#i'll have a warning on the chapter itself but preemptive warning that this next chapter will not only include a hypnosis script

[cosmic-kinglet]

Why do I do these things to myself?

I'm just under 9 and a half minutes into this 38 and a half minute audio file to write a F*ING TRANSCRIPT because OBVIOUSLY TITAN WOULDN'T BE AS GOOD AT COMING UP WITH THINGS LIKE THIS ON THE FLY AND WOULD NEED TO JUST GO LOOKING FOR STUFF

The worst part is, because I'm self-conscious about the things I'm writing being saved into my f*cking autocomplete, I have that turned off. But, I ALSO have AUTOCORRECT turned off, which means I can't keep up with the audio because I have to fix all my typing errors manually!

[lilliumrorum]

What does he have that I don't? (Part Two)

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Synopsis: After getting comfortable in your captain's dwelling, you experience a dream involving him, intensifying your desire for the man.

WC: 3k

Content/Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Soft Price, fluff, Cheating, kind of pining?, Wet dreams, Masturbation.

Notes: Sorry this took so long to post, I've had lots of fucking issues with tumblr and I am proper pissed off. Exams have been kicking my ass too, but I'll make sure to write an extra long chapter next time!

In this situation, unlike others, you wouldn't yearn for Simon's touch. The absence of affection from him for months has built a resistance to missing that once addictive sensation. Tears welled up once more as you reflected on the abuse endured just to cling to the shattered fragments of your 'relationship'. Desiring a different reality, you found yourself in a challenging situation, torn between lingering feelings for your lost love and developing admiration for your captain.

Concluding the scorching shower, the realization struck that a towel was forgotten. Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you pondered how such a simple thing could be overlooked. An uneasy hope lingered that the captain remained undisturbed in his slumber, as a preemptive guilt surfaced. The idea of waking him up intensified that internal conflict, leaving you in a contemplative state after the steam had dissipated. Standing there, damp and hesitant, you grappled with the consequences of a neglected towel and the possibility of disrupting your captain's peace.

Your hand unlocked the door, cracking it open just a bit.

"John?"

"Mm?" His deep voice echoed from the couch.

You felt a sense of relief upon realizing he wasn't in bed yet.

"I… may have forgotten to grab a towel," you admitted with a nervous tone.

You heard his soft footsteps moving down the hall and passing by the bathroom. As soon they approached the room you made sure to narrow the crack of the open door, ensuring you wouldn't accidentally flash him. A sturdy silhouette stood behind it, holding a towel. Cautiously peeking around, you gently retrieve it from his grasp.

He stared at you for a moment, gazing at your damp hair and shoulders before seemingly snapping out of it.

"Don't make my floor too wet, Sergeant." He said with a breath before trekking back to the couch.

You slowly closed the door, releasing a heavy breath you didn't realize you were holding. It felt as if butterflies had been swirling around in your stomach, cheeks burning like fire as you tried to comprehend what had just happened. The butterflies were nothing novel; in fact, they were a constant presence. Every time you worked near him your heart fluttered.

The salt-and-pepper mustache that quirked up when he smiled made your heart do flips. His hands, aged yet firm, with thick fingers calloused from years of service made you fantasize about what they would feel like inside you. The quick waves you received when he walked past you, his combat pants fitting him just right made for an easy distraction. Doing paperwork with him late at night presented itself a challenge. Your brain was constantly fuzzy whenever you looked at him.

At this point, you couldn't distinguish whether it was him making you shudder or your own nakedness. The stark contrast in temperature from your shower to the chilling air heightened your eagerness to get dressed. The towel rubbing against your skin brought a soothing sensation to your mind, interrupting your thoughts about him.

"You did so good f'me, lovie. Such a good fucking girl." He praised, slowly pulling out of your fluttering cunt.

You whimpered at the feeling of being empty after being stuffed full for so long.

"I love you, Simon." you whispered breathlessly.

He gazed at you, searching your eyes for some sort of hidden plan, or trickery. He found nothing but adoration.

"I love you too." He whispered as he got up, searching for the towel he had placed somewhere, you reached out and gently wrapped your hand around as much of his toned arm as you could before he moved too far.

He glanced at you, his expression filled with curiosity.

"Si, can you promise me something?"

"What is it doll?"

"Don't leave me."

"What kinda promise is that? I'm never gonna leave you. Hell, I'm stuck on you."

You smiled at his words.

But he broke that promise. He left you, a ghost in his place.

"Captain, is it alright if I get dressed in the bedroom?" You uttered your words with a delicate tone as you stepped out into the hall.

His head shifted in the direction of your voice, his attention lingering on your legs briefly before his gaze ascended to meet your face. He stared at you for what seemed like an eternity. Your posture started to shift as nervousness crept in, especially with his eyes on your barely covered body. He seemed to take notice, offering a smile before he spoke.

"Of course dove, that's where you're sleeping anyway." He spoke with a tone that held weariness.

"Oh no you don't ha-" as soon as you spoke you were interrupted.

"I said that's where you're sleepin' and that's that. Don't argue with me, sergeant." He commanded.

You raised your hands in the air, signaling surrender, before letting out a laugh and walking back to his bedroom.

The scent of everything was reminiscent of him, when you opened his closet, the aroma of cinnamon and pine struck you instantly. You breathed in his scent and felt a bit more at ease. Why did everything about him have to evoke such a strong sense of comfort and familiarity?

If you didn't move past this childlike crush soon, you'd end up with more issues than you're already grappling with. He could be your father for Christ's sake!

You shook your head, as if the thought would dissipate, while grabbing some pajama shorts and a tank top. The clothes were rather revealing, but John would surely understand if he saw them. Your intention was to return home to Simon, not to him. When you left, there was no time to retrieve your clothes, as you aimed to escape the situation as smoothly as possible.

Your body ached for sleep, going without it for what seemed like ages.

Turning the light off and slipping into bed, a subtle shift occurred in your thoughts, and the image of John began to weave its way into your consciousness like a gentle melody. In the calm moments preceding sleep, his laughter echoed, and the warmth of his gaze painted the canvas of your contemplations. The memory of John intertwined seamlessly with the comforting embrace of his sheets, creating a space where the lines between reality and the fanciful dance of imagination became hazy. With each closing of your eyes, dreams unfolded, casting John as the silent protagonist in the tales that quietly unfolded in the realm of your weary mind.

In the silent corners of your thoughts, dreams took shape, painting a picture where you were romantically involved with John. Scenes of stolen glances and hidden meetings unfolded, with the forbidden nature of it all adding an exhilarating edge to the fantasy. In these vivid dreams, shared moments created a connection that surpassed the ordinary reality surrounding you. However, these fantasies were kept as a personal refuge—a brief escape within the private chambers of your mind, where the blurred lines of possibility flirted with the edges of longing.

"Tell me what you want, dove. What do you need from me?" he breathed in a solaced whisper.

His rugged hands worked at your body, roaming across your naked form as you tried your hardest to utter a word, mumbling nonsense. He hadn't taken your panties off yet, the cloth becoming more and more wet by the second.

"Words, sweetheart. I need to know what you want from me." His fingers teasing your clit in soft, circular motions.

"John- Oh shit! I need them inside! Please!" You practically sobbed.

Everything in this moment completed you. His waist was stationed between your legs as he continued his ministrations on your cunt. At this point you were a whining mess for him. You were too distracted with your pleasure to realize he had pulled your panties to the side, thick fingers lined up with your sopping hole.

"God, you're perfect."

The captain's eyes snapped open upon hearing sounds emanating from the bedroom. Initially thinking it might be crying, he knocked on the door once.

With no response, he opened the door to investigate, finding you helplessly whimpering and pressing your thighs together in your sleep.

He was well Aware that intruding was not right, but he lingered a little longer, drawn by the sweet serenade of your voice. Going back to bed at this moment seemed impossible for him. His cock straining against his pants as discomfort grew, urging him to address it promptly.

He treaded back to the couch, every step carrying an enduring strain to his crotch. Fuck, those noises were driving him wild.

He knows it's not right, yet he pulled out his erection anyway. He needed relief, blood rushing to the tip as it sprung out of his pants. His arousal was yearning for a momentary reprieve.

He groaned as he started fisting his cock, guttural groans coming from his chest as he chased his release. His eyes fluttered closed, Imagining you spread out for him, begging for whatever he could give you. Your pretty body writhing underneath him while you worked in sync to reach that peak. Nails scratching at his back with each forceful thrust of his hips. He tried to stay as silent as he could, listening to the melody of your sounds. He tried to savor your sounds, prolonging his orgasm to the best of his ability. He couldn't hold it any longer, somewhat embarrassed at how fast he was going to finish.

The familiar feeling of his climax began to reach him, his lower abdomen flexing harshly with each stroke.

"Fuck"

His sticky cum flowed over him fingers as it spilled out from his twitching tip.

This was wrong, but god did it feel so fucking right.

Throughout the night, Simon couldn't shake the image of your shocked and saddened expression from his thoughts. All he longed for was to have you back with him at home. Who the fuck were you with anyway?

As the minutes stretched into hours, Simon's chest tightened with an unsettling jealousy. The anticipation of your return became a weighty burden, and the quiet emptiness of the house echoed his longing. He had watched you leave, hope clinging to the belief that you would soon walk back through the door. However, as the night wore on and you failed to return, that hope transformed into a bitter ache. Each passing moment fueled the jealousy that churned within him, a mix of fear and insecurity. The empty house seemed to mock his unspoken yearning, amplifying the silence that enveloped him in a suffocating embrace.

The air hung heavy with tension when Johnny left the house, the weight of your discovery lingering in the strained atmosphere. The revelation of the affair had cast a pall over the once-shared space, leaving behind a palpable sense of betrayal. The door closed with a hollow finality, echoing the rupture in trust that now defined the relationship. He laid there in your empty bed, the aftermath of your revelation settling like dust in the room, and the emptiness of the departing footsteps mirrored the void that now consumed the once-shared moments with Johnny. The silence that followed was deafening, amplifying your absence.

When you left he was still pent up with arousal, so him and Johnny went a couple rounds, but he soon had to leave to get enough rest before the sun rose. With both of you no longer present, he truly began to realize he was alone.

Jealousy gnawed at Simon as he grappled with the unsettling uncertainty of your whereabouts. Each passing moment fueled his imagination, and he found himself consumed by thoughts of who you might be staying with. The unanswered questions echoed in his mind, creating a symphony of doubt and insecurity. The image of someone else occupying the space meant for him sparked a surge of possessiveness, leaving him yearning for the reassurance that you were still his. The silent house became a canvas for his anxious thoughts, and the suspense of not knowing intensified the monster within him, clouding his emotions with a turbulent mix of suspicion and anger.

Just who the fuck did you think you were, leaving like that?

He felt his jaw clench, thinking of you with someone other than him.

Every thought of someone else near you ignited a primal instinct to claim and protect what he considered his own. The mere idea of sharing your presence with another set off a storm of dominance, intensifying his need to assert his presence in your life. It was as if an invisible tether bound him to you, and the thought of anyone encroaching upon that connection stirred a fierce determination to safeguard what he considered rightfully his.

Sleep eluded him, elusive as his thoughts were ensnared in a web of restlessness. The weight of emotions, a mix of envy, dominance, and yearning, kept him tossing and turning in the dim silence of his bedroom. The shadows on the walls seemed to dance to the rhythm of his unsettled mind, casting a surreal atmosphere that mirrored the turmoil within. The bed, usually a sanctuary, became a battleground for his inner struggles. The clock's ticking echoed like a constant reminder of the sleep he desperately sought but remained just out of reach. The night stretched on, a canvas painted with the shades of his unquiet thoughts, as he wrestled with the myriad emotions that held him captive in the wake of the events that unfolded.

Awakening to the robust aroma of tea wafting into your nose, you stretched out your well-rested limbs before swinging your legs over the side of the captain's bed. The lingering remnants of the dream from the night before clouded your thoughts, creating a palpable tension in the air. As you pondered how to navigate the interaction with him, uncertainty hung like a veil. The simple act of rising from the bed felt like stepping onto uncharted territory, and the fragrant tea served as a reminder of the shared space that had witnessed the intimate contours of your dreams. The challenge ahead lay in reconciling the vivid images of the night with the reality of the morning, as you grappled with the aftermath of the subconscious journey that now lingered between you and the captain.

You approached the bedroom door, turning the handle and stepping into the hallway that led to the kitchen. The journey down the corridor felt like a deliberate exploration, each step carrying a subtle anticipation. As you entered the kitchen, a captivating sight awaited you – the captain, turned away, engrossed in some task involving the kettle. The play of muscles beneath his skin was a spectacle, every inch defined and visible, yet soft. His silhouette painted a picture of strength and concentration, a moment frozen in time that captured the essence of his physicality. The air in the kitchen seemed charged with an energy that transcended the simple act of making tea, as you silently observed, feeling both a sense of intimacy and a respectful distance in the presence of this private moment.

"Good morning, Sergeant. thought I'd get some tea ready for ya."

You listened intently, and there was a warmth in the captain's voice as he completed the tea-making ritual. Even though you couldn't see his face, the audible smile in his words painted a vivid picture. The sound carried a gentle resonance, echoing the pleasure he took in the simple act of preparing tea. It was a melody of contentment, and the timbre of his voice conveyed a subtle joy that surpassed the mundane task. As you stood there, the audible smile became a shared moment in the quiet kitchen, a connection forged through the familiar sounds of morning rituals and the understanding that lingered between you and the captain.

"Thank you, Captain. For all of this. I owe you one."

The dual impact of your words and the vivid recollection combined to color his complexion with a subtle embarrassment. It was as if the mere mention of his title held a key to unlock a realm of thoughts he hadn't anticipated sharing. The involuntary flush revealed a vulnerability, a momentary glimpse into a private mental landscape stirred by arousal that lingered beyond the confines of last night. In that fleeting blush, a complex interplay of emotions unfolded, creating a connection between now and what he had done last night that had left its mark on the captain's waking thoughts.

"You owe me nothin', dove. Hush up and drink your tea." He uttered, handing you a partially hot cup of the chamomile beverage.

"Anything planned for today?" You asked while softly blowing on your tea.

"PT, but It's going to be different today, so don't you worry about lieutenant."

His words had the exact opposite effect on you. You were most definitely worrying about Simon.

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