an offered car ride home, that seemed entirely innocent from the mouth of your attending, has your face pressed into the backseat and your ass up in the air
after a long shift, you wanted nothing more than to go home and pass out
so when he offered you a ride it was perfect, and kept you from having to walk outside like you did before you clocked in
now his hips are ramming into your ass, jolting your body further down onto his backseat, your chest almost fully pressed down onto the seat
he hooks an arm around your hips, pulling your ass up higher, his dick bullying your wet cunt deeper, not giving you the chance to or letting you escape
âyou asked me for my help, baby. cmon sweet thingâ
his thick fingers press against your clit, rubbing tight circles, his other hand palming your ass
âmm you gonna sleep so good arenât you, darlin?â
a string of incoherent babbles and whines leave your throat, mind completely numb and skin buzzing with electricity
âwan- wanna cum, Jack!â
his thrust become brutal, fully focused on getting you off now, tears stream down your face onto the seat
a mix of a 12 hour shift and pleasure coursing through your tired body
âIâll get you there, hon, I got youâ
he leans down, nibbling on your earlobe, moving down to suck on the back of your neck, gently brushing your hair out of the way
a few more deep strokes have you choking on air, desperately grasping at him behind you as your orgasm crashes into you
he rides you through it, gently petting your clit while you twitch and buck through your high
a few more thrust have him stilling inside and pouring ropes of hot cum into your pussy
he sits with you while you come down completely, sending you off to bed with a small tap to your ass and a kiss on your forehead
of course he walks the short distance of your driveway to your door with you
promising from here on out that he will give you rides to and from work <33
tonightâs vibe is munch!jack eating you out and pushing your legs up to your head <3 holding your ankles in one hand and pressing his other hand to the backs of your thighs <33 the imprint of his watch digging in <333
Abbot who finds you in the morning doing yoga in tiny little shorts and a cute cropped shirt, the morning sun hitting you just the right way, and the sweat making you glow
eventually has you pinned down to your yoga mat with thick fingers circling your clit and his cock bullying your pussy đ«¶đ«¶
Thermal Equilibrium Ryland Grace/Reader | Explicit, MDNI | ~4.7k words
Tags: cockwarming, established relationship, humor, explicit, fully au, domestic au, one-shot, female reader insert, he will not stop talking, the experiment gets away from him
You wanted stillness. He wanted to understand stillness, which is a different thing entirely, and requires a methodology, and apparently several variables he needs to isolate. The problem is Ryland Grace has never been quiet for more than eleven seconds in his life, and right now he is very warm, very inside you, and extremely busy explaining thermodynamics.
[ Cross posted on Ao3 ] [ fic masterlist ]
There is a particular kind of quiet that only happens when Ryland Grace has run out of things to say, and you have learned, over the better part of a year, that it never lasts longer than it takes him to think of one more thing.
Right now it has lasted eleven seconds. You are counting, because counting is contagious and you have caught it from him like a cold.
You are in his lap. Properly in his lap, settled all the way down, the both of you bare and warm under the good blanket on the couch that smells like him and faintly like the lemon thing he uses on his hands. His back is against the armrest. Your knees are bracketing his hips. He is inside you and neither of you is doing anything about it.
It is a Saturday, which is relevant context. Saturdays in this apartment have a shape: he sleeps in until some ungodly hour like eight, makes coffee badly, grades a stack of seventh-grade lab reports at the kitchen table while reading the funniest answers aloud whether you ask him to or not, and then somewhere around early afternoon, having run out of obligations, he gets restless in his skin and goes looking for something to investigate. Usually that means a kitchen experiment or taking apart the toaster that works fine. Today it meant you, and a thing he read about, and a careful negotiation conducted mostly while undressing.
So now it is mid-afternoon, the light coming sideways and gold through the blinds, a half-graded lab report still face down on the coffee table where he abandoned it, his glasses the only thing he is still technically wearing, and you are sitting full and still in his lap conducting research. There is a mug of his terrible coffee going cold on the side table. There is a documentary he put on hours ago and forgot about, paused on a frame of a jellyfish. The apartment has the specific stillness of a weekend with nowhere to be, and into that stillness he has introduced the one experiment guaranteed to test it.
That is the entire arrangement. That is the whole plan. He is inside you, and you are simply sitting there, and the rule, the single rule he himself laid down with the gravity of a man chalking an equation onto a board, is that nobody moves.
It was his idea.
You want that on the record, because in about ninety seconds it is going to stop being relevant to him that it was his idea, and you intend to remind him.
His hands are resting on your hips. Not gripping. Resting, the way you rest your hands on something you are trying very hard not to touch. His glasses have already gone askew. You did not do that. He did that, somewhere in the last eleven seconds, by frowning thoughtfully at the middle distance over your shoulder.
"Okay," he says.
You wait.
"Okay, so," he says, and stops again, and his hands tighten by maybe two millimeters, and you feel the whole length of him go a little harder inside you in a way that is involuntary and that he absolutely registers, because his breath catches and then he says, with enormous dignity, "that's just data."
It started, as a frankly indecent number of things start with him, with an article.
You don't even know where he finds them. He surfaces from his phone roughly twice a week with some new fact lodged in him like a splinter, and you have learned to recognize the symptoms: the eyebrows go up, the phone comes down, and he turns to you with the expression of a golden retriever that has found a second tennis ball.
Three nights ago the symptoms had presented over dinner.
"Did you know," he had said, around a mouthful of the pasta, which is a sentence that has preceded some of the strangest conversations of your adult life, "that people do a thing where the guy just. Stays in. On purpose. And nothing happens."
You had put down your fork. "I'm familiar with the concept, yeah."
"You're familiar with it." He had pointed his own fork at you, delighted, betrayed, thrilled. "Okay, see, this is the thing about you. I bring you a fact and you already have the fact. How do you already have the fact."
"It's a fairly well known fact."
"It is not a well known fact, it is a fact I just learned, which by definition makes it cutting edge." He had leaned in. "But okay, here's what I don't get. Walk me through the appeal. Because as far as I can tell the appeal is, and I want to make sure I'm reading this right, the appeal is nothing. The appeal is that nothing happens. You go to all this trouble to get into a position where historically a great deal happens, and then, on purpose, like monks, you make nothing happen."
"It's about closeness," you had said. "Being close. Staying connected. It's not about the friction, it's about the. You know. The being."
He had stared at you for a moment with the specific stricken wonder of a man encountering a foreign cuisine he has decided he must understand from the inside out.
"The being," he had repeated.
"The being."
He had set his fork down entirely at that point, which is how you know a thing has truly taken hold of him, because Ryland Grace abandoning food mid-meal is a seismic event.
"Okay, but here's my problem," he had said. "And it's a methodology problem. Because everything I'm good at, everything, the whole skill set, it's all about doing. You give me a problem, I poke it, I take it apart, I build a worse version and then a better version, I run it twenty times. Right? That's the move. That's the only move I have." He had gestured with both hands, knocking the salt over, ignoring it. "And you're telling me there's a whole, a whole discipline, where the entire point is to not do the thing. To just hold still and let it happen to you. That's. I don't even have the wiring for that. That's like asking a shark to stop swimming and appreciate the ocean."
"Sharks do have to keep swimming, though."
"Exactly! Thank you! That's my entire point! I'm a shark!" He had been thrilled to be a shark. "I would die. Conceptually. If I stopped."
"It's not really a swim-or-die situation."
"Everything's a swim-or-die situation if you think about it hard enough," he had said, which is the single most Ryland thing he has ever said at a dinner table, and you had married the idea of him a little further in your head right then, the way you do about twice a week.
"I need to try this," he had said, the way other men announce they need to see a specialist.
So here you are. Being.
â
"It's basically thermal equilibrium," he says now, twelve, thirteen seconds into the quiet, because he cannot leave a silence the way some people cannot leave a hangnail.
"Is it."
"It's totally thermal equilibrium. Okay, imagine, no, okay. You've got two objects, right, two bodies, different temperatures, and you put them in contact, and heat flows from the hot one to the cold one until they hit the same temperature and then. Nothing. Net zero. No more heat moving. That's equilibrium. That's us. We're two bodies that have reached the same temperature and now there's no net flow and it's peaceful, it's the most peaceful thing in the universe, it's the heat death of the universe except cozy."
"You've made cockwarming about the heat death of the universe."
"I've made it cozy," he says, wounded. "Were you listening. Cozy heat death. That's the whole pitch."
You shift your weight. Just barely. Just enough to settle a little deeper, not even on purpose, the kind of small adjustment a body makes on its own when it's getting comfortable.
His hands clamp down on your hips like he's bracing for reentry.
"Don't," he says, strangled. "Don't, that's, you can't do that, that's against the rules, those are my rules."
"I didn't do anything."
"You did a thing."
"I breathed."
"You breathed with intent."
You hold very still, and you let your face do nothing at all, which you have discovered is the single most devastating weapon in your arsenal where he is concerned. Ryland Grace can survive almost anything except an audience that refuses to react.
He looks at you for a long moment. His glasses are now at a genuinely impressive angle. There is a flush coming up his throat that you can feel more than see, the warmth of him radiating where your chest is against his.
"You're really good at this," he says, and it comes out almost accusatory.
"At sitting still?"
"At sitting still. Yeah. You're a natural. It's annoying. I'm the one who proposed the study and you're out here being zen about it and I'm." He swallows. "I'm having a lot of thoughts."
"What kind of thoughts."
"Scientific ones."
"Uh huh."
"Rigorous ones," he insists, and then his hips do a thing, the smallest unconscious flex upward, barely a centimeter, the kind of motion a body makes entirely without consulting its owner, and you both feel it, and he says "okay that wasn't me, that was an autonomic response, that doesn't count, the brain didn't authorize that."
"The brain's not really running the show right now, is it."
"The brain," he says with dignity, "is collecting valuable data."
The thing about him, the thing you fell for somewhere around the second month, is that he cannot do anything without trying to understand it, and he cannot try to understand a thing without poking it.
So of course he starts adjusting variables.
It begins almost innocently. His hands, which have been gripping your hips like handles, gentle, and start to move. Not anywhere scandalous. Up your sides, slow, mapping. You recognize the touch. It's the same touch he uses on a problem, the same patient curious pressure he puts on anything he's trying to figure out, and the fact that the thing he's trying to figure out is you makes something low in your stomach pull tight.
"So like," he murmurs, and his thumbs have found the dip of your waist and settled there, "the interesting thing is the anticipation, right, because nothing's happening, so your nervous system is just. Idling. It's revving. It's like sitting at a red light with the engine going." His thumbs stroke once. "Everything's primed and there's nowhere for it to go."
"You're narrating," you tell him.
"I narrate, it's a whole thing, you knew this going in." His mouth has wandered to your jaw. Not kissing. Just resting there, breathing you in, talking against your skin so you feel every word as much as hear it. "The question I have, the real research question, is whether the stillness amplifies sensation or dulls it, because there's an argument both ways. Like on one hand, no new stimulus, so you'd think it'd fade. Habituation. You stop feeling your own socks after a minute, right. But on the other hand."
He goes quiet.
You wait.
"On the other hand," he says, and his voice has dropped about half an octave, "I can feel your pulse."
You go still in a different way.
"Right here," he says, soft, wondering, the wonder doing the thing it always does where it stops being funny and starts being unbearable. "I can feel your heartbeat. From the inside. I didn't, I didn't know I'd be able to feel that. It's going kind of fast, by the way. For someone so zen."
"Shut up."
"I'm just collecting data."
"Collect it quietly."
"That's not really my strong suit," he says against your throat, and you can feel him grin, and then he goes thoughtful in the specific dangerous way that means he's had an idea. His hand slides up your spine to the back of your neck, cradling. "Okay, new variable, hold on, I want to isolate one thing." And he tips his head and kisses you. Slow. Deep. The kind of kiss that has a thesis. The whole time his other hand stays flat and still on your hip, anchoring you down onto him, so the only thing moving anywhere between the two of you is his mouth on yours, and somehow that makes it worse, makes the stillness everywhere else roar.
When he pulls back his pupils are blown and he looks genuinely rattled by his own findings.
"Yeah, that's, okay, that did something," he reports, a little hoarse. "That changed the readings. The readings are way up. I felt you do that thing, the clench thing, you did the clench thing when I kissed you, don't tell me you didn't, I have direct evidence."
"That's not fair."
"Science isn't fair," he says, delighted and wrecked. "Science is just true."
"That's not what that means."
"It's what it means tonight," he says, and then, because he is who he is, because the curiosity is always going to win, his hands slide around to your back and pull you in that final fraction so there is no space left anywhere between you, and he exhales like a man who has just understood something. "Oh, that's the appeal. Okay. Okay, yeah. I get it now. I get the being."
And the worst part, the part that undoes you, is that he means it. He's not performing. He has genuinely, in this moment, with his glasses crooked and his heart hammering against your chest and himself buried as deep in you as he can get without moving, arrived at a real understanding of why people do this, and the understanding has cracked something open in him, and the something is tenderness, and it is pouring out of him at a rate his mouth cannot keep up with.
"You're a menace," you tell him, but your voice has gone unsteady.
"I'm a scientist," he says, and kisses you.
That's where it starts to come apart, and it comes apart on his end first, which is exactly how you both secretly knew it would go.
Because once he's kissing you he can't stop talking into the kisses, and once he's talking he's getting worked up, and once he's worked up his hands won't stay still, and his hands not staying still means his whole body wants to follow, and the entire structure of the experiment is now resting on the willpower of a man who has never successfully resisted finding out what happens next.
"The hypothesis," he says against your mouth, breathing hard, "the hypothesis was that I could just. Be. Be in the moment. Very enlightened. Very still."
"Mm hm."
"I want to flag that the hypothesis is in trouble."
"Is it."
"It's in serious trouble. We may need to revise the hypothesis. The hypothesis may need to be that I have the self control of a, of a, I don't even have an analogy, that's how bad it is, the analogy generator is offline."
You almost laugh, and then you make a decision, and you do not move at all.
You stay completely, perfectly, infuriatingly still. You let him do all the wanting. You sit there, warm and soft and unhurried in his lap, and you watch the experiment he designed turn around and start running him.
His hips flex again. He catches it. Stops.
His breath shudders out.
"Okay, I'm controlling for breathing," he announces, to nobody, to the ceiling, in the voice of a man clutching the last shred of his methodology. "If I just regulate the breathing, right, box breathing, in for four, hold for four, the Navy SEALs do it, I read a thing, I can bring the whole system back down to baseline and then I can. I can just." He takes a slow, deliberate, theatrical breath in, and you feel his chest expand against yours, and you feel exactly what that does to the rest of him where he's seated inside you, and so does he, because the breath comes out as a wreck instead of a four-count. "Okay, the breathing makes it worse. Filing that. Breathing is contraindicated. Who knew. Everybody, probably. Everybody knew."
"You're doing great."
"I'm doing terribly, and we both know it, and the cruel thing, the genuinely cruel thing, is that you're enjoying watching me do terribly."
You are. You make absolutely no effort to hide it.
"You could just," he tries.
"Mm?"
"You could just move. A little. Hypothetically. For science."
"But it was so peaceful," you say. "The cozy heat death. I was really getting into the being."
He makes a sound that is not a word.
"You said nobody moves," you remind him sweetly. "Those were the rules. Your rules."
"I have done extensive research since I made those rules," he says, very fast. "There's new data. The rules are out of date. I'm issuing a correction. A formal correction. I was wrong, the original parameters were flawed, I'd like to move now please, I'd really like to move, I think about thirty seconds ago I would have said I could do this all day and I want to retract that, I want it stricken from the record, please."
"You're begging."
"I am peer reviewing," he gasps, and his hands are gripping you again, white knuckled, and the flush has gone all the way up to his hairline, and his glasses are so far gone they're practically vertical, and he is the single most undone you have ever seen a fully verbal human being get, and he has not moved an inch, because the one thing more powerful in him than the wanting is the part of him that will not, ever, be the one to break a rule he set for the experiment, even as the experiment dismantles him in real time.
It is, you decide, the most him thing you have ever witnessed.
So you take pity on him.
You lean in, your lips against the shell of his ear, and you feel him go rigid with hope, and you say, very quietly, "Okay."
And you move.
The sound he makes when you finally roll your hips is not dignified, and you treasure it, because Ryland Grace has been talking for what feels like a geological age and you have rendered him, for one perfect second, completely silent.
It lasts exactly that one second.
"Oh thank god," he breathes, and then he's moving, finally, hips driving up to meet you as you sink back down, and the first real slide of him is so much after all that holding that you both make a noise into it. His hands clamp on your hips and drag you down onto him, all the way, deep enough that you feel it in your stomach, and the relief in him is so total it's almost a religious experience. He's laughing, breathless and a little wild, the way he laughs when something works. "Oh, okay, yeah, no, this, this is the appeal, I had it backwards, the appeal is when you stop, the stopping is the appeal because then there's the. The." He loses the word as you grind down hard and feel him twitch inside you. "The starting. God. The starting is the whole thing. Don't stop, do not stop, that's an official finding."
"I thought it was about the being."
"It's about the becoming," he says, which is either profound or completely meaningless, and you don't care which, because his hands are everywhere now and his mouth has found your throat and the careful, agonizing stillness of the last however-long has wound you both so tight that every drag of him in and out of you lands like something much bigger than it is. You're slick enough that there's no friction left to fight, just the slow obscene ease of taking all of him and lifting off and taking him again, and the wet sound of it fills the quiet where his voice used to be.
You set the pace. He lets you. That's the deal you've worked out over months, that he can run his mouth about variables and equilibria all he likes but in the end he goes pliant and grateful under your hands, follows wherever you take him. So you take him slow. You ride him in long unhurried strokes, drawing all the way up until he's barely inside you, until he's panting and his fingers are flexing helplessly against your skin, and then down again, slow, slow, watching his eyes roll back. The contrast, the manic brilliant chatterbox going soft and obedient and wrecked underneath you, is something you will never, ever get tired of.
"You held out," you tell him, rolling your hips in a slow grind that has him gasping. "You actually held out. I'm impressed."
"I'm a professional." His voice is shredded. "I'm extremely. Professional. I had a hypothesis and I tested it and the hypothesis was that I'd die, and I was right, I'm dying, this is what dying is, write it down," and the last word breaks in half as you clench around him on a downstroke, deliberate, just to watch it happen.
His head goes back against the armrest. "Okay, that's, you can't just, that's not in the protocol, you can't do that," but his hips are snapping up into you now, losing the rhythm, chasing it, all his careful method dissolving into want. One of his hands leaves your hip and slides between you, thumb finding you exactly where you need it because of course he knows, he has studied you the way he studies everything, and the first slow circle he draws makes your whole body jolt down onto him.
"There she is," he says, ragged and delighted and reverent all at once. "Okay. Okay, I've got data on this, I know what this does," and he does it again, steady pressure in time with the way you're riding him, and the two sensations stack and stack and you stop being able to keep your pace even. "Yeah. Yeah, there you go. You're allowed to fall apart, that's, I'd actually really like to observe that, for science, please, I want to feel it."
"You're going to make me," you manage.
"That's the entire research objective," he gasps. "That was always the objective. Come on. Come on, I've got you, I'm right here, I'm not going anywhere, I'm cozy heat death, remember, no net flow," and he's babbling now, half nonsense, his thumb relentless and his hips driving up to bury himself in you again and again, and the wound-tight pressure that's been building since the very first still minute finally crests and breaks. You come hard around him, clenching tight, and you hear him swear, genuinely swear, the fear-gauge profanity he saves for when the floor drops, because the feeling of you tightening on him is the thing that finally takes him too. He pulls you down flush and holds you there and lets go with a broken sound against your throat, hips stuttering up into you, spilling deep while you're still pulsing around him, both of you locked together at the exact point where neither of you can tell whose shaking is whose.
For a long moment there is no net flow at all. Just the two of you, joined, gasping, finding the same temperature.
When you finally lift your head he's looking at you with his crooked glasses and his blown pupils and that specific expression he gets, the one underneath all the noise, the one that you don't think he knows he makes. The one that says you are the most interesting thing that has ever happened to him and he cannot believe his luck and he is a little bit scared of how much he means it.
He gets there late. He gets there sideways. But he gets there.
"Hey," he says, soft, and for once there's no preamble, no analogy, no okay-so. Just: "I'm really glad it was you who already knew the fact."
Your heart does something complicated.
"Why's that," you manage.
"Because I would've been embarrassed to be this bad at sitting still in front of anyone else," he says, and grins, and ruins the moment perfectly, on purpose, the way he always does the second a feeling gets too big to hold, and you love him so much in that instant that you have to close your eyes.
---
You stay like that for a while, the two of you, not moving for an entirely different reason now. He's still inside you, softening, and neither of you is in any hurry to change that, which strikes you as funny given that not moving was the whole problem twenty minutes ago. His hand has found the back of your head again and he's just holding it there, thumb tracing slow shapes you don't think he's aware of, his heartbeat slowing under your cheek from a sprint to a walk to something steady.
"You okay," he murmurs into your hair. The voice has gone soft and low, the post-disaster voice, the one that comes out after the engine cools.
"Mm."
"You went somewhere at the end there."
"I did."
"Good somewhere?"
"Very good somewhere."
He's quiet for a second, and you can feel him deciding whether to make a joke, and you can feel him choose not to, which is its own small miracle.
"I think I had the appeal backwards the whole time," he says instead, slow, working it out the way he works everything out, sideways and out loud. "I kept thinking the still part was the experiment and the moving part was the reward. But it's not two things. It's the same thing. The staying still is just. It's trust, right. It's me sitting here doing nothing useful and you letting me, and neither of us going anywhere." A pause. "That's the whole experiment. That's all it ever was. Everything else was just me being a shark about it."
You lift your head to look at him, because that is dangerously close to him being cleanly self-aware, and you want to see it before it evaporates.
It evaporates. He sees you looking and the grin comes back, sheepish, reflexive, the shutter coming down over something he showed you for exactly one second.
"Don't write that down," he says. "That one's not for the record."
"Too late."
"You can't publish that, it's not peer reviewed."
"I'm publishing it everywhere."
"Devastating," he says happily, and pulls you back down against his chest, and you let him.
After, much after, when the experiment has reached its actual conclusion and you are both a boneless tangle on the couch with the good blanket half on the floor and his glasses somewhere that is going to be a problem to find later, he is quiet again.
Genuinely quiet. The rare kind. The kind that means he's run out, fully, that the engine has finally idled all the way down.
You give it eleven seconds.
You count.
At twelve, predictably, gloriously, he stirs against you, and you feel him take a breath to say something, and you brace for it.
"So in conclusion," Ryland Grace says, to the ceiling, with the deep satisfaction of a man filing a final report, "the appeal is real, the methodology was sound, and I think for the next round we should isolate some additional variables."
You don't even open your eyes.
"Go to sleep, Ryland."
"I'm just saying. For science."
"Sleep."
He goes quiet. He lasts almost thirty seconds this time.
It's a personal best, and you tell him so, and he's so pleased about it that he forgets to keep talking, which is how you finally, both of you, reach equilibrium.
Jack was used to you asking him for help, had been for the two years since you moved into the apartment directly across from his.
He didnât mind offering you a lending hand when he saw you struggling to carry your boxes from your small run down car, it wasnât an inconvenience to collect your mail if you ever had to leave town for a few days, and he really couldnât complain about having to remind you to get your laundry from the unit down below because it held him accountable too.
It was such a common occurrence, you asking him for a favor, that he wasnât too surprised to find you at his door. He only gave a soft sigh as you pushed past him to enter his apartment, offering you a lot more patience than he did the newbies at the hospital.
You were always sweet, maybe a little bossy at times, but it gave him some amusement in his otherwise strict routine.
Plus it was admittedly nice to feel needed.
You came to him when your apartment had a leak or your air conditioning went out, knocked on his door whenever it was raining and youâd forgotten an umbrella after locking yourself out, and you even sometimes popped over just to get his opinion on what you should wear out on a random night.
Everybody was always telling Jack he needed a hobby that didnât involve putting his life on the line, so he rarely told you no and tried his best to brush off Robby whenever he asked what was keeping him so busy lately.
It would be hard enough to explain the dynamic he had with his much younger neighbor but even more so considering you were now standing in the middle of his apartment with a frustrated look on your face, hands on your hips as you tapped your bunny slipper covered foot.
âWhat is it now?â His voice was gruff and disinterested but you knew well enough that he would do whatever you asked and he was well aware of that too. Still, it helped him just a little to pretend to contemplate it for a second or two first.
âI need you to have sex with me.â
You said it like it was as simple as asking him to come over and check your water pressure, falling out of your mouth casually and landing heavily in the quiet room.
There was no need to pretend this time as he fell into a bewildered silence, raising an eyebrow in your direction and letting his eyes track you as you dramatically sighed and went to flop down on his couch. Youâd demanded about a year ago that he got some pillows for it, along with a few other interior design suggestions.
Heâd picked up four after his shift that night.
âPlease say something.â You were turned around on the couch so you could face him over the back of it, arms crossed as you rested your chin ontop of them.
âI have nothing to say to that.â He shook his head immediately, that stern expression he used on an unruly patient or Robby when he got a little too pushy.
This just made you sigh again, loud and exaggerated as you turned back around to fully lay flat on his couch.
âWhy are you even asking me that?â He didnât want to pry because he knew you well enough by now to know youâd just be encouraged by that but his curiosity got the best of him, circling around to sit across from you on one of the living room chairs.
You didnât sit up but you turned your head to the side to look at him, a slight frown on your face that he didnât think was particularly genuine. Your personality was always something Jack admired, not getting a lot of time in his own life to be so bold with his emotions and carefree in the way he spoke and behaved.
He was serious and guarded where you were a walking billboard for spontaneity, coming to him crying about random problems after only half a week of living in the building.
It was mostly endearing but there was the more critical part of him that wondered how lonely you must be to be making friends and finding comfort with some random guy across the hallway, a much older one at that.
Jack knew he had a bit of a hero complex but it typically manifested in a more extreme way, quite literally jumping into battle to save lives or operating on them in their lowest moments. This dynamic with you was a new form of care taking and thereâd been a handful of times heâd doubted his own motives.
âBecause I have a date next week and I am a complete lost cause when it comes to all things intimacy.â You still had a theatrical flare to your voice, not facing him anymore and instead rambling straight up to his ceiling with your hands gesturing wildly.
He tensed up for two reasons now, one being the mention of a date and the other was your implication you didnât have any experience.
âBut youâve had sex before.â It came out slowly and half like a question, half like an assumption.
There wasnât any real reason for him to think that other than his own social expectations. You were gorgeous, one of the prettiest women heâd seen in a very long time, and had a naturally magnetic energy to you that even he couldnât resist most of the time, platonically but also selfishly deep down, a little more than that.
Heâd seen you go on a handful of dates in the last year or two, all guys your age that didnât seem to know how to pick up a check let alone please you properly.
Thatâs where Jackâs problem stemmed from.
There had been almost no ulterior motive the first year he had known you, genuinely trying to be helpful and to be a good neighbor. He would get upset when his coworkers would call him anti social or make digs at how unfriendly he was because he hadnât always been like that and he figured helping out the girl next door was a good first step to getting that part of himself back.
Youâd told him after a few months that you had no family on this side of the country, completely starting fresh at a new company youâd applied to on a whim.
It was completely innocent.
Yes, you were undoubtedly beautiful in a way that made his head spin for a second when he first saw you. You had been standing near your car and fighting with a box, both by tugging at it and saying less than kind words in its direction like it could understand you.
Jack had hesitated for a handful of seconds before making his way over and offering to help, feeling this weird pull in his chest when you blinked up at him in surprise and eagerly thanked him.
Once you were in his life, you never left. And he made space for you effortlessly because, quite frankly, he had plenty of it to offer up.
About seven months ago was the first time he had ever seen you with a guy.
Heâd been coming home from a long and rare day shift (covering for Robby so he could attend Jakeâs graduation), dragging his leg behind him and praying nobody stopped him on the way to his apartment so he could crawl into bed for a few short hours before he had to do it all over again for his own shift.
The only distraction he would have allowed was you but you were clearly busy, standing in the hallway as he got off the elevator and touching the rather small bicep of a guy your age.
Jack hesitated, considered getting right back on the elevator before it could close on him, and then slowly walked to his door.
He had hoped you wouldnât acknowledge him because his throat was already weirdly tight as he eyed you and the way you stared up at the man (boy, if Jack had to really label it) with that soft and curious expression you always had.
âJack.â Your voice was full of excitement and he faltered, his key left in his doors lock as he turned to give you an attempt at a polite smile. âCovering somebody again?â
If this had been any other day then Jack would have invited you into his apartment to talk instead of lingering in the hallway. He would have ignored his exhaustion to pair his black coffee with the hot chocolate flavor you liked that he kept in his bottom drawer, complained to you about being tired and listened to you scold him for working too much when he didnât need to.
But you were in a pretty dress that was clearly on its way to dinner and your date was giving Jack that possessive stare that guys fresh out of college thought was intimidating.
So instead he simply nodded his head and continued to unlock his door.
âThis is Asher.â You continued abruptly as he turned his door handled, leaving it cracked as he stopped to look at you again.
He gave you a once over to make sure everything was okay, wondering why you were still insisting on talking to him when you were so clearly meant to be going somewhere else. You didnât look too uncomfortable but you were watching him back just as intensely so he mentally stored the name and face of the guy anyways, just in case something happened.
âAshton.â Your date finally spoke and his voice was annoyed and laced with immature bitterness, although slightly valid considering you had forgotten his name.
Your eyes widened, still boring into Jacks, and he smiled a little before giving you a small wave and heading inside.
Jack realized quickly after that encounter that his intentions were a lot less innocent than he had initially thought they were. Heâd closed his door before immediately pressing his back against it, listening to the sound of your small heels leaving the hallway as you apologized to your date with a clenched jaw and a pain in his stomach.
The next few dates after that just confirmed what he had already realized from the first one.
He was attracted to you.
Maybe even liked you.
You talked to Jack about almost everything going on in your life, even things he definitely would not have cared about if it came from anybody else, but you never once brought up the dates. At first he had worried you had somehow noticed his weird demeanor that day in the hallway but Jack wasnât very expressive in general so he figured you must keep that part of your life private for other reasons.
The attraction part was easy to accept mostly, he was only a man and you were clearly gorgeous. Although the age gap was something Jack couldnât get himself to look past.
You were barely in your early twenties, over half his age younger and overly obviously so. You radiated youth, from your appearance and the way you spoke down to your hobbies and interests.
You were clearly a very young girl and he had felt like a pervert from the moment he saw you outside of that car for the way his body warmed. Jack hadnât felt much attraction to anybody at all since his wife died, at first out of a lingering loyalty to her that barely faded and then just due to his busyness and his own mental blocks.
That was not a problem when it came to you and he had to give a genuine effort when he was around you to act normal.
Youâd come over in tiny sleep shorts or a tight tank top that showed your hardened nipples through the thin fabric, join him for morning yoga in downright sinful leggings and he even was attracted to the stupid bunny slippers you wore.
But you were a young girl and he was a disciplined old man so he barely looked twice in your direction when you were bending over to get mail and he never once touched you, setting boundaries for himself and keeping them.
Which was why it was so hard for him when you slowly shook your head to his question about having sex before.
âWhat about those guys?â His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you and you sighed like you were embarrassed, a rare emotion to see from you.
âWe barely kissed.â You shrugged and finally sat up from your dramatic position on the couch. âPlease Jack, I donât have anyone else to ask.â
âIâm not sleeping with you.â He said immediately, slightly offended you were seemingly only asking him because you had no other options.
You looked completely dejected now but Jack knew there was no way he could possibly accept this request, for too many reasons but especially because of his own moral code. He also didnât want to ruin what youâd had going on, enjoying your company on his hard nights and finding himself finally letting somebody in after so many years alone.
âOkay so no sex.â You say softly and you stand up when he does, following him as he walks into the kitchen and leaning against the counter to watch him set the coffee machine settings. âBut canât you show me little things.â
He sends you a sharp look that you return with a gentle pleading smile, bouncing in place a little like you think your cuteness is the answer to everything.
And it just might be because Jack sighs softly and turns his full attention back to you.
âLike what?â He knows him asking for specifics will give you hope and he can see it immediately on your face, brightening and taking a step closer to him that makes him tense.
âMaybe just telling me what guys like?â You suggest softly and the words coming from your mouth make him almost groan, keeping his face flat and emotionless as you speak. âAnd some kissing lessons.â
âYou know how to kiss.â He shook his head at you and went to turn back to his coffee but your hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him, successfully keeping his attention on you. He realized that it might be the first time youâd ever actually touched him, skin against skin. âIâve seen it.â
His posture tightens as he reminds himself of that fact, easily recalling the vivid memory of leaving his apartment to head to work and finding you coming home from a date and making out with a guy against your door.
You hadnât noticed him at first but he had slammed his door harder than normal, shamefully intentional.
Thereâd been a pang of guilt when you jumped in surprise and separated from the guy who looked the douchiest out of all of them but it was hard to feel it when you have him a slightly grateful look on his way to the elevator.
You were blinking at him now, almost like you were realizing something, and he looked away in favor of glancing at the clock on the wall.
âNot a kiss that feels good.â Your voice was more serious now, sounding genuinely disheartened by the conversation and the slow unveiling of your inexperience.
He sighed again, just trying to get rid of the tightness in his chest, before shaking his head firmly and fully turning away from you to fill up his coffee mug.
âIâm not doing it.â
â
Jack thought about your offer for the next two weeks. Obsessively.
He waited to hear you bringing somebody else over, someone who had jumped on the golden opportunity to touch you for the first time when he hesitated. You didnât seem to go on any dates but he supposed you wouldnât have told him anyways.
The thought of you experiencing sex with some asshole you met off a dating app, nervous and unsure on what to do without guidance, was eating away at him.
Jack was a fixer, he liked to help you, and he had already accepted the fact that he was extremely attracted to you. It wasnât like he didnât recognize the jealously in his stomach everytime he saw you with somebody else, a type of anger he hadnât felt since he was preparing to go into a real life war.
Subdued by age and a calmer reality now but it was still fresh hot anger that he couldnât shake no matter how much he tried.
You came to him with this problem, not just for pointers and tips but you had actually asked him to be the one to take your virginity.
Virginity.
Jack couldnât get the concept out of his head and while he hadnât necessarily considered himself somebody who would care about that type of thing, especially not as he entered his fifties, it did bring a wave of heat over him whenever he thought about it.
Youâd never been touched before outside of a few unsatisfactory make out sessions. You, the pretty girl with downright sinful choices of pajamas that consumed his day to day life so easily after he spent such a long time alone.
He thought about it endlessly until it led to him knocking on your door, a rare switch of the usual dynamic that left him feeling a little awkward before you answered.
The sensation went away when you looked up at him, eyes a little wide with confusion as you silently stepped back to let him inside. It was rare for you to be so quiet but maybe you could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face, maybe you were thinking about the same exact thing.
âIâll help you.â His voice was gruff and flat, waiting until your door closed behind him before he spoke. Your face immediately lit up but he silenced anything you were going to say with a raised hand, your parted lips closing as you waited for him to finish. âBut Iâm not sleeping with you.â
You pouted a little at the condition but stepped forward after a few seconds, far too close to him for his sanity but he figured youâd be getting a lot closer soon so he forced his breathing to stay level.
Jack used to consider himself quite smooth, still a natural flirt when he joked around with older patients or teased Robby.
But he was completely thrown off of any existing game when it came to you. He didnât even know he could still feel this way about somebody, the yearning and lustful feeling having been dormant for a long time before you moved in.
âIâll take whatever you give me.â Your voice was soft now and heâd never heard you like that, maybe a bit of a whine when you impatiently asked him to help you with something, but never so pleading.
Youâd shifted even closer as you spoke and he couldnât help himself now that he practically had permission, his large and rough hand sliding over your waist to rest on the small of your back.
You sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling and he was suddenly aware of how much fun this was going to be if you were that sensitive.
âNot tonight okay?â He replied and his low tone made your eyes soften, nodding eagerly and hesitantly letting your hands land on his chest in balled up fist. âWe can talk about it more later and work out some conditions.â
âYouâre giving me rules?â Youâd collected yourself enough to finally give him some of that familiar attitude, smiling slightly as you stared up at him. He rolled his eyes but let his hand tighten against your back, moving you forward and just trying to test your reaction to the touch.
You lost your smile immediately, shuffling closer until you were pressed against him as your eyes darted all around his face with surprise. It was clear you didnât expect him to accept at all let alone this easily, despite his two weeks of contemplation, he wasnât at all hesitate now.
âYou need them.â He retorted and his free hand brushed some of your hair behind your ear, the first time you were ever really touching each other being this intimate was sending another wave of affection through him.
A few years ago, Jack couldnât even get himself to look at another woman, let alone hold one so gently. Even with the slightly out of the ordinary circumstances, he cared for you and you trusted him and that was all that really mattered in his eyes.
âYouâre mean.â Youâre whispering it and his head tilts at the sound it, overly fond and curious how you can affect him so much just by changing the tone of your voice. âKiss me atleast.â
It comes out a demand and his eyebrows naturally furrow at the sound of it, knowing immediately that will have to be one of the rules he gives you when you talk them over.
Manners.
He doesnât respond for a second but you seem to understand before he even needs to scold you, lips parting in realization before they form a small pout and you unclench your fist so your palm is flat on his chest now instead.
âPlease give me a kiss Jack.â You sound sweeter now and he would think it was an act, making fun of him for his sudden silent sternness, if it wasnât for the genuinely pleading look on your face.
The knowledge that you listen so easily, even when he doesnât actually say it, overrides his senses so much that he actually does bend down to kiss you.
Itâs soft at first which you donât seem to understand, immediately trying to eagerly make out with him like thatâs all you really know. He moves one of his hands from your side to hold under your jaw, applying a little bit of pressure near your throat to indicate he wants you to slow down.
You melt against him at the touch but do as he silently communicates and relax a little bit, still moving your mouth a bit sloppily against his but learning to adapt to his slow and easy pace.
Eventually you get the rhythm down perfectly, lips moving together without anything extra added. You asked Jack to teach you so he was going to do exactly that, starting from the basics.
Your face was completely dazed when he pulled back, instinctively shifting forward to try and kiss him again and making a small disappointment noise when his hold near your throat tightened in warning.
âYou asked for a kiss.â He said in a low voice, still close to your face so he could perfectly see the way your widened eyes shifted around his features.
He was a bit mesmerized by the way you looked now, so unlike yourself on any other day. It both made his guilt over being perverse grow and also solidified that he didnât care how wrong it was as long as you kept looking at him like that.
âGet some sleep.â He waited a few seconds before taking the necessary steps away from you, taking a sharp breath as he turned and left your apartment.
His own door had barely closed behind him before there was insistent knocks on it, his head immediately hanging since he knew exactly who it was.
Your eyebrows were furrowed when he pulled the handle to reveal you in the hallway, standing stiffly and glaring up at him but not making any move to come inside. You shifted in place and let out a huff of annoyance as you seemed to search for the right words to convey what you wanted.
âCan you kiss me one more time?â You eventually settled on the blunt question, shifting closer so you were both halfway in his doorway.
While he had a foot inside his apartment still, you had one in the hallway. It left you standing too close for his sanity, feeling it slip almost entirely again when your small hand landed on his forearm and rubbed softly.
âWhatâs wrong?â He asked softly, sensing your frustration but not knowing where it was stemming from.
He cupped your face with one of his hands, letting the other rest back on your side. You stared up at him as he took a few slow steps forward, backing you up with each one until your back hit the doorframe and took a soft near gasp from your lips.
âNothing I justâŠâ You trail off as you pout, scanning over his face and then down his chest until you canât bend your head anymore to look. âI want one more. Please.â
You added it as an afterthought but it was enough for him, pressing his mouth back against yours.
This time, apparently a very quick learner, you were able to meet his pace right away and your mouths moved softly together. Your arms went around his neck so you could fully cling to him as you kissed deeply, heads tilting and quiet pleased noises rumbling in your throat.
You only got louder when his tongue pressed lightly into your mouth, mostly just to test your reaction but unable to stop himself when you were eagerly matching the actions.
It was sloppy and a little too wet, sounds of your tongues tangling together filling the silent hallway and sending a sharp heat down to his gut. He liked how clumsy you were, growing addicted to the way you seemed to have no idea what you were doing but too desperate to stop yourself and ask him for his help.
Jack knew he liked feeling needed but this was a whole different beast, one that came paired with some light shame.
You werenât innocent and you knew exactly what you needed to about sex but your body was inexperienced and it was getting clearer by the second, your little gasp when he kissed you deeper and the way you tightened your hold on him everytime he went to pull back and attempt to slow down.
Youâre red in the face by the time he manages to get you to stop eagerly kissing him, still instinctively shifting closer when he moves back. He gives you a lighthearted sigh, occupied by the softest smile he can manage so he doesnât actually hurt your feelings when he presses you back against the doorway with the hand thatâs still on your hip.
âTime for bed.â He tries to keep his tone light but it comes out more authoritative than he had meant for it to, most likely driven by the way you automatically started to frown as soon as he held you away from him. âWe can talk tomorrow.â
You clearly werenât happy about that but you surprisingly gave him a soft nod, shifting your body until you were out of his entrance and closer to your own.
He watched you and your dazed face, slightly wobbly on your feet, as you disappeared behind your apartment door with a small wave.
-
Jack had started off his day rough the following morning, barely able to sleep after what had happened.
It was a completely split mixture of wanting you so bad it was driving him to literal insanity and feeling disgustingly guilty for even looking in your direction.
He almost considered calling Robby about it but he really didnât need to hear the lecture that would undoubtedly come his way about the situation. Plus he figured that whatever Robby knew, Dana knew, and if Dana knew then it was only a matter of time before the entire emergency department was gossiping about Jack Abbot and his young neighbor.
The dilemma was so strong that he had almost completely forgotten about the fact he had told you that youâd talk today, although almost intentional.
He was halfway avoiding having to actually sit down and make this arrangement a reality, still having a hard time believing what had happened last night was even real.
He had just started to get changed for work when the knocking on his door started and he knew it was you immediately, standing still and hanging his head for a few seconds like he figured he could just wait you out.
It didnât take long for his senses to kick back in and he was pulling on a plain black shirt before making his way over to the door, raising his eyebrows at you when he saw how irritated you looked.
You brushed past him immediately and he lingered with his hand on the door knob for a moment before closing it and preparing himself to face whatever wrath you were about to send his direction.
âYou didnât come over.â You immediately accused, finger pointing in his direction as you stood in the middle of his living room with an angry expression. âYou didnât even text me.â
He was already walking closer to you as you spoke and your defenses naturally crumbled at the proximity, especially when his hands were sliding over your ribs to both hold you steady and let him feel your breathing as subtly as possible.
âYou canât just kiss me like that and then ignore me.â You continue on but your tone is a lot softer now that heâs touching you, already getting that dazed edge to it he had heard last night.
âI didnât mean to ignore you.â He shakes his head and frees a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, your features have completely softened now at the movement.
Jack wonders for the first time if you might have feelings for him beyond trust and attraction.
For some reason, he hadnât really considered the possibility before. You were practically his polar opposite and he had nothing in common with any of the boys you went on dates with.
But now, with you blinking up at him like you were hanging on to his every word, he let himself think it might just be likely.
âI figured you changed your mind.â Your words are a little slurred from the insistent pout you have on your face and he sighs again, gently leading you over to sit on his couch.
Your knees brush together as you scoot closer to him the second heâs settled on top of the cushion, your hand wrapping around three of his fingers and squeezing lightly as you wait for him to respond to your fear of being rejected.
âI didnât but I want to make sure you understand what youâre asking.â His voice is low and nearing stern, the same tone he uses on the new med students who seem a little more cocky than they are willing to learn. He knows thatâs not the case with you, knows youâre desperate for any expertise he can offer you, but he still wants you to pay attention and properly understand him. âThereâs other ways for you to do this.â
âWhat, like other guys?â Your eyebrows furrow like the thought confuses you.
His stomach tightens immediately, sick at the thought of it, but he stiffly nods his head.
Youâre shifting even closer immediately and he lets out a breath when youâre leaning over his knee nearly, closer to his face than before and scanning over it again.
âI donât want another guy Jack. I just want it to be you.â Youâre whispering now and he canât stop himself from pressing a light kiss to your mouth, brief but necessary when his brain processes the lack of distance between you. That makes you smile finally and he suddenly feels very stupid for ever questioning you when youâre making a request like this.
âTell me why.â He mumbles, easily sliding his hands around your middle so he can tug you over more and into his lap. You kiss him again once youâre settled in his lap, still quick like youâre both using it as punctuation during your conversation. âWhy me?â
He wants to hear you give a legitimate reason, to undo the hesitance you gave him when you said it was only because you didnât have anybody else to ask. Thatâd been weighing on him more than anything else, the thought that you had just settled for your older lonely neighbor who was clearly willing to help you with anything in spite of himself.
Your next kiss was much longer, deeper as you fully sink down in his lap and move your mouth against his desperately. Heâd accept that alone as an answer, big palms rubbing over your back and sides so he can keep pulling you impossibly closer.
Your nose is rubbing against his when you pull back, the sounds of your breathing being heavier now making his head spin with the necessary impulsivity to keep making terrible decisions with you.
âYouâd make me feel good.â The answer youâd landed on was much more devastating than he was prepared for, his eyes darkening at how confident you sounded in that fact. âI know you would.â
His hands tightened around your soft skin for a second, needing to take a deep breath to ground himself.
It takes a second for him to reply, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling sharply. You smell as sweet as you always do but itâs intoxicating to have it this close after so long, skin soft under his lips as he kisses you softly.
Your breathing gets shaky, arms looping around his neck so youâre practically hugging him. Youâre warm on top of him and making the sweetest noises when he moves along your jaw, shifting in his lap to try and get his attention back on your conversation.
âYouâll do it right?â You ask softly, running your hand through his hair and tugging just enough to make him finally look back at your face. His eyes are dark and unfocused as he stares at your pretty features. âJack?â
âYeah honey.â He says back after another long silence, voice deeper than heâd ever heard it as he leans in to kiss you again.
You kiss for a long time, wiggling around in his lap when your tongues tangle together and you get to taste him properly again. Itâs addicting for both of you, both of your hands running all over the otherâs body like youâre trying to learn every part of it you can reach.
Eventually youâre fully rocking against him from your neediness and it takes a second for him to process it, snapped back to focus when he hears the way your whines are getting higher pitched. A near growl leaves his throat as he grabs your hips firmly, thumbs pressing into the bone so he can stop you from moving on top of him like that.
âJackie.â You whine desperately, kissing him again and successfully distracting him long enough that you can start humping again.
âStop baby I have work soon.â He scolds in between the sloppy kisses, lips and chin slightly wet from how uncoordinated you still are.
You make another soft noise and heâs confused for half a second before he realizes itâs because of the pet name, smiling softly from his fondness for you as you hide down in his neck for a second.
âYouâre hard now, I can feel it.â Youâre whispering right against his skin and a shiver runs over him at the lewd words falling from such a pretty mouth, high pitched and almost innocent voice making the sentence sound so much dirtier than it needed to be.
At first Jack doesnât think youâre right, knowing himself and his body enough to expect heâs not stirring down there even if he wants you so bad it makes him feel insane.
Heâs had issues with it for years now, a deadly combination of his age, his traumas, and the carousel of medications he has to be on for a variety of things he wouldnât disclose to you out of his own pride. That was the reason Jack had stopped trying to hook up with people years ago, giving up on porn entirely when heâd have to spend an hour trying to get hard before he could even attempt to actually get himself off.
It was in the back of his mind when youâd asked him to help you with this but he figured this was about your pleasure, he wouldnât need to be hard to get you off especially if he stuck to his guns about not actually having sex with you.
He was sucking in a deep breath to explain this to you in less detail, make sure you understood that he wasnât hard but it had nothing to do with you or his attraction to you, when you gave a particularly deep and slow roll of your hips.
And the effect was completely undeniable.
A shudder ran over him, eyes dropping to his lap that you were still rocking on top of. Your tiny little shorts were so clearly pressing against the tent in his scrub pants, catching on it whenever you lost the energy to move properly as you let out another needy whine and hid back in his neck.
You were completely unaware of his current mental situation, baffled at how easily youâd gotten him to this state from just some sloppy kissing.
You mustâve thought he was ignoring you because you picked up your head to glare at him, a pout on your swollen lips.
âSorry sweetheart.â He sighed and kissed you gently, rubbing your sides up to your ribs and coming back down right when he felt the swell of your breast against his fingertips. âI really have to go.â
âLet me suck you off.â You requested easily and his breath caught, nearly choking at how simple you made it sound. âI wanna learn and youâre so hard right now Jackie. Please let me do it.â
âThatâs not the point of this.â He shook his head immediately and moved you by your hips so you were sat next to him and no longer settled in his lap, clearly upsetting you as you scrambled up on your knees and gripped his bicep so he couldnât get off the couch yet.
âThe point is to teach me things about sex and Iâll need to know this.â You counter, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at why heâs rejecting you.
He finds it a little amusing that youâre so used to him accepting your requests for things that youâre genuinely lost when he doesnât immediately fold for you. Itâs a bratty habit he should have corrected months ago but he canât find himself caring too much, liking how dependent youâd become on him.
Jack has to contemplate this because he knows youâre right, stomach turning a little at the reminder that youâre going to use whatever he shows you on somebody else down the line.
That selfishly makes him want to cancel this whole thing and leave you completely clueless, hopefully to the point you decide to swear off sex with other men entirely. But he knows how stubborn you are and how stuck you get on something once it catches your attention, figuring youâd get on a dating app and find some idiot in finance to take your virginity as soon as he put an end to this arrangement.
So he lets you slip to your knees off the couch, taking his hesitance to decline again as a positive sign.
âWait.â He interjects and you freeze, sighing in annoyance as you prepare for him to give another reason you canât do it. Instead he pulls one of the pillows off the couch and slides in near his feet, your eyes softening as you shift so youâre kneeling on the plush cushion instead of the floor.
âHow do I start?â You ask softly, eyeing the bunched up fabric in front of you with interest. He has to stare at the ceiling for a second, slightly losing it at the sight of you kneeling on his floor between his legs. âDo I have to get you ready?â
âNo.â He says it gruffly and you tense again, his tone way sharper than heâd meant for it to be. âItâs⊠Iâm ready baby trust me. Just give me a second.â
That calms you down immediately, enough that you rest your head on his knee as you try your best to be patient. His eyes go back to you at the touch and he watches the way you squirm against the pillow, clearly still riled up from the kissing and maybe even the thought of taking him in your mouth.
âHas it been awhile Jack?â Your voice is ridiculous now, clearly teasing him and developing this soft purr that almost irritates him.
His hand goes into your hair at the sound of it, tightening enough that you lift your cheek off his knee and stare up at him with wide eyes.
âWatch it.â He says lowly, using his free hand to untie his scrub pants as you eye the movement with fascination. Your lips part as you stare at his hand and the way his fingers twist the strings, he has half the thought to make you choke on the digits before you try and take anything bigger but your attitude has left him feeling just as impatient. âWeâve got to work on your manners if you want me to teach you.â
That makes you snap back into focus, frowning at his words and shaking your head as you straighten up on your knees.
âI have manners Jack.â Youâre clearly trying to convince him, small hands smoothing over his thighs.
He starts to deny it but heâs cut off when you lean forward to nuzzle against him, face pressing right where heâs currently aching under two layers of fabric. His breath catches in his throat and he instinctively tightens the hand thatâs in your hair, mumbling out an apology when you make a pained noise but barely loosening it after.
He feels like he needs to keep it there to have any sort of control in this situation, especially given the way youâre almost desperately rubbing your face on his lap.
âShouldâve told me you were this needy.â He half scolds as he shifts his waistband down lower, waiting for you to notice and pick yourself up just long enough to get his pants down.
You donât give him long at all before youâre back to obsessing over the sight in front of you, eyes fully dazed now that itâs just his boxers separating you from putting your mouth on his hard length.
Youâre clearly trying to be patient in an attempt to prove you have any sort of manners, a little pride rippling through him similar to the feeling he got when you had corrected yourself the other night to politely ask him for a kiss.
âYou wouldnât have done anything about it.â You say softly, not accusatory but confident in it like you know itâs true. You lean forward and kiss against the covered bulge, a groan leaving him. âYouâre too good of a guy.â
âClearly not.â He rasped just as you start to lose that faux patience youâre trying so hard to pretend you have, tugging at the waistband of his underwear and smiling softly when he lifts his hips off the couch without arguing. âAnd you know I never tell you no sweetheart.â
âYeah?â Youâre still trying to talk to him but now youâre completely lost in the sight of him half naked and sitting there with his legs spread in front of you, too desperate to even be intimidated by the size of him. âYou wouldâve let me do this months ago Jackie?â
He sighs and tightens his hold in your hair again, bringing you forward until he can feel your breath where heâs most sensitive.
Your eyes flicker up to him and the sight is devastating for how deprived heâs been, a pretty young girl like you sitting so nicely on your knees for the first time ever. He can barely even feel that guilt and slightly sick sensation, knowing how perverted it is that he could probably get off just looking at your face and thinking about the way heâs about to corrupt you.
âStop talking.â He instructs gruffly and you nod eagerly, eyes back on his length and only now looking a little nervous as you swallow before your lips part in anticipation. âYou sure you want to do this?â
âWant it so bad.â You donât hesitate to answer and your voice is a little whinier, swaying forward like you donât even realize youâre doing it.
Jack lets you move until youâre right there, eyes locked on your face as you give him a nervous look and try to take him in your mouth.
Itâs awkward and youâre tense, expression full of hesitation like youâre waiting for him to tell you how to do it properly but he lets himself bask in this for a few seconds.
He knows itâs sick but he finds you the most beautiful like this, confused and desperate to please him without knowing how to. You go between sucking and licking at the tip of his length and while it feels good, no doubt about that especially after how long itâs been, itâs nothing compared to how clearly inexperienced you are.
Finally, he snaps out of his sick fantasies of watching you embarrass yourself trying to please him, and he decides to actually do what youâd asked and teach you something.
âRelax your jaw baby. Just take what you can okay?â His voice is low and gentle, hand loose in your hair but clenching into a tight fist whenever you brush against his sensitive skin with your teeth on accident or try to overachieve and take him deeper.
You do seem to calm down a little now that heâs finally speaking, shoulders slumping and your eyes fluttering shut as you get used to the feeling of him on your tongue.
Youâve barely taken him at all but heâs transfixed by the sight, perfectly content to sit here and cock warm your mouth until you were ready to move him down your throat.
He watches you closely as you pull back to take a few deep breaths, pouting a little at his length and hesitating before youâre touching him with your hand. Itâs all experimental, tugging and feeling the skin against your palm while he grunts above you and tries to control himself.
Itâs barely sexual on your end considering how fascinated you are by the new experience but heâs halfway losing his mind knowing this is the first time youâre touching somebody like this.
âI gotta go soon sweetheart.â He says and your eyes finally snap back up to him, turning a little red considering youâd been caught just staring at his length as you touched him. âYou can play with me all you want after my shift.â
Now youâre full on blushing but you nod your head obediently and lean back in to take him in your mouth again, a little more confident now as you lick around the head and repeat movements whenever it draws a sound out from him.
Jack can barely stand it and he has to put both hands in your hair to keep himself from fucking up into your warm mouth, groaning from the effort itâs taking and considering telling you to get back on the couch before he goes too far with you too early.
Youâre clearly just as impatient because you try to take more of him finally and immediately gag at the sensation, pulling back and frowning up at him.
âHelp Jackie.â Your voice is whiny and has a little rasp to it now and he kisses his teeth at the sound, petting your hair back out of your face.
âI canât help with that baby, youâve just got to practice.â He tries his best to soothe you but youâre clearly frustrated.
âCanât you just force my head down?â Youâre rubbing his thighs as you speak in that ridiculously bratty voice, wiggling around on the pillow like the thought alone is exciting you.
He wants to say no, wants to tell you why itâs such a terrible idea for him to forcefully fuck your throat right before he has to go to work. Thereâs a million reasons he should be rejecting you right now but that sick voice in the back of his head is struggling to get the words out, especially when you go back to softly kitten licking at his length to keep him hard.
âFuck youâre nasty.â He gruffs out and your eyes light up at the words, nodding your head and taking him back in your mouth as you keep trying your best to fit him deeper. âYou want me in your throat that bad?â
You canât talk now but your desires are obvious.
He eyes the way youâre shifting on the cushion below you, adjusting his foot the best he can so itâs between your thighs as you kneel. That seems to make you even more desperate, rubbing against him almost feverishly now as you try to focus on having him in your mouth.
Thereâs no option to do so when he brings his hands back to your hair, silently showing you he accepts your request when he moves his hips off the couch and keeps your face firmly in place so he can push deeper down your throat.
He feels you gag slightly around him but your eyes roll to the back of your head at the same time and you hump against his foot even faster so he canât find it in himself to stop, thrusting slowly to make sure you donât end up getting sick or feeling too sore by the time heâs finished.
Jack knows this is far beyond teaching, heâs not even speaking anymore and instead just using your throat to get himself off but youâre even more eager for it than him and heâd never deny you anything you asked for.
âThis tiny little throat.â His voice is nearing a growl as he helps move your head up and down his length, reveling in the way you gag and drool around him. âYouâre doing so good baby.â
The praise seems to do it for you more than anything else, rubbing your core against his foot so eagerly that you can barely focus on sucking him off. Youâre getting too messy to control yourself, mouth slipping off every few thrust before you whine at the loss and immediately take him back in your throat.
Jack takes pity on both of you, both for his own sanity and because he canât stop thinking about the fact heâll need to leave as soon as this is done.
Youâre clearly upset when he pulls you off, making a loud noise of disagreement that barely sounds like an actual word and frowning at him when he sends you a stern look and wraps his hand around himself instead.
You seem to forget your anger pretty quickly as you watch him touch himself, hips slowed down to a slow rock against his foot as you stare at his length and the way heâs making himself feel good above you.
Jack has to look away when he comes because he feels pretty close to forcing your head back down and making you swallow it, although half positive youâd actually enjoy that more than him judging by how eager you are to try things.
Youâre laying your head back on his thigh while he grunts and curses, tightening his fist and going back to staring at your face just for a brief moment so he has a clearer picture to think about.
Itâs quiet in the living room afterwards and he feels an odd sense of embarrassment, a rare vulnerability considering youâre still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor. He fixes one of those problems by effortlessly pulling you up by your arms, settling you back against the cushions.
He stands and pulls his pants up while he does so, knowing heâll have to shower off before he can go to work and get a new pair of scrubs anyways.
Thereâs a second of hesitation before he goes to get you some water, leaning over your dazed frame and kissing you softly.
âWas it good?â You ask quietly against his mouth, hand tangling in his hair like you donât want him to go anywhere without answering you first. âYou stopped me.â
âYou were perfect.â He answers simply and he means it, would probably feel the same if you had accidentally bit him though.
âI wanted to taste you.â Youâre pouting again and every time he thinks he gets used to you, you prove him beyond wrong. He sighs and leans further against you on the couch so youâre fully sinking into the cushion below you.
âNext time.â
It comes out before he can stop it and he fully plans to backtrack but your eyes light up at the idea of him letting you do that again so he doesnât, letting it linger for a few seconds.
âNot when I have to leave you right after. You wonât like it and I donât want to hurt you.â Heâs talking in the stern and no nonsense way he does at work, trying to make sure you understand even though youâre slowly starting to smile as he speaks and he realizes youâre probably not paying any attention.
âYou wonât hurt me Jack.â You whisper and itâs so sweet he almost considers calling in so he can stay with you a little longer. âNot in a way I wonât like.â
That makes him scoff out a laugh, a rare sound from him and you look even more pleased at the noise.
âYou donât even know what you like sweetheart.â He says softly and brushes your hair out of your face, letting both his fingertips and eyes trail down your neck until he reaches your collarbones. âBut Iâll show you.â
âYouâll show me?â Youâre teasing him now, biting your bottom lip to try and hide your smile to no avail.
âYeah I will.â He smiles too and kisses you again, a little too soft considering what you actually are to each other.
He eventually manages to get off of you long enough to get you some water, watching carefully as you take a few sips and rubbing your knee when you wince at first. He wants to feel guilty for making your throat sore but he canât, sick enough to admit he just feels the urge to make you take him deeper next time to see if youâll really let him.
Youâre still laying on his couch when he gets out of his brief shower, having changed his pants and taken a few deep breaths while staring in the mirror to try and get ahold of himself. He needs to switch back to reality for atleast a few hours, become the weathered doctor who doesnât lose his mind over a pretty girl asking for favors.
You set your phone down on your chest, giving him your full attention as he moves towards the door to tug his shoes on.
Thereâs no indication you plan to leave before he does but he canât find it in himself to mind the intrusion, going back over to the couch to give you a kiss on the forehead.
âStaying here?â He says in a low voice and you nod eagerly, eyes locked on his.
He lets himself think about his entire way to work, the image of you being there when he gets home from a hard shift. It had been a long time since he had someone to come home to and having you across the hall was already a gift within itself.
Now youâd crossed a line and if he let himself forget the terms and conditions, the fact you were loosely using him just to end up with somebody else as the actual end goal, then he could pretend for a moment that you were the person he got to crawl into bed with when work was tough.
Despite how much he thought about you during his shift, every moment he wasnât being bombarded with questions or saving somebodyâs life on autopilot, you werenât actually there when he came back.
He knew it before he even opened the door, confirmed by how neatly the pillows on the couch were placed again and the fact your glass of water was rinsed and put away in the dishwasher.
Youâd made it look like you were never even there and he knew you still enjoyed his company, maybe enjoyed the newly added sexual dynamic even more, but that didnât mean you wanted to comfort him after he lost a patient or help soothe him when his leg was bothering him from standing all day.
Jack had to remind himself of the part he was playing in your life currently and try his best to not be disappointed.
Itâs two days until he sees you again and he thinks itâs one of the longest spans youâve gone without talking in almost a year.
Heâs just about to start really acting out of character by banging at your front door and asking if youâre avoiding him when he runs into you downstairs, freezing as soon as he enters the lowly lit laundry room to find you leaning against one of the washers and looking extremely bored.
Youâre as beautiful as always, casually dressed in nothing but an old band shirt that hangs off your shoulder and a pair of shorts so small heâs pretty sure itâs just boxy underwear.
You donât look up when he comes in until his leg slightly catches on the step, accustomed enough to the sound of the light dragging he sometimes canât stop from happening when heâs extra tired.
Itâs a relief to find that you donât have any awkwardness on your face, no sign of being uncomfortable or upset with him.
Then he figures that might just be worse.
He would just about die if he had done anything that made you want to avoid him but the alternative seems to be that you just didnât want to speak to him and that makes his chest sting.
Thereâs nothing but silence and the rattling of the old washer as it rocks back and forth on the cement floor, both of you seemingly having decided to not speak to each other first.
(sorry for the brief awkward spacing tumblr says this is too long)
Itâs another five minutes of the now awkward stretch of quiet before you clear your throat, turning to face him where heâs fidgeting with his laundry baskets broken handle just to have something to focus on.
âSo I went on a date last night.â You say softly, eyebrows raised like youâre genuinely interested in his reaction.
His stomach turns but itâs a relief to have you looking at him again so he takes it, swallowing hard and racking his brain for a response thatâs appropriate.
âHowâd it go?â Heâs asking out of politeness but heâs silently praying you suddenly decide you donât want to tell him about it. It wouldnât even make him feel better to hear it had ended terribly, not wanting you to feel any type of negative emotions even if it technically was in his benefit.
He definitely canât take any sort of mention of you being with another guy physically. He knows itâs coming eventually, itâs the sole purpose behind why he even gets to touch you, but heâs not ready just yet.
Youâre quiet again and he really looks at you now, takes in the silent contemplation on your face and the way you tap your fingers on the metal of the washer for a second before pushing off of it entirely.
Then youâre in his space again and itâs like an instinctive move to cup your face, hand on your waist so he can lightly push you back against the machine heâd been in front of. You touch his chest, lightly rubbing in soft circles, and he wants to sigh in relief if that wouldnât be so painfully obvious.
âWasnât a great time.â You whisper and your eyes are on his lips as you speak.
His eyebrows raise and his hand on your body tightens slightly at the same time he uses his thumb to press under your chin and make you tilt your jaw back.
âWhy not?â He hates the thought of getting details but he needs to know some idiot from a dating app hadnât done anything to hurt you.
You donât answer right away, just standing there and letting your eyes scan over his features on rotation. You finally let out a small breath like youâre about to speak but it never comes, small hands moving to grip his biceps.
âDid he touch you?â He canât stop himself from asking even though the question makes his voice come out low enough that your eyes flash with surprise for a second, snapping away from his mouth to meet his stare again like youâre looking for something in it.
You shake your head immediately, squeezing his arms and shifting against the vibrating machine.
Heâs kissing you then and he tells himself itâs out of relief, the knowledge that youâre still untouched by anybody except for him instantly making this conversation easier.
Youâre returning it right away and heâs pleasantly surprised by how quickly you caught on to the type of kissing he likes, his personal preference. He figures he should eventually tell you that not ever guy was going to like your constant licking into his mouth but for now he lets it be, wants you to be trying to please him specifically and not whoever youâd use these lessons with.
Itâs ridiculously cute how desperate you get, only needing a few seconds of your tongue inside his mouth before youâre arching off the machine and making soft noises against his lips.
His hands are all over you as soon as he notices the state of you, sliding down to cup your ass with both palms and tug you tighter to his frame.
That makes you out rightly whimper, clumsily trying to hitch a leg around his waist and sighing in relief when he holds your thigh to keep it there. The wet sounds of your mouths fill the small room, body slightly shaking both from need and from the way the washer is vibrating against your back.
âMissed you.â You whimper it out when he pulls back to let you breathe, kissing down your jaw and tightening his grip on the soft curve hidden under your underwear. âDidnât call me.â
âWere you waiting for me to call baby?â He asks softly, despite how much it had been bothering him, he would never want to make you feel guilty for not reaching out to him after what youâd done.
You donât answer so he pulls his head out of your neck to look at your face, seeing the soft frown and the hesitation in your eyes.
âHey.â He breaths out and pushes your hair back to get your attention fully on him, your body softening and completely leaning against his to the point youâd definitely fall if he took a step backwards. âI wanted to give you space. Let you decide when you wanted to continue this, if you did.â
âI donât want space.â You counter and itâs a little past bratty but heâs so beyond fond of you that he canât help but let the corners of his mouth turn up at the sound of it. âYouâre supposed to take care of me.â
Heâs not sure when your dynamic became this way but he feels it as much as you apparently do, knows itâs his duty to make sure youâre always fine and not needing anything he canât fix. Now thereâs the added element of making you feel good, touching you in ways youâre not used to and showing you what pleasure can be like, and heâs not taking it lightly.
âThen Iâll call.â He say softly and your eyes lock on his as you nod in agreement, his hand cupping your cheek so he can keep you still enough to kiss you briefly. âYou want me to chase you and Iâll chase you.â
âRight now I just want you to kiss me.â You whisper and he doesnât need to hear anything else.
Youâre back to kissing and itâs feverish now, more tongue than anything and your hands groping each other anywhere you can touch.
Heâs lifting you up off the ground just so he can press himself between your legs and swallow the soft needy noises you let out at the feeling, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist so he canât pull away at all. Youâre pressed back against the metal with his hands under your shirt and wrapped around your frame to make sure you donât fall, thick fingers splayed out against your ribs.
Itâs getting hotter in the room and itâs mostly due to the way youâre whining and trying to roll your hips into him, unsuccessful considering how hard heâs got you pinned back to the washer.
âJack please.â You pant and pull away from his mouth, tucking into his neck and rubbing your soft cheek against his stubble like a needy cat. âPlease touch me. Do anything.â
Heâs grunting at the request and gently setting you back down on your feet so he can free up a hand, using it to push your shirt up to your neck. Heâs not too surprised to find that youâre not wearing anything underneath and your surprised gasp swallows the sound of his low groan.
Youâre whining lewdly when he leans down to press kisses against your skin, middle of your breast first to avoid putting his mouth where you really want it. Youâre panting, chest rising and falling under his mouth, and tangling a hand in his ash colored curls to try and steer him where you need him.
He wants to smack your hand away and warn you to be patient but he wants you too bad to try and discipline you right now, letting his mouth latch onto to one of your hard nipples so he can hear whatever noise that brings out of you.
Itâs loud and intoxicating, his head spinning a little as he keeps sucking and licking your skin, letting your shirt rest on the top of his head so he can use his other hand to roughly grope your other breast and make sure youâre getting equal attention.
âOh fuck Jack.â Youâre whimpering and trying to hump against nothing, back arching as you whine and hold him to your body like he has any plans of getting away from you. âT-that feels so good.â
âCome upstairs.â His voice is so rough it surprises himself, picking his head off your chest and letting your shirt drop so he can kiss you swiftly.
You frown at the loss of contact, rubbing your nose against his and still lightly petting his hair.
âWhy not here?â You ask softly and he gives you a disapproving look that makes you sigh and rest your forehead down against his shoulder for a few seconds while you catch your breath. âItâs too far.â
He thinks for a moment before heâs adjusting his stance to pick you up off the ground, abandoning your laundry and his that both likely need to be switched out soon. Heâd gladly let it sit and wash it again later if it means getting you up to his apartment as fast as possible.
You make a small surprised noise and cling to him, arms behind his neck and legs wrapped around his middle and he makes his way up the few stairs towards the elevators.
âJack your leg.â The sight of the steps seems to remind you of his disability and heâd be more irritated by your worry if it didnât sound so genuine.
You clearly donât ever think too much about his leg restricting him, never shying away from asking him to lift heavy things or walk with you down to the store. You donât treat him like heâs fragile or any less of a man for having limitations and heâs always liked that about you, same way he somehow likes your gentle concern even though it would have bothered him if it was anybody else.
âThink I canât throw you around because of my leg?â He mumbles and you tense in his hold as he walks like you think he might be serious before youâre breathing out a laugh and hiding in his neck.
Jack finally gets back to his apartment, going crazy from the way youâd started to kiss his jaw and whine impatiently in the elevator. Your hands run up and down his arms like youâre marveling at the strength it takes to carry you for as long as he was, making soft needy noises and squirming around.
He canât even care about the possibility somebody could see him with you, one of the neighbor heâd lived next to for years watching as Jack Abbot carries the much younger girl next door through his entry way as she whines for him to touch her more.
âCalm down baby.â His voice is soft once he gets to his room, setting you down on his bed and taking a few seconds to stare at you as you lay there and pout up at him.
Youâre the most beautiful thing heâs ever seen and his gut twists a little at the observation, a mixture of desperate unfamiliar need and the same guilt from before accompanied by a new layer of it.
He thinks of his wife for the first time in a while. He used to spend every waking second with her on his mind but she had naturally started to fade from his mind once he met you, something he hadnât even noticed until youâd already been living across the hall for a few months.
Youâd came over for the first time and asked him to borrow some ingredients, strolling around his living room and eyeballing the photos on his walls while he poured some sugar into a small tupperware bowl for you to take back to your place. You had turned to him with a curious face and asked him where his wife was, obviously confused considering youâd never heard of her before despite how frequently you and him small talked.
That was the first time Jack noticed how little heâd been thinking of her lately, not just in the painful mourning way heâd been suffering through since she passed but in general too.
Now he was waking up in the morning and anticipating the next time youâd knock on his door, focusing on his health again so he could occupy you on your walks and not picking up too many extra shifts at work just incase you needed something and he wasnât there.
Jack was thinking about her again now as you laid on his bed but only because he couldnât remember the last time he had wanted something this bad, trying to compare the feeling of you to how he felt in his marriage and still thinking it fell short.
He had loved his wife, undoubtedly, but he craved you in a way that almost felt inhumane.
âYouâre being mean to me.â You say softly to break him out of his trance, having zoned out just staring down at you and the way your chest was rising and falling with every deep breath.
âIâm never mean to you honey.â He whispers back and finally moves to lay down with you, hovering over your frame and running a hand from your waist to your ribs as he kisses you softly. âI take good care of you, donât I?â
Itâs a bit mean to throw your words from earlier back in your face, especially as he lets his mouth trail down your neck. You make a whiny noise and grip his shoulders, nodding your head and shifting under him so your legs are spread further.
âYes Jack yes, you take care of me.â Youâre practically whimpering and he feels almost drunk from how easily you get this needy, pausing his soft kisses to shift up on his knees and tug your shirt over your head.
Youâre the prettiest sight heâs ever seen and he canât help himself from bringing his mouth right back to your chest, drinking in the way you gasp and moan while heâs licking and sucking on your nipples. His other hand is softly groping whichever breast he doesnât have his mouth on at the moment and your backs arching off his bed, scratching his shoulders through his shirt.
âPlease touch me.â Youâre begging after only a few minutes of the slow torture and he lets out a sharp breath, shifting so heâs more to the side of you than on top.
Youâre quiet when he rubs his hand down your chest and over your stomach, rubbing at the waistband of your underwear for a few seconds just to hear the way you pant before heâs smoothing over your thighs.
Your back is basically against his chest as he hooks your leg over his to make sure yours are nice and spread for him, kissing your neck softly when he rubs your hips above your underwear.
You bare your neck for him easily and heâs selfish in the way he marks you, sucking any part of your warm skin he can reach so youâre left purple and red all over. He wants anybody you see for the next week or two to know youâve been with somebody else, to see the claim he laid to your body even if he doesnât let things go as far as you want him to take it.
Jack doesnât need to be asked twice to touch you, big hand leaving your hip so he can fully palm your core.
Your reaction is just the way he had hoped it would be, sharp gasp leaving your lips as you instantly buck up against his touch. You whine desperately when he goes back to rubbing your thigh instead, giving you a second to work yourself up to the point he wants you to be at.
âJack.â You donât even sound like yourself now and itâs intoxicating, so pleading and broken. âPlease.â
âPlease what?â Heâs practically whispering, perfectly calm and the direct opposite of how broken you sound just from him lightly touching you.
He moves you so youâre fully between his legs, back against his chest as he cages himself around you to keep you from moving.
Youâre practically shaking, whimpering and moving your hips against nothing with the hopes heâll cave and end up touching you again. Youâre distracting to look at, body bare except for the pathetic excuse of underwear shorts youâd been wearing under your shirt, like youâd just been hoping he would be the one to find you in the laundry mat.
He has half the thought to make fun of you for that, make you tell him exactly what you were thinking when you left your apartment wearing so little, but he doesnât think you could handle him saying much at all right now especially not something so demeaning.
âIâm going to touch you.â He says gently instead and kisses the side of your head, letting his hand go back to groping your chest just to make sure you stay worked up.
Even though he doubts at this point he even needs to touch you for that to happen.
âYeah yeah.â Youâre nodding in agreement, seemingly pleased at his decision as you relax back against him and let him touch you freely.
His other hands back between your legs now, letting you get used to the feeling of somebody touching you where youâre most sensitive. Heâs just rubbing back and forth, listening to the way you pant and pulling back whenever you start to try and shift against his hand on your own.
âYouâre wet just from that?â His voice is a little mean now but you donât seem to mind, trying to clamp your thighs around his hand but being stopped by the sharp swat he sends to your skin. You wince but move your foot back to the other side of his leg so yours stay open, pouting softly at the silent punishment. âAnswer me when I ask you something.â
âIâm always wet around you.â You admit with an embarrassed tone lacing your words, squirming like you wish you could hide yourself from the way heâs staring down at your body. âWant you so bad.â
âI want you too.â He kisses the side of your head, still rubbing you with just enough pressure to make you feel the friction but not to actually get off. âGonna make you feel so good, youâve just got to be patient.â
âStop being scared to hurt me.â Your voice is shaky but as firm as possible, trying to show him youâre a big girl and can handle a little bit of the roughness heâs so clearly holding back.
Itâs obvious in the way he was grabbing your throat your first kiss, moving your body around easily whenever he needed to, and scolding you just enough for you to be able to catch the mean tone seeping in accidentally.
Jack clearly has a darker side to him that heâs not letting you see and itâs obviously frustrating you, wanting to be taken seriously.
âIâll hurt you if thatâs what you want sweetheart but not for your first time.â His words donât leave any room for argument so you donât even try, sinking back against his firm chest and letting out a deep breath when he shifts behind you and presses himself forward.
Itâs not long before youâre not able to wait anymore and he lets you scramble to tug down your underwear, keeping his fingers lightly rubbing between your folds and watching as you struggle to get the fabric past his insistent hand.
Eventually he lets you pull them off and then heâs right back to touching you, bare this time. You both suck in a breath at the contact and youâre practically laying down from how far youâd slid down his chest, spreading your legs as wide as they can go and whimpering while he touches you.
âDo you touch yourself like this baby?â He canât help the curiosity, the image of you in your bed trying to get yourself off stuck in his mind now.
You shake your head and frown, trying to twist your neck to look at him but being stopped when he uses his free hand to roughly grip your chin and make you keep your eyes on the way heâs touching you, thumb on your sensitive clit now while you roll your hips the best you can.
âNo IâŠâ You can barely think let alone speak, clearly struggling as you make a pained and desperate noise. âI get nervous.â
Jack sighs and collects some of your wetness on his middle finger before finally pressing it against the tightness of your hole, not pushing in just yet but teasing it with light pressure and letting you get used to the feeling.
âWhen youâre with somebody, they should always be this gentle with you at first.â Heâs saying softly, remembering that heâs supposed to be actually teaching you something and not just getting you off because he desperately wants to.
You frown deeply as he starts to talk and he doesnât really understand why, thinks maybe youâre still being pouty that he wonât get rougher with you.
He tries to distract you by finally pressing a finger inside of you and it seems to work for a second, another gasp leaving you as you instinctively clench around the intrusion. He groans, his length throbbing against your back at the thought of being fully inside you instead of just a finger.
âFuck youâre tight.â He rasps and buries his face in your hair for a few seconds to try and collect himself enough to keep teaching you something, anything at all so he doesnât keep letting himself think this is something it isnât. âTheyâll have to really get you stretched before anything okay? You need to remember that baby.â
It bothers him so much he can barely focus, the thought of somebody not taking their time with you. He doesnât want to picture you with another man in general but especially not in a way that hurts you, leaves you too sore the next morning with nobody to take care of you.
Heâs so distracted by his own thoughts that he doesnât notice your face stiffening at first, body a little tenser against him even though youâre still softly squirming to try and get him to put his finger deeper inside you.
âJack stop.â
He does so immediately and goes to pull out of you before youâre making a panicked noise and closing your thighs around his hand. He lets you this time, pauses all movements just to wait for whatever it is that you need.
âN-no donât stop that, god please donât stop that.â Your voice is breathier now like the thought of him taking his hand away from you makes your chest tighten. âJust⊠stop talking about anyone else.â
It takes him a few seconds to register that and then his hands moving again, enough for you to relax and spread your legs back open.
Youâre both quiet now as he adds another finger, lingering in the weight of your request and what it could mean if anything. Heâs half sure you only asked because it was pulling you out of the moment, maybe making you nervous to think about doing this again with actual stakes, but the way you desperately tried to stop him from pulling away lets him pretend it was for another reason.
Heâs selfish in the way he touches you now, thick fingers moving in and out of you while you cry and whine, gripping at his forearm whenever it feels like too much. He likes the way your nails dig into his arm when you think you might be close, thighs clenching and shifting when his thumb gently circles your swollen clit and how your lips part in breathy cries of his name.
He especially likes that.
You come with moans of his name filling the room and nobody elseâs after youâd specifically asked him to stop mentioning other guys. Jack knows itâs selfish, even a little sick and perverted, but he could probably finish just from hearing that.
Heâs throbbing against your back and heâs sure youâd be able to feel it if you were able to focus on anything after coming, body shaking a little as you pant endlessly and fall limb in his hold.
Thereâs a lot of softness that comes after, kissing the side of your head and being gentle in the way he cleans you up. Itâs torture to be between your legs and getting to fully appreciate the sight of you for the first time without be able to touch you more but he doesnât want to overstimulate you so early on.
He does let himself think about that vividly though, kissing against your thighs and picturing when heâs going to be able to put his mouth on you.
Youâre quiet above him, eyes a little tired but still overly soft as you run your fingers through his hair and watch him wipe you down.
Then heâs back ontop of you and kissing you softly, shifting your back so youâre laying back against the pillows and not sitting up. Itâs soft and bordering on romantic which makes his chest tighten, hoping you have no plans to leave his bed anytime soon.
âYou okay?â He asks quietly against your mouth and he can feel you smiling, still touching his hair with one hand and letting the other drift down to the back of his neck.
âFelt so good.â You whisper back and your voice is a little hoarse from all the whining youâd been doing, nose bumping against his and then rubbing on his stubble for a few seconds. âCan I take a nap here?â
âYou can do anything you want.â He says immediately, no hesitation as he gets up to get you one of his shirts and help you get comfortable, jumping at the opportunity to keep you with him just like he wanted.
Jack typically has a hard time sleeping through the night in general so he definitely never naps, needing to be truly past the brink of exhaustion to ever rest.
Yet he finds it to be the most simple thing in the world to crawl into his bed with you after taking off his leg, kissing you for a few more minutes before heâs wrapping you in his arms and tugging you back against his chest. Heâs rubbing your stomach softly, hand under the shirt heâs given you, listening intently until he hears your breathing even out and then drifting to sleep right after you.
â
Itâs one of the highlights of his decade to get to wake up with you still there, warm and making soft tired noises when you feel him start to stir.
His room is dark now other than the slight illumination coming from the moon outside of his window, casting just enough light for him to be able to watch your eyes flutter open.
You give him a soft sleepy smile and instinctively lean in to give him a kiss.
Itâs easy to pretend that you are more than whatever this is when you act like this, mouths moving together sensually as if you have nowhere else youâd want to be.
Jack groans softly when your tongue pushes into his mouth, meeting it eagerly with his own and moving so hes hovering over you. Your hands are on his back, spreading your legs below him to let him slot between them.
He feels like a teenager again from how quickly he gets hard, your soft body under his putting him under some sort of spell. His hips shift and you let out a needy whine, scratching his shoulders lightly like youâre trying to encourage him.
Youâre still making out slowly when he starts to thrust down against you, slow rolls of his hips to give you just enough friction to start to get desperate.
Youâre tugging at his shirt fabric and he takes only a second to sit up and pull it over his head, back on you immediately and kissing you even more frantically. Heâs moving your own shirt up towards your ribs but neither one of you wants to stop long enough to take it off, only able to when you need a quick second to take a breath.
Itâs the first time youâve both been nearly undressed together and he feels the effects of it instantly, your chest pressing against his when he lays back over you. Your skin is soft and hot to the touch, those now familiar soft whines leaving you when he lets his hand knead at your chest again.
âJack please.â Youâre whimpering and he finally stops kissing you in favor of sucking at your neck, bringing those marks from earlier back to the surface. âCanât you just fuck me?â
He groans at the words and has to tuck his face in your shoulder, still rocking his hips against you even though they stuttered when you said that in that whiny voice of yours.
âTrust me, I want to fuck you so bad I canât even think.â It leaves his mouth before he can stop it, not wanting to reject you again without making sure you know how badly he wants you.
âThen do it.â Youâre begging now and he picks his head up to look at you, eyes wide and a little frustrated like you know heâs going to say no. You gasp when he thrusts down even harder, biting your lip as you stare at each other desperately. âPlease Jack? Want you inside me.â
âI canât baby.â He growls and kisses you to give himself a second to think without you arguing.
Youâre quick to forget you were trying to convince him of something because youâre kissing him back deeply, angling your head so his tongue can get further and further inside your mouth.
He has that sick and perverted thought again that heâs coincidentally training you to be the perfect girl for him, kissing in a way he likes and not knowing how else to do it. Jack is selfish and wants everything you do to be for him, wants your body to instinctively move and react how he taught you regardless of who gets you next.
The thought of somebody else makes him want to forget his morals and fuck you like youâre begging him, be the one to take your virginity and fill you up for the first time.
He starts to reason with himself that it would actually be a good thing because Jack would never let himself hurt you in a way you didnât like, heâd make sure you felt good around him and came so hard you werenât able to see straight.
Thereâs nobody else who could fuck you like he could so heâs almost convinced himself that itâs a good idea when your phone rings on the nightstand.
You both stop, youâre completely tense under him and he sighs as he kisses you one more time and rolls off of you.
He lays there on his back as you sit up to grab your phone, screen a little too bright in the dark room and causing you to wince. He stares at your pretty face under the light as you open it up and answer it, not thinking much about the interruption despite the small disappointment he feels.
His hand is on your bare knee and rubbing your skin is soft circles, soothing both you and himself by keeping the contact.
âHello?â Your voice is as soft and sweet as always, a little confused sounding which makes his eyebrows raise. âOh Carter.â
Jack tenses up at the sound of a males name leaving your lips, his hand freezing and falling still on your knee. Youâre avoiding looking at him as you listen to whoever it is speak on the other line, a deep voice bleeding through the speakers just enough for him to hear but not enough to make out the words.
âTonight?â Your eyes go to the small digital clock on Jacks side of the bed, having to glance over his body in the process. You meet his eyes just for a second before theyâre darting away again and it makes the pit in his stomach grow in understanding. âOf course I didnât forget. Iâll be ready by nine.â
Youâre hanging up after a quiet goodbye and now itâs suffocatingly silent in the room.
Youâre still sitting up with your legs crossed under you, avoiding looking at him like youâre not still wearing his shirt and covered in marks heâd given to you. He waits for a minute before heâs sitting up and running a hand over his face, on the opposite side of the bed from you and facing the wall so you canât see his expression when he finally gets himself to speak.
âYouâve got a date tonight?â He rasps out, trying his best to sound unaffected even though it comes out low and tight.
âI forgot.â You whisper back and you sound further away now, a glance over his shoulder confirms that youâd stood up off the bed and are searching for the shirt youâd shown up in so you can swap out of his. âHeâs taking me to some art show downtown.â
Jack stares at you as you move around the room, eyes scanning over your body when you pull his shirt over your head and neatly fold it before putting it on his dresser. It feels really final to watch you change back into your own clothes, turning to meet his eyes and letting out a soft sigh when you see heâs already watching you closely.
He hopes it doesnât show on his face, doesnât want to be too obvious that heâs probably about two seconds away from throwing up.
âCarter.â He says simply and now you really stiffen.
You stand there for a few seconds like youâre waiting for something, eyes a little expectant and then full on disappointed when he scoffs and moves to put his leg back on so he can stand up and get out of the room thatâs suddenly suffocating.
You leave his apartment and all the warmth goes with you.
He stands in his dark kitchen with regret sitting heavy on his chest, wishing he had stopped you and asked you to stay with him instead.
He isnât sure if itâs the fear of rejection or his own guilt that stopped him but he knew he couldnât ask you to do that. You deserved better than him and his baggage, his late hours at work and his dangerous hobbies that he needed to keep himself busy with to not think about the things that sent him spiraling.
He couldnât imagine forcing you into a life where you had to explain him to your friends and family, ignore the curious and judging looks from his own when they realized just how young you were.
Jack knew you were lonely, it was obvious considering how much time you willingly spent with him and it was bad enough heâd taken advantage of your desperation for connection and nearly slept with you.
He wouldnât be able to forgive himself if he stopped you from enjoying your youth, having a fun late night in the city surrounded by artsy people your age and not stuck on his couch watching old reruns because heâs too tired after work to properly take you out.
Jack hates himself for thinking all this and then still obsessively wanting you.
So much so that he purposely lingers near his truck right around the time youâd told your date youâd be ready. In his defense, he did actually need a few things from the corner store, so he sat in the parking lot and waited until he saw you come down.
Your date met you at the entrance of the lobby but didnât take your purse from you or the jacket you were holding, smiled at you politely but couldnât be bothered to open the door of his car or even wait for you to get in before he did.
It made Jack sick to his stomach all over again, jaw clenched as he sat in the dark interior of his truck and watched you drive off with some asshole only an hour after heâd had you sleeping next to him, panting under him and begging him to fuck you.
Jack decides right then that it all needs to stop, not just the sex lessons but helping you in general. He canât be that person for you without wanting more, heâs selfish and possessive over somebody that was never supposed to be his and he knows itâs not fair to you.
So he doesnât answer any of your texts that night, stays quiet in his living room whenever you knock on his door and waits until he hears you leave for work before he goes to check the mail.
He feels terrible for avoiding you but keeps trying to convince himself itâs in your best interest.
Jack is half asleep when the silent treatment finally breaks.
Heâd fallen asleep on his couch accidentally, a beer can too many on the table in front of him and the same movie heâd been watching beforehand starting to roll credits. He should have been in bed sleeping after pulling a double at work but he couldnât stand being in there lately, tossing and turning and trying to catch the faint scent of you lingering on his pillows.
There was a second of confusion, not sure why he had waken up in the first place, until the sharp knocks on his door made him flinch.
He was standing up on autopilot to open it, wincing at how stiff and sore his leg felt from falling asleep with it still on.
Any thought of his pain was gone the second he opened his door and saw your face, tears on your cheeks and your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.
âI need to talk to you.â You said immediately and he ushered you into his apartment, not necessarily wanting to be in an enclosed space with you but recognizing your tearful voice was far too loud to have a conversation in the hallway.
âWhatâs wrong?â He said softly and takes a few steps towards you on instinct, cradling your cheek and staring down at you when you nuzzle against his touch. âWhy are you crying?â
âBecause youâre an asshole.â You seem to remember that youâre mad at him because you step away from his touch, pushing his arm back down to his side and storming further into his apartment.
He stands there completely frozen as you toss your purse onto the chair near the couch, your eyes scanning over the beer cans and the obvious indent of where heâd been sleeping.
Then youâre back to looking at him and he knows what he probably looks like to you. The exhaustion is obvious on his face, clothes a little baggier than normal from a lack of taking care of himself and a constant awkward shifting on his leg to keep pressure off of it.
âWhy arenât you talking to me?â Your voice cracks a little and he deflates, taking a few steps closer again even though he doesnât think you want him to touch you. âDid I do something wrong?â
âWhat?â His face faces in disbelief at the idea you could ever do anything wrong in general, especially to him. âOf course you didnât sweetheart.â
âThen why?â Your words are louder now and they linger in the tense air, face pained as you wait for him to answer.
He sighs and runs a hand over his stubble that desperately needs some maintenance, wishes he had the time to plan out everything he wanted to say to you so he doesnât accidentally fuck it up more than he already had.
âI just⊠I canât do it anymore.â He lets his hands fall to his sides with a loud defeated clap and shrugs his shoulders. âI canât watch you go out with these idiots knowing they canât take care of you.â
He hopes what heâs trying to say is an obvious to you as it is to him, not able to bring himself to actually voice the fact that he has feelings for you beyond helping out a neighbor.
âYou didnât stop me.â You sound devastated, head shaking like you donât believe anything heâs saying to you.
Youâre not crying anymore thankfully but you look so hurt and disappointed that it makes him physically ache, moving to grab your arm softly and guide you to sit down on the couch with him.
âI waited for you to stop me and you didnât.â You continue once youâre sitting beside him, legs pressed together in a small amount of addicting content. âIsnât it obvious by now that I only want to be with you?â
The words hit him so hard that he doesnât even have time to process them, eyebrows furrowing as the need for more information pushes him to speak.
âWhy would that be obvious? The entire point of this was for you to be ready for other people.â
You look a little embarrassed at his sound logic, staring down at your lap where your hands are fiddling with your fingers. He sighs and takes one of them in his, squeezing it softly until you let your gaze drift back up to his.
âI donât want other people.â You whisper, staring at him with a small amount of hope in your eyes like youâre just waiting for him to understand. âAnd I donât want you to be with anyone else either. I just figured⊠you wouldnât cross that line without a good reason.â
Jack thinks itâs a little juvenile of a plan but he also knows youâre not wrong. He would have never touched you without the feeling of helping you out with something, no matter how much he had wanted you since the second you moved in.
That little lie was all he needed to get himself through the shame and guilt, the ability to pretend it was for a greater cause and not because he was sick and desperate for a girl half his age.
âJack.â You sigh when he doesnât respond for a few seconds, turning so you can face him better and press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. âStop thinking.â
âThatâs a big ask.â He mumbles back but he gladly turns to give you a real kiss, holding your face in his hand and keeping your mouth against his.
You kiss until you run out of breath, pulling back from him but rubbing your nose against his and letting your small hands grip his forearm desperately.
âThen just be with me for tonight.â You try to reason with him in any way you can, rubbing his arm softly and blinking at him with those big pretty eyes that drive him so crazy.
He stares at you for a moment before heâs standing up off the couch and tugging you along with him, ignoring the little surprised noise you make in favor of lifting you up with his hands on the back of your thighs. You gasp and then giggle softly once heâs got you in the air, arms behind his neck and legs around his middle as he starts to walk you to his room.
âYouâre crazy if you think youâre going anywhere after tonight.â He tells you once he gets you settled on his bed, kissing the smile off your face as he climbs over you.
Itâs a direct mirror of the other night as you get each other undressed fully this time, kissing the entire time and tasting his tongue deep in your mouth when it starts to get more heated.
âYouâre going to be mine.â He says firmly once heâs got you in nothing but your panties, making sure your eyes are locked on his when you hear it. His free hand is all over your body, rubbing from your smooth thigh up to your chest and cupping around your neck for a brief moment while he waits for you to respond. âIf I fuck you then youâre mine.â
âIâve been yours.â You whisper easily, like you didnât have to put any thought into it.
He falters, hand tightening around your throat on instinct and then releasing the pressure when he sees the way your eyes light up with interest.
âDonât be nasty baby.â Heâs teasing, kissing the corner of your mouth and bringing your leg up so itâs around his waist and he can press himself against you. âGonna be gentle with you for your first time. You deserve it.â
âI want you to fuck me.â Youâre pouting and gripping at him impatiently, running your hand between your bodies to touch his stomach and fidget with the waistband of his boxers. âThatâs what I want Jackie.â
âDidnât ask what you wanted.â He grumbles back, not caring that it comes off a little mean because you whine at the sound of how rough his voice had gotten and he knows you like it.
Heâs back to kissing you and itâs filthier than normal, more tongue and spit than anything else.
Youâre as vocal as always, whining and begging impatiently when he gets your underwear off and starts to touch you again.
Jack can barely think straight when heâs back inside of you, fingers pushing in easier this time now that youâve felt the intrusion before and know what to expect. Youâre gasping and crying out immediately, unintelligible words that he blocks out in favor of focusing on how you feel when heâs stretches you out.
âWant it so bad.â Your near sob gets through to him and he hisses through clenched teeth at how wrecked you sound already, shushing you softly and kissing your cheeks to try and calm you down.
âI know baby I know.â Heâs whispering but you donât seem to be hearing him, spreading your legs further to try and make space for him to slot back between them instead of using his fingers.
Jack is just as impatient as you but heâs terrified of hurting you too early, although throbbing so hard in his boxers that itâs painful to shift around.
Itâs not long before itâs too much prep for both of you and youâre watching him with your chest heaving as he gets himself undressed the rest of the way, leg going on the floor right alongside your underwear that he had slowly pulled down your body before climbing back over you.
Your eyes go down between your bodies where his leg is and he tenses for a second despite knowing you mean well with the concern you have on your face.
âLet me ride you.â You say softly and his chest tightens with that old familiar shame he was still actively working on ridding himself of.
âI can fuck you.â He says gruffly and your eyes flash with regret, pouting a little like youâre worried youâve hurt his feelings with your thoughtful suggestion. He kisses the expression off your face, a long deep one followed by a few quick pecks to try and ease your mind. âNext time baby.â
He says it both because he knows realistically he has limitations, there will be plenty of nights heâs not able to rail you into his mattress like he wants to, but also because he knows he would die a happy man the second he got to see you bouncing on top of him and desperately trying to get yourself off.
You look like you want to argue but youâre stopped when heâs pushing your legs apart and moving between them, sharp gasp leaving you when you feel his hard length pressing against you finally.
âFuck Jack.â Your voice is sharp and already a little pained just from the dull sensation of him lining up with your hole, a growl leaving him at the sound of your distress.
âJust relax baby.â He says as softly as he can even though his throat feels tight and raw, kissing you gently to try and get you to calm down enough for him to push in. âYouâre too tight sweetheart.â
âI⊠I canât.â You let out another sharp cry when he shifts forward, nails digging into his shoulders so deep it makes him wince and lower his head down on your shoulder.
Jack has to use every ounce of self control he can muster to not just fully push himself into you and feel that tight heat heâs getting a taste of, that same sick and selfish part of him that wants you in the first place begging him to just take you already.
Instead he takes a few deep breaths before heâs kissing you with more focus, going back and forth between softly rubbing your side and massaging your inner thigh to try and urge your body to relax and accommodate him.
Itâs a torturous ten minutes, especially due to your soft whimpers and the way you cry his name whenever he accidentally moves himself deeper.
Then youâre finally calm enough, bare chest rising and falling with the deep breaths heâd instructed you to take.
âWant you inside Jack.â Youâre whining in his ear, clinging to him tightly and almost suffocating him when he immediately takes your queue and pushes in. You tense up again at the brief surge of pain and then let out a satisfied cry when you feel how full you are, clenching around him so ridiculously that he almost needs to pull out to give himself a break despite barely starting.
Youâre both too overwhelmed to speak much more once he starts to actually fuck you, deep thrust accompanied by filthy kisses to keep you from waking up the neighbors with how desperately youâre whining for him to keep giving you more.
Itâs pure need on both ends, your hips eagerly rocking upwards to try and meet his thrust sloppily while he uses his free hand to roughly push down on your stomach and keep you in place.
âJackie.â Itâs nearly a sob from you now and he can tell youâre close from how much tighter youâd gotten, almost an impossible squeeze for him to keep fucking you through.
Heâs grateful youâre so inexperienced because he doesnât think heâd last long either, not with the way you look as you stare up at him with teary and trusting eyes.
âI know baby youâre doing so good for me.â Itâs more of a growl than anything else but he can barely think let alone speak enough to keep encouraging you. âTaking me so well sweetheart.â
âIâm so full Jack.â You whimper and cling to him tighter, nearly pulling him fully down on top of you and knocking him off his balance. âFeels so good.â
Youâre stuttering through your sentences and slurring each word, eyes a little dazed in a way that makes him need to squeeze his shut to avoid coming inside you just from that fucked out look you have.
Itâs more sweet than heated when you actually do finally reach your peak, holding onto him still and kissing the side of his jaw softly with your face buried in his neck as you squirm and shake your way through your orgasm.
He stays inside of you for as long as he can so youâre not shocked from the sudden feeling of emptiness but youâre squeezing him too tight and he has to pull out as soon as youâre starting to relax. You whimper immediately at the lose and pick your head up to pout at him, eyes panicked like youâre genuinely distressed he didnât finish inside you.
He shushes you gently and kisses your face over and over, rubbing your side as he lets you fully come back to reality before attempting to clean either of you up or get you dressed.
âJack.â Youâve got the needy and frustrated tone he loves so much and he knows youâre not dropping it, meeting your eyes with a fond sigh as you glance down at where heâd came instead of inside you.
âNext time.â He promises again and he means it, fully intending to have that conversation with you ahead of time now that heâs got you like this.
Jack isnât too opposed to the idea of getting you pregnant, not even sure heâs able to with the amount of pills he takes, but he has to push down that thought along with the rest of the sick ones he gets when he looks at your needy eyes.
You smile a little at the loose promise and tuck yourself back into his shoulder, soothing any concern he has about what just happened or how youâre supposed to operate going forward.
Heâs undoubtedly the luckiest guy in the world to have you wanting him like this, feeling safe in his arms and desperate for him in the way heâd been for you since the second he laid eyes on you.
Jack was never the type of person to take the duty of taking care of somebody lightly and he doesnât plan to let you down for even a second, kissing the top of your head softly and letting himself forget about any shame or insecurity just to hold you for awhile longer.
Ryland fucking you prone with his bicep wrapped tight around your throat, kissing and biting the back of your neck and licking the shell of your ear while telling you how much of a good girl you are <33
the first time you ask Ryland Grace to use a vibrator on you, he plays it cool - even though on the inside he is WILDLY insecure about it. is he not enough? is he bad in bed? why would you ask to use a vibrator on you otherwise? is this a last-ditch effort before you break up with him?
cut two two hours, thirteen edges, and three orgasms later, and suddenly your vibrator is his most prized posession, because the sounds you make? the tears pooling in your eyes when he denies you climax for the umpteenth time? the way you buck when he's pressing the vibrator against your clit at the same time his cock is buried inside you? the wail that escapes you when you're clearly overstimulated yet unable to do anything but lay there and take it, your squirming hips pinned into place beneath his forearm?
you'd have to pry this thing out of his cold dead hands. he's absolutely lost in the sauce. get ready to spend a full 48 hours in bed. by the end of it, he's got you wrapped in a blanket, cradled against his chest, the most dehydrated you've been in your entire life (and the happiest).
