Sloppy Seconds
as requested, the full fic
pairing: jack abbot x reader
summary: after getting unceremoniously dumped by robby, jack shows you what it's like to be with a real man.
tags: implied age difference, implied power imbalance, daddy kink, use of "kiddo," dom/sub dynamics, p in v sex, oral (f and m receiving), aftercare, michael robinavich hate
wc: 5.4k... IM SORRY IT GOT AWAY FROM ME
ao3 link
Jack Abbot takes pity on you. That's the only logical explanation for his recent behavior. In the past, he'd be friendly, even more than friendly on more than one occasion, but never anything egregious. He distanced himself a bit when you started sleeping with Robby. Which made sense; obviously Robby had told him about the two of you, and you assumed he just wanted to avoid making the situation any messier than it already was.
Then Robby dumped you. Or did his version of dumping you, which consisted of gradually responding to you less and less until you finally got the hint that things were over. It stung more than you'd like to admit—the embarrassment and rejection of it all if not anything else. You knew things with Robby would never be serious, but it hurt for him to not even tell you that he was bored of you.
Dr. Abbot, who obviously knows all of this, and can tell you're more affected than you let on, has started taking pity on you. That's the only reason you can come up with for his sudden demeanor shift: the lingering touches, the eye contact from across a room, the way he asks how you are in that low tone of voice that makes you sort of dizzy.
Yeah, you also have a tragically large crush on the man. You have a type, apparently.
So it's pity that he feels towards you when he finds you softly crying in an empty supply room after you overhear Robby flirting with a cardiology attending. And it's pity that has him rubbing soothing circles on your back, and there's pity in his voice when he whispers why don't you come home with me tonight, kid, and we can talk about it?
And though you burn with shame at being caught crying over a six week long fling, you can't help but nod shakily and let him wipe the tears from your cheeks.
Jack's car—he'd asked you to call him Jack, and that gave you an odd sort of thrill—is clean but lived in. Granola bar wrappers litter the passenger seat, and he crumples them up and tosses them into the back with a sheepish smile. There's a half-empty bottle of Gatorade in the cup holder. His radio is tuned to a classic rock station, though he turns the volume low as you settle in next to him. You find it all strangely endearing.
The drive is mostly silent, save for his quiet humming along to the music. Music, it occurs to you, that your dad would listen to. And then you realize that Jack is only a few years younger than your dad, and then you feel like a pervert because you'd really like to have sex with Jack Abbot.
You're so deep in your shame spiral that you jump a bit when he rests a hand on your thigh. He raises an eyebrow at you, but mercifully doesn't comment on it, saving you a little bit of dignity. You can only hope and pray that he doesn't notice the way your breathing shifts when he starts inching his hand almost imperceptibly higher.
(He does. He would smirk at it if he didn't think you'd get embarrassed. He finds it adorable that you think he doesn't see your little crush on him. It makes the chase all the more thrilling for him.)
His house, like his car, is clean but lived in. It smells like cedar and old coffee, and his bookshelf is stuffed with medical textbooks. He heats up some leftovers for the two of you, and you eat on his couch in comfortable silence. When he realizes you won't bring it up on your own, he sets his plate down and clears his throat.
"So… you were cryin' tonight. Wanna tell me why?"
You shrug, shrinking in on yourself. "It's dumb," you mumble. He scoffs and shakes his head.
"'S'not dumb, kid. Was it about Robby?"
You wince at that, feeling like a naive teenager getting her heart broken by the asshole football player. "Just… made me realize he never cared about me. Like even—even when we were… y'know…" you avert your eyes, and he has to fight a smile at how cute your bashfulness is, "he always seemed more annoyed at me than anything. Like I was—I dunno."
He arches an eyebrow and leans in closer. "What, sweetheart? Like you were what?"
You fiddle with your hands awkwardly. "I just didn't mean anything to him. And he-he made that very clear."
Jack sighs at that. The worst part is, you're probably right. More right than you know. Part of him wants to deny it to make you feel better, but Jack had listened to the way that Robby talked about you for weeks: laughing about how easy you were, complaining about your clinginess, eventually rolling his eyes at every text you sent when he got bored of you. He'd silently seethed through it all, only breaking his silence to come to your defense when Robby started to go too far. He told himself every day that it was worth it, because once his friend inevitably lost interest in you, you'd fall right into his arms. It was manipulative, dirty, completely immoral—but he's only a man, sweetie, and how could he resist your big doe eyes and plump lips?
"Y'know, I love Mikey like a brother, but the guy doesn't know how to treat a lady. I've seen him chew up and spit out more women than I can count. 'Course, none were as gorgeous as you," he chuckles, raising his eyebrows at you. You roll your eyes at that, but can't hide your smile.
"Shut up, you're just saying that," you grumble, setting your empty plate on the table. Jack shakes his head insistently, eyes crinkling as his smile widens.
"'M'not. Robby was crazy to let a pretty little thing like you go."
You sigh at that, staring at your hands in your lap. "Well, he's got a new plaything now," you mumble, blinking back tears at the memory. Jack pauses a moment before settling a hand on your shoulder—when did he get so close?—and rubbing circles into it with his thumb. You realize that you can smell his aftershave and the sweat clinging to his skin from here. It's delicious.
"Y'know what I think?" he drawls. You glance up at him and tilt your head in response. "I don't think you should cry one more tear over that man."
You huff. "Yeah? It's that easy?"
Jack rolls his eyes. "C'mon, kiddo, he treated you awful. Lotta men would be lining up at the door for the chance to spoil you rotten."
You shrug. "I don't—I don't know. He treated me okay, I think."
You don't really know when Jack's hand started roaming your skin. It's a bit intoxicating. His fingers lightly dance across your side and lull you into a dizzy kind of spell. He repeats your words with a nonplussed look on his face: "He treated you okay."
"Y-yeah."
Suddenly his unoccupied hand is reaching across to grip your jaw, forcing you to look him in the eyes. You gasp quietly. "I could treat you better." He presses the pad of his thumb to your lower lip and tugs at it slightly.
Oh.
Your brain goes blank. You know you should form a response, say something witty and flirtatious or at the very least acknowledge that he's spoken, but all you're capable of is staring dumbly at him with widened eyes. He tilts his head to the side.
"You want that? Want Jackie to take care of you?"
You nod dumbly and press your thighs together. He clicks his tongue. "Words, doll."
You let out an involuntary whine at that. He hopes you don't notice his cock hardening at the noise. "Yeah," you breathe out.
"Yeah, what?" He's enjoying this, smirking at your inability to form words.
"I want-I want you to take care of me. Please, Jack."
Jack once again takes pity on you and leans over to press his lips to yours. You sigh into the kiss, parting your lips to let him lick into your mouth. It's soft and a bit desperate, nothing like the hurried and rare kisses Robby would grace you with. His hand tangles in your hair, gripping lightly at the base. You moan into his mouth and let your hand explore his body. He's so solid, so strong and broad but with enough give to let you press your hands into his clothed skin. When he notices you squirming in your seat, he lifts you up with ease and sets you on his lap. You squeal and giggle a bit before kissing him again while grinding on him. He groans at the feeling of your clothed heat pressing into his bulge; he can already feel a wet spot forming between you. When he pulls away for a breath, he whistles at the dazed look in your eyes as you keep chasing your pleasure.
"Robby never mentioned you were this sensitive," he murmurs. You flush at that, ducking your head in embarrassment. Though, you're apparently not embarrassed enough to stop humping his lap as needy little whines and whimpers escape you.
"Never… never was this sensitive with him," you admit. He could cum untouched from the confession.
"Yeah?" he whispers, "Only Jackie can make you feel like this, right, kiddo? Only me."
You nod insistently with your head pressed into his neck. "Yeahhh, only you, only you."
"Fuck," he mutters, involuntarily jerking his hips up a bit. You moan at the feeling of him pressing up into you and ground down on him.
"C'mon, up, up," he grunts. You whine at the loss of contact but obey, standing on shakey legs and letting him lead you to the bedroom. He sets you carefully down on the bed before taking off his prosthesis with a soft grunt and setting it on the floor.
"Let's get these clothes off you, honey." Anticipation and arousal course through you. You ache for relief and help Jack to hurriedly strip yourself down to your panties. He sits back for a moment and rubs his jaw with an awed expression on his face.
"Jesus fucking Christ, baby, you're gonna kill me."
You flush at that, a shy smile gracing your face as he unapologetically ogles you. Slowly, he peels your panties down your legs, exposing your dripping cunt. He groans at the sight.
"Fuckin' soaked and I haven't even touched you. So perfect."
You squirm on the bed, trying to get an ounce of friction between your thighs. "Please, Jack," you whisper. He chuckles and leans in to kiss you hungrily.
"Patience, sweetheart, patience."
Jack works slowly, hands roaming your exposed skin as he licks and nips at your neck. You run a hand through his silver curls and press him further into you as he lightly sucks at your pressure point. Your breath is shallow with want, and you're sure he can feel your quickened pulse thudding. He reaches up to cup your breast, squeezing before running a thumb along your pebbled nipple. You sigh in easy pleasure and let yourself sink into the bed. You want to urge him along, to beg him to just touch you where you need it most, but you're determined to be good for him.
When he dips his head down and replaces his pinching fingers with his mouth, taking your nipple in between his teeth, you gasp and arch your back off the bed.
"Fuck, feels-feels good," you whimper, eyelids fluttering shut. He nibbles and sucks at your nipple before eventually moving on to the other one, sending little zaps of pleasure through your body.
By the time he finally pulls away, both of your breasts are reddened and wet with spit. He reaches down to squeeze you again like he can't get enough.
"Can't believe these gorgeous tits were hiding beneath your scrubs this whole time. I knew you were stunning, but…" his eyes trail down your naked body before landing on your puffy cunt. A large wet spot has formed on the bedspread beneath you, and you try to close your legs when you see him notice it, but he easily holds them apart.
"Unh-uh, no hiding. All this for me? Such a messy little girl."
Your eyes go half-lidded at his words, reaching that fuzzy-warm space that makes you feel like you're floating. "'M sorry… sorry, daddy… don't mean to," you slur out, wriggling your hips as the ache becomes nearly unbearable. You don't even realize what you've said, too far-gone to see his eyes widen as a wolfish grin spreads across his face. He coos at your apologies.
"Aw, it's okay, baby, don't be sorry. Daddy'll clean you up. Sweet thing, didn't realize you were this needy. It's okay, Jackie's gonna take care of you."
You're panting, nodding along to his words and trying to press into the hand caressing your inner thigh. Jack adjusts himself with a grunt and dips his head down in between your legs. For a moment, he just admires the sight in front of him: glistening, puffy cunt with a tragically swollen clit just begging for attention.
"All mine. You all mine, babygirl?"
You let out a strangled noise. You can feel his hot breath on you, riling you up even more. "Yes! Yes, I'm all yours, no one else's."
He nods in satisfaction and finally, finally licks a stripe through you. You gasp at the sudden relief before moaning as he laps up your juices like a man starved. He pulls away from you after a minute and licks his lips.
"Jesus. How'd Robby let you out of his sight after tasting this perfect pussy?"
You look down at him and shake your head with a furrowed brow. "Never-never tasted me."
He arches a brow. "You serious? Robby never ate you out?"
You pause and tilt your head. "Well, I never asked."
He scoffs and rolls his eyes. "Shouldn't have to ask, kiddo. Should never have to ask."
Before you can respond, he's returning to his meal. He nearly forgets about your pleasure in his desperation to drink up as much of you as he can, though you don't exactly mind. His tongue dances across your folds, flattening near the bottom before flicking and occasionally sucking at your clit. You're completely lost in the feeling above him, barely restraining yourself from grinding up into his mouth as you moan out little pleas and affirmations. You thread your hands into his hair and tug lightly when he hits the right spots, subconsciously teaching him how to please you best.
"So-so good, daddy, it feels so good, please don't stop," you pant.
He groans into you and snakes a hand up to prod at your entrance with his middle finger. You gasp when he slowly presses into you. Your arousal and moisture, mixed with his spit, makes it fairly easy, but the thick digit still provides a burning stretch. He curls up into you and, never ceasing his oral ministrations, shifts his finger slightly until your eyes snap open and your hand tightens on his curls.
"There she is," he murmurs against your cunt. He presses into it unyieldingly, pumping in and out in a "come hither" motion.
"Haaa, fuckfuckfuck, pl-please, 'm so close, daddy, so-so close," you babble. You can't stop your hips from grinding into his mouth at this point; your release is so imminent that your entire body has tensed up in preparation. He grunts into you before suddenly pressing his ring finger into you to join his middle. Your eyes widen at the newfound stretch and fullness, his thick and long fingers reaching places you never have on your own.
"Let go for me, kiddo, let go for daddy," he murmurs. You moan, your eyelids fluttering shut, and let the waves of pleasure roll through your entire body. Jack never relents; his fingers and tongue don't let up for a second as your climax builds and builds. His cock is painfully hard, straining against his boxers, but he thinks he could probably live here forever, smothered by your cunt and listening to your desperate moans.
Your entire body feels like it's tingling as you come, pressing Jack's head ever-harder into your core as you gush into his waiting mouth. He milks you through your orgasm, slowing down his fingers but not stopping them to draw out the moment for as long as possible. Your only vocabulary right now consists of Jack, and daddy, and fuck and please and more. Or you think that's what you're saying; to Jack, it sounds a bit incoherent, slurred out words that get jumbled up in your pleasure-addled brain. It's only when you start hissing at the overstimulation that he finally pulls away from you with a cocky grin on his face. He takes in your sweat-soaked, panting body; your hair, mussed from thrashing on the pillow; your blown pupils; the pool of wetness under you. His beautiful, beautiful mess.
When the pressure starts getting unbearable, he discreetly palms himself over his clothes. Your eyes are still closed as you come down, so you don't even realize he's practically jacking off to your naked form, which somehow makes it feel more perverted and more pleasurable at the same time. He quickly withdraws his hand when your eyes flutter open. You gaze at him with a dazed smile and sit up on your elbows.
"Wow," you murmur, "I didn't realize it could feel that good."
He raises an eyebrow and leans over you to press a kiss to your neck. "No? No wonder you settled for Robby. Don't know what's good for you, do you?" There's a possessive, predatory instict taking over him. It's not one he's felt before, but he suddenly wants to keep you for good and not let any other boys who don't know what the hell they're doing touch you ever again. His perfect girl. They don't deserve you.
Your eyes drift to his erection, and your lips part in desire. You reach out tentatively, staring at him all the while like you're waiting for him to admonish you.
"Can I… can I touch it?" you whisper. He groans lustfully and nods.
"Yeah, kiddo, touch it. You wanna make daddy feel good?" You nod desperately and tug at his pants impatiently as he tears off his shirt and tosses it to the side. When he's finally bare to you, you stare up at him with that innocent expression that makes him want to bend you over right there and then.
But patience, he'd told you. He can have some patience, too.
Jack's only a bit longer than Robby was, but he's much thicker, and it sends a shiver of nerves through you. You crawl towards him and tentatively take him in your hands before darting your tongue out and licking the bead of precum that had collected on his tip. He groans and tosses his head back before snapping back to keep his eyes on you. He'll be jacking off to the memory of this sight for a long time.
"I don't think it'll fit, daddy," you whisper, brows furrowed in concern. He hums and reaches down to smooth down your hair.
"It'll fit, baby. We'll make it fit."
He gently guides your head toward his cock, and he can tell you're scared to let him down by the way you try to fit too much of him in your mouth too fast. He moans in relief, but reluctantly pulls you off nonetheless.
"S-slower, sweetheart, go slower. Don't gotta take me all at once."
You nod, determined to do better, and lick a stripe up his length. He pants and nods in approval. "Good, babygirl. Doing so good for me. So pretty like this."
His praise feels like a drug; you whine and take him in your mouth again, closing your puffy lips around his tip and hollowing out your cheeks as you swallow as much of him as you can. He stretches out your lips, sitting heavy on your tongue, and makes your jaw ache, but the look on his face and the curses streaming from his mouth make it worth it. You make up for what you can't fit in your mouth with your hands. Jack's a little surprised, truth be told, that someone as innocent-looking as you is so expertly pleasuring him. He tries not to think about how much practice you must've had.
Or how often you probably practiced with Robby. Greedy bastard never even returned the favor.
Jack would love to stay here until he comes—make you swallow it as he watches, or maybe paint your face pretty—but the memory of you clenching down on his fingers is making him crave being inside of you. He pulls you off of him and watches as a string of spit connects you to him. You whine at the loss.
"Was I not good?" you ask in a small and scared voice, mouth pulled down into a frown. He shakes his head with a scoff.
"Kiddo, you were perfect, but I need to fuck you now. And I'm a bit too old to be going twice in one night."
Why does being reminded of his age make this so much hotter? What is actually wrong with you?
You glance down at his leg and shift in your seat. "Should I ride you?" you ask with a tilted head. He smiles at your concern but shakes his head again.
"Next time. I want you…" Jack hums before gripping your sides and maneuvering you to be on all fours, facing the headboard. He smooths a hand over your ass before slapping it, eliciting a yelp from you. He groans at the sight of the reddened skin jiggling. The pain makes you clench around nothing, and you push back toward him, spreading your legs to try to show him how ready you are. Jack has a perfect view of your wetness running down your thighs as you stick your ass up and let out impatient little whines.
"Please…" you whisper, turning your head to face him. He hums again and grips your the fat of hips before slotting his cock into your folds. Both of you moan at the contact as you grind back onto him. It's not really necessary; your spit has lubed him up plenty, and you're certainly aroused enough to be ready to take him, but he can't help but tease you further. He's grown addicted to the huffs of breath you let out each time he ceases movement.
"You want daddy to fuck you, kiddo? Wanna be stuffed full of his cock?" He lands another smack on your ass to emphasize his words and earns another moan.
"Please, need it, need you to fuck me," you pant.
Jack takes pity on you.
He prods at your slicked entrance. His tip alone is a stretch, and you hiss as he slowly pushes in.
"That's it, good girl. You're okay. Daddy'll go slow. Gotta tell me if it's too much, okay baby?" You nod insistently. He keeps inching further into you until he's fully seated, gripping your hips to restrain himself from moving. Both of you are panting, reveling in the feeling of being so close and—for you—so full.
"You good, sweetheart?" Jack rasps.
"M-mhm, I'm good, Jackie. You can… you can move. Please."
Jack slowly pulls halfway out of you before sinking in again and settles into an easy rhythm, a gentle pace that feels nice but isn't quite what you need.
"You can be rougher," you finally whisper. Jack pauses and peers over at you.
"That what you want, or what you think I want?"
You look over shoulder and shyly smile at him. "I want it."
"Fuck," he mutters, "you asked for it."
In one swift movement, he pulls completely out of you before pounding in again. You gasp in shock as he starts fucking into you faster, harder, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. The obscene, squelching sound of your juices is interrupted every few minutes by the loud crack of his palm against your ass, making you clench down on him each time. His grip on your hips is surely bruising, but it's all that's keeping you grounded. Soon, it's all that's keeping you upright: your weakened arms give out after an embarrassingly short amount of time, and your head is pressed into the mattress with each thrust.
Jack is grunting above you, skin slapping against skin as he drives himself impossibly deeper into you. You feel so fucking full you're barely able to breathe. When he shifts slightly to find that spot, your moans get louder, reaching that high-pitched whine that always makes you cringe. You bite down hard on your finger out of instinct. It only takes Jack a few seconds to realize that those pretty little sounds you'd been making are suddenly muffled. He slows his thrusts.
"Sweetheart? You okay?" he asks gruffly, peering over to look at you. You turn your head to face him with a furrowed brow, and he frowns in confusion at your teeth sinking into your pointer finger. You take it out and nod.
"'M fine, Jackie. Feels good."
He cocks his head to the side. "Why're you biting your finger? Somethin' hurt? You gotta tell me if it does, baby."
You shake your head quickly. "No, no, nothing hurts. Just… was getting too loud." Your voice is shy and embarrassed; you can hardly look at him. His eyes widen at your confession.
"Too loud? What the hell do you mean, too loud?"
You pause like you don't want to say, tilting your head down. He pulls out of you carefully and sinks back onto his knees. You whine out a complaint, but the harsh look he gives you silences you. "Kiddo. Look at me. Why'd you think you were being too loud?"
"Well… Robby always… he was worried about the neighbors," you mumble, worrying your lip in between your teeth. "I could-could never help it, bein' so loud, so he said to bite my finger to keep quiet."
His jaw tenses. Christ, he could kill the guy. "Is that right."
"Yeah… 'm sorry, I don't mean to make so much noise, it's just… it feels too good, and I can't hold it in." In your vulnerable state, you look close to tears. So afraid of disappointing him. He rubs his jaw before leaning in close to you and setting his thumb on your lower lip. You look up at him desperately.
"First of all, I don't want you biting your finger anymore. Especially not when I'm fucking you. Got it? You could hurt yourself." You nod slowly, looking chastised. He smiles and kisses your forehead. "And second of all… baby, I don't know what the fuck Robby's problem is, but I don't think I've ever heard anything as sweet as those noises you were makin'."
You roll your eyes and shake your head, still a bit sniffly. "You're just trying to make me feel better. It's—I sound weird."
He sighs. "You don't believe me? Think I'm lyin'?"
You nod, lower lip jutting out in a pout that breaks his heart. He thinks for a minute before nodding. "Alright, we're gonna try somethin'." Slowly, he sinks into you again. You're well prepared for the intrusion now, but you still gasp when he's fully sheathed in you. His hand flexes at his side as he restrains himself from moving. "You feel me in there?" he breathes out. You nod, and he tuts at you. "Words, honey."
"Y-yeah, I feel you," you whine.
"Alright. I'm not gonna move. I want you to really focus on my cock in you. And if you feel like moaning, don't hold back. At all. Can you do that for me, honey?"
Your eyes flutter shut. "M-mhmm. Yes."
When he reaches down to press the pad of his thumb against your swollen clit, drenched in your juices, you let out a loud, drawn-out moan of relief. A couple whimpers follow it as he pinches you, shockwaves of pleasure rolling through your desperation-laced body. And then you feel it. He isn't moving an inch, but he twitches inside of you. You even hear his breath hitch, and the hand on your hip tightens. Just from the sound of you moaning.
"Ja-ackie," you moan, pushing back against him. He chuckles.
"Yeah. You felt that? You feel what you do to me? Don't hold back, kiddo. Don't think I could withstand it."
When he finally starts fucking you again, you can feel that his restraint is slipping. You, with half-lidded eyes and an open mouth that's drooling into his pillow, are not much better. After more than an hour of waiting for relief and the expert blowjob you'd given him, he knows he won't last long, though he's determined to make you come again first. He can tell you're not far off either, your cunt practically strangling him each time it clenches around him and your moans turning into desperate cries below him.
"You close, doll? You gonna come again for daddy? Gonna come on my cock?"
"Y-yeah, gonna come, please daddy 'm so close," you moan. He returns a hand to your poor, sensitive clit and rubs fast circles with just enough pressure to make you tremble a bit. Jack grits his teeth from the effort it takes to hold back his own release; he has to close his eyes, because the sight of you in front of him is making it too hard not to come.
"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck I—" Electricity shoots through your body—you're sure of it—as Jack keeps pounding, and pounding, and pounding your G spot and running his thumb along your clit. You tense up, body suddenly freezing, as another climax crashes into you. Jack keeps fucking you through your release, finally spilling into you as he feels you gush and clench around him. The feeling of his cum in you is unexpectedly pleasant, a warm and full sensation that makes you whimper into the mattress. After what feels like an eternity, his movements slow to a halt. He carefully pulls out of you, clucking sympathetically at your whine of discomfort, and collapses next to you with a grunt.
"Fuck, baby. You did so good. Such a good girl for me. You okay? Anything hurting?"
You still can't quite form words, but he's satisfied by your small head shake and dreamy smile. Jack runs a hand along your side. The soft caress helps soothe your rapid heartrate down, and you melt into the touch.
"You wanna take a bath?" he asks, pressing a kiss to your shoulderblade, "Or… we could watch a movie and cuddle? Whatever you want to do."
You chuckle and stretch your arms. "That sounds nice, but I think I'd fall asleep here if I stayed."
He gives you a puzzled look. "You don't want that?"
You pause, giving him an equally puzzled look. "You… do?"
He scratches his jaw. "Well, yeah, kid, I— oh God." He freezes and suddenly looks horrified. "Don't tell me Robby never let you stay the night."
You shrug. "I-I didn't mind. Though a couple times I was so tired I had to pull over and take a nap on the side of the road." You laugh like it's funny, but Jack is still staring at you with that horrified face.
"He didn't even drive you?"
You tilt your head to the side. "Well… no. He was always pretty tired after. I'd leave pretty much as soon as we were done."
He buries his head in his hands. "Honey, you… okay. Do you know what aftercare is?"
You don't, but Jack will teach you. You agree to a bath on the condition that he joins you, and end up falling asleep as he rubs lotion into your skin. Later, on his bed, with your naked form dead asleep on top of him, Jack makes a list on his phone of things to berate Robby for. Number one: making you think for a second that you deserved the schmuck.
