[looking at people younger than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at people older than me] you have your whole life ahead of you [looking at myself] its over
Summary: Robby quickly grows fond of his new next door neighbour, through shared mornings and casual companionship.
Pairing: michael “robby” robinavitch x fem!reader
Contains: sexual content (smut, pwp), explicit language, fluff, age gap, meet cute, semi-domesticity, bar fight mention (injuries, but not heavily described), pet names, drinking, smoking, jealousy, st denis med sneak, reader works nights, referred to as "girl", referred to with she/her pronouns, no use of y/n
Word Count: 11.4k
Note: i’ve been working on this for awhile and i just needed to get it out of my drafts. it gets a little bit sappy in the worst way possible (/j). this is my first time properly writing smut so… take it lightly. lol can you guess my favourite pet name?
The first time he spotted you was on a Sunday afternoon.
Sunlight streamed down the canopies on his street as you stomped up your new front steps with a box in your arms. A cool breeze blew your dress to one side, hair following suit. Arms glowed in the warm light, damp with sweat from the heat and from the exercise. You dropped the box by the door, then hurried back outside.
He was coming back from a late lunch with Jake, catching up and all. You don’t see him yet, but he’s frozen on the sidewalk, looking at the moving truck parked in the street. It’s you and his next door neighbour standing by the truck, assessing the situation.
Your friend spotted him first, raising an arm up to wave. “Robby.”
You turned, eyes squinting. The first thing you saw was his beard, then the crinkle between his eyebrows when he was looking at you, trying to figure you out. Your friend hopped down from the truck to meet him in the middle. You followed.
“Hey, Serena.” He greeted her, voice all gruff. He crossed one arm over the other, the glint of his watch facing you. After trailing the cotton of your dress up, his eyes met yours. Golden hour was doing wonders for you.
“This is my friend,” Serena introduced you, “she’s taking over my lease while I’m gone.”
Robby nodded, “Nice to meet you.”
“You must be the doctor.” You smiled, mouth wider than intended. Serena had mentioned him to you once or twice. Emergency doctor, barely home, but shut-in when he was. Grumpy old man, she had joked, but she never mentioned he was… attractive.
Robby gave a bashful nod, and Serena must’ve caught you staring because she nudged you on the shoulder. You recoiled, rubbing your arm dramatically.
“Hey, play nice.” She warned you teasingly. Her eyes darted to him, leaning towards Robby like she was telling a secret, “This one bites.”
“Serena…” You scolded as she headed back to the truck with a laugh and a skip. Face burnt in embarrassment, you cursed her out in your head. You exhaled, looking at Robby’s amusement, an eyebrow quirked by intrigue and a subtle rise of his lip. Meekly, you attempted to smile, “Sorry… Nice meeting you.” You trekked back to Serena quickly.
Robby let out a breathy laugh to himself, before shaking his head and walking to the door. From over his shoulder, he heard you and Serena laughing to each other.
“You didn’t tell me that Grumpy Old Man was hot.” He heard you say to Serena. She cackled with an eww attached to it.
The second time you saw him, you were coming home from work.
It was early in the morning, six o’clock or so. You were approaching the steps to your front door, and he was just emerging from his. Rubbing your eyelids, you couldn’t help but look over. He had on a brown hooded jacket over his scrubs and dark brown boots. His hair was dishevelled, like he didn’t even look in the mirror before leaving.
When he reached for his keys in his pocket, you realized you had been staring. His head turned and, all of a sudden, you weren’t.
“Morning,” Robby said your name as he gave a sleepy grin.
With a yawn, you nodded, “Headed to work, Dr. Robby?”
He laughed softly, “Uh, huh.” He noticed that you had a bag full of your things and were dressed in sweatpants and a baggy sweatshirt, leaning against the rail. “Just got back from somewhere, or…”
“Work,” You nodded, “You know how it is.” He gave a slow nod. You grabbed your keys from your purse and reached for the door. Before opening, you turned over your shoulder, “Have a good work day, Dr. Robby.”
The third time, Robby came home from a night shift.
His sleep schedule hadn’t gotten the memo, but the caffeine in his system told him otherwise. Finishing his shift, he was absolutely exhausted yet alert. The night was college students getting their stomach pumped, babies with too-high fevers, a diner chef with third-degree burns, and sleep deprived parents pacing in the waiting room. Nothing extreme, nothing unusual, but, then again, it was an emergency department.
The sun had been peeking above the buildings that sprawled past his street, and the brisk morning temperature held steady on his way home. Medium blues and lilacs coated the sky and clouds moved so slowly.
From your stoop, he spotted a puff of smoke flying into the air. Drowning in a dark hoodie, you were perched on your steps, cigarette in one hand and phone in the other. Your knees were pulled to your chest and you were peeking over the railing to see him. He might’ve decided he was too tired to say hello if you hadn’t waved.
“Robby.” You called, not bothering to stand from your seated position.
“Hi.” He passed his own door, approaching you.
Your eyes glazed over his tired face and rolled up sleeves as he stopped in front of you. Putting your phone down, you patted the brick beside you, sit, like he was a dog. And he obeyed, the smell of coffee, faint pine, and hand sanitizer lingering from one place to the next.
You offered him the cigarette wordlessly, then immediately caught yourself, “Oh, sorry.” You gestured at him, “Doctor. I know.”
With slow hesitation, he shook his head slightly, “Uh, uh.” His fingers traced yours, reaching for the cigarette. He was all wound up anyway, he probably needed it. You gave it to him graciously.
In between his lips, he felt the grain of your glitter lip gloss and tasted the flavour of bubble gum on the filter. You leaned back on your hands, watching him puff. It would be a disservice to not recognize how attractive it was: the suck of his cheeks, lines on his face flattening and reshaping, the pull, then the release. He held the cigarette in between his index and middle, rubbing his forehead with the back of his hand.
“Work was rough?” You asked quietly, more interested in the way the smoke played by his face than his answer.
“Just tired. I don’t usually work nights.”
You gave a hum of affirmation, taking the cigarette back from him and puffing yourself.
“How was work for you?” He nudged his knee against your bare legs, which were now stretched into the sidewalk landing.
“Same old, same old.” You exhaled, facing away from him and crossing one of your legs over the other. Passing the cigarette back, you caught his eye. He had been looking over his shoulder at you, expressionless and observant. Not realizing he was so close, you almost bumped him doing so.
“What do you do? For work, I mean.” He asked quietly, then took a puff.
You weren’t really listening, scanning his figure instead. The crows feet by his eye, the tired wrinkles on the side of his neck, and the bend of his arm as he rested it against his thigh. You couldn’t even feel guilty because the sight had been that good. Eyes landed on his badge that dangled from his hip. You smiled, tapping it.
“Michael Robinavitch, MD.” You read, looking back up to him. His head turned back to you, the tired look still overshadowing whatever emotion he wanted to convey. “Cute photo.” You teased, grabbing the cigarette back from him.
“Thanks,” he chuckled softly, shaking his head to himself. He watched you take another hit, then stamp it out on the ground. “How do you like the neighbourhood?”
“It’s nice. Very…” you hummed, “Geriatric.”
“Hey…” He scolded playfully.
You gestured to an old couple across the street, who had been emerging from their front door with a huge greyhound. Waving, you caught their attention and they returned the wave.
“The Robinsons are sweet.” You told him, nudging his shoulder, “I’ve talked to them a few times on their morning walk. Susie’s getting cataract surgery next month.”
“Right.” He nodded mockingly at you.
“But my next door neighbour…” You started, a coquettish grin growing on your face. “He’s another story.”
“Really?” He tilted his head at you and raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, he’s up at ungodly hours of the day, throwing parties and doing God-knows-what.” You exaggerated, watching the Robinsons make their way down the street. “I can barely sleep with all that noise.”
“He sounds terrible.” Robby played along with a smile.
Raising an eyebrow at him, you warned, “He’s lucky we don’t have an HOA.”
“Okay,” he rolled his eyes. You smiled, watching as his eyes landed back on yours.
Truthfully, you nodded, “The neighbourhood’s nice, much nicer than my last one. Not noisy at all, even when I’m asleep.”
“And your next door neighbour?” He raised an eyebrow at you.
“Haven’t decided yet.” You pursed your lips. His eyes held yours, and your breath caught. He tilted his head at you, goading more of a definitive answer from you. Then, you nudged his arm again, “You do shut the door like a maniac, though.”
Half-laugh, half-yawn, he smiled anyway, “Uh, huh.”
You looked at the sun, which was breaking between the buildings at the end of the street. The cool morning air had dissipated into something slightly warmer, and you took that as your cue.
“Should probably get some rest.” You said, meant more for him than you.
“Yeah, you’re probably right.” He nodded, starting to stand from his sitting position. He slowly made his way back to his door. You stood, watching as he walked down the sidewalk.
“Goodnight,” He called your name from his stoop, looking at you until you said it back.
“Goodnight, Dr. Robinavitch.” You smiled sweetly before escorting yourself into your apartment.
Then, it became a common thing.
Usually, it was a quick hello in the morning— an acknowledgement of his scrubs and ruffled hair and a cheeky goodnight as the sun came up. Sometimes, you’d ask for some miscellaneous ingredient you probably had at the back of your pantry (but wanted to see him). Then, it evolved into something more, like coming over for coffee in the morning.
You’d bring pastries from the bakery a few blocks down. Robby would make some comment about you “spoiling him.” You’d pat his belly playfully after he ate, like you knew him for ages. He’d smile warmly, leaning into your touch. There’d be a moment where maybe you got too close and your eye caught his with a hitch of the breath. Then, you two would go on your neighbourhood walk as if nothing had happened.
Or Robby found himself tagging along on your grocery trips. You’d be halfway out the door with your reusable bags in tow and he’d catch you from his window. He’d insist on driving, nudging his head to where his car was parked down the street. You’d take aux, playing some modern music he didn’t really know.
“Learn a thing or two, old man.” You’d smile, nudging him before singing along again.
At the grocery store, an old lady would make comments about what a sweet couple you were— how you two reminded her of her late husband. Robby would stay quiet, watching your reaction, if any. Then you’d smile and thank them without a hassle.
Or it was simply a text. Not that he expected to see you everyday, but it was nice to have some kind of reassurance that you wouldn’t evaporate into thin air one day. Some days, you had been out on the town and texting Robby about some nice-looking restaurants or cafes. He’d reply with a “Let’s do it”, secretively smiling at his phone like a teenage girl.
If an ambulance drove by, you’d snap a picture and send it to him, knowing he was waiting for it. Thinking of you. Wink emoji.
This became routine, and you had memorized his schedule around yours. It was domestic without the strings. It was lighthearted companionship. You liked the arrangement, and he seemed to too. Especially since work felt lonely, it was nice to come home and have a constant.
On very rare occasions, you invited Robby over for dinner, when he had come home from work and you had a day off, or when you both had a day off.
“You probably don’t eat much in that hospital, huh?” You teased, passing him a beer from the fridge. You had been stirring the pot of pasta on your stove, while he was leaning against your counter, watching you intently.
“I manage.” His eyes crinkled as he smiled at you. He was in his “normal person” clothes, a simple t-shirt with a forest green collared jacket on top and some blue jeans. You two had decided to try that new bar down the street after dinner.
You watched the way he fit into the kitchen. So casually, he stood beside you like that’s where he belonged. He had taken the San Diego magnet bottle opener from the side of the fridge, exactly where he knew it was. He even took his shoes off at the door, just as you requested. His hand around the cold glass of the beer bottle was so unconcerned, just as his face was. You’d never seen him so relaxed.
On mornings where you caught him on the way to work, it was like his shoulders were infinitely tense, automatically flinching at an alarm that wasn’t there. The times you did see him return from work, there was a weariness on his face and a slight droop of the eyes. He looked like he needed a big nap, or a cigarette. You wanted to be the one he fell into at the end of the day, and you were.
You hadn’t considered it too much, since his presence became a habit, but you realized you liked Robby more than you let on. Not only did you want him there, in your house, around all the time, but you wanted him.
“What?” Robby’s voice and chuckle cut through that thought. His eyes scattered like he’d done something wrong.
Voice weak, mouth gone dry, your eyes darted back up to his face and you asked, “Can you pass the Parmesan next to you?”
He nodded as he obeyed, “You were staring.”
“Yeah, I just had a mini stroke, I think.” You said unseriously, sprinkling cheese over the pasta like you hadn’t said that.
“What?” He repeated, now more alert. He had shifted forward, arms flexed and hands ready, like you needed them.
“No, I’m kidding.” You laughed, stirring the pot again.
He settled back into his former position, “Geez, kid. You can’t just say that, ‘specially not to a doctor.”
You sucked in a breath, reaching to turn off the stove, “Dinner’s ready.”
After dinner, you two had ended up at the bar, just as intended. It was far more hip than you thought, falling into a neighbourhood of elderly people. It had a stupid name, The Orca, after the boat in Jaws. The name had nothing to do with the interior.
It was just as dark as it was on the street. The only few lights coming from very dim green glass lamps hanging from the ceiling and the purple, turquoise, green, and warm yellow spotlights that coated a dance floor. Tipsy adults had been dancing— genuinely dancing— to whatever music the DJ was playing. It was packed, expected for a Friday night.
“I don’t think I’ve danced at a bar since I was in med school.” Robby noted with a chuckle. You were leading him towards the bar, which was busy all around.
Sliding between full stools, you got the attention of one of the bartenders. You turned to Robby, who was just inches behind you.
“What’re you drinking?” You asked, nudging your head towards the bar.
“Gin and tonic?” He shrugged, surveying the area for some seats.
You ordered his drink, along with a Rum and Coke for yourself, and requested an open tab. The bartender nodded and trailed off to do so.
As a group had come and gone from your section of the bar, some guy slid by next to you, “Busy, huh?”
You had been watching your bartender, then realized he was talking to you. Turning over, you squinted your eyes, “Huh?”
Absolutely focused on you, he was probably around your age, nursing a pint. He was fairly attractive, maybe on any other night you’d care. You weren’t a stranger to getting hit on at a bar, but you had just been so disinterested, mind on something else— someone.
“The bar,” He nodded, gesturing around, “It’s busy.”
“Oh,” you shrugged indifferently, “Yeah, well, it’s Friday.”
“Yeah,” He nodded with a smile, leaning towards you, “What brings you here tonight?”
The bartender had finished up with your drinks, placing two glasses in front of you. After a quick thanks, you looked back to the guy and repeated, slightly irritated, “It’s Friday.”
Reaching out for the glasses, you felt Robby tap on your shoulder, “Seats over there.” He nudged his head to the other side of the room, then to the drinks, “I’ll grab ‘em.” You nodded, moving aside for him.
Slipping past you, he glared over, spotting the guy who had been speaking to you. The guy’s mouth had fallen slightly ajar as Robby pointedly asked, “Did you need somethin’?”
The guy narrowed his eyes at Robby, who towered over him, and mumbled some “Jesus” under his breath with the roll of his eyes. He walked away and Robby had followed you.
“Seems like you got some fans.” Robby said, sliding into the U-shaped booth beside you and placing the drinks on the table. The red vinyl was sticky under your palms as you scooted closer to him.
You smiled bashfully and shook your head, “Nah, he was just bored.” Robby gestured to him and his friends by the bar, who had been mumbling to each other and looking in your direction.
“A lot of attention for someone so bored.” He mocked, seemingly ticked off.
“Are you jealous, doctor?” You sang, nudging his arm with your elbow. A smile grew on your face as you took a sip of your drink.
The blush on his face and his avoidant eye contact made you settle in closer to him. You watched his hands grasp around his glass, bringing it up to his lips and completely disregarding that there had been a straw in it.
“Well, how about you?” You insisted with a nod, folding one hand over the other on the table. “I’m sure girls are all over you at the bars.”
“Honey,” he chuckled, causing you to cock an eyebrow, “I haven’t properly been to a bar in months.”
“Why not?”
“Well, work… for one.” He shrugged. “And—“
“Okay, how about work?” You interjected, leaning in. “Is it Grey’s Anatomy up in there or what?”
Robby leaned back, a smile playing at his lips and a laugh stuck in his throat, “Excuse me?”
“Oh, c’mon, are you the hospital hussy?” You sipped on your drink, teasing him with a playful grin.
He tilted his head to the side and squinted his eyes at you as he pursed his lips. You stared right back, as if there had been some competition. That was the thing about you and Robby— you acted like he was your age, not some deadbeat old man whose job ruled his life. He felt like he was still young with you, or at least virile. You acted like it wasn’t ridiculous you two were at the bar together, squeezed into a booth all romantic-like.
“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He furrowed his eyebrows, but his lips upturned.
You liked the element of surprise you put in Robby. Picking up on his tired eyes, the could’ve-been life that sat wistfully inside of him, you saw the dead end that he thought he met. You felt it too, so mixing it up, saying whatever was on your mind, made it less sad and less lonely. The light at the end of the tunnel, or whatever.
Finishing up your own drink, you noticed that he was running dry as well. His eyes wandered around the swarm of bodies that moved in sync. It was that wistfulness again, a sparkle of nostalgia in his eyes. A smile grew on your face as you recognized the song change.
You nodded your head at him, “You wanna dance?”
Taken aback, Robby gave a surprised smile, “Dancing? Am I in my twenties again?”
“That wasn’t a no.” You sang, smiling as you coaxed his arm to the dance floor.
“I don’t know how to dance.” He protested, reluctantly following you out of the booth.
“Does anyone?”
You yanked him close by his forearms, having him crowd you, making sure it was obvious who was whose. He smiled like it was ridiculous, saying so under his breath as well.
You started swaying to the music, finding a rhythm with him. He did the same, slowly trying to break the barrier between awkwardness and euphoria. You smiled, watching him do so. There was something so charming about his meeting you in the middle.
You leaned your head towards his ear and said, “I was staring, by the way.” Pulling back, you saw the grin on his face grow wider.
“Were you?” He tilted his head teasingly.
“You knew I was.”
“I wasn’t sure if you had a mini stroke or not.” He shrugged and you rolled your eyes.
You placed your forearms to rest on his shoulders, beckoning him to slide in closer to you. He did so, hands finding your hips. Becoming one unit, your moves glued to each other’s, just as your eyes did. Your face neared his and you smelled the gin on his lips and felt the heat of him overtake you.
“Hey,” you called, practically into his beard. He nodded wordlessly, completely entranced by his view. You leaned forward but waited for a sign of reciprocity. He smiled again before following suit.
Slowly, you exhaled, surveying his face one more time before pulling yourself up to him. Lips grazed his beard before anything and the tip of his nose touched your cheek. You felt his hands press into your lower back, grasping like he was about to slip. You could’ve sworn he made a sound when you kissed him.
Music reverbed off the walls and the lights went out on you. The contact of his lips felt like a crashing shock. It was one press— the surface area finding yours as if he needed to memorize it. When his body pressed against yours, your shoulders heighted and your body pushed against him. More. It felt greedy.
He started pulling back but immediately caught you again. Your lips desperately trailed him, kisses turning sloppier, faster, needier. Every press felt like you found an oasis, sipping water like you had been dehydrated for months, yet you hadn’t even tasted his tongue.
Your hands found his hair, fingers grazing the soft texture at the base of his skull. The sensation of the skin on his lips, the graze of his beard, the hair between your fingers, the texture of his jacket on your arms all felt like too much but also too little.
“Robby,” you mumbled, cut off by his teeth nibbling on your bottom lip.
He hummed in return, “Yeah, baby?” He left a kiss on the corner of your lips, like he was starting a trail to return to. His head moved to the right side of your neck, soft kisses along the bone behind your ear, then your jaw, then lower and lower…
“Robby,” You repeated, more as an exhale than a proper word, like it was the only thing blinding your thoughts. His lips lifted from your neck, but his hands stayed stable on your waist. You gulped and opened your eyes slowly, afraid you had imagined it all.
When your eyes did open fully, you saw Robby, who was staring at you with a certain hunger in his eyes. The purple lights from the club surfaced over his face and you remembered where you were. He was so patient, eyes scanning around your face, ready whenever you finished that thought. Your mouth stayed ajar, dumbfounded.
Your breath desperately caught up with your heart. The sound of the music was white noise, indistinguishable from a breeze in the wind. Your eyes widened and you blinked like you couldn’t believe it. Your senses both shut down and tensed, all at once, as you zeroed in on Robby, who had grown a smile on his face. It was a movie kiss, you identified, a perfect release that could have only been rehearsed trillions of times but happened to fall into you like a shooting star.
“Honey,” he whispered, “You’re staring again.”
You snapped out of it, looking away from Robby sheepishly. It definitely wasn’t the first time you’ve been kissed, but it definitely was the first time you’ve been kissed like that. There was something so sure about Robby; maybe it was the slowburn but you assumed it was the way he guided you, like you didn’t have to worry about anything but being with him.
He squeezed his hands around your waist to get your attention and said, “Use your words.”
“Home, Robby. Please.” You inhaled sharply, “Take me home.”
The walk back was quiet. The orange of the street lights guided you home and strangers slinking around the streets reminded you just how eager you were to leave the club. Robby had slipped his jacket around your shoulders and his hand in yours. He pressed kisses into your temple while you walked, mumbling sweet little reassurance as you leaned into him.
Your knees felt weak when you approached his door and you wanted nothing more than to feel him again and again. On his stoop, your hands and your back found stability on the cold, steel railing. You felt drunk, not from the drink, but from the buzz and possibility of Robby wanting you too.
Your bottom lip slipped between your own teeth as he looked at you. You were wide-eyed and awestruck, so desperate to know what happens next. His eyes glazed over you in his jacket and he slipped an arm between the jacket and your back, pulling you closer.
You let out a satisfied hum, watching him unlock his door. Robby smiled down at you as he pushed it open, taking you with him. Your head reached up to his while he shut the door behind you.
Swiftly, his face met yours and his lips enveloped you again. You sighed into it, drawing closer to him. Your hands eagerly found his chest, running your fingers and palms up and down on the cotton of his shirt. You drew your head back against the door in ecstasy, so relieved and self-indulgent.
This time, his tongue found your bottom lip and eventually the inside of your mouth in three-fourths time. It all happened so slowly, and you drank up every painful millisecond. He relaxed against you, attempting to ease your heart’s tempo. God, he knew you wanted more, but he exhibited such good self control. You whined into it, feeling lightheaded from the taste of him.
Lips felt wet and messy all of a sudden, but he was taking his time with every kiss, both giving and taking. His mouth worked on you, like tuning a piano to perfection, with controlled movements and an ear for perfect tune. While his hands ran up and down your sides, you felt yourself shudder against him. His bottom half pressed against you as your back pressed up against the door.
With a groan, you bit down on his bottom lip, begging for more. Your leg hiked up around his hip, craving to feel him closer against you. His right hand found the back of your thigh, running up to grab onto your ass. Perching you on him for just a moment, his lips left yours then his head dipped to your neck.
“You really want me to fuck you against the door?” He mumbled into your skin sarcastically, heat against it causing you to gravitate closer to him. You felt his nose against your pulse and his beard grazing the skin on your collarbone, overwhelming you in the best way.
“Uh, uh.” You gulped, shaking your head as he planted soft, wet kisses up the column of your throat. His hands latched onto you more firmly and he pulled you in. Face moving up from your neck, his eyes found yours and his arm slipped around your back again.
“Good.”
With a yelp, you followed as he began to drag you down the hall with him. You giggled, quick and giddy, causing him to let out a chuckle as well. Your face pressed into his shoulder, warm with excitement and anticipation— so much so, you didn’t realize both of your shoes had been checked at the door. It was silly, the way he made you blush, like you were living some life you only knew before your alarm went off.
Reaching his room, it was barely lit by the warm street lights through the window. The glow surfaced on his face and you could tell he was smiling too. You pushed his jacket off of your shoulders, dropping it to the floor recklessly. He pulled you in close again, and your mouth reached for his lips. He tilted his head up before you could meet them.
“Robby,” you scolded playfully. His beard tickled your fingers as you ran them through.
He smiled down at you, “I just wanna look at you.”
“I’ll be here all night.” You teased, voice breathy as your hands found the scruff of his jaw. When you kissed him again, his arms went around you and lifted you up, carrying you towards the bed. You wrapped your arms around his neck and your head tucked into his shoulder.
Your back hit the mattress and it felt like the perfect fit. The plush of his comforter molded around your arms and the smell of eucalyptus, wood, and man overtook you. He had a huge, cozy bed, expected of a doctor in his department— you could wonder why he was always so exhausted. You’d trade your cheap queen mattress for the memories you’d have on this foam any day.
Robby settled between your legs, bodies pressed together. You felt him above your jeans, slowly rutting into you just like you wanted. Your legs dangled around his hips automatically, allowing him to get as close to your core as possible. Eagerly, you giggled again as he placed his hands on your hips.
“What’s so funny?” He teased, reaching his head down to nip at your neck again.
You sighed, throwing your head back to give him room, “Need you to touch me.”
Your hands found his sides, grasping at the tense muscles on his back then finding the hem near his hips to slide your hands in. Your fingertips pressed on the soft flesh of him, feeling as he moved against you.
“Where, sweetheart?” His breath made you press up closer to him.
Your breath caught in your throat as his head slowly made its way down. First, the space between your shirt’s neckline and the base of your neck, then the valley between your chest. His right hand ruched up your shirt, the warmth from his hand meeting the chill in your skin. Each beat of your heart sped up as his lips pressed against you.
While doing so, he kneeled against you, keeping his body a distance away from yours. His eyes made their way up you dangerously slow. The space between you felt agonizing as the fabric of his shirt teased your bare stomach.
Attempting to find release for the ache in your core, you pushed yourself down to feel him against you. When his knee dipped into the mattress, your hips bucked upwards on his thigh, like a reflex. A soft sound coming from your mouth, you felt Robby grin against your skin.
He hummed, “I’ll take that as an answer.”
As he drew his head up, you urged him to come closer, pulling him by his back. Your eyes found him in the dim light, pulling his shirt over his head. He seemed to shiver at your touch, fingers finding the surface of his chest before tossing his shirt onto the floor.
Robby followed suit, hands going under your top and pulling it over your head. Humming, you smiled as he sat back, running his hands up and down your torso. He squeezed at your chest and smiled.
You groaned, “Robby,” more annoyed than intended.
“Yeah, baby?” He leaned his head down, body hovering over you once again.
“Taking your sweet ass time, huh?” You mumbled, hands finding the sides of his neck. He shook his head and you could practically feel him roll his eyes.
His hand lightly pushed down on your bare stomach as his fingers searched for the button on your pants. Legs still surrounding his thigh, you squeezed against him as he skimmed your bare waist under the denim.
“Sweetheart, you’re gonna have to move your legs if you want me to touch you.” He chuckled roughly, pressing a kiss to your cheek.
You obliged, staring up at him while he focused on getting your pants off. When he slipped them off, his fingers skimmed over your lace-clad hipbone, causing you to shudder against him. His head was tilted down, zeroed in on your core.
The wet between your legs gathered when he looked at your face, burning to be acknowledged. There was also a tingling sensation that had been playing on your lips. Desperate to find his, you reached your chin up. Through your underwear, you felt two of his fingers press against you and you pressed up with a quiet moan, taking his mouth to yours. His tongue met yours with a hum and an exhale.
Robby was still on his knees, and his fingers found their way into your panties. Pushing the gusset aside, he slid the wet up and down your folds, causing you to buck your hips up to him. He hadn’t even put any fingers in you yet, but you were so sensitive that anything was enough.
His lips turned sloppy against yours, saliva mixed with whines. Your breath was jagged too, chasing the high he was giving. Your hands splayed around his head, so eager you had no clue if you wanted to push his head closer to yours or hold the nape of this neck, intertwining fingers with his short pieces of hair.
Body attempted to push towards him, only failing when his other hand forced your hips down. Whining, you buried your face into him like you needed everything— lips, tongue, beard, nose, wrinkles and all. Yeah, he was hungry, but you were starving.
His fingers hooked on your panties without disconnecting his face from yours. He pushed them off with the help of your elevated hips, and you kicked them off your legs.
Moaning into his mouth, your hips met his fingers against your entrance. You whined as he stalled just outside. Face pulling away, he smiled at you.
“Eager, are we?” He teased, fingers meeting your puffy clit. He rubbed up and down, gliding around and on it. It was enough pressure for you to grasp at his shoulders.
“Need it so bad, Dr. Robby.” You whined, pushing your hips into the mattress as he went to tease your entrance.
“Fuck,” he groaned quietly, fingers ghosting over you, “Wow.”
Your head fell back and mouth into an O-shape as his fingers slid into you. The gush had you moving your hips into his still fingers. He watched your face as you did so, bringing himself closer to you.
His mouth moved with yours as he rocked his fingers into you. You could gauge his eagerness by how his fingers curled in you, like he wanted to feel all of you. You really squealed when he moved to rub on your clit again, eliciting a chuckle from him.
“Are you gonna finish on my fingers, sweetheart?” Robby teased before you kissed him again with a whine. When his fingers slipped back inside of you, your body met him in the middle with each movement, desperate to get off.
Fingers pumping into you, his thumb found your clit and drove you close to the edge. You threw your head back again as he lifted his. Breaths turned shorter and you clung to his shoulders, one hand making its way to the side of his head.
“Oh, fuck.” You mumbled, hips raising off the bed to meet him. You looked back at him and he had been staring at your face the whole time. The determination in his eyes made you lightheaded. He nodded as he felt you pulse around him, only to speed up.
Your breath hurried as you felt heat bubbling in your core. Your hips locked and sweat grew on your skin, all over your body. Biting down on your lip, you hummed as your hands pressed down on Robby. You grew tight around his fingers and felt yourself gush.
Rutting your hips up to his fingers again, you moaned and exhaled. Hips stalling against him with his eyes on yours. You vibrated under him without proper release, riding the high of his pressure on you. He kept his fingers in you, causing you to pulse with an ah-ah-ah noise leaving your mouth.
Dropping your hips, you felt the wave of release crash over you, sighing with a whine as his fingers slipped out of you. You panted as you watched a smile grow on his face.
Gulping, you pushed your fingers through his short hair and he placed his hand on the outside of your thigh. He squeezed as he dipped his head towards you.
You kissed him slowly this time, fire inside you still burning, skin heated with sweat. Lips moved in sync and it was his turn to groan when your hand reached surfaced over the bulge growing in his pants.
You tugged at his belt buckle, yanking it off and going for the button on his jeans. At the glimpse of his dark blue boxers, you bit your lip. He helped you, pulling his pants and boxers away altogether.
Robby was… Fuck, he was exactly what you expected. Thick, strong, filling… The length of him had already been dripping. He had fallen against your lower abdomen, painting you giddy. You didn’t mean to, but you smiled far too wide as you stared.
“Mmm, I’m excited.” You joked, looking up at him as he squeezed at the plush of your thighs.
“You’re somethin’ else.” He mumbled, shaking his head as he leaned in to kiss you again.
Reaching your hands around his neck, you pressed your hips up to him as he fell between you. Grinding against the wet gathered at your entrance, he groaned into your mouth as he met you in the middle. You felt the friction against your clit as you squeezed your legs around him.
After humming into a kiss, you tilted your head away, “You’re clean, right?” He stalled against you, about to speak, but you cut him off. “Oh, doctor, right. I know…”
“You?” He nodded once, raising himself on his elbows.
“Mhmm,” you ran a hand over his beard and rested it on his shoulder, grinding over the length of him with a heavy breath, “Birth control too. You wanna fuck me raw, Dr. Robby?” You purred, chin tilting up with a smirk.
“Jesus,” he shook his head at you with a smile.
His hand ran up and down the surface of your thigh, coaxing you closer to him. An arm caged around the side of your neck, fingers pushing hair behind your ear. Your knees locking around his waist, he slowly worked his way inside. You reached up for his lips again, smooth surface pressing softly.
His lips felt like silk against yours, smooth sheets against your skin. The roughness of his beard only tickled you, balancing out delicately. The pads of his fingers barely squeezed on you, rather rubbing circles to ease you in.
As he slowly started to fill you in, your breath synced with his. Mouth suddenly still against yours, he panted, peeling himself off your face hesitantly. The wince in his eyes told you everything, crows feet growing beautifully in ecstasy. Fuck was the word, right, but he had started so gentle that maybe there should’ve been a word more lush, tender even.
As he bottomed out, you inhaled sharply, eyes grazing over his face. He stared at you and ran his hand up to your side. Clenching around him, you stayed as still as he did, anticipating, waiting.
He was deliberately slow with it, inching out of you like he was holding himself back. Rocking into you, each drag made you more eager, made you insatiable. His eyes burned into yours, watching your breath catch each slow two-seconds his pelvic bone met yours.
“Robby,” you whispered, his bottom lip hanging off of yours.
Squeezing at your ribs, he sighed, “Yes, sweetheart?”
“C’mon, honey, I’m not gonna break.” You cooed as his forehead rested against yours.
“Yeah?” He mumbled, giving a small kiss to your lips.
You lifted your hips off the bed, begging to meet him in the middle. Hands grasping at his back, you rocked your hips onto him. His breath turned heavy against you as his hand found your waist. Pushes turned to shoves while you prodded him to go harder on you.
“Don’t even need to move, you’ll fuck yourself on me, won’t you?” He rasped into your lips before giving you a bruising kiss.
His hand went heavy on you, pushing your hips down on the bed. You squealed against the kiss as you felt him drive further, faster. Slipping in and out, he huffed as he met your cervix, legs pushing open more for him.
Quickening the pace, he locked you under him. He was more heavy pants and hums than he was grunts or moans. Hips snapping against each other, sweat brewing over your skin, the sound was absurd. Still, his face hung over yours, staring at you in awe.
Blissed out, you panted a mess of noises as he thrusted into you, the bed rocking slightly beneath you. You arched your back, bringing your stomach to meet his and trying to get somewhat closer to his body. Throwing your head back, you shut your eyes as the pressure wound up in you.
Legs reaching up, you locked your ankles behind his back, pulling him further in and earning a heavy shit, sweetheart from him. Chasing your high, you swore you saw stars, pressing your closed eyes tighter.
“C’mon, baby, look at me.” He croaked, muscles tightening. His hand that was on the side of your head moved to grasp your hand, which was intertwined with the sheet.
“Feel so good,” you murmured. Your eyes fluttered open, fingers grasping as they met his hand. Your other hand found the side of his face. “Kiss me. Please.” You nodded your head up, eager to meet his lips in yours.
With the shift of his hips, his mouth caught against yours, a groan falling in between. His pace changed, harder and sloppier, skin meeting with a slap. Tongue intertwined in yours, muffed moans filled the room. Breaths were forgone for the sweetness of his saliva.
Robby noticed the way you squirmed against him, like you were just there. He reached down between you and pressed his fingers to your sweet spot. You started to writhe into him, whining and bucking your hips.
“Oh, my God.” Your hands grasped his as you let out a muffled noise.
“God, if you keep squeezing like that, sweetheart—“ His hips stuttered, feeling you gush around him.
The overwhelming and enduring fire in you reached its crescendo. All of a sudden, the press of his body against you, his hands on you, the light feathering of his body hair over your stomach, and, of course, the absolute jackhammer of him blended like static on your senses. Ringing grew in your ears and with another snap:
“Oh, fuck!” You choked out, throwing your head back on the pillow.
The aftershocks of your climax still rode out as he found his. Your whines and moans filled the room as you let him use you up. Your walls clenching and contracting around him was enough to send him reeling. Hips shuddering, he plunged all the way back in. Everything in him buckled as he twitched and spasmed.
With a few deep jerks, Robby growled into you, “Oh, shit, so fuck–ing perfect. So beautiful, baby. You’re so good for me. Fuck, yes!” Filling you warmly, he went limp with a big exhale.
Panting against him, you kept your fingers intertwined and let him fall onto you. His forehead pressed into the crook of your neck, sweat against sweat. The deadweight of his body felt perfect, trailing the overstimulation of it all. With him still inside of you, you pressed your hand to his back.
Lightheaded, you attempted to catch your own breath, inhaling deeply but lazily. You ran your fingers up and down the slick skin on his back. Mind going numb, you allowed yourself to doze a little, eyes half-lidded.
Huffing, he tilted his head to you, softly pressing a kiss to your temple, “Sorry, sweetheart. Must be crushing you.” He began raising himself on his elbows, ready to roll over to the side of you.
Whining disapprovingly, you pulled him back in, making him rest back on top of you. He followed hesitantly, allowing himself to relax. Your legs stayed wrapped around him, tightly holding him in as he softened.
“M’so sweaty, honey.” He said, face buried into the pillows. “Should clean up.”
“Tired,” you whined again. Sighing, he lifted his head to pepper kisses on your face, cheek, forehead, nose.
“C’mon, don’t want to see you in the emergency room with a UTI.” He mumbled into your skin.
“So dramatic, Dr. Robby.” You rolled your eyes, slipping your hand out of his to wrap around his back. Embracing him, you tucked your head into the opposite crook of his neck. “Let me hold you for a little, please?” You pleaded softly. “Then, we can go clean up.”
Exhaling, Robby collapsed back onto you. He couldn’t even try to fight it if he wanted. He continued pressing tiny pecks into your skin, nipping at your neck and up your jaw.
Eventually, you would get up, but for now, Robby was yours.
The morning slipped in like it had been attached to the night. The sun was hushed behind his curtains and you had woken up slowly and effortlessly. Over the rays that slipped in, you were in one of Robby’s worn shirts— he made some comment that it was definitely older than you. He remained shirtless, chest hair free under the morning light.
You had been facing Robby and his fingers were hanging off your ribs. Head tucked into his chest, you had an arm around the plush of his stomach by default. The snores he let out made you softly chuckle, unaware of how you possibly slept through it.
Turning away from Robby, you rolled onto your stomach, checking your phone for any morning notifications. You heard him shift next to you, the bed dipping slightly behind you.
He rolled over with a rasped “Morning, sweetheart.”
His hand surfaced over your back, under the shirt, like he was searching for something. With a tired sigh, his lips found your spine, kissing from the base of your neck slowly to the dip in your waist. The touch made you shiver against the sheets and gravitated you towards him.
“You’re addicted to that thing.” He mumbled, his breath and the movement of his lips causing you to flinch a little. He tapped your hip with his hand, as if trying to catch your attention. The ghost of his mouth faded on your back as he fell back into his former position.
Dropping your phone back on the nightstand, you rolled over to meet him in the middle of the bed. With a smile, you pressed your hands against his bare chest and found his lips to meet yours. It felt nicer in the daylight somehow, the sunrays peeking through the window to coat the lines on his face. The plush on his lips were somehow rougher, waiting to be broken in for the day.
“Happy?” You said, running your hand over the side of his beard. Your face was only a distance away from his and your body had leaned off his side. He hummed as you pressed another delicate kiss on his lips.
You pulled yourself onto his hips, so you could feel your body flush against his. He let out a slight hum at the feeling of your skin pressed together. His hands went to your lower back, grasping to feel you closer.
“Do you wanna go to that diner for breakfast?” You pressed another kiss on his lips as you rested your arms around his head. You shifted yourself on his hips, feeling the morning greet you.
“Mhmm,” Robby nodded, but it seemed like he hadn’t really heard you. He ran his hand over your hair, letting you lazily grind over him.
You hummed, “Found out I have to go to work tonight.”
“Leavin’ me on my day off?” He mumbled, hands resting on the underside of your thighs as he pressed a kiss onto your cheek.
“It’s just later tonight. You’ll survive.” You teased, fingers playing with his hair.
“Better make the rest of the day, then.” He said before reaching his head up to sweep you into a deeper kiss. You giggled as his hands went under your (his) shirt to pull it off.
The next morning, Jack had called Robby into the ED, although he wasn’t meant to work at all that day. With Shen on vacation, he assumed he could handle it. Apparently, patients started piling up, and there was a crisis downtown— something about a bar fight, Robby wasn’t exactly sure.
As Robby made his way in around four, Jack patted him on the back, “God, am I glad to see you, brother.”
They walked towards central, Robby looking around at the chaos flooding into the walkways. “Jesus, what’s going on?”
“Huge bar fight from the Strip District. Mostly bruises, cuts, and fractured bones, but we have one in trauma with a stab wound, about to be transferred to the OR.” Jack explained. “Everyone got in around three-thirty, so all of the beds are full now.”
“When are they not?” They approached central and Robby nodded at Lena.
Jack nudged his head over to Trauma One, and Robby followed. Peeking inside, he saw a larger man on the table with an ice pick sticking out of his side and a gash across his arm. Walsh and Donnie were over him, observing and checking his vitals.
“What happened there?” Robby asked, folding his arms.
“Someone at the bar got creative. We don’t have a full story yet.” Jack continued walking down, towards the other rooms and beds. “The police are on their way, but I don’t think anyone will get arrested.”
“Why?”
“Ever seen Coyote Ugly?” Jack raised an eyebrow.
“Yes…” Robby nodded slowly as Jack gestured down the walkway.
Robby looked to the curtains that were crowded with girls in sequins, glitter, leather party clothes, some with blood staining them.
“You chipped my fuckin’ tooth!” One of the girls in a wheelchair, who had a towel over her mouth, yelled across the way.
“It was an accident, bitch!” The other girl was on a bed, her foot elevated and a bruise on her cheek.
The area was overflowing. Girls chattering and girls half-asleep, there was even a couple arguing in one of the rooms. Robby had experienced bar fights coming in before, but it was always a bunch of beer-bellied guys or boyfriends defending their masculinity. He toed his way over, eyes roaming the area for a quick survey.
“Fuck, boss, do you think we’ll get fired?” One of the girls, who had some cuts on her legs and a black eye, called from one of the beds. She was being treated by Mateo.
“No way,” That was your voice, one that Robby had to second guess because why the hell would you be here?, “If Gustav wants to fire you guys, he’s gonna have to go through me first. Besides, though, you guys gotta stop bringing boyfriends into the bar.”
Swiftly, Robby turned on his heel, spotting you slumped over in a chair. By one of the beds, you had a bruise on your cheekbone, one on your knee, and a gauze wrapped around your right hand. You were in knee-high boots and possibly the most revealing outfit he’d ever seen you in. You leaned on your non-gauzed hand with a furrow in your brow. He called your name, rushing over.
Alarmed, you sat up with your eyes wide, “Robby.”
“Sweetheart,” his voice turned soft, concerned. He came to your side, kneeling next to the chair, and, immediately, you felt your face burn up.
“Fuck.” You pressed your left hand to your forehead, shutting your eyes. “This is so embarrassing.”
The girls who had been arguing across from you chirped up:
“Damn,” Kelly, a broken ankle propped on the bed, cursed your name, “Is this your man?”
“Who else would she be cooking all that food for?” Chris responded, lowering the towel from her bleeding mouth.
“In such a good mood. No wonder she started tipping out.” Jenna, in the bed beside you, joked with a shake of her head. “Been getting it good, huh, boss?” She pinched your elbow teasingly, which made you wince.
“Ignore them.” You rolled your eyes, flitting your hand at them. You looked at him, “I thought you weren’t working today.”
“I got called in. What the hell happened?” Robby took your gauzed hand in his, examining where your palm had been cut. What he couldn’t see was Jack, who had been peering over from across the hallway. A soft eyebrow raised in interest, and a sharp inhale, this is why Robby had been so nice and calm and easygoing.
“Uh,” you looked around, and all eyes were on you, “Can we talk… privately?” He nodded slowly, standing and helping you up. You winced at his action and mumbled, “I’m fine.”
Making your way a distance from the curtains, the girls resumed their chatter, now diminished to hushed whispers. Robby walked beside you, hand still holding yours. Landing somewhere by Pedes, Robby folded his arms in front of you.
He furrowed his eyebrows concernedly, “I heard the police got involved? What’s going on, sweetheart?”
“A bunch of tourists came in tonight and got fucking sloshed.” You sighed, “I had it under control until one of them thought it was a good idea to try to grab Kelly off the bar—”
“Why was she on the bar?” He jutted his head out, now even more worried.
“Nevermind that.” You shook your head. “His group thought it was funny to harass the other girls as well.” You gestured to the curtains. “Bella was getting felt up by some asshole, and, for some reason, her stupid fucking boyfriend showed up.
“He got crazy possessive about her and broke out into some animalistic aggression? I don’t know,” you spoke frantically and defensively, like you were in trouble with your parents, “he started howling and swinging at the tourists. Long story short, it gave everyone else an excuse to fight.”
“Okay…” He nodded slowly, then tapped at the gauze on your hand. “Doesn’t explain this.” You shook your head as your eyes caught the man who was being wheeled out of Trauma. His eyes softened, “Oh.”
“His stupid friends fled before the cops came.” You turned back to Robby, “I just wanted to protect my girls.”
“Uh, huh.” He saw the panic in your eyes settle when he nodded.
“I had it under control. We didn’t need to come here.” You reasoned with an exhale.
“But I’m glad you did.” He placed a hand on your bicep, attempting to be supportive. You dropped your shoulders when he did, unaware you had been anxious.
“There’s, uh… Something else.” You mumbled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear out of stress.
“Tell me.” Robby spoke softly, hand rubbing up and down your arm.
“Half these girls don’t have health insurance, the other half are still on their parents’.” You exhaled, like you had been holding a weight in your chest. “I really didn’t wanna take them to the ER, but someone called the cops.” You explained to Robby with a hand pressed to your forehead.
“Okay,” he sighed, “You can talk to our case manager, Noelle Hastings, and she’ll discuss some options with you.”
“She’s not gonna tell me anything I don’t already know. Can we wipe this from the record, call it a… write-off or something?” You neared Robby, able to lean towards him.
He mumbled your name, “I… Since there’s probably been a police report, it’s already on the record. Please, just talk to Noelle. She can help.” You shut your eyes with an exhale and let out a soft okay. “I’ll have them send her down.” He patted your arm, taking you closer to him.
“Thanks,” you whispered, although you weren’t really sure what for. He pressed a kiss onto your forehead before leading you back to the curtains.
After having talked to the cops, the woman identified as Noelle made her way over to you. She was long legs, shiny black heels, a proper navy pantsuit, and luscious black hair in a half up-half down. An older lady, her wrinkles were a testament to her grooming, beautiful around her eyes and complimenting her smile.
“Hi, I’m Noelle Hastings, the case manager here at PTMC.” She greeted as you stood up, one hand clutching a tablet. Her eyes glazed over your outfit as she chuckled, “Looks like someone had quite the night.”
Following her off to Central, you realized you felt silly around her. She had been so professional, and half the surface of your skin met the cold air conditioning of the emergency department, hair slightly messy from the fight. You never shivered, though, standing up straight in front of Noelle.
You laughed awkwardly, attempting to pull down the little fabric you had around your hips, “Um, I assume you’re caught up on the circumstances.”
“Yes,” She nodded once, her eyes crinkling as she exhaled. “Some of these are quite a hefty bill for those uninsured. They are all technically work-related injuries, so I suggest talking to your boss about worker’s comp when you can.”
“Okay,” you shrugged, then looked away, “Shit, I don’t know if my boss will go for that.”
“Well, another option is financial assistance from the hospital. If some of them fall under certain income limits, they could qualify for Charity Care and PTMC will cover it.” She explained delicately, like she knew you were on edge.
“How can we…” You looked back at her, who had a concerned look for you. “How can we check?”
“I can talk to the girls about their income, if that’s okay with them,” she offered supportively, "Then, we can move forward with some forms and things.”
“Everything okay here?” You heard Robby’s voice trickle in, coming to stand beside you. He looked to Noelle for an answer, who had made dreamy-eyes at him when he stepped forward. If she hadn’t calmed your nerves, you wouldn’t have noticed.
You recognized the glint in her eye, a narrow like there was a secret you weren’t in on and a smirk on her face. The friendly smile on her face only grew into something more… suggestive?
“Yes, I briefed her on our options.” Noelle nodded. With you still there, girlish youth grew on her face, suddenly lit up and hopeful with a little bit of desperation. She took a step forward, “Dr. Robby, if I could just—“
“Great,” Robby nodded like he hadn’t heard her. You looked between them, inquisitive and a little entertained. Ready to walk away, his hand skimmed over yours as he looked at you, “Did you need anything from me?”
Receptive, your hand wrapped around his and gave a squeeze, “No. Thanks, honey.”
He nodded again, a bashful smile playing at his lips before he trailed off. You watched him walk away, biting at the inside of your cheek to stop a proud smile from coming about.
Turning back, you nodded at Noelle, “Thank you again.”
You began to walk away, then her voice stopped you.
“Do you, uh,” she started, the veil of professionalism faltering for just a moment through her curious eyes, “Do you know Dr. Robinavitch?”
“We’re…” You stopped yourself, then cleared your throat, “Why?”
She looked away and exhaled a little, “Oh, nothing… Just—”
“We’re neighbours.” You grinned with the tilt of your head, unintentionally fishing for more information. It wasn’t technically a lie, but it definitely wasn’t what she was asking.
“He just, uh,” She shook her head, then looked back up, “Kinda dropped out a few months ago.”
“You mean he… ghosted you?” You slowly nodded understandingly.
Could’ve been. That’s what Noelle was. In all her polished and experienced beauty, Robby had led her on. Why he let such a woman get away was beyond you. And maybe it was self-centred to think so, but the timeline had lined up to when you landed on Robby’s front steps.
She was older than you, more mature, no doubt. You were practically in shiny underwear in front of her with big lashes and glittery lip gloss, looking like some little aspiring cosmetologist’s fucked up Barbie doll.
“God, I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.” She muttered, more to herself than to you. Her hand moved to cover her face slightly, embarrassment blooming on her cheeks. In this state, she was another girl just like you, confidence faltering over this old man.
“No,” you shook your head supportively, then offered playfully, “didn’t really know a 50 year old man could have a situationship.”
“Stupid, right?” Noelle shrugged, rolling her eyes. Removing her hand from her face while flicking her hair away, she scoffed, “Guess I just thought we had something real. Jokes on me for trying something with a man so lonely.”
You chuckled at her honesty, “Happens to the best of us.”
With a pressed smile, she nodded, “I’ll go speak to the girls now.”
“Of course,” You affirmed as she trailed off.
A few hours after the whole bar fight party had been discharged and everyone was slowly getting caught up, Jack stopped by at Central, where Robby had been finishing up some charts.
Knocking on the counter, Jack nodded, “How’s it going?”
“About ready to head home.” Robby sighed, tilting his glasses down to look at Jack.
“What, uh…” Jack leaned over the surface, an amused smile growing on his face, “What’s going on with the fighter from earlier?”
Robby laughed to himself, leaning over the desk like he and Jack were two girls at a sleepover, “The fighter?” He mocked, raising an eyebrow innocently.
“You know, the leader in that tiny skirt…” Jack teased, watching Robby’s expression soften, “What’s going on there?”
“Uh, she moved in next door a few months ago,” Robby shook his head bashfully, “We became friends pretty quickly, and, uh… you know.”
“I know? What are you, a teenager?” Jack scoffed playfully.
“I don’t know what you want from me, man.” Robby smiled, tilting his head, “It’s new.”
“That’s where all your free time has been going, then?”
“Sorry I don’t want to play pickleball on my Sundays.” Robby joked, logging out and rolling his eyes. He stood from his chair, reaching for his jacket, which rested on the back of it.
“Young thing.” Jack commented, standing up straight. “Is this the one packing your lunches?”
Sighing, Robby slipped on his jacket, “Leftovers from dinner.”
“I’m happy for you, man.” With the pat of his back, he tilted his head up and joked, “Careful with that one, though. She’s feisty.”
“Yeah, I should get home, check on her.” Robby laughed with the shake of his head. “Shouldn’t even be working right now.”
Jack rolled his eyes, “Alright, Chief.”
Upon coming home, Robby saw you where he usually did, on your stoop with a cigarette and your cell phone. You had swapped your sequined halter for your big hoodie, and your legs stayed bare on the stairs, pulled to your chest and feet in slippers. Your nails tapped on your screen frantically, but your face stayed straight, eyes drooping tiredly.
“Hey, killer.” He said, making his way over to you.
You tried to laugh but it came out as a small huff, “Hey, Hospital Heartbreaker.”
He chuckled as he sat beside you, shaking his head, “That’s a new one.”
“That, uh,” you gestured the cigarette to him, which he declined, “case manager…” You raised an eyebrow playfully as he nodded. “I was right about you.”
“Yeah.” He exhaled, sitting back. He was close enough that his scrub bottoms were flush against the skin of your thigh. “Wasn’t serious. It was before… you.”
“Does she know that?” You chuckled with a draw of the cigarette.
Robby tilted his chin at you, “How are you doing?”
“Seen worse days.” You tilted your head at him with a lopsided smile. “Should’ve seen the other guy.”
He nodded his head slowly, “I did.”
“Is he gonna be okay?” You asked, more out of curiosity than concern, eyes trailing to the street..
“I… don’t know.” He exhaled.
“Hope not, that bastard deserves jail time.” You hissed half-jokingly, taking another drag of your cigarette and blowing it in the opposite direction.
Robby cleared his throat, shifting in his seat, “I didn’t know your job was so… dangerous.”
“Yeah.” You shrugged, like it was the most simple thing in the world.
“Why didn’t you tell me about it?” His eyebrows knit together, genuine concern brewing in him. He looked at you in confusion, eyes uneasy as he waited patiently for a response.
“I don’t know…” You offered hesitantly, “I thought you’d…”
“Care?”
“I don’t know what I thought. I’m just a private person, I guess.” You shrugged dismissively, turned away from him at this point. “Working at a club isn’t uncommon.”
You didn’t mean to be so defensive, but you never thought your worlds would collide the way it did. You never intended to take Robby seriously until you realized how much you actually liked him.
With a final puff of the cigarette, you said, “My last boyfriend was a detective. He kinda… had a thing for being invasive about my job, then our relationship turned into a sting operation. It was a whole thing.” You swatted your hand in the air tiredly.
“Didn’t take you for one with crazy exes.” He joked, but you couldn’t even smile.
“Sammy’s not crazy… he’s just,” you shook your head, unsure why you even bothered to bring it up, “Whatever. Doesn’t matter anymore.”
Robby watched as you tapped the ashes off the cigarette and reached to put it out on the ground. His eyes softened when you looked at him.
“Well, I’d like you to stay safe.” He said, like it was a suggestion, medicine for whatever illness the night gave you. “And I want to know what’s going on with you. I don’t want to hover, just want you to come home in one piece.” His hand found the side of your face, urging you to lean into him.
“Home.” You repeated with a nod, like it was an epiphany.
“Yeah.” He smiled.
“What, are you my boyfriend now?” You teased, nudging his knee with yours.
“Boyfriend,” he repeated, like he was trying it on for size, running a thumb over your cheekbone, “Yeah…”
synopsis: The Montana summers weren't for the weak. You and Kayce have unspoken history.
warnings: heatstroke, passing out, vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of drug usage, mentions of running away, Monica and Tate don't exist.
word count: 2.1k
There was something about Montana summers.
The valley in which the Yellowstone ranch laid, had its fair share of weather changes. The winters were brutal, feet of snow coating the land, the wind bitter against the skin making it hard to want to get up in the morning and do chores. Spring usually brought inches upon inches of rain, damn near flooding the place and making it a muddy mess trying to move cattle in preparation for breeding season. Fall was a vibrant display of changing leaves, and the scent of fields being harvested in time before the first frost.
But the summers, the summers were something else. Blame global warming, or whatever you wanted, but the summers in Montana were hot and steamy. The sun was unforgiving most days, beating down on you and your horse as you worked from sunup till sundown, training and cleaning horse stalls, helping move cattle from pasture to pasture, and carrying out the daily maintenance of the ranch. Most of the cowboys didn’t have an issue, but you on the other hand, never quite got along with the heat.
It was supposed to be an “easy day”, Rip had barked at all of you as you shuffled into the barn to get tack up your horses, but the sun was already blaring its god awful rays down on the earth. Your skin felt sticky from the humidity and your hair was already sticking to your forehead underneath your hat. You left your water jug in the bunkhouse, choosing to fuel your body with the dark roast coffee Loyd had made instead.
“You think the Devil just walked up here and decided to fuck with the temperature,” Ryan said, sitting on top of the fence, watching you and Colby rake it out.
“Don’t know,” Colby grunted, “Think you could quit fucking complaining and help?”
“I don’t want to melt,” Ryan chirped back and you rolled your eyes. The two of them fought like an old married couple most days.
Colby and Ryan were the first two to make you feel welcome in the bunkhouse. It was hard walking into a house full of men, no one knowing who you are or what you had shown up at the ranch for. Everyone knew bits and pieces of your story, you had known Kayce when you were younger, highschool sweethearts or something of the sort. He was the one who got away, or so you had said. While he was thriving in the military, you were left behind, struggling and doing anything you could to make a buck. You had shown up on his doorstep, soaking wet in the rain and begging for a job, begging to finally leave behind the life you had created for yourself. Kayce barely gave you the time of day, telling you to walk back down the road, take a left, and keep going until you reach the bunkhouse, that there would be someone there to help you. Since then, you and Kayce had been walking on eggshells around each other.
“Okay, Princess,” You rolled your eyes, lifting your hat slightly off your head, and wiping away the sweat, “It’s fucking hot.” You stared at the heat waves rippling off of the earth for a moment, as the familiar sound of cowboy boots crunching on the gravel drew close.
“What up, boss man,” Kolby greeted Kayce with a nod of his head, “Come to sweat with the worst of us?”
“No, I need the girl,” Kayce said gruffly, and you turned to look at him, “We’re moving cattle. Let’s go,” He turned and walked back the direction he came without another word. You scoffed, throwing the pitchfork down.
“What a fucking douche,” You grumbled, but went and followed after him to where the horses were enjoying the cool air of the barn. Kayce’s horse, of course, was already saddled up. You weren’t about to ask him for help as you grabbed your saddle from the wall, and walked down to your horse’s stall. You could feel his impatient tension like an extra cloud of heat in the air.
“Ready?” Kayce asked as you walked your horse down the barn alley, and you nodded, silently following him outside.
The two of you rode in silence for most of the journey, slowly but surely pushing cattle from one pasture into another. You weren’t sure why you, of all the people on the Yellowstone Ranch, had to be the one out here, sweating with Kayce. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded the silent rides through the rolling fields, but it wasn’t just the heat making you not want to be out here.
Kayce thought that asking you to come out here with him would be the perfect chance to tell you how he felt. He, just as much as you, was tired of the awkward dance that you had been doing since you showed up. He didn’t need to ask too many questions that night when you came knocking on his door, soaked to the bone, nothing more than skin and bones. When he left for the Navy, a mere days after graduation and breaking your heart, he had asked Beth to keep an eye out for you. Begrudgingly, she did so, and told him about the shift in your life. You had always dreamed of getting out of Montana, but you never made it that far.
Every time Kayce thought of saying something, of apologizing or even just asking how you have been, his mouth went dry and his mind blank. Instead, he thought that maybe even getting you near would break some of the tension, but he was so wrong. It seemed as if the tension had picked up a notch as the two of you rode next to each other.
“Fuck, is it hotter out here, or is it just me,” You mumbled as you sat on top of your horse. The body heat from the animal was soaking into you, paired with the brutal beatdown from the sun, your skin felt like it was physically burning.
“Complainin’ ain’t gonna make the sun go away,” Kayce said back and you rolled your eyes. The last thing you needed was the sass from him. Your skin felt dry and your head was pounding. All you wanted was to feel the cold stream of water in the bunkhouse shower.
— — —
You had never felt so happy to have your feet back on the ground. Three hours sitting up on a horse in the sun, slowly moving cattle into a new pasture. You knew that your shoulders were horribly sunburnt, and the sweat stains in between your thighs from sitting on the saddle made it look like you wet yourself.
Kayce felt happy too, to be back on solid ground. He would be lying if he said the heat hadn’t gotten to him either. He was used to being in hot temp areas, but he would take being in full kit in Afghanistan versus sitting on a horse waiting for cattle to hurry up and move. Kayce had taken his horse back to the barn, carefully taking the tack off of him and hanging it up. He told Loyd to give the animal a good wash down, wanting to make sure his horse was cooled down before being put away for the night.
Kayce slowly made his way down the alley of the barn, stopping just right outside of your horse’s stall. He had been thinking of what he was going to say to you since the moment he got you alone out in the field. The two of you had yet to have “the talk” since you arrived months ago, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without it. Every time he saw you, the words that he wanted to say were right at the tip of his tongue, but the second you looked at him, they all seemed to go blank. But now, it was as good a time as any.
“Y/N,” Kayce said, stepping into the horse stall. You stood by your horse, your hand on its belly, back facing Kayce, “We need to talk.”
You blinked a couple of times, trying to stop the black spots floating in your vision, and trying to keep yourself up right. You felt like your knees could give out at any moment.
“Y/N?” Kayce called out. He reached out to touch your shoulder, as you doubled over and vomited into the hay sheddings, “Holy shit,” Kayce moved quickly, rushing to you as your legs gave out and you collapsed in his arms. He was alarmed by the flush color of your skin, and your chapped lips. Your eyes looked glossed over as you looked up at Kayce.
“I-I don’t feel,” Your words were slurred as Kayce hoisted you up in his arms.
“I know, we gotta cool you down,” Kayce said to you, and you weakly nodded your head.
Kayce moved you quickly to the bunkhouse, the first flash of cool air made you instantly shiver. He walked you to the bathroom, and you were thankful that the house seemed to be quiet, not wanting any of the other cowboys to see you like this. It was hard enough being one of the only females here, you didn’t need this to be held over your head. Kayce gently sets you down on the shower tile, reaching above you and barely turning the water on. The second the cold water hit your skin, you gasped.
“No! No!” You cried.
“It’s okay,” Kayce cooed, “I have to cool you down.”
“Please,” Tears were welling in your vision, and you weren’t really sure why you were crying. You summed it up to your body being in such shock, you didn’t have control over your emotions.
“It’s okay,” Kayce said again, running a hand up and down your back as you leaned into him, feeling your body grow weak again, “You’re going to be okay. It’ll be okay.” You let out a whine as your body had shifted temperature, but welcomed the cool water against your warm skin.
— — —
You weren’t sure when you fell asleep or maybe you passed out, but you woke up in an unfamiliar bed, with a box fan pointed right at you. It took you a moment, your head pounding as you looked around the room, noticing the various country-esq landscape paintings and the giant deer head on the wall. It was nearing night time, or so you had guessed by the last remnants of the sunset peaking through the wooden blinds. You tried to sit up, but let out a groan instead, your head starting to swim and black spots filling your vision.
“Y/N?” You froze as you heard Kayce’s voice from the other side of the door, “Can I come in?”
‘Holy shit’ You cursed to yourself, ‘I’m in Kayce’s room.’
“Yeah,” Your voice was raspy, and you could still feel the sting of bile.
Ever so gently, Kayce pushed the door to his bedroom open, sticking his head in first before coming all the way in, “Hey,” You nodded your head as he walked towards you, a glass of water in his hand and some tylenol, “Drink this and take these. It’ll help the headache and muscle cramps.”
“How do you know?” You asked, taking the water and medicine. Now that he mentioned it, your legs felt heavier than normal with a slight ache to them.
“They train you on the basics of heat stroke in the Navy,” Kayce said, “Seen one too many guys fall over.” You felt your cheeks pink up in embarrassment, “No one saw, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Am I that transparent?” You said barely above a whisper, “You didn’t have to bring me here. They would’ve taken care of me at the bunkhouse.”
“I know,” Kayce swallowed thickly. He wasn’t all too sure why he had picked you up and put you in his truck, driving back to his house for you to rest somewhere quiet and comfortable. But he did, and he didn’t regret it. He knew that he would’ve been a nervous wreck leaving you in the bunkhouse, “I needed to make sure you were going to be okay. . . You scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” You squeaked out.
“Don’t apologize, Y/N,” Kayce said, shifting closer to you on the bed, “One of my first summer's running cattle with my dad, I did the same thing. We’d been out all day and came back, and the second I climbed off my hose I hit the ground. Face first in shit shavings,” You couldn’t help but chuckle, “At least you picked a clean stall to upchuck and pass out in.”
You rolled your eyes, “Thanks for catching me.”
“Always,” Kayce said, grabbing your hand. You glanced down between your hands and back up at Kayce, who had a slight blush on his face. He went to pull his hand away but you squeezed it and then laced your fingers with his.
Summary: Summer in the west, you can always be sure of a few good traditions. This one just involves cotton candy.
Notes: Here it is. I finally had an idea for a fluffy Kayce piece. Mostly because I watched Happiness for Beginners and Luke Grimes was just so damn cute. Plus, I grew up in the midwest and I love this cute, wholesome fair vibe. I’ve always wanted someone to win me a stuffed animal at one of those target shooting games, so this is just pure self indulgence with my blonde cowboy husband.
-
Flashing, colorful lights mixed with the orange and blush sunset overhead, accompanied by the metallic roar of the rides and the excited screams of their passengers. Game booths chimed with every winner. Cinnamon and powdered sugar wafted off of every funnel cake. Children ran in front of you with sugary candy apples, kicking up the hay and dirt underfoot.
You felt just like a kid again, every sense bringing back so many memories. You couldn’t help but swing your hand back and forth with a giddy rhythm, fingers intertwined with your husband’s.
Kayce beamed, watching your face light up with every step. It was the cutest damn thing he’s ever seen, the way your smile reached your eyes. If you weren’t walking with him, he was sure you would have been skipping down the rows.
A speaker somewhere started playing an upbeat country song. He spun you around, making you giggle and grin back at him.
“This is perfect,” you exclaimed. You twirled back to him to pull him into a kiss. “Thank you.”
“I thought you could use a break from, well,” he sighed, “everything.”
“You needed one too.” You lifted his arm, placing it around your shoulders and cuddling up to him while you walked. “God knows you deserve it.”
His laugh rumbled through his chest and into you.
How he ever deserved you, he’d never know.
“This is my favorite part,” you whispered. As the sun sank lower and lower, the rides lit up in bright reds and blues, the ferris wheel becoming a beacon against the night sky. It flashed and spun as bright as a firework. You walked a little faster. “Come on. I’m starving.”
“Alright, just slow down,” he laughed. “Not all of us have the energy of a five year old.”
“You will after you have the sugary goodness that is fried dough shaped like a spiderweb, now hurry up before the lines get too long.”
Luckily, there were only a couple of people ahead of you, so you didn’t have to wait too long to dig in. You couldn't remember the last time you’d had a funnel cake and, taking a bite of the twisted, spiraling dough, you felt another surge of nostalgia.
“Ohmgod Kashee thish ish shooo good!” You gushed, your mouthful of sugar making it nearly impossible to understand.
Kayce smiled and took a bite. A cloud of powdered sugar erupted, puffing up into his face and getting caught in his mustache. It coated the tip of his nose and his lips, and when he sighed, it blew outward like smoke from a dragon. A sugar dragon.
You burst out laughing.
“Very funny,” he said, licking the white powder off of his fingers and trying in vain to get it off his face.
“You look like a drug sniffing dog that just found a shit ton of cocaine,” you snorted. Tearing off another piece, you let the sugar dissolve on your tongue. “What I wouldn’t give for a camera right now.”
“Don’t even think about it,” he glowered. “I’m going to go clean this off.”
As he stood up to go, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and planted a big, messy kiss on your cheek, smearing sugar all over.
“Kayce!” You squealed. He hurried off, laughing and licking his lips.
Finishing the rest of your half and cleaning your cheek with a napkin, you took a moment to just listen to everything around you. From the cheering children to a group of young girls taking pictures of each other, everyone just seemed… happy. It was a nice change to the darkness you often faced in your lives.
You found yourself wandering toward the game booths to see everything on display. There was a ring toss, a beanbag toss, a ball toss. Honestly, a lot of tossin’. The last booth had one of those target shooting games with toy guns and big red bullseyes on the wall. Above the targets, there was a shelf full of stuffed animals of all shapes, sizes, and colors. On the counter sat the main prize- a teddy bear that was almost as big as you.
“You lookin’ for someone to win that for ya, darlin’?” A man asked, sauntering over to you like a cowboy in a bad movie.
You raised a brow. “Do you think you could? Those targets seem awfully far.”
“Pfft, I reckon I could hit all of ‘em with my eyes closed.” The man with the very fake accent motioned to the teenager running the booth to give him one of the guns.
You leaned against a post with an amused smirk, feeling an arm snake around your waist.
“What’re you doin?” Kayce asked, chin resting on your shoulder.
“Oh, this nice gentleman was going to win me that bear over there,” you said.
The man turned, saw Kayce, and scowled, forgetting his accent in his frustration. “Hey man, I was here first.”
You took Kayce’s hand and held it up so he could see the rings on your fingers. “Actually, he was.”
The guy scowled and opened his mouth to say something he’d definitely regret.
Your husband’s growl rumbled up your back and you sensed his eyes darken. “I really wouldn’t.” Kayce’s arms tightened around you, giving you a rush of warmth that enveloped your whole body.
The sulking cowboy stomped off to find a new unsuspecting woman to flirt with and you shifted around in your husband’s hold to face him.
“That wasn’t very nice,” you teased.
Kayce just frowned. “He didn’t look very nice.” He pressed a kiss to your forehead and twirled you back around. “Now, which one of these were you looking at?” His eyes scanned the long row of stuffed animals, landing on the massive teddy bear, holding a big fluffy red heart to its chest. “I’m gonna guess that one.”
He flagged down the kid running the booth and bought a ticket.
“Don’t you think this is a little, I don’t know,” you breathed out the word, “cheaty?”
“It isn’t cheating,” Kacye said. “It’s…” He stopped to think of the right phrase. “It’s using my skill set.”
“I don’t think this is what the S.E.A.Ls had in mind when they trained you, honey.” You practically hung off of his free arm, hoping to throw him off as he took aim. “Kayce, really, you don’t need to-”
He fired.
You sighed. “Too late.”
A total bullseye, not that you were surprised. All three shots he was given, he hit dead center.
“And we have a winner,” the kid running the booth said with such disinterest, you were almost surprised he wasn’t hiding somewhere playing on his phone. The boy handed Kayce the giant bear, who handed it to you.
You wrapped your arms around the large, poofy body, rolling your eyes. “My hero.”
Kayce pushed the bear down so he could catch your lips in a kiss.
You loved him most in these moments. When he was soft in a way only you got to see. When the two of you spotted a little girl playing by herself and agreed that she could use your new furry friend more than you could. The glow on his face when she squealed in excitement was enough to make you wish you could marry him all over again.
“Well, now I need something else to cuddle up to,” you teased, wrapping your arms around his middle, practically hanging off of his muscular form. “I guess you’ll do.”
“I can live with this arrangement.” He leaned in for another kiss, but you were looking over his shoulder.
“Wait!” You cried, pulling away and pulling on his hand, shooting both of you down the path between booths and families and discarded corndog sticks.
“What are you doin’?” He called behind you, voice lost in the rush and noise.
“You’ll see!” The bright, turning light shone in your eyes, making you as giddy as a kid hyped up on too much cotton candy.
Kayce looked up and found where you were taking him. His stomach did a turn. It wasn’t that he was afraid of heights. He’d stood on cliffsides his whole life, looking over hundred foot drops. But he wasn’t exactly a fan of the idea of being stuck in a metal bucket whirling through the air, either.
“Come on,” you encouraged.
He didn’t have the heart to tell you no, even if his was going a mile-a-minute.
You tugged him along through the line to get on the ride. The sun was all the way down, now, and the lights of the carnival lit up the night. The ferris wheel’s spokes flashed in a sequence of red, white, and blue, their reflection dazzling in your eyes. If it were up to him, Kayce would drag you back to the truck and drive out to a place populated by more stars than people.
“Two, please.” You told the kid manning the booth.
Kayce tried to ignore the skepticism writhing in his chest, which worsened upon seeing the operator’s half-drunk beer on the table, despite the fact he couldn't be more than eighteen. The boy waved the two of you in, muttering something about the safety bar being a little rusted. Kayce wasn’t sure if you heard or not, but either way, you climbed into the metal basket that swung with every step.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” He asked.
You bit your lip to keep from laughing. “Is my big, tough cowboy scared of heights?”
“Heights, no.” He pointed at the operator. “That kid? A little.”
Now, you couldn't hold back your snort of laughter, hooking your arm through his. “You break horses for a living and this is what gets you?”
“I don’t break them,” he smirks, choosing to look in your eyes rather than the shuttering lever the operator almost trips over. “I make them like me.”
“Now why does that sound familiar?” You teased, pressing a kiss to his cheek just as the wheel jolted forward.
Kayce gripped the safety bar like the reins of an angry bull, arm tightening around you so that you were flush against his side—something you certainly wouldn’t complain about. As the ride moved, lifting you backward into the air and stopping again for another group to get on, you hummed the tune of the carnival music playing below. Kayce focused on your voice rather than the racket of the machine lifting the two of you dozens of feet in the air.
Once everyone was on and the wheel started a steadier speed, he calmed, taking off his hat so it wouldn’t fly off in the breeze, which blew pleasantly against your faces in the rush. The bright Montana stars shone overhead, complimented by the colors around you. In the distance, you could still see the silhouette of the mountains in the dark.
The ferris wheel’s rhythm slowed in the final few rotations, eventually stopping and starting again as passengers got off.
“This is always my favorite part,” you whispered, even though no one could hear you but your husband.
The wheel stopped with you perfectly at the top.
This part, Kayce was more than comfortable with.
He wrapped both arms around you, pulling you close to him as he pressed his lips to yours. The kiss was like fireworks and sweet bourbon and the smell of rain in the mountains all rolled into one. You smiled against his lips, tangling your fingers in his dirty-blonde hair. The moment was the perfect way to end the night—at least before you got home.
“Uh, you guys have to get off now.”
The two of you broke apart and you couldn’t help but snicker at Kayce’s reddening cheeks. You hadn’t even realized you’d started moving again.
Situating his hat back on, Kayce took your hand, walking you back through the booths and rides toward the parking lot where his old truck waited to drive you to your four walls, locked door, and sheets ready to tangle around your body.
Forget riding off into the sunset. You had your western happy ending right here.
3k6 | Joel Miller x fem reader x Tommy Miller | ao3
Summary: you run out of gas in the middle of nowhere at night. A stranger comes to help
Warnings: 18+ mdni. DDDNE, NONCON, DARK
Drugging, somnophilia, dacryphilia, kidnapping, hunter/prey, allusions to past victims, shifting pov
Oral (f/m), overstimulation, dry humping, piv, creampies
a/n: @aurorawritestoescape and I wrote this fic for @pedgito 's Spring fever writing challenge and we asked for Backwoods Horror #2 (gas station). Thank you so much for this horror film challenge Ali! 👻
Kate, sweetheart, as always, I loved writing with you 🥹💕🫶 dividers @/saradika-graphics 🙏
Heed the warnings! If any of this makes you uncomfortable, do not pursue reading. We are not responsible for the content you consume. This is not for everyone and that's okay. We don't condone the actions of the characters.
Kate's masterlist | Milla's masterlist
You were trying not to panic, even though you checked the remaining fuel on your car display far too often. It all could have been avoided, if you hadn't taken the wrong exit, if you hadn't ended up in that godforsaken corner in the middle of the woods, if you hadn't lost your GPS signal. But the last half hour had been nothing but a pile of shit.
Your headlights could barely allow you to see what was around, and you were on the verge of crying when you checked the gas gauge again, the low fuel warning lit for far too long. You swallowed back the tears, when you saw the sign of a gas station, just a few miles ahead.
The station was then in sight, dimly illuminating the surrounding trees, when your car began to hiccup, before it finally stopped once the last drop of gas had been swallowed.
“Fucking hell,” you said out loud but then tried to calm down, telling yourself that it could have been worse.
You looked around, the trees were making the night even darker, and you wondered what animals might be in the shadows. Bears? Someone worse?
You took the key out of the ignition and turned off your headlights to observe your surroundings. You hoped that the station employee had seen your car and would come out to help you. But it didn’t happen.
You grabbed the door handle, your hand shaking uncontrollably. “Come on, girl. Count to 5, take a deep breath, and get out.”
1, 2, 3, 4, 5.
You inhaled and opened the door, walking as confidently as you could, watching your surroundings, listening for the slightest noise, until you reached the gas station.
“Closed,” said the sign on the door.
Fuck.
You pressed your hand against the glass and peered inside. Maybe the employee was in the storage room? Or gone for a few minutes? But you shook your head. Gone where? There was absolutely nothing around.
You turned toward the pumps and then approached them.
“Out of gas”
The sign was handwritten in red.
There it was, your last hope being crushed. You took out your phone and checked the signal. Nothing.
Fear overtook you, its cold hand gripping your ankles before creeping up inch by inch, freezing your entire body, giving way to terror. You ran to your car, mind blank except for the images worthy of a horror movie.
You slammed the door once seated and activated the central locking. Your hands gripped the steering wheel, and you tried to rationalize your situation. You were safe in your car, you had to hold on to that thought.
It could have been worse.
Minutes passed. You kept checking your phone signal, which, of course, couldn't magically change. You looked at it for maybe the tenth time, when you saw headlights in your rearview mirror. Your instinct was to curl up in your seat, to hide in a rather stupid way.
The car slowed down, approaching you, and you saw that it was a truck. When it drove by, it was hard to say if you were more scared that the driver would keep going or would stop.
A red brake light came on, then a reverse one, and the truck backed up until it was parked in front of you. Your heart was pounding so loudly that the beating seemed to fill the cabin of your car. A few long moments passed before the driver's door opened and a man got out. You were relieved that he seemed to be alone, you’d probably die of fear if two or three men had been there, in the night, in those woods. He walked slowly to your car, your eyes set on him. He was tall, dark-haired, middle-aged, but you couldn’t read the expression on his face.
“You need help, m’am?”
At least, that's what you read on his lips, since you couldn’t hear him through the closed windows. His gaze softened when he saw your worried expression, and with his index finger he signaled for you to lower your window. He maintained the same distance, didn’t try to approach your car, so you opened it a little. Just to hear him.
“You need help, m’am?” he said, confirming your guess.
“I uh… no, I’m ok. Thank you.”
“Sure,” he said, smiling at you, and started to go back to his car. You rolled up your window and thought about your situation. There might not be anyone else coming for several hours. Or you could find yourself in danger.
Or you could be in danger with him, too.
“Shit,” you mumbled. “What should I do?”
You looked at your phone again — still no signal. Suddenly a low battery notification popped up. The fear of being alone there, with your phone dead, overshadowed everything else.
“Sir!” you shouted as you opened your door, making him stop and turn towards you.
“Yeah?”
“Could you help me, please? I’m… I'm out of gas and the station is closed."
"Of course," he replied calmly. "I have gas cans on my property. We can make a round trip, and you'll be back on the road with your car in no time."
Your last uncertainty vanished with his reassuring smile. You grabbed your bag, locked your car, and got into his, when he opened the door for you.
“Thank you, that's very kind of you,” you said once he started driving.
“Sure, m’am. I ain’t gonna leave you here alone until morning. My house’s near, so it doesn't bother me at all.”
You smiled at him, your bag on your lap, noticing the music. Probably some 50s or 60s rock tune.
“I bought a coffee on my way home from work, about fifteen minutes ago. I haven't touched it, if you want it.”
You hesitated and your stomach churned. You didn't know this man, you couldn't drink anything he offered.
But when you looked at him, his eyes were still as soft, his smile still as sweet. A dimple creased his cheek. All he‘d been doing since you’d met him was helping you. You brushed off your worries and thanked him, before bringing the Starbucks cup to your mouth. The coffee was warm and delicious.
“There’s a Starbucks nearby? Seems like there's nothing for miles around!”
He chuckled, then replied “we ain’t that far from a town. A few miles, at most. Did you get lost on your way?”
“Yeah, took the wrong road, and then there was no signal, no GPS. And no gas,” you added, laughing at your own bad luck.
“Well, looks like you've had a bad evening so far.”
“Yeah. Good thing you came by.”
“It would have been a long night otherwise, right?”
You nodded and started humming the song. It was one of your favorites.
You kept sipping the coffee until all of a sudden sleepiness took over you. You glanced at the man with droopy eyes and saw him looking at you. His lips curled into a smirk as his stare went dark.
You passed out before you had time to think that you should have trusted your gut.
******
Joel was at home when he got a text from Tommy.
It was a single photo from a security camera at the gas station. Joel zoomed in on the pic and narrowed his eyes.
It was a photo of you.
You were alone. Probably scared. Perfect.
His lips twisted into a wolfish smile. He took in your body and adjusted his bulge. Before getting up he texted back,
“On my way.”
********
“You’ve been so naive. Getting into a car with a stranger like that…Ugh, baby. Do you have anything in your pretty head?”
Joel was talking to you but you didn’t answer.
You were still out, the drug was working perfectly, keeping you asleep in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, vulnerable and pliant for him. Restraining you wasn’t necessary which was a good thing— he didn’t like leaving marks on his girls. Your skin was too beautiful to ruin. At least for now.
You were naked on an old iron bed, legs spread, thighs resting on Joel’s broad shoulders. He was looking up at your sleeping face from between your legs, his lips over your glistening cunt.
“It’s good that I took you, you know. I'm not a monster… gonna take good care of you…,” he looked down at your sopping pussy “..of her. Gonna make her wet and ready for me.”
He carefully traced the edge of your entrance with a pad of his index finger, then slid it up to your clit and drew a few tight circles over it. You softly whimpered, making Joel smile.
“That’s my girl. Giving me these pretty sounds even in your sleep. Sing for me, baby.”
Joel kept swirling your hardening bud with his thumb, drawing soft moans from your parted lips, but soon desire overtook him, and he latched onto your crying pussy. He was licking your arousal off, slurping and growling against your folds, swallowing your juices with loud gulps. His hard cock was straining his jeans, but Joel didn’t want to let him out just yet. Instead he was lazily humping the bed, his strokes short and languid.
“Not gonna cum like that, beautiful, don’t worry,” he cooed, fanning your pussy with his hot breath. “Ya getting all my milk.”
Your face was twisting with pleasure as you were lying there, your mind deep in the darkness.
Suddenly Joel heard a noise downstairs.
His hand darted to the gun in his holster, his eyes fixed on the door.
Knock, knock - pause- knock.
Joel breathed out with relief and returned his hand to your thigh when his younger brother entered the room.
“Fuck, ya scared me. Text me next time you’re close.“
Tommy came up to Joel, taking his jacket off.
”‘k, next time. Was too busy getting rid of the car.”
Joel looked at him intently.
“Done?”
“Done,” Tommy nodded but his eyes were glued to your naked body, splayed on the bed.
“Damn,” he smirked and palmed himself over his jeans.
“Right? Good catch, Tommy.”
The younger brother gave Joel a wide smile, his chest expanding at the praise.
“Thanks. But it’s all her. When I saw her at my station …,” he shook his head, “couldn’t believe our luck. She’s perfect. Did you get her with the Starbucks trick?”
“Yeah, works every time,” Joel chuckled.
Tommy’s gaze was dark as he was eating you alive with his eyes, and his hands started unbuckling his belt.
“Hold your horses,” Joel groaned. ”Ain’t fucked her yet.”
Tommy scoffed.
“Were ya sucking on her pussy all this damn time?”
“I do to her what I please,” Joel bit back, glaring at his brother. “Made her come a few times. You’ll thank me later.”
Tommy cursed and plopped into a squeaky chair near the bed.
Joel echoed his brother’s scowl with his own and then returned his eyes to your cunt. He kissed it gently and Tommy scoffed. Your skin was cold and not minding his brother’s mpatience, Joel breathed on your folds to warm your pussy up. “Ahhh…,” you moaned and Tommy squirmed in the chair.
“‘s ok.” Joel raised his hand, his lips brushing your cunt. “She’s out. Jus’ enjoyin’ herself.”
Joel mumbled “one more, baby,” and pushed his tongue between your folds. He lapped at your pussy, then focused on your clit— began flicking it with the tip, swirling it around, his palms on your hips.
Your chest was rising and falling fast again, your skin erupted in goosebumps, your face contorted with ecstasy and you came with a little cry.
You kept mewling like a wounded animal, when Tommy got up and bent over to collect a tear beading in the corner of your eye with his thumb.
He brought it to his lips and licked it off. Then his eyes returned to Joel and he grunted,
“Enough. Let’s fuck her.”
Joel would gladly spend another hour drinking from your dripping hole, your juices were headier than any whisky, more delicious than anything he’d ever tasted. If only Tommy had come a bit later.
Fuck it, Joel thought. His cock was soaking through his jeans, the constant ache of need was buzzing in his balls harder with every second, so when Tommy pushed, Joel parted from your juicy cunt and nodded.
“Yeah, ‘s time.”
Joel stood up and kneeled on the bed, unbuckling his jeans with one hand, the other wiping his slicked up chin. Tommy licked his lips, excited to start on you, but stayed standing by the bed, waiting.
Joel set that rule a long time ago—
”I do the dirty work so I’m always the first.”
He pulled his jeans down, finally letting his dick spring free, clear drops of precum landing on your naked thighs and mound. He couldn’t wait to pierce you with his cock, but there was something special about you, something that made him lean down and glide his palm between your puffy folds. Your pussy had been generously leaking all the time he’d been eating you out, and Joel gathered some of your wetness to lube up his member with your slick.
Tommy chuckled,
“Jeez, you’re not in love, are ya?”
Joel didn’t even look at his brother. The only thing on his mind and in his eyes was you — wet, hot and ready for him to devour.
Holding his girthy cock at the base, Joel settled between your legs and nudged your hole with his fat tip. Your eyelids fluttered but you were sleeping.
The warmth of your soft pussy sent a shiver through his body and Joel slid his head up and down between your folds, grazing your clit, making you whimper from overstimulation. He could listen to you forever.
He sensed Tommy’s impatience as well as his eyes on himself but didn’t care. Taking his time, Joel slowly pushed his tip inside you and his head dropped, his grunt ringing loudly in the small room.
“Fuck… she’s tight.”
“She still better be, when you're done with ‘er,” Tommy grumbled, shifting on his feet.
“Not a chance,” Joel smirked but immediately choked on a moan when his cock began pushing your walls aside, deeper and deeper, until he bottomed out in your perfect cunt.
The feeling of you wrapped around his shaft was too strong, and Joel gripped the sheets, sparing your pretty skin once again. With his chest rumbling, he began carefully pumping his length in and out of you, his blown out eyes set on your face, tense with pleasure or pain, or both, he couldn’t know. Then his gaze moved down your sweaty body to your spread pussy, that was swallowing his fat cock again and again.
“Fuck, I can’t wait any longer,” Tommy growled, unbuckling his belt, and pulled out his cock, hard since the moment he’d seen you naked on the bed.
“No,” Joel barked, not slowing down his pace. “You’ll let me finish. Wait for your turn.”
“I know, I know, god damn it,” Tommy growled, stroking himself quickly. “Gonna fuck her mouth.” He knelt on the bed and turned your face towards him, forcing your jaw open, spat on his cock and pushed the tip into your mouth, holding it open for his wide girth. A bump formed against your cheek when he pushed in.
“Fuck yeah,” he said, one hand on the back of your head, the other around your throat, to keep you in the position he needed. He pushed in slowly at first, enjoying watching you take it, then deeper and deeper with each thrust, and chuckled when you gagged on his shaft.
“Shit, ya such a freak. Don’t hurt her,” Joel warned, still fucking into your cunt, your thighs spread wide open around his.
“And what d’you think you’re doing?” Tommy scoffed.
“Making her come. Again,” thrusting in, “and again. Taking care of her, making her feel good. Fuck, this pussy, man…” he added, as if he already forgot about his brother fucking your throat.
“I wish she was awake. Wish I could see her eyes begging me to stop, while I force my cock down her throat.”
“She’s gonna be out for several hours, won’t happen. Fuck, gonna make her come on my cock soon,” he said, placing his thumb against your swollen, overstimulated clit. “Pull out, I wanna hear her,” he ordered his younger brother.
“Ugh, hurry. Fill her up. Need to drain my balls in this bitch.”
“Won’t take long. Fuckkkkk, she’s gonna come, look at that. Look at her face… She can’t take it anymore, but she can’t do shit about it. Right, baby? This cock’s too much for you, uh? Come on, beautiful, come on it. Choke me with your sweet cunt.”
His hand on your hip tightened as he sped up, finger still rubbing your clit, and you moaned again, face twisted with a mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Look at her! Yeah, giving it to her good, yeah, just like that!”
“Oh fuck, fuck, she’s coming, oh fuck… squeezing me so fucking hard…” Joel groaned, freezing inside you as you climaxed, and he began shooting his cum deep into your pussy that was milking him. Tommy leaned down and licked a tear that was trickling down your cheek, then he grabbed your hand to jerk himself off with it.
Holding your hips, Joel started thrusting in again, as deep and hard as ever with each stroke, groaning, head thrown back in pleasure.
He stopped once his balls were fully empty, and looked at your body spread out for him. “You did great, baby,” he said, patting your belly, and pulled out.
“My turn… fucking finally,” Tommy mumbled, taking his place between your thighs. He lay down on your limp body, pushing you into the mattress with his whole weight, and bottomed out in one go.
“Fuck, you ruined her, motherfucker,” he growled. Joel snickered as he tucked his cock into his jeans and sat in the chair to watch his brother use you.
“Gonna fuck you all night, baby. Gonna fill this whore snatch,” he said, licking at your lips then your neck. “That’s what you wanted, uh? Going in the woods at night, all alone? Fucking bitch. Got what you wanted.”
He quickly chased his orgasm. He always loved to fuck them quickly the first time, knowing that he’d rail them all night long. That he'd come several times, already wondering which hole he would use next. He groaned, rutting into your cunt, squeezing one of your breasts with a hand. He didn't make you come, didn’t want to. Not that time anyway. He had a whole night.
After he came, he pulled out, not looking at you.
“Shit, she’s good. Even though you already opened her up too much like every damn time.”
“I love to eat their cunts, you know it. And I didn’t want ya to split her in two. Look at how you fucked her… just pushed your dick in one go. Don’t know why you’re complaining, you love them sloppy.”
“Shit, yeah,” Tommy laughed. “Can’t wait to be hard again.”
“Yeah, me too. You’ll go first this time.”
They fucked you all night, like he said. Taking turns between your thighs. Your body was probably sore but they didn’t care.
They fell asleep, their cocks red and sensitive, once they were unable to fuck you again. Once Joel’s tongue was numb from eating you out.
They were so tired that they forgot to tie you up to the bed, when they left the room.
You woke up early in the morning, the sun's rays heating your face. You winced. First at the bright light, then at the pain in your body. You sat up, wondering where you were, and looked around. A dusty room, undecorated, only an iron bed and a chair.
You quickly glanced over your legs, your stomach, your whole naked body. You felt the pain in your lower abdomen and panicked as the memories from last night emerged in your mind. That man and his truck. The coffee. You stifled a cry, your hand over your mouth. Your body was sticky, and the smell of cum made you nauseous.
You looked for your clothes but they weren't there. You had to get out of there, quickly.
You stood up and walked to the door, staggering. Your legs were weak, and the pain was unbearable, but you couldn't focus on it. First, you had to leave. You opened the door as quietly as possible and slowly walked downstairs, preventing the aged wooden steps from creaking.
You stepped out of the house and looked around. There was nothing but trees as far as you could see.
You started to walk, naked, unable to run, trying to push away the pain twisting your stomach.
I can do it, I have to survive, you thought.
You didn't hear anything, but suddenly a hand grabbed your shoulder and threw you to the ground.
You screamed but still heard the attacker clearly.
“Where do you think you’re going, sweetheart?” a man asked, excitement thick in his voice. You felt his hard-on against your naked ass before he turned you over, as if you weighed nothing, and lay down between your legs. He looked like the man from last night, but had longer hair.
You tried to push him off you but it took him only a second to restrain you with his big hand around your wrists. To your horror, he began unbuckling his belt and sneered,
“Was damn good to fuck you all night. We love that, using bitches like you. But I like it even more when you whores fight back.”
Assignment mood board:
Thank you for reading 🙏
Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated ❤️
Other fics by Kate and me:
Keep on your mean side - Joel x f!reader - dark fic
The Burglary -Joel x f!reader x Tommy - dead dove, noncon
Bad Girl - Joel x f reader x Tommy - dubcon
The hounds of hell - Series - Javier Peña x fem reader x Steve Murphy
Harder than you think - boss!Joel x fem reader x co workers - dead dove, noncon
npt: tagging those who showed interest in the wip wednesday posts ❤️
— in which Joel miller takes a liking to you and has to have you no matter what.
cw : DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT !! You have been warned , Joel’s in his 50s and reader is in her 20s , kidnapping , reader develops Stockholm Syndrome , mean Joel , Joel hunts you through the forest , daddy kink , dad kink , punishments , spanking , dubcon (?) , oral (r!receiving) , unprotected p in v sex , breeding kink , mentions of getting you pregnant , reader becomes dependent on Joel , Joel’s just an icky old man (I want him) , MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!
WC : 3k
A/n : I got carried away … anyway I need him to kidnap me and care for me hello !!
You worked at a small coffee shop in the city. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to help you get by, being able to pay rent and some other necessities. In all honesty, you grew to really like the place; the owners were a sweet old couple who were like your parents. You had great coworkers, and overall it was nice.
About a week ago you met Joel, a man in his 50s, who definitely has years of experience and all under his belt. He was a man with a rough exterior, but he was a softie. Joel revealed to you that he comes into the city rarely, having a house and property in the outskirts of the city. Overall Joel was super nice, and sure, he may be way older than you, but he was a nice friend.
You would soon regret that decision.
The clock hit 10pm, and you finally clocked out, ready to leave the damn place for the night. After grabbing your belongings, you lock up the shop and make your way home. Walking alone at this hour was never the smartest idea, but having no car and no bus here meant you didn’t have a choice. You pray to whatever is up there to keep a watchful eye over you.
The sound of a truck slowing down beside you snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn to see what the hell is up. There he was, Joel Miller. What was he doing here? He stops beside you and rolls his window down.
“You need a ride home, darlin? It's not safe for you this late alone.” He has a point, but a part of you feels like you should decline and walk. Ultimately you decide to accept the offer and give him your address. The car ride is spent in comfortable silence, the car radio plays a random song, and you relax.
After 15 minutes you start to get a bit anxious, usually the cat ride to your place would only be 10 minutes, but it’s been longer than that. Maybe he forgot the address? No, it can’t be. This isn’t even the way to your place, it’s a gravel road leading out of the city. Shit.
“J-Joel? Where are we going?” You try to stay as calm as you can, not wanting to think of anything too bad yet. Maybe he forgot you were in the car with him? He doesn’t answer and just keeps on driving. You slowly reach over to the car handle just to realize there is nothing there. Shit, shit, no, no.
"Joel, stop the car! Please stop!” He does stop the car, and you feel relieved, but it doesn’t last long. You barely have time to process what he has before you feel a sting in your neck and everything starts to go black. The last thing you hear is Joel’s voice.
“Finally got you, doll.”
When you were younger, stranger danger was drilled into your head. That man who’s looking for his “dog” isn’t actually, and if he were, he wouldn’t be asking an 8-year-old girl. Never accept anything from a stranger, never accept candy from them. Never ever get into an enclosed space with one. You truly felt like the dumbest person ever, but technically Joel wasn’t a stranger, right?
You groan as the bright fluorescent lights hit your eyes, your head is heavy and neck hurts so fucking bad. Taking a look at your surroundings, it’s very obvious that you are not at work or at home, but in a basement. It had white walls and was furnished with a small bed in the corner, a dresser, a night lamp, and a chair in the corner.
As you stand up to find a way out, you feel a heavy, cold weight on your ankle, looking down, you discover it’s a shackle attached to a chain that is bolted into the ground. You assume that the chain is not long enough to reach the stairs and the door out. Fuck, this is the worst thing that could’ve happened to you.
“HELLO!? HELP ME PLEASE!?” With no other options, you scream for help, after a couple of minutes the door opens and he walks down the stairs. Joel fucking Miller, you look at him in nothing but disgust and betrayal. You trusted him and treated him with kindness just for him to do this to you? He stands a good 6 feet away from you, arms crossed over his chest.
“I see you’re awake now.” The statement pisses you off further, you feel more anger than fear in this situation. There is nothing more you want to do right now than punch his fuckass face.
"Wow, good thing your fucking eyes still work.”
“Watch your tone, little girl.” His gaze darkens, and it felt as if the room had gotten colder. What the hell is his issue? His boots drag on the ground as he steps closer to you, which causes you to take a step back and him to step closer. This goes on until your back hits the wall and Joel cages you in with his arms. You raise your knee wanting to hit him where the sun doesn’t shine, but he’s quicker than you and catches your knee, pushing it down harshly.
“Now you listen here, doll. There’s a very strict set of rules you will have no choice but to follow, there will be a punishment and reward system. The more good points mean that you get to leave this basement and live with me up there, the more punishments mean that you stay here longer. Your choice.” His eyes are dark, staring into your soul.
“W-what no? This is insane, Joel. Just let me go. I swear I won’t tell anyone or go to the cops I—“ You don’t register what just happened, but your cheek is stinging and feels hot, he just slapped you. Joel slapped you.
“Starting today you will obey me no matter what, and do not think of escaping because I swear I will punish you so bad you’d wish you were dead. There are cameras everywhere. Understood?” Joel’s hand was squeezing your cheeks, causing your lips to form a pout, you nod. He was scaring you badly, you just wanted to curl up and cry. Letting go of your face, he leans down and presses a kiss to your forehead, it disgusts you so bad.
“Good girl. All your belongings are in that dresser. I got them all before getting you, and the chain is only long enough to walk around in here, not on the stairs. Now you go and get some sleep, baby.” With that, he walks away, leaving you alone and scared. Getting in bed under the covers, you think about how much you hated Joel Miller.
The next month goes by terribly, you keep fighting Joel on literally everything. The punishments he gives are humiliating as hell, making you kneel on beads in the corner for hours, or spanking you so hard that you feel it for days. As you sit on the bed you realize that you have to gain Joel's trust somehow and get out of this basement to make your escape plan, and so with a clear goal in mind you slowly start to change up your behavior around him,playing into the good little girl persona he had wanted you to be in.
You sat in Joel's lap, a deep hatred burning inside of you. He's reading a book while you think about how you'd make sure his ass got life in jail for the fucked-up shit he's done to you. The stupid chain on your ankle stares back at you, mocking you for being so fucking stupid for ever trusting Joel. He closes his book and puts his glasses away before looking down at you.
“You know I was thinking it's finally time for you to start living upstairs with me. What do you think, baby?”
Finally! Yes! "You've been working towards this for a while now, and it's finally happening," you squeal in his lap.
“Yes, Daddy! You try not to cringe as you say that word, 'daddy.' He'd told you to call him that, and you refused to, fighting him on it every day, but you needed to gain his trust, so you reluctantly used it. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you kiss his cheek, this is the best news ever.
“Alright baby, let's get this chain off and then we can head up.” Sliding off his lap, you stand in front of him waiting. He pulls a key out of his pocket and lifts your leg onto his thigh, where he finally takes the damn thing off.
After it's off, you practically drag Joel upstairs with you. He just chuckles and follows you up and unlocks the door and you finally see his home. His living room is just as you expected, shades of brown everywhere, cozy couch by a fireplace. There's a guitar in the corner, you remember he said that he plays sometimes. Then you see the front door, of course there's 3 locks on it to prevent any escapes.
Under different circumstances you'd love his home. It was cozy and sweet, but this is not a good circumstance whatsoever.
You feel his arm snake around your waist, “is it to your liking sweet girl?” his breath fans your neck, once again reminded of the man who took you away from everything.
“I love it, Daddy, it's so you!” He gives you a tour of the kitchen and then takes you upstairs, where he shows you his room. A big comfy bed, with a chair in the corner. You hate to admit it, but it's so cozy.
Taking a seat on his big chair, you try to get comfortable, but his gaze is on you, too intense, like he knows something.
“So what's your plan now, little girl?” Fuck what? Does he know? How you never let anything slip.
“W-what are you talking about, Daddy?"
“Cut the shit. You think I haven't noticed? How did you just change up completely? How did you become obedient? I knew what this was about, so now you're really going to get it. You want to escape, I'll give you just that.” What? What does he mean by that? Is he finally letting you go?
"Here's the deal: you find a way off of my property without me catching you, and I'll let you go, but if I catch you, it's going to get ugly, and you stay with me. Deal?”
Without hesitation you nod, "Deal."
You stood outside for the first time in 2 months, it felt amazing, the fresh air and the wind on your skin. The weather was gloomy, clouds covering the sky. Joel stood beside you, he failed to mention that it would be a hunt and that he would use his actual rifle, his fucking rifle.
“Alright doll, I'm counting to 50, and then you better pray you can get away from me."
“Okay.” He starts counting down and you bolt into the forest, you were scared. Joel knew these woods better than you, obviously, and that’s what made you more nervous. You run until you can’t feel your legs anymore. You have to find a way out, you’re terrified of what Joel will do if he gets you.
There’s a small clearing in the distance. You head in that direction, hopefully trespassers have left an escape there. You're very aware of your surroundings, everything gets too quiet, though, as you reach the end of the clearing. That’s when you hear his voice in the distance, not far away. Shit! You decide to run from that place and find another way; as you run, you don’t look back once, needing to focus on what’s in front of you.
All of a sudden an arm hooks around your waist and a rifle is pressed against your back. You try your hardest to get out of his grip, but he’s way stronger than you. His arm moves up to your neck, where he now has you in a chokehold. Your arms try to pull him off, but again it’s useless.
"Gotcha, bunny. You’re mine now, and we are going to have so much fun now.” Tears run down your face, no this can’t be happening now. You were supposed to go home, you wanted to be back home in your shitty apartment eating shitty fast food and watching a stupid romcom. He throws you over his shoulder and heads back to his house, you feel hopeless, everything just hitting you at once.
Once inside, he locks all the doors once again and brings you up to the bedroom, where he throws you on the bed. You don’t react, feeling numb and hopeless. You think of life and all the things you didn’t do because you prioritized other pointless things, wishing you’d done them. You don’t have family and no friends, so no one knows where you are. Work is probably going to assume you quit and hire someone new, and your landlord probably thinks you moved out. No one knew you were missing. No one was coming to save you.
“Take your pants and panties off and bend over my knee.” Joel sits in his chair watching as you take off your pants and panties, with wobbly legs, you bend over his knee. You can’t bring yourself to care about anything.
“35 spanks with my belt. You will count and say thank you after each one. You are to call me sir or daddy. Understood?”
“I understand, sir.”
With a satisfied hum, his belt lands the first hit on your ass, you hiss and quickly remember to count.
“One. Thank you, sir.”
Another one lands, and it hurts more now. A tear slips from your eye.
“T-two. Thank you, sir.”
You feel disgusted, hurt, hopeless, and numb. Would you ever escape Joel? Or is it better to just accept this? Him? The hits keep coming as Joel keeps taunting and mocking you. How naive could you be? Why would an old man want to be friends with someone in their 20s? You don’t know how much time has passed, but by the time you hit 30 spanks, you were a mess, tears and snot running down your face. Your ass was probably bruised as hell and cut in places, and you knew sitting would be torturous.
“S-sir p— please I c-can’t.” You’re sobbing at this point, hoping that Joel would have some mercy and stop, but this is Joel, a mean old man who is probably enjoying this more than he should.
“Mhm no doll, ya got 5 more. You can take it” the next hot comes down and you feel that will to fight for your freedom leave you. This was humiliating, degrading, maybe giving into Joel was the easier choice. By the last spank you were done for, needing comfort needing to be held.
“T-thirty f-five. Thank you daddy! Please M’sorry m’sorry no more- please!” Joel’s hand rubs your ass in a soothing way, he picks you up and lays you down on tummy and you sob harder into the covers. After a couple of minutes he comes back and sits down by you.
“It’s all over babygirl, you did so well for daddy. Shush now. I’m going to apply this cream on your bum now it’ll sting but it’s gonna soothe it, Kay?” You can only nod and he puts the lotion onto his hands rubbing it so it’s not too cold and starts massaging your bottom. It stings like hell but he was right it got better after that. You’re in a floaty headspace, like everything is so hazy and Joel is the only one you want and can even think of.
After he’s done with taking care of you, he takes his shirt off getting into bed and leaning against the headboard. Then he carefully brings you into his lap making sure to avoid putting too much pressure on your ass, and tucks your head into his chest. You immediately put your head into his neck. Joel smiles knowing he’s finally got you where he wanted.
“Daddy’s so proud of you for taking that babydoll, so proud.” He’s kissing your head as you whimper into his neck.
“Daddy… daddy M’sorry didn’t mean to run” maybe a part of you wanted this, that’s why you didn’t fight it. Even thinking about leaving him felt too difficult.
“I know baby I know. Just needed your daddy to remind you where you belong.” You belong with him, here in the middle of nowhere where you can do whatever together. Joel looks down and you and presses his lips to yours, you kiss him right back, it gets messy and heated fast. Shuffling in his lap until both your legs are straddling his waist, your hands on his chest. his wrapped around your waist.
Pulling away from the kiss with a String saliva that is connected to your lips, Joel wastes no time taking your shirt off leaving you exposed in front of him. Your nipples harden as the cold air hits them and Joel takes one into his mouth. Arching your back and tangling your hand into his hair. “Shit daddy please.” His other hand plays with the other nipple. He stops sucking on it and moves back up to kiss you, switching your position so you are now under him.
“You’re perfect doll, so perfect for daddy.”
You lay bare in front of him, Joel takes his pants off leaving him in black boxers where you can see the obvious print of his dick. Fuck he’s thick. His fingers trail down to your wet slit and he pushes a thick finger in. You let out a little gasp arching your back, fuck his finger is so thick.
“Shit baby you’re so tight, need to stretch this pretty pussy out before I can put my cock in her.” His words were filthy, but it got you wetter and wetter. He continues to work his magic, thrusting in and out of your tight hole. After a minute he adds a second finger and then a third, you’re moaning like a bitch I heat and grasping the sheets as he continues to split you open, his thumb connects with your clit and he starts to rub, shit You feel a heat pool in your tummy. You’re close and Joel can feel it as well.
“Gonna cum all over my fingers baby? Yeah gonn cum all over daddy? Come on, be a good girl and let go.” That’s all it took for you to spill all over him, you’re panting as he finger fucks you through your orgasm. He stops and sucks his fingers clean.
“Taste amazing doll.” He takes of his boxers and his dick hits his tummy, fuck he’s big. “Is that even gonna fit daddy?”
“Don’t worry doll I’ll make it fit.” With that he lines himself up with your hole and pushes in slowly, you wince at the stretch, Joel knows you’re a virgin so he wants to take it slow. “Halfway in baby. You’re doing so well for me.” He kisses the tears off your face and pushes himself in fully, you let out a little scream and he kisses your lips letting you adjust.
After a minute you feel so full and you need him to move, “sir please move”
That’s all it takes for him to start thrusting in and out of you, he’s big and you can feel him stretching you out so good. You swear you can feel his dick in your throat, he’s panting and groaning into your ear like a dog.
“Pussy so good for sir and it’s all fucking mine, you belong to me doll.” All you can do is let out a breathless moan, all you can think of is Joel.
“So fucked out you can’t talk baby? S’okay daddy’ll do all the thinking for ya. You just be my pretty little fuck doll.” Whining you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a kiss, his beard tickles your cheek but you don’t care, wrapping your legs around his waist needing him deeper in your guts. One of his hands comes down on your clit rubbing in circles, your back arches off the bed a you feel his cock hit your cervix.
“Daddy!! Please please!”
“Please what baby? Huh? Gonna cum for your dad?” You feel yourself clench at that, fuck you’re fucking filthy for liking this.
“P-please dad need to cum!”
“Yeah gonna cum all over this cock baby? Shit I’m close too. Gonna fill you up with my seed, give you a baby. You’ll be mine forever that way.” Shit that pushes you over the edge and you feel yourself cumming all over his cock, you feel Joel painting your insides a couple seconds after.
He fucked you through it and pulls out watching his cum drip out of you, scooping it up and fucking it back into your hole.
“Need to make sure it sticks, baby.” Domestic life with Joel sounded so good, being his good little housewife. Making sure the house was clean, and that dinner was on the table. Him fucking you and getting you pregnant. You wanted to be that for him.
“Gonna make such a pretty housewife for daddy, doll.”
And you wouldn’t have it any other way, old life already forgotten.
Warnings: language, Beth Dutton, mentions of attempted date rape, dry humping, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 4.3K
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You brush out the mane of a mare you are determined to tame. Breathing slowly and deliberately as you step even closer to her. “Better watch it, Bronc,” John says from the side of the paddock. He’d been watching you closely for a while. You’re sure he’s just seeing if you and Kayce reconnect like before. He’s protective of his children more than the average parent.
“Don’t listen to him,” you respond, causing him to snort, smiling over at you. “Sometimes the wild ones are just misunderstood, huh?” You click your tongue a few times before pressing your forehead against hers, “John just doesn’t know how to deal with free spirits.”
“I’m not the only one,” he grunts under his breath. He doesn't do much to mask the comment, but you also don’t say anything as he dips his head down to look at his foot kicking the dirt. “How’s the bunk house treating you?”
“Just fine,” even though you find yourself at Kayce’s house most evenings.
“Rip not letting you stay with him?” You turn to look at him with a strange look, “Guess not. I’d see why you wouldn’t want to,” he clears his throat as he looks behind him, and at the approaching Kayce, “You could always stay in the lodge.”
“No, she can’t,” Kayce saunters on up to the gate of the paddock, “She could join us for meals though. Bet we have better food,” he doesn’t even try and disguise what he’s doing, just opens up the gate, and keeps walking towards you.
“Or I could just stay in the bunkhouse.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” your head turns to look at Kayce so quickly, and he’s just calmly holding out your arms. “No comeback?”
“Take it easy on that one, son,” John responds before leaving. He always knew when to give you and Kayce your space, “She’s not easy to tame.”
“I did not ask to stay with you,” you grouse as he walks up behind you, “Easy, cowboy, this one jumps.”
“I’ll always catch you — her,” he clears his throat. Being too obvious that this is about you, and not the damn horse.
“Kayce, you’re getting too close,” you release a slow, shaky breath as he steps up behind you. The heat coming off his clothes tingles your body in such an odd, but comforting way.
“She’s fine. She likes me, don’t cha, girl?” Breathing is becoming difficult. “Just let me,” he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting them to the mare’s snout. “There. See? Who is a good girl?”
“You know I’m not, right,” and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“And I’m talking to a horse,” is that what is going on? Because you could have sworn this conversation was a bit of a double innuendo. “Why are you breathing so hard, Bronc?” His hot breath fans against the back of your neck, and both you and the mare start to tense up. When is the right amount of time in between relationships?
“Shh, shh, shh,” Kayce’s voice is right behind your ear, and you are struggling to do anything but shush. Shifting your thighs against each, you try and quell the need for friction, “Easy, girl. We’ve been working together for a long time. I get her right where I want her, and then she always regresses and doesn’t want to see me.”
He’s talking about the horse, but in so many instances he could be talking about you. “I think she’s afraid that I’m scared of commitment, or that I just want her to be a secret.”
“The horse?”
“The woman that’s in my arms,” he is talking about you. You’re not crazy. You’re just a lovestruck fool. No. You’re trying to live in the past. This Kayce is not the Kayce you left. He is older, and you would hope so much wiser. This Kayce at least communicates. “I would very much like the woman that’s in my arms to join me, dad, and Beth for dinner.”
Beth. That sounds like a fun time. A different time. “You’re not saying anything. Is it because you’re struggling to breathe?”
“No,” yes. You’re very much struggling to breathe.
“Because I am,” tilting your neck, you look back at him, “Just say yes. Dad knows there’s history between us. He would always tell me to tell you to use the front door instead of climbing out the window.”
“What are we doing here, Kayce?”
“I’m asking you to have dinner with my family. And that you should probably name the mare. I want you to have her,” you look back at the horse, and she blows at you. “She’s as stubborn as the day is long, but she’s pretty,” she’s a gorgeous bay quarter horse. Clearly has been taken care of. Cared for. Almost like he always had her for you.
“Lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Her name,” Kayce snorts as his chin rests on your shoulder. His head tilts to the side, and your entire body feels the slow intake of breath he takes against your neck. “She is lucky that she’s mine and not yours.”
“She is lucky,” he breathes you in again, and your body starts sagging back on him. “There she is. Relax. I’m fully in it this time.”
“I just got out of a long term relationship.”
“So did I.”
“You’re legally married.”
“As of next week I won’t be. So don’t pull away,” gulping, you turn to meet his gaze, and hold it. “I was going to be content alone, and then you came back around. Remember I have a kid though.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t run,” he whispers as he leans into you more. “Stay with me,” his voice is barely audible, but he’s so close each movement of his mouth has his lips pushing against yours, so you close the gap. Lingering your lips against his before his hands drop from Lucky to your waist, and Kayce twists you around to face him. Better to kiss you, and feel you.
While your hands slide up his chest, and around his neck, his hands roam down to your backside where he grips you tightly, pulling you too close to him. Your tongue pushes through his lips, and you taste him for the first time in years, and crave him all the more for it. Hips jutting forward while arching your back to bring yourself dangerously closer, and you melt into him.
Knocking his hat to the ground, and he cups each buttcheek tightly before he lifts you into his arms, and you whimper into his mouth. You swear if he says another word, you’ll start to pull away. It’s as if Kayce knows that now is not the time for talking. It’s the time to give into the carnal instinct that the two of you have tried, and failed miserably to avoid.
The two of you are like fire and gasoline. Wild, hot, and dangerous. But you mix together to create something that brings so much warmth and comfort. Being able to tame the fire that the two of you create is the challenge. You never had a problem with mixing with him. Again. And again.
And again.
Lucky whinnies loudly, and Kayce abruptly drops you, and jumps in front of your body, shielding you from the horse, “Easy, girl,” he says calmly. The steady hoof beats of the men returning gives you the reason as to why Lucky was trying to rear back. “Shhh, it’s just company. I’m going to put you in the stable. And this beautiful Bronc is going to wash up at my place for dinner with my family.”
“At your place?”
“Yeah, you’re not as dirty as the ranch hands, and they won’t want you to shower first. So go grab you some clothes, and get ready at my place. Or,” he spins you around like a dance, “You just wear the dress that I got for you.”
“You bought me a dress?” Oh, he’s trying extra hard this time.
“Ehh,” he shrugs his shoulders, and clicks his tongue at the horse. Ignoring your gaping mouth as you stare at him, “Close your mouth before,” the vulgar comment is about to come, “Before I kiss you in front of Rip. I’ll meet you at the house.”
“We’re not showering together.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“Does Beth still hate me?”
“She hates everyone,” he shrugs. Clearly the conversion is over since he completely turns his back to you. Beth especially hates you because she said that you played games with her brother and broke his heart. Guess she didn’t know what Kayce did.
“Well,” John’s face lights up as you and Kayce enter the dining room. His eyes follow Kayce’s arm. Right to the hand that’s on the small of your back, and he looks at his son, beaming when he nods his head. “Didn’t expect company. Kayce, go get yourself a chair, and tell Gator that Bronc is eating dinner with us. Sweetheart, you sit in his seat.”
Kayce smiles as he pulls out the chair typically meant for him, and leaves the room. “It looks great here.”
“Don’t butter me Up. It looks the same.”
“Still looks great.”
“Classic never gets old,” John looks to the side, seeing that Kayce had fully gone out of ear shot from him, “So — how’s life treating you?”
“We’re just friends, John,” he gives you a knowing grin and wink. “I promise. We’re…well, we’re taking things slow. We’ve known each other forever, and neither of us are ready to jump into something serious.”
“Just be careful when jumping on the saddle,” you nearly choked on your water. “I’m old, not stupid. And you’re no longer kids. But if you’re going to do something, maybe let your brother know. He’s clueless when it comes to you,” your response is a nod.
“Hey, daddy,” Beth steps behind you to give John a kiss. She’s followed by Kayce who sets his chair too close to you. “Oh, goody, an extra setting at the table today. Are we all bringing help in for dinner?”
“Beth,” John shoots her a warning. You’re not unfamiliar with the way that Beth Dutton is. Nothing she can say will change whatever is happening right now. “Bronc here is just joining us for dinner. Your brother invited her.”
“I’m sure he did,” Kayce just stares at his sister, and you uncomfortably take another drink of water. “You’re aware he’s still legally married, and has a kid.”
“I’m aware. But we’re just friends.”
Beth’s eyes narrow, and she leans back into her chair. You feel the tension rise in the room. Flexing her hand, she looks down at her talons. A vulture ready to strike. “Weren’t you two just friends when you were getting fucked every night, too?”
“Beth!”
“I’m sorry, daddy. If we’re going to play the innocent card we should make it believable,” she smiles so sweetly at you. Usually her fighting stance to strike again, “And believe me, there’s nothing innocent about these two fuckers.”
“Yeah, I think we’re going to have dinner elsewhere,” Kayce scoots his chair back slightly.
“Aw, you don’t like that nobody was foolish enough to know that you two weren’t fucking around every chance you got? Nobody was buying the shit you were peddling then, and they still don’t now. Is Kayce aware you were arrested for disorderly conduct in Texas? Or that you and Mr. Riggins had a cute little house with a cute little dog? And suddenly you just up and leave, and wind up right back here.”
“My brother asked me back. And the charges were ultimately dropped. It’s truly not that big of a deal,” Kayce’s mind will never truly change about you, but you worry that the true employer, John Dutton, could think less of an arrest. “Tim and I were missing a spark.”
“Yes, a spark. So I guess his dick isn’t as good as…” Kayce’s chair makes an awful screech, and he stands abruptly, holding his hand down to you. “Don’t like the truth baby brother?”
“Don’t like the disrespect towards someone that doesn’t deserve it. We’ll try again another time. Come on, Bronc.”
“I’m not scared of your sister, Kayce. Beth, I was arrested because I was at a bar without my boyfriend, and someone slipped something into my drink. I had enough wit about me to get out of the bar, and to the police officer outside. By the time I reached him, I was incoherent, and he thought I was aggravating him, until I passed out in the car, and he realized something else was wrong. As for me and Tim, there just was no passion. I loved him, but things were too comfortable, and I wasn’t in love with him. Concerning your brother, we are currently just friends. We both are coming out of something too serious to jump into something else.”
Beth smirks at you before raising her glass, “Jumping into you doesn’t have to be serious.”
“Can we stop talking about my son’s dick at the dinner table?”
“Little Bronc loves talking about Kayce’s dick,” Kayce groans, and places a hand on your thigh. “Just like I thought,” she winks at you again, “You know why I like you?”
“Because I don’t take shit off you,” Beth smirks as she takes a drink. She’s already about finished with whatever she loaded in her drink. She’s got a sharp tongue that will only get worse as the night continues.
“Just make sure that the horse has a saddle on it before it leaves the barn,” John coughs, but it’s Kayce that finally stands up. “Kayce sure knows how to fertilize a woman.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow, dad,” he says before holding his hand out for you to take.
“Goddammit, Beth,” there’s a part of you that wants to go head to head with Beth, but the better part of you is saying it’s time to leave. Instead of more arguing you grab onto Kayce’s hand, and he positions you in front of him while the two of you walk out.
“You happy?”
“Don’t act like Kayce and her didn’t ride each other all night long.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t act like you and Rip have never slept together either,” Beth reaches into her purse, grabbing out a flask to empty its contents in her drink. “Let them be. She’s a good woman for Kayce.”
“Until a mechanic comes rolling up in our driveway, and going to find her, telling her how sorry he is, and how much he misses her, and he can make a new life here. Just wait. And who is she going to choose? Him or Kayce?”
John chooses to ignore Beth, and cuts into his meat. Maybe inviting you to dinner while Beth is here was a terrible idea. There will be times she won’t be. And he has to think that if you were so quick to run away from this mechanic and right back to where you knew that Kayce would be, it was for a reason.
“Sorry about Beth,” Kayce groans. It’s quite cute watching him stir a warm bowl of soup. Just for you. You got all dressed up for a family dinner only to wind up sitting on Kayce’s counter. “I feel she was extra bitchy tonight.”
“I don’t want to talk about Beth.”
“Yeah, me neither,” what he wants to talk about is whatever happened during your arrest. You can see it in his eyes, and could feel the way he tensed up at the dinner table. Except he’s too much of a gentleman to say anything.
“Nothing happened to me,” he turns his head to look at you in that pouting puppy face that only he possesses. “Tim was working late, and was going to meet me and our friends at the bar. I set my cup down for one minute.”
“Do you know who did it?” You shake your head no.
“Would it matter?”
“Yeah, I’d go kick their ass.”
“Tim would have, too,” he’s got a look in his eyes that he doesn’t believe you. “Nothing happened. I could feel my body was off, and I just reacted. Left the bar, which I know is stupid. But I saw a cop. I went to him, but I was slurring, and stumbling around. He arrested me. But before he arrived at the station he knew something was wrong, and I wasn’t just drunk. I didn’t mention it because it didn’t seem important.”
“He should have been there to protect you,” it’s his sly way of saying that Tim failed you.
“He was working late. I didn’t have to go out without him.”
“Your friends should have protected you,” you shrug your shoulders. You agree with that statement, but you can’t change it. And you’re thankful nothing actually happened. “Were you happy in Texas?”
“Sometimes,” he gives you that puppy dog look as he reaches into the cabinet behind you. Grabbing out two bowls, he ladles the hot soup into them. “Texas isn’t all bad. But there were a lot of moments I just thought about being here.”
“With me?” He whispers. The confidence in his voice is gone.
“Yeah. I wondered where we would be if I didn’t run, and I just talked to you,” shrugging, you take a bite of the delicious soup. “It hurt too much to think that you preferred someone else over me when all I ever wanted was you.”
“And how about now?”
“How’s the divorce?”
“I already told you, next week I’m legally a single man,” he watches your eyes drift back to the soup, and you pick up a potato. “Don’t run.”
“I don’t want to. I really don’t. But what if this is a mistake? We broke up for a reason.”
“And you came back for a reason. We never could quit each other because you know we’re right. We’re meant to be,” there is just one teeny tiny little problem. “Tate’s coming here next weekend.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“He will. He’s got good taste,” this man and his smiles. He has such a beautiful and wild smile. You wish you could fully trust your gut. Because being with him does feel right. Wanting to feel him is just primal though. It’s something you wish you didn’t want as much as you do.
On one hand you could just let him carry you to the bed, or to the floor, and fuck you. Get it out of your system. But the smarter part of you knows that while the best feeling is Kayce inside of you, it’s not the right time. It’s not about sex exactly. It’s about having this man, who has always been your friend, and things are just right when you’re around him, being lodged in between your thighs, and you just breathe every inch of him in.
It’s about the warm feeling of having him closer to you than anyone can possibly be. Feeling himself twitch inside of you even when he’s not moving into you. There’s a comfort that wraps around you when you’re with Kayce. As much as you want it, you also fear it. You remember exactly what it felt like when you saw him kissing another woman. You were gutted.
Probably jumped into something too quickly with Tim. And maybe that’s why the two of you lasted as long as you did, you never gave as much of yourself to him as you did for Kayce. How could you? Kayce still had every bit of those emotions and love with him. It’s part of the reason why you wanted to avoid being alone with him. You know what’s going to happen. You can’t stay away from him.
“What are you thinking?” His voice is extra husky as his eyes move over your body. His gaze lands on your lap as your legs drift apart on their own without being told to. This is what you mean. Your body reacts to Kayce. It wants him maybe even more than your mind or heart does. Your body craves him.
“Thinking about how easy it would be for you to fuck me right here,” he sets his now empty bowl of soup down on the counter, and you match his movements. “But I don’t want easy.”
“You want hard? I can — I can give you hard.”
“Uhh,” you have to look away from him. Your back is already starting to arch, and your breathing is difficult. One kiss. One stupid little kiss already has you wanting him to melt into you.
“You gotta give me something here. You can’t say things like that, and…”
“We can’t go back to the way things were.”
“Wh-wh-what do you mean? I’m struggling to think properly here.”
“This is a redo,” Kayce nods his head abruptly, and steps between your thighs. “We can heavily make out, but no sex.”
“That’s fair,” he says, rolling his body into yours. You yip at the feeling of his warm, throbbing jean clad hard on rubbing against your own hot wet heat. “Fuck,” he breathlessly says, and rests his forehead against yours. “You feel good.”
You sigh deeply, letting your hands creep under his shirt, and pull him flush against your body. “You think we should wait for sex again?”
“I think you are playing dirty. You said no sex, now you’re questioning it,” he doesn’t kiss you like you want him to. His hazel eyes just look deep into yours, “Darling, I’ll do whatever you are comfortable with. But don’t let our hormones get the best of us. We’re adults.”
“Yeah, adults that need cold showers.”
“That’s an idea,” his lips turn up into a smile, “Wanna take a shower with me?” You shake your head no. Your thumbs start making circles on his skin. “Why not?”
“If I see you naked right now, I won’t be able to stop,” both of your chests are heaving. With the amount of sexual energy in this kitchen you know someone is about to combust. “Just kiss me.”
Kayce doesn’t just kiss you, he grinds into you in a way a horny teenager would. Hands on your ass, he scoots you right to the edge of the counter, and pushes your thighs apart with his width. Letting your dress edge up your body, and you pull it on up. Having nothing to separate you from Kayce but a pair of thin panties.
Your fingers go to his belt, and jeans, and you desperately pry them apart, and push them down his body. There will be no sex, but there will be friction. There will be your cunt aching for his heavy cock that rubs against your soiled underwear. You kiss him like there’s no tomorrow.
Your lungs beg for air, but your body doesn’t want Kayce’s mouth off yours. It’s begging to have him closer. So close. You break away from his mouth, panting for breath while his lips explore your neck. Moaning onto your skin as his pelvis reeks havoc on you. Your fingers search his shirt for buttons. You need to feel him.
Realizing what you’re doing, Kayce starts helping you. Ripping the buttons out more than just undoing them. But when his chest is free, you pull him in so deeply. Relaxing into his hold while he races to the finish line. Thrusting and grinding his hips into you, and your body is left reeling. Feeling every part of him on you. Mewling out his name when a sweet serenity washes through your body, coupled with the added warmth from his own orgasm.
Sagging onto his shoulder, you just hold him while the two of you try to catch your breath, “That,” he chuckles on your neck. “That was new.”
“It was oddly hot.”
“Yeah,” he sniffs along your skin. You already know his cologne has seeped into your skin. “You’re going to stay?”
“No,” as much as you want to, checking in at the bunkhouse is something you need to do. “Maybe another time? Soon?”
“Tomorrow?”
“You’re quite eager,” he leans back to look at you. You want him to look down at your body. To see your dress askew, and the drying cum on your panties. “There’s no one else?” He shakes his head no. “What if for a while, it’s almost right at bedtime, and I go to the bunkhouse?”
“You’re delaying the inevitable here. Why?”
“I just moved from one man’s bed. I don’t need to jump into another,” A sadness passes over his features, but he nods. “You either.”
“You’ve been back for a few weeks,” and he avoids you whenever Tate is around. Not that you wanted to have met him sooner. “We’re taking things slow.”
“What happens if I start sleeping here?”
“You’re right. Let me walk you to the bunkhouse.”
—
“Where the fuck have you been?” Rip says as you trudge through the door. There’s a few whoops in the background, but you only look at him. “Had Lloyd saying you missed dinner. What the fuck, Bronc? And,” he stops his sentence looking out the window as Kayce walks by. “What the fuck is on your goddamn neck?”
“Nothing,” you scowl as you cover your neck. Kayce Dutton. “God, I’m not a child. I went out,” he scans the dress you're wearing before stomping out the door. “I’m going to bed.”
“I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“Fuck you, Jimmy,” you should have stayed at Kayce. “And for anyone’s information, if I’m not here at night, don’t go calling Rip.”
“Next time let me know where you are, so I don’t wonder if you’ve been eaten by a bear,” your scowl softens, and you nod at the old man. “I take it you’re going to be out late from here on out?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, be careful. Not just for you,” but for him. You understand the words not spoken. So you nod, and go to take another shower. Your panties are ruined. And judging by Rip’s menacing voice, so is your neck.
Kayce. Dutton.
A name you have a feeling you’re going to be saying a lot more now.
synopsis: The Montana summers weren't for the weak. You and Kayce have unspoken history.
warnings: heatstroke, passing out, vomiting, mentions of abuse, mentions of drug usage, mentions of running away, Monica and Tate don't exist.
word count: 2.1k
There was something about Montana summers.
The valley in which the Yellowstone ranch laid, had its fair share of weather changes. The winters were brutal, feet of snow coating the land, the wind bitter against the skin making it hard to want to get up in the morning and do chores. Spring usually brought inches upon inches of rain, damn near flooding the place and making it a muddy mess trying to move cattle in preparation for breeding season. Fall was a vibrant display of changing leaves, and the scent of fields being harvested in time before the first frost.
But the summers, the summers were something else. Blame global warming, or whatever you wanted, but the summers in Montana were hot and steamy. The sun was unforgiving most days, beating down on you and your horse as you worked from sunup till sundown, training and cleaning horse stalls, helping move cattle from pasture to pasture, and carrying out the daily maintenance of the ranch. Most of the cowboys didn’t have an issue, but you on the other hand, never quite got along with the heat.
It was supposed to be an “easy day”, Rip had barked at all of you as you shuffled into the barn to get tack up your horses, but the sun was already blaring its god awful rays down on the earth. Your skin felt sticky from the humidity and your hair was already sticking to your forehead underneath your hat. You left your water jug in the bunkhouse, choosing to fuel your body with the dark roast coffee Loyd had made instead.
“You think the Devil just walked up here and decided to fuck with the temperature,” Ryan said, sitting on top of the fence, watching you and Colby rake it out.
“Don’t know,” Colby grunted, “Think you could quit fucking complaining and help?”
“I don’t want to melt,” Ryan chirped back and you rolled your eyes. The two of them fought like an old married couple most days.
Colby and Ryan were the first two to make you feel welcome in the bunkhouse. It was hard walking into a house full of men, no one knowing who you are or what you had shown up at the ranch for. Everyone knew bits and pieces of your story, you had known Kayce when you were younger, highschool sweethearts or something of the sort. He was the one who got away, or so you had said. While he was thriving in the military, you were left behind, struggling and doing anything you could to make a buck. You had shown up on his doorstep, soaking wet in the rain and begging for a job, begging to finally leave behind the life you had created for yourself. Kayce barely gave you the time of day, telling you to walk back down the road, take a left, and keep going until you reach the bunkhouse, that there would be someone there to help you. Since then, you and Kayce had been walking on eggshells around each other.
“Okay, Princess,” You rolled your eyes, lifting your hat slightly off your head, and wiping away the sweat, “It’s fucking hot.” You stared at the heat waves rippling off of the earth for a moment, as the familiar sound of cowboy boots crunching on the gravel drew close.
“What up, boss man,” Kolby greeted Kayce with a nod of his head, “Come to sweat with the worst of us?”
“No, I need the girl,” Kayce said gruffly, and you turned to look at him, “We’re moving cattle. Let’s go,” He turned and walked back the direction he came without another word. You scoffed, throwing the pitchfork down.
“What a fucking douche,” You grumbled, but went and followed after him to where the horses were enjoying the cool air of the barn. Kayce’s horse, of course, was already saddled up. You weren’t about to ask him for help as you grabbed your saddle from the wall, and walked down to your horse’s stall. You could feel his impatient tension like an extra cloud of heat in the air.
“Ready?” Kayce asked as you walked your horse down the barn alley, and you nodded, silently following him outside.
The two of you rode in silence for most of the journey, slowly but surely pushing cattle from one pasture into another. You weren’t sure why you, of all the people on the Yellowstone Ranch, had to be the one out here, sweating with Kayce. Normally, you wouldn’t have minded the silent rides through the rolling fields, but it wasn’t just the heat making you not want to be out here.
Kayce thought that asking you to come out here with him would be the perfect chance to tell you how he felt. He, just as much as you, was tired of the awkward dance that you had been doing since you showed up. He didn’t need to ask too many questions that night when you came knocking on his door, soaked to the bone, nothing more than skin and bones. When he left for the Navy, a mere days after graduation and breaking your heart, he had asked Beth to keep an eye out for you. Begrudgingly, she did so, and told him about the shift in your life. You had always dreamed of getting out of Montana, but you never made it that far.
Every time Kayce thought of saying something, of apologizing or even just asking how you have been, his mouth went dry and his mind blank. Instead, he thought that maybe even getting you near would break some of the tension, but he was so wrong. It seemed as if the tension had picked up a notch as the two of you rode next to each other.
“Fuck, is it hotter out here, or is it just me,” You mumbled as you sat on top of your horse. The body heat from the animal was soaking into you, paired with the brutal beatdown from the sun, your skin felt like it was physically burning.
“Complainin’ ain’t gonna make the sun go away,” Kayce said back and you rolled your eyes. The last thing you needed was the sass from him. Your skin felt dry and your head was pounding. All you wanted was to feel the cold stream of water in the bunkhouse shower.
— — —
You had never felt so happy to have your feet back on the ground. Three hours sitting up on a horse in the sun, slowly moving cattle into a new pasture. You knew that your shoulders were horribly sunburnt, and the sweat stains in between your thighs from sitting on the saddle made it look like you wet yourself.
Kayce felt happy too, to be back on solid ground. He would be lying if he said the heat hadn’t gotten to him either. He was used to being in hot temp areas, but he would take being in full kit in Afghanistan versus sitting on a horse waiting for cattle to hurry up and move. Kayce had taken his horse back to the barn, carefully taking the tack off of him and hanging it up. He told Loyd to give the animal a good wash down, wanting to make sure his horse was cooled down before being put away for the night.
Kayce slowly made his way down the alley of the barn, stopping just right outside of your horse’s stall. He had been thinking of what he was going to say to you since the moment he got you alone out in the field. The two of you had yet to have “the talk” since you arrived months ago, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could go without it. Every time he saw you, the words that he wanted to say were right at the tip of his tongue, but the second you looked at him, they all seemed to go blank. But now, it was as good a time as any.
“Y/N,” Kayce said, stepping into the horse stall. You stood by your horse, your hand on its belly, back facing Kayce, “We need to talk.”
You blinked a couple of times, trying to stop the black spots floating in your vision, and trying to keep yourself up right. You felt like your knees could give out at any moment.
“Y/N?” Kayce called out. He reached out to touch your shoulder, as you doubled over and vomited into the hay sheddings, “Holy shit,” Kayce moved quickly, rushing to you as your legs gave out and you collapsed in his arms. He was alarmed by the flush color of your skin, and your chapped lips. Your eyes looked glossed over as you looked up at Kayce.
“I-I don’t feel,” Your words were slurred as Kayce hoisted you up in his arms.
“I know, we gotta cool you down,” Kayce said to you, and you weakly nodded your head.
Kayce moved you quickly to the bunkhouse, the first flash of cool air made you instantly shiver. He walked you to the bathroom, and you were thankful that the house seemed to be quiet, not wanting any of the other cowboys to see you like this. It was hard enough being one of the only females here, you didn’t need this to be held over your head. Kayce gently sets you down on the shower tile, reaching above you and barely turning the water on. The second the cold water hit your skin, you gasped.
“No! No!” You cried.
“It’s okay,” Kayce cooed, “I have to cool you down.”
“Please,” Tears were welling in your vision, and you weren’t really sure why you were crying. You summed it up to your body being in such shock, you didn’t have control over your emotions.
“It’s okay,” Kayce said again, running a hand up and down your back as you leaned into him, feeling your body grow weak again, “You’re going to be okay. It’ll be okay.” You let out a whine as your body had shifted temperature, but welcomed the cool water against your warm skin.
— — —
You weren’t sure when you fell asleep or maybe you passed out, but you woke up in an unfamiliar bed, with a box fan pointed right at you. It took you a moment, your head pounding as you looked around the room, noticing the various country-esq landscape paintings and the giant deer head on the wall. It was nearing night time, or so you had guessed by the last remnants of the sunset peaking through the wooden blinds. You tried to sit up, but let out a groan instead, your head starting to swim and black spots filling your vision.
“Y/N?” You froze as you heard Kayce’s voice from the other side of the door, “Can I come in?”
‘Holy shit’ You cursed to yourself, ‘I’m in Kayce’s room.’
“Yeah,” Your voice was raspy, and you could still feel the sting of bile.
Ever so gently, Kayce pushed the door to his bedroom open, sticking his head in first before coming all the way in, “Hey,” You nodded your head as he walked towards you, a glass of water in his hand and some tylenol, “Drink this and take these. It’ll help the headache and muscle cramps.”
“How do you know?” You asked, taking the water and medicine. Now that he mentioned it, your legs felt heavier than normal with a slight ache to them.
“They train you on the basics of heat stroke in the Navy,” Kayce said, “Seen one too many guys fall over.” You felt your cheeks pink up in embarrassment, “No one saw, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“Am I that transparent?” You said barely above a whisper, “You didn’t have to bring me here. They would’ve taken care of me at the bunkhouse.”
“I know,” Kayce swallowed thickly. He wasn’t all too sure why he had picked you up and put you in his truck, driving back to his house for you to rest somewhere quiet and comfortable. But he did, and he didn’t regret it. He knew that he would’ve been a nervous wreck leaving you in the bunkhouse, “I needed to make sure you were going to be okay. . . You scared me.”
“I’m sorry,” You squeaked out.
“Don’t apologize, Y/N,” Kayce said, shifting closer to you on the bed, “One of my first summer's running cattle with my dad, I did the same thing. We’d been out all day and came back, and the second I climbed off my hose I hit the ground. Face first in shit shavings,” You couldn’t help but chuckle, “At least you picked a clean stall to upchuck and pass out in.”
You rolled your eyes, “Thanks for catching me.”
“Always,” Kayce said, grabbing your hand. You glanced down between your hands and back up at Kayce, who had a slight blush on his face. He went to pull his hand away but you squeezed it and then laced your fingers with his.
note, hey... i've never written anything for yellowstone on here (i have on wattpad) so I hope you all enjoy!! <3 I feel like this kind of trope is done so much, but I think it's sweet. this is loosely (heavily) inspired by that scene when beth fights that random woman hitting on rip.
pair, kayce dutton x reader
summary, whenever you go out, no matter the circumstances, trouble seems to follow you.
warnings, bar fights, fighting, violence, cursing
word count, 1168 words
(gif not mine)
Getting everyone to go out and away from the ranch was a task, but getting Kayce to go out was totally different. And you knew the only reason he agreed to go out was because it was your birthday.
"One drink?" You asked, a pleading look in your eyes that he tried hard to say no to.
"If I give in, then you're gonna just keep plying me with drinks." He shook his head, "I'm here, that's as good as it's gonna get."
"Kayce, it's my birthday. Come on, have some fun!" You urged him.
"No." He shook his head. You opened your mouth to argue with him again, but shut it after the look he gave you, "I'll have some soda, and keep an eye on you."
"You don't trust me?" You raised a brow at him.
"Not you, darlin'. Trouble just seems to follow you." He joked, kissing your head and handing your drink over to you, "Now go have fun. Enjoy the night." He nudged you towards the dance floor where everyone else was already dancing and having fun. You rolled your eyes but went in the direction he had pushed you in.
The night continued, and you were having fun, almost forgetting all about Kayce. When you did remember he was there, you remembered you also hadn't had any water, so you turned around to where he had been once sitting but froze when you looked up.
A woman who stuck out like a sore thumb amongst all the locals was standing pretty next to Kayce. The look on his face told you he couldn't care less about what she was saying, but he was playing along for appearance's sake.
You slowly approached them, a cautious look on your face as you tried to listen in on their conversation, "... I don't know, if the guys are as cute as you out here, I might just have to move out." She flirted shamelessly, batting her eyelashes at him.
Kayce looked uncomfortable as he nodded, "Right." He looked away from the glass of soda in front of him, and back onto the dance floor.
When he couldn't find you, he started to get nervous. He quickly spun around, trying to find you amongst the crowd, "Who're you looking for?" The woman tried to get his attention again, putting her hand on his arm, trying to get his attention again.
He ripped his arm out of her grasp and continued to look for you, "What the hell?" He muttered.
"You got a girlfriend or something." The girl tried to joke as if he hadn't mentioned you numerous times already.
"Wife, actually." Kayce's shoulders dropped when he heard that familiar voice he loved so much. The woman's attention quickly fell on you, and an almost unimpressed look fell on her face.
"Wife?" She scoffed.
"That's right." The look on your face was one Kayce knew all too well. The look on your face, the way your eyebrow slightly raised and your lips curved a little into something of a smirk.
"Oh, no." He muttered. He turned around, trying to get the attention of the other ranchers, but they were too far and the music was way too loud for them to notice him, "Whatever you're about to do, just think it through."
"What's she gonna do?" The woman scoffed, standing a little straighter with a look on her face that made you want to punch her, "I could easily take you."
"Oh, I'm sure." You tightened your fists, before winding up and punching her fight in the face before Kayce could stop you.
"Whoa!" Kayce shouted, trying to grab onto you but you pounced on the other woman, tackling her to the ground and straddling her, laying punch after punch.
As soon as you both hit the floor, a fight broke out all around you. Ranchers and tourists alike were going at each other, breaking beer bottles and punching each other.
Blood was flying and glass was shattering all around him, but all Kayce was focused on was getting you off the other woman. You were shouting things at her, she was shouting things back at you.
After trying to find a way to get you off without hurting you, he decided to just go in for it, "All right, that's it. Let her go!" Kayce grabbed onto your waist, just missing your elbow that you had thrown back to punch her again, and pulled you off.
"You crazy bitch!" The woman shouted, holding her bleeding nose.
"Calls coming from inside the house, sweetheart!" You shouted back. Kayce managed to carry you out of the bar even though you were wiggling and shouting. He didn't put you down until he made it over to his truck.
"What the hell was that?" Kayce asked. You simply shrugged, looking down at your knuckles and wincing at the blood and cuts forming, "No, don't shrug this off." He grabbed your chin and forced you to look into his eyes.
"Oh, come on, it's not like you were comfortable with it." You glared at him, shoving his hands away from you, "I was protecting your honor."
"You can't go around punching people in the face," Kayce told you.
"Yeah, well I'll remind you of that next time some guy hits on me." You raised a brow, and that got him to shut up, "Right." You smirked, throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him, "You alright?"
"Yeah." He nodded, wrapping his arms around your waist, "Thanks for protecting my honor."
"You're welcome. You're just too pretty." You joked, laughing when he rolled his eyes.
As the other ranchers and tourists alike started piling out of the bar, blue and red lights pulled up outside the bar as well. A few cops got out and Kayce pushed you behind him.
"Officer." He greeted the man with a nod.
"Mr. Dutton." The officer nodded right back, "Got a call about a fight. Something about your wife starting it."
"Fight? What fight?" Kayce asked, playing dumb and looking around. All the other ranchers shrugged innocently as well.
"No idea what you're talking about, sir," Lloyd spoke up.
"That crazy bitch attacked me!" The woman in question shouted, holding an ice pack to her nose.
"Is that true?" The officer asked, looking around Kayce's shoulder at you.
"No idea what she's talking about." You shrugged with a shake of your head.
"All right then." The officer nodded, "Apologies for the inconvenience. Y'all have a good night." He got back in his car and drove off.
"You all are fucking crazy." The woman muttered, walking off with her group of friends who you hadn't even known were there.
"You're gonna put me in an early grave, Trouble." Kayce joked, throwing an arm around your shoulders.
"Only if you don't put me in one first." You nudged him, "Now, let's go home. I've played nurse too many times for you, it's your turn."
Warnings: language, Beth Dutton, mentions of attempted date rape, dry humping, 18+ ONLY
Word Count: 4.3K
Previous
Series Masterlist
You brush out the mane of a mare you are determined to tame. Breathing slowly and deliberately as you step even closer to her. “Better watch it, Bronc,” John says from the side of the paddock. He’d been watching you closely for a while. You’re sure he’s just seeing if you and Kayce reconnect like before. He’s protective of his children more than the average parent.
“Don’t listen to him,” you respond, causing him to snort, smiling over at you. “Sometimes the wild ones are just misunderstood, huh?” You click your tongue a few times before pressing your forehead against hers, “John just doesn’t know how to deal with free spirits.”
“I’m not the only one,” he grunts under his breath. He doesn't do much to mask the comment, but you also don’t say anything as he dips his head down to look at his foot kicking the dirt. “How’s the bunk house treating you?”
“Just fine,” even though you find yourself at Kayce’s house most evenings.
“Rip not letting you stay with him?” You turn to look at him with a strange look, “Guess not. I’d see why you wouldn’t want to,” he clears his throat as he looks behind him, and at the approaching Kayce, “You could always stay in the lodge.”
“No, she can’t,” Kayce saunters on up to the gate of the paddock, “She could join us for meals though. Bet we have better food,” he doesn’t even try and disguise what he’s doing, just opens up the gate, and keeps walking towards you.
“Or I could just stay in the bunkhouse.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” your head turns to look at Kayce so quickly, and he’s just calmly holding out your arms. “No comeback?”
“Take it easy on that one, son,” John responds before leaving. He always knew when to give you and Kayce your space, “She’s not easy to tame.”
“I did not ask to stay with you,” you grouse as he walks up behind you, “Easy, cowboy, this one jumps.”
“I’ll always catch you — her,” he clears his throat. Being too obvious that this is about you, and not the damn horse.
“Kayce, you’re getting too close,” you release a slow, shaky breath as he steps up behind you. The heat coming off his clothes tingles your body in such an odd, but comforting way.
“She’s fine. She likes me, don’t cha, girl?” Breathing is becoming difficult. “Just let me,” he wraps his arms around your waist, lifting them to the mare’s snout. “There. See? Who is a good girl?”
“You know I’m not, right,” and he knows exactly what he’s doing.
“And I’m talking to a horse,” is that what is going on? Because you could have sworn this conversation was a bit of a double innuendo. “Why are you breathing so hard, Bronc?” His hot breath fans against the back of your neck, and both you and the mare start to tense up. When is the right amount of time in between relationships?
“Shh, shh, shh,” Kayce’s voice is right behind your ear, and you are struggling to do anything but shush. Shifting your thighs against each, you try and quell the need for friction, “Easy, girl. We’ve been working together for a long time. I get her right where I want her, and then she always regresses and doesn’t want to see me.”
He’s talking about the horse, but in so many instances he could be talking about you. “I think she’s afraid that I’m scared of commitment, or that I just want her to be a secret.”
“The horse?”
“The woman that’s in my arms,” he is talking about you. You’re not crazy. You’re just a lovestruck fool. No. You’re trying to live in the past. This Kayce is not the Kayce you left. He is older, and you would hope so much wiser. This Kayce at least communicates. “I would very much like the woman that’s in my arms to join me, dad, and Beth for dinner.”
Beth. That sounds like a fun time. A different time. “You’re not saying anything. Is it because you’re struggling to breathe?”
“No,” yes. You’re very much struggling to breathe.
“Because I am,” tilting your neck, you look back at him, “Just say yes. Dad knows there’s history between us. He would always tell me to tell you to use the front door instead of climbing out the window.”
“What are we doing here, Kayce?”
“I’m asking you to have dinner with my family. And that you should probably name the mare. I want you to have her,” you look back at the horse, and she blows at you. “She’s as stubborn as the day is long, but she’s pretty,” she’s a gorgeous bay quarter horse. Clearly has been taken care of. Cared for. Almost like he always had her for you.
“Lucky.”
“Lucky?”
“Her name,” Kayce snorts as his chin rests on your shoulder. His head tilts to the side, and your entire body feels the slow intake of breath he takes against your neck. “She is lucky that she’s mine and not yours.”
“She is lucky,” he breathes you in again, and your body starts sagging back on him. “There she is. Relax. I’m fully in it this time.”
“I just got out of a long term relationship.”
“So did I.”
“You’re legally married.”
“As of next week I won’t be. So don’t pull away,” gulping, you turn to meet his gaze, and hold it. “I was going to be content alone, and then you came back around. Remember I have a kid though.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t run,” he whispers as he leans into you more. “Stay with me,” his voice is barely audible, but he’s so close each movement of his mouth has his lips pushing against yours, so you close the gap. Lingering your lips against his before his hands drop from Lucky to your waist, and Kayce twists you around to face him. Better to kiss you, and feel you.
While your hands slide up his chest, and around his neck, his hands roam down to your backside where he grips you tightly, pulling you too close to him. Your tongue pushes through his lips, and you taste him for the first time in years, and crave him all the more for it. Hips jutting forward while arching your back to bring yourself dangerously closer, and you melt into him.
Knocking his hat to the ground, and he cups each buttcheek tightly before he lifts you into his arms, and you whimper into his mouth. You swear if he says another word, you’ll start to pull away. It’s as if Kayce knows that now is not the time for talking. It’s the time to give into the carnal instinct that the two of you have tried, and failed miserably to avoid.
The two of you are like fire and gasoline. Wild, hot, and dangerous. But you mix together to create something that brings so much warmth and comfort. Being able to tame the fire that the two of you create is the challenge. You never had a problem with mixing with him. Again. And again.
And again.
Lucky whinnies loudly, and Kayce abruptly drops you, and jumps in front of your body, shielding you from the horse, “Easy, girl,” he says calmly. The steady hoof beats of the men returning gives you the reason as to why Lucky was trying to rear back. “Shhh, it’s just company. I’m going to put you in the stable. And this beautiful Bronc is going to wash up at my place for dinner with my family.”
“At your place?”
“Yeah, you’re not as dirty as the ranch hands, and they won’t want you to shower first. So go grab you some clothes, and get ready at my place. Or,” he spins you around like a dance, “You just wear the dress that I got for you.”
“You bought me a dress?” Oh, he’s trying extra hard this time.
“Ehh,” he shrugs his shoulders, and clicks his tongue at the horse. Ignoring your gaping mouth as you stare at him, “Close your mouth before,” the vulgar comment is about to come, “Before I kiss you in front of Rip. I’ll meet you at the house.”
“We’re not showering together.”
“Didn’t ask.”
“Does Beth still hate me?”
“She hates everyone,” he shrugs. Clearly the conversion is over since he completely turns his back to you. Beth especially hates you because she said that you played games with her brother and broke his heart. Guess she didn’t know what Kayce did.
“Well,” John’s face lights up as you and Kayce enter the dining room. His eyes follow Kayce’s arm. Right to the hand that’s on the small of your back, and he looks at his son, beaming when he nods his head. “Didn’t expect company. Kayce, go get yourself a chair, and tell Gator that Bronc is eating dinner with us. Sweetheart, you sit in his seat.”
Kayce smiles as he pulls out the chair typically meant for him, and leaves the room. “It looks great here.”
“Don’t butter me Up. It looks the same.”
“Still looks great.”
“Classic never gets old,” John looks to the side, seeing that Kayce had fully gone out of ear shot from him, “So — how’s life treating you?”
“We’re just friends, John,” he gives you a knowing grin and wink. “I promise. We’re…well, we’re taking things slow. We’ve known each other forever, and neither of us are ready to jump into something serious.”
“Just be careful when jumping on the saddle,” you nearly choked on your water. “I’m old, not stupid. And you’re no longer kids. But if you’re going to do something, maybe let your brother know. He’s clueless when it comes to you,” your response is a nod.
“Hey, daddy,” Beth steps behind you to give John a kiss. She’s followed by Kayce who sets his chair too close to you. “Oh, goody, an extra setting at the table today. Are we all bringing help in for dinner?”
“Beth,” John shoots her a warning. You’re not unfamiliar with the way that Beth Dutton is. Nothing she can say will change whatever is happening right now. “Bronc here is just joining us for dinner. Your brother invited her.”
“I’m sure he did,” Kayce just stares at his sister, and you uncomfortably take another drink of water. “You’re aware he’s still legally married, and has a kid.”
“I’m aware. But we’re just friends.”
Beth’s eyes narrow, and she leans back into her chair. You feel the tension rise in the room. Flexing her hand, she looks down at her talons. A vulture ready to strike. “Weren’t you two just friends when you were getting fucked every night, too?”
“Beth!”
“I’m sorry, daddy. If we’re going to play the innocent card we should make it believable,” she smiles so sweetly at you. Usually her fighting stance to strike again, “And believe me, there’s nothing innocent about these two fuckers.”
“Yeah, I think we’re going to have dinner elsewhere,” Kayce scoots his chair back slightly.
“Aw, you don’t like that nobody was foolish enough to know that you two weren’t fucking around every chance you got? Nobody was buying the shit you were peddling then, and they still don’t now. Is Kayce aware you were arrested for disorderly conduct in Texas? Or that you and Mr. Riggins had a cute little house with a cute little dog? And suddenly you just up and leave, and wind up right back here.”
“My brother asked me back. And the charges were ultimately dropped. It’s truly not that big of a deal,” Kayce’s mind will never truly change about you, but you worry that the true employer, John Dutton, could think less of an arrest. “Tim and I were missing a spark.”
“Yes, a spark. So I guess his dick isn’t as good as…” Kayce’s chair makes an awful screech, and he stands abruptly, holding his hand down to you. “Don’t like the truth baby brother?”
“Don’t like the disrespect towards someone that doesn’t deserve it. We’ll try again another time. Come on, Bronc.”
“I’m not scared of your sister, Kayce. Beth, I was arrested because I was at a bar without my boyfriend, and someone slipped something into my drink. I had enough wit about me to get out of the bar, and to the police officer outside. By the time I reached him, I was incoherent, and he thought I was aggravating him, until I passed out in the car, and he realized something else was wrong. As for me and Tim, there just was no passion. I loved him, but things were too comfortable, and I wasn’t in love with him. Concerning your brother, we are currently just friends. We both are coming out of something too serious to jump into something else.”
Beth smirks at you before raising her glass, “Jumping into you doesn’t have to be serious.”
“Can we stop talking about my son’s dick at the dinner table?”
“Little Bronc loves talking about Kayce’s dick,” Kayce groans, and places a hand on your thigh. “Just like I thought,” she winks at you again, “You know why I like you?”
“Because I don’t take shit off you,” Beth smirks as she takes a drink. She’s already about finished with whatever she loaded in her drink. She’s got a sharp tongue that will only get worse as the night continues.
“Just make sure that the horse has a saddle on it before it leaves the barn,” John coughs, but it’s Kayce that finally stands up. “Kayce sure knows how to fertilize a woman.”
“We’ll see you tomorrow, dad,” he says before holding his hand out for you to take.
“Goddammit, Beth,” there’s a part of you that wants to go head to head with Beth, but the better part of you is saying it’s time to leave. Instead of more arguing you grab onto Kayce’s hand, and he positions you in front of him while the two of you walk out.
“You happy?”
“Don’t act like Kayce and her didn’t ride each other all night long.”
“Maybe I shouldn’t act like you and Rip have never slept together either,” Beth reaches into her purse, grabbing out a flask to empty its contents in her drink. “Let them be. She’s a good woman for Kayce.”
“Until a mechanic comes rolling up in our driveway, and going to find her, telling her how sorry he is, and how much he misses her, and he can make a new life here. Just wait. And who is she going to choose? Him or Kayce?”
John chooses to ignore Beth, and cuts into his meat. Maybe inviting you to dinner while Beth is here was a terrible idea. There will be times she won’t be. And he has to think that if you were so quick to run away from this mechanic and right back to where you knew that Kayce would be, it was for a reason.
“Sorry about Beth,” Kayce groans. It’s quite cute watching him stir a warm bowl of soup. Just for you. You got all dressed up for a family dinner only to wind up sitting on Kayce’s counter. “I feel she was extra bitchy tonight.”
“I don’t want to talk about Beth.”
“Yeah, me neither,” what he wants to talk about is whatever happened during your arrest. You can see it in his eyes, and could feel the way he tensed up at the dinner table. Except he’s too much of a gentleman to say anything.
“Nothing happened to me,” he turns his head to look at you in that pouting puppy face that only he possesses. “Tim was working late, and was going to meet me and our friends at the bar. I set my cup down for one minute.”
“Do you know who did it?” You shake your head no.
“Would it matter?”
“Yeah, I’d go kick their ass.”
“Tim would have, too,” he’s got a look in his eyes that he doesn’t believe you. “Nothing happened. I could feel my body was off, and I just reacted. Left the bar, which I know is stupid. But I saw a cop. I went to him, but I was slurring, and stumbling around. He arrested me. But before he arrived at the station he knew something was wrong, and I wasn’t just drunk. I didn’t mention it because it didn’t seem important.”
“He should have been there to protect you,” it’s his sly way of saying that Tim failed you.
“He was working late. I didn’t have to go out without him.”
“Your friends should have protected you,” you shrug your shoulders. You agree with that statement, but you can’t change it. And you’re thankful nothing actually happened. “Were you happy in Texas?”
“Sometimes,” he gives you that puppy dog look as he reaches into the cabinet behind you. Grabbing out two bowls, he ladles the hot soup into them. “Texas isn’t all bad. But there were a lot of moments I just thought about being here.”
“With me?” He whispers. The confidence in his voice is gone.
“Yeah. I wondered where we would be if I didn’t run, and I just talked to you,” shrugging, you take a bite of the delicious soup. “It hurt too much to think that you preferred someone else over me when all I ever wanted was you.”
“And how about now?”
“How’s the divorce?”
“I already told you, next week I’m legally a single man,” he watches your eyes drift back to the soup, and you pick up a potato. “Don’t run.”
“I don’t want to. I really don’t. But what if this is a mistake? We broke up for a reason.”
“And you came back for a reason. We never could quit each other because you know we’re right. We’re meant to be,” there is just one teeny tiny little problem. “Tate’s coming here next weekend.”
“What if he doesn’t like me?”
“He will. He’s got good taste,” this man and his smiles. He has such a beautiful and wild smile. You wish you could fully trust your gut. Because being with him does feel right. Wanting to feel him is just primal though. It’s something you wish you didn’t want as much as you do.
On one hand you could just let him carry you to the bed, or to the floor, and fuck you. Get it out of your system. But the smarter part of you knows that while the best feeling is Kayce inside of you, it’s not the right time. It’s not about sex exactly. It’s about having this man, who has always been your friend, and things are just right when you’re around him, being lodged in between your thighs, and you just breathe every inch of him in.
It’s about the warm feeling of having him closer to you than anyone can possibly be. Feeling himself twitch inside of you even when he’s not moving into you. There’s a comfort that wraps around you when you’re with Kayce. As much as you want it, you also fear it. You remember exactly what it felt like when you saw him kissing another woman. You were gutted.
Probably jumped into something too quickly with Tim. And maybe that’s why the two of you lasted as long as you did, you never gave as much of yourself to him as you did for Kayce. How could you? Kayce still had every bit of those emotions and love with him. It’s part of the reason why you wanted to avoid being alone with him. You know what’s going to happen. You can’t stay away from him.
“What are you thinking?” His voice is extra husky as his eyes move over your body. His gaze lands on your lap as your legs drift apart on their own without being told to. This is what you mean. Your body reacts to Kayce. It wants him maybe even more than your mind or heart does. Your body craves him.
“Thinking about how easy it would be for you to fuck me right here,” he sets his now empty bowl of soup down on the counter, and you match his movements. “But I don’t want easy.”
“You want hard? I can — I can give you hard.”
“Uhh,” you have to look away from him. Your back is already starting to arch, and your breathing is difficult. One kiss. One stupid little kiss already has you wanting him to melt into you.
“You gotta give me something here. You can’t say things like that, and…”
“We can’t go back to the way things were.”
“Wh-wh-what do you mean? I’m struggling to think properly here.”
“This is a redo,” Kayce nods his head abruptly, and steps between your thighs. “We can heavily make out, but no sex.”
“That’s fair,” he says, rolling his body into yours. You yip at the feeling of his warm, throbbing jean clad hard on rubbing against your own hot wet heat. “Fuck,” he breathlessly says, and rests his forehead against yours. “You feel good.”
You sigh deeply, letting your hands creep under his shirt, and pull him flush against your body. “You think we should wait for sex again?”
“I think you are playing dirty. You said no sex, now you’re questioning it,” he doesn’t kiss you like you want him to. His hazel eyes just look deep into yours, “Darling, I’ll do whatever you are comfortable with. But don’t let our hormones get the best of us. We’re adults.”
“Yeah, adults that need cold showers.”
“That’s an idea,” his lips turn up into a smile, “Wanna take a shower with me?” You shake your head no. Your thumbs start making circles on his skin. “Why not?”
“If I see you naked right now, I won’t be able to stop,” both of your chests are heaving. With the amount of sexual energy in this kitchen you know someone is about to combust. “Just kiss me.”
Kayce doesn’t just kiss you, he grinds into you in a way a horny teenager would. Hands on your ass, he scoots you right to the edge of the counter, and pushes your thighs apart with his width. Letting your dress edge up your body, and you pull it on up. Having nothing to separate you from Kayce but a pair of thin panties.
Your fingers go to his belt, and jeans, and you desperately pry them apart, and push them down his body. There will be no sex, but there will be friction. There will be your cunt aching for his heavy cock that rubs against your soiled underwear. You kiss him like there’s no tomorrow.
Your lungs beg for air, but your body doesn’t want Kayce’s mouth off yours. It’s begging to have him closer. So close. You break away from his mouth, panting for breath while his lips explore your neck. Moaning onto your skin as his pelvis reeks havoc on you. Your fingers search his shirt for buttons. You need to feel him.
Realizing what you’re doing, Kayce starts helping you. Ripping the buttons out more than just undoing them. But when his chest is free, you pull him in so deeply. Relaxing into his hold while he races to the finish line. Thrusting and grinding his hips into you, and your body is left reeling. Feeling every part of him on you. Mewling out his name when a sweet serenity washes through your body, coupled with the added warmth from his own orgasm.
Sagging onto his shoulder, you just hold him while the two of you try to catch your breath, “That,” he chuckles on your neck. “That was new.”
“It was oddly hot.”
“Yeah,” he sniffs along your skin. You already know his cologne has seeped into your skin. “You’re going to stay?”
“No,” as much as you want to, checking in at the bunkhouse is something you need to do. “Maybe another time? Soon?”
“Tomorrow?”
“You’re quite eager,” he leans back to look at you. You want him to look down at your body. To see your dress askew, and the drying cum on your panties. “There’s no one else?” He shakes his head no. “What if for a while, it’s almost right at bedtime, and I go to the bunkhouse?”
“You’re delaying the inevitable here. Why?”
“I just moved from one man’s bed. I don’t need to jump into another,” A sadness passes over his features, but he nods. “You either.”
“You’ve been back for a few weeks,” and he avoids you whenever Tate is around. Not that you wanted to have met him sooner. “We’re taking things slow.”
“What happens if I start sleeping here?”
“You’re right. Let me walk you to the bunkhouse.”
—
“Where the fuck have you been?” Rip says as you trudge through the door. There’s a few whoops in the background, but you only look at him. “Had Lloyd saying you missed dinner. What the fuck, Bronc? And,” he stops his sentence looking out the window as Kayce walks by. “What the fuck is on your goddamn neck?”
“Nothing,” you scowl as you cover your neck. Kayce Dutton. “God, I’m not a child. I went out,” he scans the dress you're wearing before stomping out the door. “I’m going to bed.”
“I’m sure you’re exhausted.”
“Fuck you, Jimmy,” you should have stayed at Kayce. “And for anyone’s information, if I’m not here at night, don’t go calling Rip.”
“Next time let me know where you are, so I don’t wonder if you’ve been eaten by a bear,” your scowl softens, and you nod at the old man. “I take it you’re going to be out late from here on out?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, be careful. Not just for you,” but for him. You understand the words not spoken. So you nod, and go to take another shower. Your panties are ruined. And judging by Rip’s menacing voice, so is your neck.
Kayce. Dutton.
A name you have a feeling you’re going to be saying a lot more now.
in which kayce dutton sees his childhood sweetheart after sixteen years…
PAIRING: kayce dutton x fem!reader
WARNINGS: ANGST ANGST ANGST, awkwardness, CRAZY amounts of yearning, cussing, arguing, regret, did i mention angst?
WORD COUNT: 3.1k
🎶 : when i picture you - chappell roan
AN: ♥️ - i do not endorse holding onto first loves, it's crazy and will only hurt you and everyone else in your life in the process!! THIS IS THE SECOND PART OF IM TOO SCARED TO SAY!!
“A call for you.”
“Thank you, James. Did they say what it’s regarding?”
He shook his head. “He just kept asking for you. I told him you don’t take unscheduled calls, but he… he said that you were old friends.”
Y/N's heart dropped. He had some nerve, to call her after all this time. After pushing her away.
“Would you like me to transfer them?”
“That would be great, thank you.”
“Alright. He’s on line one.”
She took a deep breath, picking up the phone. “Y/N Y/L/N, partner of Phillips and Y/L/N, how can I-”
“Y/N.”
Her eyes widened, ignoring the feeling of disappointment building. “Mr. Dutton?”
“I told you-” He coughed. “Call me John.” Yes, he had told her that. He’d told her that sixteen years ago. “I need you back at the ranch.”
“Sir…” Her heart fluttered even thinking about Kayce. “After the way I left, I don’t know if that’s wise. Besides, I can’t just-”
“Your boss is an old friend of mine.” She’d almost laughed. He still walked over her like it was nothing. “I already talked to him, everything’s taken care of.”
“Well, that’s wonderful. If you don’t mind me asking, why haven’t you asked Jamie? He’s your current lawyer, correct?”
She and Jamie had always had a kinship; leaving Montana and going to law school so close allowed them to become closer than they ever had while at home.
“Jamie’s no longer on speaking terms.”
“I see.” She squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t even imagine what shit they’d gotten into in the nearly twenty years she’d been gone, and she didn’t want to. Unfortunately, it looked as if she had no choice. “When would you like me there?”
The sunset was magical, perfection in her opinion. While she’d fallen for the New York skyline, Montana’s view had been her first love. Montana held a lot of her first loves, actually.
She walked through the arrival gate, smiling when she met Beth’s eyes. They’d never gotten along, but it was nice to see a familiar face after so long.
Beth looked as if she felt the same, smiling as Y/N hugged her quickly. “Little Y/N.”
“Beth. How are you?”
“Just dandy. Daddy’s dead, and I’m playing chauffeur.”
“I-” He just called her, what did she mean he was dead? She frowned. “I’m so sorry Beth.”
“He knew what he was doing, calling you. It's very impressive; the career you’ve built for yourself.”
“Thank you.” She felt wrong smiling after learning the news. “I assume we’re going back to the ranch.”
Beth nodded. “While we have it.”
“What?” Beth turned around, and Y/N chased after her. “What do you mean, while you have it?”
The car ride had been quiet, not that she minded. Her flight had been full of crying babies and annoying passengers, the last thing she wanted to do was talk to Beth for an hour and a half.
Her breath caught as the lodge came into view; all her memories from the first 18 years of her life came flooding back, along with the realization that she would be seeing Kayce sooner rather than later. “How is he?”
“You know how he is. Pissy, but fine.”
She didn’t know him anymore, that was the thing. She’d loved him for so long, and now he was just a figment of her imagination, a stranger. “Has he-”
“Miss Y/N?” She looked out the window, grinning as she threw the door open, practically jumping into the man’s arms.
“Lloyd! Look at you.” She felt like a kid again. “You haven’t changed a bit.”
“You have. All grown up now.” He smiled. “All the Montana’s left you.”
“Well, I wouldn’t say that.”
Beth whistled, drawing her attention away from the stable hand. “I- I’ll see you around.”
“Well, I hope so.”
She grinned, kissing him on the cheek quickly. “You can bet on it.”
Being here, it felt like she was transported back to 2007. It was like a museum, exactly as she’d left it, imagined it in her mind whenever she got homesick. The fire was still going, even though it was late July.
Beth pulled her from her thoughts, walking further into the house. “You hungry?”
“Not real-”
“Don’t worry, he’s not here.” Ah. So Beth was aware. She even looked almost sorry for her. “I can have Gator warm up some leftovers.”
“That sounds perfect, thank you.”
Beth looked tired, more tired than Y/N had ever seen her before. Normally, the ginger was a ball of energy, well, more like a bomb of energy, waiting for her fuse to be lit. Still, it was odd seeing a spitfire dimmed to a mere spark. “How have you been, since all of this?”
“Fine. As fine as I can be.” She poured herself a drink, and Y/N ignored the fact it was only 2 in the afternoon. “I have a plan.”
There was the Beth she knew. “I knew you would.”
“Gator!” Beth called out.
“Yes, ma’am-” The man’s eyes lit up, and he walked over. “Miss Y/N!”
“Gator!” She stood from her seat, hugging him tightly. “It’s good to see you.”
“You too.” He smiled. “Can I-”
Beth cleared her throat. “Could you warm her some leftovers?”
“Anything. Anything at all. Would you like a chocolate milkshake? Just a hint of coffee?”
Her heart melted, placing a gentle hand on his arm. “You remembered.”
“Of course.” Beth raised an eyebrow, and Gator nodded, walking back out of the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”
Y/N waited until the chef had left before looking at Beth. “Why am I here, Beth?”
“Getting straight to business. What happened to little Y/N?”
“Just wondering why your father called me days before his death to come back home.” She crossed her arms. “I feel like I’m missing something.”
At that comment, Beth had cackled. “You have no idea.”
“What’s going on-”
The front door creaked open, and Beth smiled. “In here, baby.”
Maybe business could wait until later. Y/N smirked. “Baby?”
Beth nodded. “Baby.”
“I’m assuming baby is Rip then.” Y/N wiggled her eyebrows. “You two were always-”
“Y/N?”
She froze. Beth’s normal smirk grew tenfold, taking another sip of her bourbon. “Reunions are so fun, don’t you think?”
“Y/N is that you?”
She forced herself to stand up, turning around. “Kayce.”
He was smiling, which she was surprised by. “It’s been a while.”
She swallowed, nodding. “Yeah, it has.”
Beth groaned. “God, can one of you just address it?”
“Address what?”
She was beautiful, there was no doubt about it. Y/N felt deeply insecure just being in the same room as her. She was effortlessly perfect, and the way she looked at Kayce- God, she was wearing a ring. Her head started to spin, grabbing the counter to center herself. Kayce’s eyes widened, and he stepped forward, reaching an arm out. “You okay?”
She nodded, god that was all she could do right now. “I’m-”
“Dad, who’s this?”
Dad? She pulled her eyes from Kayce’s taking in the teenager that stood in front of her. He had to be fifteen, or sixteen years old. Just around how long she’d- pulling her arm out of Kayce’s hold, she fixed her blazer and cleared her throat. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to unpack.”
“Y/N-”
“Excuse me.”
Kayce waited until she’d gone upstairs to glare at his sister. “What the hell, Beth?”
“What?”
“Why is she here?”
Monica looked lost. “Who is she, exactly?”
“Yeah, Kayce,” Beth smirked, wiggling her eyebrows. “Who is she?”
“Beth, what did you do?”
“Oh, I didn’t do anything. This-” She waved her finger around in the air. “Is all Daddy’s doing.”
“What do you mean-”
“I mean, Dad called her before he died, and asked her to come back to the ranch.”
She grabbed the first Carhartt jacket she’d seen, pulling it closer as she walked toward the stables. She couldn’t stay in the lodge any longer, knowing that Kayce and his wife and son were there. It was a hard reminder of what she could’ve had, what she should’ve had if Kayce hadn’t broken her heart that day.
The stable was warm, the perfect respite from the cold of the afternoon air. Her eyes gazed at the names on the stall doors, desperately hoping one horse was still there from her time. JR.
She pushed the door open, grinning as the horse almost immediately recognized her. “Hey, JR.”
The horse nickered, rubbing its snout against her palm. “Wanna go on a ride?”
She showed no sign of protest as Y/N removed her shawl, tightened the saddle, and led her out of the barn. “I’ve missed you, you know.” The horse just stared into the distance. “You’re an old girl now, aren’t you?” At that comment, the horse visibly protested, and Y/N laughed for the first time since her arrival. Hooking her foot in the stirrup, she hoisted herself up, petting JR’s side gently. “Let’s get out of here, huh?”
She should’ve never came back, she thought to herself. She should have never rode out here either, without anything to protect herself with. She could hear the wolves howling in the distance, but she couldn’t find it in her to leave.
If she left she would have to see Kayce again. He was just as perfect as the day she’d left him, although, she laughed to herself, he finally grew that beard he’d always wanted.
“Well look at that.”
She’d thought she was going crazy for a second, but his voice was unmistakeable. She made no movement to turn around, she couldn’t look at him without going crazy.
Kayce laughed, carefully approaching her until they were face to face. There went her plan of not looking at him. “I thought I’d find you here.”
She scoffed. “I came here for some solace, Dutton.”
“Oh, I’m Dutton now?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Well, I don’t think your wife and child would enjoy me calling you pet names, now would they?” She retorted, enjoying his shocked expression. “Just leave me alone.”
“Can’t do that, now can I?”
“Yeah,” she jutted her hip. “And why’s that?”
“So much catchin’ up to do.” His smile peaked through, and she fought the blush she knew was growing on her cheeks. He had this horrible effect on her after all these years. “Why’d you come here?”
“I think you know why.” She glared as hard hard as she could at him, sitting beside the creek. Kayce got a horrible sense of deja vu as he watched her, but he continued on, sitting right beside her. “Are you happy?”
He nodded. “I am.”
She smiled. “That’s good. Really good Kayce.”
He ignored how his heart fluttered when she said his name. “And you?”
“I’ve been better.”
“You got anyone?”
She laughed, actually laughed. “No one’s interested.”
“Well, they’re missing out.”
She looked over, blushing when she realized he’d been staring at her the entire time. “What are you doing, Kayc?”
“What do you mean?”
“What is this? Why can’t we just- let’s just not talk to each other.” She stood up, dusting off her pants. “Just pretend we never knew each other. Okay?”
He sat there in shock for a moment, before following after her. “No.”
“No?” She whipped around, and he almost smiled at the fire that blazed in her eyes. There she was, the girl he knew. “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” He stepped toe to toe with her. “I can’t go on like this any longer. I lost you sixteen years ago, and now that you’re back, I can’t do it again.”
“Yes, you can.” She nodded. “You can, because you have a whole life now. You can’t just leave because I came back once.”
“Well, then what do you want me to do?”
“I want you to be the good man you’ve always been.” Her heart broke as she said it. “That woman loves you, and your son would never forgive you. I know it.”
“What about the letter?”
“It- That was a goodbye letter. It was meant for closure.”
He laughed. “Well shit. It didn’t work, because all I’ve thought about for years was that letter.” He grabbed her hand, holding it over his heart. “It haunts me.”
“I can’t do this, Kayce. You can’t do this.” Her voice was small. “You have a family, a son. Who suspiciously-” She laughed humourlessly, feeling like a broken record at this point. “Is about as old as how long I’ve been gone.”
“You can’t- you can’t be mad at me for that! You told me I was dead to you, that you couldn’t even look at me-”
“Well, you told me you didn’t love me!” She yelled. “What was I supposed to say? Alright with me. Fine? You’re a real bastard, Kayce Dutton.”
“Well, shit, baby-” His eyes widened. “I couldn’t have you settlin’ for me-”
“Well, it looks like your life went pretty well. Wouldn’t you say?” Tears were now streaming down her face. “By the way, fuck you for taking that away from me.”
She whipped around, stalking toward her horse. He yelled at her disappearing figure. “That’s my coat you got on!”
She gasped, pulling it off as if it was on fire. “Take it!” He stood there in shock, good. Served him right. Walking up to the tree she’d tied JR to, she pulled the reigns loose, walking her out of the woods.
Kayce sighed, walking after her. “Come on. You’ll freeze without it.”
“I don’t-”
He grabbed it, trying to put it back on her frame. “Just-”
“Kayce, stop!” She shoved him away, getting on the saddle. “Leave me alone.” Not even bothering to wait for his reply, she kicked JR’s side, sending her into a full gallop.
“Y/N!” Kayce kicked the dirt, jumping up on his horse and following after her. “Goddamit.”
JR was old, there was no doubt about it, but she was fast, and Kayce was struggling to catch up to her. “Just slow down, let’s talk-”
“I swear to god-” She groaned, urging JR to run a little faster. “C’mon girl, just a little faster.”
He reached out, grinning when her reigns laid in his hands. He pulled, and JR slowed down to a slow walk, much to Y/N’s dismay. She jumped off the horse, stalking up the hill.
“Stop running!”
She scoffed. “I should stop running?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” He barked back. “Goddamit, you won’t even look at me for more than a few seconds.”
“Do you blame me?” Tears were still falling down her cheeks. “You broke my heart, Kayce. Broke it completely in two. Excuse me for being erratic. You can’t just tell a girl you imagine her as your wife one day and then break up with her the next!”
“We could have never had that!” He yelled. “You had too much potential, and I love you too much- I loved you too much to hold you back in life. I belong here, and you belong out there.”
“For the last time, you don’t get to decide that for me. I am a grown woman, Kayce John Dutton.” She pinched her nose, squeezing her eyes shut. “I swear to god, that argument didn’t hold up 20 years ago, and it doesn’t hold up now.”
"I was right, wasn't I? Look at the career you've built."
"I never wanted that. I wanted you!" She practically hissed at him. "You’re a coward. That’s what you are.”
“Oh yeah?” He scoffed. “I’m the coward? You're the coward, returning your ring. Writing that ‘goodbye’ letter!”
A sob wrecked through her. “It’s over, Kayce. It’s been over for sixteen years.”
“NO!” His voice rang through the valley. “It’s not over. It’ll never be over.”
“Kayce-”
“Baby-”
“Dont! Don’t call me that.” She pushed at his chest. “Just leave me alone-”
“I can’t.” He whispered, holding her wrists gently. “All because of that goddamned letter.”
“Get rid of it then if it 'haunts' you.” She leaned her head against his chest, tiring out. “I should have never come back.”
“Don’t say that.”
“I mean it. You were right, when you pushed me away. We would have torn each other apart. We would have-”
“No, we wouldn’t have. We would have been happy-”
“Kayce!” She sobbed. “Just stop it. Stop the ‘would’ve,’ it’s not going to help either of us.” Reaching up, she pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “Can you promise me something?”
“Anything.” His voice sounded desperate.
“Don’t think about me anymore. Love your wife, love her properly, without me in your mind.”
“I-” His face looked positively heartbroken. “Why?”
“You married her Kayce, not me! In the grand scheme of things, I was just a high school girlfriend. You have a whole life with her. I will not-” She hiccuped. “I will not be a homewrecker.”
“I- I can’t.”
“Yes you can.” She smiled through the tears. “Because you’re a good man, Kayce Dutton.”
“I-”
“Swear to me.”
“I-” He sighed, kissing the inside of her hand that still lingered on his cheek. “I swear to you.”
“Good.” She nodded, forcing herself to smile. “Now guide me back to the ranch. I’m lost.”
“Of course you are.” He laughed, still standing in place, relishing in her touch for the first time in sixteen years. “I missed you.”
“Stop.” She shook her head. “You swore.”
“Sorry, sorry.” He muttered. “Let’s go back home, yeah?” Holding her hand in his, he walked them back down the hill, their horses waiting diligently at the bottom.
“What’s her name?” Her voice was a whipser, he had barely heard it.
“Monica.”
“She’s beautiful.”
He smiled, nodding. “Yeah, she is.”
“And your son?” She sounded like she was holding back tears. “What’s he like?”
“Reserved. Kind. Loves horses.”
She laughed. “Just like his father.”
“Nah.” Kayce shook his head, hoisting her up on JR’s back. “He’s like his mother.”
Y/N had left two days after that, figuring out his father’s will and saying her goodbyes in record time. She’d shook his hand, when she left. It almost made him laugh, their last interaction was a handshake.
She’d smiled at Monica, saying niceties. When she looked at Tate, her eyes softened, and Kayce's heart almost broke all over again. “You’re a lucky kid.”
Tate had laughed. “Thank you?”
“Take care of your parents, yeah? You only get two of them.”
Monica smiled. “You should listen to her.”
Beth yelled out from the car. “You coming?”
That was the last he’d seen of her. The first love of his life. He’d tried hard to keep her promise, but she was everywhere. She was in the letter, in the ring that lay on the chain holding his dog tags. The ring that got him through his tour.
“Kayc?” Monica called out. “You coming in? Dinner’s ready?”
“Yeah, baby.” He smiled, tucking his dog tags back in his shirt. “I’m coming.”
Description: after being rescued, YN has to face what she went through in that house and the challenges that face what comes after.
Warnings: descriptions of physical and sexual assault. Ptsd. Needles.
PLEASE NOTE this is a really dark story and I have probably missed tags so if this will affect your mental health please don’t read <3. Also I wanted this story to all be one part but tumblr said it was to long:(
Pt 1
“I’m here,” he said quietly. “You’re okay. You’re okay now.”
Jane and Lisbon stood frozen at the. Bottom of the stairs. Lisbon’s hand flew to her mouth. Jane looked pale, swallowed hard.
“Key,” YN whispered hoarsely, eyes flicking weakly to the wall. “Key.”
Jane reacted instantly, grabbing it from the peg and tossing it to Cho.
Cho caught it without looking.
The restraints came off quickly—ankles, then wrists. Her skin beneath was red and bruised, bleeding marked where metal had pressed too long.
Her legs had bruises all over and dried blood stuck to the inside of her legs. Dark angry hand prints on her neck.
The moment she was free, she collapsed forward.
Her arms wrapped around his neck with everything she had left.
“I thought I was going to die,” she whispered, face pressed into his shoulder.
Cho held her, one hand firm at the back of her head the other pressed to her back, anchoring her there. “You didn’t,” he said low and sure. “You’re safe now. I’ve got you.”
Her body shook once.
Then again.
Then went completely limp.
Cho adjusted instantly, easing her weight into his arms.
“She’s out,” he said calmly.
Gently easing her to lay in his arms, his arms tucked under her knees.
She felt too light.
He carried her up the stairs, out into the harsh afternoon light. Her hair was tangled, pale against his dark jacket. She looked unreal—like something fragile pulled out of a nightmare.
The ambulance waited outside.
They transferred her carefully to the gurney.
As they did, she stirred.
Her eyes fluttered open.
She reached weakly toward him.
“Cho?” she murmured.
“I’m here.”
She curled her fingers into his sleeve. “You’re coming.”
“Yes,” he said without hesitation.
Relief softened her face.
The doors closed.
The siren wailed.
Cho climbed in beside her.
And for the first time since she’d vanished—
He let himself breathe.
⸻
The ambulance rocked slightly as it merged back into traffic, siren cutting through the night like a blade.
YN stirred.
It was small at first—a shift of her fingers, a shallow breath that caught too sharply in her chest. Her eyes fluttered, unfocused, pupils blown wide as the ceiling lights blurred overhead.
Her hand moved.
Searching.
Cho noticed instantly.
He took her hand without thinking, his grip firm and warm, anchoring. She tightened her fingers around his, pulling his hand toward her until it rested against her stomach, like she needed to feel something solid there to convince herself she was real.
Her breathing stuttered.
“I—” Her voice cracked before the word could even form. She swallowed, throat working painfully. “I thought I was gonna die, Cho.”
The words came out thin, fragile, barely held together.
Cho didn’t squeeze her hand harder. He didn’t let go either.
“You didn’t,” he said quietly. “You’re here. You made it.”
Her face crumpled, just slightly. She turned her head toward him, eyes glassy and rimmed red, lashes clumped together. “I really thought… I really thought that was it.”
“I know,” Cho said.
It wasn’t soft reassurance. It wasn’t empty comfort.
It was acknowledgement.
An EMT leaned in gently from the side. “Hey, sweetheart,” she said, voice calm and practiced. “Let’s get you a sip of water, okay?”
YN nodded weakly.
The cup was pressed carefully to her lips. She took a small sip—and then coughed, sharp and sudden, the motion jarring her whole body.
Cho took the cup immediately before it could spill, setting it aside with one hand while keeping hold of hers with the other.
“Easy,” he said, steady. “Don’t rush it.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, breath coming faster now.
“Cho—Cho he—” She shook her head, words tangling up, panic bleeding in around the edges. “He—he—”
Her chest hitched.
Her grip tightened painfully.
“Did you get him?” she blurted, voice rising. “Did you—did you catch him?”
Cho didn’t answer.
Not because he didn’t want to—but because he knew what would happen if he did.
The silence stretched.
Too long.
Her eyes flew open.
“Oh my God,” she gasped. “Cho—no—no no no—”
She tried to sit up.
The movement was sudden and uncoordinated, her body jerking forward like it didn’t remember how to move properly. The monitor beeped faster. Her breathing spiked.
“No,” Cho said firmly, his hand coming up to steady her shoulder. “Don’t move.”
“Did you get him?” she shouted, voice breaking, panic tipping into hysteria. “Tell me you got him—tell me—”
She pushed against him, trying to sit up again, tears spilling now, breath coming in sharp, painful gulps. “I can’t—please—I can’t—”
The EMT met Cho’s eyes.
“She’s going to hurt herself,” the EMT said quietly but urgently.
Cho didn’t argue.
“Do it,” he said.
YN saw the needle.
Her fear sharpened instantly.
“No,” she cried hoarsely, thrashing weakly. “Don’t you dare—don’t—Cho—”
“It’s okay,” Cho said, his voice low but unyielding, gently holding her shoulders down “It’ll help. Stay still.”
She shook her head wildly. “No—please—”
The EMT moved fast and clean, injecting the medication into the side of her arm.
The effect was almost immediate.
Her resistance melted.
Her arms went slack.
Her breathing slowed, uneven at first, then deeper.
Her eyes struggled to stay open.
She looked at Cho, terrified, drug-heavy confusion swimming in her gaze.
“No,” she whispered, like a plea.
Cho lifted his hand and brushed his thumb once across her forehead, slow and deliberate. “Sleep,” he said quietly. “You need it.”
Her eyes fluttered.
Then closed.
Her body went heavy against the stretcher, chest rising and falling in steady rhythm.
Cho stayed exactly where he was, one hand resting lightly against her arm, the other smoothing her hair back from her face with careful, repetitive motions.
She looked small.
Too small for what she’d endured.
“She was going to hurt herself,” the EMT said softly, checking her vitals.
Cho nodded. “I know.”
⸻
The hospital lights were too bright.
YN slept through most of it—the transfer, the paperwork, the hallway turns—but she stirred again as the gurney slowed and stopped.
Her eyes opened.
For a moment, confusion clouded her face.
Then she saw Cho.
“What—” Her voice was thick, heavy with medication. “What happened?”
“You’re at the hospital,” Cho said. “They’re checking you over.”
She swallowed, throat bobbing.
A doctor stepped into view.
Male.
YN’s eyes widened instantly.
Her breathing picked up again, shallow and fast. Her fingers curled into the sheet.
The doctor smiled politely, holding up a folded hospital gown. “Miss YN, we need your consent to give you a medical examination.”
She froze.
Her gaze snapped back to Cho, wide and pleading.
Cho stepped forward half a pace. “She needs a female doctor.”
The doctor paused, immediately reading the room. “Of course,” he said, nodding. “I’ll arrange that.”
He set the gown down gently. “I’ll be back.”
The door closed.
YN let out a shaky breath she’d clearly been holding.
Her voice came out small. “Can I… can I have underwear too?”
Cho’s jaw tightened.
“Yeah,” he said shortly. “You can.”
A young nurse returned a few minutes later with a folded bundle. She smiled kindly at YN. “Here you go. Take your time.”
She left them alone.
YN pushed herself upright slowly, wincing. Cho passed her the clothes without comment.
She looked up at him and managed a tiny smile. “Thank you.”
It shattered him.
“I’ll step outside,” Cho said, already turning toward the wall.
Her hand shot out, grabbing his sleeve.
“Stay,” she whispered.
Cho didn’t hesitate.
“I’ll stay”
He turned his back fully, facing the wall, arms crossed, body rigid. “
She changed quietly, movements slow and careful.
When she was done, Cho helped her settle back into bed, lifting her legs gently, adjusting the sheets without looking at her more than necessary.
A nurse came to wheel her out for further examination.
Cho stood alone for a moment after she was gone.
He lifted a hand to his mouth, pressing his knuckles against his lips, breathing through the surge of anger, helplessness, and sheer relief threatening to overwhelm him.
Then Bella and Amy appeared.
They rushed toward him, questions spilling out.
“Is she alive?”
“Can we see her?”
“Is she okay?”
Cho answered each one, voice steady, factual, grounding.
“She’s alive. She’s safe. She’s being treated.”
Amy started crying again. Bella wrapped an arm around her.
“You found her,” Bella whispered. “Thank you.”
Cho nodded once.
He stayed standing long after they sat down.
Because if he sat—
He wasn’t sure he’d get back up.
⸻
YN was brought back into the hospital room just after midnight.
The door opened quietly, wheels murmuring against the floor, and Bella was on her feet instantly. Amy followed a heartbeat later.
YN looked impossibly small in the bed. Clean now. Wrapped in white sheets and a thin hospital blanket. Her hair was brushed back, still damp at the ends, her face pale and drawn—but her eyes were open.
Amy made a sound that was half-sob, half-gasp and rushed forward, careful not to jostle the bed as she climbed up beside her sister. She folded herself around YN, crying into her shoulder like she was afraid if she let go, YN might disappear again.
Bella stood frozen for a second, one hand over her mouth, before joining them—one hand on YN’s arm, the other pressing into Amy’s back, grounding both of them.
Cho stayed by the door.
YN’s eyes found him briefly over Amy’s shoulder.
She gave him the faintest nod.
Cho returned it.
Then he stepped back, quietly closing the door behind him.
⸻
Jane found him in the hallway not long after.
Cho was standing with his back against the wall, arms crossed, staring at nothing in particular.
“How is she?” Jane asked softly.
“She’s stable,” Cho said. “Exhausted. Dissociated.”
Jane nodded. “Sounds about right.”
Cho exhaled through his nose. “Doctors say physically she’ll recover. Mentally… that’s going to take time.”
Jane studied his face. “You haven’t eaten.”
Cho didn’t respond.
Jane tilted his head toward the elevators. “Go home. Shower. Eat something that didn’t come from a vending machine. Then come back. She’ll still be here.”
Cho hesitated.
“She’s not alone,” Jane added gently. “Her sisters are with her.”
After a long moment, Cho nodded once. “Three hours.”
Jane smiled faintly. “I’ll hold you to that.”
⸻
When Cho returned, it was nearly three in the morning.
The room was dim, lit only by a bedside lamp. Amy was asleep beside YN now, curled carefully on top of the blankets, one arm slung protectively across her sister’s waist.
YN was asleep too.
Cho stood just inside the doorway for a moment, watching them breathe.
Bella slipped in quietly behind him.
She smiled when she saw him. “Agent Cho.”
“Bella,” he replied.
“Thank you,” she said simply. “You saved our sister.”
Cho shook his head. “She saved herself.”
Bella chuckled softly. “I’d hug you, but I think Amy may have taken all the hugs you had to give tonight.”
She held out a cup. “Coffee?”
Cho accepted it. “Thanks.”
Bella glanced at YN, her expression softening. “You’re very special to her,” she said quietly.
Cho stiffened slightly.
Bella patted his arm gently. “I’m going to get dinner before the cafeteria closes. Amy and I will head out after.”
Cho nodded.
He stayed.
⸻
The waiting room was silent when Amy and Bella finally left.
Cho waited another ten minutes before standing.
He knocked softly on YN’s door.
“Come in,” she said.
She was awake.
Sitting upright, arms folded tightly over her chest like she was holding herself together. Her eyes were too alert, too focused—like sleep wasn’t something she trusted anymore.
She smiled faintly when she saw him.
“I’m guessing you’re here to take my statement.”
“No,” Cho said gently, closing the door behind him. “Not tonight.”
Her shoulders relaxed a fraction. “Thanks.”
She looked down at her hands. “I don’t feel real, Cho. Honestly… I’m not convinced I didn’t die in that basement.”
Cho walked over and sat at the end of her bed.
“You didn’t,” he said. “If you had, hospitals would be quieter.”
That earned a tiny, breathless huff of a laugh.
Then she whispered, “I was really scared.”
Cho nodded. “I know.”
She looked hollow. Like everything bright had been siphoned out of her.
“Do you think I’ll ever be the same again?” she asked.
Cho didn’t rush to answer.
“No,” he said honestly. “But that doesn’t mean you’ll be worse. Just different. And different doesn’t mean broken.”
She stared at the wall, absorbing that.
Later, she leaned back against the pillows, exhaustion finally weighing her down.
“Have you eaten?” Cho asked.
She shook her head. “Don’t want to.”
“You should.”
“I know.”
Silence stretched between them.
“I don’t want to fall asleep,” she said quietly. “In case I wake up and I’m back there.”
Cho rested his forearms on his knees. “You’re not back there. And if you wake up scared, you press the call button. Someone will come.”
Eventually, her breathing evened out.
She slept.
Cho didn’t leave until the nurse told him to.
⸻
The next day, Jane arrived with coffee and a terrible joke.
YN smiled.
Not because it was funny—but because he was trying.
When it was time for her statement, the room felt heavy with dread.
Only Cho, Lisbon, and Jane were allowed inside.
Lisbon sat beside the bed, recorder ready.
Cho stood in the corner, arms crossed.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Lisbon said gently.
YN took a breath.
“I went back to the shack,” she said. “I thought I missed something.”
Her voice trembled.
“He was waiting for me. In the back room. He hit me.”
She swallowed hard.
“He put me in a plastic container. Like… storage. In the back of his truck.”
Tears slid silently down her face.
“You’re doing great,” Lisbon said.
“He injected me with something,” YN continued. “I could see. I could feel. I just… couldn’t move. Like everything was slow and thick.”
Her breathing hitched.
Cho moved closer, resting a steady hand on her shoulder.
“He hurt me,” she said quietly. “Then he raped me. Didn’t feed me. Didn’t let me sleep. I didn’t know if it was days or hours.”
The rooms feels thick
She turned her face away, shame flooding her expression.
Cho puts his hand on her blanketed knee.
Lisbon asked gently, “Can you describe him?”
YN nodded shakily. “Tall. Tattoo. A bird. On his hip just under his belt line, I would see it when-“
Her heart rate spiked.
The nurse stepped in. “She needs to rest.”
Lisbon turned off the recorder.
Jane and Lisbon left.
Cho stayed.
“You did good,” he said quietly.
YN didn’t respond.
She rolled onto her side and pulled the blanket over her face.
Summary: Taking your friend's advice and buying a sex toy might end up being the best thing you've ever done—even if it doesn't seem like it at first.
Tags: 18+ MDNI, smut with very little plot, stuck sex toy, jack helps you, p in v, fingering, use of a sex toy, no condom but birth control, gloves, lube, embarrassment, neighbour!jack, some fluff, banter, teasing
word count: 4.6k
a/n: fic based on that scene from episode eight😮💨 had this idea stuck in my head for a few days now and i hope you enjoy it just as much as i did writing it. can't remember the last time i wrote smut, so be kind :D As always, feedback is greatly appreciated! <333
The Pitt | Masterlist
Main | Masterlist
Why do bad things happen to good people? Shouldn't there be a law against that? A rule that if you're a good person, then you deserve good things in life.
You're a good person—you water your plants regularly, walk your neighbour's dog when she gets home late, and, most importantly, you truly listen when your friends share their advice.
Advice that, at the time, seemed sound, but now has you cursing yourself for taking.
Because you had bought the Sensual Egg sex toy (which is such a ridiculous name) that your friend had raved about after listening to you bemoan your lack of a sex life. It's been ages since your last hookup, and going to a nightclub just for a mediocre experience that would leave you disappointed anyway, had you interested enough to try it out.
It’s not because the only person you'd even consider, who hopefully would treat you right, was so out of your league that it was laughable—Jack Abbot. The kind of guy with biceps you dream of sinking your teeth into, and curly grey hair that makes you want to tug on it.
Also, very crucially, your neighbour and an ER doctor busy saving lives—so far out of your league that all hope you ever have of having him in bed is just in your fantasies.
So, you’d reasoned that you might as well try this.
And it was great—at least for about twenty minutes. Those vibrations brought you bliss, which you hadn't experienced in months. But then, disaster struck.
The plastic string broke as you attempted to take it out.
Now, here you are—overstimulated, face flushed, and your hands cramping as you contort into some inhuman position trying to help yourself. The only good thing about it is that you, at least, could shut off the vibrations.
Still, you were so fucked. And somehow, desperate enough that you grab your phone and shoot off a text to Jack before you can second-guess yourself.
You (9.14): Are you home?
There’s a good chance he’s at work—something you’re simultaneously hoping for while also desperately hoping he’s not. You’re caught between two embarrassing options right now, and for some reason, texting him feels less embarrassing than heading to the ER and having to explain your situation.
Jack's reply comes moments later.
Jack (9.16): Yes. What's up?
You fling the phone into the distance, landing face down on your bed. Honestly, you weren’t expecting a response.
Are you really going to tell him outright that you have a sex toy stuck inside you and that you need help? No way, that’s mortifying. Oh god, what were you thinking? You should have just sucked it up and driven yourself to the ER. Why did you have to involve him?
As you spiral into panic, you hear sharp knocks on your front door.
"Hey! Open up! Are you okay?" Jack’s voice pierces through the thin wood, laced with concern.
You leap up, eyes wide. Grabbing your phone, you see a flood of missed texts and calls.
Jack (9.17): ?
Jack: (9.18): Are you okay?
One missed call from Jack.
Jack (9.18): Sweetheart?
Two missed calls from Jack.
Jack (9.19): Please, pick up the phone.
Three missed calls from Jack.
Jack (9.20): I'm coming over.
Fuck. Why did you set your phone to silent? The knocks continue, growing more incessant, and breaking through your silent panic.
"Sweetheart? I'm breaking down the door if you don't answer me in the next five seconds.”
Okay, you can't afford that—neither financially nor emotionally. The whole building does not have to come running to witness your greatest act of humiliation ever. "I'm coming!”
You quickly throw on a dressing robe and rush to the door. Jack stands there, a medical kit in hand, his eyes filled with worry. He takes in your dishevelled appearance, the flush on your cheeks, and how your legs are wobbling slightly beneath you.
"What's going on?" he asks, scanning your appearance for something more worrying.
"Uh... Nothing," you reply, biting your lip, sending him a shaky smile. "Just forget I texted you. I’m really sorry for making you come over."
"Sweetheart," Jack replies firmly, locking eyes with you, and not moving an inch. "What’s going on?" he repeats.
You suck in your cheeks, debating whether or not to tell him. You sigh, then gesture for him to come inside; you don’t want the whole building to overhear.
"Oh God..." you mumble, stepping from foot to foot, because you can't pace at the moment. "I—I don’t even know how to say this. Um... Wow, this is so embarrassing."
"Whatever it is, it’ll be alright. I won’t judge you," Jack reassures you, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed. The kit rests at his feet, and though he seems less tense now that he sees you’re up and standing, worry still knits his brows.
You bite your finger harshly, gathering your courage before speaking. "I made a colossal mistake by listening to a friend and bought something," you manage to say.
"You bought something?" Jack tilts his head.
"Yes, and..."
"And?"
Your eyes close briefly, shame curling up your spine. "And now... it's stuck."
"Stuck?"
"Yes." You feel your stomach knotting, nerves twisting, as he forces the confession out of you.
"Where?"
"...Inside me."
You risk a glance at him, but Jack’s reaction is minimal.
"Inside you," he echoes, his jaw tightening.
You twist the fabric of your robe, looking down again. When silence stretches, you start to ramble. "I can’t get it out. The string broke. I tried—I really did. I know this is crossing a line, but you’re a doctor, and I thought maybe you could help so I wouldn’t have to go to the ER—"
"Please tell me it’s not a light bulb," he interjects.
You blink in surprise, then notice the grin spreading across his face as he tries to lighten the mood.
"People actually… do that? I thought that was just a rumour."
"Way more than you'd think," he says.
You can’t help but let out a breathless snort, though your nerves quickly bubble back to the surface. "No, it’s not that. So… do you think you could—" you shrug a shoulder, grimacing, "...help me?"
Jack stills, his gaze drifting away from yours for the first time since he arrived. There's a twitch in his jaw, a slight shift in his posture, and you know he's about to let you down.
You don’t wait for him to speak. "Never mind," you say quickly, shaking your head. "That’s just… too weird. I’m really sorry I asked." You motion toward the door, eager to usher him out so you can wallow in the added mortification before eventually Ubering to the ER.
Jack swallows hard but doesn’t leave. Instead, he steps forward. "No—I... I just wasn’t expecting that. He rubs the back of his neck, seemingly at war with himself, before he nods. "I'll do it. I'll help you."
Your eyes widen, and the relief is so immediate it’s dizzying. "Really?" you ask, and then, because you can't help yourself, you add, "Are you sure? You really don't have to. It's fine."
"No, I... I'm sure," he says, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that sends a thrill down your spine.
"Thank you," you exhale. "I'll clean your entire house or bake you a cake. Or maybe both—"
“Honey, there’s no need for all of that,” he gently interrupts, then picks up his kit again. “Where do you want to do this?”
You gesture vaguely toward the hallway. “Bedroom’s this way.”
The walk feels like it lasts an hour. You’re acutely aware of everything—of how thin your robe is, how your thighs brush against each other when you walk, and how awkwardly each step feels. You cross your arms, then uncross them, and nervously smooth your hair as if to erase the fact that you just admitted to having a sex toy stuck inside you.
When you glance back, his eyes are not on your face, but snap up instantly. A faint flush creeping up his neck at being caught, a slight hope blooming that he doesn't find you completely unattractive after hearing about your dilemma, but also aware that he was probably just noticing your weird gait.
You open the door, suddenly conscious of the clothes piled in the corner, your rumpled sheets, and the pillows scattered across the room in frustration.
You pull out the small stool you sometimes use to reach the higher shelves in your closet for him. "Here."
Hovering near the bed, you feel unsure about what to do with yourself. Should you sit? Stand? Apologise again?
You settle on the latter. “I'm so sorry,” you blurt out.
“For what?”
“For… this. For pulling you into my bad decisions. For texting you instead of going to the ER like a normal person.”
He steps closer, his voice taking a reassuring tone. "Don't worry about it. I've got you."
Looking into his eyes, you see a warmth that only sends your heart racing more.
You shrug lightly. “Still.”
Silence stretches as you look at him, until you realise you’re still standing there. “Right, okay. Let's do this."
He nods, shifting fully into doctor mode, but there’s still something simmering beneath it. “Okay, I need you to lie down.”
You sit on the edge of the bed, then hesitate. There’s no graceful way to do this. You slide back, pulling the robe tighter around you, as if it might save a shred of your dignity, propped slightly up on your elbows.
Jack sets down his kit and rolls up his sleeves. You definitely shouldn’t be noticing his forearms, but you can’t help it. It's your weakness. He pulls out blue gloves, snapping them on with a precision that speaks to his years of experience.
“Okay,” he says, his voice lowered now as he sits down on the stool. "Sweetheart, I need you to pull your robe away," he instructs gently.
You hesitate for just a moment before pulling it off and letting it slide down your thighs. The fabric pools beside you on the bed, making your oversized t-shirt shift higher along your legs.
His gaze flickers downward for a moment, then snaps back to your face. “And your underwear,” he adds, his voice turning more gravelly. He clears his throat once.
You swallow nervously. "I’m not wearing any," you admit shyly, feeling a bit flustered. You’d been so caught up earlier that you hadn’t even thought about it. Just grabbed your robe and stumbled out to the door.
There’s the faintest pause as he processes your words, a change in his breathing evident. “Alright,” he says carefully. “Open your legs.”
A rush of heat floods your face, and you lie down fully. You take a deep breath and let your legs fall open. The cool air against your skin feels too revealing, exposing a part of yourself that you weren't prepared for him to see tonight.
For a moment, silence hangs between you. You can’t bring yourself to look at him. You hear the soft sound of a bottle being squeezed, lube being applied to his finger, and catch the quiet inhale that he probably didn’t intend for you to notice.
"Okay. I'm going to start with my index finger. If anything feels uncomfortable, just let me know," he says. You can't help but hope that he's affected by the sight of you—that he wants you as much as you want him.
You nod, afraid that your voice won't work if you try to speak. A gasp escapes you, one you desperately try to suppress as his finger brushes lightly against you. The touch is careful—professional—but your body doesn’t seem to care about that. All it recognises is that someone else is touching you.
Slowly, he slides a finger inside, moving gently. "Alright, good," he says. "I can feel the tip of it. I’m going to add another finger now, okay?"
"Mm," you hum in response, eyes blinking shut in humiliation.
Minutes stretch on. His fingers move slowly inside you, trying to coax it out, then he exhales slowly and withdraws.
“Okay,” he mutters. “You’re too tense. I can’t get a good grip on it. If we can’t get you to relax, we might have to go to the hospital."
Propping yourself up on your elbows, you ask, “So what does that mean?”
He hesitates.
“What?” you press.
“In some cases,” he says, his voice even, eyes deliberately averted to the wall instead of meeting yours, “if the pelvic muscles relax… it becomes easier.”
“Relax, how exactly?”
His gaze shifts to yours, eyes darker than they were before. “…An orgasm would likely resolve the issue.”
The sentence lingers in the air between you like a live wire, crackling with tension.
Your heart pounds against your ribs. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not.”
“And how,” you ask, struggling to keep your voice steady, “would that happen?”
He falls silent for a moment. Then—
“I could help,” he offers, then quickly adds, “for medical reasons, of course. I would be able to grab the toy immediately.”
“I…” you stare up at the ceiling, your mind racing. This is beyond insane. Your attractive neighbour is proposing to help you reach orgasm, but not for the reasons you've fantasised about. You let out a breath, giving in to the whirlwind of thoughts. You really don’t want to go to the hospital. You sigh. “Okay… I—uh... I want this out.”
Jack nods, swallowing hard. “Okay. Lie down again. Close your eyes. Think of something that helps you relax. Or—uh… someone.” His voice is casual, but the pause lingers just long enough to make you wonder what he’s really asking.
"I don't have anybody in my life," you say, though still unsure if that's what he'd been searching for.
He hums softly, a quiet "Good," leaving his lips, hidden beneath the hiss of the lube bottle. It makes the hope grow in intensity.
"I’m going to touch you now,” he adds quietly. “Is that okay?”
"Okay," you breathe out.
His fingers return to your pussy, but they don’t move with the same clinical detachment as before. This time, they linger, careful, testing your reactions with each deliberate movement. They brush against your sides first. Feathery. Rubbery.
Your thighs tense instinctively. "Do you... Do you think you could do it without the gloves?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. “I just… I keep thinking about them. And then I think about how ridiculous this is.”
Jack doesn’t reply immediately; a few seconds pass, and then you hear the unmistakable sound of latex being pulled away.
After a moment, there’s nothing but quiet. Then you hear his breathing. It's heavier than before.
When he touches you again, it’s different. His fingers are warmer, rough and calloused against your soft skin. Your breath stutters. His thumb drifts, not quite committing to a place, just exploring. Learning where to touch you. Seeing where he can get a reaction.
You hear him swallow.
“Still okay?” he asks, his voice rough, as if he’s straining to keep it steady.
“Yeah,” you whisper back.
He exhales slowly through his nose. He brushes his thumb down your slit, slightly pushing against your soaking hole before finding your clit. Your wetness makes it glide easily. There’s a rhythm to his movements now, a steady pattern that has your thighs clenching. You bite your lip to stifle a sound, but a soft moan escapes anyway.
You can tell it affects him even if his face is hidden from view. His free hand curls against the mattress beside your hip like he needs something solid to hold onto. It makes you start to believe he's just as affected by this as you are.
“This is just to relax the muscles,” he murmurs, almost as if he's trying to convince himself more than you.
“Mhm,” you murmur, though you don't really believe that anymore. Your back arches slightly before you can stop it.
"That feels good?" he breathes.
"Yeah," you sigh.
He continues to touch you. Light touches that send fire through your veins. Then, without saying anything, he inserts a finger, and then, after a moment, another. His thumb continues pressing on your clit as he strokes them in and out. Curling slightly, just enough that another moan escapes your lips again.
"You're doing so good for me," he says quietly, and this time it doesn’t sound like something a doctor would say. It sounds like it comes from him. Like he's just being Jack now.
“I’m close,” you confess, breathless, your hands gripping the sheets tightly. Your pulse thrums everywhere, and your skin feels too tight against your body. It's been so long since someone has touched you like this—someone who truly knows what they’re doing.
“Yeah? Come on then, pretty girl,” he encourages, maintaining eye contact this time as he watches your reaction. He can't quite hide the way it affects him; his breathing quickens, and his composure visibly frays.
You come hard, your fingers clutching at the sheets tightly, losing yourself in the rush of stars that swirl across the ceiling.
Once it's over, and your breath has returned to normal, his hand remains on you just a moment longer than needed. Then he clears his throat, blinking like he’s trying to return to himself.
“Okay,” he says, forcing steadiness into his tone. “Let’s see if that did the trick.”
You’re still floating, muscles loose, pulse echoing in your ears.
He tries again, a look of intense concentration washing over his features. His touch is more confident now, your body more receptive, hips meeting his touch involuntarily. You watch the way his brows pull together, the way his lower lip catches briefly between his teeth.
“Almost there,” he murmurs. You shift slightly.
Hope flares, but then—
A low hum suddenly fills the room, causing both of you to freeze.
The toy. You completely forgot about the controller still lying on the bed. You must have accidentally hit it.
The vibration pulses deep within you, a subtle sensation that makes your back arch involuntarily, breath stuttering. Your hips surge forward, pushing his fingers deeper into you.
Jack’s head snaps up. “Did you just—”
“I didn’t mean to,” you gasp, already feeling flustered. “It must have—”
The vibration deepens, rolling through you in waves. His fingers still inside you.
"I'm sorry," you say, your fingers frantically searching for the control. But Jack's hand gently lands on your wrist, stopping you from moving.
He swallows hard. “This might…” He exhales slowly. “…This might actually help.”
“How?” you breathe, trying to think through the haze of lust that has you in its tight grip.
“The muscle contractions,” he replies automatically. “If they’re strong enough, it could shift it lower.”
You almost laugh at how clinical that sounds when nothing about this feels clinical anymore.
Jack’s hand finds the controller. The vibration spikes, and you jolt.
This time, his composure visibly cracks; his grip tightens slightly on it, and his breathing becomes less controlled. "Does that feel good?"
"I—yes," you gasp, unable to hide the pleasure you're feeling, too far gone to feel embarrassed about it.
He adjusts his grip, and the hum builds in intensity. You feel exposed as he watches your face closely, fingers settling back on your clit. He presses softly.
The next wave crashes harder against you. Without thinking, you grip his forearm. He inhales sharply at the contact.
“Jack—”
“I know,” he says quickly, his voice strained. “I’ve got you. ”
You squirm, overwhelmed by your emotions, struggling to keep still. His other hand finds its way to your thigh, anchoring you in place.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” he urges, his tone unusually pleading.
You pause for a moment, then the sensation spikes again. “You,” you breathe out, the admission escaping your lips. “I’m thinking about you.”
You hear him inhale sharply at your confession. “Good. I don’t want you thinking about anyone else.”
He continues to stroke and caress you, igniting a wave of pleasure that surges through your body. The intensity of it all pushes you over the edge again, sudden and all-consuming. Your body stiffens, then releases in a rush.
For a split second, neither of you moves. Then his fingers move inside you again.
“There,” he murmurs, breath unsteady. “It shifted.”
He pulls back slightly, and the humming ceases. A thick silence envelops you both. He straightens slowly, holding the object like evidence of a crime you both committed. His chest rises and falls too quickly, a faint blush colouring the bridge of his nose and the tops of his cheeks.
You’re both breathing heavily.
Neither of you looks at the toy. Instead, your eyes lock on each other. His gaze is darker than you’ve ever seen, filled with hunger.
Confidence washes over you. "Are you sure you got it all out?" you ask lightly. "Or do you think we should try again? Maybe with something longer than a finger?"
His expression stills completely. Slowly, he sets the toy down on your bedside table, studying you closely. His brows knit together as he decides whether to cross the line that he'd drawn between you. You lightly brush your fingers along the edge of the bed, letting your hand linger near him. Jack notices your touch, swallows hard, and his gaze flickers down to your hand before returning to your eyes.
“You think this is funny?” he asks, but there’s no trace of humour in his voice.
“I think,” you say carefully, “that this stopped being medical a while ago. And I didn't mind it at all.”
He exhales through his nose, sharp, dragging a hand down his face.
“You’re playing with fire,” he murmurs, his eyes drifting back to your lips before locking onto your eyes again.
“Maybe that’s what I like."
He braces himself beside your hip, leaning in just close enough for you to feel the warmth radiating from him without any actual contact. His voice drops, low and steady and very much not clinical.
“If we try again,” he says, “it won’t be as your doctor.”
“Good,” you whisper.
The word barely leaves your mouth before something shifts in his expression. His hand beside your hip tightens against the mattress. He searches your face like he’s making sure you understand what you’re offering.
“You’re sure?” he asks quietly.
You nod.
He moves slowly, giving you the chance to pull away. His hand comes up, brushing a strand of hair back from your face—an almost absurdly gentle gesture considering what just happened between you.
Then he leans in. The kiss isn’t rough. It isn’t desperate. It’s careful. His lips brush yours lightly.
His restraint lasts all of three seconds.
The moment you make that soft sound against his mouth—the one you tried to swallow before—something in him snaps. His hand slips from your jaw into your hair, not roughly, but with enough pressure to angle your head exactly where he wants it. The kiss deepens, heat flaring fast and undeniable now. No more carefulness. No more pretending not to want each other.
You draw him closer by gripping the collar of his shirt, fingers curling into the nape of his neck.
He breaks the kiss suddenly, not to pull away but to gaze into your eyes. His breathing is unsteady, his pupils dark and wide.
“Say it,” he demands quietly.
“Say what?”
“That you want this.”
You don’t hesitate. “I want this. I want you.”
That’s all he needs. He kisses you again, harder this time. His hand glides down your side, reverent in its exploration, as if he has envisioned this moment countless times before. His thumb traces the curve of your hip.
“You have no idea,” he murmurs against your lips, “how hard it’s been to keep my hands to myself every time you walk by my door.”
Your breath hitches.
He continues, "Especially when you wear those little dresses and send me those little flirtatious smiles."
“You’ve noticed?” you manage to ask.
He gives you a disbelieving look, almost as if he's offended. “You really think I didn’t?”
It sends heat rushing through you, the idea that he's been wanting you just as much as you've been wanting him. He kisses along the edge of your mouth, trailing down your jaw and neck.
Your hands slip beneath his shirt, nails raking his back as you push the fabric up. He lets out a sharp breath as he assists you in pulling it off. He shifts, and suddenly he’s above you properly, weight braced carefully so he doesn’t crush you.
“Last chance,” he says quietly. “If you want me to stop—”
“I don’t.”
He searches your face once more. Then whatever line he'd drawn between you disappears entirely. His hands move with intention now, and when he kisses you again, there’s no hesitation left.
You respond eagerly, and before he can reclaim control, you shift your weight, pressing him back into the mattress. His eyebrows raise in surprise as you straddle him.
“Oh,” he breathes when you press down.
There’s something deeply satisfying about the way his hands hover, like he doesn’t know whether to touch you or hold still. You lean down and kiss him slower this time, hips grinding slowly.
His hands find your hips, firm and steady now. “You’re full of surprises,” he murmurs against your lips.
When your hand slides lower, he inhales sharply, head falling back against the pillow for half a second before he drags his gaze back to yours.
“I don’t have a condom, sweetheart,” he says, breath uneven, like he’s trying to pull himself back from the edge. You pause, realising you don't have one either.
“I have an IUD,” you say quietly. “And I’m clean.”
His hands tighten slightly at your waist. “You sure?” he asks—not doubting you, but making sure this is real, and that you’re not just caught up in the rush of adrenaline.
You nod, meeting his eyes. "I trust you."
Jack's fingers glide across your waist slowly, tracing an invisible pattern. "Okay, sweetheart."
You shift your weight, letting your hips settle over him, allowing him to stretch you out. You both gasp at the feeling.
His fingers tighten on your waist, trying to keep his hips still, and let you set the pace. For a few moments, it works.
“Is this how you treat all your patients?” you tease softly.
He smirks, his breath warm against your ear. “Only the special ones.”
Your pulse jumps at the teasing tone, heat pooling low. "Hmm, I definitely feel special, then."
"Oh, trust me, you are."
"Show me just how special I am," you whisper, your breath barely escaping your lips, before a switch flips inside him. He flips you around, puts your legs around his shoulders, as he snaps inside you, setting a faster pace. His thumb presses down, finding your clit easily.
"Like this, sweetheart?" he murmurs, his voice strained.
You can’t speak. You just cling to him, surrending to the feeling, your pussy clenching tightly as you come again.
"Fuck," he groans, then his hips stutter as he comes, too.
"That was incredible," he murmurs after a moment as he navigates you into lying positions. "You're incredible."
You grin, tilting your head. “Maybe I should get things stuck more often, if this is the outcome.”
His laugh is short and breathless, “I might have to start charging for emergency consultations, then.”
You laugh softly. “I think that’s a fee I’d be willing to pay.”
He's silent for a moment before he speaks again. “You don’t need to get things stuck, sweetheart. But if you do, I'd come help you anyway. Free of charge."
You blink, heart fluttering, hearing the unspoken proposition behind it. “Yeah?”
"Yeah," he nods.
You lean just a little closer, brushing your forehead against his. “Good to know,” you murmur softly, a soft smile gracing your lips.
“Very good to know,” he echoes, thumb tracing a light line across your hip.
wc: 7k
cw: miscommunication, big unspecified age gap, daddy kink (hate me all u want i don't gaf, I'm living my truth), no use of y/n, dom!Jack, sub!reader, degradation, praise, dry humping, breastplay, fingering, oral (m receiving) unprotected sex , p in v
a/n: a little late, but MERRY CHRISTMAS!!! midterms and finals knocked me outttt cold!! But I am back, and I finally watched The Pitt, hence this fic.
contains: Jack invites you and your father to his lake house for the holidays, where you’re forced to confront an unfinished summer fling and feelings you can't bury anymore.
Snow crunched under your boots as you stepped up to the cabin, your shoulders slumped forward with the weight of your bags. The smell of pine and woodsmoke drifted through the crisp winter air as your father led you up the porch and rang the doorbell.
The door opened almost immediately. Jack stood there in a thick sweater and worn jeans, casual in a way he rarely allowed himself to be, relaxed. For a split second, his expression was polite, familiar, all warmth meant for your dad, until his gaze dropped to you. The corners of his eyes creased with laugh lines that only made him look sharper, more alive when he greeted you. The gray on his hair caught the warm light above him, broad shoulders, a jaw dusted with stubble, hands that moved with quiet, effortless control, every part of him drew your attention, made your chest tighten, made heat pool low and unbidden in your abdomen. Something flickered then, quick and carefully hidden. It was recognition, a reminder of the late summer nights you had shared by the same lake, his hands firm on your waist or between your thighs, his voice low and commanding, with only the water at your feet and the stars overhead to bear witness to his affection.
"You made it," Jack said at last, stepping aside to let you both in, his voice steady. He clapped your father on the shoulder in greeting, easy and practiced, before his eyes returned to you for just a moment longer than necessary. You couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze trailed your body, taking in every inch of you, lingering for just a second on your lips or your cleavage. Your skin felt hot under his scrutiny.
"Long drive?" He closed the door behind you, a hand carefully brushing your waist, guiding you further into the house. The warmth of the cabin closed around you, fire crackling somewhere deeper inside, and for a moment it felt exactly like it had in July, except now there was snow on the ground, Christmas lights in the windows, and the awkward presence of your dad.
He answered for you, laughed about christmas traffic as he kicked off his shoes and shrugged off his coat. Jack's eyes stayed glued to you. You were standing there, beautiful, with snow on your hair and a tired slouch in your posture, you looked slightly older, different in a way that felt sudden and unfair, like time had skipped ahead without asking him, like he should have been there to see it.
You were still the girl who used to trail behind him in the summer, barefoot on the dock, with wet hair and frayed shorts on, showing off your tan. You were still the girl who asked about his job, scrunched your nose at the gruesome details, laughter bubbling out of you at his jokes. Still the girl he'd kissed on a hot summer night when you'd both drank too much.
Jack had missed you, he had missed being able to press you against him, hold you down, hear you whimper his name like you had done in the past, sweet and breathless. He had missed the way your cunt felt around him, warm and tight. He had missed the way you looked at him through your lashes, the way you listened to him, did whatever he told you because he knew better, you had nothing to worry about. But unlike last summer, he hid it— the want, the need for you— not because he wanted to, but because he had to. Because you were standing next to your father. Because it was Christmas. Because the lights glowed in the windows, the fireplace crackled, and all he wanted to do was taste you, but he shouldn't.
"Let me show you to your rooms, that way you can get all set for dinner." He cleared his throat, a futile attempt to clear his mind. The image of you on your knees, mouth open and waiting so sweetly for him, hadn’t left his thoughts since you had last seen each other. It lingered in the back of his eyes when he tried to sleep, stuck in every corner of his brain at the hospital, followed him on dates, and even crept in when he spoke to your father. All he could think about was you.
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
The wind, cold and persistent, howled outside the guest bedroom window rattling the panes and making the room feel even smaller. You laid in bed, the unpacked bags scattered at your feet, mind spinning. You couldn’t stop thinking about him. About Jack. About the way his eyes had landed on you earlier, and then how quickly he’d looked away, too fast, like he was trying to erase the heat he’d clearly felt. Did he still want you, or had it all been a mistake? Was he disgusted with you for what happened during the summer, for the way you’d begged him, the way you’d given yourself over so willingly? Your stomach twisted just imagining it. What if all the sweet words he’d spared for you were only that, words, with no depth or meaning, just a beautiful trap for a dumb girl like you?
Under the dim lights of the bedroom, you thought back to every detail— the set of his jaw, the way he had clapped your father on the shoulder, the soft, almost imperceptible brush of his hand at your waist— trying to find its meaning. What if he hated you? What if he thought you were reckless, stupid, or worse—easy? Every memory of his hands on you, his voice, his touch, rose up in your mind.
You pressed your face into the pillow, willing the thoughts away, but it was no use. You could still feel the ghost of his hands sliding over your skin, still hear the rasp of his voice whispering sweet nothings in your ear.
A sudden knock at the door made you jump, heart hammering. "Dad?" you called, voice shaking slightly.
"Not exactly," came his low, familiar voice, measured but not casual. Your stomach flipped. "Look, kid… we can—we should talk later. But for now, just come downstairs. Dinner's ready."
"Okay," You sighed and got out of bed. Your limbs felt heavy from lack of sleep and an excess of worry, both caused by the man waiting on the other side of the door. When you opened it and your eyes met his, you could have sworn you were back in that one fateful weekend in July.
Jack stood in the hallway, hands tucked into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders slightly tense like he was bracing himself. The light from the stairwell caught the lines at the corners of his eyes, the familiar set of his jaw. For a moment, neither of you spoke. He looked at you the way he always had when he was trying not to give something away, gaze steady, mouth tight with restraint.
"Food’s getting cold," he said finally, voice low, careful. His eyes flicked past you into the room, then back again, lingering on your lips just a beat too long.
He stood to the side to let you pass, his arm quick and careful brushing against yours, guiding you towards the stairs. You followed him down, each step slow, aware of his presence just ahead of you, the broad line of his back, the way his shoulders stayed tense as if he were holding himself in place with sheer stubbornness.
Your father was already at the table when you came downstairs, a drink in his hand. Jack offered you a beer; you glanced at your father, and when he nodded in approval, you nodded too.
Jack crossed the room to hand it to you. His fingers brushed yours as you took the bottle, a spark of heat shooting up your arm at the brief, deliberate contact. Your eyes met for a second before he looked away. You were tired of playing cat and mouse, but you couldn't speak up yet.
Dinner settled into an easy rhythm. Your father talked the most, as he usually did, relaxed in a way you rarely saw him at home. He spoke about work, about long flights and unfamiliar cities, about the exhaustion that came with being a surgeon, about never staying in one place too long. He and Jack fell easily into old stories, med school memories traded back and forth with the comfort of men who had known each other for decades.
You wished you had known him when he was young and reckless, with crooked teeth and ginger curls and a temper just as sharp as it was now. You thought he had made mistakes and taken risks the way you could only imagine. And somewhere deep down, the thought made your pulse quicken, wondering which of that recklessness still lingered beneath the controlled, calm exterior you saw tonight.
You listened, picking at your food, learning things you already half-knew. How they’d met young, how they’d survived brutal training together, how Jack’s lake house had always been the place your father trusted when he couldn’t be around. That was why you’d stayed there last July, used to having the place mostly to yourself, that was why everything had started with you and Jack.
He didn’t say much about it. He let your father talk, nodding along, smiling at the right moments. But every so often, his attention drifted back to you. A glance held a second too long. A knee angled just slightly in your direction, nudging your thigh under the table. Small things, controlled things, that made it impossible to ignore his proximity.
The conversation meandered through work, travel, and trivial updates, but your father’s curiosity eventually took a sharper turn. "So… how did you two get along last summer?" he asked casually, lifting his glass.
You stilled for a second, "Fine, I guess. Jack wasn't home much." You offered a noncommittal answer, simple and concise. A brief smile in Jack's direction, polite, as if to prove a point, to prove that you didn't dislike him, but you hadn't gotten close.
His hand tightened just slightly on your thigh beneath the table, pressing firmly enough that your breath hitched. His eyebrow rose, asking without words, really? Just “fine”?
Your pulse jumped, heat pooling low. You could feel him watching you, could feel him notice every small movement, every flicker of expression. The casual chatter around the table seemed to fade, replaced by the sharp awareness of him sitting just inches away, his warm hand atop your thigh.
Jack leaned back slightly, still maintaining the mask of polite attention, but there was a subtle curve to his lips, a glint in his eyes, that told you he remembered everything, that you had been wrong earlier and he did not regret it, that maybe he was willing to do it again.
Your father continued talking, oblivious, about a case he had handled overseas, but you barely heard him. All you could register was Jack—the brush of his hand, the pressure of his knee, the quiet, deliberate way he made sure you knew he was still in control. He yawned mid-sentence, stretching his arms out lazily. “I think I’m going to call it a night,” he said, voice thick with exhaustion. “You two carry on—see you in the morning, sweetheart.” With that, he pushed back from the table and headed upstairs, leaving you and Jack alone in the dimly lit dining room.
You waited quietly until you heard the soft click of the bedroom door, the final sound of your father disappearing for the night. The room seemed to shrink around you, the low light from the fireplace casting long shadows over the table. Your heart pounded.
Jack leaned back on his chair again, a nervous tic. His knee nudged yours under the table again, deliberate and teasing, and your stomach twisted with the familiar ache you hadn’t dared to feel all week.
"So," you said, hesitant, "we… really need to talk."
He got up from the table, "If we're actually doing this, I need another drink."
Jack moved to the sideboard, grabbing two glasses and reaching for a whiskey bottle. The firelight flickered over his profile, catching the angles of his jaw, the faint lines around his eyes, the silver at his temples—everything you had loved last summer, everything that made your stomach twist just by looking at him.
Jack poured slowly, the liquid catching the light as it filled the glasses. He didn’t rush it. Everything about him felt deliberate now, like he was bracing himself for impact, like there was inevitable heartbreak looming over his shoulder. When he turned back toward you, he didn’t hand the glass right away. He stood there for a moment, studying your face, the way your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the way your lips twitched up with the ghost of a smile when you locked eyes with him.
He sat back down beside you, close enough that your knees brushed. Then he passed you the glass. This time his fingers lingered just a fraction longer than necessary, thumb warm against your knuckles.
"Alright," he said quietly, eyes fixed on the fire rather than you. "Let’s talk."
What now? What were you supposed to tell him? That it had started out as just sex, as summer fun without consequences but you had yet to stop thinking about him? You swallowed, fingers tightening around the glass as if it could anchor you.
"I just...want it to be like the summer again." Your voice shook with nerves, and a sense of impending doom that you couldn't quite shake.
"It's not summer anymore." Jack spoke matter-of-factly, a smirk grazing his lips.
You looked up at him then. "I know," you said softly. "I can read a calendar."
He turned to you, smile fading, his expression turning into something calculated, lacking the warmth he had been showing you earlier. "You’re talking about it like it was a place. Like we can just step back into that same rhythm."
"Well, why can’t we?" you asked, too quickly. You didn’t look away. You refused to. "It worked. We worked."
His jaw tightened. "It worked because it wasn’t real life," He let out a slow breath, setting his glass down with care, like he didn’t trust his hands. "You were on break. You didn’t have responsibilities, expectations. You weren’t thinking past the end of the week."
You frowned. That was what you’d thought too, that it was just a fling with an older guy, something you’d tell your college friends about after the break, something they’d cheer at or gasp over, maybe worry about for a second before laughing it off. That would be it.
You hadn’t expected this. Hadn’t expected to still be thinking about the way his hands, warm and calloused, had roamed over your body, or how thirty minutes apart had felt unbearable. How you’d grown used to the steady heat of Jack beside you, or behind you, the quiet gravity of him pulling you back in, his mouth at your throat, lingering there like he had nowhere else to be.
"And you were?" you challenged.
"Yes. But I was aware it had to be over. Look, you're young, you're pretty, there's probably a line of capable young men waiting to take you out—"
"You say that like I’m supposed to want them."
He glared at you then, brief and sharp. "You should."
You should. The words landed heavier than you expected, they stayed with you, lodged somewhere behind your ribs where it hurt to breathe. He had been so careful, as if you were a child reaching for a hot stove, dangerous and out of reach.
You tried, briefly, to imagine them. Men your age, with sharp tongues only good for lying, with inexpert hands and vacant eyes. It was so hard to want them when you'd had Jack.
Jack, who asked about your feelings and your interests, who listened as you rambled about something he did not care about, and yes, sometimes he'd get distracted when your sweater slipped off your shoulder or when your tongue darted out to wet your lips, but he tried so hard to stay focused, you were just too beautiful for your own good.
And that was the cruelest part of it, how easily your mind catalogued the ways he had ruined you for anyone else. Not in some dramatic, tragic sense, but quietly, through accumulation. Through the way he paid attention. Through the way he made space. Through the way his hand had settled on your thigh earlier, heavy and familiar, like it belonged there. The way he still called you sweetheart, kid, the same soft names he’d used when the days had been long and sun-warmed and uncomplicated. The way his eyes softened when he forgot himself, when he thought you weren’t looking, when you laughed at something small and stupid and he reacted on instinct instead of principle.
It made your chest ache, your heart heavy.
──୨ৎ──୨ৎ──
You thought about that week in the summer, back when it had all started. The cabin smelled different then, of vanilla and sunscreen, of chlorine and lake water.
You remembered waking up before him, padding barefoot across the cool floorboards, the quiet domesticity of it all making your heart feel too big for your body. How you’d stood at the counter with a mug between your hands while he moved around behind you, unhurried, brushing past you just to do it, just to remind you he was there.
You remembered the taste of toasted bread, eaten standing up, shared unceremoniously. The sound of the screen door slamming as you ran down to the dock, the sun already hot on your shoulders. The way he’d watched you swim, not hungry, but caring, attentive. The hungry looks came later, when you climbed out of the water and all but ran towards him in your bikini, wet hair over your shoulder, laughter bubbling out of you easily. Nights spent tangled up on the couch followed, legs draped over his, the television murmuring in the background while his fingers traced patterns on your skin absentmindedly, grounding you. The same fingers that traced your entrance slowly, same fingers that curled up inside you and made your legs shake and your throat sore from screaming his name.
"You make this place feel different," he’d said back then, with your head laying on his chest, breathing soft.
That was what hurt the most. Not just that he was pulling away now, but that he was doing it while everything else stayed the same. His hands hadn’t forgotten you. His eyes hadn’t changed. His voice still softened when he said your name. And yet he spoke like the future was already decided, like you were a chapter he’d enjoyed but fully intended to close.
──୨ৎ──୨ৎ──
"Kid… you should. You really should. I’m not… I’m not the one you should be thinking about." Jack's words snapped you out of your daydream.
"And if I don’t want them?" you asked softly, tracing the rim of your glass with your finger, watching the amber liquid swirl and catch the glow of the fireplace.
Jack’s lips twitched into a half-smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. "You don’t understand what you’re asking for," he said, his tone condescending, almost tender.
The fire crackled low, a steady rhythm against the quiet hum of the cabin. Its light threw long, wavering shadows across the wooden floor and the stone hearth, catching the amber of the whiskey in your glass.
"I do understand, Jack, I just don't care. I want to go back to the way things were because I miss it, I miss you."
Jack went very still. You didn't care, you missed him.
It was subtle, the kind of stillness you only noticed if you were looking for it. His shoulders stopped resisting. His jaw unclenched. Even the air between you seemed to pause, thick with unsaid things and firewood smoke.
He looked at you then, really looked. You. Curled beside him on the wooden chair, knees angled toward his, glass forgotten in your hand. The fire cast shadows across your face, gold and amber specks of light caught in your eyes. You looked so sure. Too sure. And God help him, he loved that about you.
"Christ," he murmured, rubbing a hand over his face. When he dropped it, his palm rested on top of your thigh. He was casual about it, as if he had placed it there out of sheer luck, as if his heart wasn't threatening to burst out of his chest, as if his cock wasn't waging (and currently losing) a war against the zipper of his jeans— all thanks to you.
"Jack, you’re not being fair." Your eyes stayed glued to his rough hand, kneading the flesh of your thigh. He was playing dangerous, touching you only to pull away again, pushing you back with gentle words and steady eye contact that made your chest ache.
"You sit there," he said, voice tight, "looking at me like that, talking about summer, about fairness like I owe you it, and I’m supposed to… what? Be reasonable?"
You tilted your head, just a fraction, the smallest smile pulling at your mouth. Yes. "I don't know. You’re the one touching me."
Jack had passed the point of reasoning ten minutes ago. Maybe longer. Maybe sometime last summer, when he’d realized the wanting hadn’t faded, only sharpened. Sitting beside you now, feeling the familiar weight of your leg under his hand, he understood the truth with a clarity that scared him. This wasn’t about temptation or nostalgia or bad judgment. It was about the way you saw him. The way you challenged him without fear. The way you filled the quiet spaces in his life without trying.
His chest tightened at the truth he refused to say aloud: he didn’t care about the age gap, or the rules, or the consequences. He wanted you. All of you. Every last piece of you. And he’d spent hours pretending otherwise, pretending that he could hold the line, keep you at arm’s length, act like a reasonable, responsible adult while his own body betrayed him at every turn. The way you looked at him, the tilt of your head, the bite of your lip, the little smirks you threw his way.
Something in his expression changed, his restraint slipped. Not entirely, just enough to lean in closer to you, so close his breath fanned your face. His hand slid an inch higher, then stopped, like he’d caught himself mid-step at the edge of a cliff.
"I’m still trying to convince myself this is a bad idea," he murmured, voice low, nearly strangled by restraint.
"And how’s that going?" Your voice was soft, teasing.
His eyes drifted down to your lips for a second. "Terribly," he laughed.
"I’ve been trying," he continued, voice low, steady, the kind of calm that came right before a decision, "to do the right thing. Give you space, forget about all this."
"Jack, I don't want space, in fact…I would like it very much if there was no space between us right now." You spoke quickly, let the words leave your mouth awkwardly and quickly in a burst of confidence that was now making you blush.
Jack laughed. "Your wish is my command," he spoke against your lips before leaning in and kissing you, soft and tentative at first.
It grew more intense as your fingers threaded through his silver curls, pulling him closer, your tongue pressing insistently against his lips. Jack parted his mouth, letting you deepen the kiss, and drew you onto his lap, his hands settling possessively on your ass. You moaned softly against him, a sound that made him pull back just slightly to look at you, eyes dark, hungry, and calculating.
Jack didn't rush you, his hands stayed put on your lower back and he let you explore, let your soft fingertips trace the veins in his arms, let them move under his shirt and up his chest until they rested on his pecs. That's when he broke the kiss, which you chased with a soft whine, before he spoke.
"Get up." His voice was rough, his breathing uneven, and he looked at you like it would pain him to look away.
You followed his instructions, you always did. Jack stood up too, quietly eyeing you for a minute before he nudged you towards the hallway with a smile.
"You know the way, come on." He murmured as you stepped onto the stairs.
Your stomach flipped, you giggled, like you had last summer.
He took the steps slowly, deliberately, one behind you, close enough that you could feel him, warm and grounding. When you reached his bedroom, he opened the door just wide enough for you to slip inside before closing it again with an almost exaggerated softness. The click of the latch sounded final, the tension thick and sweet like honey.
The room smelled like him. Clean, like lavender and something woody, musky and familiar. He didn’t touch you right away. Instead, he leaned back against the door, arms crossed, watching you roam around the room like a hunter watches his prey.
You turned around to face him, tilting your head to the side, beckoning him closer with your hands, reaching for him. Jack walked over to you a smile pulling at his lips again, reaching his eyes.
His hands sat at your waist. "You remember how thin these walls are, right?" he asked calmly, his lips grazing your jugular.
You hummed in agreement, the sound barely there.
Jack pulled back just enough to look at you, his hands still firm at your waist. "Use your words."
"Yes," you said, softer now.
"That’s better."
That was slightly better. But not yet what he wanted. Jack could already see where this would end, the way he always could. He knew how easily you folded when given structure, how naturally you softened under pressure. Last summer had taught him that. Taught him exactly how to guide you there, slow and patient, until resistance melted into something sweeter.
You’d get there again. He was sure of it.
"So, you've got to keep it down, 'kay, sweetheart?" He walked you towards the bed, sat you on his lap before his mouth latched onto your warm throat again. Jack's hands slipped under your sweater, tracing a path up your stomach, groping your tits until you moaned, breathy, in his ear.
He took your sweater off and threw it aside unceremoniously, right before pulling off his own sweater. He didn’t slow down after that. His hands slid to the hem of your shirt, lifting it up and over your head in one smooth motion. The fabric joined the rest on the floor.
You barely had time to react before he did the same with his, tugging it off and dropping it without looking, settling back against you again as if this was the only place he meant to be.
Jack pulled you closer against him, his grip iron-tight. You could feel the thick ridge of his cock straining against his jeans, twitching when it pressed into the heat of your clothed cunt. His hands slid up your back, fingers unhooking your bra with practiced ease. The fabric pooled at your elbows, and his mouth was on your tits before it even hit the floor—sucking, biting, proving to you how much he had missed you.
You shuddered, arching your back to rub against him. A whimper tore from your throat as you rolled your hips, grinding your soaked panties against the hard length of him. Jack groaned against your nipple, teeth scraping the peak before he sucked hard enough to make your knees buckle.
Jack unlatched himself from your chest, kissing and sucking his way up your neck. Your breath hitched when he tilted your head to meet his gaze. Jack had always liked holding eye contact, more so if it made you squirm and blush, if it made your heart beat that much faster.
"I missed you," he murmured, his breath hot against your lips. "I missed being able to touch you, to hold you."
"Missed you too..."
Jack's hands slid down your waist, gripping the hem of your skirt and bunching it up around your hips. The fabric of your tights stretched taut against his palms as he traced the curve of your thighs, his fingertips dipping beneath the waistband. "Always so pretty for me," he murmured, dragging his teeth over your collarbone.
You gasped as his fingers pressed harder, the thin material of your tights dampening where his touch teased your clothed cunt. He hummed approvingly, rolling his hips against yours—the friction of his jeans against the lace of your panties, the heat of him trapped beneath layers of fabric.
Jack made a soft, pitying noise as he hooked his thumbs into your tights, peeling them down with exaggerated care. "Oh, look at you," he murmured, fingers brushing your inner thighs as the fabric slipped past your knees and down your legs.
His hips rolled against yours again, the thick ridge of his cock grinding against your soaked panties in lazy, taunting circles. You arched against him with a whine, and he tsked, gripping your waist to still you. "You remember what I said about being quiet? Wouldn't want your dad to hear us, huh?"
"n-no, I mean, yes, I do. Uhm...sorry..."
Jack smirked, slow and deliberate, at the stutter in your voice. He liked that sound—your breath hitching, the way your lashes fluttered when he touched you just right. But he loved this even more—the way you squirmed under his control, the way you struggled to stay quiet when he tested you.
His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your hips, holding you still as he rolled his cock against you again, the rough fabric of his jeans dragging over the lace of your panties, still soaked from earlier.
"Good girl." He pressed his lips to the hollow of your throat, biting down lightly before soothing the spot with his tongue. "But we can do better than sorry, can’t we?"
You whimpered, arching into him instinctively—only for his grip to tighten, stopping you.
"Ah-ah." He tutted, pulling back just enough to meet your eyes. His thumb brushed over your lower lip, pressing down slightly. "You know what I want to hear."
"Jack..." You whined, face flushed with embarrassment. You knew—of course you did. He’d teased it out of you before, in the dark of his bedroom last summer, when his hands were buried in your hair and his cock was buried deeper inside you. But now—with your father just down the hall—the word felt heavier, more dangerous.
Jack’s hand slid down, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties, teasing your slit. "C’mon, sweetheart," he murmured, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Just wanna hear you say it."
"'m sorry, daddy...didn't mean to be loud." You buried your face against his neck, breathing him in as you ground against him, the friction leaving his jeans slick with your arousal.
He groaned at the feeling, his head falling forward until his forehead was resting against your shoulder. "Just like that," his hand slid from your underwear up to your hair, fisting a handful of it and tugging, just enough to tip your head back so he could look at you—at your wide eyes, full lips, red cheeks.
For a heartbeat, he just watched: the way your pulse fluttered in your throat, how your chest rose with each ragged breath, how your hips kept rolling against him, desperate.
Your fingers bit into his biceps, using them as leverage as your movements grew frantic, that tight coil in your belly winding hotter, sharper.
His fingers dug deeper into your hips, dragging you harder against the rough denim of his jeans with each slow, filthy roll of his body. "Fuck—feel how wet you are?" His lips curled against your ear, breath ragged. "Soaking through your pretty little panties just from grinding on me like a desperate slut."
Jack had never spoken to you this way, it had never been so filthy, so mean yet sweet it was giving you whiplash, and getting you closer to the edge every second that went by.
His hand abruptly slipped between you, two fingers hooking under the soaked lace to press firmly against your clit—circling once, twice—before dipping lower to push inside without warning.
You arched against him with a choked gasp, nails biting into his arms as he worked you open with slow, punishing strokes. He picked up his pace and the moment your whimper hit his ears his free hand moved to cradled your face, thumb brushing your cheekbone. "Shhh, pretty girl, I know…feels good, huh?"
His fingers curled just right inside you, wrenching a sob from your throat as your hips jerked. "That’s it, baby—let me feel you." He pressed his forehead to yours, breath fanning your face as his thumb circled your clit in tight strokes.
"Daddy— I’m so close…" You whined, breathy and soft.
His breath stuttered, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. "I know, baby," he rasped. "I can feel it. Just let go for me."
When you came, your head slumped forward against his shoulder, vision blurring as pleasure crackled through you, electric and overwhelming. His hand slid up to cradle the back of your neck, keeping you close as he murmured against your hair: "Fuck, look at you. So fucking pretty when you come."
You were still trembling when he pulled his fingers free, pressing a kiss to your damp forehead before guiding your hips up just enough—his cock nudging against you, slick and impatient.
"C'mon, sweetheart," he murmured, thumb brushing your lower lip. His voice was rough when he praised you.
"You can take one more, for me. I need to feel you riding my cock just like this."
His cock slid into you with one smooth thrust, your body welcoming him effortlessly. The stretch burned just right, pulling a gasp from your lips as you braced your hands against his chest.
His fingers tangled in your hair, tugging just enough to make your breath hitch. The sharp pull sent a jolt down your spine, your hips rocking faster in response—like he’d flipped a switch inside you. You chased the friction, the heat, the way his cock filled you perfectly, over and over.
His grip tightened, guiding your pace as his other hand slid down your back, pressing you flush against him. Your lips crashed together, messy and desperate, tongues tangling between panting breaths. Every thrust drove the kiss deeper, your moans swallowed by his mouth.
"feel how deep I am inside you, baby?" Jack panted out, his palm pressed firm against your lower stomach, fingers digging in just enough to make you whimper—each thrust punctuated by the dull ache of his touch, reminding you exactly where he reached. Your hips stuttered, thighs shaking as the pressure built impossibly tighter, every nerve alight.
"Jack—" Your voice cracked, hands scrambling for purchase against his sweat-slicked skin.
"I know, sweetheart," he rasped, teeth grazing your earlobe. "Let go. Fuck, I wanna feel you come on my cock."
And you did—a broken cry tearing from your throat as you clenched around him, his groan ragged against your shoulder while he chased his own release, driving into you deep, deeper, until he stopped abruptly, pulling out of you with a groan.
"Get on your knees for me, baby." He muttered, thumb swiping over your spit-slick lips.
You didn’t hesitate, sinking to your knees as he leaned back against the headboard. His cock was hot against your tongue, already dripping with pre-cum—you swirled your tongue over the tip before taking him deep, one hand working his shaft in quick, tight strokes.
Jack cursed, hips jerking. "Fuck— Just like that...Good girl."
You felt him tense up suddenly, felt him twitch in your mouth when you moaned around it. Your lips stretched taut against him, nose pressed against his skin. His hips jerked, a ragged curse tearing from his throat as he came in your mouth—bitter and thick, but you swallowed greedily, fingers tightening on his thighs.
You looked up at him when you were done, glassy-eyed and grinning.
Jack’s thumb brushed your swollen lower lip, wiping away a stray drop before nudging it back into your mouth. "Christ," he muttered, his voice still wrecked. His other hand slid from your hair to cradle your jaw, calloused fingers tracing the hinge like he was committing it to memory.
You nuzzled into his palm, all lazy satisfaction, while his breathing slowly evened out.
"I should go to the guest bedroom," you said after a moment. "I need to sleep."
"Or," he replied quietly, "you could stay here."
"My dad—"
"Just stay," he cut in, softer now. "For a bit."
You hesitated, then nodded. "Fine."
────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ────────୨ৎ───
The next morning came slowly, filtered through frost-edged windows and thin curtains that glowed pale gold with early light. You woke up first, to the sound of birds chirping outside, and soft rain pattering against the window.
You were curled against Jack’s side, one leg draped over his thigh without remembering when it had happened, your cheek pressed to his bare chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear, warm and grounding. He was stretched out on his back, plaid pajama pants low on his hips, shirtless and snoring loudly, careless and relaxed in a way that made you want to be there forever. One arm was slung loosely around you, heavy and possessive even in sleep, his hand resting at the small of your back. You blinked, disoriented for a second, then it all came rushing back.
The way he'd kissed you like he meant it, fucked you right and asked you to stay in his room. Careful not to wake him, you shifted just enough to look at his face.
He looked different like this. Softer. The lines at the corners of his eyes relaxed, mouth slightly parted, lashes darker against his skin. You traced the shape of his jaw with your eyes, the faint stubble already growing back, the freckles you’d memorized last summer. This was the Jack you never got to see in daylight, the Jack you always missed.
You wondered, briefly, if this was what it would be like to wake up beside him every morning. If you’d get used to the weight of his arm, the quiet hum of his presence. If this feeling, warm and safe and terrifying, could last.
As if he sensed you staring, Jack stirred.
He inhaled slowly, his arm tightening just a little at your back, pulling you closer without waking fully. His chin dipped, brushing the top of your head. You froze, heart racing, then relaxed when he didn’t pull away.
"Mornin’, kid," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.
You smiled before you could stop yourself. "Morning, daddy."
His hand slid up to cradle the back of your head, fingers threading gently through your hair. Steady.
"You sleep okay?"
You nodded, "Better than I have in a while."
It was true, you hadn't slept like that in ages, with the comfortable warmth of another body, with a mouth against your collarbones and an arm around your waist. You hadn't been so spent, so tired that you felt weightless, in a long time. And you hadn't woken up beside Jack in months, not since you'd spent the summer there, when your dad was traveling— oh, shit, your dad.
“Jack,” you whispered.
He hummed in response, eyes half-closed, thumb still tracing your back. “Mm?”
“My dad,” you said softly. “He’s… literally next door. Do you think he heard?”
That got his attention.
“He didn’t hear,” Jack said quietly, certainty slipping into his voice like armor. “If he had, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, forehead dropping briefly against his chest. He smelled like soap and sleep and something unmistakably him. Familiar in a way that made your chest ache.
Jack tipped your chin up with two fingers, gentle but unmistakably directive. “Hey. Look at me.”
You tilted your face up to see him.
"Here's what we're going to do," he said quietly, slipping back into that calm, controlled tone you knew so well. “You’re gonna get dressed,” he continued, gentle but firm.
"I am dressed."
"Sweetheart the only thing you're wearing is my shirt, it's freezing out, too. I'll go downstairs with your father while you change."
You nodded, even though part of you hated the idea of putting distance back between you. “Okay.”
He leaned down then, pressing a quick, careful kiss to your forehead.
He pulled back just enough to look at you one more time, thumb still warm beneath your chin, eyes steady and serious like he was committing the moment to memory. The house was waking up around you, pipes humming, floorboards settling, reality knocking politely but insistently.
Summary: When Jack thinks you're sick because you drank too much, the real reason turns out to be far more sobering - for both of you.
Sequel to:
Part 1: You stole my cart
Part 2: Wanna grab coffee?
Part 3: Wanna come over?
Part 4: I knew you were trouble
Part 5: Am I your girlfriend?
Part 6: And you are...?
Part 7: I can't compete with ghosts
Part 8: I'm like Mary Poppins - just more handsome and with more drugs
Part 9: I've got a face for television, baby
Part 10: I pretend I'm not completely confused by this
Small authors note: I might need the weekend off to recover from this :D
~~~
When you stood abruptly again and headed toward the back, Jack sighed and followed. He pushed open the bathroom door and frowned when he saw the closed stall. He could hear retching and splashing sounds and he knew exactly what was going on in there.
“You okay?”
A weak sound answered him. Something between a groan and a cough.
“I told you to slow down with the drinks.” He sighed.
No answer. Another retching sound. Then the sound of flushing.
A moment later the stall door opened. You stepped out, pale, hollow eyed.
Jack crossed his arms. “You’re done drinking tonight. Did I make myself clear?”
You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand. “I’m fine.” You didn’t like his tone.
“No, you’re not fine.”
“I’m just tired.”
He straightened. Anger crossed his face. “You’ve been drinking all evening and now you’re throwing up. That’s-”
“I didn’t drink.” you repeated.
“You ordered gin and tonics. Like a lot of them.”
“I ordered them for Santos. Not for me.” You frowned.
“Why would you do that?”
You hesitated then shrugged. “I just didn’t feel like drinking.”
His eyes narrowed. “You look like hell. You’ve been pale for weeks. Now you’re vomiting. This isn’t nothing.”
You looked away. “It’s just stress.”
“Bullshit.” The word came out sharper than he intended.
You stiffened.
Jack ran a hand through his hair. “Look. I’m not trying to lecture you. I’m just worried.”
“I said I’m fine Jack.”
“You keep proving the opposite.”
Silence stretched.
“Come on.” he softened. “Let me take you home.”
You shook your head. You opened your mouth and closed it again. The nausea got worse and you tried to stay composed.
“Why are you fighting me on this?”
Another wave hit you suddenly. You turned away fast, barely making it back to the stall before you were on your knees again. Jack moved without thinking. He knelt beside you, one hand gathering your hair back, the other rubbing between your shoulders.
“It’s okay.” he murmured automatically. “Breathe.”
You finished retching and leaned back, exhausted. Jack handed you some toilet paper, watching you carefully
“I’ve got something in my car” he said after a moment. “I can give you something for the nausea.”
You blinked. “You have drugs in your car?”
He shrugged. Of course he had.
You closed your eyes. Hesitated. “Is there anything you can give me that’s safe to take when you’re… pregnant.”
It took a moment for the words to sink in.
Jack froze and stared at you. “What?”
You shrugged and laughed weakly - embarrassed, miserable. “Great timing to give you the good news, right?”
Another wave made you gag again and he was there immediately, holding your hair, steadying you. His hands warm and careful even while his face stayed stunned.
When you leaned back again, breathing shaky, he was still staring at you.
“How…?” he started then stopped himself. “Right. Stupid question.” he muttered.
Silence. The music outside felt very far away.
His eyes flicked briefly to your stomach, then away.
“I didn’t… realise.” he said quietly.
“I know.”
He sat back a little, hands dropping into his lap. “And you didn’t tell me.”
“No I didn’t.” you said quietly. “But I was going to. We just weren’t… in a great place lately.”
He dragged a hand over his face. “Jesus fucking Christ on a bike.”
Silence. Then - “I’m sorry. I’m just… surprised.”
You gave him a faint smile, trying to steady your breathing.
“So … you told Santos?”
You shrugged. “Yeah. I had to tell someone.”
“You don’t even know her that well.”
“No I don’t.” You shrugged again. “But I needed someone to talk to. And she was there - in here - when I puked earlier. So the conversation came pretty… naturally.”
Jack nodded. “So you didn’t drink at all?”
You sighed. “No I figured alcohol probably doesn’t go well with all the cigarettes, drugs and weed I had earlier.”
He stared at you.
You rolled your eyes. “I’m kidding. I didn’t do anything to hurt the baby. I’m not an idiot. That’s why I’m living off ginger candies for this god forsaken nausea and it’s clearly not working.”
He lets out a sound that might have been be a laugh.
You sat in silence again. Jack looked up.
“I’m not exactly the ideal dad candidate.”
You let out a short breath. “I’m nearly forty. Trust me - I’m not the ideal mom candidate either.”
Jack swallowed hard. “I’m not sure I can do this.”
“I didn’t ask you to!” The words came out sharper than you intended. You forced yourself to slow down. “I didn’t even want to tell you yet. And to be clear - this isn’t just about you. Or me.” You gestured weakly between the two of you. “It’s about us. And the baby we made. Okay?”
Jack looked down, jaw tight, saying nothing.
“I didn’t sleep with you out of pity. I slept with you because I really liked you.”
He stayed quiet.
You felt frustration flare again. “And if you don’t want this - fine. Just say it. Right here. Right now.” Your voice shook a little. “We still have … options.”
His head snapped up. “You don’t want the baby?”
You stared at him in disbelief. “I want this baby very much.”
He swallowed. “Do you want me to break things off with you?”
“Jack - no.” Your voice softened, but the frustration stayed. “I want to be with you. And I want to have this child with you. But I’m not going to baby-trap you if you’re not up for this. I’m not gonna make you a father if you don’t want it. You understand?”
He closed his eyes for a moment.
“It’s just a bit much. Right now.” he finally said.
You let out a dry laugh. “Says the father of my baby while I just puked my guts out.”
“That’s not funny.”
“But it’s true.” You paused. “Do you want us to break up? I know things haven’t been great lately.”
“I know.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I’ve just been tired.”
“And you didn’t touch me for … a while.” Your voice wavered and your eyes filled with tears.
He looked genuinely shocked at your reaction. “Hey, I’m so sorry. It’s just…”
“Yeah?” you asked quietly.
“It’s not that easy.”
“If you don’t find me attractive anymore - fine. But just tell me. I hate being left in the dark.”
His eyes widened. “It’s not that. It’s…” He paused. “My leg’s been killing me lately. Phantom pain” he added when your expression turned confused. “So I increased my Lyrica dose. But it makes me exhausted and … um…” He glanced away, a faint blush creeping onto his cheeks. “It kind of killed my libido.”
You stared at him. “I didn’t know.”
“I didn’t tell you.”
“But… why?”
He gave a small tired smile. “Same reason you didn’t tell me about… this. I didn’t want you to leave.”
You blinked then nodded slowly. “Got it.” You took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to sleep at my place tonight.”
Jack stared at you. “What? Why?”
“I’m not sure how well you took the… the news. I just figured maybe you needed some time.”
Jacks mouth fell open. “I’m just processing. It’s not fair to accuse me of something when you’ve had way more time to think about this.”
“Yeah lucky me” you shot back. Your eyes welled up. “I’m sorry.”
The moment he noticed, he pulled you into his arms.
“I’m sorry” he murmured quickly. “I’m sorry. I’m being an asshole. I’m just… overwhelmed.” He hesitated. “I’m happy.”
“Really?”
“Really.” He exhaled against your hair. “Just a little surprised.”
“That’s okay” you whispered. “I can handle surprise. I couldn’t handle you hating me.”
“I could never hate you” he mumbled into your hair. “It’s just… I’m going to be a terrible dad.”
You pulled back enough to look at him. “Why would you say that?”
He hesitated. “I’ve seen enough babies die to know I’ll be too… protective. And I know what can go wrong if older parents have kids. Complications. Genetic stuff…”
“Don’t talk about dying babies. Please.” Your voice came out strained.
An apologetic look crossed his face. He pulled you close again. “Sorry. I’m just scared I’ll be bad at this.”
You shrugged against his chest. “You and me both. I never liked crying babies much. Honestly. And I think I’m gonna puke if it needs a diaper change.”
He chuckled softly. “Maybe I could take some time off when the baby’s there. Help you. Be around.”
You nodded, eyes stinging again. “I’d like that. Very much.” You sighed. “But maybe lets focus on right now, okay? I’ll take that as… we’re keeping it?”
“Yeah I guess.” You could feel his smile against your temple .”And to quote Dana - why throw away a perfectly good baby?”
You laughed despite yourself. “That’s horrible.”
He laughed too, stroking your hair. “You wanna go home?”
You nodded. “Yeah. Yes. Please.”
He stood up, straightening carefully, making a face when his prosthetic took weight. When he saw your worried look, he waved it off.
“It’s nothing. Really.”
He helped you up and kissed the top of your head. “I’m glad we’re good kiddo.”
“Kiddo.” You laughed. “I’m not that much younger than you.”
He shrugged, smiling.
He guided you to the sink where you washed your hand and rinsed your mouth. He handed you gum without asking.
When you stepped out of the bathroom you were suddenly aware of people watching. But no one would know what had actually happened in there.
“Stay here.” Jack said. “I’ll grab your jacket.”
You closed your eyes for a moment, exhausted. When you opened them again, Trinity was standing in front of you, looking worried.
“You okay?”
You nodded faintly. “Yeah. Better. I … told him.”
She smirked. “I guessed so. Didn’t think you two would shag in a public bathroom.”
“People think that?” You stared.
She shrugged. “He’s hot. You’re hot. Makes sense.”
You laughed. “You people need a hobby.”
Her expression softened. “How’d he take it?”
“Well enough.” You sighed. “We’ll see. But he wants to keep it.”
Trinity smiled and squeezed your arm. “That’s good.”
Jack returned with two jackets in hand, raising an eyebrow at the scene.
“I don’t want to know.” he said.
Trinity nodded, while you chuckled. “Smart man.”
He kissed your temple. “Let’s go. We’ve got a lot to talk about.”
~~~
Want to keep reading? - Part 12: Don't you dare apologize, kiddo
“on the graveyard shift, saving lives is routine — surviving each other is the real emergency.”
pairing: jack abbot x registered nurse!fem!reader
series summary: the graveyard shift is where the city’s worst nights come to die, gunshot victims, overdoses, multi-car pileups, warehouse fires. it’s also where you, the newest rn on the night rotation, make your debut.
with glossy nails, bright scrubs, and a laugh that carries down the hall, you’re easy to underestimate. dr. jack abbot does exactly that — until a routine case turns critical and you drop the “bimbo” act to reveal battlefield-level precision.
you’re a former army nurse, fluent in four languages, trained in trauma triage under fire. you’ve patched up soldiers in the dirt and worked miracles with nothing but gauze and grit. but here, under hospital fluorescents, you keep your steel wrapped in bubblegum charm.
jack is a war veteran too — stoic, dry-witted, and deeply private. the night shift is his refuge from the world. he doesn’t have time for flashy newcomers or the chaos they bring. but crisis after crisis forces you into his orbit, and what starts as wary teamwork becomes something deeper.
trigger warnings: will be writing in lowercase, sorrry!!, age gap (reader is early 30s, jack is early 50s), power imbalance, slow burn romance, mild sexual tension (specific warnings per chapter), nicotine use, alcohol use, combat references, mass casualty events, violent patient incident, injury depiction, blood, graphic medical procedures, death of patients, grief, ptsd symptoms, survivor’s guilt, hospital politics, probable incorrect medical jargon, guilt over losing patients, self destructive tendencies, no use of y/n, reader goes by nurse [REDACTED] *means smut
author’s note: this series is my love letter to slow-burn medical drama, found family, and characters who are more than they seem. expect late nights, high stakes, rooftop confessions, and a lot of unresolved tension. please check trigger warnings before reading, and enjoy the chaos of the graveyard shift.
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ACT I – Collision Course - Chapters 1 through 5
theme: first impressions lie. tension brews under the hum of fluorescent lights.
➺ chapter one: graveyard shift [6.7k]
➺ summary: you walk into your first night shift all lip gloss, bright scrubs, and bubbly chatter. jack writes you off instantly, until a patient crashes and you take control with cool, battlefield precision, leaving him quietly recalibrating everything he thought about you.
➺ chapter two: first blood (and lip gloss) [5.8k]
➺ summary: a chaotic night in the er pushes you and jack into back-to-back traumas, where split-second teamwork and unspoken trust begin to blur the line between professional respect and something deeper, leaving both of you unsettled by just how easily you fall into step together.
➺ chapter three:
➺ chapter four:
➺ chapter five:
ACT II – to be titled - Chapters 6 through 10
theme: ???
ACT III - to be titled - Chapters 11 through ???
theme: ???
disclaimer: the pitt and its characters, including dr. jack abbot, are the intellectual property of their rightful creators and owners. no copyright infringement is intended. this work is a transformative, non-commercial piece of fanfiction created for entertainment purposes only.
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