Perpetual Uncertainty @butyoudidthis4what - Tumblr Blog

The Shower

Jack Abbot x F!Reader

7.9k || All my content is 18+ MDNI || CW: neighbor AU; will-they-won't-they tension; another famous rabbit nickname because it's me; self-doubt/self-consciousness; hand job; oral sex; PIV sex; masturbation; pretty much just fluffy and smutty!

Summary: When your hot water heater breaks Jack lets you grab a shower at his place. After you leave he finds himself enveloped by warm steam that smells like you. What's a man to do?

AN: I've wanted to do a neighbor AU with Jack for soooooo long and finally gave in! I'm calling it the Across the Hall AU (there will eventually be a fic titled Across the Hall 😂). I don't really love this but I'm doing my best to ignore that because I do love the AU so much and have a lot of other ideas for it, so I hope it's enjoyable enough to want more. We're not starting with them meeting because this is what inspired me the most and what my brain wanted to write for some reason and I needed to run with whatever it would give me right now lol. Thank you so much for all of your support and for reading and I hope it's okay and you enjoy! ♥️

The ding of the elevator draws your attention.

Jack must be getting home. Your apartments are the only ones on this floor, your doors directly across the hall from each other. As you go to lock your door you do your best to try not to think about where Jack has been and why he's getting home at 10 p.m. on a Thursday. You know from chatting last week that he got off this morning and is off the next few days.

Your entire body freezes when the realization hits you, preemptive jealousy and rejection flooding your system. What if he walks off the elevator with someone?

It's been over nine months of this… thing between you and Jack. You're neighbors, yes, but you're clearly so much more. And while it's clear that you're more than neighbors, it's unclear what you actually are, together and to each other.

The two of you flirt, sometimes subtly and with an intimate gentleness that almost makes your hearts ache, and sometimes intensely, both of you lit on fire by the other's words and body movements and facial expressions. There have been so many what you're both 99% sure were almost-kisses that you've lost count.

You have nicknames for each other. One day you'd called him Bugs, it had just slipped out without you even realizing. It took Jack about twenty seconds to put it together and figure out where it came from. You were going to apologize and assure him you'd never call him it again but he spoke first, responding to whatever you said and calling you Tweety.

Jack has invited you over and cooked you dinner and the two of you have eaten at his table sharing a bottle of wine or a six pack of whatever before you chill on his couch until you start to fall asleep, sometimes watching something on TV, but most of the time just facing each other and chatting. You've invited Jack over and the two of you have eaten takeout on your couch while showing each other your favorite movies and watching new ones together, trying to find movies that are so bad they're good and leave you both crying with laughter on your couch.

You’ve met his friends and the people who he’s closest with and who mean the most to him, some from the Pitt, some from his army unit, some from his SWAT unit. He’s met a couple of your more casual friends, knows that your closest and who mean the most to you don’t live in or particularly close to the city.

Jack has hugged you so tightly and for so long on some of your worst days, until enough pieces of you have been put back together that you feel like you can function again, made you your favorite or ordered it in if you could stomach it, made you something light if you couldn't so that you had some food in your system. He always seems to know just what to do and just what you need.

You've made Jack breakfast and eaten with him while he sat silently on your couch trying to process some of his worst shifts, ones that were hell or where there was more death than life or patients that particularly got to him, been with him however he needed on some of his worst days, never expect or ask him to talk or explain what's going on. You always seem to know just what to do and just what he needs.

He knows all the gossip from your job. You know all of the Pitt gossip that Jack knows, which is pretty much all of it because people just tell him things without him asking or even hinting that he'd like to know.

You tease each other in every sense. You've both been obviously jealous when there have been the occasional dates the other has gone on, have both acted out a little bit over said jealousy.

You text each other every day, some days more than others. It's not uncommon for you to go four or five days without seeing each other in person or hearing the other's voice, you're not spending every night at each other's house or constantly going over for dinners or just to hang or whatever. While there's less pressure to have a reason, much less a legitimate sounding one, to invite the other over, you both still frequently try to offer one, no matter how lame it ends up sounding.

You know each other's secrets, things neither of you have admitted to anyone else except maybe your therapists. You know each other's past, each other's present and each other's dreams for the future. You've become best friends in the most unique way despite how little time you actually spend together. You can't imagine life without each other.

Jack knows he's falling in love with you.

You know you're falling in love with Jack.

But Jack can't understand for a single second why you'd ever be interested in him, convinces himself that he’s making up all the evidence that you are.

And you can't understand for a single second why Jack would ever be interested in you, convince yourself you’re making up all the evidence that he is.

You're both scared. Neither of you want to lose the other.

So you just continue on in this perpetual state of limbo that's so far beyond better than nothing at the same time as it's absolutely fucking nowhere near enough.

You're fumbling with your key when you hear Jack step off the elevator. There's no footsteps behind or next to him. He's alone. A sense of relief you know you have no business having washes over you.

"Hey, Tweety." Jack watches you turn your key the opposite direction than he expects. His eyebrows raise slightly. "Heading out this late on a Thursday?"

As he makes his way closer and stops walking he realizes you have a duffel bag with you, though it doesn't look like there's a ton in it. That observation has his eyebrows furrowing. He didn't realize you were going somewhere and wouldn't be around the next few days. He does his best to keep his voice light, curious but not intrusive. "Ah," he drawls, nodding at your duffel. "Escaping somewhere this weekend?"

He won't lie, he'll be disappointed if you are. He was kind of hoping to invite you over this weekend just to hang out at his place and make you dinner.

"Not quite," you laugh softly. "My, um, my hot water heater broke. I was planning on just dealing since they're either fixing it or replacing it tomorrow, but I don't know." You shrug at him. "I just need to wash the day off me." You let out a breath and smile at him. "A coworker sent me a pass to her gym so I'm going to go use the shower there. What about you? 10 p.m. on a Thursday." You force a smirk and raise your eyebrows. "Hot date?"

Jack snorts. "Hardly. A group of us from work went out to a bar to decompress."

You hold your smirk and tilt your head at him despite the way you want to cry and your heart sinks at the potential for what you say next to be true. "Could still be someone special there you haven't told me about who made you want to go."

He rolls his eyes at you playfully, but he can feel the butterflies in his stomach and fluttering of his heart caused by you seeming to care and maybe even being jealous at just the thought that there could be someone else. "I can assure you there's nobody special at work. You know there's absolutely nobody at work I'm remotely interested in and that I don't shit where I eat," he smirks back at you. "Why don't you just use my shower? Save yourself the time of getting to the gym and back."

"Oh, I, I," you titter, lick your lips and force yourself to pull it together. "I couldn't impose like that. It's getting late and it'll take up your time and, and… you know. It's very sweet of you to offer though, truly."

"You using my shower is so fucking far away from being an imposition. And it is getting late, yeah. Which is all the more reason for you to do the much safer thing and use my shower that's just across the hall." He cocks his head at you and raises his eyebrows. "You know if you go to the gym I'm going to stay up until you text me that you're home safe."

You let out a breathy laugh. He's right. You know he will. And you know there's something so protective with almost a possessive edge to it that makes your heart race and warmth bloom in your lower abdomen. "You don't have to do that, Bugs."

"I know," he nods once, "but I will anyway." Jack's voice drops to a murmur, his eyes dark and piercing yours as he holds your gaze. "I won’t be able to help it."

You're not sure how or when it happened exactly, but there's something in the air and the look in Jack's eyes that makes you think it might finally happen, that the two of you might finally kiss and give into this thing between you. When Jack's eyes leave yours and drop down to look at your lips you swear the tension in the hallway becomes so great that it's physically harder to breathe from the weight of it. Suddenly all you can really think about is Jack dragging you into his place and having his way with you until he's sated and ready to take a shower with you and scrub the day and his cum and sweat off you.

Jack's eyes drag back up to yours just in time for him to watch yours drop down and look at his lips. When you bring your eyes back to his the look you give him is so doe eyed and wanting and almost fucking demure Jack can feel the blood start to rush to his cock as he thinks about how you'd wear that look with your mouth full of his cock.

"I know… You’re silly like that aren't you?" you breathe, take a small step toward him.

"Yeah." The word is almost all air as Jack mirrors you and takes a small step toward you. "Only for you, though." And then the tension shatters.

But not how either of you want it to. It's the loud thud of someone dropping something in the elevator on the floor below you that does it. Both you and Jack look away from each other, annoyed at the noise and regretting not having acted quicker on the moment you were clearly having. He clears his throat as you look at each other again. "I wasn't like that for the guy that lived there before you," he smirks. He takes the few steps to his door. "Come on."

You give him a small smile and shift on your feet. "You're sure?"

"100%." Jack winks at you and opens his door, holds his one arm up and out to invite you in.

You feel lightheaded at his wink. So lightheaded you have to bite your lip hard to ground yourself with the pain. You shake your head at him and laugh softly as you walk into his place. "Thank you."

"Of course," Jack hums as he steps in behind you and shuts and locks the door.

As he sets his keys down and gets his shoes off he realizes he's been saying my shower this whole time. But it can't really be his shower. He has to show you to his guest bathroom's shower. Right? It would be weird to take you to his shower in the en suite bathroom off his bedroom because then you'd have to walk through his bedroom and that feels weird and what if it was somehow pressuring? Or felt like he was trying to say something?

Obviously there's this thing between the two of you that you haven't defined or given into, this thing you both know is there and want but just haven't let happen because there's no way the other can truly feel the same. With the attraction, physical and sexual and emotional, between you a permanent undercurrent whenever the two of you are together now, the last thing Jack wants to do is make you feel like he's using that, or trying to, or being weird or creepy or like he's doing anything other than just trying to help you out. Because that's all he's doing, trying to help you out.

As you stand by Jack and get your shoes off and move them out of the way near a pair of Jack's while he does the same you're struck by how familiar and comfortable Jack's apartment has become. If you're honest with yourself you wish you never had to leave.

"I'm guessing you don't need anything other than towels?" he asks as you both walk further into his place. He loves seeing you in his space. If he's honest with himself he wishes you never had to leave.

"I don't even need towels. I packed some." You smile at him, a hint of a smirk to it. "I can use them, save you the laundry."

"Yeah, okay." He rolls his eyes at you playfully. "Or I can just give you proper towels so you don't have to use the thin pool towels I know you packed."

You scoff at him with mock offense and a wide smile. "I resent that."

"But noticeably didn't deny it." You can hear the smirk in his voice as he turns and starts walking down to his hall closet. "Where's the gym anyway?" Jack calls to you as he pulls out a couple towels of various sizes.

"Squirrel Hill South."

"Squirrel Hill South?!" Jack repeats with teasing incredulousness, huffing. He starts walking back toward you, holding your eye contact how he loves to do. "You were seriously going to trek to fucking Squirrel Hill South for a shower instead of just asking me?"

"Well, I don't know," you shrug, voice a little higher pitched with mock defensiveness. "I don't like to be a burden or impose and I didn't know if that was appropriate or would be awkward or weird or what!" you laugh. "I didn't want to put you in an awkward position."

"You could never be a burden or an imposition and it's not inappropriate or awkward or weird." Jack offers you the towels and you take them. He stays standing in front of you, raises his brows and gives you a small smile. "Would it feel that way if I asked you if I could use your shower?"

"Well, no. But, but that's-"

He shakes his head and interrupts you gently, sets his hands on your shoulders, fingers a little too far in toward your neck to be strictly platonic, his thumbs against your collarbones. There's an intimacy to it that makes you breathe a little harder. You have half a mind to drop the towels and your bag and grab his face, pull it down to yours as you step even closer to him. "No buts." He flicks his eyebrows up at you and nods in a silent yeah? "And no it's not different. Anytime you need, yeah? Anything. A shower, a bed, someone to listen, stitches, a distraction." He smirks deeply at you. "A cup of sugar or whatever it is they say."

You try to match his smirk but it's a little too soft and smiled. Jack's words warm you from your core. You want whatever this is between you so badly. Those are things you say to a close friend, sure, but they're things you say to your partner too. Your girlfriend or boyfriend. And the way Jack said it, his tone of voice and his facial expressions, there was something so boyfriend reassuring his girlfriend about it all that drives you insane and makes your heart flutter and makes you want and need him and makes you a little sad almost. Because he's not your boyfriend.

"The same goes for you with me at my place, you know?" You click your tongue and bob your head to the side. "Minus the stitches, of course."

"I know," Jack chuckles. He gives your shoulders a little squeeze and then releases them and takes a step away from you.

"Good." You don't know why you do it or where the move comes from or where the confidence to comes from but you reach out and squeeze his upper arm. "Thank you, Jack."

The way you say his name there isn't special. It isn't whispered or breathy or giggled or moaned or anything special. It's normal. Like you always say it. And it rips through him in the best way, like hearing you say his name always does. It makes him want to kiss you and hold you and never let you go, makes him want to take you to bed and hear you moan it over and over again underneath him as he makes you feel better than you've ever been made to feel before, makes him want to cry with how much care you always say it with, how much warmth. It makes him want to get on his knees in front of you and ask you to be his, to go on a date with him, give him one chance.

As though all the times you've shared takeout on your couch or he's cooked you dinner and you've eaten at his place weren't, in reality, dates, even if you didn't label them as such.

"Did something happen today?" You furrow your brows and tilt your head at him, confused. "To make you need to wash the day off. You don't have to say, just I'm… here, like I said. To listen or distract or talk or whatever. Help how I can."

"Oh." You shake your head and shrug. "No, nothing happened. It was just a long day and sometimes showering helps me let it all go. I like my long, hot showers, you know," you laugh softly, your words a throw back to you telling Jack while you were both a little tipsy on his couch one night how much you love taking long, hot showers.

"Okay, good." Jack gives you one of those small, closed lip smiles that's all in his eyes and you melt.

"Thanks for checking." You give him a similar smile back and then start to walk toward the guest bathroom.

"Oh," Jack calls after you. "The fan in there doesn't work by the way, sorry. I've been meaning to get it fixed but never really had a reason so I just haven't."

"That's okay." You turn and look at him when you get to the door. "I like the extra steam."

"Perfect then. Take your time. They're good hot water heaters when they're not broken. Perfect for long, hot showers," Jack teases you with a smile.

You fake glare at him. "You better not have spoken them replacing mine with some shitty one into the universe."

Jack laughs and the sound makes you weak. You want to hear that sound always, every day, you want to be the one to pull it from him, the one to make him laugh and smile and be happy. "If they do, I promise I'll give you a key to my place so that you can come take your long, hot showers as frequently as your heart desires."

You swallow hard at the thought of Jack giving you a key to his place so that you could come shower. Your mind can't help but think about whether he'd ever join you eventually, whether that would be the start of something more, of you both just finally saying how you feel and exploring what's so obviously between you.

"Guess we'll have to see." You give him a lopsided smile and open the door.

"Guess so," he nods. "Enjoy."

"Thanks, Jack." You hold his gaze for a moment and then step inside the bathroom.

Jack knows he's going to think about the way you just said his name and the smile you gave him for the rest of his life.

Being in Jack's shower, even just his guest bathroom's shower, is a fucking trip.

You're pretty sure you spend the first five minutes just standing there thinking about it. Nothing actually specific. Just the fact of it, of where you are. It's almost like you're frozen in a way, mind present and thinking about how you're in Jack's fucking shower, but also so spaced out.

It's only once you unfreeze and come back to yourself that specific thoughts start to hit you as just below scalding water rains down on you. And all of those thoughts, of course, involve you in Jack's shower, but in Jack's shower, in the en suite off his bedroom. With Jack in the shower with you.

You know he has a nice built in bench in his shower, you guys talked about it once, how they let him build it in. You don't remember why or how it came up, but it doesn't matter.

You wonder if he'd let you kneel between his legs and suck him off. Your mouth feels so empty at the thought that you're pretty sure you pout to yourself a little. You think Jack might fight it a little at first, not want you to hurt or bruise your knees. But as you convinced him it's what you really want, what you need, you think he'd let you.

Maybe he'd let you take control and set the pace. Maybe sometimes he'd take control, hold your head with one hand, maybe both, and move you up and down just how he wants.

You're sure he's too seasoned of an emergency room doctor to be super into shower sex, has probably seen some gnarly injuries from it, but maybe your mouth on his cock would help convince him otherwise.

Maybe Jack would say your name lowly, voice even more gravelly than it usually is, dripping in need and lust and affection. Maybe he'd get you positioned perfectly standing between his legs and then tell you to turn around so that your back is facing him. Maybe he'd reach forward and run his fingers through you planning on rubbing your clit to get you nice and wet for him, huff a groaned laugh when he realizes you're already beyond ready for him. Maybe he'd guide you back further with his hand on your hips, get you in the right position and himself notched right at your entrance and then pull you down onto his cock before letting you fuck yourself on him.

Maybe… Maybe you need to get a fucking grip, you chastise yourself when you realize how deep into that day dream you are and how wet you know you must be with how prominent your heartbeat feels between your legs.

You force yourself to actually start showering. You know Jack said to take your time but you should still be considerate. It's late enough.

But as you shower the thoughts don't really stop. All you can think about when you finally turn the shower off and wrap one of Jack's towels around you are his hands all over your body and soft words of adoration and appreciation and maybe even love being whispered into your ear as he helps dry you off.

Once you disappear into the bathroom and he hears the shower start Jack realizes he's going to have to do everything possible to keep himself busy so that he doesn't just sit on his couch and think about showering with you. He makes himself act like it's just any other night, do what he would normally do and what he would've done if he'd gotten home tonight without seeing you. Or at least he makes himself try to act like it's just any other night.

Jack heads into his room and changes his shirt, grabs a pair of sweatpants and sits on the side of his bed and takes his prosthetic off, checks over his leg and cleans it and his prosthetic, pulls his sweats on and knots the one leg to keep it from getting caught under his crutches. From his room he goes to his kitchen to grab a drink and then crutches to his couch and sits in his usual seat, grabs the medical journal and opens it to the page he left off on and starts to read. Or at least he tries to read.

By the time you get out of the shower and walk out of his bathroom Jack's read a single paragraph about twenty times and has absorbed approximately none of it, his head far too full of thoughts of you. It's a miracle he hears you leave the bathroom and shut the door behind you and that you don't just walk out to him staring at a page of the journal completely spaced out and lost in his own little world. And hard.

Very obviously hard in his gray sweatpants.

You smile at him almost a little bashfully as you get closer. "Thank you for that."

Jack sets the journal in his lap and returns your smile with an easy one of his own. "Anytime. Feel better?"

"Yeah," you nod, "I do. I really appreciate it. It was very nice not having to trek across the city."

"I'm sure it was," he chuckles.

There's a beat of comfortable silence between you. There's no awkwardness to it at all. Something about it is almost poignant and expectant. You and Jack find yourselves where you always seem to. Both of you desperately wanting the other to make a move to confirm this thing between you is real and reciprocal and wanted and needed, followed by neither of you making it, you unconvinced that Jack could feel for you how you do for him and Jack unconvinced that you could feel for him how he does for you.

"Well." You let out a long breath and then walk over to his front door, Jack sitting up a bit to keep a better view of you. "I'll let you get back to your night." You pause with your hand on the door handle and look over at Jack.

The words are on the tip of his tongue. You can stay if you want.

Words that would be an unspoken ‘please want to stay.’

But he can't get them out. Not quick enough at least.

"Thank you again, Bugs." The smile you give him this time is absolutely unquestionably bashful and Jack wants to make you his, needs to. "I really appreciate it. And you. I really appreciate you. I hope you know that."

"I mean it. Anytime." Jack's smile is a little flustered and there's something so adorable about it that you bite your bottom lip which just makes him more flustered and his cock throb. "And I know. You make sure I know. I hope you know I really appreciate you too."

"I know," you nod, "you make sure I know." You shift your duffel and give Jack one last smile for the evening. "Goodnight, Bugs. Make sure you lock up." You wink at him, teasing him playfully about the way he always reminds you. You mean it though, you care about him just as much as Jack does about you.

Jack is floored the wink doesn't stop his heart or make him come untouched.

"Goodnight, Tweety." He gives you one last teasing smile for the night as you walk out, already knowing what he's going to call to you as you do. "Make sure you lock up too!"

Jack can hear your soft giggles as you pull his front door shut behind you. He's still for a moment, his brain trying to process everything that's happened tonight.

Jack has absolutely no idea what compels him to do it, but something in his subconscious does. He tells himself he's going to get the towels you used to throw them in the washer. He tosses the medical journal aside and gets up and crutches to the guest bathroom.

When he opens the door he's greeted with warm steam that smells like you, like your body wash mixed with your shampoo and conditioner. Jack immediately realizes his subconscious knew that's what would happen. He's frozen by it for a second before he quickly crutches into the bathroom and shuts the door so that no more steam can escape.

As he stands there, Jack's cock throbs even harder, the racing beat of his heart quickly the only thing he can hear. The thought crosses his mind as he breathes in deeply through his nose.

No. Absolutely not. No. He can't. It's wrong.

Before he fully realizes what he's doing Jack crutches over and puts the lid down on the toilet and sits, rests his crutches against the wall. It's not particularly comfortable but it doesn't matter. He's not going to be here long, he tells himself. Just another thirty seconds or so. He'll let himself sit in the steamy warmth that smells like you for just another thirty seconds or so.

Jack's hand brushes over his cock and his breath catches at the feeling. He didn't really mean to do that. He just didn't pay enough attention to where his hand was as he was bringing it up to run through his hair.

But it felt good. God, it felt so fucking good.

The way he brings his hand back down and starts to palm at his cock over his sweatpants is undeniably deliberate. This is wrong. He shouldn't. He can't.

Jack palms himself a little harder, bites his lip and groans. Does he seriously have this little self-control when it comes to you? So little that he can't just get up and go back to his couch or to bed and let his erection fade away?

Apparently he seriously has this little self-control when it comes to you because instead of getting up Jack shifts and pulls his sweatpants and boxer briefs down enough to free his cock and then nearly tears his shirt off. He lets out a heavy breath as he takes in another deep breath of your scent through his nose and rubs the bead of precum that leaks from his slit into his head.

This is so, so wrong. Getting off to the scent of you. This is so fucking dirty and probably a little creepy and, god what would you think of him if you knew what he was doing?

The thoughts fade quickly as he lets his eyes flutter closed and starts stroking himself properly as he continues breathing you in. You're all he's been thinking when getting himself off for a good while now, but this, this is different. The warmth of the air around him and the way it smells like you and the way the scent clings to him because of the steam makes it so different, makes it feel more real.

Maybe you'd like it, if you knew. Like that he was touching himself to the smell and thought of you. If the situations were reversed, though, he wouldn't mind. If he'd showered in your guest bathroom and you walked in once he left to warm steam that still smelled of him he wouldn't mind at all if you sat somewhere and touched yourself while you breathed him in and thought of him. He'd fucking want you to.

Jack doesn't know why, doesn't truly have a single fucking thing to draw the conclusion from, but he thinks you'd like it too. He thinks you'd find it hot.

If you knew he was doing this would you ask to watch? Ask him to show you what he likes? Would you slowly get closer to him so you could study every movement? Would you ask him what he was thinking about? Ask him to tell you all the things he thinks about when he touches himself? All the things he wants to do to you? Would you tell him all the things you want to do to him? Would you drag him to bed so you could both be more comfortable? Would you ask to take over? With your hand? With your mouth? Would you want to watch him come? Would you take your pants and underwear off and position yourself so he could come all over your cunt? Would you sink yourself down on him just as he started to come?

A million questions and possibilities run through Jack's mind, a million scenarios, ones he's imagined before and new ones. But his mind eventually settles.

"Jack?"

You and Jack are in his bed together, naked. You're tangled together on your sides, both of you breathless from making out. You press a couple of kisses to his jaw and scratch your nails at the v of his hips and whine slightly at the way you can feel his cock throb.

"Show me, please. Show me what you like," you whisper. "How you touch yourself. Please."

He swallows hard but nods. In addition to how fucking hot it is, there's something incredibly intimate about the ask, about the idea of touching himself with you watching. "Okay, Baby." Both of you shift and sit up against the headboard, Jack’s back propped up against it with some pillows comfortably and you pressed into his side, the position easier for you to bring your dominant hand across his body. Jack brings a hand that he has to focus way too hard on keeping steady to his cock.

"No, Jack," you interrupt before he can truly start, shaking your head at him. You hold your hand out to him. "Show me. Teach me. I want to be able to make you feel good."

"Fuck," Jack breathes, a heavy jolt of pleasure running up his spine. "I don't need to show you, Sweetheart. Just you touching me will make me feel good. Shit, just you watching makes it even better."

"But I want to know what makes you feel the best. I want to make you feel good, the best you've ever felt." You hit him with a pout that has him squeezing the base of his cock hard so he doesn't lose it just from that. "Please."

"Yeah, of course," Jack pants, reaches out and grabs your hand. "Anything you want, Baby. Anything and everything."

The groan Jack lets out as he imagines your hand wrapping around his cock at the guidance of his is ripped from deep in his chest. He knows that the feeling he's imagining would be nothing compared to the real thing, to how small your hand would feel in his and wrapped around him and how soft your skin would be against his cock.

Jack starts moving your hand up and down his cock slowly at first, picking up the pace with each pass until you're at a steady rhythm. He twists when he gets to his head and as Jack watches you watch your hand he can almost see you noting in your brain exactly where to start the twist to give him the most pleasure. He can't believe anybody, let alone you, would care for him enough to pay such close attention just so you can make him feel good.

"You're so big Jack," you moan softly as you work his cock. "I don't know how you're going to fit." Jack's hips buck at your words and your eyes meet as you look up at him. "You will fuck me tonight, right Jack? I need it. Need you."

"Yeah," Jack pants, "yeah, I'll fuck you tonight. I'll do whatever you want to you tonight."

"I want you to take whatever you want, want you to use me however you want." You look so truly desperate for it that Jack's hips buck just as desperately again. "I want you to do everything you've ever wanted to me, Jack."

He lets out a shuddery breath with a hint of a laugh to it. "That list is way the fuck too long for one night, Baby."

You giggle and bite your lip, twist your hand on your own just to surprise him and pull a loud groan of your name from his chest. It's like you can tell he's getting close despite this being the first time you guys have ever given in and done this, seen each other and kissed each other and touched each other like this. Jack can feel the way he's about to come, starts to draw in air to try to form the words to tell you, but instead his brows furrow in confusion when you slow your hand and then pull it away. He just barely swallows down most of a whine.

You hum soothingly, roll your head a little to kiss his skin wherever you can as his orgasm ebbs and then look up at him with an eager need in your eyes. "I want you to show me something else now."

"Oh yeah?" Jack has a feeling he knows what you mean, his heart somehow thundering harder at just the thought.

"Yeah." You move so that you're between his legs and facing him. And then you start to lower yourself and get comfortable laying between his legs on your stomach.

"Oh, Baby, you don't, you don't have to do this." He brings a hand down to your face where you rest it on his thigh and look up at him. "Your hand is more than enough."

"I know I don't have to, Jack." You smile at the precum he leaks when you say his name. You lift your head up and kiss his inner thigh up to his cock. "I want to, I promise" you murmur. "Show me how you like it, Baby, please."

You take his head in your mouth and swirl your tongue around it as you suck and moan. "Fuck!" Jack rasps, voice strained with pleasure. "Oh god, Baby, fuck. Fuck your mouth is so good, oh fuck."

As you slowly start to bob your head up and down one of your hands grabs one of his and brings it to your head as you look at him pleadingly. Jack knows it's a silent request for him to take control and show you how he likes it. He lets out a shuddery breath as he does what you asked.

Jack's hand speeds up, tightens around himself even more. He's close. He's so fucking close and it hasn't even been that long and he should be embarrassed but he's not. He's just fucking not. That's what you do to him. This is what you do to him.

And you’re not even fucking here.

He thinks he might be drunk off your scent. Jack never wants this to end, never wants the steam that smells like you and envelops him to dissipate. Not unless he can have the real thing. Not unless he can be fucking you with his nose pressed up against your neck or hauling you into the shower with him to make more steam that smells like you. Not unless you're his and he's yours.

"Jack." The way you say his name is almost moaned, your lips fluttering against his tip so you can take him back in your mouth as soon as you finish speaking. "Come for me."

Jack does with a breathy groan of your name, body almost trembling at how fucking good it feels as he watches his cum paint his chest and abdomen, a little hitting his collarbones and lower neck. His head drops back and he lets his eyes close as he keeps working himself through it, your name falling off his tongue over and over.

He works himself to a little painful overstimulation and then lets go of his cock as he pants and tries to come back down, aftershocks of pleasure ripping through his body as he basks in the post-orgasm haze and the smell of you. Jack can't remember the last time he came that hard. He's not sure if he ever has before. And all it took was the scent of you.

He's so astronomically fucked.

He's falling in love with you. With your beauty and smile and laugh and your personality and wit and how vibrant you are. With the light you bring into his life just by being his neighbor.

He craves you, wants you like he's never wanted someone before. He wants all of you, the good and the bad and the parts you haven't shown him yet and the parts of you that you haven't even discovered yet, in every possible way, sexual and otherwise. Jack wants you. All of you. All the time.

You guys have your thing, but it's probably harmless flirting to you, not something that would ever go anywhere. He told himself you'd probably find this hot, but would you? Would you really? Or would you find it sad? A man his age touching himself.

Jack finally comes back around to where he always seems to land. Why would you ever want him?

He grabs some toilet paper and cleans his chest off. He stands up and opens the lid, tosses it in the toilet and flushes. It's as he pulls his shirt back on that his hearing apparently fucking comes back.

There's a knock on his door. "Bugs?" His unlocked door. He never locked it after you left, and he knows you, he knows you'll be concerned that he hasn't answered and you'll try it and he's in the fucking bathroom you were just in, that he has no reason to be in, that he never uses, always just goes to his, and you're too smart for your own fucking good and you'll put together why. You'll know.

So he needs to get out of here.

"Jack?" He hears the door start to open. "I'm coming in."

He just gets the lights off and makes it out of the bathroom and into the hallway a little bit, hopefully enough that it doesn't seem like he was coming out of there. "Hey, sorry," he calls to you as he crutches closer as you walk in. "I didn't hear at first…" He tries to think of some sort of excuse about why he didn't hear when he's always heard every other time, but he decides to let it go. You'll see right through him and the lie.

"That's okay." You smile at him, cocking your head just slightly with a subtly suspicious smile. Jack looks different than you've ever seen him before. He looks… caught, almost.

As you move closer to each other and you get a better look at him you realize he's flushed from the neck up, skin red and pink and a little blotchy, sweat making some of his curls stick to his forehead and his temple and neck a bit shiny. He looks hot. Literally and metaphorically.

You're so transfixed by him and thinking about what it would be like to have him on top of you while looking like he does right now that you don't even stop to think about why he looks like that right now, about what he could've been doing.

"You didn't lock your door." You raise your eyebrows at him and give him a teasing smile. "You need to."

Jack smirks at you. "Worried about me?"

"Yeah, actually," you laugh, the teasing sliding out of your smile and replaced by something so genuine Jack has to cover the way his breath hitches. "You'd be so mad if you discovered my door unlocked."

"Not mad," he shakes his head, "concerned and worried."

You shoot him an oh please look, but you know he's telling the truth. You know it would be that kind of anger that's really just a mask for intense and deep worry and concern. You lick your lips and take a breath. "I came back because I think I left my body wash."

Jack nods. "Ah, well we couldn’t possibly have that sitting in my guest bathroom until the next time you came over and grabbed it at your convenience. Absolutely required you getting out of bed and coming back over," he teases, crutching toward the bathroom with you.

"Nope," you pop the 'p.' "You might use it when you miss me," you smirk at him as you step by him to walk into the guest bathroom, your chests nearly brushing, something that isn't completely unusual, it's happened before and you guys hug. But there's something much more keyed up to the way your chests almost touch when combined with your words.

Your words that make Jack glitch for a moment. Do you know? Could you have figured out what he was doing before you came back in? No. There's no way you could've. You're just fucking around. He needs to fucking relax and be normal before he gives it away.

"Oh," Jack drawls with teasing amusement as you grab the bottle from the shower and then turn back to him and walk toward him, "is that your way of asking for a bottle of my body wash for when you miss me?"

The beat before you reply is just a few seconds too long for it to mean nothing, and fuck, Jack realizes, you might actually want that. But why? How? He has to be wrong. He's projecting.

You're undeniably a little flustered though, that much is obvious to Jack, but not flustered in a he made you uncomfortable way, more in a you've been caught kind of way. It makes his head spin.

Where the fuck everything that happens next comes from, where the confidence to do any of it comes from, you have no idea. It just seems to happen.

You stop in front of Jack, chests less than a centimeter from brushing. "You know one time you had me over you'd left a bottle of your body wash on the kitchen table for you to take into your bathroom the next time you went back there," you murmur, eye contact with him direct and unbelievably heady, a small ghost of a self-satisfied smile on your face. "So for all you know I already have a bottle in my shower just for that purpose."

Your smile pulls up a little wider on your face when Jack's breath catches in his throat and he swallows heavily. His brain tries to come up with something to say but just fucking can't because you just said that. You just said that and it’s how you said it and that smile and your murmured voice and the look in your eyes and fuck.

You really just said that.

And Jack has no idea whether you do or don't but is now so beyond desperate to know.

"Thank you again, Bugs." You lean into him and up and press a soft kiss to his cheek, something you've never done before. "Have a good rest of your night."

You step back and smile at him before turning and walking to his front door, Jack almost frozen to his spot because you just said that and then kissed his cheek. Your lips had contact with his skin. Your lips.

You pause at his door again and turn back to him. "Make sure you really lock up this time, Bugs, yeah?" You flick your eyebrows up at him for a second in emphasis. "And have sweet dreams, Jack."

I want to be his neighbor he's falling in love with so badly. 😭 I hope it was okay and enjoyable enough that you'd like to see more of them! Let me know if you would! I love hearing your thoughts and comments and reactions, they often make my day and give me so much joy! ♥️ Thank you again for all of your support and for taking the time to read!! ♥️

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