Kinktober 2025
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He tells her he's always been a Smith & Wesson guy. "Basic, I'm aware," he adds in that self-critical yet utterly unapologetic way of his, like Samira knows what he's talking about. Like she's ever even touched a gun, much less had one pointed at her. "But I've always figured if it ain't broke, don't fix it."
Kinktober 2025, Day 7: Quiet Sex
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- Part 1 of Kinktober 2025
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"What were you dreaming about?" Samira presses the words against his mouth, muffled and as soft and warm as her lips.
Jack hums, pushes her down, and rolls himself on top of her. "Heaven," he tells her, visions of white splendor and barren plains of brilliant, colorless sand flashing behind his eyes. The cold of it, so strong that it sizzled and burned, is stark in his mind. He remembers vividly, too, how he'd marred that unpainted slate.
Kinktober 2025, Day 8: Wet Dream
Series
- Part 2 of Kinktober 2025
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"Oh, fuck," Samira croaks, and for a second, looking up, she makes direct eye contact with the patient, sees the bloodshot whites of his eyes and the bright fear in his blue irises.
In the next, Robby is there, gloves stretched over his big, familiar hands—hands that Samira knows are capable, so capable that sometimes watching Robby work is akin to seeing a miracle happen in real time. And yet, something in her revolts. Something in her goes tight with an angry, desperate fear, and it's all Samira can do not to twist and turn, writhe until she's shaken off all the hands on her. All she can think while something in her screams wrong wrong wrong as Perlah starts an IV, eyes kind and lips pressed into a thin line, is that she wishes Jack was here.
Kinktober 2025, Day 25: Double Penetration
Series
- Part 3 of Kinktober 2025