to catch you up to speed, this gifset of shawn in law and order got me thinking in the tags so… below the cut is delivery driver!jack and canon!robby. kinda just dirty nasty.
robby bites his tongue hard to keep a groan stuck in his throat. the bed is creaking, there’s the sound of jack’s thighs slapping robby’s ass over and over, but the man is silent as ever behind him, save the sound of air being pushed from his nose with each thrust. chasing his own pleasure like a rutting animal.
robby’s cock is hanging heavy and untouched (per usual) between his legs. jack is fucking into him so hard that he can’t risk touching himself and tumbling over in bed. he’s already hot enough as it is from the eyebrow jack raised at him when he suggested his bed this time. usually they don’t make it past the foyer, or past pulling jack’s thick cock out of his zipper, and they never, ever make it to robby’s own orgasm. jack uses him, wipes his nose on his sleeve, quirks his lips and returns to his delivery route.
robby moves down onto his elbows to relieve the weight on his aching wrists, which tilts his ass up into an angle that makes jack stutter, grunt, and sink deeper. the spit he’d used as lube is long since dry, and the new angle is goddamn close to painful.
then, like a reverse strike of lightning, robby hears the sound before the pain registers. it fills the room — a dry, calloused hand cracks against his ass followed by delicious, stinging pain. it happens again, on his other cheek this time, so hard he feels the metal of jack’s wedding ring.
jack is fucking spanking him.
“fuck, honey. you like that, huh?” robby’s given no audible indication that he does; jack is just lost in it. he alternates hands and laughs, and there is no mercy in the world because he leans in, still fucking into robby, and his hot, work-stale breath is suddenly in robby’s ear. “you like that, doctor robinavitch? like me spanking your ass as much as fucking it? huh, doc?”
fuck, robby regrets greeting jack in his scrubs that one day. it had been a power move, maybe trying to … prove something to jack — prove that he was a man, too, and not just some housewife waiting around all day for the delivery boy to pump him dumb and full.
jack loses it on top of robby to his own damn talking, digging his bitten, dirty nails into robby’s hips and cumming deep inside him.
robby stays on his elbows and knees through the sound of jack’s zipper being tugged up. hears the routine — nose wipe, the silence of a shit-eating smile. robby groans in pain as he comes down and sits on the edge of the bed, still half hard. jack faces him, puts his hand on his clothed crotch and squeezes.
“same time next week, doc?”
