Unhinged

by Vera Valentine

Dedication This one’s for the reader that declared in a Facebook group that she uses ctrl + f to search for the word “cock” at the start of a story to make sure she doesn’t get tricked into reading a “closed door” romance by mistake. Shine bright, you smutty diamond, the world needs more women like you. (It’s in here 14 times, by the way, which ain’t half bad.)

Oh my. What am i about to get into. Sigh. Lets do it.

door knob insertion,

Probs the only time ill see this warning

wood putty use,

What?

As a door, I didn’t know when I fell in love with Tana, only that I most assuredly was. It might have been the first time she’d laid her soft fingertips on the cool brass of my knob,

Sigh

Once, I got carried away by the press of her breasts as she rose on tiptoe to look through the peephole, her t-shirt whispering against my flat back. Try as I might, I couldn’t hold back my deadbolt, which slid free with excitement at the touch of her soft cheek.

Wth

“I have no name but yours, Tana. I am your faithful guardian and protector, nothing more, nothing less. I am your door, and I love you.” “My…door? I don’t understand. Is that like a metaph-” She frowned, brow knitting in confusion again. “Your door. To your apartment.” I smiled brightly, proud and happy to finally have a voice to tell Tana I’d been watching over her.

“A favor, huh? So, what, do you want me to oil your hinges?” It was my turn to blush at the obvious flirtation in her tone, a highly unusual sensation.

Ah yes. Definitely flirting

I scrubbed the back of my neck with a palm, uncomfortable with Tana’s sudden shift in mood. Why was she so unhappy? She always seemed to be in a very good mood when she used her shivering blue stick.

Nooo lamo

It was all I could do not to vibrate with rage in my frame. I didn’t want Randall close to Tana - not handing her things, not talking to her, not even looking at her.

If I hadn’t already been made of wood, I’d be stiff as a board at the sight.

Wrapping my round brass protrusion in a soft cloth and a firm grip, she started polishing my knob with slow, smooth strokes that stirred something deep in my wood.

I cant take this seriously

“Right. Okay. Well, I’m either about to get more kinky than I ever thought I could, or I’m kissing not-a-frog with not-my-lips and breaking some kinda weird curse.”

“Well, looks like I’m just kinky, you’re still a door. Damn, I am way more kinky than I thought I was. God that was good, though.

Human life was proving to be confusing and awkward, while being a door had been fairly straightforward.

“So…what should I call you, then, door guy?” Yours, I thought, before the question really sunk in. Right, a name. Humans had those. I didn’t.

When we perused the delivery app, I’d not-so-subtly steered her away from picking a model similar to my own, with a rounded knob on the interior. I knew it was ridiculous, but it made me a little jealous - I didn’t want a replacement she could fuck, even theoretically.

“Thank you, Drys. You’ve done so much already. You were a very good door, I hope you know that.” Something about being called a good door made my human legs feel weak and shaky.