summary: alone in a roadside motel, robby finally makes the call caleb told him to. except, the person who answers is nothing like he expected.
|| robby x reader || angst, therapist!reader, resident!reader, reader is kinda snarky, suicidal thoughts and ideations, some humor, conversations about death and life, parental loss, drinking, hurt / comfort, childhood wounds ||
a/n: I got this idea from dr caleb jefferson saying he had another therapist for robby to try. the title is from spinoza's philosophy that there is drive in each living thing that keeps it existing despite hardship
a/n II: katherine lenasa recently said in an interview that there was a deleted scene about how robby's mom died, so that is written here as canon.
wc: 3k
Robby hadn’t factored in just how quiet his sabbatical would be.
He never liked the quiet after a shift, either. He filled his ears constantly. airpods in with music, sometimes a podcast. The television running in the background while he made dinner, while he showered, while he fell asleep. He’d wake sometime around dawn to the silence before the birds even stirred outside his window—the Are You Still Watching? menu glaring at him from across the room.
So, out on the open road for those first few days…
It was really quiet.
The thrum of the motorcycle engine beneath him was a welcome version of white noise that filled some semblance of the silence. He could listen for changes in the motor, watch the road surface, calculate how far he could push before he needed gas. For a few hours at a time, his body had a job.
But it wasn’t enough to keep his thoughts from those he’d left behind.
He wondered if Baby Jane Doe ever found a foster. If Baran was having seizures and still working as if nothing was amiss (Robby hadn't ratted her out like he'd threatened to, after all).
He wondered if Duke ever followed up with his appointments. Robby had called him the second day, and Duke assured him he’d call again Monday. But that was a few days ago now, and when Robby tried his stubborn friend again, he hadn’t gotten an answer.
There was nothing Robby could do about that from here.
He wondered if Dana was handling the ED okay, if she still had a loaded syringe in her pocket every day. Hell, he even wondered if Santos and Whitaker were okay. If Trinity had had any more blow ups with Langdon, if she was still having to stay extra hours for charting. Dennis had sent a text on the second day, letting him know he’d gotten into the house okay, that the plants say hi!. Robby knew it was a welfare check. He even thought Santos had put him up to it, with the way Dennis had anthropomorphized the plants to make the whole thing sound casual.
Robby had responded with a thumbs up emoji and nothing else. Enough for a clear: Yes, I'm still alive. No, I haven't killed myself yet.
Tonight, he was holed up in a shitty little roadside inn with a dingy little bar attached. He’d been sipping whiskeys until last call, and even then the bartender gave him a nightcap to take to his room. Robby had thanked him for not making him ask.
His room didn’t have wifi. It didn’t even have a television because apparently the town he’d chosen to stop in was one where they believed the screen could melt your brain and the blue light would kill you.
It was too bad Robby preferred that outcome anyway.
There was an alarm clock bolted to the nightstand and a laminated card beside it listing the local churches, a bible in the side table. The air conditioner under the window clicked off every six minutes, leaving the room silent until it shuddered back to life.
It was just so fucking quiet.
He took his whiskey into the shower, the hot water scalding the day from his skin and the first layer of epidermis with how hot he'd set the temperature. Even the sound of the water didn't stop him from remembering that little girl who drowned last year. Or Leah. Or Adamson. Or Louie. Or Nick Bradley.
The names just kept coming. Their faces, their stories. The fact Robby knew he couldn't have done any better, but that he should've at least tried.
Fuck. He heard himself grit out, squeezing his eyes shut.
He angrily turned off the water and just stood there, letting himself feel the chill of the bathroom air changing around him, the steam billowing up into the fan. Droplets ran from his hair, down the center of his back, sliding down his calves before slipping toward the drain. He leaned his fists onto the plastic acrylic wall, his head hung low between his arms, trying and failing to erase the vision of all the people he couldn't save from his mind's eye.
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He threw back the rest of his whiskey and stepped out of the shower, grabbing the yellow floral hotel towel and drying his hair, then his arms, his legs. Doing something helped a little, distracted by the little scars, then the bruises on his legs from where he’d kicked the stand of his motorcycle down and caught it against his calf.
In the main area of his room, he threw on his sweatpants and a t shirt, then sat on the edge of the bed, rubbing his fists deeply into his eyes.
He should sleep. That was the whole point of this, right? To have time away to rest. To distance himself.
But it was so god damn quiet.
He picked up his phone just to scroll. No internet meant nothing really wanted to load. Images remained gray boxes, videos stalled before they began. He refreshed the same pages over and over, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference.
He thought maybe he’d put on a podcast, but couldn’t find anything he remotely cared about.
Some of Abbot’s guided meditations came up in his search through Spotify, having been shared unsolicited by the attending.
Letting Go of Things You Can't Control.
Power of Natural Energy.
Detachment from Overthinking.
Healing the Mind.
He also didn’t want to picture his fellow attending listening to these while doing his naked morning yoga, but could admit it was at least better than the blood that had spurted out of Louie’s breathing tube last week.
It took almost nothing now. One word, one image, and Robby was back beneath the fluorescent lights with his hands overlapped, punching into Louie's chest to try and restart his heart.
He closed Spotify.
Then he scrolled through his texts.
He couldn't burden any of these people with his 2am thoughts of mortality. With the memories. With the humiliating admission that four days away from the hospital had left him sitting on a motel mattress, drunk and afraid of turning off the lamp beside his bed.
He didn't want any of them to worry about him. They probably had to be up in the next few hours for their morning shifts, anyway. Or worse, they were at work, and he’d be keeping them from patients.
A recent text from Dr. Caleb came up.
Call me when things get bad.
Robby picked up on the subliminal hint that Caleb had written when not if.
Without letting himself think too much of it, Robby pressed call.
Shit, he forgot it was 2:30 in the morning, and went to go hang up after two rings. The burring of the line had his stomach flipping for the first time, regretting calling at all now. He pictured Caleb waking up beside his partner, fumbling for his reading glasses because Robby couldn't make it through the night without dragging someone into his messes.
His thumb was going for the big red hang up button when he heard—
"Hello?"
He hovered, finger stopped in its tracks.
That was most definitely not Dr. Caleb Jefferson's voice.
For a second, he just sat there staring at his screen, his mouth opening and closing, brows threading while the gears in his mind struggled toward an answer. He checked the name glowing across the top.
Dr. Caleb Jefferson.
The voice came back again.
“…Helloooo?”
It was a woman’s voice.
Somehow, in some way, it put a record-scratch stop to Robby's hurtling thoughts. Louie disappeared from behind his eyes. The drowned little girl was gone. For the first time in days, there was a question in front of him that had an answer he might actually be able to get.
His curiosity piqued.
“Hello," he said awkwardly, "I’m—I'm sorry, is this Dr. Jefferson’s number?”
“Yes, it is.”
"I'm his…" What was he? Not a client, not really a friend, per say.
Before he could settle on anything, the voice— your voice— was back: “You’re Michael, right?”
Okay, now Robby was really intrigued.
"Yes, this… this is Dr. Robinavitch. I work with Caleb at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center."
There was a long sigh on the other end, "Shit…"
Robby swallowed, his eyes falling to his knees as he brought the phone back to his ear. So you knew about him. Maybe about the trip, or his very public spiraling only a few days ago. Maybe Caleb had told you enough to understand that it had to be bad if he was calling at 2:30 in the morning—
"I had fifty bucks on you lasting at least two weeks, Dr. Robinavitch." you said, cutting off his running throughts, "I really believed in you."
Robby couldn't help the smile that split his face. It felt foreign, his cheeks sore within seconds from not having stretched the muscles in days.
Something felt loosened, if only a fraction, in his chest. His grip on the phone eased, his shoulders fell with the breath he let out.
He laid back on the bed, pushing a hand through his damp hair as he stared at the water-stained ceiling. "And what was Caleb's wager?"
"Oh, he thought it would take four days and two hours." you said easily, "but you've just lost me my hard earned money, doctor."
Robby glanced at the clock on the nightstand. Caleb had only been off by a few hours.
"Sorry about that."
He heard your light huff of laughter through the phone, followed by a deeper breath. Maybe you were settling back into a chair, or sitting against the headboard of a bed somewhere far away, the phone balanced against your ear.
“What can I do for you, Dr. Robinavitch?”
“Robby, please." he murmured. "Everyone calls me Robby.”
“Not Michael?”
“My grandmother called me Michael.” He grimaced, despite the fact that you couldn’t see it. “Just Robby is fine.”
“Aye, aye, cap,” you said. “Robby it is.”
It reminded him of Dana and the collection of monikers she kept for him. Cap. Boss. Usually coined while she unloaded all the patient updates, or called him of her shoulder toward a room where somebody needed something.
Her face when he’d said goodbye flashed through his head. The way she’d known. The tears welling in her eyes, her hair mussed out of place from fighting the asshole who attacked Emma and the harrowing hours that followed. She had looked at him like she wanted to ask whether he was safe to leave alone and knew he would lie if she did.
The little spark of amusement you’d managed to draw out of him dimmed.
“Why are you up at this hour?” he asked instead of answering.
“Why are you?” you shot back.
Robby sighed.
He’d called, hadn’t he? Did he have to say that the quiet had finally become unbearable? That without the emergency department demanding every usable part of him, there was nothing left to stand between him and his own mind. That all the people he couldn’t save still followed him down the highway like ghosts, keeping pace no matter how fast he pushed the bike?
He wished he could just ask you to say some magic words to make it all go away.
“I’m, uh—well…” he tried, and then stopped.
The truth sat heavy on his tongue, swelling to the point it wanted to be spit out, but he just couldn't do it. So he settled for the second best truth.
“I'm at a shit hotel. There's no tv, no god damn wifi either.”
“Oh,” you chirped.
Robby didn’t know what you looked like, but he liked picturing you on a landline, twirling the cord around your fingers, your feet propped up against the side of your bedroom where your mattress met the wall, your back laid on the bedspread. Very eighties rom-com, sure. But the way your voice lit up, the quick retorts that seemed to come to you without effort, had him picturing you as one of those girls. Big shirt, messy hair, a wad of bubblegum in your cheek, maybe a pen tucked behind one ear while you stayed awake for people who couldn’t be alone.
“So I’m just here because you couldn’t doomscroll?”
“I… guess?” His voice cracked around the answer, turning it into a question.
You hummed in understanding.
Robby waited for you to push. Caleb would have, those therapists he tried to sic on him would've had an empathetic smile and big, understanding eyes. Dana would have stared at him until the silence became unbearable. Jack would have said something measured that made Robby feel dissected from three hundred miles away.
“Well, I’m glad you called,” you said anyway.
“You are?”
“Yeah. Means there’s still time.”
Robby’s stomach hollowed out. Heat crawled up his neck and flushed through his chest, his smile dropping from his face.
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, fully prepared to put up a fight, to stack his walls higher one brick at a time.
“You tell me, Robby." you said easily. "It’s 2:30 in the morning where you are. You planned this whole ego-death journey, right? Drove yourself into the middle of nowhere, and still decided to send out one more olive branch. One more call for help.”
Robby didn’t like that one bit.
You reading him like this. It was everything he hated about therapy: the calm voices, the careful questions, the way they thought they could strip him down to the studs and tell him who he was.
But fuck, it had been a long few days.
And you hadn’t told him who he was. You’d only pointed out what he’d done.
That distinction, irritatingly, kept the phone pressed to his ear.
“Where are you right now, Robby?” you asked when he didn't answer.
“Middle of bum-fuck nowhere.”
“Go outside.”
He hesitated for only a second before sighing, hauling himself up from the bed, and walking toward the door.
The summer air met him the moment he pulled it open, hot against his still-damp skin. Cicadas screamed from the trees, something smaller chirped from the weeds beside the ice machine. He even saw a pair of headlights move along the highway a block away, appearing through the gaps in the trees and disappearing again.
"Do you hear that?"
He listened for a long moment. And then: "What?"
"That's life, Robby. All around you."
He let out another breath, stepping out into the pale moonlight hanging above the trees. Moths battered themselves against the fixture beside his door, eager for the light, for the heat, for the thing that might kill them.
That was life, apparently.
The parking lot sat empty beneath him except for his bike and two other cars, every door shut, every curtain drawn. No voices through the walls. No footsteps crossing the concrete. No one calling his name from behind him because something had gone wrong and they needed him to fix it.
He was suddenly gripped the railing with one hand while his throat burned, his eyes stung. He blinked against it, staring out at the empty highway until the white lines blurred together.
Life was all around him, sure. Loud in the trees, crawling through the grass, beating itself senseless against a porch light. The heart pushing oxygen through his body without his permission.
That was the thing. He had spent years watching it leave people. Watching whatever made a person them disappear from the body in front of him—every life taken, every flame extinguished, every mortal coil left vacant seemed to take a piece of him with it, until he had begun to wonder how much of himself was left.
“But I... don't want it." he whispered.
Robby lowered his head, voice catching, his fingers tightening around the railing until the metal pressed into his palms when he swallowed and tried again.
“I want to die,” he whispered after a long moment.
He hoped maybe you’d hung up the phone. That the line had gone dead before he said it, because for once he hadn’t dressed it up. No I don’t want to be here. No what if I don’t come back? Nothing vague enough to retract later. It was plain and simple.
He stood alone beneath the moon, one hand locked around the railing, and felt eight years old again. Young and wiry and small, watching the adults make decisions that split his life open without thinking what would happen to him.
His mother had wanted to die, too. She had gone through with it, and Robby had been left with everything that came after. He could remember her empty bedroom, the cold feeling of the bedspread when he sat on it when grown ups would be whispering in the next room, stopping whenever he walked by. Everyone looked at him with the same pitiful eyes, waiting for him to cry.
He hadn't. He'd gotten angry, he'd locked out all feelings, burying them in the crypt of his work.
He’d carried that anger for so long it had hardened around the boy who still missed her. The boy who had waited for the front door to open long after he understood it wouldn’t. Who still listened for her voice in rooms where she would never be. Who had spent years wondering what he could have done differently, what he could have said, whether he could have been better behaved, quieter. If there was something he could've done to change her mind.
Robby felt closest to him—that boy that still existed within— in moments like this, when his throat burned and his eyes filled and there was no one around to see him lose the fight against his mind.
The rage had never pushed the grief out. It had only sat on top of it, keeping him from touching what was underneath.
"I know," you said softly, and your voice almost made him jump out of his skin. “But, Robby…”
He waited for you to say something important. The Next Right Thing. Something typical and therapized, something beautiful and full of meaning. That life was worth living. That there was still so much left for him. That things got better.
“…that would be a really fucking stupid thing to do.”
Robby blinked.
There was something about you—that attitude. No pity for him or careful, measured voice meant to pull him off the edge with cooing words. You said it like he’d might've suggested driving the motorcycle into a lake because he was tired of paying for gas.
A breath split his chest, caught somewhere between a scoff and a laugh.
“Is that your professional opinion?” he asked, sniffling.
"Yes, I believe it is. Would you like to hear why I think it's stupid for you to kill yourself, Dr. Robinavitch?"
Robby tipped his head back.
The moon still hung above him in the cloudless sky, full enough to bleach the tops of the trees and catch along the metal railing beneath his hand. He hadn’t noticed how bright it was when he first stepped outside.
He wiped beneath his nose with the back of his wrist, the corner of his mouth pulling despite himself.
“Why, yes, I would,” he said with a little sarcasm, clearing the roughness from his throat.
“Because you called me, Michael Robinavitch." you said, your voice strong. He could picture you, the woman he'd made up in his head, pointing your finger at him, poking his chest as you stared up at him defiantly, "You had every opportunity to disappear quietly, and instead you picked up the phone and gave someone the chance to stop you. That means some part of you is still arguing for tomorrow. I think it would be really fucking stupid to ignore him.”
Robby was stunned into silence.
The words found the tender spot he’d spent the last five days carefully avoiding. He’d called. Whatever excuse he made about the wifi, whatever lie he told about boredom or whiskey or Caleb’s name happening to appear beneath his thumb, he had called.
“And there are still things worth sticking around for, ya know,” you continued, quieter now. “Chocolate cake. The first sip of a perfect cup of coffee. Really good books. The people who can still make you laugh after a long day.”
The tears were streaming down his face now, unsolicited and hot against his skin. He bowed his head, staring at his bare feet on the concrete walkway while they slipped from his jaw and darkened the front of his shirt.
“You save lives, Robby. That’s a burden no one should have to carry every hour of every day.” Your voice softened further. “But you are more than the people you managed to save. You’re more than the ones you couldn’t.”
His face folded before he could stop it.
He turned away from the metal railing, pressing the heel of his hand against his eyes as he sank to the concrete, his back catching against the warm bars behind him. His breathing came unevenly, each inhale snagging in his ribs before it could fill his lungs. He hated crying. He hated that it made him feel like that little boy again who'd lost his mother, hated the heat and the wet and the stuffed up nose, the shake in his shoulders, the fact that you could probably hear every pathetic part of it through the phone.
“There’s more to your life than tonight,” you said.
Robby couldn’t answer.
He sat with the moon at his back and his head bowed, letting the railing hold the weight he couldn’t seem to carry himself.
Then you took a breath.
“You know what I think you need?”
He sniffed hard. “What?”
“I think you need a cat.”
Robby’s head lifted. You kept taking him by surprise, making him cry one second and dragging a laugh out of him the next. It came wet and hoarse, breaking apart in his throat.
“What the fuck am I gonna do with a cat?” he choked out. He wasn't sure if it was a sob or a laugh that punched out of him, but the corners of his mouth were pulling up despite it all.
“A cat will force you to get your ass out of bed in the morning. It’ll scream until you feed it, knock your belongings onto the floor, and sit directly on whatever part of you hurts most.” You sounded entirely convinced. “It’ll love you despite all the shit you tell yourself. A cat is perfect.”
Robby laughed again, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt.
“This is quite the therapy session,” he said, only then realizing how far you’d gotten him to follow you.
“Oh, I’m not a therapist. I’m Dr. Jefferson’s kid.”
Robby choked on air. “What?”
“I’m kidding!” you said, dissolving into a giggle. “I’m doing a residency rotation in emergency psychiatry with him this year.”
Robby shook his head, still trying to catch up. Just a few minutes ago he’d been sitting on the edge of a motel bed ready to get on his bike and drive off a bridge. Now some intern he’d never met was prescribing him feline remedies.
“You got me, kid,” he said, another rough laugh slipping out. “Got me good.”
“Good. I’m glad I could get you out of your head for a second.”
Robby breathed out through his nose.
The crying had eased. His face felt hot, his eyes swollen, but his shoulders had dropped from where they’d been crowding his ears. He leaned back against the railing again, letting the warm metal press into his spine.
“How are you feeling?”
“Still… weird,” he admitted. “But better.”
“I can stay up a little longer,” you said. “We can talk.”
Robby nodded before realizing you couldn’t see him. “Okay,” he said, his voice quieter. “Sure.”
“Okay.”
There was a small shuffle on your end, the scrape of something across the floor, then the creak of whatever you settled into.
“So,” you began, “tell me about this terrible motel.”
Robby looked up at the paint chipped motel door with the number 555 across it.
“Well, firstly, no wifi.”
“Yes, I’ve gathered.”
“No cable.”
"People still watch cable tv?" you asked.
"I don't really watch it... I just like background noise."
You laughed, and it settled the rest of the tension in his chest.
He told you about the days leading up to now. The long stretches of road, the towns he’d passed through, the sights he thought he might turn back to see after all. You told him you were at home, drinking coffee that had been reheated too many times and ordering more takeout than you could reasonably justify.
The conversation wandered without either of you forcing it anywhere. For a while, Robby forgot to measure every silence between your words.
Eventually, he asked, “How long are you working with Caleb?”
“I have a year left at PTMC. Why?”
Robby rubbed his thumb along the edge of his phone. The question had come to him before he could decide whether it was a good idea.
“So when I get back…” He paused, glancing toward the empty highway. “Can I meet you in person?”
There was a moment of silence on the other end. He wondered if he pushed too far.
Then: “Oh, so you’re planning on coming back now?”
Robby’s mouth pulled at one corner.
“I suppose so.”
“Well, good.” You sounded entirely pleased with yourself. “Glad to know two hundred thousand dollars of medical debt is finally being put to good use.”
He laughed, quieter this time. “Is that a yes?”
“That’s a yes, Robby. And you can still call me from the road. I'll give you my personal cell.”
He tipped his head back against the railing, looking up at the moon again. The prospect of hanging up no longer felt quite so final.
A WIP of the previous line art I posted earlier- I don’t render in any particular order so it’s messy and all over the place but please do ignore that, I just felt like sharing.
Also, spot the little details I’ve added into the picture, hehehe~
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | part eight masterlist | ao3
parker ellis x reader, rabbot x reader
summary: you're robby's favorite reward. when his staff earns it, he doesn't hesitate to offer you up. it's jack's turn to get you ready for the resident he’s chosen.
|| smut MDNI 18+ , f/f, pussy inspection, fingering, praise kink, cuckholding, jack still learning how to dom, robby still a cuck, free use, sapphic thigh riding, dirty talk, cum eating [like, kinda, is this the same terminology for women?], fingers in mouth, breast play, kissing, reader's first time w a woman, period tracking, pet names for reader like honey / sweetheart / baby girl ||
a/n: eeep ! so happy to have this chapter out for you and so quickly! fair warning ellis doesnt have a huge chunk but still the part she does have was fun to write. I don't consider myself 100% straight (who tf is?) but I tend to be interested in women more romantically than sexually, so im sorry if this is a bit more tame than you were expecting. ilysm, enjoy!
wc: 11k
"That last bite is yours."
"No, yours."
Jack smiled at you from across the table, his eyes narrowing with teasing disapproval. The candle between you shifted in its glass holder, its flame catching the tines of his fork when he leaned forward over the remains of dessert.
There was barely anything left to argue over. A single bite of chocolate cake sat in the center of the white porcelain plate, surrounded by dark crumbs and milky streaks of melted ice cream. Still, he turned his fork onto its side and pressed it through the middle with the same concentration that made you think of him as a doctor—the emergency surgeon with a 10 blade in hand, the soldier cutting a crike in the field—dividing the last bite perfectly between you.
You pursed your lips, trying not to smile as he straightened the fork again, speared his half, and lifted it toward his mouth.
“You are so—”
“Charming?” he finished for you.
Your eyes narrowed, though the grin had already started pulling at your mouth. You leaned onto your elbows and collected your own half from the plate, letting him watch you take it.
The chocolate was dense on your tongue, the cake soft through the center and covered in a dark icing that clung to the roof of your mouth. Melted vanilla ice cream had soaked into the bottom layer, cooling the sweetness before you swallowed.
"—infuriating."
But there was no bite to your words, no heat to make them land anywhere tender. Your belly was full and warm, the dark restaurant and the last glass of wine leaving you a little light-headed, your limbs heavy beneath the table. Jack’s eyes caught the candlelight when he sat back to look at you, chin tipped up with a note of amusement.
“I seem to recall someone calling me ‘hot’ a couple weeks ago. What changed?”
“You refusing the last bite of chocolate cake, of course.” You shrugged.
“Sheesh. That easy to lose my title?”
"Mhm," you hummed into the last sip of your wine before setting it down.
"S'just too bad." he said, shaking his head and biting his lip, "worse is that it's 6:45."
This time, your lips did purse in disappointment. The hospital was only a few blocks away. You had known that all evening. It was why he had chosen somewhere downtown, why his overnight bag was under the table, why he had glanced at his watch twice during the movie and again when the waiter asked about dessert.
"Can… I call you in sick?"
“Oh, yeah, that’d go well.” He chuckled, sitting up to set his napkin on the mahogany table, his eyes skating around for the waiter. He caught the man’s attention and made a small writing motion with his hand, asking for the check.
You lifted your hand to your ear in an imitation of a phone.
“Yes, hi, this is Jack Abbot’s friend. I have to call him out because he’s really not feeling well.” You paused, nodding gravely at the imaginary person on the other end. “Oh, yeah, it’s a severe case of hot-older-man syndrome. He’s got it really bad. Okay, thanks for understanding.”
Jack shut his eyes. His head tipped back, his face pulling into a grimace that made you laugh before he had even spoken.
“Okay. Too many things wrong with that.”
“Really? I thought it was pretty convincing.”
“One—friend?”
You rolled your eyes. “Not this again.”
He opened his eyes and looked at you across the table. The amusement was still there, tucked into the corners, but his attention had sharpened.
“Think it’s okay to say we’re a little more than friends, sweetheart.”
Your stomach gave a hard squirm beneath the table. You lowered your hand from your ear. “Fine. Jack Abbot’s very special acquaintance.”
His mouth flattened.
“Lady he occasionally has dinner with? Shares with his fellow attending?”
His eyes danced around the room for a moment, as if checking to see if anyone heard that. Then he stared back at you with an eyebrow raised.
“Fine,” you conceded, unable to keep your smile from returning. “A little more than friends.”
“Thank you.” he said, nodding, and then continued, settling back again, “And two—old man?”
“I said hot old man, thank you very much.”
He scoffed. “I know you’re not talking about me.”
“You’re right. I’m seeing another Jack Abbot after this.”
“Better hope he doesn’t work at my hospital.”
You opened your mouth, but Jack lifted a finger before you could answer.
“And third,” he went on, “I’ve walked into that hospital with a bullet wound in my back. Highly doubt they’re gonna let me call out because…” He tilted his head, considering it. “What? I’m held up with a beautiful girl?”
"I think it would be only right." you shot back, though your skin warmed and not just from the wine.
The waiter appeared before Jack could answer, setting the leather check folder beside his elbow. Jack slid his card inside without opening it, letting the waiter take it right away.
And when they came back promptly, you watched him open the leather booklet, giving a nice tip and his illegible signature.
Dinner had been his idea. The movie too. He had arrived at Robby’s house shortly after three with his hair still damp from a shower and a clean shirt folded over the width of his shoulders. He should have been asleep then, storing away whatever rest he could before a night in the emergency department. Instead, he had taken you downtown because he knew Robby was working and you would spend most of the evening alone.
He hadn't said that was why or let you ask too many questions. Only told you to hurry up and get dressed early.
“Thank you,” you said. “It was really sweet of you to set all this up.”
“Thought it would be nice to do something different.”
He shrugged, but his eyes remained on the receipt for a moment longer than necessary, the pen turning once between his fingers. As if the compliment landed strangely on him. He could accept being called hot without blinking, but sweet still made him look for somewhere else to put his attention.
“It was,” you said.
His expression softened when he looked back up at you, and he pushed his chair back and stood. He straightened the collar of his shirt, bending down to grab his backpack to hoist it over his shoulder. You rose, smoothing your long skirt where it had twisted and rumpled from sitting for a while, and Jack’s hand left the chair and hovered behind you until his palm settled against your lower back, broad and warm through the thin fabric of your top. He guided you between the closely set tables, his fingers shifting whenever you had to angle around a chair or the corner of the bar.
“Besides,” he murmured near your ear, “what were you gonna do all evening before I came and got you, huh?”
The restaurant door opened onto the noise of downtown Pittsburgh. A car horn sounded at the intersection, followed by the heavy bass of music through an open window. Groups moved along the pavement around you, couples and families out for dinner, delivery drivers rushing in and out of places to pick up food for takeout. The sun was still out, though the light was softer as it hid behind tall buildings.
Jack kept his palm at your back until you were clear of the doorway.
“Wait around for you to come pick me up?” you answered.
It was meant to be teasing, but the answer was entirely true.
You had no plans. You might have taken a book outside and sat along the edge of the pool with your feet in the water. You might have worked out in the room downstairs, though you had been telling yourself that for three days. There was laundry sitting in the dryer and half a container of pasta in the refrigerator that could have counted as dinner.
Mostly, you would have waited for one of them to come home.
Jack made a face.
“What?”
“Think you need a hobby, young lady.”
“I am not joining the SWAT team.” you shot back.
“Don’t worry. I wouldn’t let you.”
You stopped beneath the restaurant awning and turned toward him. “Oh, it’s let now, is it?”
His smile spread slowly. He bent and kissed the side of your mouth, catching you before your own had fully formed. His lips pressed against the corner for only a second, his hand tightening at your waist before he drew back.
“You can do whatever you want,” he said. “I’d just prefer you don’t choose something with a high risk of bodily harm.”
“I’m not even going to get started on what a hypocrite that makes you.”
You stepped onto the sidewalk, and he followed with a low chuckle.
His hand slid from your waist, down your arm, until his fingers found yours. He threaded them together without looking down, pulling you nearer when a group of people came toward you in the opposite direction.
“I do think a hobby might be a good idea,” he said once the sidewalk opened again. “Maybe something part-time, even. Keep you busy while we’re working.”
“Yeah, but most of the time you guys don’t work together.” You swung your joined hands between you once. “So I don’t have to worry about that anymore.”
His mouth twisted.
It was a brief movement, gone when he looked toward the traffic passing through the intersection, but you caught it.
You understood the concern beneath the suggestion. Your whole life had revolved around Robby and the hospital. And Robby had you and his work. But outside of that, neither of you had really ever considered doing anything else. Robby liked his motorcycles, sure. Jack had a life, even if part of his was divided between the ED, the SWAT team, and whatever he kept to himself in the apartment you hadn't even seen yet.
You had them. And you were beginning to realize how easily that could become the whole shape of your life. It felt good.
The pedestrian light changed. Jack tugged your hand and led you into the crosswalk.
“You excited for today?” you asked when you reached the other side.
“For my shift?”
You looked up at him.
He was pressing his lips together to hold back a smile.
“No, Jack.”
“I know, I know.” His thumb moved over the side of your hand. “Yeah. I suppose I am.”
“You suppose?”
“Not really sure what to expect.”
You swung his hand again, unable to contain the excitement that had been building since they first told you the plan for your first visit back.
“Well, I’m excited. Besides, Robby will show you. It can be really fun.”
“Oh, I know it can.”
The smirk he gave you made warmth gather low in your stomach.
You bumped your shoulder against his arm. “Are you still not going to tell me who you picked?”
“Nope.” He let the word pop from his lips.
“Like I said: infuriating.”
Jack laughed, the sound carrying above the traffic for a moment before it settled back between you.
The rest of the walk toward the hospital was easy. As the building appeared closer and closer, you found yourself wishing to slow down time, to stay in this little bubble you'd created tonight. It wasn't like the second you'd step inside you wouldn't see him again for the rest of his shift, but still. You never knew when you stepped through those doors. How slammed they'd been all day, how quickly his fingers might untangle from yours because of a trauma coming in through the doors. You knew it felt selfish to think of it like that, so you didn't say anything out loud.
He held the door open for you, the temperature inside nearly as tepid as the evening outside.
“I’ll think about it,” you said, walking past him. You're not sure what made you want to say it, maybe that you wanted to soak up as much of his attention as you could before the hospital swallowed him in. “The hobby thing, I mean.”
He smiled and tipped his head. “Good.”
You made your way through the second set of doors with his hand still in yours. The waiting room was overflowing, bodies packed into the rows of vinyl chairs and standing along the walls. Jack pulled your joined hands close behind his back so the two of you could squeeze between them, keeping you tucked close as someone shifted a wheelchair out of the aisle.
The double doors leading back to triage felt more looming than they had before.
Because there was something else on your mind tonight too.
Something you didn't mention at dinner, something you didn't even want to think about because it worried you so much.
"Abbot!"
His name was called from the main desk. The charge nurses stood behind it going over shift change, charts open between them. Both pairs of eyes moved from Jack’s face to yours, then dropped to where your fingers were still interlaced.
"Hey, D." you murmured. "Hi, Lena."
“Well, hello to you too, angel girl.” Dana smirked before turning her attention back to Jack. “They need you in Trauma Two.”
Jack nodded, "Let me get changed and I'm on it."
He turned toward you, but you were already opening your mouth.
“I’m good. I’ll let you know where I end up.” You smiled, even with the disappointment already sinking into your stomach. So much for easing into the night. His fingers tightened around yours in apology.
“Go save lives,” you added, squeezing him back.
Jack smiled down at you, then lifted your hand and kissed your knuckles before releasing it. "I'll find you soon."
You nodded, and he was headed towards the lockers with a quickening pace.
When you looked back, both charge nurses were staring at you in open bewilderment.
You pressed your lips together, and tapped your fingers on the linoleum desk, eyes glancing around. “I’m… gonna go find Robby.”
“You do that,” Lena said, holding back a deeply impressed smile.
Dana chomped down on her nicotine gum, her grin widening as she shook her head. The two of them looked at each other with their brows raised, an entire conversation passing between them that you had no intention of standing there to hear.
You weren't entirely sure where Robby had gone, whether you kept passing like ships in the night from room to room, if he was upstairs checking on a patient from earlier in the day, or maybe he'd just went home early.
Though you'd would've gotten a text about that last one.
You checked your phone anyway, thumb waking the screen. There was nothing from him beyond the good morning text he sent almost every day when he left for work before you were up.
A part of you was worried he could be up on the roof. But Dana would've said something if that was the case, and she wouldn't had been so cheeky in her expression if the day had been really that bad.
Still…
You kept moving through the department, looking through the glass of each room as you passed, until you found Frank Langdon near the supply alcove.
“Frankie,” you sighed with a smile.
He looked up, and some of the tension left his face. “Hey.”
He pulled you into a hug, though it ended before you could properly settle into it. His hand pressed once between your shoulder blades before he stepped back, already glancing toward the patient board over your shoulder.
“How are you?” he asked, glancing down at you. “Feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”
“I know. I miss you.”
The teasing smile you gave him finally loosened the line between his brows.
“Oh, yeah?”
You nodded. "Always."
“Uh-huh.” His mouth pulled to one side. “I’m sure.”
There was usually somewhere easy for the two of you to go from there. A look held too long. A suggestion disguised as a joke. Instead, his hands disappeared into the pockets of his cotton scrub pants, his shoulders rolling back from the long day.
“Have you seen Robby?” you asked to fill the silence.
“Uh—” His eyes moved from the board to skate across the department. “Yeah. Yeah, I saw him earlier. He’s around here somewhere.”
“How was the day?” Your voice softened.
Langdon licked his dried lips, then caught the bottom one between his teeth. “It wasn’t great.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah.” He exhaled and planted his hands on his hips, his badge swinging against his leg. “Listen, I’ve gotta check on a liver lac before they take him upstairs, but I need to talk to you later.”
Your brows drew together, about to ask him what about, when another voice was calling you from behind.
“I’ll find you before I leave,” he said quickly. “I just—it's okay, nothing's wrong I just…I don’t want you hearing it from somebody else.”
Your stomach twisted, but he was already walking away, his eyes darkening when he saw who was approaching.
You watched him go, your brows tightening before you faced Trinity Santos.
“Hey, Trin.” you said.
“Long time no see.” She glanced past you toward Langdon’s retreating back, then returned her attention to you. “Thanks for coming over—jeez, was that the last time I saw you? Two weeks ago?”
You laughed softly, trying to get your mind to unscramble from that strange encounter. “Yeah, I uh, I think so.”
“Jesus, girl. We need to hang out more. Without the entire ED present.”
“For sure." you nodded, eyes averting to your shoes. "I’m down.”
Then you remembered why you had been nervous to come in tonight at all, and your eyes found hers again.
“Actually, Trin… can I ask you for a favor?”
She shrugged. “Course.”
“Privately.”
Her eyes moved over your face. The smile disappeared, worry flattening her expression.
“Yeah. Of course, c’mon.” she whispered. Her hand closed around your arm, and she pulled you toward an empty exam room. The curtain hooks clicked along the metal track behind you before the room went quiet.
"What's going on?" she asked.
“I, um…Okay," you sighed, "you can’t say anything.”
Her eyes only grew more worried.
“Promise me,” you added.
She nodded, folding her arms over her chest. “Fine. Yes. Obviously.”
“Even Dennis?”
Her head tilted. “You need me to promise you my firstborn too?”
“Trin…” you groaned.
“Okay, your whole Julie James routine is freaking me out. Did you hit someone with a car or what?”
“Oh my God—your brain is so weird sometimes. No.”
“Then just tell me!”
You looked toward the curtain, though there was no one standing outside it. Your fingers had begun picking at the edge of your thumbnail.
“Can you just—fuck.” You lowered your voice further. “Can you get an ultrasound machine in here without anyone noticing?”
Trinity’s eyes might as well have bulged from her head.
"Oh, fuck…"
"Trin!"
“Okay, Jesus.” She unfolded her arms, her hands swiping through the air as she squeezed her eyes shut, thinking. “Yeah. Give me a few minutes.”
“Quietly.” you added.
She took a step toward the curtain, then stopped, and looked back at you. “Fuck, seriously?”
Your stomach pulled tighter. Her eyes dropped over you for half a second before snapping back to your face.
“Whose is it?”
“For fuck’s sake, Trinity.” You covered your face with both hands.
“Okay, okay.” Her voice softened, though only slightly. “But if you’re pregnant, you have to tell me whose it is.”
You dragged your hands down your face.
“And I get to be godmother.”
You stared at her in bewilderment. “Yes. Fine. Whatever. Just go.”
She reached for the curtain.
“And don’t let Robby or Jack see you,” you added quickly. “For the love of God.”
She was gone and back within two minutes, pushing the ultrasound machine through the curtain.
“Okay,” she breathed, reaching for the bottle of gel and squeezing a thick line over the end of the transducer that she took from its holder. She then pointed it toward your stomach. “Lift the shirt.”
“Shit, is that going to get all over me?” you cursed, gathering the hem of your silk top carefully between your fingers.
“Should’ve gotten into the gown.”
“Shut up,” you muttered, rolling your eyes.
“Lift the shirt, mama,” she said again, far too brightly.
“Trinity!” you hissed.
She looked back at you with a wide smile, though the bewilderment still had not left her face. “Listen, you got us into this mess. Let me have my fun.”
You groaned, but lifted the shirt to the edge of your bra and held it there beneath your chin. The backs of your legs pressed against the exam bed behind you while Trinity stepped closer and set the probe against the center of your stomach.
You hissed when the cold gel touched your skin, your muscles pulling tight beneath it, but your eyes had already gone to the screen.
Trinity moved the probe once, then again, angling it lower while the grainy image shifted on the screen. Neither of you spoke while the machine hummed beside you, the static of the ultrasound filling the silence.
There was nothing there. Just wide open darkness, the lining of your uterus, gray and white matter and nothing else.
The breath left you first. Trinity’s followed a second later, both of you sagging at once beneath the relief.
Then the curtain rings shrieked across the metal rod.
You jumped out of your skin as you turned and saw Robby standing at the door.
“What the fuck is this?”
It was half breath, half exasperated frustration. You could see the weariness of the day all over him—the crease fixed between his brows, his eyes red at the edges, the new stress-grays stippled through his beard. Now confusion clouded all of it, his attention struggling to take in the scene in front of him.
For one long second, none of you moved.
He stood just inside the curtain, one hand still wrapped around its edge. His eyes moved from you to Trinity, then dropped to your stomach, where she still held the probe against your skin.
Trinity found her voice first.
“Just—just a, uh, quick anatomy lesson,” she stuttered unconvincingly. "We wanted to see inside her guts, ya know—"
She pulled the probe away and dropped it into its cradle, then clumsily tore a wad of paper towels from the dispenser and shoved them into your hands. You started wiping the gel from your stomach, too quickly to do anything except spread it around. The slick edge of the towel caught the hem of your silk shirt, leaving a damp smear across the fabric.
Both of you looked exceptionally guilty.
Your eyes kept moving—from your exposed stomach to Robby, back to your hands, then toward the ultrasound screen where the grainy image of your empty uterus sat waiting.
Robby followed your gaze.
You watched his expression change while the pieces fitted themselves together. The probe. Your shirt lifted to your bra. Trinity’s panic. The image left glowing on the screen.
His jaw tightened.
“Go check on your patients, Dr. Santos,” he said, his voice loud and controlled now. He stood taller, but his head was still tilted to the floor, his eyes not meeting either of you now. “Hand offs are happening in just a few minutes.”
Trinity nodded too quickly, her lips pressed together and eyes wide. “Yep. On it.”
She stopped just past Robby, looking up at him, and then to you, a pleading look in her eyes. I'm sorry.
“Now,” Robby snapped.
Trinity ducked past him and slipped through the curtain, leaving it swaying behind her.
The room went quiet again.
Robby let the curtain fall from his hand and brought both palms to his face and dragged them upward, pressing over his eyes, then down his cheeks into his beard. He did it again, harder, before hooking his hands behind his neck and staring at the floor.
You finished wiping the gel from your stomach and pulled your shirt down. The damp spot clung cold against your skin.
“I can explain—”
“Honey.” His eyes shut. “Do you really think I would make that mistake?”
Your hands stilled at the hem of your shirt.
His eyes opened— he looked exhausted more than anything, his head tipped slightly while he studied your face.
“Do you really think I would get you pregnant without talking to you first? Without knowing if you wanted that?”
Your brows threaded. “What do you mean?”
Robby looked at you for another long moment, as if weighing his words, hands still locked behind his neck.
“I track your cycle.”
You stared at him.
He dropped his arms at last, one hand landing on his hip while the other rubbed across his mouth.
“I know when you’re ovulating. I know when you’re going to have your period.” His voice lowered, some of the sharpness leaving it. “I know when we need to be careful or not do anything at all."
The paper towel crumpled tighter in your fist.
"You… track…"
He nodded.
"Without ever telling me?"
You weren’t entirely sure what to do with that. It was strange, certainly, having him know something so private without ever discussing it with you. But beneath the surprise was the unavoidable fact that he had been paying attention, quietly accounting for the risk while you hadn’t thought twice about it. That he'd been taking care of you all along, whether you realized or not.
“I just didn't think it needed announcing,” he sighed. His shoulders sagged beneath his black hoodie, and he blinked several times without managing to clear the fatigue from his eyes. “We can’t leave that sort of thing to chance.”
You shifted your weight, the damp patch on your shirt sticking cold against your stomach.
“So… did you know I was late?”
“I did notice the new pack of tampons hadn't been touched in the drawer at home.” He looked back at you. “I also knew that didn’t mean you needed to steal an ultrasound machine and drag Santos into some kind of covert operation.”
You sighed, the corner of your mouth lifting as you tossed the paper towel into the trash. “I’m sorry. I panicked. I didn't realize…"
“I know.” A small smile pulled at his mouth too. His eyes lightened as he held his arms out. “C’mere.”
You did as he bid, the last of the adrenaline beginning to drain from your body as his arms closed around you. He pulled you against his chest and released a long breath, resting his cheek on the crown of your head. His scrubs smelled faintly of antiseptic and the coffee he had probably reheated twice without finishing.
"I always got you," he murmured into your hair. "You know that, right?"
You nodded, hands tightening around his middle.
“You get worried about something like this, you come to me.” His palm moved once over your back. “You don’t have to sneak around the department stealing my residents."
A quiet laugh caught against his chest. “Okay.”
“I mean it, honey.” His voice softened. “This. Anything.”
“I know,” you whispered.
You felt his lips press to the top of your head, lingering there as he breathed you in, the room settling around you with only the sounds of the outside chaos muffled behind the door.
“Long day?” you murmured into his chest after a moment.
“The longest.”
You lifted your eyes to his, and just watched him for a long while, both of your eyes just looking at each other. You unlatched your fingers from where they'd been hooked around each other behind his back and slid them up his chest and around his neck, thumbs by his jaw, his prickly beard ticklish against your skin. His eyes were softening, his jaw unclenching, those tired lines on his face still dug deeper, but gentler now.
A thought flitted across your mind, then. The nervousness of the night, of what it would mean if you'd accidentally gotten pregnant… but… you'd never thought of whether or not either of you would ever want something like that.
You wondered if he had ever pictured it. Whether the careful tracking and the certainty in his voice came only from wanting to prevent it, or from knowing it was a conversation he meant to have with you someday.
Your brows pulled together.
"Have… you ever thought about—"
Behind him, movement crossed the narrow window in the exam-room door. A familiar face stopped on the other side.
Jack looked in through the glass, his brows drawn with curious concern as his eyes moved over the two of you.
Robby turned with you still held against him, glancing over his shoulder toward the other attending. Then he looked back down at you, expression still soft and gentle, but with a knew sort of mischief in his eyes you hadn't seen in the past few minutes.
“Guess he’s ready.” he said, his voice cracking with amusement.
You nodded. “Guess so.”
Your question could wait. It would wait.
Robby leaned down then, taking your lips between his for a long moment, and it felt like his entire day drained from him in one long, tired kiss. His beard brushed over your chin and tickled under your nose, his breath warm between you while his arms held you close. His lips were a little dry, his mouth lingering against yours before he finally pulled away.
You slipped from his hold and followed him toward the door, though it took a second for your feet to cooperate. Your body felt light, your thoughts reduced to a low static beneath the sudden rush of anticipation.
The thought of a pregnancy scare left your mind as you walked down the hall with Robby's arm still snug around you, Jack's back broad and shifting beneath his Figs scrubs top ahead of you.
It had been a while since you'd been shared again, here again, in what had been your old version of normalcy. And not knowing who it was—not being able to choose like you used to get away with… it felt exciting, it felt different. A start to a new normal. You wondered what this would look like— Jack taking the reins sometimes. What kind of choices he would make for you, how he would grow into this relationship, into this version of himself, and how you and Robby would make that room for him.
The last two weeks between Jack's first dinner with you and tonight had been slow moving and gentle. At first, the three of you had agreed that anything beyond heavy petting and kissing should happen with all of you under the same roof.
It hadn’t taken long to realize how difficult that would be to maintain.
So the rule had an amendment.
If one of them wasn’t there, there needed to be a text or a conversation first. Some acknowledgment that the third person was still part of what was happening, even from somewhere else.
Jack came to Robby’s often, keeping you company during the day before his shifts. Sometimes it was lunch followed by long naps on the couch. Sometimes you ended up straddling his lap at the kitchen table, kissing until his hands had worked beneath your shirt and the crumbs from lunch sat forgotten beside you. Other days, he only came by to walk through the neighborhood with you, the two of you circling the same few blocks before he had to leave again.
The waiting also created its own kind of denial.
Kissing was allowed when you were alone. So were hands beneath clothes, grinding against Jack’s thigh until your underwear was damp, Robby pinning you against the kitchen counter while Jack was working. But sex belonged to all three of you unless the other man knew what was happening and agreed to be left out of it.
A few days after that first night, Jack had been over while Robby was mid-shift, and he had sent a text.
It wasn’t exactly asking permission.
The photo had showed you in the bed, your cheek resting against the top of Jack’s clothed thigh while he lay back against the pillows. Your eyes were lifted toward the camera, wide and pleading, and your arms wrapped around his leg.
Robby’s reply had come less than a minute later.
Only if I get a video of your cock down her throat.
Which, of course, you and Jack had obliged.
Another night, Robby had been home with you while Jack was working. Robby stripped you down to your bra and underwear, tied your wrists and ankles to the bedposts, then called the attending anyway via Facetime.
The flash from the camera had burst white across your eyes, blinding you from the cocky grin on Robby's face.
“Aren’t you two supposed to be asleep?” you heard Jack ask through the phone, making you squirm.
“But look at her, brother.” Robby chuckled. “Can’t bear to leave her like this. She's fucking soaked through her panties over some grinding on my stomach. Look.”
The words had made humiliation and desperate, wanton need flush through you while Jack had gone quiet for a moment.
And then, his voice low, the sound of a door closing behind him, he said:
“Show me.”
Heat had swept across your skin while Robby moved the phone between your legs, bringing the camera close up, a shard of light spotlighted on your panties. He pulled them aside and played with you while Jack watched the slide of your soaked folds being touched by his deft fingers. Robby kept you balanced at the edge until your thighs shook and your pleas broke apart beneath the sound of both their voices.
Jack gave permission eventually.
Robby ended the call and fucked you deep into the mattress, each thrust driving the headboard into the wall until you thought the wood might split.
So walking toward this now—toward something that had once been normal between you and Robby, reshaped to hold Jack too—made anticipation buzz beneath your skin.
It was familiar enough that your body remembered what came next. Different enough that it didn’t know what to prepare for.
South Thirteen came into view at the end of the hall.
Jack stopped, holding the door open, and you smiled widely at him, your skin feeling more jittery with every bouncing step inside.
“Someone’s a little excited,” he teased as you passed.
You could only nod, a giggle slipping out when his eyes narrowed and his cheeks tightened around a closed smile.
Robby followed you inside. Once Jack shut the door and drew the curtains across the windows, the room settled into a muted quiet. The department still moved beyond the walls—voices carrying past the door, the squeak of rubber wheels over tile, a monitor beeping steadily close by—but all of it sounded farther away now.
You stood beside the bed, your fingers worrying the fabric of your skirt while you waited.
"Remember what we talked about?" Robby asked, his arms folded across his chest.
Jack was making his way to the rolling stool, hooking up the stirrups of the hospital bed, nodding.
“Have a look. Get her warmed up. Then go collect our guest.”
"You're forgetting something." Robby said.
Jack looked up at him, then over at you, still standing beside the bed and waiting to be told what to do.
“How…” Your mouth had gone dry. “How would you like me, Dr. Abbot?”
Heat spread across your face the moment the words left you.
Jack’s expression changed, his attention settled fully on you now, the amusement tightening into something more focused.
“Would you get me my gloves, sweetheart?” he asked. “Size seven and a half.”
You hurried toward the wall where Robby stood beside the glove dispensers. His smile had already turned fond, touched with amusement as he watched you become more embarrassed beneath both their stares.
You bit your lip. “S’cuse me.”
Robby moved so he was more in the way than not, only to make it worse, placing himself directly beneath the box you needed.
You gave him a narrow look.
His smile widened.
“Pretend I’m not even here,” he said cheekily.
You rose onto your toes and reached around him, your breasts brushing over his folded arms while you fought to pull the gloves free without dropping them. Robby’s eyes stayed on your face the entire time.
When you turned around, Jack was smiling too.
Cocky. Pleased with himself already.
They were going to be the death of you.
You knew better than to say anything petulant. Not wanting any sort of reprimand or punishment, you simply crossed the room and held the pair of blue gloves out to Jack instead.
"Good girl." he said with a smile, chin tilted up at you, then jerking to the hospital bed. "Up, please."
You made a show of squeezing between his knees and the raised stirrups, letting your knees brush against him on the way past. Jack’s gaze dropped for only a second before returning to your face, mischief sitting bright in his eyes.
Finally, you pushed yourself up onto the edge of the bed, and let your legs dangle over the edge.
"Lay back, shoes off and feet in the rests for me, sweetheart." he said. He sounded so clinical, so calm—just like the hot doctor fantasy you'd always had.
You kicked your shoes off, and Jack's hand found the delicate arch of your foot to help you into the rests.
"Scooch down, there you go, good girl, that's it." he said sweetly as you moved to be in front of him.
"She really dressed nice for you tonight, huh, Abbot?" Robby said from the other side of the room. You looked around your legs at him as Jack began pushing your skirt up, bunching it over your hips.
"Oh, yes she did." Jack said when he took a look under the pretty skirt you'd chosen. "And look at that."
You let your head fall back onto the mattress, embarrassment making you squirm a little in the bed.
Robby let out a low whistle, coming to stand next to the other attending.
“Oh, honey…” He shook his head slowly. “You’re gonna be the death of us one of these days.”
You didn't mention how you'd had that exact thought only a few minutes ago as Jack’s thumb pressed into the inside of your thigh.
“Not if she keeps following directions this well.”
You covered your face with both hands and shook your head. “Please don't."
The snap of Jack’s gloves had your knees falling farther apart before he even asked. The reaction came so quickly that both men noticed, like it was pavlovian, instinctual.
A single gloved finger slid down the center of your slick, bare pussy.
Robby’s voice lowered.
“Did he ask you to do this, honey?” His hand settled against your bent knee. “Were you such a good listener that you left your panties at home?”
You shook your head.
"No?" Robby chuckled.
“Told her to give them to me at the restaurant,” Jack answered for you.
You peered through the gaps between your fingers. He was looking down at you with his lower lip caught between his teeth.
“Fuck,” Robby muttered from beside him.
Jack hummed, the sound low in his throat, and slid two gloved fingers through your wet folds. They moved easily, parting you with a slick drag from your entrance to your clit and back again, gathering everything you had made him through the evening. The room caught every obscene pass of his hand, and both men groaned at the sound of the shlick arousal as his gloved fingers pushed just barely inside of you.
Your hands fell from your face and slapped down against the mattress when Jack pushed in to his first joints. The stretch came slowly, two thick fingers held together inside your entrance while your body tightened around them.
“Oh, yeah,” Jack sighed, watching you take him. “There we go.”
“Curl your fingers—”
Jack looked over his shoulder, one brow raised. “Sorry, who’s doing this assessment right now?”
Robby lifted both hands and stepped back from the bed. “You’re right, you’re right. Got carried away.” The laugh beneath his words did nothing to hide how closely he was watching.
“Thank you.” Jack returned his attention to the place between your legs, his fingers still resting inside you. “Gotta get you nice and ready, sweetheart.”
Your hips jumped beneath his hand when his thumb brushed your clit. The contact was light, barely more than the pad of his thumb finding the swollen point of you, but it sent a jolt through your stomach.
“Oh—right there, Jackie—”
His eyes lifted to yours. “You’re not usually so demanding, sweetheart.”
“M’sorry,” you mewled, already trying to tilt yourself harder into his hand. “Just—just feels so nice. I want more.”
“I’m sure you do.” He cooed, sweet enough to make the reprimand tingle through your skin, then eased his fingers deeper. The second joint pushed through with a thick pull of your walls, your thighs tensing and your toes curling in the stirrups. He drew them back until only the tips remained, then pressed them in again, slower this time, letting your body stretch around each inch.
Your palms struck the bed again, and you whined.
A sharp click of teeth came from the corner. “Behave yourself,” Robby hissed a warning.
You pouted, but forced yourself still.
Jack’s thumb pressed harder against your clit, pushing the hood back until the small bundle sat exposed beneath the slick surface of his glove. The air against it felt cool after the heat of his hand, enough to make your legs shiver where they rested open.
“That’s it, sweetheart. Breathe.” His fingers stayed buried while his thumb moved in a tight stroke over you. “I know my fingers are a lot, huh? How do they feel?”
Your breath caught in a small hiccup when he pushed all the way until you sat fully on his knuckles, the meat of his palm pressed close. The fullness was more than you expected, even though it wasn't the first time, it always felt like it. They were thick enough that your muscles clamped down around him before slowly giving way.
“Fuck,” you squealed. “So—so thick.”
“Yeah?” His voice softened further. “They feel good, don't they?”
“Yes.” you whimpered.
“How about this?”
He curled both fingers.
The pressure caught inside you so sharply that your head lifted from the mattress. Before you could brace, he began working them in earnest, quick drags over the same tender place with each firm motion. His wrist flexed between your thighs, the heel of his hand knocking lightly against you while his other palm came down across your lower stomach, holding your pelvis flat to the bed.
You squealed like a cat, mewling and crying out. He picked up in speed, yanking his fingers— and the position left you nowhere to move. Every attempt to buck only pressed you harder into his fingers, the hooked tips pulling against you while the weight of his hand kept your hips pinned. Your feet shook against the stirrups. Your stomach tightened beneath his palm.
"Sh, sh, sh," Robby said from the corner, "Don't make me come over there and put something in your mouth to quiet you."
You almost wished he would, but you couldn't answer, because your orgasm was quick approaching—
"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck, Jack!" you cried.
"That's it, that's it, your pussy is so perfect, sweetheart, squeezing my fingers so good. Ellis isn't gonna know what hit her—"
Your moans caught, your eyes snapping open.
Jack smiled when he saw the recognition cross your face. He tilted his head without slowing his hand, then rose from the stool and leaned over you, pushing more weight into your hips while keeping his fingers buried and moving.
“Oh?” he murmured. “Did I forget to mention who your first resident back is?”
“Jaaack—”
Your hands came up around his forearm, gripping the tight muscle where he held your hips down. His wrist kept flexing between your legs, each movement yanking another helpless sound from you.
“Oh, I know, sweetheart.” His mouth pulled into a mocking pout. “I know.”
He pushed deeper and curled again.
“She’s gonna fucking love you. She’s gonna love this pussy just like we do.”
Your eyes stayed fixed on his face while the heat climbed through your stomach. Your legs had begun to tremble hard enough that the stirrups shifted against their hinges. You glanced toward Robby, catching the dark focus in his eyes.
“Can I—” Your voice broke. “Can I please come? Oh, God, please.”
“Eyes on me, sweetheart,” Jack demanded.
Your eyes returned to his.
“Want you to come all over my fingers.” His thumb pressed down harder while his fingers hooked inside you, wrenching them back and forth with force. “Want you to fucking soak them. Your pretty pussy wants it so bad, doesn’t she? I can feel how bad.”
Your breath left you in short cries just as he pushed his thumb harder into your sensitive clit.
“Oh, yes. Yeah, right there, huh?” His hand kept the same punishing rhythm. “That’s the spot. C’mon now, come for Jackie.”
Your back arched from the mattress. Your eyes rolled shut, and the sound that tore out of you was loud enough to carry through the curtains and into the hall.
Robby was beside the bed in seconds.
His hand covered your mouth, so broad it covered the entire lower half across your lips and cheeks, catching the next cry against his palm while your orgasm broke through you. Your body clenched hard around Jack’s fingers, hips jerking beneath the hand pinning you down. Spit slipped warm from the corner of your mouth and tracked along Robby’s thumb while the two of them held you through it—Jack working every pulse from your body, Robby keeping your cries muffled against his skin.
As your breathing slowed and your mewling cries softened into dreamy sighs, Robby’s hand eased from your face. His palm moved over your cheek instead, brushing back the hair stuck damply to your forehead before he leaned down to kiss your temple.
"Little loud, honey," he chuckled in your ear. You pushed your shoulder up into the side of your head, giggling breathlessly as his mustache tickled your earlobe.
“Not used to having to keep her quiet,” Jack laughed.
He pulled his fingers from you, the latex dragging slickly through the last tight clench of your body. Your feet twitched in the stirrups, a soft whine leaving you at the sudden emptiness.
“C'mon, sweetheart. Up you go.”
He helped your feet out of the rests, your muscles weak and shaking when one of his hands closed around your forearm and helped pull you upright. The room tipped for half a second as you rose, your muscles still loose from your orgasm, and Jack steadied you until you were seated at the edge of the bed.
His other hand was already waiting—the two gloved fingers pushing between your parted lips, the latex made slippery with your arousal. You closed your mouth around them eagerly, licking into the space between his digits and gathering the taste from each crease. The tips pressed against the back of your tongue, drawing a gag and a small whine from your throat.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” Jack groaned.
His eyes stayed fixed on your open mouth, watching your tongue slide in and out between his fingers.
“You really just do this and go about your shift?”
“Most of the time, yeah,” Robby chuckled. “We’ll have our fun later.”
“Oh, I’m sure you will.” Jack’s mouth twisted. “I have to wait a whole twelve hours, apparently.”
The put-upon edge to his voice made you smile around his fingers.
You wrapped your hand around the thick joint of his wrist, keeping him where he was while you drew his fingers from your mouth. Then you flattened your tongue against them, licking long stripes from the base of his knuckles to the tips.
“When you get home…” You paused to lap between his fingers. “You and I can have fun.”
You turned your head toward Robby, leaving Jack’s hand suspended beside your mouth.
“Right, Robby?”
“Sure, honey.” he said, his eyes darkening.
Robby’s gaze stayed on you while Jack latched his wet fingers around your jaw, turning you back toward him. His thumb pressed into one cheek, the other fingers slick against the opposite side, and then his mouth was on yours.
The kiss was hungry from the start. His lips parted yours, his tongue pushing in to taste what remained on your mouth. One hand stayed fixed around your face while the other settled heavily against your thigh.
“Patience is a virtue, Abbot.” Robby shook his head and started toward the door.
Jack broke away from you, listening to the other attending but still looking at you intensely.
“One that pays off especially well in this dynamic,” Robby added reaching for the curtain at the windows. “I promise.”
That was enough to make Jack step away from you, though reluctantly. He licked his lips, his pupils blown wide, the front of his pants pulled tight enough that Robby’s eyes dropped toward it.
“You may want to…” Robby dipped his chin, a laugh catching low in his chest. “Take a moment.”
“Could take care of it right here.”
“Jack.” The warning sat plainly in Robby’s voice.
Jack’s smug grin only widened. “Yeah, yeah. I’m coming.”
“Poor choice of words.” the other attending chortled.
Jack glanced back at him with a smile, then turned toward you one last time.
“I’ll send Ellis in, sweetheart.” His eyes moved slowly over your bare legs and the skirt still bunched around your hips where you sat waiting. “Don’t forget to come say goodbye before you leave.”
“Yes, Jack,” you murmured.
You swung your feet as they hung over the side of the bed, your heels knocking against the metal frame in steady clunks.
Both men paused at the doorway to look back at you.
The matching satisfaction on their faces made heat collect beneath your skin all over again.
And then they were gone.
You’d righted your clothes and leaned back against the hospital bed while you waited, the noise of the department swelling and lulling around the little bubble of South Thirteen. Voices passed the door, wheels rattled over the floor, then faded again.
Sitting still proved impossible. You kept smoothing at nonexistent wrinkles in your chiffon skirt, picking at the edge of one nail, shifting until the paper beneath you crackled. Nothing felt comfortable for more than a few seconds.
By the time the door opened, you were already halfway to your feet, ready to go find Robby and ask whether it was time to call the whole thing and go home.
"Hey, I'm so sorry—"
Ellis slipped inside breathless, one hand still on the door behind her. Her braids had been gathered into a high knot, and she wore black scrubs over a lavender shirt, the sleeves pushed partway up her forearms. Her almond-shaped eyes looked heavier than the last time you’d seen her, the lids lowered with exhaustion, but they found you immediately.
“Hi—oh, it’s okay.” You sat straighter on the edge of the bed. “I was just worried something happened.”
She walked straight toward you without hesitation, the easy sway of her body loosening some of the tension wound through yours.
“There’s a guy in North Five I’ve been tryna discharge for hours, but he keeps thinking of new things wrong with him.” Her mouth pulled to one side, those pillowy lips trying and failing to hold a flat expression. “Like he wants to stay in this hellhole.”
You smiled, watching her hop onto the bed beside you before she let out a long breath.
“Tell him he’s gotta start paying rent soon.” You laughed, then looked her over again, taking in the fatigue settled around her eyes. “Wait, were you on days today?”
She nodded. “Yeah. Pulling a double.”
“You’re insane.”
“Possibly.”
Ellis tipped her head back toward the ceiling and closed her eyes, letting her head lull side to side with a stretch. The movement exposed the clean line of her throat above the collar of her undershirt, her cheekbones catching beneath the fluorescent light, and then she turned her face toward you again.
“Can we lie down?” she asked, looking at the mattress. “Don’t think I’m gonna get another chance.”
"Oh!" you said, too busy staring at her, "Yeah, yeah."
The two of you moved until you were lying side by side. You folded your hands over your stomach, but the stiffness in your arms gave you away, your elbows held close to your sides.
She was so near that you could feel her arm brushing against yours, could smell the shea butter that clung faintly to her skin beneath the sharper smells of the hospital. There was coconut too, maybe from her body wash, softened now by antiseptic and the hours she’d spent moving between patients.
“I won’t bite, you know,” she murmured. "I mean, unless you ask me to."
When you looked over, she was smiling. The exhaustion still sat in the heavy hood of her eyes, but amusement warmed them, catching there the same way it had beneath the colored lights the last time you’d gone out together.
You sighed, letting your mouth pull into a little bashful grin, looking away. “I know.”
You gathered your courage and turned onto your side to face her, propping your head in one hand, your elbow sinking into the pillow beside her head.
“I only have a few minutes,” she whispered, her gaze lowering to your mouth.
You caught your bottom lip between your teeth, nerves fluttering through your stomach and down into your hands. “Okay.”
“You look really pretty today,” she said, even quieter.
Your smile widened before you could stop it. Heat crept up your neck, and you glanced down at your silk shirt where it had twisted across your chest when you rolled toward her. From where Ellis lay, the neckline had shifted enough to give her a generous view.
“Yeah?” Your voice barely carried between you.
She nodded.
Her eyes moved over your face once more, slower now. You noticed how soft hers became when she wasn’t trying to hide behind that deadpan look, how the corners tipped downward in a way that made her seem thoughtful even while she stared openly at your lips.
The two of you stayed like that for another moment, close enough that either one of you could have closed the distance.
“Can I touch you?” she asked.
You nodded.
Ellis brought her hand up, hesitating only for a moment before letting it settle against your face. The soft pads of her fingers touched your brow first, then drifted lower along your cheekbone. She tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and traced the line of your jaw, her touch so light that you found yourself leaning into it without meaning to.
You watched her pretty almond eyes study you. Watched her tongue slip out to wet her lips when her fingers moved over your bottom one, then traced the cupid’s bow of the top. You pursed your mouth enough to kiss the tip of her finger and held her gaze while you did it, catching the way her pupils widened, the way her next breath came a little deeper.
"I've never been with a girl before," you whispered.
"S'okay," Ellis said back, shaking her head a little, "You don't have to do anything today, just let me take care of you."
You nodded, the last little bit of nerves leaving your body at her words. With all the unease finally drained from you, you leaned in, and took her lips in yours.
She was so fucking soft.
Her lips were every bit as pillowy as you had imagined, moisturized and easy beneath yours, so different from what you were used to. There was no scrape of beard against your chin, no five o’clock shadow catching beneath your nose. Only the smooth press of her mouth, the soft give of it when you kissed her deeper.
She breathed you in, and the hand that had been tracing your face slid behind your head, her fingers settling into your hair to keep you close while her mouth moved against yours. Her nails grazed your scalp before she gave the strands a light pull, tipping your head back enough to pull a gasp from you. Ellis took it from your mouth, her tongue slipping beneath your top lip to trace the tender skin. Your tongue dipped to meet hers, slick and tentative at first, then pressing closer until both of you let out quiet moans.
Your body had begun to squirm beside her, your knees shifting against the sheet while heat gathered low in your stomach. Every soft drag of her lips felt sharper for the lack of roughness, her cheek smooth where it pressed against yours, her fingers firm in your hair.
“Why don’t you go ahead and use my thigh, baby girl?” she murmured against your mouth. “Can tell you’re already all worked up, hm?”
She eased her thigh between your legs, the pressure making your breath catch. You lifted the hem of your skirt with one hand and shifted your knee over hers, the fabric gathering high around your hips.
“M’not—” you gasped when Ellis kissed the corner of your mouth.
She hummed and continued along your jaw, each kiss wet enough to cool against your skin once her lips moved on. Her mouth found the side of your neck, lingering there while you tried again.
“I don’t want to ruin your scrubs.”
Ellis pulled back just enough to look at you. “What do you mean?”
You reached for the wrist still braced behind your head and guided her hand down. Her fingers slid beneath the bunched chiffon, over the warm skin of your inner thigh, until her palm found your bare center.
She went still.
“Shit.” Her breath drew in sharply, her head pulling back so she could look at your face. Her hand remained cupped against you, close enough that the smallest shift of your hips made your slick folds drag over the pads of her fingertips. “I never knew you were such a bad girl.”
"Not bad," you pouted, kissing her lips as if asking for forgiveness, "Jack took them."
"Aw," she cooed, kissing you back, "It's okay, here, let me take these off."
You nodded, and she worked her scrub pants down over her hips, the fabric catching briefly against her thighs before she shoved it lower. She wore simple black panties beneath, cheeky and comfortable looking, the skin of her thick thighs so pretty in the light. “Don’t need you gettin’ any germs from my day on you anyway, baby girl.”
The mattress shifted beneath both of you when she settled back onto her side. She looked down between your bodies, then guided her knee higher.
“Okay,” she murmured. “Go on.”
Her thigh pressed into the crux of your legs, soft skin meeting your already swollen folds. The contact made you gasp. You were still tender from Jack’s fingers, every nerve left close to the surface, and the warmth of her skin spread through you where you opened around her.
Your hips moved before you thought about it. The first drag was slow, your arousal smearing across the smooth plane of her thigh while your clit caught against the muscle beneath. You shuddered and did it again, pressing down harder this time. The movement pulled at your stomach, a thick stroke of pressure that made your toes curl on the mattress.
“You really are a good listener,” she murmured.
Ellis took your face between both hands and kissed you harder. Her thumbs pressed near the hinges of your jaw while her tongue pushed into your mouth, keeping you there as your hips found a rhythm against her thigh. Each roll left you wetter, the slick friction spreading warm between you, your breath breaking into her mouth whenever the pressure landed exactly where you needed it.
You whined and moaned, and soon she was bringing her hands down to the hem of your shirt, lifting it above your head.
"Don't know the next time I'll be able to see these beautiful tits, baby girl, let me see 'em," she muttered, her palms immediately finding your bare breasts the moment they hit the air, warm against the cool room.
"Let me touch you—wanna make you feel good," you panted between moans, reaching for her scrubs.
"You are making me feel good," she teased her fingers pinching and rolling your nipples, making your back arch into her, "Gonna be thinking about this for weeks."
Her thigh flexed beneath you, and your breath caught.
“If only I had my fucking strap right now.”
The words made your skin rise in gooseflesh, your eyes rolling back when the firm ridge of muscle caught your clit, the words and pressure mixing together in a delicious way. Your rhythm faltered, then turned rougher, your hips grinding down with less control as slick heat dragged over her skin.
“You wanna come on my thigh, baby girl?” she murmured, catching your bottom lip between her teeth. Her one hand was back in your hair against the pillows where you'd laid back down, and the other squeezed the globe of your breast, thumb brushing over the nipple again. “That what you need?”
"Oh, god, please," you moaned, "feels so gooood, Parker."
“Fuck.” Her breathing hitched, “Love hearing you say my name like that. Ask me again.”
“Parkerrr,” you whined, the syllables stretching when she tensed her thigh beneath you. “Please let me come.”
“Just from riding my thigh?” She clicked her tongue. “Needy little thing.”
You nodded quickly, mouth open, every breath coming thinner.
“Go on, then.” Her hand slid to your hip and pulled you harder across her. “Wanna feel your pussy take what she needs. Come for me, baby girl.”
Your mouth fell open before the cry tore out of you. The tight coil in your belly snapped, your whole body freezing against hers while pleasure pulsed through your clit in sharp waves. Your pussy clenched around nothing, thighs tightening around Parker’s leg as your muscles locked up. She kept moving you anyway, hand firmly on your hip, rocking you through the orgasm.
Her mouth hung open with yours, both of you breathing the same air as she watched every shudder move through you.
When the tension finally left your muscles, you sagged against her. Your breathing came back in small pulls, and Parker kissed you softly, her tongue brushing over your parted lips before she drew away.
You smiled, a little dazed. “That was… very fast. I’m sorry.”
Her smile widened. “Could’ve made you come even faster with my strap, I bet.”
“Cocky,” you chastised.
You started to sit up, but her hand that was in your hair held you where you were.
“Ah, ah—”
You stopped.
“Who’s gonna clean up your mess?”
Your eyes widened. When you shifted your leg away and looked down, you saw what she meant.
Your arousal had smeared along the length of her thigh, shining against her skin. Parker dragged one finger slowly through it, that you watched the slick gather over the pad before she brought it to her mouth. She moaned around the digit, and then her hand in your hair guided you down to her thigh.
You didn’t hesitate, your tongue flattening against her skin, licking up the wet trail you had left there. The salt of her skin mixed with the musk of your own arousal, warm against your mouth while her fingers tightened lightly at the back of your head.
Even after you had cleaned her skin, you kept going. You pressed kisses higher and higher, following the line of her thigh up to the edge of her black panties. Your eyes lifted to her face, taking in her expression: lips parted, heavy eyes on you while her chest rose beneath her scrubs.
“Will you show me?” you whispered, your mouth close to the fabric. “Next time?”
A knock landed against the door. Shit.
"Ellis!"
It was Dana.
“Patient in North Five is askin’ for ya.”
Parker groaned and threw her head back. The arousal dropped out of her expression in an instant, replaced by a deep furrow between her brows and a pout pulling at her lips. "Ughhhhh…"
You giggled and kissed over the edge of her underwear, then higher, skipping the fabric of her scrubs until your mouth found her neck. You nipped beneath her jaw before reaching her lips again.
She kissed you back, both hands cupping your face now, gentler than before.
“To—be—” You kissed her between words. “Continued.”
Parker let out a real laugh that crinkled her eyes and softened her face, kissing you again, slower this time around her smile, taking what little was left before the hospital pulled her back out of the room.
It wasn't long that the two of you were dressed again, and she was saying her farewells. As she turned to leave the room, Robby had opened the door, looking between the two of you with his Carhartt jacket on, his backpack over his shoulders and two helmets in his hands, his eyes flitting between the two of you.
“Have a good night, doc,” Ellis chirped as she slipped past him.
“You… too,” he said, a little amused, watching her go.
Then his eyes came back to you, a knowing smile pulling at one corner of his mouth.
“Ready, honey?”
You nodded and crossed the room to him, still trying to school your face into something less obvious.
He didn’t comment. He only shifted the helmets into one hand, slid his other arm around you, and guided you out of the ED.
tysm for reading! im sorry for keeping it pretty tame - I don't want every chapter to be the same (in terms of smut) and I've only ever been with a girl one time so was just trying to keep it in my lane of knowledge 😅
The fact that each jacket is unique in the same way each uniform is slightly different. That its REED who designs each member's outfit. Maybe theres a little bit of "powers / aerodynamics function better with this slight change for your ability" but it also could just be like "sue looks good with different blues" and "Johnny loves turned up collars" like HES OUT HERE WITH HIS SEWING MACHINE MAKING LITTLE OUTFITS FOR HIS FAMILY TO LOOK SO SWAGGER IN
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | part seven | masterlist | ao3
rabbot x reader
summary: You’re Robby’s favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn’t hesitate to offer you up. Your night does not turn out how you planned.
|| smut MDNI 18+, more poly discussions, possessiveness, subspace, dom/sub dynamics, pinv [with jack], pussy slapping, crying during sex, big sub drop!!!, intense orgasm, big emotions, jack learning how to dom, m!receiving oral, aftercare, robby is a capital C cuck ||
a/n: here is that second part for you! please please please heed the crying tag, this is a very intense chapter for reader.
wc: 11k
You were grateful it wasn't a far drive. It wasn't that the trip was an awkward one, but things still felt tense. You played with a frayed edge of your sweater, trying very hard not to look over at Brendon Park in the driver's seat.
You could understand that what you and Robby had looked odd from the outside. But there wasn't a world in which you could see yourself doing anything different. What Brendon wanted… wasn't something you could give.
It hurt to think it, to think about him one day understanding and maybe finding a cute nurse or fellow surgeon to fill that space for him. Someone who could ride in the exact passenger seat you were in now, in his sleek black BMW, where he'd pull her hand up to let his lips occasionally brush over her knuckles at a red light. Someone he could laugh with and kiss softly without either of them wondering if it would be the last time. Someone who wanted dinner dates and easy goodnights and the normal, steady forward motion of a relationship that made sense to everyone looking at it.
That version of you had died in the car accident years ago, it felt like.
The version who dated because dating meant marriage one day. A house with children's voices filled the halls. Parents to take care of, holidays to split. A future like felt like tempting something cruel by wanting too much of it.
By the time you pulled up to Robby's, you were nearly in tears again, but this time it had nothing to do with Brendon saying the wrong thing. It was your own spiraling thoughts, your own grief, your own stupid imagination handing him a life without you.
"Maybe you should just—" you began, one hand already on the door handle.
But Brendon was already getting out of the car.
Shit.
You jogged up behind him to catch up, but before you could reach for the door in hopes of sneaking in without being seen, the large oak door was pulling in.
Robby stood in the threshold, one hand still on the knob, his brows pulling together at the sight of the ortho surgeon in front of you.
"Hi, honey." he said stiffly.
Except he was looking at Park.
"Hi." you said, stopping just beside the ortho surgeon.
Robby's eyes moved over you, quick at first, then again a little slower. You didn't know what he was looking for. You wondered what he saw—glossy, red eyes, a swollen mouth, if your clothes were still askew. The whole assessment made your stomach turn, mostly because you knew you were failing some part of it without knowing.
"What do we have here?" Robby asked.
"Brendon was just dropping me—"
From somewhere behind him, you heard Jack call your name, the clacking of crutches against the wood floor, and then he appeared at Robby's shoulder, his expression changing almost immediately when he saw who was standing there.
Park looked at Jack, then at Robby, and his mouth pulled into a smile that made your entire body want to leave. He looked like his coined nickname. His teeth gleaming in the dark with a smile that was not really a smile at all.
"Well," he said with a dark chuckle. "Isn't this rich."
Your eyes flitted between the three of them—Robby and Jack were looking at him strangely now, both of them wearing different versions of the same hard expression. No one explained anything. No one even really moved. The three of them just looked at one another and somehow you understood there was a conversation happening that you were not part of, some silent thing passing over your head while you tried to figure it out.
Robby leaned one shoulder against the doorframe, almost casual if not for the look in his eyes.
“Surprised you stayed long enough to walk her to the door,” he said.
Park’s smile sharpened, quick with his retort. “Surprised you let her out of the house.”
Jack gave a quiet breath through his nose. “Christ. Do you rehearse that shit on the drive over?”
Park’s eyes slid to him. “Still here, Abbot?”
“Looks like it.”
“Must be nice. Robby always did like keeping a spare around.”
Jack’s mouth pulled to one side. “And you always did mistake being tolerated for being wanted.”
“Okay,” you said, cutting them off, trying to step forward. “I’m gonna go inside now.”
But Park's hand came up before you could move far. It wasn't rough or menacing in any way, hell—he'd put his hand on the back of your neck plenty of times before, it was a touch you usually liked. But tonight it felt different. Your breath caught, more from confusion than anything else. You looked back at him just as his thumb settled on the side of your throat.
Park looked down at you. "Where's my goodnight kiss?"
The silence after that was immediate and awful.
Your lips parted, but nothing came out. You looked at Robby before you could stop yourself, then at Jack, because you had no clue where the rules were right now. You didn't know what had changed in the time between leaving earlier and now as you stood under the porch light with Park's hands on you.
Your eyes stayed on Robby—his face had gone almost amused. Brows lifting faintly, mouth relaxed in a way that could've looked calm to anyone who didn't know better. But you did. You knew better. You knew the difference between calm and deadly quiet.
Jack, on the other hand, looked like he was battling his inner most thoughts of stepping over the threshold to start throwing right hooks.
Robby looked over at him, "What do you think, Jack? Think our guy deserves it?"
Jack's head turned slightly, eyes still fixed on Park.
You looked at him too, pulse jumping. There was a beat where you almost didn't understand what Robby had done—but then you did.
Jack was part of this now. Jack got a say. Robby was giving him the space to use it.
Jack's answer came without hesitation. "Absolutely fucking not."
"Oh." Park said, glancing between them with that look that made your blood rush cold. "Big man lets you make decisions for our girl now?"
"Our girl, huh?" Jack scoffed. "Not sure you get that privilege. Look at her, Park. The hell did you do?"
Park’s thumb soothed up and down your neck. You weren’t sure if it was tender there because of his touch or because of what you knew was true.
You sniffled, the emotions ready to boil up again. You felt stupid standing there in front of two men who’d had such a good conversation with you earlier, who’d trusted you to understand what this was, and you’d gone and done this.
It was just kissing, you told yourself. Relax.
But still. Whether it looked like more or not, it still felt like crossing a line now. You were certain the argument was still all over your face, the evidence of you and Park written into your rumpled hair, your swollen mouth, the way you could barely bring yourself to look at Robby or Jack.
Robby pushed off the doorway, reaching his hand out to you, "C'mon, honey. Inside."
Park's hand tightened on your neck for a moment, just a little squeeze, before you were moving forward and accepting Robby's hand in yours. His fingers closed around you gently, but there was no mistaking the way he pulled you toward him, out of Park's reach and into the house.
You turned to say goodnight to him, heart still up in your throat.
But the front door was already closing behind you with a heavy slam.
The three of you stood silently in the foyer. You could hear Park's receding footsteps, his car starting outside, the engine revving loudly before peeling from the curb. You waited until you couldn't hear the angry thrumming of it before you spoke again, breathing uneven.
"I had no clue he was going to be there." you whispered quickly.
Robby nodded, eyes down on the floor. His weight shifted back and forth between his feet. He looked sort of folded in on himself, one arm wrapped around his middle, the other bent up with his hand over his beard, rubbing the heel of his palm against his mouth.
Jack stood just beside him, looking between the two of you, his weight a little uneven where he leaned onto his crutches. His expression was still stormy, but somehow you knew it wasn't at you.
"What the hell happened?" he asked.
"Everything was fine—" you began, swallowing hard, "I was just hanging out with Jesse and Mel mostly, and Brendon just…showed up out of nowhere. He said he wanted to talk to me."
"Just to talk, huh?" Robby asked, a little humorous.
"I thought so." you said, your voice small.
Robby's eyes lifted to yours then, and your stomach tightened at whatever he saw on your face.
"How do you explain that then?" he asked, pointing.
Your hand came up immediately, fingers pressing to the side of your neck.
Your skin felt hot beneath your touch, tender too, but you still didn't understand. You only knew that both of them had seen something there outside. That Brendon had put his hand there.
Robby reached for you with one arm, careful but firm, drawing you closer by the shoulder. He turned you toward the mirror by the front door.
For one second, all you saw was yourself.
Your cardigan pulled crooked from the drive home. Your hair a little mussed from the party. Your eyes glossy and red. Your face a little peaky and strained.
But then your eyes drifted down, and your mouth parted in surprise.
"Oh, shit." you whispered, grimacing. You touched the column of your throat again, lighter this time, and the soreness answered under your fingertips. The whole night folded backward in your head at once—Brendon's mouth on you in the bathroom, sucking and nipping hard at your neck. How he'd made sure that they'd seen it when you were being passed over like a hostage negotiation on the porch.
Robby sighed, "So? What happened?"
You turned around and headed for the kitchen before you could answer, because standing in front of the mirror with both of them looking at your bruised throat made you want to crawl out of your skin. You padded across the house, kicking your shoes off somewhere near the edge of the hallway, then flinging your cardigan over the back of a kitchen chair as you made a straight line for the cabinets.
You filled it with water, took a few sips, then filled it again and stood there with one hand braced on the counter, trying to breathe like a person who was absolutely not about to get herself in even more trouble by explaining the trouble she was already in.
Robby and Jack followed you in after a moment. Jack took the barstool closest to the end of the counter, setting his crutches carefully against it, while Robby stayed standing at the side, both hands pressed into the cool granite.
"He said—he was just apologizing for last week." you said, looking at Jack, who was grinding down on his teeth hard enough that you could see the muscles tensing under his skin. "He said he missed me, and then—" you licked your lips, "he kissed me, and things kind of got heated…"
"Did you have sex with him?" Robby asked.
"No!" you said quickly, heat flashing up your face. "No. It was just kissing. He, um—we—"
You looked at Jack, then back at Robby, because there was no good direction to send your eyes.
Robby lifted his hands to his face, rubbing them hard up and down before hooking them behind his neck. His elbows flared out, his fingers squeezing at his own nape, and heels of his palms pressing into his cheeks for a second before he dropped his hands again and looked toward Jack.
"Jack, I need to hear all of this." Robby's voice was controlled with forced calm. "If it's something that's going to upset you, you can head home. Thanks for hanging here tonight. With me. But I don't want you to get—"
Jack shook his head, "No, it's okay. I want to be part of this. The good and the bad. Go ahead."
"Are you mad at me?" you asked, your voice so small it felt childish.
Jack hesitated, but then he reached across the counter, his hand wrapping gently around your wrist. His thumb pressed at the pulse there, so warm and steady, and his head tilted until you had no choice but to meet his eyes.
"No, sweetheart." he said. "I'm not mad at you. I'm pissed at Park for acting like a possessive asshole."
Robby let out a big, heavy breath, almost a groan, his head tipping back for a second before he looked down again.
"I'm gonna need to talk to him this week." he said. "Put an end to this bullshit he keeps pulling."
"I didn't stop him, though, it's my fault too—"
Jack's hand tightened a little around your wrist. "How did he know you were even there?" he asked. "Was he there from the start?"
"I think Frankie told him." You shook your head, trying to pull the whole night into order and failing. Your brain still felt a little fuzzy, but all the chaos of the evening had sobered you up quickly. "I don't know. That part was confusing. I'm sorry. I smoked a little with Jesse, and—"
"Did anything happen with Jesse?" Robby cut in.
You bit your lip. But nodded. "We kissed."
Robby's eyes stayed on you, big and brown and hurt in a way that made your chest cave in around itself.
"Our four weeks are up, Robby." you said, trying to hold onto that even as your voice wavered. "I'm allowed to kiss people."
He shut his eyes tightly.
"We should've discussed it first." he murmured.
You looked away, shaking your head. "No, see, this is the thing—you can't just change the rules whenever you think—"
"I'm not changing rules, honey." Robby's voice climbed despite the fact that he was clearly trying to keep it steady, his hands falling back to the counter as his eyes opened on you. "But you are doing things without talking to me first. Don't you understand how that feels?"
You looked over to Jack.
"Listen," Jack sighed, shaking his head and sitting back, "I'm new to this, sure, but I agree with Robby, sweetheart. We should've talked about it before you left. But that's partially on us. On me. I got carried away, we barely talked about what that looked like going forward, especially with the others."
Your stomach sank, even as his eyes softened at the look on your face. Your hands tightened around your glass of water, condensation making it sweat a little.
"Brendon was mad because he thinks I'm…" You went on, licking your dry lips. "He thinks you—Robby, I mean—he thinks you're keeping me in something. Or making me do things. I don't know. It's like he's always trying to save me from something."
Robby looked at you.
"Do you want him to?"
When you looked back at Robby, his face was so open, so plain with hurt, with expecting the answer he always feared.
"No," you said, your voice even for the first time since you got home. "No, I don't."
Robby's breath left him slowly.
You set the glass down and took one step toward him before you could overthink it. He met you halfway, arms wrapping around you from behind, turning you so your back to was his chest in a hold that was firm enough to make your eyes sting. You let your head fall back against him, your hands closing over his forearms, feeling the comforting shape of him around you.
"You should've at least texted me." he said in your ear. His voice had settled, the hurt soothed with touch. "That he was there… that you wanted to… I don't know."
You nodded your head. "It all happened so fast. I'm sorry."
His arms tightened. For a moment, he didn't answer, and you wondered if he couldn't yet. If the apology wasn't enough, if the hickey was still too bright under the kitchen light, if Jesse's and Park's name and the porch were all sitting too heavily between the three of you.
Then his lips brushed near your ear. "It's okay, honey." he said. "Do you want to tell me what else happened?"
Your eyes opened, and you looked over at Jack, who was watching the two of you from the barstool. He gave you a small nod, his expression still tense, but steadier now.
You breathed in. "We…went into the bathroom."
Robby didn't move behind you. "Okay."
"We…there was a lot of, like, heavy petting, grinding." You whispered, your face already going hot again, because there was no way to say any of this that didn't sound awful and embarrassing in your own mouth. "He…"
Jack sat forward a little. "What did he do?"
You covered your eyes with one hand. "Um. He…finished."
Robby stilled behind you.
"But you didn't—?"
"Clothes stayed on." you said quickly.
There was a pause.
When you looked through the slats of your eyes, Jack had his lips pressed together hard, mirth clouding his eyes as he looked over your shoulder.
"Don't—" you groaned, trying to bite back your own smile.
You felt Robby try not to laugh, his chest pressing harder against your back before the sound finally broke loose into your neck. "Damn."
"He came in his pants for you?" Jack asked, his voice already shaking with the laugh he was failing to hold back.
"Jack."
"I'm just asking for clarification."
"Poor guy." Robby said, a laugh still shaking his chest behind you.
"Stop…." you groaned, feeling bad for Brendon now that you'd said it. "Be nice."
"What?" His brows lifted, but there was finally some life in his face again, something warmer creeping in around the edges of his anger. "Not like he deserves any niceties after the shit he pulled."
"He was being an asshole." Robby agreed.
"Can we please not make fun of him too much?" you asked, softer now. as you wrapped your arms around where his pressed against your chest. "I know he was being shitty outside, but he was upset. And I feel bad."
"What a sweet girl you are, feeling bad for the Shark." Robby said, then kissed near your ear again, not quite your cheek, not quite your neck.
"Anything else?" he asked.
You breathed out, fingers curling lightly around his forearm.
"No," you said. "That's it."
Robby sighed behind you, his arms adjusting tighter around your shoulders, forearms still laid firm over your chest. Comforting, somehow, even with the weight of the night still sitting around all of you. He had every reason to be upset. To feel lied to, maybe, or left out, or undermined by the way Park had stood on his porch with his hand around your neck. You had been ready for a real argument when you walked in, half from what Park had turned the night into and half from how tightly wound you had become on the ride home.
"I do think some form of… retribution is in order, though." Robby said in your ear. His lips grazed the shell of it, and goosebumps rushed up your arms before you could pretend otherwise.
You licked your lips, eyes widening as you looked over at Jack's growing grin.
"Why don't you…" Robby began, pausing to kiss your earlobe, "go into the bedroom and strip for us."
Your breath caught.
"I'd like you waiting for us on the bed when we come in." His eyes moved to Jack then, and his voice changed a little, rougher. "What do you think, Jack? Fully nude? Or should we let her keep something on?"
Jack pressed his lips together, trying and failing to tame the smile on his face.
"I think I'd like to see what color she's got on, brother." His gaze came back to you. "Panties and bra only, sweetheart."
Robby's hand moved under your chin, turning your face just enough for him to see you. "Okay?"
You nodded, breath already coming quicker.
His thumb brushed along your chin, then over your lips, parting them as his eyes grew hungrier. "Words."
"Yes," you said. "Okay."
"Good girl."
Your thighs pressed together, and Robby's arms finally dropped from around you as he said: "Go on."
You started past him, trying for dignity and not getting very far before his hand cracked lightly against your ass.
You squealed, half scandalized and half laughing, and bolted toward the main bedroom before either of them could see just how badly your legs had begun to shake.
Only a few minutes later you were sitting on the bed, only your bralette and panties on.
You'd thought about changing into something cuter, something matching or just… sexier, but thought better of it. Robby would know, and then he might add onto whatever punishment he had in store. So it was just the little blue cheekies you'd worn that day and your black bralette. You reached up to adjust the one strap that twisted slightly after pulling off your shirt.
The men had made their way in eventually, Robby taking the armchair by the door, leather made and tucked into the corner. Jack walked in, smiling down at you as he made his way around the bed. You lifted your eyes to follow him, heart jumping a little when he slowed beside you. He reached out and cupped your jaw, thumb brushing along your cheek, not saying anything. Just looking at you for one long, warm moment before he readjusted his grip on the crutches and passed.
Once he settled against the cushions of the bed, you turned your head to look at Robby, who's eyes were narrowed, but you could see the smirk pulling his lips.
"Come over here." he said, patting his thigh. Your tongue slipped over your bottom lip before you could help it. Jack's attention followed you as you stood from the bed, and you let your hips swing a little on the walk over.
You went to go to Robby's side, where you usually draped across him for these sorts of things—over his knee—but his hand shot out, only to lay gently on your hip. He squeezed, and shook his head.
"Not today. Sit up and face him."
You looked over to Jack, then back at him, your eyes clouded by uncertainty.
Robby nodded, patting his thigh again, "C'mon now. Be a good girl."
The words worked, sending a rush of tingling heat through you. All you wanted to do was make him happy when your blood began to rush like this and he got that look in his eye. So you slowly lowered yourself onto his knee, facing the bed, facing Jack, and Robby's arms closed around you from behind, forearms crossing your middle as he pulled you back to his chest. The hair on his arms brushed your bare skin, his breath against your ear.
"Can you tell Jack what your safeword is, honey?"
You sucked in a breath, nodding, "Pickleback."
Jack grimaced. "Quite the choice. I prefer Yuengling."
You smiled.
"And," Robby continued, his lips close to your shoulder now, "when you can't talk?"
You lifted your hand and snapped twice.
Robby kissed your shoulder. "Very good. Now…do you know why I need to correct your behavior?"
"Yes." you breathed. Your blood had become loud in your ears, nerves scattering through your limbs, down your belly, between your legs. Jack's eyes were darkening as he watched you from the bed.
"Why is that, honey?"
You swallowed. "I—I didn't talk to you before…before Brendon."
"Before Brendon what?"
"Before he and I…um…"
Your eyes drifted before you could stop them.
Jack had settled back against the pillows, knees parted, one hand near his lap and the other stretched over the cushions. His shirt was a little rumpled where he'd thrown it off at the edge of the bed, his mouth twitching, but the look on his face had changed. Less gentle now, less amused. He looked comfortable there, almost cocky, watching you sit half-naked in Robby's lap while you tried to confess your sins.
His staring made your pupils dilate to drink him in. He looked so good, so tempting spread over your pillows like that.
Robby's hand went to your face, and his thumb and forefinger pinched your cheeks as he shook you only infinitesimally. "I'm talking to you, young lady. Before you and Brendon what?"
Your stomach flipped.
"Before we went into the bathroom."
His hand left your face and traveled down the front of you, so slow, making you feel every rough callous of his fingertips. They ventured your throat, your chest, slipping under the edge of your bralette and traced the sensitive flesh beneath before completely sliding into the cup to massage at your breast. He hummed in approval, your head lolling a little at the feeling of his hands on you.
"Did you have fun tonight, honey?" he asked, his voice low and hoarse.
You knew better than to lie. "Kind of."
Through your half-lidded eyes, you could still see Jack. His face was amused, still watching you, but his eyes had darkened. "Kind of?" he echoed.
You nodded. "I wish… I wish I had just come home." you hiccuped as Robby pinched your nipple under the fabric. Your hands went to his legs, gripping them tightly, nails digging in. A little sound slipped out as he switched to the other side, slipping his hand under the cotton covering you again.
"Why's that?" Robby whispered.
"He was… he was such an asshole after." you breathed out.
Jack's jaw ticked.
Robby's palm flattened over your breast, holding you there for a moment before sliding down your stomach. His other arm stayed locked around you, keeping your back to his chest when your body wanted to squirm.
"S'okay, honey." he said. "I'll talk to him."
Your eyes fluttered shut.
"No more Shark tonight." His lips touched the side of your head. "You're home. You're with us now."
You nodded. "I'm sorry—I'm sorry for tonight."
You meant it for both of them, and when you looked over, Jack's features had softened. Robby kissed your shoulder again, squeezing you against him a little harder.
"I know, honey. I know. It's okay. Gonna take care of you." His mouth brushed your skin. "But first—"
His hand slid down your belly and over your thigh, hooking your knee over his and opening you up before doing the same with the other. You gasped when your balance shifted, body falling back entirely into him, spread open on his lap with nowhere to hide.
He hummed, and you watched Jack as his teeth sunk into his bottom lip. His hand went to his jeans again, not resting this time but squeezing over the growing bulge there, the heel of his palm pressing down.
"Do you wanna tell her what we're gonna do, or do you want me to?" Robby asked.
Jack's head tilted, his eyes dark as they moved over you. "Robby's gonna make sure you remember to tell us when Dr. Park shows up next time, sweetheart." His voice had dropped rougher, the sound of it making your thighs squirm over Robby's. "And then you're gonna come over here, and I'm gonna have my turn with you."
You wondered if they could see your pulse through your skin, how hard it was beating, how every part of you had gone hot and embarrassed and eager all at once.
"Wha—what's my punishment?" you asked meekly.
"Let me show you." Robby murmured.
His hand moved from your thigh to the front of your panties, his fingers soothing over the damp cotton where your arousal had already started to soak the fabric. His long digits felt so good it was almost like relief as they rubbed over your covered mound.
You barely had time to understand the change in his touch before his palm lifted.
Smack!
You lurched, stomach pitching, your heart stopping, mouth opening into an—"Ah!"
Robby groaned behind you, his chest vibrating against your back as his arm locked tighter around your middle. He gave you half a breath to settle, then lifted his hand again and brought it down in the same place, the same pressure, the sting blooming hot through the fabric. This time, your surprised gasp turned into a moan.
Jack's smile pulled wide from the bed. "Is it really a punishment if she likes it, brother?"
"Oh, yes." Robby said, voice thick with amusement. "Yes, indeed."
His fingers hooked over your panties then, pulling them aside, and Jack let out a little groan at the sight of you. Wet. Eager. "Fuckkk…" he whispered, his hand tightening at his pants.
Robby's mouth came back to your ear, low enough that only you could hear him. "Go ahead and ask him, honey. Know you want to watch."
You swallowed, breathless, eyes fixed on Jack. "Jackie, I wanna see you play with yourself. Please."
Jack smiled wider at the nickname, "Happy to, sweetheart."
He unbuttoned his jeans slowly, watching your face while he pushed them down enough to free himself. His heavy cock settled in his hand, and your breath stopped short as you watched him stroking himself there on Robby's bed, the other hand gripping into the pillows harder behind him as his head tilted back for a moment, teeth tucking over his bottom lip.
Then his eyes came back to you.
"Again." he said, looking past you to Robby.
"Hold these open for me, honey," Robby said, bringing your hand down to your center.
Jesus Christ.
You brought your own hand down and hooked your fingers into your cotton panties, holding them aside the way he asked. Your whole body burning from the position, from the exposure, from the fact this was all because of a stupid hickey and a man with an ego.
Robby's hand made contact with your waiting pussy with an even louder, wet smack!
"Fuck!" you squealed. The pain was sharper without the cotton there to soften it, the sting spreading up through your belly and down your thighs into your toes. Your knees tried to close, your grip slipped, your back curling against Robby's chest as his other hand kept you held open for him at your knee.
"Good girl, good girl." Robby soothed, mouth grazing your hair. "C'mon now. A few more."
You whined as the sting settled into heat, your breath shaky while you forced your legs open again and fixed your grip on the ruined and soaked edge of your panties.
Smack, smack, smack!
Three in a row, each one landing wet and mean against you, had your head falling back, eyes rolling as the moan tore out of you. The sting stayed, bright and pulsing, your hips trying to run from it and rock into it at the same time.
Robby's breathing had gone rough behind you.
Jack cursed under his breath, hand moving faster over his cock, his eyes fixed between your legs like he couldn't look away.
Robby let his fingers slide up and down your sopping folds, sensitive to his touch, making you moan anyway.
"You're so wet, honey. How are you so wet from just a little smacking, hm? You enjoy your punishment?"
"God, yes."
"Ask for more then."
"Please," you whispered. "Please."
"Ask Jack like a good girl."
You opened your eyes, wet with the prickling of tears from the sting. His mouth was open, his fist pumping a little faster, his chest rising and falling under the strain.
"Please, Jack, please. Can I have more?"
"Fuck, yes, sweetheart." His voice was rough, almost breaking around the words. "Go on. Give her five more. Then she's mine."
You bit on your bottom lip, your eyebrows threading, body tensing as you waited for it.
When all five came at once in a speedy rhythm—smacksmacksmacksmacksmack!—you were mewling, crying out in pain and pleasure, shutting your thighs quickly. Robby's hand was still over your pussy, the press of his fingers relieving there as he growled into your ear.
"Gooood fucking girl, takin' it so well, honey. S'okay, s'okay, you've learned your lesson, huh?"
"Yes!" you squealed.
"Okay, okay, breeeeeathe, honey." His hand stayed between your legs, rubbing now, soothing over the ache he'd put there. "Just breathe. Can you look at me?"
You did so, peeking your eyes up at him. You'd kind of fallen down his lap as your body twitched and curled in from the pain, looking up at him from where your neck was cramped against his belly. You could feel, suddenly, the bulging tent in his pants against your shoulder.
His other hand came up to cup your face, his eyes sparkling with pride. "You did so good, honey. Why don't you go over to Jack and tell him how grateful you are for your punishment, hm?"
You nodded, trying to get up on shaky legs. As you stood, you heard a click of teeth from behind you.
Robby's eyes had darkened as he looked up at you from beneath his lashes. "Crawl."
You immediately obeyed, knowing that tone, and getting on your hands and knees.
"Jesus." you heard from the bed.
Your knees touched the carpet first, your palms following. The sting between your legs made every little movement feel too shaky. Your eyes locked onto Jack, who had slowed his hand around himself now, watching you with his mouth parted and his eyes blown wide.
You began crawling toward him.
Behind you, Robby shifted in the chair, and you heard the low sound of his zipper coming down. You knew he was watching the way your ass moved, the way your panties were askew and ruined, the way your thighs trembled each time you brought yourself closer to the bed.
Jack's hand had stopped completely by the time you reached him.
You crawled up between his open legs, smiling a little at the look on his face, at the way he seemed caught between reaching for you and waiting to see what you would do first.
"Hi, handsome," you murmured.
"Hey, sweetheart." he whispered, finally reaching out to pet your face with his free hand.
You leaned into it, eyes fluttering before you remembered what Robby had told you to do. Your hands settled on Jack's thighs, fingers curling into the fabric of his jeans as you looked up at him from between his knees.
"Thank you." you said softly.
"You're very welcome, sweetheart." he murmured, "What good manners you have."
You bit down on your lip, his warm look of pride and eagerness making your belly twist on itself. You looked down at his thick, throbbing length in his hand.
"Can I help you with that?" you asked cheekily.
He smiled wider, "Think we could work something out."
You glanced over your shoulder at Robby, only for Jack's hand to move to your chin, stopping you. "Eyes on me. Don't look at him."
"Listen to Jack, honey." you heard Robby say from the corner.
"Okay," you nodded, your smile gone, your heart leaping into your throat, "yes, Jack."
His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, and you opened for him, taking it into your mouth without being told. You sucked gently, tongue moving around him, letting your teeth graze his knuckle enough to make him groan. It was a noise you missed.
"Do you want me to suck your cock, Jack?" you asked, eyes wide as you kissed his thumb.
"That what you want, sweetheart?"
You nodded.
"Go on then." he said.
He laid back into the pillows, and you lowered yourself slowly between his legs, keeping your eyes up until your mouth met the thick head of him. The first taste of him made you moan, your hand curling around his base while the other settled on his thigh. Jack whimpered with you, his hips shifting beneath you when your tongue dragged along the underside.
"Oh, fuck." he breathed, head tipping back. "Oh my god."
You let yourself sink into it, mouth stretching around him, the weight of him heavy on your tongue. Your ass stayed lifted behind you, knees spread on the bed, and you could feel Robby watching from the chair without needing to look. It made you wetter, made you work your mouth slower at first, then greedier when Jack's fingers slid into your hair.
"She gets so fucking wet sucking dick, brother." Robby said from behind you.
Your hips wiggled in response, shameless and involuntary, though you couldn't answer with Jack's cock filling your mouth.
Jack laughed under his breath, gathering your hair in his fist and pulling it clear from your face as you bobbed over him.
"Hold her down." Robby said through what sounded like gritted teeth.
Jack's grip tightened in your hair, and he guided you lower.
You gagged almost immediately, his size too thick, too overwhelming—throat fluttering around him, your nails pressing into his thigh as your eyes watered. You were nowhere near taking all of him, not really, but the sound Jack made above you was enough to make your stomach twist hot and needy.
"Looks to me like you've got some learning to do." Jack said, voice rough from above. "Can you go any deeper, sweetheart? Hm? Or does Robby not teach you these things?"
"Fuck off." you heard from the chair.
Jack chuckled again, breathless, but eased his hand when you gagged again. You pulled back with a gasp, spit slick on your lips and chin, lungs dragging in air while your hand stayed wrapped around him.
You barely had time to recover before Jack was sitting up and kissing you.
His mouth came up hard against yours, open and hungry and wanting— pushing you back into the bed as his hand moved between your shoulder blades to deftly unclasp your bra. It was dragged off with clumsy urgency, tossed somewhere near the pillows, and then he was over you, chest pressing yours, hips heavy between your thighs while he kissed you deeper.
You moaned into his mouth, hands going into his hair, nails digging into his scalp as he settled against you. He felt so good, so warm, so oddly familiar already. The push of his tongue was welcome between your lips, your mouth wet where your spit had dribbled down your lips, his cock hard against your thigh while he kissed you like he'd been waiting all night to get you under him.
"You are so beautiful," he sighed when he unlatched his lips from yours, kissing down your chin, your jaw, onto your neck.
"No, you are." you said with a smile.
"Ha, ha," he chided.
"I mean it." you said, "I'm a lucky girl." you added.
"Think we're the lucky ones." you heard from behind, and you craned your neck to look back at him.
Robby was fisting his own long cock in his hand, but he smiled at you when you met his gaze. You licked your lips, watching his hand move up and down, his other hand coming down to cup his balls. "Look at Jack, honey. Keep your eyes on him like he said. Be a good listener."
Before he'd finished, your chin was being brought down to look not just at him but between your bodies. Jack's cock was lining up with your entrance, and your eyes widened, the memory of the last time rushing up to the forefront of your mind. How big he felt—how he filled you and stretched you like your whole body felt split in half.
"Ohhh god." you breathed, muscles tightening.
Jack looked up at you, then leaned down to press a long kiss to your mouth as he nudged closer, dragging his cock through your wet folds. Both of you moaned at the feeling, your hands clutching at his shoulders, and then he was notching himself at your core.
"Breathe, honey." Robby said from the corner. "Curl your toes if you have to. Let out a long breath."
You did as he said, curling your toes into the bedding, sucking in a long breath through your nose. When you let it out, Jack joined you with a groan and pushed inside.
Your arms and legs clamped around him immediately, fingers pawing at his shoulders, ankles digging into the backs of his thighs.
"Ohgodohgodohgod—"
"S'okay, s'okay," Jack was moaning, petting your hair, his mouth held open in a perfect 'o' and his brows threaded as he pushed further in.
You whimpered as your body adjusted around him, ducking your face into his neck when his weight settled over you. He was hot everywhere, chest to chest, his arms braced around you, his breath breaking against your hair while he worked himself in slow.
"God I missed you," he whispered into your ear, half choked. "Missed you so much sweetheart."
Your belly flipped a little at that, or maybe at the feeling of overwhelming fullness, or your nerves as you felt Robby's eyes on you from behind. Jack held there when he was finally inside you, hips flush, his body pinning yours in place while you shook around him.
"How's that feel, honey?" Robby asked. "How's that big dick feel inside you, huh? Talk to us."
You nodded, clinging to Jack while you forced your shallow breathing to settle, forced your muscles to loosen around him. Finally, you let your head fall back against the bed and turned your eyes toward Robby.
He looked more wrecked than he had a few minutes ago. Before, he had been sitting back, stroking himself slowly with that narrow concentration in his eyes, but now his gaze had gone heavy, his jaw slack, his big hand tightening around the base of his cock. The tip was flushed angry red, precome pearling at the slit while he held himself back.
You licked your lips, blinking slowly.
"He asked you a question, sweetheart," Jack murmured in your ear, nipping your delicate lobe, letting his tongue peek out to trace the shell.
Your skin lit up, your eyes threatened to roll.
"Feels sooo… mmm—ah!" you gasped when he pulled out an inch, "big!"
You had half a mind to glare at both of them when you heard a resounding chuckle through the room.
"And how's she feel, Jack?" Robby asked. "God, I wanna be inside you so bad right now, honey—fuckkk…"
"Oh, our sweet girl feels like goddamn heaven." Jack sighed, pulling his cock out by inches and slowly pushing back in.
Your head knocked back, chin tipping, mouth falling open around a mewling cry as he filled you again, the stretch of him dragging in and out of your cunt, making you feel every notch and vein of his length.
"Yeah, yeah," he sighed out. "I know, I know. Takin' it real slow, getting your little pussy adjusted, right, sweetheart?"
"M-more—" you sighed, legs tightening around him. "Want more."
Jack tipped his head toward Robby, and when you looked up, there was a smirk pulling at his mouth.
"What do ya say, brother?"
"Put her leg over your shoulder." Robby demanded from the corner, the words coming out rough. "Hug it close to your chest. You can—"
"Listen to him." Jack's eyes came back to you, amusement braided through the arousal in his voice, deep and husky as his mouth tilted. "Talkin' to me like I'm one of his residents."
He clicked his teeth and pulled back from where he had been laid over you. For a second, you thought he might do exactly what Robby said, but instead he leaned to grab one of the pillows, pushing it beneath your lower back and ass with a confidence that made your stomach jump.
"He thinks I don't know how you like being fucked." Jack murmured, hands sliding down your thighs, then back up to your hips. "Isn't that right?"
You gnawed at your lip, breath snagging when the shift changed the angle of him inside you. His cock pressed up against you differently now, fuller somehow, deeper without even moving much. Jack hoisted your hips, sheathing himself all the way inside again, and your gasp tore out of you before you could swallow it down.
"He thinks I don't know exactly what angle to make you tighten up real good around me," Jack said, "How to make you see stars, sweetheart."
You heard Robby's warning from the corner: "Abbot…"
"Don't worry," he said, flitting his darkened eyes over to the other attending, "I've done this before."
"You are such a —" you shook your head with a lazy smile, but Jack moved before you could finish.
His hips swung back, and he began fucking you in earnest now, and the words breaking apart in your throat—the new angle dragging you right back to the truck a month ago, to the cramped backseat and the way he had figured out your body with an almost infuriating ease, shifting you up until he found the spot that made your breath go stupid. He found it again now, much faster this time, his hips driving into you with the pillow lifting you up to meet him, your body taking him deeper with every thrust until your vision blurred at the edges.
"Oh fuck, Jack!" you squealed.
His cock pistoned in and out of you now, hard and slick, the sound of it obscene beneath your panting. Heat coiled fast in your belly, your muscles tightening before you were ready for it. Your legs widened around him, hands losing strength where they clung to his wrists, to the sheets, to whatever you could reach as his fingers clamped around your hips and held you in place.
"She's close." Robby said through gritted teeth.
Jack's mouth pulled, the crinkles of his eyes deepening. It was a look of both fondness and cockiness you couldn't take the time to distinguish because that swell in your hips had built up, your pussy constricting his cock, sucking him in.
"You wanna come, sweetheart?" he cooed from above you, hips still snapping into that perfect place. "Been a while, huh?"
You noddded, "Oh, yes, yes—"
Jack's forehead was dappling in sweat, his top teeth hooked over his bottom lip, eyes black and glazed as he watched you under him.
"Jesus, I might—oh god—" he stuttered, lungs catching, his brows pulled together tight. He reached between your bodies, and your eyes widened.
"No no no no—don't!" you shrieked, pleasure shocking up your spine before he had even touched you the way he meant to. "I'm gonna—I can't—I can't hold it—"
"Ask real nice now, honey." Robby moaned from behind you, breathless. "Ask Jack. Ask for it, and you can come. Beg."
"Pleaaaaase!" you moaned, nearly in tears, your brain lagging behind anything that wasn't the hot, overwhelming locking up of your muscles. Your body thrashed under Jack, heels digging into the bedding, hips trying to meet him and run from him at the same time while his cock kept kissing your womb, right at the perfect spot inside you, again and again and again.
His eyes stayed locked on your face.
"Please, what, sweetheart?" His voice shook now, almost whining with you, his own restraint starting to splinter. "C'mon. I'm so close. Gonna come in your sweet pussy if you just ask real nice."
"Please let me come, Jackie, please please please—" The words tore out of you, wet and desperate, your hands clawing uselessly at his shoulders. "I'll be so good, I promise. I'll be so good—I'm—"
He was nodding down at you, breathing hard through his mouth. "Okay, sweetheart. Come for me. Go on—"
"I'm sorry." you choked suddenly, the words coming from somewhere you hadn't meant to open. "I'm sorry for being bad."
Jack's face changed. Yours felt wet and hot now, too.
"Come for us, sweetheart." he said again, softer now, but his voice sounded further away.
"Jack—" you heard Robby say from the corner.
You didn't know what the warning meant. You could barely hear it over the sound of yourself, over the blood in your ears, over the horrible, perfect pressure building too fast to survive.
"Oh fuck—please!" you wailed.
"Go on, it's okay, it's okay, come for us sweetheart."
You realized at once it was tears that were spilling hot down your temples into your hair, over your cheeks. You tried to moan and sobbed instead.
Your body locked up on you, muscles clenching down hard around him. Your back arched so hard it pulled you nearly off the bed, eyes wide open even as your vision went white, as if the whole room had been struck by lightning. The wave that had been building in you for weeks finally crested and broke, but it didn't roll through you the way it usually did. It swallowed everything. Your stomach twisted, your thighs clamped around Jack's hips, your fingers curled so hard they cramped, and Jack's cock pushed in deep, so deep it felt like he hit the center of you and split the feeling open.
When you came back down to earth, everything felt so wrong.
Your vision had cleared, and above you was Jack, his mouth open and panting, his face caught somewhere between awe and panic. His eyes were so wide and unsure.
And you were crying.
Really, really crying. Harder than you had in a very long time.
Through the sobs, you could hear Robby saying something from the corner, but Jack was all you could see. His face shifted as he realized it was not stopping, that the sounds coming out of you were not pleasure anymore. He leaned back over you, mouth parted, hand cupping the side of your head too hard before he caught himself and loosened his grip, fingers dragging into your hair instead.
Their voices came in and out of your ears, fuzzy, but there.
"Shit—shit, shit, I'm sorry—what did I do?"
"Nothing, it's okay—" you heard Robby say. "You didn't do anything wrong—"
You couldn't talk, it was just their voices swirling around you.
"Sweetheart? What's going on?"
"Jack—"
"Sweet girl, look at me, look at me now."
"Abbot."
Jack's voice went quiet, his chin lifting to look at the other attending. He sucked in a deep, calming breath, even as yours felt lost in your chest, choking and wailing and lost in the room, caught somewhere behind your chest where every breath scraped on the way up through your lungs.
Your whole body still hadn’t stopped reacting, little tremors running through your thighs, your stomach, the muscles low in your belly clenching, leaving you open and spent and helpless beneath him while your mind kept trying to catch up to the fact that it was over, that you had come, that after a month of being held back from it, the thing your body had wanted so badly had finally broken over you and left nothing solid behind.
"Breathe," Robby said, "it's okay. This is called a drop, just talk to her."
"I'm sorry!" you sobbed, the words tearing out of you before you even knew what you were apologizing for, your hands curling uselessly in the blanket, unable to grip.
"It's okay, honey, it's okay, Jack has you."
"Listen to my voice, sweetheart." Jack said, his hands petting heavier and soothing now, the heel of his palm moving over your hairline, then your cheek, then back again. Though his breath was against your mouth, too fast for someone trying to calm you, and then you felt him swallow hard, felt the effort of him trying to force himself calm.
There was no one word for the rush of emotions that swept through you like a tidal wave. You didn't even have time to try and name one of them before another took over. Relief, euphoria, then anxiety and shame, and then back to a euphoric state so sharp it almost hurt.
Tears came quick and thick down your face, sliding into your ears, wetting the bedspread beneath you, your mouth open in a wail, your head thrown back into the covers while the ceiling blurred into blocks of light and shadow. You wanted to disappear, you wished your limbs didn't feel so heavy so you could cover your face. You felt mortified, you felt ashamed. You wanted to be held. You wanted to be alone. But you couldn't stand the idea of either of them leaving, couldn’t stand the thought of Jack lifting off of you or Robby stepping away from the room, even while every part of you felt too exposed, your legs still open, your skin too sensitive where the sheets touched it, your chest heaving against Jack’s.
"Robby, brother, maybe you—"
"It's alright—just keep talking to her."
You could feel Jack lean down, lips against your ear, could hear his soothing nothings even as you hiccuped and sobbed, your chest feeling tight, your throat scraping against the sound of your cries. It was too much and too overwhelming, the mattress under your back, Jack’s weight over you, the damp press of his mouth at your temple, Robby’s voice from the corner with that steadiness that made the room feel less like it was tilting as he spoke in hushed tones to his fellow attending.
"Sweetheart, can you hear me? Listen," Jack said into your ear, his arms coming around you tightly, holding you to his chest. He was still inside of you, your legs still fallen open. "You're okay, you're such a good girl. Listen to me."
You only had half a mind to listen, your eyes still glued to the ceiling, your body sunken deep into the bed like you could never find your way out. As if a pit had opened in the covers and you'd fallen down into it, their voices far, far away up above. They kept talking, but you could hardly make out the words at all, only soothing cander, Jack’s gentle breath against your skin, Robby’s lower voice, the sound of your own breathing coming in broken little pulls that didn’t feel like enough air to live on.
This drop was like none you'd had before. Usually it came after the sex entirely, sometimes even days later. But this—the during—it was too much. There was no little pause where your body understood the scene had changed. The pleasure had crested, shattered, and then opened straight into panic, with no seam between one feeling and the next. Your body still thought it was being asked for more, still fluttering around Jack, still shaking from the release, while your mind had gone soft and frightened and far away.
"Answer me, sweetheart." Jack whispered.
A choked sob came out of you, and you finally were able to form a word: "W-what?"
"I asked if you could hear me."
"Y-yes." you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut, gulping in air, their voices becoming a little clearer, Jack’s hand finally settling at the back of your head instead of moving everywhere at once.
"Have her hold onto you—" you could just barely hear Robby's voice from the corner.
"Put your arms around me, sweetheart." Jack said gently in your ear. "Like this," and he brought one arm from around you and lifted yours around his neck, his fingers so gentle as he rubbed the skin there.
"That's a good girl, other arm too," Jack said, repositioning his hand beneath you to lift the other around his neck, "That's it."
Robby's voice was muffled behind you, "There you go. Let her just breathe, then we can check in."
"Deep breath, sweet girl, c'mon now, breathe with me, I've got you, you're safe, you're doing so good."
You shakily let air depress out of you, inhaling again slowly, even if it was a little uneven. Your mind started to come back to you in pieces: the sheet bunched under your shoulder, Jack’s hair caught between your fingers, the warm weight of him, the damp place on his neck where a cold sweat had broken out. Fresh tears no longer fell from your face, only clinging to your lashes when you blinked.
"That's it, what a good listener. Just breathe—"
You felt the mattress dip, two hands up around your face, tilting it back. Robby's eyes found yours, leaning up above you. The light above made a sort of halo around his rumbled hair. Jack's face stayed in the crook of your neck, just whispering praise.
Robby's thumbs soothed across your temple, and he made a show of breathing in and out deeply above you. You matched his rhythm, in through the nose, out the mouth. Long, long breaths until they eventually evened out, until the tight pull in your chest loosened, until the room stopped slipping at the edges and you could see the crease between his brows, the careful set of his mouth, the way he was watching you for every little change.
"Okay," Robby said, leaning back a little, but still sitting on the bed.
Jack pulled away only enough to be able to look down at you, his worried eyes skating across your face, checking your mouth, your eyes, the wet tracks down your cheeks. He still held you around your body, but eased up on the tightness, bringing one hand up to your face to soothe it where Robby's were, his thumb brushing close to the corner of your mouth before dragging back over your cheek.
"I'm okay," you whispered out your next breath, "I'm sorry—"
Both men were shaking their heads before you even finished saying it. "Don't apologize," Jack said gently, leaning down to press a faint kiss to your parted lips, barely there, more breath than anything. "Nothing to be sorry for."
"I must've really—" you breathed in again, breath still a little hard to pull, your chest hitching before it settled, "Really scared you there. It's never…never been like that before."
"Been a long time since we had a drop like that," Robby agreed, his hand now petting the bowl of your skull, fingers moving through the hair at the crown of your head. He tilted his head to find your eyes when you looked up at him, his voice staying even, careful.
"Are you alright? We're going to stop now, okay?"
You breathed in, and the question moved through you slowly, too tender to answer from. Stop sounded like relief. But stop also sounded like this was all your fault. It sounded like Jack pulling away from you, like the room going too quiet and cold. You hadn't even realized your hands had found the back of Jack's hair, wrapping a curl around your index finger, fisting the locks with a weak little grip that made him glance down at your lips before his mouth pulled into a small smile. He looked shaken still, but there, staying right where you had pulled him.
"Okay…maybe just for a little? Can we… cuddle? Maybe watch something?" you finally answered.
"Of course we can." Robby said, and then looked at Jack, nodding.
Jack began to pull away, but the second his weight shifted, the adrenaline in your blood shot up again.
"No—no—no, I'm sorry—I'm sorry, I don't want to stop, please!" you begged.
He stopped immediately, one hand braced beside your head, his face lowering back toward yours. Though he had completely softened, he was still inside of you, and the closeness of him was the only thing keeping your panic from tearing wide open again.
Robby was there in an instant, his hand finding yours before you could curl it into the sheets. "Okay, why don't we do this?" he said, his voice low and close. "I'll hold your hand, and Jack is going to sit back. He's just going to sit on the pillows, honey. He just wants to get comfortable to watch something with us, okay? I'll be right here. I'll hold you."
Your chin was wobbling, and Jack began to pepper more kisses over your face, his mouth touching your cheek, your temple, the wet corner of your eye. "I'm right here, I'm right here, we're not mad at you, sweetheart. You're so special to us, our sweet girl. My sweetheart. I'm just sitting back, you can come with me."
You nodded, though fresh, quiet tears had begun to fall from your face. You felt so silly, so stupid. Crying because he would be apart from you—for what, a second?— crying because you ruined such a good time, something they were enjoying and you had to go and cry about it, had to make both of them stop and look at you with all that worry, had to make Jack’s hands shake when he was only trying to be good to you.
"You're our best girl," Robby cooed as if reading your mind, leaning down to kiss your face, still holding your hand like he promised while Jack slowly pulled away. The air felt cold without him, and you began to cry softly again, your thighs drawing together. Your free hand searched blindly until Jack caught it and brought your knuckles to his mouth before fulling sitting back. While one hand was held in Robby's, his other continued to pet at the crown of your head soothing you gently, whispering praise and kissing your face.
"Okay," Jack exhaled against the headboard, shifting up onto the pillows, one arm already opening for you. "C'mere, come cuddle me, sweetheart."
Robby lifted you into a seated position, keeping one hand at your back until you had your bearings. The room tipped for a second, your head still light from crying, the duvet half rumbled around your hips, and then you were climbing up the bed into Jack, koala-ing yourself to him, tucking yourself into the arm he held open. He lifted the covers around you so you could get warm, his arm snug around you as you fell into him, your cheek pressing against his chest, your fingers finding the fabric at his side and holding there. It felt good, just skin on skin like that.
Robby got up with a groan as his knees cracked, standing and heading for the door.
"Robby—" you croaked, your eyes widening in panic.
He was quick to come over and lean over the bed, fists holding him up so he could lower himself to you, pressing a kiss to your cheek bone. "I'm coming right back. Just getting you some water, honey. Stay here with Jack."
His dark eyes found Jack when he pulled away, something silent passing between them. Jack’s hand moved over your back slowly, answering it without words, and Robby nodded before he lifted himself from the bed and headed for the hallway.
You felt Jack's warm kiss to the top of your head, his hand rubbing soothing circles along your spine. You tucked in closer to him, your arm draped around his middle and cheek pressed to the bare warmth of his chest. Neither of you spoke for a long moment. The room had gone quiet enough that you could hear the soft drag of his palm over your back, the shift of the blanket where it was tucked around your shoulders, the faint sound of Robby opening a cabinet in the kitchen. Jack kept his mouth near your hair, kissing you there a few more times, and you held onto him tighter when your breathing stuttered again.
Robby was back soon, three glasses of water balanced between two hands, his steps careful so the rims didn’t knock together. He bent to hand one to Jack, and put the other two on the bedside table, beside the lamp and the little mess of tissues already pulled from the box for you. Jack brought his glass down to you, holding it until your hands found it, and you sat up just enough to sip lightly at the rim.
The cool water slipped down your throat, and you felt it all the way into your chest, cutting through the heat that had climbed into your blood. Your hands were still a little unsteady around the glass, so Jack kept his fingers near yours, ready to catch it without taking it from you.
It had been such a deep drop, deeper than you knew what to do with, but the room was starting to come back now: the weight of the covers over you, Jack’s arm behind your shoulders, Robby sitting down on the edge of the mattress again, the glass leaving a cold ring of damp against your palm. You felt yourself beginning to climb out of that far-away place finally, leaning into their closeness.
Robby's arm came around you so that you were positioned between the two men, and you snuggled up closer to Jack, your leg hooking over his.
"Let's put on some of The Office, huh?" Robby murmured from behind you, "how's that sound?"
You nodded, "Good."
You saw the crinkles around Jack's eyes deepen as he gave you a small smile, leaning down to kiss your forehead once again. "I think Robby is feeling a little lonely, sweetheart, mind if he cuddles up too?"
"Yes, please," you said, turning your chin to look over your shoulder.
Robby grinned down at you, his other hand coming to rest on your hip as he leaned into the curve of your back. He kissed the crest of your shoulder before hooking his chin over it, eyes on the screen, scrolling through the list of episodes.
After a while, with the TV screen flashing blues and grays over the three of you, you had finally settled in, and your mind began to remind you of what had just happened.
"I'm sorry." you whispered into Jack's chest, because the words kept sitting there in your mouth, in your head, stirring around all useless and heavy and gnawing.
Robby's hand moved over your hip beneath the covers. "Honey."
"I know," you said, voice cracking. "I know you said it's okay, I just…"
Your throat tightened again before you could finish. You swallowed around the lump forming again, squeezing your eyes shut. Jack's arm tightened around you, and you felt the press of his mouth into the crown of your head.
"You're allowed to cry." Robby said from behind you, his voice low near your ear. "You don't have to stop yourself. It's okay that you cried earlier too. It's just release, honey."
Your face crumpled at that, embarrassed by how badly you needed permission for something already happening again.
"It'll feel good to cry a little." he murmured. "You had a big night. Your body doesn't know what to do with all of it yet."
You nodded, eyes squeezing shut as more tears slipped out. Jack's thumb moved over your upper arm slowly, while Robby's hand stayed warm as it snaked around your belly to pull you into him. There was no space where you weren't comforted, held, known. Neither of them rushed you. Neither of them tried to make you talk your way out of it.
"You did so good." Jack said quietly.
Your mouth trembled harder, and you pushed your face into his side to hide.
"I don't feel good." you admitted.
"S'the drop talking," Robby murmured, as if it wasn't meant for you, and then, his lips went to your ear, "You're the best girl, honey. You were so good, you listened to well, took those four weeks so well. You're just a little overwhelmed, huh? Lots of emotions."
You nodded.
Jack's cheek rested against the top of your head. "What do you need, sweetheart?"
You didn't know. You were not sure you could pull together an answer better than this, than the covers and their bodies around you and the distant smell of sex still in the room, Robby's warms arm around your belly and Jack's at your shoulders and his heartbeat against your cheek.
"This." you whispered finally.
Robby's hand squeezed you. "Then this is what you get."
Jack kissed your forehead again. "We're not going anywhere."
Somewhere between Jack's fingers moving gently through your hair and Robby's breathing going slow against your back, your eyes closed, and you fell asleep tucked between them.
part one | part two | part three | part four | part five | part six | masterlist | ao3
rabbot x reader, jesse van horn x reader, brendon park x reader
summary: You’re Robby’s favorite reward. When his staff earns it, he doesn’t hesitate to offer you up. A certain someone shows up to a party and throws things off kilter.
|| smut mdni 18+, dom!robby, polyamory dynamics and discussions, dom/sub dynamics, cuckholding, free use, heavy convos, partying, recreational drug use, shotgunning / smoking, drinking (wine), kissing lots of kissing I love kissing, grinding, dirty talk, dr desperate park, premature ejaculation, arguing, no pinv ||
a/n: due to the fact tumblr has a 'block' limit, I had to split p6 in half. though, it kind of works out? so I hope you enjoy! 16k words
"Don't tell me you're nervous?"
Robby's eyes twinkled with mirth as he backed you into the kitchen counter, his hips against yours, belly to belly as your back hit the marble edge. The counter was cool through the thin cotton of your shirt, the cabinet handle pressing into the back of your thigh while the oven warmed the room behind him.
Your mouth twitched as you looped your hands around his neck, "Not…nervous." you said, though your heart skipped a little beat when his big hands settled on your hips. "Just excited."
He nodded, a real smile pulling at his mouth, his eyes creasing deeper as he studied you.
"Food's gonna burn." you murmured when he only stared down at you longer while your fingers played with the hair on his neck.
"Mhm." he hummed, his hands slipping under just your the hem of your shirt. His thumbs dragged lightly across your sensitive skin above your waistband as he bent down to press a kiss to your lips. His mustache tickled, and you breathed him in— toothpaste and whiskey on his lips.
Tonight was the night Jack Abbot would be joining for dinner.
He'd agreed to come over on a night he wasn't on shift, and Robby wasn't working either. For once, there'd be no interruptions or excuses, no run-ins that were bound to happen if you tried to meet either of them at work. It would be just the three of you sitting down together and seeing where the conversation went.
It did make you nervous, admittedly. Not enough to make you want to stop or back out, or pretend you hadn't been counting the hours until he got there— but it did make your stomach give a little twist every time you glanced toward the front door. Jack was Jack, and you knew him well enough to know you wanted him there. Still, wanting him with Robby in the room, wanting him after everything you’d already done wrong, wanting him now that the wanting had permission—it made your fingers restless against the back of Robby’s neck.
But what excited you most, though, was that the four weeks was up.
Your long, long punishment for stepping across boundary lines was finally done and paid. Four weeks of trying to be good, of no sharing and no release. Showing Robby that you could be trusted, that you still wanted to be with him. Your legs squeezed together at the thought of how many times he'd brought you to the edge only to be denied. And now, finally, that would be ending.
You weren't sure when, or how, but knowing that it was finally done…
"Little too excited, maybe?" Robby chuckled when he pulled away. His eyes dropped to the movement of your thighs, then came back to your face with a look that made your stomach squirm again.
You shrugged, trying and failing to look innocent.
"Tonight is only about discussing things." His voice was still warm, still Robby, but there was a firmer edge beneath it now. "We don't want to put any pressure on him, remember? No fun."
"Yeah, you're right. No fun." you said sarcastically.
He pinched your skin, making you yelp with a little giggle, before returning to the stove.
"Behave." he said, reaching for the wooden spoon. You smiled, even if the simple word made your face heat.
You watched him stir the pan, his shoulders relaxed beneath his shirt, one hip leaned into the counter, the deep brown hair across his forearms twitching as he flexed, moving the food around. He looked so ordinary like this. Domestic. Sweet.
You knew well and good he had his reasons for being so strict the past month. He'd explained them to you more than once, always with that steady patience of his, always making sure you understood the punishment wasn't because you were bad. You'd made a bad decision. You'd crossed a line. There was a difference, he'd said, and you believed him.
It still made guilt creep up your neck as you watched him now.
You resumed your work at the cutting board, laying out the washed lettuce and chopping with the knife, only the noise of domesticity filling the room now—your knife meeting the board, the sizzling of the chicken in the pan, the faint thunk of Robby pushing the spoon around the skillet.
"Go sit," he said gently. "I've got this."
You didn't need to be told twice, taking his bid and putting down the knife to leave.
But as you turned your back, you felt his warm hand latch around your arm, and suddenly pull you tight against his side.
You gasped, chest going flush to him.
The spoon was still in his other hand as the chicken hissed in the pan. His fingers wrapped around your arm, intense but not hurting as he held fast.
"When Jack gets here," he murmured, his voice different now— baritone and intense. It made your skin rise in goosebumps. He leaned down further, his face inching closer, voice lowering, "I want you to answer the door and give him a kiss, okay?"
You swallowed dryly, the gentle pulse that had been a distant reminder between your legs now jumping in earnest.
"Yes, Robby."
Something pleased moved through his gaze before his grip on your arm loosened.
"Good girl." he said, kissing you one last time, chaste and quick on the lips before letting go.
And as if on cue, the doorbell rang. Robby's eyes lifted toward the front of the house on instinct, and then came back to you. His mouth twitched, something knowing in the corner of it.
"Go let our guest in, honey."
Your skin went hot all at once, nerves lighting up through your chest, down your arms, into the tips of your fingers. But you tried not to show it. You only nodded and slipped away from him, padding quickly down the hall until the front door appeared.
You sucked in a deep breath, checking your reflection in the little hanging mirror above the entry table, where your chapstick and house keys laid haphazardly in the catch-all. When you made eye contact with yourself, you could see you were doing a terrible job of hiding your nerves after all. Your eyes were bright and wide, your skin dappling with perspiration as your shoulders sat just a little too high and tight.
You shook yourself. It was just Jack.
Turning back towards the dark oak door, you took hold of the handle, and opened it.
In front of you was one of the most handsome men you'd ever known.
He'd dressed nicely for you tonight. A short sleeve button up, dark wash Levi's, his emergency department shoes long gone and replaced with clean white sneakers. His hair looked like he'd run his hand through it one too many times just on the walk up the stairs, the graying short curls a little messy in the most charming way. And there was some small, careful nervousness in the way he stood there, crutches held in one hand even though he wore his prosthesis, and his backpack hung from the other shoulder.
"Hi." you said, a little shyly.
"Hey," he breathed out. You wondered if he'd been holding it the same way you had.
"Um, come in," you said, making way for him.
"Thank you, sweetheart," he said.
As you stood aside, he walked in and got closer, bending down to give you a hug, his free arm wrapping around your shoulders. You lifted your arms around him too, his shirt soft beneath your hands, the clean smell of Irish Spring and aftershave close in the collar. And before he could pull away, you held on a little tighter.
"Would it be okay if I kissed you hello, Jack?" you whispered in his ear.
When you looked back at him, a blush had flooded his cheeks, a cheeky little smile pulling at his mouth. He'd shaven recently too, you realized, though the roughness had already started to come back along his jaw.
"Yeah," he murmured, leaning down again. "Yeah. Course you can—c'mere."
You reached up, pressing your lips to his gently.
Your whole body seemed to notice it at once. It still felt the same—hot, immediate, like stepping into a room with a fire already going. Memories threatened at the back of your mind, how possessed he'd gotten when he began to kiss you in the truck, how he'd yanked you into his lap at the first chance. Last week in the exam room when you'd asked for a chaste kiss goodbye. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing. His lips were a little chapped today, his jaw rough beneath your fingertips where your hand had lifted without thinking.
"Evenin', Jack," Robby greeted from the mouth of the hall.
You hadn't realized you'd been kissing Jack for so long until you pulled away. Robby was smiling though, one shoulder leaned against the wall, his eyes moving over you, so warm and proud that it made your heart leap.
Jack looked at him, clearing his throat with a small smile. "Thanks for havin' me, brother." He stepped forward, bringing Robby into a hug. Robby patted him on the back in greeting, squeezing his shoulder as they parted.
"Good to see you." Robby said. "Come in. Honey, will you take his things while I get Jack a drink? What'll you have? Just got his new Bourbon you'd like."
You went to Jack, taking his backpack from his shoulder, but as you held your hand out for his crutches, he kept it in his hand.
"S'alright, sweetheart. I'll keep this." he said gently, nodding down toward his prosthesis. "Wanna get the damn thing off as soon as I can, anyway."
You nodded, quickly going to set his things down in the entry way.
As you lingered in the hallway, you heard their conversation carry through the house, something about how old the new bottle was, what notes the whiskey had, whether Robby was overselling it. Jack complimented the smell of dinner cooking. It all felt so…normal. Just two friends talking in the kitchen, shoes on the mat by the door. Jack's backpack looking less out of place than you'd expected.
Except your pulse was still kicking hard from a simple kiss from him.
You hurried into the kitchen, taking the auburn liquid from its decanter before they could get to it, hastily busying yourself. You poured Jack two fingers into a glass as they chatted and grabbed Robby's from where it sat on the counter, walking over to them and handing them their respective drinks.
"What a sweet girl you are," Jack cooed as your fingers brushed, taking the glass from you.
Your belly swooped.
"Isn't she?" Robby agreed, bending to kiss your cheek. "Why don't you sit with Jack at the table, honey? I'll bring the salad."
You nodded, nerves feeling jittery and your steps a little quick as you went to the table and sat by your guest.
"You mind if I get this thing off sooner than later?" Jack asked, lowering himself into the dining chair with a careful groan. The cheekiness eased out of his face for a moment, replaced by something more pained and sheepish as he glanced at you. "Not exactly dinner table etiquette, I know."
"I don't mind." you said easily, pouring all three empty water glasses full from the jug in the center of the table.
The table was set with one of Robby's nicer sets, not the fancy kind of serving plateware you had grown up around, the kind married couples got in boxes with tissue paper and little cards tucked inside. But still, the plates and salad bowls were a pretty gunmetal gray, the silverware true silver and gleaming beside the folded napkins.
Robby shrugged, uncaring as well, as he poured you a glass of your favorite wine.
Jack said a gentle thanks as you finished pouring his water, and he began to undo his prosthesis. When the end of his leg became visible, he rubbed his palm over it, letting out a deep sigh.
"Better?" you asked quietly, sipping your water to quench your parched mouth.
He leaned back into the seat, hand still at his knee, rubbing the day from it. "Yeah. Better."
Robby brought over the large salad bowl, the alabaster tongs waiting at the top. He set it down in the middle of the table, then took his seat and doled out a few helpings of salad onto each plate. He put your wine glass in front of you, then settled back with his own bourbon in hand.
For a moment, the three of you just sat there.
The table was ready. The salad bowl between you, water glasses filled, silverware laid out beside folded napkins, dinner still warm in the oven, waiting to be served. Jack had his bourbon in one hand, his other still massaging his residual limb. Robby sat across from you, one ankle hooked under his chair, his gaze moving between you and Jack with a funny look in his eyes—but he was smiling.
Your fingers tightened around the stem of your wine glass, heating rising to your cheeks without even having to have take a sip.
"Well," you said, lifting it, your voice only a little uneven. "Here's to…new beginnings. And good company."
Robby looked at Jack.
Jack looked at Robby.
A smile tugged at Jack’s mouth first, softer than usual, though with that same cheekiness that always lit his eyes, and he held up his bourbon, looking over to Robby, who lifted his.
"To new beginnings." they said together.
Dinner went normal. Natural as anything, like it was just you and Robby enjoying dinner with a dear friend. Nothing about whatever this was got brought up, whether because no one dared to bring it up first or because the conversation flowed easily enough without it, you couldn't be quite sure.
Every so often, Robby's hand would rest lightly over your knuckles when telling a story, the lines beside his eyes deep when he smiled. You felt Jack toe at your ankle once while you listened, thinking it was just a mistake, and then he did it a second time, then a third, until you began to nudge him back beneath the table. Your toe traced up the outside of his calf, careful at first, then a little braver when his mouth twitched around the rim of his glass. He took a bigger bite just to hide his own smile when you hooked your foot behind his ankle.
By the time the plates were cleared and the three of you rejoined in the living room, your belly felt warm and content, cheeks hot with the effects of a couple glasses of wine and good food.
"If it's okay, Jack—" you said, stopping him before he could sit in the lone armchair across the sofa, his weight bearing down on his crutches as he moved into the room. "I like…um…I like touching. For conversations like these."
"Oh?" he asked, standing a little straighter, fixing his grip on the crutches and crooking his head at you.
"Like…" You felt your heart race up a little, a bashful smile twitching at your lips. "I don't know. It helps me feel more connected, I guess. If I can reach for you, touch you." You patted the cushion beside you on the large couch. "Can you sit next to me here?"
Jack's expression softened, though the teasing stayed at the edge of his mouth.
"Yeah, sweetheart." he said. "I can do that."
He made his way around the coffee table, setting his crutches at arm's length before sitting down. The couch dipped around his weight, a long sigh expelling from his lungs as he settled his arm along the back. He was close enough that his thigh brushed yours, and the contact sent a little spark of nerves through your stomach.
Robby joined you too, just on your other side, but not before handing Jack his refilled bourbon. He gave you your wine, then sat close enough that his knee pressed into yours. When all three of you had your glasses, you lifted them one last time, the rims touching with a small clink before everyone took a sip.
"So—" you breathed, settling further into the cushions and looking between them, "who'd like to start?"
"Start?" Jack chortled, "I've been here for two hours. Thought that's when we started."
Robby smiled at the fellow attending just as you did. "She means to talk about the three of us, Abbot."
"Oh, I know." Jack said, glancing at you. "I just like pushing her buttons."
"I know you do." you said, rolling your eyes and chuckling. "Okay, how about this: what is something important to you in a relationship?"
"A relationship? So we're just jumping in?"
"Yeah, we are," you nodded, "What do you look for in a partner?"
Jack pursed his lips, shrugging, "I like someone kind." he said. "Not just to me, but to people around them too. Waiters, nurses. The person taking too long in front of them at the pharmacy. You know."
You nodded. "Sure, yeah. That's definitely important."
"And funny." Jack added, then glanced at Robby. "Which is unfortunate for him."
Robby's eyebrows lifted. "Might come as a surprise to you, Jack, but some people do find me funny—even charming."
Jack lifted his glass a little, his smile gentling. "Then they get to know you and realize it's mostly deflection."
You looked at Robby, expecting a retort, but he only huffed through his nose, one corner of his mouth twitching despite himself. You laughed too, some of your nerves loosening with it. Robby's hand squeezed your knee before settling again.
You leaned into him, resting your chin on his shoulder for a moment as you asked: "What about you, Robby?"
"I…like…" he thought for a moment, his eyes on his knees then over to you, soft and warm and crinkled at the corners, "you."
You smiled, eyes narrowing, "Try again."
He smiled wider, looking away and nodding, "I look for…someone who is honest, who says what they mean. I want someone who I can count on to be there, to trust. I like…taking care of people, so that sort of thing is important. For someone to let me do that."
"Okay, not fair—" Jack interrupted, "he already had an answer locked and loaded."
"No take backs." you teased, shrugging as you peeked over at him.
"Not taking it back, just…" Jack shrugged back, "Okay, what about this? I like someone who is…comfortable in their own skin. Knows how to dance through dark days. Who…wants to do that. With me."
The room went a little quieter around his words, but not quite heavy. There was a stillness, an awareness of a tender wound he was showing so easily. So generously. Robby's hand moved over your knee. You took your chin from where it had rested on his shoulder to look up and over at Jack fully. He looked away first, taking a sip of bourbon with a faint pinkness at the tips of his ears.
"Very deep, Dr. Abbot." you said gently, reaching for his hand that rested in a fist on his thigh.
"Thank you, sweetheart." he nodded once, as if in mock bow, squeezing your hand where it held his. "What about you?"
"Me?" you asked.
"Yeah, you." Robby said, his hand still cupping your knee, resting their before sliding up and squeezing your thigh. "What do you want?"
You sat back a little further into the couch, thinking.
What did you look for in a partner?
Someone kind, yes. Someone trustworthy and honest too. Someone who could hold your hand through the darkness. Of course.
But also, you wanted someone who could take care of you and still allow you the freedom to choose. Someone who could see and know the worst parts of you and not just the sweet ones. Someone that could handle those selfish, scared parts of you. The parts that wanted too much.
That was the thing, wasn't it? All this want. Sometimes it felt bottomless. Maybe not every second of every day, but often enough that you knew it was there. A deep, hungry place in you that wanted to be filled with unconditional love. A reciprocated want just as deep if not more. It was embarrassing, it made you feel greedy and guilty all at once. It didn't have a clinical name for it, a nice way of asking for it.
You looked down at your hands— Robby's on your thigh, Jack's intertwined fingers.
"I think I want someone who sees me for who I am," you answered finally, "and instead of questioning it, wants it."
Your face warmed as soon as you said it, the rest on the tip of your tongue wanting to get out, but you bit down and held it back.
"I know…" you sucked in a breath, steadying your nerves, "I know I can be a lot sometimes. Too much… so… someone who can… handle that, want that… it's all… I don't know."
Robby leaned forward, tilting his head so he could find your gaze, making you look at him, "You are not too much." he said, so so gently. You felt Jack squeeze your hand, and you looked between them.
Jack's eyes were narrowed in a way that flamed your face—he was studying you so intently you wished you could sink into the couch cushions and disappear. This was all so new to him, you remembered. Not only this dynamic that was forming and changing and being shaped, but the big conversations. It felt a little scary now to you too. Exposed, open. The three of you sitting here with your feelings out where everyone could see them.
But Jack didn't seem scared off or worried he was getting into something he wasn't expecting. if anything, he seemed softened by it, his thumb brushing gently over your knuckles.
"What—" you cleared your throat, "what about… how will the three of us be together? Like… will you come here? Will I go to you?"
You were asking Jack, who breathed in fresh breath, sitting up a little. His eyes flicked to Robby too, including him before he answered: "I guess…would it be like split custody?" he asked. "Some nights with me? Some nights with you? Or what?"
"I think—to start— we should be together." Robby answered, "Just until we can get a feel for it, so no one feels left out."
"And will the two of you…?" you asked, the question filling your mind and slipping out before you could stop it. "Is this a triad now? Are you two—"
Robby's face lit up red as anything you'd ever seen, his breath huffing a little, shaking back and forth.
"Woah, woah, woah." He shook his head, his hand lifting from your thigh to rub the back of his neck. "I don't think—I'm not really—"
"What does triad mean?" Jack asked.
Robby's hand moved from his neck to around his beard, covering his mouth as he said, "Means you and I would also be—"
Jack smiled widely. "I mean, Mike, you're handsome and all, but I don't—"
"Yeah, no." Robby said quickly, smiling despite himself while refusing to make eye contact.
"The maturity of two teenage boys…" you whispered through a laugh, sitting back and watching two grown man blush and fidget.
"Oh, yeah?" Robby teased, mirth in his eyes as he raised an eyebrow.
Before you could answer, his arm came around you and pulled you back against him, turning you with such easy strength that you ended up laid across his lap, your back to his chest, your legs stretching over Jack's thighs.
"Robby—!" you squealed, reaching your wine glass out so it wouldn't spill.
Jack smiled, taking it from you before the wine could slosh over the rim. His fingers brushed yours for a second, then he set the glass safely on the coffee table.
"There." he murmured. "No casualties."
Your face burned as Robby's arms kept you cradled up against him. You were half laughing still, breathless from how quickly he'd moved you, but the sound caught when his hand came to your jaw. His fingers settled beneath your chin, thumb along the side of your face, turning you so that you had to look up at him.
He was smiling, but not in the same way now. The playfulness was still there, just there in the lines beside his eyes, but his grip had gone certain. Familiar in the way that made your body remember him before your head caught up.
"Count your lucky stars I don't take you over my knee for laughing at us like that." he murmured.
You giggled some more, your spine tingling when you felt Jack squeeze the tops of your legs, rubbing his palms up and down them.
"Thought you said we weren't gonna have fun tonight." you murmured with a wicked smile.
Your knees shifted apart without much thought, the movement small but obvious with your legs draped over Jack's lap. His hands paused for one little second, the three of you seemed to notice it at the same time.
"I never said he and I weren't allowed to."
Jack's palms slid a little higher over your thighs, thumbs pressing into the soft flesh just above your knees before dragging back down. A slow massage, nothing hurried. Still, your skin lit under his hands, and the hem of your skirt bunched slightly beneath his fingers.
"Tease." you muttered.
Jack was watching his hands and the way you squirmed beneath them, a shy, sly smile pulling at his lips. Robby was smiling down at you too, thumb brushing your cheek before tapping twice to draw your attention back to him.
"Are you going to behave, young lady?" Robby asked.
You nodded, gnawing on your bottom lip.
"Somehow I don't believe her, brother." Jack said, and you could hear the smile still in his words.
"Me neither." Robby's hand tightened at your jaw, moving your face back and forth once before giving it a little shake. "You are so cute." he whispered.
You smiled wider, your hands coming up to wrap delicately around his wrist. "So are you."
"That so?" Robby asked, amusement lighting up his features.
You nodded.
"And what about him?" he asked, shifting your face so you were looking at Jack. "Do you think he's cute too?"
You nodded again. "Very."
"Aw, shucks," Jack said, a tinge of red flushing his cheeks again.
Robby's thumb pushed deeper into the flesh of your cheek as he asked: "Why don't you go show him how cute you think he is?"
You looked up at Robby, uncertain.
"Just a little kiss." he murmured, leaning down to brush his lips over the tip of your nose. "Would you like that, Jack?"
"Course I would."
"Go on," Robby said.
You sat up, your body a little wobblier now, the warmth from both their hands lingering in places that made you feel too aware of yourself.
Jack sat back, widening his thighs so you could climb on top of him. You moved slowly, hands finding his shoulders first, his finding your hips in return. His palms settled there, thick and warm around you, holding you with a care that only made your stomach flip harder. Your skirt bunched where your thighs spread to make room for the breadth of his body, the fabric pulling high. You felt your nerves light up your skin.
You bit down on your lip again, smiling, "Hi."
He smiled a little crookedly, "Hey,"
You glanced over at Robby, who was watching intently, his hand along the back of the couch, legs spread open, his bourbon back in his hand.
"Go on." he said once more, tilting his glass toward you before taking a long sip.
Slowly—carefully— you leaned down and pressed your lips to Jack's. He was so warm, and you could taste the malted rye of bourbon just on his lips. He breathed in as you kissed him, his hands moving along your sides until they wrapped around you completely, keeping you glued to his chest. His muscled arms squeezed, making you gasp, opening for him, and he let out a little pleased hum at that as his tongued dipped to taste behind your lips.
You settled into him easily then, your arms wrapped around his neck, leaning further into his hold. As you sat deeper into his lap, you could feel that bulge grow eagerly now, both of you enrapt in one another. Your head went light at the feeling, with the heat of his mouth and the slow slide of his tongue, the wet sounds of your lips parting and finding each other again.
This was a different kiss. Where the kiss at the door was sweet, easy, lingering too, it wasn't as… intense. That kiss had piqued your memory, where now they were coming back in a flood—grinding down on him in the front seat of his truck, him languidly kissing your chest, the wild little panic of doing something you shouldn't and yet not being able to get close enough no matter how hard he pulled you in.
This kiss was still tender, still a little unsure, both of you retesting the motion of it in front of Robby, but that heat was there underneath. That need. The way Jack kissed like he meant it. All of it was there, simmering below the surface.
When your lips parted, your eyes caught on the shine of his bottom lip, wet and a little swollen from your mouth.
He kept you close, belly to belly, but leaned his head back and looked toward Robby while he pulled in air. You followed the angle of his face, dazed enough that it took you a second to remember Robby was right there when you looked over.
His glass rested low in his hand now, his eyes dark and fixed on the two of you, his thumb rubbing along the side of the tumbler.
You leaned down to kiss Jack's cheek, then the line of his jaw, nestling into him because you could. Because Robby was there watching and nothing about it was hidden. It felt good. Felt right. Less like sneaking away to give in to one another and more like being given the room to want it. Like space had been made for the hunger instead of everyone pretending it wasn't there.
"There is one thing I wanted to…" Jack started, breath still uneven. He cleared his throat. "I just want to say it before we get too far ahead of ourselves."
You kissed just under his ear before pulling back to look at him. "What is it?"
His arms loosened around you, though his hands stayed on your hips. His fingers slipped beneath the edge of your shirt, the calloused tips brushing hot skin, and even with the seriousness moving into his face, he still touched you gently.
"I don't want to feel like… like I'm just a guest in this," he said. His eyes dropped for a second, then came back up to search your face. Then he looked at Robby.
"I get this whole thing, I think. Or I'm trying to." His thumb moved over your hip. "You being in charge. Telling her what to do sometimes. How to do it. And I can see she likes it."
Your face flamed. Jack's mouth twitched, but he didn't tease you for it.
"You told her to kiss me when I walked in the door, didn't you?" he added.
You looked over at Robby, gnawing on your lip a little.
Robby nodded. "Yeah."
"See, and that's…" Jack breathed out through his nose, trying again. "I'm not saying I didn't like it. I did. I do. Clearly."
Your stomach squirmed, and his hand squeezed your waist, as if he could feel your unease. He looked up at you, licking his bottom lip.
"I just don't want everything between me and you to feel like it's… " he went on, quieter now, his pretty eyes looking into yours. "Like I'm waiting for permission. I respect what you two have. I don't want to come in here and step over boundaries and rules, but… I want to be able to be with you because you want it, too. Not just Robby telling you to."
"I hear you," you whispered gently, your hands moving to his face, cupping his jaw.
His eyes softened on yours.
"So do I." Robby said. You turned slightly in Jack's lap to look over again. Robby had set his glass down on the side table, his elbows resting on his knees now, body angled toward both of you.
"I think we can set parameters." Robby said, clearing his throat. "What we both feel comfortable with. What she feels comfortable with. But you're right. I don't want you feeling like you're just waiting for me to hand you a hall pass."
"Yes, definitely." you agreed, thumb brushing over the edge of Jack's jaw. "I don't want that either."
Jack looked between the two of you, his hands still petting the warm skin beneath your shirt. "Okay, so…"
"So tell us what you'd like to do." you said. "What you wouldn't like, what feels good, what feels weird. We can talk about it."
He sighed. "Geez, I feel like I'm in a therapy session."
You pinched his ear lightly. "Don't be so dramatic. It's just a conversation, Jack."
He gave you a look, but his hand tightened at your hip like he liked the scolding.
"You're sitting in my lap asking me to define my emotional needs." he said. "That's therapy."
"Your therapist sits in your lap?" you asked, crooking your gaze.
"Oh, you are a testy little thing." Jack narrowed his gaze, smiling up at you.
"Told you." Robby chuckled.
You smiled despite yourself, still close enough to feel Jack's breath against your face. "Then start with something easy."
Jack's eyes flicked to your lips, then back up.
"Easy?" he repeated.
You nodded.
His fingers spread against your back beneath your shirt, his voice low and settling deep in your belly as he said: "I'd like to kiss you without needing Robby to tell you to."
Robby's gaze moved to you.
You swallowed, then nodded. "I'd like that too."
Jack looked at Robby.
Robby sat back a little, hand rubbing once over his beard, taking the sight of you in Jack's lap with a careful breath.
"That's fine by me," Robby said.
Jack's eyes came back to yours, and the little shift in him made your heart kick. His fingers brushed up along your lower back.
"Can I kiss you again, sweetheart?"
Your face warmed, but you smiled. "Yes."
And he did, starting slow and tender again, just a gentle brushing of lips before you pulled him tighter, letting your tongue trace over the seam of his lips.
But you pulled back, just teasing, licking at his open mouth as he gasped.
"What else?"
He groaned, head tilting onto the back of the couch.
Robby chuckled from the other side of the couch, "You're killing him, honey."
"Yeah," you said, "but im having so much fun."
You leaned back, resting your hands on his chest, "Okay, what about… what about when we want to…do more than just kissing?"
The men shared a glance, and Robby said: "I had said in the beginning that maybe we should start with the three of us together. At least under the same roof."
You looked over at him. "You want me to…to be intimate with you when Jack is here?"
"And vice versa." Robby said, nodding.
Your mouth fell open a little, bemused.
You'd known, in theory, that this was where the conversation would go. It had been sitting under every touch, every glance, every careful little permission Robby had given since Jack walked through the door. Still, hearing it out loud made your stomach dip, because suddenly it wasn't some…thing you had all been circling. It was Robby saying yes, Jack's hands on you, your body still warm in Jack's lap while Robby watched from an arm's length away.
"I actually thought, maybe…" Robby shrugged, but the color rising in his face made your attention sharpen. His fingers flexed once against his own knee, then stilled. "It could be fun to…"
"Go on." you said, sitting back further on Jack's thighs.
You were suddenly very interested in what was going to come out of Robby's mouth next. He looked at you, then down at your hands where they rested on Jack's chest. His jaw shifted and his eyes flicked away.
"Touch?" he murmured, eyes barely glancing at you.
That one word changed your whole face. Not because it was sexual. But because it wasn't, not exactly. It was a sign. A bid. The word both of you used when what either he or you wanted felt too tender to ask for straight on. Touch meant come here, help me say it. The need for reassurance, connection. Something as simple as your hand in his did wonders for bravery.
You reached for him at once, leaning over without leaving Jack's lap. Robby scooted closer and took your hand in his.
His palm was warm and a little damp from the glass, his fingers closing around yours in a firm hold. You squeezed once, and he squeezed back, his index finger finding the inside of your wrist. That was all it was. Just skin and pressure. Just the reminder that he wasn't saying this from across the room by himself.
You had told Jack at the beginning that touch helped you. That you liked being able to reach for someone during conversations like these. But Robby needed it too sometimes. He needed the physical proof of you there while he let himself say something that scared him.
Jack didn't interrupt. His hands stayed on your hips, but his thumbs stopped moving, studying the two of you, watching how you went about this.
Robby looked down at your joined hands, then cleared his throat.
"I think I would like it if…" He stopped, ears going pinker now. "Maybe I came home and you two were already…"
You kept your voice gentle. "Already what?"
Robby breathed out through his nose, almost a laugh, but not quite. "Already together."
"Like you're walking in on us?" you asked.
His eyes flicked up to yours, embarrassed and interested and a little relieved that you had said it for him.
"Okay," you said, nodding, but gnawing it over in your head. Picturing you and Jack together, tangled limbs, sweaty and gasping. "How would that work?"
"We could text about it first." Robby went on. "A day when you're here, that is. And I'm coming back from a shift or something. Not really a surprise. Just…set up like one."
Jack was looking between the two of you, one hand still resting on your hip.
"Is that something you'd want to try too?" you asked him.
He shrugged, mouth pulling to one side. "I…have no idea." Then, more honestly, "Yeah. I mean, it sounds pretty sexy. Just… I've never done something like that."
He looked at Robby then, no judgment in his face, but like he was trying to understand—brows pulling together, his fingers tightening and loosening on your waist.
"Doesn't it kind of go against what you were saying? About wanting to be together when we're intimate?"
Robby's thumb paused against your hand, his lips pressing tightly together. There was almost a shyness to him.
You looked over at him, squeezing his fingers. "Is it okay if I try to explain what I think you mean?"
He nodded, though his face was still flushed.
"It's more like…" You glanced at Jack, then Robby again, careful now. "He likes seeing it. Me wanting you. You wanting me."
Jack's eyes moved from you to Robby. The latter's hand tightened around yours, but he didn't stop you.
"But not if we're lying about it." you said. "That's what is different from this and…what we did before. If it's sneaky, or if he walks in and actually thinks something happened without him knowing—that's not fun. That would just hurt him again."
Jack grimaced, looking apologetically at his fellow attending. Both of them looked at each other for a long moment before you continued.
"So we'd talk about it first, texting, plans, whatever. He'd know what he was coming home to."
You looked at Robby then, your voice softening a little. "And he likes knowing I still want him there. That when he walks in, I look for him. That I want him to see me. That I want him to do something about it."
Robby breathed out a quiet laugh, embarrassed but not disagreeing.
Jack seemed to let out a breath too, relief at Robby's reaction. "That about right then, Mike?"
Robby brought his other hand up to his beard, thumb dragging along the corner of his mouth. Still a little shy now, not quite looking at either of you.
"Yeah," he said, nodding once. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
You smiled, bringing his hand up to kiss his knuckles, the wiry hair there tickling your lips. Robby's thumb brushed under your chin after, fond, quiet— and for a second none of you said anything.
It felt like the three of you had actually done it. Started the conversation, not fought about anything. A good start, at least. There would be many more to come, you were sure of it.
Jack's hand gave your hip another small squeeze, and Robby was still close enough for your fingers to stay tangled with his.
For a moment, none of it felt impossible.
And then, from the other room, your phone started ringing.
All three of you looked towards the sound. It took you a second to place it. Your bag was still in the kitchen, abandoned on one of the stools from when you'd come in earlier, and the ringtone sounded too loud against the hush that had settled over the living room.
You blinked, still half caught between them.
"Is that me?" you asked, though it obviously was.
Jack's brows lifted slightly. Robby's hand loosened around yours, grunting as he got up from the couch, "I'll grab it."
You watched him disappear into the kitchen, your brain still slow to catch up with the sound. A second ago, you had been sitting in the center of something warm and strange and careful, all three of you talking around sex and rules and wanting like it was something that could be held without falling apart. Now your phone was ringing from the other room, so ordinary, and yet felt like dragging the rest of the world back in by the collar.
Robby came back with it in his hand, the screen lighting his face from below. He frowned down at the name, not suspicious exactly, just confused.
When he handed it to you, you saw Mel King glowing across the screen.
You blinked.
"Hello?" you answered, a little timid.
"Hi!"
You startled at her loud, chipper voice. She sounded like she was in a car somewhere, her words a little muffled behind the engine and the faint rush of the road.
"Hey, Mel." You sat up a little straighter. "What's up? Is everything okay?"
"Oh! Yeah, totally." she said quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean—I probably should've said that first, right? That it's not an emergency. I forget sometimes that's how people hear phone calls. I'm a really bad texter so …But no, it's okay. Everything's okay."
Your eyes flicked to Robby, who had settled back beside Jack, still watching your face with that narrowed, assessing look he got when he was trying to decode something, whether it was a differential or just your expression. Jack looked confused too, but quiet.
"Okay…" you said slowly. "That's good."
"What? Oh, um, anyway— I was just wondering if you were going to Whitaker's tonight?"
You looked between Jack and Robby.
Robby's brows pulled together, both of them seemingly able to hear Mel's voice through the speaker that held to your ear.
Jack mouthed, Whitaker?
You shook your head a little, just as lost.
"One of my residents," Robby said under his breath, tapping Jack on the side.
Jack gave him a flat look. "I know who Whitaker is, Mike." he whispered back, "My memory is just fine, unlike yours."
Robby's mouth opened, already offended and ready to retort, but you reached over and tapped his chest before he could start.
Both of them looked at you.
You narrowed your eyes and pressed a finger to your lips, and then returned your attention back to the phone.
"Uh, why?"
"He's having some sort of party!"
"Oh." You glanced down at your bare knees, at the edge of your skirt, then across the living room where Robby's glass still sat on the table. "That's nice."
"Yeah! I think so. Maybe. I don't know." Mel's voice dropped a little, the brightness wobbling at the edges. "There are supposed to be a lot of people there, and I know some of them, obviously, but not like…know them know them. And I don't know what kind of party it is. Like if it's a standing party, or a sitting party, or if people are going to be weird if I leave early."
Your expression softened.
Robby must have caught the change, because his posture eased a little too.
"I was wondering if you were going." Mel continued. "But if you're busy, that's fine. You don't have to. I know it's late notice. I probably should have texted instead of calling, but then I thought you might not see it, and then I thought calling would seem too serious, and now I'm doing the thing where I explain the whole thought process, so…"
You bit back a smile. "I hadn't planned on it, but…"
"Oh, that's okay. I understand if you're busy or something." she said quickly. "I was just kind of maybe hoping you would come? Just so I can…well, you and I seemed to—"
She stopped, like the sentence had gotten too personal too fast.
You waited.
Mel took a breath, audible through the phone.
"I would just feel comfortable if you were there." she said finally. "As my backup."
The words landed in you gently, but with more weight than you expected.
You looked at Robby again. His face had changed now, the confusion giving way to something quieter. Jack's mouth softened too, his eyes moving between you and the phone like he understood enough from your expression.
"I didn't know you required backup, Dr. King." you teased, because it felt easier than letting your voice get too sweet. "You're always so well adjusted."
There was a tiny pause.
"Really?" Mel asked, quieter.
You could almost hear the smile through the phone.
Your own smile faded a little, turning tender before you could help it.
"Yeah," you said. "Really."
"Thanks." she said, almost under her breath. "Well. Okay. I'll see you around then."
"Hey—Mel?"
"Yeah?"
You looked between the two men again.
The night you had been having was still all over the room. Robby's warmth, Jack's hands on you, the careful conversation you had barely finished having. Part of you wanted to stay exactly where you were, to fold back into the strange little world the three of you had made on the couch and not let anything else in.
But Mel had called. And she had asked you to be there in the only way she could manage.
"I'll come."
"Oh!" Mel's voice jumped. "Are you sure? I have to tell you about this thing that Frank—"
The sound muffled suddenly, like she'd turned away from the phone to say something, and then just as soon as she did, she was back, her voice clear in your ear, "Sorry, I mean Dr. Langdon. He did this thing today, and it was insane—"
"Yeah, okay," you said, laughing softly. "I can't wait to hear it! Listen, I'll text you when I'm on my way, okay?"
"Okay! Bye!"
"Bye." you murmured, holding back a smile as the call ended.
Both the attendings in front of you let out little laughs. Your head snapped up. "Hey!" you said, swatting Robby's arm. "Be nice. Mel's my favorite."
Robby held up both hands in mock surrender, his mouth twitching. "Hey, hey, she's a great doctor. She's just a little…"
"Odd?" Jack finished.
You looked at him, offended, and Jack's face changed immediately.
"I like odd!" he said, one hand lifting from your waist like he was defending himself in court. "Hey, I'm as weird as they come. Trust me when I say I get it."
"As you should, night crawler." you said, still nudging him lightly in the chest. He caught your wrist with his hand, finger engulfing the delicate joint.
"Do I at least get a goodbye kiss?"
You glanced down at him, trying for wicked and probably landing somewhere closer to breathless. The sudden dip in his tone had your heart jumping into your throat. "Dunno. You'll have to come and get it when I leave."
Jack clicked his teeth softly when you squirmed again, holding both of your wrists between his wide hands with very little effort. As if to remind you that he was bigger than you, stronger, that his arms could keep you exactly where he wanted if you let them.
"Nuh uh." he said. "Want it now."
"Greedy." you chastised.
"Oh, you've only seen the start of it."
You meant to say something back. You really did. Something smart, something teasing, something that would make Robby laugh and give you another second to pretend your pulse hadn't jumped even harder now.
Then he kissed you again, not quite so sweet. His bottom lip caught yours, teeth grazing just enough to make you inhale through your nose, and his mouth curved like he'd felt the sound before you could hide it. The kiss went wet and slow, his hand climbing into your hair while the other stayed around your wrists, keeping you close while he took one more and then another until your head felt warm and your body forgot why you had been getting up at all.
"What about me?" Robby asked.
His voice was mild, almost amused, but still, your stomach flipped just at the sound. Oh, this was going to be fun.
You pulled away from Jack with a small, wet sound, blinking like you'd been caught doing something far worse than kissing a man you had very much been told to kiss.
"Can't leave without saying goodbye to me too, can you?" Robby said, his voice hoarse.
Jack's hand stayed locked around your wrists, not letting you go entirely, so you leaned awkwardly across the space between them. It was clumsy, your skirt twisting under you and your fist bracing against Jack's chest so you wouldn't tip sideways.
Robby met you halfway, his hand coming to the back of your neck, guiding you the last few inches to his mouth. His beard rasped softly against your chin, the smell of bourbon and want on his tongue when he pushed it into your mouth. It was sharp and sweet beneath the bite of liquor, his lips moving familiarly over yours.
There was a difference to their kisses, outside the obvious physical sensation of beard versus scruff. Jack made you feel fluttery and nervous and heavy with a curiosity that only knew of wanting. But with Robby, Robby you knew. And he kissed you like he knew you. He didn't rush or show off, he didn't need to make it clear you were his, because when he kissed you, you melted into it. Completely and utterly at home in your body with him.
When he pulled back, his beard had left your lips tingling.
You stared at him a second too long.
Jack gave a low chuckle, his hands still secure around your wrists. "Yeah, alright. That's a hell of a goodbye."
Robby's eyes flicked to him, still amused, still warm from the kiss as he sat back. "I couldn't be left out after yours."
Jack frowned like he had to consider it, then nodded. "Fair. Mine was pretty good."
You looked between them, face hot, still a little breathless, then finally unwound your hands from Jack's grip, pulling down your skirt as you stood.
"What?" Jack asked, adjusting himself a little beneath the throw pillow he had pulled into his lap.
You pointed at him. "Subtle."
"Wasn't trying to be."
"Clearly."
Robby huffed a laugh into his glass, which only made you shake your head harder. You readjusted your clothes, hoping neither of them noticed how unsteady your legs were, though the silence behind you told you they absolutely did.
"You two are so…" you shook your head.
"So…?" Jack asked.
You looked between them, both of them spread out on the couch, smug in different ways and entirely too pleased with themselves.
You scoffed. "Never mind."
"No, go on." Robby said.
"Nope." You grabbed your phone and started toward the bedroom. "You don't wanna know." you called over your shoulder.
"Say it." Jack called after you, teasing. "Old? Cranky? Jealous?"
"Annoying?" Robby added.
"That's yours." Jack said.
You reached the archway of the door and paused, turning back with one hand curled around the edge of the wall, fingertips pressed to the opening. Both of them were watching you.
Jack still looked rumpled, flushed and smiling with one hand smoothing down his shirt. Robby sat spread comfortably on the couch, bourbon back in his hand, his mouth still shiny from your kiss, his beard a little damp at the corner.
Your stomach flipped all over again.
"I was gonna say—hot." you said.
Jack's smile widened first, pleased and almost boyish. Robby's brows lifted, slower, his eyes darkening just enough to make you regret giving him anything to work with.
"You better be careful, honey." Robby said, his voice dropping in that awful, familiar way. "You keep talking like that, you're not gonna make it out of the house."
You grinned, backing away before either of them could pull you back in.
"Nope! I have to go be Mel's emotional support person. You two figure out how to survive the compliment."
Whitaker's house wasn't actually Whitaker's house, you remembered on the way over.
It was Trinity Santos' apartment, technically, though apartment felt like the wrong word for it. It was more like a renovated house split between floors, with a narrow downstairs hallway that led to the stairs and then up to her actual front door.
You'd changed before leaving Robby's too—something easy and a little warmer, less date-night than what you had worn for Jack and Robby. Simple shorts, a top, a cardigan for the chill of the evening. You pulled it closer around yourself as you stepped out of the Uber. The cool gust of wind helped cool the ghost of the memory of Robby's warm mouth and Jack's hands on you.
They'd both insisted on driving you, but after their multiple glasses of bourbon you'd given them a very stern talking to about drinking and driving. So Robby ordered you an Uber Black without argument.
The party was loud enough you could hear it from outside the porch. You tried the handle instead of knocking, knowing no one would be downstairs to hear it. You slipped inside to the bass pounding down the stairwell, the vibration of music along the banister as you used it to guide your way up to the front door. Slipping inside, the music swelled and you could smell the heat of bodies and incense burning.
You wondered if the downstairs neighbors were just really cool, hard of hearing, or dead asleep by some miracle.
"You're here!" you heard from your left. The living room was crowded, Santos and Whitaker already sitting on the couch beside a few other familiar faces you knew well. Mel jumped up from her spot on the floor and was bouncing in front of you before you were able to close the door.
"Hey," you said, smiling. "You good?"
"Yeah," she said, then paused, "Actually, yeah. I am. Trinity is asking everyone to play a game in the living room. Want to join?"
You glanced past her, watching the card game unfold, Santos explaining loudly over the music while she rolled her eyes and talked with both hands, Whitaker already looking like he deeply regretted whatever rule clarification he had asked for.
"Looks very serious." you said.
"It's not. Seems very easy. Dennis said you just need to play to understand."
"That sounds like something Dennis would say when he doesn't understand either."
Mel smiled quickly at that. "Maybe, yeah."
"Okay, let me… get a drink, say hi to some people then I'll come find you?"
"Yeah, okay." Mel nodded, then hesitated just a second longer. "And…thanks again. For coming. I thought this would be worse. I'm actually… I'm good. If you decide to not to stay long. I'm sure you had plans and all so—"
"It's all good, really, Mel. I'm happy to be here."
She smiled, nodded, and headed back to the living room.
You turned into the kitchen, ready for a much needed vice for the evening.
Someone was standing in the middle of the room, though—tall and lanky with dark, gray hair, tattoos on his arms. He had one hand shoved into a pocket of his black jeans while the other held a red solo cup and a rolled paper between two fingers.
Your shoulders dropped, and you couldn't help the full smile that pulled your lips wide. "Hey, Jesse."
His gaze flitted up to you at the sound of your voice, face braking immediately into a big grin that crinkled his dark blue eyes. "Hey."
He stood a little straighter, pulling his hand from his pocket to open his arm to you, and you slid underneath it, tucking yourself into his side and bringing an arm around his middle. He was tall, your shoulder fitting just right under the crook of his shoulder, one cheek against the worn cotton of his shirt, his arm folding easily over your shoulders.
"Having a good night?" you asked over the music.
"Am now." he replied, cheekily squeezing you closer. He lifted in red cup in solidarity. "And I have off tomorrow, so I'm celebrating."
"I need a drink so we can cheers to your twenty four hours of freedom." you said, elbowing him. His gold chain necklace glinted as you saw a silent huff of laughter shake his shoulders.
There was always something easy about being around Jesse. He never crowded a room or made himself known loudly, but he was never absent from it either. He stood steady in the chaos of the ED, quiet and always ready, the kind of nurse who seemed to know what was needed before anyone had to say it. When to move, when to wait, when to put a hand on a shoulder or a firm voice into the air.
And outside of all that, he was funny. A little dorky, once you'd gotten to know him. He played guitar in a small cover band, hunted down good coffee like the hipster he swore he never was.
Cool, you thought. Jesse was cool in a very… Jesse way.
He squeezed you again before letting go and turning to the counter top, stretching his hand wide across the array of liquor, "Pick your poison."
You wrinkled your nose as you scanned the vodka and tequila, some bottle of something blue you didn’t trust on principle, all of it sure to punish you tomorrow after the glass of wine already sitting warm in your stomach.
Jesse watched your face, the corner of his mouth tugging.
“If you’re interested, I was actually about to go outside.”
When you looked back at him, he waggled the joint where it was held between two fingers.
You nodded, "Yeah, okay."
He reached out his hand, bony and long-fingered, and you took it gratefully, letting him lead you through the house.
The kitchen had spilled into the living room by then, people standing in the walkway with drinks in their hands, shoulders turning sideways to let each other pass. You smiled when you saw Mateo chatting with Victoria in the corner, and Whitaker and Joy somehow enjoying themselves on the couch with Ogilvie. Trinity sat on the loveseat beside them and Mel, who was sipping at her drink, caught up in whatever story someone was telling while the game went on.
You didn’t stop to say hello, but when Trinity’s eyes found yours, you smiled. She lifted her cup a little from where it rested against her knee, and you kept moving, Jesse’s hand warm around yours, his shoulder turning sideways to make room for you towards the back of the house.
Outside, the air was crisp against your cheeks. The back door shut behind you with a muffled click, cutting the music down to a low thump through the walls. You pulled your cardigan closer around yourself as you stepped onto the deck, the railing damp where you leaned your hip against it.
Someone had left a citronella candle on the little table by the door, burned down to a shallow pool of wax and there was stack of empty Solo cups sat beside it, one fallen on its side.
“I never knew Trinity and Dennis had such a cute place,” you said.
Jesse shrugged, looking back through the glass door for a second, then over at the kitchen window before bringing pinching the joint between his lips.
“Me neither." he said, a little muffled, "I also never knew how much they really loved avocados.”
You raised a brow, tilting your head with an amused, questioning smile.
“Think I counted… like ten on their counter,” he said, flicking his lighter a few times. The little wheel scraped under his thumb, sparks catching and dying until a flame finally burned bright. "'nd one open in the fridge when I went to get a water."
A smile huffed out of you, remembering an argument between them about avocado stealing as you watched Jesse. The flame bent sideways, lighting the end of the stick in an uneven orange line. He inhaled, cheeks hollowing slightly, the tip brightening before he pulled the lighter away.
Then he looked at you with a small smile and handed it over. You took it between two fingers, bringing it to your lips, but the end had already gone out. You held out your hand for the lighter.
Instead of giving it to you, though, Jesse took a step so he was directly in front of you. He moved in closely, his hand coming up to cup around the joint near your mouth while the other held the lighter up. You couldn't help but study his face while he sparked the light—his cute gray curls and the salt and pepper goatee, the tiny creases beside his eyes and the blue gray circles under them that had gotten deeper since last time you saw him.
The flame sparked again, and you pulled a few light breaths until the end caught, smoke filling your mouth with skunky richness. It warmed your throat, holding there for half a second before pursing your lips and blowing it away from him.
"Thanks," you said, handing it back as he moved away. Jesse took it from you without looking away for long though, his fingers brushing yours before he brought it to his mouth.
“Y’know,” he said after a second, voice easy enough that you almost missed the carefulness, “people have been missing you a lot in the Pitt.”
"You guys still call it that?" you chuckled, and when he didn't reply, you shrugged, pulling your cardigan tighter where it had slipped down one shoulder. “Just been taking a bit of a break, I guess.”
“Robby being tough on you or something?” he asked.
He took another smaller hit after he said it, then turned his head and blew the smoke away from your face. The question might've sounded prying from anyone else, maybe it was. But Jesse had a way of being gentle with something like this, but in a way that made you know you couldn't get away with half-assed answers.
You took a second to answer, looking down into the yard below instead of him. There wasn’t much to see beyond the deck light: a few bare branches shifting at the edge of a fenceline, a trash can near the side gate, the pale square of a neighbor’s window through the dark.
"Nothing I didn't deserve."
When you looked back at him, he had his head bent a little, looking at you funny.
“What?” you said, a little defensive, crossing your arms.
He shook his head and handed you the joint, and you took it without taking your eyes off of him.
“Seriously, what?” you asked again, holding it between your fingers and waiting. “Stop looking at me like that, Jess.”
He shrugged, leaning back. His knee brushed yours as he stepped closer to you along the rail, the wood creaking a little beneath his weight as he settled against it. He looked comfortable here, one palm planted on the top, lighter stuffed back into his pocket.
“S’just…” he began with a sigh, eyes dropping briefly to the deck boards before coming back to you. “We get a little… worried.”
You'd been taking a hit when he'd said it, and you coughed on the rough pull.
“Worried?”
You handed the joint back quickly and pressed the heel of your hand to your chest, blinking through the sting in your eyes. Jesse took it, but he didn’t make a joke or laugh at you for coughing. He only licked his lips, gaze steady on your face.
If you knew one thing about Jesse, it was that he was not one to pull back from this kind of thing. A hard discussion. The thing that needed saying. He’d let other people talk themselves in circles if they needed to, but when it mattered, Jesse stepped in.
You could feel your limbs begin to get heavier even while your head still buzzed with nerves under his searching gaze. Your brain felt a second behind suddenly, too aware of your own hands, the thick lumpiness of your cardigan where it had bunched under your arms, the cold railing pressing into your hip.
"Yeah, worried, kid." he repeated. "We like to make sure our best girl is happy. That you're not…being…" He shrugged, glancing down at the joint between his fingers. “I don’t know. We just like seeing you. Like having you around.”
You licked your lips, unsure of what point he was trying to make, but you shrugged anyway.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good, Jess. Promise.”
He nodded, but he didn’t look away. You watched as the party moved behind him through the glass door, bodies passing in and out of the kitchen light, the music softened to bass and a loose scatter of voices. Out here, it felt so much more quiet, so still.
You looked at him again, realizing he'd asked you something when you saw the waiting look in his eyes. “What?”
“Taking a break,” he said, carefully. “Was that something you wanted?”
You opened your mouth, then closed it again.
Jesse took another hit, but he didn’t rush you. He turned his face aside to exhale toward the yard, smoke thinning out past the railing.
“It wasn’t…” You rubbed your thumb over the inside of your wrist, where your sleeve had ridden up. “It wasn’t like that. I mean, I agreed to it."
“Okay.”
“And I needed it,” you added quickly, a little too quickly. “Probably.”
One corner of his mouth pulled, but he kept it soft. “Probably?”
You huffed, embarrassed despite yourself, and looked toward the yard again. “It’s complicated.”
“Usually is with you two.”
You glanced back at him. Jesse had the joint held low now, his palms braced behind him over the railing, his face quiet in the deck light. Just waiting, not prying—but also not letting you escape his questioning, either. He was such a nurse. Always noticing the in between of things that anyone else might miss. He was like this in other scenarios too, you remembered. Your traitorous brain picking the worst time to flood your mind's eye with memories. Making you tell him how you liked it, how good his fingers felt inside of you. He would make you tell him what you wanted him to do to you, telling you how good you were for using your words. He was always a giver, as long as you asked for it nicely.
You swallowed.
“The four weeks are up anyway,” you said, trying in vain to keep it all so casual. “So… technically, the break is over.”
For a second, Jesse didn’t move, as if he hadn't heard or maybe hadn't cared. Then his eyes dropped to your mouth. It was quick, barely anything. But you caught it, and once you caught it, you felt it everywhere: in your chest, behind your knees, in the sudden warmth that pushed up through your throat despite the cold air.
“Yeah?” he asked, voice lower.
You nodded, and watched as he slowly pried his fingers from the railing, his body leaning forward and then walking towards you. He stood so close your chests nearly brushed, his long, lean body looming over you.
"Jess…" you murmured, trailing off.
He brought the joint up to his lips, sucking in a long pull.
"Hm?" he murmured, his eyes a little glossy and red even in the dark.
He brought his boney hand to your face, cupping so gently. His finger tips were cool to the touch, soothing against your warm skin. He leaned down so that you had to lean back to make room, the hand with the joint braced on the railing beside you, the other still gentle at your jaw. His mouth opened a fraction, and he released a slow breath. Not all of it at once like an exhale, but softly enough that the smoke drifted between your faces, thin and warm as it curled over your lips.
You gasped, inhaling the herbaceous scent. Along with it, was the smell of him—patchouli, spice and some sort of freshness. It was almost just as intoxicating, it made your head feel softer, your body slower to remember itself.
He pulled away, his eyes glossier now, licking his lips once again. He didn't move far though, just dropped his hands from your face to bring the joint back to his lips.
"One more?" he whispered.
You nodded. You weren't entirely sure if you'd have words now, your brain still lagging behind every movement.
He brought the burning stick back to his lips one last time and took a deeper hit, cheeks hollowing as he filled his lungs. Then he crushed the burnt end carefully against the ashtray on the railing, setting it aside before he reached for you with both hands, a little more eager.
His palms framed your face, thumbs near the corners of your mouth, and he bent down until there was almost no space left between you.
You opened for him too, your lips so close to his as released the smoke into your waiting mouth. It was shockingly intimate, intense, his body radiating heat as your chest brushed his.
And when he'd run out of smoke to give, you closed your mouth over his.
The kiss was cotton dry, but still warm. You barely hesitated to deepen it, your hand fisting in the cotton of his shirt, pulling him into you. He tasted like some sort of mixed drink, and for one ridiculous second, it made you wonder what his favorite was. If he liked tequila, or vodka, or maybe he was a gin kind of guy.
Then his tongue pushed past your lips, and all the silly thoughts went straight out of your head.
Both of you moaned when your tongues slid against each other, mouths opening wider, rougher, teeth clacking together in the clumsiness of it. It made you giggle against his mouth, and you felt his answering breath of laughter before he pushed his body harder against yours. He kissed so sweetly and yet so hungrily, everything intense and slow while still moving quicker than your brain could follow.
Your hand reached into his hair then, fingers sliding through the dark gray curls before you pulled lightly. He moaned deliciously into your mouth, a thick groan vibrating against your lips.
When he pulled back to breathe, he was panting, forehead dropping to yours. For a moment, he stayed there, breathing against your lips, his hands still holding your face. Then he rolled his forehead against yours before pulling away, only to press another quick kiss to your mouth.
"Definitely missed that." he said, voice hoarse.
“Wha—” you began as he pulled back, the cool air filling the space that had been so warm a moment ago. “That’s it?”
He chuckled, his thumb brushing over your chin before he let you go.
“For now. Besides, I think I’m too high.” His grin came back easy and lopsided. “And I at least want to be able to remember the next time I get to have fun with you, kid.”
You rolled your eyes, but you could admit you were maybe a little too stoned too, feeling clumsy and giddy under the warmth of his gaze. He was so smiley all of a sudden, all crinkled eyes and pleased amusement, and it only made you smile wider too.
"Never took you for such a tease, Jess." you said.
“If you want more, you know where to find meeee…” he trailed off, already backing toward the door with one hand reaching behind him for the handle. “C’mon. You need water. And so do I.”
You sighed, but agreed, pushing yourself off the railing to follow him inside.
Inside, Jesse made good on his promise for water.
He guided you into the kitchen with his hand loosely back in yours, then pressed a cold bottle into it before getting one for himself. You drank half of it quickly, water slipping from the corner of your mouth and down your chin, which made Jesse laugh under his breath before he wiped it away with the side of his thumb.
“Hydration first, then go eat something,” he said seriously, lifting his own bottle, and licking the water from his digit.
You snorted. “Yes, nurse Jesse.”
That made him laugh, grinning at you for a second before someone called his name from the other room. He wandered off toward the hall, leaving you with the water bottle sweating cold in your hand and the warm, loose feeling of his mouth still lingering on yours.
You drifted back toward the living room and found Mel on the couch, high as a kite too after someone had given her a gummy. You meant to sit with her for only a second to check in, but she was glassy-eyed and too funny about the chips in her lap, and you were still stoned enough that everything she said made you fold into yourself with laughter. The two of you ended up tucked together on the couch, sharing from the same bowl, shoulders pressed close while the party moved around you.
It felt easy for a little while. Warm. Stupid in the best way. Mel kept leaning in to say things she clearly thought were very important, only to lose her own point halfway through, and you kept laughing with your hand over your mouth, trying not to choke on the sharp salt of the chips.
You didn’t notice when the front door opened again, but you did notice the change in the room. The way the voices closest to the entryway thinned out first, then the living room seemed to follow, conversation dropping until even Mel’s laughter faded beside you.
“Oh—” you said suddenly, realizing why the party had gone quieter, why no one was talking in the living room anymore.
Standing in the middle of the room, somehow the most shy and uncomfortable you’d ever seen him before, was Brendon Park.
He had his keys gripped in one hand, his shoulders held a little stiffly. There were no black scrubs, no badge clipped to his chest. Just a simple tee shirt pulled across the wide breadth of him, blue jeans, and a pair of casual loafers that made him look so oddly normal your brain took a second to catch up.
"Brendon?" you asked, standing up to come to him. His hair was different too, less severe. Usually it was slicked back from his clean face, but tonight it was barely brushed, dark pieces falling soft over his forehead.
“Hey,” he breathed. “Sorry, it’s just…” He took a look around the room, the keys tight in his hand. “Can we talk?”
"Yeah, of course—is everything okay?"
He looked a little shy, though when his eyes moved from you and to the onlookers, they darkened into that usual piercing gaze.
“Let’s go talk back here,” you offered, taking his hand in yours and pulling him away into the hallway. “C’mon.”
The noise of the party swelled again when you guided him from the room, though it muffled a little once you turned the corner. The hallway was dark except for a strip of light coming from under the bathroom door, two bedroom doors shut at the end.
“I’m sorry, Bunny,” he began with a heavy breath. “I just wanted to see you.”
“How’d you know I was here?”
“Langdon told me, actually.”
"What?" you asked, looking back at the party, as if you'd be able to pick him out of the crowd. "Frankie's here?"
"He dropped Mel off, her DD or something he said."
"Oh…" you murmured, your brain scrambling to make sense of that. Frank and Mel?
"I wanted to see you, talk to you." he went on. He leaned in a little as he said it, your back settling against the wall. It was less intense than it had been the week before in the hallway, but still. Brendon had a way of taking up space without trying. His chest was wide beneath the cotton of his shirt, one shoulder angled above you, his head tipped down so his voice stayed low between the two of you.
"About what?" you asked, your voice small as a mouse.
“I’m sorry about how I acted,” he said gently, his face closer now. “I was a dick in the hallway last week. I shouldn’t have come onto you like that.”
“It’s okay, Bren—”
He shook his head.
“No. Not out in the open like that. And Abbot—” He hissed in a breath, closing his eyes for a second. The name on his mouth sounded like it took everything in him not to curse. “He got under my skin. And I’m sorry.”
Your hand came up to his jaw, light stubble beginning to grow there, rough beneath your touch.
“Brendon, it’s okay. I promise. I was really worked up that day and just overwhelmed.” You swallowed, thumb brushing once near the corner of his mouth. “From… not seeing anyone in a while.”
He nodded, his thick hand coming up to gently hold yours against his face, "Me too."
Your brows threaded. "What do you mean?"
His eyes were on your mouth now, and it was like he couldn't help himself, he leaned in, pressing a feather light kiss to your mouth. Then another. The third one lingered, his lips slotting against yours with more pressure, one careful breath leaving him through his nose. You welcomed it, your brain still airy and full of static, your body heavy and light at the same time.
"Miss you," he murmured against yours lips.
You hummed into his mouth, opening for him when his tongue brushed at the seam of your lips, warm and slick against yours. His free hand found your waist then, not grabbing quite yet, only settling, thumb pressing into the soft flesh of your belly beneath your layers.
The kiss stayed careful for only a few seconds.
Then his mouth opened wider over yours, and you felt the control in him start to slip. His hand tightened at your hip. His body came closer, pinning you tighter to the wall. You made a small sound into him when his hand that was holding yours against his face slid down your arm and up to your cheek, cupping your face and tilting your head back against the wall so he could gain better access to lick behind your teeth.
Fuck, he felt so good. Big and warm against you, his tongue pushing hungrily yet so gentle. You pulled it between your lips, suckling on it, making him moan.
When you let go, he was panting against your mouth, and then, his hand left your side to lean across you and push open the bathroom door.
Light flooded the hallway before he was pushing you inside, easily manhandling you onto the sink where he pushed himself against you when the door closed.
"Fuck, Bunny," he breathed when your legs wrapped around his hips. You sat on the edge of the porcelain, cold through the thin fabric of your shorts, close enough to feel him through his jeans. Thick and hard and wanting. Your cardigan slid from your shoulders, and you shook it off completely, letting it pool around you on the counter. Brendon took advantage of the movement, pushing the straps of your tank top down until your breasts spilled free, his mouth closing over one of your nipples.
You threw your head back with a breathless moan, your hand going straight into his hair. It felt so different than usual, soft and loose under your fingers, short enough that you could drag your nails over his scalp when you gripped him. He groaned at the feeling, sucking your pebbled nipple harder.
His swollen lips traveled across the valley of your breasts to take the other one into his mouth, licking and nipping until it peaked just the same. His hand came up to massage the other, squeezing it hard in his big hand.
“Jesus, Brendon—” you whimpered, your hips searching for friction.
He was panting when he kissed back up your neck, and you let him. You leaned your head back to give him more room, and he sucked harder on the sensitive column of your throat, groaning into your skin. His arms wrapped around your body to pull you nearly off the counter entirely, his hips grinding into yours.
Your body was a little contorted now, shoulders digging into the corner where the mirror met the counter, but you didn’t really care. Not with the way he was pushing his straining bulge against you, the rough denim of his jeans dragging against the thin fabric of your shorts. You could feel the seam of his zipper, the hard shape of him, the way he kept pressing in like he was trying to get closer than clothing would allow.
His entire torso eclipsed the light above you, throwing your body into shadow beneath him. Your back curved awkwardly against the small single sink, one hand gripping the edge of the counter, your hips tilted up toward him while the weight of him crowded you into the porcelain.
"Feels so good, Bunny—" he moaned, mouth wet against your neck. “How does that feel, hm? Can you feel how hard I am for you?”
“Yes—” you panted, your hooded eyes dropping between your bodies.
You watched the hard press of covered cock grind against you, watched the way his hips rocked into yours, the denim rubbing your thighs raw, hands tight on your waist. It was messy and clumsy in the small bathroom, his lips on your throat, his breath rough against your skin, both of you trying to get more from the little space you had.
“Love grinding on your sweet little pussy, Bunny,” he groaned. “Missed you. Missed touching you, missed fucking you—miss this. Shit, oh shit—”
His hand came up beneath your jaw, tilting your head back so he could kiss you. It was so rough that your teeth clicked together as he ate at your mouth, all heat and spit and tongue, and you opened for him without fuss, hooking your ankles behind his back to pull him in closer.
"Feels so good, Brendon—oh my god—wait—no, no, no—please—"
A building pressure was heightening in your belly, coiling down into your hips, making them tremble and ache where they tilted up towards him. Every drag of his denim-covered cock against you made it worse, the hard pressure catching just right through your shorts until your breath started to break.
"Yes," he urged, and you moaned at the lewd way he kissed you now, spit shining on his upper lip, biting at your bottom lip harder.
“I don’t—I can’t—” you gasped, fingers twisting in his shirt. “I don’t wanna come, Brendon, please. I’m n-not allowed to—”
“Fuck that,” he cursed, the words broken against your mouth before his tongue pushed back inside.
“No, no, no—” you cried, squeezing your eyes shut.
He was so hard against you. So hot and desperate, his hips losing rhythm now, grinding in shorter, rougher movements while his hands gripped you enough to bruise.
"Wish I could feel it on my cock, Bunny," he panted, "what I wouldn't do to have your tight little pussy coming around me right now—oh god—fuck I'm gonna—oh, fuck—!"
His body locked up, and for a second, he looked almost shocked, eyes widening as his hips shoved hard against yours. Then he came with a low groan, mouth falling open against yours, his breath spilling hot over your lips while his body jerked between your thighs.
You kept kissing him—suckling at his lower lip, nipping gently while his body came back to himself. Your own impending orgasm ebbed as the grinding stopped, the sharp climbing crest of the wave now settling down. Air filled your lungs in a shaky rush, your head a little more woozy than before, hips aching from the stretch of where he leaned into the cradle of them.
Brendon stayed pressed to you for a second longer, breathing hard, forehead dropping near your temple.
“Shit,” he whispered, "I can't believe…I just..."
You let out a huff of laughter, your hands going into his hair, scratching behind his ear. You turned your head to kiss the delicate lobe, "I thought it was hot."
He shakily chuckled with you, and then finally pulled back with a deep sigh. Shaking his head and looking down, a little bashful, he cursed under his breath.
"Feel a little like a teenager." he said with a lopsided grin, reaching for the toilet paper as he unbuckled his belt.
You sighed too, letting your body melt against the sink, stretching your legs out straight before letting them back down to the cabinet and sitting up. You watched him clean himself up, a little pulse between your legs as you watched him handle his half-hard cock, sticky wet spend glistening along the shaft.
Guilt began to curl up in your belly while you watched him, thinking of Jack and Robby. Wondering if they were both still on the couch, talking about you, about what things would look like. What would they think, knowing this is where you were? Watching Brendon Park clean himself up after he left his house in the middle of the night to come find you.
"Tell me what’s going on with you lately." he said as he looked at you again, studying your face. "I’m sorry. I get so—” He swallowed, eyes flicking over your expression and then shaking his head as he zipped his pants back up. “You’re so— I guess I just miss you. I just wanted to see you.”
You licked your dry lips as you looked over at him, tapping your heels lightly against the wood cabinet under you.
"I miss you too," you said quietly, "Things are alright. Robby and I are still—"
“Bunny,” Park sighed, cutting you off as his hands settled on either side of your hips, leaning in. “I don’t really give a shit about Robby right now.” His eyes dropped to your mouth, then dragged back up. “And I especially don’t want to hear his name when I was this close to bending you over this sink and fucking the shit out of you despite him.”
Heat rose fast into your face, and you had to bite back a smile before you could school your features.
“I know,” you said gently, reaching up to pet the back of his neck. “I know. But right now, I really don’t want to get in more trouble.”
“You’d never be in trouble with me, Bunny,” he said, very seriously. “Whatever Robby’s problem is, he can talk to me about it. I want to take care of you the way you’re supposed to be taken care of.”
Your brows threaded, "No it's—it's not Robby that's the problem, Brendon."
His face changed at that, darkening a little, but he still stayed gentle as he said: "So he's got it in your head that you somehow are?"
You bit your lip, unsure what to say to that.
He brought his hand to your face, thumb and forefinger pinching your chin to pull your lip from beneath your teeth. He leaned in, kissing you gently. His lips were swollen and soft from his ministrations on your skin.
“You’re a good girl,” he murmured. “And this mess he’s got you in is just going to end badly, Bunny.”
His voice was still so gentle, and it took your staticky brain a moment to catch up to what he meant.
You sat up straighter on the bathroom counter, "Brendon, I don't know what you're trying to get at, but if you're trying to get me to leave Robby, it's not going to happen. He and I have agreed to what we have."
“Yeah?” Park said, still standing between your legs, his hand coming back to your face when you tried to look away. His thumb caught beneath your chin, fingers firm, turning you back to him. He looked too big for the little bathroom, shoulders nearly filling the space between the sink and the door, his chest rising hard beneath his shirt.
"Listen to me, Bunny." he said, voice so soft it made your stomach twist, "You deserve better than Robinavitch. He's an emotionally stunted old man that is going to break your heart."
Your gaze narrowed on him.
For a second, you just took him in. That sharp gaze softened on you, his massive shoulders crowding the room, the swollen place on his mouth where you’d kissed him, the hair you’d ruined with your own hands.
Your hand came up to his wrist, nimble fingers wrapping around it, tightening them around the joint.
"Jokes on you, Sharkie. I don't have one."
You pulled your cardigan back over your shoulders, slid off the sink, and pushed past him out of the bathroom.
You didn’t stop in the hallway, or the living room to say your goodbyes, or even when you heard your name being called. You made a beeline for the front door, blinking hard against the sting in your eyes, your cardigan clutched crookedly around you.
“Bunny!” you heard Park call behind you, but you wouldn’t turn around. He called again, this time with your actual name, the sound chasing you through the open door and out into the cold.
You stopped on the sidewalk, the tears you’d tried holding back spilling down your face as you brushed at them with your sleeve. You clutched your phone tightly in one hand, thumb hovering over Robby’s name.
A hand came down to your shoulder, and you jumped.
"Hey, shit—I'm so sorry—I shouldn't have said—oh, bunny, c'mere," Park cooed. He pulled you into his arms before you could decide whether to let him, massive and warm around you, your face burying into the center of his chest.
“Don’t cry,” he murmured, one hand cupping the back of your head. “Please don’t cry.”
You didn’t hug him back, but you let him hold you. The front of his shirt was soft beneath your cheek, still carrying the heat of him from inside the house. His nose pressed into the top of your head, his arms folding around you tighter when your breath hitched.
"You're such a dick," you cried between the deep valley of his muscular chest.
"I know," he whispered, kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry."
"You keep saying that." you muttered wetly.
He sighed, the breath moving through his chest against your hair. For a moment, he swayed you a little, one hand spread between your shoulder blades, the other hooked around the back of your neck. Then he let you go, but only enough to hold you by the cups of your shoulders.
“I’m a jealous asshole, okay?” he said. “I know that. I’m jealous Robby gets to have you all to himself. I’m jealous he gets to call the shots with you when you’re your own person able to make your own decisions. It pisses me off, Bunny.”
"Brendon—"
“I could be so much better for you,” he went on, low, urgent now, the words rushing and his hands griping a little harder on your shoulders. “I would be so good for you. You’d never have to wonder if I wanted to be with you. I’d never tell you who you could or couldn't talk to— I’d never make you feel like wanting more was something you had to be punished for, and—”
“Stop!” you exclaimed.
The word came out louder than you meant it to, sharp enough that his mouth snapped shut. You pushed his arms down and off of you, putting space between your bodies so fast you nearly stumbled. Your face was wet again. Of course it was. You wiped at your cheeks with the heel of your hand, glaring up at him.
“You don’t get it, Brendon. And that’s fine. Maybe you never will, and you don’t have to. But I need you to stop thinking that I’m, like—stuck in this thing with him!”
Park looked down at you very seriously, his arms going across his chest. The light from the front door cut along one side of his face, catching the line of his jaw, the place where his mouth was still swollen from yours. He looked so handsome and so furious and so hurt. And though it pulled your heart nearly out of your chest, he had to understand.
“I chose this with Robby,” you said tersely, pointing a finger up at his chest. Your voice shook, which only made you angrier. “I want to be with him. The bullshit of the past few weeks was because I crossed a line. I slept with Jack Abbot without telling him, okay? Me. I did. Not Robby. And now this—you and me tonight—”
Your throat tightened around the words.
You looked away, one hand pushing hard over your mouth.
“I shouldn’t have even…” You stopped, breath hitching. “Jesus.”
Brendon didn’t say anything. He only watched you, face unreadable in the dim light, and somehow his silence felt worse than a retort.
“I was punished for sleeping with Jack,” you said, forcing yourself to look at him again. “And I’ll probably get shit for making out with you in there too. And that’s okay. That’s part of the deal.”
His expression shifted, jaw going tight. You saw it happen and rushed on before he could start.
“No, don’t look at me like that. Don’t do that.” Your hand lifted between you, palm out, trembling a little. “That’s what I mean. You hear the word punishment and you decide you know everything. Like you think I need saving or something. But you don’t know what it’s like with him. You don’t know what I asked for. You don’t know what I want.”
“And what you want is that whatever Robby says goes?” Park asked, disbelieving.
"Yes." you hissed.
“And that’s supposed to make me feel better?”
“It’s not about making you feel better!”
Your voice cracked then, and you hated that too. The whole night had cracked open somewhere you couldn’t close it, and now everything was spilling out wrong, too loud, too much, too honest. You crossed your arms over your chest like you could hold yourself together physically if nothing else.
“So all of this,” he said after a long moment, voice lowering, though a scowl still pulled his features tight, “the crying, the pulling away, telling me no last week and then kissing me back tonight, then looking scared because we—what? Made out? Something we’ve done plenty of times before, but because Robby’s waiting for you at home now, it’s different? That’s all because you want it this way?”
He took one step closer, then stopped himself. “If it is, tell me now,” he said, his voice so low you had to strain to hear it. “I won’t bother you anymore. I won’t come to you. You and I will be done.”
Your throat burned even worse when you looked at him now, your eyes softening and going wet again.
"I don't want you to be done with me." you croaked.
His face softened at your words, his shoulders dropping. But he kept his arms folded across his chest, still staring at you with a piercing gaze.
It sounded so childish, so quiet and defeated, completely different from your sharpness before. "I want you, Brendon. I like how you look at me. I like kissing you. I like all of it, and it’s just—” You dragged in a breath, pushing both hands into your hair. “Shit is weird right now.”
"But it doesn't have to be, Bunny."
You squeezed your eyes shut.
“But it is. It is, and things will go back to normal soon, it’s just—” You sighed, pushing your hands into your eyes until you saw little sparks of color behind your lids. “I don’t know how to do this right now. I keep fucking up. I don’t know how to want you and not make everything worse.”
He was quiet for a long moment.
When you dropped your hands from your face, Brendon was right in front of you, closer than you expected but not touching you yet. His gaze moved over your face, taking in the tears, the heat of your face, whatever wreckage the argument had left behind. Then his hand lifted, slower this time, giving you every opportunity to move away.
When you didn't, he pushed your hair back from your face, careful around your temples, and leaned down to kiss your forehead.
“Okay,” he sighed against your skin. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
You sniffled and looked away.
He exhaled long and controlled, the way he did when he was forcing himself not to say ten other things.
"Can I take you home?" he asked softly, "We don't have to fix this tonight I just…want to at least get you back safe."
You nodded, arms crossing in front of your chest. "Yeah, okay."
“Okay, c’mon.” he murmured.
His arm came around you, pulling you in close. It didn't feel possessive anymore or unwelcome. It was just the warmth of his body against yours as he guided you to the sleek black BMW, and you let yourself be led. You leaned against him, exhausted by the conversation.
When he opened the door for you, you climbed in wordlessly, shutting it behind you with the rest of the evening.
fun fact: I have a friend in an enm relationship and she read it over and me the two thumbs up on this !! even about having someone outside the relationship trying to push that they know better for you.... mmmhmmm
do you guys ever like forget you’re interested in something until you start engaging with it again and you go “oh wait i’m like crazy crazy about this yeah”
slow down a beat there, little bird @senaar-ika - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
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