゛ ⸝⸝.ᐟ⋆ ᰔᩚ GOLDEN GIRL | 𝓙. abbot
lynnie's coffee shop ☕︎⋆.˚ request guidelines ☕︎⋆.˚
SUMMARY ⋮ ⌗ ┆When your grumpy skate coach has a bone to pick with your every move, it’s only natural he helps his golden girl get back on track. . .right?
PAIRING ⋮ ⌗ ┆coach!jack abbot x figure skater!reader
CONTENT WARNINGS ⋮ ⌗ ┆18+ SMUT AHEAD. MDNI. age gap (r! is in her 20s, jack is in his 40s). established backstory. power imbalance. lots of banter. mean!jack ゛ ˎˊ˗ dom!jack. sub!reader. afab!reader. unprotected piv sex. use of pet names in and out of smut (sweetheart, honey, sugar, baby, and doll were all used). fingering (r!receiving). squirting. nipple play. breast sucking (r!receiving). condescending praise. degrading. a little medplay. jack steals your panties. jack also calls himself an old man one too many times. . .hair pulling. creampie. breeding kink if you squint. overstimulation. one use of sir. choking. size kink. multiple orgasms.
WORD COUNT ⋮ ⌗ ┆6.3k
LYNNIE'S TEA ⋮ ⌗ ┆☕︎ based on this request! this concept had me in a chokehold since i got it and i’m so glad to have been entrusted with this idea! i need that old man so, so bad. . .anyway, i hope you enjoyyy! ♡
ּ֯ . ❥ ּ֯ ┆꒰ MY OLD MAN IS .ᐟ ꒱
A TOUGH MAN, BUT. . .
“YOU’RE LATE,” said Jack before you’d even put your bag down. For fuck’s sake, you’d barely set foot into the damn rink.
“I’m sorry. There was—“
“Let me guess. Traffic?” Jack finished for you.
You sighed and put your bag down on the bleachers, pulling your skates from it with a deserved attitude. You’d only been late by a few minutes, and Jack had no business being so brash about it.
“I’m here now,” you said. “And ready to skate.”
“Hardly,” Jack scoffed. “You’re not even in skates yet. I don’t mind this from my newcomers, but I expect better from my best skater.”
“Coach Abbot,” you huffed. “I’m sorry. Okay? Can’t you cut a girl a little slack?”
“I have been. For weeks, actually,” Jack said. He crossed his arms. “But it’s opening night this weekend, and unless you want to make a fool of yourself, then I suggest you start acting like you really want this.”
You bit your tongue, because whatever words that could’ve possibly tumbled out of your mouth in response would have been wildly impulsive, and probably inappropriate.
You were one of five skaters your coach, Jack Abbot managed, but you were his best. His golden girl. Or so he said. The way he spoke to you at times made you feel like the term’s polar opposite.
You’d been working with Jack for the last three years. In that time, he’d made an absolute star out of you. You’d assisted in a few shows on ice and competed in sporadic competitions before becoming so adored by the public that people wanted to see you perform at your own shows. That upcoming tour was the very thing that had your coach’s panties in a twist.
Jack had always been a little gruff, but he’d been different lately. You couldn’t really blame him. The stress of the tour had you behaving a little out of character, and your die hard figure skating coach was likely interpreting it as indifference. In reality, you were just nervous, and you wanted to exceed the expectations of everyone who was coming to opening night.
While you understood his perspective, would it kill him to sugarcoat anything? You honestly think you’d prefer he lie to you than be so blatantly rude. At least you had somewhere good to put the reassurance, even if it was fabricated. The petty comments only made you feel worse.
“I do want this,” you grumbled, pulling your skates on. “I’m here now, right? So, come on, let’s go.”
Jack looked like he wanted to protest, but he gave in and sighed. “Fine. Let’s.”
He held the door to the chilly ice rink open for you. You stepped out onto the ice and breathed the frosty air in, hoping it’d ease your nerves. With your luck, however, it instantly had the opposite effect.
“Two laps around the rink. I’ll wait here.”
“Okay,” you said. You’d failed to mention the part where you hadn’t stretched before this like usual, and hoped he wasn’t soon to figure that out.
You felt Jack’s eyes boring into you as you made your first lap around the rink. It felt like he’d been scrutinizing your every move lately, even when you were off the ice, and it was futile for your confidence.
“Pointers?” you shed through clenched teeth after your first lap. Jack only grumbled in return.
“No. One more. Backwards.”
You sighed and did as told, turning around to perform the backwards lap. Aside from a slight trip, you remained on your feet until you circled all the way back to him.
“Two foot slalows. Around the rink.”
You nodded and got right to work, moving your body from side to side as you made your way around again. You were starting to feel a little warm despite having not stretched, so you at least had that going for you.
Jack had you do a few more familiar warm ups before you were off the hook. He eyed you with that same look of scrutiny when you returned, putting his hands together. “Good. Let’s see you practice some jumps.”
You nodded and got to work. Tried to, anyway. The first three jumps went by like a breeze, but the fourth had you taking a slight stumble on the ice. Jack was skating near you now and helped you up, less because he wanted to and more because he felt obligated.
“Up. Try again,” Jack said.
He skated with you while you prepared for a fifth jump, this one landing with ease. You breathed a sigh of relief at the small victory, but this practice was still far from over.
“Better,” said Jack plainly. Why were his insults always more decorated than his compliments?
“Thanks,” you returned just as flatly. “S’that enough?”
“For now. You feeling warm?” he asked. You nodded.
“Good. Let’s see your choreo.”
“Just like that? But we haven’t—“
Jack held up a hand. “I want to see what you remember. Surely you should know the routine you’ll have to execute in less than a week before, I don’t know, thousands of people? Right, sweetheart?”
Sweetheart. The nickname was typically sugary, but coming from Jack’s lips, it was more bitter than ever. In the time that you’d known him, he hardly uttered it with affection.
“Right, Coach,” you bit annoyedly. “I should.”
“Then, show me.”
“Can I play the music for it?”
“If that’ll improve your performance, sure.”
With an eye roll you hoped Jack didn’t catch, you made your way off the rink and to the soundbooth outside it, using your phone to queue up the music that’d play as you skated on opening night. The choreography required you start off the ice to make an entrance, so the second you started the playlist, you flew out on your skates.
The routine started well. You did two dramatic laps around the rink, swaying your arms and settling back into the rhythm you’d been trying to return to for weeks. You did a few twists here and there to show off, letting the music sweep you into an elegant dance on the ice.
It was elegant, at least, until your first complicated move, a double axel jump into a smooth landing, followed by a traveling camel spin—seriously, what the fuck was Jack thinking?—snuck up on you at the height of the song’s chorus. You braced yourself for the move and took a deep breath before attempting it, silently praying to whatever god there was that you did this right.
Unfortunately for you, if there was one, they were not on your side as you flew into the air and promptly landed on your ass.
“Fuck,” you muttered as Jack skated over to you. He helped you to your feet, but he didn’t look happy to do so.
“Again.”
You went back to the soundbooth to restart the playlist, emerging onto the ice with your same dramatic flare from earlier. Whatever they said about faking it until you made it really needed to prove true for you right now.
You conquered the same move you’d just failed like the universe was purposely playing tricks on you. At least the small win eased your nerves the slightest bit.
It was mostly short lived, however, as you prepared for the following one.
You steeled yourself to go into a toe-loop jump, one of the many moves that’d had people enamored with you from day one. Two large glides and some mental motivation had you pulling the move off with flawlessness.
You could see Jack’s slight nod from the corner of your eye. While it wasn’t much, it was more than he’d given you all morning, and you had to hold onto that.
Subsequently, after another dramatic lap, you had another complicated jump in the finality of the song. The Salchow jump was no easy feat for any skater, but if you wanted eyes on you, it was definitely the way to go.
As the bridge of the song began to play, you readied yourself for the final complicated move of this part of the show. You felt Jack’s eyes burning into you from somewhere in the room, ready to witness your coordination. You sure hoped you could muster that in time for the final move.
You glided once, twice, willing your feet to act like they were attached to a halfway decent skater, and leaped into the air to make your final move. You executed it with confidence, completing it with a decent landing, but you lost your footing towards the end of it, ultimately throwing the elegance of the move off.
“Christ,” Jack said to you when you skated back over to him, the first song having now ended. “I’ve seen far better from you. And I expect it in the next song.”
“Yes, Coach,” you said with a sigh. You were starting to think that the reason Jack’s exasperation irritated you to pieces was because it was mostly justified.
You skated off the rink once again and queued up your second song, this one a little more upbeat than the last. You took your place on the ice to start the routine, but this time, Jack skated over, positioning himself behind you.
You turned to cock an eyebrow at him, your eyes twisted into what was practically a glare.
Jack waved his hand. “Pretend I’m not even here.”
“Easier said than done,” you muttered under your breath.
You started skating again, keeping a quickened pace that matched the faster tempo of the song. The beginning had a few simpler moves than the first, which gave you enough time to hopefully. . . .hopefully. . .find your groove again.
Except you were utterly grooveless as you lost your footing for the umpteenth time, far before your first complicated move. Hell, before the song had really started.
You didn’t even notice that Jack had skated off the rink until the song stopped abruptly, making you pause in your tracks. You skated over to the soundbooth, stepping inside the bleachers area.
“Alright, I can’t watch this anymore,” Jack huffed. “Skates off.”
“What? But, Coach, I—“
“Off. I don’t want to hear it.”
You furrowed your eyebrows but obliged—you owed him that after what was arguably your worst performance of all time—and sat down on the bleachers to take your skates off. You slipped your regular shoes back on and spent far longer than necessary lacing them to avoid Jack’s piercing glare.
“You trying to make a fool of yourself or me?” Jack barked.
“What?” you said.
“If your heart’s not in it, sweetheart, and clearly, it’s elsewhere right now, now’s the time to tell me. My career doesn’t need to go down with yours.”
You scoffed, standing up. “You didn’t even help me out there. Your criticism only made it worse,” you snapped.
“At least it was constructive. Why should I have to hold your hand through this? You know far better than to put on a show like that.”
“I wouldn’t be putting on a show like that if my coach acted like he gave a shit!”
Jack crossed his arms. “I do give a shit. Too many, apparently. You want the big leagues, honey? Those coaches would have ended your contract like that for even half the performance I just saw.”
You crossed your own arms to mirror him, huffing.
Jack took a step closer to you. His face went the slightest bit softer despite his earlier fury. “Look. I’m not saying this to be a hardass. And I’m sorry if it’s coming off that way. Skating’s your passion, and I know you want this,” he said. “But if you can’t act like you want to be here, then I can’t help you. Nod if you understand me.”
Your head seemed to nod of its own accord.
“Great. Now, you going to tell me what’s the matter?”
You looked up at the taller man, taking your bottom lip between your teeth. “I don’t know, Coach. I’m stressed, I guess. Stressed I’m going to royally destroy the opening show this weekend. And I suppose I. . .I’m also scared to disappoint you.”
“You might do both things if you can’t get your head in the game,” Jack deadpanned.
“Coach,” you whined.
“It’s true,” he said. His tone went quieter then as he looked you in the eye. “But you probably won’t do either if you put your heart in it, too.”
You held eye contact for a minute without speaking or moving. As much as you hated to admit it, Jack did have a point. As a matter of fact, you’d hardly known him to ever be wrong since the day you’d fucking met him.
Jack broke the silence. “So, what do you need? More practice? Pointers? Need to stretch again?”
“Well. . .” you said. “About that.”
“What?”
“I didn’t actually stretch before this? Was already late, and—“
“Hold on. You got on the rink without stretching?”
“Yes? No? Which answer will take the look you’ve got on your face right now away?”
“Jesus Christ,” Jack said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You want to get hurt now, too? Fuck, what am I going to do with you?”
“I’m sorry! Again,” you said. “Let’s stretch.”
“You need more than dynamics. Let’s take a walk.”
You cocked an eyebrow as Jack started to split down the hallway that led outside the arena. “More than dynamics?”
“Yeah. I need you back on your A-game, and we need to release any tension in your muscles before you start again,” Jack said. “You coming or what?”
“Yes, Coach,” you said, ever the dutiful skater, following behind him.
You trailed beside him until you reached a room you’d never been in outside the rink. It was mostly empty save for one of those doctoral beds in the corner, as well as a counter with a few random items atop it.
“Never been back here before,” you said. “What is this?”
“There used to be masseuses here for the figure skaters and hockey players that come through. Few other rooms just like this one down the way,” Jack said.
“So you get to play masseuse now. Exciting.”
“Hilarious. Come on, honey. Vest off.”
You took off the puffy vest you’d had on and set it on a chair in the room. You also took your shoes off at Jack’s command.
“Did you want, um. . .should I keep my shirt on? I have a tank top under. And shorts,” you said awkwardly.
“It’d make it easier,” Jack said plainly.
You then made quick work of your longsleeve, revealing a thin tank top underneath, followed by your thermal leggings. The exposure made your cheeks heat up slightly, but Jack thankfully didn’t seem phased.
“Lay down. You can start on your back.”
You got onto the bed with Jack’s help—and tried not to think too hard about his hand lingering on your waist—and laid down flat. Jack’s warm hands met the flesh of your leg, and you turned away timidly as he started to lift it.
“Let’s loosen those hamstrings, yeah?” Jack said. He lightly thumbed your skin while your leg was positioned above you, working into the knots you hadn’t even known accumulated there. The feeling might have been foreign, but that didn’t mean it felt bad.
“No wonder you can’t skate. You’re tense.”
“Would it kill you to say anything nicely?”
Jack chuckled. “Maybe it would.”
He put your left leg down and moved onto your right, repeating the same routine.
“Just breathe. Relax. You’ll feel better.”
You tried your best to internalize that, but you couldn’t relax with the feel of Jack’s hands on you if you tried.
He lowered your leg and pushed your knees into your chest, holding them there. You completely averted eye contact with him, letting the silence speak for you. Jack hummed like he was amused.
“What?” you said.
“All that fire on the rink but you can’t even look me in the eye in here. It’s funny.”
“Shut up. It’s just awkward.”
“Still funny,” Jack said. “Both legs up. Hold it.”
You lifted both your legs. The stretch did at least feel good in your glutes, and the ones prior had you feeling good in general, so you had to give him credit for that.
“Legs down. Put your foot over your other leg, then switch.”
“You’d make a good doctor,” you teased as you used both arms to hold your leg over the other.
Jack rolled his eyes. “All this shit is Google-able. So as I said earlier, it’s like you want to get hurt.”
“Jesus. Old man can’t take a joke now?”
“Sure I can. Switch legs.”
You followed his instruction, but you weren’t done pushing him yet. “I’m just saying. Doctor Jack Abbot. . .mhm, could totally see it.”
“You’d probably give me a hard time as a patient, too,” Jack said.
“I don’t give you a hard time now,” you hummed. “You just take everything so personally.”
“You trying to piss me off?”
“See? My point is proven.”
“Turn over. On your stomach.”
You did as told and laid on your front now, feeling even more vulnerable like this. Jack rubbed your inner thighs with the pads of his fingertips. You let out a shaky sigh in return.
“Feel good?”
“Mhm. It’s. . .nice.”
“Good,” he said. He lifted your leg again, pushing it towards you until you felt a stretch in your quad. “Hold it.”
After doing the same to your other leg, putting you in child’s pose, and lastly, into a cobra position, Jack finally let up. You sat up and faced him, your legs hanging off the edge of the bed.
“How was that?” Jack asked.
“Way better than dynamics. I feel great.”
“Of course you do. The longer you neglect your muscles, the better it feels when you finally release the tension in them.”
You rolled your eyes. “And here I was, about to tell you how good of a masseuse you are.”
“You’re full of jokes today, aren’t you?” Jack said with a small chuckle. But he tried, no surprise to you, to hide his amusement beneath his usual stoicism. “I’m still not too happy with you.”
You let out an exaggerated groan. “Come on, Coach. I already said I was sorry! What else do you want from me?”
“What do I want?” Jack said, taking a step closer to you. You parted your legs without thinking so he could stand between them, all before you could really process what you were doing. What he was doing.
“I want my golden girl back.”
You swallowed nervously as you looked up at him. Apart from celebratory hugs and pats on the back, you didn’t think you’d ever stood so close to him; close enough to make out every gorgeous feature on the older man’s face, every gray in his stubble. Every rise and fall of breath, the freckles that started at his neck and slowly descended beneath his shirt. . .
Your breath hitched at the proximity, leaving you stupidly tongue tied, until you managed a small, “I can be her. I promise.”
Jack rested a hand beside you on the bed. “Yeah, honey? You promise?”
“Yes, Coach.”
Like two magnets with an impenetrable force, you both found yourselves leaning into what was more than a kiss, but a whole new side of your relationship you hadn’t known existed until now. You weren’t exactly sure who sealed the deal, only that Jack cupped your cheek with a tenderness contrasted deeply by his previous gruffness, and started to work his lips against yours similarly.
The kiss was soft and sweet, tentative, like Jack was trying to figure out what you liked. Luckily for him, you had no problem disclosing just that. You pushed your tongue past his lips and wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
Jack grunted against your mouth, possibly the hottest sound you’d ever heard, and slipped his fingers into your hair. His hold wasn’t to control you but more to possess, and the thought had you soaked.
You weren’t the only one worked up, however, because there was a bulge in Jack’s pants that was already hard and insistent against you.
The kiss became frantic as the sounds of both your noises filled the room. You desperately guided his hand down to your shorts, right above your clothed core. Jack chuckled against your mouth.
“My God, honey. You’re so fucking needy,” he said, but he didn’t pull his hand away. He laid his palm flat over your center, and though fabric prevented him from fully doing so, you still rutted your hips against his hand.
“You expected me to stay sane after I had your hands all over me, Coach?” you rasped.
Jack shook his head. He looked you in the eyes while he kept his palm against your core, letting you take your pleasure. “Skip the formalities, sweetheart. You can call me Jack.”
“Okay,” you said with a swallow.
“Say it to me.”
“Jack.”
“Again.”
“Jack.”
“That’s it. Get used to it. S’exactly what you’re gonna say when I fuck you stupid on my cock,” Jack said with so much nonchalance, you could barely register the implication. “Hips up. I want your shorts off.”
“So bossy,” you teased, but you did as told. You lifted your hips so Jack could slide your shorts off your body, revealing your pitifully soaked underwear.
“Should have expected that from you of all people,” you said.
Jack helped you take them off, discarding them on the chair you’d put your vest on. “Girls like you need it. Always acting up until someone puts you in your place,” he tutted.
Jack audibly groaned at the prominent wet spot on your panties. He rubbed his thumb over your clit through the cloth, finding the spot easily, a breathy chuckle leaving his lips.
“Fuck, look at you. S’this why you were fucking up out there, honey? Too wet to think straight?” he cooed.
Unable to argue with that, you bit your lip. “Can you b- blame me? You can be really hot when you’re mad.”
“Which, according to you, I’m always mad.”
“Then you’re always hot.”
“Have you always thought that, honey?” Jack said, his pace against your clit quickening.
“It’s kind of hard not to notice,” you admitted unabashedly. “Especially when you—fuck—talk to me like that. Makes me think all kinds of dirty things about you.”
“Oh, yeah? And just what kind of things d’you want this dirty old man doing to you, doll?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” you teased. You pulled him in by his curls, twisting them in your fingers and pulling him in for a heated kiss. “Let’s start with your fingers inside me.”
“Demanding girl, aren’t you?” Jack scoffed, but he still obliged. He instructed you to lift your hips and slipped your panties off your legs, shamelessly putting them in his pocket.
“Perv.”
“You like it,” Jack said. He wasn’t wrong.
Jack slipped two fingers between your folds to find you wet and pliant for him, your hole practically crying to be filled. He used his free hand to drag you to the edge of the bed, keeping his arm around your waist and his eyes on yours while he teased your slit. Your breath picked up speed at the teasing gesture while your body begged for more.
“Come on, Jack,” you breathed, tasting his name on your lips. You found its flavor as sultry as the scene before you. “Don’t make me beg.”
“I don’t know, honey. After your little tantrum today? I think you deserve it.”
“Jack.”
“What?” Jack said nonchalantly, still teasing you between your folds. You thought you might implode if he didn’t fuck you already. “I told you what I want. So come on, doll. Ask me nicely.”
“Please, Jack. Please, fuck me.”
“Good girl,” Jack said, and with that, he slipped two fingers inside you, thrusting them in deep. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
“Fuck, n- no,” you squeaked as he began to thrust in and out of your tight walls, your own wetness the only thing allowing him to breach it at all. “Jesus, Jack,” you whined, scratching your nails into his bicep.
“Fuck, love when you say my name, baby,” Jack grunted. He pulled you impossibly closer, gripping your waist with a possessiveness that was making you feel dizzy. “Can you take a third?”
“Already? Shit, you’re insatiable.”
“Guilty,” Jack smirked.
“For you, I can.”
“Aren’t you a sweetheart,” Jack cooed to make it sound sugary, but you knew it was anything but. He slipped a third finger inside you, groaning as you clenched around the digits. He began to pump them in and out of you with vigor, eyes never leaving yours.
“Mmm, so good,” you whimpered. Fuck, if you were this stupid on his fingers, you had no idea how you’d handle his cock.
“You’re cute when you can’t think,” Jack said. He flicked his thumb against your clit, implementing the same circular motion he had previously. “No bratting, no back-talk. S’like my version of heaven.”
“You’re so. . .mean. . .”
“Oh, but you like it, huh? Look how hard you’re clenching around me,” Jack tutted. “Now I know the trick. Give this pussy a bit of attention and you’re a stupid little slut for me.”
“Fuckfuckfuck,” you whined as he spoke. “Don’t stop, Jack, please, m’gonna cum.”
“Don’t stop what? This?” Jack said with a particularly sharp thrust into your cunt. “Or did you mean treating you like a whore, honey? Yeah, that’s it. You need a filthy old man putting you in your place.”
“God, y- yes,” you nodded your agreement. “Need you to fuck me so dumb, Jack.”
“Gonna give you everything you want, sugar. Just need to be good f’me. . .you are capable of that, aren’t you?” Jack cooed, taking your face in his free hand. He pinched your cheeks between his fingers, making you look at him.
“Yes, sir. So, so good.”
“There’s my precious slut. Cum for me, baby. Cum all over your old man’s hand.”
That did you in. A wave of pleasure crashed over you as you came with a shudder, holding onto Jack’s arm while he fucked you through your release. His fingers didn’t leave until you were basking in the aftershocks, and only then did he pull them out, sucking his fingers clean.
You pulled Jack in for another kiss, moaning when your tongue met his. He kept a hand on your waist, the other on your neck, gently squeezing down. You moaned into the rough touch in approval.
Jack pulled away to help you get your shirt off, then unclasped your bra with scary ease. He groaned at the sight of your hardened peaks, taking both breasts into his hands.
“Shit. Your tits are perfect,” Jack said as he squeezed them both, circling your nipples with his thumbs.
“Fuck,” you whined. You watched him trail kisses from your neck to your collarbone until his tongue swiped over your chest. He sucked one of your breasts into his mouth, swirling the length of it over your nipple, while one of his hands continued to knead your other tit.
“Beautiful girl,” Jack hummed more to himself than to you, all while his mouth continued working. His filthy words and flick of his tongue against your chest, paired with the incessant hard-on pressing against you from below, was about to make you fucking explode.
“This is some. . .stress relief,” you whined, still trying to joke despite your vulnerable position. “You really would be a good doctor.”
“Back to that, are we?” Jack hummed against your nipple. “What are you trying to say?
You laced your fingers through Jack’s hair again, playing with it as you spoke. “Just. . .saying. This feels like a check-up, that’s all.”
“What’s that make you, then?” Jack hummed. “My pretty little patient?”
Caught off guard by his words, you let out an involuntary whimper. “I suppose it does.”
“Well, don’t worry, doll,” Jack said. He squeezed your nipple even harder, pinching it between his fingers. “Doctor Abbot’s gonna get you all fixed up.”
With that, he latched his mouth onto your nipple again, swirling the bud with his tongue. It was evident what kind of man he was as he took a liking to your pretty tits, hardly coming up for air and grunting like he was the one being pleasured.
“That feel good, baby?” Jack hummed after switching to your other nipple, giving it as much attention as the other.
“So good. Doctor,” you teased without thinking. “But I want more.”
“Oh, s’that right? You’re gonna have to use your words, sugar.”
“I want your cock, doctor. Think that’d really fix me.”
Jack chuckled and stood upright. You didn’t have to tell him twice. “Lay back.”
You did as told and laid down on the bed he’d been stretching you on previously. Well, you supposed this still counted as. . .stretching. . .right?
As Jack started to remove his pants, you realized you’d been completely naked while he was fully clothed. He almost stopped at his bottoms and climbed atop you, until you shook your head.
“Shirt, too, Doctor.”
“Bossy,” Jack said, but he didn’t deprive you. He removed his shirt and discarded it on the growing pile of clothes across the room. The sight of his bare chest had you impossibly wetter, even more so as he settled between your legs on the bed.
“Fuck, you’re so hot,” you said as he hovered over you.
“Look at that. You do know how to be nice,” he returned.
“You should be the last person talking.”
“I’m as nice as they come,” Jack hummed like he actually believed it. He started to free his cock from his boxers, and the girth of him surprised you. You sat up on your elbows to get a better look, swallowing at the size.
Jack’s face went a little softer. “You okay, baby? Sure you can take it?”
You nodded quickly. In fact, you might have been a little too excited to take him, not so much the converse. “S’this gonna help me, Doctor? Relieve my stress?”
Jack smirked at you. “Sure is, doll.”
“Then, yeah, I can take it.”
“That’s a good girl. See? You can be smart,” he said.
“Oh, fuck you,” you retorted.
“Gladly,” Jack said. He slotted his already leaking tip between your folds, putting a hand beside your head to keep himself steady. “Ready?”
You nodded.
“Words, sugar.”
“Yes, Coach.”
Caught off guard by your words, Jack sunk into you shakily, the name in a moment like this working him right up. “Fuck. You’re trouble.”
You gasped at the utter stretch of him inside you, and felt even more shocked when you looked down and realized that was only half of him. Jesus. You were already sweating and he hadn’t even fully breached your hole yet.
“Oh, s’that too much, love?” Jack cooed at your little whimpers. He pressed a kiss to your lips to silence you, humming as his mouth swallowed your noises. “Shhh, shhh, you can take it. Big stretch, sweetheart.”
With that, he pushed even further into you, watching your face for your reaction. His equally cocky and attentive demeanor was making your head spin with complete and utter lust.
When he was all the way inside, he started to thrust into your pussy, picking up speed the faster your moans got. Your body was gradually accommodating his size, but the longer he fucked you, the better it felt.
“Jack, f- fuck, you’re so big,” you moaned as he rocked his hips against you. Jack was so deep that his heavy balls were slapping against you with every thrust, adding to the erotic nature of the moment.
“You like that, sugar? How much I fill you?”
“So, so much. Please, don’t stop,” you whined.
“Wasn’t planning on it,” Jack grunted into your ear, his thrusts already getting sloppier. For how uptight he was on the ice, it was jarring in all the right ways to see him lose a bit of control.
“My good girl. My golden girl. Taking her coach’s cock so well,” Jack cooed.
“Wanna be your good girl, Coach. Only yours.”
“That’s what I like to hear, sugar,” Jack grunted.
He picked up the pace and fucked you into the bed quicker now. Your back arched off the surface, the man so deep it was like you could feel him in your throat, as you took every punishing thrust of his hips into your gummy walls.
Jack withdrew momentarily, the loss pulling a whimper from your lips. “Lift your legs, doll.”
You didn’t question him and raised your legs the same way you’d been earlier when you were stretching. Jack took them over his shoulders and lined his head up with your hole again, before thrusting back into you.
“You’re so pretty when you listen to me,” Jack hummed as he started rutting into you again.
You let out a breathy laugh, though it proved hard with the feeling of being so full. “I’m not all brat, as you’d put it.”
“I like when you behave. Should try it more often.”
“I’ll think about it,” you said, thought you both knew full well you wouldn’t.
Not if it ended in sex like this.
Jack pulled out of you, and for a second, you thought he was going to make you beg for his cock again. That is, until he was slamming back into you, getting lost in the feel of your pussy wrapped around his dick.
“Fuck, baby. You’re squeezing me so tight.”
“Jack,” you whimpered in return, your body ready to give into another orgasm. “I’m close again.”
“Yeah? Want me to—“
“No,” you said instantly. Paired with him subtly shifting his hips back, you knew where this was going. And, quite frankly, the thought of him pulling out wasn’t a good one. “Cum inside me. Please? I want you to.”
Jack chuckled, thrusting back into you. “Jesus, sugar. Who knew you were such a dirty girl?” he said. He pushed in impossibly deeper, the tip of his dick hitting that sweet spot inside you. “You want this old man filling your pretty little pussy, huh? Fuck the consequences?”
“Fuck the consequences,” you repeated. “I want it.”
Jack didn’t deny you. He fucked into you like an animal, gripping your legs tightly as he slammed into your cunt. A familiar pleasure started to build in your lower belly, and you knew it wouldn’t be long now.
“Jack, fuck, faster!” you moaned. “Gonna cum for you, gonna cum, holyshit.”
“I’m right there with you, baby. I gotcha,” Jack groaned. You clenched around him hard at the reassurance, and before you knew it, you couldn’t hold back.
You came with a loud cry after a particularly harsh thrust into your pussy, soaking Jack’s dick with your juices. He wasn’t far behind you, cumming deep inside you only seconds later with what could only be described as a feral grunt.
“There’s my girl,” he cooed as he fucked you through it. “Take it like a good little slut.”
When you finally caught your breath—or enough to get a few words out, anyway—you looked up at Jack with a fucked-out expression. Sweat was sticking his gray curls to his forehead, and he looked just as dizzy as you.
“That was—“ you started, but you didn’t get to finish before Jack was suddenly flipping you over, pulling a surprised “Oh!” from your mouth. Without further warning, he bent you over with your ass up, running his hands over the flesh of your bottom.
“Jesus, Coach,” you said at the sudden action. “This another one of your stretches?”
“Always a fucking minx, aren’t you?” Jack tutted. He pushed your face down into the bed and pressed up behind you, his cock prodding and insistent between your cheeks.
“I’m not a—holyshit,” you moaned. You didn’t finish that sentence either, not before Jack was thrusting back into your oversensitive hole, setting a lethal pace.
Jack chuckled. “Yeah, not loud-mouthing now, are you, sugar?”
“T- Too s- soon!” you managed through a whimper, the overstimulation making you dizzy. You had said you liked him meaner, but you hadn’t expected this.
“Poor baby. Just a little more now, love, almost done,” Jack cooed like his fingers weren’t now gripping your hair, and the room wasn’t filled with the wet squelch made from him pounding into your poor pussy.
“Jack,” you whined, the sound muffled by the pillow he had your face in. “Feels. . .feels like. . .”
“Use your words, doll,” Jack commanded. “Feels like what?”
“L- Like I’m gonna pee,” you admitted embarrassingly.
Jack chuckled and didn’t let up, already knowing where this one was going. “Ain’t anything to be embarrassed about, sweetheart. S’gonna feel so good, promise.”
“What’s. . .what’s gonna. . .mmph!” you said with a final moan before you felt exactly what Jack was being so smug about.
The second Jack withdrew from your pussy, a stream of fluid involuntarily escaped you, promptly soaking the already ruined bed below you as well as Jack himself. He patted your bottom condescendingly as he watched you do it, muttering a satisfied, “There it is, doll. Let it out.”
“You’re so evil,” you muttered when all was said and done. You turned around to find a smiling Jack, who pulled you to rest flush against his front, his arms wrapped around your waist from behind.
You tried to ignore the feeling of his still-hard cock behind you as he returned, “Still got my golden girl back, didn’t I?”
You giggled and conceded, nodding in agreement. “Told you I could be her. Or whatever you want me to be,” you said. You laced your fingers through his curls, pulling him in for a sensual kiss.
Jack returned it eagerly, the gesture a sweet contrast to his rough treatment from before. “Yeah? ‘Cause after this sugar, you might have to be mine.”
You smiled at him. “I think I could live with that.”
