Find A New Place To Be From Series Masterlist ongoing! - you sign a 13-week contract at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center for your latest position as a travel nurse. complicated reaches a whole new level when you quickly fall for your new boss Dr. Robinavitch
ONE SHOTS
Gash - robby shows up at your doorstep injured and you take care of him
Toxic!Perv!Robby - robby taking advantage of his young, pretty intern
Jack Abbot (requests open)
+ - camgirl!reader universe
SERIES
Toy Box Series Masterlist completed!- your husband works in the er on christmas night. you show up injured, and he's too busy to care for you. when his intern orders a psych eval for you, he refuses to acknowledge the stress you're under because of him.
ONE SHOTS
Public Profession - when an ob consult flirts with you, jack decides to make your relationship status very clear.
Maybe Someday* - you visit jack after a hard day in the er. to make you feel better, he helps you cross off the first thing on your maybe someday list.
+ Sergeant, MD * - you stop providing camgirl services to your clients when you start your residency. except you can't let go of your favorite client, who, as you quickly find out, is your new attending physician for the next four years. he recognizes you immediately and is ready to stake his claim
+ Happy Birthday, Sarge * - your video chat with SgtMD on his birthday. despite it being his special day, he gives you the gift of a lifetime. can be read as a companion piece to sergeant, md!
+ Confessional * - jack fucks you in the hospital chapel after a hard shift. can be read as a companion piece to sergeant, md!
+ On the Clock * - jack interrupts your dinner plans when he calls you into work. when he tries making it up to you on the rooftop, someone new finds out about your relationship. can be read as a companion piece to sergeant, md!
Strong and Sure - abbot worries about the amount of time you're spending at work, and he's got a sexy funny way of showing you.
The Worst Patients - doctors make the worst patients, but jack abbot might be the exception
Every Hour * - jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
Let You Try - you show up to the bar with the intention of leaving with someone. which you wouldn't have to do if you didn't have such an embarrassing crush on the nightshift attending. jack abbot is hellbent on making sure that you don't leave with anyone else tonight. which he would tell you, except for that fact that he's under the impression that you have no idea he exists.
DRABBLES
jack punishing you for disobeying him
pushing jack during an argument
ANIMAL KINGDOM
Andrew Cody (requests open)
SERIES
Boy Next Door (ongoing) - when you move next door to andrew cody, he decides to do some snooping into your life. when he makes a mistake that leaves you afraid to go home, he doesn't expect you to come to him for help. and he certainly doesn't expect to like it so much.
ONE SHOTS
Bartender x Andrew - andrew finds that he likes taking care of the new hire at his brother's bar, so he helps her with some... chores!
Like You - andrew starts to see more of himself in his son than he would like. you're there to prove to him just how special that is.
Sideways - you've got three missed calls from andrew and two cody boys in your er. pitt crossover!
THE EMPYREAN SERIES
Liam Mairi (requests open)
ONE SHOTS
As Long as You Know Me - as a child of the rebellion, your birthday failing on Reunification Day stirs up a swarm of emotion. When your friends try to celebrate, Liam comes to your rescue... in his boxers.
Garrick Tavis (requests open)
ONE SHOTS
Professor Tavis* - when hear about Garrick's new job from Xaden, you start to question why Garrick didn't tell you himself. He makes it up to you in the best way possible.
thank you to @pixopix for the super cute dividers <3
Hey I love your Jack Abbot fics, it says your requests are open. I was thinking Resident!reader and others go to a bar, reader is looking for a boyfriend or to get laid but Jack keeps cock blocking her. Santos is her best friend doesn't matter if Jack and her are exes or something (reader is 30's) Santos knows she's still in love him or crushing on him. Make it angsty or smutty or anything you wish 🥰
hiii i did something similar! this is the first i've written in a while and honestly far from my best, but your request gave me the opportunity to post something for the first time in a long time, so thank you :)
summary: you show up to the bar with the intention of leaving with someone. which you wouldn't have to do if you didn't have such an embarrassing crush on the nightshift attending. jack abbot is hellbent on making sure that you don't leave with anyone else tonight. which he would tell you, except for that fact that he's under the impression that you have no idea he exists.
notes: based on this request! not proofread
masterlist 𓊔 request
“Look who finally decided to join us!” An all-too familiar voice jeers from a hightop table, making you snap your head to the left.
Trinity is already out of her seat, arms up in the air to celebrate your arrival. Not that arriving at this dusty, cramped bar should be celebrated by anyone. It was the only bar that was open this late-- or early, depending on how you look at it. You’re wrapped up into a cinnamon-scented hug before you can protest, her arms squeezing tightly around your shoulders.
Behind her, you see Dennis, Robby, Princess, and Jack all sitting in a booth.
What the hell kind of grouping is this? You wonder silently as you double-take the crowd.
“You’re like… really late!” Trinity shouts over the music as she pulls away, grabbing you by the elbow to drag you to the table.
“I’m like… not here to see you!” You call back mockingly, but don’t force your arm away from her tight grip. Of course you’ll come over to say hi to your coworkers. Regardless of whether or not you’re being hauled by a small powerhouse of a woman.
“Then who are you here to see?” She narrows her eyes.
“Well, hopefully,” you start, then pause to scan the crowd until your eyes land on a guy with a dark buzzcut playing darts, “that guy over there.”
Her gaze follows yours and then she snorts out a laugh.
“Cheap thrills tonight, doc?” The two of you are close enough to the table that Robby howls out a laugh. At the same time, he’s sliding closer to Princess in the booth to make room for you. Trinity waves her hand at them. “No need. She’s got her eyes on other company tonight. Didn’t come to see us.”
God, she’s too drunk and you’re too sober. Though, by the looks of the other four, they’re not any better than her. Another raspy laugh from Robby and Princess’ loud snort confirm that suspicion.
You can’t help the way your eyes dart from them across the table to Jack. He’s sitting straight as ever, curls a little messy and eyes a little glassy as they dance between you and Trinity with amusement.
And God, he looks so good doing it. It’s impossible not to stare as he lifts the lip of a beer bottle to his mouth and tips it all the way up. There’s a little trail of gold liquid trailing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw.
Pulling your lip between your teeth and averting your gaze is the only way you manage to keep from licking it clean.
“You look hot,” Princess says as she rakes her eyes over the outfit you chose with the specific intention of going home with someone tonight.
A shocked laugh is the only thing you reply with, pinching the bridge of your nose with a shake of your head.
“Oh yeah, stay away from the rad tech,” Robby chimes from next to her. At your frown, he continues. “He had some… things to say about you.”
Your chest tightens slightly as you cross your brows, trying to think about what wrongs you may have committed to have radiology venting about you over drinks with your attendings.
“He wants to fuck you,” Princess stage-whispers across the table.
With this information, you drop into the seat next to Robby, knocking a knee into Jack’s across from you as you settle in.
Trinity has found her way back between Jack and Dennis, the latter arguing with her over something minute as always. Beside you, Robby shifts, hooking an arm over the back of your seat.
“I don’t think that was the exact verbage,” Jack corrects with a finger pointed to him.
“Right, no. He asked if you were single,” Robby amends.
That sends a memory flashing through your head.
“Oh! Brown curly hair? Young guy, cute?” You ask, and Princess’ enthusiastic nod confirms. “Okay, yeah, yeah. I knew that already, he asked me out a few weeks ago.”
Her jaw drops, eyes widening to the size of saucers.
“What?” She shouts, leaning over Robby to smack you on the arm. “How did nobody know about this? When did this happen?”
“Yeah, when did this happen?” Jack asks dryly from across the table, bringing the beer to his lips as he watches you through narrowed eyes.
Giving him a confused look, you shrug.
“Couple weeks ago, I guess. It was like a two-second interaction, I guess nobody saw it. He came up as I was charting and asked me to go to some theater thing,” you reply with a dismissive wave of your hand.
“Theater?” Robby chortles. “That feels like a bold choice for a first date.”
Again, you shrug. It was genuinely the only conversation you’ve ever had with the man, and you hadn’t even seen him since. Really, you were incredibly surprised that he’d brought you up at all tonight after so long.
Princess starts telling Robby something about how the nosebleeds are a great place to fool around without anyone seeing, and that’s your cue to go get a drink. Across from you, Jack pushes himself to his feet at the same time, a little unsteadier than you expect him to be.
“Too much to drink, Abbot?” You tease, letting your eyes fall over him now that he’s standing.
He’s wearing a black tee shirt that pulls taut across his chest, and a black and white flannel over it. The extra layer is probably contributing to the pink flush on his drunken cheeks. Through all the layers you can still see the bulge of his biceps as you take him in. You already know you’ll be staring at his ass in those blue jeans the moment you get the chance.
“Not enough for whatever conversation they’re havin’,” he jerks his head in the direction of the table as the two of you start walking away. “Didn’t know you knew the radiology guy.”
“I don’t. Him asking me out was the first and last conversation we ever had.” You eye him carefully.
“Huh.” He hums, nodding as if not believing you.
Then he takes a final drag from his beer, tosses it in the trash, and breaks away from your path and toward the men’s bathroom.
Weird.
You continue walking to the bar, where the crowd is significantly more than you’d expect at 3 a.m. on a weekday. There’s one space where you can easily saddle up between two other people, so you do.
As luck would have it, one of those people would be the man you pointed out to Trinity earlier. He’s cute, a bit of a firefighter look to him that you’re sure charms plenty of women. Strong, too, though in a way that’s more lean and less bulk. Handsome, strong, and judging by the amount of shots he’s buying right now, employed.
Bumping into him, you pretend to act surprised, as if you hadn’t just orchestrated the move for the sole reason of getting his attention. As you planned, he turns to face you, arms darting out to steady you on your feet.
“I’m so sorry!” You call over the noise around you, resting a hand on his chest and pushing yourself up to your toes to get closer to his ear. “Are you ok?”
That puts a little grin on his face. His tongue darts out to lick his bottom lip and he nods, amusement written all over his features.
“‘M fine. You good?” His eyes are moving up and down the outfit you’re wearing. Just like you hoped they would. Based on the long exhale he blows out, you’d say the mission was accomplished.
“I’m good. Thank you!” You give a sweet smile and then turn back to face the bar, hoping he’ll--
“What’s your name?”
Fuck yeah.
The typical flirty conversation carries on between the both of you while you stand there waiting for your turn to order drinks. His name is Brett and he is a firefighter. He’s twenty-nine and moved here from some city out West that you don’t much care to remember.
Most importantly: he’s single.
The two of you have two drinks at the bar while you talk. Eventually, you follow him back to his friends where he drops off the shots and then let him bring you to a high top closer to the bar. He pulls the chair out for you and you can only hope that his chivalry extends to the bedroom as well.
“What do you like to do for fun?” He asks, standing next to your chair with his hand on your side. With the height of the stool, you’re about shoulder-height to him.
“I could show y-”
Your worst nightmare comes true.
“Hi! I’m Princess.” She’s cuddling up next to him.
Brett furrows his brows for a moment, but upon seeing your knowing look, chuckles.
“Brett. You two know each other?” He wraps his arm around her and watches as you roll your eyes.
“Princess, fuck all the way off,” you groan, nudging her with the toe of your shoe.
She shakes her head, a sorry little smile appearing. Her leaning into your date while she does it sure does nothing to convey any sincerity.
“Can’t. If I can get you to come back to the table I get $50. And if you let me stay here for longer than 3 minutes I get an extra $10 on top.”
Of fucking course she does. These people are gambling addicts. You didn’t even know that they were still here, let alone watching you. Grumpily, you bring your drink to your mouth and empty it.
Brett laughs again, patting Princess on the back and then moving to stand behind your chair, placing both hands on your shoulders.
“How about $100 and you let me take her back to my place?” He proposes.
Your stomach twists, and you feel bile rise in your throat. He had been nice up until now, and you’re sure he probably didn’t mean for it to come out like he was paying to have sex with you. But holy fuck, you’ve never been turned off so fast.
Princess is quiet, and you don’t look at her as you get out of your chair and grab your purse.
“I probably should go back with my friends,” you excuse, giving a tight-lipped smile to the man who has so suddenly soured your night. “It was nice to meet you, Brett. Have a good night.”
Before either of them can say anything else, you’re throwing open the door to the women’s restroom and locking it.
God, why did they have to ruin that? What the fuck were you even doing here? Why can’t you just sit at home and listen to fucking audio erotica to get your rocks off like the rest of the universe? Why do you have to put your faith into non-fictional men who make jokes about paying for sex with you?
And why the fuck are your friends so goddamn annoying?
Frustration tightens your chest in a way that makes you feel mean. The alcohol isn’t sitting well, it’s ready to bubble over into this stupid situation and make you lash out at what few friends you have because they made a stupid joke that ruined your stupid hookup.
You’re washing your hands as if you can cleanse the anger away. The water is cold, sobering, in a way, and you let it run over your skin to soothe the sting of anger.
Outside the door, muffled voices begin to spill in through the crack in the door.
“You should just go, man.” It’s Jack that you hear outside. His tone makes you turn the water off to be able to hear better.
“I want to make sure she’s ok. I didn’t mean to-” It’s Brett.
“It’s over, kid. Have a good night.”
Kid. Your cheeks grow hot as you let yourself become even more upset. That’s the fucking reason you’re here. Because Jack Abbot is the only man you’ve ever wanted to like you, and here he is calling a man older than yourself kid.
You can’t be enough for him. Could never, no matter how hard you try, you’ll never be his age. Never have his experience. Never come close to breaking down those walls that guard him because he will never care about you enough to let you try.
The urge to scream appears, and when you tamper it, it’s only replaced with the urge to hit something.
Here we go again. It’s time to go home.
As you barge into the hallway outside the bar, you don’t expect to trip over your own feet and right into Jack, who is alone now.
“Whoa, hey. You okay?” His strong arms hold your waist.
“Fuck off,” you mumble, pushing yourself off of his chest. But his grip on you is too tight.
One hand stays on your waist while the other finds your jaw, lifting it from where you’ve locked your eyes on the wall over his shoulder. The thought of seeing his handsome face when you can’t have him feels like a lead weight in your bones. But his grip forces you to meet his eyes. They’re soft, searching in a way you’ve never seen him before. Not like he’s being a doctor, but a friend.
There’s a neon sign above the bathroom door that shines all sorts of colors across his pretty grey curls. He’s ditched the flannel, too, now only clad in that tight black shirt that has your lips parting to get enough air.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” His question frustrates you to no end.
“Let me go, Jack.”
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he insists, and you see the bit of desperation on his face.
It’s far too intense for this situation, and too vulnerable for Jack. But he’s drunk, and these are some pretty typical drunken dramatics by any definition.
Rolling your eyes, you find your footing and move his hands from your body. They drop back to his sides with a thud against the wall behind him. You back away from him until you’re flush with the opposite wall so that you can breathe your own air. The first inhale feels cool, settling.
Until you hear your name from down the hall.
Brett is walking toward you, starting another apology when Jack steps up from the wall and blocks you from the other man.
“I told you to leave,” he warns, and a shiver runs up your spine at the danger in his voice.
“Dude, just let me-”
“Fuck off!” Jack shouts now, and you jump a little, shock and fear running through you all at once.
Before you have much time to process anything, you’re being swept into Jack’s arms and into the women’s bathroom once again. He comes in with you and locks you both inside. Once he’s done that, he’s lowering you to your feet and grabbing your face with both of his hands.
The pace of your heart is concerning. It’s hammering in your chest, and you wonder if Jack can feel it where his fingertips hold the bottom of your jaw.
“Don’t forgive him,” he pleads, and you startle because what the fuck.
“What?” You ask dumbly, face a little squished by his palms.
“That guy. He-- I don’t-- just don’t.”
His hands go from smashing your face to cradling it, fingers curling around the nape of your neck and thumb stroking your cheekbone. It feels like you have whiplash.
Why is your hot attending holding you in the women’s bathroom right now? Why did he just shout at your date? Why does he seem so invested in whatever is happening here right now?
“Jack,” you whisper, “I’m a little confused.”
A little laugh leaves his lips as he nods, then drops his head until his forehead meets yours.
“I didn’t know you knew who I was,” he replies quietly. This surprises you, brows crinkling beneath him. “I saw you, with that guy. And I guess I made a face. Santos told me that you… like me.”
You’ve forgotten how to breathe.
“I didn’t send Princess. That was her own idea and I told her not to,” he assures quickly. “I just, I didn’t think you’d ever glance twice at the grumpy old guy who works the night shift. I didn’t know I had a chance, and I didn’t want to make you uncom-”
The words die as you press your lips to his. In their absence, his mouth melts against yours, tongue instantly darting out to reach for your bottom lip. With a soft sigh you part your lips for him, letting him deepen the kiss to explore your mouth.
His hands tighten around your face, fingers curling into the hair at the base of your neck to hold you in place. At the slight tug he gives it, you whine, reaching out to grab him and finding his shirt bunched into your fists tightly to pull him closer. It’s futile. You’re as close as you can be without molding into one.
Then your feet leave the ground, and he’s hoisting you up into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist, expecting him to carry you somewhere, maybe to the countertop, but he just stands there, backing you into the wall and keeping you settled around his torso.
“Jack,” you pant as his mouth dips to leave hot kisses down your neck. “Fuck you feel good.”
His breath is warm as he hums against your skin, working his way behind your ear and then along the shell of it. When he reaches the very peak, he pauses and drops his head against yours to whisper.
“Needed this for so long, sweetheart.”
It’s raw, it’s fucking sexy.
You’re running your hands all over him when his lips collide with yours in another heated kiss. As time passes, he gets more comfortable. Low moans rumble from his chest as you run your fingers through his hair.
Then he’s pulling away, trailing chaste, sweet kisses across your face as he draws his head back.
“Hmm, something wrong?” Your eyes flutter open, a lazy grin on your face when you see his deep flush and blown pupils.
“Come home with me.” It’s not a question, really, but you nod anyway.
You expect your feet to hit the floor, to wipe your lipstick from his neck and face and ears before going back out to face the rest of the bar. But, no. Jack keeps you held tightly against his waist as he carries you back to the table (still full of your coworkers), grabs his flannel and your purse, and then leaves wordlessly.
You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little proud, despite trying to hide your face in his neck the whole time (leaving lots of kisses there, of course).
Hey, it looks like the link to part 8 of FANPTBF is just linking back to the masterlist?
hi! I see what you mean, the way i worded it in the post was weird, that's totally my bad! week 7 is actually pt 8, since week 1 was two parts. so that was meant to be a link to the masterlist! i hope i'll have week 8 posted soon. thank you for letting me know!!!!
not a request but i just discovered toy box, it’s so good i read it all in one sitting. it’s one of the best fics i’ve read 💗💗
eek omg thank you!!! toy box has such a special place in my heart it really brought so many wonderful people into my space and i'm happy to have you here too!!!
hii i just wanted to let you know that i read your sergeant, MD jack abbot fic months ago and i still think about it to this day and reread it…thank you so much for your service 🙇♀️❤️
y’all don’t even know that there’s a bad bitch behind these Pitt fics and that’s so tragic… you really never know what you’re missing out on in this life
oh my god, coming back home to your mom's place and your bed smells... different. the sheets are made, everything's clean, but the vibes are just unusual. not bad! you don't want to deal with it just that moment, so you fall asleep the first night back and in the morning go to wash your sheets, air the place out. you go out with your old friends, come home, and it's back to the same vibes.
you shrug and accept that maybe it's always been like this?
stepdad!robby has been going in to jerk off in there while you were away and was personally offended that you were washing up in the morning so while you were out he went in and made it smell like sex and him all over again
THIS!!!!!!!! when i said there’s amazing things happening in my inbox—i meant it 🤭
stepdad!robby jerks off in your room
he waits for the second you and your mom are both out of the house and then he’s straight up the stairs and onto your bed. he doesn’t even need porn to get himself off, just being in your room, surrounded by your stuff and knowing how wrong it is, is enough to get him off.
sometimes, if he’s feeling particularly naughty he’ll get into your bed, under the duvet, laying with his head against your pillow as he pumps himself in his fist. then other times he’ll grab a pair of panties out of your washing basket and wrap them around his cock, spilling himself all over the delicate fabric before just throwing them away—he can’t leave any evidence behind of course.
he’s already downstairs at the kitchen table when you come down, bed sheets and pillowcases in hand ready to put them in the washer for the third time that week. robby’s eyes are flickering between you and the laundry, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.
“doin’ laundry again?” he asks, bringing up the newspaper he’s reading to cover the lower half of his face, trying to hide his smirk.
“yea, i don’t know what’s up but like the vibes are off in my room, feels weird in there…you haven’t been in there have you?” you narrow your eyes at him, tilting your head.
he shakes his head, “nope.”
you’re not convinced but carry on loading the washer with your stuff, robby rolls his eyes as he watches you, thinking about how hard he worked to offset those vibes and you were ruining all his hard work.
oh well, he’ll just have to keep doing it until you stop noticing.
not doing taglist anymore :( if you want you can follow and turn on post noti’s on my updates blog @robinavitchslut-updates to be notified when i post a fic <3
summary: jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
warnings: smut literally just mostly smut lol. jack being insecure about his leg and talks of prosthetic pain.
notes: in this pretend world grass isn't itchy and bugs don't exist. ok now enjoy!
masterlist 𓊔 request
A day off work in the summer is always a day well spent with Jack Abbot.
He’s waking up early to workout-- something you can always benefit from. Especially when he comes in afterward to wake you up with a cup of coffee. Smells mingle in the air: sweat, coffee, and the summer sun.
Afternoons are outside, always. Jack doesn’t get enough sunlight working nights, and you make sure he gets his healthy dose of vitamin D when you can. Usually, he works in the yard. He pulls weeds or mows the grass. If you’re lucky, he’ll do both things shirtless and you’ll get to call him over every hour to reapply sunscreen to his back.
The alarm goes off, so you put your book down and wave him over. He’s using the pool net to gather leaves and flowers that the breeze has blown in.
“Jack!” You call across the pool. You lift the sunscreen bottle in your hand and shake it, earning a small grin from him.
When he’s in your space, he gives a long exhale.
“How’s your book?” He presses a kiss to your lips.
Humming, you stand so that you can reach his upper body. When you’re on your feet, he lowers himself into your chair with a little grunt.
“You okay, Jack?” Your heart skips a beat when you realize how pained he looks. He’s getting older, you know that, but you didn’t think he was exhausted-from-an-hour-in-the-sun-old yet. With a concerned pout, you kneel before him and bring your water bottle to his mouth. “Here, drink something.”
A sweet smile finds his mouth as his dark eyes roam over your face. He takes the bottle from you and sets it on the ground next to your chair.
“‘M fine, sweetheart. Just my leg.” He leans back uncomfortably.
“The sweat?” You ask, looking down at the prosthetic limb. When he nods, you tilt your head. “Why don’t you take it off, baby?”
With narrowed eyes, he shakes his head. One hand comes down to massage his knee while the other cups your neck softly. You’re sweaty, too, from sitting out here with him. His thumb pushes back a bead of it that rolls from your hairline.
“I want to stay out here with you. Can’t do yard work with one leg,” he jokes. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, though. Something you don’t see often from Jack.
It’s vulnerable, almost a little insecure. Like he’s worried you’ll realize something you don’t like about him if he reveals a weakness to you. Despite the wedding, despite the house you own together, and despite the countless times you’ve seen him without his prosthetic on, his mind still gets the best of him sometimes.
And you get where he’s coming from. There’s been a decades-long internal battle for him over this injury. He’s lost something. Gotten it back in a way that everyone expects him to pretend is normal when it’s not.
The honest truth is that you’ve never really thought twice about his limb difference. When you met Jack, it’d been years since he lost the lower half of his leg. To you, he’s the same as he’s always been.
It’s affected parts of your own life, certainly. When you two had this home built, you had to consider little tid bits that would enable Jack to live as independently as possible. Your shower, for example. In it is a granite shelf that takes up half of the space. It’s a shower chair for him, but that fact isn’t obvious to anyone else. If someone came in who didn’t know that Jack was an amputee, they’d just think that the ledge in your shower was there for shampoo bottles or sex. Which it also was.
You’ve done little things like that to meet him where he’s at. Valued the shorter paths and learned to pay attention to what surfaces he’d have to walk on if you wanted to bring him to a restaurant or a bar.
Never has his situation ever been an issue for you, and when he lets himself think otherwise, you’re quick to dispel the anxiety.
“Don’t have to do yard work to stay out here with me,” you comment, already untying his sneakers.
“Oh yeah?” His chin tilts upward slightly as he meets your eyes.
“Yeah.” Your voice is a whisper.
“Well I can’t sit here with you,” he explains. He always has to tease you before sex. Make you work until you’re throwing yourself at him before he caves in. “We only have the one chair.”
The other chair, his chair, broke when he set a dumbbell down on the arm rest between sets and snapped it clean off.
“Don’t need more than one chair, baby.” Easily, you slide his prosthetic from his knee, and then the sleeve underneath it. The same motions you’ve acted out hundreds of times before. Then, you stand, pretending to adjust your bikini top. “You don’t mind if we share, right?”
“Share?” He pretends to contemplate it while his gaze roams shamelessly over your body.
“Please?” You bend down to put a hand on his bicep when really you’re just looking for an excuse to move your tits into his eyeline so he’ll agree.
“Sure. Since you asked so sweetly.” His arm is around your back and pulling you into his lap before you have time to move on your own.
He’s got you bridal style-- your legs are hanging over one of the chair arms while your head rests on his shoulder. You’re both warm and sticky with sweat. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers combing into the curls there that are slightly damp.
The sun brings out all of the freckles on his shoulders and cheeks.
While you’re taking in the sight of him, he’s slowly inching closer until there’s no room between you. His lips are soft and careful on yours. When you kiss him back just as slowly it draws a quiet groan from the back of his throat. His hand rests on the curve of your ass and squeezes.
That’s how Jack has always kissed. His mouth is slow and romantic. He takes his time there. He’s a gentleman.
But his hands have a mind of their own. From first contact, he’s trying to strip you down. He’s fondling your tits and slapping your ass and squeezing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. He’s a man starved.
So, maybe he’s a gentleman starved.
While the one hand kneads your ass, the other moves to the back of your suit to untie your top. It’s easy. One pull and the fabric is loose, releasing your breasts of the support and leaving the cute top hanging uselessly around your neck now. Of course, the next thing he does is undo that tie too so that it falls to the floor and he can get a full view of your tits.
His tongue pulls out of your mouth and into his own as he leans back to ogle you.
“So fuckin’ sexy.” Big palms grip both your boobs. “All mine.”
Helplessly, you nod.
“All yours,” you confirm.
That brings a cute smirk to his lips before his face is back on yours, pressing more aggressively now as he works his mouth against yours. A moan comes from your chest as he begins to roll your nipples between his forefinger and thumb with the perfect amount of pressure.
Your hips roll against his crotch once before you’re climbing off of his lap.
“What’re you-”
He cuts himself off when he watches you step out of your swimsuit bottoms. Immediately, he’s pulling his shirt over his head. Had you not been so eager, pulling his shorts off would’ve been an awkward maneuver, but instead of giving him any time, you’re reaching under his waistband and pulling his cock out with no issue.
“Need you, Jack.” You’re back in his lap, panting against his skin as you press hot kisses down the column of his neck. “Please, baby. Please.”
“You have me, sweet girl,” he murmurs into your hair before pushing you off of him and back to your feet. When you pout at him, he twirls his finger. “Face the yard. Back to me. I’ve got you.”
Obediently, you turn around so that your back is facing him. Jack strokes himself with his free hand while the other holds your waist to guide you down slowly, carefully. Your own arms grip the armrests as you lower yourself onto him, stopping when your wetness touches the tip of his dick.
“Jack.” It’s a desperate whimper.
“You’re ok, keep going. That’s it, c’mon, all the way.” He continues coaxing you further down until you’re situated with the base of his cock nestled all the way inside of you. You’re sitting spine-straight on his lap, hands white-knuckling the lawn chair.
Jack reaches a hand up and around you, running his palm up your thigh and onto your stomach, gently leaning back with you until you’re flush against his chest. Once you are, his mouth drops to your shoulder, biting softly before pressing a soft kiss there.
“Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s ok. Just gonna stay like this for a minute, yeah?” He coos, trailing his hand to your nipple and pinching it lightly. Your pussy tightens around him. “Atta girl, good job. Doing good for me, baby.”
As he continues toying with your tits, you slowly relax into him. Your body lightens as you unclench the chair. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder, angled to the side so he can hear your pretty pants and moans in his ear.
His ministrations quickly become too much. You’re squirming around in his lap, earning deep, frustrated growls from him.
“Sit still,” he orders, one hand coming down to secure your hip while the other continues to pinch and roll your nipples.
“‘M trying, Jack.” Your hips push hard into his lap as you brace yourself against his teasing. “Just feels s-so good.”
His chest rumbles against your back as he inhales shakily.
The way his hands are squeezing you harder, teasing you more, you can tell his resolve is wearing. You stop trying to stay still. You rock your hips in his lap, grinding yourself down onto his cock. Doing exactly what he told you not to.
“C’mon, quit-- fuck,” he groans into the skin of your shoulder. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
Your motions are slow and controlled, though your upper body still twitches wildly as Jack continues to play with your tits.
The angle is difficult to maneuver in with your weight being solely on him. It gives way for you grinding, but not much else. Still, Jack tries to thrust himself up into you.
This is the most frustrating thing for him post-amputation. It isn’t the pain or the rashes and welts. It’s wanting to move his body the way he did before. Being able to stand from a chair and walk without crutches. Being able to pick you up while he carries you to the bed in a moment like this. It’s the freedom and impulsivity that he wants to exercise but finds himself unable to do.
Now he needs help with certain things. But he is determined not to need help with this. Pleasing you is a job he’ll always be capable of achieving. Even if the means to do it are a little unconventional.
So, when his body doesn’t let him fuck you in this position, he needs to find another.
Without warning, Jack pins you to his chest with a strong palm on your stomach and a cradling grasp around your head. Then, he uses his foot to push off of the ground and tip the chair backward into the pillowy grass that he just cut.
With the pillows on the back of the chair, he’s not worried.
A frightened squal leaves you as you and Jack fall backward. There’s a heavy thud and a crack of splitting plastic as both of you tumble into the grass.
Quickly, you pull yourself off of his dick and spring to your feet to check on him. As soon as you see that playful smirk on his face, you know that your husband had every intention of getting you both onto the floor.
In fact, he’s already positioned himself off of the chair and onto his back, propped up on one elbow while his other hand tugs his shorts and boxers all the way off. God, his body is unreal. Muscle consumes every inch of him, adorned by the handsome freckles that dot his skin.
When he catches you staring, he whistles.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He gives a flirty wink.
With a little giggle, you lower yourself to your knees and crawl the short distance to his body. That knocked much of the humor from his wandering eyes.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” you mock when his gaze drops to your breasts. All he does in response is swallow hard as he meets your stare. Pouting, you continue, “you broke my chair again.”
“I’m sorry, doll.” Lust is heavy in his voice. His hands come to your waist, moving you on top of him. Now he’s flat on his back underneath you. His cock is wet against your thigh, still coated in your slick. “Let me make it up to you.”
Nodding, you roll your hips back and lean forward to connect your mouth with his. It’s all tongue from the moment you start. And as soon as it begins, he’s pushing you to sit up.
“Is that a fair trade?” He asks, spitting in his hand and pushing you up to spread his saliva between your legs.
“W-what?” You bumble as his pointer finger skims your clit.
“For the chair, sweetheart. Is this fair?” Your answer doesn’t matter, because he’s impatiently tapping your thigh, urging you to sit on his cock again. “Faster, baby. Keep up.”
“Yes. Yes, yes it’s fair.” Your vision swims as you nod quickly.
“Good.”
When you move to sink down onto him, he tightens his grip on your waist, making you pause. Instead of letting you lower yourself all the way, he keeps you suspended with barely the tip inside of you.
You’re trying to speak, to say anything, but the sudden slam of his cock against your cervix as he bucks his hips up into you takes your breath away. You inhale sharply in response, falling forward as he rams up into you again.
Suddenly, his movements stop.
“Sit up, baby. Wanna see y’tits.” His voice is breathy, desperate.
It leaves you no choice but to obey.
As soon as you’re upright again, he resumes his punishing pace. It makes your breasts bounce up and down each time he enters. Moan after moan spills from your lips. He’s breathing heavily, abs flexing with each motion. It’s fucking tantalizing. All you want to do is put your hands there. Prop yourself up and feel the constriction of his body as he fucks into you like he’s racing to finish. But he told you not to.
It’s impressive how long he manages to keep going before he needs a break.
When he does, he lowers his hips back to the ground and moves his hands from your waist. One finds your face, running his thumb across your parted lips as you pant from his intensity. The other rubs slow, firm circles to your clit.
Neither is any help for your racing pulse. Your head is thumping wildly under the summer sun as Jack coaxes you closer and closer toward climax. Slowly, you begin to rock your hips back and forth to release the tension that’s beginning to cord through your body.
“So pretty. All mine,” Jack murmurs, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb.
“Jack,” you moan, his words swimming in your head as desire courses through you. “Feels s’good. Don’t stop.”
“Not gonna stop, sweetheart. Take your time. We’ve got all day.”
God you love having the day off with him.
You continue grinding your hips against him as he rubs your clit, letting his other hand trail down your body with fluttering fingers that send shivers up your spine.
As soon as he applies a little more pressure to your clit, there’s a pit deep in your stomach. Urgency races through you as you rush to tell him.
“J-just like that, please. So close, Jack,” you whine, hips rutting sporadically now as pleasure consumes you.
Jack doesn’t change anything at all. He keeps his pressure, keeps his pace, and keeps absentmindedly trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. It’s an emergency department perk-- he’s great under pressure. He doesn’t rush to pick up his pace or make you feel like you’re not getting there fast enough. He’s confident in what he’s doing. And it’s so fucking hot.
“Jack.” You call his name like a prayer as your orgasm rises higher and higher, nearly bursting.
“I’m right here, baby. You’ve got it. Doing so good,” he praises. It makes your core tighten around his cock, earning a quiet groan from him that completely undoes you.
Your body crashes forward, hands bracing yourself on his chest as your own body heaves with heavy, ragged breaths. Jack’s fingers pinch your nipples, sending another jolt through you as your pussy squeezes around him.
As you slowly come down, Jack takes one of your hands and lifts it from his chest to press five soft kisses in the center of your palm.
You swallow, leaning forward to press a hot wet kiss to his mouth.
“Your turn,” you whisper against his lips. Your voice is high and whiny from your orgasm. It’s his favorite fucking sound in the world.
Five minutes later, Jack comes hard and fast with you bouncing on his cock under the heat of the summer sun. Once he’s finished inside of you, he props himself up onto his elbows with that cocky grin that comes from a lifetime of women fawning over him.
Not a day goes by that you’re not happy he chose you out of them all.
His head nods slowly as he surveys your body.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles. His thumb reaches out to catch a bead of sweat that drips between your breasts. Then, holding your gaze, he licks it from his thumb. A loud, mean laugh leaves him when he feels you clench around him at the sight. “Already wanting round two?”
Giggling, you shake your head and slowly lift yourself up on your knees until his cock falls out of you and lays on his stomach. His cum drips down your thighs as soon as you release him, making it the only thing you’re wearing now.
“God, I love you.” Jack lies flat like he’s been struck by you.
“I love you too, Jack.” You press a kiss to his jaw before climbing to your feet. “Be right back!”
He lies there waiting under the grueling summer sun while he thinks about how many more days off he gets with you.
As promised, you return to his side less than a minute later with his crutches. You’ve made no effort to wipe any of his cum from your body, and it’s down both legs now, having run all the way down to your feet, too.
“Shower’s already started,” you tell him as he sits up. Once he’s ready, you pass him his crutches and give him room to find his balance in the uneven grass. While he does, you grab his prosthetic and your book.
A moment later, he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head and following you through your shared home to the shower. Under the cool water, his skin is warm on yours as he peppers you with kisses while he silently thinks about how fucking lucky he is to have found you.
summary: jack would rather be in pain than forfeit a summer day spent outside with you. when you realize what he's doing, you show him just how much fun summer can be without his prosthetic on.
warnings: smut literally just mostly smut lol. jack being insecure about his leg and talks of prosthetic pain.
notes: in this pretend world grass isn't itchy and bugs don't exist. ok now enjoy!
masterlist 𓊔 request
A day off work in the summer is always a day well spent with Jack Abbot.
He’s waking up early to workout-- something you can always benefit from. Especially when he comes in afterward to wake you up with a cup of coffee. Smells mingle in the air: sweat, coffee, and the summer sun.
Afternoons are outside, always. Jack doesn’t get enough sunlight working nights, and you make sure he gets his healthy dose of vitamin D when you can. Usually, he works in the yard. He pulls weeds or mows the grass. If you’re lucky, he’ll do both things shirtless and you’ll get to call him over every hour to reapply sunscreen to his back.
The alarm goes off, so you put your book down and wave him over. He’s using the pool net to gather leaves and flowers that the breeze has blown in.
“Jack!” You call across the pool. You lift the sunscreen bottle in your hand and shake it, earning a small grin from him.
When he’s in your space, he gives a long exhale.
“How’s your book?” He presses a kiss to your lips.
Humming, you stand so that you can reach his upper body. When you’re on your feet, he lowers himself into your chair with a little grunt.
“You okay, Jack?” Your heart skips a beat when you realize how pained he looks. He’s getting older, you know that, but you didn’t think he was exhausted-from-an-hour-in-the-sun-old yet. With a concerned pout, you kneel before him and bring your water bottle to his mouth. “Here, drink something.”
A sweet smile finds his mouth as his dark eyes roam over your face. He takes the bottle from you and sets it on the ground next to your chair.
“‘M fine, sweetheart. Just my leg.” He leans back uncomfortably.
“The sweat?” You ask, looking down at the prosthetic limb. When he nods, you tilt your head. “Why don’t you take it off, baby?”
With narrowed eyes, he shakes his head. One hand comes down to massage his knee while the other cups your neck softly. You’re sweaty, too, from sitting out here with him. His thumb pushes back a bead of it that rolls from your hairline.
“I want to stay out here with you. Can’t do yard work with one leg,” he jokes. There’s a hint of something in his eyes, though. Something you don’t see often from Jack.
It’s vulnerable, almost a little insecure. Like he’s worried you’ll realize something you don’t like about him if he reveals a weakness to you. Despite the wedding, despite the house you own together, and despite the countless times you’ve seen him without his prosthetic on, his mind still gets the best of him sometimes.
And you get where he’s coming from. There’s been a decades-long internal battle for him over this injury. He’s lost something. Gotten it back in a way that everyone expects him to pretend is normal when it’s not.
The honest truth is that you’ve never really thought twice about his limb difference. When you met Jack, it’d been years since he lost the lower half of his leg. To you, he’s the same as he’s always been.
It’s affected parts of your own life, certainly. When you two had this home built, you had to consider little tid bits that would enable Jack to live as independently as possible. Your shower, for example. In it is a granite shelf that takes up half of the space. It’s a shower chair for him, but that fact isn’t obvious to anyone else. If someone came in who didn’t know that Jack was an amputee, they’d just think that the ledge in your shower was there for shampoo bottles or sex. Which it also was.
You’ve done little things like that to meet him where he’s at. Valued the shorter paths and learned to pay attention to what surfaces he’d have to walk on if you wanted to bring him to a restaurant or a bar.
Never has his situation ever been an issue for you, and when he lets himself think otherwise, you’re quick to dispel the anxiety.
“Don’t have to do yard work to stay out here with me,” you comment, already untying his sneakers.
“Oh yeah?” His chin tilts upward slightly as he meets your eyes.
“Yeah.” Your voice is a whisper.
“Well I can’t sit here with you,” he explains. He always has to tease you before sex. Make you work until you’re throwing yourself at him before he caves in. “We only have the one chair.”
The other chair, his chair, broke when he set a dumbbell down on the arm rest between sets and snapped it clean off.
“Don’t need more than one chair, baby.” Easily, you slide his prosthetic from his knee, and then the sleeve underneath it. The same motions you’ve acted out hundreds of times before. Then, you stand, pretending to adjust your bikini top. “You don’t mind if we share, right?”
“Share?” He pretends to contemplate it while his gaze roams shamelessly over your body.
“Please?” You bend down to put a hand on his bicep when really you’re just looking for an excuse to move your tits into his eyeline so he’ll agree.
“Sure. Since you asked so sweetly.” His arm is around your back and pulling you into his lap before you have time to move on your own.
He’s got you bridal style-- your legs are hanging over one of the chair arms while your head rests on his shoulder. You’re both warm and sticky with sweat. Your hands wind around his neck, fingers combing into the curls there that are slightly damp.
The sun brings out all of the freckles on his shoulders and cheeks.
While you’re taking in the sight of him, he’s slowly inching closer until there’s no room between you. His lips are soft and careful on yours. When you kiss him back just as slowly it draws a quiet groan from the back of his throat. His hand rests on the curve of your ass and squeezes.
That’s how Jack has always kissed. His mouth is slow and romantic. He takes his time there. He’s a gentleman.
But his hands have a mind of their own. From first contact, he’s trying to strip you down. He’s fondling your tits and slapping your ass and squeezing every inch of skin he can get his hands on. He’s a man starved.
So, maybe he’s a gentleman starved.
While the one hand kneads your ass, the other moves to the back of your suit to untie your top. It’s easy. One pull and the fabric is loose, releasing your breasts of the support and leaving the cute top hanging uselessly around your neck now. Of course, the next thing he does is undo that tie too so that it falls to the floor and he can get a full view of your tits.
His tongue pulls out of your mouth and into his own as he leans back to ogle you.
“So fuckin’ sexy.” Big palms grip both your boobs. “All mine.”
Helplessly, you nod.
“All yours,” you confirm.
That brings a cute smirk to his lips before his face is back on yours, pressing more aggressively now as he works his mouth against yours. A moan comes from your chest as he begins to roll your nipples between his forefinger and thumb with the perfect amount of pressure.
Your hips roll against his crotch once before you’re climbing off of his lap.
“What’re you-”
He cuts himself off when he watches you step out of your swimsuit bottoms. Immediately, he’s pulling his shirt over his head. Had you not been so eager, pulling his shorts off would’ve been an awkward maneuver, but instead of giving him any time, you’re reaching under his waistband and pulling his cock out with no issue.
“Need you, Jack.” You’re back in his lap, panting against his skin as you press hot kisses down the column of his neck. “Please, baby. Please.”
“You have me, sweet girl,” he murmurs into your hair before pushing you off of him and back to your feet. When you pout at him, he twirls his finger. “Face the yard. Back to me. I’ve got you.”
Obediently, you turn around so that your back is facing him. Jack strokes himself with his free hand while the other holds your waist to guide you down slowly, carefully. Your own arms grip the armrests as you lower yourself onto him, stopping when your wetness touches the tip of his dick.
“Jack.” It’s a desperate whimper.
“You’re ok, keep going. That’s it, c’mon, all the way.” He continues coaxing you further down until you’re situated with the base of his cock nestled all the way inside of you. You’re sitting spine-straight on his lap, hands white-knuckling the lawn chair.
Jack reaches a hand up and around you, running his palm up your thigh and onto your stomach, gently leaning back with you until you’re flush against his chest. Once you are, his mouth drops to your shoulder, biting softly before pressing a soft kiss there.
“Relax for me, sweetheart. It’s ok. Just gonna stay like this for a minute, yeah?” He coos, trailing his hand to your nipple and pinching it lightly. Your pussy tightens around him. “Atta girl, good job. Doing good for me, baby.”
As he continues toying with your tits, you slowly relax into him. Your body lightens as you unclench the chair. Your head rolls back onto his shoulder, angled to the side so he can hear your pretty pants and moans in his ear.
His ministrations quickly become too much. You’re squirming around in his lap, earning deep, frustrated growls from him.
“Sit still,” he orders, one hand coming down to secure your hip while the other continues to pinch and roll your nipples.
“‘M trying, Jack.” Your hips push hard into his lap as you brace yourself against his teasing. “Just feels s-so good.”
His chest rumbles against your back as he inhales shakily.
The way his hands are squeezing you harder, teasing you more, you can tell his resolve is wearing. You stop trying to stay still. You rock your hips in his lap, grinding yourself down onto his cock. Doing exactly what he told you not to.
“C’mon, quit-- fuck,” he groans into the skin of your shoulder. “Fuck, baby. You feel so good.”
Your motions are slow and controlled, though your upper body still twitches wildly as Jack continues to play with your tits.
The angle is difficult to maneuver in with your weight being solely on him. It gives way for you grinding, but not much else. Still, Jack tries to thrust himself up into you.
This is the most frustrating thing for him post-amputation. It isn’t the pain or the rashes and welts. It’s wanting to move his body the way he did before. Being able to stand from a chair and walk without crutches. Being able to pick you up while he carries you to the bed in a moment like this. It’s the freedom and impulsivity that he wants to exercise but finds himself unable to do.
Now he needs help with certain things. But he is determined not to need help with this. Pleasing you is a job he’ll always be capable of achieving. Even if the means to do it are a little unconventional.
So, when his body doesn’t let him fuck you in this position, he needs to find another.
Without warning, Jack pins you to his chest with a strong palm on your stomach and a cradling grasp around your head. Then, he uses his foot to push off of the ground and tip the chair backward into the pillowy grass that he just cut.
With the pillows on the back of the chair, he’s not worried.
A frightened squal leaves you as you and Jack fall backward. There’s a heavy thud and a crack of splitting plastic as both of you tumble into the grass.
Quickly, you pull yourself off of his dick and spring to your feet to check on him. As soon as you see that playful smirk on his face, you know that your husband had every intention of getting you both onto the floor.
In fact, he’s already positioned himself off of the chair and onto his back, propped up on one elbow while his other hand tugs his shorts and boxers all the way off. God, his body is unreal. Muscle consumes every inch of him, adorned by the handsome freckles that dot his skin.
When he catches you staring, he whistles.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart.” He gives a flirty wink.
With a little giggle, you lower yourself to your knees and crawl the short distance to his body. That knocked much of the humor from his wandering eyes.
“My eyes are up here, sweetheart,” you mock when his gaze drops to your breasts. All he does in response is swallow hard as he meets your stare. Pouting, you continue, “you broke my chair again.”
“I’m sorry, doll.” Lust is heavy in his voice. His hands come to your waist, moving you on top of him. Now he’s flat on his back underneath you. His cock is wet against your thigh, still coated in your slick. “Let me make it up to you.”
Nodding, you roll your hips back and lean forward to connect your mouth with his. It’s all tongue from the moment you start. And as soon as it begins, he’s pushing you to sit up.
“Is that a fair trade?” He asks, spitting in his hand and pushing you up to spread his saliva between your legs.
“W-what?” You bumble as his pointer finger skims your clit.
“For the chair, sweetheart. Is this fair?” Your answer doesn’t matter, because he’s impatiently tapping your thigh, urging you to sit on his cock again. “Faster, baby. Keep up.”
“Yes. Yes, yes it’s fair.” Your vision swims as you nod quickly.
“Good.”
When you move to sink down onto him, he tightens his grip on your waist, making you pause. Instead of letting you lower yourself all the way, he keeps you suspended with barely the tip inside of you.
You’re trying to speak, to say anything, but the sudden slam of his cock against your cervix as he bucks his hips up into you takes your breath away. You inhale sharply in response, falling forward as he rams up into you again.
Suddenly, his movements stop.
“Sit up, baby. Wanna see y’tits.” His voice is breathy, desperate.
It leaves you no choice but to obey.
As soon as you’re upright again, he resumes his punishing pace. It makes your breasts bounce up and down each time he enters. Moan after moan spills from your lips. He’s breathing heavily, abs flexing with each motion. It’s fucking tantalizing. All you want to do is put your hands there. Prop yourself up and feel the constriction of his body as he fucks into you like he’s racing to finish. But he told you not to.
It’s impressive how long he manages to keep going before he needs a break.
When he does, he lowers his hips back to the ground and moves his hands from your waist. One finds your face, running his thumb across your parted lips as you pant from his intensity. The other rubs slow, firm circles to your clit.
Neither is any help for your racing pulse. Your head is thumping wildly under the summer sun as Jack coaxes you closer and closer toward climax. Slowly, you begin to rock your hips back and forth to release the tension that’s beginning to cord through your body.
“So pretty. All mine,” Jack murmurs, pulling your bottom lip down with his thumb.
“Jack,” you moan, his words swimming in your head as desire courses through you. “Feels s’good. Don’t stop.”
“Not gonna stop, sweetheart. Take your time. We’ve got all day.”
God you love having the day off with him.
You continue grinding your hips against him as he rubs your clit, letting his other hand trail down your body with fluttering fingers that send shivers up your spine.
As soon as he applies a little more pressure to your clit, there’s a pit deep in your stomach. Urgency races through you as you rush to tell him.
“J-just like that, please. So close, Jack,” you whine, hips rutting sporadically now as pleasure consumes you.
Jack doesn’t change anything at all. He keeps his pressure, keeps his pace, and keeps absentmindedly trailing his fingers along your sensitive skin. It’s an emergency department perk-- he’s great under pressure. He doesn’t rush to pick up his pace or make you feel like you’re not getting there fast enough. He’s confident in what he’s doing. And it’s so fucking hot.
“Jack.” You call his name like a prayer as your orgasm rises higher and higher, nearly bursting.
“I’m right here, baby. You’ve got it. Doing so good,” he praises. It makes your core tighten around his cock, earning a quiet groan from him that completely undoes you.
Your body crashes forward, hands bracing yourself on his chest as your own body heaves with heavy, ragged breaths. Jack’s fingers pinch your nipples, sending another jolt through you as your pussy squeezes around him.
As you slowly come down, Jack takes one of your hands and lifts it from his chest to press five soft kisses in the center of your palm.
You swallow, leaning forward to press a hot wet kiss to his mouth.
“Your turn,” you whisper against his lips. Your voice is high and whiny from your orgasm. It’s his favorite fucking sound in the world.
Five minutes later, Jack comes hard and fast with you bouncing on his cock under the heat of the summer sun. Once he’s finished inside of you, he props himself up onto his elbows with that cocky grin that comes from a lifetime of women fawning over him.
Not a day goes by that you’re not happy he chose you out of them all.
His head nods slowly as he surveys your body.
“So fuckin’ hot,” he mumbles. His thumb reaches out to catch a bead of sweat that drips between your breasts. Then, holding your gaze, he licks it from his thumb. A loud, mean laugh leaves him when he feels you clench around him at the sight. “Already wanting round two?”
Giggling, you shake your head and slowly lift yourself up on your knees until his cock falls out of you and lays on his stomach. His cum drips down your thighs as soon as you release him, making it the only thing you’re wearing now.
“God, I love you.” Jack lies flat like he’s been struck by you.
“I love you too, Jack.” You press a kiss to his jaw before climbing to your feet. “Be right back!”
He lies there waiting under the grueling summer sun while he thinks about how many more days off he gets with you.
As promised, you return to his side less than a minute later with his crutches. You’ve made no effort to wipe any of his cum from your body, and it’s down both legs now, having run all the way down to your feet, too.
“Shower’s already started,” you tell him as he sits up. Once he’s ready, you pass him his crutches and give him room to find his balance in the uneven grass. While he does, you grab his prosthetic and your book.
A moment later, he’s pressing a kiss to the top of your head and following you through your shared home to the shower. Under the cool water, his skin is warm on yours as he peppers you with kisses while he silently thinks about how fucking lucky he is to have found you.
