[I was not asked to write this but I saw it and my brain couldn't turn off. Hope you don't mind :) @hatchet-boy]
~ Oxytocin ~ [Michael Robinavitch x Jack Abbot]
It wasn’t therapy, but when Robby found out he was pregnant, it was the next best thing. It had to be a change in hormones, some kind of flush of dopamine or serotonin that filled the gaps his brain had been sorely missing the whole time anyway.
It’s not that it cured him, but it certainly did a whole lot of something.
Whatever it is, Jack’s here for it. So fucking here for it.
12 Weeks:
Robby, formerly self-conscious about his tummy? Suddenly the taller man is constantly checking his ‘bump’ in the mirror. “Do you think it’s grown at all? Here, come feel Jack. My bump’s gotten bigger, right?”
Jack places his hands on Robby’s cute as hell little bump. Robby asked him the same question yesterday, shirt lifted as he gazed with heart-eyes into the bedroom mirror. Jack doesn’t think the bump has gotten bigger in the last 24 hours, but he enjoys getting to fill his hands with his husband’s belly without the other man shying away like usual, gently batting his hands away. Now Jack gets to run his fingers over the soft tufts of hair on said belly. He wants to press kisses to the steadily growing bump but doesn’t want to push his luck just yet….
“Yeah, baby, I think it has,” Jack says, smiling and watching the light in Robby’s eyes glow brighter as he stares at his own stomach.
20 weeks:
Robby has gotten so horny Jack considers popping a viagra just to keep up. Robby wants it everywhere. Anywhere. All the time.
The kitchen counter. The back of the couch. The foyer where Jack has to scramble just to get the door closed so the whole world doesn’t see his husband’s naked body because Robby can’t wait another second and starts yanking his pants down and reaching for Jack’s. In the car in the parking garage after work. In the car in the parking garage before work. It’s actually a miracle if they get to fuck in an actual bed anymore.
“Oh, fu- fuck Jack. Fuck me harder. Yes, yes, like that! Breed me. Put another pup in me. Pleaaaase, Jack.”
Jack fucks into Robby for the third time that day, taking him from behind this time. He fucks into Robby’s dripping hole, his hands holding onto the rounded belly of his husband as he pounds away.
Sweat slicks his forehead as Robby slams his hips back into Jack’s, taking him in deeper and deeper. Robby has started gaining weight on other parts of his body - including his ass. Mesmerized, Jack watches as Robby’s soft, rounded flesh ripples and bounces as it slams against Jack’s groin. Purpling bruises mottle the normally pale flesh from where Jack hasn’t been able to keep from sinking his teeth into it on numerous occasions before slipping his tongue into the man's hot, slick hole.
A low keen brings Jack back to reality, pulling his eyes from his husband’s gorgeous ass. “Jack?” Robby whines, desperate to hear his husband who’s gone quiet except for his sharp breaths.
Moving his hand to Robby’s ample hip, he gives it a squeeze. “Yeah, baby. You’re doing so fucking well taking my cock. Feel so good. Your hole squeezing me so tight, baby.”
Robby moans happily at the praise, his back arching further in response.
“Wanna be so good for you Jack. Wanna take your cum. Wanna be filled with you. Wanna make you so many fucking babies.”
Jack groans. It’s the third time having sex today and he’s already getting close to the edge. Yeah, he’s gonna have to figure out how to keep up, how to keep his husband’s hole filled. It’s a problem Jack doesn’t mind having in the least.
29 Weeks:
“I think we should go to therapy.”
Jack’s head jerks up from the newspaper he’s been reading at the kitchen counter. A weepy, teary-eyed Robby stands in the doorway, trembling hand on his bump.
Jack’s entire heart plummets. For a whole minute, he can’t even move as his brain races. Oh god, what has he done wrong? Did he fuck up? Is Robby leaving him?? ‘Move. Get up!’ His brain shouts at him, but Jack is pretty sure he’ll throw up if he does that.
“Jack?” Robby sniffles, stepping into the kitchen.
Jack practically falls out of the kitchen stool as he scrambles over to Robby. His hands reach for his husband, one going automatically to the baby bump the other curing into the front of Robby’s white t-shirt. “Please, baby, tell me what happened. I’ll fix it. Whatever it is.” His voice comes out soothing and strained and just shy-of pleading. He forces control into it. He’ll prove to Robby he’s still capable. He’s still strong. He doesn’t know what’s happened. He’s been keeping Robby fed, fucked, and free of a single obligation.
Jack will prove he will be a great father to their children. That he’s the alpha male Robby needs. No one can do it like him. No one can care for Robby like he can…
Brows furrowing, brown eyes blooming with confusion, Robby blinks at him, droplets collecting like rain on his beautiful long lashes. “Fix what? These are happy tears, Jack. I - I can’t stop crying. These damn pregnancy hormones.”
And just like that the waterworks turn up. Tears pour from Robby’s eyes as he presses forward, slumping his head down onto Jack’s shoulder and nuzzling into his neck.
Relief rockets so hard and so fast through Jack it takes him a moment to wrap his arms around his husband. He fights his own tears as he rub’s Robby’s back in soothing circles, making soft sounds in his ear to comfort him. “Oh baby, that’s okay. You’re alright. Let it out.”
Hiccuping, Robby nuzzles in closer. “I just - I just read in one of the - hic - pregnancy books that it’s good for couples to go to - hic - therapy before the baby comes. Good to be on the same page. Good for the relationship because babies can change a lot of things. I just love you so - hic - much, Jack. You take such good care of me. I nev - hic - never thought I would have that. That I - that I deserved it. What do you think?”
Jack, who has been encouraging Robby to go to therapy for his own mental health for literal years, squeezes his husband tighter, the baby bump between them pressing almost painfully into his abs. He wants to shout his excitement from the rooftops. Wants to run laps around the neighborhood.
Instead, he just places a hand on the back of Robby’s head, patting gently. “Yeah, baby, I think that’s a great idea.”
33 Weeks:
It’s the middle of August and a heat wave has been simmering through Pittsburg for over a week now. Their AC has been working over time, but being as pregnant as he is, Robby’s hot all the time anyway.
“Do we have another fan, Jack? I thought we had another one in the study, but I can’t find it?”
Jack looks up from his laptop where he’s been studying notes from their last birthing class. It’s notes on how to be a good non-birthing parent during delivery that fill the screen. He’s determined to be the absolute best he can be for Robby when the time comes.
“Yeah, baby, let me chec - ”
The words die and dry up like water hitting a frying pan.
Because across the living room is Robby standing barefoot and wearing a crop top. Robby, his big, beautiful belly round and on full display. So big is his belly that Jack can barely see the short-shorts he’s got on underneath.
Waving a magazine like a fan towards his face, Robby says, “Jack?”
Jack is up and across the room in seconds. Without a word he lifts Robby clear off his feet. Squealing with surprise and joy, Robby scrambles to grab hold of his husband’s shoulders, arms flying around Jack’s neck. “Oh my god, put me down! I’m too heavy for you right now Jack, put me down!”
But Jack just nudges Robby’s legs to lock around his hips, twirling his husband around on the spot like he weighs nothing at all. “Jesus, look at you, baby. You’re gorgeous. You’re absolutely glowing.”
Blushing, Robby’s face goes red, and it’s not from the heat this time. “You think so?” he says, almost shyly. But internally, he is glowing. He’s never felt more beautiful than he has since he got pregnant. Jack’s always made him feel that way, but something has finally shifted in Robby. For the first time he really believes every word Jack says when he showers him with compliments.
“Baby, you’re stunning,” Jack says as he walks them towards the bedroom, his feet moving without his brain - which is still somewhere in the kitchen, too stunned to catch up.
Giggling, Robby presses kisses to Jack’s neck, who has set him down on the edge of the bed. Robby goes to peel off his crop top, his dick already swelling under Jack’s loving, heated gaze.
Jack reaches out quickly but gently, grasping his wrist to stop him. Shaking his head, his pupils blown wide, he says, “Leave it on.”
Grinning, his brain full of oxytocin and every feel-good chemical that’s ever existed, Robby does whatever Jack instructs him to do.
Jack’s eyes devour every bountiful inch of skin on Robby he can. It’s not just his body that has Jack hungry, though, it’s that smile on his husbands face, the way he’s seemed like such a happier, healthier person since he got pregnant.
In that moment, Jack vows to keep his husband filled up and knocked up as often as he’s possibly allowed.
Rabbot prompt if you’re still taking them? Robby’s never fucked a guy - Jack makes him realize he wants to.
Maybe a bunch of Jack unknowingly teasing Robby when they’re at a bar together to the point where Robby snaps? Idk have fun with it but would love some bottom!Jack rabbot smut if you’re down!
~ Take Me Home ~ [Michael Robinavitch x Jack Abbot]
“What about her?” Jack nods the tip of his beer bottle in the direction of the bar. A cluster of women stand there in an assortment of attire, but Robby knows exactly who Jack is anointing anyway. A brunette in a pale pink summer dress, early 40’s probably, and who is currently tilting her head back and laughing.
Jack is under the impression Robby favors brunettes. Jack isn’t wrong exactly if you look at Robby’s dating history. Almost all were brunettes. And definitely all were women.
But that’s just what it is: history.
Robby is more interested in the future of that list.
And brunettes aren’t on his mind.
Neither are women.
Robby just shakes his head at Jack and sips his whiskey and coke, indicating he finds the game ridiculous, using his silence as refusal to indulge Jack’s game. The nightshift attending is constantly trying to set him up these days for reasons Robby can’t fathom because he hasn’t exactly been complaining about the lack of women in his life.
Jack goes down the line, pointing out every pretty brunette in the place.
Seeing that his gray-haired friend isn’t going to quit, especially when he trades his beer for some tropical mixed drink, Robby tries to turn the tables around.
“What about you, brother? Why don’t you do your own shopping?” Robby challenges.
It’s not that Robby wants to sit here and find out all the women Jack Abbot finds attractive in this bar, but that’s at least familiar territory. And maybe it’ll get Robby to stop staring at the way his friend’s throat bobs every time he takes a sip.
And when Jack full on licks the side of his glass to catch a dribble of liquid, Robby slams his drink down a little too hard.
Jack startles and shoots him a questioning look. “Alright, fine, grouch. Hmm. Let’s see. That guy over there. In the red polo.”
Robby nearly chokes on his next sip. He can’t help but follow where Jack is looking. Barely registers the non descriptive middle-aged man before he’s back to staring at the attending.
A man.
Jack is talking about a man.
Robby knows Jack has hooked up with men before. Heard about a couple off-hand masculine-sounding names from college. Robby had never met Jack’s wife. They’d been married when he was in the army and she died from cancer shortly after he got out. But Robby knows the small handful of serious relationships Jack has had since her passing. One of them was a man named Victor. Robby hadn’t met him, didn’t know Jack at the time, but he’s always thought the guy must have been an idiot anyway for letting someone like Jack get away.
He knows these things. But he and Jack normally only really talk about women together.
“That guy?” Robby can’t keep the incredulous tone out of his voice. He hears it, though, and forces down a large gulp of his drink to cool down.
“Why not? He’s handsome,” Jack says with casual admiration, still staring off in the direction of red shirt guy.
Robby scoffs. “He looks like a banker. You’d be bored.” Robby actually has no idea what Jack likes in a guy. Maybe boring is his thing. But he just knows that guy isn’t the right one for his friend.
Jack quirks an eyebrow, his attention back on Robby. “A banker?” He laughs. “You can tell all that from all the way over here? Alright, fine. What about that guy? Black button-down, blond hair slicked back. James Bond vibes. Looks like he could have just gotten back from a high-stakes jewelry heist. Is that exciting enough?”
Robby looks. The guy is tall and well dressed. And, alright, damn it, he does give off morally ambiguous in a mysterious-sexy way vibe. But Robby shakes his head. “Looks like a walking positive STD-panel, you mean.”
Jack throws his head back and laughs. The sound makes the inside of Robby’s chest feel funny. The way his round shoulders bounce up and down, straining against the sweat-damp shirt makes lower parts of Robby’s body feel hot too.
The game continues, Jack pointing out men and Robby coming up with all the reasons on the fly why none of them would work for him. Jack seems to genuinely enjoy the game, his laughter mounting each time Robby shoots a potential match down. But Robby? His patience is starting to fray. He stopped drinking almost 30 minutes ago, knows at his ripe age that alcohol and annoyance don’t mix. Doesn’t understand why he’s getting so fired up but having a clouded mind certainly isn’t helping.
He’s used to being the smartest man in the room. The most capable. The quickest. The sharpest. He’s the Chief of the ED at PTMC for christ’s sake. But when it comes to diagnosing his own feelings? Yeah, he’s gonna need to consult Psych, and they’ve been backed up for years…
Because the thing is: Robby knows Jack Abbot isn’t interested in him. Not in that way at least. Because Jack is bi and they’ve known each other over ten years now. Been best friends for at least 5 of those years. If Jack had wanted to make a move he would have already.
So what if Robby has only ever dated women? And only ever talked about women to Jack. And, yeah, Robby hasn’t really ever wanted to hook-up with many other men. Or any other men. Not really. Not until Jack came along.
And even then it’d taken awhile. They’d started almost as rivals at PTMC. Jack is the only person to have ever matched Robby in intelligence, wit, talent, and skill. The bastard is, Robby admits, more handsome than him, but that isn’t a quantifiable trait so it doesn’t count.
They were both competitive from the start, and Robby certainly was ready to defend his territory when Dr. Abbot had shown up at his work. They’d gone toe-to-toe, but Jack laughed when Robby grumbled. Was sunshine when Robby was rain. Was a balm when Robby bristled. Was a firecracker when all Robby could manage was a little steam.
They were opposites in every way that complimented each other, and even when they didn’t, Jack just rolled with the punches. He was hard to ruffle or rustle. The Unflappable Jack Abbot. Still is. It used to drive Robby crazy. Made him want to get his hands on the man, to shake him, to knock that easy little half-smirk that was always present off his stupid, handsome face.
Robby still wants to get his hands on the man but for different reasons now.
In fact, Jack is really the only man Robby is interested in getting his hands on.
That had been a shocking discovery. Not a comfortable one. One he’d spent oh, four or five years give-or-take trying to bury.
He’s accepted it now.
But he hasn’t acted on it. Knows Jack isn’t interested. Because even though Robby’s never given a single indication that he’s interested in men, as brilliant as Jack is, surely his best friend would have figured out Robby’s feelings for him by now…right? Right.
So, him turning down all the guys Jack is currently listing as potential hook ups? Yeah, no ulterior motive for Robby to turn them down. None whatsoever…
Robby isn’t even sure Jack is pointing out men he actually finds attractive anymore. At least he hopes not because they’ve gone through at least half the men in this place at this point. He knows Jack’s just having fun.
But it’s not fun for Robby anymore. He’s on edge, has been for the last fifteen minutes, and he’s not sure why…Probably the music is too loud, the weather is too humid, and these damn chairs are biting into his ass.
Jack’s chair legs tilt back down to the floor, his hand clutching his abs as the laughter finally leaves him. “So every guy in this place is too ugly, too boring, too promiscuous, and too dumb for me? What’s wrong with the last guy then?”
The last one is a short guy in his late twenties who doesn’t appear to be able to grow a respectable amount of facial hair. “That kid couldn’t handle you,” Robby practically growls into his water glass.
Jack’s blue eyes, sparkling and teasing, catch Robby’s. “Oh yeah? Didn’t realize I needed handling. Or that your standards were so high.” He tips his drink back. “Who here can handle me then, hot-shot?”
The word fires out like a loaded bullet. “Me.”
For the first time maybe ever, Robby sees Jack Abbot ruffled. Choking on his drink, Jack pounds on his chest for several seconds.
Robby just watches. He knows he should feel embarrassed. Knows he should be scrambling to take it back or to make some kind of joke. But his hackles are up from the stupid game, from listening to Jack talk about how much he finds other men here attractive all night.
The anger makes him feel bold and unapologetic, lowering his defenses in a way no amount of alcohol could.
Gone is the little smirk on Jack’s face, the easy teasing. Owlish eyes blink at Robby, waiting for the punchline that never comes. Robby just grips his water glass tighter, surprised steam doesn’t rise from the heat sizzling beneath his skin, and meets his friend’s gaze unwaveringly.
Knows there’s probably a scowl on his own face, one that Jack doesn’t deserve. But he doesn’t care. He’s done with this game. Done hearing Jack talk about other men.
“You?” Jack finally repeats, voice going for levity, like he’s playing along now with whatever joke Robby must be playing at. “Right. Because all of your extensive experience with men. You think a man who’s never slept with other men before is the one who could take me? You’re the guy? Sure thing, sweetheart. Keep dreaming.” He makes a show of rolling his eyes like it’s a ridiculous thought. And a ridiculous offer. All part of the game. The joke.
Because this is what they do. They joke. They give each other shit. They play into the bit.
But the blood in Robby’s veins has turned to gasoline and every one of Jack’s words is like a match-strike threatening to become a flame.
Robby’s jaw clenches. “I am. Because you’re a brat, Jack Abbot. With a pretty face that’s begging to be ruined and a smart mouth that’s asking to be stuffed shut. No one knows you like I do. So, yeah, I can more than handle you.”
Confidence oozes from Robby, dark and incendiary like a mob boss staking his claim, making his dominance known.
It shouldn’t be like this. Not in the world where things make sense. Where mob bosses are fictional and older men who have no experience with other men should be blushing and fumbling right now.
Because it’s true that Robby has never been with a man before. But every cell in his body is telling him that he could make Jack cum on his cock. That he could turn his smirking, genial best friend into a begging, panting mess. Better than anyone else. For longer than anyone else. Until he was ruined for anyone else.
Jack’s jaw drops in an almost cartoonish display of surprise. His eyes flutter, going half-lidded, and a sort of haze fills them. If it was someone else, Robby would guess a heated sort of lust was turning those sparkling blue eyes to simmering cerulean.
But it’s Jack Abbot. His best friend. And Robby knows Jack doesn’t want him like that. Robby wants more than sex from Jack. Wants to give the man more than just the best orgasms of his life. But Jack just wants to be his friend…
And then a noise escapes Jack’s throat that goes straight to Robby’s dick, followed by, “Robby?” The single word rasps out. Other emotions flicker through his eyes. Robby tries to read them. Confusion? Probably. Curiosity? Maybe. Longing? Surely not…
“Can I get you gentlemen another drink?” The waiter’s voice is like a giant bucket of ice cold water dousing them both.
Both their heads snap to the side. Johnny, their friendly college-aged waiter, smiles down at them, oblivious.
Jack rolls his shoulders, a hand going to rub at the back of his neck as he laughs a little too loudly, like he’s just come out of a trance. “Ugh, yeah, sure, another Miami Vice. Thanks, kid.”
Robby just leans back in his seat and asks for another water. The band’s music reaches his ears again, the warmth of the outside air presses on his skin, and the metal of the chair beneath him digs uncomfortably.
Reality has returned.
But hearing Jack rasp his name like that? Yeah, Robby’s not sure he’s ready to let reality get in his way anymore.
~ And Make Me Beg ~ [Michael Robinavitch x Jack Abbot]
(Robby is a jealous man. sneak peek to my follow up to fic 'Take Me Home')
The taxi ride to Jack’s is its own form of torture.
The windows in the back are rolled down, a warm breeze rolling in. It’s barely a reprieve from the summer heat as the city flies by. The AC in the cab is broken because of fucking course it is. Apparently, Robby has pissed karma off one too many times.
It’s dark in the cab save for the lights flashing by outside. Jack has his head leaned against the side panel, eyes half-lidded like he might doze off, breeze ruffling his gray curls.
It’s the man’s chest, though, that has Robby simmering across the seat bench, his own eyes dark and watchful. He feels like a hungry wild cat, forced to pace the confines of its cage as the thing he wants to devour is on the other side, oblivious and ripe for the taking.
Jack’s undone several of his buttons on his shirt in an attempt to combat the heat. The hard planes of his chest are on display, skin tanned from whatever activities he gets up to outside of the hospital. Robby burns like a lobster in the sun, but he’d risk melanoma if it meant getting to partake in any activity that got Jack out of his shirt.
Sweat droplets bead his friend’s golden skin, clinging before giving into gravity and sliding down, creating tantalizing, wet trails that disappear beneath his shirt. Robby’s eyes track their path, jaw clenched tight to keep his tongue caged. Every nerve in his body wants to yank off his seat belt, crawl across the seat, and lick every drop off the man.
Wants the salt on his tongue, the sun-drenched scent of Jack’s skin in his nose, the man’s rasping little gasps in his ear as Robby descends further down.
Instead, Robby stays put. Rolls his shoulders back, bones grinding together under the effort of forcing himself to stay where he is. He feels like he’s about to crawl out of his goddamn skin.
Ever since that little moment in the bar he’s felt like a man half-starved.
That little taste. The little scrap Jack fed him when he rasped out Robby’s name, has been eating him alive ever since.
The night’s had an edge to it since then. They’ve teetered at the tip of a knife. Will they, won’t they. After the waiter left, neither man was the same. Jack kept messing with his drink, picking it up, putting it down, tapping his hands on the table like he was halfway to saying something but never quite got there. His eyes darting to Robby and away over and over.
Robby was too busy simmering in his seat to help Jack out. To let the evening return to normalcy. Whatever that would even look like now. Jealousy made Robby churlish. He’d hate himself later for it, but in the moment he spent the rest of the evening glaring at all the men in the bar Jack had named, hoping they’d try something.
Let them come, he’d thought with the competitive part of himself that’s never quite left. It’s what drew him and Jack together in the first place. That competitive nature in both of them. The thrill of having someone to throw himself against, someone who didn’t just give it back the same but gave it back better, is what got Robby into this mess with Jack in the first place.
What made him fall in love with his best friend when all it should have ever been was platonic.
Damn his sapiosexual tendencies.
Fucking masochist is more like it, his brain supplies unhelpfully.
Jack just had to go and start that stupid game. Had to rile Robby up like only he can.
Jack’s blue eyes, sparkling and teasing, caught Robby’s. “Oh yeah? Didn’t realize I needed handling. Or that your standards were so high.” He tipped his drink back. “Who here can handle me then, hot-shot?”
The word fired out like a loaded bullet. “Me.”
Robby lets his eyes flutter shut, lets himself sink into the memory for just a moment, to indulge.
“You?” Jack finally repeated, voice going for levity, like he was playing along now with whatever joke Robby must be playing at. “Right. Because all of your extensive experience with men. You think a man who’s never slept with other men before is the one who could take me? You’re the guy? Sure thing, sweetheart. Keep dreaming.”
Robby breathes out slow and heavy through his nose as he remembers his own response. It had been foolish, anger at hearing Jack talk about other men all night making him bold and unapologetic, lowering his defenses.
“I am. Because you’re a brat, Jack Abbot. With a pretty face that’s begging to be ruined and a smart mouth that’s asking to be stuffed shut. No one knows you like I do. So, yeah, I can more than handle you.”
Robby never should have said it. But he can’t make himself regret it either. Not when he gets to his favorite part of the memory.
That desperate little noise that’d escaped Jack’s throat. The way he’d rasped ‘Robby?’ like a half-begged prayer.
And then the waiter had come, asking if they wanted another drink.
A stuttering breath hitches in Robby’s chest. His dick hangs hot and heavy against his thigh, his body physically in the car but his brain still back at the bar.
Fuck, Robby curses in his head and digs the heel of his palm painfully into his thigh to combat the thickening of his cock, blood rushing eagerly through it, his heartbeat a steady, torturous throb in the growing appendage.
Biting the inside of his cheek until he draws blood, Robby’s eyes snap open. He turns his body away from Jack, partially to hide his half-mast erection (though it’s dark enough in the cab that’s not really a problem) but mostly so he can thunk his forehead hard against the window pane.
It’s a form of self-flagellation, Robby knows. Doesn’t care. He does it hard enough to rattle his skull. The sound has Jack jerking in his seat.
Good, Robby thinks selfishly. He shouldn’t be the only one awake and hungry in this car.
Jack’s been playing it cool ever since they got in the cab. Dozing off like he hadn’t spent the last hour of the evening slamming water, his knee bouncing fast, tachycardic in rhythm.
Robby should let it alone, should let it cool off. But the night has worn him down, has sandpapered his reasonable nature away to dust. He’s spent so long accepting he’ll only ever be Jack’s friend. He’s been able to push his own feelings down every time.
But then Jack had to go and stir the pot. Had to rasp his name like that. Had to crack the door, the one Robby’s been standing on the other side of for years now.
Maybe all he’s done is convince Jack that he’ll be a good fuck despite Robby never having been with a man before. Robby wants it to be more, but he can’t go back to just friendship either. Not if making Jack Abbot cum, even if just for a night, is suddenly on the table.
Robby listens to the renewed bouncing of Jack’s knee two seats over, feels it vibrate the glass against his skull. He breathes in deep. The night is just getting started.
~And Make Me Beg~ [Jack Abbot x Michael Robinavitch]
Summary: Robby is jealous after a night of watching Jack talk about other men and a lifetime of pining after him. He finally does something about those feelings [AO3 LINK] 6.6k words. Smut. 18+
The taxi ride to Jack’s is its own form of torture.
The windows in the back are rolled down, a warm breeze rolling in. It’s barely a reprieve from the summer heat as the city flies by. The AC in the cab is broken because of fucking course it is. Apparently, Robby has pissed karma off one too many times.
It’s dark in the cab save for the lights flashing by outside. Jack has his head leaned against the side panel, eyes half-lidded like he might doze off, breeze ruffling his gray curls.
It’s the man’s chest, though, that has Robby simmering across the seat bench, his own eyes dark and watchful. He feels like a hungry wild cat, forced to pace the confines of its cage as the thing he wants to devour is on the other side, oblivious and ripe for the taking.
Jack’s undone several of his buttons on his shirt in an attempt to combat the heat. The hard planes of his chest are on display, skin tanned from whatever activities he gets up to outside of the hospital. Robby burns like a lobster in the sun, but he’d risk melanoma if it meant getting to partake in any activity that got Jack out of his shirt.
Sweat droplets bead his friend’s golden skin, clinging before giving into gravity and sliding down, creating tantalizing, wet trails that disappear beneath his shirt. Robby’s eyes track their path, jaw clenched tight to keep his tongue caged. Every nerve in his body wants to yank off his seat belt, crawl across the seat, and lick every drop off the man.
Wants the salt on his tongue, the sun-drenched scent of Jack’s skin in his nose, the man’s rasping little gasps in his ear as Robby descends further down.
Instead, Robby stays put. Rolls his shoulders back, bones grinding together under the effort of forcing himself to stay where he is. He feels like he’s about to crawl out of his goddamn skin.
Ever since that little moment in the bar he’s felt like a man half-starved.
That little taste. The little scrap Jack fed him when he rasped out Robby’s name, has been eating him alive ever since.
The night’s had an edge to it since then. They’ve teetered at the tip of a knife. Will they won’t they. After the waiter left, neither man was the same. Jack kept messing with his drink, picking it up, putting it down, tapping his hands on the table like he was halfway to saying something but never quite got there. His eyes darting to Robby and away over and over.
Robby was too busy simmering in his seat to help Jack out. To let the evening return to normalcy. Whatever that would even look like now. Jealousy made Robby churlish. He’d hate himself later for it, but in the moment he spent the rest of the evening glaring at all the men in the bar Jack had named, hoping they’d try something.
Let them come, he’d thought with the competitive part of himself that’s never quite left. It’s what drew him and Jack together in the first place. That competitive nature in both of them. The thrill of having someone to throw himself against, someone who didn’t just give it back the same but gave it back better, is what got Robby into this mess with Jack in the first place.
What made him fall in love with his best friend when all it should have ever been was platonic.
Damn his sapiosexual tendencies.
Fucking masochist is more like it, his brain supplies unhelpfully.
Jack just had to go and start that stupid game. Had to rile Robby up like only he can.
Jack’s blue eyes, sparkling and teasing, caught Robby’s. “Oh yeah? Didn’t realize I needed handling. Or that your standards were so high.” He tipped his drink back. “Who here can handle me then, hot-shot?”
The word fired out like a loaded bullet. “Me.”
Robby lets his eyes flutter shut, lets himself sink into the memory for just a moment, to indulge.
“You?” Jack finally repeated, voice going for levity, like he was playing along now with whatever joke Robby must be playing at. “Right. Because all of your extensive experience with men. You think a man who’s never slept with other men before is the one who could take me? You’re the guy? Sure thing, sweetheart. Keep dreaming.”
Robby breathes out slow and heavy through his nose as he remembers his own response. It had been foolish, anger at hearing Jack talk about other men all night making him bold and unapologetic, lowering his defenses.
“I am. Because you’re a brat, Jack Abbot. With a pretty face that’s begging to be ruined and a smart mouth that’s asking to be stuffed shut. No one knows you like I do. So, yeah, I can more than handle you.”
Robby never should have said it. But he can’t make himself regret it either. Not when he gets to his favorite part of the memory.
That desperate little noise that’d escaped Jack’s throat. The way he’d rasped ‘Robby?’ like a half-begged prayer.
And then the waiter had come, asking if they wanted another drink.
A stuttering breath hitches in Robby’s chest. His dick hangs hot and heavy against his thigh, his body physically in the car but his brain still back at the bar.
Fuck, Robby curses in his head and digs the heel of his palm painfully into his thigh to combat the thickening of his cock, blood rushing eagerly through it, his heartbeat a steady, torturous throb in the growing appendage.
Biting the inside of his cheek until he draws blood, Robby’s eyes snap open. He turns his body away from Jack, partially to hide his half-mast erection (though it’s dark enough in the cab that’s not really a problem) but mostly so he can thunk his forehead hard against the window pane.
It’s a form of self-flagellation, Robby knows. Doesn’t care. He does it hard enough to rattle his skull. The sound has Jack jerking in his seat.
Good, Robby thinks selfishly. He shouldn’t be the only one awake and hungry in this car.
Jack’s been playing it cool ever since they got in the cab. Dozing off like he hadn’t spent the last hour of the evening slamming water, his knee bouncing fast, tachycardic in rhythm.
Robby should let it alone, should let it cool off. But the night has worn him down, has sandpapered his reasonable nature away to dust. He’s spent so long accepting he’ll only ever be Jack’s friend. He’s been able to push his own feelings down every time.
But then Jack had to go and stir the pot. Had to rasp his name like that. Had to crack the door, the one Robby’s been standing on the other side of for years now.
Maybe all he’s done is convince Jack that he’ll be a good fuck despite Robby never having been with a man before. Robby wants it to be more, but he can’t go back to just friendship either. Not if making Jack Abbot cum, even if just for a night, is suddenly on the table.
Robby listens to the renewed bouncing of Jack’s knee two seats over, feels it vibrate the glass against his skull. He breathes in deep. The night is just getting started.
___________________________________
Inside the house Jack disappears only long enough to change his outside prosthetic with an inside one. Then he’s back. Robby is wound up tight. Jack is too if his unusually jerky movements and lack of chatter are anything to go by. And Robby knows his best friend almost better than he knows himself.
Robby can be patient…but his need to touch Jack is overwhelming. He needs to rile Jack up the way Jack riled him up at the bar. So as Jack starts putting dishes away, Robby helps. And makes a point of staying in the other man’s space. Much closer than normal. Brushing against him. Pressing his chest into Jack’s back as he reaches over the shorter man to put dishes away on a higher shelf, his groin lining up with Jack’s ass.
It takes less time than Robby expected.
Jack’s turning away, but it’s too late. Robby sees it.
Jack’s half-hard (and growing) erection tenting his pants.
Robby stares at Jack, unrelenting. Pinning Jack under his gaze, the predator in his chest triumphant. Finally, finally. Robby wants to shout.
Jack rolls his eyes when he sees he’s caught. “You shouldn’t have cock-blocked me all night, man.” He shrugs as if to say ‘no big deal, has nothing to do with you,’ but the slight reddening of his cheeks belies his words. As does the lingering of Jack’s gaze as his blue eyes fall down the broad expanse of Robby’s chest before shifting away.
Like he can’t help but check if Robby likes what he sees.
There is still time to let this go. Jack is giving Robby an out. Their friendship can remain exactly as it’s always been. They can let it all go.
But Robby already made his decision back in the cab.
This isn’t how he’d do it if he thought Jack wanted more from him. If he thought Jack loved him back like that. But he’s gotten a taste of what Jack might like in the bedroom now. Robby can shove the rest down. He’s used to that. He can give Jack what he wants. What he needs.
Robby eats up the space between them in a few long strides. “You gonna try to pretend that’s not for me? When you’ve been flustered ever since I put you in your place at the bar?” Robby slides his hand along the length of Jack’s erection, only enough pressure to tease what could be.
A gasping little groan escapes Jack’s lips and his head falls forward onto Robby’s shoulder almost reflexively. Titling his head down, Robby whispers, breath hot in his ear. “You’re too used to pretending other men can satisfy you Jack. You don’t know what’s good for you. What you need. You never have. Don’t worry, brother, I’ll show you. I’ve got you.”
A strangled laugh comes from Jack. He starts to pull away.
Ah, ah. Robby can’t have that. Not when he’s just got his hands on him. He palms Jack completely, his large hand engulfing the other man’s dick through his pants.
“Fuck, man,” Jack croaks. He doesn’t try to move away this time, only pulls his head back far enough to search Robby’s face, blue eyes narrowed and scanning across Robby’s brown ones. “What - what the hell, Robinavitch? You don’t even like men?” It’s half accusation, half question. “What are you doing?”
Robby doesn’t like other men, it’s true. Has only ever been interested in sex and relationships with women. So, yes. He does’t like other men; he likes Jack Abbot.
He doesn’t know how to explain that to Jack right now. Can barely explain it to himself. It’s too big, too much. And now isn’t the time. Maybe it never will be. But he’s got parts of Jack in his hand right now he never thought he’d get to touch, even through the fabric of pants, and he’s not going to waste it.
Instead of telling Jack he’s built entire cathedrals in his heart in worship of him, he simply smirks down at the shorter man and says, “You don’t know everything about me Jack Abbot.”
Jack scoffs. “Maybe not. But I do know you’ve never had sex with a man before.” He searches Robby’s face again. “Am I right?”
“Do you want to keep talking or do you want to find out?” Robby’s hand tightens on Jack’s dick.
“Fuck,” Jack grits out, eyelashes fluttering before his eyes sharpen, that crooked little half-smile that’s always at home on his face making a sudden return. “Do you even know what you’re doing? You talked a big game at the bar but it’s not as easy as just switching lanes, man. I’m not trying to brag but you might wanna try putting on some training wheels first, you know what I mean?”
It’s the earnestness in his voice that gets Robby. The way Jack sounds like he’s actually trying to be helpful under the teasing.
The dark need in Robby’s chest flares at the challenge. “Go ahead Jack, mouth off. Wanna see if your lips make the same shapes around my cock.”
Jack blinks as his jaw slackens, eyes going almost cartoonishly wide before his brow furrows. And then comes the sound the ED Chief has been waiting for. The surprised, startled rasp of his name again, “Robby? What the hell man…”
The last shred of Robby’s restraint is snapped free. He crushes his mouth to Jack’s.
It surprises Robby how quickly Jack responds. It takes no time at all. The other man’s hands are fisting into Robby’s shirt in an instant, any further questions silenced as he kisses him back just as hard.
Something sharp tugs in Robby’s chest as he backs Jack up against the wall, slamming him hard into it, unable to restrain the years of pure want pouring out of him now that the dam’s broken open.
It’s like an arrow being yanked free - the painful relief of finally getting what he wants, only to know in doing so he’ll likely bleed out in the end still anyways. Because just because Jack is here, kissing him back just as fiercely, hands roving and gripping and pulling at clothes with the same intense need, it doesn’t mean that Jack feels anything more than just lust. That Jack wants anything more than to just get his rocks off because Robby cock-blocked him all night.
But if this is gonna kill him anyway, Robby might as well enjoy the descent into hell.
Reaching out, he grips both sides of Jack’s face, pulling him ever closer. Teeth clash, clanking together as need makes haphazard lovers of both men. Turning them into teenagers, too busy trying to tear each other’s clothes off to care about skill or finesse.
Someone’s lip pays the price. The coppery tang of blood crosses Robby’s tongue. His own or Jack’s, he doesn’t know. Or care. He’d tear the man apart and crawl inside his skin right now if it meant he could be closer to Jack in this moment. Would rip the man’s heart out and replace it with his own if it meant he got to keep Jack forever, be the reason he lived, make Jack his. Claim him.
Robby mentally shakes his head as the beast in his chest roars greedily at the idea.
Too much, he thinks.
And yet, this isn’t enough.
“Off. Off,” Robby demands, tugging at Jack’s shirt.
Grinning, Jack keeps his mouth pressed to Robby’s, unwilling to pull away as his fingers reach blindly for the buttons of his own shirt.
It takes too long.
Growling, Robby grabs at Jack’s shirt and yanks. Buttons plink against the floor as the shirt slides off Jack’s shoulders to follow them down.
The broad, golden expanse of skin makes Robby’s mouth water. He wants to get his hands on every inch of it, to taste it, to dig his fingers in, to make Jack beg for more.
Choking out a laugh, Jack pulls his head back. “Hey, I liked that shirt.”
The sunshine to Robby’s rain. The easy pull of saltwater taffy to Robby’s tightly strung bowstring. Always Robby’s opposite, even in moments like these. Jack’s teasing him now, pulling away as Robby chases after his lips, instead making a show of looking mournfully down at the ruined fabric.
The problem is, Robby’s better at this game than Jack.
“Yeah?” Robby says and grips Jack’s chin firmly in his hand, turning it, forcing his eyes (and attention) back on him. “You can join it on the floor then.”
Confusion replaces amusement as Jack cocks his head to the side (as much as Robby’s grip will let him). “What?”
“On your knees. Now.”
Jack cocks an eyebrow. But he goes down. Sinks to his knees right in front of Robby, holding eye contact the entire time.
Robby swallows hard. He didn’t expect Jack to go so easily. He’s always surprising Robby, even now.
“You ever even have your dick sucked by a man before?” Jack asks, his crooked little half smile dimpling his cheek like he knows exactly what Robby’s thinking. Probably does. It’d be foolish of Robby to think the ability to read each other like open books is one sided.
Robby shrugs and smiles down at Jack, the picture of nonchalance and control. “That’s what college is for, isn’t it?”
Robby actually has been sucked off by a guy before, but it wasn’t college. When his feelings started growing for Jack he thought maybe he was having some kind of late in life sexual awakening. He watched a lot of gay porn. Learned what ‘Reddit’ was and spent hours reading threads on ‘how to tell if you might be gay’, and went as far as to get a bj from an old college friend who was all too happy to help Robby “discover” himself.
Except he pictured Jack’s face the entire time, which is the only reason he got off.
Now Jack’s got both eyebrows raised. “Didn’t know you had it in you, Chief.”
The moniker has Robby’s dick throbbing harder than ever. Jack never calls him that. Even though he is the ED Chief, he’s never really thought of himself as Jack’s boss. The subtle acceptance of the power dynamic, Jack subtly playing into it, drags a sharp breath from Robby.
“Told you, you don’t know everything about me. Time to find out though, kid.”
Robby hasn’t called him ‘kid’ since residency. He’d originally started doing it to piss Jack off even though he’s only a few years younger than Robby. But they were always trying to one up each other back then. Neither of them have been a kid in several decades, but he’s glad the throwback nickname hits its mark.
The blooming of Jack’s pupils is answer enough that the dynamic excites him.
Robby nods down expectantly. Get to work.
To this credit, Jack’s hands are doctor-steady as they disengage Robby’s belt, sliding it out of its loops before dexterous fingers make easy work of his button and zipper and briefs. And then Robby’s hard cock is springing free.
“Jesusfuck, Robby,” Jack says in awe, perfect pink tongue darting out to wet his lips.
Robby eats up Jack’s reaction as the other man kneels before him, staring at his cock like it’s the eighth wonder of the world. He has good length, but it’s his girth that’s impressive.
Jack’s eyes flicker up to him. If he’s daunted by Robby’s size, he doesn’t show it. It’s been a problem for women in the past. Robby’s accepted that blowjobs aren’t really something he’ll ever get a lot of joy out of all things considered. Still, the eagerness on Jack’s face is worth it, even if it’s not going to do much. It’s a good starting point.
“You’re awfully quiet down there, Jack. Not up to the task?”
Jack’s blue eyes darken at the barb. “Brother, you have no idea what you’ve walked into, I promise you that.”
“Act coy all you want, Jack. Maybe that works on all the other men you have to pretend you enjoy fucking. But that act doesn’t work on me. You’ve been half-begging for me all night. Desperate for my attention just like back in residency. You think I don’t know what you were up to with that little game tonight? Talking about all those other men, trying to make me jealous?”
It had made Robby jealous, made him see red, but he acts unfazed now. In complete control. He has no idea if that was actually the point of Jack’s game. Didn’t think of it until now. But the idea thrills Robby, makes his cock throb with the idea of Jack wanting him that badly, of Jack wanting him jealous just to get his attention. And the fantasy of it is all that matters right now.
“Maybe if you put that smart mouth of yours to good use, then maybe I’ll fuck you. Think you can manage to impress me, brother?”
Jack shakes his head at Robby’s audacity. “God, and here I thought age cured you of being a cocky asshole. Pushing 50 and acting just like you did in residency?” But he’s licking his lips, a hunger barely hiding and sparking behind his eyes as he looks at Robby’s cock. “Famous last words, man.”
“Enough talking. Open up, sweetheart,” Robby commands, his tone leaving no room for argument. His cock aches at the sight of Jack on his knees. It’s already too impossible, too good. If Jack doesn’t touch him soon, he might die.
Boldly, he takes his own cock in hand, presses his hips forward, and taps his cock against Jack’s mouth, once, twice, three times, like a fist knocking to be let in.
For all of Jack’s words, his push back, Robby knows he wants to be put in his place. And Robby knows with certainty that no one else knows how to do that to a man like Jack. Probably hasn’t even come close.
Heat and desire flare across Jack’s face, overriding the defiance. He opens up.
The first lick from Jack’s tongue has Robby’s vision going black. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
He’s fantasized about it a thousand times. The reality? A million times better.
Jack’s tongue is hot and slick, teasing one moment and lavishing the next. Robby just watches Jack’s head bob on his cock, trying to keep his brain in this stratosphere.
Jack’s tongue darts into the slit of his cock, lapping at the precum that’s already starting to bead there.
“Jesus, Jack,” Robby pants.
Jack hums smugly around Robby’s cock, lips sucking hard, tongue swirling around his head before popping off him noisily. And then he dives back on.
Somehow, impossibly, he takes more of Robby in than anyone else ever has before. His hands, skilled and big and rough, make up for any lost contact his mouth can’t handle (which isn’t much) and it’s just as good. How the fuck is that possible?
Robby knows what Jack needs in return.
“Not so chatty with a cock in your mouth, are you?” he says, watching his best friend suck and lick him good. Jack’s gaze flicks up archly, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to hear Robby.
“Fuck, you love it, don’t you? Being stuffed shut. Such a little cockslut, aren’t you? Mouthy thing that you are, I’m not surprised.”
Robby keeps feeding Jack his cock, and Jack keeps sucking him down. It’s god damn impressive. No one’s ever taken this much of him in their mouth before, not for this long.
Jack’s cheeks hollow out as he sucks Robby hard and deep. Robby’s size makes it sloppy work, saliva dripping down the corners of his friend’s mouth that’s crammed full.
Such a pretty fucking sight.
Entranced, Robby reaches down and presses his thumb into one of the divots of Jack’s cheeks. A groan, deep and guttural comes from his chest as he feels his own cock sliding back and forth through the skin of Jack’s cheek.
Sliding his hand into Jack’s curls, it takes everything not to simply pet the man. How long has he dreamed of getting to run his hand through Jack’s hair? Now isn’t the time though. He forces his fingers to curl instead of soothe, to grip Jack’s gray strands and tug.
Jack jerks forward under Robby’s grip, choking as Robby’s cock hits the back of his throat unexpectedly.
Robby freezes for half a second as his eyes flash down to Jack. Worried.
But a moan vibrates around Robby’s shaft, and Jack opens his mouth (and his throat) further, moving with renewed vigor as he tries to choke more of Robby down. His hands grip at the back of Robby’s thighs, pulling himself further onto Robby’s cock, wet gagging sounds filling the room.
“Christ, Jack,” Robby rasps in disbelief and awe. His head falls back in pure pleasure, the sight and sounds overwhelming him.
Who the fuck is this man? His thoughts are jumbled, hazy things not tied to reality any longer. There is no way Jack is real. Too many impossible things have come together to make him. An angel from the heavens come down to drag Robby to hell.
It’s almost too much.
“Enough. Enough. Up.” Yanking out of Jack’s mouth to keep from cumming, he grabs under the other man’s arms and hauls up.
Startled, Jack stumbles a little in Robby’s grip. A pleased gleam sparkles in his eyes as he wipes at his mouth, his lips red from ruin.
“Bedroom. Now.” He can’t help but attach his mouth to Jack’s again, tasting his own salty precum on his tongue as the pair of them make out, bumping into the hallway walls as Robby backs them towards the room.
Robby has Jack out of his clothes in a matter of minutes, shedding his own shirt along the way. If he thought he was feral for Jack before, it’s nothing in comparison to seeing the man’s naked body spread out on the bed before him, golden and glistening.
There are a hundred different things he wants to do to Jack. Namely, get his mouth on Jack’s hard cock, the tip a dusky rose color that’s begging to be worshipped. But the need for more is growing painful inside his chest. He’s not sure he won’t just cum on the spot and ruin the whole night if he gets to suck Jack’s perfect cock.
Jack mistakes Robby’s moment of processing for hesitancy. “Are you good? Do you need me to…”Jack lets the question linger in the air. Knows Robby knows what he’s asking. Robby’s never fucked a man before. Does he need Jack to help walk him through this part?
He’s so earnest and considerate in the moment despite the dynamic they’ve been playing into. It melts Robby for a moment, turning his own voice softer momentarily. “I’ve got it. You just keep enjoying yourself, kid.”
Robby gets Jack on his stomach. He wastes no time. He spreads Jack’s cheeks. Groans at the sight of his hole puckering at the sudden exposure. Robby leans in, flicks his tongue once, twice, a third. Light and quick and teasing.
Jack squirms against the bed. Robby presses his hand, large and flat against Jack’s lower back. “Stop moving. Let me eat,” he commands.
A thump and a groan from Jack is all Robby hears as the other man drops his head onto the pillow.
Robby spreads Jack’s cheeks further apart, almost painfully as a reprimand. Presses his tongue back to Jack’s hole, licks and flicks his tongue, torturously light until Jack is withering and whining and begging beneath him.
“Please, please, man,” Jack begs.
Robby grins, knowing exactly what he’s doing to his friend. His own cock is straining painfully. But the delayed gratification will be worth it. “Please, what?”
Another frustrated groan. “Please, I need - umph, I need more.”
“More what?” Robby prompts, feigning naivety.
“Fuck, Robby. You’re such an - ” A long, wet, flush swipe of Robby’s tongue makes Jack choke. “Oh, yes - that, please. Please. More.”
Robby smirks, half-drunk on Jack’s begging. “Tell me exactly what you need, Jack.”
“Your tongue. Harder. More. Inside me. Fuck, anything, I’ll take anything. Just more. Please, Robby.”
Robby watches, entranced as Jack’s hole flutters, like it, too, is wordlessly begging. Fuck. His cock jumps as he dives in. He gives no warning. No in-between pressure. 10 to 100 mph in an instant.
He sucks the sensitive flesh and shoves his tongue in, invading. Jack jerks and gasps in surprise at the sudden onslaught. His hips jerk away on instinct. Growling, Robby grabs his hips and pulls back hard, smothering his face in Jack’s ass.
Jack moans and ruts against the bed. ‘Yes, yes, Robby, yes,’ falls from his lips, muffled by the pillow.
Without preamble, Robby pulls away. A gasp of protest comes from Jack. Robby doesn’t leave him empty long, though. He’s losing patience himself. He needs to be inside Jack. Needs to feel the hot clenching of his hole around his cock.
Slicking his fingers with lube he finds in the beside drawer, he presses a single finger into Jack’s hole. It slides in nicely. Jack’s surprised gasp before he moans Robby’s name makes him smile. Robby wants to add a second finger, but he knows he should stretch Jack. His experience with anal is limited to women and the videos he’s studied online. And he doesn’t know the last time Jack did this -
“Another. Put another one in, please, man. I can take it.”
Robby groans. Twisting his wrist, he slides another finger in. Jack’s hole gives more resistance this time, Robby’s fingers thick and callused. But Jack just moans as Robby works him. In. Out. Stretching his fingers in little scissoring motions.
Robby watches as his fingers disappear in and out of Jack’s hole. Fuck. Robby needs more. Much more.
Sliding an arm underneath Jack, he hooks his torso and hauls him up until Jack is kneeling on the bed, back pressed flush to Robby’s barrel chest. Sweat and the coarse hair of Robby’s chest and stomach rub against the tanned skin.
“Robby?” Jack huffs out, momentarily disoriented as the blood rushes away down from his head. Robby keeps him steady, mindful of his prosthetic, bicep bulging as it holds Jack’s muscular body hard and tight against him, sweat making them both slick.
Robby presses a third finger into Jack’s hole. A sharp inhale escapes Jack. Robby doesn’t wait, just keeps pressing in. Head falling forward, Jack pants under the effort to adjust, to take Robby in.
“Open up, baby. You can take me, can’t you?” Robby half coos, half challenges. Grunting as Robby presses in deeper, Jack wordlessly nods.
It doesn’t take long before Robby’s three fingers slide in and out of a panting, groaning Jack. Fuck. Robby needs to see how badly Jack wants it. He stills his movements. Jack huffs and presses back on his hand, chasing the pressure, trying to fuck back on him.
Robby groans. “Come on, baby. Fuck yourself on my fingers. That’s it.”
Jack jerks his hips back, doing as he’s told, fucking up and down on Robby’s hand, bedsprings creaking beneath them.
Robby’s cock leaks, painfully hard, nearly purple from the need for release. As much as he could cum just from the sight of Jack like this, riding his fingers, he needs more. Using his free hand, he grips Jack’s hip to slow him.
Jack obeys, reading Robby’s gestures so easily it amazes Robby. He slides his fingers out and slicks his cock, which jumps in his hand from the sudden pressure after being neglected for so long.
Fuck. Robby swallows hard. He breathes out slowly as he lathers himself.
Finally, finally, he presses the head of his cock to Jack’s hole. They groan in unison. “Yes, yes, man. Please. I’m ready. Do it,” Jack says huskily.
Robby laughs at his eagerness. Never did he ever think he’d get to hear Jack begging for him like this. He could spend the rest of his life like this. “Yeah, you need it that bad, huh, Jack? Need to get fucked. Need to be full?”
Jack isn’t even trying to pretend now, all his brattiness already fled. “Fuck, Robby, you know I do. Need it. Need you.”
That has Robby swallowing hard. That familiar arrow-tug in his chest. ‘Need you’. Like it’s Robby specifically Jack needs. Wants. Not just anyone.
Robby shakes his head. Don’t be stupid, he chastises himself. Jack’s just blissed out, just horny, just wants to be fucked stupid. Robby’s just the mouthpiece. Just the player in this scene who can give him that. That’s it.
“Told you you’d be begging for it,” Robby says, cocky, taunting as he slowly rolls his hips forward and back, the breadth of his cock-head stamping Jack’s hole on and off. “Told you only I can handle you Jack, didn’t I?”
Jack nods in jerky movements, barely paying attention as he tries to fuck back onto Robby’s dick, huffing in frustration every time Robby pulls away, not letting him have it.
Gripping Jack’s hips, he stills the other man and pushes. The head of his cock finally, finally breaches Jack’s warm hole.
“Ughhh-” Jack groans, low and desperate.
Robby bites his lip so hard, caging his own groan. Jesus Christ. He wants to slam in. Wants to fuck all the way to the hilt into Jack. Fights every fiber in his body not to. He needs Jack to beg for it first.
“I asked - ” Robby rolls his hips minutely forward “-you-“ Robby pulls back, then rocks just the head of his cock in Jack’s hole “-a question.” Robby’s arms strain as Jack fights back against his grip, trying to take Robby deeper.
“Who’s the only one who can handle you, Jack? Whose cock are you begging for?”
“You are! Fuck, Robby. You. Only you.”
Robby grins. But he still doesn’t press further, just keeps the slow, torturous in-out pull of his cock-head. “You gonna take this cock? Only going to give it to you if you’re good. You gonna impress me with how well you take it, brother?”
“Yes, yes. So well, lemme show you how good - how well - ” Jack’s babbling affirmations and it’s all Robby can handle.
Robby thrusts his hips forward, slamming deep into Jack’s hole, all the way to the hilt.
Jack cries out. Robby’s arms tighten around him to keep him upright. He rolls his hips forward relentlessly, instantly setting a ruthless pace.
It’s overwhelming after the tortuously slow pace he’d been setting. Robby’s got Jack’s arms pinned down at his sides as he’s wrapped entirely around him, squeezing, immobilizing him. Jack’s elbows bend, his hands trying to claw at Robby’s wrapped arms. Needing something, anything to grasp.
Little ah-ah-ahs punch out of Jack with every thrust of Robby’s hips.
It’s utterly intoxicating. And when Jack’s head falls back against Robby’s shoulder, his neck baring, long stretch of tan skin on display, a dark wave washes over Robby.
Robby curls the entire impressive breadth of his chest and shoulders around Jack’s back, possessive as a dragon hoarding its treasure. Everything in Robby wants to claim Jack.
Mine. Mine. Mine. MINE. The dark voice in his head chants.
The need claws at him.
Leaning down, he trails his nose along the curve of Jack’s neck, forcing himself to go slow until he reaches the junction where Jack’s shoulder meets.
Robby presses his mouth to the tender flesh, revels in the soft little pleased noises Jack makes as he kisses there lightly.
Then, fast as a snake strike, he bites his teeth into the tender flesh.
A sharp noise, half-grunt/half-gasp, punches out of Jack.
Half-possessed, Robby sucks at the flesh, tongue lapping to soothe some of the pain away. Salt and sun fill Robby’s taste buds as he works Jack’s skin. He needs Jack to let him do this. Needs it to feel good for Jack too.
Wants to leave a mark so dark on Jack that it doesn’t disappear for weeks.
Because if this is the one and only time Robby ever gets to have Jack like this, he wants to leave a piece of himself with Jack, wants to own a piece of him in return, wants to have a temporary-forever if that’s all he’ll ever get.
Throaty moans fall from Jack’s lips, his hips canting backwards into Robby’s groin. “Yes, yes,” he babbles.
Robby sucks harder. Savage in his need.
“Robby,” the word, sharp as a dog-whistle, calls him back.
Too much. Too much. He instantly releases Jack’s skin, even as the beast in his chest gnashes its protest. But Robby is only willing to be guilty of crimes of covetous, not of force. They don’t have a safe word, but Robby can hear the note of warning in Jack’s voice.
Robby’s too wolfish to be truly sheepish in this moment. Especially when he looks down at the spot his mouth just occupied and sees the indents his teeth left, circling a blooming bruise like the chalk outline of a body.
Robby stares at the mark, trying to burn it into his retinas. It’s the only trophy he’ll ever get from this night.
In one swift movement he’s leaning them both forward until Jack’s on his hands and knees. Robby fucks into him hard, fast, pouring every ounce of want and desire into it. It’s not long before he can feel Jack tensing around him.
“Cum on my cock, baby. Yeah, just like that,” Robby coaxes.
Jack fucking whines, his hole gripping Robby’s cock, hot and needy, begging for more even as his whole body shakes. “That’s it, take it all. Doing so good, taking it so well, let me feel you cum,” Robby guides him to his release and then through it, voice husky from exertion as he commands him.
He strikes Jack’s sweet spot over and over until Jack cries out as he cums, fisting his own cock.
Jack’s hole clenches impossibly tighter around Robby. “Fuck,” Robby grits out. Jack is still trembling beneath him as the orgasm works its way through the man’s body. Finally, Robby can set the beast in his chest free.
Leaning his weight onto Jack’s back, who’s bent forward into the sheets, ass still up, Robby snaps his hips forward, striking deep. He pounds in, over and over and over. It’s animalistic the way he fucks into Jack, rutting, the slapping of skin sharp and wet and primal.
A sharp, strangled keen from Jack beneath him hits Robby’s ears through the haze. The man is shaking and clenching around him again as if Robby’s unleashed flurry of movements have caught the end of his orgasm and sent him into a deeper one.
“ROBBY!”
That does it. Robby spills hot and fast into Jack. Hips stuttering, his balls, full and heavy, draw up, emptying themselves completely. He groans out Jack’s name, unrepentant as a sinner.
The pleasure is like a 100cc’s of morphine straight to his veins. He rides the wave until he’s spent. Until he has just enough energy to pull out of Jack and collapse onto the bed.
Chest heaving, body buzzing, skin slick and hot to the touch, it’s several minutes before his brain returns to reality. Robby wants to give Jack proper aftercare, wants to get a warm towel and wipe him down. Wants to get him water and something sweet to eat. Whatever he needs.
But Jack is half-leaned against him, hot and panting. It’s not quite cuddling but it’s not the riptide of regret yet either. Robby’s afraid to move, afraid once he breaks contact now he won’t know how to make it again now that they’ve both cum. Afraid the invitation to touch his friend ends here.
So he will take his time and catch his breath, even as the desire to be the gentleman pulls at him to get up.
“Fuck, Robby. What was that?” Jack asks after another minute.
Robby can feel the heat of Jack’s gaze on him, but he doesn’t turn to meet his eye. Can’t. Is too afraid of what he’ll find on his best friend’s face. He already heard the catch in Jack’s voice, the strain of…something.
Want? Desire? Hope?
Regret? Anger? Irritation?
He closes his eyes.
This is how Rome fell, Robby thinks. At the hands of something greater than itself, chasing the impossible, foolish enough to believe they could have it all.
That was fun to write! I hope you enjoyed. Please leave a comment if you did. It feeds and fuels me ❤️
Thinking of doing a third part 🧐 Was only ever supposed to be one but then this happened. Anyone interested in another part or is it better to leave it open ended?
omega robby making a nest and being fussy about it being perfect for their pup, and jack is just amused and is like “i really love him.”
“It has to be perfect!”
Clothes and blankets flung in every direction.
Jack watched, fond as hell, as Robby fussed over his nest.
It would have annoyed Robby to know how smitten Jack felt right now, so Jack stayed quiet.
Robby paced, belly large and pushing up the hem of his dark tshirt as he walked back and forth in front of his nest, anxious-hand scrubbing into his hair.
Robby’s dark hair stuck up in all odd directions. Jack tried not to coo at how adorable that was. It would only set Robby off.
“Something is MISSING!” Robby insisted, pacing, hands adjusting for the millionth time at the pile of fabric that made up his giant nest.
Jack had been at work for his hours. His leg ached. His stomach growled. He was tired. But his omega was anxious and every instinct in Jack called to comfort him.
He wanted to fuck Robby. To dick him down until Robby was babbling Jack’s name and nothing else. But he fought against that instinct. Robby was carrying his pup. He needed comfort right now.
“It needs to be perfect!” Robby insisted again, hand scrubbing at the back of his neck, desperate to figure out what was missing.
Then he turned to Jack.
Robby’s eye’s widened in inspiration. In recognition.
“Off. Off! Take it off. Please.”
Robby’s hands tugged at Jack’s hoodie. Insistent.
Jack had no time to register as Robby pulled at his hoodie. Jack’s biceps flexed as he tugged it over his head, his only thought to appease his husband, his omega.
Glee lit up Robby’s big brown eyes.
“Yes! Yes. Perfect, Jack. Thank you.”
Robby placed Jack’s hoodie onto the nest, fussing a little, tugging it just so.
Jack didn’t see how that changed anything, but he didn’t need to. His omega was pleased. Happy. Glowing. It was all Jack wanted. He loved Robby so very much.
Robby's been drowning in guilt. So Jack decides to fuck it out of him 😌 18+ Explicit
“Say you’re sorry again and I stop.”
There was no other word for it: Robby let out a sharp whine. A keen. “Fuck, Jack. Just - please. I - I need it.”
Robby was on his back, knees pressed to his fucking chest, and Jack lounged at the end of the bed, teasing Robby’s hole with torturously slow fingers. He’d been at it for over 20 minutes, tracing spit-slick fingers against the sensitive rim.
Teasing.
Teasing.
Teasing.
But not penetrating.
Robby’s hole ached for Jack’s fingers. For his cock. For anything of Jack’s to fill him.
Robby was on the verge of a mental fucking break down. To be fair, he’d started off that way.
Jack watched as Robby’s hole expanded and contacted, trying to suck him in. Jack dragged his finger over the hungry skin, pressed - Robby gasped, hopeful - and then pulled away.
“Fucking fuck, Jack. Come on.”
Jack nuzzled his nose against the underside of Robby’s thigh, coarse hair tickling his skin deliciously, and did nothing to end his languishing. Robby had a lesson to learn. And Jack was going to teach it til Robby was blue in the balls if that’s what it took.
“Tell me it wasn’t your fault and I’ll give you exactly what you want, exactly what you’re begging for.”
⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️
Robby bit his lip so he wouldn’t curse his husband out. He didn’t really have it in him anyway, not today, not really. His heart was still heavy from what happened with Langdon. Frank stealing drugs from patients, from the hospital. Frank endangering patients for who knew how long. Frank lying.
“I’m his attending. I’m Chief of the ED. Of course it’s my goddamn fault.” The words came out through clenched teeth, guilt shackling every syllable.
A sharp slap to the sensitive underside of Robby’s ass had him gasping, painful-pleasure adding gasoline to the house-fire that was already his nervous system.
“Frank Langdon is a grown adult who fell into the trap too many medical professionals do. He may be your responsibility but he is not your fault. You watch over dozens of employees. You taught that kid everything he knows. Including right from wrong. Frank made his choices. Tell me you know it’s not your fault.”
Everything in Robby wanted to tell Jack he was wrong. So fucking wrong. Of course it was his fault. Everything that ever went wrong in the ED was his fault. But he knew Jack wouldn’t fuck him until he agreed. And Jack was like a basset hound with a scent. He’d know if Robby was lying.
And, alright, now that Jack had turned him to putty (high-strung putty but putty none the less) his brain had calmed enough to see that maybe, okay, alright, perhaps Frank’s actions weren’t all his fault.
It had been eating Robby for days. The guilt. But he hadn’t voiced it out loud until today. Jack had been waiting. Patient as a prayer. For Robby to say what was on his mind. Robby had finally admitted it at the end of dinner tonight, in the middle of doing dishes.
Jack had immediately pulled Robby away from the sink, dinner plate splashing into the suds and sending soapy bubbles and water everywhere. Sputtering and protesting about his wet clothes and still-dirty dishes, Robby had stumbled after his boyfriend into the bedroom, having little choice under the other man’s strong grip. It didn’t matter that Jack was several inches shorter than him, the army vet could man-handle him like clay.
Stripping his clothes off as Robby asked ‘What the hell’s gotten into you?’ Jack didn’t bother responding.
Once Robby was fully naked, Jack growled, “Bed. On your back. Knees up. Now.”
Breathless and compliant as a new recruit, Robby had obeyed every instruction.
Except he hadn’t realized Jack was going to tease him until he was a sweaty, begging mess, and he was too far gone to fight back, his dopamine sloshing and sliding high and low like a drunken pirate on a ship. Completely at Captain Jack’s mercy.
And that’s exactly how Jack wanted him. It was like working a knot out of someone’s muscle. You had to apply some pressure first, warm it up, press in hard, to work it out. To get it to release.
He knew Robby was the same way. He had to inflict pleasure on his husband to the point of near-pain, get him soft and compliant and needy, in order to work all that guilt out. Otherwise, Robby would just keep slamming himself up against a brick wall. Jack knew just how to work him good.
Jack smirked devilishly. “Now that’s a good boy.” He pressed the tip of his finger into Robby’s begging hole, and the larger man bucked off the bed. The pressure was so light, so minimal, but the teasing had been so tantalizing the smallest of penetration felt like the troops invading normandy.
“Jack!” Robby gaspedbeggedpleaded.
Jack slid his finger in to the first knuckle, then the second. Robby’s hole contracted hot and greedily around the digit. Jack watched, entranced. “Fuck, baby, you always take it so good.”
Robby gasped out a breath. “More, Jack. More. Please. I need it. Need you.”
Jack grinned. He had a hard time denying his husband anything. It had taken Robby a lot to make that admission. They had further to go, but he wanted to reward good behavior. So he added a second finger, working it in easily.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
When Robby was panting, Jack crooked his fingers ever so slightly and Robby’s body jolted. Robby’s cock bobbed thick and heavy in the air, almost purple, begging for attention. Release.
But Robby hadn’t earned that yet.
Jack’s own cock strained against his stomach. It took everything in him not to rut against the bed, seeking pressure. Robby was his priority though. He didn’t know what kind of therapy this could be called. Probably some kind of conditioning. He was probably making Pavlov proud wherever he was beyond the grave, or maybe even that sick fuck Freud. Jack didn’t care. Whatever worked, he’d do for Robby. This wasn’t the first time he’d fucked Robby out of his guilt. And it sure as shit wouldn’t be the last.
“I need your cock. Fuck, I need it. Now,” Robby demanded.
Jack stilled his fingers instantly. “That’s not how this works baby and you know it.”
Robby gritted his teeth, his head slamming back into the pillow. Scrubbing a hand over his eyes, he resisted the urge to tear his own skin off. Jack Abbot was going to be the death of him. A threat escaped his clenched jaw, “I swear to fucking God, Jack - ”
All at once, Jack yanked his fingers free. Robby’s hole gaped at the sudden extraction, empty like a begging pauper. “Yeah, baby, what’s that?”
Jack quickly slicked himself with the lube bottle that’d been resting next to him as Robby babbled incoherent apologies. Without preamble he flipped Robby onto his stomach, hauling him to his hands and knees, before lining his cock up with Robby’s hole.
It was surprisingly easy to haul the larger man around. Even in his half-delirious state. Robby just went too easily where Jack moved him. But it would be a disservice to Jack’s strength, to his own physicality, not to credit that too. Muscles honed to perfection, all rigid and hard planes, he broke a little sweat moving his husband around.
Slowly, gently, maddeningly he pressed the tip of his aching cock to Robby’s hole, precum smearing the sensitive flesh. “Jackkk,” Robby moaned, hips jerking back, trying to force him in.
Jack maneuvered easily away, keeping their contact achingly minimal. “Whose fault is Landon’s drug abuse?”
Fisting his hands into the sheets, Robby huffed out several rough breaths. “Fuck you, Jack. You know it’s not that simple.”
Jack pressed his hips forward, the tip of his cock just breaching the puckered flesh. “Whose. Fault. Is. It?”
Robby’s hands gave out, his face slamming into the mattress with a soft thud. It took several seconds for him to form a coherent though, teetering between guilt and desire, rage and pleasure.
Fuck. Jack. He - he was right. Langdon wasn’t his fault. It didn’t make sense, but Robby wanted it to be his own fault. Because then he could fix Langdon. If it was Langdon’s fault then Robby would have to trust the kid to unfuck all that, to get help, and he was afraid Frank wouldn’t do it right. Or at all. If he just let Robby take the blame, Robby could make it right, could make him see sense…
“You’re quiet down there, sweetheart, am I boring you?” Jack’s voice was a purr, his cock pressing and pulling away from Robby’s hole, peppering it with sensation.
“No. No. Jesus, Jack. I’m just - fuck. You’re right. Okay. You’re right. It’s Langdon’s responsibility. What he did. I can, I can help. But it’s on him.”
Internally, something sharp loosened in Jack’s chest. Robby. His brilliant, beautiful, tragically emphatic husband with a heart 10 sizes too big, was finally letting this go. It was all Jack wanted. He also wanted to weep. But he wouldn’t. It was time to reward his lover.
Without warning, Jack jerked forward, slamming himself into Robby all the way to the hilt. The noise that ripped from Robby wasn’t human. It was purely animal.
Jack’s hands gripped the ample flesh layering Robby’s hips as he thrust in at a punishing pace. Robby gasped and groaned and begged beneath him as Jack hammered in.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
The slapping of skin echoed like thunder clap throughout the bedroom.
“Say it,” Jack gritted out. “Say it again.”
Robby’s brain struggled to stay in this stratosphere as Jack fucked him an inch from his life. “It’s - it’s not - not my fault. Not my fault!”
“Good boy. That’s my good fucking boy.”
Shifting, Jack pressed up so he was half hovering over Robby in a suspended crouch. Chest pressed to Robby’s sweat-slicked back, he curled one hand on the back of Robby’s neck for leverage, and leaned all his weight in. Gravity pressed and pulled Jack impossibly deeper, letting him fill the larger man, making his hole stretch and take the punishment and pleasure in equal measure.
Robby panted his name over and over around a mouthful of blanket that he’d clamped his teeth around.
“Touch yourself baby. Fucking do it. You earned it.”
Robby’s hand immediately went to his weeping dick. It only took a couple quick strokes before his balls were pulling up hard and he came, shooting into the blankets, ropes and ropes of hot cum. Moaning Jack’s name the entire time.
Jack followed soon after, Robby’s ragged mewling frying his own neurotransmitters. He sank in deep and hard and fast, his groin slapping hard against the soft flesh of Robby’s ripe ass.
Balls drawing up tight his hips stuttered and pressed as he emptied himself completely into his husband’s ass.
Panting, the couple lay next to each other on the bed several minutes later, not yet capable of speech. They were on their backs, skin searingly hot from the exercise but neither pulled away.
Transfixed, Jack watched as his cum leaked out of Robby’s pulsing, sedated hole.
“I think I know where the term ‘jack hammer’ comes from now,” Robby teased when he had enough breath again.
Jack laughed, abs straining and sore. He pressed a kiss to his husband’s mouth.
Jack admires all the ways getting Robby pregnant has improved both of their lives. 18+
It wasn’t therapy, but when Robby found out he was pregnant, it was the next best thing. It had to be a change in hormones, some kind of flush of serotonin or dopamine that filled the gaps his brain had been sorely missing the whole time anyway.
It’s not that it cured him, but it certainly did a whole lot of something.
Whatever it is, Jack’s here for it. So fucking here for it.
12 Weeks:
Robby, formerly self-conscious about his tummy? Suddenly the taller man is constantly checking his ‘bump’ in the mirror. “Do you think it’s grown at all? Here, come feel Jack. My bump’s gotten bigger, right?”
Jack places his hands on Robby’s cute as hell little bump. Robby asked him the same question yesterday, shirt lifted as he gazed with heart-eyes into the bedroom mirror. Jack doesn’t think the bump has gotten bigger in the last 24 hours, but he enjoys getting to fill his hands with his husband’s belly without the other man shying away like usual, gently batting his hands away. Now Jack gets to run his fingers over the soft tufts of hair on said belly. He wants to press kisses to the steadily growing bump but doesn’t want to push his luck just yet….
“Yeah, baby, I think it has,” Jack says, smiling and watching the light in Robby’s eyes glow brighter as he stares at his own stomach.
20 weeks:
Robby has gotten so horny Jack considers popping a viagra just to keep up. Robby wants it everywhere. Anywhere. All the time.
The kitchen counter. The back of the couch. The foyer where Jack has to scramble just to get the door closed so the whole world doesn’t see his husband’s naked body because Robby can’t wait another second and starts yanking his pants down and reaching for Jack’s. In the car in the parking garage after work. In the car in the parking garage before work. It’s actually a miracle if they get to fuck in an actual bed anymore.
“Oh, fu- fuck Jack. Fuck me harder. Yes, yes, like that! Put another baby in me. Pleaaaase, Jack.”
Jack fucks into Robby for the third time that day, taking him from behind this time. He fucks into Robby’s dripping hole, his hands holding onto the rounded belly of his husband as he pounds away.
Sweat slicks his forehead as Robby slams his hips back into Jack’s, taking him in deeper and deeper. Robby has started gaining weight on other parts of his body - including his ass. Mesmerized, Jack watches as Robby’s soft, rounded flesh ripples and bounces as it slams against Jack’s groin. Purpling bruises mottle the normally pale flesh from where Jack hasn’t been able to keep from sinking his teeth into it on numerous occasions before slipping his tongue into the man’s hot, slick hole.
A low keen brings Jack back to reality, pulling his eyes from his husband’s gorgeous ass. “Jack?” Robby whines, desperate to hear his husband who’s gone quiet except for his sharp breaths.
Moving his hand to Robby’s ample hip, he gives it a squeeze. “Yeah, baby. You’re doing so fucking well taking my cock. Feel so good. Your hole squeezing me so tight, baby.”
Robby moans happily at the praise, his back arching further in response.
“Wanna be so good for you Jack. Wanna take your cum. Wanna be filled with you. Wanna make you so many fucking babies.”
Jack groans. It’s the third time having sex today and he’s already getting close to the edge. Yeah, he’s gonna have to figure out how to keep up, how to keep his husband’s hole filled. It’s a problem Jack doesn’t mind having in the least.
29 Weeks:
“I think we should go to therapy.”
Jack’s head jerks up from the newspaper he’s been reading at the kitchen counter. A weepy, teary-eyed Robby stands in the doorway, trembling hand on his bump.
Jack’s entire heart plummets. For a whole minute, he can’t even move as his brain races. Oh god, what has he done wrong? Did he fuck up? Is Robby leaving him?? ‘Move. Get up!’ His brain shouts at him, but Jack is pretty sure he’ll throw up if he does that.
“Jack?” Robby sniffles, stepping into the kitchen.
Jack practically falls out of the kitchen stool as he scrambles over to Robby. His hands reach for his husband, one going automatically to the baby bump the other curing into the front of Robby’s white t-shirt. “Please, baby, tell me what happened. I’ll fix it. Whatever it is.” His voice comes out soothing and strained and just shy-of pleading. He forces control into it. He’ll prove to Robby he’s still capable. He’s still strong. He doesn’t know what’s happened. He’s been keeping Robby fed, fucked, and free of a single obligation.
Jack will prove he will be a great father to their children. That he’s the man Robby needs. No one can do it like him. No one can care for Robby like he can…
Brows furrowing, brown eyes blooming with confusion, Robby blinks at him, droplets collecting like rain on his beautiful long lashes. “Fix what? These are happy tears, Jack. I - I can’t stop crying. These damn pregnancy hormones.”
And just like that the waterworks turn up. Tears pour from Robby’s eyes as he presses forward, slumping his head down onto Jack’s shoulder and nuzzling into his neck.
Relief rockets so hard and so fast through Jack it takes him a moment to wrap his arms around his husband. He fights his own tears as he rub’s Robby’s back in soothing circles, making soft sounds in his ear to comfort him. “Oh baby, that’s okay. You’re alright. Let it out.”
Hiccuping, Robby nuzzles in closer. “I just - I just read in one of the - hic - pregnancy books that it’s good for couples to go to - hic - therapy before the baby comes. Good to be on the same page. Good for the relationship because babies can change a lot of things. I just love you so - hic - much, Jack. You take such good care of me. I nev - hic - never thought I would have that. That I - that I deserved it. What do you think?”
Jack, who has been encouraging Robby to go to therapy for his own mental health for literal years, squeezes his husband tighter, the baby bump between them pressing almost painfully into his abs. He wants to shout his excitement from the rooftops. Wants to run laps around the neighborhood.
Instead, he just places a hand on the back of Robby’s head, patting gently. “Yeah, baby, I think that’s a great idea.”
33 Weeks:
It’s the middle of August and a heat wave has been simmering through Pittsburg for over a week now. Their AC has been working over time, but being as pregnant as he is, Robby’s hot all the time anyway.
“Do we have another fan, Jack? I thought we had another one in the study, but I can’t find it?”
Jack looks up from his laptop where he’s been studying notes from their last birthing class. It’s notes on how to be a good non-birthing parent during delivery that fill the screen. He’s determined to be the absolute best he can be for Robby when the time comes.
“Yeah, baby, let me chec - ”
The words die and dry up like water hitting a frying pan.
Because across the living room is Robby standing barefoot and wearing a crop top. Robby, his big, beautiful belly round and on full display. So big is his belly that Jack can barely see the short-shorts he’s got on underneath.
Waving a magazine like a fan towards his face, Robby says, “Jack?”
Jack is up and across the room in seconds. Without a word he lifts Robby clear off his feet. Squealing with surprise and joy, Robby scrambles to grab hold of his husband’s shoulders, arms flying around Jack’s neck. “Oh my god, put me down! I’m too heavy for you right now Jack, put me down!”
But Jack just nudges Robby’s legs to lock around his hips, twirling his husband around on the spot like he weighs nothing at all. “Jesus, look at you, baby. You’re gorgeous. You’re absolutely glowing.”
Blushing, Robby’s face goes red, and it’s not from the heat this time. “You think so?” he says, almost shyly. But internally, he is glowing. He’s never felt more beautiful than he has since he got pregnant. Jack’s always made him feel that way, but something has finally shifted in Robby. For the first time he really believes every word Jack says when he showers him with compliments.
“Baby, you’re stunning,” Jack says as he walks them towards the bedroom, his feet moving without his brain - which is still somewhere in the kitchen, too stunned to catch up.
Giggling, Robby presses kisses to Jack’s neck, who has set him down on the edge of the bed. Robby goes to peel off his crop top, his dick already swelling under Jack’s loving, heated gaze.
Jack reaches out quickly but gently, grasping his wrist to stop him. Shaking his head, his pupils blown wide, he says, “Leave it on.”
Grinning, his brain full of oxytocin and every feel-good chemical that’s ever existed, Robby does whatever Jack instructs him to do.
Jack’s eyes devour every bountiful inch of skin on Robby he can. It’s not just his body that has Jack hungry, though, it’s that smile on his husbands face, the way he’s seemed like such a happier, healthier person since he got pregnant.
In that moment, Jack vows to keep his husband filled up and knocked up as often as he’s possibly allowed.
