Ty is a nerdy, geeky, engineer, otherwise a harmless man. He's never really had luck with the ladies, he never really knew what to say, or when to say, anything to women. As if God played a joke on him, his cock would have made any woman on the planet swoon, reducing them to endorphins and sweat, if he ever could get the opportunity. He is in the hospital and meets a lovely new 22 year old nurse, very petite but well figured and endowed for her size. He struggles to complement and make his moves, but as time passes he gets better and smoother. The nurse is probably the most doe-eyed person to ever exist. She never quite successfully puts two and two together that Ty always just seems to get accidentally hard around her... Weirdest thing.

Chapter 11: The Kiss That Wasn't

Lily's expression turned mischievous again, her dark eyes sparkling with the memory. "Well, Chlo, it ended with me being a horny drunk."

A small laugh escaped before Chloe could stop it, the admission so unexpected and blunt. Lily grinned, unapologetic. "I mean, it was inevitable, right? I'd been dancing, sweating, feeling the rhythm everywhere." She mimed a sensual sway, her grin widening. "Benji, the mountain, just carrying me along, his big hands keeping me secure." She leaned in, her voice dropping to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "I was already buzzing with all that contact, and the night air eventually just... amplified it."

Lily leaned back against the cool laminate counter, her dark eyes fixed on Chloe. "Normally," she confided, a conspiratorial smirk playing on her lips, "when I get drunk slowly, I get horny. Then I stop drinking, find a cock, and presto!" She snapped her fingers for emphasis. "But that night? I got plastered fast."

Chloe blinked, momentarily stunned by the raw honesty, her cheeks flushing warm despite herself. She gripped her coffee cup tighter, the faint scent of antiseptic suddenly sharper.

"Hence the impromptu dance battle," Lily continued, waving a hand dismissively, "and the escape acts. So, as I came down – still in Benji’s arms, mind you – my brain finally caught up." Her voice dropped, becoming huskier. "And as he carried me, step after step, feeling all that solid muscle beneath me... my brain got saucier and saucier." She fanned herself dramatically. "Like, furnace levels."

Chloe’s laugh was a startled burst of air, quickly stifled as she glanced down the hall. "Lily! Seriously?" The image was vivid, almost tangible in the sterile air.

"Dead serious," Lily insisted, leaning in again, her gaze sharp. "He’s built like a brick wall, Chlo. Solid. Warm. And there I was, plastered but sobering just enough to appreciate the package." She sighed theatrically.

Chloe pressed a hand over her mouth, her eyes wide circles of disbelief above her fingers. The sterile hospital air suddenly felt thick, charged with Lily’s outrageous confession. "Lily Chen, you did not," she breathed, her voice muffled.

"Cross my heart," Lily declared, tracing an 'X' over her scrub top, her grin utterly unrepentant. "I was melting, Chlo. Like ice cream on a July sidewalk." She leaned her elbows on the cool laminate countertop, lowering her voice again despite the relative quiet of the early shift lull. "So, plastered-me decides sobering-me needs to act."

The distant, rhythmic beep of a patient’s monitor underscored Lily’s pause. "I leaned in," she whispered, her gaze locked onto Chloe’s fascinated, slightly horrified expression. "Right there in the stairwell. Just... smooch." She made the sound effect, soft and suggestive.

Chloe’s coffee cup hovered forgotten near her lips. "And?" The single word was barely audible.

"And..." Lily drew the word out, savoring the suspense. "He froze. Totally rigid. Like I’d just Tasered him." She mimicked Benji’s stunned expression, mouth slightly agape, eyes wide. "Then, like the disgustingly decent human he is, he gently – gently – pushed me back." She demonstrated the motion with careful fingers against Chloe’s shoulder. "Muttered something about me being too drunk to consent properly."

A shocked giggle escaped Chloe this time, quickly stifled. "Oh my god, Lil. What did you do?"

"What could I do?" Lily shrugged, a flicker of genuine frustration crossing her face before the playful mask slipped back on. "He just kept climbing those godforsaken stairs! Like nothing happened!" She shook her head, dark hair swishing. "The man has willpower forged from literal granite."

She paused, a faraway look softening her features for a fleeting second. The scent of disinfectant and stale coffee seemed to fade as she revisited the memory. "He carried me all the way to my front door on the fourth floor, Chlo. Every single step." Lily’s voice dropped, losing some of its usual brashness, becoming almost wondering. "But him being a stubbornly good person didn't, or couldn't allow, himself to notice me progressively melting in his arms. Like, really melting. A total puddle."

Chloe stared, her coffee forgotten, the image of stoic Benji climbing four flights with a progressively amorous Lily in his arms painting itself vividly in her mind. Her own cheeks felt warm. Words completely failed her.

The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a sterile glow on Chloe’s stunned face. Lily’s confession hung in the antiseptic air, thick and improbable. Chloe could only manage a strangled sound, somewhere between a gasp and a disbelieving cough. Her knuckles were white around her lukewarm coffee cup.

"Right?!" Lily pressed, mistaking Chloe's shock for shared outrage. "Four flights! Me, practically purring, him acting like a Saint Bernard carrying a particularly troublesome keg." She shuddered dramatically, though a trace of genuine admiration softened the gesture. "Absolute granite, I tell you. Didn't even break stride when I, uh... nibbled his earlobe on landing three."

Chloe clapped a hand over her eyes, a helpless giggle finally escaping. "Lily, no! You didn't." The image was absurd and mortifying.

"Desperate times, Chlo!" Lily defended, though her grin was unrepentant. "I was a woman possessed! Or, you know, just very drunk and very aware of excellent pectorals." She sighed, leaning back against the counter, her dark eyes distant for a beat, replaying the climb. "But he just... kept going. Steady as a damn metronome. Didn’t flinch. Barely breathed harder."

The relentless beep-beep-beep from Room 312 seemed to slow for a second, syncing with Chloe’s held breath. She lowered her hand, watching Lily’s face shift from playful bravado to something softer, almost vulnerable. "So," Lily continued, her voice dropping an octave, losing its usual sharp edge. "We finally hit my floor. Corridor smelled like old takeout and carpet cleaner. He walks me down to my door, 4B."

Lily paused, her gaze locking onto Chloe's, intensely blue and wide. She mimed the movement carefully. "He shifted me in his arms, just a little. Then, very deliberately, he bent his knees." She demonstrated, dipping slightly. "Set my feet down on the ugly green welcome mat – you know, the one with the ironic 'GO AWAY' message?" A quick, self-deprecating smirk. "Once he got to my welcome mat he stood me vertical."

Chloe could almost see it: Benji, solid and serious, gently depositing a wobbly, disappointed Lily onto her own threshold. The care in the action, even amidst Lily's drunken assault, was startlingly clear. "Oh," Chloe breathed, the word soft and understanding.

"Yeah," Lily agreed, the bravado momentarily gone, replaced by a flicker of something Chloe couldn’t quite name – respect? Frustration? "Just... stood me up. Like a parent positioning a toddler. Kept his hands lightly on my shoulders until he was sure I wasn't going to faceplant into the door." Her voice regained some of its usual energy, but it was tinged with wonder now. "He looked me dead in the eye. Not angry. Just... calm. Solid. Said, real quiet, 'Get some water, Lily. Lock up.'"

Chloe shook her head, a small, incredulous smile touching her lips despite the situation’s awkwardness. "He sounds… incredibly decent, Lil." The warmth lingered in her own cheeks, a confusing echo of Lily’s described predicament. "Stubbornly, frustratingly decent."

"Decent?" Lily snorted, pushing off the counter. "Try infuriatingly noble! I was practically dissolving against him, Chlo. Purring, nibbling… the whole desperate package." She waved a dismissive hand, though a flicker of genuine appreciation remained in her dark eyes. "Seriously, Chlo, the man carried me like a sack of horny potatoes for three hours, up four flights and didn't even cop a feel? That's not decent, that's... monastic."

Chloe couldn't help the small smile, picturing the stoic giant impervious to Lily’s drunken charms. The sharp tang of disinfectant seemed to sharpen alongside her amusement. "He set you down safely. Sounds pretty decent to me."

"Safety schmafety," Lily retorted, a flicker of genuine exasperation replacing the playful outrage. She drummed her fingers on the cool laminate countertop. "I was right there. Warm. Willing. Wobbly, but willing!" She leaned in again, her voice dropping conspiratorially. "Most guys wouldn't need an engraved invitation. Especially not after that display." Her wink was exaggerated, but the underlying frustration was real.

A faint blush crept up Chloe’s neck. "Maybe he just... respects you? Didn't want to take advantage?" Even as she said it, the words felt inadequate against Lily’s raw recounting.

Lily blew a raspberry, the sound startlingly loud in the quiet corridor. "Respect is for sober brunch dates and awkward family dinners, Chlo. This was prime-time opportunity! The vibe was there." She slammed her palm lightly on the counter for emphasis. "He felt it too. I saw it in his eyes when he finally looked at me properly on my doorstep. Just for a second. Pure, unadulterated want."

Chloe’s breath hitched slightly. The image of Benji, usually so composed, momentarily undone, was unexpectedly potent. "So... what happened then?" The question was barely a whisper.

"He shut it down," Lily stated flatly, her gaze hardening. "Locked it up tighter than the narcotics cabinet." She mimed turning a key. "Just repeated his 'water and lock the door' line like a broken robot." She sighed, a long, theatrical exhalation.

Lily slammed her palm flat on the cool laminate counter. The sharp smack echoed slightly in the quiet hall. "The audacity of his nobility, Chloe! Seriously!" Her dark eyes flashed with a mix of indignation and grudging awe. "Four flights! My hands were under his shirt by floor two, tracing every delicious ridge. And nothing!"

Chloe pressed her lips together, trying to suppress another giggle. The sheer absurdity of Lily’s relentless pursuit clashing with Benji’s granite resolve was almost too much. "He... resisted?" she managed, picturing the stoic giant enduring Lily’s determined exploration.

"Resisted?" Lily scoffed, leaning in so close Chloe could smell the faint mint on her breath. "He practically ascended to sainthood right there on my welcome mat!" She mimed Benji’s stiff posture, eyes heavenward. "Hands hovering like I was radioactive. Voice all calm and patronizing." Her impression was spot-on, chillingly detached. "‘Water, Lily. Lock the door.’ Like I was five!"

The fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, casting harsh shadows on Lily’s animated face. Chloe shifted her weight, the vinyl chair squeaking softly beneath her. "So... he just left?" The thought felt anticlimactic after Lily’s vivid description of escalating tension.

Lily’s grin returned, slow and predatory. It didn’t reach her eyes, which held a fierce, determined glint. "Oh, he tried." Her voice dropped to a low, dangerous purr. "He turned to go. Started walking down that ugly green hallway carpet." She paused, letting the image hang – Benji retreating, the moment slipping away. "That’s when I remembered something crucial."

Chloe leaned forward unconsciously, drawn in by the sudden shift in Lily’s tone. The antiseptic air felt charged. "What?"

A spark of pure, unadulterated defiance lit Lily’s gaze. "Fortunately," she hissed, the word sharp and deliberate, "I am not infuriatingly noble." She slammed her hand down again, softer this time, but with finality. "I was going to get a cock, Chloe. And Benji’s was the one I wanted." Her eyes locked onto Chloe’s, unwavering. "He deserved it."

Chloe’s breath caught. "Lily... what did you do?"

Lily’s smile was pure victory. "I grabbed his arm." She demonstrated the motion, fingers clamping tight. "Hard. Yanked him back towards me." Her voice was low, intense, reliving the pivotal second. "He stumbled, off-balance, surprised." She mimicked his startled turn, the controlled facade cracking. "And before that noble, infuriatingly decent wall could slam back down..." Lily leaned in, her whisper barely audible over the distant monitor beeps. "...I burned it away."

Lily’s fingers snapped shut around Benji’s thick bicep like a steel trap. She hauled backwards with every ounce of drunken strength she possessed. He stumbled, caught utterly off guard, his massive frame momentarily betraying him. Surprise flickered across his usually impassive face, replacing the saintly resolve.

"Look at me," Lily demanded, her voice rough and low, devoid of its usual playful lilt. It was pure command. She used his own momentum against him, twisting as he pitched forward. His back slammed into her apartment door with a heavy thud that rattled the cheap wood frame in its casing. Dust motes danced in the weak hallway light.

Air exploded from Benji’s lungs in a surprised "Oof." The impact pinned him solidly. Lily stepped in close, impossibly close, pressing her entire body flush against his trapped form. Her bare feet braced against the ugly green mat."Not. Leaving." Her words were hot puffs against his jaw. Her free hand splayed possessively against the center of his chest, feeling the frantic thud beneath his thin shirt.

Benji blinked, dazed. His eyes, wide with shock, finally focused on hers. The noble detachment was gone, replaced by pure, unprocessed confusion. He tried to shift, testing her grip. Three hundred pounds of solid muscle strained instinctively against the door. The wood groaned softly in protest. Lily held firm, her slight frame trembling with effort but unyielding. Her knuckles were white where she gripped his arm. Her other hand remained anchored on his sternum.

"Lily—" he started, his voice thick and strained, struggling to regain comprehension. "The door—"

"Shut up," she hissed, cutting him off. Her gaze bored into his, fierce, demanding, utterly sober in its intensity despite the lingering alcohol haze. She saw it then, beneath the confusion: the raw current she’d felt during their dance, the primal awareness he’d fought so hard to suppress. It was still there, banked but undeniable. Sweat beaded on his temple.

The air between them crackled, thick with the scent of his exertion, her perfume, and stale hallway carpet. The distant wail of a siren filtered through the building’s walls, a surreal counterpoint to the furious pounding of Lily’s own heart against her ribs. Benji’s breathing was harsh and shallow against her cheek. He stopped straining. His trapped wrist relaxed infinitesimally beneath her grip. A silent, stunned surrender.

The furnace roar in Lily’s ears momentarily drowned out everything else. She had him.

Chloe stared, her mouth slightly agape, the forgotten coffee in her hand turning cold. "You... you pinned him?" she breathed, the words barely audible over the rhythmic beep-beep-beep drifting from Room 312. The image was ludicrous, terrifying, and electrifying. "Against your door? Lily, he’s—"

"Three hundred pounds of 'no'," Lily finished, a wild, triumphant gleam in her dark eyes, remembering the impossible resistance of his bulk against the wood. "And yet? he stayed pinned."

Lily’s grip on Benji’s bicep felt like iron fused to bone. His back pressed solidly against her apartment door, the cheap wood groaning under his trapped weight. He blinked down at her, confusion warring with the raw awareness she’d finally cracked open in his dark eyes. His chest heaved against her palm, a frantic drumbeat beneath his thin shirt. Sweat beaded at his temple, gleaming in the dim hallway light filtering through the peephole. The lingering scent of his exertion mixed with her cheap perfume and the stale corridor air. "Lily—" he started again, his voice rough gravel, sounding strangled.

"Shut. Up," Lily commanded, cutting him off. Her voice was low, fierce, utterly focused despite the vodka haze swirling at the edges of her vision. She saw the pulse hammering in his throat, the slight dilation of his pupils she’d been chasing all night. No more noble detachment. Only this electric, trapped heat. She refused to let his decency win. Not now. Not when she finally had him exactly where she wanted him. Her free hand slid from his chest, fingers tangling roughly in the hair at the nape of his neck. He flinched, a full-body tremor running through him beneath her touch. His breath hitched audibly.

He stammered something incoherent, fragments catching the air. "...drunk...can't...consent..." The words were thick, barely formed, lost in the sudden proximity. Lily ignored them. The furnace inside her roared, louder than his protests, hotter than any rational thought. She yanked his head down, hard, rising onto her toes on the scratchy welcome mat. Her mouth crashed against his.

It wasn't gentle. It was a claiming. Lips crushed, teeth scraped. Benji stiffened instantly, a statue pinned against the door. For one terrifying, exhilarating heartbeat, he remained utterly rigid, unresponsive. Lily poured every ounce of her frustration, her desire, her drunken certainty into the kiss. She bit his lower lip, sharp enough to jolt. A low, involuntary groan rumbled deep in his chest, vibrating against her. The sound wasn't protest. It was pure, startled sensation.

Then something fundamental shifted. The resistance in his trapped frame dissolved like smoke. His massive shoulders dropped, the straining tension easing. The hand not pinned beside his head came up, not to push her away, but to settle heavily – possessively – on her hip, fingers digging into the curve. His lips moved against hers, hesitantly at first, then with a sudden, hungry intensity that stole her breath. The kiss turned molten, a raw exchange of heat and need that obliterated the sterile hallway, the dim light, everything but the feel of him. The solid door against his back, her body flush against his front, the frantic mingling of their breaths. He kissed her back like a man drowning, finally surrendering to the current he’d fought so hard against. His other arm wrapped around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer, anchoring her as the world tilted.

Chloe stared, her coffee cup forgotten, cold against her palm. The relentless beep-beep-beep from Room 312 faded into white noise. Lily leaned against the nurses' station counter, a faint, satisfied flush high on her cheekbones, her dark eyes distant, replaying the collision. "He stammered something about 'drunk...consent'," she murmured, her voice husky with the memory, a ghost of a smirk touching her lips. "But I pinned all three hundred whatever pounds of gorgeous, stubborn denial to my door," her gaze snapped back to Chloe’s stunned face, the triumph blazing bright and unapologetic, "...and I kissed him." The fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting stark shadows.

Chloe’s jaw was slack. The image – tiny, furious Lily physically wrestling that mountain of stoic resolve into submission – was impossible. Yet Lily’s expression held a raw, undeniable truth, a visceral satisfaction that radiated heat. "You... pinned him?" Chloe echoed, the words sounding thin and inadequate. "And he... he just...?"

Lily’s smile widened, sharp and knowing. "Oh, he kissed back, Chlo." She paused, letting the implication hang thick in the antiseptic air between them. "Eventually." The single word landed like a dropped weight.