Archive of Our Own

“Shiiiiiiit,” you hissed as you checked your watch. The morning had gotten away from you and now your party guests were due to arrive any minute. 

It was a hot and humid Pittsburgh weekend, with temperatures already hitting 80 degrees by noon. Despite your poor time calculations, it was a perfect day for a pool party.

You had booze and beer of every brand stocked on the outdoor bar and a perfectly curated playlist ready on the speaker. Bowls of snacks lined the table and the pizza was due for delivery within the hour. The pool water was an ideal temperature and the deck was lined with brand new lounge chairs.

The house was ready. You, however, were not.

You checked yourself in the hallway mirror and decided you were acting flippant. It was a pool party, for fuck’s sake. Your hair and makeup wouldn’t matter once you were in the water. You shouldn’t care about your appearance, you thought – especially among coworkers who saw you in scrubs, hair tied back, covered in blood and bodily fluids every damn day. But you knew once he arrived, you’d care much more than you’d ever like to admit.

You dipped into your bedroom to change and sighed once you were in the bikini you picked out just for the party. It was simple and modest, nothing too skimpy. You were proud of your body, but you also had no desire to even attempt to dress like your former 19-year-old self. With narrowed eyes studying your reflection in the bedroom mirror, you decided that, in spite of all you’d been through, you looked good.

The sound of jovial voices outside prompted you to scurry into a cover-up dress before you hurried to the backyard to greet your guests at the fence.

It was no surprise to you that Samira and Dana were the first to arrive. They’d been talking about this party for weeks, declaring their desperation to do something fun for a change.

You’d been looking forward to it, too. The past six months left you drained, covered in cracks that threatened to crumble when you thought about them too carefully. But you’d shed your tears, mourned your loss and endured the cycle of scorned ex-wife. Now, you were ready to move on.

The divorce was hard, no doubt. No one foresees six years of marriage spiraling down the drain of infidelity so suddenly. But despite your husband’s decision to nuke your precious nuptials with a months-long affair with his paralegal assistant, you emerged on the other side of the break-up better off. You were able to keep the house you loved while you shed the 160 pounds of dead weight you once called the love of your life.

The divorce had been finalized three weeks ago and the future was as open and unclear as ever. Your friends and family were excited, serving as your biggest cheerleaders. But you were secretly terrified.

Divorced in your 30s, you couldn’t help but wonder if you would now be deemed damaged goods. You’d been with your ex-husband for nearly a decade, so your dating skills were covered in dust. You’d never downloaded a dating app and the horror stories you’d heard from friends were demoralizing.

But you wanted a family – though your desire to someday be a mother was your marriage’s ultimate undoing in the first place. Your ex-husband had told you he’d be ready to be a dad someday. For years, he urged you to be patient, to give him more time, to quit rushing parenthood, before it finally became clear to you that he had no intention of ever fathering a child with you.

It caused an irreparable fissure in your relationship. When you suggested couples’ therapy, he scoffed and shut you down. When you pleaded with him to talk about your differences, he built walls to keep you out. And when you discovered the texts and photos between him and the coworker he swore was just a friend, your decision was made for you. 

You were thrilled to be relieved of the plague that was your former husband. But now, your lungs were still adapting to the new fresh air of freedom.

“Lookin’ good, kid,” Dana said cheerily as she greeted you with a hug and a platter of fresh cut fruit. 

“I’m ready to pass out on a raft,” Samira declared as she presented you with a bottle of champagne. 

“Thanks for coming,” you said as you set the fruit and champagne on the table.

“Are you kidding me? This is the most excitement I’ve had all summer. Good for the gang to get together outside of work,” Dana said. “Besides, you deserve a good time, kiddo.”

“You do,” Samira agreed with a nod. “You’ve had a hell of a year.”

“I’m just glad it’s all over,” you noted.

“And I’m glad you got to keep this nice house,” a voice chimed in from the gate. You turned to grin at Jack Abbot, who stood on the other side of the fence.

“Dr. Abbot, you made it!” Dana cheered as you snuck a glance at Samira, whose posture instantly changed. You shot her a smirk and, though she was wearing a pair of dark glasses, you knew she was rolling her eyes at you.

“Only for a bit,” Jack replied as the gate creaked open. “Someone’s got to keep an eye on The Pitt tonight.”

“We’ll have to have another party with the crew who couldn’t make it,” Dana declared. She caught your eye and the two of you swapped a knowing smile as Jack greeted Samira with a hug, both of their arms lingering just a beat too long.

As more of your work friends filed in, your backyard soon filled with the sounds of laughter and chatter. All it took was one cannonball from Mateo to convince everyone to get in the water, though your attention was glued to that creaky gate.

He said he was going to come. It wasn’t like him to back out on plans. You tried not to care. The last thing you wanted was to allow another man to influence your emotional state.

Finally, just as you were climbing out of the pool to fetch another beer, Michael appeared.

“Dr. Robby!” a buzzed Parker Ellis cheered. Your head swiveled instantly, your eyes locking on Michael through his favorite Ray-Bans.

“Sorry I’m late,” he said as he unlatched the gate. “Had to stop and pick up my share.” He lifted a 12-pack of beer and made his way to the bar.

“Glad you could make it,” you said with as much confidence as you could muster. Michael’s eyes flickered toward you, lingering just long enough for you to catch the way they darted up and down your wet bikini-clad frame.

“Glad to receive an invite,” Michael replied as he set the beer on the bartop. He turned his attention toward the pool, where Samira was attempting to stand on Mateo’s shoulders. “I see the party’s well underway,” Michael mused.

“Well, you only get divorced once,” you quipped. “Or at least I hope that’s the case.”

Michael chuckled. “I hope so, too.” He fell quiet for a moment as he snuck a sideways glance at you to study your expression. “Speaking of, you doing alright?” he finally asked. His voice was quiet, as if he wanted to give you the opportunity to answer discreetly, with the honesty you preserved only for those closest to you. 

You flashed him a reassuring smile, pleased he was willing to ask. Of course, that was standard Michael. He could be an insufferable prick in his moments of struggle, but at the end of the day, he also proved he cared.

“I’m good,” you said decisively. “It’s been a crazy fucking year, but it’s all working out in the end. I’m better off now than I was a year ago.”

“Good, I’m glad,” Michael said. “You deserve better than that shithead ex-husband. You always have.”

“I take it you were never a fan of his?” you laughed.

“Can’t say I was,” Michael answered. “But I don’t think I was the only one. Pretty sure the entire department disliked him.”

“Wish you guys would’ve said something sooner,” you muttered dryly.

“Yeah, I’m sure that would’ve gone over well. ‘Hey, how are you? By the way, your husband’s a prick who doesn’t deserve you.’”

“Fair point,” you laughed. An easy silence settled over you as you both watched Parker chug a beer to a round of chants. “She’s not on tonight, is she?”

“Thankfully, no, she’s not scheduled,” Michael answered. “Otherwise, she sure as hell wouldn’t be after that.”

“What about Shen?” you asked. 

“He’s working,” Michael said. “Unfortunately, someone has to save lives tonight.”

“Shame he couldn’t make it. Guess I’ll just have to throw another party.”

“A party just for Shen?” Michael asked with a raised eyebrow, drawing an eyeroll from you.

“You heard about that?” you sighed.

“I did. Heard you let him down easy, though.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” you said. “Honestly, I was just too taken aback to think through a response.”

“Taken aback?” Michael repeated. “Why were you taken aback over Shen asking you out?”

“I don’t know,” you answered with a shrug, suddenly feeling shy. “I mean, I haven’t been single in nearly a decade.”

Michael let out a low whistle. “Damn. I guess you’re right.”

“Though to be fair, it hardly felt like I was in a relationship these past two years,” you added before you cringed internally, embarrassed by your oversharing. 

You assumed Michael didn’t really give a shit about your failed marriage or love life. He’d been a good friend and better mentor to you over the years, but your love lives weren’t a common topic. 

“Like I said, you’ve always deserved better,” he said kindly.

“The bar was pretty low,” you laughed. “Can’t believe I married a man who fucks like a robot.”

You watched in silent horror as Michael’s eyes widened at your revelation. 

“That’s… wow. Fuck,” he managed as he dragged a hand across the back of his neck. 

“Time for a drink,” you declared with a nervous laugh, desperate for an excuse to bail on the conversation. You scurried to the bar to make yourself another cocktail, leaving Michael to chuckle quietly to himself.

The party continued well into the afternoon, your friends clearly happy to let loose and take advantage of the late summer heat. 

When Jack finally hoisted himself up from his seat at the patio table, you watched Samira’s eyes follow him with disappointment. Shaking your head quietly to yourself, you accidentally drew Michael’s attention from where he was seated on the ledge of the pool next to you. 

“Did I miss something?” he asked curiously. You offered a soft laugh and another shake of your head. 

“No,” you sighed. “Just two idiots who are too proud to admit they should be together.”

“Or too stubborn.”

You turned to look at Michael in surprise. “You know about them?”

“Who, Abbott and Mohan? Of course I do,” Michael said before taking a swig of his beer. “Pretty hard to miss.”

“Oh,” you laughed. “I guess I thought I was the only one.”

“In our department?” Michael mused. “When it comes to that stuff, nothing gets overlooked in The Pitt. The more scandalous, the more people know about it.”

“True. Everyone loves a good workplace romance.”

“What about you?” Michael asked casually. “You ever have a workplace romance?”

“Me?” you snorted, hoping the flush sprawling over your features could be blamed on sunburn. “No. Not unless you count making out with a coworker behind the Dairy Queen I worked at in high school.”

“Don’t realize Dilly Bars were an aphrodisiac,” Michael chuckled.

“Everything’s an aphrodisiac when you’re sixteen,” you noted. 

You and Michael watched in silence as Samira and Jack exchanged an awkward goodbye, with Samira giving Jack a quick hug. Jack appeared surprised, his hands searching for an appropriate place to rest on Samira’s body. You couldn’t help but snort at the look on Jack’s face as he turned and waved goodbye to the group before he disappeared through the gate, which swung open and clattered shut with a loud groan.

“I really need to get that gate fixed,” you muttered to Michael as Samira made a beeline for the bar. You exchanged an apologetic glance with Michael before excusing yourself, rising to your feet to approach Samira.

“You good?” you asked carefully. Samira heaved a sigh but offered you an assuring nod.

“I’m fine,” she said wistfully. “Just wondering when he’s going to make a move.”

“He probably just doesn’t know how,” you pointed out. “He’s been single since his wife’s death and let’s be honest, you’re a bit younger than the women he’s probably used to asking out.”

“I wasn’t talking about Abbot,” Samira mused. “I was talking about Robby.”

“Huh?”

Samira offered you a deadpan stare.

“Oh, come on,” she said. “The two of you have been playing the exact same game Jack and I play.”

“What? Samira, I just got divorced-”

“Maybe legally speaking. But you and Evan were separated for months, and your marriage was on the decline for months even before that. Come on, we all see it. You and Dr. Robby have been inching closer together for ages,” Samira said.

“We have not!” you hissed, sneaking a sideways glance at Michael, thankful his back was turned to you and he didn’t seem to hear.

“Oh, please,” Samira snorted. “He’s been ogling you all afternoon.”

“He has not!”

“You didn’t see how red his face was when you were trying to convince him to get in the pool with you?”

“We were just joking around!”

“If you say so,” Samira sighed before pushing off from the bar top to return to the pool. When you turned around, you realized Michael was watching you. You offered him a brief smile before fetching a pair of beers from the cooler.

“That was a bust,” you sighed as you handed him a bottle and eased yourself down to dangle your legs in the water next to him. 

“What’d she say?”

“She’s frustrated that Abbot hasn’t asked her out,” you lied. You knew it was technically true, but you also weren’t about to reveal the actual details of your discussion with Samira. 

“Ah. Well, in his defense, it’s not easy asking out a 30-something as a 50-year-old man,” Michael said. 

“Sounds like you’re speaking from experience,” you responded without thinking. Immediately, you wanted to drown yourself in the pool. Michael took a sip of his beer. 

“Well, yeah,” he said slowly, carefully. “I mean, I don’t spend my evenings going after younger women or anything. But it can be hard when they’re younger. Don’t want to come off as the creepy old guy.”

“You don’t exactly give off the old creep vibe,” you laughed. 

“No?”

“No. Your bedside manner is too pleasant for that,” you explained. 

“Tell that to Gloria.”

“Besides,” you continued after another laugh. “You have an edge to you, but it’s not the kind that makes women wonder if they need to cover their drink. It’s more of the kind that makes us wonder what your favorite position is.”

Michael choked on his beer and started to cough. Meanwhile, you couldn’t believe the words that were tumbling from your lips. Sure, you and Michael liked to joke, tease, maybe even toe the line of flirtation, but this felt much riskier than usual. You’d never breached the line of discretion so easily. 

The sweltering summer heat was getting to your head, you decided.

“Sorry,” you quickly apologized, your cheeks flushing as your coworkers paused their party conversations to look at you and Michael. “I should probably stop drinking.”

“Yeah, same here,” Michael said carefully. Your eyes suddenly found the shimmering pool water absolutely fascinating, and you silently wondered if you could sink to the bottom forever. 

As the sun started to set, your party guests steadily began to trickle out. You made sure Samira got safely into her Uber, leaving just Dana and Michael. 

“Great party, kid,” Dana said as she gathered her fruit dish and tossed her beach towel into her tote bag. “You on tomorrow?”

“Nope, I’m off ‘til Monday,” you replied happily. 

“Sheesh, lucky you. Robby?”

“Also off ‘til Monday,” Michael said casually. 

“Well we’ve got a couple of weekend warriors here,” Dana mused. She pulled you into a warm hug before she tapped Michael playfully on the bicep. “See you two Monday.”

She flashed you a knowing smile and let herself through the old gate, leaving you alone with Michael. When you heard her car pull away, you finally dared to look at him. 

“You sure know how to throw one heck of a party,” he said as he stooped down to pick up a pair of empty beer bottles. 

“Did you just use the term ‘heck?’” you snorted. “God, you really are an old man.”

“Ouch,” Michael said, pretending to clutch his chest. “Can’t even compliment you without catching a stray.”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “Old habits die hard.” You watched as he crossed the patio to toss the bottles in the recycling bin. “You know, you don’t have to do that,” you noted. “I was planning on cleaning up later.”

“Later?”

“Yes, as in tomorrow,” you laughed. “It’s still pretty hot out here. I’m getting back in the water.”

“I see,” was all Michael said in a tone you couldn’t quite decipher. It was followed by a beat of silence as he lingered near the opposite end of the patio. “You, uh, want me to get going?”

“Not at all,” you said, hopeful you sounded cool and calm in spite of your nerves shifting into overdrive. “I just meant you don’t have to stick around as the clean-up crew. Have another beer, relax. I can turn on some Springsteen or whatever you old guys like.”

“Well not if you’re going to keep insulting me,” Michael chuckled, though you watched him stride toward the bar for another beer. As he popped the top off, you slowly descended down the stairs into the pool until the water lapped just above your navel.

Michael lowered himself into a lounge chair, kicking his feet up before he took a swig of beer. 

“So how are you really doing?” he asked, his eyes hovering on you as you waded through the water.

“What do you mean?” you asked, studying his expression carefully for clues. His gaze was soft and he seemed relaxed, which helped put you at ease.

“I know you said you’re doing alright. But I also know you have a knack for putting on a brave face,” Michael replied simply.

You couldn’t decide if you felt touched that he was daring to check on you at a deeper level, or if you were annoyed that he didn’t believe you the first time.

“I’m fine, really,” you finally answered. “Honestly, it really does feel like a massive weight’s been lifted. My marriage wasn’t meant to last and I’m okay with that. My husband wasn’t worth the headache and I sincerely mean that.”

“So what’s your plan now?” 

“My plan?” you repeated with a snort. “The ink’s barely just dried on the divorce papers.”

“Yeah, but you said it yourself, your relationship with your ex was over long before that,” Michael said.

“Yeah, I reckon it was over the moment he decided to fuck his paralegal,” you chirped, your humorous tone contrasting your dry remark.

“Sorry,” Michael said, his voice becoming softer.

“It’s okay, really,” you said assuredly as you waded toward the side of the pool. You rested your elbows on the ledge, peering upward at Michael who stared back at you from the lounger. 

“On the bright side, you’re no longer stuck with a guy who, as you put it, fucks like a robot,” he chuckled.

“Since when do you look at the bright side?” you teased.

“Since I started seeing a therapist.”

“Wow, guess we’re both going through some big life changes,” you mused. “Though the bright side comes and goes. He may have fucked like a broken robot, but at least I could get laid if I wanted.”

Your brain screamed at you to shut the fuck up, to dunk your own head underwater or drown yourself in the pool already. But you were already circling the drain.

Michael let out a laugh that made you smile; it was a hybrid of a cackle and a whoop, which you usually only heard when he was laughing in response to a lecture from Gloria. 

“What’s so funny?” you chided, though you were clearly amused by the banter.

“I mean, come on,” Michael said as he swung his feet over the ledge of the lounge chair to stand. You watched him cross the cement pool deck and lower himself to sit on the ledge next to where you were leaning. “You could get laid if you wanted to.”

“What are you, a sex therapist?”

“No, I’m just saying, the notion of you not being able to get any action… it’s well, absurd.”

“Absurd?” you laughed. “I’m a single, divorced, childless woman in her 30s. Society loves to make fun of women like me. There’s even Instagram accounts dedicated to us, and they’re full of cats and bullshit motivational quotes and Better Help ads.”

“Oh, come on,” Michael laughed. “You’re better than all that.”

“Am I though? Or am I just a cliche now?”

“No. You’re, well, you,” Michael answered. “You’re fucking stunning and brilliant.”

The temperature of the cool pool water suddenly felt 20 degrees hotter, like Michael’s revelation prompted a change in the atmosphere. Worst of all, he held your gaze, causing your mouth to fill with cotton.

You didn’t know what to make of it, so you reverted to your favorite defense — sarcasm. 

“Stunning and brilliant,” you deadpanned.

“I said fucking stunning and brilliant,” Michael corrected. “The fucking is added emphasis. It means something.”

“Not if it’s a robot you’re fucking,” you muttered. Michael barked a laugh, the creases around his eyes defining his smile. You couldn’t help but admire them. Of course, like all lines, they lead somewhere. In this case, they guided you directly to his warm gaze.

It wasn’t heavy but it was weighted with something you never noticed before – more than curiosity, more than fondness, even. It was a deep longing, tethered by fear. The fear was what made it so alluring.

The fear was also what stripped the confidence from your nerves. You tore your eyes away and hoisted yourself up out of the water as an excuse for doing so. You sat on the pool ledge next to Michael, water dripping audibly from your body.

“So what about you?” you asked, as if deflecting the topic would dissolve the gymnastics inside your chest cavity. You silently prayed Michael couldn’t hear your heart rattling within your ribcage. “You seeing anyone?”

“Me?” Michael asked. You could’ve sworn you caught something flicker behind his eyes – disappointment? Uncertainty? Regret? “No, I don’t have much time to meet anyone these days.”

You watched him tug his shirt over his head and swallowed. He eased himself into the water and you wondered if he, like you, was terrified of tipping his hand. He turned to face you, leaning against the side of the pool as he stood in the water’s tiny wakes. You tried not to stare at the way the fading sun clung to his broad shoulders.

“Yeah, that’s fair,” you agreed casually. You swished your feet through the water as explicit thoughts swarmed in your head. “God, I don’t even know how to meet people now. I haven’t been on a first date since my ex-husband. How do people even date these days?”

“Beats me,” Michael laughed. “Sounds like it’s all done on the apps.”

“I’ve heard plenty of horror stories from friends,” you said. “It sounds miserable.”

“That’s why I prefer to meet people the old fashioned way,” Michael said. 

“What, in dimly lit dive bars with stale peanuts and sticky floors?”

“Sometimes,” Michael said with a shrug. He reached for his beer and took a swig. “Or in backyard swimming pools.”

As soon as his statement settled, a loud ringing surged through your ears. Your brain began to stutter, desperate for the right words — or at least ones that wouldn’t betray you; something smart, clever enough to give yourself a fighting chance. 

The tightening in your throat threatened to prolong the silence, so you finally dared to meet his eyes, your fingers anxiously gripping the pool ledge. He was looking at you with quiet intent – patient and intense. The juxtaposition sent your stomach into a coil.

It’d been eight years since someone other than your ex-husband had touched you. And the final year and a half of your marriage had left you so touch-starved, you’d forgotten how it felt to get off from anything that didn’t vibrate or arrive in a discreetly labeled box. 

And here you were, fresh off a divorce, dying for someone to remind you how desire really felt, presenting itself to you in the form of your senior attending. The senior attending who, despite your marriage, you’d found wildly attractive since the day you met him. The man with whom you’d had an unspoken chemistry since the first time he showed you how to intubate. The man who clouded your most clandestine thoughts, late at night when you retreated into the quiet hush of reverie.

You weren’t one for fate, karma or any spiritual belief. But right now, you had to assume the universe was finally taking your side. Or maybe it was merely feeling sorry for you. You weren’t going to question it. 

Right now, all you wanted was to seize the opportunity you’d always labeled as forbidden and dive head-first into whatever this was, consequences be damned. 

“I didn’t realize backyard pools were a common place to pick up women,” you finally croaked.

“They’re not,” Michael offered. “More of a place to pick up uncommon women.”

“Uncommon?” you repeated. You hoped, prayed, you still knew how to flirt. 

“Oh, you know, the ones who are way out of my league,” Michael said casually. 

You blinked in disbelief, your mouth opening and closing, the water gently lapping against the pool wall to fill the lapse in conversation. 

“Sorry,” he continued. “Didn’t mean to come on too strong-”

“No!” you said with a breathy laugh, desperate to save face. “No, it’s just… I just…” Your lips thinned as you tried to choose the right words. “I haven’t done this in a while – you know, other than my ex-husband.”

“Oh. Oh right! Sorry. I guess I didn’t really think that through,” Michael admitted. “I’ll put the brakes on.”

“No!” you said far too quickly, drawing an amused smirk from Michael. You drew a shaky breath to restore some composure – and dignity. “I mean, I’m not saying we need to slow down. I just… I’m trying desperately to not fuck this up but am somehow managing to do so anyway.”

“It’s rather endearing,” Michael chuckled, causing you to look at him curiously. “You’re the queen of cool collectedness,” he explained. “At least at work, you are. It’s just… charming to see the walls come down a bit.”

“Oh.” 

The backyard fell quiet, save for the ambient sound of the mild breeze rustling the trees and the pool water rippling beneath. Michael held your gaze, studying you quietly for a sign. When you determinedly didn’t avert your eyes, didn’t shift away or try to derail the conversation, he reached for you with slow, careful intent.

It was the first man you’d kissed since your husband and you couldn’t believe it was Michael. He cupped your cheek with one hand, the other resting atop your thigh, leaving it cool and wet from the pool water.

When you first met your ex-husband, everything was careful and calculated. You didn’t even sleep with him until you were two months into your relationship. You played by the book with him, did all the things a good girlfriend and wife would do.

Michael would never ask those things of you. And that’s exactly why you felt like a woman reborn.

Your hands draped quickly around his neck, pulling him closer until he was standing between your legs, his hands drifting until they both found your waist. The water sent a shiver down your spine and you could feel Michael smirking against your lips. 

“You good?” he asked, his eyes glinting with something you’d never seen in him. You nodded confirmation and Michael shifted from your lips, planting a path of kisses from your cheek to your neck.

A whimper escaped your throat, dissolving all your remaining dignity. You couldn’t care less – neither could Michael, which was exactly why your legs ended up wrapping around his torso while he continued to kiss your neck. Your eyes fell shut and the noise of the pool dipped, leaving you to focus on the heat sprawling across your skin where Michael’s lips lingered. It sent your pulse into a frenzy. 

You almost didn’t notice the way Michael’s hands were drifting toward your waist until you felt him slowly pulling away, his fingers carefully tugging at the waistband of your bikini bottoms. If it were anyone else, you’d protest. Instead, you lifted your hips until the bottom half of your swimsuit was floating in the pool.

You silently thanked your ex-husband for installing a privacy fence all those years ago. Not that a nosy neighbor couldn’t peek at you from a second-level window, but all discretion had already dissolved. 

Michael didn’t hesitate. No need for assuring glances, no pause for protest. Your legs were draped over his shoulders and his tongue was on you before you could realize you were holding your breath. It escaped your mouth in the form of a strangled cry, as if you were surprised how fucking good it felt. You weren’t.

His tongue dragged over your clit with surgical precision, the irony not lost on you. 

“Fuck, Michael,” you panted as he began to suck gently. Your thigh muscles began to tense, forcing you to support yourself upright with one hand on the cement behind you, the other tangled in Michael’s hair. 

His arms were hooked around your thighs, sensing the way you were tensing – your body’s silent plea for gratification. He drove his tongue harder against your clit, forcing it in swift, short swipes until your feet were kicking from the pleasure swelling inside your nerve endings. 

He hummed in approval against your slick flesh. His tongue seemed to spell characters in a secret language meant just for the two of you. 

“That’s it,” Michael murmured. “Come for me now.”

His lips sucked gently on your clit until his tongue resumed its assault, pressing and rolling against you until the low whine in your throat became a desperate, pitchy chorus of whimpers.

Your back arched and your nails sank into the back of Michael’s neck as heat sprawled across your cunt, its ripples triggering your forceful release. It knocked the air from your lungs as you choked out a strained moan.

Michael didn’t stop until he was sure you were finished, his fingers pressing hard into your thighs, even after you stopped writhing beneath him. You didn’t notice as he gently pulled away from you, his eyes shifting upward to study you as your own hazy vision slowly returned to focus. Your body was a bizarre clash of heavy and weightless, unsure if it wanted rest or wanted more.

Michael wasn’t going to give you much time to overthink it. He pressed one final kiss to your inner thigh and straightened up, his lips turning their attention to your neck again.

“Alright?” he murmured in your ear. Your brain, still too scrambled to form a coherent reply, responded with a silent nod. A bead of sweat trickled down your back, a reminder that the summer air felt far too hot for any of this. Or maybe it was just right.

Michael’s lips caught yours in a kiss, lingering as his arms circled around you. The cool chill of his wet hands made you shiver until, without warning, they were pulling you into the pool.

You splashed forward with a squawk, a chill jarring your body as it adjusted to the water.

“Asshole!” you exclaimed, though the laugh in your voice betrayed your attempt at appearing annoyed. “I could’ve done it myself, you know.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that?” Michael mused. “Maybe I like to help.”

“You’ve helped plenty,” you muttered. That wasn’t true and you knew it. Michael was going to help you far beyond what you’d imagined when the day started.

His arms returned to their rightful place around your waist and he guided you backward against the cold tile pattern of the pool wall. He closed the gap between you and you could feel his erection pressing against your stomach. The ache within your core returned.

You fished his cock from his swim trunks, the desperation inside you mounting. Though you couldn’t see clearly through the glimmering water, you realized Michael was significantly bigger than your ex-husband. 

You stroked him gently, then with a firm squeeze. He let out a low hiss as your thumb circled the tip. 

Your arms hooked around Michael's neck, legs following suit around his torso again. He couldn’t help but grin at your haste. You narrowed your eyes at him to feign annoyance at his cheekiness and he chuckled as he planted a kiss on you.

As he slowly sank inside you, he groaned at the contrast between the warmth of your core swallowing his cock and the cool water lapping around you. He met you with soft eyes you weren’t used to seeing during intimacy. Your ex-husband was careless and selfish, always dismissive of your wants and needs.

You held your breath as Michael pushed deeper, the stretch of your walls making you both hold your breaths. His hips rocked, pinning you against the pool wall. You were caged in, not that you had any desire to back out.

“Fuck, Michael,” you hissed as he found a slow, steady rhythm. Michael buried his face in the crook of your neck, the water sloshing around you with each movement. It became abundantly clear you’d been severely deprived the past eight years of your life.

“Jesus Christ, you feel so fucking good,” Michael purred in your ear. You whimpered in response.

You bucked your hips forward and Michael understood your message. His hips pulled back, drawing his cock from your passage until only its tip lingered in your entrance. When he rocked forward again, you moaned as he drove hard into your walls. 

“Don’t stop, Michael. Please don’t stop,” you pleaded. He wouldn’t dream of it. Not when you looked so damn euphoric draped around him, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you chased your release. You struggled to breathe through your nose, fighting to keep quiet though your resolve was waning.

Your head fell back, resting against the pool’s ledge while your hips bucked and rolled. Michael’s arms tightened around you while he drove his cock upward, knocking a moan from you. Your back scraped against the wall, first rough against the cement, then smooth as it met the rows of tiles. You paid no mind.

You clenched and squeezed, desperate to draw out one more orgasm. You had to know how it felt to fall apart around Michael’s cock. He had to know, too.

“Fuck, right there,” you whimpered softly as his cock dragged against your front wall. It was enough to make your toes curl. “Fuck, Michael, you’re going to make me-”

Your sentence died with a sharp wail as the mounting tension in your core snapped, sending deep pulses through your walls. Michael’s cock drove hard through the full duration, ensuring you felt every spasm.

Your body slackened when it was over but your legs clung tightly around Michael. His thrusts became erratic, his composure disheveled as he slipped toward his own edge. Your body felt particularly weightless in the water but you bucked your hips until Michael was mumbling absolute filth in your ear.

With a short grunt, his hips slammed forward, pinning you hard against the wall as he spilled inside you. You clamped your core tightly to ensure he wasn’t short-changed. You wanted the lasting satisfaction of knowing Michael had filled you entirely.

“Fuck,” he groaned once he was finished. All tension had vacated his body and he stood, still buried inside you as you both caught your breaths. “You alright?” he asked as you gazed at each other through heavy eyelids.

You nodded, the disbelief of what had just transpired starting to settle over you. The best sex of your life wasn’t supposed to come from your senior attending. And you sure as hell weren’t supposed to have feelings for him. You could chalk them up to the pair of violent orgasms he’d just given you, but you weren’t delusional enough to lie to yourself; those feelings for Michael had been lurking beneath the glass surface for some time.

You might have felt guilty about them if your ex-husband hadn’t been such an absolute piece of shit. Instead, you felt relief. 

The chill of the pool water was also settling over you. Michael seemed to notice. Of course, he noticed most things about you; you had just been too preoccupied to notice. Now, the sun had nearly set and you were going to be left to determine what exactly was going to happen now that you’d altered the path forward. Things were never going to be the same and you’d never been a fan of the unknown.

“We should get dried off,” Michael offered. “You’re shivering.”

You missed him the moment he backed away from you, but as you watched him pull his swim trunks back on, you decided you owed it to yourself to make an effort. You hadn’t planned to move on this quickly from your ex-husband, but you knew you wanted it to be with Michael – whatever he was willing to give.

“Can I get you anything?” you asked as you and Michael toweled off in silence. 

“I don’t know, that pizza’s been sitting out a while,” he said cautiously. “You got anything for dinner?”

“Uh, I’m sure I’ve got some stuff in the fridge,” you replied stupidly, stunned he could be discussing dinner after he’d just fucked his suborindate. But while you should have panicked, you decided that, for once in your life, you’d relinquish your tight reins of control and allow a path to present itself.

Michael’s eyes landed on the grill that hadn’t been touched since your husband moved out. “Got anything for that?” he asked.

Fifteen minutes later, you found yourself seated in a lounge chair, the pool’s relaxing waters pulling you toward a state of calm content while Michael made you dinner on the grill.

You didn’t discuss whatever it was the two of you were doing, but you were okay with that – especially after the two of you went inside the house to have sex again. 

But when you woke up the following morning, you found your bed empty and no word from Michael – no note, no texts, no sign he’d even been there.

‘Of course,’ you thought. Michael had a reputation for choosing the latter when it came to fight or flight. He never lingered long enough to let anyone in. You’d have to learn to live with that.

The crushing disappointment would have been enough to keep you in bed all day, had the alarming sound of a drill not drawn you to your backyard. You scurried outside in your bathrobe until the sight of Michael made you halt. He was crouched next to the fence, eyes narrowed with concentration.

The whirr of the drill stopped when he noticed you standing on the back patio, your own eyes squinting in confusion.

“Morning,” he said with a smile as he straightened up. “Figured I’d fix this creaky gate before we go get some breakfast.”