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ok so i saw a new article about a therapy dog going to a prison to bring joy to the inmates. and im thinking...therapy dog handler!reader x pope who literally hasnt said a word at folsom until he asks you the name of the dog. and youre kind to him. no one is ever kind to him. so he's like...hm...i like you. and looks forward to your visits every month. until he's released. aw man :c no more doggie. but its ok bce he stalks finds you out in the wild!!
Good Boy
summary: signing yourself and your doberman, cardinal, for folsom state prison's "canines for comfort" program was meant to be a one-time thing. that is until one prisoner doesn't just catch cardinal's attention, but yours as well.
tags: andrew "pope" cody x reader, dog!hander reader, cardinal is weary of men but loves andrew, anti-social, passionate andrew, he falls first and hardest, age gap (28/39), stalking, he's big into collars and the idea of being trained to receive praise and reward/treats, smut (fingering, cunnilingus, sub/bottom!andrew, riding, cowgirl, slight dacryphilia, insane use of "good boy" and handler terms [BUT THIS ISN'T PUPPY ROLE PLAY], piv-unprotected sex, creampie), NSFW 18+ MDNI
notes: once again, everyone can thank @in-ky for this request! will this one be a banger? I sure hope so! beta read by my lovely @oxalaia-quilombensis as always, MY TAG LIST IS CLOSED BUT MY REQUESTS ARE OPEN! enjoy!
word count: 10.5k
Cardinal’s leash remained firmly gripped in your hand as you followed the guard past the front entrance. His paws pittered-pattered against the tile flooring, echoing in the long hall along with your footsteps. Every so often, his side would brush against your calf before he righted himself only to bump you once again after a few moments. His presence kept you calm; prison—even if you weren’t the one in handcuffs and a jumpsuit—made everyone nervous, and you were no exception.
If this were any other place, Cardinal would heel frozen at your feet, nose bumping into the flesh of your leg to signal that something deep inside you was unsettled. He wasn’t a certified therapy dog, not after he’d growled too much and refused to give up his toys during training, but the deeply instilled instinct to protect and comfort remained wired into his brain. He’d been a gift from your parents.
You need something to look after you while you’re off getting your master’s your father had stated before you finally left the coup of your hometown. Since you don’t have a boyfriend, we’ll get you the next best thing.
And the next best thing happened to be a two-year-old doberman, fresh from failing training, who, upon meeting you, never once left your side. With his baby blue collar and harness, the matching set starkly contrasting his inky coat, he served as your sole protector through the move to Sacramento almost a year ago and apparently now while you walked deeper into the Folsom State Prison’s belly to be a part of their “Canines for Comfort” rehabilitation-slash-rehab program, which had been instated around the time you started year one of school.
You had signed up and sent in an application on a whim, something to help fill the odd space in your Saturdays a few hours after sleeping in where you weren’t hungry enough for lunch but didn’t want to just sit around twiddling your thumbs. Their approval had come swiftly, and before you knew it, you’d made the hour drive to arrive for your first session. Up ahead, the guard stopped at a plain, gray door that didn’t have a window.
“With me,” you muttered, and Cardinal sat almost on top of your feet.
“Session starts in five minutes. There are seats in there; choose one and stay in it during the duration of the thirty minutes,” he gruffed.
A low groan rumbled down by your feet at his bluntness, and you were quick to hiss a small sht towards your companion. It didn’t take much to get Cardinal to quiet, but even you could tell that the longer you stood there, the more he was getting unnerved.
Thankfully, the guard tapped a keycard on the lock and the automatic click boomed loudly. He pushed down on the handle before swinging the door wide open to reveal the few people and dogs already in there. You, obviously, were the last one.
“Up,” you said as you took the first step toward the threshold.
Cardinal trotted in tandem with your stride and paid no attention to the others in the room, deep eyes locked on your face even if you were looking around. In one corner of the large, almost classroom-like room, an older woman sat with a dopey golden retriever panting at her feet. In the one adjacent, a middle-aged man stood, back pressed to the wall, hand wrapped around a lead that connected to a very sleepy beagle. You thanked the air. If someone got him howling, there’d be no stop. And across the empty corner—the one that you were supposed to “choose” even if it was the only nonoccupied one left—a college-aged girl nervously looked around, fingers fiddling with the hair of her collie that was half sitting in her lap.
You took the chair. “Feet.”
With a small pushed out groan, Cardinal plopped down on his stomach, legs out in front of him, head held high. Your left hand splayed across his head while your right kept a hold of his leash. The session was going to be co-ed and only available to prisoners who kept a good rep with impeccable behavior, but that still didn’t do much to calm the lapping wave of anxiety in your stomach.
Eyeing the guard who stayed by the door, you noted the way he kept his hands next to his weapon. Only the sound of the secondary door on the other side opening got you to look the other way. As the first few prisoners trickled in, wrists held close together with metallic chains, you sat up a bit straighter. A few of them glanced your way, but as you thought, most of them seemed to gravitate toward the . . . friendly looking dogs, especially the golden retriever who looked like he’d never met a stranger.
Cardinal huffed, sides filling with air before deflating, and his head lowered until it fit between the slots of his feet. You bent at the waist to give his head another small pat and rub. So focused on him, though, you missed the one person approaching you slowly until his feet stopped mere inches away from Cardinal’s. You stayed bent, but your neck craned until your eyes met peered hazel ones that flickered downward and then back to your face.
You sat up straight, the plastic chair creaking under the sudden change in position, and squared your shoulders. “Hi.”
The man drenched in God-awful orange didn’t reply. His lips curled in a thin line, and his hands clenched and unclenched near his navel. You watched as he shifted his weight, body tense like he wanted to speak and move but held back. You quickly looked around. If you had another chair, you’d offer it to him, but the only ones seemed to be occupied by the dog owners.
“Um, there’s not an extra chair, but . . .” you trailed, lip catching between your teeth. “I can always stand up and let you sit or—”
Still without answering, he started to lower to the ground instead until he was fully seated, legs crossed in front of him. His head tilted slightly to the side, and his eyes didn’t look away from Cardinal, yet, he made no motion to reach out and pet him.
You leaned back down and placed a hand on your dog’s head. “He’s friendly,” you said, hand dragging down his fur. “Might growl at first, but I swear he won’t bite your hand.” You paused before adding, “Unless you have food. Then he might not be able to tell the difference between that and your fingers.”
A deep feeling in your chest wanted him to crack a smile or actually acknowledge he was being talked to, but when his lips stayed flat, eyes unwavering. He didn’t even flinch when it appeared Cardinal got too impatient to be pet and lifted off the ground to get a closer smell. You smiled as his nose twitched while he carefully inched forward.
Then, finally, the man reached out before keeping his hand held in the air, letting Cardinal come to him instead of forcing a connection. A small, warning growl accompanied a curled lip to show off his canines, but the man didn’t cower. Almost like he needed your approval as well before fully giving into the outreached hand, Cardinal turned his head back towards you, and you slightly laughed.
“You big doaf,” you teased. “Go on.”
That’s all you had to say for Cardinal to dive right into the man’s lap, tongue hanging out of his mouth as his full body wriggled around. The man gave him the most gentle pets you’d ever seen someone do. It made you wonder if he was scared of himself with the way he held back. He stayed firmly upright despite Cardinal jumping around, putting his paws on the man’s chest, and even going around him as far as the leash would allow to nose at his spine before plopping back down into the lap made by criss-crossed-applesauced legs.
You stayed quiet and watched the two mess around. Because your companion wasn’t the most trusting of men, it’d been a while since you’d seen Cardinal get to rough house around with someone that could take it. You weren’t weak at all, but with the amount of energy stored in that lithe black and brown body, most times you ended up curled in a ball on the floor as he continued relentless play attacks at your sides and back.
After a few minutes, Cardinal settled fully as he draped himself across the man’s legs, chest rapidly rising and falling in low pants. Big hands continued running down his short coat in long strokes.
“What’s his name?”
The sound of his voice caught you off guard, the addition to the small three-way circle so sudden it sent your head reeling before you blinked the stunned feeling away. You tried not to note that he had a nice voice. But it was impossible and slotted in the back of your mind.
“Cardinal,” you managed to sputter out.
Definitely not attractive.
“Cardinal,” he parroted, and the most magic thing followed: the corners of his lips curled barely by a hair. “Nice name.”
“I’m glad you think so. I originally wanted to go with Bishop, but I knew a guy with that name in high school, and he was a grade-A asshole,” you babbled. “And I think Cardinal fits him much better.” Your fingers fiddled with the leash. “My name’s (Y/n) . . . if you were wondering.”
He—still the unnamed prisoner—lifted his eyes to meet yours.
“And you probably weren’t wondering,” you backtracked with a sigh, cheeks heating just a bit under his gaze.
“(Y/n).” He nodded once. “Nice name.”
The heat flooded down your neck, and you shyly murmured a thank you. His hazel eyes returned to the puddle of dog between his legs.
“Can you tell me more about him?” he asked.
“Oh, sure,” you responded, shifting in your seat as though this were an interview. “He just turned three last week, but I swear he still thinks he’s a puppy. His favorite toy is a stuffed white puppy; he literally cannot sleep without it. Um, we do bite work every Monday night, and then advanced protection on Thursdays. And—”
“All right, that’s it for today,” a low voice near the exit door cut you off, and it was as if a switch had been turned off in the man.
The barely-there breath of a smile dropped instantly, and his back went rigid, hands stopping along near Cardinal’s ribs before ripping away back to his lap. Confused at the lack of pets, Cardinal stood back up and nose nudged near his jaw, but the man was already pushing up from the floor.
You also stood up once he got to full height. “Well, it was nice meeting you . . .”
He glanced over to where the prisoners were already lining up before quietly offering, “Andrew.”
You repeated him just as quiet. A small secret shared. Two names for one; something to hold onto until the next time.
“Thank you for sitting with us,” you said. “He really likes you.”
As though to reinforce your statement, Cardinal all but put his snout into the space between Andrew’s shackled hands, squeezing a soft whine into the air.
“Cody!” the guard barked. “In line.”
Andrew tensed before slowly turning around without a second glance back to you, and just like that, it was only you, the other three dog owners, and the one guard who led you in left in the room. The moment the door locked shut with the prisoners on the other side, the three hounded in on you, questions pouring from their mouths.
“How on earth did you do that?” the older lady asked above the others.
Your brows pinched tightly. “Do what?”
Her eyes flickered towards the door. “I’ve been here for five sessions, and not once has that man interacted with a dog much less the person as well. He never spoke and stood to the side like a creep.”
A warning grumble reverberated from Cardinal just as you scoffed.
“Maybe he just didn’t find anyone quiet enough to feel comfortable to approach,” you said, quick to defend the man who hadn’t even said twenty words to you in a span of the thirty minute session. “Go time,” you said before stepping away from the group with Cardinal right on your heels, falling back into a perfectly matched rhythm.
Before even going into the session, you had wondered if this was going to be your first and final attendance, but when the sun shown brightly and warmed your skin and Cardinal pulled lightly on his leash, acting like he wanted to go back inside and sniff Andrew out, you decided that next week, you’d get back into your car and make the hour commute again.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
With more anticipation than the last time, your knee bounced rapidly as you waited for the prisoners to trickle through into the room. You kept your eyes glued, and if someone had pointed it out, you would have realized that you and Cardinal had the same look: something yearning and waiting and excitement all jumbled and stuffed into your bodies. People did say that owners somehow picked dogs that looked like them without even realizing.
You hadn’t even made Cardinal sit nicely at your feet again, and his little nubbed tail swished back and forth with a fast viciousness only saved for his favorite people, the list usually being just you. But now, you guessed Andrew’s name was right under yours.
At the sound of the door being unlocked, you subconsciously leaned forward. The first few prisoners stepped out, and your breathing stopped as you mentally calculated how many were coming in. To keep everyone from being overwhelmed, only a handful of prisoners were allowed in, and you prayed that Andrew would be the next to step through the threshold.
The corners of your lips curled upward when you finally spotted him in the mix, hair still cropped, hands still shackled, but unlike last week, he seemed more interested in what was going on. It only took him a moment to turn his face towards your small corner, and Cardinal let out a small happy yelp when he started to walk over. You allowed his leash to go slack enough to let him meet Andrew halfway, backside moving back and forth since his tail seemed to not be able to keep up.
Andrew tried not to trip on the dog, keeping his eyes downward and his steps careful until he reached the spot where he sat the last time. His knees creaked just a bit as he lowered down to the ground and kept his feet out straight. Immediately, Cardinal hopped into his lap, rolling stomach up, the universal ask for belly rubs.
With both hands, he started scratching along his soft under-belly coat.
“Hi again,” you said gently.
“Hi,” he greeted back even if he didn’t look up at you. “He seems happy.”
“Oh, you have no idea. I could barely get him to sit in the car on the way over here. I think he missed you the entire week,” you said.
His brows furrowed. “I’ve only met him once.”
You shrugged before leaning down to drop the leash fully knowing Cardinal wasn’t going to dart at all. “That’s all it takes for a dog to decide if you’re their new favorite person or their arch nemesis for the rest of time.”
“Oh.” He frowned, deeply thinking of what he’d done to be on the receiving end of such excitement from an animal. “That’s it?”
“That’s it.” Your growing smile stretched until your teeth showed. “Plus, he loves scratches and love pats, and you seem to be doing a pretty good job.”
Andrew noticed that his hands had moved on from scratching to gently patting along Cardinal’s ribs in rhythmic motions. His mind raced to what the two of you had been talking about the last time before the session had ended. Normally, he wouldn’t be so invested in a person and dog, but there was something about the way you looked so soft yet fierce while your canine looked fierce while Cardinal didn’t hesitate to jump into his lap.
“You said he did bite work?”
“What?” you asked.
His chin tilted downward, and he looked up at you through his eyebrows. “Last time. You said he did bite work.”
“Oh yeah,” you breathed before giggling to yourself. “He has a lot of energy that can’t all be burned out from just going to a dog park or going for a run. So the moment I moved here, I looked into places that had training courses for him to go through. Plus it’s helpful.”
“Helpful?” he echoed.
“Yeah, ya know . . . if I ever get attacked or some guy comes after me.” You leaned down and settled a hand near Andrew’s on Cardinal's back. “He protects me.”
“Has that ever happened before?” Andrew suddenly asked, almost personally confused as to why he did.
The sessions weren’t supposed to be chat hours. He knew the prison offered this to get him to be more docile. If he didn’t attack the dogs, maybe he’d learn not to attack or hit others. This plus the meds they’d been giving him, he wasn’t sure how trusting he could be, and asking questions about your wellbeing was the complete opposite of being on the offense.
Your eyes glanced down before you leaned back into the seat. “Once after I first moved. I don’t live on campus—I’m here to finish my masters—and after class, this one guy followed me home. I don’t know exactly why; I’d never seen him before, but he tried to corner me near my door. I had just gotten it open when he tried to grab me, and Cardinal came rushing out the door.”
The more you talked, the more rage built in Andrew’s chest, simmering just below his skin. And instead of questioning why he felt this way, he gave into the feeling and clenched his hands. However, Cardinal, the everknowing soul, felt the change in him right away, and Andrew wasn’t ready for him to stand and press his cold nose into the side of his neck, huffing loudly near his ear.
You laughed quietly after seeing how still Andrew had become, confusion on what to do next. Your fingers quickly found the dropped leash on the ground, but before you could give Cardinal a small tug, Andrew shook his head.
“He’s okay,” he murmured.
A wave of sadness crashed over you as you watched him try to wrap his arms around Cardinal but failed since the cuffs kept his wrists together.
Maybe one day once he’s out, he can give Cardinal a full hug quickly flashed through your mind, to which you quickly shook your head to get rid of it. Once Andrew was out, he would disappear from your and Cardinal's life entirely.
One glance toward the clock on the wall told you that only ten minutes remained for the session, and your heart clenched. The thirty minutes weren’t enough.
“What are you in school for?” Andrew asked after a quiet moment, arms finally wrapped awkwardly around Cardinal’s neck, basically using him as an arm wrest.
“Behavior sciences. I like knowing how people tick,” you replied. “Everyone acts differently, but I believe that at our base, we all have a need and want to be liked. It’s human nature to want to please. Kinda like dogs.”
“Is that why you signed up for this?” he spat the last word.
“A little. I think I wanted to find a way to help people since school doesn’t give me time to do extra volunteer hours during the week,” you provided. “I mean, one of our assignments was to find an outlet that could help, and I found Folsom’s application online.”
“Oh.”
“But,” you swiftly kept going, “we only had to go once for the grade.”
Andrew looked back up at you. “Then why are you here?”
“Well, Cardinal seemed to really like this one guy we met last week,” you teased, and he finally gave you more than a hint of a smile, lips pulling outward until lines appeared.
“Just him?”
You pretended to think, eyes looking upward to the ceiling. “Hmmmm, maybe not just Cardinal. I think I liked talking to the guy too.”
A rosyness bloomed across Andrew’s face.
You liked talking to him? Probably the first time someone ever said that, and his first instinct was a desperate want to hear you say it again.
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
For the next two years, you always faithfully showed up to the sessions. During that time, you’d gotten to know some about Andrew’s life outside of the concrete walls. You learned that he was a twin, he had two younger brothers and an older adopted brother, whose wife he used to love, and that his father had died before he was born.
He enjoyed skateboarding whenever he could get away from his mom. If he had a slow evening, he liked to listen to nature documentaries on the TV. He told you about his arrest, though barely giving you full details but enough that you decided he wasn’t in prison for the right reasons. Every time he spoke, you listened with intent, wanting to soak up any knowledge about the man you’d come to look forward to seeing every Saturday afternoon.
In return, you told him about your own life. Unlike him, you were an only child, parents still living and married together. You were twenty-five; fifteen years his junior. Your favorite color was green despite Cardinal’s leash and halter being blue—he’d picked it out himself you told him through a fit of giggles. You confessed that after college, you really didn’t have a plan for your life, and that you preferred to go with the flow to see where you ended up.
And somewhere along the way, untold to either, you both felt a certain care for the other.
Andrew had felt drawn to you the moment you had told him that you liked that he was quieter and softer than the others, that he didn’t try to talk over you and remembered the smallest things you’d said. And every time you gave him a compliment like the time you mentioned hazel eyes were your favorite hues and that you enjoyed looking at them, his heart yearned for you a little bit more to the point he started being first in line for the sessions to get the smallest handful of seconds longer in your presence.
You, on the other hand, started feeling something for him when he quietly defended Cardinal. One of the newer volunteers who started coming around five weeks after you started had loudly proclaimed that a Doberman wasn’t fit to be a therapy dog. You’d wanted to shut his comment down, protest that Cardinal had been approved just as his yappy, little rat Chihuahua had when Andrew slowly stood, faced the man, and berated him in front of everyone. You’d been scared that he’d get reprimanded, but the guards never did a thing.
Through these small moments and honest conversations, Saturdays became both of your favorite days of the week.
Well . . . that was until a random Saturday almost two years after you’d first signed up.
The entire drive over, you were excited to tell Andrew that you’d passed your exams, meaning that graduation would be right around the corner for you. The second bit of exciting news was that you’d been offered a three-year contract for a job in Sacramento. You’d get to stay close, see him more often if he let you. School wouldn’t be in the way.
Cardinal could sense your excitement in the air, and he matched your energy the entire way into Folsom. He bounded around your feet, not even listening to your small commands and corrections. Once inside, you were the first to take a seat, Cardinal finally sitting next to the chair like normal.
The door unlocked, and the first few prisoners walked through, and your heart began to race. However, after the fifth and sixth prisoner, with Andrew not in sight, your stomach backflipped before sinking when the door closed.
Andrew hadn’t made it through. There must have been a mistake.
You pushed off the metal chair—the plastic one had broken during one of the sessions where Cardinal managed to push you off and down to his and Andrew’s level—and approached one of the guards.
“Excuse me,” you meekly said, tensing under the man’s steeled gaze. “I’m wondering if Andrew Cody couldn’t make it today. Is he doing okay?”
“Sorry to tell you, but he was released a couple days ago.”
You swallowed thickly. “What? He said he had another three to go—”
“Got out on good behavior. Guess the Canine-Comfort thing did its job. Never seen such a violent man turn into someone normal.”
A sneer pinched your face, and you had to fight the urge to tell him off that Andrew was always normal. A little lost in life, but he wasn’t an animal, wasn’t violent . . . at least towards you. But you found it hard to believe after being around him and his kindness for two full years, seeing nothing but the gentleness he gave you.
You turned and looked around the room before looking back at the guard. “Am I able to leave early?”
Quietly and quickly, he opened the door for you to slip through, and as you walked through the empty hall, Cardinal whined loudly.
“I know, bud, I know,” you whispered. “I’m going to miss him too.”
· · ─ ·✶· ─ · ·
Never once had you slipped Andrew’s mind, not even as a year passed since the last time he’d seen you and Cardinal. He hadn’t even known that the session before he got released was going to be the final time, and if he had, he probably would have done something reckless like tell you to find him once he got out.
But the way he had to leave without even getting to say goodbye tore at his chest whenever you crossed his mind or when he saw a doberman walking on the street. If he imagined hard enough, he could morph whoever to have your soft hair and your sweet smile that Andrew believed to only be reserved for him. Distance made the heart grow fonder, but the longer he was away from you, the more his fondness turned into obsession. He looked for you in every aspect, and before he knew it, he was typing your name into his computer.
To his chagrin, only your past references would ever be brought up in the search engine. He did see that you had graduated a few months after his release, but that meant that you were probably long gone by then. Andrew cursed himself. He hadn’t even told you where he lived.
From then on, he learned to curb his wants and desires for you, only giving in under the cover of night. He’d imagine your voice next to his ear, your weight over his bare chest, fingers dragging down his pecs and abs as your hips rocked against his. His hand would dip below his shorts into his boxers, cock already hard and straining by the time he wrapped his hand around the length. His soft, warm shaft would already be wet and slick with precum. With tantalizing strokes and bucking pelvis, it wouldn’t take him long to cum in his pants by the mere thought of how you’d taste on his tongue.
What really got him spurting though was when, instead of hearing moans and whimpers from your lips, he’d envision you giving him soft commands as you did to Cardinal. A down here, a speak there, a bite down as he filled you completely. And above all, he’d whimper hearing you give him a good boy if he managed to please and do what you’d asked.
In the haze of orgasm before clarity would command his senses once again, he’d reach for his phone and google harnesses and leashes for people, only to swipe the tab away the next morning with burning cheeks.
Though, those moments started to spread far and few between as his mother began to commandeer his life once again. But after he found out she’d been drugging his food, he left. Put the whole life behind him.
He stayed close to Oceanside in case his brothers needed something, but the life of Pope Cody, criminal under his mother’s thumb, was over. With any hope of finding you again keeping his heart beating, he changed. Got a job—one that gave him money the legal way. Started skateboarding again. You’d be proud of him, at least, he believed you’d be proud of him.
It wasn’t until one Saturday morning that his reason for life walked right on by without even stopping.
He nearly fell off his skateboard, because there you were, tan and glowing under the sun. You looked a bit older, not as soft as he once knew you, but the world worked in funny ways like that. It dangled what you wanted the most after they’d been changed. And as he watched you walk away, Cardinal at your side, he wanted to say something—scream something, but he stayed silent. For as much as he begged to see you again, here was no telling if you'd actually wanted the same.
So, Andrew stayed quiet, but that didn’t mean he stayed still. After you’d walked on a few feet, he fell into your invisible footprints along the sand-specked sidewalk. You were none the wiser, earbuds letting music flow too loudly to hear the outside world. He would have to have a discussion with you about that. There was only so much Cardinal could do if you were attacked unsuspectingly. Not knowing your surroundings terrified him to his core.
He followed you for around thirty minutes, enjoying the walk along the way but also enjoying being around you after so long. His eyes trailed your back and the way your shoulder blades and muscles shifted beneath the tank top draped over your torso. The hazel hues lingered at the bottom hem that lifted with each step, revealing more of your ass that was perfectly sculpted by the tight green leggings.
You only stopped when you reached a small white house and used a key to waltz in, and Andrew’s stomach clenched. You’d been living here. You’d only been less than an hour away this entire time. He could have had you sooner.
But now? Now he knew where you lived. Someplace he could come to when you weren’t there. A home that you could possibly invite him in at some point. However, he wasn’t about to waste anymore time away from you.
The next time he was out skating, he didn’t stay long, choosing to follow the memorized path back to your house. It wasn’t his fault you left a second key under a false rock, and it wasn’t his fault that you were out and about. He noted that you desperately needed a security system once he realized there was a lack of cameras.
His footsteps were soft as he walked through the hallway and into the living room. The air smelled like a mix of your perfume—vanilla and salt air—and clean dog shampoo. Even if every aspect of your home held evidence that Cardinal lived there too in toys and the bed near the couch, he was grateful you kept it clear of dog hair.
He moved on toward your bedroom and stopped in the threshold as though the space he was about to enter was too holy for him and his dirty soul. His eyes scanned each inch from your curtain choice to your bedspread: green gingham with white pillows. However, a sprawled piece of navy fabric caught his attention, and he gave into the urge to walk over. It wasn’t until he picked it up that he realized what it was.
His large fingers fiddled with the lacy part of your underwear, thumb running along the hem before stopping at the gusset. There was no dampness, no leftover scent from what he could tell; the pair was clean, and that wouldn't do at all. He carefully laid it back down, spreading it as though he never picked it up in the first place and turned direction.
Your closet was his next victim. His lower half peeked out around the door as he dug through the hamper of your dirty clothes. Your scent was thicker here. Not as sweet, but even more so addicting as it wafted upwards to his face. A small moan crawled up his throat, the sound echoing in your empty bedroom.
However, as he continued digging around, he didn’t hear the soft sound of your door clicking shut or your footsteps as you walked in his direction.
For one split second, you were terrified to see half of a man sticking out of your closet. Cardinal was currently at his handlers for one-on-one time; your one protector was gone the moment you needed him most. And yet, when the man pulled back, revealing the face of the man you’d been dreaming about for a year, your soul settled enough to let you watch what he did next.
In his hands, yesterday's thong dangled between his thick fingers before he slowly brought it up to his nose. Your eyes stayed trained on his chest as it inflated deeply and a groan rumbled right out of it. Something inside you warmed at the scene even if you should have been calling the police.
You shoved your hands into your pockets when he took another deep breath in and decided it was time to make your presence known.
“You know,” you said, making Andrew’s eyes widen and hands drop to his sides. “If you missed me this much, you could have approached me normally. Unless this is your way of showing exactly what you’ve been wanting to do since we parted ways?”
Your thong fell to the floor in a heap, and a redness crept up his neck and settled in his cheeks. He felt frozen, glued to the floor, unable to move even an inch under your hungry gaze. Your head tilted slightly when he made no move, made no attempt to apologize or explain what he was doing.
“Andrew, come here,” you stated, slightly joking.
However, your words seemed to light something in his mind, and he quickly walked over to you in large strides until mere inches were left between your chest and his. He wasn’t much taller than you exactly, but he had a few good bit above you where you had to look up. His shoulders, though, felt larger, and you bet you’d fit right into his chest with enough of him left to curl around you.
Just the thought sent a shiver down your spine.
Slowly, you lifted a hand and rested it against his cheek. Instantly, he leaned into your palm.
“I’m sorry,” he finally breathed.
But an apology wasn’t what you were looking for.
“I asked you a question, Andrew,” you restated. “Have you been thinking about me?” His jaw dropped before clamping back shut. The hand at his cheek traveled upwards and tangled into his grown-out curls. “C’mon; speak. Tell me what you’re thinking.”
He swallowed loudly, Adam’s apple bobbing in his neck. “I’ve . . . I’ve wanted you.”
You cocked an eyebrow. “For how long?”
“Since Folsom. Since you said you liked hearing me speak.”
A small part of you shattered. “That long?”
He nodded, hair pulling slightly in your grasp. “That long. But then I left. Couldn’t find you after that.”
“Well, now you’ve found me. What are you going to do about it, Andrew?”
At his sides, his hands clenched like they did the first time you met him, and somehow, it clicked to you that this was his tell, his silent plea for someone to help him do what he wanted. You’d done it before; when you first offered your chair for him to sit down only for him to take the ground instead. But here he was, looking at you with expecting eyes as he waited oh so patiently for your next direction.
Your fingers curled deeper into his roots, and the pressure drew a sigh from deep in his lungs.
“Poor Andrew,” you cooed. “Can’t do anything unless I tell you to.”
“Please,” he whined.
“Okay, okay.” Your eyes met his, the hazel almost completely covered by his blown out pupils. “Down.”
As soon as the command hit his brain, neurons firing for him to obey, obey, obey, he fell to the floor, knees crashing down in one fluid motion. His face pressed into your navel, and his hands finally planted themselves on your hips. You took two steps back until your spine molded against the wall, and Andrew shuffled forward to follow.
“Take off my pants and underwear,” you breathed.
His fingers gripped both hems and pulled downward until the fabric puddled at your feet. It took every ounce of self control that Andrew had left to not shove his face between your thighs and breathe you in.
Slowly, you lifted your right leg, using the wall as support, and rested it over his shoulder. Your cunt was now in full display, less than an inch from his nose. He slightly leaned forward, but you held his head in place by his hair.
“Did I tell you to go ahead?” you questioned with lidded eyes.
He shook his head, looking more guilty than he had when you’d caught him with your underwear under his nose after he’d broken into your home.
“Good boys do as they’re told, Andrew.”
“‘M sorry,” he whimpered.
“Do you want to be a good boy?”
“Yes,” he answered almost before you’d even finished the question. “Yes. I wanna be . . .” His words died in his mouth, and your brows pinched.
“Go on, baby. Tell me what you wanna be.”
He huffed, a sound that reminded you of when Cardinal didn’t want to do as told.
“. . . wanna be your good boy.”
An elated expression morphed your face with raised eyebrows and a small smile.
“Then show me what your tongue can do and lick.”
Like a tightly coiled spring, he launched forward, face diving into your cunt all at once. His chin rubbed along your already dampened folds as his tongue began to lap mindlessly at the sensitive space between your clit and your entrance. While that felt good, you needed him higher.
“Slow,” you managed to get out while your fingers used his curls to direct him. When the flat of his tongue ran along your clit, white, zinging pleasure shot up your spine. “There. Right—fuck—there, Andrew.”
Under your hand, Andrew learned quickly, eagerly doing just as you told him. He kept his hands in place while he traded tonguing your throbbing bundle of nerves and licking at your fluttering hole, your taste seeping into his mouth. He hoped that it would stick, that when he fantasized about you next, he’d be able to swallow the lingering taste.
“Fingers,” you panted once ecstasy settled warmly in your navel and your thighs began to tighten around his head. You’d played with yourself enough to know exactly what you needed, and since meeting Andrew, his thick fingers had been a craving during your lapses of self pleasure. “Use your fingers.”
Andrew’s right hand slowly dragged downward across your hip and slightly under where his lips stayed connected to your clit as he sucked it between his teeth. Using his pointer finger, he prodded at your hole, fingertip barely breaching you before sliding right in.
A strangled moan ripped from deep in your throat at the feeling. One of his fingers felt like two of yours, the stretch delicious and borderline painful in sweet tantalizing pressure.
“Andrew!” you whined, head tilting back, throat bared to the ceiling. Your hips canted upwards into his face and finger, desperately searching for something more. “Move.”
He dragged his fingertip along your walls, memorizing every soft ridge until his soaked digit cooled slightly before thrusting it back in. Your cunt clenched tightly around it.
“Hmmmm—fuck!” you keened when he managed to reach a particularly deep part of you that had only been accessible with a toy. “Oh, shit, fucking—Andrew!”
The sound of you calling his name had his cock straining even more against his pants. He’d never admit it, but his cock had already started swelling the moment he inhaled your heady scent from your thong. But now, hearing your whimpers and half-croaked moans that tangled his name, he needed to get some pressure off, or he was going to cum untouched.
You’d been so distracted with his finger and tongue that you failed to notice the first jerk of his hips against your shin. But when he did it a second time and then a third, you couldn’t ignore it any longer.
“Are you—fuck—are you humping my leg?” you asked.
Andrew stilled against you, and you swallowed a moan. You could feel how hard he was against your skin, how large his cock was, even with being restrained by two layers of fabric.
“I’m sor—“ He choked on a moan when your leg rose slightly and pressed into his bulge. He hunched slightly at the waist, face pulling back from your cunt, cheek resting against your thigh with eyes pinched tightly.
It’d been so long since someone touched him, and your approval of letting him use your body for his own pleasure made the fire in his stomach build and roar.
“Go on,” you muttered before pushing back his sweat-soaked curls from his forehead. “Hump my leg like a fucking mutt, but don’t you dare cum, Andrew.”
He nodded mindlessly, and his hips began to rock once again in slow, dragged out motions. You left him to his pleasure for a few moments before tugging his face back into your core.
“Get back to licking like you know how to do,” you commanded even if you were just as pathetically holding onto strings as he was. “Add another finger and make me cum all over your face.”
You kept your leg as steady as you could manage while Andrew started licking and nibbling at your folds and stiff clit with renewed fervor. His pointer was soon joined with his middle, the delicious stretch even tighter than before. And when his hips jerked, a groan vibrated through your folds, almost sending you right over the edge.
“An-Andrew,” you gasped, overwhelmed with his fingers and tongue working in tandem to make you cum. “C-curl—fucking, I’m—curl your fingers upwards—oh!” Your elongated moan turned into whine when his fingertips managed to brush directly at your g-spot, and stars dotted your vision. “That’s—Andreeewww—feels so—I’m gonna cum!”
Andrew kept humping your shin in methodical thrusts, careful to heed your words and hold back the urge to cum. From below, he lifted his eyes, gaze running up your stomach to your pinched face. He wanted to see what you looked like when you came undone, to see if he obeyed correctly. His lips puckered, and he sucked your clit between them, the tip of his tongue kitten liking the bud as he curled his fingers again. His fingers massaged that small, spongy spot, and the next moment, your thighs clamped down on his ears.
“Cumming—fuck!” you moaned, torso bending over Andrew’s head, hips jerking absentmindedly to seek out as much pleasure as possible.
Your walls rhythmically clenched around his two fingers, and your arousal dripped down to his knuckles. A shudder wracked through your entire being when the bliss started morphing into overstimulation.
“Okay, okay,” you whimpered. “Enough.”
Andrew licked from your fluttering hole up to your clit once last time before pulling back to sit on his calves. Already half-lidded, your eyes fluttered closed, and your head felt back with a soft thunk as you tried to catch your breath, mind reeling and fuzzy. Down by your knees, a slurping sound echoed in the room, and your eyes ripped open in time to see Andrew hollow his cheeks around his fingers.
Once your chest fell into a softer rhythm, you looked down at him. “Andrew.” He paused, fingers halfway in his mouth, and looked up. “Up.”
He pushed off the ground without a second thought and stood to his full height, but his eyes were no longer on you. The blown-out pupils were fixated on a spot just over your shoulder, and when he noticed you’d caught on, he quickly shifted them back to your face. However, your curiosity wouldn’t let you forget, and you looked toward the wall near your face, eyes widened when you realized what he’d been looking at with a yearning look: one of Cardinal’s choke chains that you used specifically for obedience training, its gold links beaming and glinting under your gaze.
You turned back to face him. “Pants and shirt off.”
At lightning speed, he shucked both clothing articles off before neatly folding and setting them on the edge of your bed. A certain soft type of fondness that made you want to keep him forever filled your chest. You raked over his body with a hungry look, letting your eyes linger on the outline of his abs and happy trail that dipped into the waistline of his boxers before lowering down to his thick thighs.
“Good,” you praised, and his chest puffed out ever so slightly. “Now . . . sit on the bed.”
He turned without thinking and walked until his knees hit the edge before slowly lowering until his ass rested on top of your duvet. As he did so, you had also turned around, but in the opposite direction to grab the choke chain from the hook. Its weight settled heavily in your palm, the loop swinging as it dangled.
When you looked up from it toward Andrew, he was already eyeing the chain as well with interest as well as apprehension.
You held the special collar in the air. “Do you want me to use this on you, Andrew?”
He swallowed thickly, and his head bobbed.
You gave him a sharp sht. “Speak.”
“Yes,” he sighed breathily. “Please.”
Instead of answering, you rewarded him by walking over to stand between his spread legs, your thighs brushing and resting between his. Slowly, you fed the chain through the one hoop, allowing the hooped part to loosen and spread. The small links shinked against their metal counterparts, and the sound sent a shiver down Andrew’s spine.
As you would do with Cardinal, you lowered the open-feed loop until it swallowed his head before drooping around his neck. You let it rest against his skin, let him get used to the cool metal as it drew in his radiating body heat.
“There,” you whispered. “You look so good in a collar, Andy.”
His brows pinched tightly, and he locked his confused eyes onto yours. “Andy?”
You nodded. “Every good boy needs a nickname.” Your left pointer finger hooked through the end ring and pulled lightly, making Andrew follow the lead until his face stopped right next to yours. “Do you want to fuck me?”
“Yes,” he was quick to answer this time. “Yes, please. For a long time.”
You leaned in and placed a chaste kiss against his lips before muttering, “Crawl up the bed and sit against the headboard.”
The end ring slipped from your finger and landed in the divot between his pecs. Without turning away from you, Andrew used his arms to pull himself farther up the bed, biceps bulging under his weight until he got into the position you wanted him to be in. Seeing that he settled himself, you pulled your shirt off before your bra followed suit.
Almost instantly, your nipples pebbled in the cool air, and you swore a drop of drool escaped the side of Andrew’s lips. Your knees sunk first into the mattress, and then your hands. You slowly crawled over the bed, never looking away from him even as you partly straddled his thighs. He huffed out a soft whine when your nails scraped against his stomach and caught on his boxers.
“Let’s get these off. Lift up,” you said.
Andrew’s hips rose off the bed, giving you enough room to pull the black fabric down. The hem dragged down inch by inch in a teasing manner until his cock was fully revealed. You paused to watch it bob upward against his lower navel, and the heavy girth of it tilted the head to the side as it swayed. Your walls clenched around nothing; your cunt ached for it to fill you to the brim.
Your tongue ran along your bottom lip as you all but ripped his boxers off the rest of the way, flinging them behind you to join your own pile of clothes. For a split second, you wondered if he wanted you to fold them like he had with his shirt and pants, but with the way he was looking at you . . . you could tell he didn’t mind them being wrinkled on the floor.
Hesitantly, you reached out and trailed your finger down the vein on the underside of his length, his cock jolting and spurting a bead of precum when you reached the thick base. His hands, lying next to his thighs, once again began to rhythmically clench into fists.
You shuffled forward more into his lap, one hand gripping his cock while the other took a hold of the dangling end of the choke chain. Your movements paused so you could slide his ruddy tip through your soaked folds, drawing moans from both of you.
A small upward tilt of his hips had you pulling back and hand tightening the chain around his neck in a warning.
“Nuh-uh-uh,” you tutted. “Stay.”
When he stilled under you, you slowly positioned back over his cock until the head notched at your opening once the length was thoroughly soaked with your sticky arousal. But even just the first breach felt like you were being split open, and the breath from your lungs ripped up your throat. Andrew’s head tilted back, and his eyes fell shut as his face pinched.
In a tormenting pace, you inched yourself down onto his cock, walls clenching and relaxing at the thick intrusion. Your fingers never left the chain as you pushed your hand into Andrew’s chest for stability. And never once did he move under you.
“You f-feel so big, Andy,” you whimpered when he was around halfway in. “Biggest cock I’ve ever ha-had.”
A groan rumbled through his chest, and his eyes finally opened back up so he could watch your face twitch with pleasure. Your back arched during the last few inches, and a high pitched whine crawled up your throat once he was fully sheathed, his tip digging into spots you didn’t know could be reached. You swore he was up in your throat, and one glance down to the swell in your abdomen almost made you cum right then and there.
Without moving much, you blindly reached down, fingers finding purchase in his wrist to raise his hand to span across your stretched skin.
“You feel that, Andy?” you questioned. “That’s you. So, so, so deep inside me. Reaching all those places I can’t even get to.” Your chin dipped so you could look at him and into his glossy eyes.
In languid rocks, you began to lift off his cock in shallow motions, his length barely pulling out before you dropped back down, cunt fully engulfing him. Your knees deeply dug into the mattress on either side of his hips, and your breasts slightly bounced as you started to quicken your up and down grinds. When your pelvises met, the coarse hairs that hid the base of his cock added needed stimulation to your clit with a tantalizing texture.
After finding a good rhythm that danced between harsh downward sitting and slow dragging to feel his cock run across every ridge of your walls, you moaned, “Andrew. You can move. Fuck me, baby; fuck me like a good boy.”
Large, calloused hands planted themselves on your hips, and Andrew began to meet your thrusts halfway, his grip helping aid you to slide along his length. On a particularly punchy roll, your body jolted, and your hand yanked on the chain to tighten the loop around Andrew's neck. The gold links dug into the sides of his pretty, freckled skin, and put pressure on his pulse points.
You watched as his eyes grew hazy, mouth dropping to draw in labored breaths. After a few seconds, you loosened the chain, and some resemblance of cognitivity returned to his hazel hues.
“You like that?” you asked, pulling your hips up only to drop them back down to pull a whimper from Andrew. “You like being choked? You look so hot under me, Andy. Letting me use you for my own pleasure.”
“Use me,” he parroted. “Use me, please. I want to be goodhnnggg—”
“Use you?” You yanked the chain again, cutting off his words to bring that fuzzy pleasure back to the front of his brain. “Oh, I will, but I need you to stay for me. Can you do that?”
This time you held the chain taut for longer and started rolling your hips again. You kept the chain at a safe tightness, making sure not to pull it and completely cut off his air. But the longer you held it tightly, and the more Andrew’s eyes fluttered, you noticed how glossy they were becoming until the first tear slid down the side of his face.
Your cunt constricted around his cock at the sight, and you dropped the chain out of a strange mix of surprise and concern as you quivered above him.
“Hey,” you softly said, hand coming up to cup his cheek. “Are you okay? Are you hurting anywhere?”
The last thing you wanted was to accidentally hurt Andrew, and while the sight of him crying did unspeakable things to your insides, you needed to make sure he was alright before continuing.
“Good,” he croaked once he realized that you’d stopped, eyes hooded and mouth agape as he stared up at you. “So good. Not hurt.”
His left hand rose and covered yours and gently guided your fingers back to the loop that rested hotly between his pecs. He finagled the ring back into your hand and gave a soft tug against it.
“Again—again, please,” he begged pathetically, timber filled with desperation. “Don’t stop.”
“Oh, Andy,” you cooed as your hips started to rock again. “So, so good for me.”
You slightly curled the dangling chain around your pinky before holding the rest tightly against your palm and tugged. A strangled moan fell from Andrew’s parted lips, and the sheer sound had you involuntarily clenching around his cock. Another tear slipped out of the corner of his eye, and his chest stuttered under gasping breaths. He looked so beautiful like this: crying underneath the pleasure only you could give him. When his tears started falling more freely along with the whimpers from his mouth, your hips worked harder and faster, rising and falling to stuff yourself to the brim.
Using his chest to balance, you dipped your head to get in closer until the small puffs of his hot breath fanned against your nose. You placed a small kiss to the corner of his parted lips before your tongue darted out to lap at the streaming tears. The small tang of salt was addicting, and it only made you want to see him sob.
“Fuck!” Andrew cried out, hips bucking upwards as you gave your hardest pull yet, the chain constricting around his throat tightly, and you hoped there’d be a pretty bruise-shaped necklace to show for it.
You clicked your tongue against your teeth, abruptly stopping all movement. Your unoccupied hand reached out and closed around his jaw, lifting and shaking his head to coax his eyes back open and make them focus on you.
“What did I say?” you asked, tone deep, face inches from his.
Andrew’s mouth flopped open, and he floundered for an answer even if all words seemed to escape him. The only expression he could muster was a dumb little thing, brows furrowed, corners of his lips tugged downward in a pout.
You feigned disappointment and shook your head. Your hand left his jaw in order to take a new hold of the choke chain and loop. “Ya’ know, Andy, good dogs follow orders.”
“No, no—” His hands scrambled, darting between the chain, your hands, and your hips like he didn’t know where to touch or even if he could touch. “Please, please. ‘M good—swear I’m good; ‘m your good boy.”
“Then what did I say?” You ground down into his hip as hard as you could, and you relished in the way he groaned and shivered. “What did I tell you to do?”
“Then what did I say?” You squeezed your walls around him as hard as you possibly could, relishing in the way he groaned and shivered. “What did I tell you to do?”
“Stay!” His chest heaved. “You told me to stay!”
“Good boy,” you murmured, other hand coming up to gently brush his fallen curls from his forehead. He went crosseyed to track your movements. “My good boy.”
“Y-your good boy,” he stuttered.
Two fingers from your right hand hooked into the ring, and two fingers from your left slid between his lips, fingertips settling in the middle of his tongue. You tugged, and his lips closed around your digits, suckling softly as you found the perfect rhythm to drive the head of his cock into the soft, sensitive spots inside you.
Each draw back made a wet, squelching sound, your inner thighs and his base already soaked with your essence. Your walls clenched and held around his cock, desperate to keep him in and hold him inside.
“Doing—fuck—doing so well f’r me, Andy,” you slurred. The pleasure pit in your stomach was quickly tightening, and you knew you were so close to cumming, but there was just something missing.
Andrew hadn’t moved since you told him the second time to stay still, but that’s not what you wanted at all anymore. In one fluid motion, you tilted to the side and used the momentum to flip you both. At the feeling of turning over, Andrew’s eyes popped wide open. His cock hadn't even slipped out, length still buried inside you. Your hips continued softly rocking against him, but the new position had somehow made him reach deeper.
“C’mon, Andy,” you moaned when he shifted forward to put his hands on both sides of your face to tower over you. “Fuck me like you mean it.” You gave the chain a yank to emphasize your wants, and Andrew was quick to comply.
His hips drew back before kicking forward, and your legs twitched at the force. Every thrust had your spine digging and pushing up the bed and your mouth opening for wanton moans to fill his ears. At his shoulder, your nails dug into his skin and worked with the tight chain to keep him against you.
Andrew’s hazel eyes shifted along your face, gazing at how he was going to bring you over the edge from his cock alone. When your moans began to change into high-pitched songs that broke halfway through choked gasps, he sat up slightly and placed his hands under your legs to push them up until the tops of your thighs brushed against your breasts.
“Oh—oh! Fucking—Andrew!” you mewled, head tipping back to push into the pillow. “So fucking deep—fucking me so well! Gonna make me cum!”
With a fire lit in his stomach, his hips pistoned against you with wet plaps, stilling momentarily to grind and let his tip rut into your soft spot. By now, your walls gripped him so tightly it was almost impossible to draw back all the way.
“Gonna-gonna—Andyyyyyyy!” Your body tensed beneath him as your orgasm ripped through you, sending shockwaves up and down your limbs.
Andrew kept his pace slow, wanting to draw out as much pleasure as he could for you, but his hips started to stutter intermittently, waiting for you to tell him to either pull out and stay inside, not expecting to get to finish. However, when your legs locked together at his lower back to push him as deep as possible, he grunted loudly.
“You can cum inside, Andrew,” you panted, still experiencing the softer licks of pleasure that made you feel floaty. For one last measure, you pulled the chain taut once again. “Be good and cum.”
Andrew stilled in your grasp, only needing your words and chain for his cock to start spurting cum along your walls. A low whimper whistled through his partly opened lips, and his eyes closed once again to focus on the way the chain dug into his neck, cutting off what he needed for the haze to grow at the edges of his mind. He rutted against you in half, unfinished thrusts, a mix of his spend and your creamy arousal coating the length of his cock.
When he had nothing left to give, his arms slightly gave out, and his weight settled on top of you. You hummed lowly at the feeling and finally dropped the chain in order to run your hands through his curls. Every so often, you’d lift your chin to place small kisses along his cheek and jaw, whispering soft praises into his skin.
The two of you lied there for several moments, basking in the afterglow and breathing in the scent of sex and something so entirely each other, neither of you wanting to let go at all. It wasn’t until Andrew leaned back and his cock slid out of you did you sit up slightly to look at him directly.
“Thank you,” you softly said, one of your fingers still twirling a stray auburn curl.
Andrew tilted his head slightly. “For what?”
“For this, silly boy,” you laugh, the sound airy with disbelief. “You found me again.”
He looked rather bashful after you said that before his lips formed into a frown. “Should’ve found you earlier.”
“Maybe . . .” you trailed, “but we’re here now, and I’m not letting you disappear from my life again, Andrew Cody.”
Finally, he fully smiled at you, crooked teeth on display. “Okay.”
“Good,” you said, head bobbing in a nod. “Because you wouldn’t have to just deal with me. I will put Cardinal on your ass before you could even think of leaving without saying something.”
'Revenge is bad' to YOU. i love when a character destroys everyone who wronged them. i love when they get to bite and maim and tear and rip and scratch and kill. Sorry ur catholic about it but i'm different
I am holding my crystals and praying to whatever gods there are that Frank fucking Iero chooses two of my 5 favorite MyChem songs to play in Nashville. Bc that fucker didn't put any Bullets songs on B stage from my concert last year, and I'm afraid I'm gonna have to pull up on him if I don't at least get early sunsets
Find My Pitt Masterlist here
This is a little fic for @domaystic
Based on day 22: Being Overheard
A long shift.
A nosy woman.
A failed attempted set up.
Leads to Jack feeling soothed by just how much you love him.
He makes sure to show you just how much you mean to him.
Notes: wholesome fluff. just two people in love. established relationship
Word Count: ~1.4k
The minutes ticked on.
The hours merely dragged by.
And it was only 1 am…
Just another 6 hours to go.
Only 6 hours, if you were lucky.
…And only if you ever got out of this conversation.
You were simply doing some checks, just a little pop in to make sure nothing had escalated, that everything was under control.
When your patient.
A Ms Paula Williams.
A lovely – if not gossipy – woman.
Had instigated a full on mission to set you up with every eligible man in her family.
Hell.
Every eligible man in her contacts list.
From the moment you stepped into her bay she had locked onto you.
Finding your demeanour charming. Your smile flattering, and oh! Simply so clever to be a doctor.
You were an absolute catch in her eyes. And she made it very well clear that you simply had to meet her son, or nephew, or whoever else she insisted upon.
It was sweet.
Well it would’ve been more sweet. If you weren’t beginning to feel tired from the shift.
If you didn’t have another 10 patients still waiting to be seen.
And.
Well.
If you didn’t already have a loving partner.
That was the one hurdle you had yet to mention.
Not being able to get a word in inch wise while Paula rambled on and on, about the very perfect man you just had to meet.
You smiled at her amusedly if not tiredly.
Just waiting for a moment’s pause.
A moment for you to interject.
But it seems there’s nothing wrong with her lungs as she keeps on talking, barely even needing to take a breath as she lists all the fabulous qualities. Simply so excited by the prospect.
Passing interns, med students and nurses alike all send you pitying glances as they hurry away, not wanting to be caught in between.
She continued to ramble, “Oh you’d simply love him! You’d just have to meet him. Oh I’ll give him a call and have him come over! Never too soon to meet the love of your life–”
Gently, ever so gently, you interjected, “While I am flattered, truly. I am in a very happy relationship.”
“But–”
“I’m not really looking to trade out my current partner. Who’s super considerate. Really, honestly I don’t think I’ve met a nicer person out there. And my god, the way he makes me laugh, oh. I just really love him. Thank you–but no thank you. I’m very happy at the moment.”
“Sounds like you really love him,” Paula sighs wistfully.
“Yeah, I really do,” you smile softly. “He’s one of the best things to happen to me”
Unbeknownst to you.
Your partner.
The very love of your life.
Had stopped short just outside the bay, hidden behind the curtain. Frozen in place as he heard your words.
Jack knew you loved him.
There wasn’t ever a moment where you didn’t make it known to him.
But hearing you now.
Dote on him to a complete stranger.
A tender warmth bloomed in his chest. A smile formed on his face. As he carried on his rounds. Tucking away your words in his heart.
A small pep in his step as he feels invigorated from your love.
Ellis stands to the side with Shen, raised brows and smug grins as they look at him.
"Someone's looking like a lovesick puppy"
Shen hums in agreement.
While Abbot merely shrugs them off, "And?"
"Nothing, just that love looks good on you," Ellis grins.
Abbot's lips curl, a small smile tugging at his lips.
He didn't mind if he seemed overly loving. Not when it came to you.
Throughout the evening you’re given little tokens of his love throughout.
From a steaming cup of coffee, that was definitely not from here as it was a lot better than what was currently being served in the staff room. Brewed exactly how you like it.
To the little packet of biscuits he slipped into your hand when he noticed you were getting a little sluggish.
Jack was by your side in seconds whenever you needed him. That was just the way he was.
His hands finding any reason possible to brush against you, to clasp your hand for just a moment. To swipe across your back, to let you know he was there for you.
Showing you his love in the smallest of behaviors.
None of this was out of the ordinary. No more doting than usual…
But there was a deepness to his sincerity. A little more care. Thought. Than usual.
And just perhaps.
At the end of your shift. As you leave side by side, Jack pulls you into his arms, far closer than usual. You find out just why he had been so affectionate this shift…
Holding you tightly. Tucking his head into the crook of your neck as he soaks in your embrace.
You feel his chest expand, rise and fall, simply letting his stress melt away as he holds you.
“You’re really touchy this morning? Anything you wanna talk about?” you asked softly, hands trailing up to curl through the hairs on the nape of his neck.
The smallest shake of his head, he begins to pepper light kisses upon the skin of your neck, mumbling between the soft, sweet kisses, “I just love you.”
You sigh as you feel his lips trail up along your jaw, to the corner of your lips, before shifting to nudge your nose with his.
Eyes meet yours.
Affection and love pooled within those hazel eyes.
Bright and as endless as the sky.
Softly you whisper, just as sweetly, “I love you too”
You surge forward, catching his lips with yours. Having missed the feeling. Missed his touch.
Heart swelling with love for him.
What had once started as a friendship.
Quippy words and dry retorts, punctuated with laughter even when the jokes were dark or dry.
It had soon developed into something so sweet.
Rare.
Something you both now cherished deeply.
Pulling back slightly you lean your forehead against his, while he presses chaste kisses to your cheeks.
“Not that I don’t love this, but why are you so affectionate this morning?”
“I told you, I just love you”
You sigh, with a small roll of your eyes.
Jokingly you say, “What have you done?” Knowing full well he would never do anything to hurt you.
He chuckles softly.
“More like what have you done?”
You furrow your brows in thought.
Thinking over the night’s events.
It had gone on as usual. Nothing out of the ordinary…except–
Pulling back you lightly slap his shoulder, with a faint annoyed expression. “You totally overheard me last night”
The laughs that slip from his mouth, as smooth as honey, balanced with a timbre. One that rumbles in his chest.
Your cheeks feel a heat bloom, face feeling warm from his attention.
“You weren’t exactly quiet,” he remarked.
Groaning, “And you didn’t think to intervene and save me from her matchmaking?”
“Seemed you had it handled,” the grin on his face wide and amused from your reaction. Adding on, “Your boyfriend sounds nice”
“You’re a jackass”
“But I’m your Jack ass,” he retorted, arms slipping around your waist once more to pull you to his chest, pressing a kiss to your cheek, between each sentence.
“You’re very sweet.”
Kiss.
“Considerate.”
Kiss.
“And funny boyfriend.”
You let out a small laugh, flushed by his affections, hands moving to hold his face, thumbs gently swiping across his cheeks.
“Did I mention handsome,” he added cheekily.
“I don’t think I mentioned that,” you said in thought.
“Can’t say you didn’t think it though”
Smiling coyly, “I suppose he is kind of handsome, in that ruggish sort of effortless way”
“I’ll take what I can get, sweetheart.”
“Who knew me talking about you to others would make you so loving”
“Your words just have that affect on me” he murmurs.
“I’ll keep that in mind”
And softer, with a gravel tone he say, “Please do”
Hands slipping around his neck, you rest your head upon his chest. Calming. Soothing.
Mind focusing on nothing else but the steady rhythm of his heart.
Beating just for you.
Just as your heart beats for him.
…
Even if he was nosy at times.
Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed this little fic for domaystic. Just love the idea of Jack absolutely doting on you when he hears how much you love him, what a confidence boost! Let me know what you think.
Comments, Reblogs and Likes are welcomed and appreciated 💕
For more Jack Abbot Works check out my series below!
Feel free to find my Dr Jack Abbot x Reader Who Would've Thought series here 💖
Based on Waitress the Musical, Dr Jack Abbot x Waitress!Reader Sugar, Butter, Flour series 🥧
Or for a lil bit of hurt with eventual comfort check out Jack and the reader create a bond through being widowers, I Know You're Hurting series
Feel free to find my Dr Robby x Wayne!Reader Rinse & Repeat Series Masterlist here 🩺
Or check out my overall Masterlist here
— three times jack abbot flirted with you without you realizing, and the one time you realized !!
jack abbot x fem!resident!reader 5k+ word count warnings: medical inaccuracies (i researched the best i could), age gap (not specified), reader may come across as “dumb”, but she’s just overwhelmed!! note: first jack writing!! he’s my dream man btw. also, i refer to the characters as i think of them in my head😭 some are first name basis, others are strictly last name because i cannot remember their first names for the life of me.
{ ONE }
the emergency department at two in the evening feels like a beehive someone kicked. monitors chirp in uneven rhythms, stretchers rattle past with loose wheels that squeal against the tile, santos and langdon argue for the tenth time in an hour, and you stand right in the middle of it with a big smile.
you’ve always loved your job. even when it meant eight straight years of school. nights spent bent over anatomy textbooks while your roommates got dressed for the bars. even when med school felt like someone had taken your brain out of your skull and wrung it dry. you loved it. you loved the moment something finally clicked. the way a diagnosis stopped being a puzzle and started making sense.
now you’re a second-year resident and technically a doctor, even though sometimes the word still catches in your throat when someone says it out loud. the emergency department is exhausting and overwhelming and perfect.
“no, look,” you insist, tapping the chart with the end of your pen. “if his potassium was actually that high, he’d look way worse than this. always check for hemolysis before you panic.”
ogilvie blinks from across you. he runs a hand through his tousled hair and nods curtly. “oh,” he says faintly, internally freaking out because he was the top of his class at whatever school he went to and he wasn’t supposed to mess up.
you grin, knowing that feeling all too well. “hey, don’t get down on yourself. with time comes wisdom. you’ll get used to it.” you promise, giving him a comforting pat on the shoulder. you scribble something quick on the chart and hand it back to him before he scurries off.
you’re already turning back to the computer when you pat the counter beside you automatically, searching for something that isn’t there. your hand lands on the cold desk and you frown. “…damn.”
dana glances over. “what’s up, kid?” she tilts her head, looking above the top of her glasses.
“forgot my coffee this morning,” you sigh, already pulling up another chart. “i was already here before i realized.”
“rookie mistake.” she tsks, already looking up at the patient board again.
“i know,” you mutter, pinching the bridge of your nose. “this shift might kill me.” you say casually, fingers clicking against the keyboard again.
three feet to your left, jack abbott hears every word. he’s leaning against the far counter pretending to review a chart he finished five minutes ago. his eyes lift the second you say forgot my coffee. he continues watching you—like always. you’re talking again now, explaining something to a student doctor javadi, gesturing with your pen, hair slightly messy from the start of a long shift. you laugh at something perlah says and the sound carries toward him.
jack used to feel guilty for observing you. it would curl up the nape of his neck and plant itself there every time he realized he’d been watching you for longer than necessary. you were one of the best residents he’d ever seen, so naturally, like any other attending, he kept an eye on you (even though you technically were under dr. robby). still, the first few times he caught himself leaning against a counter across the department, eyes following the way you moved from patient to patient, he’d look away immediately. like he’d been caught doing something he couldn’t quite justify.
now it’s just routine. jack walks into the department and his eyes find you automatically. across the room, down the hall, wherever you’ve planted yourself in the middle of the noise. he tells himself it’s habit. just keeping track of a resident. but the truth is simpler than that.
“abbott.” he looks over, snapping out of whatever trance overtook him. robby, his longtime friend and coworker, raises an eyebrow. “you’ve been staring at her for like…three minutes. blink, brother.”
jack glances back at you. you’re still talking, still smiling, still completely unaware. “…was reading the chart,” he grumbles, scratching the back of his neck.
robby snorts, fingers drumming against the tabletop. they’ve known each other long enough to call bullshit. “whatever keeps you going.”
jack sets the chart down with a huff and pushes off the counter. he taps his pocket, feeling the cold weight of his phone, and murmurs, “gonna make a call.”
robby stifles a laugh, shaking his head briefly before assisting dr. mckay with her patient.
~
about twenty minutes later, you’re halfway through typing a note when a paper coffee cup slides quietly into your line of sight. you pause, blinking like it’s a figment of your imagination, before looking up.
dr. jack abbott stands on the other side of the station, one hand braced on the counter, the other nudging the coffee toward you. he’s wearing a black scrub top that squeezes his juicy biceps, and acting pretty casually for someone who’s not supposed to be working yet.
your eyes flick between the cup and him. “did someone get this for me?” you ask, fluttering your lashes at him subconsciously.
jack stares at you. his mind runs blank. behind you, princess slowly swivels her chair to watch. jack drags a hand down his face. “yeah,” he says flatly. “somebody did.”
you nod thoughtfully. you should ask who or where it came from, but you’re running on fumes. “okay.” you pick up the coffee, pressing your lips against the lid and taking a generous sip. jack watches you drink it like a man waiting for a verdict, his finger tapping against his thigh. your shoulders relax instantly. you hum quietly. “this is really good.”
jack exhales through his nose. “glad you approve,” he murmurs, biting back a smirk. call him a creep, but he’s the only person in the department that can get your coffee order correct down to a T.
you finally glance up again, eyebrows lifting like you’ve only just remembered he exists. “wait,” you say. “you’re here early.”
jack tilts his head slightly, pursing his lips. “that bother you?” his voice is lower than before, causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.
“no,” you say quickly, ignoring the tingly sensation in your stomach. truth be told, you’re never bothered to see him. “you just usually come in later.”
he shrugs, crossing his arms over his broad chest. it’s a losing battle to keep your eyes on his. “couldn’t sleep.”
dana snorts from behind you, shaking her head while dialing a number on the phone. she bites her tongue, choosing peace for once. jack doesn’t take his eyes off of you, ignoring dana’s antics entirely.
you groan sympathetically. “that’s the worst. i always have melatonin with me if you need it.”
jack’s mouth twitches. a flush forms from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. still, his gaze stays glued on you. “i’ll keep that in mind.”
with a smile, you turn back to the computer, already clicking through charts again, and attempting to calm your nerves. you grip the poor coffee cup, hoping jack doesn’t notice your skin is hot to the touch.
finally, he begrudgingly leaves to assist on a patient down the hall. when he’s out of sight, dana, who stands besides you, leans closer. “you know he bought that for you, right?”
you frown at your chart. “abbot?” you glance up at her, brows furrowed. she nods her head, widening her eyes like ‘wasn’t it obvious?’ you glance over your shoulder toward the hallway he disappeared down. “yeah, but he’s just nice. he’d do it for anyone.” you insist, scratching the top of your head.
dana stares at you like she’s trying to solve a complex neurological condition. “sure…” she finally says.
you just shrug, taking another sip of your coffee because that has to be the reason. right? why else would he buy you the coffee? you close your eyes, shaking the thoughts out of your head because…no way. meanwhile, somewhere down the hall, jack abbott is absolutely losing his mind.
{ TWO }
hour five is always the worst, in your opinion. close enough to the middle of your shift that you should feel motivated, but not quite there. not enough to push you through. just enough time for the exhaustion to settle in your bones and stay.
you’re in bay four with a chart tucked under your arm. the elderly woman on the stretcher looks small under the hospital blanket, silver hair falling loose around her shoulders. her ankle is already swelling beneath the thin sheet and she keeps apologizing every few seconds for something that wasn’t her fault.
“hey,” you murmur gently, crouching slightly so she doesn’t have to crane her neck to see you. “no apologies. gravity gets the best of all of us.”
she laughs softly at that. “i tripped on the rug,” she explains again. “my daughter keeps telling me to get rid of it.” her lips pull downward as she continues. “but it’s just so beautiful.”
you nod while carefully pressing along her ankle, fingers gentle but firm as you check for tenderness. “nothing wrong with enjoying art,” you say lightly. your thumb presses along the swollen joint and she winces just a little. you soften your touch immediately. “even if it occasionally decides to fight back.” she smiles in response.
behind you, jack stands close enough that his shoulder nearly brushes yours when you shift. robby got pulled into something more serious ten minutes ago, and jack (who once again is here before the start of his shift) stepped in without much explanation besides a quiet, i’ll help you with this one. you didn’t question it.
jack watches the way you explain each movement before you touch the patient. the way your voice softens slightly when she winces. the way your hands move with that careful confidence that only comes from repetition. you’re good at this. he already knew that, but still.
“alright,” you say after a moment, straightening slightly. “i’m gonna order an x-ray just to be safe, okay?”
the woman nods, commenting something about you being a doll. then, her eyes flick between you and jack. a slow smile spreads across her face. “aren’t you two just the sweetest together.” you both freeze. “such a nice couple,” she continues warmly. “working side by side like that.”
your brain stutters. “oh-” you start, laughing nervously. jack’s mouth twitches, but he doesn’t flinch. you shoot him a quick look before turning back to the patient. “we’re not-”
the woman waves her hand dismissively. “no need to explain, dear.”
jack lets out a quiet chuckle behind you. it’s low and amused and extremely unhelpful. you clear your throat, suddenly very focused on the color of your pen ink. “we just work together.”
the woman hums like she heard you and chose not to believe it. well,” she says sweetly, glancing at jack, “he looks at you very nicely.”
your face heats instantly. you pretend to adjust the blanket around her ankle so you don’t have to respond. jack goes very still beside you. the room stays quiet for a beat before you say, a little too brightly, “okay! we’ll get that x-ray and see what’s going on.”
you scribble something on the chart and step toward the door. jack follows. the second you’re out in the hallway, you exhale like you’ve been holding your breath. “oh my god.” jack laughs softly in response. you glance at him. “you could’ve said something.”
“about what.” he feigns innocence.
“the couple thing.”
jack shrugs, hands slipping casually into the pockets of his scrub pants. “didn’t seem necessary.”
you stare at him. your eyes are wide and mouth agape. “it was embarrassing.”
jack tilts his head slightly, studying you for a second longer than necessary. then he says, voice low and teasing, “i didn’t mind playing your boyfriend for a few minutes.”
your brain stalls. you stare at him like he spoke a different language. jack watches the exact moment the words land. the faint color climbing up your neck. the way the floor tiles suddenly call your attention. his mouth curves slightly.
you clear your throat once again. he definitely didn’t mean it like that. jack abbot is many things, including a vigorous flirt. he’s just trying to fluster you. “i’m sure you’d do it for anyone,” you say weakly, turning toward the nurses’ station, “i-i,” cough, “have to, to go do something.”
jack moves to the side, motioning for you to walk. “go ahead,” he murmurs, but he’s smiling.
{ THREE }
the ambulance bay doors swing shut behind you with a hollow metallic clang. outside, the air is colder than it looked through the glass. it slips straight through the thin fabric of your scrubs, raising goosebumps along your arms almost instantly. your hands brace against the cool metal railing and you stare out into the dark parking lot like it might answer the questions still bouncing around your head.
the case had gone bad fast. too fast. one minute the patient had been talking. the next minute the room filled with voices and hands and alarms screaming over each other. someone calling for another unit of blood. someone else pushing meds. robby barking orders across the bed. you’d done everything right.
your shift ended an hour ago. by now, you should’ve been cuddled up with a hot cup of tea and your favorite fluffy socks and maybe a nice book. but after…that…you couldn’t leave. you offered to help the transition into the night shift and assist with some cases. it was enough to keep your mind off of it until now.
your jaw tightens. you take another slow breath, trying to push the noise out of your head. the ambulance bay door opens again behind you, but you don’t have the strength to turn around. heavy footsteps approach, steady and familiar, until someone stops beside you.
jack rests his forearms on the railing beside you. for a second, neither of you speak. he glances sideways, taking a deep breath. the brisk air burns his throat. you’re staring straight ahead, shoulders tense, lips pressed together like you’re trying very hard not to let the thoughts spill out.
jack knows that look. he’s spent way too long memorizing it. “hey,” he says quietly, bumping his shoulder against yours. you hum in response, which is about the most energy you can spare. jack watches you for another moment. “you did good in there.”
you shake your head slightly, inhaling sharply. “we lost him.”
jack sighs, nodding. “sometimes we do.”
you stare harder at the parking lot. “that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.” you mutter, tears pooling at your waterline.
that pulls the faintest huff of a laugh out of him. “yeah,” he says. “that’s the official medical term.” you shake your head, a small smile threatening at the corner of your mouth before it disappears again.
the wind picks up slightly. you shift your weight. jack’s eyes fall to your arms. they’re crossed loosely over your stomach, bumps covering every inch of skin. your shoulders hunch just a little to tell that you’re shivering. he straightens slightly. “hold on.” he says with a tight-lipped smile.
you glance at him. “wha-” but he’s already pushing off the railing before you can finish. you watch him disappear back through the ambulance bay doors with a small frown. he probably got sick of watching you mope. you scoff, kicking yourself mentally because he’s the chief attending and you’re standing here burdening him with your emotional issues.
about a minute later the door swings open again. jack steps back outside to find you in the same position as before. this time, something dark is slung over his arm. you blink as he walks back over and holds it out. a gray zip-up sweatshirt lies in his extended hands.
you stare at it, not moving. “what’s this?” you ask, even though it’s pretty obvious. you’ve never seen him wear the fabric. you’ve only watched him saunter through the automatic doors, eyes intense, and sweatshirt in his hand as he prepares for the night shift.
jack lifts an eyebrow, motioning his hand toward you. “take it.” his voice is low and raspy.
you hesitate. “i’m fine.”
jack gives you a look. the kind that clearly says you’re absolutely not fine. “you’re shivering.” he simply states.
you glance down at your arms like you only just noticed. “…maybe a little.” your hands rub up and down against your arms. jack doesn’t move. the sweatshirt stays extended toward you. after a second, you sigh and take it. “thanks.” when you pull it on, the scent of musky cologne and him fill your senses. you breathe deeper, the smell like a drug. your brain catches up a bit later. “wait—are you gonna be cold?”
jack snorts quietly. “i’ll survive.”
you zip it up the rest of the way, the sleeves a little long over your hands. you fold your arms again, but this time it’s inside the sweatshirt. “thanks,” your voice is softer.
jack shrugs like it’s nothing. “don’t get used to it.”
you glance sideways at him. “you’re very grumpy for someone doing something nice.”
“i’m always grumpy.”
“debatable.”
jack looks at you. his eyes bore into yours, memorizing every detail he can of you. your shoulders have relaxed slightly. the tight line between your brows is gone. mission accomplished. “you should go home now.” he starts softly. “the day shift is all gone and we can handle the rest from here.” he urges.
after a moment, you clear your throat and nod. “i’ll bring this back tomorrow.”
he shakes his head. “keep it.” he says it like it’s no big deal. like he’s not your boss and he’s not lending you a sweatshirt in an oddly intimate way. before you can argue, he says, “you forget things,” he’s already turning toward the door. “figure this way you’ve got a spare.”
you stare at him and just laugh. “that seems like a terrible system.” your shoulders move as you giggle. after the night you’ve had, this is the funniest scenario ever.
jack glances back over his shoulder. his mouth curves slightly. “works for me.” he disappears back inside before you can respond. you stand there for another moment, wrapped in his sweatshirt, staring at the ambulance bay doors.
your fingers curl into the sleeves, fabric bunching around your hands, still warm from him. it sits heavier on your shoulders than it should. you exhale slowly, shaking your head to yourself, a small, tired smile tugging at your lips.
he’s probably just used to this. used to residents stepping out after bad cases, quiet and shaken and trying to hold it together. used to knowing exactly what to say, what to do. how to fix it just enough to get you back on your feet.
you huff out a soft breath, pushing yourself off the railing. “yeah,” you murmur under your breath, already turning toward the doors. “he’s just good at his job.”
{ + ONE }
the bar is loud. a different type of loud than you’re used to. instead of the sharp, frantic noise of the ER, it’s the warmth of conversation and light jokes. robby makes a toast, glasses clink, and drinks are tipped back. the day shift claimed a long stretch of tables near the back. someone dragged two together at some point. chairs are half pulled out, people shifting and talking over each other like no one’s had a full thought all day and now they finally can.
you’re next to samira with one leg tucked under your chair, and your drink sweating in your hand. “i’m telling you,” samira says, covering her mouth to giggle before she even gets the words out. “dr. robby is hot.”
you gasp, choking on your drink before barking out in laughter. “i mean…i can see it.” you say quietly. she raises an eyebrow. you pause. “ok…of course he is.” you rephrase. “he’s just not my usual type.”
beside you, perlah and princess chuckle, pretending that they aren’t eavesdropping.
“what you mean is,” samira takes a swig of her drink before finishing. “he’s not jack abbot.”
you swear you almost drop your glass. “keep your voice down!” you hiss, looking over both shoulders to see if anyone heard.
“it’s not like it’s a secret!” she argues, barely containing her laughter. “you both like each other and you’re both too dense to see it.”
“i would know if someone liked me.” you insist, swirling your straw around in your glass. the ice cubes clink with each stir.
she rolls her eyes, nudging you with her elbow. “yet, you’re the only one who doesn’t.” she huffs out a laugh, shaking her head.
the conversation shifts again after that. someone across the table starts complaining about charting, whittaker gets louder, joy says something dry that makes half the table go quiet for a second before laughing. this is the part of the job makes everything else feel worth it.
you’re sitting quiet, listening to the chatter of samira and the occasional arguments of the med-students when a cool breeze brings goosebumps in its wake. you shiver, peaking over your shoulder.
jack abbott steps inside, pausing just past the threshold. he wasn’t planning on coming. it’s his night off. he told himself he’d stay home for once, maybe get a decent night’s sleep. maybe do something that didn’t revolve around the hospital. then robby mentioned called and drinks. then mentioned you’d be there, and here he is.
he scans the room once, finding you easily. he almost physically stumbles when he processes you. you’re laughing at something samira said, head tipped slightly back, hair down around your shoulders instead of tied up like it always is. you traded your scrubs for a pair of jeans and a simple top that fit you in a way that should be illegal.
jack exhales slowly. right. this was a mistake. he runs a hand over the back of his neck, debating turning around and walking right back out. instead, he straightens slightly and makes his way over. he doesn’t go to you first. mostly because he’s nervous and he’s sporting a semi-hard that needs to go down.
he stops by the end of the table, nodding at everyone, and engaging in conversation with robby. dana gives him a knowing look that he pointedly ignores. “thought you had the night off,” she says, blatantly interrupting robby.
“i do.” he crosses his arms.
“and yet.” dana motions to the room and where he stands.
jack shrugs, casual. “heard there were drinks.” dana hums like she doesn’t believe him for a second. she glances past him, toward you, and then back. jack pretends not to notice. he lingers there longer than necessary, letting himself get pulled into the edge of a conversation he’s not really listening to. how could he listen when you’re there looking like that?
he’s aware of you in a way that hinders his ability to interact. the sound of your voice cutting through the noise. the way you gesture when you talk. the way you lean into samira, laughing at something under your breath. he drags his gaze away, but it always comes back. he’s metal being pulled into your magnetic field.
finally, he pushes off from the end of the table. he circles the group until he’s right behind you. he can hear you clearly now, even smell your perfume.
“you always this loud?” he asks, voice cutting cleanly into your conversation, “or is this a special occasion?”
you freeze. samira’s eyes go wide for half a second before she bites her lip to keep from laughing. slowly—slowly—you turn your head. up close, he looks even better than he did from across the room. you can see his features clearly. the stubble beard he bother shaving, his salt and peppered curls, and that hardened look that always melts you. could he be anymore perfect?
your brain stutters. “i’m not loud,” you retort, which is immediately a lie.
jack raises an eyebrow. “no?” he asks, voice low, amused. “could’ve fooled me.”
samira lets out a quiet snort beside you. you shoot her a look before turning back to him, narrowing your eyes slightly. “maybe you’re just eavesdropping.”
“maybe you’re just easy to overhear.”
you open your mouth, then close it. you can barely breathe the way he’s still looking at you, never mind forming coherent sentences. you swallow. “what are you doing here?” you ask, tone lower.
jack shrugs, one hand settling on the back of your chair. your back brushes his fingers when you lean closer. “thought i’d see what you all look like outside the hospital.”
your stomach flips. samira makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like oh my god. “and?” you ask, lifting your chin slightly. “what’s the verdict?”
jack’s gaze drags over you in an antagonizing slow manner. it starts at your face, and dips before coming back up. your breath catches.
he hums. “undecided.”
samira chokes on her drink. “i need another round,” she blurts, already sliding out of her seat. she grabs princess and perlah by the wrist and drags the with her before you can even process what just happened.
traitors.
you’re suddenly very aware of the empty chairs beside you, and the fact that jack doesn’t move away. if anything, he moves closer. “so,” you say, clearing your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart is picking up speed. “night off?”
“yeah.”
“and you chose to spend it here.”
“seems that way.”
you huff a quiet laugh, glancing down at your drink (because if you don’t you’ll stare at him arms). “we’re honored.”
jack’s mouth twitches. “you should be.” he lowers his voice to a gruff sound. that has to be his bedroom voice, you think. you look back up at him, rolling your eyes, but there’s no heat behind it.
he watches you for a second longer than necessary before finally dropping into the chair samira abandoned like it was always his. your knee brushes his and neither of you move. you take a sip of your drink just to give your hands something to do. jack doesn’t look away. he leans back slightly in his chair, one arm draped behind you like it belongs there.
you clear your throat. “so,” you say, glancing at him, “you just haunt bars on your nights off now?”
jack huffs quietly. “only the ones you’re in.”
your brain trips over itself for half a second. you recover fast. mostly. “that’s…concerning.”
“yeah,” he nods. “i’ve been told.”
you shake your head, trying not to smile into your drink. the liquor warms your throat, giving you some much needed confidence. neither of you move. you glance down at your glass again, tracing the rim with your finger. “they’re short on night shift,” you say after a second. “again.”
jack’s attention sharpens. he notes the way your voice lowers. you don’t want anyone else at the table to hear. “yeah,” he nods, pouring himself a beer from the pitcher on the table. “we are.”
you look up at him through your lashes and he has to adjust his pants. you stall, questioning if this is the right time or place to talk about this. finally, you exhale. “i was thinking about maybe switching over for a bit,” you continue, shrugging one shoulder. “just temporarily. try something different.”
almost immediately, he replies, “you should.”
you blink, stifling a laugh. “that was fast.”
he doesn’t even try to backtrack. “you’d be good over there.”
you tilt your head slightly. “you don’t even know what i’d be like on nights.”
“yeah, i do.”
your brows lift. “you’ve never seen me on nights.”
“don’t need to.”
you bite the inside of your cheek to calm yourself. you feel tingly all over. “you’re very confident.” you say, avoiding eye contact with him.
“i’m usually right.”
“debatable.”
“not about this.” there’s a quiet certainty in his voice that makes it hard to brush off.
you shift slightly in your seat. “i just-” you sigh. “i don’t know how robby’s gonna feel about it. i feel like he’s gonna think i’m abandoning day shift or something.” you ramble. “and-”
jack leans forward now, thick forearms resting on the table. “robby won’t be mad at you,” he interrupts with no room for discussion.
you glance at him. “you say that like you speak for him.”
“i’ve known him longer than you,” jack replies easily. “he’s not gonna hold you back.” you nod slowly, but your not convinced. “he likes you,” jack adds.
your lips twitch. “he likes everyone.”
jack shakes his head slightly. “he admires you.” he corrects himself.
your eyes flick back to his. there’s something in his tone that makes your chest tighten again. you look down quickly. “i just don’t want it to be weird,” you say, softer now.
jack watches you for a second. then leans in just a little more. “it won’t be,” he says. he’s close enough that you can feel his breath fanning against your skin. your breath catches. after a moment, he straightens again. “we can talk more about it over dinner.” he states in a matter of fact tone.
you nearly choke. your brain tries to file that under professional—it doesn’t match. “…what?”
jack’s mouth curves slightly. “dinner,” he repeats, like it’s obvious. like you’re the one lagging behind.
you stare at him. that didn’t sound like just a friendly request. your heart starts picking up. “like…with the team?” you ask, clinging to logic.
jack’s gaze doesn’t waver. “no.”
your stomach drops. “…just us?”
“that’s usually how dates go, no?” he smirks. there’s no hesitation.
everything clicks at once. the realization flashes across your eyes in series of memories. the coffee, the sweatshirt, the way he shows up early, and the way he watches you like you’re the only thing in the room. your breath catches. “you’re asking me on a date?” you ask like you had to say it out loud for it to process.
jack’s smile deepens. “took you long enough.”
your heart stutters. “wait-” you sit up straighter, staring at him. “you’re serious?”
jack leans in slightly, voice low. “i asked you to dinner.”
your pulse jumps. “i thought you meant like talking about the shift-”
“we can talk about the shift,” he nods, taking a sip of his glass. his eyes flick down to your lips for a split second before coming back up. “doesn’t have to be the only thing.”
oh.
oh.
your face heats. you look away, then back, like you don’t know where to land. “you’ve been-” you shake your head slightly, almost laughing. “this whole time?”
“pretty much.”
you huff out a disbelieving breath. “i thought you were just-” you stop yourself.
jack raises an eyebrow. “just what.”
you groan, dropping your head into your hand for a second. “i don’t know…normal.”
that actually makes him laugh real low. “this is me being normal?”
you peek at him. “apparently not.” you lower your hand slowly, looking at him again. your heart is still racing, but you don’t hate it. “you’re bold,” you say quietly.
jack’s mouth curves. “only when it counts.”
your stomach twists again. you shake your head slightly, smiling despite yourself. “and you just assumed i’d say yes?”
“no.” he shrugs simply.
the honesty catches you off guard. “then why ask?”
jack holds your gaze. “because i wanted to.” he murmurs. “figured you were worth the risk.”
you stare at him for a second longer, tilting your head like it might help you figure him out better. “…ok.” it slips out before you can overthink it.
jack tilts his head slightly. “ok?”
you nod, a little more certain now. “yes, i’ll go out with you.”
a boyish grin takes over his face. it may have taken months of what he thought was obvious flirting, hundreds spent on overpriced coffees, and more self-control than he’d ever admit out loud, but he got there. now you’re sitting in front of him, cheeks warm, eyes a little wide, finally seeing him the way he’s been seeing you all along.
summary: In an attempt to seduce a past hookup, you accidentally send your attending, Jack Abbot, a lewd photo.
tags/warnings: MDNI 18+, smut, oral (f receiving), piv sex, pussy eating, fingering, pussy slapping, jack abbot certified bush lover, overstimulation, implied age gap (reader is a resident), medical inaccuracies (peritoneal lavages are rarely used nowadays, but who cares), no use of y/n, trauma scene based on an episode of ER teehee.
wc: 9.5k
a/n: okay this is fully like two weeks late to the trend but it was inspired by that “you shaved your bush” tiktok trend lol. I genuinely do not know how this got so long, It was supposed to be a cute little fic but i got carried away, oopsies! I hope you enjoy <3
credits: gif credits to @ho-ii !!
It was Friday afternoon and you were desperately, achingly horny.
You’d tried your old faithful vibrator, which was doing the job fine, but you were desperate for some human connection. Your mind drifted through the mental rolodex of who you could call up for some casual fun. It was a short list, your demanding schedule not lending itself to a particularly vibrant social life. You’d only been on a handful of dates in the past year, most of which ended in disaster.
Alex was out of the running because of his unfortunate odor problem.
Sam was out due to a creepy doll collection he failed to disclose until you made your way to his apartment.
And Daniel was out because, frankly, he was terrible at sex, which is kind of a sticking point for you right now.
That left James, a guy you met on one of the apps and who was decent enough with his mouth that you’d seen him a handful of times. You didn’t hook up with him often, mostly because he was particular about your pubic hair. He preferred for it to be cleanly shaven, or at least heavily trimmed before he would consider going down on you.
So despite the fact that he wasn’t much good at fucking, you tended to go back to him when you needed a release. Yes, your standards were abysmally low, but the truth of the matter was that residency didn’t really give you any time to get out and meet new, better hook-ups. So James it was.
It had been a couple months since you’d hooked up, mostly due to this preference of his. Unfortunately, taking the time to take an ‘everything shower’ just to get your pussy eaten was a luxury that you were not often afforded due your residency schedule.
But today you’d had the time, energy, and desire to get devoured, so you hopped in the shower to take care of everything. By the time you emerged your hair was double cleansed, you’d applied a hair mask, exfoliated, shaved your legs, applied moisturizer and body oil, and–most importantly–your pussy was cleanly shaven.
You had a renewed pep in your step as you made your way over to your bed, ready to entice James. You maneuvered onto the bed and experimented with a few poses before landing on one that showed off your assets the best. You propped up your phone–timer set for 10 seconds–and you scrambled into position, perching back on your haunches and settling back on your feet, back arched a little uncomfortably.
You heard the shutter of the camera going off and quickly extricated yourself from the uncomfortable position. Looking over the image, you were very impressed.
The photo pictured your nude body from the chest down, beginning with the barest hint of the underside of your breasts showing, then the expanse of your stomach and curve of your hips. Lower, your fingers were on your pussy, parting your lips just enough to tease. It was a damn good nude, if you did say so yourself. James was lucky to receive it.
It had been so long since you texted him that instead of scrolling through endless scam messages and bill reminders, you just typed in the first few letters of his name to pull up his contact. As soon as you typed ‘ja’ it popped up, and you quickly began composing your message.
Gnawing at your thumbnail, you went back and forth on a few messages, trying to sound sexy, but playful. After five minutes of deliberation, you decided to just go with what you had. Honestly, it’s not like James was going to give it more than a second thought–if he wanted to fuck he wasn’t going to care about how sultry (or not) the message you sent him was.
You settled on:
you: shaved just for you. want something sweet to eat? ;)
You looked it over for a minute, nodding to yourself and hitting send before you could psych yourself out.
What a mistake.
Jack sat at the work station, mouth open and slackjawed, still staring at his phone screen.
Not at the photo anymore–no, that had been quickly swiped away–but the image was still burned into his retinas, the after image projecting onto the back of his eyelids when he closed them.
Why?
Because three minutes ago he received a text message from one of the day shift residents. He was concerned, initially, because there was little reason for day shift residents to contact him as opposed to Robby. Which is why Jack opened the message as soon as he saw it come in, thinking it might be an emergency, especially because it was you.
Instead, he was greeted with a sight he thought he’d never have the pleasure of seeing.
You, stretched back on your heels, breasts barely visible, pussy on full display for him. Your fingers held you open, your folds glistening in the late summer light that was streaming in, your pretty little clit in the center, just begging to be sucked. It was, quite possibly, the prettiest pussy he’d ever seen.
He couldn’t take his eyes off of the photo for a good 30 seconds, before the logical side of his brain kicked in and he remembered oh yeah, I’m at work and can’t be caught looking at my resident’s cunt.
He wasn’t unfamiliar with you, even though you’d only worked a handful of shifts together. But he saw you every morning at handoff, and you two shared warm smiles and easy jokes, your sardonic wit matching his bar for bar. He knew you were smart, able to hold your own in a trauma, and compassionate and empathetic underneath it all. And he couldn’t ignore the fact that you were gorgeous either.
And he would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of you in this sort of light before, either. Jack Abbot was not a proud man–he could admit that on more than one occasion, he’d stood in his shower fisting his cock to the image of you on your knees for him.
It was especially bad when you did something impressive at work. Like the time you went toe-to-toe with a surgeon about whether a patient really needed surgery when you insisted that all they needed was a pericardiocentesis, and to prove your theory, you stuck the needle into the pericardium and extracted the fluid despite surgery’s objections. A ballsy move, one that would have been deeply problematic if you were wrong, but paid off. He’d had to rub one out in the bathroom that day. He apparently has a thing for competency.
“You’re gonna catch flies, Abbot,” Ellis said, walking out of an exam room, IPad tucked under her arm and smirk wide on her face. Jack shook himself out of his reverie, trying desperately not to think of your photo (but failing miserably).
He cleared his throat, “Sorry, what’ve you got for me?” he asked, still a bit dazed. Ellis looked at him skeptically–there wasn’t much that threw Dr. Jack Abbot–but proceeded to present her case anyway.
Once he approved her plan of treatment, Jack returned to his phone. He sat there for a long moment, contemplating what to do. You hadn’t said anything else, no frantic “I’m so sorry, that obviously wasn’t meant for you,” texts that explained the situation. Jack was positive it wasn’t intended for him, and he didn’t want to embarrass you more than you were sure to be.
His thumbs hovered over the keyboard, dancing nervously as he typed out his reply.
You started getting ready after sending the text, anticipating that James would want to meet up tonight. You did your hair, applied a bit of light make up, and threw on a cute little sundress.
It was about an hour later when you went to check your phone again, fully expecting to see a cheeky message from James inviting you over for some fun.
What you saw made your stomach drop instead. You felt dizzy, nausea washing over you in roiling waves. The text thread you were looking at was addressed to Jack Abbot, not James. And staring back at you was your nude body, followed by a response from Dr. Abbot.
Jack Abbot: I don’t think I’m the intended recipient for that photo.
Jack Abbot: But for what it's worth, a real man would eat it even if you didn’t shave. Would prefer it, actually.
Jack Abbot: Sorry, that was inappropriate. I’ve deleted this text thread, along with the photo. We can pretend this never happened.
There’s no fucking way. Absolutely not. There is no possible way that you accidentally sent a nude photo of yourself to your fucking attending. Not just any attending either, but the one you'd had a big fat stupid crush on for the better part of a year. The one you’d spent endless nights fantasizing about with your fingers plunged deep into your cunt, whose visage you’d pictured hovering over you, fucking you hard and deep; the name you accidentally moaned when James was eating you out the last time you hooked up.
Your mind refused to accept that this was reality, hoping against hope that this was some twisted fucking nightmare.
Shame welled up inside you, your cheeks hot from embarrassment and tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, mortification settling in earnest now. In addition to being humiliating, you also felt like a fucking creep. From his perspective, you just sent him a completely unsolicited nude photo.
Even more so, you hated that this probably killed any chance you had with him, even if that chance had been slim to none to begin with.
You paced your bedroom, thumbnail chewed raw as you tried to do damage control. What does one even say after they accidentally send a nude to their boss? After far too much deliberation, you decided to keep it simple, apologize, and crawl into your bed for the remainder of your two days off.
You: Dr. Abbot, I am so sorry about that!! I obviously didn’t mean to send that to you.
You: I meant to send it to a James and must not have looked closely enough before I sent it.
You: Thank you for deleting the photo, and I’m so sorry once again that you were subjected to seeing that.
You threw your phone as far away from you as possible, recklessly disregarding its safety despite the fact that you most certainly could not afford to repair said phone if it was damaged, and flopped onto the bed, screaming into a pillow. Your throat was raw by the time you surfaced for air, your body limp and exhausted, mind shuffling through worst case scenarios.
In the midst of your spiral, your brain drifted to the other part of his message: a real man would eat it even if you didn’t shave. That was, admittedly, inappropriate, but no more so than sending a nude to your superior, so you figured you were even. He probably just meant it to be supportive; to try and diffuse the awkward situation.
But another part of you wondered if he meant something else. If he was signalling to you that he would eat it, bush or not. The thought was indulgent, if not utterly preposterous. He was an attending; you were a resident. There was no way he’d meant anything by it. But you couldn’t help thinking…
Did he like the photo? Was he picturing you with a bush? Did he think about tasting you, about swirling his tongue around your clit or plunging it deep into you?
A notification dinged, shaking you out of your daydream, and you contemplated whether or not you actually wanted to see what he said, if anything at all. Curiosity eventually won out, hands grappling for your phone and swiping open the notification.
Jack Abbot: No worries. 👍
It was a completely normal response, which almost made it worse. Part of you wished he would lash out, call you disgusting or a whore, at least you’d know what to do with that. Shame or disgust were easier to digest than nonchalance.
You didn’t bother to send the photo to the correct person, your lust dampened, the fire doused with cold water, remnants pulverized to ash. Groaning, you burrowed into your bed with no intention of leaving for the next two days.
You had no idea how you were going to face him Monday.
You woke up two days later and ran through your options.
Flee the country and never return to Pittsburgh ever again (unrealistic, you’d devoted too much time to becoming a doctor, you weren’t giving up because of some catastrophically stupid mistake)
Arrive to work 20 minutes late, hopefully avoiding Jack Abbot by all costs (unlikely, the man worked more overtime than anyone except Robby. He was sure to still be there, and all you’d get was attendance point for your trouble)
Be a mature adult, apologize, and forget this ever happened, like he suggested (undoubtedly the best choice, but could you really ever forget that your attending has seen your pussy? And, a far sicker thought, did you want him to forget?)
Indecision weighed on you as you got ready, ultimately deciding on lucky number option 3. Your only saving grace was the fact that you were on day shift, and Abbot rarely worked days. The only interaction would be at handoff, and maybe if you could busied yourself enough getting a jump on patients, you could avoid him for as long as possible.
That was your plan of action as you walked into chairs, head down as you scanned into the ED and approached the nurses station. You didn’t hear his voice, which was a good sign; typically, you could hear it as soon as you entered, steady barking out orders over the hum of the department. You took a deep breath, steeling yourself and thinking for the first time since you sent that photo that things might be okay.
You spot Ellis at a work station, and beeline to her to get the handover started.
“Hey Ellis, how’d the night go? Any weird and wild cases?” you ask,
“Oh, you know, the usual,” she said, “foreign body extractions, a couple MIs, an insomniac who overdosed on benadryl and swore that the hat man was after him for money,” she laughed, shaking her head.
“To be fair, the hat man could be after him for money,” you said solemnly, face straight for a second before you burst out laughing.
Handover continued smoothly, Ellis updating you on which patients needed labs or imaging and which needed to be discharged. You almost made it through unscathed, your body turning to make your way to North 5 when you heard his voice calling to Ellis.
Your shoulders tensed–body betraying you by freezing in place–and he was next to you before you could scuttle away. Resting his forearms on the counter next to you, he continued talking to Ellis–about what, you couldn’t say, static filling your ears as you remembered what you’d done.
“Morning, Doc,” he said, startling you out of your daze.
“G-good morning, Dr. Abbot,” you stuttered, eyes glancing briefly at him before settling on his chin, unable to meet his eyes for more than a second.
He looked annoyingly normal, showing no sign that anything unseemly had occurred between you. You chanced another look at his eyes, the hazel orbs showing no hint of amusement or belittlement. But there was a look of acknowledgement, a steady one that should have reassured you that everything was okay, that you weren’t a laughingstock. The same look he’d give you in a trauma when things went sideways through no fault of your own.
And In any other situation, it would be reassuring. But right now, all it did was remind you that he’d seen your most sensitive parts, that he’d commented on the state of your pubic hair (or lack thereof). Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and your breath caught in your throat, eyes unable to breakaway from his gaze.
When you did manage to look away, it was, traitorously, to look down at his lips. They looked so soft, and for a split second you imagined yourself leaning in, capturing his lips with yours and kissing him into oblivion. You snapped back to reality half a second too late, seeing the edge of Abbot’s mouth turn up in the barest hint of a smile.
Clearing your throat, you quickly excused yourself to see a patient, all but running to the exam room. You managed to slow your breathing and compose yourself before you entered the room, squaring your shoulders and getting back to work.
This was going to be a lot harder than you anticipated.
Jack was being honest when he told you he deleted the text thread with that photo in it, a fact he was coming to regret as he laid in bed post-shift, body tired but too wired to relax and fall asleep. He’d committed the photo to memory, though, losing himself in it as he dragged his hand up and down his cock, thinking about how soft you’d be, how sweet you’d taste, the sounds he’d pull from you as he fucked you with his tongue. He’d fallen into this routine an embarrassing amount of times since he received that photo, feeling like a pervy, dirty old man all the while, but doing nothing to stop himself either.
His hand glided over his shaft once more, imagining that it was your warm, wet walls wrapped around him instead, and he was coming hard, painting his stomach with streaks of warm, wet goo. He sat there, breathing heavy, as a twitch of shame rolled over him. He shouldn’t be jerking it to the remembered image of a resident’s pussy, a woman at least 15 years younger than him, if not more.
But it was harder than he’d thought it would be to put that photo behind him. It was all he could think about as soon as he saw you that first morning, the image looping in an endless projection in his mind. It was completely unprofessional, and frankly dishonest. He’d told you that you could both pretend it had never happened, but he wasn’t so sure that was possible anymore.
And it was clear you hadn’t forgotten either. You were jumpy around him, the easy quips you used swap in the morning abandoned for stuttered greetings and awkward silences. He’d also caught you looking at his lips on more than one occasion and stealing glances at him when you thought he wasn’t paying attention. He wasn’t sure if it was true attraction, or just some morbid curiosity that was sparked by the unusual situation you two found yourselves in, but Jack wasn’t about to get his hopes up for the former.
As difficult as it was to keep his head on straight after seeing that photo, the more troubling part was that he’d lost the 10 to 15 minutes he spent every morning talking to you, a small ritual he looked forward to every shift. He hadn’t realized how much those moments meant to him until they were gone. Even the worst nights were magically better when he was able to make you laugh at handoff, your smile making his chest swell with pride and head fuzzy with feelings he had no business feeling.
Jack knew he had to do something to ease the tension, to get things back to normal. Or maybe a new normal, if he had anything to do with it.
The days passed in a similar fashion to that first day. Jack would greet you politely and attempt your typical banter, and you would awkwardly stutter out an adequate reply before making your escape as quickly as possible. You weren’t sure why you weren’t able to be a fucking adult and put it behind you, but you just couldn’t. Every time you thought you had the courage to revert back to your typical routine with Abbot, you chickened out almost immediately, bumbling your wall through some moronic excuse.
To make matters worse, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. It was worse than it ever had been before; what used to be an errant thought that would arise only in the throes of pleasure were now occurring during the most mundane tasks. You thought about what his full, silver curls would look like buried between your thighs while you were doing laundry; what his mouth would feel like on your breasts, teeth pulling at the pebbled skin of your nipples while you cooked dinner; how he would fuck you–would it be soft and slow, or hard and punishing?–while you cleaned the bathroom.
Your luck ran out about a month after the incident, as you were calling it. For the most part, you were able to keep your interactions with Abbot brief, albeit awkward. But today he was scheduled on day shift, covering for Al-Hashimi while she was home sick with her son. You’d only found out when you walked in, seeing his name on the board despite the fact that he was off last night.
You felt a wave of nausea wash over you; how were you supposed to go a whole day avoiding him? You managed pretty well for the first half of your shift, presenting exclusively to Robby, which wasn’t all that different from your normal routine. You avoided the traumas Abbot was running, hiding in exam rooms under the guise of checking vitals or reviewing scans. It was working fairly well until midday, when you were unfortunately in the vicinity of the ambulance bay when paramedics burst through.
“Santos, Mohan,” Abbot paused, eyes flitting over to where you stood before calling your name as well, “with me!” he said, already moving into the trauma room and gowning up. You reluctantly followed, slipping on your own trauma gown. He was behind you before you could secure your gown, fingers brushing against the nape of your neck as he tied the strings for you. It shouldn’t have sent a thrill down your spine, but it did. You stuttered out a thank you as you moved to assess the patient.
The paramedic was halfway through the bullet when you arrived at the bedside, hands moving to transfer them from the stretcher to the bed. “– multiple lacerations, bruises to the face, chest, and abdomen. Possible tib-fib and facial fracture.” You looked down at the patient, a teenage boy who couldn’t have been older than 15.
“BP’s low, 70 palp; pulse ox is 85,” Princess called out.
You slid the chestpiece of your stethoscope over the patient's chest, listening to the lungs. Unfortunately, your brain went blank when Abbot sidled up next to you, arm pressed tight against yours in the cramped trauma room.
“What do you think, Doc?” he asked, listening with his own stethoscope now.
You blinked, brain lagging as you tried to compose yourself; to try and save this boy’s life.
“Uh-um good breath sounds?” you said, a question more than an answer, though you were certain about the breath sounds. “Airway is patent, no tracheal deviation, no blood in the canal,” you finished, regaining a bit of confidence as you averted your gaze from his.
“Good,” he said, hand grasping your elbow and moving you down to the end of the bed. “What do we need to order?”
Santos, blessedly, answered before you could embarrass yourself further, “C-spine, chest and head CT.”
“BP is down to 60!”
“Alright people! What are we dealing with?” Abbot called out, eyebrow quirked at you.
Every differential evaporated from your mind. “He’s bleeding from somewhere,” was all you could come up with, though that was obvious. Instead of dwelling on that, you turned your attention to the boy, your eyes examining his body, searching for the source of bleeding. With Samira’s help you flipped the boy over, desperate to find a stab wound or gash, but coming up empty.
“Must be the belly,” Santos said.
“Alright, lavage kit please!” Abbot said, turning to you, “you ever done one of these?”
You shook your head.
“Well, today’s your lucky day, then,” he said, handing you an 11-blade.
Despite your best efforts, your hand shook as you pressed the blade against the skin.
“I-I can’t,” you whispered, low enough that only he could hear.
“You can,” he said, stepping behind you to steady your hand, guiding as you made the incision. He handed you the tubing next. “Make sure you’re into the peritoneum,” he whispered, lips right next to your ear. His hand was still on top of yours as you slid the tubing in, “I’m in, hook up the saline and extension tubing,” you said, breathing a sigh of relief.
Your relief was short-lived. The results of the lavage came back–negative. “Shit, nothing. It’s not the belly,” you said, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.
“What the fuck? Where the hell is this kid bleeding from?” Abbot cursed, pacing around the bed to see if anything was forgotten. “You check his back?” he asked.
“Yes, nothing there. Maybe it’s a faulty blood pressure cuff?” you said, grasping at straws, but moving to flip the boy over and recheck his back again anyway.
Abbot was next to you, eyes raking over systematically to find the source when suddenly Mohan pointed out a tiny mark on the boy’s lower right side, “What is that?” she asked.
“That is a very small puncture wound. Probably an ice pick, if I had to guess,” Abbot answered.
Fuck. You should have caught that. You were standing right there, staring at the lower quadrant of the boy's back. You’d even seen the small mark, but dismissed it as a mole. You felt sick to your stomach, fear and shame welling up in you. You had never had a reaction like this in a trauma, not even on your first day as a med student.
Garcia burst through the door just as Abbot was getting the patient ready to head up to the O.R. “Puncture wound, probably hit the kidney or renal artery,” he said, passing off the patient. She nodded, taking over from there.
“Good pickup,” you congratulated Mohan weakly as you walked out of the trauma bay, hoping you could make it to the bathroom and wallow in self-pity for a few moments.
You heard him call your name shortly after you exited the trauma bay. Heart sinking, you turned to face him. “Yes, Dr. Abbot?” you asked, fidgeting with the hem of your scrub top. You weren’t sure you could handle being yelled at by him today. You’d never been one for tears at being reprimanded, but you could already feel the tell-tale prickling behind your eyes, and you were almost positive that the dam would burst at a harsh word from Abbot.
“A word, please?” he asked, gesturing you to the stairwell, the only place with a semblance of privacy in the ED. You sullenly followed after him, bracing yourself for impact.
You leaned back against the wall, fully expecting him to start yelling as soon as you were situated under the staircase, hidden well enough from passersby, but all you felt was a warm, heavy weight on your shoulder.
“You have to settle down, okay?” he said, one hand planted firmly on your shoulder and the other grasping your chin between his fingers to direct your gaze to his. “Look, I know what you sent me was embarrassing, and we probably should’ve talked about it, but you can’t get this worked up over it when I’m on shift as your attending. It can’t affect your work, you're too good of a doctor to let something like this throw you,” he said earnestly, eyes sincere when you looked into them.
You stood there, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. Your mind still hadn’t fully caught up. “I… you didn’t bring me out here to yell at me?” you asked, voice coming out weaker than you intended it to.
He shook his head, confused, “What? No, of course not. I barely noticed that puncture wound myself,” he said, alleviating your anxiety somewhat.
“What I’m concerned about is how wound tight you are around me. I’m not saying you have to like me or anything, but you have to be comfortable working with me. You didn’t make an error in this trauma, but you could have. And I know it would eat you up if something like that happened,” he said, thumb gently sweeping over your chin.
“I can’t let you jeopardize your education because you’re embarrassed about mistakenly sending me a revealing photo. It would kill me if you didn’t reach your full potential because of something like that, if I had any part of it,” he shook his head, a pained look on his face.
Oh. You couldn’t breathe, your cheeks surely inflamed at this point. You were suddenly very aware of how close he’d gotten–and of his hand on your face. His fingers were warm against your face, skin rough, providing delicious friction as his hand repositioned, thumb stroking along your jaw as he subtly tilted your head back. He smelled like clean laundry and coffee, with a slight tang of antiseptic.
Your lips parted, ragged breaths falling from your lips.
“Dr. Abbot–”
“Jack. Call me Jack,” he murmured, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body. If you tipped your head up just a fraction, it would close the distance between you; would bring your lips flush together. Your eyes fluttered shut at the thought.
“Jack, I don’t know why I can’t stop thinking about that picture,” you admitted quietly.
“Can I tell you a secret?” he asked, tongue darting out to wet his lips, “I can’t stop thinking about it, either.”
“Really?” you looked up at him from under your eyelashes.
He nodded, moving impossibly closer, lips ghosting against yours. He hesitated briefly, a look of doubt flashing across his face before his gaze steadied–a decision made; a line ready to be crossed. His grip tightened against your jaw, “I can’t stop thinking about you spreading that pretty little pussy open, or about the prick who wanted you to shave before he’d think about going down on you,” he said, shaking his head in disgust.
“You know how many times I fucked my fist to the memory of that photo? How much I’ve thought about how you taste, what sounds you’d make when you cum?” he asked.
A strangled moan escaped your lips at his words. You’d never seen this side of Jack Abbot before, and it was intoxicating. “I-i think about you when I touch myself too,” you whimpered, your admission seeming tame compared to his vulgar words, but you wanted him to know you were also going crazy over him; that this wasn’t one-sided.
“Yeah, pretty girl? You think about me when you stuff that little cunt with your fingers? Wish it was my cock instead?” he asked, his other hand snaking down to your hip, fingers inching their way under your scrub top to caress the skin there.
You nodded, the proximity and dirty talk stealing your breath and leaving you unable to form an intelligible sentence.
“Did he eat your pussy, sugar? You got all dolled up for him, did he at least treat you right?” he asked, breath fanning over your lips, stubble just barely grazing your sensitive skin.
You shook your head, dazed. “I didn’t send it to him,” you said, a little bashful, “was too embarrassed after I sent it to you.”
He groaned, forehead falling against yours, “poor baby, put in all that effort and didn’t even get to cum, did you?” he asked, just the slightest bit condescending.
You let out a pathetic whine, shaking your head ‘no’ at his question. Heat pooled deep in your belly and you felt your panties quickly dampening.
He tsked, “we’ll have to rectify that,” he said, “You shave again? Or you let her grow back natural?” he asked.
You bit your lip, still a bit shy despite all the filthy words that he’d spoken in the last 5 minutes. “I’m au naturelle,” you whispered, a slight smirk tugging at your lips.
“Good fucking girl,” he growled before his mouth was on yours. His lips moved against yours with a ferocity you’d never experienced before. There was nothing uncertain about the kiss, his lips firm as he devoured you, tongue licking into your mouth and sliding against yours deliciously. One of your hands slid up the side of his neck to play with the curls at his nape while the other fisted in the fabric of his scrub top.
His spit tasted like the stale breakroom coffee and the spearmint of his gum, and you couldn’t get enough. You suckled at his tongue, trying to keep up with his relentless pace, but eventually let him take the reins and kiss you silly.
You were both panting when you pulled away, a string of spit drawn taut between your lips before snapping. Jack held your head between his hands, thumbs brushing softly over the apples of your cheeks.
“Talk with me. Tonight. Come have dinner or a drink with me, and we can talk about it all,” he said, a borderline pleading look on his face.
You nodded, still a little dumb from the kiss. “Yeah, yeah, sure. Okay,” you said, slowly extricating your hand from his scrub top.
He let you go with a final squeeze to your jaw, moving to re-enter the ED before you.
You stood there a moment longer, wiping your lips to get rid of your combined saliva and to lessen the kiss bitten look you were sure you were sporting before getting back to work.
The rest of the shift was painfully slow, the hours passing by like molasses. You couldn’t stop thinking about the kiss, the way his lips molded against yours like it was their rightful place. You did make a concentrated effort not to let it impact your work, though. Jack was right about that; nothing could come between you and finishing your residency.
It was just after 7:30 when you exited the hospital, and you immediately spotted Jack leaning against his truck waiting for you. You smiled as you approached him, nervous butterflies erupting in your stomach. Despite that breathtaking kiss, you still didn’t know where you stood. Was he just satisfying a sexual curiosity? Or was it possible that he also had feelings for you?
He cleared his throat, “So I was thinking we could order something to my place and talk there. Unless you want to go somewhere else, to a restaurant or your place,” he rambled, nerves undercutting his typically confident energy.
“Your place sounds good,” you nod, still a bit shy.
His hand was warm on the small of your back as he guided you to the passenger side, opening the door for you and helping you step up into the cab. The ride to his house was quiet, but not uncomfortably so. Some 90s alternative rock playlist hummed quietly in the background while you ordered pizza for the two of you–on his phone, with his card, he insisted. His hand rested lightly on your knee, the heat of his palm burning through the fabric of your scrubs.
You arrived at a beautifully manicured house in a suburb far enough from the city to be peacefully quiet. It’s different from what you pictured, you realize as you walk in. You assumed that a man who worked as much as he did wouldn’t have the time or energy to put into making a house a home; you pictured a sterile kitchen and minimalist fixtures, white walls with abstract art.
But it was homey. The walls were painted, photos scattered across them. The couch looked comfy, something picked out with intention, not the first option plucked from a furniture catalog. There were plants, beautiful, well taken care of ferns and pothos littered about. Warm light filtered through the kitchen, the island topped with butcher block and bracketed by two upholstered stools.
“Do you want anything to drink? Water, wine, beer?” he asked, opening the fridge and grabbing a beer for himself.
You focused your attention back on him, abandoning your pseudo-psychoanalysis of his house and drifting over to perch on a stool. “Wine would be nice,” you said, grateful for something to occupy your hands. He nods, pours you a modest glass of red–something French that probably costs ten times the amount of your shitty grocery store wine.
The pizza arrives soon thereafter, and you sit down at the island to eat. Conversation is easy, and you feel more at ease with him now than you ever had before, a drastic 180 from this morning. You talk about your day, life, post-residency plans; he lets loose a few embarrassing stories from his own residency days, one featuring a very unfortunate Robby being pantsed by a 6 year old in the middle of the ED. Eventually, though, plates are cleared and glasses are downed, a natural lull falling over the conversation.
“So,” he starts, head resting against his palm, arm propped up on the counter, “that photo…” He’s got that sly smirk on his face now, comfortable now to tease you about it.
You groan, burying your head in your arms. He laughed, “you don’t have to explain yourself, but I am curious what series of events led to me receiving that photo,” he said… “a series of events for which I am very thankful for, by the way.”
You turned, resting your head sideways on your arms, and started explaining all about James and his preferences, how he was your only real option for some skin-to-skin contact. Jack, for his part, listened quietly, offering little commentary until you finished your great tale.
“So you’re telling me that this kid can’t even fuck you right, yet he demands you shave before he’ll go down on you?” he asks, a horrified look on his face.
“Welcome to the joys of modern dating,” you joke, shooting him a halfhearted smile.
He shook his head, “unacceptable,” he said before hooking his leg around your stool and pulling you closer. You gasp, steadying yourself with a hand on his thigh as you fight not to topple onto him completely. He was close now, one hand coming up to rest on the hollow of your neck while the other slid up your top, thumb strumming over your ribs.
Jack didn’t hesitate this time. This kiss was different–no less searing, but a little more leisurely–like he wasn’t worried about scarcity anymore, confident that he had the time to take you apart and put you back together again before the night was over. His mouth was molten against yours, tongue delving deep in your mouth and swallowing up the steady stream of desperate whines escaping you.
The hand on your neck coasted upward, tangling in your hair and angling your head back to deepen the kiss. Your hands slid under his shirt, groaning as they came to rest on his tummy. He was warm, the muscle firm under your hands as you lightly scraped your nails over his flesh. His chest rumbled under your touch, the hand in your hair tightening, the twinge of pain a welcome contrast to the overwhelming pleasure of his lips against yours.
He barely broke the kiss to whisper into your mouth, “let me show you what its like to have a real man fuck you. Please, sugar,” he pulled away finally, resting his forehead against yours.
“Please fuck me, Jack,” you said, eyes hooded with lust. A moment later you were being scooped up from the stool and carried toward his bedroom. While Jack focused on not running into anything, you trailed open-mouthed kisses along the length of his neck, sucking the skin between your teeth before soothing it over with your tongue. You nipped gently at his adam’s apple, smiling when he yelped at the contact.
“You’re trouble, you know that?” he chuckled before dropping you down onto his bed, your body bouncing slightly before settling. He stood between your legs, face cradled between his meaty hands. “I want you to listen to me, okay?” he asked, waiting for you to nod before continuing, “I want to do so many filthy, obscene things to you tonight; want to fuck you into oblivion as many times as you’ll let me, but I want you to know that if you want to stop, at any point, you just say the word and we’re done. No questions asked. Understand?”
You nodded once more, but that was insufficient for Jack. “need you to use your big girl words, okay, pretty? Tell me you understand,” he said.
“I understand, Jack. If I want to stop, I’ll tell you,” you replied seriously, even though you knew there was no chance you’d want to stop.
“Good. Now, I want you to take off your scrubs, scoot up to the headboard, and get comfortable while I take care of my leg, okay?”
You did as he bade you, left only in a pair of pink cotton panties and bra. You hadn’t planned on being in this situation, but you were glad they were a matching set at the very least. Settling against his pillows, you watched as he shucked his pants off, the sleek metal of his prosthesis glinting in the low lamplight.
He sat down at the edge of the bed, fingers undoing the mechanism with practiced motions, twisting the appendage off and setting it to the side. The skin looked a little chapped, but not raw, which was a good sign.
“Is there anything I could do to make things more comfortable for you?” you asked. You wanted to make sure he knew you weren’t put off by his leg, wanted to make sure he didn’t feel like he had to overcompensate because of it.
“No, thank you, sugar. You’re doin’ plenty already,” he assured, turning around to face you. His eyes darkened as he took you in, his gaze hungrily raking over your newly exposed skin. He moved to hover over you, forearms braced next to your head as kisses you again, this time a sweet press of his lips against yours before he began trailing his mouth along your jaw and down your neck, laving hot kisses all across your neck and collarbone.
A gasp punches out of you when he sucks harshly at the spot just below the ear, the spot that turns your insides to putty. He grins against you, focusing his attention there until you’re a writhing, moaning mess under him. A hand reaches behind you to make quick work of your bra clasp, the flimsy material soon thrown across the room, forgotten immediately. His hands are on you in a flash, thumbs teasing along the underside of your tits.
Whining, you claw at his shirt, desperately wanting to feel his bare chest against your nipples, and he obliges, one-handedly throwing the thing off. The fine silver hair on his chest scrapes against you, your nails digging into his back as you pull him flush to you. Jack groans, hips involuntarily rutting against you, his hard cock a delicious pressure against your aching cunt. Your hips cant up, chasing the friction and grinding yourself against him.
“Careful, you keep doin’ that and this’ll be over before it even starts,” Jack warns, nipping at your bottom lip before continuing his maddening descent, mouth exploring your breasts–conveniently ignoring your painfully hard nipples. “Jaaaack,” you whine, thrusting your chest upward. He takes the hint, lips suctioning against a nipple and using his tongue to flick the pebbled flesh. Your hand fists in his curls, holding him there as his hand moves to tug at your other nipple. When he decides he’s given enough attention to one nipple, he switches sides, giving the other the same treatment. By the time he moves on, your tits are sure to be sore and red tomorrow, but you could not care less about that right now.
He kissed down your stomach, lips lingering at your navel before pulling back, eyes travelling down between your legs. “Fuck sweetheart, is all this just from me playin’ with your pretty tits?” he asked, eyes fixated on the wet spot on your panties. You whimper in response, mind too fuzzy to form words. His fingers skate over your waistband, your tummy contracting in anticipation. Ever so slowly, he drags your panties down your legs, discarding them over his shoulder as he settles between your legs.
His pupils were blown wide, utterly entranced by your pussy. The attention made you want to shrink in on yourself, your legs subconsciously moving to close, but his wide shoulders and firm grip on your thighs stopped you. “Fuck, sugar, this is what she looks like with some curls on ‘er? And you let some boy convince you she needed to be bald?” He shook his head, a genuinely pained look on his face.
He moved to spread you open for him, thumbs stroking up and down your lips as he took you in. Without warning, he surged forward, pressing a chase kiss against your clit before sitting back and continuing to admire your pussy. You squealed, hips twitching forward in search of more friction, the brief contact making you dizzy with need. It was slightly embarrassing, being watched like this, but you were growing impossibly wetter anyway.
Jack’s hands moved back to your thighs as you squirmed, grip tightening, fingers sinking into your soft flesh just enough to ache, and spread you further open. “Don’t hide from me, pretty girl,” he said, pressing hot kisses from your knee to your inner thigh, stopping right at the crease between your pussy and thigh, breath fanning over your puffy folds. Your clit was throbbing, your hips subtly shifting against nothing.
“‘m gonna show you just how pretty this pussy is, not gonna stop until you feel it,” he said, looking directly into your eyes, “you okay with that?”
No sooner had you nodded than he was on you. He didn’t waste any time, swiping the flat of his tongue through your folds from entrance to clit in one long stroke. His tongue was hot against your cunt, the muscle firm as it lapped hungrily at your folds, exploring every inch of you. He groaned, nuzzling his face deeper into your pussy. “Fuck, you taste better than I could have ever imagined,” he moaned, tongue dipping into your hole to collect the slick gathering there.
He didn’t surface for air, mouth working against you relentlessly; like he’d been deprived of something vital that had been restored to him, and he wasn’t about to let it go again. It was primal, almost animalistic the way he licked, sucked, and nipped at your cunt. Your back arched almost painfully off the bed, hands fisted in the sheets and moans slipping from your lips unbidden.
He alternated between circling your clit in tight little circles with the tip of his tongue, and suckling on it, lips wrapped snug around the bundle of nerves. Your body was hot, your legs trembling as the coil in your core wound tighter. One hand moved to grip his curls, the hair soft between your fingers as you tugged at it. He moaned into your pussy, the vibrations bringing you right to the edge.
“Fuck, right there, Jack,” you gasped, “I’m so close, so–”
“Cum for me, sugar, let me taste you,” he said quickly, head bowing back down to suck your clit harshly, teeth grazing it just the littlest bit.
And you did, white hot pleasure coursing through you, body contorting, legs squeezing his head between your thighs as you rode out your orgasm. You felt like a live wire, your nerves firing on all cylinders while Jack kept gentle pressure on your clit, drawing out your release as long as possible. Jack lapped up all your spend, not letting a drop go to waste. Boneless, you weakly pushed his head away, the overstimulation too much.
He sat back a fraction, face dripping with your juices and his saliva. There was a gleam in his eye as his thumb replaced his mouth, rubbing soft circles against your clit. A high-pitched whine escaped you, your sensitive nub begging for reprieve.
“You can give me another one, can’t you pretty girl?” he asked, voice brooking no argument.
“I d-don’t–fuck–I don’t know,” you blabbered, the painful overstimulation quickly giving way to pleasure, your hips canting forward against his thumb.
“I think you can,” he murmured, swiping a thick finger through your folds before sinking it in and curling lazily against that sweet spot on your front wall. “Fuck, Jack, feels so good,” you moaned, moving you hips in time with his finger. Before you knew it he was adding another finger, a slight sting accompanying the stretch. All you could do was whimper, his fingers switching between slow and deep, and fast and hard strokes.
Your second orgasm hit you without warning, pleasure reverberating through your body from the top of your head to the soles of your feet, your toes curling as you came harder than you ever had in your life. Jack’s fingers kept moving, wringing every last after shock from your body. You were panting now, trying to catch your breath but failing miserably.
And yet, Jack’s fingers were still moving, scissoring you open now. It was too much, the sensations bordered more on pain than pleasure. “I can’t–can’t do a-another one like this,” you stuttered out.
Jack looked at you, a wicked grin spreading across his face. “Tell me you have the prettiest pussy,” he said, fingers slowing a fraction as he waited for you to answer, gaze leveled directly at you.
You whined, face heating at the order, “J-Jack, please, just wanna cum on your cock,” you said, hoping it would break his resolve.
“I’ll fuck you as soon as you say it, sugar. Say you have the prettiest pussy.”
You squirmed, cheeks hot as you whimpered, “I can’t–I’m not–” was all you managed to get out before a sharp slap landed on your pussy. You gasped, the pain shocking but not unwelcome.
“If you want to cum on my cock, you have to be a good girl,” he said, face severe as he continued curling his fingers against your sweet spot. “and good girls do what they’re told. So, I want you to say, ‘Jack, I have the prettiest, sweetest pussy’ okay? Can you do that for me, pretty girl?” he asked, thumb circling your clit.
You huffed, trying to catch your breath. “Ja-aack, fuck, I-I have, hng, I have the p-prettiest, sweet–ah–sweetest pussy,” you stammered out.
“Knew you could do it for me,” he praised, fingers leaving your cunt to pull off his boxers. His cock sprang out, curving slightly and resting against his abdomen. It stole the breath from your lungs–It was obnoxiously thick and decently lengthy, tip flushed red and leaking precum steadily. Your hand reached out to feel him, maybe jerk him off a little before he fucked you, but Jack stopped you, pinning your wrist down on the bed. You whined, lip jutting out in a not-so-faux pout.
“I’m trying not to cum in 5 seconds like a teenager, sugar, and if you put your soft hands on me right now I’m not gonna be able to last,” he said, reaching over to his bedside table to grab a condom. He stroked his cock a few times before rolling the condom on and lining himself up with your entrance, neither one of you interested in teasing anymore.
He eased the tip in, your walls fluttering around him to accommodate his girth. Your legs spread open wider for him as he settled between your hips, pushing the rest of his length in slowly until he was flush against your hips, his pelvic bone rubbing your clit just right. The stretch was intense, your walls fluttering and clenching harshly at the intrusion. Your hips wiggled slightly, trying to get used to the twinge of pain from the sheer size of him.
Jack hovered over you, one arm resting next to your head while the other gripped your hip tight. His face was twisted, almost painful looking. “You gotta relax for me, sugar, you’re gripping me like a fuckin’ vise,” he grit out, head falling into the crook of your neck, placing chaste kisses there, trying to loosen you up. You tried, willing your muscles to relax around him.
A few moments passed before Jack was able to move, pulling out to the tip before thrusting back in harshly, setting a brutal pace. You moaned, Jack’s hips snapping hard against you, cock dragging through your walls exquisitely. You tried to keep up with his pace, your hips meeting each thrust, cunt greedily sucking him back in each time.
Your back was arched, hair splayed out across the pillow as you took what Jack gave you.
“So pretty for me, sweetheart,” he said, sitting back on his haunches, “my perfect little pussy.” He grabbed at your thighs, pushing them up toward your chest, knees nearly at your ears. The new angle forced him deeper than before, his thrusts fucking you into the mattress. You were entranced by the view of him fucking you, curls dripping and chest glistening with sweat as he pounded into your pussy.
The room sounded obscene between the slapping skin, your combined moans, and your squelching cunt. Moans were falling from your lips at a near constant rate, and Jack was louder than you’d expected, throaty groans and grunts reverberating like music to your ears.
You’re honestly not sure you’ve ever come more than twice in a night, but it didn’t take as long as you thought for your third orgasm to build, the waves cresting fast. The only thing you could think about was Jack’s cock hammering into your pussy.
“I think I’m gonna, gonna cum again,” you breathed, “don’t stop, Jack, pleasepleasepleasepleeeeeeease,” you keened.
Jack’s hand found your jaw, tilting your face up to kiss him sloppily, “cum for me, baby, let me feel you milk my cock,” he said, thrusts growing more uncoordinated as he neared his orgasm.
It only took a few more deep, punishing trusts before you were coming undone around his cock. You held eye contact with Jack as your orgasm washed over you, your mouth parted wide, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes at the overwhelming sensations. You felt so full, your walls pulsing mercilessly around him.
Jack gripped your hips in both hands, his trusts faster and harder than before as he chased his release. “wanna feel you cum in me Jack,” you croaked, throat raw, hands reaching out to paw at any skin you could.
Jack groaned, hips stuttering a few more times before thrusting deep into you once last time and cumming. He ground his hips into yours, milking every last drop from his cock. You felt the warmth of his cum through the condom, your cunt clenching again at the feeling, your mind already flashing forward to imagine him fucking you raw–you let about another garbled moan at the thought.
Spent, Jack collapsed into you, cock softening inside your still pulsing cunt. His weight on top of you was comforting, grounding you back to earth. You were content to lay there, coming down and catching your breath.
Eventually Jack rolled off of you, disposing of the condom and grabbing a few wet wipes from his nightstand to clean you both up.
He pulled you against his side, big hand petting your hair, “You okay, sugar? Was that too much?” he asked, voice hoarse.
“no, was so good, Jackie,” you mumbled, feeling floaty and sated.
“Good,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses onto your hairline.
You sat in comfortable silence for a while, head resting on his bare chest, his heartbeat a comforting thrum in your ear. One large hand ran up and down the smooth expanse of your back while the other held your hand against his chest, fingers intertwined together.
“I hope you know this isn’t just a one time thing,” he said suddenly, his arm tightening its hold around you.
“No?” you asked, trying to keep the hopeful edge out of your voice.
“Uh-uh, you’re mine,” he says possessively, hand snaking down to cup your sensitive mound, “this is my pussy now.”
You want to be offended, want to point out that you’re more than your cunt. But you know Jack knows that, and more than anything your head grows warm and fuzzy at the thought of being someone’s. Of being Jack’s.
“Yeah, ‘s all yours, Jackie,” you mumble, falling asleep against the gentle rise and fall of his chest, happier than you’ve been in a long time.
a/n: whew that was a lot!! thank you if you made it all the way through!!
summary: Luck did not seem to be on your side today. The entire ER had figured out your attraction to older men thanks to Trinity, and now it was coming to haunt you. All you could hope for was that Jack wouldn’t figure out that it was actually about him.
tags/warnings: jack abbot x fem!reader, yearning, reader gets assaulted, injury, angst, miscommunication, medical inaccuracies, fluff, age gap (reader is in mid-late 20s, jack is in late 40s) jealous!reader, trinity and dennis dont have boundaries, pitt crew appearances
wc: 4.7k
“The mystery man you've been crushing on is night shift attending Jack Abbot?!”
Trinity bursts into the lounge whisper-shouting. Your eyes go wide and you abandon the yogurt you were eating to run over and clamp a hand over her mouth. “Shut the fuck up! Shut up. Please for the love of god, shut up.” Your heart was beating like crazy, and you felt like you were gonna throw up. She slowly nods and you finally let go.
“What makes you say that?” You say with an almost threatening tone. She grins sheepishly at you before backing a few inches away. “Well I might have gone through your locker, and I might have taken a peek at your journal…”
“Oh my god, that's a total invasion of privacy Trinity! How the fuck did you even get my combination?!” You were running your hands through your hair, this girl was unbelievable. “Huckleberry might’ve helped me,” she says while trying her best to avoid your gaze.
“No, you know what, that’s great, I'm so glad I decided to move in with the nosiest people in Pittsburgh!” You clasp your hands together and start pacing back and forth.
“Okay, first of all, Perlah and Princess beat us in that category, and second of all, you weren't telling us anything! No hint, nothing, so what better way to find out than snoop through your most prized possession? A book that you never let leave your vicinity. Don't worry though, we skipped all the emotional stuff and landed on the page that had a cutout picture of him with hearts around it.” She chuckles, and you feel like you could kill her.
“I'm burning that goddamn book and the two of you with it. I can't believe you guys went through my journal!” Your cheeks burn with embarrassment, god, did they know anything about boundaries?
Yes, you had a picture of your night shift attending with hearts around him in your journal, but you weren't obsessed with the man. The topic of manifestation had come up once or twice with Trinity, so you decided to try it out knowing nothing would probably happen. You had a crush on him since you started working at the PTMC, feelings you knew he would never reciprocate, so that silly page meant nothing, not really.
“I'm sorry, we went too far.” Trinity walks over and puts a hand on your shoulder, the guilt finally catching up to her. “But I'm surprised I never caught on. Now thinking about it, your feelings for him are so obvious.” She almost sounds annoyed at herself.
You scoff and remove her hand. “Obvious? Please.”
“Oh my god, is he the reason why you make me or Huckleberry bring you in early and leave late?” she asks, her annoyance now directed at you. “N-No, don't be ridiculous.” You're a lying, stuttering mess. Of course he was the reason why.
“And the way you hover, listening to every last word he says. I've noticed the way he flirts with you but he does that with everyone, so I didn't think anything of it. I just thought he was a mentor that you admired, but it all makes sense. Just know that I never caught on cause I didn't know you liked them old.”
“Likes what old?” Panic rushes into your chest as Robby walks into the room cutting you two off. “Her men,” Trinity says casually and Robby’s eyes go wide. “Oh?”
You start shaking your head and fake laugh. “She's just joking, I don't like them old, that would be weird! N-Not that there's anything wrong with being old and liking older men but I definitely don't.” You were speaking so fast your brain couldn't catch up with your words. Horrified, you watch Robby look at you amused while Trinity holds back a laugh.
Fuck, you were such a bad liar.
“Okay— I'm gonna grab an apple and head back out so you two can keep discussing your attraction to older men,” he teases, walking towards the fruit basket. You watch him grab his apple and chuckle before heading out. As soon as he's gone Trinity lets her laugh out and you smack her chest. “Ow, my boob.” She rubs her chest frowning.
“That wasn't fucking funny, why would you say that it was so humiliating!” You cover your face with your hands, your embarrassment being tenfold now. “To be fair your response was what made it humiliating, but you'll be fine babes, it wasn't that bad, and at least it wasn't the man himself.”
You moan into your hands and look back at her. “We’re not discussing this further. I'm mad at you.” You state, while walking to throw your yogurt away, not being able to stomach the rest. “Hey, that's not allowed!” You flip her off as you exit the room, trying to leave your embarrassment behind as you reenter the chaos.
She follows, but it's not long before you freeze, almost causing her to collide with your back. You see Jack rush into Trauma One with one of his SWAT officers on a bed bleeding out.
“Maybe you should sit this one out,” Trinity says while passing you to head to the room. You nod and stay in place as you watch them get to work. Seeing him felt weird now that Trinity and Dennis knew, it made your crush feel more real, and completely childish.
“You doing alright?” A deep voice from behind you pulls you from your thoughts, making you jump. “Dr. Langdon, you scared me.” You turn to see him with his arms crossed and an eyebrow raised. “Yeah, you were completely zoned out there.” You see him glance at what you'd been staring at, and back at you. “You know them?” He asks and you shake your head. “No, I was just lost in thought, sorry, I'll get back to work.” He slowly nods his head. “If you need a break doc, take it.” He pats you on the back and moves past you.
God, you'd be pathetic if you had to take a break over Jack Abbot.
The next time you saw Jack was right after they'd successfully saved the SWAT officer you saw him roll in with. You had come looking for Robby, wanting a second opinion on a patient you had just seen, when you heard Jack speaking with Dr. Al-Hashimi the new attending. “We should grab a beer sometime, share war stories” You felt a wave of jealousy pass through you. “I'd like that,” she casually replied, and walked out of the room. Trying to ignore your stomach you walk up to Robby. “She seems cool.” Jack says to Robby, both of them not noticing your presence “Yeah, maybe.”
You clear your throat, trying to catch Robby's attention and you watch the amused look from earlier reappear on his face as he turns to look at you. “You here to tell me more about how you're ‘not into’ older men?” You see Jack perk up in your peripheral vision and your eyes go wide. “Um, no, but if you have time could I get a second opinion on this patient?” You try to keep your voice steady even though your heart felt like it was going to explode. He chuckles and looks back at his laptop. “Yeah, I'll be out there in a second.”
You nod and turn to leave. Once out you hear Jack’s voice through the door. “You gonna tell me what that was about?” Hearing him laugh makes you burn up at the thought of Robby telling him everything. You don't know if you could handle any more embarrassment today, so you were gonna try and focus on your charts for the time being.
While looking through your charts you hear someone clear their throat next to you. “You enjoying Dr. Al-Hashimi’s AI tool?” Your eyes go wide as you look up to see Jack standing next to your desk. “Oh, no. I'd rather write these up myself.” You say, turning to look back at the monitor, unable to hold eye contact with him. “Smart girl.” He says and moves closer, making your heart skip a beat.
“Sorry I couldn't help earlier, hope your friend’s doing better now.” You muttered, trying to ignore his closeness and warmth. There was some guilt there, you had froze, so Trinity moved for you. “He's gonna be fine, but it would've been nice to have my favorite resident there.” He says softly.
Favorite resident?
The smile that emerges on your face is subtle but you know he can see it. He starts speaking again before you can respond. “But I think she was too busy staring at an older man.” You whip your head to look back at him, your smile instantly dropping. “W-What? He shrugs playfully while turning to walk away. Your heart was beating so fast, he definitely knew you were looking at him, but you hadn't even realized he noticed you earlier. You quickly get up abandoning your charts to busy yourself with something else, you were too worked up to sit at a desk right now.
The next few hours go by somewhat fast. You were able to avoid Jack the entire time surprisingly. You slipped into random rooms when you heard his voice nearby and would rush to find a patient when you'd see him. Were you being dramatic? Yes, but you needed to stay clear of him, his teasing would be the end of you.
You had just discharged a patient, working on finishing their notes when you hear a familiar voice. “I'll pay for it.” You don't know how you heard him, he was borderline whispering, and you were surrounded by a noisy hospital. So you couldn't help the curiosity that crept in you deciding to walk by the room you heard his voice in.
He was sitting on the hospital bed shirtless with Dr. Mohan smiling behind him. You hear her say “Our little secret.” and the frown that was usually on his face was gone, replaced with a similar smile. As much as your body wants to stop in place, you don't and keep walking.
Jack was known for being a smooth talker, you knew that, but there was a small part of you that had hoped it was different when he flirted with you. Now witnessing it twice in one day with two different women, you couldn't help but feel stupid. I mean you had never gotten as close to him as Dr. Mohan just was, you could only imagine what else had transpired between them.
“Damn, where you headed to?” Trinity’s voice stops you in your tracks, you see her head emerge above a monitor. “To check on a patient Trin, where else?” You lie, but it's because you don't want to deal with her questions right now. “I don't know, it looks like you're running away from something, plus you have this horrified expression on your face.” She dramatically waves a hand over her face, emphasizing “horrified expression”
You groan and shake your head. “I'm not running, and I do not have a horrified expression on my face. Please just go back to doing your charts.” She opens her mouth to reply but you cut her off by walking away.
You make your way towards the ambulance bay and when you walk out you're instantly hit by a cloud of smoke. You look over and see Dana leaning against the wall. “Hey, kid.” You reply with a quiet "Hey" and walk over to stand next to her. “Don't look too good, you want a puff?” She holds the cigarette out for you to take and you sigh. “Fuck it.”
Smoking wasn't really your thing, but right now, it didn't seem too bad. You grab it and bring it to your lips, inhaling slowly, then exhaling. You mumble a “thank you” and give it back to her. “No problem, although I'm surprised, you’ve never accepted before.”
You let out a laugh because it was true, you never joined in drinking when the crew would ask you to after a rough shift, and the very few times Dana’s offered a cigarette you've refused. It's not like you don't partake. You used to in high school and college, but ever since you started working at the PTMC you haven't had the urge to, which is surprising considering the fact that it's the reason most people start and continue.
“Today's been rough, nothing terrible, just mentally draining.” She nods at your words, understanding that feeling before you continue. “How bout you? How's your shadow, Emma doing?” You watch as she deeply sighs at your question. “She's doing real good. Yeah, she’ll be great.” You can hear the concern in her voice. “You're doing good too Dana, she’ll flourish under your wing.” You put a reassuring hand on her shoulder wanting to comfort her even though you know her concern will never fade.
“Yeah, here’s hoping.” She takes another drag while looking at the calm in front of you two. There's comfortable silence before she looks back at you. “You out here because of Robby's loud mouth?” A bitter chuckle escapes you, because of course he was going around talking about what had happened in the lounge.
“No, not really, I didn't realize he was telling everyone.” He was your superior but that wasn't gonna stop you from killing him. “Oh yeah, word travels quick round here, everybody knows about your interest in older men now.” She was laughing now.
You wanted to crawl in a hole and never come out.
“Ugh, it's all Trinity’s fault! She told Robby I like my men old, and then I word-vomited trying to save myself from humiliation. I failed miserably, if you were wondering.” You were reaching for the cigarette in her hand again, which she easily gave up. “Santos, really?” She asks and you nod your head while breathing in more smoke. “Eh, I wouldn't worry too much, I'm sure everyone will forget about it by tomorrow. They're so bored they’re grasping for any sort of gossip, something new’ll come up soon,” she says, putting her hand on your shoulder now.
“Honestly, I don't get what the big deal is. Why is it so crazy that I'm interested in a guy that's maybe a little too old for me? News flash, I'm a fully grown adult.” You can't help the irritation in your voice, this was all so annoying. “It can be a big deal, depending on the circumstance,” she says, and you sigh, taking another drag. She's right, HR would be on your ass if they found out all this ruckus was about Jack.
“You're lucky no one else knows which older man you like.” She adds and you start coughing, choking on the smoke you inhaled. “Christ, I'm sorry kid.” You can hear the smile on her face as she speaks. She moves her hand from your shoulder and pats your back, trying to help you.
You catch your breath and look back at her. “Don't tell me you went through my journal too,” you say defeated.
She shakes her head. “I've known for a while now, I can see the way you look at him.” She hesitates before continuing. “And the way he looks at you. You need to be careful.”
You can't help but scoff at that. “Dana, the man's a chronic flirt. There's no need for you to worry, cause nothing will ever happen.” You try to take another drag, but she grabs it from your hand and drops it on the ground, crushing it with her sole.
You pout your lips at her, and she shakes her head. “Alright, no more cigarettes for you. How bout you go back in, I'll be right behind you, just give me a second.” You mutter an “okay” and start walking back into the ER, there was no point in arguing with her.
You’re only a few steps in the hospital before you hear a scuffle in one of the rooms. Walking over to see what was going on you witness a patient putting Emma in a headlock.
Panic and pure adrenaline surge through you as you run into the room to get the man off her. You used all your strength to pull his arm, managing to free her from his grip, but now he was focused on you. He lunges for you, grabbing onto the sides of your head before head-butting you. As you fall to the ground you hear Dana yell and watch her tackle the man to the floor, stabbing him with a needle in the process.
You close your eyes as you hear a bunch of footsteps rush into the room. “What the hell happened?” You hear Robby's voice, the noise making you wince. “He attacked them so I gave him a shot to settle him down,” Dana replies, her eyes wide with shock.
You feel movement next to you before someone touches your face, knowing exactly who it is before he speaks. “Fuck, she’s bleeding, help me get her up.” You cry out as Jack picks your body up. Your head is throbbing, and your face is on fire. “That fucker got me good.” You open your eyes to see Jack in front of you, concern covering every inch of his face.
You look over at Emma wanting to make sure she was okay, and she's staring right back at you while being bombarded by questions. You notice the red ring around her neck, and you feel anger finally hit you. “Hey, focus on me, we need to get you to a different room.” You nod your head, and hear Robby grilling Dana as Jack leads you out of the room, your hand tightly wrapped around his arm.
As soon as you sit on the edge of the bed, Jack is on you, checking your face and head. You weren't able to hold back your whimpers as he touched the inflicted areas. “I'm gonna kill him.” He mutters under his breath and you manage a smile. “I'm fine.” You’re breathless as you speak. He picks your chin up, eyes not leaving yours.
“You could have a concussion.”
“I don't,”
“Your nose could be broken.”
“It isn't.”
He sighs before grabbing an alcohol pad to wipe your face carefully, you hadn't even realized your nose was bleeding.
“I didn't realize you could be this gentle, Jack.” You watch as he freezes, it was the first time you had said his name out loud. “I like the way you say my name.” You couldn't stop the bitter laugh that escaped you. “I wonder how many girls you've said that to.”
You move to grab the wipe from his hand but he grips your wrist before you can take it. His touch was scorching, while the metal band on his ring finger was freezing. “I haven't used that on anyone.” He states, and you raise an eyebrow at him. “Really? Not even earlier on Mohan?” You don't know what had gotten into you, were never confrontational, maybe you did have a concussion. His eyes go wide and he drops your wrist. “What are you talking about?” He asks, confused.
“Our little secret? I'll pay for it?” and you watch as he figures out what you were talking about. “When I said I'd pay for it, I was talking about getting her an uber for supplies she wanted to send home with a patient. That's all.” He sighs before continuing. “And I was grazed by a bullet earlier, I didn't want to do the paperwork, so she helped and promised to keep it quiet. That's it, I promise.”
Now you were the one looking at him with concern. You felt so stupid, you were so quick to assume things. “Are you okay?” You place a hand on his shoulder, worried. “I'm fine, don't worry about me,” He says while putting his hand over yours. All you could think about was kissing him, your jealousy from earlier completely gone, and you could tell he was thinking the same with the way he was staring at your lips.
You start leaning in, only for him to back off. “You‘re not feeling okay, you're not thinking straight.” He shook his head, voice wavering, almost like he was trying to convince himself.
The rejection stung, and to make everything worse, your head was fucking killing you. “I'm fine.” You snapped, moving to get up, but as soon as you're on your feet your legs get wobbly. “Let me help you.” Jack grabs onto your waist and you push him off. “Jesus, get off me, I said I was fine!” Your own volume made you wince, and the hospital lights were only getting brighter. You stumble out of the room extremely dizzy, almost tripping before Jack catches you.
The movement grabs Robby’s attention. “Is she okay? I need to ask her what happened.” Robby questions, but before Jack can answer you cut in. “The guy headbutted me, and I fell. I'm fine, I just need to rest, please.” Robby runs over, opening your eyelids to check your pupils. “Shit, did you evaluate her?” and Jack shakes his head. “I was going to, but she got up and ran out.”
You remove Jack’s hold on you. “I'm a little dizzy and the lights are too bright, so if you need to give me a CT scan go ahead, but I'm telling you, all I need to do is rest. I'm coherent, I'm good, if anything I have a minor concussion but I doubt it. I'll answer any other questions you have, just get me in a fucking bed, and away from him,” You say, jutting your head at Jack. No one says anything, Robby just gives Jack a weird look before coming to your side to bring you back to the isolated room.
By the time Robby's done asking questions and evaluating you, you’re ready to sleep. “I'll turn the lights off so you can get some rest, but you're going home immediately after. You're lucky it was only a minor concussion,” Robby says and you nod slowly. “Is Emma okay?” You had been worried about her since Jack dragged you away from the room earlier. “Yeah, she's okay thanks to you. There are some red marks around her neck but that's about it,” he says, attempting to comfort you.
You let out a sigh of relief, what happened to her was awful, but you're glad nothing worse happened. “Okay, well Is Dana in any trouble?” you ask, remembering Robby's questions. He was asking if you had seen what she’d done, which you had, but you lied, because you know she shouldn't have had any type of sedative on her. “I don't know.” He sighs and you know not to prod. “I’ll be back soon, rest up,” he adds, and you mumble an “okay.” before you close your eyes, drifting away.
When you wake up, your head feels better but you're riddled with anxiety. Everything that had occurred earlier was immediately taking over your mind, so you get up and get ready to discharge yourself, not wanting to be stuck in this hospital any longer. You make your way to Robby and quickly debrief with him, making sure he knows you're okay, before you say your goodbyes and leave.
You didn't have a car, usually choosing to ride with Trinity or Dennis, but because they still had a couple of hours left you had no choice but to order an uber home.
As you're walking out you hear your name being called. Turning to see who it is, you watch as Jack runs, trying to catch up with you. He stops a few feet away from you and you can see the sweat glistening on his skin. “I heard you were going home, how are you feeling?” You can't help but roll your eyes at him. “I'm okay,” you reply dryly. He sighs and steps closer. “Look, I'm sorry about earlier, I wanted to make sure you were all there.”
“Save it, I don't wanna talk about this right now.” You glance at your phone and see that the uber was only a couple of minutes away. “No, please let me explain,” he pleads and you look at him frustrated, but ultimately nod giving him permission to continue.
“I wanted to kiss you, I did, but I didn't want to while you could've possibly had a head injury. I wanted to make sure you were thinking straight and I didn't want you to regret it.” Your stomach was doing flips at his words.
“Jack—” You try speaking but he cuts you off.
“I really like you, sweetheart, and I have for a while.” He says softly, his eyes holding yours intently. “Jack, don’t say it if you don't mean it.” Your body was on fire, and you were squirming under his gaze. This all felt surreal.
“When I came in today, you were the first person I searched for only to see you already staring back. Later when Robby told me about the conversation he had with you, I couldn't help but wonder if it was about me. Then that feeling turned into certainty when I overheard Santos and Whitaker talking about the older men rumor and how it was specifically about me.” He chuckles, thinking about how the day unfolded.
He was saying all the right things, but couldn't help but cringe. “God, that's so embarrassing, I hate that you had to hear that from them.” You hide your face with your palms, but Jack clicks his teeth and moves them away. “Don't hide from me. And if anything, I'm grateful that I did, don't know if I would've had the courage to confess if I didn't.”
He shakes his head as he moves his hands to hold your face. “You scared me earlier. I don't know what I would've done if something happened without having the chance to tell you how I felt. I just needed you to recover before I did anything, before I did this.” He slowly inches towards you and stops, searching your eyes for permission. This was everything you ever wanted, and you didn't want to waste any more time, so you nod your head and move forward softly planting your lips on his.
The kiss is slow, gentle, and the taste of him was addicting. It was better than you ever imagined. You tilt your head, and wrap your arms around his shoulders, wanting to give him more access, but whimper when your nose brushes his a little more aggressively.
He pulls away instantly, checking to see if you were alright, making you giggle. “I'm okay, I'm still a little sore.” He pouts and brushes a strand of hair behind your ear, before resting his hands on your hips. “You need to rest. Please tell me you're taking a couple of days off,” and you shake your head. “I'm coming back tomorrow, I can handle it.” He squeezes your hips and presses his forehead against yours. “I'm gonna make sure you rest, you're not coming in tomorrow. I'll take care of you, don't worry.”
“I won't argue with that. I guess some rest would be nice, especially if you'll be there.” You move to connect your lips again, but are quickly interrupted as a car honks behind you. You groan as you force yourself to look back at the car, “That's my uber.” He presses a quick kiss to your forehead before letting go of your body. “Go home, rest, and I'll be there after my shift.”
“Okay, I'll send you my address. See you later?” you ask as you step away, heading towards the car. “See you later,” He replies smiling, and you light up.
As soon as you're in the car you're messaging the group chat with Trinity and Dennis explaining everything that happened and that you'd have a visitor soon. You scold them, but also thank them for being insufferable today. Then you find Jack’s name and type in your address. You might be a little concussed and in pain but things finally felt amazing.
You shake your head in disbelief, you can't believe you managed to manifest Jack Abbot.
a/c: I was on vacation working on this and just got back so i can finally post it!! I wanted to do smth short but fun while i was away before continuing to work on the sammy bryant fic so theres not gonna be a part 2 but i hope you all enjoy!!
There are too many risks with the job. Well, there's always risks. You're never not worried about Andrew—worried that he'll get himself into the kind of trouble he won't be able to get out of, worried that he'll land himself back in Folsom, worried that, one of these days, he will get himself killed. The job his idiot brothers had lined up this time around carries more risk than ever, and you've been dreading it since it was first proposed.
Several months ago, you and Andrew had struck a deal. He would do only as many jobs as he needed to save up enough money to leave this place and this way of life behind. It gave you hope—a path forward that allowed you to see a real future with him, but if he gest caught out or worse during any one of these jobs it will be for nothing. And that is why you had spent this morning arguing with him, while he moved around the room, getting ready to leave.
You bickered, yelled, pleaded, and cried, but Andrew is one stubborn bastard and he walked out the door anyway. There was no hug or kiss goodbye, you'd been too busy fighting. In the radio silence that proceeds his departure, you regret every moment of the turbulent morning. He said that he would text you as soon as possible, but the day passed you by dreadfully slow, phone kept close by during every waking moment. You waited and waited, but your phone never buzzed. Please, please be okay. That argument cannot be the last exchange.
You wake up to dreary grey morning light cascading over the room. The bed is empty beside you. Instantly, you reach for your phone. Nothing. Panic claws it's way up your throat and wetness stings your eyes. Just as you're about to cave to a flood up tears, you hear the rumble of a truck in the driveway. You jump out of bed and dart down the stairs, flinging the front door open. Your bare feet scrape against the wet concrete. You're still in your pj's, anything else becomes the least of your concerns.
Andrew has just exited his truck when you barrel into him. He catches you with a grunt, stumbling back a step. A split second passes before he registers what is happening, then his strong arms wrap around you. Only then does your brain let relief pour through your system. Rain pelts you, soaking you to the bone, and plastering your clothes to your skin.
"You're gonna catch a cold," he says. A big hand tilts your chin up. Your lashes have clumped together, rivulets roll down your face—a mixture of cold rain and hot tears. You must look like a mess. Sleep deprived and worried sick.
"You're okay…" you breathe out.
"I had to lay low for the night," he says, "I couldn't text you, I'm sorry."
"I'm sorry!" Your voice cracks, a sob that you fail to hold back scrapes the back of your throat. "I thought that the last thing we would ever say to each other was—"
You're cut off by his lips on yours. Warmth blooms where frigid cold has engulfed you, and for awhile you forget the droplets slashing down at you. One hand at the small of your back hauls you close, bringing your chest flush to his. The other remains cradling your face, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. Stray, dripping curls tickle your skin. He kisses you until the shared warmth can no long stave off the cold, and it begins to settle into your marrow.
His forehead comes to rest against yours, the tips of your noses brushing. The smallest smile touches his lips as he watches your nose scrunch up. Nothing has ever felt as nice as being held in his arms after spending a day thinking you might never get to be again.
"I love you, Andrew."
"I love you too," he rasps. There's a pause. A shudder runs through your body, goosebumps raising along your skin. "Let's get inside before you end up sick."
