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yutaalove · 2 years

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7 Minutes in Heaven

Pairing: Friends to Lovers! Hendery x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Smut, Comedy

Warnings: car sex, fingering, squirting, dirty talking, multiple orgasms, mentions of masturbation, mentions of alcohol consumption.

Word Count: 6K

Description: Hendery was the new guy in class who didn’t know how to talk English well, that’s how you first start talking and then became good friends. You had a crush on him, but he didn’t know. Everything changed at a frat party; you shouldn’t have played 7 minutes in heaven with your friend.

You were accustomed to arrive early to the classroom because there was a certain desk you liked, plus you didn’t like being either too close or too far to the professor. Sometimes you really didn’t feel like paying attention, and today was one of those days.

On the way, you met with your best friend, but you couldn’t enroll in the same classes this semester, so she had to leave quickly.

When you got to the classroom, there was a new face and he was sitting on your favorite place. The shock froze you in place, he hadn’t noticed you were there as he was writing something down on his notebook and his dark mane was covering his face.

You decided to be nice and just sit on the desk on his left. When he was aware of your presence, he turned his head to you, your eyes meeting when you raised your glance. You smiled and he smiled back. He was cute. You both kept quiet until the rest of the classmates and the professor arrived.

“Class! We have a new student with us! Hendery, please say hello!” Your professor introduced the new guy to your right. He waved shyly. “Please be patient with him, he doesn’t know much English. He came all the way from Macau. If you guys see him struggling, please give him a hand,” your professor continued.

So that’s why he was so silent! He seemed so nice and you having a lot of empathy, could feel he was feeling anxious. It must’ve been hard not being able to communicate well.

The class continued and you were distracted with the fact that maybe Hendery couldn’t understand well what was being discussed. He looked so focused, you didn’t dare to interrupt him because maybe he was trying to do his best. So you waited for the class to be over and when he was about to leave, you stopped him.

“Hey, wait a minute!” You whisper-shouted.

He turned around and his face seemed to light up.

“Are you okay? Did you understand the class?” You asked him.

“Yeah, I tried my best,” he shrugged and then giggled.

You giggled with him and then said, “If you ever need help to understand something, just ask me, okay?”

“Alright! Thank you!” He seemed genuinely happy that you were willing to help him.

“Do you know anyone around?” you didn’t want him to be alone.

“Yeah, I have a friend. I will meet him now to get lunch,” he explained.

“That’s good!” You nodded.

“Do you want to join us?” He asked you.

“That’s alright! I’ll meet with my best friend too,” you answered.

“Oh okay, see you later then,” he was about to leave when he remembered he didn’t know your name. “Oh! Wait! What’s your name?”

“Y/N,” you smiled to him one last time before he nodded and left.

The months went on like that. Hendery occasionally came for help, he liked teaming up with your for group projects, and he even invited you to lunch a few times. You liked spending time together and slowly, he merged into your group of friends, bringing his group of friends also.

His English got better and better, he was almost and expert, even though he had a cute accent.

You found yourself having a huge crush on him, but you swore you would never tell him. For you, he was way out of your league, you weren’t his type, and you didn’t even know about his language, though he had tried several times to teach you some words and expressions.

“Hey!” He arrived to your apartment without notice to find you curled up in your sofa watching a movie.

“Hi! What’s up?” You said while checking your phone to see if he had texted you, finding an empty screen.

“So, tonight’s there’s this frat party from the frat house Yangyang is in, do you maybe wanna go?” He then smiled widely, trying to convince you.

“I don’t know... I’m not in the mood for partying today,” you replied while cuddling the cushion.

“Come onnn!” He flopped by your side on the couch, “Lyndsey is gonna be there! She’s gonna stalk me the whole night!” He groaned.

“Well, that’s your own fault! You dicked her down and she got addicted,” you shrugged, laughing at him later.

“Hey! I was in need!” He explained unnecessarily.

“You guys can’t last a week without pussy, that’s sad, you know,” you were mocking him.

“It’s in our nature, what can we do? Plus, how long has it been since you got laid?” He was smirking, trying to make fun of you.

“Shut up,” you pushed him playfully.

“So come on!!!! Let’s go to the frat party!” He started shaking you by the arm.

“Alright! Alright! Ugh! You’re so annoying!” You jumped to your feet and went to your room to change, your quick choice being a pair of jeans, a turtleneck shirt, a bomber college jacket, and some sneakers. You texted your best friend.

Hey! Are you going to that frat party?

Idk... are you?

Dery is making me go. Something about Lyndsey and stuff

Sucks. I can accompany you

Please! It’s possible he finds someone else and leaves me alone there surrounded by strangers

Fine, I’ll throw something on and see you there.

You got out of your room and Hendery was there, laying back on the couch while watching the TV. He looked so cute. You couldn’t believe you had a crush on him and he hadn’t noticed.

“We’re ready to go,” you announced and he looked at you from head to toe and back up. He catcalled you as a joke, “Look at my bestie gooo! She’s gonna seduce some men!”

You rolled your eyes and said, “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

“Fine, let’s go!”

At the party, you met with your best friend while Hendery went with his friends. Everyone was wilding, playing beer pong, dancing, drinking, making out on the corners.

You stayed by your friend’s side, dancing and drinking. Hendery found you in the crowd and started dancing with you too, after all, you were that comfortable with each other. He grabbed your hips and was grinding on you while you followed his hips. When the song finished he said he was gonna get more alcohol while you ran to your best friend again.

“Are you not gonna tell him ever?” She asked you, talking about your huge crush in Hendery.

“I don’t think I will. I mean, we’re okay as we are,” you shrugged. You didn’t want to lose his friendship and you thought that if you told him, everything would turn awkward, so you just decided to keep it to yourself.

As the night went by, people started to get sleepy, some passing out on the couches, others disappeared who knows where. Only a few were still alive and among them were Hendery, your friend, the infamous Lyndsey, and you. Someone had the bright idea of playing 7 minutes in heaven just for the sake of relieving high school memories, so you all sat on the floor in circle. Some random guy looked for an empty bottle that would choose the lucky couples. You were sitting across Hendery, who looked spaced out, probably drunk already and being stalked by Lyndsey. The poor girl’s eyes were shining with high hopes of getting a chance to be alone with Dery again. You were mocking him and he was acting annoyed.

As the game progressed, many random couples got to be locked in the darkness of the closet. Your friend matched with the very hot Jaehyun guy from English class but she didn’t spill anything. While you were teasing her, you heard Hendery’s name along with some noise by his friends. You were about to start mocking him too when you noticed the bottle was pointing at you.

You swear your surroundings froze in time. Your friend’s eyes widened because she knew how you felt. Hendery tho, was excited because after all, it was you and he wouldn’t feel so awkward.

“Aren’t you going?” Said the guy who had the control of spinning the bottle, Lyndsey looked at you and then to Hendery, expecting you to not go. Hendery actually helped you to stand up and basically dragged you into the closet with him. Before locking the door, the guy with the timer said, “Whatever you do, you have 7 minutes. Nothing more,” and with that, he left you two alone in the darkness of the closet.

You were holding into Hendery’s arms, maybe to know he was there, maybe as a support, or perhaps because you wanted to feel him close.

“Well, at least I’m saved from Lyndsey,” he laughed nervously.

“Yup, once again, I am your savior,” you remarked.

Being alone with Hendery wasn’t awkward usually, but there was some weird tension going on in the tiny space of the closet.

“What should we do?” He asked in a whisper, the air emitting from his lips blowing you right on the face because he was too close.

“I don’t know... talk? We’re friends, this isn’t weird,” you tried to convince yourself.

“I mean... yeah...”

“These had been the longest seven minutes of my life,” you stated.

“Let’s kiss, maybe that would make it less awkward and the time will go faster,” Hendery suggested and you swear the butterflies in your stomach made a tornado.

“You think kissing between friends is less awkward?” You asked confused.

“Well yeah, I mean, we’re friends. It shouldn’t be weird, it’s only a kiss,” he said, ignorant of your feelings for him.

“Okay then,” you agreed, “but let’s not allow this to make us awkward after, alright?”

“Promise,” he gave you his pinky to hook with yours.

In less than a second, his lips crashed on yours. You thought it was just gonna be a peck, but then he started moving his lips, and automatically, yours responded. His tongue darted between your lips, looking for yours to tangle with. Your arms snaked around his neck, while his wrapped around your waist, bringing you even more closer. Having him like this sparked the feeling inside you more: you were in love with this guy without remedy.

When you two were getting comfortable with it, you heard the alarm outside, indicating time was up. You detangled from each other, fixing your hair and your clothes to make it seem that nothing had happened. Everyone knew you two were best friends and to give the tiniest hint that you had done anything in there would be enough for your group of friends to start teasing you. When the door opened, you went on with your normal friendship and acted as if you haven’t kissed passionately a few minutes ago.

You were too overwhelmed, so you decided to leave with your friend. Hendery stayed. He was probably gonna crash in with the boys.

On the way back, your friend was telling you about her experience with Jaehyun, and then she remembered your time with Hendery.

“Did anything happen in there? You two looked pretty normal to me,” she inquired.

“Well... we kissed,” you shrugged.

“I knew it -wait what?!” She was shocked! “You kissed? As in a peck or-?”

“As in full tongue,” you nodded.

“Oh my God...... how do you feel?” She was concerned now.

“Like I’m in love... I feel like as soon as his lips touched mine, I was done, I completely fell in love with him,” you confessed.

“Oh no.... what you gonna do now?” She asked.

“Try to not be awkward and act as if it was nothing. Friends can kiss right?” You fake-smiled.

“No they cannot! Friends with benefits do... but I don’t think you’re there yet,” she scratched her neck.

“I’m fucked aren’t I?”

“Very...”

You tried avoiding Hendery until you felt better and collected your thoughts, but that was kinda impossible since he was everywhere and he looked for you everyday. So you did your best to not looked like you were having a turmoil of feelings every time you saw his stupid, beautiful face.

There you were, having lunch all together. He was talking about how he wanted to talk to a cute girl who was a few tables away. Your friend placed her hand on top of yours in silent support.

Honestly, you didn’t know what was up with you. He usually talked to you about his affairs with other females and you weren’t this affected, but today you were bothered by it. While his friends celebrated that he was going to get her number, you stood up and left with the excuse of having to study because of a test. Your friend followed you.

“I think you need to talk to him,” she suggested.

“I don’t know. I feel is going to be useless,” you grunted.

“Y/N, it has gotten to a point where you’re always fuming. He will start noticing your behavior soon if you keep this up, so my advice is that you two sit down and talk this out,” she stepped in front of you.

“There’s nothing to talk about! He doesn’t feel the same way I do. I’m the one trying to ruin our friendship,” you said as you threw your hands in the air in frustration.

“First of all, you don’t know that. Second of all, if you keep bottling it, you’re gonna explode and it’s going to be worse. And that’s not ruining a friendship, it’s only natural you like him. You spend time together, he knows you well, he brings you snacks...” Your friend was trying to talk reason back to you.

You whined, “But how am I supposed to tell him? I can’t just sit him down and tell him, ‘Listen, I have this huge crush on you, please love me back’, he’s a guy, he won’t understand.”

“Well, if he feels the same way he WILL understand,” she said matter-of-factly.

“That isn’t helping! Ughhh! I need to plan something... something that looks casual but it’s the right moment, you know what I mean?”

“How about... how about you invite him to watch a movie? That’s something you guys do often, right?” She suggested and you nodded. “You watch a movie, you have your snacks, you cuddle as you always do, and then you tell him. What do you think?” She wiggled her eyebrows and you laughed.

You gasped, “How do you know we cuddle? Are you spying on me?!”

“Come on, let’s be realistic. You two look like cuddly people,” she rolled her eyes.

“Yeah true... your plan sounds good. Imma try it. You’re the best! I don’t know how my life would be without you,” you embraced your friend in gratitude.

At night, you texted Hendery to start with your plan:

Hey, dumbhead

Sup, headache

Do you have plans on Friday night?

Not yet, 为什么？(weishenme - Why)

Why are you texting me in Chinese?! You know I don’t understand! I mean, I’m deducing that means why.

🤪🤪🤪

Anyways! What do you think if we watch that new movie on Netflix?

Sure, I’ll bring snacks

Kay

好！

Now that you had everything planned, you started thinking about what to say and how to say it. You couldn’t just shoot it.

A few hours later, when you were about to go to sleep, you received another text from Hendery. It said it had an image attached. It was strange but you decided to open it. And then regretted it.

Hendery had sent you a spicy picture. It wasn’t a nude but it was pretty suggestive. He was holding his member over his pants, as if to show how big he is without actually showing. Almost a dick pic.

You panicked, you were sure that wasn’t for you. A sudden jealousy took over you because, why was he sending these pics to someone else? But also, your friend-self told you to keep calm and let him know.

Wrong number! Dumbass! Look at the number before sending these kind of things!

He didn’t answer for a while, but then he appeared

I’m sorry!!! Oh God! I’m so embarrassed!

It’s all good. At least you’re not showing anything. My eyes aren’t bleeding yet!

I’m really sorry!

It’s okay! We’re friends...

And you left him with that.

Friday arrived and you were nervous already, waiting for Hendery in your apartment. Around 8PM he knocked on your door and you yelled “Come in!” Too lazy to get up from the couch. He looked comfy but so sexy at the same time.

Hendery brought a lot of snacks and placed them on the low table.

“I brought your favorites and mines, to fix your day!” He said excitedly.

You smiled and replied, “Thanks! I really appreciate it.”

“Let’s get to it!” He yelled and you shushed him laughing, he was so noisy and your neighbors would complain.

You were cuddled up with each other while watching the movie. You were leaning on his chest while he played with your hair with one hand and ate popcorn with the other. You felt his eyes on you, so you looked up and your eyes met. He smiled to you and you smiled back. You didn’t know if it was your imagination but you felt he was getting closer to your mouth. In your panic you didn’t move and opted to let it happen, maybe this was a sign that he liked you back. But then, his lips never touched yours and only centimeters away he said, “Haha, gotcha,” with a groggy voice.

You got angry and couldn’t conceal it anymore. So you got off the couch as quickly as possible.

“What’s wrong?” He asked confused.

The ticking bomb inside you snapped.

“What’s wrong?! You dare to ask me what’s wrong?! Hendery! You just pretended you were going to kiss me and then told me it was a joke!”

“Hey! Calm down! I thought it would be funny! Since you know, we kissed in the game as a joke” His eyes widening in concern.

“So the kiss was a joke to you?” You said crossing your arms tightly.

“I thought it was just a game, it didn’t mean anything,” he explained.

“It did to me!” You blurted, your mouth talking before you could think straight.

He froze and gulped, “What?”

“Nothing,” you turned around and walked to the kitchen.

“Y/N!” He walked behind you, “talk to me! You’re acting really strange lately. You’ve been avoiding me, you get angry about everything... what is wrong? What changed?”

You leaned on the counter, trying to find the correct words. “What changed is...” you gulped and then continued, “My feelings for you, Hendery. That changed.”

He was so puzzled. “I don’t understand...”

“Hendery, I’m in love with you,” you confessed, feeling a relief within you.

You looked at him, his eyes were alarmed, not quite the reaction you were expecting. “I- I- I don’t know what to say...” he stuttered.

“You don’t have to say anything, Hendery...” you muttered.

“I- I’ll be right back...” he walked slowly to the door and left without his things. He didn’t come back.

“Great Y/N, great! You just ruined your friendship,” you said to yourself, running your hands through your hair.

You cleaned your apartment and curled up in your bed, regretting everything you just did.

You two didn’t talk for a week straight, not daring to approach each other. Hendery went to Xiaojun for help because he felt he was losing you and he didn’t want that, but he felt bad for leaving you hanging that night. You were expecting an answer from him, but at that time, he didn’t think you were going to say what you said.

“This is simple, Hendery,” said Xiaojun while cooking something. “How do you feel about her?”

“I don’t know!!!” He whined, pulling his long strands of hair.

“I think you do know, you just don’t want to accept it,” Xiaojun chuckled. “You can be honest with me, you know.”

“Ughhh! Okay,” Hendery groaned. “I think I’m pretty accustomed to her as my best friend that I didn’t think I could actually like her. But now thinking about it well, I feel like my best self when I’m around her. I can be myself and she won’t judge me, she follows my weird behavior, she shares snacks with me...”

“Let me change the question a little bit,” Xiaojun interrupted, “the day of the party, how did you feel when you kissed?”

After thinking about it a little, Hendery answered, “I wanted to keep kissing her. I felt so comfortable in her arms. She’s a great kisser btw,” he drifted away.

“Focus!” Xiaojun yelled.

“Okay, okay! I don’t know, I feel like I would be able to tell if I see her again... but I don’t know how to go back to her,” he sighed.

“How about you do a non-date date, something simple like going for a late night drive,” Xiaojun suggested.

“You’re a genius!” Hendery exclaimed.

“I’m a romantic, which is different,” he pointed out.

It was 12AM on a Friday and you we’re already cuddled in your bed when there was a knock on your door. You threw a hoodie on, to not wear a bra just in case, and went to see who was it.

You felt like the air was punched out of you when you opened the door and saw Hendery’s figure. His hair was disheveled and he was wearing a cream-colored shirt, black joggers, and his glasses: the best look on him. “Hendery...” you said softly.

“Um... hi!” He smiled awkwardly, making him look so cute to you. “Listen, I know we haven’t talked this whole week and I didn’t have the best response to what you said and I’m sorry about that,” he was talking too fast.

“Hey... it’s okay,” you patted him on the arm. “You want to come in?”

“Actually, I came here for you. Do you want to go for a late night drive?” He was swinging, looking pretty nervous.

You sighed, “Do I have to change?”

“Not really, I mean, look at me,” he extended his arms and turned around. You giggled.

“Fine, let me get my shoes,” you ran to your room and put on the first sneakers you found and you both got in his car.

He was just driving around town, both of you being the old friends you were, singing loudly to the songs on the radio, laughing out loud, and watching the neon lights of the places that were open. He got down on a station to buy snacks for both and then kept going.

You ended up on a lonely hill with a view to the city lights. Sitting on the front of his car, you listened to Hendery talked about his life in Macau and what he missed. Then you were playing, trying to guess where were the places among the tiny lights at sight. Like magnets, you cuddled against each other without noticing; the night was getting cold after all. In the chit-chat, the clock marked 3AM. You got in the car again but Hendery didn’t started the car, instead he talked.

“Y/N... I’ve been thinking about what you told me.” There was a long silence between you two, so he continued, “I like the version of me when I’m with you. It’s so easy to not think about what to do or what to say, I can just speak my mind. I really appreciate you.”

“Same here, Dery,” you placed your hand on top of his, which was on his thigh.

“Im sorry for making you feel bad. I really didn’t think straight, I was in utter shock,” he apologized.

“It’s okay, I shouldn’t have said that the way I did,” you accepted.

“So no hard feelings?” He asked, looking at you now.

“No hard feelings,” you smiled.

But then the air changed between you two. A force was drawing you together and neither of you stopped it. Your lips touched, sparking the flame inside you again. And like that, Hendery knew he loved you too, because the butterflies in his stomach wouldn’t stop dancing. His hand traveled to the back of your head, holding you softly. He pulled back first, mumbling, “I’m sorry, is this okay?”

“Only if it’s okay with you,” you whispered.

“I love you,” he muttered before kissing you again, this time deepening the kiss. Your arms quickly wrapped around his neck, bringing him closer. It turned to a passionate make out session and you were gasping for air. You smiled because you were kissing your best friend and Hendery smiled because you looked so cute.

“Should we take this to the backseat?” He suggested with a groggy voice.

“Here? Right now? Really?” You joked.

“I’m sorry! I’m desperate for you,” he shrugged. He jumped first, to lean the seat back for more space. Conveniently he had some sheets there. Then he beckoned you with his hands, inviting you to jump with him. You did as told but your foot got stuck on the front seat so you landed flat over him. You both started laughing at your disgrace but then started kissing wildly again.

He rolled over so you were under him. He fitted perfectly between your legs, as if you were made for him. Quickly, clothes started to be bothersome and he took off your hoodie. Then, Hendery’s hands ran underneath your shirt, reaching your breasts. He squeezed them and then started playing with your hardened nipples, rolling them between his fingers. Soon enough, he asked you, “Can I take this off?” Pulling your shirt. You simply responded, “Please.” He also took off his, revealing his beautiful body and threw both of your shirts to the front seat. One of his hands ran down your body, feeling all of you while he enjoyed your lips. You sighed in satisfaction, feeling yourself getting wetter with every touch and each kiss.

Hendery knew when to start touching you and he asked for your consent, “Can I touch you?”

“Please Dery, I’m so wet already,” you said in a needy whisper.

He groaned in response, his fingers not loosing time in snaking inside your shorts. First he touched you over your underwear and then he slipped inside your panties, finding your clit easily. “Oh my god,” you said in a breathy murmur.

“Fuck... you’re so wet,” he hissed. He took out his hand to pull down your pants and underwear, all in one go, helping you shimmy out of them. After all, none of this was being awkward between you, you felt comfortable with each other. Once he had you all at his mercy, he kissed your neck, his mouth going down and down while his hand went to your south. His lips enclosed your nipple at the same time his fingers got between your folds. God! He was so skilled! Your hand played with his hair while his did unholy thing to you.

He sticked his middle finger in you, going in and out, then he added his ring finger and started moving them fast and deep inside, making you whine. “Fuuuuck! Dery! Feels so good!”

He let go of your nipple with a pop, “You like my fingers, baby? Yeah?” His voice was lower than usual and breathier, it had your head spinning.

“Ooh! Yeah, I love them,” you cried and kissed him. You could hear the squelching sound coming from between your legs. You couldn’t believe Hendery was the one making a mess of you.

You felt your orgasm bubbling inside you, “Hendery I’m gonna cum,” you said in a high-pitched whimper.

“You wanna cum on my fingers? Do you like them that much?” He panted.

“Mmmm! Yes!” You moaned.

“Come on, baby, let go,” he commanded you and started thrusting his fingers faster.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck,” you said in a shattered chant and then you felt the delicious tingles all over your body, your eyes rolled back, and your back arched. Something unusual happened this time: strands of water gushed out of you and your legs started to shake. You cried loudly loosing all control of your body. Hendery was amazed of what he just did, “Shit! So hot!”

You, on the other hand, were embarrassed. “Oh god... I’m so sorry...” you hid on the crook of his neck.

“It’s okay, that was so hot! I’ve never achieved that. Did you know you could do that?” He caressed your hair in assurance.

“No... it’s the first time that happens...” you whined in embarrassment.

“Baby, it’s okay,” he chuckled, “wanna know something? I’m harder now.”

“Deryyy!” You gasped.

“Can you take it?” He hummed.

“I can take all of you,” you smirked.

“So naughty, I like it,” he pecked your lips and proceeded to kneel in front of you, all bended to avoid smashing his head with the hood. He slipped his pants off easily, along with his briefs, his hardened cock springing free. Your mouth watered at the sight, the tip so pink, shinning with wetness, all ready to take you.

You opened your legs, inviting him, you couldn’t wait for him to be inside you.

He hissed when seeing your still wet core, “Fuck, I could’ve beat that long time ago,” to which you laughed. “Well, you decided to keep boundaries.”

“You’re my best friend, wasn’t it going to be weird?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe?” You shrugged.

“I’m a man, you know. I’m weak. Do you think I didn’t wish to rearrange your insides some of those nights where we cuddled in your couch? It took the best of me to calm this little guy,” he grabbed his length. You burst out laughing.

“Are we really having this conversation when you’re about to wreck me?” You rolled your eyes.

“You started it!” He complaint.

“Oh, shut up and fuck me,” you taunted.

“Condom or no condom?” He asked.

“Wrap your weiner, I don’t know where you have sticked that thing in,” you commanded him.

“I’m clean! I always protect myself, who do you take me for?! I offered myself since I trust you as my best friend, but okay. And don’t call him a thing! He has a name!” he sounded so offended.

“Oh my god! Don’t take it personal! Maybe in the future I’ll let you fuck me raw,” you winked, “but for now, let’s do it this way.”

“Alright,” he said as he looked for his wallet in the pocket of the pants he just discarded. Finding the tiny foil square was fast and he was even faster rolling it down his shaft.

“Come here,” he pulled you closer by your legs, making you laugh. This whole adventure had been a fun ride for both of you.

He kissed you passionately again, one of his hands ran to your leg, bending it a little to have better access to your entrance. He then hold his length, rubbing the tip up and down your pussy, teasing you, making you bite your lip. You were shaking in anticipation.

He pushed himself in slowly, both of you moaning. “Mmm, 操! (cào - Fuck), you’re so tight for me, baby,” his said in a shaky whisper.

He went as deep as he could, making you feel so full. “Hendery,” you breathed, “I feel so full.”

“Yes baby, I’m gonna make you feel so good,” he assured you in hoarse groan.

He kept thrusting you slowly, passionately, enjoying every inch of you. The car was full of shaky breaths, low moans, occasional grunts, and the sound of kisses. Never in your life you thought you would share such an intimate moment with Hendery, but you were loving every second of it.

“Can I go faster?” He asked softly.

“Yes please,” you pleaded.

Hendery caged you in his arms and started snapping his hips faster. His lips whispered filthy praises in your ear, adding up to your want for him, “So good, your cunt feels so warm baby, wanna fill you up with my cum. Do you want that? Yeah? Mmmm... Making love to you feels so nice. I love you, I love you, I love you. This is the only pussy I wanna fuck for the rest of my life.”

Your hands hugged him back, running all his back, tangling in his hair, he had you crazy for him with every word. If you weren’t out of breath, you replied to his words with moans and mewls. “Mmmf! Hendery! Fuck! I love you so fucking much! Please keep fucking me, it feels so good!”

A few minutes later he panted, “I’m gonna cum.” He tried to go faster and he drove his hand south, finding your bundle of nerves skillfully. He was drawing circles while pummeling into you fast, making your second orgasm arrive with force, tightening around him. A sharp scream left your throat and you hugged him tightly. Hendery came with a guttural growl, “Ughhh! So good!” You could feel him pumping in you while he filled the condom.

When you both could breathe again, he embraced you and peppered you with kisses, making you giggle. “How are you feeling, my love?” He smiled.

“I like the sound of that coming from your lips,” you cuddled with him. He sighed, satisfied with the thought that you were his and he was yours.

“Then I will call you that all day just to see you happy,” he kissed you on the forehead.

“You’re my happiness,” you purred.

“I love you, I really do,” he confessed.

“I love you too, Dery,” you raised your head to kiss his lips.

“Do I need to pop the question or are we clear?” He joked.

“Imma torture you and make it pop it,” you chuckled beaten.

“Would you be my girlfriend?” He asked confidently.

“I’d love to,” you replied.

After a moment of silence, Hendery suggested, “Up for round two?”

“Oh my god, you’ll be the death of me if your sex drive is this high,” you sighed.

“My sex drive with you will always be high. Imagine having to hide your boner for so many years and then finally getting the pussy of your dreams?” He was such a character.

“Stop!! That is not true” you shoved him with your elbow.

“Not true?! Do you wanna know how many times I masturbated after arriving home from our movie nights?!” He could be brutally honest sometimes.

“You masturbate?” You wanted to see him snap.

“Listen, Y/N, if I didn’t, my dick would’ve fallen off by now because holy fuck! I wanted to rail you so bad!”

You just exploded in laughs. He really was the man you loved.

“How many rounds can you make?” You asked him.

“I have a whole box of condoms to use with you. You decide,” he shrugged.

“So that’s 3?” You jeered.

“Very funny,” he said sarcastically.

The car kept rocking, the windows were fogged and Hendery almost could last till dawn making love to you. The rest of the night became an orgasm feast for you two.

You fell asleep, beaten thanks to the activities. When you woke up, the sky was painted in pastel colors, announcing dawn. You were wrapped under the sheets, naked with Hendery, on the back of his car.

You looked at him, he looked so cute sleeping soundlessly, you didn’t want to wake him up, but the sun was about to rise and you were away from the city.

“Baby,” you whispered softly.

“Hmm?” He hummed, as if asking what was wrong.

“Baby, I’m cold and the sun is rising,” you explained.

“Mmm... really?” His sleepy voice was making your head spin.

“Yes my love, we should go home. We can continue sleeping at my apartment if you want,” you suggested.

He yawned, “but then I’ll have to make love to you again because I want to be like this with you.”

You giggled, he was so cute talking while sleepy. You kissed his cheek. “We can just get naked and sleep.”

“It’s not the same,” he groaned. Hendery sat and stretched, then, he passed you your clothes.

You guys bought breakfast on the way home, you ate it and then went back to sleep. You spent the majority of the day in bed watching series, glad that you belonged to each other now.

#obviously i’m having a hendery day #in love with this one #❤️❤️❤️

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yutaalove · 2 years

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Take me to the stars - W.KH

Pairing: Wong Kunhang / Hendery x fem!reader

Word count: 4063 words

AU/Genre: college!AU, stoner!hendery, antisocial nerd!reader, fluff, smut

Warnings: substance consumption and its inevitable consequences, prejudice, oral and fingering (f receiving) unprotected sex (*sighs*), Hendery has a big dick (and I stand by that)

A/n: I put a lot of thought into this, there are approximately 2000 stylistic devices in there, wahtever you might think is weird is there for a reason. Why am I getting defensive?

"...and please check the lists for the partner assignments on your way out."

After what seemed like an eternity of one and a half hours, you move to pack your things. It's your second year in university, of course there are corses that you like and don't like, but literature class is mostly fun. You'd consider yourself a good student when it comes to this subject, you generally like the literature that's discussed in class and in your essays. And, sure, while it's fun to be able to discuss topics with other people to get their opinions that might vary and differ from your own on a variety of topics, you prefer doing things on your own. In your opinion – that's been proven right over and over again in past, forced interactions with classmates, you're the only person you can trust and rely on with your assignments. So the reason why your professor found it necessary to pair you up into groups of two for your next essay is beyond you. Still, on your way out, you fight your way through the bundle of students gathered in front of the professor's desk, searching for your name on the list just like everyone else.

No.

No way.

A 'Would you look at that. Excited to work with me?' from somewhere behind you would be what you'd expect in this type of situation, like they do in movies. Sadly, that is impossible since the person you got paired with - the worst person you could have imagined out of the gathering of tweenies that sit around in this hall with you every Thursday - doesn't even show up to classes.

Wong Hendery, presumably a pain in the ass – actually, you don't know that for sure, you've never seen him since, as mentioned before, he's never stepped a single foot into this building – but you assume he must be. Rumor has it that he's only attending university because his parents want him to. They are filthily rich, so he has to go through with it in order to not lose their financial support. Besides praising him for his laid-back-ness, people also say that he usually hangs around on the big field next to the library with his friends, so this is where you head.

You move through the hallway, mind clouded with sorrow and worries about your grade in the upcoming assignment. It's not that you're that good of a student, you're not the best, but your accomplishments in university bring you far enough to be able to worry about grades, especially since this seems to be the final work for the semester, putting the weight of the importance of assessment heavily on your shoulders. Right now, it is important to you to get good grades, maybe even the best grades, and there's not much space left in your mind to focus on anything else.

As soon as you step out the door, the lovely late March air greets your nostrils, carrying the scent of slowly blooming buds and carefreeness. Your eyes scan over the area of lawn that's filled with students relaxing and enjoying their break in between corses, the weather of gentle sun rays allowing them to spend their time outside, finally, after such a cold winter.

You sigh. You're not here to think about the weather, there's a task at hand, and you won't come far unless you get in touch with the person who you just know is going to make this relatively easy assignment a nightmare of missed deadlines, stress-fueled nail-biting and headaches.

"Wong Hendery?" You shout out in hopes of someone coming over to you. And to your pleasant surprise, someone does. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, hands grabbing ahold of the loops of your backpack that hangs rather heavily on your back. The guy comes closer, and with every step he takes, you understand more and more why everyone seems to be so forgiving with his absenteeism.

"You called me, pretty?" He grins as he comes to a halt in front of you, slightly towering over your smaller height. You gulp.

Admittedly, you'd anticipated someone different, might it be your prejudice from past experiences or something else, but you're a bit stunned, to be honest. Gaze grazing over his exterior, you notice a lot of things about him. You decide that you like his long, slightly wavy, black hair and the way he exclusively dresses in clothes that are at least two sizes too big for him, and vans. It makes him stand out. It makes him special. He doesn't seem to care one bit about the presumed wealth of his family if he dresses like this. It makes you weirdly fond of him, for some reason.

"Uh," for a second, you get lost in his wide smile and his glossy eyes before you're able to catch himself, blinking quickly a couple of times before you open your mouth. "We have to do a literature project together. You coming?"

"Right now?" He asks, a little stunned.

"If you're free?"

He nods, you expect him to grab his stuff, but apparently the only thing be brought was himself, a pack of cigarettes (?) and a lighter that he holds in his hands. Without another word explaining where you're headed, you turn around, guiding the way into the library which you assume he doesn't even know the location of. Silently, he follows you, and you ask yourself just why this was so easy. You'd anticipated him blocking your attempts of trying to get him to work with you, or worse, just leaving without another word or glance. That he's so compliant actually lifts some of the weight of worrying about your final grade off your shoulders.

At the same time, you can't help but to imagine explaining that situation to your professor, maybe getting a free pass on the group project and doing one of your own on your own instead.

You sit down in a separate room in the library that is meant for small study group, which you kind of are, and you whip out your notebook, explaining the assignment to him. You can't really decipher the look in his eyes, so you plainly assume that he knows absolutely nothing about literature, so you begin to explain pretty much everything you did in the lecture until this day briefly.

At that, he nods, but doesn't seem too interested in what you're saying. His dark eyes might be glued to your lips, their movement and the way your tongue glides out to wet them every few minutes, but he just blandly stares seemingly into nothingness. You try not to read too much into that.

After about an hour, you're done.

"Honey, I'll be honest. I have no fucking clue what you're talking about, but how about I take you home and we start together, how's that?"

Slightly thrown off by the name, your mouth opens to protest, but thinking about it, it might be the best solution. That way, he's in a familiar environment, all while you're not: the best way to study, in your opinion. It would also get everything done as soon as possible, giving you the opportunity to focus on your other assignments for the time being. And – and this is most possibly the heaviest reason why you agree – you're kind of curious to see how he lives, not that you'd ever admit to that.

As he pulls into his drive way, you take in your surroundings. Firstly, you're glad that you finally arrived since his car – all due respect – reeks of weed and you'd stepped on multiple McDonald's bags molding away in the footwell during the five minute ride. The mansion you pull up to tells you that the assumption of your peers seem to be correct as it stands proudly before you. As soon as he takes you through the front door, all you see is marble, stucco and chandeliers.

You feel like you should be impressed, but you aren't. Hendery seems like he does not give two shits about money with the way he behaves and carries himself, so you automatically detach him from everything you're seeing right now.

The two of you make your way out the back into the garden, a beautiful wide lawn with trees and flowers blooming around and a about, a little pond on the right side of the area that seem to hold a bunch of fish and ducks. You step forwards on a trail that leads to a separate, smaller house at the back of the garden, almost hidden behind the large bamboo trees the area offers. It's way less pompous than the actual house you'd just seen, and seemed rather normal, like one of those bungalows you slept in during field trips.

Once you arrive inside, you see a lot of carpets, a big couch and a huge TV. Hendery invites you to sit down, and after gently resting your backpack against the couch, you do, watching him leave the room for an unknown reason, and allow yourself to sink into the many pillows as you take in more of the room.

Large windows illuminate the small place Hendery calls his home. There are a few plants on the shelves, that are stuffed full with comic books and video game cases. Next to the couch, you notice a glass door leading to some sort of gaming room that shines purple with LED-light stripes. There's also a staircase leading up to a platform where he sleeps, you assume. On the other side of the staircase you can fairly make out the corners of a kitchen. You have to say, it's pretty neat.

"You like it?" Hendery grins after putting his jacket away and grabbing a few snacks from the kitchen area.

"Sure," you half-smile. You still don't know what to think of this guy. On one hand, you're influenced by his (bad) reputation and therefore still a little anxious about the assignment and how you're going to get this person to work on it with you, with equal amounts of workloads and hours. On the other hand, he draws you in. He seems like an interesting person, and you're surprised that you're really showing so much interest in someone else that you want to get to know them, let alone see their home. You're not superstitious by any means, but you feel like there's a connection.

Hendery turns on the television, allowing a random show to play quietly in the background before taking a medium sized, blue box from the couch table onto his lap.

"You mind?" He asks as he opens it, looking over at you as he presents the contents of the box to you. In there's a stoner's wet dream: different shaped and sized grinders, papers and tips from a variety of brands and a good amount of weed.

"Oh- uh.. of course not, it's your house." You say.

He grins and starts rolling a joint and to be honest, you're mesmerized by the process. He plugs a piece of paper off the block and folds a tiny part at one end in before rolling the whole piece into a papery, white straw. Next, he unzips the bag that contains the weed, expertly picking the right amount to stuff into a small metal cylinder, grinding the dried plant into tiny crumbs. Lastly, he assembles everything inside a thin long-paper. You find yourself watching with interest, to your surprise especially when he brings the whole thing up to his mouth, his tongue darting out to wet the paper so it will stick together. And even though you don't have much to compare it to, you think the joint looks pretty good.

"Okay, wanna start?" He asks before lighting his joint. He lets the tip sit between his lips and inhales deeply, the scent of weed filling the air, but due to it's freshness, it's much more bearable than inside his care, maybe pleasant, even. You clear your throat before opening the zipper of your backpack.

"Alright, the drama. I think you should read it before we do anything, really. I brought you my copy, you can keep it." You gently place it on the table, careful to not bump into any empty cans or other pieces of general trash with your fingers.

"I already read that," Hendery answers before blowing out a big cloud of smoke into the air, and you notice that he does this to keep the smoke remotely away from you, and it makes your heart skip a beat.

"Oh- great! Then we can take everything a little slower than I thought." You smile to yourself and lean back for a second. Oddly, his presence calms you, or maybe that's just the scent of the smoke slowly creeping up to where you're seated, but you don't have to say that you mind. Somehow, the whole atmosphere is relaxing as it is, finally letting you take a breath from all the stress and burdensome encounters of your life.

The evening carries on and the two of you just start talking about everything and nothing. You notice that he likes to talk about pretty much everything except for himself, the last fact surprisingly characterizes yourself pretty well as well. You enjoy the way he's able to entertain you without even trying, the way he doesn't rely on your answers or input to keep the conversation going. Every time you want to add something, you can, but everything just feels so relaxed that you don't feel pressured, and that is something that makes you instantly fond of him. Usually, people expect something of you, something that you don't want to or can't give them. In the past, this had stressed you out so much, given you anxiety and insomnia to the point where you cut ties with almost everyone you knew.

With Hendery, it's different, and for some reason you hope that it's the same for him. You want him to feel comfortable with you. You want him to be able to open up with you. It's getting awfully late, yet you don't even know anything besides his zodiac sign.

You two sit outside on his porch, listening to the chirping of the crickets while looking at the night sky. He's just finished his second joint of the night, feeling high and free as ever, and you realize that you really like the way he looks when he sits so close to you, eyelids heavy and a lazy grin on his face. Uncharacteristically for you, you find that he's pretty. And he knows a whole lot about the stars and the universe.

You watch him as he babbles about a random constellation and its meaning in ancient Greece, his eyes lighting up almost with passion, his strong jawline, his pretty nose and his slender lips that look so kissable. Not once in your life had you felt like this. It's like the world had stopped moving around you, there's nothing else that matters when you sit here. You feel like you're in a different dimension, like nothing can harm you, and nothing can hurt you, which is why you don't even hesitate as you ask him the following question.

"Can I kiss you, Hendery?"

Before you realize, it's already out there, and before you can worry about it, he's already turned to look at you with a smile. "Are you sure, or are you just high?"

You smile. Maybe the amount of smoke you've passively inhaled in the past hours has made you somewhat more comfortable, but you're not high, or at least, you don't think you are. But you know that you feel something, just like before, like a connection. "I'm not high, Hendery" 'But I want to be high on oxytocin with you', you want to say. But you don't. "I just want to kiss you."

And with that, he leans in, stopping just before his lips touch yours, letting his breath tease your lips before closing the distance. He tastes like weed, of course, but he also tastes like strawberries. Like cotton candy. Like a comfortable hug. Like the gently warmth of a candle. But before you can really sink into the kiss, he's gone again.

He gets up and holds his hand out for you to grab before guiding you inside. He doesn't want you to get cold.

"How come time passes so fast?" You ask, almost pouting as you look at the time on your phone showing that it's past 3am. You really don't want to go home, not yet, you don't want this to end, whatever it might be, and whatever it might lead to. And as if he could read your mind, he offers you to stay.

You find yourself lying in his bed half an hour later, wide open eyes staring at the ceiling above Hendery's mattress, alone, as he offered to take the couch. You feel strange, not because the bed is uncomfortable, not because he's making you uncomfortable, but because you feel so tremendously alone. You feel like you're in a dream when you're with him, so it feels strange once you aren't, as if you're meant to be with him right now.

Quietly, you get up, making your way down the steps of the staircase carefully as to not wake him up. You're not exactly sure what your plan is, and this is so not you, a person who usually plans every single step of your daily routine in detail to not have to face any unpleasant surprises, and to not miss anything.

You can already see him on the couch, his figure completely wrapped in a blanket between the pillows, the light on his porch shining through the windows illuminating his frame.

Carefully, you sit down on the couch and he stirs, turning his body to face you.

"You okay?"

"Can't sleep."

"Come here." He lifts his blanket, inviting you to lay with him. Hesitantly for a second, you take his offer, slipping underneath the blanket with him. And you've never felt so warm. You cuddle your back into his chest and he hugs you from behind.

"Is this really okay for you?" You turn your head to look at him.

He lifts his head to look at you, a surprised raise to his eyebrows. "Are you asking because I stopped kissing you?"

You nod.

"Do you want me to be honest?"

You nod again.

"If I would have kept kissing you, I don't know if I could have stopped there. Your lips just- you taste like something I can't quite explain, you know, but it felt too good. Didn't want to pressure you into anything just because I didn't want to hold back. It's just- there's something about you that takes me in."

"I liked kissing you too." You completely turn around now, his face only centimeters away from yours.

"Do you want to do it again?"

You kiss him. Deeply. Trying to put all of the emotions of safety you're feeling into the kiss, and there you taste it again. Caramel, Hazelnut, the feeling of warm morning sun on your skin. And you don't want to let it go.

Before you know it, your hands find hold on his chest, gently caressing him over his shirt. You feel one of his big hands taking yours, gently holding it onto himself so you can feel his heart beating a little faster. Yours does it too. You shift closer to him. Everything is still too far away.

This time, it's you who breaks the kiss. You look into his eyes.

"I want you, Hendery." You're still so close that you can feel his breath hitch against your skin.

"Are you sure?" His voice is barely above a whisper. Is he trying to hold himself back? As an answer, you let your hand wander over his tummy downwards, deeper and deeper until you reach the hem of his sweatpants. You feel him gasp.

"You can have me any way you like," you whisper into his ear. That's all it takes for him to kiss you again, messier than before, but still contained. He shifts above you, caging you with his taller frame. You use the opportunity to let your hands finally wander over his body. You couldn't make it out under his baggy clothing, but he is pretty slim, but muscular still.

"I want to taste you, baby," he mumbles into your mouth, "not just your mouth. I want to taste everything."

His words make you whine against him. In this moment, you don't care you didn't properly shave this morning, you don't care about anything else than the man above you, who wants you just as bad as you want him.

You allow him to take his pants off you (that he gave you before you went to bed) and you open your legs for him to have you. You feel goosebumps prickle over your skin as his breath hits your core. And when he finally leans in to taste you, you're gone. The way his tongue tangles around your clit, the way he sucks you into his mouth is heavenly. Never has anyone made you feel quite like this.

Raw moans leave your lips, catching his ears and spurning him on as he fucks his tongue into your hole, revenging the inside of your wetness like a starved man. You can hear him groan.

Hendery looks up at you, keeping steady eye contact as he inserts a finger into you, slowly pushing in, making you feel every centimeter of it before he curls it up, moving in and out to rub over that sensitive area inside of you. Your eyes roll back at the feeling, and he uses the loss of eye contact to focus on your core again, adding a second finger before diving in, lapping skillfully at your clit.

Right now, you feel like you're in heaven. Or in hell, because it's too hot and sexy to be heaven. Either way, you feel your orgasm approaching incredibly fast. You don't hold back, moans spilling from your lips as you let yourself go onto his tongue, onto his fingers that move so perfectly inside you that you could cry. The waves of your orgasm crash over you in a way you feel like you've never felt before. You cry out Hendery's name, your hands holding onto his hair as he lets you ride out your high on his tongue, only pulling back after leaving you overly sensitive.

He comes back up to kiss you, making you taste yourself and for some reason, it's the sexiest thing you can imagine right now. You still want him inside you, though. and you let him know by desperately rocking your hips against his.

"Please, I want you in me, Hendery"

He does as you say, not being able to wait any longer to finally unite with you, finally be as close to each other as possible. He removes his pants and you can't wait for him to finally, finally enter you as you feel his tip against your entrance.

He is big, stretching you out deliciously as he fills you up, his cock seemingly having no end as he keeps sinking deeper into you. You cling into his shoulders, eyes finding his in this moment of oneness as he bottoms out inside of you. Never have you felt so full, so complete, heart fluttering away in your chest along with the butterflies in your tummy.

"So big," you sigh as you feel him slowly move, clenching around him almost as if your walls didn't want to let him go. He tries to hold back his sounds so he can hear you properly, letting out the sweetest sounds he's ever heard. He wants to give you the world, just as you want to give it back to him. You could stay like this for hours, forever, you don't want anything else. There's nothing else in your mind but him, him, him, as he keeps dragging his tip along your walls.

However the night ends, whether it fades into day, you don't care. As long as he's with you, you don't have a worry in the world.

#this was so fucking good #needs more notes #!!!

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yutaalove · 2 years

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this is cuntwrenching news. its cliterally unbelievable

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yutaalove · 2 years

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MANIAC #1: Chris Bang (Full Story)

«S(INISTER)KZ: MANIACS COLLECTION MASTERLIST»

LEGEND 📓Release status/Rating · 🖤Pairing · 🪐Universe · 🏷️Genre/Trope · 🚨 Warnings

WOLF BY THE TAIL

📜13.5K words | Approx. 60-minute read 📓One-shot, Explicit 🖤Bang Chan x (afab) Reader 🪐Prison AU, Inmate/Gangster!Chan (feat. hardcore simping) 🏷️Angst, Smut, Psychological, Crime 🚨Please see the series masterlist for general warnings: May contain factual inaccuracies (just play along), self-harm, Machiavellianism (severe manipulative tendencies), themes of cheating, themes of revenge, referenced miscarriage, professional ethics going out the window, crime of passion, referenced murder, prison violence, referenced breaking and entering & attempted physical/sexual assault, confrontation, emotional turmoil/severe internal conflict, wound suturing (mention of needles), desacralization (sexual acts taking place in a confessional), masturbation, first time oral sex (f receiving), semi-public sex (in non-residential environments), implied breeding kink, strength kink, oral sex, unprotected sex, creampie, fully charged vibrators will be recommended per usual. 📻Accompanying soundtrack 💭Reblogs & comments are always appreciated and please keep in mind they are the ultimate motivation fuel. 🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

The charmer of the Aussies. Jewel of The Crown Street Cartel. Fucking pride of his area code and his pack with a gigantic “Kia Kaha” tattoo on his back. Inmate Christopher Bang.

“Kia kaha!”

“KIA KAHA!”

Stay strong. And the rest will follow.

It wasn’t the sheer thrill of breaking the rules that drove Chris to the convoluted world of crime. He let himself ride the wave of his bad decisions to see where it was gonna eventually take him. Apparently, it would make him crash his surfboard into the shores of opioids, sandy beaches that you could snort by yourself or trade for some moisture. Whether it was the alcohol, bodily fluids, or spit spewing from angry mouths over a deal table, the incessant heat emitted from his lust for life would make it evaporate just to condense in the sky and rain back down again as dollar bills.

Silver rings on those long, dexterous fingers, silver necklace around the neck that held his head way too high, silver tongue in that mouth home to all kinds of sins. Inducing immediate envy in anybody who witnessed how easy he made it look to get rich or die trying, immediate desire in anybody who caught a whiff of his wind as he walked by. Fucking charmer and the pride of his area code if not the entire continent, bound by the extreme loyalty he possessed for the pack he belonged to. The rivals of The Crown Street Cartel could do nothing but seethe in their intense loathing toward him, prompted by the mere fact that Chris just existed. He was the epitome of being devious; so much so that he could literally walk right off anything by just talking his way out of it.

Needless to say, nothing, absolutely nothing satisfied the aforementioned bitter foes more than hearing the word that shit indeed hit the fan for The Crown Street.

“They got Jake.”

Jake. The deranged troublemaker hopped up on adrenaline, aggressively looking up to Chris and way too impatient for his own good. His sworn protégé. The cause of the emergency get-together with the boss man Oliver and their designated lawyer Jun to come up with a strategy dedicated to saving his ass for the umpteenth time.

“What are our options? Give it to us straight,” Oliver demanded.

Jun heaved a deep sigh, “Jake has priors. This doesn’t look good,” he stated bluntly, “If he talks, this time around he’s getting locked up for at least ten years with no chance of parole if not a life sentence.”

Chris held his head between his hands, utterly frustrated and cursing Jake’s ass off inside for not being more careful. For not being more patient. For having this unnecessary desire to prove himself.

“Is there nothing we can do?” Chris appealed emphatically, “I’m not gonna let the kid rot in a hellhole.”

Jun leaned back in his chair and looked dead into Chris’ eyes albeit with a defeated expression.

“Hypothetically speaking, if someone else with no priors on paper owns up to it, I can negotiate a deal for as little as five years.”

“How the fuck is five years little?!” Oliver yelled while slamming his fist on the circular mahogany table.

“Under these circumstances, it actually is. You’re lucky we’re not trying to dodge a death penalty here,” Jun declared, “All you gotta do is find someone to take the rep. Play nice and he can get out on parole in a year or so.”

Fascinating thing, loyalty. Things that would never even pop up in your wildest dreams, it would make you do without blinking an eye. What was there to even think about when you knew someone’s fate was lying in your hands, especially if that someone meant the world to you?

“I’ll confess to it.”

“Chris, no.”

“What’s the alternative, huh? He’ll get jumped before 3 PM on his first day,” Chris countered immediately, “Jun’s always had our back. If this is the lesser of the two evils, I’ll do it. He says I can be out in a year.”

“But what if you can’t?” Oliver implored him to see reason, “This is jail time we’re talking about, mate, not fucking community service. ”

Chris’ eyes were dripping with determination and Oliver knew what that meant. Once he set his mind to something, it was impossible to talk Chris out of it no matter how obvious the end result was. He was just one of those people who had to experience things firsthand, either to brag an ‘I told you so’ or to finally acknowledge what a horrendous mistake that was.

“You already know I’m well-versed in the art of surviving, brother.”

That very sentence ended up being one Chris had to serve. Luckily for him, it at least had a full stop at the end of it although it ran on for an entire paragraph. But anything to protect one of their own.

Stay strong.

Kia Kaha.

I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.

It was an oath you had taken. Well, you had to because apparently some dude named Hippocrates was extremely triggered by the concept of perjury some centuries ago, so either swear to it and make the unbreakable vow, or fucking rip your diploma in half, which cost you a hell a lot of money, and ironically enough a little bit of your own sanity in the process.

Or, you know, a good deal of it.

It wasn’t the sheer nobility of the profession that drove you to become a doctor. The design of the human body and mind had always fascinated you, so why not make a career out of it while you were getting goddamn intrigued by the total length of an average adult human’s blood vessels? Out of all the places you could have picked, you took a job in a prison as the chief attending physician because, hey, multiple birds with one stone.

I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.

Nobody told you to take on the challenge of serving the most disturbed crowd that you could possibly come across, but you did it anyway as if this was the only correct way of practicing your craft. At a correctional facility. Since you couldn’t think of a more infirm population than a building full of captive lunatics…

“I’m leaving. Will you be home by dinner?”

“I’ll try.”

Not even a ‘Have a good one on your first day, sweetheart’. Fuck that, not even a curt ‘Good luck’.

The awkward tension between you and your husband wasn’t always this palpable to cut with a knife. Not that anything specific happened to cause that, but somewhere along the way, you did feel something snap causing both of you to grow apart day by day. Maybe it was the unbearable heaviness of the mundane, coloring your entire marriage in the bleakest shade of gray. The affection? Gone. The desire? Gone. You were like two roommates at this point because you didn’t feel like doing anything for him anymore. Why bother when it was one-sided? Why bother getting a gift for someone imagining how happy it was going to make them when they couldn’t even care less? Why get upset when they didn’t react exactly in the way you pictured they would? No one put a gun to your head to get the said gift in the first place, which meant they didn’t owe you shit, did they?

When it was your spouse in question, it felt like they did. For wasting years of your life trapping you in a loveless birdcage if not for anything else. Cue the unsolicited advice from the spectators of your life.

Why do you keep doing this to yourself?

Get a divorce.

You can’t fix him. Just walk away.

How fucking easy was it to tell someone to make a drastic change in their life in a split second? Would you stop drinking coffee just because someone told you to?

No. Unless you believed it was not doing you any good anymore.

Even then, you would find a substitute first, see how it works. Or you could try to see how well you were adjusting to the complete lack of it, if at all. Everyone’s tolerance to change was different, after all; some welcomed it with open arms, and some avoided it like the plague. In any case, when you felt confident about your eventual decision, when you felt ready, then and only then would you make the change.

Not because somebody told you to because nobody was going to go through the consequences on your behalf if shit went south, nor were they going to take the blame for your prospective unhappiness with the outcome.

I will not be ashamed to say "I know not"...

Your marital bed that was empty most nights was not your place of work. Breaking an oath within the confines of your suffocation was not going to harm anyone.

Other than yourself.

Inmate 8MS3HF92.

That was what Chris was known as for the past ten months. No name, no surname, nothing that could humanize him. Mere letters and numbers. Another statistic to quote in recidivism reports maybe. The only time he would be reminded of his identity was when he was addressed by his prison family as ‘Bang’, the circle of people showing him the ins and outs of navigating the hell simulator with as little damage and as much profit as possible. To all the guards, to the warden, to everybody else, he was just ‘inmate’.

Not for long, though.

Do not pick fights no matter what and survive.

Survive.

That was exactly what he had been doing.

The plan was quite straightforward on paper: he was going to endure this for two more months, go up against the parole committee, and get the hell outta there for good, quite possibly getting another assault charge within his first hour as a free man by beating the shit out of Jake. If he dared press charges against his role model, that was.

Chris was one sly man that took particular, not to mention excessive, pride in the way he operated. He would never get his hands dirty. He wanted something? He would talk his way into it. He detected a threat? He would orchestrate the subtlest of feuds and have someone else get rid of it on his behalf. Obviously, ‘on his behalf’ did not mean that you would do it in full awareness that this was in Chris’ best interests. He would pitch it to you in such a manner that you would have no choice but to believe the threat was actually posed to you.

Yeah, he needed to survive, but being in the only place where you could make the most twisted but most lucrative connections, he was not going to waste that opportunity. Prison? More like a gangster's LinkedIn. After successfully outlining the food chain and making several rounds of meet and greets, Chris finally located where the drug ops ran from, and obviously getting himself assigned to any other place would be out of the question.

“Work detail assignments. Bang, you're working in the kitchen.”

“Oh, am I now? What a pleasant surprise.”

Ever the smooth talker, yes, but Chris still managed to make a few enemies wherever he went. That was both the curse and the blessing of being a charmer: If you didn't annoy the fuck out of somebody along the way, you were doing it wrong. That being said, the closer his parole hearing date approached, the more intolerant people became. He could just breathe in the general direction of someone he never talked to before and still manage to irritate them. That was the tradition of this place. You’d go through the hazing when you were about to graduate, not during orientation.

“Bang. A word.”

He was being called by Andrei, the head honcho of the kitchen, right before lunch. Chris wiped his hands on his apron and followed suit behind him.

“What's up, boss?”

“We were expecting a little delivery from the commissary two days ago. What the fuck happened with that Aussie boy?”

“Yeah, about that,” Chris scratched his nape with a look feigning an apology in his eyes like he was oh so sorry, “We’re experiencing a little hiccup. Should come in no later than Friday, though.”

“That's not what we agreed upon.”

“I know, but I'm also leaning on other people here. I can't exactly go out to personally bring in your heroin now, can I?”

Andrei cornered Chris against a wall and slammed both his hands on either side of him.

“I don't appreciate being played for a fool, Aussie boy.”

“Chill, mate. What the fuck are you busting my balls for?”

“Because your goddamn smug face gets on my last fucking nerve.”

“Have you looked in a mirror recently?”

The loud sound of a jar crashing alerted the two guards on the floor, prompting them to immediately dash towards the kitchen.

“Break it off! Break it off now!”

Chris might have managed to dodge getting his throat ripped, but a large piece of glass still made its way to his chest area, cutting a wound open below his left collarbone. A couple of centimeters more to the south and it could have easily been a slasher movie. He was immediately escorted to the infirmary to get patched up, which was hilarious in itself for Chris. He couldn't think of anything more ironic than nursing someone back to health just so they could rot some more. He waited and waited and waited on that gurney for someone to appear, washcloth still pressing on the bleeding wound and annoyed out of his mind.

“Hey doc, can we get this shit over with already? I kinda need to be somewhere right now.”

“Please excuse the tardiness to your schedule, your majesty. We're a little shorthanded around here,” you walked into the room.

Whoa…

Chris briefly wondered whether he in fact died on that floor due to blood loss because there was no other way he could see angels clad in white in broad daylight, not to mention in that dementor den.

“Who the fuck-? I mean…”

“It's fine, I've been called worse,” you responded without taking your eye off the incident report in your hands, “I'm Dr. Y/N Y/LN, the new chief attending physician,” then you met his eyes at long last, “Pleasure to make your acquaintance inmate 8MS3HF92 that got jumped in the kitchen.”

“Pretty name, huh? It’s French,” he grinned, “Chris Bang for short would suffice, doc.”

You knew what you were getting yourself into when you started working in this prison, and your contract with Hippocrates included one thing in its essence: Help the sick and do no harm. In that particular moment, however, you crassly fistbumped him for blessing your eyes by sending in this Olympian contemporary of his for a change. Yes, this might have been an inmate in front of you, but all your suppressed urges could register was a pair of thick forearms adorned with bulging veins all the way down to his hands; long, slender fingers pressing on his wound, and thighs spread wide almost invitingly…

…if you were anywhere else but in a prison at that moment, that is.

“Take it off, please.”

Chris’ mind was also somewhere else, so he wasn’t able to instantly comprehend your request, “Uh- Take what off?”

“Your top,” you pointed your pen at him, “So that I can examine the injury.”

He proceeded to do exactly as you said, but never in your entire professional life did you have to contain something primitive threatening to rear its head inside you. You bitchslapped your lizard brain really hard to remind yourself once again that this was a goddamn patient you had to attend to. Little did you know that you weren’t actually alone in this struggle.

Your smell was making Chris dizzy and he couldn’t control the arousal that forced a mild erection when you ran your hands on his chest, which was actually on his wound, but he couldn’t care less. It didn’t matter whether they were hidden under latex gloves since his goddamn touch starvation was through the roof already. To top it all off, you looking like that? It was a miracle he didn't blow in his pants right then and there.

You finished stitching his wound in complete silence while he watched you with his lips slightly parted, and only when you informed him you were done was he able to come back to reality.

“Come back next week, okay?”

Once he snapped out of it, Chris immediately wore his other personality on his sleeve as a knee-jerk reaction.

“Why don’t you just say you’re gonna miss me? I can even come back tomorrow,” he smugly grinned. You looked at him with a confused look.

“To get your stitches removed, Bang. The fuck is wrong with you?” you scoffed, “You can go back to your easy bake oven now.”

Not easily charmed, huh? I fucking love that in a woman.

“Thank you for taking care of me, doc. I’ll see you soon.”

Chris left the infirmary that day with a smile glued to his lips, full-on launching the crescent craters adorning his cheeks and secretly hoping you found dimples attractive in a man.

One borrowed touch was all it took. He caught himself counting down the days to get his stitches removed instead of his parole hearing.

All of a sudden, the walls weren’t closing in on him as much anymore. His breathing was still a little irregular but seemingly for different reasons than the humidity crawling in the stone walls. He had trouble falling asleep no matter how much he forced himself because his mind wouldn’t shut up about you. If only he could fall asleep, maybe he could see you one more time.

One day. Three days. Five days. And finally back to the infirmary again. God, if that didn’t feel longer than the time he had served…

“Hey, doc!”

You looked up at the unusually chirpy voice that most certainly did not belong to the dismal backdrop of this place. It was the stitches dude that looked more like a sculpture with a chip on it.

“Feeling good today, are we?” you commented while wearing your gloves to check the healing status of his scar, “Are you getting out or something?”

Chris actually had a snarky comment ready for you but as soon as your hand brushed against his, he forgot what he was going to say due to the sudden jolt he felt.

“There’s uh- fish tacos… for lunch.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at the unexpected answer, “I take it you’re very easy to please, Bang.”

Fucking yes. Let me borrow your lips just once and watch the fireworks go off.

As you got to work with a pair of tweezers to remove his stitches, Chris was watching you completely awestruck as if he was appreciating a piece of fine art, right click saving everything he could observe about you into his mind. Your brows that creased whenever you were focused on something, beautiful lips you licked every now and then, hair that looked like it was made of pure silk, skin that most certainly felt like velvet to the touch…

God, you're like a queen.

“All done. Don’t run around with scissors, okay?” you smiled and got up from the stool in front of him.

“Thank you.”

The gratitude was pretty much redundant considering this was your job; you were literally on payroll to take care of people. Nevertheless, you actually appreciated it since the stitches dude was quite literally the first person to thank you for your services.

“I uh- I'll see you around, doc.”

“I hope not. That would mean you injured yourself again or something,” you giggled and gently squeezed his shoulder, “Stay out of trouble, Bang.”

Oh, I don’t think so, my queen.

Chris tossed and turned in his bed for what felt like hours to him that night because his mind wouldn’t shut up about the burn on his shoulder caused by the first ‘unprotected’ touch you shared without a layer of latex between his skin and yours. If only he could fall asleep, maybe he could see you one more time.

Then again, he didn’t actually have to wait for that when you were all that he saw whenever he closed his eyes, so he did. His hand moved inside his bottoms as if it had a mind of its own.

And there you were. Your attention completely on him, your tongue glazing your lips every now and then. Why were you licking them, though? Was it because you also felt your throat getting dry? Was it because you also wanted to press them against his?

Fuck, I’d kill to feel those lips on me.

Your face. The way the corners of your mouth curled when you smiled at him. The way you slightly squinted your eyes when you were focused. Was that what you looked like when you were turned on?

I want you. Oh god, I want you so bad.

Your poise. The way you carried yourself. Firm steps, determined voice, very obviously not taking shit from anyone. Grace materialized.

I wanna be the floor you walk on, fucking christ.

Just your sheer beauty. The way you oozed sexiness without revealing any piece of skin. The way you moved. The way you knew exactly what you were doing. Did you also know what exactly pleased you? Did you know all the things he was willing to do just to please you?

“Ah, fuck!”

Chris didn’t even care that he made a hefty mess on himself as he arched on that god-awful mattress. The convulsions spreading throughout his body as he came were a different kind of intense. Up until that moment in his life, he had climaxed infinity times either with the assistance of third parties or all by himself; sometimes manifesting as an unimpressive shiver and some other times mind-numbingly hard.

But not once, never once did it feel like surrendering his soul to someone.

If it is given me to save a life, all thanks. But it may also be within my power to take a life; this awesome responsibility must be faced with great humbleness and awareness of my own frailty.

Above all, I must not play at God.

Chris wasn’t aware of what the Hippocratic oath contained, nor did he have to take it. Ergo, he was free to ‘play at god’ all he wanted whenever the fuck he saw fit. Much like that day when he overheard the Irish circle indulging in a little locker room talk while Chris was watching TV with his own entourage.

“Have you seen the doctor chick yet? Complete cumdump material if you ask me.”

“You just know she likes it dirty, sassy-ass bitch.”

Every time Chris felt the onset of a rampage coming on, he knew exactly what to do: remove himself from the environment until he could think straight. That being said, the loud sleazy waves of laughter coming from right behind him triggered him so hard that it took everything in his willpower not to crash his chair on this O’Connell lowlife’s face and scatter his brains out right then and there. He clenched his teeth and his fists really hard to control his emotions, and jumped to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Noah asked him.

“The gym, mate. Been slacking off on them weights lately. I’ll catch you later.”

Technically, Chris didn’t lie. He was indeed going to the gym, but not because his body craved that post-workout dopamine release. He knew the one man he needed was always in the gym during those hours.

“Paco! My main man,” he got behind the bench his friend was lifting weights on.

“What's good, Bang?”

“Can't complain. Can't complain.”

Chris helped him with the next set of benchpress as if his sole purpose was just that all along and put the weights back in their place once the set was done.

“You already know you're my brother around here, right?”

“Damn straight, man. Ride or die.”

“Something came to my attention, so I thought I'd let you know.”

“What is it?”

He offered Paco a towel and leaned into him like he was about to reveal top secret information.

“You do remember how O'Connell ratted you out to the guards about the whole cellphone situation, right?”

“Yeah?”

Chris glanced over the gym door and turned his attention back to Paco again, “He told people he turned it in but I heard it on the grapevine that he’s indulging in a little hotline bling action for himself. The fucking audacity of this guy to fuck his girl through something that doesn't belong to him...”

“That MOTHERFUCKER…”

Chris placed his hand on Paco’s shoulder, “Just between you and me, but I think he is out to colonize all your outside resources, mate. I'd put a burner up his ass before he could even plan to do something if I were you,” then he continued after giving his friend a bottle of water, “If you wanna take back what's yours, you know where to go, brother. Find me if you need anything, yeah?”

“I owe you one, Bang. I won’t forget this.”

It was that easy. None of these people knew how to burn that sugar as brain fuel, so nobody ever questioned anything. In Chris’ defense, it took a lot of actual snitching for the ploys to work. Trust needed to be earned first - respect naturally followed. Now he could just sit back, relax, and watch the altercations unfold as the tension between the parties escalated through the roof.

Because he never got his own hands dirty.

Now he could channel all his attention to the only thing that mattered to him. You.

You would never visit the gen pop wing, so Chris’ only chance of seeing you was coming to you at the infirmary. Of course the guards would never let him leave the wing unless he absolutely needed medical attention, which meant intensive brainstorming sessions on Chris’ end to put on successful performances to convince them he was either sick or injured. If that meant standing in front of the ventilation grates blowing cool air right after taking a freezing-ass shower, so be it. Risking pneumonia was so worth it if it meant seeing you again.

“Does it hurt when I press here?” you gently sank your fingers into his chest after listening to his breathing.

“I can’t tell. Do it again.”

“You do realize we’re not having outercourse, right Bang?”

“Says you,” Chris mischievously smiled, “You’re very much getting to second base with me right now, doc.”

You applied pressure to the area right under his jawline sharper than your scalpels to check for swelling, and grabbed a throat swab for a strep test.

“Open wide.”

“That’s what she said.”

“Bang…”

“Okay, okay. Please don’t be mad.”

You got your sample for a throat culture and went back to the back of the room to properly label it. Chris sat there in silence for some time and spoke with a soft voice.

“I don’t know why the fuck you care this much, but I’m grateful that you do, you know?”

“It’s my job to care,” you responded without looking at him.

“I know, but…” Chris trailed off, “Nobody else bothered to care about me my entire life unless I was useful to them in some capacity. You’re the first person that does it.”

You didn’t want to assume anything but when your eyes met his, you felt like you saw something glinting with a faint shade of pink, terribly reminiscent of adoration. Chris got up to head back to his wing again.

“I owe you my life, doc.”

This was his third time in the infirmary within a span of two weeks. How this man functioned in a cartel while hurting himself this much was appalling, really. Then again, maybe he didn’t and that was what landed his ass in prison in the first place.

“What is it this time, Bang? Tripped on a flat surface?”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree upon your sight, “I thought you'd like to see your favorite inmate.”

You furrowed your brows with a mildly nauseated expression, “Yeah, that's not a thing, and don't say that ever again. What do you have for me today?”

Chris spread his legs for you to show you the cut on his inner thigh, blood oozing from it now dried.

“I wasn’t being careful with the knives during the kitchen duty. We gotta be fast to feed this many people on time, you know.”

You put on your latex gloves, the supply of which was being frequently used for Chris nowadays, and examined the wound, “Looks like a clean cut, but you'll need stitches again.” Then you retorted while preparing the suture, “Just bring a fucking design next time so I can tattoo it on you. At least it'll look pretty. Drop your pants.”

Chris was tremendously grateful you were facing away from him as he gulped really thickly, experiencing a sudden case of cottonmouth. He knew the remedy to that was hidden between your lips of course, but that was neither here nor there, and certainly not to be brought up right that second. Nevertheless, he was still acutely aware of the fact that he was putting himself on display for you in some capacity.

You pulled a stool right in front of him to get to work, your instruments neatly placed on the surface right next to you. When you locked your eyes on your target, you got momentarily furious at yourself for wondering whether his thighs were always this sculpted or he shaped them out during his time here. Heaving a deep sigh, you penetrated his skin with a needle to proceed with stitching his wound, but that wasn’t when he hissed. Chris let out that sharp inhale when you placed your hand on his inner thigh instead.

“Am I hurting you?”

“A little, but it’s fine.”

Of course he was going to lie his ass off. He wasn’t about to tell you how that contact went straight to the synapse connected to his X-rated inner mind theatre and prompted a chain reaction reaching all the way down to his crotch.

Control it.

You broke into a sarcastic smirk, “A little pussy of you to gasp at a little needle when you’re in a fucking prison, don’t you think?”

Chris chortled in slight surprise at your commentary, “You usually swear this much, doc?”

“On the regular,” you replied with a firm voice, your eyes still glued to his thigh, “That’s how you motherfuckers learn to check yourselves around me. As you should.” Then you briefly looked up at him.

“Doesn't seem to be working on you that much, though. You keep showing up here like this is a restaurant.”

“So what?” he responded with a nonchalant smile, “I like how you take care of me. I don’t think that’s grounds for violating my parole chances.”

Like you were the one to talk. You really wished you could help the smile he elicited out of you as if you were two people flirting over drinks in a goddamn restaurant.

Fucking charmer.

“Don't you think we got a little more than a Hippocratic relationship going on here, doc?”

His words landed like a nuclear bomb in your office and Chris noticed that pause in your movements even though it didn't take any longer than two nanoseconds.

“I see how you shudder when you touch me.”

“Bang, stop.”

“You know it's true, though.”

His voice had become deeper all of a sudden like he was trying to get a message across. It didn't matter whether that message was in a glass bottle floating its way into obscurity without a proper address attached to it.

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but I'm married.”

Chris' face dropped ever so slightly, barely noticeable to the naked eye, but he knew. He knew that was a formality. He knew you just stated a fact. He knew that wasn't an invitation for him to make himself scarce.

“Doesn't take a genius to conclude it's not a disgustingly happy one if you ask me,” he declared, “Is it because he works so late? Doesn’t cherish you like you should be?”

“It's none of your business.”

He kept examining your face as you kept stitching him up like the answer was written there somewhere.

“Or is it because he's out a little too much? Doesn't come home for dinner anymore?”

You involuntarily flinched at his words.

“Oh, so that's why,” Chris tilted his head and continued, “Why do you fucking put up with that, doc? Knowing he was out, probably calling someone else a slut or whatever... Do you still let him go down on you with that mouth?”

You hysterically laughed in response, “Maybe it worked out for the best that I don't need to worry about anyone going down on me. Hold this,” you handed him the antiseptic trying to brush away the interrogation over your failing marriage.

“What do you mean?”

“You need to know the taste of something to crave it, Bang,” you heaved an annoyed sigh and blew on his wound, “This should heal nicely.”

Chris’ eyes widened upon your words like you just told him he was getting out the following day.

“You… You mean you've never been…”

While you were putting your instruments away, you felt your face getting hot as if you stayed under the sun for five hours straight. You must have been beet red, but you kept your composure nevertheless. Chris, on the other hand, was very much amused.

“No shit, you really don't know what it's like to be eaten out, do you, doc?” he chuckled.

You didn’t answer. Not that there was anything to be replied to. His question was rhetorical after all, but he kept on pressing for a further comment.

“It's phenomenal. Nothing quite like it,” he squinted his eyes and continued, “Especially when you eat pussy with enthusiasm. Takes a woman like you to induce that appetite.”

You returned to the stool to clean around the wound without saying anything since you were almost sure nothing intelligible was going to come out of your mouth. He kept painting you this picture and forced you to look at it. Forced you to witness how tantalizing it was. Your mind was getting infested with the image of Chris between your legs, slowly killing you with curiosity to snap and find out whether it was true, whether it was really that hell of an experience like he was promising.

If you don't have something to retort with, then shut the fuck up.

“But you're not terribly upset with me, are you doc? This doesn't bother you as much as you believe it should.”

You were wondering whether Chris somehow managed to install wires in your mind, narrating your own thoughts back to you shamelessly. He tugged at the stray hairs right in the intersection of your nape and your ear. You shuddered at the sensation.

“Why else would you close your eyes when I touch your hair?”

He placed his hand on your cheek that was warm to the touch, courtesy of his relentless flustering attempts. You found yourself leaning into it, not a shred of courage present in your soul to open your eyes and look at him. You didn't want to burst with anticipation and you were desperately looking for the whereabouts of your sanity but it was nowhere to be found. And then…

You felt his lips on yours, asking for permission to stay a while longer, begging you to not send him away. Soft but wet. Warm but intense. Tender but passionate. And it was gaining speed like a plane was about to take off with his fingers brushing your hair, his tongue clashing with yours, his lips consuming yours, and your hands trying to find their way to his face. If you didn't take the last exit right about now, you were fucking doomed.

“No,” you pulled away from him hurriedly like someone told you to cut it off, trying to catch your breath, “Go. We're done here.”

“Are we, though?” he flashed the faintest but still a knowing smile.

“You don't have to come in every time you sneeze, Bang. Stay out of trouble,” you quickly made your way to your desk to occupy yourself with filling out some patient forms.

Chris exhaled and got up to his feet to make his way back, “I would hold that thought if I were you. This is a fucking prison after all. The only place worse than here would be the third circle of hell.” Then he stopped right behind you and whispered in your ear.

“We'll pick this up where we left off when I come in to get my stitches removed, doc,” he placed the softest of kisses on your earlobe.

Chris was aware that playing doctor with you was not that sustainable in the long run. He had to come up with an idea that would position him around you much more frequently so that he didn’t have to remind you of his existence at regular intervals, and he had to do it without the risk of inflicting permanent damage on himself.

Naturally…

“A proposal, brother,” Chris spoke to Noah in their cell, “Don’t you think it would be a more lucrative move if I was in the infirmary instead? It's literally the chemical stash of this fucking prison. Besides the commissary I mean.”

“Where did that come from all of a sudden?” Noah eyed Chris.

“The current tension between us and the Lurkers. I wouldn't have to watch my ass every five seconds to avoid getting jumped. Consider it protective custody until my parole hearing.”

Chris liked to think that he was smarter than most, if not all people, but apparently there was something about him that he wasn’t quite able to conceal.

“And you’d swear this has nothing to do with the doctor lady?” he asked, briefly stunning Chris in the meantime.

“It’s no-”

“Bang,” Noah immediately stopped him, “Fake it to whoever the fuck else you want. Not to one of your own.”

Chris looked at his cellmate’s face to decide whether there was any chance at all that he could fake it. His fingers inadvertently touched the wolf tattoo on his inner left arm and he heaved a deep sigh that was colored with all the shades of yearning that ever existed.

“She seeped through my skin, mate,” he said with a broken smile, “She lives under my skin like a fucking tattoo.”

Contrary to Chris' expectation, that moment of honest vulnerability actually elicited a comforting pat on the shoulder from Noah.

“Looks like you grabbed the tiger by the tail this time, mate,” Noah broke the news to him and pointed at his tattoo, “Or in your case, a goddamn wolf.”

“Bang? What are you doing here?”

It had been a while since you last saw Chris, so you expected some banter exchange with his usual flirtation frosting over whatever klutzery he dabbled in this time, but not only Chris looked very much healthy, he also responded to you very nonchalantly.

“Shift in work detail. I’ll be working here, doc.”

“Doing what?”

“Helping you?” he shrugged, “Weren’t you the one complaining about being shorthanded? Just dump whatever manual labor and paperwork you have on me. I know how to read.”

Chris had decided to maneuver to be less aggressive in his advances towards you, thinking to himself that just being close to you would be enough for the time being and he could somehow work his way up from there. At least he tried. As much as he could.

He really really tried his utmost best as much as he could, but the more time he spent breathing the same air as you, the more hopelessly he was falling in love, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to stop it.

He initially didn’t want to assume anything but could swear he felt it the day he kissed you. You didn’t give an immediate automatic rejection like you would have if you weren’t the slightest bit interested in him. You did kiss him back. For quite a bit. For Chris, that instantly meant your marital status didn’t mean jack shit to you. Why would it when you were so obviously unhappy anyway?

One day. Three days. Five days. Veiled glances. Stolen touches. Catching whiffs of scent in passerby winds. Yearning. Yearning. Yearning.

He tried his best as much as he could.

“Need a hand with that?” Chris made his way in front of your desk as you were labeling documents to archive them properly while standing.

“Felt lonely by the file cabinet?” you smiled at him. Although your intentions were to bounce snark off of each other to end the tiring day on a lighthearted note, you didn’t expect such a response.

“I just wanna be next to you.”

You stopped trying to cram a piece of paper in a sheet protector and looked at him. His eyes were clouded with something akin to sorrow. It didn’t suit him. The only thing fit for that face was crescent eyes and those dimples that chipped away at his dangerousness.

“Bang…”

“I wanna feel you. I wanna kiss you.”

He was talking without looking at you, hands still busy with sorting out documents like he wasn’t saying what he was saying. Even a man of his usual composure had his limits since he was a human being after all. A human being with needs taking over his sanity.

“God, I really wanna taste you,” he dropped the paper on the desk and finally reciprocated your gaze. It held so much meaning that you whimpered inside but it was quite audible to you. He was trying. He was really trying to control his urges but he found himself walking behind you nevertheless.

“We’re alone now. Nobody will know.”

Chris touched the strands of stray hairs on your nape again, knowing damn well what it did to you, and whispered into your ear, his voice slowly changing colors as he kept talking.

“You surely heard about it, didn't you doc? How good it feels when a tongue swipes on your folds?”

You inadvertently closed your eyes and exhaled. His hands found their way to your waist.

“How wet it gets? How warm it is?”

He was brushing your cheeks now. You leaned into the feeling.

"How it glides against your wetness? God, so fucking slippery."

The very same fingers dragged down your neck and cupped your breasts over your lab coat. Your heart was pounding in your chest.

“Having a pair of lips wrapped around your clit? Sucking your soul out of you?”

And he finally guided them right over your core still clothed with your dress and very unnecessary underwear.

“Getting that clit teased until it melts in the mouth?”

Chris turned you around with one harsh movement and trapped you between your desk and his frame, his face way too close to yours.

“I wanna see what you look like cumming, doc. I wanna hear what you sound like moaning.”

He placed a very soft kiss on your forehead as if his intentions were as pure as they could ever get. His whisper in your ear felt like it was blasting from loudspeakers, sending an immediate shockwave to your core.

“I wanna be a slave to my queen.”

You were in complete disbelief over what his mere words were inducing in you, appalled that you would even consider something like this. This beautiful demon with that silver tongue of his… It was next to impossible to resist him.

That being said, even a woman of your usual poise had her limits since you were a human being after all. A human being with needs that weren’t catered to for what seemed like forever taking over her sanity. Chris was closing the distance between you to mere millimeters and if you didn't take the last exit right about now, you were fucking doomed.

“Let me. Let me, please.”

Please.

You didn’t take the exit and allowed all your defenses against him to collapse instead. Fuck the exit. In fact, you slammed on the gas pedal really hard and drove past it leaving a trail of dust clouds behind you. Finally. You finally leaned into his lips and let him electrocute your entire body. Chris held you in his arms like he was reunited with something he had lost a long time ago, so glad that he found it but terrified to let go for fear of losing it again. His hand reached down your core under your dress and when he slid your underwear to the side to feel your wetness at long goddamn last, he hissed at the sensation.

“Oh, god,” he groaned into your mouth. He brought his fingers to your eye level so that you could see the trail you left on him and watch him taste you as he sucked on them.

“You taste amazing. Fucking amazing.”

As you leaned against your desk, Chris got on his knees for you, eyes never leaving yours for one second. He slid the skirt of your dress up just enough so that you could watch the arson he was about to commit on your body.

And you were absolutely paralyzed.

“Do you have any idea how fucking hot you get me, doc?” he gently spread your legs apart and placed kisses on your thighs, stroking your legs up and down in the meantime, “You just… exist. And I'm fucking gone.”

Oh, this goddamn charmer and that silver tongue of his. That was about to take you on a ride.

“God, you do feel like satin under my touch.”

Chris slid your underwear down your legs while keeping your gaze all the while and contorted his face in utter pleasure when he finally witnessed your exposed wet folds for him.

“Chain me between your legs. I wanna be buried here. Drown me in your ocean.”

And when the warmth of his mouth covered your pussy…

“Oh, fuck, Chris!”

Chris. You called him Chris. He wrapped his arms around your ass in return, indeed burying his face in you.

You had never felt anything like this before in your goddamn life. It was everything Chris told you it was going to feel like and then some. Much more stimulating than having fingers clumsily pressed against your clit, wetter than you could possibly get yourself watching the hottest porn, instant source of buzz traveling your entire body at lightspeed like someone injected desire in your veins in lieu of pure heroin. You knew Chris wasn’t a death row inmate but he was eating you like he was one and you were going to be the last thing imprinted on his palate before leaving this world for good to burn in hell for all eternity.

“I'm not touch starved. I'm you starved, baby. I've been starving my entire fucking life.”

You held onto the edges of your desk and threw your head back, unable to do anything else besides letting out those quiet moans Chris’ delightful ministrations were forcing out of you. You wanted to fucking combust.

“You're just so delicious. A goddamn feast right between your legs.”

Swipe.

“Shit.”

“Found a spot we like, did we?” Chris grinned at you, “Is it this one, baby?”

He latched back at the spot he just discovered and started lapping at it.

“Ah, please!”

“Right there, isn't it baby?” he went on to gently suck on your clit now.

“Chris… Oh, god!”

Chris. You called him Chris.

“Wanna tease it until you go crazy for me. You're ruining me. Fucking ruining me.”

He wasn’t in any kind of rush as if you were in his actual bedroom, taking his time to make sure you were relishing this sensation. Like he was a plug sneakily handing you a pill to pop because no harm in just once. Like he was trying to get you addicted to his tongue.

“It's rising, isn't it? I feel that tide rising in you, baby.”

“Please, fuck, I'm so close. Don't stop, please. Please!” you tugged at his locks.

“Hold onto me. Pull me closer.”

You pressed his head into your pussy more as his hands traveled upwards and Chris intertwined his fingers with yours. He wasn’t applying too much pressure over your clit so as not to overstimulate you but he made up for it with pace.

“I'm- Oh, fucking god!”

He talked against your pussy with eyes closed, “Cum in my mouth. Let me get you so damn high,” then he dragged his tongue all the way from your entrance up to your clit again and looked at you with eyes overflowing with sheer want and passion.

“Let me be your first, baby.”

Chris finally moved on to land the coup de grâce, trapping your clit between his plush lips, sucking on it, teasing it with his tongue at a gradually increasing pace. Third gear. Fourth gear. Fifth gear. Fucking NOS mode on overdrive.

“Fuck, cumming. Oh, Chris!”

Chris. You called him Chris while you violently arched into him. He squeezed your hands in return.

That tidal wave absolutely washed over you. You were drenched. Everywhere. Chris looked so beautiful with his eyes closed like that, never unlatching himself from your clit, still moaning into your pussy as he let you roll your hips against his face to ride out your orgasm, resolute to elicit every last drop he could suck out of you. For him. Because of him.

“First. I'm your first now. It will never change.”

That orgasm went straight to your head so hard like a brainfreeze that it took a hot minute for you to come down. Chris chuckled between your legs.

“Came so hard. You were throbbing in my mouth.”

He put your underwear back on as you were still panting, struggling to catch your breath and trying to put the floating pieces of your reasoning back into their place.

“That's what it feels like,” Chris got up to his feet and brushed your hair back, “Wasn't that just phenomenal?”

It indeed was. You had literally never cum like that before. Not by yourself, not with someone else, not through anything. It felt like Chris opened a door to a dimension that you never knew existed. Maybe Atlantis was indeed real and it was located in his mouth.

“Kiss me again. Taste yourself on my lips. See for yourself how sweet you taste."

You were so fucked out that you were having trouble even keeping your eyes open, but you welcomed Chris into your mouth with open arms and let him coat your tongue with yourself.

“Will you let me visit you after dinners? I promise I’ll be good. I'll be fucking exemplary to earn dessert, just say yes.”

It actually looked kinda cute that he was this eager. You tried. You tried really hard to come up with a reasonable response to this, but your sanity was long gone.

“You'll let me do it again right? Fly you out of your body again?” Chris kissed your neck and spoke softly into your ear, “Anytime. Anywhere. Just ask for me and I'll come rushing.”

At that moment, the siren went off signaling headcount. You didn’t know why that was a source of disappointment for you.

“Just know that you got me right where you want me, doc,” Chris stole a kiss from your lips and made his way back, clearly extremely reluctant to do so.

Chris had been losing sleep over you for quite some time already, but this time it was different. This time not much was left to his imagination since he had actual references now. He knew what you smelled like, what you tasted like, what you felt like, what you looked like, what you sounded like, overloading all his senses with just you. You. You. You. You. You.

Tonight, he was gonna cum to the instant replay of how he ate you out. How you kept calling his name.

‘Oh, fuck, Chris!’

Just like that. Say my name.

What if he mustered his courage a little earlier? What if the siren didn’t go off before knowing what you would feel like around his cock?

Bet you're so tight from being touch starved. Ready to kill. Kill me already.

He soaked his entire palm and squeezed his length, imagining you clenching around him out of sheer neediness.

‘Chris… Oh, god!’

Oh, your pulse, baby girl. Your heart beats so hard I can feel it in me.

He closed his fist tighter and picked up his pace.

GOD, I wanna die in that pussy. Stretch it all good, mold it for myself.

Faster.

Do you go to bed wishing you would see me in your dreams tasting you? Do you randomly imagine me, too?

And faster.

Do you want me as bad as I want you?

And faster.

Nothing sounds as pretty as you. Nothing I’ve ever felt was this true.

‘Fuck, cumming. Oh, Chris!’

Oh god, I love you. I fucking LOVE YOU.

“Baby, fuck!”

Chris had lost count of how many times he came to the thought of you in his bed, in bathroom stalls, in the shower when no one was around. Up until that moment in his life, he had ejaculated in different holes of different people just for the heck of it.

But not once, never once did he experience an immediate jealousy fit afterwards.

Didn’t even sip on you once when you taste like that, fucking waste of oxygen. Doesn't even appreciate you when that's all he should be doing.

Chris closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, throwing his arm over his forehead.

You should be mine, baby girl. Only mine.

Thursdays. Thursdays were your on-call duty days where you spent the night at the prison. And somebody was of course aware of that.

He was also aware that you were preparing a report for the warden for a while now, and you were supposed to hand it in on Friday. It was a Wednesday when Chris hid it six feet under your computer so that you would think you had lost it for good. He just needed an excuse to spend the Thursday with you so that he could whip out your hard work on a Friday and save the day. No harm done, and in fact, two birds with one stone.

Fucking genius.

“Thank you for helping me with this. I can’t believe how I managed to lose it. It was right fucking there just yesterday!”

“No thanks necessary doc,” Chris talked while entering a bunch of data on the screen, “It’s my job to help you.”

You smiled, being reminded of the moment you told him something with the exact gist. The fact that he remembered tickled something inside you.

Nobody was good at remembering stuff about you.

“But I’m still a firm believer of positive reinforcement,” he grinned, eyes still glued to the screen, “If I do a good job, then you’ll let me have dessert.”

“Will you stop?” you landed a light punch on his shoulder.

“No, I won’t,” he mischievously smiled in response, “I’m missing dinner for this, doc. You gotta make it up to me.”

You had already crossed a line with Chris. An inmate. A patient.

Then why the fuck the prospect of the same thing repeating itself flared something inside you despite your better judgement?

“I can hear you thinking about it. To answer your question, that's the charm of the Aussies.”

You were taken aback by the unexpected comment that spoke directly to your concern.

“Are all of you like that?”

“No. That's a me-exclusive thing,” he stopped typing and looked up at you sitting on your desk. His eyes darted to your lips and Chris slowly scooted the rolling chair closer to you. You knew where this was headed.

“Are you sure you’re not just missing your girlfriend?”

“I don’t have a girlfriend, doc. Nor do I want one.”

He grabbed your hand and placed the softest kiss on it prompting you to close your eyes on cue.

“Unless it’s you.”

“Please, Bang.”

“Don’t call me that! I want you.”

Chris got up to his feet to be on eye level with you and cupped your cheeks.

“And only you.”

It was like a learned reflex at this point. Whenever Chris leaned in, you braced yourself for the impact on your lips. So soft. So wet. So full of need.

“I miss you, baby,” Chris spoke from your neck, “You miss me, too, don’t you? I know you do.”

“Jesus-”

His hands didn’t mind going on a field trip this time around. He dragged his fingers from your neck to your cleavage, witnessing you shudder under his touch fully anticipating his next move. Chris thickly gulped when he fondled your breasts, letting them fill his palms to the brim.

“You do things to me. You do things to my body.”

“Chris…”

“Touch me. Please.”

Zing!

Nobody wanted you this bad before. Nobody lusted after you to the extent of causing earthquakes on your core. Nobody begged for your touch like they were praying for you to declare war.

And obliterate them into tomorrow.

You lost it.

“Fuck me, Chris.”

Did he… did he hear you right? Did you actually say what he thought y-?

You grabbed him by his nape and pulled him in for a hungry kiss. Like you had been Chris starved your whole fucking life.

“Show me how much you want me.”

Chris' jaw hit the floor. He was really hoping you were able to register what was coming out of your mouth because he was on the brink of snapping himself.

“Are you… Are you su-?”

“I want you.”

Do you want me as bad as I want you?

He finally got his answer.

“Touch me. Fucking touch me, baby.”

You slithered your hands under his sleeveless shirt and damn was that whole turn-on by itself. Solid pecs under your touch begging you to drag your nails, your lips, your tongue on them. Chris got rid of your underwear with one swift move as you yanked down his bottoms to finally finally see him in the flesh. As he spread your legs apart on that desk he was losing his mind over the amount of gloss coating your pussy while you were going insane over a man looking like Chris being rock-hard for you. Because of you.

“I’m gonna-”

If he could just shut the fuck up for two seconds trying to announce everything he was about to do to you since the consent was already very clearly established by you. You wrapped your legs around his waist to harshly pull him into you so that he would get the message.

As soon as he pushed himself into you with an obscene squelch, Chris snapped.

“Fuck! That stretch. As tight as I’ve always imagined.”

As he’d always imagined. So he had been imagining you.

“Oh god, faster Chris.”

You wanted faster? He’d give you faster and then some. Anything for you. Chris placed a hand over the small of your back as support and started ramming himself into you.

“I’ve only dreamed of fucking you this good. Can’t believe how well you’re taking me, fuck!”

“Ah, please. Please, more!”

“Feel how good I’m fucking you. Feel it, baby. Clench for me.”

Chris angled himself a little upwards so that the curvature of his cock would hit that spot to get you to see the stars and he went harder.

“Goddammit, Chris!”

“It’s a fact, baby girl. You were fucking made for me, my god! Clench harder, come on.”

Oh to lose yourself in someone. To descend into insanity together with them. Nothing but two souls. Nothing but two bodies.

Nothing but the lunacy called love.

“Call me yours. Make me your man. I’ll be your man instead.”

Nobody pleaded to be yours before. Nobody fucked you into forgetting how your heart was sore.

“I promise I’ll give you everything you deserve, baby. Just be mine.”

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum. Please, I’m gonna cum!”

“I'm so fucking in love with you, oh god!”

“Chris, FUCK!”

Between these walls, behind the bars, in a stone box where people were punished was the liberation you wanted to feel all along. As you came really hard on his cock, Chris buried his face into your lips. Needy, lustful, passionate.

He tasted like nothing but freedom.

The next day he magically retrieved your file for you first thing in the morning and went to have a stale breakfast as a changed man. It never tasted this delicious to him before. After he was done eating, he made his way to the library where nobody ever came in, and took out Paco’s cellphone he stole back from O’Connell, which was hidden behind the ventilation grates.

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Chris?!”

“I don’t have much time,” Chris checked the door to see if anyone was nearby and lowered his voice, “I need a favor, mate. No questions asked.”

There were two reasons the warden would call someone in. Either regarding disciplinary actions or to break some bad news. In any case, it wasn’t a pleasant experience. Your heart started thumping in your chest as you made your way to his office. You noticed the gen pop manager was also with him in the room.

“I'm afraid we have some bad news, Dr. Y/LN.”

A part of you was relieved this didn’t have anything to do with your little fling with an inmate, which was definitely grounds for a disciplinary hearing if not getting your license revoked, but you no way in hell were you expecting the news of your husband’s passing due to a heart attack induced by excessive drug use in a hotel room.

“We thought you would like to know that the person instigating the event is found to have ties to The Crown Street Cartel and she confessed to the crime. She will be moved to a correctional institution for women tomorrow morning. We’re really sorry for your loss.”

That whole string of information landed like a bomb in that dark room, rendering you completely shocked. You didn’t know what to be upset over first. Your husband gone. Being divorced by death. Apparent adultery involved not that you were pure as the driven snow. And the cherry on top, The Crown Street Cartel.

No.

You passed on the offer to give a eulogy for your husband at the funeral. What were you going to talk about anyway? How you hastily got married over the scare of a pregnancy and how things were never the same after your miscarriage? How he didn’t even make one attempt to maybe reconcile things? How he either spent his nights out or on the couch, forcing you to drown yourself in impossible amounts of work so that you didn’t have to think about it all? How he died right before you actually mustered the courage to tell him that you didn’t wanna live like this anymore?

IS THAT WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO TALK ABOUT???

You didn’t even take time off to properly grieve, since there was no loss to be experienced anyway. It had always been kind of there. However, there was still a confrontation to be had, driving you much antsier the more it approached. It approached. It approached.

And finally arrived at your office door one morning.

“You’re back!” Chris beamed up at the sight of you and attempted a hug.

“SAVE IT!” you yelled at him a lot more loudly than you anticipated while pushing him away and pointed your finger at him with a trembling voice, “I’m gonna ask you point-blank. Do you or do you not have anything to do with my husband’s death?”

“Baby, I-”

“ANSWER THE QUESTION!”

Chris’ silence seemed like the answer you were dreading to hear all along. You scoffed.

“You can guess why I became a doctor, right Bang?”

Bang. You called him Bang.

“Didn’t I save your ass every single time you fell down? Didn't you tell me you owe me your fucking life, huh? That’s what you do for me in return?”

You approached him with slow steps and stopped right in front of his face.

“Is fucking ruining my life what you do for me in return, Bang?!”

He furrowed his brows and his expression was unreadable. It could have very well been interpreted as being upset, angry, sad, or whatever the fuck he claimed to feel.

“But you… You didn’t love him. You love me, baby. We love each other!”

“WHO gave you the right?” you pushed his chest, “What the fuck would you know about love, huh? Do you know what it takes to love someone? What you have to sacrifice for them? Loving someone means you want them to be happy!”

“Do you know what it takes, doc?” Chris countered, “You’ve been trapped in a prison of your own for god knows how long. I set you free so that you could be happy!”

“At least I fucking know it’s not an excuse to play god and take someone’s life away!”

Chris was heavily breathing from his nose, trying so hard to find the right words to sate you, but it felt much like the day your hand brushed against his for the first time.

“Then maybe you’ve never been in love before.”

You looked at him with incredulous eyes as he approached you.

“Please, baby. I lov-”

“Go,” you stopped him and turned away, “We’re done here.”

And that was exactly what Chris did. After watching your back like he was witnessing you evaporate into thin air like smoke, he turned around and left.

After that day, you started paying frequent visits to the prison chapel. Not to pray, it was actually for meditation purposes since it was quiet. Not the kind of deafening silence crawling at your house and driving you absolutely crazy. It could be the pretty stained glass windows, but you felt a piece of peace there. Every day during lunch, you borrowed the key from Father Moreno, locked the door behind you and just sat there, trying to hear yourself think. Just breathe.

After that day, a week passed, but you weren’t grieving as much as you should have. Neither were you turning Chris in. Unfortunately for you, not because you didn’t have anything to pin the crime on him. You literally had a confession directly coming from his mouth.

You painfully realized that it was because you didn’t want to.

I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.

Not only could you not prevent it, but it was also well on its way to metastasizing in your heart.

Chris was losing sleep over you again. Not because of the butterfly riot inside his stomach but due to this crippling restlessness over you not wanting to see him in any capacity. One day. Three days. Five days. Looking at your bobby pin he stole from your desk for hours on end. Yearning. Yearning. Yearning.

“Bang. The doc wants to see you.”

“SHE DOES?!”

He jumped from his seat and dashed to your office like he was trying to break the Olympian record for running. He actually hated hospitals. He hated that antiseptic smell. He hated the color white, but yes. Yes to everything for all eternity if he could be with you again. Your back was turned when he finally made it to that doorframe.

“Finally, baby. Finally you asked for me! Do y-”

“You're way over your head with this shit, Bang. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU THINKING???”

When you turned around to face him Chris didn’t know whether he should have dropped to his knees or go on a fucking rampage. There were bruises on your face. Scratches on your arms. Your lip was busted.

“Baby, wh- What happened to you?”

“Are you really gonna pretend you didn’t unleash some fucking lunatic on me because I didn’t want anything to do with you anymore?!”

“A WHAT?”

Your eyes were crawling with hatred and it was killing Chris inside one step at a time.

“He was one of you, too, wasn’t he? Don’t lie to me, I saw the goddamn boomerang necklace.”

Boomerang necklace.

Noah’s crew.

“I swear I don't have anything to do with this. I'd die before letting anything happen to you!” Chris was on the brink of tears, but you weren’t able to pinpoint the root cause of that. Anger? Sadness? Confusion?

Why would we cry anyway?

Million-dollar question: Why would a man who didn’t even flinch while confessing to orchestrating a murder feel the need to lie about an assault ambush?

Unless he actually didn’t have anything to do with it, that was.

“Please,” Chris enveloped your hands in his, moments away from wrapping you in a tight embrace to shelter you from whatever demons were after you and not giving a fuck if you wanted to curse him to the bottom circle of hell, “Please. Tell me everything. Tell me what happened. I’m begging you.”

Since you informed Chris that you pressed charges against the culprit, he was after his person of interest relentlessly to see which prison he was going to end up in. He should have asked for a million dollars instead because the man came on a silver platter right through the front door. Chris didn’t even need the whole spiel to locate the guy. All he had to do was scan the newcomers that would end up with the Aussies. ‘A family welcome’ was the tradition around here, and he was most certainly going to wear an iron ore boomerang necklace.

“What are you in for, mate?”

“Nothing that major, brother,” the guy slapped a crooked smile on his face, “I took a little field trip to a house I thought was empty. I should have just left when I emptied the safe, but a hot piece of ass lying in bed like that? That was gonna be a dumb move not to hit that, you know what I mean?”

How dare you talk about my girl like that you fucking cocksucker.

Chris forced a sleazy smile while dying inside, “Did you… Did you get to…?”

“Nah, man, the bitch had an iron bat and damn did she know how to use it,” he cackled, “I was actually fucking turned on by it.”

“Better luck next time, huh?” Chris slapped his shoulder harsher than intended, “Take it easy.”

Fuming out of his nostrils, he made his way to kitchen and slammed his fist into the refrigerator, drawing the attention of Paco to himself.

“I don’t mean to diss your clan, but that asshole gets on my goddamn nerves, Bang. It hasn’t even been 24 hours and the fucker acts like he’s the king running this shit.”

Chris looked at the shelf of jars in front of him and then Paco’s nauseated face, which sparked an idea in his mind.

“We both want the same thing, brother. What if I told you, we can do it?”

Chris wrapped a towal around one of the empty jars to function as a silencer, and slammed it on the metal counter. Paco raised his brows upon the sight.

“You’re legit considering to take out one of your own?”

“He’s not one of my own. One of my own would never disrespect me like that.”

Paco dropped the carrots in his hands and walked towards Chris, still panting out of sheer rage.

“The doc isn’t your girl, brother.”

“She might as well be.”

“The dude didn’t even know who she was, man.”

“Then he should have had a fucking revelation, Paco.”

Chris grabbed a plastic pickle can and started rolling it on the broken glass, almost crushing it into dust.

“We use a different kind of seasoning in Sydney, you know? Fit for the kings.”

Paco maniacally smiled at Chris’ insinuation.

“You’re one sick motherfucker, you know that right?”

Chris called the gesture and raised it with an even more psychopatic grin.

“That’s some god-tier praise, mate. Appreciate it.”

It took about a week. About a week of pretending to be chummy with the guy Chris couldn’t be bothered to learn the name of so that nobody would suspect anything. About a week of feeding the fucker crushed glass instead of salt, slowly nudging him into his much deserved demise due to an internal hemorrhage. About a week until the body ended up in your office so that you could call the time of death before sending it to the morgue while feeling the most fucked up kind of satisfaction inside.

You plopped down on your chair and noticed an envelope on your desk. It had a hurriedly scribbled note inside along with what looked like crushed pieces of iron.

Anything for you, my queen.

You were in the chapel by yourself again. After locking the door behind you, you opted for going to the confessional this time instead of sitting down one of the benches. You felt like just silently thinking about the gigantic knot inside of you while looking at the pretty colors breaking through the stained glass was not going to cut it. You wanted darkness. You wanted to hide. You wanted your presence to be erased so that you could find peace for once. Weeks of burden piling up on your shoulders finally crushed you under it and you started uncontrollably sobbing. Just letting it out. Only when you said it out loud in between your hiccups did you realize how fucked up beyond repair you were.

“I can’t fucking believe I fell in love with a murderer.”

You eventually ran out of tears to cry and calmed down. You kind of wish you did that sooner because for some reason you felt ten pounds lighter.

“Anything else you wanna confess?”

That voice…

You felt like you got suckerpunched.

“I know you’ve been coming here a lot, doc.”

No fucking way.

“Were you…? All this time…?”

“Yes.”

The door in front of you opened slowly and you saw him again. You saw one beautiful man fucked up beyond repair looking at you with raised brows, almost scared you were gonna run away, eyes looking like they belonged to a puppy rather than the sick motherfucker you knew him to be.

“Yes, I have one more thing to confess,” you got up to your feet and extended your hand to him to hold. When he did, you gently pulled him inside.

“Turns out you just cannot love Chris Bang by choice.”

If you didn’t know any better, you would say Chris was welling up a little bit behind that bright smile he broke into. It was obvious how dire his you-starvation was because his kisses shapeshifted. Wetter. More passionate. Even more full of need like that was possible.

“You have my soul on a leash. Anything for you.”

He was trying to take his time with his touches, fighting his craving as much as he can, trying so hard not to give into the urge to take you as hard as he can, and you knew it. Something else you knew, however, was what got him to go full unhinged, filling him with the sole thought of claiming you and you goddamn had enough of your solitary confinement.

“Chris.”

“Fuck, baby, I need you.”

You knew. You could see it in the way he licked his lips every time he caught a glimpse of you. You could smell it in his natural musk getting denser by the second. You could feel it in his touches loaded with the hellfire that scorched your skin after he discarded your underwear. You could hear it in the way he moaned your name with so much need. You could taste it in his lips that you were convinced were made to be kissed by you.

“I think we’ve established that we’re going to hell after this.”

“Isn't this what's called a correctional practice? I’m repenting,” Chris chuckled while lifting you up at one go and pushed you against the wooden wall as you wrapped your legs around his waist. You never felt this close to him before and there was something about the way he moved you around however the fuck he pleased that was just so…

“I’m repenting between these thighs, baby. Everything I need is between these thighs,” he buried his lips on yours again, his body weight pinning you against the wall as he dropped his bottoms with one hand.

“Ah, Chris!”

One push inside of you and he lost all the battles against his urges. Chris was fucking into you hard like he was trying to make up for all the years that passed by without feeling you around him.

“God, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You just feel too good, baby. Too good.”

“Faster, Chris.”

“I can't fucking control how much I want you. Fuck, I'm so sorry.”

The way his facial features beautifully shattered with every thrust, your moans melting together, pure desire ruling over that tiny confined space felt like everything you had ever wanted. The strange sense of completeness. The belongingness. The door of your solitary cell getting bombarded with a loud crash every time Chris whispered sweet nothings into your ear.

“Fuck, I missed you. I missed you so fucking much. Give it to me baby, come on.”

You wrapped your arms around his neck and dove into his lips headfirst. Whenever he moved his tongue inside, it felt like he was licking your entire body, overloading you with carnality that was beyond this world.

“Do y- Do you wanna cum inside?”

You felt how hard he twitched inside you, and that was almost what got you to cream on him.

“FUCK, you’ll- You’ll really let me?”

“Yes. Fucking yes!”

Chris started fucking into you with an afresh fervor, fully determined to chuck both of your souls in the wildfire he started in that booth.

“Fucking hell, let me claim you like I should, baby. Be mine. Be mine forever.”

Every thrust felt like a soothing touch on your charred soul. Every kiss felt like falling in love with him all over again. Every moan felt like an ode meant to be sung after your beauty.

“Kiss me. Kiss my soul out of me, baby.”

Baby. You called him baby.

“Fuck, I love you. I’m so fucking in love with you, OH GOD!”

You had literally never cum like that before. Not by yourself, not with someone else, not through anything. It felt like Chris opened another door to a dimension that you never knew existed. Maybe Narnia was indeed real and it was located in his kisses. In his moans silenced by the harsh press of your lips against his.

It happened again. He tasted like nothing but freedom.

That just couldn’t have been a coincidence anymore.

I will prevent disease whenever I can, for prevention is preferable to cure.

The time you had served in the prison provided enough baggage for you to last a lifetime. You opted for not spending whatever little sanity you had left there and resigned, deciding that you would be better off taking some time away from all the insanity and open a new chapter in your life. You could lean on your savings for a little while, and although opening a little practice seemed like a feasible option for the time being, who knew what the time was going to bring? You hadn’t planned on getting your heart stolen by some fucking charmer, either, had you?

You got out of the car after spotting a movement in your peripheral vision to your left and hugged him tightly like you hadn’t seen each other in forever. His kisses still tasted like freedom, but for good reason this time around. As he settled down in the passenger seat, you asked him:

“Where do you wanna go on your first day as a free man?”

I will remember that I remain a member of society, with special obligations to all my fellow human beings, those sound of mind and body as well as the infirm.

You couldn’t prevent it, but so what if you couldn’t? Maybe some cures were hidden in the disease itself and they could actually be good for you. Weren’t antidotes made out of venom anyway? Loving Chris this much may have permanently placed you under the category of the infirm, but who was to say you didn’t have the very same special obligations to the only person that mattered?

Yourself.

Chris grabbed your hand to kiss it and looked into your eyes dreamily with a smile.

“To heaven, baby. In your bed this time.”

AUTHOR'S NOTE

🍮Like my content? Consider supporting my work with a pudding!

Welcome to the first installment of the insanity marathon! I really appreciate you being here (✿◠‿◠) I figured, what better way than to kick off the event with a BANGer (see what I did there?). Hope I was able to do it justice and serve the Christopher trash community accordingly. If you enjoyed this story, please feel free to yell at me in reblogs, tags, or in my inbox. I tremendously enjoy it! (●'◡'●)

Regarding updates: I had initially announced that I was going to post a story every Monday until Halloween, but considering the current obligations of my life and the volume of the stories, it doesn't seem very likely. There will still be eight stories posted (hopefully) by Halloween, but let's not expect military precision on the updates ^^' Once again, thank you so much for tagging along!

-R. (CB97%)

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#i loved every second of this #happy ending yussssz #literally a masterpiece

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