tags&warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. nsfw content. smut. hurt/comfort. use of alcohol, drugs, depictions of cheating, overdose and drug misuse. they’re both such flirts and he deeply cares about reader. masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected piv, slight vouyerism(?) age gap relationship (reader is in her late 20s/early 30s and jack’s 50). LOTS OF MEDICAL INACCURACIES because i am not a healthcare professional, just a horny corporate girly. english is not my first language, no beta reader, deal with it!
wordcount: 7.9k
note: wow thank u all so much for all the love on my previous posts! i was not expecting how well received they were c: thank you so so so muchhhh. comments, reblogs and likes mean so much to me! they encourage me to keep writing.
masterlist.
You leaned all your weight over your right leg as you posed in front of the mirrored wall of the elevator. You held your phone high, face-height, your glossy lips puckered in a perfect duck face. The sparkle of your black mini skirt matched the one on your eyelids. The sparkles caught the harsh bright overhead light as you shifted your hips again. Your sheer black "cute-going-out" top played peekaboo beneath your oversized leather bomber jacket, and a small purse handing from your shoulder. Tall black boots made your legs look longer than they actually were.
You snapped another mirror selfie, grinning at the pop of colour from the three BuzzBallz in your arm— one was bright blue, that one was Berry Cherry Limeade, the other two were a neon green colour, Tequila 'Rita, was the name of the cocktail inside that one. The bright colours cut the monochrome of your dark outfit as if they were accessories or props.
The door began to slide closed.
"Wait, mind holding it?" A deep, familiar voice called out just in time.
You startled, trying to keep the doors from shutting, and one of the cold, wet BuzzBallz slipped from your grasp, rolling across the floor and stopping right at the feet of the man walking towards you.
He crouched smoothly, carefully, slowly. One hand was gripping the strap of his noticeably heavy backpack as it slung over his shoulder. His other hand scooped the bright blue orb. When he straightened up, his eyes met yours. He looked tired but amused, gifting you that signature half -smirk tugging at his mouth.
Being inside the elevator with your hot, older neighbour made your pulse rush. You tried your best to ignore as your heart raced dramatically.
"Your radioactive blue artificial-flavoured spherical alcoholic beverage, madam," he said, teasing you as he handed it back, reading quickly the print on the plastic, letting out a small whistle. "13.5% alcohol content?! Jesus fucking Christ… What the hell is that?" He shook his head with an ironic laugh.
"Thank you, Dr. Abbot." You took the drink from him, your fingers brushed his on the action. You proceeded to pop the cap open with a hiss, letting the fizz escape the sphere like a sigh. "It's a BuzzBall! It's actually a woman-founded company, so I'm doing this to support them.”
You took a bold sip, only to immediately pull a disgusting expression across your face.
"God, I forgot how awful they taste every single time!"
Jack laughed lowly out loud, the sound filling the enclosed space.
"I don't know what would you expect from something that colour…" He shook his head again, still smirking at you. "If your goal is to get absolutely fucked up by 8 pm, then you're in the right track, doll."
You laughed, balancing the drinks against your chest while trying to shove your phone into your jacket pocket. He watch you struggle with curious amusement.
"Are you on your way to work?" you asked a pretty obvious he didn't need to answer.
He just threw a small nod at his own tactical navy trousers, white under tee, and dark scrub shirt. The silver cap of his ballpoint pen glinted in his front pocket like a little badge of honour, reflecting the harsh light inside the elevator, in the same way your skirt's sequins did.
He leaned against the wall across from you. His gaze flicked over your outfit again, quick but not quick enough to hide his interest. You could tell how his eyes settled on the exposed skin on your legs between the mini skirt and the boots, at least on the portion over the knee.
"What about you?" He asked as a joke.
"Yeah, Jack. I'm going to work too," you deadpanned. "On my way to clock in for my night shift at the 365 party girl factory."
"I can tell," he shot back, perfectly mimickign your sarcastic tone. The elevator's light caught on his salt and pepper hair as your gaze fixed on it. "Sorry. I forgot to press the ground floor button."
His arm reached past you. Muscled, veined, peppered with freckles all over, lightly sun kissed. As his flesh brushed lightly against your jacked while he reached to hit the button, your couldn't help but to let your deepest, darkest desires take over, imagining those arms and hands all over your body.
You were able to catch the clean scent of him. Just soap. He made it seem so much more fancy.
"I'm actually heading to my friend's bachelorette party!" you informed him, smiling shyly. "We are having pre-drinks at one of the other girl's house before heading to the club. We got bridesmaids sashes, a cheap bride veil, inflatable penises, the whole tacky nine yards! Ali has no idea we are doing this and I am preeeetty sure she's going to deeply hate it."
"God, that sounds awful," his laugh escaped his lips again and you felt your stomach flipping. "I didn't realise you were at the 'all my friends are getting married' stage."
"Oh, dear old man neighbour Jack…." you sighed dramatically, "You must think I'm younger than I actually am. Engagements, houses, big moves, babies, you name it… I'm just falling a little behind everyone else. Not having the best luck with love on the past couple of years. Too busy climbing the corpo ladder instead! At least that's the excuse I have, anyway."
The elevator dinged and opened into the building's lobby. You both stepped out together, as you kept walking outside, letting the cool early evening greet you once you reached the sidewalk.
"Hardly!" he murmured, dropping his voice a little bit, almost into a whisper. "A couple of mornings ago I heard you… well…. you know." His eyes sparked with mischief. "You can be a pretty loud next door neighbour. Hope you know your bedroom is directly next to mine and walls are thin."
Your cheeks burned bright red.
You couldn't believe he'd actually sait that. Jack had always been a pretty straightforward man, but this? This was plain bold, even for a man like him. Your mind raced, trying to piece together what he actually meant by bringing it up. He was probably just exhausted after one of his heavy, long shifts, and your reckless bedroom noises kept him awake for a little while.
Then you remembered. Shit. He didn't actually you with anyone else. You hadn't brought anyone home in months.
Jack had heard you pleasuring yourself. Loudly.
Damn those paper thin walls. They could be much better for such an expensive rent!
"Highly doubt whoever that was wants to make me his wife." You shrugged, going along with his comment.
You were not going to correct him and confess that what he heard was nothing but a very loud masturbation session.
"Their loss." Jack lifted his shoulders, then letting one of his hand rummage inside of his trousers pockets, searching for his car keys. "Do you want a lift to your friend's place?"
You shook your head, giving your drink another long sip, letting your taste buds adjust to the dreadful flavour.
"No, I actually ordered an Uber while I was still upstairs. It should be here soon," you took one last deep sip, looking around the quiet street. "But thank you, Jack."
"No problem, it's nice to be nice!" He smiled, walking away, directing himself to the corner where his truck was usually parked, before calling you again over his shoulder, "You look beautiful tonight, by the way! I like the…" He gestured vaguely around his own face, his keys dangled from his fingers.
"My makeup?" You completed his sentence, blushing slightly again. "Thank you. New lip gloss and blush, actually."
He gave you a slow, flirty once-over and a thumbs up that felt really anything but neighbourly.
"It's working."
"Good luck tonight, Doctor!" You called after him, your heart fluttering at his compliments. "I will see you around. Sorry for being the worst loud neighbour!"
He shook his head.
"Enjoy your tacky girls' night out." He shouted back not even turnig around to see you one last time.
"Rude!" You yelled, laughing, "I will make sure to take plenty of pictures of me drinking my cocktails from a penis-shaped straw! I will show them to you next time! I might save one straw for you too!"
His laughter echoed down the street as he disappeared around the corner. You just stood on the curb, grinning like an idiot, still tasting the awful artificial fruity flavour on your tongue. His voice kept resounding inside of your memory, lingering in your ears.
.
The night had been a surprising success in your opinion. You'd stuck close to the girls all evening, dancing, laughing and turning down every drunk guy who tried his luck. No reckless kisses, no questionable invitations back to strangers' apartments— you were proud of yourself for once.
But when the energy started dipping and your friends began hinting at calling it a night early enough, someone suggested a couple of white lines to keep the party a live for a little while more. It had been years since any of you had done something like this. The idea felt equal parts nostalgic and stupid.
The only chaotic moment came in the bathroom. A flirty drug dealer offered you and Liz three bags of coke for the price of two, plus a "sweet little kiss", as a bachelorette party discount. Liz didn't even hesitate. She shoved him against the tiled wall behind them, ripping off her "Team Bride!" sash, starting to make out with him like a starved woman. Catcalls and "get a room, weirdos!" shouts echoed around the ladies' bathroom stalls.
You just laughed and shook your head, sipping your Malibu and Coke Zero. You had been nursing that very same drink for the past 20 minutes, sipping the diluted mix with ice water, through the stupid straw with a plastic penis shaped figurine at the tip of it. Jack would really enjoy how ridiculous this is, you thought. Damn him, damn you… Grinning drunkenly, daydreaming about your hot silver fox neighbour. Fantastic.
While Liz was busy, the guy tossed the three small plastic bags toward you. You fumbled to catch them with your free hand, but one slipped and landed on the gross, sticky bathroom floor.
"Ew," you muttered, quickly snatching it up. "Disgusting!"
You rinsed the sealed bag under the sink, wrapped it in toiler paper like some contraband merchandise criminal, and stuffed it into your purse with the other two bags.
The night stretched on. You shared the first two bags with the entire group of girls, splitting them between discreet bumps in the middle of the dance floor and bathroom breaks for actual lines, dancing until your feet hurt and thinking about the absolute nightmare of a hangover that will get its grip on you all tomorrow morning. Eventually Liz tapped out first. She said her girlfriend had an early IVF appointment the next morning and she was coming with her. You teased her about how she didn't seem to care about her girlfriend much when she was making out with some sketchy dude earlier. She just flipped you off with a smirk before leaving.
The rest of the girls made their way one by one, leaving you and Ali outside now, waiting for the Uber you ordered. The bass and rhythm of the music still thumped loudly behind you as your hand dug through your small purse, making sure your credit card was still there. It was! You fingers also brushed the toiled paper wrapped third bag of cocaine. You had completelty forgotten about it.
"A little bachelorette gift from Liz." You pulled it out, handing it to Ali with a laugh. "Go easy on it now, okay?"
Ali raised her eyebrows.
"From Liz only? Not you?"
"Let's just say she did the dirty work alone," you grinned.
Ali wasted no time, opening the bag and scooping a bump with the back of her pinky finger acrylic long nail. She sniffed deeply. She even offered you some and you just shook your head.
"I need to sleep as soon as I get home," you excused yourself, getting a little 'boo!" from her.
"Suit yourself then." She shrugged, doing another bump and then two more. Four in total.
"Jesus Christ, Ali— That's enough now!"you gently pulled her hand down, taking the bag from her and tucking it back into your own purse. She sneezed hard, her eyes were watering. "I told you to go fucking easy on it. What's your problem?"
"I'm planning on riding my man all night and all morning as soon as I make it home," she laughed loudly. The Uber was finally pulling up and you helped her in, getting in after her. "I need to stay awake and alert for it!"
The driver saw Ali's "Bride to Be" sash and your "Team Bride" one across your chests. Ali was wearing a cheap plastic tiara and a white wedding veil pinned to her perfect blonde hair. He congratulated her. She giggled, slurring her words. You asked the driver if you could choose some music to play, and as he passed his phone back at you, you decided to queue Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani, blasting it through the car. You sand the opening loudly, hyping a now sleepy Ali up. You nudged her shoulder playfully.
"Woo-hoo! Come on, Ali! Yee-hoo!" You sang, shaking her a little harder. She didn't respond and the panic started creeping in. "Ali? Hey- girl, get up! Sorry, could you please lower the volume?" You turned to the driver.
You yapped her face gently, then slapped it firmer. "Ali, wake up, girl!"
A thin trail of blood began leaking from her nose. Your heart slammed against your ribs.
"Oh my god!" You screamed at the driver. "Please, we need to go to the hospital right now! My friend needs help!"
As the Uber screeched to a stop outside of the emergency entrance, two paramedics approached the vehicle. Everything was so quick and blurry. They pulled Ali out of the car and onto a gurney in seconds. You rushed, glued to her side, jogging alongside them as the team rushed her through the automatic doors and into the ER. Her white summer dress and sash were soaked with bright crimson blood from her nose. She looked horrifying, like something straight out of a horror movie, like that one scene in Carrie.
You stood still behind for a second as they started working on her.
"My god, Ali…" You whispered as tears started spilling down your cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, she was fighting to keep them open.
"Female, mid-thirties, altered mental status, possible stimulant overdose. Narcan was issued as we pulled her onto the gurney," one of the paramedics called out as more people approached. "BP 178 over 120, heart rate 138, sats 94% on room air. Let's get her a monitor."
They wheeled her into a private bay, transferring her into a bed and yanked the curtain shut. You walked up to her again, gluing your hand to her shoulder, your hand started to tremble against the blood stained fabric.
A young black female doctor turned to you quickly. "What's her name and age?"
"Ali- Alicia Reynolds. She's only 31. She looks older because of the fillers." You cried, remembering that they mistook her for someone in their mid thirties. If she was awake to hear that, she would've lost it!
"Are you related?"
"No, she's my friend. We were out for her bachelorette." You pointed at the sesh around your neck.
You felt stupid now wearing it.
"I can tell," the doctor commented, looking at both your outfits up and down. She pressed her gloved hands around her chest, as a nurse hooked her up to leads and an IV. "Can you tell me what happened, Ali's friend?"
You shook your head and tears won the war once more.
"She just… she was doing some bumps and I told her stop."
A nurse placed a firm hand on your arm.
"You need to tell us everything if you want us to help her properly."
"She was doing lines and bumps all night but she was okay. It wasn't until that damn third bag before the Uber ride. We'd been drinking too. She just… passed out on the ride home. Her nose started bleeding."
The people around moved fast.
"Let's get bilateral IVs, normal saline wide open. Draw labs, CBC, CMP, coags, troponin, tox screen. Stat ECG. She's hypertensive and tachycardic. Let's start her with 2mg lorazepam."
You watched them do their work as you froze in place. A nurse wiped the blood from Ali's face, revealing the pale skin underneath her heavy makeup. You stared as they drew several vials of dark blood. You never knew that blood in such a concentration could look so dark. Almost black. The monitors beeped steadily, her heart rate was too high and her blood pressure was alarming.
Your legs felt weak like jelly. You sank into the chair beside the bed, never letting go of Ali's arm. She looked almost peaceful now, her drowsy eyes fluttering as the medications started to kick in. They had given her painkillers through the IV. You still wondered if she was in any pain, or scared, at all.
The curtain suddenly whipped open.
"Who do we have here?" A familiar deep voice asked. "What's wrong with our bride to be, Dr. Ellis?"
You looked up. It was Jack. His eyes widened the second he saw you as well. Your makeup was ruined, not worthy of his compliments anymore. The black streaks of your eyeshadow and mascara ran down your cheeks. His mouth parted slightly in surprise.
"Possible cocaine overdose according to miss Bridesmaid here," Dr. Ellis replied, gesturing toward you. "Looks more like she k-holed to me. Bad hypertensive reaction. She's more stable now. Nosebleed stopped. Waiting on labs."
Jack gave a short nod.
"Thank you, Dr. Ellis. I'll take it from here. Can you give us a moment?"
Once she stepped out, Jack pulled the curtain closed. He turned to you, his expression softened with concerned. You looked up at him with wide, sorry eyes, fresh tears threatened to run down your face again.
Jack grabbed a pair of blue latex gloves, the snap of them against the skin on his wrists cut through the steady beeps of the monitors. He stepped closer, standing tall in front of you while you remained seated. Without a word, he pulled out a small penlight from his pocket and flashed it across your eyes. You closed your eyes and jerked your face away instinctively as a reaction. His strong hand caught your chin, tilting your face up so he could examine your pupils.
"Stay still for me, sweetheart. Blown pupils…" he murmured. "Not exactly where I expected our next meeting to take place."
The quiet disappointment in his voice broke something inside of you. Hot tears wouldn't stop falling. Your eyes stung from all the makeup falling inside of them. You couldn't speak out of the shame. In any other circumstance, the sight of his veined forearms now resting crossed over his chest in front of you, would have had you biting your lip and throwing some (jokingly) dirty comments his way. Right now, all you could do was spiral.
Your breath picked up fast and shallow.
"This is all my fault, Jack," you choked out. "I gave her that last bag. I was the one that handed it to her. I should've stopped her— I"
"Hey." Jack's voice stayed calm. It was his job to stay calm in situations like this. "I need you to take a deep breath with me, alright?"
He placed a hand over your shoulder. Your nerves perked up down your spine and all the way down to your warm core. He inhaled slowly, holding your gaze until you followed. "That's it, that's it." He rubbed his palm against your shoulder as you stopped gasping between sobs. "That's it… Good girl. Can you give me another deep breath?"
You nodded weakly, your eyes drifted back to Ali. You couldn't dare to look at him. Not when he said those things to you.
"Did you take anything besides those god-awful neon balls?" he asked.
You shook your head.
"Don't lie to me, okay? I'm trying to help you." Jack replied to your shaky reaction. "If we were to run your labs, are we going to find anything else other than alcohol?"
You squeezed your eyes shut, nodding.
"It's easy to tell me the truth, sweetheart. You see?" He said, you kept nodding. His words were driving you insane. You weren't sure if he was trying to be nice, understanding or simply tease you while you were at your fucking lowest.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Abbot."
"Hey, you've got nothing to apologise for," he said evenly. "You're a grown woman after all, aren't you?"
He pulled the curtain aside and called out a passing nurse.
"Lena! I need labs and IV over here on miss Bridesmaid as well. Can someone get her checked in? I'm worried she might've taken the same shit as her friend."
"You got it, Doc!" She replied brightly.
A different nursed walked moments later. They wrapped a blood pressure cuff around your arm while started setting up an IV line next to your chair. You sat there numbly as they worked on your arm.
Just before Jack turned to leave the bay, you let some words tumble out of your mouth without any precaution.
"Dr. Abbot?" He paused and walked over to you again. "The other morning… I was alone."
"What?" he turned, his brows were furrowed.
"There was no one else with me," you said in a whisper. "I was all alone."
The realisation clicked behind his eyes, he understood what you meant by it now. The morning he'd heard you… The loud, private morning you'd had all by yourself. Jack didn't want to admit it but he knew it already. It wasn't the first time he had heard you either. And more than once, his name had slipped your lips. You probably were too high on the pleasure to even remember than now. But how could he forget it when all he wanted was to be the one ripping out those moans from your mouth?
"Focus on getting out of here." Was all he said.
Your mind screamed at you the second he walked away.
Stupid. So fucking stupid!
Why the hell would you blurt that out right now? In the middle of the ER, with your unconscious best friend, bleeding from the nose for something you gave her? He was at work, for fuck's sake! You wanted to rip off the IV out of arm, crawl under the chair, let the ground swallow you and fully disappear. Out of all the things to say, of all the possible moments, you chose to confess your solo masturbation session to your hot older doctor neighbour you had a massive crush on.
You felt your face burn with humiliation. He probably, no, not probably…. He most likely thought you were an absolute idiot. Or worse— pathetic. You were pathetic. We had called you a couple of pet names while trying yo calm you down and the second your big mouth, he shut it all down. Big mouth strikes again! Of course he shut you down. He was at work… working, trying to keep your friend from dying from an OD.
You could also tell he was disappointed in you. And now he probably saw you as some pathetic, chaotic, irresponsible, slutty party girl who couldn't even read the fucking room as her best friend's unconscious.
Idiot.
You barely even felt when the nurse slid the IV needle into the crook of your arm, you didn't notice when they walked out, leaving you and Ali in complete silence. Ali… All you could think about now was of her lying there, all pale and still, her glistening engagement ring on her weak arm resting next to her body. Her wedding was next month. What if she didn't get much better? Her fiancé would never forgive you. He was probably already on his way to the hospital. It was all your fault.
You must have drifted off at some point, your neck was craned awkwardly against the still hospital chair. When you woke up, Ali's weak but familiar laugh filled the small room.
Her back was lightly elevated on the bed, colour was slowly returning to her face. Her fiancé stood close beside her, holding her hand. And Jack… well he was also there, catching him up to speed with Ali's results and what has actually happened to her. His arms were crossed over his chest, looking every bit tired.
"Oh, well look who finally decided to join us," Jack said, with a teasing smirk across his lips. "I was wondering if your neck wasn't killing you, sleeping in that position… So, Dr. Ellis was right. What Ali had wasn't caused particularly because of the cocaine alone, we found some Special K in her system as well. She's stable now.. Mostly a fright when you're not even sure what you took, huh? No traces of fentanyl, luckily. We are keeping her for a couple more hours for observation, day shift can decide what time Ali will be discharged."
Your eyes flew wide open.
"As in Ketamine?! I gave fucking ket to Ali. I had, I had no idea. I never would've given you that bag. I am— I'm so fucking sorry." You reached out for her hand. She took it immediately, brushing her thumb over yours, in a gentle way only a friend like Ali could manage to bring even after nearly scaring you to death, and well… her almost dying herself.
"You had no way of knowing. Don't beat yourself up over that." Her fiancé said softly, offering you a smile. Great! At least you now knew he didn't hate you.
You let a big sigh out as your head fell back against the chair, you closed your eyes. "Did I like… also take ketamine last night on accident?"
Jack just shook his head. At least you knew now that the other two bags were actual cocaine, the rest of the girls were out of the woods, safe. Only Ali had been unlucky enough to get the mixed up third bag. Hah! Not like you could exactly file a complaint with consumers rights over this mix up, right?
Jack's mouth twitched as he saw your quiet reaction.
"Listen," he spoke out, "let’s give giving Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds some privacy. Why don't you come with me?"
"They're not married yet, Jack. Reynolds is her maiden name." you replied snarky through your exhaustion, standing up from the chain and grabbing your purse from the floor. You grabbed the IV pole, dragging it along.
Jack looked down. "Noted, sweetheart."
"I might as well be the one taking Ali's name," her fiancé joked "She's clearly wearing the pants…" He glanced between you and Jack, realising you had called him by his first name and the familiarity amongst you two. "Wait, do you know Dr. Abbot?"
"We're next door neighbours, actually," Jack answered, smoothly running his hand across his hair. "Small world we live in."
As you stepped out of the bay with Jack, you caught Ali dramatically fanning herself with her hand. She mouthed a 'He's hot' and a ‘Ride him!’ At you with wide, exaggerated eyes. You shot her a confused look.
Ali wasn't having it. She leaned a little before saying very loudly: "I said the silver fox doctor's really fucking hot! Go you!"
Your face instantly burned bright red, you felt as if you were about to pass out over that. Jack glanced at her over his shoulder with a smirk across his lips.
Ali just waved at him lazily. "Don't mind me. Must be the drugs, right?"
A nurse helped you disconnect your IV, taking out the needle and indicating you to put pressure over the cotton on the crook of your arm. while you and Jack walked into the busy ER. His calming presence made you feel less awkward than you should be feeling. He led you down the busy hall and inside the quiet family room, his hand hovering near your lower back. He wasn't quite touching you, but the shadow of his hand made your skin shiver. The thought of his holding the small of your back…
"You can wait here until you feel better," he said. "I'll keep an eye on you during the next few hours if you need anything." He looked at the watch on his wrist. "I will give you a ride you home in three hours once I'm done. Sounds good?"
There was no one else using the room. You dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Jack sat on the coffee table across from you, close enough that his knees were actually brushing your bare knees.
"My feet are killing me," you complaint out loud.
"If you still have the ketamine bag with you, I'm required to take it. It has to be disposed of properly."
"Do you need to report that?" you swallowed.
"Hospital policy says I should," he admitted.
"Shut up…" you let your purse fall beside you, before passing it on to Jack. He used his gloved hands to fish the re-sealed small bag with white powder. "I'm going to lose my job over this, aren't I? They will have to test me and I'll lose my license. I won't be able to practice law in Pennsylvania gain. I'm going to become jobless. Oh dear… All because of one stupid night out with the girls—…"
"Hey." Jack leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His voice dropped. "I'm not going to name you. This bag was Jane Doe's, okay?"
You nodded, searching his face.
"Are you angry at me, Jack?"
"I'm not angry at you." His free hand reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear with gentleness. "I'm very disappointed. A woman I admire as much as I do you… a woman I care about…doing something frankly quite reckless and putting her well being in danger?" He shook his head. "That one stings a little, I’m not going to lie."
The honesty in his voice made your chest tighten. Even so emotionally drained and physically exhausted, the way he looked at you… concerned, protective, it sent a warmth fluttering through your empty stomach.
"I really didn't know it was ket," you murmured. "I'm such an idiot."
"Coke isn't much better, doll… You're not an idiot," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You did something absolutely idiotic. But you're not an idiot."
.
If right now you were to be asked how you wounded up in this situation after the horror night you'd just had, you wouldn't be able to properly reply. Not because you didn't know the answer, but because you were lacking the air and brain power to even speak. All you could think of and focus on was the main in front of you and the wet mess you were causing inside your own panties. Your heart was thumping hard enough your chest that the sound travelled all the way to your ears, muffling fully any other sound going into your head. You couldn't even think.
He had brought up the fact that you had been alone a couple of mornings ago, when he heard you moan like there was no tomorrow. He asked if you wanted to show him what you were doing, how you were doing it… One thing led to the next and you were removing your boots, spreading your legs wide, on Jack Abbot's bed.
You felt the chill air in the bedroom hitting the soaked cotton fabric that covered your cunt. The only thing keeping you from grinding your bare pussy against his bully clothed body. Your left hand was lost in his silver curls, while your right one helped him get rid of his scrub top, letting his perky chest exposed. You both moaned in a chorus between wet kisses.
"I want it so fucking bad, I want you so fucking bad, Jack," you whispered, while he pressed open mouth kisses and licks around your jaw.
"Is that why you sometimes moan my name?" He replied simply, letting out a small grunt. "It was killing me. Listening to you make such pretty sounds, having this fucking wall between our beds, making it impossible for be to make you feel better."
Knowing that he wanted you as badly as you desired him was consuming you in the moment. The fire inside your core was unstoppable. You wanted nothing more than to be wanted by him. Needed by him. You wanted him to beg for you, beg in the same way you begged for him.
"Fuck, Jack." You murmured as your mini skirt rode up your legs. One of his hands held his body over yours, hovering. The other one made its sneaky way under your shirt, travelling beneath your top, groping your breasts over your bra, fondling them with strength, almost aggressively, making you moan loudly.
You noticed he stared down at his trousers. He laughed on the low.
"You know what happens when you're old and stressed, baby?" he excused himself. "Your body stops reacting to your needs."
He was struggling to get an erection and you simply couldn't care less. You wanted him in any way or form. You wanted his mouth. His fingers. Whatever he could give to you, you were ready to take it.
Hell, for all that you knew, he could tell you to rub and get off on his pillow, and you'd do it. You'd obey.
You propped your body up with one arm, coming closer to him, giving him a loud kiss.
"We have all day, right?" You replied. He nodded.
Jack leaned forward, steadying himself over you with his palm. His lips became rougher against yours, grunting against your mouth, nibbling and biting your lower lip. You kept moaning loudly, as loud as you had done it that other morning. Louder, actually. It was Jack's goal thta morning. Neither of you could care less who else was listening. You actually needed people to know what Jack Abbot was doing to you on his bedroom. Driving you insane.
His hand was still playing around with your clothed breasts, it snaked inside the cups of your black bra, recklessly playing, roughly pinching, carefully caressing, enjoying your nipples, making them hard. Jack grunted, desperate to get you out of your clothes. He wanted to pull your breats into his mouth immediately. He whined at the thought of it.
God, you loves his whines.
He slide your shirt up so quickly, unclasping your bra with such ease. You were only left in your glittery mini skirt and panties. You were now lying fully on his bed, resting your head on his pillow. It smelled like him. You took a deep inhale. Your soft locks of hair spread over the linen,
Each of his hands was fondling one of your breasts, squeezing them, playing with them as hard or soft as he pleased. He kept popping them into his mouth, one at a time, running his tongue across your nipples. Tasting your salty, velvety skin. He sucked them, his cheeks hollowed as he devoured them.
"Poor baby, you're starving, huh?" You teased him, putting on a condescending tone.
Your fingers ran up and down his arms, neck and back, you scratched your nails against his freckly skin. It made you wonder how many freckles were all over his skin. You wanted to stop and count them all, kiss them individually, lick them. His arms flexed each time he squeezed your breasts. It was a sight, truly. You didn't want to miss a second of it, but the pleasure kept driving you to close your eyes shut, rolling them to the back of your head.
"I've been wanting this for so long," Jack moaned.
"Why didn't you do anything about it?" You squirmed under his touch.
"Because I thought flirting with the old disabled man next door was just all a game for you." He confessed with a groan.
"Touch me down there, Jack," You spread your legs further apart. "Do you still think that wetness is all a game, old man? My old man…"
You cupped his face, bringing it closer to you once more for another deep kiss, you pulled him against your body. Your knees rested against each side of his torso. He could feel the heat, the warmness emanating from your cunt.
"Let's get rid off this, shall we?" He whispered, hooking his fingers on your skirt and underwear, sliding them down your legs, pressing frenetic kisses all over your body as he worked his way down.
"I told you I wanted you to show me how you touch yourself, didn't I, sweetheart?" He whispered, stepping back just a bit. You nodded. "Use your words only."
"Yes, Jack," you whimpered. "You told me you wanted to see how I touch myself."
"Why don't you be a good girl and show me now?"
You felt so dirty, performing like that for him, spreading your legs on his bed, biting your lip. You brought your middle and index fingers up to his mouth. Jack sucked on them, coating them in his spit. You noticed how that made his cock under his trousers start to grow a little.
You started slowly, playing with your soaked folds first, shaking. You then went on and played with your clit… slow… steady circles. "That's it, slow…" Jack whispered.
Your back arched with every move. Your eyes were fully closed now, your shut eyelids fluttering. You gasped for him, moaned his name, reminded him how desperately you needed him.
"Fuck, baby," he held his breath, biting his own lip, trying not to make a sound as he finally saw you sticking a finger inside yourself. He wanted your sounds to be the only ones filling the room. He wanted to hear your cries, your wet walls clenching as you fucked yourself with your fingers. He wanted to take it all in.
You fucked yourself steadily with your middle finger. Jack observed as the lengthy boney finger got lost inside of you.
"It's really wet, and soft, and so, so, so, so warm too." You moaned. You made sure to narrate every feeling and every single detail to Jack. You wanted him to imagine how your cunt felt on the inside before he got to fuck it himself.
"Do you like having this old man watch you like this? Did you ever imagine me being there when you touched yourself all alone, hm?" God he felt like a pervert even saying that. You nodded. "Good girl. You're doing such a perfect job. You're making me proud."
You heard Jack pulling down his trousers halfway to his knees. He rolled down his underwear as well. It was just as you had imagined it. Thick, great length even when half hard, veins all over… Just really fucking thick.
You once had made a joke to yourself, when you saw him strutting down the lobby, picking up some mail. You through to yourself "He walks like it's heavy." Well, you were damn right.
As he sat on the edge of the bed, he held his cock in his hand, half hard still. He started stroking his shaft while staring at you. His gaze was studying closely what was happening between your legs. He was in a trance. Lost. He kept licking his lips.
You started pushing your hips against your hand as you added a second finger. You picked up the pace, trying to please yourself only using your two fingers. It wasn't as difficult when you were on your own— just yourself, your wild imagination and some good fun toys. You reminded yourself that you didn't need the toys this time, you had the real thing in front of you. But you needed him right now.
"Please," you cried out. "Please, Jack."
"'Please, Jack,' what?" He mocked with difficulty, struggling to speak as he moaned, stroking his dick. "'Please, Jack, stop and send me home?' Remember to use your big girl words, sweetheart."
You shook your head frantically when he said the word 'stop'.
"No, please, I need you. Your fingers, your mouth, your dick. Give me whatever, please. I will take it." You begged with tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "I will be good. I will take it all."
"You will take it all? Do you know what you're getting yourself into?" He questioned you. "Do you promised me you will take it all?"
You nodded, desperate.
"I don't want to stop once I start, do you understand that?" He asked.
You nodded again.
"I need you to use your fucking words when you're in my bed, princess."
"Yes, I promise. I will take it all." You rocked your body desperately. You pushed your body toward the edge of the bed, staring at Jack as he stood up, positioning himself as well. Ready to fuck you while standing up, you lying on your back.
You thought that maybe it was related to his leg getting sore in certain positions. This might be the best one for him at the moment. You didn't want to ask, you couldn't even properly think about doing it at the moment. You just wanted him to fuck your brains out.
"You're going to make me feel food?" He asked, leaning forward toward you, teasing your folds with his puffy head. "Oh, she's hungry…" He smiled, looking how your hole clenched around nothing, getting wetter. Covering his head in in your juices, before he could even get inside.
He pushed himself inside with a deep groan. That first thrust made your walls squeeze around him. His moan was a clear indicator that neither him nor yourself would last much longer now. He kept cursing your name beneath his breath. You could tell how hard he was struggling to keep it together, just as much as you were.
You didn't want him to keep it together.
Your hands gripped the edge the edge of the bed, fisting the comforter with the little strength you had. You kept your eyes closed as Jack picked up a steady pace fucking you. His hands held your sides with pressure. He had placed a pillow under your hips to keep them a little higher— just the perfect angle for him to take, feel and fill every inch of you. It was driving him insane.
"My perfect girl," he leaned in, kissing your neck, placing licks and bites down your sweaty collarbones and onto the valley between your breasts.
The dirty sounds of your hips hitting each other, the wetness of your cunt against his hard cock, it all filled the room in unison with your moans and Jack's groans. You loved discovering that he was so vocal in bed. Just perfect for a loud pillow princess like yourself.
You moved your hips desperate to feel him harder and deeper. He took that as the perfect sign to go faster then.
“What do you want?” he asked you, gasping for air. You just moaned. You felt a little dumb not being able to even reply properly, silenced by the pleasure. “Say it now.”
“I want you to come inside of me.” You begged. “Please, Jack. Please. I'm using my fucking words. Come inside of me.”
He smirked, holding a hand on your shoulder, using it as leverage to push himself harder and deeper inside of you, bullying your cunt with his cock. His other hand still pressed down on your hips, his thumb reached your clitoris, assaulting the bundle of nerves, sending you closer and closer over the edge. You were ridiculously close.
“Jack,” you grunted. “I’m- please please please, I’m coming, I’m gonna come, please…” You babbled.
“That’s it, I want you to come now,” he groaned, his words slurred, mixed with a loud deep moan. “Oh, baby, oh god… Oh fuuu…—” he tried to bury himself deeper inside of you. There was nowhere else to go. He was as deep as it was possible. “That’s it, take it all. That’s it, that’s it." He reassured you, calming you down as you rode down your high, helping you ride your orgasm with a raspy voice. "That’s a good girl. That’s my good girl.”
His knees bent onto the mattress as he let his weight fall on top of you. Both bodies radiating extreme heat. God knows you didn’t want to be anywhere else but there. If you were to die that same morning, let it be under Dr. Jack Abbott, on his bed.
“That was fucking perfect.” you said.
Your chest was heaving, his sweaty face pressed against your tits and your fingers kept running through every salt-and-pepper curl on his head. He placed a kiss over your chest, near your heart.
“Fuck,” he let out a laugh. “I wouldn’t want this to be a one time thing.”
That was the first thing he decided to say after he had quite literally just finished inside of you. You smiled and laughed as well. Your chest rose and fell with your laugh. He lifted his face off your body. You could see him pulling a face, letting out a small painful groan.
“Fuck,” he complained, slipping out of you, you felt the ropes of cum stringing out of you, still connecting you to him “This fucking leg is killing me.”
“I’m sorry,” was all you were able to say.
You saw him fall onto the mattress next to you, damp forehead and chest glistening against the light filtering through the blinds in his bedroom. You rested on your side, biting your lower lip gently. You saw how his eyes closed lightly before taking a deep breath.
“I was thinking,” you spoke up, and his eyes perked open. “Do you wanna come to Ali’s wedding as my plus one? Her and her fiancé seemed to really like you.”
He stayed in silence, nodding his head, smirking at the idea of you seeing you all dolled up, in a lovely evening dress. He imagined slow dancing with you, so close, giving you a twirl, holding your hand. His brain rushed into silly ideas that excited him.
“She said I’m not allowed to bring my boss, even if I’m married to my job.” You joked.
“So I was your second option, hey?” He went along with the joke.
“Yeah, you were my second option, Jack,” you deadpanned as he chuckled. “My first option was a 62-year-old female solicitor that actually hates me and wishes to see me fail every single day of my life.”
“I see you have a type then,” Jack raised his eyebrows, pulling you closer to him.
“You could say so, yeah.” You laughed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
You used what little core strength you had left to rise from the bed. You stood naked in front of him. He followed after, sitting up on the edge of the bed, looking down at his prosthetic leg.
“Hey,” you said,
“Hey,” he replied, working on his leg.
“Are you exhausted?” You asked.
“Aren’t you?”he asked.
“I will get us some water.” You announced. His apartment layout was pretty similar to yours. You could say you knew your way around pretty well.
tags/warnings: MDNI 18+ content. fluff and smut, light angst. unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), gender gap implied (reader in her late 20s, jack in his late 40s/early 50s), creampie, praise, reader calls him daddy, sir and doctor during sex, soft dom!jack, light grief.
word count: 3.9k
note: oh i now remember how fun it is to write fics! thank you for all the support in part one. tagging @esmemia16 and @mxkhxx as requested.
i look forward to hearing your thoughts, seeing your reblogs and likes is so lovely!
masterlist
Your hands fidgeted as you struggled to guide the key into the lock. You held your breath, silently praying that Jack didn't think you were an absolute idiot who couldn't even unlock her own apartment door. Your tote bag slipped from your shoulder down into the crook of your arm, the sudden weight dragging your elbow down. The shifting strap caught several strands of your hair, tugging painfully and forcing your head to tilt to one side.
"Ow." You let out.
Jack immediately reached over, lifting the tote bag back onto your shoulder. With surprising gentleness, he freed the trapped strands of hair and swept them away from your neck. His fingers brushed lightly throw your hair.
"Shit, sorry," you laughed.
He stepped closer, placing his hand over yours. You surrendered the key, letting him hold it into his palm. On his first attempt, the lock clicked open.
"Thank you."
Jack simply nodded and stepped aside, letting you enter the place first. The apartment wasn't large. A cosy one bedroom with its own en suite bathroom. Nothing too fancy, but more than enough for you and your cat.
You kicked your shoes off by the entrance, adding them to the growing collection of pairs already scattered there. Your tote bad landed heavily on the kitchen island as you immediately began digging through it for your laptop and iPad.
After finding them, you took your next challenge: Locating their respective chargers somewhere within the endless maze of old receipts, notebooks, paperback books, pens, half eaten snacks, empty plastic bottle, tampons, and more miscellaneous objects that seemed to permanently inhabit your work bag.
"Sorry about the mess," you said through a yawn. "I don't usually have people over."
A soft meow echoed from the bedroom.
"I know, little guy. I'm finally home! Did we wake you up?" You continued rummaging through your bag. "This is my friend, Dr. Abott."
Without looking up, you heard Jack settling onto the couch, followed by the sound of his bag being placed on the floor beside him. You assumed it probably had a change of clothes for after shifts.
"Who's this little gentleman? What's your name, pal?" Jack asked. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him reach out a cautious hand toward the cat. Your cat stared at him suspiciously. He wasn't ready to trust him just yet.
"His name's Jack." The words left your mouth before you could even stop yourself.
Jack immediately looked up. The surprised grin spread across his face and it made your realize the coincidence at the exact same moment he did. You somehow didn't think about it at all! Your cat and Doctor Jack Abbot shared their first name.
"You're fucking with me," he laughed. "There's only room for one Jack in this apartment, amigo."
"Well, Dr. Abbot, the door's right there." You raised an eyebrow, doing your best impression of seriousness.
His laughter only grew.
Walking over toward the couch, you balanced the chargers and electronics in your arms, using your laptop as a serving tray, while searching for an available outlet.
"I found him when he was just a kitten outside a Jack in the Box drive through when I was in California, after I graduated high school," you explained. Your cat immediately wound himself around your ankles, rubbing his tiny head against your leg. "We've been best friends ever since. Isn't that right, Jack O'Lantern?" The cat purred loudly.
The room fell quiet. You glanced over and noticed how Abbot's expression had changed. It became more focused, guarded. Your eyes followed his movements as he rolled up one leg of his scrub trousers. Then you saw it. The prosthetic leg. It all completely made sense now. The stiffness when he stood up, the careful movements, and the soreness that seemed to settle into him some mornings after long standing shifts. Jack Abott was an amputee.
You felt like an idiot as you couldn't stop staring. He removed the prosthesis and rested it against the couch before pilling away the liner underneath. The exposed skin was reddened. He began massaging it absentmindedly.
"I didn't know." The words tumbled out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."
"It's okay," he gave a short humourless laugh and shook his head. "There was no reason for you to know."
He didn't meet your eyes, his gaze was lost into the nothingness of your living room.
"I think you should take the bed," your voice softened. "I can sleep in the couch. You had a long night and I just want you to be comfortable."
Jack looked up at you.
"Is it a twin bed?"
"No."
"A full then?"
"A king, actually." You replied.
"Alright, missus Fancy Bed," he raised his eyebrows. "Then we each get half."
He slid the leg liner back into place and adjusted the prosthesis before standing once again. He lifted the bag onto one shoulder, and headed toward the open bedroom door. Your cat immediately trotted after him, purring loudly as though they'd known each other for years now.
After making absolutely certain your devices were charging— a mistake you'd learned the hard way not to assume— you followed them.
The sight that greeted you in the bedroom stopped you in your tracks. Jack stood beside the window, pulling his worn scrubs shirt over his head in one smooth motion. You froze. His broad back faced you. Freckles scattered across his pale skin. Tan lines traced the curve of his neck and arms. Salt and pepper curls sat slightly mussed from the long night shift.
The heat crept up your own chest all the way to your cheeks, colouring them pink once again. You couldn't help but let your mind rush into flashy, quick, inappropriate thoughts. Fantasies of you running your fingers across his curls, scratching your manicured nails down his back, biting slightly on his neck on an attempt to mute your moans as he fucke—…
Jack pulled on a navy cotton t-shirt and thankfully brought you back to reality. Turning your back at him, you hurried toward the built in closet and pulled out an oversized band shirt. You changed quickly, slipping out of your uniform and into something far more comfortable before letting your fair fall free from its tie. By the time you were done, Jack had already slipped beneath the covers on his side of the bed.
"Thank you for not leaving me alone today, doll." His voice was quiet and honest. You could hear the tired smile hidden inside his words without even looking at him. The truth was, deep down, you didn't want to be alone either.
Before climbing into bed, you circled around to check the blinds one last time. Fully closed. Good! The two of you desperately needed some good darkness for a proper sleep. Especially him.
As you turned toward the bed, you noticed your cat stretching and scratching against Jack's bag, its claws digging into the fabric.
"Oh, no you don't! Jackpot! Don't!" You bent down, scooping him into your arms.
After carrying him out of the bedroom, you gently set him in the hallway and pulled the door shut behind you.
"I paid my namesake cat to do that." Jack's tired voice drifted across the room. You looked over. He was already lying on his side with his eyes shut closed. "I really wanted to see you bend down."
"Jesus," the heat immediately rushed back into your face. "You're terrible, Dr. Abbot."
His quiet laugh filled the room and you couldn't stop smiling.
.
You woke up in the middle of the afternoon. Your throat was dry and your lips felt chapped. You turned to your side just in time to see that Jack was still fast asleep, now shirtless, giving you a view of his muscly, freckly back. He must've removed his shirt while asleep- rightfully so, as the bedroom was roasting on that September afternoon.
You looked down and noticed you had kicked off the blanket from your body. Your shirt was riding up your chest, exposing your bare legs and stomach. Only your black lace panties covered your bottom half.
You got out of bed in silence, opening the bedroom door carefully. Walking into the open plan living room and kitchen, you poured yourself a glass of tap water and grabbed your laptop, as well as your headphones. Before heading back into the bedroom, you stared at an unlit scented candle on the kitchen island. Next to it lay a matchbook. You left your stuff resting on the island as you struck a match, letting its flame light up the white candle.
You crossed yourself over your chest and forehead.
"Rest easy, Raymond. I know Dr. Abbot really tried to save you," you whispered to yourself. Grabbing your stuff once again, you sighed as you noticed your cat sleeping peacefully by the window, resting under the sunlight.
You walked back into the bedroom, noticing that Jack had turned around and now was facing your side of the bed with his back to the window. You climbed onto the bed, placing the glass of water on the bedside table, then turned on your laptop and put your headphones.
You started playing music quietly, humming along in your head as your fingers flew across the keyboard, typing swiftly about psychological safety as a predictor of innovative work behaviour and employee perceptions of organisational change and resistance to change. You added some almost made up words and nonsense paragraphs to justify the organisational culture in the workplace.
You saw Jack's hand moving slowly, trying to find yours with his eyes still closed. You removed your headphones with your free hand, stopping your eager typing.
"Shhh…." he whispered, still half asleep.
"Sorry, sir," you apologised quietly, prepping yourself to jump out of bed. " I will just go out to the living room and work there."
"No," he rambled still in a sleepy tone. "Just put it down and let me cuddle you."
"Jack, I really need to work on this…"
"When is it due?"
"Two months."
"Put it down and let me cuddle you." He ordered.
Your cheeks burned scarlet at his words. He surely didn't mean that. He probably didn't quite know where he was, or was probably having a dream about another woman… It couldn't be you. It couldn't be a bout you. Still, you didn't want to miss out on the opportunity, so you just did as you were told. As you placed your closed laptop and headphones on the floor beside the table, you let your body fit itself against Jack's. His arms tangled around your torso.
"I actually really like it when you call me sir," he whispered against your head, giving your hair a deep sniff.
Your lips trembled. He said that just when you thgought you couldn't get more flushed.
"Is that so, sir?" You gathered the courage to reply in a teasing manner, turning your body toward his and resting your forehead against his. Jack Abbot's eyes were closed and his breathing became rapid. "You're asleep, huh?"
"I'm wide awake, angel." He smiled, brushing his nose against your and letting his hands run up and down your back. "But I might as well be dead and in heaven now."
He let go of you just long enough to prop himself up, sitting against the headboard. He signalled for you to get on top of him, so you did, placing your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him. You placed your hand on his beefy shoulders, still shaking. Your brain couldn't quite comprehend what was happening.
"May I kiss you, doll?" he asked.
Your heart was beating so hard against your chest that your could almost feel the motion in your throat. You felt like your were going to choke on the excitement. Jack's lips crashed against your, groggy and chapped. You let yourself go and fully immersed yourself in a messy, top-lip kiss. You felt the saliva dripping from your lips and decided that was a sign to go harder. Your lips, now hungry and confident, took the lead.
Your hips started to involuntarily buck and rub against Jack's. He wasn't fully hard through his sweatpants just yet, but you felt him slowly getting there as your movements continued. He cupped your face with strength while your hands wandered between his shoulders and the curls on his head.
"We can stop whenever you tell me to, alright?" he whispered, interrupting the kiss.
"Got it, doc." You nodded, teasing him, as you leaned in to keep kissing him.
Without hesitations, he lifted his lips off the bed and slid his sweats and brief down, pushing them slowly with this legs until he was fully naked beneath you. You followed right after;he helped you slide off your panties without breaking the kiss. You kept your shirt on.
You could now feel his almost fully hard member rubbing against your already soaked entrance.
"I'm a little rusty," you smiled, a little embarrassed to admit that you hadn't had much luck getting laid lately—at least not if you're swamped with shift and assignments.
"You and I both, kiddo," he laughed letting one of his hands drift down to his crotch to stoke his cock in an attempt to get fully hard. "If it wasn't too obvious."
"Well I can help with that, sir."
You slid further down his body, settling between his spread thighs as your eyes locked onto his cock. It was exactly as you pictured it; thick, veined, and flushed a deep red at the tip. Freckles pepper around his pale thighs.
Jack's hand threaded into your hair, firm in its grasp without tugging. He clearly wanted to send you a gentle reminded of who was in charge even as he let you take the lead for now.
"Go on, baby," he murmured, his voice was low and rough. "Show me how you can help your daddy, then."
You didn't need to be told twice. You wrapped your fingers around the base, feeling the heat and weight of him, and leaned in. Your tongues traced a slow, wet stripe from his balls up to the swollen head, savouring the saltiness of his skin. Jack let out a deep groan and tightened the grip in your hair. You felt encouraged to take him into your mouth, your lips stretched around his thick head as you sucked gently, swirling your tongue over the slit.
"Fuck, that's it.." He praised you as his hips twitched upward. "Good girl. You don't seem too rusty, angel. You know exactly what you're doing to me."
You relaxed your throat and sank down, taking him deeper until he bumped the back of your mouth. You bobbed your head slowly at first, building a steady rhythm and using your hand to stroke what you couldn't fit. Saliva was dripping down his shaft, making everything slick and messy. Dr. Abbot's breathing grew heavier, his free hand fisting the sheets as you working him with long strokes of your mouth, following your cheeks, humming around him so the vibrations travelled straight to his core.
He started guiding you then, his hand in your hair was setting the new pace, pushing you a little further each time as he moaned your name between gasps, holding you there a little longer when you gagged softly around him. "I wish you could look at yourself right now," he laughed, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "Sucking my cock like you were made for it. Such a pretty, pretty mouth."
You moaned around him, the praises he sang made your soaked pussy clench around nothing. You picked up some speed, and you head was bobbing faster, your tongue worked the underside of his dick while your hand twisted at the base. Jack's thighs tensed under your palms, his abs flexed as he fought hard not to thrust too hard and deep into your throat.
"Shit— Fuck. You might want to slow down," he warned you. You didn't, you just doubled down, sucking harder, taking him as deep as it was physically possible and swallowing around his head. His hips jerked toward you. "I told you to stop." He commanded, pulling you from the hair off his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva still connected your glossy, plumped lips to his glistening length. His eyes were darker, his pupils fully blown wide as he stared down at you, his chest heaving with difficulty.
You whined softly, your lips were shiny and puffy. He smirked at you as he tugged you back up his body. You climbed over him again, straddling his hips, your soaked cunt hovering dangerously close to his throbbing dick. You reached down to line him up, rubbing it against your slick folds, rady to sink down.
"Condom, doll?" He rasped, one of his hand was gripping your hip hard enough to stop you from fucking yourself with his cock.
You shook your head, a little breathless to reply straight away.
"I have an IUD. It's okay."
Jack's jaw clenched and you could almost read across his face how the rational doctor in him had some doubts. The would usually take things slowly, take a test and have some discussions before going fully raw with someone. He was a cautious man. But now his cock was covered in your own wetness and the internal war was over before it even began.
"Fuck it," He pulled you down.
You gasped as he stretched you open, thick and hot and bare. The feeling of him filling you raw made your head spin around. You sank all the way until your ass met his thighs, both of you moans at the tights, wet heat.
"You're riding me so well, baby." His thumb was now snaking up your leg, finding your swollen, puffy clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles. "Take whatever you need, angel. Let me make you feel good."
"Look how deep you can go inside of me, sir," You teased him, pressing your lips against his, losing yourself to a messy kiss. "Can you feel how good I'm taking you? How good I can make you feel, huh?"
You braced your hands on his chest and started to move, rolling your hips in deep strokes. Grinding your bundle of nerves harder against his callous finger. Jack pressed and circled in perfect rhythm with your movements. His other hand was gripping your ass and hip, his hand gelt huge against your body, guiding you and occasionally slapping the bare flesh lightly when you slowed down without his permission. The wet sounds of your cunt taking his cock filled the room alongside your shared moans, groaning each other's names.
He felt incredible inside you, he felt as he was hitting every sensitive spot inside you. His thrusts became more and more erratic, his thumb pressed harder against your clit, speeding up the circles. His hand held your skin rougher.
"Hmm, shit— I'm— fuck, baby doll." He came with a deep groan, his hips snapping up as he spilled his cum inside you. Hot pulses of cum flooded your cunt. He kept rubbing your clit through it, but it wasn't quite enough . You were right there teetering on the edge, but it was all done before you could tip over.
You slowed, breathing hard, still impaled on his softening cock as he caught his breath.
"'m sorry, princess. Didn't mean to finish that fast, it's been a while" he whispered with a laugh as his hands stroked down your back, gently. "I wanted to fuck you in a thousand more positions. Did you come?"
You shook your head, biting your lip.
"It's okay. I can take care of it later."
Jack flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, settling between your spread thighs with a predatory look.
"Like hell you will. That's my job, darling. Let Dr. Abbot take care of you and make sure you get everything you need— a good, hard orgasm included."
"Who am I to argue? If a good, hard orgasm is what the doctor recommends, then…"
He pushed your legs wider open, hooking one over his shoulder as he lowered his mouth to your dripping cunt. His tongue dragged through your folds, tasting the mix of your arousal and his own cum. He groaned and the sound vibrated against your centre.
"You taste so fucking good, baby," he murmured against your pussy, licking and sucking messily. "I will need to keep you full of my cum from now on I think, do you agree?"
You couldn't stop moaning, nodding your head while pulling on his silver hair, curling your toes as one of his hands pressed down on your belly, enhancing the sensation of pleasure.
He devoured you like a starved man trying to satiate his hunger. His tongue fucked into your hole, swallowing down your wetness before focusing on your clit, sucking it between his lips, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling against your g-spot as he ate you out with filthy, wet sounds. His stubble scrapped against your sensitive, trembling inner thighs.
You cried out, and your hips bucked against his face. Jack added a third ginger, stretching you, pumping them fast while his mouth kept on working on your clit relentlessly. You let out loud screams and moans. Your juices were now coating his lips and down his chin.
"Come one now," he growled into your core, curling his fingers. "I know you have it there. Be a good girl and give it to me."
The pressure built fast and overwhelming. Your thighs shook, your back arched off the bed as the orgasm crashed over you. You came in hard, gushing around his fingers, moaning his name out loud. Jack kept licking and sucking through it, gently and slowly, you were left trembling and oversensitive, pushing his head away from you.
He finally pulled back. A satisfied smirk appeared on his lips as he crawled up your body and kissed you deeply, letting you taste the both of you on his tongue.
The moment he was about to rest his head against your chest, his phone rang. He reached over to the bedside table and picked up the call. You couldn't quite make out what the person on the other side of the line was saying, but Jack didn't look exactly happy.
"I'll be needed back in the hospital," he said, shaking his head as he put his phone down, letting out a sigh and a groan.
"It's okay, that's your job. Go save more lives, doc!" You smiled at him, pulling him closer for a quick peck on the lips.
"I'm usually better at aftercare, just so you know… Full princess treatment." He smiled at you. You smiled back and nodded, fully believeing him. "If I survive this shift and get out of there at a decent time, will you let me take you out for some beers tonight?"
"Only if that full princess treatment is promised." You sat up on the bed, watching as he reached for his bad and his prosthesis. "Umm, there's a stool in the bathroom in case you need it to shower. Or I could help you too."
He turned toward you, shaking his head gently, giving your thigh a soft squeeze.
tags/warnings: fluff and a little angst, age gap (readers in her late 20s, jack in his late 40s/early 50s), mentions of death, pet names, she calls him ‘sir’, flirting behaviour, reader is a post grad student and financially struggling, not edited/beta read so expect some grammar/spelling errors.
word count: 3.6k
notes: this is my first fanfiction in such a long time! last time i wrote anything was probably over 10 years ago. although im fluent in english, it's not my first language, so be kind! i'm looking forward to reading your thoughts. thank you<3
part 2 here
masterlist
You pulled your phone from the pocket of your apron, staring at the lock screen. A lovely old picture of your cat when it was just a kitten, and the glowing clock that teased you with the final twenty seven minutes of your shift.
Another week of late nights, scarce tips, way too many rude, drunken customers who mistook your fake kindness for an invitation and tried their luck with wandering hands. In between it all, you wroked away on your thesis during the quieter stretches of the late night and early morning, somehow managing to exhaust both your body and your brain at the same time. All for a masters degree that was not going to get you a better job.
"Dr. Hottie McHot's in table 8, corner booth," your colleague Diego said as he rounded the diner counter. He slapped his greasy apron onto the surface. He was more than ready to go home now. "You might to go over to him."
"Jesus, Diego. His name is Dr. Abbot. I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate us giving him nicknames. It's disrespectful!" You laughed, slipping your phone back inside your pocket while pulling our your small order pad and one of your colourful gel pens.
You needed either of them. You knew Dr. Abbot's order by heart. Four egg whites into an omelette with spinach. A cup of the house drip coffee. No milk. Two sugars.
"Hmmm, so nicknames are disrespectful now but it is okay when he calls you doll? I see, I see…" Diego mocked your tone, as he patted your shoulder and headed toward the kitchen, already checked out mentally. He excused himself early, saying that he needed to bring his mother to work, as her car had stopped working and he was the designated chauffer now. "He is good looking, though! If only he was twenty years younger and gay…"
You rolled your eyes with a half laugh.
"I will see you on our next shift together, my dear!" You called him over, as he looked at you over his shoulder, blowing you a kiss. The swinging door closed behind him.
With a quiet sigh, you grabbed a clean mug, a budle of napkins and a set of cutlery you had spent twenty minutes polishing at 4 am while eavesdropping on a group of drunk girls dissecting their adventurous night our and their tragic love lives.
"Good morning, Dr. Abbot." You smiled as you placed the mug, napkins, fork and knife neatly in front of him. "Same as always? Egg whites and—"
"Actually—" The older man interrupted you gently, lifting his gaze to meet yours. The bags under his eyes seemed a little darker than usual. You noticed the freckles across his aged skin, the stubble framing his lips.
Normally, you would have started the conversation by asking him how his night had been, and he would have told you a silly anecdote of the "night crawlers" as he called his crew. Other mornings, he would simply answer with a casual "fine" or "not too bad", but after months of serving him twice or even three times a week, exchanging pleasantries, you had learned how to read the difference between fine and fine.
Today looked like one of those fine days.
"Can I also add a portion of pancakes to my order this morning?"
"Of course you can, sir!" You replied cheerful with a small smile. "Syrup or lemon?"
You pulled out the small notepad and pretended to write his order down. When in reality, you were just doing small doodles of flowers in the margin of the pages.
"How do you like your pancakes, doll?" The question caught you a little off guard. Not the first time he called you doll, all your colleagues even knew that by now.
The heat crept under your uniform shirt and ran up your neck and finally to your cheeks.
"Well… As a little secret, Dr. Abbot," you leaned in closer to the booth, lowering your voice. "We usually use frozen berries and bananas on the pancakes. But since you're such a flirt and always nice to me, I will ask the cooks to put only the freshest fruit we keep in the back on yours."
His laugh came easily. You made him laugh!
"That works for me, angel. Thank you for that."
"It is always my pleasure, sir. I'll grab your coffee and be right back!"
After the coffee had been poured and the pancakes were left on his table, you were pulled away by a handful of other tables.
Fuck you, Diego!
He had a fair enough excuse, but leaving before the shift was over and when the breakfast rush was about to him. Cheeky, cheeky, smart man.
During a brief moment of calm, your eyes drifted toward table 8, the corner booth.
You saw Dr. Abbot sat with one hand around his coffee mug while he scrolled through something on his phone. The news, maybe? His reading glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose. You smiled. The freckles peppered across his forearms stood out under the morning sunshine, dusting his lightly tanned skin.
Then your eyes opened up and your stomach dropped. His omelette! Shit!
You hurried to the kitchen window where the plate still sat beneath the heat lamp. Thank god it was still warm enough!
"My God, doc!" You rushed over and slid the plate onto the table in front of him. He locked his phone and removed his reading glasses. "I will be taking that off your bill. I'm so so sorry. These last ten minutes have been chaos. I was basically waitressing alone until the other girls arrived. Jesus… After a long shift, the last thing you want is a cold breakfast and your diner girl apologising. I'm sorry."
"Well, you are right about one thing." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He gestured toward the seat opposite him. "You have nothing to apologise for, diner girl."
Your eyes flickered toward his half empty coffee mug.
"I'll refill your coffee, sir."
You started to stand, but his hand brushed your arm. It was not a forceful gesture at all, barely more than a touch. A touch that sent sparks running down your spine. It stopped you from moving.
"Besides, you should be off the clock by now, shouldn't you?" He asked.
You sat back down, nodding, even though he already knew the answer. His hand retreated and returned to the omelette infront of him.
"Somebody else can refill my coffee, then."
He smiled, cutting into his breakfast.
"Would you like a drink with your pancakes, doll?" He spoke once again.
Oh, the pancakes! Your gaze shifted to the untouched plate of warm pancakes sitting at the centre of the table. It clicked. He was not ordering the pancakes for himself! That was his attempt to invite you to breakfast? Was he really too shy to just directly ask you? Or did you miss the cue? You smiled.
"I'm glad they used the fresh fruit." You laughed softly, pulling the plate closer. "Are you sure I can have these?"
You didn't want to come across as some starving post-grad student. Though admittedly, you were a starving post-grad student. You did a little happy waddle dance on the booth while untying the your apron, slipping it from around your waist. Your phone almost fell off the pocket, as you caught it, you placed it on the table beside his.
"So…" You picked up your fork. "How was last night's shift, Dr. Abbot?"
He shrugged.
For a few moments, he only focused entirely on eating, as if he'd forgotten what a proper meal felt like. He probably went his entire shift without a bite. You watched him and wondered if he'd eaten anything since yesterday.
His hands drifted to the back of his neck, scratching it absently. That was when you noticed something you had missed for months- a wedding band on his left ring finger.
You wondered for a hot second if it was just a deterrent, fake one, he used to avoid awkward questions and conversations with patients and colleagues.
You sank against the booth, wishing the faux leather couch would swallow you whole now.
"It wasn't the best night angel." He half smiled.
One of your colleagues, Jane, approached the table with a coffee pot, topping off his mug before glancing between the two of you. The surprise on her face was more than obvious. She clearly hadn't excecpt to still see you there after your shift was over. Much less sitting across from a regular.
A regular who happened to be an extremely good looking doctor, at least twenty years older than you, and potentially married.
She hurried away without a word. You looked at her from the distance, running to the guys in the kitchen and whispering in excitement. Perfect!
"I'm sorry about your night, Dr. Abbot." You stared down at your pancakes, cutting them into smaller tiny pieces.
The whole breakfast and small chat felt like a huge mistake. Maybe you should stop eating, thank him and leave. Just sitting there was stupid.
"I just couldn't save this man, doll." he let out a humourless laugh and his fork slipped from his fingers onto the now empty porcelain plate. "I'm not a very good doctor, hm? He was young. He served and survive that, just to die in a car accident. And I couldn't save him."
You pushed a piece of pancake through the pool of syrup.
You'd heard him tell you about difficult shifts before, difficult patients, difficult outcomes. This one felt much different.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, sweetheart. You didn't need to hear all that."
He rubbed a hand across his eyes before dragging it through his silver curls.
"It's okay, Dr. Abbot. I-just…" You swallowed. "I'm sorry. It's okay. I'll keep that man in my prayers… I'm not even religious but I'll make sure to light up a candle for him tonight."
"Jack." He replied.
"I'm sorry?" You blinked. " Was that his name?"
"My name's Jack." He smiled at you. "You keep on calling me Dr. Abbot for months. I've told you once before my name was Jack."
"Jack…" you nodded with a smile. "What was his name, Jack?"
"Raymond. His name was Raymond." he shook his head, looking away through the sunny window, holding his breath.
"Jack," you called him. You couldn't believe you were now in first name basis with him. The blood rushed to your cheeks. And despite the flutter that followed after tasting his name on your lips, you refused to let yourself misread the situation. Not with a married man. "Do you have anyone to talk to about this at home? Your wife, friends, therapist?"
"I'm afraid I don't have anyone waiting for me, kiddo," he admitted with a sad smile. "I mean I have a therapist but that's about it."
For a brief moment, you felt relief washing over you. Then that very same feeling twisted into sadness. The thought of him leaving this diner with nobody to talk to except someone paid to listen, made your chest ache unexpectedly. You found yourself wondering how lonely Jack Abbot really was.
Maybe these small breakfast courtesies meant more to him that you had realised. Maybe today had simply been his breaking point. Maybe asking you to sit down wasn't all about his flirtatious nature, but more about him needing someone who cared enough to actually listen.
And if that was the case, you knew deep down that you wanted to share this one little breakfast, and many more, with him if it meant brightening up his day, even a little, after a shit night like the one he just had.
"Would you like some pancakes, doct— Jack?" You corrected yourself. Smiling and nudging the plate toward him.
He rested an elbow on the table and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm before reaching for his fork once again.
A tired smiled crossed his face as he cut himself a piece, covered in syrup and with berries on top.
"I actually knew you before you ever came into this diner." You said.
His eyebrows lifted slightly, inviting you to continue and explain it.
"You saved my grandfather's life, many years ago. I had just graduated and was about to start my first job at a law firm, here in Pittsburgh."
The fork paused halfway to his mouth.
"Ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm." You laughed softly. "That's a mouthful! I can't believe I still remember that tongue twister."
He remembered. He had seen thousands of patients. But he remembered.
"I remember a nurse saying he wasn't going to make it. But you refused to give up on him." Your smile softened. "I never got to thank you, Dr. Abbot."
His hand found your arm again. The gesture was extremely gentle this time, almost as if he was, with his touch, asking for permission to comfort you.
"That is literally my job, angel."
"You are very good at it."
Without even thinking twice about it, you placed your hand over his. Your thumb started to brush lightly across the backside of it.
"You are a fucking good doctor, Jack. Thank you."
"How's your old man now?" He asked.
"He actually passed away a couple of months ago," You looked down at the pancakes, pretending to be interested into grabbing another bite just to avoid the eye contact that comes with those sort of sad news. "It was completely unrelated, though. So it's okay. I'm okay." You shrugged.
"Well I'm still sorry." He nodded slowly.
"He would've been gone sooner if it wasn't for you."
For a moment neither of you spoke. Then the conversation shifter naturally again into lighter topics. The heaviness remained hidden somewhere, but no longer sat bewteen you. You mentioned yout thesis, Jack asked questions that made it very clear he was genuinely interested in what you had to say.
You took the opportunity to complain numerous times about grad school, professors and classmates alike. Jack laughed at your comments, sharing stories about his own school experience when he was preparing to become a doctor.
He slightly hinted complains about the hospital's organisation and the lack of staff in the healthcare industry. You complained about the job market. He agreed it was a disaster.
You shared with him that you actually used to work as a HR generalist for a couple of years before becoming a recruitment and talent acquisition specialist, just to end up unemployed after some savage layoffs, and finding yourself back in school.
The irony wasn't lost on either of you.
You'd spent years helping companies hire people, yet now you couldn't even secure a single interview for yourself. Maybe your soon-to-be-acquired master's degree in organisational psychology would help. You surely hoped so!
That's how you ended up waitressing. The diner shifts were becoming harder and harder on you as you tried to keep up with school. Long hours, constant exhaustion.
The general feeling that your life had somehow stalled while everyone else around you moved forward: New exciting jobs, new purchased homes, engagements, weddings, babies, it was never ending.
Unfortunately, rent, bills, and tuition fees still arrived on your mailbox every month regardless of how discouraged you felt.
Eventually, Jane appeared beside the booth once more, topping off Jack's coffee mug. She looked between the two of you with a kind smile.
"I am sorry, darling. We're gonna need this table back soon." Her sweet Texas accent somehow made the interruption feel less embarrassing. "Not to disturb your little date."
"Oh, shit! Sorry, Jane!" You double tapped your phone screen and stared.
An hour and a half had passed. How had an hour and a half passed already?
"We will get off your hair soon enough, Jane." Jack smiled to his side, gifting you a wink.
"Yeah, I will actually get Dr. Abbot's bill myself. I kind of screw up his omelette this morning and promised I'd take it off."
Jack sighed. He reached into the pocket of his scrubs, pulling out his wallet and getting out one of the cards in it. Jane remained standing there as you awkwardly gathered the empty plated on the table.
Your apron. Your phone. His card.
"You know removed items that were actually consumed will come out of your pay at the end of the month, right, doe?" Jane remind you.
"Yeah." You nodded, unable to hide the irritation in your voice.
You were not irritated at her, but at yourself. Though if you were being completely fair, it wouldn't have happened if you wouldn't been left alone handling half the diner during breakfast rush.
"Just charge me for that omelette, doll." Hack's voice followed as you walked toward the till. "I ate it, didn't I?"
You smiled at him over your shoulder, ignoring him completely. A few moments later, you removed the omelette form the bill, charging him only for the pancakes and coffee refill.
Jane drifted away to another table while Jack slowly pushed himself out of the booth. You noticed the slight stiffness immediately, mostly on his left leg. Not the first time you had noticed it. Maybe it was his knees. Or maybe it was his back. Years of standing in operating rooms and emergency departments couldn't have been kind to his body.
You hurried to run his card before he could reach the counter and insist on paying for the omelette.
"Could I kindly have your digital autograph, good sir?" You presented the card machine with an exaggerated professionalism and what was supposed to be a received pronunciation British accent.
He laughed.
"Excellent service, madam. Am I permitted to leave a tip?"
"No" You replied.
You couldn't quite afford to to refuse a tip. But with Jack, accepting one felt completely wrong. You didn't want him thinking you'd sat with him, listen to him, chat a bit, because you expected money at the end of it.
The receipt printed. You tore it free and grabbed the pen from beside the register. Jack watched you curiously as you scribbled something onto the paper.
It was your phone number, or so he assumed. And beside it, a small doodle. His smile widened. Thanking you in silence, he folded the receipt and slipped it into the pocket of his scrubs.
"I've got a better idea, sweetheart." He spoke as you yawned, studying your exhausted face. "Let me drive you home, please. I don't think it's a good idea for you to drive like this."
Immediately, your mind flashed to his lost patient of the day. Raymond. He was killed in a car accident. You knew that memory was also flashing in Jack's mind too.
"Sure." You didn't hesitate.
Not after the night he'd had. Not after the morning you'd shared. You ducked behind the diner's counter to grab your tote bag.
Jack smile widened the moment he saw it. It was a simple canvas bag covered in hand painted doodles and splashes of acrylic paint. Several ridiculous-looking keychains hanging from the handles. When he caught a sight of your laptop and iPad buried inside, he chuckled. At least now he knew you hadn't been exaggerating about working on your thesis between serving tables.
You called your goodbyes to the rest of the staff, and a chorus of responded followed as the two of your stepped outside together. The bell above the diner's entrance chimed behind you.
The drive wasn't long, less than fifteen minutes. You were lucky enough to live close enough to the diner, and the college campus, and of course, the hospital as well.
The combination made life slightly more manageable.
The warmth of the car and the exhaustion settling quickly in your bones became a dangerous combo. Your head drifted gradually against the passenger-side window. Jack noticed.
Without saying anything, he lowered the volume of the radio until the car was filled with comfortable silence.
Ar a red light, your eyes fluttered open. Still half asleep. You kept fighting the tiredness.
"You know, when you graduate…" Jack's voice broke the quiet. "You should apply for a position at the hospital's HR department. I can put in a good word for you. And we could really use some decent organisational psychology in that goddamn place."
A sleepy laugh escaped you, you immediately shook your head.
"I don't know that are the policies in HR regarding dating a doctor." Your words slurred from exhaustion. " I wouldn't want that getting in the way, Dr. Abbot."
For a second, before the light changed back to green and the truck behind honked its horn at Jack, he stared at you.
His heart stumbled somewhere in his chest. Had you actually meant that the way it sounded?
You were already settling back against the window again before he could even bring himself up to ask you. You were clutching your tote bag against your chest like a pillow. He just looked back at the road.
"Will you sleep with me this one time?" The words slipped out his mouth and part of him hope you wouldn't hear them. His grip tightened around the steering wheel. "I don't know if I can sleep alone today. Will you let me bring you home?"
You shook your head.
"No." you whispered.
Jack's stomach dropped. He wished he could take it back now. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable in any sort of way.
"I have my cat at home." Your eyes remained closed as you explained. "I can't leave it alone. But would you like to sleep over at mine instead?"
tags&warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. nsfw content. smut. hurt/comfort. use of alcohol, drugs, depictions of cheating, overdose and drug misuse. they’re both such flirts and he deeply cares about reader. masturbation, dirty talk, pet names, unprotected piv, slight vouyerism(?) age gap relationship (reader is in her late 20s/early 30s and jack’s 50). LOTS OF MEDICAL INACCURACIES because i am not a healthcare professional, just a horny corporate girly. english is not my first language, no beta reader, deal with it!
wordcount: 7.9k
note: wow thank u all so much for all the love on my previous posts! i was not expecting how well received they were c: thank you so so so muchhhh. comments, reblogs and likes mean so much to me! they encourage me to keep writing.
masterlist.
You leaned all your weight over your right leg as you posed in front of the mirrored wall of the elevator. You held your phone high, face-height, your glossy lips puckered in a perfect duck face. The sparkle of your black mini skirt matched the one on your eyelids. The sparkles caught the harsh bright overhead light as you shifted your hips again. Your sheer black "cute-going-out" top played peekaboo beneath your oversized leather bomber jacket, and a small purse handing from your shoulder. Tall black boots made your legs look longer than they actually were.
You snapped another mirror selfie, grinning at the pop of colour from the three BuzzBallz in your arm— one was bright blue, that one was Berry Cherry Limeade, the other two were a neon green colour, Tequila 'Rita, was the name of the cocktail inside that one. The bright colours cut the monochrome of your dark outfit as if they were accessories or props.
The door began to slide closed.
"Wait, mind holding it?" A deep, familiar voice called out just in time.
You startled, trying to keep the doors from shutting, and one of the cold, wet BuzzBallz slipped from your grasp, rolling across the floor and stopping right at the feet of the man walking towards you.
He crouched smoothly, carefully, slowly. One hand was gripping the strap of his noticeably heavy backpack as it slung over his shoulder. His other hand scooped the bright blue orb. When he straightened up, his eyes met yours. He looked tired but amused, gifting you that signature half -smirk tugging at his mouth.
Being inside the elevator with your hot, older neighbour made your pulse rush. You tried your best to ignore as your heart raced dramatically.
"Your radioactive blue artificial-flavoured spherical alcoholic beverage, madam," he said, teasing you as he handed it back, reading quickly the print on the plastic, letting out a small whistle. "13.5% alcohol content?! Jesus fucking Christ… What the hell is that?" He shook his head with an ironic laugh.
"Thank you, Dr. Abbot." You took the drink from him, your fingers brushed his on the action. You proceeded to pop the cap open with a hiss, letting the fizz escape the sphere like a sigh. "It's a BuzzBall! It's actually a woman-founded company, so I'm doing this to support them.”
You took a bold sip, only to immediately pull a disgusting expression across your face.
"God, I forgot how awful they taste every single time!"
Jack laughed lowly out loud, the sound filling the enclosed space.
"I don't know what would you expect from something that colour…" He shook his head again, still smirking at you. "If your goal is to get absolutely fucked up by 8 pm, then you're in the right track, doll."
You laughed, balancing the drinks against your chest while trying to shove your phone into your jacket pocket. He watch you struggle with curious amusement.
"Are you on your way to work?" you asked a pretty obvious he didn't need to answer.
He just threw a small nod at his own tactical navy trousers, white under tee, and dark scrub shirt. The silver cap of his ballpoint pen glinted in his front pocket like a little badge of honour, reflecting the harsh light inside the elevator, in the same way your skirt's sequins did.
He leaned against the wall across from you. His gaze flicked over your outfit again, quick but not quick enough to hide his interest. You could tell how his eyes settled on the exposed skin on your legs between the mini skirt and the boots, at least on the portion over the knee.
"What about you?" He asked as a joke.
"Yeah, Jack. I'm going to work too," you deadpanned. "On my way to clock in for my night shift at the 365 party girl factory."
"I can tell," he shot back, perfectly mimickign your sarcastic tone. The elevator's light caught on his salt and pepper hair as your gaze fixed on it. "Sorry. I forgot to press the ground floor button."
His arm reached past you. Muscled, veined, peppered with freckles all over, lightly sun kissed. As his flesh brushed lightly against your jacked while he reached to hit the button, your couldn't help but to let your deepest, darkest desires take over, imagining those arms and hands all over your body.
You were able to catch the clean scent of him. Just soap. He made it seem so much more fancy.
"I'm actually heading to my friend's bachelorette party!" you informed him, smiling shyly. "We are having pre-drinks at one of the other girl's house before heading to the club. We got bridesmaids sashes, a cheap bride veil, inflatable penises, the whole tacky nine yards! Ali has no idea we are doing this and I am preeeetty sure she's going to deeply hate it."
"God, that sounds awful," his laugh escaped his lips again and you felt your stomach flipping. "I didn't realise you were at the 'all my friends are getting married' stage."
"Oh, dear old man neighbour Jack…." you sighed dramatically, "You must think I'm younger than I actually am. Engagements, houses, big moves, babies, you name it… I'm just falling a little behind everyone else. Not having the best luck with love on the past couple of years. Too busy climbing the corpo ladder instead! At least that's the excuse I have, anyway."
The elevator dinged and opened into the building's lobby. You both stepped out together, as you kept walking outside, letting the cool early evening greet you once you reached the sidewalk.
"Hardly!" he murmured, dropping his voice a little bit, almost into a whisper. "A couple of mornings ago I heard you… well…. you know." His eyes sparked with mischief. "You can be a pretty loud next door neighbour. Hope you know your bedroom is directly next to mine and walls are thin."
Your cheeks burned bright red.
You couldn't believe he'd actually sait that. Jack had always been a pretty straightforward man, but this? This was plain bold, even for a man like him. Your mind raced, trying to piece together what he actually meant by bringing it up. He was probably just exhausted after one of his heavy, long shifts, and your reckless bedroom noises kept him awake for a little while.
Then you remembered. Shit. He didn't actually you with anyone else. You hadn't brought anyone home in months.
Jack had heard you pleasuring yourself. Loudly.
Damn those paper thin walls. They could be much better for such an expensive rent!
"Highly doubt whoever that was wants to make me his wife." You shrugged, going along with his comment.
You were not going to correct him and confess that what he heard was nothing but a very loud masturbation session.
"Their loss." Jack lifted his shoulders, then letting one of his hand rummage inside of his trousers pockets, searching for his car keys. "Do you want a lift to your friend's place?"
You shook your head, giving your drink another long sip, letting your taste buds adjust to the dreadful flavour.
"No, I actually ordered an Uber while I was still upstairs. It should be here soon," you took one last deep sip, looking around the quiet street. "But thank you, Jack."
"No problem, it's nice to be nice!" He smiled, walking away, directing himself to the corner where his truck was usually parked, before calling you again over his shoulder, "You look beautiful tonight, by the way! I like the…" He gestured vaguely around his own face, his keys dangled from his fingers.
"My makeup?" You completed his sentence, blushing slightly again. "Thank you. New lip gloss and blush, actually."
He gave you a slow, flirty once-over and a thumbs up that felt really anything but neighbourly.
"It's working."
"Good luck tonight, Doctor!" You called after him, your heart fluttering at his compliments. "I will see you around. Sorry for being the worst loud neighbour!"
He shook his head.
"Enjoy your tacky girls' night out." He shouted back not even turnig around to see you one last time.
"Rude!" You yelled, laughing, "I will make sure to take plenty of pictures of me drinking my cocktails from a penis-shaped straw! I will show them to you next time! I might save one straw for you too!"
His laughter echoed down the street as he disappeared around the corner. You just stood on the curb, grinning like an idiot, still tasting the awful artificial fruity flavour on your tongue. His voice kept resounding inside of your memory, lingering in your ears.
.
The night had been a surprising success in your opinion. You'd stuck close to the girls all evening, dancing, laughing and turning down every drunk guy who tried his luck. No reckless kisses, no questionable invitations back to strangers' apartments— you were proud of yourself for once.
But when the energy started dipping and your friends began hinting at calling it a night early enough, someone suggested a couple of white lines to keep the party a live for a little while more. It had been years since any of you had done something like this. The idea felt equal parts nostalgic and stupid.
The only chaotic moment came in the bathroom. A flirty drug dealer offered you and Liz three bags of coke for the price of two, plus a "sweet little kiss", as a bachelorette party discount. Liz didn't even hesitate. She shoved him against the tiled wall behind them, ripping off her "Team Bride!" sash, starting to make out with him like a starved woman. Catcalls and "get a room, weirdos!" shouts echoed around the ladies' bathroom stalls.
You just laughed and shook your head, sipping your Malibu and Coke Zero. You had been nursing that very same drink for the past 20 minutes, sipping the diluted mix with ice water, through the stupid straw with a plastic penis shaped figurine at the tip of it. Jack would really enjoy how ridiculous this is, you thought. Damn him, damn you… Grinning drunkenly, daydreaming about your hot silver fox neighbour. Fantastic.
While Liz was busy, the guy tossed the three small plastic bags toward you. You fumbled to catch them with your free hand, but one slipped and landed on the gross, sticky bathroom floor.
"Ew," you muttered, quickly snatching it up. "Disgusting!"
You rinsed the sealed bag under the sink, wrapped it in toiler paper like some contraband merchandise criminal, and stuffed it into your purse with the other two bags.
The night stretched on. You shared the first two bags with the entire group of girls, splitting them between discreet bumps in the middle of the dance floor and bathroom breaks for actual lines, dancing until your feet hurt and thinking about the absolute nightmare of a hangover that will get its grip on you all tomorrow morning. Eventually Liz tapped out first. She said her girlfriend had an early IVF appointment the next morning and she was coming with her. You teased her about how she didn't seem to care about her girlfriend much when she was making out with some sketchy dude earlier. She just flipped you off with a smirk before leaving.
The rest of the girls made their way one by one, leaving you and Ali outside now, waiting for the Uber you ordered. The bass and rhythm of the music still thumped loudly behind you as your hand dug through your small purse, making sure your credit card was still there. It was! You fingers also brushed the toiled paper wrapped third bag of cocaine. You had completelty forgotten about it.
"A little bachelorette gift from Liz." You pulled it out, handing it to Ali with a laugh. "Go easy on it now, okay?"
Ali raised her eyebrows.
"From Liz only? Not you?"
"Let's just say she did the dirty work alone," you grinned.
Ali wasted no time, opening the bag and scooping a bump with the back of her pinky finger acrylic long nail. She sniffed deeply. She even offered you some and you just shook your head.
"I need to sleep as soon as I get home," you excused yourself, getting a little 'boo!" from her.
"Suit yourself then." She shrugged, doing another bump and then two more. Four in total.
"Jesus Christ, Ali— That's enough now!"you gently pulled her hand down, taking the bag from her and tucking it back into your own purse. She sneezed hard, her eyes were watering. "I told you to go fucking easy on it. What's your problem?"
"I'm planning on riding my man all night and all morning as soon as I make it home," she laughed loudly. The Uber was finally pulling up and you helped her in, getting in after her. "I need to stay awake and alert for it!"
The driver saw Ali's "Bride to Be" sash and your "Team Bride" one across your chests. Ali was wearing a cheap plastic tiara and a white wedding veil pinned to her perfect blonde hair. He congratulated her. She giggled, slurring her words. You asked the driver if you could choose some music to play, and as he passed his phone back at you, you decided to queue Sweet Escape by Gwen Stefani, blasting it through the car. You sand the opening loudly, hyping a now sleepy Ali up. You nudged her shoulder playfully.
"Woo-hoo! Come on, Ali! Yee-hoo!" You sang, shaking her a little harder. She didn't respond and the panic started creeping in. "Ali? Hey- girl, get up! Sorry, could you please lower the volume?" You turned to the driver.
You yapped her face gently, then slapped it firmer. "Ali, wake up, girl!"
A thin trail of blood began leaking from her nose. Your heart slammed against your ribs.
"Oh my god!" You screamed at the driver. "Please, we need to go to the hospital right now! My friend needs help!"
As the Uber screeched to a stop outside of the emergency entrance, two paramedics approached the vehicle. Everything was so quick and blurry. They pulled Ali out of the car and onto a gurney in seconds. You rushed, glued to her side, jogging alongside them as the team rushed her through the automatic doors and into the ER. Her white summer dress and sash were soaked with bright crimson blood from her nose. She looked horrifying, like something straight out of a horror movie, like that one scene in Carrie.
You stood still behind for a second as they started working on her.
"My god, Ali…" You whispered as tears started spilling down your cheeks. Her eyelids fluttered weakly, she was fighting to keep them open.
"Female, mid-thirties, altered mental status, possible stimulant overdose. Narcan was issued as we pulled her onto the gurney," one of the paramedics called out as more people approached. "BP 178 over 120, heart rate 138, sats 94% on room air. Let's get her a monitor."
They wheeled her into a private bay, transferring her into a bed and yanked the curtain shut. You walked up to her again, gluing your hand to her shoulder, your hand started to tremble against the blood stained fabric.
A young black female doctor turned to you quickly. "What's her name and age?"
"Ali- Alicia Reynolds. She's only 31. She looks older because of the fillers." You cried, remembering that they mistook her for someone in their mid thirties. If she was awake to hear that, she would've lost it!
"Are you related?"
"No, she's my friend. We were out for her bachelorette." You pointed at the sesh around your neck.
You felt stupid now wearing it.
"I can tell," the doctor commented, looking at both your outfits up and down. She pressed her gloved hands around her chest, as a nurse hooked her up to leads and an IV. "Can you tell me what happened, Ali's friend?"
You shook your head and tears won the war once more.
"She just… she was doing some bumps and I told her stop."
A nurse placed a firm hand on your arm.
"You need to tell us everything if you want us to help her properly."
"She was doing lines and bumps all night but she was okay. It wasn't until that damn third bag before the Uber ride. We'd been drinking too. She just… passed out on the ride home. Her nose started bleeding."
The people around moved fast.
"Let's get bilateral IVs, normal saline wide open. Draw labs, CBC, CMP, coags, troponin, tox screen. Stat ECG. She's hypertensive and tachycardic. Let's start her with 2mg lorazepam."
You watched them do their work as you froze in place. A nurse wiped the blood from Ali's face, revealing the pale skin underneath her heavy makeup. You stared as they drew several vials of dark blood. You never knew that blood in such a concentration could look so dark. Almost black. The monitors beeped steadily, her heart rate was too high and her blood pressure was alarming.
Your legs felt weak like jelly. You sank into the chair beside the bed, never letting go of Ali's arm. She looked almost peaceful now, her drowsy eyes fluttering as the medications started to kick in. They had given her painkillers through the IV. You still wondered if she was in any pain, or scared, at all.
The curtain suddenly whipped open.
"Who do we have here?" A familiar deep voice asked. "What's wrong with our bride to be, Dr. Ellis?"
You looked up. It was Jack. His eyes widened the second he saw you as well. Your makeup was ruined, not worthy of his compliments anymore. The black streaks of your eyeshadow and mascara ran down your cheeks. His mouth parted slightly in surprise.
"Possible cocaine overdose according to miss Bridesmaid here," Dr. Ellis replied, gesturing toward you. "Looks more like she k-holed to me. Bad hypertensive reaction. She's more stable now. Nosebleed stopped. Waiting on labs."
Jack gave a short nod.
"Thank you, Dr. Ellis. I'll take it from here. Can you give us a moment?"
Once she stepped out, Jack pulled the curtain closed. He turned to you, his expression softened with concerned. You looked up at him with wide, sorry eyes, fresh tears threatened to run down your face again.
Jack grabbed a pair of blue latex gloves, the snap of them against the skin on his wrists cut through the steady beeps of the monitors. He stepped closer, standing tall in front of you while you remained seated. Without a word, he pulled out a small penlight from his pocket and flashed it across your eyes. You closed your eyes and jerked your face away instinctively as a reaction. His strong hand caught your chin, tilting your face up so he could examine your pupils.
"Stay still for me, sweetheart. Blown pupils…" he murmured. "Not exactly where I expected our next meeting to take place."
The quiet disappointment in his voice broke something inside of you. Hot tears wouldn't stop falling. Your eyes stung from all the makeup falling inside of them. You couldn't speak out of the shame. In any other circumstance, the sight of his veined forearms now resting crossed over his chest in front of you, would have had you biting your lip and throwing some (jokingly) dirty comments his way. Right now, all you could do was spiral.
Your breath picked up fast and shallow.
"This is all my fault, Jack," you choked out. "I gave her that last bag. I was the one that handed it to her. I should've stopped her— I"
"Hey." Jack's voice stayed calm. It was his job to stay calm in situations like this. "I need you to take a deep breath with me, alright?"
He placed a hand over your shoulder. Your nerves perked up down your spine and all the way down to your warm core. He inhaled slowly, holding your gaze until you followed. "That's it, that's it." He rubbed his palm against your shoulder as you stopped gasping between sobs. "That's it… Good girl. Can you give me another deep breath?"
You nodded weakly, your eyes drifted back to Ali. You couldn't dare to look at him. Not when he said those things to you.
"Did you take anything besides those god-awful neon balls?" he asked.
You shook your head.
"Don't lie to me, okay? I'm trying to help you." Jack replied to your shaky reaction. "If we were to run your labs, are we going to find anything else other than alcohol?"
You squeezed your eyes shut, nodding.
"It's easy to tell me the truth, sweetheart. You see?" He said, you kept nodding. His words were driving you insane. You weren't sure if he was trying to be nice, understanding or simply tease you while you were at your fucking lowest.
"I'm sorry," you whispered. "I'm so sorry, Dr. Abbot."
"Hey, you've got nothing to apologise for," he said evenly. "You're a grown woman after all, aren't you?"
He pulled the curtain aside and called out a passing nurse.
"Lena! I need labs and IV over here on miss Bridesmaid as well. Can someone get her checked in? I'm worried she might've taken the same shit as her friend."
"You got it, Doc!" She replied brightly.
A different nursed walked moments later. They wrapped a blood pressure cuff around your arm while started setting up an IV line next to your chair. You sat there numbly as they worked on your arm.
Just before Jack turned to leave the bay, you let some words tumble out of your mouth without any precaution.
"Dr. Abbot?" He paused and walked over to you again. "The other morning… I was alone."
"What?" he turned, his brows were furrowed.
"There was no one else with me," you said in a whisper. "I was all alone."
The realisation clicked behind his eyes, he understood what you meant by it now. The morning he'd heard you… The loud, private morning you'd had all by yourself. Jack didn't want to admit it but he knew it already. It wasn't the first time he had heard you either. And more than once, his name had slipped your lips. You probably were too high on the pleasure to even remember than now. But how could he forget it when all he wanted was to be the one ripping out those moans from your mouth?
"Focus on getting out of here." Was all he said.
Your mind screamed at you the second he walked away.
Stupid. So fucking stupid!
Why the hell would you blurt that out right now? In the middle of the ER, with your unconscious best friend, bleeding from the nose for something you gave her? He was at work, for fuck's sake! You wanted to rip off the IV out of arm, crawl under the chair, let the ground swallow you and fully disappear. Out of all the things to say, of all the possible moments, you chose to confess your solo masturbation session to your hot older doctor neighbour you had a massive crush on.
You felt your face burn with humiliation. He probably, no, not probably…. He most likely thought you were an absolute idiot. Or worse— pathetic. You were pathetic. We had called you a couple of pet names while trying yo calm you down and the second your big mouth, he shut it all down. Big mouth strikes again! Of course he shut you down. He was at work… working, trying to keep your friend from dying from an OD.
You could also tell he was disappointed in you. And now he probably saw you as some pathetic, chaotic, irresponsible, slutty party girl who couldn't even read the fucking room as her best friend's unconscious.
Idiot.
You barely even felt when the nurse slid the IV needle into the crook of your arm, you didn't notice when they walked out, leaving you and Ali in complete silence. Ali… All you could think about now was of her lying there, all pale and still, her glistening engagement ring on her weak arm resting next to her body. Her wedding was next month. What if she didn't get much better? Her fiancé would never forgive you. He was probably already on his way to the hospital. It was all your fault.
You must have drifted off at some point, your neck was craned awkwardly against the still hospital chair. When you woke up, Ali's weak but familiar laugh filled the small room.
Her back was lightly elevated on the bed, colour was slowly returning to her face. Her fiancé stood close beside her, holding her hand. And Jack… well he was also there, catching him up to speed with Ali's results and what has actually happened to her. His arms were crossed over his chest, looking every bit tired.
"Oh, well look who finally decided to join us," Jack said, with a teasing smirk across his lips. "I was wondering if your neck wasn't killing you, sleeping in that position… So, Dr. Ellis was right. What Ali had wasn't caused particularly because of the cocaine alone, we found some Special K in her system as well. She's stable now.. Mostly a fright when you're not even sure what you took, huh? No traces of fentanyl, luckily. We are keeping her for a couple more hours for observation, day shift can decide what time Ali will be discharged."
Your eyes flew wide open.
"As in Ketamine?! I gave fucking ket to Ali. I had, I had no idea. I never would've given you that bag. I am— I'm so fucking sorry." You reached out for her hand. She took it immediately, brushing her thumb over yours, in a gentle way only a friend like Ali could manage to bring even after nearly scaring you to death, and well… her almost dying herself.
"You had no way of knowing. Don't beat yourself up over that." Her fiancé said softly, offering you a smile. Great! At least you now knew he didn't hate you.
You let a big sigh out as your head fell back against the chair, you closed your eyes. "Did I like… also take ketamine last night on accident?"
Jack just shook his head. At least you knew now that the other two bags were actual cocaine, the rest of the girls were out of the woods, safe. Only Ali had been unlucky enough to get the mixed up third bag. Hah! Not like you could exactly file a complaint with consumers rights over this mix up, right?
Jack's mouth twitched as he saw your quiet reaction.
"Listen," he spoke out, "let’s give giving Mr. and Mrs. Reynolds some privacy. Why don't you come with me?"
"They're not married yet, Jack. Reynolds is her maiden name." you replied snarky through your exhaustion, standing up from the chain and grabbing your purse from the floor. You grabbed the IV pole, dragging it along.
Jack looked down. "Noted, sweetheart."
"I might as well be the one taking Ali's name," her fiancé joked "She's clearly wearing the pants…" He glanced between you and Jack, realising you had called him by his first name and the familiarity amongst you two. "Wait, do you know Dr. Abbot?"
"We're next door neighbours, actually," Jack answered, smoothly running his hand across his hair. "Small world we live in."
As you stepped out of the bay with Jack, you caught Ali dramatically fanning herself with her hand. She mouthed a 'He's hot' and a ‘Ride him!’ At you with wide, exaggerated eyes. You shot her a confused look.
Ali wasn't having it. She leaned a little before saying very loudly: "I said the silver fox doctor's really fucking hot! Go you!"
Your face instantly burned bright red, you felt as if you were about to pass out over that. Jack glanced at her over his shoulder with a smirk across his lips.
Ali just waved at him lazily. "Don't mind me. Must be the drugs, right?"
A nurse helped you disconnect your IV, taking out the needle and indicating you to put pressure over the cotton on the crook of your arm. while you and Jack walked into the busy ER. His calming presence made you feel less awkward than you should be feeling. He led you down the busy hall and inside the quiet family room, his hand hovering near your lower back. He wasn't quite touching you, but the shadow of his hand made your skin shiver. The thought of his holding the small of your back…
"You can wait here until you feel better," he said. "I'll keep an eye on you during the next few hours if you need anything." He looked at the watch on his wrist. "I will give you a ride you home in three hours once I'm done. Sounds good?"
There was no one else using the room. You dropped onto the couch with a heavy sigh. Jack sat on the coffee table across from you, close enough that his knees were actually brushing your bare knees.
"My feet are killing me," you complaint out loud.
"If you still have the ketamine bag with you, I'm required to take it. It has to be disposed of properly."
"Do you need to report that?" you swallowed.
"Hospital policy says I should," he admitted.
"Shut up…" you let your purse fall beside you, before passing it on to Jack. He used his gloved hands to fish the re-sealed small bag with white powder. "I'm going to lose my job over this, aren't I? They will have to test me and I'll lose my license. I won't be able to practice law in Pennsylvania gain. I'm going to become jobless. Oh dear… All because of one stupid night out with the girls—…"
"Hey." Jack leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. His voice dropped. "I'm not going to name you. This bag was Jane Doe's, okay?"
You nodded, searching his face.
"Are you angry at me, Jack?"
"I'm not angry at you." His free hand reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear with gentleness. "I'm very disappointed. A woman I admire as much as I do you… a woman I care about…doing something frankly quite reckless and putting her well being in danger?" He shook his head. "That one stings a little, I’m not going to lie."
The honesty in his voice made your chest tighten. Even so emotionally drained and physically exhausted, the way he looked at you… concerned, protective, it sent a warmth fluttering through your empty stomach.
"I really didn't know it was ket," you murmured. "I'm such an idiot."
"Coke isn't much better, doll… You're not an idiot," he said, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You did something absolutely idiotic. But you're not an idiot."
.
If right now you were to be asked how you wounded up in this situation after the horror night you'd just had, you wouldn't be able to properly reply. Not because you didn't know the answer, but because you were lacking the air and brain power to even speak. All you could think of and focus on was the main in front of you and the wet mess you were causing inside your own panties. Your heart was thumping hard enough your chest that the sound travelled all the way to your ears, muffling fully any other sound going into your head. You couldn't even think.
He had brought up the fact that you had been alone a couple of mornings ago, when he heard you moan like there was no tomorrow. He asked if you wanted to show him what you were doing, how you were doing it… One thing led to the next and you were removing your boots, spreading your legs wide, on Jack Abbot's bed.
You felt the chill air in the bedroom hitting the soaked cotton fabric that covered your cunt. The only thing keeping you from grinding your bare pussy against his bully clothed body. Your left hand was lost in his silver curls, while your right one helped him get rid of his scrub top, letting his perky chest exposed. You both moaned in a chorus between wet kisses.
"I want it so fucking bad, I want you so fucking bad, Jack," you whispered, while he pressed open mouth kisses and licks around your jaw.
"Is that why you sometimes moan my name?" He replied simply, letting out a small grunt. "It was killing me. Listening to you make such pretty sounds, having this fucking wall between our beds, making it impossible for be to make you feel better."
Knowing that he wanted you as badly as you desired him was consuming you in the moment. The fire inside your core was unstoppable. You wanted nothing more than to be wanted by him. Needed by him. You wanted him to beg for you, beg in the same way you begged for him.
"Fuck, Jack." You murmured as your mini skirt rode up your legs. One of his hands held his body over yours, hovering. The other one made its sneaky way under your shirt, travelling beneath your top, groping your breasts over your bra, fondling them with strength, almost aggressively, making you moan loudly.
You noticed he stared down at his trousers. He laughed on the low.
"You know what happens when you're old and stressed, baby?" he excused himself. "Your body stops reacting to your needs."
He was struggling to get an erection and you simply couldn't care less. You wanted him in any way or form. You wanted his mouth. His fingers. Whatever he could give to you, you were ready to take it.
Hell, for all that you knew, he could tell you to rub and get off on his pillow, and you'd do it. You'd obey.
You propped your body up with one arm, coming closer to him, giving him a loud kiss.
"We have all day, right?" You replied. He nodded.
Jack leaned forward, steadying himself over you with his palm. His lips became rougher against yours, grunting against your mouth, nibbling and biting your lower lip. You kept moaning loudly, as loud as you had done it that other morning. Louder, actually. It was Jack's goal thta morning. Neither of you could care less who else was listening. You actually needed people to know what Jack Abbot was doing to you on his bedroom. Driving you insane.
His hand was still playing around with your clothed breasts, it snaked inside the cups of your black bra, recklessly playing, roughly pinching, carefully caressing, enjoying your nipples, making them hard. Jack grunted, desperate to get you out of your clothes. He wanted to pull your breats into his mouth immediately. He whined at the thought of it.
God, you loves his whines.
He slide your shirt up so quickly, unclasping your bra with such ease. You were only left in your glittery mini skirt and panties. You were now lying fully on his bed, resting your head on his pillow. It smelled like him. You took a deep inhale. Your soft locks of hair spread over the linen,
Each of his hands was fondling one of your breasts, squeezing them, playing with them as hard or soft as he pleased. He kept popping them into his mouth, one at a time, running his tongue across your nipples. Tasting your salty, velvety skin. He sucked them, his cheeks hollowed as he devoured them.
"Poor baby, you're starving, huh?" You teased him, putting on a condescending tone.
Your fingers ran up and down his arms, neck and back, you scratched your nails against his freckly skin. It made you wonder how many freckles were all over his skin. You wanted to stop and count them all, kiss them individually, lick them. His arms flexed each time he squeezed your breasts. It was a sight, truly. You didn't want to miss a second of it, but the pleasure kept driving you to close your eyes shut, rolling them to the back of your head.
"I've been wanting this for so long," Jack moaned.
"Why didn't you do anything about it?" You squirmed under his touch.
"Because I thought flirting with the old disabled man next door was just all a game for you." He confessed with a groan.
"Touch me down there, Jack," You spread your legs further apart. "Do you still think that wetness is all a game, old man? My old man…"
You cupped his face, bringing it closer to you once more for another deep kiss, you pulled him against your body. Your knees rested against each side of his torso. He could feel the heat, the warmness emanating from your cunt.
"Let's get rid off this, shall we?" He whispered, hooking his fingers on your skirt and underwear, sliding them down your legs, pressing frenetic kisses all over your body as he worked his way down.
"I told you I wanted you to show me how you touch yourself, didn't I, sweetheart?" He whispered, stepping back just a bit. You nodded. "Use your words only."
"Yes, Jack," you whimpered. "You told me you wanted to see how I touch myself."
"Why don't you be a good girl and show me now?"
You felt so dirty, performing like that for him, spreading your legs on his bed, biting your lip. You brought your middle and index fingers up to his mouth. Jack sucked on them, coating them in his spit. You noticed how that made his cock under his trousers start to grow a little.
You started slowly, playing with your soaked folds first, shaking. You then went on and played with your clit… slow… steady circles. "That's it, slow…" Jack whispered.
Your back arched with every move. Your eyes were fully closed now, your shut eyelids fluttering. You gasped for him, moaned his name, reminded him how desperately you needed him.
"Fuck, baby," he held his breath, biting his own lip, trying not to make a sound as he finally saw you sticking a finger inside yourself. He wanted your sounds to be the only ones filling the room. He wanted to hear your cries, your wet walls clenching as you fucked yourself with your fingers. He wanted to take it all in.
You fucked yourself steadily with your middle finger. Jack observed as the lengthy boney finger got lost inside of you.
"It's really wet, and soft, and so, so, so, so warm too." You moaned. You made sure to narrate every feeling and every single detail to Jack. You wanted him to imagine how your cunt felt on the inside before he got to fuck it himself.
"Do you like having this old man watch you like this? Did you ever imagine me being there when you touched yourself all alone, hm?" God he felt like a pervert even saying that. You nodded. "Good girl. You're doing such a perfect job. You're making me proud."
You heard Jack pulling down his trousers halfway to his knees. He rolled down his underwear as well. It was just as you had imagined it. Thick, great length even when half hard, veins all over… Just really fucking thick.
You once had made a joke to yourself, when you saw him strutting down the lobby, picking up some mail. You through to yourself "He walks like it's heavy." Well, you were damn right.
As he sat on the edge of the bed, he held his cock in his hand, half hard still. He started stroking his shaft while staring at you. His gaze was studying closely what was happening between your legs. He was in a trance. Lost. He kept licking his lips.
You started pushing your hips against your hand as you added a second finger. You picked up the pace, trying to please yourself only using your two fingers. It wasn't as difficult when you were on your own— just yourself, your wild imagination and some good fun toys. You reminded yourself that you didn't need the toys this time, you had the real thing in front of you. But you needed him right now.
"Please," you cried out. "Please, Jack."
"'Please, Jack,' what?" He mocked with difficulty, struggling to speak as he moaned, stroking his dick. "'Please, Jack, stop and send me home?' Remember to use your big girl words, sweetheart."
You shook your head frantically when he said the word 'stop'.
"No, please, I need you. Your fingers, your mouth, your dick. Give me whatever, please. I will take it." You begged with tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. "I will be good. I will take it all."
"You will take it all? Do you know what you're getting yourself into?" He questioned you. "Do you promised me you will take it all?"
You nodded, desperate.
"I don't want to stop once I start, do you understand that?" He asked.
You nodded again.
"I need you to use your fucking words when you're in my bed, princess."
"Yes, I promise. I will take it all." You rocked your body desperately. You pushed your body toward the edge of the bed, staring at Jack as he stood up, positioning himself as well. Ready to fuck you while standing up, you lying on your back.
You thought that maybe it was related to his leg getting sore in certain positions. This might be the best one for him at the moment. You didn't want to ask, you couldn't even properly think about doing it at the moment. You just wanted him to fuck your brains out.
"You're going to make me feel food?" He asked, leaning forward toward you, teasing your folds with his puffy head. "Oh, she's hungry…" He smiled, looking how your hole clenched around nothing, getting wetter. Covering his head in in your juices, before he could even get inside.
He pushed himself inside with a deep groan. That first thrust made your walls squeeze around him. His moan was a clear indicator that neither him nor yourself would last much longer now. He kept cursing your name beneath his breath. You could tell how hard he was struggling to keep it together, just as much as you were.
You didn't want him to keep it together.
Your hands gripped the edge the edge of the bed, fisting the comforter with the little strength you had. You kept your eyes closed as Jack picked up a steady pace fucking you. His hands held your sides with pressure. He had placed a pillow under your hips to keep them a little higher— just the perfect angle for him to take, feel and fill every inch of you. It was driving him insane.
"My perfect girl," he leaned in, kissing your neck, placing licks and bites down your sweaty collarbones and onto the valley between your breasts.
The dirty sounds of your hips hitting each other, the wetness of your cunt against his hard cock, it all filled the room in unison with your moans and Jack's groans. You loved discovering that he was so vocal in bed. Just perfect for a loud pillow princess like yourself.
You moved your hips desperate to feel him harder and deeper. He took that as the perfect sign to go faster then.
“What do you want?” he asked you, gasping for air. You just moaned. You felt a little dumb not being able to even reply properly, silenced by the pleasure. “Say it now.”
“I want you to come inside of me.” You begged. “Please, Jack. Please. I'm using my fucking words. Come inside of me.”
He smirked, holding a hand on your shoulder, using it as leverage to push himself harder and deeper inside of you, bullying your cunt with his cock. His other hand still pressed down on your hips, his thumb reached your clitoris, assaulting the bundle of nerves, sending you closer and closer over the edge. You were ridiculously close.
“Jack,” you grunted. “I’m- please please please, I’m coming, I’m gonna come, please…” You babbled.
“That’s it, I want you to come now,” he groaned, his words slurred, mixed with a loud deep moan. “Oh, baby, oh god… Oh fuuu…—” he tried to bury himself deeper inside of you. There was nowhere else to go. He was as deep as it was possible. “That’s it, take it all. That’s it, that’s it." He reassured you, calming you down as you rode down your high, helping you ride your orgasm with a raspy voice. "That’s a good girl. That’s my good girl.”
His knees bent onto the mattress as he let his weight fall on top of you. Both bodies radiating extreme heat. God knows you didn’t want to be anywhere else but there. If you were to die that same morning, let it be under Dr. Jack Abbott, on his bed.
“That was fucking perfect.” you said.
Your chest was heaving, his sweaty face pressed against your tits and your fingers kept running through every salt-and-pepper curl on his head. He placed a kiss over your chest, near your heart.
“Fuck,” he let out a laugh. “I wouldn’t want this to be a one time thing.”
That was the first thing he decided to say after he had quite literally just finished inside of you. You smiled and laughed as well. Your chest rose and fell with your laugh. He lifted his face off your body. You could see him pulling a face, letting out a small painful groan.
“Fuck,” he complained, slipping out of you, you felt the ropes of cum stringing out of you, still connecting you to him “This fucking leg is killing me.”
“I’m sorry,” was all you were able to say.
You saw him fall onto the mattress next to you, damp forehead and chest glistening against the light filtering through the blinds in his bedroom. You rested on your side, biting your lower lip gently. You saw how his eyes closed lightly before taking a deep breath.
“I was thinking,” you spoke up, and his eyes perked open. “Do you wanna come to Ali’s wedding as my plus one? Her and her fiancé seemed to really like you.”
He stayed in silence, nodding his head, smirking at the idea of you seeing you all dolled up, in a lovely evening dress. He imagined slow dancing with you, so close, giving you a twirl, holding your hand. His brain rushed into silly ideas that excited him.
“She said I’m not allowed to bring my boss, even if I’m married to my job.” You joked.
“So I was your second option, hey?” He went along with the joke.
“Yeah, you were my second option, Jack,” you deadpanned as he chuckled. “My first option was a 62-year-old female solicitor that actually hates me and wishes to see me fail every single day of my life.”
“I see you have a type then,” Jack raised his eyebrows, pulling you closer to him.
“You could say so, yeah.” You laughed, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
You used what little core strength you had left to rise from the bed. You stood naked in front of him. He followed after, sitting up on the edge of the bed, looking down at his prosthetic leg.
“Hey,” you said,
“Hey,” he replied, working on his leg.
“Are you exhausted?” You asked.
“Aren’t you?”he asked.
“I will get us some water.” You announced. His apartment layout was pretty similar to yours. You could say you knew your way around pretty well.
tags/warnings: MDNI 18+ content. fluff and smut, light angst. unprotected piv, oral (f and m receiving), gender gap implied (reader in her late 20s, jack in his late 40s/early 50s), creampie, praise, reader calls him daddy, sir and doctor during sex, soft dom!jack, light grief.
word count: 3.9k
note: oh i now remember how fun it is to write fics! thank you for all the support in part one. tagging @esmemia16 and @mxkhxx as requested.
i look forward to hearing your thoughts, seeing your reblogs and likes is so lovely!
masterlist
Your hands fidgeted as you struggled to guide the key into the lock. You held your breath, silently praying that Jack didn't think you were an absolute idiot who couldn't even unlock her own apartment door. Your tote bag slipped from your shoulder down into the crook of your arm, the sudden weight dragging your elbow down. The shifting strap caught several strands of your hair, tugging painfully and forcing your head to tilt to one side.
"Ow." You let out.
Jack immediately reached over, lifting the tote bag back onto your shoulder. With surprising gentleness, he freed the trapped strands of hair and swept them away from your neck. His fingers brushed lightly throw your hair.
"Shit, sorry," you laughed.
He stepped closer, placing his hand over yours. You surrendered the key, letting him hold it into his palm. On his first attempt, the lock clicked open.
"Thank you."
Jack simply nodded and stepped aside, letting you enter the place first. The apartment wasn't large. A cosy one bedroom with its own en suite bathroom. Nothing too fancy, but more than enough for you and your cat.
You kicked your shoes off by the entrance, adding them to the growing collection of pairs already scattered there. Your tote bad landed heavily on the kitchen island as you immediately began digging through it for your laptop and iPad.
After finding them, you took your next challenge: Locating their respective chargers somewhere within the endless maze of old receipts, notebooks, paperback books, pens, half eaten snacks, empty plastic bottle, tampons, and more miscellaneous objects that seemed to permanently inhabit your work bag.
"Sorry about the mess," you said through a yawn. "I don't usually have people over."
A soft meow echoed from the bedroom.
"I know, little guy. I'm finally home! Did we wake you up?" You continued rummaging through your bag. "This is my friend, Dr. Abott."
Without looking up, you heard Jack settling onto the couch, followed by the sound of his bag being placed on the floor beside him. You assumed it probably had a change of clothes for after shifts.
"Who's this little gentleman? What's your name, pal?" Jack asked. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched him reach out a cautious hand toward the cat. Your cat stared at him suspiciously. He wasn't ready to trust him just yet.
"His name's Jack." The words left your mouth before you could even stop yourself.
Jack immediately looked up. The surprised grin spread across his face and it made your realize the coincidence at the exact same moment he did. You somehow didn't think about it at all! Your cat and Doctor Jack Abbot shared their first name.
"You're fucking with me," he laughed. "There's only room for one Jack in this apartment, amigo."
"Well, Dr. Abbot, the door's right there." You raised an eyebrow, doing your best impression of seriousness.
His laughter only grew.
Walking over toward the couch, you balanced the chargers and electronics in your arms, using your laptop as a serving tray, while searching for an available outlet.
"I found him when he was just a kitten outside a Jack in the Box drive through when I was in California, after I graduated high school," you explained. Your cat immediately wound himself around your ankles, rubbing his tiny head against your leg. "We've been best friends ever since. Isn't that right, Jack O'Lantern?" The cat purred loudly.
The room fell quiet. You glanced over and noticed how Abbot's expression had changed. It became more focused, guarded. Your eyes followed his movements as he rolled up one leg of his scrub trousers. Then you saw it. The prosthetic leg. It all completely made sense now. The stiffness when he stood up, the careful movements, and the soreness that seemed to settle into him some mornings after long standing shifts. Jack Abott was an amputee.
You felt like an idiot as you couldn't stop staring. He removed the prosthesis and rested it against the couch before pilling away the liner underneath. The exposed skin was reddened. He began massaging it absentmindedly.
"I didn't know." The words tumbled out. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to stare."
"It's okay," he gave a short humourless laugh and shook his head. "There was no reason for you to know."
He didn't meet your eyes, his gaze was lost into the nothingness of your living room.
"I think you should take the bed," your voice softened. "I can sleep in the couch. You had a long night and I just want you to be comfortable."
Jack looked up at you.
"Is it a twin bed?"
"No."
"A full then?"
"A king, actually." You replied.
"Alright, missus Fancy Bed," he raised his eyebrows. "Then we each get half."
He slid the leg liner back into place and adjusted the prosthesis before standing once again. He lifted the bag onto one shoulder, and headed toward the open bedroom door. Your cat immediately trotted after him, purring loudly as though they'd known each other for years now.
After making absolutely certain your devices were charging— a mistake you'd learned the hard way not to assume— you followed them.
The sight that greeted you in the bedroom stopped you in your tracks. Jack stood beside the window, pulling his worn scrubs shirt over his head in one smooth motion. You froze. His broad back faced you. Freckles scattered across his pale skin. Tan lines traced the curve of his neck and arms. Salt and pepper curls sat slightly mussed from the long night shift.
The heat crept up your own chest all the way to your cheeks, colouring them pink once again. You couldn't help but let your mind rush into flashy, quick, inappropriate thoughts. Fantasies of you running your fingers across his curls, scratching your manicured nails down his back, biting slightly on his neck on an attempt to mute your moans as he fucke—…
Jack pulled on a navy cotton t-shirt and thankfully brought you back to reality. Turning your back at him, you hurried toward the built in closet and pulled out an oversized band shirt. You changed quickly, slipping out of your uniform and into something far more comfortable before letting your fair fall free from its tie. By the time you were done, Jack had already slipped beneath the covers on his side of the bed.
"Thank you for not leaving me alone today, doll." His voice was quiet and honest. You could hear the tired smile hidden inside his words without even looking at him. The truth was, deep down, you didn't want to be alone either.
Before climbing into bed, you circled around to check the blinds one last time. Fully closed. Good! The two of you desperately needed some good darkness for a proper sleep. Especially him.
As you turned toward the bed, you noticed your cat stretching and scratching against Jack's bag, its claws digging into the fabric.
"Oh, no you don't! Jackpot! Don't!" You bent down, scooping him into your arms.
After carrying him out of the bedroom, you gently set him in the hallway and pulled the door shut behind you.
"I paid my namesake cat to do that." Jack's tired voice drifted across the room. You looked over. He was already lying on his side with his eyes shut closed. "I really wanted to see you bend down."
"Jesus," the heat immediately rushed back into your face. "You're terrible, Dr. Abbot."
His quiet laugh filled the room and you couldn't stop smiling.
.
You woke up in the middle of the afternoon. Your throat was dry and your lips felt chapped. You turned to your side just in time to see that Jack was still fast asleep, now shirtless, giving you a view of his muscly, freckly back. He must've removed his shirt while asleep- rightfully so, as the bedroom was roasting on that September afternoon.
You looked down and noticed you had kicked off the blanket from your body. Your shirt was riding up your chest, exposing your bare legs and stomach. Only your black lace panties covered your bottom half.
You got out of bed in silence, opening the bedroom door carefully. Walking into the open plan living room and kitchen, you poured yourself a glass of tap water and grabbed your laptop, as well as your headphones. Before heading back into the bedroom, you stared at an unlit scented candle on the kitchen island. Next to it lay a matchbook. You left your stuff resting on the island as you struck a match, letting its flame light up the white candle.
You crossed yourself over your chest and forehead.
"Rest easy, Raymond. I know Dr. Abbot really tried to save you," you whispered to yourself. Grabbing your stuff once again, you sighed as you noticed your cat sleeping peacefully by the window, resting under the sunlight.
You walked back into the bedroom, noticing that Jack had turned around and now was facing your side of the bed with his back to the window. You climbed onto the bed, placing the glass of water on the bedside table, then turned on your laptop and put your headphones.
You started playing music quietly, humming along in your head as your fingers flew across the keyboard, typing swiftly about psychological safety as a predictor of innovative work behaviour and employee perceptions of organisational change and resistance to change. You added some almost made up words and nonsense paragraphs to justify the organisational culture in the workplace.
You saw Jack's hand moving slowly, trying to find yours with his eyes still closed. You removed your headphones with your free hand, stopping your eager typing.
"Shhh…." he whispered, still half asleep.
"Sorry, sir," you apologised quietly, prepping yourself to jump out of bed. " I will just go out to the living room and work there."
"No," he rambled still in a sleepy tone. "Just put it down and let me cuddle you."
"Jack, I really need to work on this…"
"When is it due?"
"Two months."
"Put it down and let me cuddle you." He ordered.
Your cheeks burned scarlet at his words. He surely didn't mean that. He probably didn't quite know where he was, or was probably having a dream about another woman… It couldn't be you. It couldn't be a bout you. Still, you didn't want to miss out on the opportunity, so you just did as you were told. As you placed your closed laptop and headphones on the floor beside the table, you let your body fit itself against Jack's. His arms tangled around your torso.
"I actually really like it when you call me sir," he whispered against your head, giving your hair a deep sniff.
Your lips trembled. He said that just when you thgought you couldn't get more flushed.
"Is that so, sir?" You gathered the courage to reply in a teasing manner, turning your body toward his and resting your forehead against his. Jack Abbot's eyes were closed and his breathing became rapid. "You're asleep, huh?"
"I'm wide awake, angel." He smiled, brushing his nose against your and letting his hands run up and down your back. "But I might as well be dead and in heaven now."
He let go of you just long enough to prop himself up, sitting against the headboard. He signalled for you to get on top of him, so you did, placing your legs on either side of his hips, straddling him. You placed your hand on his beefy shoulders, still shaking. Your brain couldn't quite comprehend what was happening.
"May I kiss you, doll?" he asked.
Your heart was beating so hard against your chest that your could almost feel the motion in your throat. You felt like your were going to choke on the excitement. Jack's lips crashed against your, groggy and chapped. You let yourself go and fully immersed yourself in a messy, top-lip kiss. You felt the saliva dripping from your lips and decided that was a sign to go harder. Your lips, now hungry and confident, took the lead.
Your hips started to involuntarily buck and rub against Jack's. He wasn't fully hard through his sweatpants just yet, but you felt him slowly getting there as your movements continued. He cupped your face with strength while your hands wandered between his shoulders and the curls on his head.
"We can stop whenever you tell me to, alright?" he whispered, interrupting the kiss.
"Got it, doc." You nodded, teasing him, as you leaned in to keep kissing him.
Without hesitations, he lifted his lips off the bed and slid his sweats and brief down, pushing them slowly with this legs until he was fully naked beneath you. You followed right after;he helped you slide off your panties without breaking the kiss. You kept your shirt on.
You could now feel his almost fully hard member rubbing against your already soaked entrance.
"I'm a little rusty," you smiled, a little embarrassed to admit that you hadn't had much luck getting laid lately—at least not if you're swamped with shift and assignments.
"You and I both, kiddo," he laughed letting one of his hands drift down to his crotch to stoke his cock in an attempt to get fully hard. "If it wasn't too obvious."
"Well I can help with that, sir."
You slid further down his body, settling between his spread thighs as your eyes locked onto his cock. It was exactly as you pictured it; thick, veined, and flushed a deep red at the tip. Freckles pepper around his pale thighs.
Jack's hand threaded into your hair, firm in its grasp without tugging. He clearly wanted to send you a gentle reminded of who was in charge even as he let you take the lead for now.
"Go on, baby," he murmured, his voice was low and rough. "Show me how you can help your daddy, then."
You didn't need to be told twice. You wrapped your fingers around the base, feeling the heat and weight of him, and leaned in. Your tongues traced a slow, wet stripe from his balls up to the swollen head, savouring the saltiness of his skin. Jack let out a deep groan and tightened the grip in your hair. You felt encouraged to take him into your mouth, your lips stretched around his thick head as you sucked gently, swirling your tongue over the slit.
"Fuck, that's it.." He praised you as his hips twitched upward. "Good girl. You don't seem too rusty, angel. You know exactly what you're doing to me."
You relaxed your throat and sank down, taking him deeper until he bumped the back of your mouth. You bobbed your head slowly at first, building a steady rhythm and using your hand to stroke what you couldn't fit. Saliva was dripping down his shaft, making everything slick and messy. Dr. Abbot's breathing grew heavier, his free hand fisting the sheets as you working him with long strokes of your mouth, following your cheeks, humming around him so the vibrations travelled straight to his core.
He started guiding you then, his hand in your hair was setting the new pace, pushing you a little further each time as he moaned your name between gasps, holding you there a little longer when you gagged softly around him. "I wish you could look at yourself right now," he laughed, as if he couldn't believe his eyes. "Sucking my cock like you were made for it. Such a pretty, pretty mouth."
You moaned around him, the praises he sang made your soaked pussy clench around nothing. You picked up some speed, and you head was bobbing faster, your tongue worked the underside of his dick while your hand twisted at the base. Jack's thighs tensed under your palms, his abs flexed as he fought hard not to thrust too hard and deep into your throat.
"Shit— Fuck. You might want to slow down," he warned you. You didn't, you just doubled down, sucking harder, taking him as deep as it was physically possible and swallowing around his head. His hips jerked toward you. "I told you to stop." He commanded, pulling you from the hair off his cock with a wet pop, strings of saliva still connected your glossy, plumped lips to his glistening length. His eyes were darker, his pupils fully blown wide as he stared down at you, his chest heaving with difficulty.
You whined softly, your lips were shiny and puffy. He smirked at you as he tugged you back up his body. You climbed over him again, straddling his hips, your soaked cunt hovering dangerously close to his throbbing dick. You reached down to line him up, rubbing it against your slick folds, rady to sink down.
"Condom, doll?" He rasped, one of his hand was gripping your hip hard enough to stop you from fucking yourself with his cock.
You shook your head, a little breathless to reply straight away.
"I have an IUD. It's okay."
Jack's jaw clenched and you could almost read across his face how the rational doctor in him had some doubts. The would usually take things slowly, take a test and have some discussions before going fully raw with someone. He was a cautious man. But now his cock was covered in your own wetness and the internal war was over before it even began.
"Fuck it," He pulled you down.
You gasped as he stretched you open, thick and hot and bare. The feeling of him filling you raw made your head spin around. You sank all the way until your ass met his thighs, both of you moans at the tights, wet heat.
"You're riding me so well, baby." His thumb was now snaking up your leg, finding your swollen, puffy clit and rubbing it in slow, firm circles. "Take whatever you need, angel. Let me make you feel good."
"Look how deep you can go inside of me, sir," You teased him, pressing your lips against his, losing yourself to a messy kiss. "Can you feel how good I'm taking you? How good I can make you feel, huh?"
You braced your hands on his chest and started to move, rolling your hips in deep strokes. Grinding your bundle of nerves harder against his callous finger. Jack pressed and circled in perfect rhythm with your movements. His other hand was gripping your ass and hip, his hand gelt huge against your body, guiding you and occasionally slapping the bare flesh lightly when you slowed down without his permission. The wet sounds of your cunt taking his cock filled the room alongside your shared moans, groaning each other's names.
He felt incredible inside you, he felt as he was hitting every sensitive spot inside you. His thrusts became more and more erratic, his thumb pressed harder against your clit, speeding up the circles. His hand held your skin rougher.
"Hmm, shit— I'm— fuck, baby doll." He came with a deep groan, his hips snapping up as he spilled his cum inside you. Hot pulses of cum flooded your cunt. He kept rubbing your clit through it, but it wasn't quite enough . You were right there teetering on the edge, but it was all done before you could tip over.
You slowed, breathing hard, still impaled on his softening cock as he caught his breath.
"'m sorry, princess. Didn't mean to finish that fast, it's been a while" he whispered with a laugh as his hands stroked down your back, gently. "I wanted to fuck you in a thousand more positions. Did you come?"
You shook your head, biting your lip.
"It's okay. I can take care of it later."
Jack flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, settling between your spread thighs with a predatory look.
"Like hell you will. That's my job, darling. Let Dr. Abbot take care of you and make sure you get everything you need— a good, hard orgasm included."
"Who am I to argue? If a good, hard orgasm is what the doctor recommends, then…"
He pushed your legs wider open, hooking one over his shoulder as he lowered his mouth to your dripping cunt. His tongue dragged through your folds, tasting the mix of your arousal and his own cum. He groaned and the sound vibrated against your centre.
"You taste so fucking good, baby," he murmured against your pussy, licking and sucking messily. "I will need to keep you full of my cum from now on I think, do you agree?"
You couldn't stop moaning, nodding your head while pulling on his silver hair, curling your toes as one of his hands pressed down on your belly, enhancing the sensation of pleasure.
He devoured you like a starved man trying to satiate his hunger. His tongue fucked into your hole, swallowing down your wetness before focusing on your clit, sucking it between his lips, flicking it rapidly with the tip of his tongue. Two thick fingers pushed inside you, curling against your g-spot as he ate you out with filthy, wet sounds. His stubble scrapped against your sensitive, trembling inner thighs.
You cried out, and your hips bucked against his face. Jack added a third ginger, stretching you, pumping them fast while his mouth kept on working on your clit relentlessly. You let out loud screams and moans. Your juices were now coating his lips and down his chin.
"Come one now," he growled into your core, curling his fingers. "I know you have it there. Be a good girl and give it to me."
The pressure built fast and overwhelming. Your thighs shook, your back arched off the bed as the orgasm crashed over you. You came in hard, gushing around his fingers, moaning his name out loud. Jack kept licking and sucking through it, gently and slowly, you were left trembling and oversensitive, pushing his head away from you.
He finally pulled back. A satisfied smirk appeared on his lips as he crawled up your body and kissed you deeply, letting you taste the both of you on his tongue.
The moment he was about to rest his head against your chest, his phone rang. He reached over to the bedside table and picked up the call. You couldn't quite make out what the person on the other side of the line was saying, but Jack didn't look exactly happy.
"I'll be needed back in the hospital," he said, shaking his head as he put his phone down, letting out a sigh and a groan.
"It's okay, that's your job. Go save more lives, doc!" You smiled at him, pulling him closer for a quick peck on the lips.
"I'm usually better at aftercare, just so you know… Full princess treatment." He smiled at you. You smiled back and nodded, fully believeing him. "If I survive this shift and get out of there at a decent time, will you let me take you out for some beers tonight?"
"Only if that full princess treatment is promised." You sat up on the bed, watching as he reached for his bad and his prosthesis. "Umm, there's a stool in the bathroom in case you need it to shower. Or I could help you too."
He turned toward you, shaking his head gently, giving your thigh a soft squeeze.
tags/warnings: fluff and a little angst, age gap (readers in her late 20s, jack in his late 40s/early 50s), mentions of death, pet names, she calls him ‘sir’, flirting behaviour, reader is a post grad student and financially struggling, not edited/beta read so expect some grammar/spelling errors.
word count: 3.6k
notes: this is my first fanfiction in such a long time! last time i wrote anything was probably over 10 years ago. although im fluent in english, it's not my first language, so be kind! i'm looking forward to reading your thoughts. thank you<3
part 2 here
masterlist
You pulled your phone from the pocket of your apron, staring at the lock screen. A lovely old picture of your cat when it was just a kitten, and the glowing clock that teased you with the final twenty seven minutes of your shift.
Another week of late nights, scarce tips, way too many rude, drunken customers who mistook your fake kindness for an invitation and tried their luck with wandering hands. In between it all, you wroked away on your thesis during the quieter stretches of the late night and early morning, somehow managing to exhaust both your body and your brain at the same time. All for a masters degree that was not going to get you a better job.
"Dr. Hottie McHot's in table 8, corner booth," your colleague Diego said as he rounded the diner counter. He slapped his greasy apron onto the surface. He was more than ready to go home now. "You might to go over to him."
"Jesus, Diego. His name is Dr. Abbot. I'm sure he wouldn't appreciate us giving him nicknames. It's disrespectful!" You laughed, slipping your phone back inside your pocket while pulling our your small order pad and one of your colourful gel pens.
You needed either of them. You knew Dr. Abbot's order by heart. Four egg whites into an omelette with spinach. A cup of the house drip coffee. No milk. Two sugars.
"Hmmm, so nicknames are disrespectful now but it is okay when he calls you doll? I see, I see…" Diego mocked your tone, as he patted your shoulder and headed toward the kitchen, already checked out mentally. He excused himself early, saying that he needed to bring his mother to work, as her car had stopped working and he was the designated chauffer now. "He is good looking, though! If only he was twenty years younger and gay…"
You rolled your eyes with a half laugh.
"I will see you on our next shift together, my dear!" You called him over, as he looked at you over his shoulder, blowing you a kiss. The swinging door closed behind him.
With a quiet sigh, you grabbed a clean mug, a budle of napkins and a set of cutlery you had spent twenty minutes polishing at 4 am while eavesdropping on a group of drunk girls dissecting their adventurous night our and their tragic love lives.
"Good morning, Dr. Abbot." You smiled as you placed the mug, napkins, fork and knife neatly in front of him. "Same as always? Egg whites and—"
"Actually—" The older man interrupted you gently, lifting his gaze to meet yours. The bags under his eyes seemed a little darker than usual. You noticed the freckles across his aged skin, the stubble framing his lips.
Normally, you would have started the conversation by asking him how his night had been, and he would have told you a silly anecdote of the "night crawlers" as he called his crew. Other mornings, he would simply answer with a casual "fine" or "not too bad", but after months of serving him twice or even three times a week, exchanging pleasantries, you had learned how to read the difference between fine and fine.
Today looked like one of those fine days.
"Can I also add a portion of pancakes to my order this morning?"
"Of course you can, sir!" You replied cheerful with a small smile. "Syrup or lemon?"
You pulled out the small notepad and pretended to write his order down. When in reality, you were just doing small doodles of flowers in the margin of the pages.
"How do you like your pancakes, doll?" The question caught you a little off guard. Not the first time he called you doll, all your colleagues even knew that by now.
The heat crept under your uniform shirt and ran up your neck and finally to your cheeks.
"Well… As a little secret, Dr. Abbot," you leaned in closer to the booth, lowering your voice. "We usually use frozen berries and bananas on the pancakes. But since you're such a flirt and always nice to me, I will ask the cooks to put only the freshest fruit we keep in the back on yours."
His laugh came easily. You made him laugh!
"That works for me, angel. Thank you for that."
"It is always my pleasure, sir. I'll grab your coffee and be right back!"
After the coffee had been poured and the pancakes were left on his table, you were pulled away by a handful of other tables.
Fuck you, Diego!
He had a fair enough excuse, but leaving before the shift was over and when the breakfast rush was about to him. Cheeky, cheeky, smart man.
During a brief moment of calm, your eyes drifted toward table 8, the corner booth.
You saw Dr. Abbot sat with one hand around his coffee mug while he scrolled through something on his phone. The news, maybe? His reading glasses rested low on the bridge of his nose. You smiled. The freckles peppered across his forearms stood out under the morning sunshine, dusting his lightly tanned skin.
Then your eyes opened up and your stomach dropped. His omelette! Shit!
You hurried to the kitchen window where the plate still sat beneath the heat lamp. Thank god it was still warm enough!
"My God, doc!" You rushed over and slid the plate onto the table in front of him. He locked his phone and removed his reading glasses. "I will be taking that off your bill. I'm so so sorry. These last ten minutes have been chaos. I was basically waitressing alone until the other girls arrived. Jesus… After a long shift, the last thing you want is a cold breakfast and your diner girl apologising. I'm sorry."
"Well, you are right about one thing." A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. He gestured toward the seat opposite him. "You have nothing to apologise for, diner girl."
Your eyes flickered toward his half empty coffee mug.
"I'll refill your coffee, sir."
You started to stand, but his hand brushed your arm. It was not a forceful gesture at all, barely more than a touch. A touch that sent sparks running down your spine. It stopped you from moving.
"Besides, you should be off the clock by now, shouldn't you?" He asked.
You sat back down, nodding, even though he already knew the answer. His hand retreated and returned to the omelette infront of him.
"Somebody else can refill my coffee, then."
He smiled, cutting into his breakfast.
"Would you like a drink with your pancakes, doll?" He spoke once again.
Oh, the pancakes! Your gaze shifted to the untouched plate of warm pancakes sitting at the centre of the table. It clicked. He was not ordering the pancakes for himself! That was his attempt to invite you to breakfast? Was he really too shy to just directly ask you? Or did you miss the cue? You smiled.
"I'm glad they used the fresh fruit." You laughed softly, pulling the plate closer. "Are you sure I can have these?"
You didn't want to come across as some starving post-grad student. Though admittedly, you were a starving post-grad student. You did a little happy waddle dance on the booth while untying the your apron, slipping it from around your waist. Your phone almost fell off the pocket, as you caught it, you placed it on the table beside his.
"So…" You picked up your fork. "How was last night's shift, Dr. Abbot?"
He shrugged.
For a few moments, he only focused entirely on eating, as if he'd forgotten what a proper meal felt like. He probably went his entire shift without a bite. You watched him and wondered if he'd eaten anything since yesterday.
His hands drifted to the back of his neck, scratching it absently. That was when you noticed something you had missed for months- a wedding band on his left ring finger.
You wondered for a hot second if it was just a deterrent, fake one, he used to avoid awkward questions and conversations with patients and colleagues.
You sank against the booth, wishing the faux leather couch would swallow you whole now.
"It wasn't the best night angel." He half smiled.
One of your colleagues, Jane, approached the table with a coffee pot, topping off his mug before glancing between the two of you. The surprise on her face was more than obvious. She clearly hadn't excecpt to still see you there after your shift was over. Much less sitting across from a regular.
A regular who happened to be an extremely good looking doctor, at least twenty years older than you, and potentially married.
She hurried away without a word. You looked at her from the distance, running to the guys in the kitchen and whispering in excitement. Perfect!
"I'm sorry about your night, Dr. Abbot." You stared down at your pancakes, cutting them into smaller tiny pieces.
The whole breakfast and small chat felt like a huge mistake. Maybe you should stop eating, thank him and leave. Just sitting there was stupid.
"I just couldn't save this man, doll." he let out a humourless laugh and his fork slipped from his fingers onto the now empty porcelain plate. "I'm not a very good doctor, hm? He was young. He served and survive that, just to die in a car accident. And I couldn't save him."
You pushed a piece of pancake through the pool of syrup.
You'd heard him tell you about difficult shifts before, difficult patients, difficult outcomes. This one felt much different.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, sweetheart. You didn't need to hear all that."
He rubbed a hand across his eyes before dragging it through his silver curls.
"It's okay, Dr. Abbot. I-just…" You swallowed. "I'm sorry. It's okay. I'll keep that man in my prayers… I'm not even religious but I'll make sure to light up a candle for him tonight."
"Jack." He replied.
"I'm sorry?" You blinked. " Was that his name?"
"My name's Jack." He smiled at you. "You keep on calling me Dr. Abbot for months. I've told you once before my name was Jack."
"Jack…" you nodded with a smile. "What was his name, Jack?"
"Raymond. His name was Raymond." he shook his head, looking away through the sunny window, holding his breath.
"Jack," you called him. You couldn't believe you were now in first name basis with him. The blood rushed to your cheeks. And despite the flutter that followed after tasting his name on your lips, you refused to let yourself misread the situation. Not with a married man. "Do you have anyone to talk to about this at home? Your wife, friends, therapist?"
"I'm afraid I don't have anyone waiting for me, kiddo," he admitted with a sad smile. "I mean I have a therapist but that's about it."
For a brief moment, you felt relief washing over you. Then that very same feeling twisted into sadness. The thought of him leaving this diner with nobody to talk to except someone paid to listen, made your chest ache unexpectedly. You found yourself wondering how lonely Jack Abbot really was.
Maybe these small breakfast courtesies meant more to him that you had realised. Maybe today had simply been his breaking point. Maybe asking you to sit down wasn't all about his flirtatious nature, but more about him needing someone who cared enough to actually listen.
And if that was the case, you knew deep down that you wanted to share this one little breakfast, and many more, with him if it meant brightening up his day, even a little, after a shit night like the one he just had.
"Would you like some pancakes, doct— Jack?" You corrected yourself. Smiling and nudging the plate toward him.
He rested an elbow on the table and rubbed at his eye with the heel of his palm before reaching for his fork once again.
A tired smiled crossed his face as he cut himself a piece, covered in syrup and with berries on top.
"I actually knew you before you ever came into this diner." You said.
His eyebrows lifted slightly, inviting you to continue and explain it.
"You saved my grandfather's life, many years ago. I had just graduated and was about to start my first job at a law firm, here in Pittsburgh."
The fork paused halfway to his mouth.
"Ruptured abdominal aortic aneurysm." You laughed softly. "That's a mouthful! I can't believe I still remember that tongue twister."
He remembered. He had seen thousands of patients. But he remembered.
"I remember a nurse saying he wasn't going to make it. But you refused to give up on him." Your smile softened. "I never got to thank you, Dr. Abbot."
His hand found your arm again. The gesture was extremely gentle this time, almost as if he was, with his touch, asking for permission to comfort you.
"That is literally my job, angel."
"You are very good at it."
Without even thinking twice about it, you placed your hand over his. Your thumb started to brush lightly across the backside of it.
"You are a fucking good doctor, Jack. Thank you."
"How's your old man now?" He asked.
"He actually passed away a couple of months ago," You looked down at the pancakes, pretending to be interested into grabbing another bite just to avoid the eye contact that comes with those sort of sad news. "It was completely unrelated, though. So it's okay. I'm okay." You shrugged.
"Well I'm still sorry." He nodded slowly.
"He would've been gone sooner if it wasn't for you."
For a moment neither of you spoke. Then the conversation shifter naturally again into lighter topics. The heaviness remained hidden somewhere, but no longer sat bewteen you. You mentioned yout thesis, Jack asked questions that made it very clear he was genuinely interested in what you had to say.
You took the opportunity to complain numerous times about grad school, professors and classmates alike. Jack laughed at your comments, sharing stories about his own school experience when he was preparing to become a doctor.
He slightly hinted complains about the hospital's organisation and the lack of staff in the healthcare industry. You complained about the job market. He agreed it was a disaster.
You shared with him that you actually used to work as a HR generalist for a couple of years before becoming a recruitment and talent acquisition specialist, just to end up unemployed after some savage layoffs, and finding yourself back in school.
The irony wasn't lost on either of you.
You'd spent years helping companies hire people, yet now you couldn't even secure a single interview for yourself. Maybe your soon-to-be-acquired master's degree in organisational psychology would help. You surely hoped so!
That's how you ended up waitressing. The diner shifts were becoming harder and harder on you as you tried to keep up with school. Long hours, constant exhaustion.
The general feeling that your life had somehow stalled while everyone else around you moved forward: New exciting jobs, new purchased homes, engagements, weddings, babies, it was never ending.
Unfortunately, rent, bills, and tuition fees still arrived on your mailbox every month regardless of how discouraged you felt.
Eventually, Jane appeared beside the booth once more, topping off Jack's coffee mug. She looked between the two of you with a kind smile.
"I am sorry, darling. We're gonna need this table back soon." Her sweet Texas accent somehow made the interruption feel less embarrassing. "Not to disturb your little date."
"Oh, shit! Sorry, Jane!" You double tapped your phone screen and stared.
An hour and a half had passed. How had an hour and a half passed already?
"We will get off your hair soon enough, Jane." Jack smiled to his side, gifting you a wink.
"Yeah, I will actually get Dr. Abbot's bill myself. I kind of screw up his omelette this morning and promised I'd take it off."
Jack sighed. He reached into the pocket of his scrubs, pulling out his wallet and getting out one of the cards in it. Jane remained standing there as you awkwardly gathered the empty plated on the table.
Your apron. Your phone. His card.
"You know removed items that were actually consumed will come out of your pay at the end of the month, right, doe?" Jane remind you.
"Yeah." You nodded, unable to hide the irritation in your voice.
You were not irritated at her, but at yourself. Though if you were being completely fair, it wouldn't have happened if you wouldn't been left alone handling half the diner during breakfast rush.
"Just charge me for that omelette, doll." Hack's voice followed as you walked toward the till. "I ate it, didn't I?"
You smiled at him over your shoulder, ignoring him completely. A few moments later, you removed the omelette form the bill, charging him only for the pancakes and coffee refill.
Jane drifted away to another table while Jack slowly pushed himself out of the booth. You noticed the slight stiffness immediately, mostly on his left leg. Not the first time you had noticed it. Maybe it was his knees. Or maybe it was his back. Years of standing in operating rooms and emergency departments couldn't have been kind to his body.
You hurried to run his card before he could reach the counter and insist on paying for the omelette.
"Could I kindly have your digital autograph, good sir?" You presented the card machine with an exaggerated professionalism and what was supposed to be a received pronunciation British accent.
He laughed.
"Excellent service, madam. Am I permitted to leave a tip?"
"No" You replied.
You couldn't quite afford to to refuse a tip. But with Jack, accepting one felt completely wrong. You didn't want him thinking you'd sat with him, listen to him, chat a bit, because you expected money at the end of it.
The receipt printed. You tore it free and grabbed the pen from beside the register. Jack watched you curiously as you scribbled something onto the paper.
It was your phone number, or so he assumed. And beside it, a small doodle. His smile widened. Thanking you in silence, he folded the receipt and slipped it into the pocket of his scrubs.
"I've got a better idea, sweetheart." He spoke as you yawned, studying your exhausted face. "Let me drive you home, please. I don't think it's a good idea for you to drive like this."
Immediately, your mind flashed to his lost patient of the day. Raymond. He was killed in a car accident. You knew that memory was also flashing in Jack's mind too.
"Sure." You didn't hesitate.
Not after the night he'd had. Not after the morning you'd shared. You ducked behind the diner's counter to grab your tote bag.
Jack smile widened the moment he saw it. It was a simple canvas bag covered in hand painted doodles and splashes of acrylic paint. Several ridiculous-looking keychains hanging from the handles. When he caught a sight of your laptop and iPad buried inside, he chuckled. At least now he knew you hadn't been exaggerating about working on your thesis between serving tables.
You called your goodbyes to the rest of the staff, and a chorus of responded followed as the two of your stepped outside together. The bell above the diner's entrance chimed behind you.
The drive wasn't long, less than fifteen minutes. You were lucky enough to live close enough to the diner, and the college campus, and of course, the hospital as well.
The combination made life slightly more manageable.
The warmth of the car and the exhaustion settling quickly in your bones became a dangerous combo. Your head drifted gradually against the passenger-side window. Jack noticed.
Without saying anything, he lowered the volume of the radio until the car was filled with comfortable silence.
Ar a red light, your eyes fluttered open. Still half asleep. You kept fighting the tiredness.
"You know, when you graduate…" Jack's voice broke the quiet. "You should apply for a position at the hospital's HR department. I can put in a good word for you. And we could really use some decent organisational psychology in that goddamn place."
A sleepy laugh escaped you, you immediately shook your head.
"I don't know that are the policies in HR regarding dating a doctor." Your words slurred from exhaustion. " I wouldn't want that getting in the way, Dr. Abbot."
For a second, before the light changed back to green and the truck behind honked its horn at Jack, he stared at you.
His heart stumbled somewhere in his chest. Had you actually meant that the way it sounded?
You were already settling back against the window again before he could even bring himself up to ask you. You were clutching your tote bag against your chest like a pillow. He just looked back at the road.
"Will you sleep with me this one time?" The words slipped out his mouth and part of him hope you wouldn't hear them. His grip tightened around the steering wheel. "I don't know if I can sleep alone today. Will you let me bring you home?"
You shook your head.
"No." you whispered.
Jack's stomach dropped. He wished he could take it back now. He didn't want you to feel uncomfortable in any sort of way.
"I have my cat at home." Your eyes remained closed as you explained. "I can't leave it alone. But would you like to sleep over at mine instead?"
