Van can sense your discomfort. He looks on, a sympathetic expression on his face.

"Well... it's just... err... god this is embarrassing..."

His smile widens. "I know certain things can be... sensitive, but really, you don't need to worry. I've not been at the practice for long but I've already heard it all! Come on, don't be shy, I'm sure it's not as bad as you think."

You realise that you're absentmindedly chewing the edge of your thumb, a nervous habit that you've not managed to kick since childhood and you quickly drop your hand to your lap, fiddling with the hem of your dress instead.

"Oh... errr... well now I'm here I feel like I'm probably just wasting your time."

His grin's replaced by a serious expression and he leans over the desk towards you, shaking his head. "Don't say that. If something's bothering you enough to make a doctor's appointment then it's certainly not a waste of my time."

"I just don't know where to begin..."

His smile's back. Gosh he has such a beautiful smile, warm and open. You'd probably feel right at ease if you weren't about to launch into an explanation of your humiliating problems.

"How about at the beginning? That's usually a good place to start."

Just spit it out Y/N... the longer you drag this out the worse it will be...

"Okay..." You swallow deeply, chewing your bottom lip for a second as you search for the right words. "Well... I've been having some... errr... discomfort... when I... you know... when I'm... with my boyfriend..." Then you add quickly, "well, ex boyfriend as of last week."

You giggle awkwardly, looking at the doctor with pleading eyes, hoping that he might pick up the inference in your words without you having to spell it plainly out to him.

You're in luck as you see realisation flood his features and he sits back in his chair, eyebrows raised slightly.

"You mean when you're having sex?"

Just hearing the word coming from his mouth sends a shock of heat through your body and you feel yourself squirm in your seat, cheeks glowing with embarrassment.

"Yes," you reply, and to your horror it comes out like a squeak. You quickly clear your throat. "Uh-huh, that's right."

He nods slowly, eyes fixed on you as you feel your temperature rising, sure you'll combust at any minute if he doesn't talk soon.

"Is it painful?"

His question brings you around a bit. "Yeah... sometimes... a little."

His brow furrows then, full of concern. "And has it always been like this... with other partners? Do you feel any pleasure at all?"

Oh god, this is excruciating...

"No, not really, well maybe a little... only once though, but not much. Not enough to... well, you know... to come. In fact I never have."

You cut off abruptly, cringing internally at what you've just admitted. He really didn't need to know that much detail.

"My ex said there was something wrong with me!" You blurt, trying to cover up your embarrassment. "That's actually why I'm really here."

Van looks shocked at your outburst, his face creasing in distaste. "He really said that? It sounds like he's better off as an ex." He leans forward again, hands spread out on the desk in front of him. They're beautiful hands and you can't help but study them as he talks. "Look Y/N, it's highly likely that the problem doesn't lie with you but with your ex. If he didn't take the time to learn what you like, how to treat you well, how to please you, then it could well make things uncomfortable... painful even.”

That figures, but it doesn't account for you never climaxing. Your mind drifts to the nights that you'd tentatively explored your own body, fingers nimbly working over your clit, trying to elicit some sort of pleasurable sensation. It hadn't worked, not once. Maybe you were a frigid bitch after all, just like your ex had branded you.

Van carries on talking, straight-faced and not reacting at all to your obvious embarrassment.

"You can buy things to help make things more comfortable, lubricants I mean. Any pharmacy will stock them..." He pauses, his tongue darting out to swipe over his bottom lip before continuing. "Of course you might not need that if you're properly aroused."

Your cheeks darken even further and you squeeze your thighs together, feeling heat there. Here you are complaining about not feeling any pleasure with six years of sexual partners and one complete stranger is making your body do all sorts of inappropriate things without even trying.

His face cracks into a sudden grin, lightening the atmosphere. "There's no need to be embarrassed talking about this kind of thing. It's only natural after all, but it should be enjoyable for you. That's really important."

"Okay," you nod, watching as he gets to his feet, assuming that your appointment's over. You start to rise up too, mumbling a thank you, but Van cuts you off.

"Well, I said that's likely the cause, but we don't know for sure. I'd like to examine you if that's okay... just to check that there's nothing serious causing the discomfort."

Oh fuck...

Your throat immediately tightens as you stand still, frozen in shock. Of course you'd originally assumed that your appointment would involve some sort of physical examination, but the thought had gone completely out of your head whilst you'd been distracted by your gorgeous new doctor. And now it comes back to slap you full on in the face, your mortification at imagining Van taking a place between your spread thighs whilst you lay exposed to him on the examination bed.

It's a horrifically embarrassing thought... but fuck does it also turn you on.

In your mind's eye there's a very different scene taking place. Van hovering over you, planting hot, wet kisses all over your neck, trailing down your body until he reaches his goal. His head between your legs whilst you bury your fingers in his hair, grinding against his face until you fall apart, a moaning, whimpering mess...

"Is that okay?"

His voice wrenches you out of your sordid thoughts and you smile awkwardly, walking over to the narrow bed as he gestures to it, telling you to remove your underwear and get comfortable and he'll be right back. Then he leaves the room.

Get comfortable? Your whole body's on fire, your head light, your heart thundering in your chest so hard that you feel faint.

You can do this Y/N... just lie back and close your eyes... pretend that you're somewhere else entirely. It'll all be over in a few minutes and you'll never have to see Dr McCann ever again...

So you kick off your shoes and slip off your panties, balling them up and shoving them under your jacket which you've slung on to a nearby chair. Then you get on to the bed, swinging your legs up and hitching up your dress, covering your modesty with the thin sheet that's been left draped over the bed. You don't have to wait long until the door opens and you don't even turn your head as Van makes his way over, focussing instead on a blemish on the ceiling, willing the experience to be over quickly.

"Right... let's take a look then shall we Y/N?"

You screw your eyes shut then, surreptitiously wiping your clammy palms on the sides of your dress, your insides doing somersaults as Van draws back the sheet. Your legs are bent at the knee but firmly clamped together. All you can think of is how you'll look to Van with your legs spread wide. You've just been sitting there claiming that you derive no pleasure from sex, yet any moment now you'll be opening your legs for him and he'll be able to see exactly how turned on you are. There won't be any mistaking it, you can feel the wetness between your legs. You're practically dripping all over the bed.

"Just spread your legs for me... that's it..."

Hearing him say those words just makes things even worse. Your core is on fire as you feel his hands on your knees, gently easing your legs apart. You let them fall to the side, the cool air of the office a relief on your hot skin. You just lie there, tensed and coiled, waiting...

Hold on, did he just let out a quiet sigh...?

Whatever it was he disguises it with a cough, and you hear him step back. "I... errr... I just realised I don't have any gloves... I'll be right back..."

"It's fine... you don't need to wear them... in fact I'd prefer it if you didn't..."

What the fuck are you saying?

Van comes into view, looking down on you. You're surprised to see that his face looks flushed, or maybe you're just imagining things. Maybe it's the reflection of your own burning cheeks.

"To be honest I'd rather not, but it's standard procedure," he tells you. "But if you really don't want me to..."

You don't want him to wear gloves. You'd studied his hands when they were spread on the desk. Large, broad hands with long, supple fingers. Even then you were imagining how they'd feel on your skin, smoothing down over your hips, tweaking your nipples, sliding inside you.

"I really don't want you to," you murmur, quickly averting your eyes from him, focussing on the ceiling once again as he moves away.

You suddenly realise how quiet the office is and you wonder if Van can hear your heartbeat. It's pounding so hard that you can hear the blood gushing in your ears. Any moment now you're going to feel his hands on you. You're so tense that you're trembling slightly but you can't stop.

"Okay... just relax..."

You screw your eyes shut tight...

Then there's the sensation of a probing finger lightly pressing against your entrance before sliding inside you, slow and tentative, gentle. It's certainly not done in a sexual manner but your whole body reacts and you feel yourself clenching around him, an involuntary loud and very sensual moan leaving your lips without warning.

Oh fuck... did you really just moan like a whore in the middle of your doctor's office whilst he was examining you?

Van withdraws his finger from you in an instant and you just lie there in shock, paralysed by your mortifying embarrassment, wishing the ground would literally open up and swallow you whole. You snap your legs shut quickly, debating whether to sit up and face him or continue lying there, hoping that your shameful outburst might be ignored. But how can it be? There was no mistaking that you were voicing your pleasure. None at all.

There's silence for a moment, then you hear Van clear his throat. His voice sounds strained when he speaks. "Errr... was that... umm... did you feel any pain? Any discomfort?"

And then it's like your brain completely disconnects from your mouth, the words tripping off your tongue before you've even had chance to formulate a response.

"No... it was good... it felt so good..."

Silence again. You resist slapping your hand across your mouth to prevent further damage, backtracking instead to try and claw back some dignity.

"I mean it didn't hurt, not at all. Not one little bit."

You can see Van now in your peripheral vision as he starts to step over, and all of a sudden he's looming over you, an awkward smile on his lips, a wary look in his eyes. He's definitely blushing, you can see it now, and it makes your own cheeks glow even more.

"To be honest, I don't think there's anything physically wrong with you. Your body seems very... err..." He pauses, trying to find the right word "...responsive."

That's one way to put it.

"So you think it's all in my head?"

"I think maybe you're putting too much pressure on yourself. Not relaxing, over-thinking things. You need to learn what you like... what feels good."

"And how am I supposed to learn that?"

You sit up then, drawing your dress down over your thighs, swinging your legs around so they're dangling over the side of the bed. He pulls on the collar of his shirt, unfastening the top two buttons like he's finding it restricting. You see a tuft of dark chest hair and wonder what he'd look like minus the shirt.

"Well, maybe it would be a good idea to find out by yourself first... before you try with a partner."

"You mean... by touching myself?"

You look up at Van through your lashes, coyly. He's clearly flustered even though he's trying his hardest not to show it. This should deter you but it actually has the opposite effect, spurring you on despite your embarrassment. You want him. You really want him. You want to feel what those hands are capable of. And you think he wants you too. He's trying his hardest to be professional, but his eyes betray him. The hunger pooling there is unmistakable. He's probably picturing you right now, legs spread wide on the bed, pleasuring yourself.

"Uh-huh," he nods quickly, glancing down to where your hands are resting on your thighs, your fingers toying with the hem of your dress.

"I've tried, but it doesn't work. Maybe I'm doing it all wrong."

You slide the thin fabric up your thighs slightly, keeping your eyes on Van, gauging his reactions. You see his Adam's apple bob in his throat as he swallows thickly. "I... errr... I think you'll find there's actually no right or wrong way..."

He pauses, shifting where he stands, pushing a hand through his hair. His eyes raise up to meet yours, a cautious look on his face. You think you know what he wants to say but of course he can't say it. What sort of respectable doctor would offer to give you lessons in getting yourself off?

Maybe he's not so respectable though. Maybe there's a wicked deviancy lurking below his almost composed and professional demeanour. Your mouth's gone dry and your stomach's performing back-flips at the thought of what might happen if you were only brave enough to take the chance.

So you throw caution to the wind.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained... right?

"Maybe you could... err..." you clear your throat, feeling another wave of crimson embarrassment rising in you. You're positive you're flushed from the tips of your toes right up to the roots of your hair.

"Yes? What is it?" He urges in an eager tone.

"Maybe you could... I don't know... show me?"

The last two words are whispered with uncertainty and you're suddenly struck with overwhelming nerves, your confidence quickly ebbing away as you consider the weight of what you're suggesting. The fact that you've only known this man for all of fifteen minutes and you're propositioning him in the most morally dubious way. He's probably offended and horrified by your request. You quickly look down, your mind scrambling for a way out of this.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry. I can't believe I actually just said that. I think I should go..."

You brace your hands on the bed, leaning forward to hop down and make a hasty exit, but all of a sudden you feel the sensation of hands on your upper arms, gentle but firm, stilling you. You look up quickly, taking in his tentative smile, his eyes wide with curiosity and an eagerness that makes your already fast-beating heart thud even more.

"Don't go... not yet. I want to help you, and I think I could, but not here. Not now. Not like this..."

You're confused, caught between wanting to believe that he wants this as much as you and wondering whether he's just trying to let you down gently.

"What do you mean?" You ask, a mixture of relief and disappointment clashing inside you as his hands fall away from your arms and he steps away, crossing over to his desk and picking up a small notepad and pen. You watch as he scribbles something quickly on the top sheet before tearing it free and moving back over to the bed. You jump down, looking up at him, wondering what comes next.

"I said I couldn't help you now, but that doesn't mean I don't want to... later on." He pauses, a certain mischievousness tinging his smile that makes your pulse race even more. "I also do... house calls... if that's what you really want. And I get off here at 5pm."

"Oh..."

You're lost for words, your hand reaching up to take the sheet of paper that he's now holding out to you. A quick glance down shows a phone number scrawled there.

This is really happening...

"Oh well... thank you. I'll... I'll err... certainly consider it." Your voice comes out breathlessly, your excitement mounting. You hadn't thought for one moment when you'd turned up to the doctors' office that it would lead to this. You fold the piece of paper quickly and step to the side to move past Van and he moves aside as you make for the door. You don't stop until you get there and you pause, one hand on the handle, turning your head to look back, smiling wide now, not being able to contain your delight.

"I'll... umm... so I guess I'll be in touch... later."

He returns your smile with one of his own, secretive in its quality, the promise of what might happen.

"I really hope so Y/N."

Read Part 2

#in good hands #catb imagines #van mccann x reader #au fanfic #vanfic #smut

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