jack abbot during cuffing season ₊˚⊹
“I'm probably getting fat, and knowing you, you noticed it too and didn't say anything.” you hear jack's hushed voice from the bathroom; maybe he was still brushing his teeth. he had been in the bath for five minutes more than his usual routine.
you pull your hair back and lean against the doorway, looking at him through the mirror with a frown and a glimpse of a smile at his sporadic comment.
“really?” you ask, “shouldn't you notice what's happening to your body? It's yours.”
“you do whatever you want with it.” he shrugs, looking at you sideways with a crooked smile, the kind of look that gives you goosebumps. “i'm not responsible."
almost like a secret pleasure, and something your husband hated to admit, he'd gotten a bit of a sweet tooth, especially during his shift. sometimes you'd find cookie wrappers in his pockets, and when you'd have lunch together, his portions would be bigger than normal, but you didn't notice when his appetite started to increase, and you didn't do anything to stop it either. jack is demanding, his entire job is, making him spend long hours during the day as a SWAT doctor and then all night in the ER, you couldn't argue with him about anything.
you brag about it and he knows you too well to deny such a thing. even he himself had asked you for certain favors, like leaving him twice as many granola bars in his food, a couple more apples. he would also kneel down and give you a soft kiss on the cheek, asking you to make that delicious brownie mix that he didn't share with anyone else. basically, his portions increased tenfold. he hadn't noticed until that night.
jack stands in front of the mirror, looking back and forth at the barely noticeable layer of belly fat that seems like the end of the world. and you saw some changes in his figure that you didn't allow yourself to see. his freckled shoulders are broader, his chest more prominent, his back wider.
“so i guess that makes me responsible for those extra pounds, right?” you laugh, moving closer to him, sliding your hands around his waist.
“i look huge,” he says, looking at you through the mirror, and a grin escapes his lips when you kiss him on the shoulder blade, resting your chin there.
“you look healthy,” you say, pouting slightly. “and hot. i think i’d like to marry you again. but we’re not focusing on that right now. are we?"
that makes him laugh. he steps back and puts on that old, ragged nickelback shirt, giving you a quick kiss on the lips.
"i'm worried about how happy you look."
you sigh as you watch him cross the room, hardly hearing the rustle of his body falling onto the bed, the noise of the sheets parting.
"well, maybe a bit. just imagine the possibilities.” you snort in disagreement, and he bursts out laughing. “a girl can dream about her husband being a huge bag of muscles.”
you hear his distant laughter as you slowly walk into the room, watching him put on his reading glasses and pick up his book, which he has been reading for months. it's a large, old volume of memories from someone you don't remember, but he seems to like it. he always has it under his arm or on his side of the bed, and he usually reads it in his free time and at night. as he lies down on the bed, you finally understand what he was talking about. the shirt he's wearing has sleeves with loose threads, and you can see under the golden light of the lamp he uses for reading how his features are more accentuated than usual. you've always loved the freckles that cover his arms, now broader and thicker. His abdomen is still defined, but you can see that small bulge forming above his shirt.
you clear your throat, sitting down next to him, resting your head on his shoulder and taking off his glasses, leaving them on the nightstand.
he laughs, but doesn't move away. “mmm, do you think i should go back to the gym?”
“if you want...” you whisper, sliding your hands under his shirt, caressing his hips, his belly, feeling him squirm at the sensation of your cold fingers on his skin. “you looked great in those compression shirts.”
“then i'll do it to satisfy you, i guess,” he says with a chuckle when you place a long kiss on his neck. “apparently that's what i tend to do."
“and you’re doing it right" you say, unable to take your eyes off him. how he regulates his breathing when your hands move up his chest. “trust me.”
It's when you tilt your head and all jack can do is look at you. following your gaze is like a base that never stumbles for him because you are his pillar. you're there, astonishingly and delicately present in his life, without pushing him away, without flinching. he loves knowing he can walk through the door and feel at home, even when you're not there. with the lingering scent of you or your things scattered methodically around the rooms. jack simply likes the idea of being that mundane with you.
he lets you kiss his neck, slide your hands instinctively around his torso, and tentatively move down toward the drawstring of his sleep pants, playing with the little string sticking out of the fabric. but before you can take it off, he grabs your hands and lunges at you, almost crushing you. you squeal in surprise, and slowly it turns into heavy breathing accompanied by laughter that jack imitates, holding you beneath him, placing his hands on your thighs and making you wrap your legs around his waist. you feel his entire weight falling on top of you, and he's incredibly heavy, so much so that you can barely wrap your arms around his shoulders, keeping him close.
“i was going to push you away, but i don't think my lack of strength will be enough to defeat you."
“funny,” he says, kissing you on the corners of your lips, then on your cheek. “we'll see if that mood of yours keeps up"
you cough, while jack plays with the top of your underwear, smiling at you with mischief, with mockery. you sway your hips against his.
"so... the gym. we were talking about that." you sit up a little without taking your eyes off him, losing yourself in his eyes as he slowly pulls off your little sleep pants, leaving them lying somewhere in the room. laughing, you slide your hands around his arms, squeezing his biceps.
jack never stops looking at you.
“i can go with you, if you want. we can do reps together, lift some weights,” you say, arching your back for him, even though his body is basically crushing yours. he can see how the strap of your bra is slipping down your arm, and he has the urge to not pull it down and break it with his teeth. “go for a walk. it’ll be good for us."
"mmm, yes, that sounds nice” he murmurs, placing his big palms on your legs and rubbing the fleshy skin of your thighs, licking his lips. “but i think i have a couple of ideas for those reps.”
you nod your head slowly, dipping into his shirt and brushing the top of his boxers, feeling his cock harden against you. “would you like to share them with the class?”
jack smirks, “why don't i show you with examples? we know that i'm better at practice."
"good."
