Jack climbs the stairs by twos, black scrubs swishing and echoing through the stairwell. Only halfway up and the ache over his prosthetic is making him regret his choice, but taking the elevator involves a whole extra hallway. Just another opportunity for prying eyes to see and learn how to get to his spot. All these years of being an attending and he's still yet to run into anyone other than Robby up there-- and he'd like to keep it that way.
Where else would he go when it all gets to be too much?
The metal door groans forward and his senses are immediately bombarded by a cascade of booms and hisses.
Fucking 4th of July.
How very appropriate that the country that all but abandoned him, and every one of his friends, on his return from active warfare was the same one whose inhabitants were gleefully shooting off AED soundalikes in their honor. Because everyone traumatized by active gunfire and constant threats of death want to come home and hear that shit too.
He stops short, mental tirade prematurely cut off. Because the last thing he expected to see nestled in the corner of the rooftop was you.
Hair billowing around you with the breeze, completely unaware of your audience. Eyes wide and taking in the fireworks exploding in every direction. Reds, blues, purples, and whites. One by one, as if you'd never seen anything more magical.
"You stealing my spot?" He asks, careful to manage his volume so he can be heard over the commotion but not enough to scare you.
You jump anyway.
"Jesus!" You place a hand over your racing heart. "Didn't know anyone knew how to get up here but me."
"That makes two of us. Taking a break?"
"Just wanted to enjoy it all before I'm busy with some dude who blew his hand off being stupid."
Jack nods, stretching his arms over his head in a way that makes his shoulders look stupidly broad. "Probably a Roman Candle. I'd put money on it."
"I don't know," you eye him sideways as he joins you at the railing before being distracted by a particularly sparkly glimmer in the distance. "I'm betting one of those off-market ones. Roman Candles seem pretty tame comparatively."
He scoffs. "Anything you have to hold while it explodes is a no from me. You know they hand those to kids?"
"A Piccolo Pete would never," you agree.
He looks at you blankly. "Who the hell is Pete?"
You laugh, smile stretched wide. "It's a firework. One of those loud ones you put on the ground. Come on, you'd know it if you heard it. It's a real screamer."
Recognition doesn't cross his face, but surprise at your choice of words does. His brows practically disappear into his hairline. Heat climbs your neck.
"Oh my god, pretend I didn't say that."
He chuckles. "Damn, I don't know if Pete would want you airing his dirty laundry like that."
Your cheeks flush but you just shake your head, looking like you'd love for nothing more than to jump off the edge. Your embarrassment and refusal to make eye contact with him gives him the perfect opportunity to watch the lights send a light show of color over your face. Beautiful and mesmerizing. Just like you.
He's never been one for the holiday. Seen one firework, seen 'em all. But he's never seen them quite like this before.
"What?" You ask, looking right at him with a furrowed brow, and he drops his eyes.
Caught. Shit.
He shrugs. Swipes a hand through his hair to buy time.
"Nothing."
The quirk of your mouth says you don't believe him but a particularly close explosion rips through the atmosphere and has you stumbling back into his chest in shock. He catches and steadies you out of instinct.
"Shit," you gasp, feeling his laugh on your back more than you can hear it. "Shut up, that was coming right at us."
"Hmm," he hums teasingly with a smirk he tries to fight. "You barely got out of the way in time."
You twist around with narrowed eyes to give him some smart ass retort but it dies in your throat when you notice how close he is. Close enough to count the freckles smattered across his sun kissed cheeks like constellations.
A beat too late, you realize you're still pressed against him with his palm flat over your hip. You take a step forward for space and smooth out your scrubs, as if that'll stop your brain from reeling. The phantom heat of where his hands were pulse against your skin.
You clear your throat. "Fireworks don't bother you?"
Nice. Real nice, you scold yourself. All the topics to broach up here and his personal experiences with veteran associated PTSD are what you choose. Thankfully, Jack takes it in stride. Always so good natured.
"Not much. Had a few years to get used to them now. It's good job security, at least."
"Ha. Someone woke up this morning and didn't know it would be their last one with two hands."
"Multiple someones. But hey, that's why we've got two of each limb," he jokes before absentmindedly shifting his weight on his feet. Possibly as a reminder of his point.
You sigh dreamily, leaning forward on the railing. "I still love them though. I mean, you won't catch me lighting one-- I've seen way too many holiday disasters for that-- but look how pretty they are."
"Yeah," he whispers back, eyes never leaving you.
"Plus, it's kind of cute."
"What is?"
"That humans do all this just because they're nice to look at. Just so other people nearby can enjoy them too."
He's never thought of it like that. Something funny pulls in his chest. Something that hasn't moved in a long time.
You must feel it. You look at each other for a long moment before your mouth opens, face wide open and vulnerable. He holds his breath.
"Would you ever want to-"
The door bursts open, cutting you off and deflating whatever had been brewing inside of him like a sad balloon.
"Seriously, guys?" Robby questions, crossing his arms as he takes up the whole staircase. "We could use your help down there. 4th of July and all?"
"Sorry, Robby," you murmur, speed walking to the stairs. You glance over your shoulder for one last look at the spectacle before refocusing on Jack. "You coming? Or too scared about being wrong about Roman Candles?"
He huffs, wrapping his stethoscope back around his neck before following you with a lopsided grin. "You wish."
thinking about widower jack abbot who is secretly admiring this new night shift nurse, both of them are starting to get to know and be close with each other but jack thinks sheâs way out of his league as sheâs a young, full of life, and intelligent nurse, who jack thinks does not deserve a man like him who is âoldâ, a person who has already been through it all, and heâs too scared that he might take away the light of this young woman who makes him happy.
đđđ đđđđđâđ đ đđđđđđđđ đđđđđ. đâ°đŠą.âᄫᥠâ please give all of these incredible writers the love and support. đŻ random fandom & character order, 18+ only please.
â part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven,
Gentle Touch, đ.đ, @annaevermore
Hoola Hoop, đ.đ, @inkydelusions
Slim Pickins, đ.đ, @seewhoyouwanttosee
Teaching Moments, đ.đ, @the-shedevil-writes
Little Joy, đ.đ.đ, @sargeant-bxrnes
Rusty, đ.đ, @stellamarielu
Not The Day, đ.đ.đ, @p1ttlings
Fuck It, I Love You, đ.đ, @astarlinggirl
Where Do I Put My Love, đ.đ, @alinathinkstoomuch
Head Over Feet, đ.đ, @lovebugism
Writing On The Wall, đ.đ.đ, @idyllicchaos
Iâve Got It, đ.đ, @honeypiehotchner
Special Treatment, đ.đ, @ovaryacted
Under The Skin, đ.đ.đ, @pittrabbit
Darkest Before Dawn, đ.đ, @flowersforbucky
Our Little Secret, đ.đ, @hotdocsandcowboys
Manchild, đ.đ.đ, @not-neverland06
Kissed & Made Up, đ.đ, @targaryenluvs
My Woman On Willpower, đ.đ, @miserymorgue
Sweet Little Thing, đ.đ, @dr-robbys
Pearl Necklace, đ.đ.đ, @mariasont
Love To Go To Paris, đ.đ & đ.đ, @miserymorgue
Date Night, đ.đ, @moodyabbott
Lay Your Head By Mine, đ.đ, @martyrmurdock
Reading The Newspaper, đ.đ, @vividxpages
Heat Waves, đ.đ, @peachyparkerr
Codys Girl, đ.đ.đ, @popecodysgirl
Stop & Smell The Roses, đ.đ.đ, @abbotsmyhabit
So Much To Adore, đ.đ, @flowersforbucky
Forever Yours, đ.đ.đ, @mx-pastelwriting
Out Of His League, đ.đ, @romantic-insomniac
Night Dada, đ.đ, @shadeofpeach
Bruised & Not Broken, đ.đ.đ, @voidsagent
Extra Shot, đ.đ, @zivistardust
Give It To Me, Baby, đ.đ, @oxalaia-quilombensis
Take Care, đ.đ, @snoopysupe
Passing The Blunt, đ.đ.đ, @amphib0e
Story About Love, đ.đ, @moodyabbott
Like It When You Blush, đ.đ, @shadeofpeach
Fade Into You, đ.đ.đ, @abbotsdoll
Meet Me At Our Spot, đ.đ, @whatif-ialreadydid
synopsisa patient tells you older is always better, Jack wants to know if you can confirm that.
warningsSMUT. MDNI. Oral (f and m receiving) fingering, dirty talk, slight dom Jack, penetration, p in v. language
authornotei dont even think god will take me after this one. this aint proofread
âSo you think older is better?â
âLike anything good,â said Lu as you cleaned out her leg, pulling the light over to find the grit. âLike cheese... wine... sex.â
Your lips quipped up and you nodded. You didn't know how you started talking about this- you'd only asked what she was doing and how she fell. Date with an older guy, she said, was walking back from his when I fell. It must have been more of a tumble, roll and fall from the state of her leg that had got her through the waiting room and triage.
The next thing you knew she was highlighting how good sex was with an older man.
âIt's like they have the experience and the confidence and they care more about getting you off than they do themselves,â she said.
âHow many dates have you been on with the guy?â you asked, only trying to keep conversation while you plucked out the gravel. Trying to distract yourself from thinking about sex and older.
âOh, this was the first one,â said Lu, laid back on the bed with a dreamy look in her eyes. âWe've been talking for a few months on this app for older guys to meet women who are younger and interested. We met tonight and I had the best sex ever.â
The pling of gravel on the metal tray echoed out.
âYou got a boyfriend?â she asked you.
You were silent, acting as if you were focused on the gravel. âI don't.â
Lu smirked at your silence. âBut you got somebody?â
To that you had nothing to say. Maybe you did have somebody- or at least someone came to mind. Grey hair, stubbled chin and dark eyes in the shape of a doctor.
âOh you got somebody,â said Lu.
You managed two more pieces of gravel and glass before she opened her mouth to speak again, to probably ask you another question but at the same time the door opened, bringing with it a small snap of the bustling sounds of the Pitt at night and the faint air of woodland and grease.
âHow we doing in here?â
Jack walked in like he was un-aware to how you'd thought about him and then he came like you'd conjured him up. His grey hair, short stubble at the chin that he quickly rubbed at and dark eyes evaluating.
You betrayed yourself in looking to Lu.
âIs this him?â she asked, eyes lighting up.
Jack looked between the two of you. âTalking about me again, doc?â Jack asked.
You were focused on the task at hand but you didn't need to look to find him at your side, diligently watching you work.
âAll good things,â said Lu.
He huffed out a little smile, hands held behind his back. His eyes bore into your head. âI'm Doctor Jack Abbott, I see you're in good hands here. How're her bloods?â
âBloods are all clear though blood pressure is a bit high, we wanna keep an eye on that,â you said.
Jack nodded. âWell I'm sorry you're night took an unfortunate turn, Miss Marigold.â
She shrugged, rumpling her black dress. It was sleek and fit her in ways you could never imagine the dress fitting you. âMeh, it was pretty much done anyway.â
You were too caught up in the gossip she had been giving you that you didn't think about Jack not being informed. âHe kicked you out?â
âNo,â she said. âI left. Didn't want that awkward after sex small talk.â
âThat's called aftercare.â
It was such a thrown away comment in Jack's words. He said it like he was prescribing her morphine. But the words rushed to your body, jolted you awake and alert to his presence.
Aftercare to some may have been normal, you didn't know other peoples sexual habits- you only knew yours and aftercare wasn't part of it. Your... sexual partners were few and far between and also loved to use your bathroom and sleep it off. Besides that was months ago before you started night shifts. Now your sex life was nothing but dry dry dry with the only occasional fantasy of your attending keeping you going.
âHow old are you, Doctor Abbott?â asked your patient.
You caught Jack's smirk.
âDon't you know you should never ask a gentleman his age?â he said.
âForties? Fifties?â
âWell I'm glad you ruled out thirties.â
You laughed.
âAre you single?â
âYou asking?â
âAnd what do you think about younger women?â Lu asked with seemingly no shame. You carried it all in the blaze of heat in your cheeks.
âI don't know if this is an appropriate conversation to be having,â you said, trying to deflect. Looking between them, you found Lu waiting with curious eyes, not at all uncomfortable and Jack... surprisingly much of the same.
âYou mean how do I feel about dating younger women?â asked Jack, standing at the other side of her bed.
In your eyeline.
âThere's this app, called 'Always go older' it's catered for men over forty meeting younger women with similar interests. Go on dates, have long term relationships, or just sex.â
You couldn't believe the conversation you had been having with her before Jack came in, making the small space of the exam room even smaller. Having it with him in the room was your idea of a nightmare.
Jack nodded slowly, considering. âAn app for... sugar daddies?â
You looked up at him. âYou know what sugar daddies are?â
He pursed his lips at you in disappointment. âI'm old, I'm not clueless.â
âIf you're interested I can get you a great discount,â said Lu like this was a business meeting. âBoth of you.â
Jack looked at you but you missed whatever his eyes were trying to convey when you realised this app cost.
âYou have to pay?â
âTo be a member yeah, there can be a lot of creeps out there and they do real good work to make sure they're not in the club. You interested?â
âNot if I have to pay,â you said, thinking first of your bank account and nothing else. You only realised once you'd said it what it sounded like.
That you were interested. That older men and dating for you were hand in hand.
You looked up hoping at least Jack wouldn't have noticed. His eyes were on you, an amused tilt to his lips. âOkay!â you stood up, pulling off your gloves. âAll the gravel and glass is out but I'm gonna get another blood test in to check your alcohol levels. I'll call a nurse to dress you up and we'll keep you for observation on that blood pressure.â
She nodded. âDo you think I could do a pregnancy test too? Just, while I'm here.â
Jack approached your side, watching you again. His head was tilted up but his eyes were down on you. He was attending but as always he waited on your say. He never overstepped, never made assumptions, always let you lead with your gut.
You wondered if that was what younger women were looking for...
âSure, I'll get you a pot for a urine sample and we can get those tests.â
âWere you practising safe sex?â asked Jack.
Lu stretched out on the bed, pulling at the seams of her dress at her cleavage. âIt feels better without.â
Jack seemed un-bothered, if anything understanding as his head slowly bobbed in a nod.
You'd never had sex without a condom before. Never wanted to risk it.
Jack held the door open for you, letting you lead the way out.
It was noisier and busier yet it was easier to breath. At least for a second before Jack's body brushed yours as he walked next to you.
âIs she a cop? Feel like we were being interrogated in there.â
âThat or she gets paid to promote the app.â
You slid into a chair desperately trying not to look at the clock. You had a bad habit of doing so and the night would drag on. You pulled up her chart and distracted yourself with repeating what you'd already said to avoid the inevitable conversation you were gonna be having with Jack.
His mouth opened and you beat him to it.
âI swear we just started talking about that, I was just asking her how she fell and she told me about the guy and started talking about sex and the date and the app, I... I did not invite that conversation.â
He nodded. âIt's okay if you did.â
âI didn't.â
âOkay.â
There was silence between you. Your finger moves quickly over the keyboard and Abbott stayed stood there, watching.
âIf you're interested-â
â- I'm not,â you said, quickly, without really knowing what he was asking for.
Jack held his hands up in surrender. âOlder men aren't too bad.â
âOh no, I'm-I'm sure they're great, I have nothing against age, you know, old's great! Like.... like wine! Or-or cheese! I just, I mean, my love life- sex life is kinda, urm-â you stumbled over your words. It was annoying how Jack just stood there, letting you, without stopping or helping. âI just don't really have the time for dating.â
You worked nights and in the day you were catching up on sleeping and eating. The furthest your date life got was phone calls with Jack when he was grocery shopping and wanted your opinion, or sometimes in the morning when you got breakfast together before heading back.
He always walked you home, even if it meant an extra half hour before he got home. He was a gentleman like that.
He was still calm as he held his hands behind his back and watched you. âAre you looking to date?â
You chuckled. âHa, you know a guy who works as crazy shifts as me?â
Jack's eyes lowered to yours. âMaybe. Might be a bit older though.â
You realised what he meant just as an ETA was called in.
The ETA had turned into five and for the rest of the night you and Abbott were too busy with the rest of the team to brush by each other. Every move was a hard move of shoulders to not bump or ripping of the gowns off and the harsh change of gloves. There was no time to talk about anything through the night, let alone whatever the hell had happened at the start of shift.
Your small reprise came when a man dressed in the makings of a rushed man walked in as the clock was striking past five in the morning.
âExcuse me, I'm looking for Lu Mari-gold?â
His hair was silver and growing at the back of his neck. It was brushed back handsomely and though he clearly must have been in his fifties (at least) he had a head full of hair and stubble growing on his chin.
He was handsome and even more so when you saw the bouquet of flowers he held in hand.
âAre you- are you family?â
âNo I'm uh- I'm her partner.â
So you escorted him to her room, letting him in and giving him a small update on her care. He set the flowers next to her and you lingered, diligently checking her chart.
âWhy'd you leave, honey?â he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed and petting back her hair.
âOh you know,â she said, casually. âDidn't want to do the whole awkward morning after thing.â
âThere'd be nothing awkward about it. I was gonna make you breakfast, had plans to make love two you in the morning.â
Your cheeks flamed up as he said it so casually, like he was laying out a list for morning plans which.... he well was.
You decided to give them some privacy and save yourself form listening. You gently closed the door over and watched them through. He kissed her gently on the forehead, cradling her and Lu soaked it all in in adoring eyes and gentle touches.
It was a sort of tender touch you weren't used to even seeing, let alone feeling.
âHey,â there was a ghost of a touch on the small of your back and Jack came to stand next to you. âThat her boyfriend?â
âYeah, though I don't know if they're their yet,â you admitted. âThey only met tonight- well, last night. But she ran out.â
âAnd he came to her,â observed Jack. âThey'll be just fine.â
âHow'd you know?â
âThe way he looks at her.â
When you looked at Jack he was already looking at you.
The thousand moments between the two of you played out. The gentle ghosts of a hand, the watchful moments but Jack was like that with a lot of people, attentive.
Your eyes fluttered as you looked away from him to the scene playing out again. âAre you some sort of relationship whisperer?â
He huffed a small amused laugh and followed your eyes to look ahead. âI just know things.â
It wasn't long before Lu and her partner were walking out, the flowers in hand as his arm was around her waist, supporting her.
They stopped off by the nurses counter where both you and Jack lingered working on separate cases.
âWe just wanted to say thank you,â said Lu. âAnd here. There's a ninety percent success rate.â
She handed you a business card with the app name and promo code applied.
âOh, er, thank you,â you said, un-sure on what to say other than a thanks.
Lu smiled kindly, leaning in to you as subtle as possible. Her eyes lingered somewhere over your shoulder. âThough I don't think you'll need it.â
You turned, catching sight of what she was watching.
Jack stood with Crus who was thrusting a tablet to him but he was looking at you.
âI'll- er- put it to good use. I'll see you in a couple days to check out those stitches.â
Slowly they left and you were stood frozen, staring down at the card. Ten dollars a month wasn't so bad if you didn't count the subscriptions you already had at the student loan and bills and such. You got three months half price, maybe three months to meet the love of your life or at least get some-
The card was plucked from you fingers.
Jack twirled it around. âYou thinking about it?â he said, an edge to his voice.
âWhat? No- I don't know, she just- it was a parting gift?â
He nodded, reading the card. âAlways go older,â he read.
âIt's the app, younger women with, um, older men.â
âInterested?â
The way he looked at you felt more like an invitation than a general question. His eyes were hooded as he looked at you. It was the way he always looked at you but it felt weighted.
âIt's just an app,â you excused.
Jack held the card out between the two of you, letting you chose.
It should've been your choice but it felt like there was a right and wrong answer.
Slowly, you plucked it from his fingers.
Two days later you found Jack Abbott on the app.
You were scrolling in the bathroom on your three minute pee break. You'd got the app that morning, caving in after spending a night tossing and turning and dreaming. You could say the dream was any old man, a faceless sort but even if that were true you felt the hard press of the chest, the tickle of the stubble. You imagined the freckles along the arms and the low rumble of his voice in your ear.
âThat's it... that's it... take me in... all the way... god you feel beautiful,â
You woke wet between your legs and hot all over with little to no time to do anything about it.
You were desperate, you told yourself as you hastily built up a profile, picking what small pictures you had of yourself not in scrubs.
You hadn't had time to check it until the bathroom break and you don't make it three profiles before you were faced with Abbott.
The pictures of him were pictures you'd seen before, a selfie with his stupid smirk, the peek of army uniform there. There was another of him that seemed to a couple years ago and the third and final was a picture of him in scrubs.
It was a picture of the night shift but you could tell there were several cropped out, but you who stood next to him were still there.
You stared down at the picture of you two, his arm was thrown over your shoulders casually. He was grinning at the camera and you had a small smile to, your body leant into him. You hadn't even realised you did that.
Didn't Abbott know it wasn't a good sign to have a picture of another woman on the dating app? Unless it was your mother and you were a mamas boy.
There was knocking on the bathroom stool doors.
âHave you coded in there?â Crus called out.
You huffed and got off the toilet, pulling up your pants and pocketing your phone.
âIf only.â
The night continued as usual, abdominal pains, charting, lacerations, charting, traumas and charting.
You'd hardly got a look at Jack when it was turning to six in the morning and day shifters started piling in.
You were passing the break room when the door swung open.
Jack popped out, catching you, his arms braced at the door. âGet in here, now.â
You were worried, reading through every patient you'd seen that day. You were sure you dealt with them all attentively, you'd never misdiagnosed someone before and today couldn't have been the day.
Jack closed the door behind him, checking nobody was on their way to find you before speaking. He was calm as he walked over to you, leaning his hand on the table and crowding you. âWhy do you think I need to talk to you?â
You tried to think of something you'd done wrong. Anything. âTrauma came in, I er, didn't intubate quick enough?â
He shook his head and you tried to think again.
Before you could hazard a guess, he spoke. âI thought if you were interested, you'd have said something.â
There was a beat of silence.
âInterested?â
Jack's chest rose and fell in a deep breath. âIn going older.â
âIn going-â your mind short-circuited to his profile. If you'd seen him just a few hours ago, he could have seen you before then.
âI thought I had made my invitation clear,â he uttered.
âInvitation?â you repeated, feeling like a stuck record player.
âTo go older,â Jack stepped closer and you could feel the warmth of his breath. âI was inviting you to try it.â
His breath somehow still smelt of mint freshness whereas you were sure yours was coffee stained from the three cups you'd already drunk.
âAnd not through the app,â he added.
You gulped. âYou saw me on the app?â
âI saw you on the app.â
âBut you're on the app,â you pointed out, eyes flickering up to his.
âI got it two days ago to make sure you didn't get it,â he said. His eyes weren't focused on yours. They were flickering between your eyes and your lips.
You wondered if you were still dreaming. If you were still in your bed, still dampening your panties and sheets with this crazy dream of him. You pinched yourself slowly but you felt the pain and didn't wake.
You squeezed your eyes shut and opened them and he was still there. Still calm. âYou want to have sex with me?â
Jack's jaw clenched. âHoney, I want so much more than that.â
His finger was light as it brushed the back of your hand that rested on the table there.
âI want what you want, and maybe even more,â said Jack, his hand cradled your face. thumb dragging over your cheekbone. âYou just got to tell me what you want and I'll make it happen.â
You'd thought that being with an older man meant being told what to do, that you wouldn't get a word in edge ways and yes, it was hot to think about.
You imagined Jack would be that, gently guiding you through your pleasure like he understood it better than you did. âYou, I want you.â
Jack's lips were soft on yours, his head tilted at the perfect angle that meant he reached every edge of your lips at once. He didn't push against you, annoyingly so, he just let you feel the press of his lips like a fresh summers breeze.
It was your hands that fell on his chest, it was you that tilted your head back so he could reach deeper. It was your tongue tracing the bottom of his lips to get in deeper.
The door clattered and you jumped from Jack like he'd scorched you.
Jack only opened his eyes slowly, turning.
Robby leant on the door frame, arms crossed over his chest and a smirk on his lips as he sipped from his coffee cup. âGood morning, brother.â
Jack took you home to his and carefully man handled you through the door. Once it was closed his lips sort yours in a hunger even a twelve hour shift couldn't kill.
He breathed against you hard as he kissed you, stirring you through his house with his hands migrating from your cheeks, to your neck, to your waist, to your hips, to anyplace he could get a hold of you.
Your hands made his neatly combed hair a mess as you leant against him, letting yourself be moved around like a rag doll.
âIs this your house?â you asked against his lips. You couldn't look around to study his space, he was hardly letting you go to catch your breath let alone turn your head.
He nodded, kissing you. His tongue entered the warmth of your mouth and he moaned into you. âWe didn't break and enter, baby.â
âBut you-â you gasped as his hands travelled under your shirt, sending a chill. âYou don't rent.â
This wasn't your best dirty talk.
Jack smiled against your lips. âNo, I have a mortage.â
You kissed him again, holding him close as your hand slithered to the back of his neck.
He was still navigating you through his house till you felt your back hit a wall. âDoes that turn you on?â
Slowly he pulled at the ties of your scrub pants and he slid his hand in enough to get a feel of the warmth of your cunt through your panties. You were wet, impossibly so just by kissing him.
âYeah,â he said, breathless. âIt turns you on.â
Jack's teeth scraped down your neck, his tongue soothing where he nipped.
You tilted your head back, a silent invite for more.
A thigh of his slotted between your legs and you fell onto it.
âYou wanna- wanna tell me about tax returns next?â you teased.
âMaybe,â he said, lifting his head back to yours. âI kinda wanna taste you first.â
With strong hands on your hips he turned you and pushed you through the open door into a master of a bedroom. The bed was in the middle, a four postered type thing with clean and made sheets. There was nothing messy about it, nothing to signify the exhaustion of a night shift.
Jack held your body into his, hips rutting against yours.
You acknowledged somewhere in the back of your head that he'd told you years ago he moved into a bungalow. No stairs- easier on his leg.
âDo you know how many times I've touched myself thinking about you, on that bed?â he whispered into your skin, kissing the words there.
âYou-You have?â
You felt his hair tickle you as he nodded. âDo you like knowing that?â
âYes.â You reached over, cupping the back of his head till your tongues were meeting in a sloppy kiss.
Jack's hands slipped down your waist, down your underwear and spread at your cunt till he could easily slip in a finger.
You gasped against him, body curling in pleasure you'd never felt.
He moved with you as if he was chasing you, sucking on your bottom lip.
âYou like that?â he uttered, dragging out your bottom lip.
You nodded as he slowly withdrew his finger to slip another in.
âNeed to hear you like it, baby.â
âI like it, Jack, like your fingers inside of me.â
The fingers on his free hand moved to wrap around your neck, tilting your head back till it rested on his shoulder. With this advantage he could like on the skin, feel the heat of you and the jump of your pulse as he slowly worked his fingers in and out, curling at the spots that got you shaking.
Your held onto his arm, fingers digging into the skin.
âYou're gonna like it,â he whispered. âYou're gonna like it so much you'll never go back, never want anyone else.â
His fingers worked quicker as you felt him leave marks at your neck, in places you knew people would be able to see. âStill like my fingers inside of you?â
âYes, god, yes!â
âHow'd they make you feel, baby?â
âGood, so good.â
Jack withdrew his hands and turned you, guiding you up on the bed. He leant back on his knees, slowly undoing the ties of his scrub bants.
You'd never been happier that they were black, showing the outline of his cock, hard and begging for attention.
âTake your top off.â He gestured.
You did and his eyes grew darker though didn't know how that was possible. Your hands trembled with eager excitement to get your hands on him or for him to get his hands on you. You moved to un-clasp your bra but Jack shook his head.
âKeep it on. Take my shirt off.â
His chest was broad and slightly defined. Freckles dotted around and one or two scares you'd never seen before were littered there too.
It was instinct to move in to his neck to kiss him but his hand wrapped around your neck and pushed you down till you bounced off the mattress.
âEyes on me, keep your eyes on me.â
You followed his order as he slowly dragged down your scrub pants and panties, getting a glimpse of how wet they were before they were chucked aside.
Hopefully that was the time Jack let you see all of him. No.
Like a prized possession Jack laid you out and spread your legs.
It was suddenly all too real. The haste of the drive over, his hand on your thigh, everything he said about being with an older guy and how Lu had told you how experienced they were. Would he expect something you couldn't deliver? Did you expect something?
âJack,â you said only his name but you didn't know what else you were trying to lead on anyhow.
His eyes were earnest though clouded by desire as he pushed your legs up till you were sprawled out for him. âI'll stop any time you want.â
You watched him get closer to your heat. Felt yourself cry out for his attention.
âYou're gonna like it, gonna love it,â he promised, eyes focused on you as he slid his middle finger inside of you. âRelax... relax.â
You tried to but as another one of his fingers slid into you, creating a slow thrusting pattern and his other hand kept playing with your cunt to get your lips spread you could do anything but relax.
Your breathing kicked up, your pulse was high.
As Jack leant down to slowly flick his tongue against your clit you threw your head back and moaned.
âOh shit, Jack- Jack!â
His gaze flickered up to you, daring you to try to speak.
When you did it came out as another moan, his tongue flattening against your bud of nerves.
He played with you like that, moulding your legs around to where he wanted them. Flat on the bed, over his shoulders, up in the air. Anything to get him deeper inside of you.
All the while you alternated between watching him and falling back on the bed in aches of pleasure.
Jack watched where his fingers disappeared inside of you. âSwallowing me up, can't wait to get my cock inside of you.â
âWant it.... want it....â you mumbled, head back on the softness of his quilt.
âYeah?â he whimpered.
Your hand fisted the quilt that smelt like him and you smothered your face in it as his fingers curled.
âOh my god, honey... yeah....â Jack moaned before you felt the wet of his tongue on the heat of you.
You couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Whether it was his spit on your cunt or your want that was pooling into wetness on his sheets.
There was no warning, only your moans, as you came around his fingers and tongue. You had no idea you could come so quick, had no idea it could be pulled from your head to your toes.
Jack let your orgasm play out, pulling back to watch it leak. âOh yeah... yeah...â his fingers swept up the mess lightly. âYou're so sweet, oh yeah... moan like that...â
His tongue went in, licking up all the mess around you.
âJack please, I can't- I can't!â
Your body was trembling beyond your control and he was still playing around with you and your sensitive bud. Your arms wrapped around yourself as if you could hold yourself together from breaking out in cries.
You hadn't noticed your eyes were screwed shut until you felt him move and heard the demand in his voice.
âLook at me.â
When you did you found Jack standing at the foot of his bed, scrub pants deserted and hand wrapped around his own cock.
You looked at him and then some.
âTouch me, touch me,â he said gently, prying your hands away from your chest with care.
With guidance he helped you sit up and helped you feel his cock.
You'd done this before but your mouth had never watered by the idea, your body never wept with the need to suck another guy off. Nothing about him disgusted you. Not the scars around his knee where he lost his leg, not the hair that dusted the base of his cock in tamed grey.
It moved you on.
You only jerked him off slow, only a little at first but his breath became laboured.
Jack's eyes closed as he grabbed a hold of your legs like they were his anchor.
You wanted to speed up.
âGo easy on me,â he said with a drunk grin. âIt's been a while.â
You moaned and inched your body closer to the edge of the bed, your heat wanting to swallow him up.
Jack's eyes watched as you withered. He held onto your wrist that stayed wrapped around the base of his cock. âNo, no, no, don't put it in yet.â Slowly he came to lean over you. âI want you to suck on it. You want it? Want to suck this old mans cock?â
In answer, the two of you moved quickly till he was lying flat on the bed and you were over him, slowly taking the tip in your mouth.
âOh my god... oh yeah...â he moaned. Jack petted back your hair. âTake the tip.... take the tip... swirl your tongue...â
You took in his tip and swirled the tongue just as he said, watching him as you took him deeper with his careful help.
A string of 'oh yeah, don't stop' fell from him like a mantra as you took him deeper and faster, the need growing in you again.
âIt's not- it's not too much?â he checked in, his head falling back.
You only took yourself off him to shake your head before sucking him into your mouth again, holding the base of him and working what you couldn't manage.
Jack groaned, hands flying to his head as his fists clenched. âYou're so good... oh you're so good, baby.â
You took him deep and hollowed your cheeks.
Jack lurched. âFuck! Fuck- shit, don't do that,â he moaned, guiding you off with pink cheeks. He chuckled, guiding you up to him. âI'll finish if you do that.â
He kissed you, never minding the both of your arousal on each other's lips. âThey're are so many ways I want to be inside of you.â
You moaned against his lips. âI want you inside me, Jack.â
âI know, I know.â His brows pulled together as he seemed to have a battle in his own mind about just how to have you.
You didn't make it easier. In temptation you lied back on his bed and spread yourself out. All the while he was still caught up in thinking.
You almost started playing with yourself to relieve the build up when Jack grabbed your wrist and guided your fingers into his mouth.
He gently kissed the pads of your finger tips. âTurn around.â
Jack lied next to you, your back flush with his chest. He lined his cock up with your cunt, slowly sliding the length of it between your folds.
âCon-condom?â you mumbled, dreading the feel of anything that wasn't completely him.
Jake kissed your shoulder. âIt feels better without. I'm clean.â
You nodded, breathless at the promise of feeling him. All of him. âI'm clean and I have a, an IUD.â
He kissed you again as he nudged the head of his cock into you.
Your moans echoed around the room as he held onto you, inching himself in further and further.
Only once you'd just got the feel of all of him he was slowly retreating to push back in again. For a moment it was only the sound of the both of you breathless and the gentle sounds of skin on skin as he moved at a steady pace, growing needier, getting deeper by every thrust.
âOh my god... oh my god...â you moaned.
Jack's hands grabbed your hips, helping you meet his thrusts in urgency. The sun was just peeking through the blinds and a thin layer of sweat glowed off both your bodies.
You tried to grind your backside into him, desperate to feel relief as his pace remained steady.
Jack gripped your hip, leaning into your ear. âDon't rush it, don't rush it,â he nipped at your ear. âDon't be greedy, we'll go slow.â
You didn't want slow. You wanted fast. You wanted hard.
The slow drag of his cock through your walls drove you mad. He reached around, fingers circling your clit as his other hand finally un-hooked your bra.
It wasn't long before Jack was slamming into you, harder, your body rocking with his movements and the head of his bed hitting the wall.
âGod, it's been so long.... you feel amazing...â said Jack as his fingers circled your clit hard.
âJack I'm gonna-â
At the warning he stilled himself inside of you.
âNot yet, honey, not yet.â
You whined, hand moving round to grab at his ass and hold him in.
Jack groaned and bit into your neck. âI know, I know. Just gimme a minute.â
You had no choice as he slid out of you and moved you around so you were flat on the bed. You felt his fingers thrust inside of you again harder than before.
His breath was hard, chest rising and falling quickly. âI wanna make you come in so many ways I can't chose how.â
He was a man starved, ravenous as he dedicated time to licking you up again, if only for a minute. But he moaned around you, sucked in your nerves and released it to the mercy of his fingers.
âJack!â you yelled, screw the neighbours.
There was a growl somewhere in the back of his throat as he loomed over you.
âYou wanna fuck me?â
âYes, Jack, bad so bad!â
âOkay, okay honey, fuck me then, come one baby.... I know you can.â
Jack pushed into you as the both of your eyes clashed watching the pleasure in each others eyes. He set a brutal pace, holding a leg up as he peppered kisses along your chest.
âJ-Jack-â
âTell me how good I feel.â
âSo good.â
âSo good, yeah baby, so good,â he gasped. âOh fuck, god baby!â He reached over and gripped the headboard, body tight in pleasure.
You arched off the bed.
âI need you to come,â he announced, eyes screwed up in pleasure as he thrusted into you hard, the slap of his balls on you.
You watched where he met you as your legs shook.
âI need you to come so I can come.... one more time, baby.... one more time, please....â he begged.
The sight of him sweating, his body rigid, eyes shut in pleasure and mouth hanging open only to voice obscene moans was enough to have you coming over the edge.
Your walls tightened.
Jack must have felt it as he steadied himself over you, fingers falling between your bodies to work you through it. âThat's it.... that's it.... that's it...â He kissed along your collarbone.
You released over him, gasping, body melting into him as Jack rode out your orgasm.
âArg... oh god... you feel so good, I-urg-â
Dirty words spilled from your mouth as Jack latched onto your mouth and let go inside of you.
The both of you were a panting, sweating mess as he calmed down, slowly slipping out of you but kissing away every whine and protest.
Your breathes slowed and slowly Jack slipped out of you, watching his release leave you.
His eyes flickered back up to you, brushing away hair that had stuck. âI've never come like that in my life.â
You were still catching your breath, still waiting for the race of your heart to dull. âYour welcome?â
Jack chuckled, falling beside you and throwing an arm over you. âI think you can delete that app now.â
You groaned with a wave of embarrassment, covering your face. Gently, Jack pried away your hands and kissed the palms of them. You turned on your side. âAre you going to delete it too?â
âHoney I only got it cause I couldn't stand the thought of you getting it, and some other gut thinking he can treat you better.â
âI always hoped it would be you.â
Jack kissed you tenderly. âSo?â he asked against you. âYou think older is better?â
jack abbot.... who never lets you carry anything. when he takes you shopping, he holds all of your shopping bags. when you're browsing through items in a store and find something you like, he picks it up before you even tell him to. when you return home, he's carrying all of your bags inside, telling you not to because you could break one your freshly manicured nails.
jack abbot.... who is the definition of a real man. he provides for you, protects you, makes you happy, never argues with you, comforts you when needed, etc. if your car has a mechanical problem, he takes care of it before you even know you needed it done. that new vanity or desk he just ordered for you? it's already built before you know it arrived. he knows when your period is close and already bought whatever products you need and the fridge and pantry are already stocked with your cravings.
jack abbot.... who will be the designated driver at every night out you have with your friends. he protects you and your friends with his life wherever you go, whether it's a bar, club, restaurant, or arcade. it doesn't matter he needs to keep you all safe and make sure you all have a good time. if your one friend gets too drunk and can't walk, he'll carry them inside their house and make sure they're safe before he leaves.
jack abbot.... who learned your body. he knows what makes you cum the hardest, what position is your favorite, how you like for him to eat you out, where you like for him to kiss you, when you're ovulating and you need him the most, etc. once you told him no one ever made you squirt before, he makes it his mission to make you squirt from that moment on. jack just wants to make sure his girl is satisfied and he knows how to satisfy you.
jack abbot.... who you've fallen madly in love with. he is absolutely the perfect man for you and the best boyfriend you could ever ask for. he takes such good care of you and loves you so much, you'll do anything for him.
"does Noah Wyle really expect me to watch five seasons of Robby's ~mental health journey~? đ"
no, i think he expects you to be normal and choose not to watch the show that's about the main character played by him if you fucking hate him and/or the main character he plays. because literally no one is forcing you to do so
Tags: Sub Dex - Female reader - Inexperienced Dex - Oral sex ( f receives ) - Panty kink - Panty licking - Panty eating (?) - Praise kink - Established relationship
There was nothing better than a cloudy afternoon in your apartment, the world outside muted and grey, while inside you had warmth, comfort, and the company of your boyfriend with a movie humming faintly in the backgroundâsomething neither of you were really watching anymoreâas you're sitting on the sofa, legs open, perfectly at ease, happy and relaxed, letting him doâŠ
Well, that strange thing heâs been obsessed with for weeks now.
He's on his knees between your thighs, shoulders tense with effort, face buried right where the heat radiates from you. He hadnât even touched your bare skin yet, just pressing his mouth to the thin cotton stretched over you. Your panties, damp from the earlier teasing were soaked through now, clinging to your feverish skin. His tongue moves against the barrier testing and pushing, little slow strokes that make you twitch because of the ticklish sensation that travels up your core to every place under your skin.
Then, as if something snapped loose in him, the licks came faster, so sloppy, as though he couldnât believe you are letting him do it, as though he was scared you will take it away if he doesn't devour you every second.
At first, he seemed awkwardly harmless when he askedâshy, almost tripping over his own words. Typical Dex.
Up until then, your relationship hadnât crossed the line of kisses and hesitant touches, so when he finally deigned to ask you that, your smile spread without you meaning it to. It wasnât that you were shyâyou knew eventually youâd ask him yourselfâbut there was something disarming about the way he rushed to get the words out, as if the idea had been gnawing at him for too long to keep inside.
The weight slipped off your shoulders in the moment he said it, he saved you from being the one to break that invisible wall first. Just a quiet, offhand question slipped between laughs during a silly conversation full of intimacy.
You could still hear his voice in your head, low and a little rushed, which made you think that if he said it too clearly it might sound like too much. And yet the request had been simple enough, almost innocent, if not for the heat behind it.
That way, he wouldnât have to keep sneaking around, wouldnât have to âborrowâ your panties the way he had been doingâthinking you hadnât noticed or that his little secret was safe.
The truth was that you had noticed. Of course you had, and the thought of him alone with something that belonged to you, so desperate enough to do that, all of it was too tempting to just stare at him as if he was a weirdo, that's not how you are, you're hyperaware of the fact you enjoy your awkward freak and you can't bring yourself to judge such act covered in worship.
âDex,â you murmur, fingers curling into his hair, tugging just enough to make him look at you, âyou know you can take them off, right? At this point youâve kind of already eaten them.â The words slip out with a breathless giggle, the fabric clinging to you sticky and soaked from his persistence.
He doesnât stop right away. He presses his mouth harder, trying to drink through the thin barrier, and there's a desperate noise vibrating against you when you finally tug him back, his lips are swollen, slick with spit and the product of your satisfaction.
âYeah I know,â he says, voice a little muffled. He swallows hard before admitting, âbut I donât really know that,â his breath hitches, his cheeks flushing deeper, and he shifts like heâs embarrassed by the confession but canât help himself.
âI like⊠I like how they taste like this, I also want to try more, but you'd probably be disappointed,â that last part comes with a breathy, nervous laugh that has you smiling.
He presses his mouth back to the soaked spot, dragging his tongue slowly over it until your breath stutters in your chest. The pressure isnât nearly enough, not with the fabric still in the way, but watching him try to rut against nothing while he licks and sucks greedily has your whole body burning. Heâs a mess somehowâhips jerking, shoulders tight with restraint, mouth working like he thinks if he just tries harder heâll get to the sweetness beneath.
âYou could never disappoint me,â you murmur, encouraging. âBesides, you already know some tricks,â
The small compliment makes him finally look up at you, pupils blown wide, lashes trembling with every desperate blink. His lips shine, wet and swollen, and he looks undone just from this. You giggle when he just stares at you like you just said something that he will never forget.
âNot that lookâŠâ you tease, laughter breaking the tension for a heartbeat.
He answers with a quick, clumsy lick against the damp fabric just where your clit is swollen beneath the material, like a puppy desperate to please, earning another little sound from your throat.
âAlright,â you exhale, your thighs twitching, the teasing burning into frustration, âthis is too much. Iâm gonna teach you Dexâso you can do it good and please me properlyâbecause youâre making me go crazy here.â
Your words make him shiver, his hands tightening on your thighs like heâs bracing for a lesson heâs been waiting his whole life to take.
âAre you sure?â his voice makes your chest tighten, makes your pulse race in sync with the steady throb between your legs. You give him the smallest nod, and itâs all he needs. His face lights up, so grateful it nearly breaks you. âOkay⊠okay, thank you,â he whispers.
The way he looks at you makes your stomach flip, he always looks at you like you're something divine and painfully sacred that he still can't believe is by his side.
You canât wait to show him what heâs capable of, to coax out that potential heâs so desperate to prove. With a quick hand, you hook your thumb into the band pressing against your swollen heat and peel your panties aside, just enough to expose the slick ache heâs been tormenting himself over all this time.
The moment your cunt glistens in the dim light, his breath catches audibly. His eyes go wide, pupils swallowing the pretty hazel, lips parting like heâs about to pray. He stares at the way you shine for him, mesmerized, a wet sigh escaping from you as the cool air kisses your bare skin. His gaze flickers up to your face, only to fall again, drawn helplessly back down.
âNow,â you say softly, steadying his focus, guiding his hunger with a fingertip pointing where you want him. Your swollen clit, just a little below it, âstart here with your tongue, yeah? Just a slow lick, baby.â
âMhm,â he nods quickly almost trembling with the weight of your instruction, leaning in with both of his hands gripping your thighs.
He obeys instantly, no hesitation at all. His tongue drags up your folds with a shaky gasp, slow just like you told him. The sound of itâhis raw need bleeding into every movementâmakes you shiver. By the time his tongue slides up to touch your clit, your whole body is already leaning into him, greedy for more. His hands clutch your thighs like heâs terrified youâll push him away, knuckles straining white.
âGood boy,â you murmur, your voice dropping lower, syrupy-sweet with approval. The effect is immediateâhe has to take a moment to whine, then lick his lips to continue.
âJust like that,â you guide, and he follows before you even finish speaking, desperate to earn more of your approval. His tongue circles your clit in quick little swirls, messy but effective, each one sending sparks dancing through your belly.
Then he slides lower again, down to where youâre dripping, where your body pulses and clenches with every teasing touch. He pushes the tip of his tongue inside, shallow, but still enough to make your breath catch, to make your thighs tighten reflexively. He doesnât linger longâonly to taste a little bit of what's inside, enough to make you gaspâbefore moving back up to your clit, the rhythm is not overwhelming but it is intoxicating. Every pass feels better than the last, his tongue applying the right pressure, dragging the sweetest ticklish ache out of you until your lips part in a bitten-back moan.
Heâs learning you on instinct alone, desperate, eager, and itâs already making you dizzy.
âDex,â you gasp, tightening your grip on his hair âPlease start sucking, your lips... Use your lips,â twitching and panting feeling pathetic, but no more than him because he nods so quickly, closing his lips around your clit making a little pout that makes you close your eyes and moan.
His muffled mhmm vibrates right against your clit, and the sound alone makes your legs tremble. His mouth doesnât leave you, not even for a secondâheâs latched on now, fully addicted, tongue moving in frantic little circles that border on sloppy but feel like heaven. Every desperate flick drags another wave of heat out of you, and when he sucksâlips pulling tight around your swollen nubâyour cunt clenches against nothing, aching, your body trying to grasp at something that isnât there.
The pressure is relentless, his tongue alternating between circling and pressing, abusing that bundle of raw nerves that has your hips rocking helplessly against his mouth. The broken moan that rips out of you only spurs him on, he groans louder, shamelessly, the sound spilling directly into your skin, feeding off your reaction.
Heâs lost in itâlost in your taste, in the tug of your fingers in his hair, in the way you guide each quick movement like youâre conducting him. You donât even have to look down to know whatâs happening to him; you can feel it in the tremor of his shoulders, in the tiny twitch of his body pressed so close to your legs. Heâs rutting against the air, straining for friction he canât have, so turned on itâs almost painful, but he refuses to pull away from you.
The sight aloneâhis mouth worshipping you while his own body trembles with needâmakes the burn inside you coil tighter, ready to snap.
Your free hand drifts down, resting on your lower belly, fingertips grazing your mound. His eyes flicker to the movement, wide and intent, but his mouth never falters against you. Then, suddenly, his grip shiftsâhe releases your thighs, and the absence of that bruising hold makes you whimper at the loss. Before you can even complain, his hands are sliding higher, thumbs pressing delicately to either side of your labia.
The breath catches in your throat when he parts you open, spreading the slick skin. He pulls back just enough to look, his mouth hovering, his eyes locked on you, on your most intimate part he needs to see. Adoration softens every line of his face, and the way he drinks in the sight makes you tremble.
âWhat are you doing? Don't do that⊠keep going,â you whine, the petulance in your own voice making heat rush to your cheeks, shame curling under the desire. You sound like a begging spoiled child.
He licks his lips, eyes flashing up to yours, caught between guilty and awestruck. âSorry. I just wanted to see,â there's a very awkward pause, â...wow.â The last whisper is reverent, ragged, and before you can scold him again, his mouth is back on you.
This time he starts lower, licking and sucking at your entrance, his thumbs still holding you open so he can taste every drop. You shudder at the hot, sloppy attention, gasping when he drags his tongue back up and catches your clit again between his lips. The combination makes you arch, your back bowing against the sofa, hips rolling forward to feed him more.
Obscene wet sounds echoing between you as he works. Your body pushes into his mouth again and again, giving in completely while he laps and sucks like heâll never get enough.
Nothing stops until the pressure inside you finally snaps. Your body seizes against his mouth, your cunt pulsing around his tongue just as you told him to fuck you with it. He doesâshoving it as deep as he can, sloppy and relentless, his nose rubbing against your clit, smelling your natural scent that makes him leak inside his pants. The combination has you crying out, thighs trembling around his head, heat spilling over his tongue as he drinks down every second of your release.
It takes everything in you to push him back, gasping, overstimulated, your body still twitching from aftershocks. He resists for a moment, groaning into your folds like heâd happily drown there, but when you tug his hair firmly, he pulls back. Thin threads of saliva and your slick joining his lips to your cunt, he stares up at you like youâre his vice, his drug.
âWaitâplease, please, again, again,â he whines with his pretty voice breaking, his face still close enough that his breath fans over your flesh.
You shift on the sofa to glance down at him properly. Heâs still moving his hips against nothing, rutting air like a desperate animal. He must be so hard it aches, but he doesnât reach for himself, doesnât even think toâhis whole world is focused between your thighs. The sight makes you chuckle, a giddy little sound of satisfaction, because youâve never seen him look so undone.
âYes,â you breathe, stroking his hair, rewarding him. âYes, you can do it again.â
The joy that breaks across his face is pure, grabbing your panties, tugging them back over your swollen cunt, covering you again. And he dives in again, pressing his mouth to the damp fabric like itâs his altar, licking and sucking through the soaked cotton as if he canât bear to let you go bare for too long.
âWeirdo,â you purr while stroking his hair and he starts giving little kisses to your puffy cunt, loving how the soaked fabric feels against his lips.
âDonât be mean,â he mumbles against you, words muffled by the constant, sloppy way his mouth keeps working over the damp fabric. The vibration of his voice only makes your thighs twitch tighter around his head.
âIâm notâŠâ you coo, tilting your head, watching him like heâs the sweetest, dirtiest thing youâve ever owned. Then, with a sly grin, you drop the bait. âYou know⊠if you come just from this, Iâd let you keep them. You could lick them whenever you want.â
You wink at him, voice dripping with tease, and the effect is instantaneous. He almost chokes on his own breath, groaning into you, eyes squeezing shut as though the promise alone might undo him. His hand jerks downward, clutching himself hard through his jeans, desperate for some kind of hold to keep from blowing too soon.
The sight of himâmouth glued to your cunt, nose pressed into the damp cotton, one hand trembling as it grips himself like a lifelineâmakes your chest tighten with wicked delight. Heâs so close, you can feel it in every frantic lick, every needy sound he pours into you.
You know it, he can definitely reach that edge, and after all, he deserves it for learning too fast.
Gurlll your catch me if you can dex fanfic was simply one of the hottest thing I have ever read, I need you to give me a million more of just unhinged smutty dex fanfics. PLEASEEEE!
say less baby (read also: catch me if you can)
Angel
Benjamin 'Bullseye' Poindexter x fem!reader
âż you manage to lose dex in a game of cat-and-mouse, but he doesn't give up that easily.
âż 18+
âż wc: 4k
âż cw: fem!reader, DDBA!dex, established relationship, predator-prey, bullseye-typical violence (he kills someone), SMUT, straight porn hardly plot, prone-bone, outdoor sex, unprotected piv, knife play, improper use of a knife (hint: it goes inside youâand itâs not the blade), mentions of anal, praise!!, minor degradation, pet names (angel, baby, etc), pussy pronouns, dirty talk, possessive (obsessive) dex, strong language, british english author does her best with american english :(
inspired by the song 'angel' by massive attack
There is a physical pain deep in his chest. An ache, a festering bruise beneath the bone of his sternum as he stands in the middle of the street, his fists balled at his sides.
He doesnât know how youâve done it, but youâve managed to lose him. Youâve managed to slip into the shadows and disappear, and he canât find you.
It feels partly like a failure. When he turned onto the street he was sure youâd be running down, you werenât there, and it was like a punch to the chest. Youâre gone, and now his heart hammers wildly against his ribs as he sucks in a calming breath. His mind is running a million miles an hour, but he canât help the small smile that graces his lips beneath his mask. Youâve escaped him. Perhaps he should give himself credit, considering heâs the one who taught you these tactical evasion skills.
When the humming in his brain easesâyour face now at the forefront of his mindâhe stretches out his arms, pops the tension from his elbows and shoulders, then saunters up the street. Your apartment is up ahead, but he knows you wouldnât be dumb enough to hide from him there. Youâre a smart girl.
Dex pauses outside your building, eyes scanning the dark alleyway to the left, then the line of shrubbery to the right.
âWhatâs with the mask?â
Dex slowly turns his head, finding a man staggering out of the alley. He leans against the brickwork, face pale and almost ghostly in the overhead street light. He gestures to Dex with a dirty hand, fingers strangling the neck of a nondescript liquor bottle as he hiccups out his sentence. Dex cocks his head as the man flips the jagged cap from the bottle with his thumb, and Dex watches it hit the sidewalk and roll towards him. It settles by his feet as the man takes a noisy swig.
âOh, are you one of those vigilantes Fiskâs always jerking off over?â The man slurs, and Dex wouldâve smiled beneath the mask, humoured, if he didnât have more pressing matters. The man shakes his head, looking at Dex. âIf youâre looking for someone, I saw a pretty broad take the fire escape up this building.â
Now Dex smiles to himself. Smart girl.
He bends and plucks the bottle cap from the ground, running his thumb across the rugged edge of the tin-plated steel. He takes a step forward, rolling the cap between his fingers, his shoulders hulking as he moves, but he doesnât get far before the man is slurring out again, leaning against the brick wall for support.
âRunninâ âround in a tight fuckinâ skirt, too. Fuck,â the man says, and Dex freezes.Â
Heâs bathed in shadow now, the man a few paces behind him. The fire escape is just a few yards ahead of him and he could almost smell the lingering trail of your perfume. But he doesnât move. He canât move. The manâs words clatter around his skull like a ricocheting bullet, and a wasp-like humming returns to his brain. Slowly, he turns, and the man laughs all wet and sickly.
âI mean, if youâre not after her,â the man slurs, gesturing to the fire escape. âI sâpose I could followââ
Dex whips his arm back and forth so fast that the action is dissolved by shadow. He throws the bottle cap with such force it whistles through the air, then slices straight between the drunken manâs eyes in a spray of blood. The manâs head snaps back, head cracking against the brick wall, before he slumps and hits the ground. The bottle clatters to the ground and rolls from his lax fingers, spinning out onto the pavement with a trail of beer following.
Dex huffs, then turns and heads straight for the fire escape, leaving the man dead in the mouth of the alley, a bottle cap embedded so deep in the front of his skull Dex was sure it had disappeared into his brain. Heâd be disappointed if it hadnât.
He takes the stairs three at a time, careful to tread carefully. The metal doesnât creak despite his muscled weight, and he creeps towards the roof like a prowling cat. He passes dark windows, knowing you wouldnât take the chance. He knows youâll be hiding somewhere on the roof. His angel is smart, but she wonât have flown far.
Silently, he clambers onto the roof. City lights glitter around him, but the shadows are thick here. Boxy electrical units and crumbling chimneys make for some kinds of hiding spots, but he knows you better than that. Knows you wouldâve hidden yourself away in the furthest, darkest corner with a victorious smile on your face.
He stalks across the roof slowly, humming quietly to himself. He unsheaths one of his knives and twirls it through his fingers as he rounds a stack of electricity boxes and finds you hunkered in the corner, eyes scanning the city street below. You donât turn, and that makes Dex chuckleâthe sound you finally hear, whipping around to find your boyfriend staring right at you.
âDex!â You yelp, and you make a movement to the side as if you were going to take off running.
But Dex doesnât let you. He throws his knife and it slices through the air mere inches in front of your face, forcing you to throw yourself back as it lodges into the brickwork behind you. And thatâs when Dex lunges forward: wrapping his arms around your waist and forcing you down onto the cool floor, hands and knees finding dried leaves and crumbling mortar.
You wriggle desperately, trying to drag yourself out of his grasp. But he pins you to the ground, chest tight against your back, his pelvis heavy on the swell of your arse. Whining, you reach a hand back in a poor attempt to push him away. But he grabs your wrist and pins your arm to your side, making you squeal.
A muscled arm curls around your neck, a gloved hand pressing firm to your mouth and muffling your noise. You cry out again as he presses you deeper against the floor, masked face coming to rest right beside your ear.
âTrying to run, angel?â He coos, releasing your arm so he could anchor himself over you. He leans on his forearm, his bicep straining beneath the material of his navy suit. âYou were so close, werenât you?â
You whine against his hand, and he chuckles in your ear, knowing he was asking you questions you couldnât answer. You continue writhing beneath him, but that just morphs his chuckles into groans as he ruts his hips against your arse. The thick, muscled mass of his stomach and chest is warm against your back, and you find yourself growing hot beneath your clothes, your pussy fluttering tight under the cotton of your underwear.
âThought you had a chance, didnât you?â Dex utters, rubbing his face against the side of yours. You close your eyes and whimper, feeling him inhale beneath his mask, the heat of his mouth under the material like a burning brand at the curve of your jaw. He hums, fingers squeezing your cheek. âThatâs a bit dumb, baby. You couldâve made it to the Catskills and I still wouldâve found you.â
He grinds himself against your arse and you moan into his palm. You feel the hard lines of him rutting against you, cool air on the backs of your thighs as your skirt rides up, up, and over the curve of your backside. You moan again as he gives another heavy jerk against you, the tight fabric of your skirt rolling up even further, exposing the flimsy cotton of your underwear.
Dex groans in your ear, his entire body shuddering above you. âOh, my sweet girl, mâgonna fuckinâ ruin you.â
You blink lazily, looking around the roof. Itâs dark and empty, and you can hear the bustling streets of New York echoing in the air around you. The seclusion of it all has you moaning into his palm again, the print of his hard cock heavy against you.
The palm on your mouth presses tighter and the backs of your lips press hard against your teeth. You whimper, heart leaping into your throat, as Dex grumbles low in your ear, âMâgonna take my hand away. Youâre gonna be a good girl, and youâre gonna be quiet, yeah?â
You nod desperately, clit aching as he gently grinds himself against you. The roof of your building is bitingly cold and way too hard against your chest and stomach, but you donât careâyou take it like he wants you to, laying still while he removes his hand from your mouth and gives you a firm pat on the cheek. You feel your entire body heat up, a sticky warmth quick to pool in your belly as his hand drags down your side and finds the clasp of his belt. You hear it clink, and the sound has you fighting off a moan, your teeth sinking into your lip to trap the sound in your throat.
Dex chuckles as he sits up a little, still pressing you into the ground, but enough for him to unbuckle the belt of his suit and undo the zip. âBet youâre fuckinâ soaked, huh, baby? Pussy makinâ a mess of these pretty panties?â
His hand leaves his belt as he speaks. With the mass of his thighs, he nudges your legs apart. You canât help the quiet mewl that leaves you as cool air hits the gusset of your underwear, and you know how wet you are based on the bite of the breeze against your puffy clit. You wriggle, but his other hand pins you down.
You hear another clinking sound, before you feel something firm against your covered folds. Itâs heavy and almost metallic in nature, and you suck in a gasp when you realise itâs the hilt of one of his knives. You freeze, body alight with heat, and Dex chuckles, pressing the base of his knife against you and parting your folds beneath the wet cotton.
âYâthink sheâll take this like she takes my cock?â He utters, dragging the base of his knifeâs handle up your folds before pressing it to your hole. Your pussy flutters, drooling out as you whimper, pressing your cheek to the cement to ground yourself. He chuckles again, before drawing the knifeâs grip up even more until it rests against your arsehole. âAnd what about her? I could stretch her out nice and good if you ask me nicely, angel.â
You squirm beneath him, a moan lifting from your throat before you could stop it. Itâs soft, not too loud, but it makes Dex tut anyway. Quickly, he sits back and takes your underwear between his fingers, pulling it away from your slick folds so he could slice through the material with the blade of his knife. The fabric snaps away from you, and you find yourself moaning again as the cool night air kisses up against your cunt.
Then, his knife is back on your pussyâwithout the barrier this time, spreading your folds and tracing a series of heavy lines up and down your slit. You whimper when the end nudges your clit, then circles it like he would with his finger, before pressing down with just enough pressure to make you arch against him. You whisper his name, and he groans in response, sliding the knife back down and tapping it against your hole.
âSo wet,â Dex marvels and he watches as he slowly brings his knife an inch or so away from your cunt. A string of slick webs between you, and it makes his cock twitch in his briefs. He grunts, pushing the handle back against your hole and this time, letting it sink in even further. It breaches inwards, and you suck him in so well that another groan rips from his chest. Itâs primal, his eyes flashing as he pants behind his mask. âYeah, fuckinâ hell, baby. Sheâs gonna take it like my cock.â
You breathe around a moan as he sinks the knife in deeper. Pressure forms deep in your pelvis, a heat festering in your belly as your pussy contracts around the intrusion but lets him in anyway. Something prickles down your spine as you realise youâre drooling around the hilt, slick dribbling as he pushes in, then brings it out by an inch or two, then pushes back in again.
âDex,â you whimper, body shaking. The knot in your pelvis tightens when he bottoms the knife out inside you, hole dangerously close to the blade. But you trust himâyou trust him with your life as his gloved hand clutches the blade, eyes watching your pussy take it. You whimper again when you realise he isnât moving. âDex, babyââ
âNo,â he hisses out simply, pulling the handle out.
It leaves you completely, and you mewl, arching in an attempt to chase it. Dex grunts, smacking the base of the handle against your cunt, making you sob out and collapse forward. He pushes back in then, eyes darting from where he splits your pussy open to where you whimper into the crook of your arm.
âYou thought you could get away from me. You thought you could hide,â Dex says, and theyâre more statements than rhetorical questions. He fucks the handle of his knife into you again and again, your cunt glistening wet and loud where he drags it in and out of you. He holds you against the ground as he continues. âI had to kill a man to get to you, baby. What if he had found you first, huh? What if you did lose me?â
Your entire body stiffens, eyes shooting open. You try to look over your shoulder at him, but Dex knows exactly where to aim, thrusting the base of the handle right up against that gummy spot inside you that has you collapsing back onto the ground.Â
You whimper around a poorly formed Dex!, before you finally manage to spit some of your sentence out: âWhat did youâ?â
âI took care of it,â Dex growls, his arm speeding up as he rucks the knife into you again and again. His cock is painfully hard in his briefs, but he holds off, watching the way your pussy drools around his knife, your entire body shaking as he hits that perfect spot every single time. He nods to himself, mind flitting briefly to the man slumped dead in the alley. âI took care of it, angel. I took care of you.â
A sick thrill runs through you. You should be scared, but you arenât. âDexâŠâ
âI did, I did,â Dex breathes out, slightly muffled behind his mask. âI did, baby. Iâll always take care of you.â
Your body is on fire. The pressure in your pelvis, the heat in your belly, swells inside you. You shake against the ground, the hard, metallic handle of his knife hitting your g-spot each time and itâs leaving you dizzy with your approaching orgasm. You can almost taste it building in the back of your throat, and all you can manage to squeak out is a meek oh, Dex! before the heat ignites and youâre coming around the knife.
Dex groans. âThere she goes, thatâs it, good girl.â
He fucks you through it with deep, rolling thrusts of his arm. The muscles contract beneath the tight sleeve as he moves, and his eyes never leave the way your cunt clenches around it, slick glistening against the handle. You shudder one last time, hips twitching, before you still as the fire of your orgasm reduces to smoke, and you lie pliant against the cool floor.
Slowly, Dex pulls the knife from you. You whimper, feeling your pussy flutter around nothing while Dex slides the knife back into his belt without even wiping it down. Eyelids fluttering, you lie in wait, listening to him shuck his pants down with a well restrained groan.
The hot press of his tip against your folds snaps your eyes open.
âShh, baby, easy,â he mutters when you cry out. He fists himself, dragging the head of his cock through your folds, smearing your slick. He quickly finds your hole and pushes against it, not quite driving in. He rests there, pre-cum beading from his slit and smearing across your hole. âGod, Iâve missed her.â
He thrusts in then. Itâs unceremonious and sudden and you donât even have the time to moan before heâs buried to the hilt. Your breath is stolen from you, and you gasp into the skin of your forearm as Dex moans, the sound loud in the silence around you. He falls back over you now, holding himself up, his chest and stomach melding to your back. You manage a little whimper as he nestles inside you, splitting your pussy apart around the thick of him.
He adjusts himself, grinding his hips against your arse. The movement means you can feel every little ridge sliding against your walls, the weight of his balls resting near your swollen clit. You whimper again, and he coos to match it, tutting you quietly as he slowly drags himself out of you.
âBet that feels good, doesnât it?â Dex whispers, masked face right beside your ear. He holds himself over you, shoulders hulking, suit stretched tight over his back as he rests the tip of his cock inside you. He pushes back in, the fabric of his pants bunched down around his thighs, rubbing against your legs. âIt always feels good.â
You moan. âDex, fuck.â
âUh-uh, what did I say?â Dex mutters at your ear, hovering over you now as he fucks you. His hips slap against your arse where youâre pinned to the ground, pronebone and completely crushed beneath his mass. âGotta be quiet. Wouldnât want anyone cominâ up here, would we? Iâd have to kill âem, baby.â
You whine. âDex, noââ
âYes,â he whines, mocking you with a smile split wide beneath his mask. âSo keep those noises just for me.â
The thick of his cock splits your pussy apart, the stretch always rendering you breathless. He ruts in quickly, desperately, and the tip slams against that perfect spot inside you every single time. Heâs on target every single time. You shouldnât expect anything less from Bullseye.
You gnaw at your lower lip as you bury your face into your forearm, holding back your sobs of pleasure as heat starts simmering inside you again. That familiar pressure treks down the column of your spine too, and you whimper when it settles low in your belly, fanning across your womb.
Not that you know it, but Dex is much the same. His heart knocks wildly against his ribs as if he were still chasing youâhe thinks, in some ways, he still isâand the buzzing in his brain is completely gone. All heâs thinking of is you, and all he wants is you. Youâre all he needs, and no one will ever keep you from him.
âYouâre mine, angel,â he whispers suddenly. One of his arms snakes around your throat again, pulling your face from your arm and pinning your head up. You gasp as he locks you into a chokehold, his grip gentle but firm. As he thrusts, one of his hands shifts to push part of his mask up, just revealing his mouth. He kisses your cheek. âYou canât run from me.â
He forces your head to the side so he can kiss you.
He kisses you, and you struggle to meet his intensity with the way he fucks you. Youâre pliant in his arms, little whimpers melding against his lips as his tongue licks across yours and he slides his mouth forward. You swap spit and pant into each otherâs space, and itâs barely even a kiss, but Dex loves it. He kisses the corner of your mouth as he groans, hips pumping, bicep tight on your throat.
âYou were made for me,â he whispers, dragging his mouth across your warm cheek. He licks the salt from your skin, skims his teeth across your cheekbone. He noses along your pulse next, head dipping to plant wet kisses below your ear and along the back of your jaw. âMy perfect girl.â
There will never be an I love you from Dex. What you have is not the love you see in movies, or in romance books. He is possessive and obsessive and so violently jealous that heâd rather rip the world apart before letting you goâand you know that. You know that, and you still canât help but love him right back.
âDex, please,â you whimper as he buries his face in your neck. The pressure in your lower belly is too much. Beneath your clothes, youâre tacky with sweat, and your thighs shake where he presses into you.
He knows youâre close. He probably knew before you even did.
âLet me feel you,â he says, thrusting, maintaining a deep, even rhythm. He listens to the way you moan and yowl beneath him, trying so hard to be quiet. He can feel the sounds vibrate in your throat where he sucks and bites at the skin. âI wanna feel you come, baby. You can do that for me, yeah? Just be a good girl and come all over my cock. Let me have it.â
Dex draws the line of your orgasm right in front of you, and your body practically flings you across it. Your entire body seizes up, trembling as the pressure in your belly fissures then shatters. You come hard around him, pussy clenching tight around the thick of his cock, and you moan his name loud enough that it echoes. He doesnât seem to mind, and neither do you, as he fucks you through it, panting into your neck as his hips move. Heat flushes through your body as you shake beneath him, and you canât help the whimpers that interrupt your moans when he starts rambling in your ear.
âThatâs a good girl, thatâs a good girl. Fuck, my best girl,â he utters, grunting and groaning in such a way that your clit aches with the heaviness of your heartbeat. He growls next, hips stuttering. âMâgonna fill this fuckinâ pussy, baby.â
He does. Groaning your name, quiet and bordering on a whine, Dex pushes his hips right up against your arse, cock knocking up against the plug of your cervix, and spills. He fills you, hips grinding, rolling, trying desperately to cling onto some kind of control, but heâs completely lost it. He pants around a pained whine as he comes, nosing your thrumming pulse. Thick and warm and so, so full.
When he finishes, his cock jerking and balls tightening with one last thrust, he eases down onto you. You whine as he smothers your body beneath his, trapping you beneath his mass. He shushes you, one of his hands pulling his mask off so his sweat-slick forehead can rest against your shoulder while he catches his breath.
His spine aches, but he ignores it. The muscles in his shoulders and back ripple when he rolls onto his side. He spins you then, his softening cock falling free of your pussy as he pulls you to him, one big hand immediately finding the fat of your arse to palm.
You both listen to the distant wail of sirens as you settle into the shadows.
You shiver, and Dex holds you tighter. So tight, you wonder if heâs afraid youâll try to run again.
âI like it when you catch me,â you whisper, lifting your head to press a small kiss to his jaw. âDonât like being without you.â
Dex smiles to himself, a deep rumbleâalmost a purrâvibrating through his chest as he shifts his head to catch your lips with his. He kisses you deeply as the sound of sirens get louder and louder and the world seems to light up blue around him.
" tell me what you're willing to do (kiss it better, baby) "
pairings: dex x fem! reader
synopsis: everyone knew dex was an unstable man incapable of being alone. which was why you stayed by his side, guiding him like he neededâhis north star.
word count: 5k
content/warnings: non-graphic smut, blood, scars, mentions of violence, implied sex, obsessive tendencies, older dex, needy dex, pain kink (kind of), hair pulling
pae speaks ~ iâm on a bullseye kick rn donât mind me. dedicating this one to my friend (you know who are) thank you for helping me with this process ;) kiss it better is literally dexâs song sooo here we are
He wasnât supposed to want you. It had gone against everything he convinced himself he wasnât allowed to haveâa life of normalcy. Coming home to someone who was so untainted by the dark side of the world had been something Dex had always feared. The thought of letting the blood on his hands bleed all over the one person he needed was scarier than anything else heâd put himself through.
But then there was you.
Every moment, every spiral, every time he thought he was done for meant so very little to him now. And all it took was an accidental stumble on your front door.
You remembered the first time he had shown up. He was bleeding profusely from his ribs, his blonde hair caked with blood and his face streaked red. He had looked at you with such an unchecked fury that you felt it sizzle low in your veins, bubbling and popping. But you refused to let him bleed out on your doorstep.
Heâd seen it then. How gentle you were with him, even though his fingers itched for something to throw. It was a safety net of sorts, knowing he was in control even whilst wounded.
Control. Control. Control.
He shouldâve known better than to think he had that with you.
Dex had grown obsessed. Just like heâd done his whole life, he latched onto the closest thing that helped him gain some semblance of sanity. Spiraling horrified him. It had him losing grip on his mind, those thoughts slipping back in like a dark cloud of bad decisions and self loathing.
However, he didnât need to have control when you were around.
You saw him since that first night. A man who was losing his mind because everything around him was unraveling at the seams heâd tried so hard to intricately stitch up himself.
You became his thread.
You were his North Star that gleamed even on the most darkest of nights when he was on the brink of collapse.
And for Dex? He had to learn not to strangle what he so desperately needed to keep safe.
It was an ordinary night in Hellâs Kitchen. At least for you anyway. Rain pattered softly against the windows, creating a calming atmosphere with the quiet music drifting from the beat up radio on your kitchen counter. You padded around your dingy apartment in a pair of cotton shorts and a threadbare tank top, the summer humidity costing you your comfort.
Dex had told you heâd be late. You had to admit your surprise towards the heads up.
He was a man with an agenda. He was calculated in that way where no one would ever see him coming.
Which was why your heart lurched when you heard the loud clatter of something heavy drop onto the fire escape stairs.
You rushed over to the window, yanking it open despite the risk of letting in the drizzle. But a little water was barely an inconvenience to the state your boyfriend was currently in.
Dex pushed himself up from the slick steps, grunting beneath his dark blue balaclava as he fell against the brick wall. His massive frame was slightly hunched, only illuminated by the occasional strike of lightning.
âDex,â you gasped, quickly urging him inside.
As much as it still worried you, this was a normal occurrence. And some morbid, sick part of you didnât want it any other way. Dating a vigilante was thrilling, filling you with a high that was better than any drug you could get your hands on.
He grunted again as he slipped over the windowsill, his boots landing without a sound on the carpet. One of his gloved hands reached out, gripping your arm tight but not enough to hurtâeven though you wouldnât have minded. His free hand came up, pulling the balaclava off his head to reveal his blonde hair, darkened with sweat and rain. The corner of his eye was bleeding but it seemed to have scabbed over in the time it took to get to your apartment.
âWhere else are you hurt?â You asked tentatively, guiding him down to sit on the worn sofa.
Dex went willingly yet you were pretty sure heâd let you lead him off a cliff. âMy arm.â
Your eyes quickly darted to each bicep, finding the torn blue fabric ripped in a thin line, soaked with red liquid. It didnât look too bad all things considered.
âAnd my ribs,â he grunted out, back arching as he adjusted himself. His large frame took up a lot of space, his broad shoulders straining against the tight fabric. Once he settled again, you pressed a gentle hand to his torso.
He groaned, head falling back against the cushion. His blazing eyes returned to yours, piercing you with a heady gaze. He was an intense man and yet it got you every time.
You stepped back, going to get the med kit you kept on standby for nights like these. He wasnât in too bad shape tonight which made your job easier. But still, looking in those haunted irises of his made your heart ache.
He was closed off, yes, but there were moments when heâd let you in. It was the bravest thing heâd ever done, opening up to you instead of cowering in on himself because he thought he deserved to bear the pain alone.
You hurried back over to him before carefully removing the leather holster from his body and letting his shirt follow.
Underneath he was a map of hard muscle honed from years of combat and violence. Caved in scars marred his skin, drops of perspiration dripping down the lines of his toned stomach. It was a sight that made your mouth water.
Dex saw the way you traced his body like it was a fine piece of art. Despite the dark purple and blue bruises blooming over his side, you were never scared of admiring him. It sent a jolt of need through him, the feeling of being seen going straight to his head.
You did make note that his ribs seemed untouched, though. Maybe it was broken and you just couldnât tell.
Your hands quickly made work of finding a suture kit, sitting beside him with your knee pressed against his thigh. âWhatâd the guy do this time?â
Dex rested his head back against the cushion again but his longing gaze never left your face. âThatâs for me to know.â
âAnd for me to find out,â you finished with a sigh.
He nearly frowned. âNo.â
He leaned towards you a little bit, catching a finger on your chin and turning your head to face him. âWhat I do, I do it for you now. Theyâre not gonna touch you. They wonât even get a chance,â he said with one of those side smiles that told you he really believed it.
His words cut straight through your heart and stirred something warm in your belly. He sounded so sure. And you knew he wasnât lying either.
Dex on the other hand felt an icy fear grip him at the thought of you finding out the extent of his Bullseye alias. In his eyes, you were pure, untouched by the gritty world he lived in. If keeping you dumb from the way people screamed and ran the other direction when they saw him meant that you stayed safe he wouldnât give up now.
âLay back,â you commanded, bringing his arm towards you.
Dex complied shamelessly.
You brought the needle to his skin. He tensed up, a rough exhale coming from his nose as his fingers dug into your thigh. âYouâre okay,â you murmured. ââS not a big cut.â
He relaxed slightly. Both of you knew what your voice did to him. How easily compliant a few syllables could make him.
âYouâre doing so good,â you continued, careful not to yank the suture thread. âAlmost done.â
He couldâve whimpered. This was what he looked forward to every single dayâyou taking care of him and telling him how well he could take it.
Finally, you cut the remaining thread before soothing a hand down his forearm. âThere you go. You did so good,â you whispered, pressing a kiss to his temple before going to clean up.
Before you could go far, he grabbed the bobby pin that had fallen from your hair and ricocheted it off the wall. It bounced back, nailing the med kit shut before you could do anything.
While distracted, his fingers dug into your hips, whirling you around so you stood between his legs.
Your eyes were wide as you took in his crazed face. You knew then. He gave you that look on days when his mind got too loud and he needed his North Star to guide him.
In this case, he just needed to be reminded he was yours.
Your hand came up to the back of his head, fingers tangling in the messy blonde locks. He released a low hum as you pulled his head back just enough to see his face fully. âDo you need me to make it better, honey?â
His eyes practically lit up. âMhmm,â he hummed again, his lips fighting one of those satisfied smirks.
Your grip tightened a little bit, drawing a small groan from deep in his throat. âWords, baby.â
âYes,â he rasped out like the word had been trapped for too long. âYes.â
The hand that wasnât in his hair trailed to the freshly stitched wound on his bicep, pressing down just slightly. âDoes it hurt?â
He looked up at you through hooded eyes, refusing to look away from you. His fingers dug into your hips, his touch burning even through the cotton of your shorts. Just that change in pressure gave you your answer.
âPoor thing,â you said lowly, stroking a finger over his nape. âCanât keep out of trouble, can you?â
His fingertips nearly turned white, holding onto you so tight that he almost forgot he didnât want to hurt you. âDonât,â he said bluntly.
Riling him up was too easy. One single word or touch had him crumbling in your hands.
Your hand on his arm trailed upward, sliding over slick skin that was beginning to dry. The thick muscle of his bicep twitched. Your fingertips grazed the slope of his shoulder before tracing his thrumming pulse with your index.
One strong hand wrapped around your wrist. You stopped the gentle ministrations, knowing he was either getting overwhelmed or shrinking back into himself. You knew he didnât mean it. He never wanted you to stop touching him like he was something worth giving attention to. No one had ever given that to him.
He wanted to be in this position. But he would never admit it out loud. Which was difficult considering he was seconds away from begging you to touch and kiss away the pain.
You didnât force his hand off. Just let him ground himself.
Dex was struggling. Usually the static in his head dulled to a distant hum whenever you had your hands on him but tonight it felt like a knob was being turned, amplifying the messed up signal.
Shes going to get hurt and itâll be all your fault.
Sheâs going to leave once she realizes what you really are, Dex. Save her now before itâs too late.
His thoughts were screaming no but his body was screaming yes. He wanted you so badly. He always did. He wanted to possess you. He wanted to be the thing that haunted every single thought in your mind.
It was the most terrifying thing heâd ever let himself feel.
âHey,â you said a little firmer than he expected. âLook at me.â
His eyes that he hadnât even noticed were closed opened. The corner of his lips curved up. He was right where he wanted to be.
âIâm here,â you grabbed his hand and placed it over your heart. âYouâre not your thoughts. Get out of your head. Be here, with me.â
Dex could feel the steady thump of your heart and it reminded him that no matter how many lives he took, you were alive.
You leaned down slightly, and even as he tried to resist it, you brushed your nose against his and then gripped his hair firmer. Your lips ghosted over his, sending a whining hum through his skull.
âFuck,â he breathed out, his hand moving over your breast to your ribs and down to your waist, desperate to pull you closer. He nearly felt pathetic for how bad he wanted to bury himself in you. Most times he wished he could crawl into your skin and stay there.
You knew the things he was willingly to do to keep you. Maybe not the full extent, but you knew enough.
You pressed a teasing kiss on his lips and Dex could practically feel the blood on his hands transfer onto you. Yet, with your heat and the way you felt under his skin, it suddenly didnât seem so bad.
Your fingertips pressed into his shoulders as you finally climbed into his lap, straddling him like you belonged there. He shamelessly complied as you pulled his head back further so he could look at you.
âYour ribs arenât even hurt.â
His lips curved up. âI know. It just felt good.â
Your face morphed with surprise at his admission. He had groaned when you touched them and you had thought maybe he broke a few. Then it occurred to youâhe was just touch starved.
You pressed your forehead against his and his eyes fluttered closed, a satisfied smile on his lips. His veins popped under his skin as he squeezed your thighs subtly. You could feel the strength in them and yet you trusted them completely.
âYou couldâve just asked,â you whispered against his lips.
âYet you still figured it out.â
His retort made you playfully roll your eyes before sliding your hand down his chest, feeling the hard muscle under hot skin. You sank your nails in enough to draw a groan from him but before he could release it, you pressed your lips to his.
Dexâs fingers dug into your plush thighs, sitting up just a little bit. One of his big hands slid to the small of your back, pushing you closer as he opened his mouth to yours.
You tightened the grip you had on his hair, your tongue sliding into his mouth. He damn near moaned as he felt the wet heat glide against his tongue, his body starting to buzz with need.
Usually he was smothered in the weight of his life but with you? He wanted to be consumed by your love.
Heâd let you do anything to him and heâd say thank you.
The hand you had on his chest slid up to his face, cupping his jaw. Your thumb gently skimmed over the jagged, horizontal scar cut across his cheek.
Dex felt like he couldnât breathe. His body was burning up, his handsâusually so sure and steadyâshook, his mind was racing, and his pants were getting uncomfortably tight.
He had to break away from your addicting mouth, panting heavily against your swollen, wet lips.
âItâs okay. Iâm here,â you murmured, pain zigzagging down your legs as his fingertips pressed bruises in your flesh. âJust tell me what you want.â
Dex stared, pupils blown wide. He still wasnât used to being given a choice. For a long time everyone told him what he should want, what he should be.
Now that you were here, touching him like he wasnât a monster, it nearly made him feral.
He leaned even closer, hand pressing against your spine, forcing you to arch into him. âI need⊠I wantâŠâ
He pressed his forehead hard against your chest. âFuck, I need you so badly.â
There it was. Laid bare, stripping him of the control he tried to maintain. But feeling you so close had made his brain short circuit.
Your fingers went to the rough scar on his back, tracing the old wound of his spine. You werenât a violent person but you would be happy to see Mayor Fiskâs death printed in bold on the Bulletinâs front page.
âYouâve got me,â you said and youâd say it over and over again until he believed it.
Make it go away he nearly begged. Love the pain out of me.
Somehow getting his legs to function, he stood up, holding you close like you weighed absolutely nothing. Your legs wrapped around him, forcing your chest against his.
He quickly swung open the bedroom door, stepping inside and kicking it shut again. Your room wasnât anything specialâa queen sized bed covered in dainty floral sheets, a nightstand and a dresser, and a few Polaroid photos hanging on the line above the mirror.
Dex hated it. He wanted to be the only one on your wall. The only one you saw every morning and every night. He wanted to be the only one you ever thought about.
He sat you down on the end of the bed. Rain pattered against the window but any memory of what heâd done tonight didnât matter when his hand tangled in your hair and his lips found your neck.
Your head tipped back and your mouth parted on a soft moan. He smirked against your skin like heâd just won a well earned prize.
He trailed his kisses up to your ear and whispered, âcrawl up a little. Let me see you.â
Your heart fluttered as you turned over and crawled up the bed until you were by the pillows. Dex watched intently, his need slithering up his body and sinking its claws into his chest.
He toed off his boots and socks but before he could reach for his belt, your voice stopped him. âDonât.â
His hands fell away instantly.
It wasnât long before he followed you, hovering over you and the sight of your hair cascading over the pillows was enough for him to grab your waist and flip over.
The positions changed, your thighs now straddling his lap. Thatâs where he liked you best. There was nothing more satisfying than to see your body moving on him, head thrown back in pleasure because of him.
Dex was so used to inflicting pain. He never batted an eye either. Every object imbedded into his victims so precisely that it brought him immense satisfaction. But watching a fork sink into someoneâs skin was nowhere near as pleasurable as watching himself sink into you.
The wounds on his body suddenly became a dull sensation. And all it took was a few kisses.
You leaned in to kiss him again, but this time it was hot and desperate. Your teeth clashed against his for a second before you caught his lower lip.
He groaned again, muttering a breathy âfuckâ before his hand traveled to your throat. His slender fingers wrapped around your neck, not tight, just a subtle pressure.
He tugged you closer by your neck, dragging his tongue against yours in a way that was almost obscene.
You grabbed his wrist of the hand he had on your hip and brought it to the hem of your tank. He got the hint, tugging it up and over, tossing it to the floor.
He couldâve salivated at the sight of your bare torso all exposed for only his eyes.
You let him look, watching how his eyes took you in like youâd somehow vanish into thin air. He tracked how your chest rose and fell. He had memorized every little tell and hitch whenever he touched you a certain way. He could play your body like an instrument and you both knew it.
Good thing you gave him just as much attention.
His thumb grazed the corner of your jaw. He knew the exact pressure and point he had to use to break it. It was a piece of knowledge that he felt guilty for thinking about in this moment.
But he would never hurt you like that. His thumb moved down your jawline to your lower lip, pulling it down slightly.
You traced slow patterns into his skin, slowly moving down the hard planes of his stomach and to his abdomen. The muscles jumped in response to your touch as you unbuckled his tactical belt.
Dex knew the second you removed the last of his clothes his fraying control would snap. His synapses would fire and the city outside of the four walls would melt into an abyss of static.
His eyes remained locked on your features and only one word formed: her.
Everyone else was irrelevant. The only important person was you. The most beautiful woman heâd ever laid eyes on. The one heâd do anything for.
The belt made a snapping noise as you slid it from the loops, discarding it. Just by undoing that belt buckle it had shown him that you really werenât going anywhere.
You wanted to make him feel better and you werenât scared of it.
His hands clenched tight, telling himself he wasnât allowed to touch you. Your skin was so smooth in comparison to the jagged scars engraved into his. He mightâve spilled the blood of others onto you but you didnât know that. In his eyes you were too brave, too gentle with a man who knew nothing but violence.
You noticed the tension straining his neck, the cords tight. His shoulders were stiff and he was looking at your face and your hair and your eyes and your neck and your arms and your chest andâŠ
âDex,â you said a little more firm than he was expecting. A lot of the people whoâd tried to help him were soft spoken. So were you most of the time.
But you knew that right now thatâs not what he needed.
He needed reassurance and he needed to believe it.
âLook at me, honey,â you put a hand under his chin, coaxing him to meet your eyes.
When he did, the tension drained again. His gaze, usually cold and dangerous, softened at the edges.
When he spoke, his voice was low and rough like sharing a secret only you got to know. âIâm not⊠good at this, you know.â
You cupped his face, caressing his cheeks softly. âYou donât need to be.â
He let out a short huff that was nearly a scoff. âBut I want to be. I want to be good for you.â
Your heart ached and your entire face shifted into love and patience. Thatâs all he ever needed whether he knew it or not.
âYou just being here is good for me, Dex,â you said quietly, your voice a soothing lull. âIâm not asking for anything more than you. Just you, honey. Let me make it better.â
No matter how much he wanted to protest, he couldnât. He wanted it. He wanted you to keep him in this spot of calm and quiet for as long as possible before the blue haze of Bullseye returned.
He didnât answer right away but nodded slowly. âOkay.â The word was strained with need and want, a tangle of overwhelming emotions that were spiraling out of his control.
You gave a small, encouraging smile before kissing his forehead and then his nose, both his cheeks and his chin. He fought back the urge to make a noise, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you impossibly closer.
But when your bare chest met his? He was back to craving you.
âThere you go,â you whispered, sliding a hand between you two and kissing down his neck to keep him from getting too overwhelmed.
Dex let out a shuddering breath, pressing his forehead into your shoulder, his fingers clamping down on your waist. Come tomorrow your body was going to be littered with bruises in the shape of his fingers but it did nothing but fuel your desire.
You helped him out of his pants, his boxers following soon after and he couldnât form a coherent thought except more more more.
When you stood up to remove your own shorts, he tugged you right back into the bed, his body pressing against yours. One strong arm held you to him while he yanked your shorts and panties down your legs with one hand.
Your heart gave a sharp thud against your ribs.
When you settled back on top of him, the room was filled only with the heaviness of both your breaths, tangling in the space between you two.
His hands settled heavily on your hips, thumbs pressing into the bone as if trying to brand himself into your skin. He looked up at you, your hair nearly a curtain encapsulating the heated intimacy.
âWhat do you need from me?â He forced out, his voice nearly cracking with restraint.
You just gave a little smile, one hand holding the side of his face while the other snaked down again. âJust sit still, honey. Let me kiss it better.â
When your bodies came together, Dex broke. His jaw fell open on a guttural groan, his strong arms banding around your waist and pulling you closer and closer until there was no telling where he ended and you began. You wrapped your arms around his neck, breathing hard as the heat and length of him filled you completely.
For a long moment neither of you said anything. Dex couldnât think straight. Not with you wrapped around him like that. He was panting into your ear, holding you tight against him just in case everything were to fall apart heâd still have you.
âShh,â you eventually got out, running a hand over his blonde hair and tangling your fingers in the damp strands. âJust us. Just me and you.â
When you started to move, Dex couldnât even function properly anymore. You held on tight to him, chest brushing against his with every roll of your hips. All he could do was sit and take it.
And boy did he enjoy it.
At first, you whispered sweet nothings into his ear. He whimpered. It was a sound so beautiful you wanted to hear it again and again.
Dex watched you move above him, his eyes hooded and dark, his wet lips parted as you drew abrupt gasps and expletives and whines from him. He was so addicted to you. It wasnât healthy in the slightest. He wanted to be here inside you for the rest of his life if he could. Your warmth was unlike any other reassurance heâd felt before.
His hands roamed all over you, squeezing and caressing every inch of skin he could get his fingers on.
Yet, his efforts seemed small in comparison to the affection you showered him with.
âDoes that feel good?â You whispered, kissing his neck and down his shoulder, sinking your teeth into his meaty flesh just enough to draw a reaction out of him.
When you pulled your mouth away, imprints of your teeth were left in his skin.
Dex would do anything to get those marks tattooed into his body.
You kissed over the scar on his cheek, your fingers gliding over the one on his spine and you felt him shudder against you.
Eventually, it was too much.
It was all too much for him.
The feel of your lips on his scarred body, your nails dragging down his back, leaving behind stinging red scratches was making him begin to shatter.
It wasnât slow or pretty.
It was violent and completely consuming.
His hips surged upward, making you cry out and sink your nails into his shoulders. His eyes shined with adoration and a distorted, staticky voice inside his head repeated mine mine mine.
Dex grunted into your neck, lips latching onto your pulse and giving a firm suck. You were going to destroy him and heâd let you do it a million times over with a smile on his face.
âI canât,â he panted, the overwhelming sensations building and building like a storm about to burst.
âYes, you can,â you breathed against the side of his head before gripping his chin in your fingers, forcing him to look at you.
He was wrecked. Completely and utterly wrecked.
And he never looked prettier.
He swallowed hard, his throat dry. âI canât. You donât⊠oh fuckâŠâ
You did your best to stay functioning but it was so difficult as the heat kept rising and rising. His fingers dug into your hips, nearly bone crushing as he guided you in that sweet motion that had both of you unraveling at the seams.
Sweat fell from his forehead, slipping down his chest and when the pleasure crested, he came undone.
Your moans and his whimpering grunts filled the room along with the sound of skin. These were highs neither of you had ever experienced before and Dex was ruined by it.
There was no coming back from that for him. He could never let you go now. Not even if you begged and screamed to let him let go.
Bullseye didnât matter. Fisk didnât matter. New York didnât matter.
It was only you.
Once you fell against each other, both completely spent and dazed, Dex slid a hand up your back and gingerly pressed a kiss to your temple. It was his way of saying thank you for loving me.
Afterwards, when you two were cleaning each other up, you kissed the scar on his spine to say I know you and I love you anyway.
Once the sheets were changed and the rain fell to a quieter hum outside, Dex held you close. His back still stung with the scratches you left but it was a delicious type of pain.
You were half asleep, tracing the fading bite mark on his shoulder.
He looked at you with a face of awe for a man who never knew how to be anything more than a weapon.
You were his North Star and because of that, you made everything better.
Jack Abbot being out with younger nurse/resident and noticing other men staring at her bc duh sheâs so pretty and she doesnât even notice and then they go home and he has his way with her ;)))
yess I love this idea! heâs one of those quiet jealous typesâŠTysm for the request! also i kinda like the layout of little blurbs being small writing but i canât even read it myself, let me know what you think!
It had been a slow night shift, mostly leftover cases from the day shift, a few worried new mothers, older people, sick kids and all that. Still, they mattered, and we needed to be there for them. Jack couldnât bring himself to care that much when said patients were flirting with you. Not everyone knew, and the patients werenât to know, but he was still human. Still got jealous, not that he showed it.
The first guy was a young college kid, little bit of a himbo, his only excuse was that he was off his fucking head on painkillers and kept saying âsheâs an angelâ âsheâs so gorgeous,â holding your hand and closing his eyes. He didnât even know he was alive right then, and Jack wanted to be happy because his beautiful girl was doing what she did best: helping others. The next guy came in at 3AM, sobering up from a night out and had a rusty 4 inch screw sticking out of his foot, also had been give painkillers, but not nearly enough as the needy himbo before him. No, this guy was taking full advantage of your kindness and your job as a nurse; flirting with you, eyes on you always, not even listening to Jack as he tried to explain that he couldâve well gotten sepsis from the rusty nail. Jack was less than pleasant to that cocky bastard.
Jack got you home long after the summer sun rose, dragging your sleepy ass into his house, and into his bed. He only confronted you about it when his fingers were twiddling your little clit, âYou just let them flirt with you, donât you, angel? Lovinâ all that attention, huh?â collecting your slick and dipping just his fingertip inside, smirking at your gasp. âIâm the one making you feel good. They had no idea that iâd be the one coming home to fuck you dumbââ
He cooed at you when you squealed, the response from pushing his fingers knuckle deep inside and curling the immediately, finding that sweet spot amongst your gummy walls. âSâokay, angel, maybe thatâs all you need, hm? Had to wait 16 hours for this..Ohhh, i know, i know,â
âI w~wasnât flirting, Jackie, promise.â You gulped, hand in your hair and hands grabbing at his arms holding you up, almost crying as he massaged that delicious spot with restless fingers, his cock already poking against your ass. âOh, you werenât? Oh. I guess thatâs all fine, then,â Jack swiftly pulled his cock out from his cargos and lined his tip up, barely giving your sleepy and pleased brain time to process before he stuffed himself inside you, nestling himself deep with his fingers framing your pretty pussy in a v-shape. He let out a satisfied chuckle at your reaction: sharp, surprised and face scrunched up with a broken moan.
His hands were strong on your hips, pushing them up and holding them down firmly as he drove his hips up, closing his eyes every so often just to listen to your desperate cries, feeling your walls tighten around him just as urgently as he bullied your g-spot, his middle finger messily circling your little button until he felt your thighs tremble, your walls fluttering and creaming around the base of his cock. You ended up falling asleep on his cock, walls sticky with his seed.
summary: a little harmless flirting never hurt anyone, right? you've been on jack abbot's mind a little too often lately and he's starting to suspect the feeling is mutual. after a late night out at the bar, you're determined to show him just how mutual that feeling is.
content/warnings: age gap, inappropriate work crushes, i don't even bother pretending like i know how a hospital works, jealous!jack, masturbation mentions, garsantos crumbs, alcohol consumption, smoking cigarettes, reader wears a dress/heels/make up, soft dom!jack, dirty talk (jack's got a filthy mouth), kinda degradation if u squint, praise, oral (f + m receiving), jack abbot is a munch duh, fingering, unprotected piv, some breath play, cream pie? NSFW + MDNI! 18+ ONLY!
wc: 7.5k (got away from me lol)
notes: this is like the first proper thing i've written in several years and probably my first real smut ever, but i couldn't stop thinking about jack abbot's tits. purely self indulgent because i know for a fact that he talks you through it lol he's just so yummy. enjoy my old man brain rot
credit: gif taken from this set by ho-ii :)
â
Jack hasnât been able to focus since you joined the night shift.
You seem to be everywhere. Ever since that first day, he hasnât been able to shake you. Any corner he turns, every trauma room he enters, there you are. Even when he canât see you, you still haunt him. He picks up the faint smell of your shampoo, sometimes. Hears your laughter ringing somewhere in the halls and can't help but turn his head towards it.
Itâs worse when youâre next to him. Youâre great at what you do, there's no denying that. But it's been difficult to work alongside you, elbows and arms brushing while you crowd over whatever patient is bleeding out on the table in front of him. His brain just can't keep up, sometimes. Not with the warmth of your body next to his. Commands come out a little slower than usual. He hesitates for a second longer than he usually does.
However, it's the worst when youâre batting your eyelashes at him when you finally have a moment of downtime. Handing him some coffee from the break room, letting your fingers linger on his for just a beat too long. Casually laying a hand on his bicep when you talk to him, leaving him tingling for an embarrassing amount of time after you leave. He knows exactly what youâre doing. That you know exactly what it does to him. Heâs got scars older than you, but that doesn't stop his gaze from following you as you flit around the ER. And he knows you feel it. Youâre real young, youâre real fucking pretty and youâre real fucking capable.
Which is why it feels like a cruel joke that youâre always flirting with him. Especially since heâs pretty sure youâd never actually see him in the way that he sees you. Honestly, it makes this inconvenient attraction he has towards you all the more complicated. Jack can't help but notice the way you chew your lip when youâre deep into charting. The curve of your neck when you adjust your hair. When you look up at him with those big eyes, just eagerly waiting for him to tell you what to do next.
Fuck, heâs hard just thinking about it.
His thoughts always wander in that direction when it comes to you. He finds himself at home, thinking of the way that you looked at him earlier in the day or when you swept a slow thumb over your bottom lip absentmindedly, lost in thought. Jack feels filthy when he thinks of you like this, but he still can't help but palm himself through his pants when the thoughts come. Which is more often than he'd like to admit.
When he thinks of you outside of that, however, heâs not entirely sure how he feels. Itâs more than just something carnal. He wants to take care of you. And he does, sometimes. Leaves a protein bar by your hand when he hears you complain about how hungry you are, and steps in when patients start being rowdy or handsy with you.Â
Itâs an entirely different feeling while he watches a doctor get handsy with you instead.
It's the early hours of the morning, and the day shift has started to trickle in. It was always interesting, crossing paths with them. The night shift attracted a certain kind of person. Someone who prefers working under the cover of darkness. Jack noticed that the people on the night shift always played their cards closer to their chests, had a little more hidden depth. Maybe that's why they all worked well together, moving like a unit, fluid and unspoken.Â
The day shift on the other hand was, well, bright, in a sense. They were all dazzling smiles and caffeinated energy, bouncing from one patient to the next. They clashed like nobodyâs business, bold and brash. There were exceptions of course, like Mohan, who Jack had grown fond of and even attempted to convince to join the night shift on more than a few occasions. (She always said no.)
Then there were the textbook examples. And no one embodies the day shift more than Robbyâs prodigal son, Frank Langdon.Â
Frank Langdon, who was standing just a little too close to you, elbow propped on the nurseâs station as he gave you one of his signature smiles. Jack was too far away to hear exactly what he was saying, but he didn't miss the way his fingers played with your badge, the light glinting off it as he fiddled with it and examined your photo. Jealousy twists in Jackâs gut, but he can't make himself turn away. He just grips his tablet harder, listening to you giggle at whatever Langdon had to say. Itâs the same giggle that you give him when he's just a little too sarcastic in an attempt to make you laugh. That was his giggle.
A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of his daze.
âWhat'd the tablet do to you?â Itâs Robby, looking at Jack expectantly to begin their hand off for the day. Jack can't curb his jealousy fast enough and the other man follows his gaze right over to you and Langdon. He can see the gears turning in Robbyâs mind, piecing everything together until he barks out a laugh and shakes his head. âYouâre so screwed, brother.â
âI don't know what youâre talking about.â Jack grumbles, and Robby raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him. Heâs still gripping onto the tablet, probably moments away from cracking the damn thing in half.
âRightâŠâ Robby has to basically wrestle it out of his grip and Jack finally drags his eyes over to his friend, who looks thoroughly unimpressed. âSo youâre just here, burning holes into Langdon for no reason.â
âIâm not,â Jack says, a little too indignantly for his liking. âHeâs married. He shouldn't be flirting like that.â Robby laughs at him again, which is really starting to get on his nerves. He knows that itâs a terrible lie, but his mind is too foggy from his overnight shift to think of a better one. He wishes his friend would cut him a little slack here.
âSure. And itâs got nothing to do with her, Iâm guessing,â Robby nods over in your direction, and Langdon is still there. Heâs leaning on the nurses station, still talking away while you nod, full attention on him. Doesnât this guy have a job to do? A beat of silence passes, and Jack doesn't answer. âOkay, well, good luck with that then.â
With that, Robby takes his leave, but not before he grabs Langdon by the scrubs, wordlessly hauling him away. You seem shocked at the sudden intrusion, waving goodbye to the dark haired doctor just a moment too late.
It seems like his best friend can cut him some slack, after all.
â
Youâre already two drinks deep when Jack Abbot walks through the door.
Youâre in the day shiftâs favourite bar, squished into the booth seat next to Trinity. Sheâs yapping away and gesturing wildly to Robby and Garcia who are sitting across from you, looking equally as squished. Truthfully, youâd tuned her out a few minutes ago; it was a story about Dennis and the farm girl sheâs told you a million times before.
Your eyes are wandering across the bar, drifting over your friends who are scattered around as if they own the place. Samira and Cassie are perched on stools at the bar, Parker is trying and failing to teach Dennis how to play pool. Movement catches your eye and your gaze drifts towards the door, where John strides in, with Jack in tow.
You can't even pretend to notice Shen, not when Jack catches your eye right away. Heâs got his typical black shirt on, tight in all the right places. His hands are shoved into his pockets as he saunters in, looking confident as always. You swear that youâve never seen him look out of place before. Everywhere he enters, it feels like all heads turn in his direction.
Well, yours does at least.
And itâs really irritating how fucking good he looks all the time. Scrubbed up, in his civvies and in that unbelievably hot uniform that he rolled up in on the fourth of July. He really has you feeling a lot of things you definitely shouldnât be, considering that heâs your attending. But that still doesnât stop your eyes from wandering across his broad frame, up his freckled arms to the grey stubble on his jaw. You practically have to physically stop yourself from biting your lip.
âOh my God, drool much?â Trinity says in a low voice. Sheâs clearly stopped telling her story, as Robby and Garcia are now engaged in a conversation of their own. Trinity has caught you checking out Abbot on multiple occasions and she never gives up an opportunity to bemoan you about it. âHeâs like, geriatric.â
âNot geriatric. Kind of like, silver foxy?â You laugh, shaking your head. âPlus, I thought we kind of had a thing for older people?â You gesture not-so-subtly at Garcia, whoâs taking a sip of her drink and nodding along to whatever Robby is saying. Trinity rolls her eyes at your comment and slips past you, out of the booth.
âOkay, well, Iâm gonna get another drink,â She tells you, waving her empty glass. Before she leaves, she sneaks a peek over her shoulder and then leans in closer to you, her breath tickling your ear. âHeâs heading your way. So try not to cream your pants, huh?â
That makes you sit up straight as Trinity saunters off and Jack comes into view. Heâs looking down at you in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together. He stares, but only for a moment before sliding into the booth across from you, next to Robby. Garcia seems to have slipped off to get another drink as well. What a coincidence.
âWell, look who finally made it!â Robby gives Jack a slap on the shoulder as he settles in, whiskey glass in hand. He gives his friend a nod, glass extended in an invitation. Robby accepts, clinks his bottle against his cup and both the men take a sip. You canât help but be drawn to Jackâs hands, much like you always were during surgery. There was just something about them â the way his fingers were nice and thick maybe, and you couldnât help but wonder what exactly they would feel like skimming your body.Â
You almost let your gaze trail down to his mouth, but you shake your head in a daze as Jack sets down his drink. He still catches you though, the ends of his lips quirked up in an almost smirk. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at your hands to avoid any further eye contact, but you can still feel the heat of his gaze on you. Itâs dangerously enticing and fuck, are you enticed.
He opens his mouth to say something to you but Dennis plops himself in the spot next to you, interrupting. Heâs looking around, beer hugged close to his chest. âI think if I missed one more time, Ellis would have actually killed me.â He says, and you glance over at the pool table where Shen has gracefully slipped into Whitaker's role instead, much to Ellisâ delight.
The conversation takes off again and you can't help but wonder what exactly Jack was going to say to you. Heâs wrapped up with Robby and Samira, who has floated her way down to your booth and is looking as angelic as ever. Sheâs perched on the corner of the table, all long legs and sweet smiles. You watch the way Jack talks to her; smooth, easy and familiar. Youâre sure your smile twitches and you give Dennis a tap on the shoulder.
âI think Iâm going to get another drink too.â You say, both to Dennis and to no one in particular. You stand and Samira gives you just a bit of a liquored up grin as she helps you adjust your short dress. You thank her with a smile of your own, turning around. Thereâs hope blooming in your chest at what feels like Jackâs eyes on your back as you walk away, but you're too cowardly to look back and see for yourself.
Trinity is standing at the bar, looking about as dishevelled as you expected. She quirks an eyebrow but doesnât say anything as you approach.
âYour drink is taking a long time, huh?â You nudge her with your shoulder and she just rolls her eyes. Ignoring her attitude, you rest your elbows on the bar, trying to get a look at where the bartender fucked off to.Â
âDonât worry about it,â Trinity is reapplying her lipgloss and attempting to tame her hair, using her phone to assess her reflection. You try to help and she gives you a grateful smile in return. She nods towards the bartender, who is still kind of ignoring you. âI already got one for you.â
âYouâre the best,â Youâre still smoothing down her hair, giving her a big smile back. âShould we, like, kiss?â You fake going in for a kiss, and she pushes you away with a laugh.
âPlease. You wish,â The bartender finally slides two drinks towards Trinity, who hands you one of the glasses. The chill from the glass is definitely welcome against your warm flesh, flushed from the drinks previous. Trinity shoots you a smirk as she grabs your hand to lead you back to the booth. âBesides, donât you have a silver fox to catch?â
The two of you arrive at the booth and in the short time youâve been gone, the people seem to have rearranged themselves. Robby and Whitaker have disappeared and Samira has taken your place, McKay beside her. On the other side is still Abbot, nursing his whiskey. Heads turn at your presence and the pair of you are greeting with excited chatter and big smiles from the girls.
It takes you a minute to realize that the only open spot is next to Jack.
Trinity gives you a small push and you claim the seat next to him. Trinity slides in after you and itâs a bit of a tight squeeze, leaving you thigh to thigh with the attending you definitely donât have an inappropriate workplace crush on. You can feel the heat radiating off him â his arms, his thighs. You swear you feel him stiffen for a second, but the moment is over as quickly as it happened. He smells woody and warm, and itâs got you basically swooning. Is that just the way he smells, or is it cologne, body wash? You resist the weird, perverted urge to take a sniff of his neck and take a sip of your drink instead.
Conversation comes easy for you guys, especially as the drinks continue to flow. People come and go: Ellis, Shen, Dennis â everyone shuffles through, exchanging seats and manoeuvring around each other as easy as they do on the floor of the hospital.
You and Jack though, you donât move.
Your two stay pressed together, even when Trinity is long gone. Eventually, everyone thins out and spreads across the bar instead, leaving you and Jack alone together. Itâs getting hard to ignore the mirth swimming in his eyes, your faces just a little too close together for the conversation you two are having.
You trace whatâs left of the condensation from your empty glass with your finger, savouring the feel of the cool water. Is it hot in here? Or is it just you?
âHow about I get you another drink?â Jack offers, the timbre of his voice lower than usual. âOn me?â
 It feels like heâs getting closer, close enough that you can smell the whiskey on his breath. Itâs probably inappropriate to want to kiss your boss, right? Especially one almost twice your age? The prospect of the situation makes you almost dizzy with want, especially when heâs looking at you like that. Or maybe thatâs just the alcohol rushing to your head.
Yeah, itâs definitely just you.
âActually, I think I need a smoke.â You manage to utter, like the responsible adult you are. You need to remove yourself from the situation, fast. He retreats from your space slowly, and you immediately feel the absence. It takes everything in you to suppress the urge to lean back into him again, instead giving him a shy smile as you exit the booth. Jack lets you leave wordlessly, and this time youâre certain his eyes are on you as you walk away.Â
The cool breeze outside is a welcome reprieve from the overwhelming heat inside and you take a moment to let it wash over you. You press your back against the brick of the bar and pull out your pack from your purse and stick a cigarette between your lips, fishing around for your lighter. After some digging, you finally find what you were looking for and you cup your hand around the cigarette, flicking the lighter on until you see the familiar cherry red at the end. Things seem a bit less hazy when you take a deep inhale and exhale slowly, grey smoke curling around the dark sky.
You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall, feeling the tension leave your shoulders. Taking another long drag, you review the night in your head. Youâve always enjoyed flirting with Jack, sure, but Jack also flirts with anything that has a pulse. You never really expected anything to come of it, except maybe something to think about later in the night while you were alone. Lately though, itâs been feeling different. Heâs always brushing against you, placing his hand on the small of your back as he squeezes past you. The way he looks at you recently is glimmering with something you canât exactly place. The way he looked at you when Langdon was trying to charm you.
You lift your hand to take another drag when the cigarette is suddenly plucked from between your fingers. Your eyes flutter open and there stands the subject of your thoughts, Jack Abbot, who has your cigarette between his lips now.Â
âWhiskey makes Jack a bold boy, eh?â You tease, watching as he takes a drag. Itâs unfair how good he makes it look. He gives a small chuckle at your comment but doesnât reply, letting silence settle between the two of you. Instead, he extends the cigarette towards you and you take it back. Something is painted on his face, like heâs mulling something over, but you donât ask. You two continue this for a while, just enjoying each otherâs company for a moment, taking turns until you finally hit the filter. Itâs easy to admire him in the quiet you share. The flex of his biceps, the way he shifts his weight between his prosthetic and his good leg. Heâs so broad and handsome, especially when heâs in his tight shirt and cargos. Itâs got you wanting to drop to your knees right then and there.
You donât miss the way heâs looking at you either, though. Itâs common knowledge that Jackâs got a staring problem. It makes you flustered at the best of times and wet at the worst, but this stare was different. You can see the want in his eyes as his hazel eyes basically bore into your soul. If you didnât know any better, youâd say that he was giving you bedroom eyes. Every so often his eyes flicker down to your lips instinctively, especially when theyâre wrapped around the cigarette the two of you are sharing. Youâre sure that youâre probably doing the same.
âSo, can I buy you that drink now?â He asks huskily as you put out the smoke, tossing it into the garbage can behind you. Your eyes flick between the door of the bar and your phone; the numbers flashing at you indicate that youâve been out longer than youâve anticipated and it was late.
âI was actually kind of thinking of pulling an Irish goodbye. I live pretty close,â You say sheepishly, tucking your phone back into your purse. He almost looks disappointed, and you revel in the feeling. Youâre not sure if itâs the drinks youâve had or the way that he was staring at Langdon like he wanted to strangle him with his bare hands for flirting with you the other day, but the words slip out of your mouth before you can really think it through. âWant to walk me home?â
Your tone is shy but warm, an airy lilt at the end of the invitation. Or at least thatâs what you aimed for. Realization spreads across his face, until itâs replaced with a smirk. You know itâs an offer he canât really deny. Even if he didnât want to fuck you, Jack Abbot was nothing short of a gentleman. Heâd never let you walk home alone so late at night. âOf course.â
âWhy thank you, Doctor Abbot.â You give him a smirk of your own as you push off the wall, enjoying the way that he watches you move languidly. He scoffs at your joking use of the professional title you call him at work, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You adjust your dress and you two look at each other for a moment; him staring down at you with that obnoxiously smug look on his face, and you staring up at him half lidded like you donât know what youâre doing.
âLead the way, sweetheart.â He gestures with a sweep of his arm, breaking your staring contest. You start off in the direction of your apartment, shooting him a cheeky look over your shoulder as he takes a minute to follow behind you.
âThink you can keep up, old man?â
â
He hangs back, just for a second, to admire the view as you flounce away, your heels clicking against the pavement. He canât help but appreciate just how good you look, dress hugging your figure in all the right places. It doesnât help that he caught a glimpse of your panties earlier when you left the booth, and heâs been thinking about taking another peek ever since. Heâs so distracted that he barely catches the words you throw at him.
âWatch it, kid.â He warns, starting off after you. The night is just cool enough that he can feel the alcohol flowing hot through his veins as he reaches you, matching your stride. The nickname was just a slip of the tongue, something he calls you when youâve made the right call when treating a patient or when youâre offering to refill his coffee in the break room. You give him that look that youâve been giving him all night, the one thatâs got him in this mess in the first place. Blinking through your eyelashes, like you want to climb him like a tree. It does make him feel like a bit of an old man in a way, chasing after a girl basically half his age.Â
But youâre the one that invited him, right?
âIâm not sure what you mean.â You say innocently, another flutter of your eyelashes. He gives a chuckle at that, rolling his eyes. The night is quiet at this hour and the tension is thick between you two as you walk alongside each other. Jackâs got his hands tucked into his pockets, watching as you walk a bit unsteadily and heâs not sure if itâs the drinks youâve had or the shoes that you were wearing. Before he could ponder on it any longer, your heel skids and you stumble over a small lift in the sidewalk.
He grabs your waist instinctively, catching you before you go down. Youâre closer to him now and the scent that heâs become so familiar with fills the air, masked a bit by the perfume you wear, all floral and ambery. The proximity between you two almost makes him stumble as well.Â
âCareful, sweetheart,â He says, voice low, still affected by just how close you are. âDonât think youâd like to make a detour back to work before your next shift.â He hauls you upright and you give him another sweet smile. Jack canât help but give you one back.
âWhy would I need to?â You recover much faster from the stumble than he does, smoothing your dress down with the palms of your hands. âYou wouldnât patch me up? Iâd be in very capable hands, no?â You tease, smirking. He knows youâre joking but the idea of getting his hands on you, being able to touch you beyond the feather light touches you have shared, makes his heart beat in want.
âYeah, you think so?â He smirks and you slow to a stop in front of a building that he assumes must be your place. You answer his question with a small nod, suddenly shy. He can see you scanning his face, looking for some kind of answer in it. You press your lips in a thin line and finally speak in a small voice.
âWalk me up?â
He should say no. Any sort of gentleman would leave it here, say good night. Especially one as old as he is.Youâre staring at him, not breaking eye contact as you await his response. He should definitely say no.
âSure.â
Goddamn it.
You give him a smile as you turn, pulling the door to your building and he grabs it, holding it open for you. The climb to your place is quiet, the click of your heels against the stairs punctuating the terrible choice heâs making. But the choice doesnât feel as terrible as it should when he gets to watch you climb the flights of stairs, getting the flash of your panties that he was desperately wishing for earlier.
You approach your door, fumbling with your keys for a second before he hears the soft click of the lock. Heâs got his forearm resting against your doorframe, watching as you slowly pull the door open. Jack catches a glimpse into your apartment for a second before you face him; itâs a small studio, lived in and inviting. It smells like you.
Youâre just staring at him for a moment and heâs staring right back. The thought that this is a terrible idea is swirling in his mind somewhere, but the heat pooling in his gut as you look at him seems to be all he can focus on right now. You cock your head and enter your apartment, door still wide open. Jackâs body moves before he can even think about it, one foot after the other, crossing the threshold. Something he canât take back.
He closes the door behind him with a gentle hand, like any loud noise might snap one of you out of a trance. Youâve got your windows open and youâre bathed in the moonlight, the same way you were outside the bar. That exact vision of you has hijacked his better judgement tonight and landed him in the apartment of a pretty young girl. He tries to push the thought aside.
Jack opens his mouth to speak, maybe even tell you how bad of an idea this is, but youâve already hooked your fingers in his belt loops, pressing your lips against his before he can get a word out. He can taste your lip gloss and it makes his knees buckle a bit, the words suddenly dying on his tongue. You donât hold back, all dirty and desperate, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He can feel you sigh and pull him closer, hands resting at his stomach now. Your nails scratch against the skin above his waistband and it makes all his blood rush downwards.
You let out a shaky moan into his mouth and his resolve just breaks. His hands finally move and take what heâs been wanting, cupping your jaw for a minute before moving down, rough, skimming down and pulling you flush against him, hands coming to a rest on the curve of your ass.
Itâs intoxicating the way you kiss him, like you just canât fucking get enough. Your hands are wound in his hair, carting through the grey curls. You pull away all too soon, chest rising and falling quickly in an attempt to catch your breath. It sends a shiver down his spine when he sees the sultry look on your face and you grab his hand and pull him deeper into your apartment.
He lets you lead him and come to a stop at your couch. Jack must be drunker than he thought, because you barely push his chest and he lands on the couch behind him. Itâs a sight to see when you drop down to your knees without a word, dress rucking up at your waist. He canât help the moan that slips out from between his lips as you look up at him, the same way you do at work. Waiting for him to tell you what to do. His legs part involuntarily and you slip yourself between them.
âFuck, baby,â He canât help but take in the moment, cupping your cheek as you lean into his touch. â You want to suck my cock that fucking bad, huh?âÂ
You nod âeagerly, he canât help but noteâ and he grabs a fistful of your hair loosely. He gives you a small nod, giving you permission to go ahead. Biting your lip, you trace a soft finger over the bulge in his pants and he canât help but shiver. You take your time unzipping his pants and pulling him out, hand wrapped around the hard length of him. Itâs fucking delicious watching you like this, pumping his cock slow, a wicked grin on your face.
You press a kiss to his tip and his hips stutter at the sensation and then youâre pressing the flat of your tongue against him, licking him from root to head. He lets out a loud groan, grip on your hair tightening ever so slightly. He takes in the scene in front of him, you on your knees just for him. It feels perverted in a way, like heâs way too old to be this undone, especially for a woman so many years his junior. But then you place him between your soft lips, lip gloss all smeared from the sloppy kisses you two had shared earlier and he canât really bring himself to care. Your hands skim down the sides of his bare legs, not even pausing when you feel the heat of skin turn into cool metal on one side.
Your mouth is so warm and wet and itâs got him wondering what your pussy will feel like if your mouth already feels this good. Honestly, he canât remember the last time someone has had him like this. Your hand is soft where it grips him at his base, spit dripping onto your knuckles and you take him deeper and deeper, until he almost hits the back of your throat.
âSuch a good girl for me.â He drawls, voice shaking as you swallow around him. Youâve settled into a rhythm now and Jack is happy to hold you by the hair and let you take control. It feels so fucking good that he canât help but thrust into your mouth, a crooked grin forming when you gag and drool for him. He can't help but praise you. âYou look so pretty on your knees, drooling all over your tits like that.â
That earns him a moan from you and he can feel the vibration of it around his cock. He thinks it canât get any better than this, and then you look up into his eyes, lips still wrapped around him and a guttural moan rips its way from his chest. This seems to invigorate you as you begin to suck harder, cheeks hollowed as your other hand sneaks its way up to his balls, rolling them in your palm. Itâs sloppy and wet and loud âthe only sounds in your apartment are the loud, filthy way youâre taking him deep into your throat, and Jack's soft pants and utters of your name. His brows are burrowed in pleasure and it takes all of his focus to not cum in your mouth. Heâs basically dripping from your spit, wet all the way down to his balls.
He pulls you up by your hair, rough. You let out a small whimper, like youâre real sad that heâs not letting you suck his dick like you were trying to suck his soul out of it. His lips are parted and his pupils are blown with lust, the hazel of his eyes barely visible around the black. His voice is husky when he speaks next.
âGet on the bed, sweetheart.â The apartment is small, and the bed is just behind him. Youâre still wearing your heels and the sound of them reverberates in the cramped space. You donât bother to pull your dress down this time and he soaks it all in as he pulls off his shirt, trying his best to kick off his boots and pants that have pooled around his ankles at the same time.
He catches up to you in no time and he knows youâre teasing him, walking all slow and sexy like that. Then he decides youâre teasing just a bit too much and he grabs you by the waist and tosses you onto the bed. You land with a soft bounce on the mattress and he crawls on right after you, pulling you towards him.
Heâs nosing at your pussy through your panties, the dampness forming for him to see. You smell so fucking good that it makes him throb and he canât help but wrap a fist around himself and pump loosely a few times.
âYouâre soaked for me,â He says gruffly and you mewl, desperate for him to touch you more. âShould I have a taste?â
Now heâs running his fingertips over your covered slit, and your hips buck. Jack can feel the heat of you just under the thin cloth, radiating through the lace and he briefly wonders if youâll let him keep them after.
âYesâŠâ You breathe, and he takes a peek at you from between your legs. You look absolutely wrecked, propped up on your forearms, staring down at him through half lidded eyes.
âWhy donât you ask me nicely?â He coos and you groan, head tipping back. He loves having you like this, nice and pliant under his hands. Youâre better than he imagined when he was alone, touching himself to the thought of you. âTell me how bad you want it.â
âPlease, Jack,â Your voice cracks as you plead, hips rolling, craving some kind, any kind of friction. âI want it so fucking bad, pleaseâŠâÂ
âYou always listen so well to me, sweetheart. So obedient.â Jack canât deny you when you whine for him all breathy like that, so he pulls your panties to the side and does exactly what he said he would do, taking a taste. He laps at your pussy like a man starved, your wetness smearing all over his chin, gathering in his stubble.
He feels your hands grip his hair as you pull him in deeper, wordlessly asking for more. Obliging, he dips his tongue into your cunt and you tighten around the muscle, making Jackâs eyes roll back into his head. Heâs sure heâs moaning just as much as you are, one hand on your hip, the other one stroking his cock roughly.
Once heâs had his fill of fucking you with his tongue he lets his fingers take over, sliding two of them into your sopping entrance. Your hips buck again at the intrusion and he lets out a deep growl. âYou taste so good, baby âcould eat you all fucking night. You like having my fingers buried deep in your cunt?â
The whiskey has worn off by now but heâs drunk with lust, his head spinning as he ducks his head back down, sucking your clit softly. He can feel you fluttering around his fingers, getting tighter as he fucks you rough. Heâs caught you staring at them more than once and your little comment about his hands earlier hadnât gone unnoticed by him.
He can tell youâre close by the way youâre moaning and the way youâre gripping his fingers; he can barely pull them out. The pace he sets is brutal and then youâre coming on his hand and face before he even realizes. The taste of your cum is heady and heâs licking it all up like itâs his last meal.
Youâre catching your breath and he flips you over without a word, ass up for him. His hands are rough and calloused on your soft skin, pulling down the top of your dress to expose your breasts. You both moan as he tweaks a nipple between his fingers, before palming your ass and yanking your soaking panties down your thighs.
âFuckâŠâ Jack curses. Heâs rutting against you, coating his cock with your cum, moving infuriatingly slow. Youâre pushing against him, pleas falling from your lips as he places a hand on your bare back, pushing you deeper into the mattress. Jack has half a mind to hope that your apartment walls arenât as thin as he thinks they are. Heâs busy trying to sear this moment into his memories to care all that much about it though; youâre under him, moaning his name, begging for him. âStill think Iâm an old man? That I canât keep up?â
Heâs throwing your words back at you, the frantic shakes of your head as you rut back into him going straight to his ego and his dick. Jack can't resist the sight any longer as he drags himself up and down your entrance, tapping on your clit a few times and loving the way you jump at the sensation. Heâs barely got the tip in when you start moaning for him again, breathy and desperate. Ignoring your begging for him to start moving faster, he pushes in nice and slow instead, mesmerized by the way your pussy just sucks him in.
Gripping fabric of your dress that has bunched up around your waist, he sinks in deeper until heâs fully bottomed out. He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size and schooling his breathing so he doesnât cum embarrassingly fast. Youâre so tight and he canât help but think youâre one hundred percent better than what he imagined and one thousand percent better than his fist that he fucks into when he thinks of you. Sharp pain interrupts his thoughts, your nails scratching at his thighs as you try to get him to finally move.
âFeels like youâre made for me, sweetheart. So fucking tight for me.â Thoughts are spilling out now, pleasure taking over and loosening his filter. As much as he wants to savour this, savour you, heâs on the fringes of his self control. Youâre gripping his cock in a way that makes his head spin and your small pants have him feeling downright sinful. He tries to start slow, he really does, but he just canât resist. Heâs been thinking about having you for so long, the way you would look under him, and now that he has you, heâs not letting you think about anyone else again. Jack wants you to think about him every time you crawl into bed without him.
He fucks you in earnest, the wet slap of skin on skin just spurring him on. He buries a fist in your hair again, yanking your head up so youâre on all fours for him, back curved. The frame of your bed creaks quickly in time with his thrusts, the same way his thrusts are punching small gasps out of you each time. He loves listening to the noises you make and he pulls your hips up higher, balls slapping your clit as he buries himself deeper. Your moans are getting louder, walls squeezing him tight and he pulls out quickly before his vision goes white.
âJack, please!â He can tell youâre getting tired of the way heâs been teasing you all night, thinking that he just might edge you all night. But really, he just wants to see what your face looks like when you cum around his cock. He flips you over easily, biceps flexing. Before you can even muster out a squeal heâs back inside you, filling you up to the hilt. Your lips part and your eyes roll back into your head, and he canât help but smirk as he begins to move once more.
This time the pace he sets is punishing, determined to make you cum before even thinking about chasing his own high. Jack can tell by the way that youâre squeezing him like you donât want to let him go that it wonât be long. He allows his eyes to sweep over your body appreciatively, your thighs, your stomach, the way your breasts bounce, how absolutely blissed out your face looks.
Itâs hard to resist the temptation to splay a hand just below your neck, gauge your reaction, so he doesnât. His hand is so large against the base of your throat and the way your eyes flutter in pleasure makes his dick twitch. He lets it rest there for a moment, then dips two fingers between your lips, tongue swirling around the tips of them like it was around his dick just a little while ago.
Leaving a wet trail down your chest, he makes his way down to your clit, drawing tight circles around with rough fingertips. He lets out a growl at the noise you make, deep and primal. He glances down, noticing the cream gathering around the base of his cock, his happy trail covered in your slick. His legs shake at the sight, his climax suddenly a lot closer than he anticipated. He can guess that yours is too, judging from the way your cunt is fluttering around him and that youâve seemed to stop caring who can hear just how good heâs making you feel.Â
âYou gonna cum on my cock, baby?â Youâre nodding loosely, like you barely even registered the question. He loves seeing such a capable girl come apart in his hands like this. âYeah? Cum for me then.â
And you do, as he should have expected, since you always do what he tells you to.
Your cunt is milking his orgasm out of him, and he can feel his hips stutter. He barely squeezes out the words, asking you where he should finish, half aware that heâs not wearing a condom. You look up with shiny wet eyes, fingers tangling in the curls at the base of his neck and he nearly cums at the sight.
âI want you to fill me up.â You say, and yeah, that makes him want to cum even more. A few more messy thrusts and he gives a low groan, spilling deep inside you. Heâs hutched over your form, body shaking in pleasure, loving the heat thatâs radiating from your body. After a few moments the haze of sex dissipates and you two are left chest to chest, your nipples brushing his chest with every breath.
âLetâs get you cleaned up, sweetheart.â
â
Jack cleans you up, all nice and sweet, with a warm rag from your bathroom. The action is tender, especially compared to the way he just wrecked you. It makes you feel taken care of, which is not something you would admit aloud to him for now. Youâre a little confused about the position that this puts you in with your attending. The only thing you can really make sense of is that the entire situation has gotten about a million times more complicated than it was eight hours ago.
But when Jack looks at you, eyes soft in a way youâve never seen before when you offer to help him remove his prosthetic, you decide that you donât really care. Youâd give anything to have him look at you that way again.
And now heâs here in your bed, freckled back to you and breathing even. Heâd fallen asleep soon after you asked him to stay the night, which you thought was sweet. Old man was up way past his bedtime.
Your phone vibrates on your nightstand and you flip it over, squinting at the bright light. Youâd pretty much ignored it when you left the bar with Jack, pretty one track minded. Youâd miss a flurry of text messages from everyone else: Garcia asking if she could bum a smoke, Samira asking if you left and then following up asking you to let her know you got home safe, Robby wondering if you had seen Abbot anywhere, Dennis just sending you a blurry picture of the bar floor, which you assumed was a drunken accident.
Trinity has sent you the most recent text, sitting atop of your stack of notifications.
trinity: thank u for winning me the betting pool. will buy u a drink ;)
summary: abbot offers up his house for a simple family bbq to help you out of a jam...unfortunately, neither of you are capable of keeping it simple.
warnings: smut! fingering, abbot jizzing in his pants, porn but with a lot of plot & build up, tension, inappropriate thoughts, masturbation implied & discussed, alcohol consumption, minor injury (small cut), petty abbot because he snatches r's phone, brat tamer abbot if you squint?? he likes to mock you okay???? slight angst at the end :)
wc: 9.5k
pt 2 can be found here!
Now that youâre actually standing in front of it, itâsâŠoffensively small.
You tilt your head like that might miraculously improve the situation, like thereâs some hidden angle where this becomes a perfectly reasonable barbecue and not what looks like a prop from a dollhouse garden party. As if, with enough optimism and a slight squint, the laws of physics will rearrange themselves out of sheer pity.Â
Because your freezer currently sits enough food to cater a mid-sized wedding.Â
And your patio?
A grill that could maybe handleâŠfour sausages. Five if theyâre prepared to be very close.Â
You exhale slowly, hands on your hips as you realise youâve made a catastrophic, deeply public planning error. There has to be a system. A rotation. A schedule. Some kind of⊠grilled meat tetris.
You glance back at the freezer like it might offer solutions. It does not. It sits there, smug and overstocked.
âOkay,â you mutter to yourself. âThis is fine. This is workable. People love waiting for foodâŠPeople expect to wait for food.âÂ
Except your siblings are the least patient people you know.
And just to make matters worse, a knock sounds at the door. You know itâs Abbot because he generously offered to give you a hand with the grill after you mentioned hosting your family in passing, like he had absolutely nothing better to do on a Saturday night.Â
Now itâs feeling less like generosity on his behalf, and more like you accidentally inviting him to a very unfortunate comedy show.Â
You hover for a second, hoping if you wait long enough, heâll go away.
He doesnât. He just knocks again.
You smooth your hands down your shorts, the denim rough enough against your palms to remind you to breathe. Itâll be fine. Everyone can just mingle in your tiny garden while they wait approximately four hours for dinner. Great. This is exactly the way to show your family how firmly you have your life together.Â
You make your way to the front door and pull it open to find Abbot standing there, fingers hooked around a bag you assume has something useful in itâlike tongs, or maybe the competence you seem to be lacking. Youâd take two of those right now.Â
âHey,â you greet in a tone that reeks of desperation.Â
âHi.â Thereâs a slight raise in his brow, like heâs already caught on that something here isâŠoff.Â
âCome in.â You move to the side, gesturing him in.
He nods and walks through. You close the door behind him, your back mounting to it as you watch him take the place in, realising this is the first time heâs ever been inside.Â
Momentarily, you feel like youâre under an imaginary microscope, like youâve been set out in the sun, quietly examined and a little overexposed all at once. Except thereâs no microscope, no audience.Â
Just Abbot.Â
And the glass of wine you indulged in earlier, which is currently doing a fantastic job of making you feel about three degrees warmer than necessary, and significantly more aware of your own existence than youâd like.Â
Youâre not sure what heâs going to think of your home. Itâs smaller than his, you know that much without asking. Itâs cluttered but in a lived in kind of way, everything has a purpose or a memory attached to it. Youâd love to tell him some of those stories, walk him through it properly, if you had the timeâŠor if you were sure he wanted to hear them.Â
 He probably doesnât.Â
And you definitely donât have time.
âCute place.â
âCute?â you repeat, a smile pulling at your lips. âIs that your way of dressing up the word small?â
âNo.â His gaze drifts around once more, slower this time, like heâs actually taking it in rather than passing through. Then it settles back on you. âItâs cute. Very you.â
That annoyingly lands somewhere you werenât prepared for.Â
You blow air from your nose, glancing away as if the console table requires your full attention. âRight. Well Iâm glad my personality translates intoâŠsquare footage.âÂ
Thereâs the faintest hint of amusement in his expression. âThatâs not what I said.â
âThatâs what I heard.âÂ
He watches you like could argue if he wanted to, but he doesnât.
You clear your throat, deciding you need air. And to also rip the band-aid off already, because youâve made Abbot clear his schedule to help you out, when in reality you wonât be needing his help at all.Â
Unless heâs particularly skilled at dialling for takeaway.Â
âAnyways,â you say briskly, turning to the back door. âLet me show you what weâre working with.â
âYes, maâam.â
Youâre absolutely blaming the glass of wine for the effect those two words have on you, trying to desperately ignore the way your brainâs decided nowâs a good time to develop new problems.Â
You step outside first, the warm air hitting your skin, and wait for him to come up beside you. When he doesâclose enough to be mildly distractingâyou gesture flatly towards the root of all your issues. âThere she is.âÂ
He looks.Â
Thereâs a faint pause.Â
âSheâs, umââ
âCute?â you supply, nudging his arm with your elbow.Â
âI was going to say compact.â
âItâs second hand,â you reply, because that feels like important context. Of course you were going to buy a second hand grill. Why wouldnât you? Youâd much rather spend your money on something youâll actually get use out of. This was supposed to be a practical, sensible, one-time summer purchase.
It is now very clearly the opposite of that.
âIt looked bigger before I picked it up,â you add, because his silence is doing absolutely nothing for your need to stop explaining yourself. âPlease say something before I finish the bottle of wine I started.â
âIâm thinking.â
âItâs not that big of a deal, right? Iâll just do, like, ten rounds of grilling and keep everything wrapped in foil to keep it warm. Itâs hot as hell out so stuff would probably stay warm enough anyway?â
He finally meets your gaze.
â...No.â
You blink. âNo?â
âNo.â
You stare at him, cheek caught between your teeth. âWow. Okay. That wasâŠvery immediate.â
âYouâll have people waiting too long between rounds,â he says calmly. âHalf of it will go cold. The rest will be overcooked.â
âGreat.â You throw your hands up. âJust kill me now, then. Put me out of my misery.â
Thereâs a twitch at the corner of his mouth.
âI will never hear the end of this,â you continue, reaching for your empty wine glass and topping it up from the bottle beside it. âThey donât take me seriously enough as it isââ you take a quick sip, like it might soften the blow of what youâre about to admit, ââand theyâre constantly expecting me to mess things up before Iâve even started. Perks of being the youngest, apparently. Comes with its own very specific set of stereotypesâ
You glance at the grill, then back at him. âAnd this will absolutely prove them right.â
âHave it at my house,â he offers breezily and you almost drop your glass.
âSorry?â
âItâll be easier,â he explains, like heâs just suggesting you move a chair. âMore space. Proper grill.â
âThat would mean my entire family going to your house.â
âYes.â
âAnd you being there.â
âI live there.â
You narrow your eyes. âI donât think you realise what youâre suggesting. Itâs not just my parents coming. Well, it was at first and then my siblings decided to invite themselves and Iâm fairly certain their partners also got swept in without my consent.â
âAnd you couldnât say no?â
You let out a disbelieving laugh. âNo, absolutely not. But you can. Please say no to this.â
He doesnât even look slightly concerned. âIâm not saying no.â
âWhy not?â
âBecause it solves your problem.â
âWeâre not at work.â You set the wine glass down, like it might help you regain better control of the conversation and his absolute ludicrous idea. âYou donât have to solve my problems.â
He tilts his head like heâs considering that, then steps closer to the grill to give it another once-over. His fingers drag lightly over the metal bars, testing them, like thereâs still a chance this thing might redeem itself under a second opinion.
It does not.Â
âWell,â he says, almost absently, âif it makes you feel any better, youâre rarely creating problems for me at work, so just let me give you a hand with this one.â
You stare at him, then gesture vaguely between him and the grill. âBut donât you think itâd be weird? What am I meant to say to them?â
âThat we work together. That Iâve got the space and offered to host. Thatâs it.â
âYouâre making this sound so simple,â you scoff, shaking your head.Â
âBecause it is simple. Iâm offering a solution. Take it. Weâll load up my truck with what you need and go.â
âAnd you donât think theyâll assume things?â You almost cringe as the words leave your mouth, it sounds so juvenile, like something you shouldâve outgrown years ago.Â
âAssume what?â he presses, and you donât know if heâs genuinely not following or if the last several months have just been you reading into things he hasnât seen nor reciprocated.Â
âNothing!â you blurt out quickly, downing the rest of your wine like it might undo the last ten seconds. âIâm being stupid and Iâm out of options so I guess we can have it at your houseâif youâre sure?â
âIâm sure.â
âGreat. Amazing. Perfect.â You set the glass down again, and walk past him, heading into the kitchen, because if you stay in this conversation for even a second longer, youâre not entirely convinced you'll make it through this BBQâor your next shift with Abbotâwithout saying something you absolutely cannot take back.Â
You had texted the family group chat about the change of plans, keeping the message short, light, casual, even if your brain has refused to get on board with that narrative.Â
Because there are, conservatively, about a hundred reasons as to why this is a terrible idea. Reasons that all seem to be shouting over each other the longer you think about it. Starting with the fact that if there is anyone capable of turning a harmless situation into something more layered and deeply inconvenient, itâs your family.Â
Who are now going to be meeting Abbot.
Your boss.
Who you might be slightly crushing on.Â
And your earlier exchange?
Yeah. That did an excellent job of confirming thatâs very much a one sided situation.Â
âYouâre sure you donât need me to drop by the store first?â he asks.
Youâre not sure if heâs looking at you because you angled your body away from him about ten minutes ago, in a very deliberate attempt to not be distracted.
It hasnât been working.Â
If anything, itâs considerably worse, because youâre now hyperaware of everything youâre trying not to look at. The way his sun-warmed arms flex as he adjusts his grip on the wheel, the sleeve of his black shirt sitting snug around his bicep. The completely unbothered way heâs driving, like this is exactly what he had planned to do with his day off.Â
âNo.â You risk a glance at him, only to find his eyes already on you before they flick back to the road. âI pretty much emptied my fridge into the back of your truck, so we should be sorted.â
He hums like that checks out. âAlright.â
âYou still havenât changed your mind?â
He glances at you again. âAbout?â
You stare at him.Â
Youâre not sure if heâs doing this on purpose, but it feels like he is. Like heâs deliberately backing you into saying things out loud. Making you name them, lay them out clearly instead of hiding behind vague gestures and half-formed sentences.Â
Itâs incredibly annoying.Â
Because it has your mind drifting toâŠother situations where he might take the same approach. You picture him for a brief second, between your legs, the way heâd look at you expectantly, waiting until you spelled it out for him.Â
Like heâd make you tell him exactly what you want.Â
Exactly how you want it.Â
And look at him while you do it.Â
âOh my god,â you mutter out loud, the thought hitting you all at once. You shift in your seat, pressing your thighs together like that might physically cancel your brain.
âEverything okay?â
âNo. Noââ you shake your head quickly, turning to the window like the outside world has suddenly become fascinating. âI think we need to stop by the store.â
âYou just said you had everything.â
âWhy are you asking so many questions today?â You turn to face him, and youâre pretty sure youâre glaring now, because he is officially on your last damn nerve.Â
âThat wasnât a question.â
You inhale slowly and manifest restraint because he doesnât deserve you snapping at him, but heâs also been the leading cause in your rapid mental decline today. âMy mistake.â You tack on a smile that feels convincing for a second before it slips, the corners of your mouth dropping almost immediately. âIâm not sure Iâve got everything for the salad, so if you wouldnât mind stopping by the store, thatâd be great.âÂ
He laughs under his breath, turning on the indicator. âI love the customer service voice.â
âIâm not doing a customer service voice.â
âYou are. Itâs very polite.â
You blink at him, lips parting like youâre about to argue it, then stopping when you realise thereâs probably no winning this.
âCan you stop by the store or not?â you ask instead, folding your arms across your chest.Â
âOf course,â he answers easily. âYouâre the boss today.â
You donât dignify that with a response, mostly because youâre too busy being relieved when he finally pulls into the car park. You need to get out of his truck that smells exactly like him and into somewhere with actual air conditioning. Not that his truck doesn't have itâit doesâbut he seems to be absorbing all of its effects, leaving you to slowly overheat in his general vicinity.Â
You unclip and fling off your seatbelt, grab your purse but pause when you catch him doing the same out of the corner of your eye.Â
âWhatâre you doing?â
âGoing to the store? Whatâs with all the questions?â
âNo youâre not,â you reply, pointing at him. âYouâre staying here.â
âAm I?
âYes.â
âAnd whyâs that?â he questions with a lazy smirk, and you can feel yourself inching closer to just smothering him with your bag for the sake of peace and quiet.
âBecause Iâm the boss today.â You give him a smug, entirely fake smile before climbing out of his vehicle and shutting the door with just a little more force than usual.Â
You power walk to the store and once inside, head straight for the freezer section. You pull open one of the large glass doors and just stand there for a minute, relishing in the cool air.Â
This is exactly what you get. A direct consequence of your own poor planning, which you donât usually do. But today, of all days, everything seems to be going from bad to worse.Â
Starting with your brilliant idea to save money by buying a second hand grill without actually seeing it in person first. Then not having the heart to say no to the poor old woman selling it when it turned out to beâŠthat. Then not saying no to the ever-expanding guest list. Then not saying no to hosting this entire disaster of a night at Abbotâs house.Â
And now, just to round things up nicely, you canât even seem to keep a lid on your own feelings.Â
You can do this, you tell yourself. You handle crises everyday at work, actual ones, where people depend on you. This? This doesnât even come close to being half as bad as your worst shift. This is just a barbecue. All you need to do is put on your big girl pants, get through the night, and never speak of it again.Â
With a deep breath in, you shut the freezer door, ignoring the judgemental look from one of the workers, and try to source the supposed salad ingredients youâre missing.Â
By the time youâre paying, you feel calmer, like your head has finally been screwed on right, and that thereâs a small chance of you getting through this night without another existential breakdown.Â
You try to hang on to that same thought as you make your way back to Abbotâs car, digging out a pair of sunglasses to wear for the rest of the journey. Avoiding eye contact should be significantly easier with a barrier.Â
âGot everything?âÂ
âMhm.â You keep it short as you climb back into the passenger seat and place the bag between your feet like everything is perfectly normal.Â
When Abbot pulls into his driveway, you realise there are a lot of firsts happening todayâyouâve never been to his house before either.Â
You take it in as the truck slows, your gaze dragging over the place in pieces, trying not to make it obvious. You'd been right in thinking itâll be much bigger than yours, because from the outside it looks like your place could slot neatly into a corner of his and still leave plenty of room to spare.Â
The house is framed with tidy hedges and a curved driveway. Itâs dipped in a warm golden wash from the late sun, the light catching on the windows and casting long shadows across the patio that actually looks used.Â
You can almost picture him out there in the evenings. On his own, or maybe with Robby. Something cold in his hand, leaning back like heâs got nowhere else to be.
Youâre already a little too curious to see the garden. He lives far enough out that it feels quiet, tucked away from everything, and the front looks well kept that youâre almost certain the back will look even better.Â
Thatâs your dream one day. To have a big stretch of green out the back that you could look out over from your bedroom window in the mornings. You imagine stepping out barefoot, the grass still damp beneath you. Youâd have a little table, with mismatched chairs you tell yourself youâd replace but never do. Maybe something growing, even if itâs just herbs youâd forget to use anyway.Â
You think about hosting without overthinking it. People justâŠspreading out, drinks in hand, no one hovering awkwardly because there isnât enough room. The kind of evenings that go on a little longer because no one is in a rush to leave.Â
Or just to soak up the sun on days like this.Â
âReady to go?â
Abbot's voice breaks you from your daydream, and you shift in your seat like youâve ended up somewhere you werenât supposed to go.
âYeah,â you clear your throat, reaching up to remove your sunglasses. âBeautiful house.â
He glances at you briefly, then back at the front of the house like heâs seeing it through your eyes. âIt does the job.â
âDoes it very well.â
You step out into the warm air, a light breeze slipping past you, and your attention follows Abbot as he rounds the truck. And just like that, your mind does that thing again, wandering somewhere it absolutely shouldnât. Â
You picture it a little too easily for your liking, a day like today, minus the chaos. What itâd feel like coming back home from a grocery run, a truck filled with nothing in particular. The domestic bliss of unpacking, then sitting in the garden, something simple on the grill.Â
You can see yourself curled into him on the patio, the air dropping a few degrees, a glass of wine somewhere nearby, his hand resting absentmindedly on your waist. Maybe youâd end up in his lap, talking about nothing, or everything, it doesnât really matter because youâd be doing it with him.Â
These thoughts leave your stomach sinking because thatâs all they are, just the results of chemical activity moving across the brain that youâve inconveniently grown attached to. Thereâs nothing real or solid behind them.Â
âWhere do you want everything?â you ask with a huff, grabbing the grocery bag from the front seat.Â
Abbot doesnât answer straight away.Â
You feel it before you look up, the sense of being watched. When you glance over, heâs already looking at you like heâs trying to figure something out, like heâs somehow got your pathetic little fantasy down, and is rethinking every decision thatâs led him here.Â
Your stomach continues to drop.Â
âKitchen?â you add, because silence suddenly feels like the worst possible outcome here.
He looks at you a little longer before he nods, going back to unloading his truck. âYeah. Through there.â
You return his nod and make way to the front door, shifting the grocery bag higher on your hip. Your hand finds the handle, the same moment you realise the doorâs not even unlocked.Â
You turn to call for him only to end up bumping straight into his chest.Â
âShitââ The word slips out as you stumble, your grip tightening on the shopping bag to keep everything from spilling.Â
âGot you,â he says, his hand settling at your waist, steadying you before you can lose your balance. Itâs a simple gesture, except your mind has that deeply irritating habit of taking simple things and turning them into something theyâre not.Â
âSorry,â he adds as an afterthought. âShouldâve given you the keys.â
You nod even though the apology seems misplaced, your attention snagging somewhere else entirely. On the warmth of his hand. The way it hasnât quite moved yet. How easily it could slip under your shirt so you could feel him on your skin. Properly.Â
âItâs fine.â Which is both true and very much not.
His hand drops then, his focus shifting to the door and getting it open. You move to the side to give him space trying to collect yourself all over again.Â
âKitchenâs just straight ahead,â he tells you, gesturing you in once the door swings open.Â
Inside, the house is spacious, with dark wood floors and barn-like furniture. Itâs less cluttered than yours, with only a few things slightly out of place. You step in slowly, taking everything in. Youâre not sure when youâll next ever get a chance to visit, so you selfishly take a little longer to wander through, noticing the few pictures and trinkets he has scattered around.Â
When you reach the kitchen you place the shopping bag and your purse on the marble counter, fully intending to head back out and give Abbot a hand with the other bags, but you stall once you get a view of the garden through the glass French doors leading out from the kitchen.
Well-kept grass stretches out for what looks like miles, the edges framed with low trees and shrubs. Thereâs even a small greenhouse tucked to one side. It looks too tidy to be in use, but you imagine how it might look filled anyway. Further back, thereâs a perfectly sized outdoor kitchen, with a large grill and enough counter space to move around comfortably.Â
So this is where he disappears to when heâs not at work.
âIs it okay?â
You turn a little too quickly at the sound of Abbotâs voice, like heâs caught you doing something you shouldnât. Your brows pull together, because youâre not entirely sure what heâs asking is okay.
âThe house,â he clarifies, shifting the bags in his hands like heâs suddenly aware of how that sounded. âFor tonight.â
âOh.â You glance back at the garden, then around the kitchen. âYeah. No, itâsââ you gesture vaguely, because there are too many ways to describe it and none of them feel casual enough, ââmore than okay.â
He nods once, like thatâs all he needed, and moves further into the kitchen to set the bags down beside yours before heâs going out again.
Youâre almost finished with the salad when the knife decides your finger might be a better addition than the cherry tomatoes. Itâs so quick it almost feels hypothetical, but then the sting registers and your finger flies straight to your mouth, like thatâs the only medical training youâve managed to retain.Â
Thereâs already a metallic taste spreading across your tongue, blood pooling faster than youâd like, making you wince.Â
âOh, for the love of god,â you mutter, searching for the paper towels and your brain, which might be lounging on the kitchen counter somewhere, soaking up the sun streaming in through the windows, because clearly itâs not being put to any practical use.Â
And just so the universe could curse you some more, you hear Abbot walking back in.Â
Great.Â
You immediately turn your back to him because he doesnât need any more reasons to think youâre incompetent.Â
âEverything okay?âÂ
âMhm,â you hum, because you still havenât spotted the paper towels and are stuck sucking your finger like thatâs a reasonable long-term solution.Â
âGrillâs coming along,â he continues and you can feel him moving behind you, followed by the rip of the said paper towels. âGot it up to temperature, just needs a few more minutes before I start putting anything else on. Should all be ready in time.âÂ
âMm, thatâs good. Thank you.â You decide to face him, and immediately regret it because you hadnât realised how close he was. âCould I have one of those?â
You reach for the roll but he doesnât hand it over.
âYouâve cut yourself.â
âYes. Iâve already added it to my list of incompetencies today. Itâs fine. Very minor.â
âGive me your hand.â
You hesitate, because that feels like an escalation for something youâve just described as very minor.
âItâs really no bigââ
âGive me your hand,â he repeats, reaching for your wrist.Â
You exhale and let it happen, relaxing your hold as he draws your hand towards him, the crimson gathering along the cut in a way that suddenly looks far more dramatic under proper light.Â
He tosses his used paper towels on the counter and rips a few new sheets. âHere, hold that. Iâll get you a plaster,â he instructs, pressing them against your finger before turning and disappearing down the corridor.Â
You stand there, listening to the sound of a cupboard door opening and then closing, something unzipping and then zipping until his footsteps make their way back to you again.Â
You watch the quick and efficient way he frees the plaster of its wrapper and youâre instinctively holding out your finger, letting him wrap it neatly around the cut. His thumb runs along the edges, making sure itâs properly stuck down.Â
âThank you.âÂ
He meets your eyes. âYou haveââ he lifts his thumb to your chin, the pad of it brushing gently along your skin ââa little blood there.âÂ
Your mouth parts, breath catching somewhere on the way out. You feel him move closer, his touch tracing up to the corner of your mouth carefully, like heâs not sure how far heâs allowed to go, but isnât stopping himself from finding out.Â
Itâs nothing. You were standing there with dried blood on your chinâheâs just being kind.Â
But your traitorous mind immediately offers up a list of alternatives for what he could be doing with that exact same touch, and you have to physically dig the heels of your feet into your sandals to stop yourself from leaning into it.Â
âThere.â He retracts his hand, and once again youâre mourning the loss of contact.Â
You nod your thanks to him and turn back to the counter, picking up the knife again so you can finish your salad. âSo, is the grill behaving?â you manage, which is frankly lousy small talk considering you couldnât care less about the grill right now.
He clears his throat. âYeah. Heatâs holding. Iâll start with the sausages, get a good sear on them, then move them over so they donât dry out.âÂ
âLove a man with a plan,â you mutter out loud, which was definitely supposed to be retained as an internal thought.Â
Silence fills the space and you freeze, knife hovering uselessly over the cutting board. You hear some shuffling behind you, maybe him binning the paper towels and the plaster wrapper, or maybe heâs just giving you a second to realise what youâve said.Â
âGood to know.â
Your phone vibrates in your back pocket, followed by a ping, and youâve never been more grateful for technology in your life. You wipe your hand on your shorts before pulling it out, unlocking it a little too quickly.
Dad: Weâre running late, honey. Hotelâs messed up our roomsâŠlong story. Still trying to sort it with reception. Will message you when weâre on our wayâŠ
âTheyâre running late,â you mumble, a welcome exhale slipping out.Â
âIâll hold off on the sausages. Is everything okay?â
âYeah, just some mix up with the rooms at the hotel.â You tuck your phone away and dump the rest of the tomatoes in the bowl giving it a halfhearted stir.Â
âYouâre putting them up in a hotel?â
âWell, yes. Should I let them pick a corner to sleep in at my house instead?â
He smiles at you and you feel some of the tension ease out of your shoulders, as though you've been waiting for permission to relax this entire time.Â
âIâm all done with the prep on my side, and since theyâll probably be a little whileâŠwould it be absurd if I used your shower?â
âYes. It would be absolutely absurd.â
Heâs mocking you. Funny.
âRight. Iâll just stand in your garden and hose myself down instead, shall I?â
âNo complaints on my side.â
Now heâsâŠflirting?
âSure. Let me just get out of these clothesââ You bring a hand down to your shorts, fingers hooking at the waistband because apparently two can play this game.
âBathroomâs just down the hall,â he cuts in quickly.Â
You grin at him. âThank you.â
âSpare towels are in the cabinet.â His hand comes up to drag across his mouth, thumb catching briefly against his stubble as he watches you bend and grab one of the tote bags on the floor with your clothes inside.
âThanks,â you add again, more out of habit than anything else, before turning towards the hallway.Â
âMm.â
The sound follows you as you walk away, and once again youâre stuck dissecting every interaction youâve had with him today. Itâs enough to give you whiplash. One minute heâs distant, the next heâs standing far too close to be friendly, touching your face like itâs nothing. You donât know where you stand with him, and moments like this donât exactly help.Â
You make your way down the hallway, your grip tightening on the tote bag as your thoughts spiral, circling the same questions with absolutely no answers.
What was that?
Does he even realise heâs doing it?
You push the bathroom door open, and step inside. For a second you just stand there, because thatâs easier than thinking but that doesnât seem to last long.Â
Dumping your tote bag on the counter, you turn to the shower. Itâs walk-in, with enough space to move around freely, and a built-in seat tucked into one corner with handlebars nearby. Thereâs an overhead shower as well as a handheld one clipped to the side, which youâre immediately grateful for because you definitely donât have time to deal with washing your hair.Â
After locating the towels, you strip out of your clothes and once youâre under the water, you realise youâre stuck using his shower products because youâd only planned for an outfit change, not a full reset.Â
Now you get to smell like him even when youâre not near him.
Youâre hoping the shower washed away all your inappropriate Abbot-related thoughts along with the sweat and stress of the day. You donât entirely trust that it has, but you dry off and get dressed regardless.Â
On cue, your phone pings with a message from your father to say everyoneâs on their way. Just one more push and this whole shit show of an evening will be over. Easy. Completely manageable. Light work.Â
Before you even reach the kitchen, you can smell the grill, and when you do, you notice the dining table has already been set. Something in your chest dips a little at the sight. How heâs gone to all this effort for you and your family without questioning it twice.Â
You shake it off, physically, like that might dislodge the feeling before it can settle anywhere inconvenient, heading for the fridge instead. You grab two beers, popping them open against each other and follow the smell outside.Â
The humidity hasnât let up. It's still the clinging type and you can already feel a new sheet of sweat forming on your skin the closer you get to the grill. Abbot has his back turned to you, one hand resting on his hip, while the other works the tongs with an ease that suggests he knows exactly what heâs doing.Â
He looks unfairly attractive just by doing the most mundane taskâjust by existing.Â
You slow your step without meaning to. Which is embarrassing.Â
You stop a few steps short, watching him, like your bodyâs decided this is worth savouring, and you hate that thereâs something about him that manages to calm your nerves and make you feel like theyâre running laps all at the same time.Â
Thereâs probably a scientific explanation for it. Some chemical imbalance, some misfiring signal in your brain thatâs confused admiration with something far less convenient.Â
He turns to you, and you force your feet to move before you risk looking like a complete creep.Â
âThought you could do with something cold,â you say, holding out the beer to him.Â
âPerfect timing,â he replies, reaching for it, his fingers brushing against yours. âHow was the shower?â
âNecessary,â you quip, setting your beer and phone down on the counter so you can hoist yourself up onto it. Itâs probably not the smartest place to settle, perched this close to the grill, but you do it anyway.
He watches as you shift into place, not even trying to be subtle about it either. His gaze dips, catching onto the strip of skin revealed by the slit of your sundress, then drags back up again like itâs something he has to consciously pull away from.Â
âYou look nice,â is all he manages before shifting his focus back to the grill.Â
âThank you. And thanks again for doing all of this. Youâve gone through so much trouble and I donât even know where to begin in repaying you.â
He huffs at that, turning one of the sausages over with the tongs. âYou donât need to repay me.â
âMm,â you hum, letting your foot swing idly against the cabinet, making no effort to cover up the exposed skin he was looking at earlier. âIâd like to.â
âYeah?â
You tilt your head, watching him the way heâs been watching you, then reach for your beer and take a slow sip before answering. âYeah.â
âYou always like having the last word?â
You lower the bottle, meeting his eyes. âYou asked a question, didnât you?â
âThought you had a problem with those today.â
You grin at him. âThink Iâm over it now.â
âIs that so?â
You nod, taking another sip.Â
âOkay,â he drags out, setting his tongs down before ripping off a paper towel to wipe his hands with. âYou want to tell me why you were acting weird in the car?â
âI can tell you exactly why I was acting weird in the car, but youâd have to tell me something first.â Youâre not sure where all this bravery is coming from, certainly not the lukewarm beer acting as liquid courage.
He raises his brows with a small smile as he walks past you where youâre perched on the counter, and reaches into a cabinet beside you for a plate. âGo on. I did say youâre the boss today.â
âWhy go through all this trouble?âÂ
He opens his mouth to answer, but you stop him by lifting a finger just as he turns back towards you, a plate in hand. Your finger hovers somewhere between his chest and the idea of touching him, and his eyes drop again, predictably, to the stretch of bare skin where your thigh is exposed, right between where heâs standing.
âI donât want the same answer as earlier,â you add, lowering your hand, your knees parting just a little wider without making it obvious. âBecause itâs bullshit.â
For a moment he doesnât respond, but youâre not panicking. It's probably because you can tell youâve nudged something, pressed a spot heâd probably rather you didnât find.
He takes a step closer.Â
You feel the plate before you register what heâs doing. The cold edge of it presses lightly against your thigh, a contrast that makes your breath catch before you can smooth it out. Your skin warms it up almost instantly, but thatâs not what holds your attention.
Itâs his hand. Still there. Still keeping the plate pressed to you.
âBullshit?â Â
You swallow, which is annoying, because you hadnât planned on that being noticeable. You gather whatâs left of your composure and try again, aiming for even. Landing somewhere just adjacent. âYeah.â
âThen ask properly.âÂ
Your hands stay braced on the edge of the counter, your knees now parted enough to fit him in between them perfectly, the plate still pressed to your thigh.Â
You let out a slow breath, trying to unknot your fuzzy thoughts, but itâs harder than it should be with him this close. Â
âAsk properly,â he says again, softer this time, like he's not in a rush for you to answer.Â
You glance down at where the plate meets your thigh, and catch the way his other free hand comes to rest on your knee. You feel your whole body light up at his touch, something fluttering low in your stomach and spreading out from there before you can do anything about it.
âWhy,â you start, your voice wavering, âare you doing all of thisâŠfor me?â
He removes the plate, setting it beside you, both of his hands coming to rest on your knees.
âYou think I do things I donât want to do?â
You swallow again, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. âNo.â
âThen thatâs your answer.â
âThatâs not an answer,â you push, a little breathless now. âYou canât answer my question with a question.â
âYou want me to answer it properly?â
You nod, because words have completely abandoned you at this point.Â
âI did it because I wanted you here.â
You donât quite know where to file that information.Â
Thereâs no neat place for it to sit, no category your brain can quickly shove it into so you can move on and pretend this is all normal, because want is a dangerous word.Â
Itâs not polite or distant or easily explained away. It doesnât leave much room for interpretation, and thatâs the problem. Youâve been working with interpretation all day, picking at glances and half-answers and things that could mean something or nothing depending on how brave you felt.Â
Your fingers press harder into the edge of the counter, and you look at him to check if he actually said it, because maybe you imagined it the same way youâve been imagining everything else.Â
Heâs still there, looking at you like thereâs absolutely nothing for him to regret or take back.Â
âNot the answer you were hoping for?âÂ
âNo.â You shake your head, hands slipping from the counter to rest over his where they sit on your knees. Your fingers find his without much thought as you drag his hands up to your waist. âItâs exactly the answer I was hoping for.â
Abbotâs grip tightens, tongue darting out to wet his bottom lip, but he doesnât pull away. âThis is a bad idea.â
âYeah,â you murmur, not arguing it. âBut I havenât even told you what I was thinking of in the car.â
âJesus,â he hisses under his breath. âYou should go back inside. Your family could be turning up any minute.â
âYou want me to leave? I thought you wanted me here?â you press smugly.
âI need you to go inside,â he replies, more firmly now. His hands donât leave you right away, instead they slide leisurely from your waist, down along your hips, over your thighs, until his fingers briefly press into the skin just above your knees.Â
Then he lets go, taking a step back like thatâs going to fix anything.Â
Before you can come up with something smart, your phone starts vibrating against the counter.Â
You grab it, clearing your throat before answering. âHi, Dad.â
âWeâre outside, honey.â
âOkay,â you say lightly, sliding off the counter, taking one last look at Abbotâmore specifically at his very evident hard onâbefore youâre tuning away. âNow coming.â
âThat went well, donât you think?â Abbotâs voice sounds behind you as you finish rinsing the glasses.Â
Heâs right. It did go well. Suspiciously well. And youâre not entirely sure whether youâre glad or irritated with how easily he seemed to slot into your family. Objectively, itâs a good thing. In practice, itâsâŠinconveniant. Especially considering the way you two left things before they came over.
Youâre tempted to ask what he spent so long discussing with your father outside at one point. It had gone on long enough to make you nervous. You couldâve gone out there, hovered and earwiggedâyouâd even considered it for a full ten seconds before deciding to pour yourself another glass of wine.Â
Surprisingly, no one had thrown any inconvenient questions or accusations your way. They all left thinking that Abbot is just some cool guy you work with. A totally laid-back, easy going bossâŠthat youâve spent the entire night thinking about screwing.
You nod, switching the tap off. âSorry for the mess.â
âDidnât notice one.âÂ
âThatâs because I just spent the last half hour cleaning it up.âÂ
You turn to reach for a towel at the exact same time he steps in to place something in the sink, and just like that, youâre back in that position you seem to keep finding yourselves in, like thereâs some invisible thread pulling you into the same orbit whether you mean to or not.Â
You hesitate for a moment, then abandon the towel altogether and wipe your hands on your dress instead, gathering the fabric as you do, letting it ride up slightly before pulling it back down, just enough to expose your cleavage more so than before.
Whatever Abbot had dumped in the sink is forgotten instantly, his attention narrowing straight down to you.
âYou didnât have to.â
âYeah, well,â you shrug casually, âitâs the least I can do. Youâll finally be able to have your place to yourself.â You turn to reach for your phone. âIâll call myself an Uber and be out of your hair.â
Thereâs a pause, giving you enough time for you to open up the app.Â
âOut of my hair?â
His tone makes you pause and you glance back over your shoulder.Â
He seemsâŠtense.
âWell, yes Abbot. Iâm not planning to crash at your place, youâve done enough for me today.â
âRight.â He nods, but thereâs an edge to the word and it has you raising your brow.Â
âYou told me to go inside, remember? Or is that not what you want anymore?â You tilt your head. âYou know, for someone who was so adamant about me asking things properly, you seem to be struggling to do the same.â
He stays silent.
âWhat do you want?âÂ
Nothing.
âHuh?â
Still nothing.
You shake your head, focusing back on your phone and booking that damn Uber, because youâve just about had it with the events of today, and dealing with a manchild is not something youâre adding to the list.Â
Youâre halfway through entering your details when the phone is suddenly snatched right out of your grip.
âWhat the hell?â You look up just as Abbot slides it straight into his back pocket.
âI canât tell you what I want, because then I wonât be able to take it back.â
âWell, that sounds like a you problem,â you shoot back, stepping towards him, reaching for your phone.Â
He takes a step back.
âGive it back.â
âNo.â
You roll your eyes. âYouâre absolutely insane.â
âAnd youâre not listening to me.â
âOh, Iâm listening. Loud and clear. You donât know what you want, you wonât say what you want, and apparently now Iâm being held hostage because of it.â
âThatâs not whatâs happening.â
âOkay,â you scoff. âWell, enjoy whatever this is.â You gesture vaguely between the two of you. âIâll just walk home.â
His expression shifts, like he doesnât believe you, like youâve just told him something mildly ridiculousâŠwhich you haveâŠbecause thereâs no chance in hell youâre actually walking back.
âYouâre not walking.â
âWatch me.âÂ
You turn away from him, but you donât even make it half a step before his hand closes around your wrist. You barely get a second to react before heâs pulling you to him, your spine lining up flush against his front.
âQuit being such a brat,â he scolds, breath hot against your ear, his hands settling at your hips to keep you there, his groin pressed firmly against your ass.
You buck into him out of instinct. âI am notââ
One of his hands reaches for the slit of your dress, his bare fingers tracing up your thigh, slowly, like heâs giving you every chance to stop him.Â
You donât. Obviously.Â
âYou are,â he repeats, voice threading through you. âThreatening to walk out just to see if Iâll stop you.â
You let out a quiet breath, something halfway between a scoff and something far less convincing. âI donât need you to stop me.â
His hand stills, high on your thigh now, thumb pressing in like heâs testing the truth of that. âNo?â
âNo.â
His grip tightens on your hip, enough to pull you back into him again, closer, if thatâs even possible. âThen go.â His words donât match what heâs doing.
You donât move.Â
Not even an inch.Â
His thumb traces inward along your thigh absentmindedly, while your heart knocks behind your ribs.Â
âFunny. Couldâve sworn you were in a rush.â
You swallow, your fingers curling useless at your sides, like theyâre waiting for instructions youâre not giving. âI was.â
âYeah?â His nose brushes along your jaw. âWhat happened?â
âY-youâre in the way.â
âAm I?â His hand drifts higher, the tops of his knuckles brushing along the damp spot of your panties.
Your head tips back before you can stop it.
âThat doesnât look like Iâm in your way,â he murmurs, something faintly mocking tucked into it.
You exhale, shaky, annoyed at him, at yourself, at your entire nervous system. âYouâre very confident for someone who didnât even know what he wanted five minutes ago.â
âI know what I want,â he assures you. âI just donât think weâd be able to go back from it.â
âSo letâs not,â you argue weakly. You can hear it yourself, how desperate it sounds, how little conviction there is behind it. âThis is just a one-off. We can pretend this never happened tomorrow.â
âIs that something you can do? Because I donât think I can.âÂ
âYes, you can,â you breathe, pressing your ass into him. âI can,â you add quickly, which is actually just a bold-faced lie. You donât think you can ever come back from this, not reallyâbut youâd try, you would, if it meant his hand would keep inching higher instead of stopping where it is.
âYeah?â he murmurs into your neck.Â
âYesâplease. Iâll even move to the day shift,â you say, half-delirious, as though thatâs a completely normal bargaining chip to throw on the table. âWeâll never speak of this again.â
âDonât do that,â he mutters, a hint of a smile in his voice now. âI need you on the night shift.â His hand finally shifts, thumb pressing against your clit through the fabric.Â
âOkayâokay, sorryâIâm sorryââ The words tumble out, rushed and barely coherent.Â
He presses a wet kiss just under your jaw, and a small, involuntary sound slips out of you in response.Â
âOne off?â he asks in between the kisses, his voice humming against your skin.Â
âOne off.â
His hand slips beneath the fabric, middle finger dragging through your folds, slow enough that you feel every inch of it. You can hear how wet you areâactually hear itâand feel it too, with how easily his thumb finds rhythm.Â
âJesus, baby,â he breathes, the words half a laugh. âHave you been this worked up the whole day?âÂ
You bite your lip down, unable to concentrate on anything other than the hot feeling pulling tighter in your stomach.
âI asked you a question.â
âYes,â you hiss as he picks up the pace, making your knees buck, properly this time, your balance tipping forward before his other hand tightens at your hip, holding you in place like he anticipated it. The hard line of his cock presses into your ass, completely unignorable and more than enough to get drunk on.
âWhole day,â he repeats, like heâs piecing it all together. âWalking around like thatâŠtalking to me like nothingâs wrong. Is that why you needed that shower?â
You nodâonce, then again, and againâyour body answering for you, a little too eager to cooperate where your brain has checked out.Â
It gets worse the second he slips a finger in.
Youâre that soaked that there's no resistance when he pumps it in and out of you, and you donât manage to stop the strangled noise that slips out when he curls that same finger. Your breath doesnât quite keep up. It stutters, trips over itself, your chest rising too fast, too shallow, like youâve forgotten how to regulate something as basic as breathing.
Your back arches into him, your hand gripping his wrist out of desperation, and you feel it thenâhow saturated his wrist has gotten, slick with you, the mess of it not contained to just there but spread further down your thighs, probably all over your dress.
It's humiliating.Â
âDid you touch yourself in the shower?â
âNââ you start, which is ambitious of you, really, considering the circumstances.
âLiars donât get to come,â he warns. âDid you touch yourself in there?â
âYes.â
He tuts. âDirty girl. I was out here trying to make sure everything was perfect for your family and you were getting yourself off in my shower.â
You want to argue with him. You really do. Something witty, something that would land clean and put you back on even ground. But thereâs nothing. Nothing except your uneven breathing and pathetic whimpers youâre trying to swallow down.Â
âDid it feel as good as this?â
âNoâfuck,â you bite out when he slips a second finger in, the stretch pulling the word straight from you. Your thighs press together out of the sheer intensity of him, but he doesnât let that happen for long.Â
His foot comes in between yours, nudging them apart. âDonât go shy on me now, baby. You still havenât told me what you were thinking about in the car.âÂ
Your walls clench around his fingers, pulling him in deeper, each curl pressing against that spongy spot that has you gasping for air. He thinks the fantasy in the car is the worst of itâor the showerâbut he has no idea how many times youâve thought about him like this. And feeling him get off on it too, the way his cock keeps chasing friction against you, is almost enough to tip you over on its own.
âJack, pleaseââ you beg, for what, youâre not sure.
âSay that again,â he breathes into your hair, voice catching slightly as he grinds into you again, pulling his fingers from inside you just to shift his attention to your swollen clit.
âJack,â you mewl, and you hear the way he curses behind you, âIâm so c-close.â
âYeah,â he pants, fingers picking up the pace. âYeah, I can feel that.âÂ
Your legs tremble, your whole body tightening, the pressure building too fast now, too much, your breath breaking completely as you clutch at him like that might hold you together. You feel his chest rise and fall against your back as he keeps bucking into you, steady in theory, less so in practise, his fingers falling into a messy pattern, too fucking slick with you to manage anything more coherent.
âMâgonnaâfuckâJackââ
âThere you go. Just like that.â
He bites down on your neck and everything blurs, sound dropping out, thought following quickly behind it, your body trying to fold in on itself, like it doesnât know where to put this feeling or how to contain it. Your thighs try to close again, tightening as your orgasm reaches its peak, your cunt pulsing through it, Abbotâs heavy breathing in your ear.
âShitââ he exhales, his hand slowing against you, ââfuck.â
For a second, neither of you move.Â
Your body is still catching up, small aftershocks running through you, your grip on him loosening but not quite letting go, like you donât trust your legs to do their job just yet.Â
âShit.â
âYes, youâve already said that,â you whisper, leaning your head back against him as he caresses your thigh.
Thereâs a huff against your shoulder, an attempt at a laugh that clearly requires less energy than he actually has.
Neither of you really get the chance to come down though, because thereâs a knock at the door.Â
You both still, unsure if either of you heard it right, until it sounds again.
âWho is that?â you ask, pulling yourself away from Abbot, your hands immediately going to your dress, smoothing it down.
âI donât knowâcan youââ He pauses, shifting awkwardly behind you. âCan you get that?â
You turn to look at him, brows lifting. âMe?â
âYes, you,â he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. âIâm not answering the door like this.â
âLike what?âÂ
He just looks at you while you look down, lips pressing together like youâre trying very hard not to smile.Â
ââŠRight,â you concede, softer this time.
âThank you,â he says, the sarcasm sitting heavy in it, as you tug your dress back into place and make your way towards the door.
You wipe at your forehead, still a little flushed, and swing the door open.
âHey manââ the guy on the other side starts, stopping short when he realises whoâs opened it. âAbbot around? My car wonât start and Iâm late for my night shiftââ he leans slightly past you, like he expects to see him.
âUh yeah, heâsâŠâ
You donât even need to turn to know heâs there now.
âYeah,â Abbot calls, voice steadier than it has any right to be. âWhatâs up?â
âOh manâI didnât mean to interrupt anything,â the guy says, glancing between the two of you, something faintly amused flickering across his face.
And only when Abbot steps up beside you, do you realise what the guy means.
Heâs now shirtless, using the black skimpy t-shirt as a cover across his groin, like that somehow makes things less obvious.
âWhatâs wrong with it?âÂ
âThink the batteryâs dead,â the guy explains, scratching the back of his neck. âIt just wonât turn over.â
âAlright,â Abbot nods, dragging a hand through his hair before glancing down at himself, very briefly, like heâs just remembered. âGive me a second.â
âYeah, yeah, no problem at all, dude. Iâll wait outside.â
You close the door, not fully, but enough to block your conversation from prying ears.Â
â...Iâll book that Uber now⊠if I can have my phone?â You hold your hand out expectantly.Â
Thereâs a pause.
â...Right.â
You raise your brows, just as he pulls your phone out from his back pocket, placing it in your palm slowly.
âYou could stay,â he suggests hesitantly, because he knows better.
Your fingers close around the device. âThatâs not what we agreed on, remember?â you reply, trying to keep your tone light. âItâs a one off.â
Something shifts in his expression, and you feel the slight drop in your stomach, like somethingâs been pulled out from under you just as quickly as it appeared.Â
âYeahâŠOne off.â
You nod like thatâs the end of it, pretending youâre not feeling a little hollow. âTake your time,â you add, stepping back. âIâll let myself out.â
He stays where he is for a moment, just watching you, before he finally reaches for the door, leaving you standing in his home, probably for the last time.
And you already hate this arrangement, this promise you both talked yourselves into, because it doesnât feel like a âone off.â Not when your body still feels like his hands are on it, not when you can still smell him on your skin, not when youâre still standing here in his spaceâthinking about how easily he asked you to stay.
