ang!!

You didn't even have to look up from the chart you were frantically finishing.

"I'm cold, Jack," you muttered, in a slight bad mood.

Jack leaned against the desk. He looked annoyingly comfortable in a dark hoodie. He was starting his night shift just as you were reaching your breaking point.

"Tragic," he reached out, his hand briefly brushing your arm. His skin was warm against yours. "You’re freezing. Where’s your jacket?"

"In a parallel universe where I actually check the night temps before leaving the house."

"Well, next time, just consult me. I’m an expert in... keeping pretty girls warm."

"God, shut up, Abbot," you cringed and he smirked. He headed towards the staff room, giving a small squeeze to the back of your neck, a gesture of affection that had become routine.

Minutes later, you stumbled into the staff locker room. You just wanted your bag, your keys and the heater in your car turned up to the max.

You reached your locker, but stopped short when you opened it.

Inside it was an oversized black hoodie.

You looked around, the room was empty.

You glanced at your keypad lock. You hadn't told Jack your code.

But he’d watched you enter it enough times while leaning casually against the lockers, chatting you up before rounds.

He was observant; it was part of his charm, and his curse.

Pinned to the fabric was a scrap of a pad with Jack’s messy writing:

Don’t freeze to death on my watch. It’s rude. P.S. 0-1-2-3? Seriously, doll? Change your password. Too easy. — J.

You pulled the hoodie off your locker. It was massive.

When you pulled it on, the scent of him wrapped around you like a physical embrace.

You felt your face heat up thinking of him.

You swung your bag over your shoulder and headed for the exit.

You passed the nursing station. Jack was there.

You didn't plan it.

Maybe it was the sudden rush of warmth or the sheer audacity of him guessing your locker code.

But as you walked past, you stepped into his personal space.

Jack started to look up, a witty remark already forming on his lips but you were faster. You leaned in, your hand momentarily grazing his shoulder, and pressed a quick peck right to the corner of his mouth.

"Thank you, handsome," you murmured.

By the time he actually processed the contact, you were already heading toward the sliding glass doors of the ER.

Jack froze, his hand hovering over the keyboard, the smirk he’d been wearing since the locker room now replaced by a look of wide eyed surprise.

Behind the desk, a couple of the night shift nurses started whispering, their eyebrows raised in unison.

"Did she just—?" Dr. Shen started.

"Yeah," he breathed, finally turning back to the screen, though he didn't seem to see the words on it at all. "Yeah, she fucking did."

⋆｡˚☤🩺✧˖°.｡⋆💉

Jack in black, omg

You bow with your dancers, watching confetti fall while you wave to the audience, blowing kisses to the front row, before turning to walk up the stairs on your prop "home" on stage to exit. The lights begin to dim and as you reach the last step, your platform boot slips, sending you tumbling upwards and onto your hip where the edge of the stair ends.

The "ooh" from the crowd that can still see you fall was more than enough to knock your ego down a few pegs. Out of the corner of your eye, you see your manager hurridly approaching.

Nothing else is circulating in your brain except for the fact that your hip hurts. Almost numbingly.

"Shit!" You exclaim as you attempt to move your right leg.

"Are you alright?" Your manager finally comes to your aid, urging someone in her headset to call 911.

You try and move up again, "Ah!— no I can't even put weight on my side."

A crew member approaches, letting you both know an ambulance is 3 minutes away. He looks pale, watching with wide eyes as you groan from the floor. He scurries when he sees the state your leg is in. Which is never a good sign.

"That doesn't look good." Looking down, you see your right leg at a very awkward angle,"Did I already break my hip in my 20s?" A bead of sweat trails across your forehead from both performing and the pain.

"We'll figure it out when we get to the hospital," your manager soothes. She gets the EMT's attention when they finally arrive, stretcher ready for you. You can already sense the excitement from them, one EMT checking for his phone.

"Sophie?" you ask turning towards your manager, "try and make it discreet please." The last thing you need is a tabloid cover of you in the back of an ambulance with the title ESPRESSO STAR TAKES A FALL.

She's holding her headset close to her ear, grimace on her face, "… About that."

The one thing you're grateful for is that you didn't need lights and sirens for the ride to the E.R.

However that doesn't really stop paparazzi from causing a scene wherever you go. You're only able to see where you are after the paramedics wheel you past the frenzy of flashing lights and into the hospital.

It looks fairly busy, doctors and nurses looking down at their charts as they breeze from room to room. It makes you feel silly, you're sure someone in the waiting room is having a heart attack meanwhile you tripped on some stairs. The rhinestoned two-piece you're wearing adds salt to the wound, too. You stick out like a sore thumb in the colorless room.

The paramedic in charge starts listing your name and age to a nearby nurse, "…she fell on some stairs while on stage, BP is 117/78, pulse 92, unable to move her right hip at all."

The redhead nods then looks at the mob outside the ambulance bay doors, raising an eyebrow at the EMT, "What's with the frenzy outside?"

"Holy shit."

You turn to look at a new face, a doctor with an almost empty dunkin' coffee in his hand, as he freezes from where he was dropping off his ipad. He fumbles with his drink, looking for a way to not look like a fish out of water.

"Shen, c'mon let's go," the nurse claps, ushering him to take your case out of the med bay.

"Right—okay trauma 2 is open, let's get her situated now," Dr. Shen states, directing the group into the secluded room. "And Lena?," he motions to the commotion blocking the very crucial ambulance bay, "call for securiy. A lot of them."

In a moment, there's a lot of talking happening around you that you can't even begin to comprehend. You're being lifted off the stretcher and onto an actual bed, and the pain hits you tenfold. "Fuck ow," you cry out.

Dr. Shen lets out a nervous breath before saying your name, "Did you hit your head at all during the fall? Any nausea or dizziness?" He opens up your eyelids gently with his fingers, flashing a pen light between both. "Equal and reactive," he calls out.

"No, I just fell onto my side. Can't move my leg without wanting to die," you moan.

"Push 4 of morphine," He orders.

You nod tiredly, "Mhm, yeah push that." The relief is almost immediate, the pain in your hip slowly easing as the morhphine hits your IV.

Two more people rush into the room, blue gloves snapped on before you could say hello. You're only able to see a woman as she steps in front of where your head is lolled to the side. "What's going on here—woah," the woman says. She stops herself for a second, surveying the room to see if anyone else is seeing the most talked about pop star at the moment in the trauma bed,"You're-that's—"

"Yep. I know. We'll talk about it in the break room after, Dr.Ellis," Dr. Shen chirps, this is the most exciting thing to walk through the doors since a Brad Pitt look alike got hit by an e-bike.

"The only thing we should be discussing is our patient," a new voice adds, although he does let out a low hum at the sight of you. "How'd you take a tumble tonight?"

You know an attractive voice when you hear one.

You lift your head up as much as the morphine will let you, lazily eyeing the room until you spot him. He's older, emanating authority as he takes note of your vitals. Dark grey curls, rough stubble, biceps so large that you want to eat sushi off of them. Fuck.

"Um, leaving the stage, it was dark and I slipped," you point towards your sparkly boots, "thanks to—um, these bad boys." It comes out more sluggish than you hoped.

He chuckles, his hands coming to survey any external damage on your leg, "Yeah that'll do it." He looks up at Shen, "No CT, her leg is internally rotated, pain when. Posterior hip dislocation." His fingers travel up to where your skirt is bunched up around your hip.

You think you hear the heart monitor start speeding up. You groan again.

"Is the morphine not helping?" Dr. Shen asks as he checks the monitors, ready to order for the nurse to push more.

You blink lazily, murmuring out a "No, I just look like a mess in front of this hot ass doctor." What you said doesn't register until a few seconds later, but you're too tired to care. The room is silent for a moment, nothing but beeping and the faint chatter outside keeping the room from being completely quiet.

Dr. Ellis chortles before sliding off her gloves, "I think you got this one, Abbot. Come find me after miss espresso is done, Shen."

Dr. Abbot clears his throat, "Okay, let's get ready to do the Captain Morgan technique for hip reduction." Maybe it's the morphine, but his cheeks look like they have a pink hue to them.

Dr. Shen places a stool by the bed next to his colleague, "This is gonna be uncomfortable, but you'll feel better in no time." He grasps onto you firmly, giving Dr. Abbot a nod, "Stabilizing her pelvis."

You snort, pointing at your new crush as he places his foot to get better leverage on the bed. "He can stabilize my pelvis anytime," you whisper.

"What was that?" Dr. Abbot asks, watching as Dr. Shen turns nearly purple from trying to hold in his laughter. This was so going in the group chat.

Damn, that was supposed to be an inside thought.

You don't respond as every nerve in your body is electrified when he places his hands firmly on your leg, lifting it up and nearly bending it over his shoulder. You let out a shaky exhale because it's not everyday that a hot doctor is spreading your legs to relocate your hip.

"Ready?" He asks, mainly towards Dr. Shen, but you don't miss the way his eyes meet yours as he takes a deep breath in, hands kneading at your thigh.

Dr. Shen was right, this is uncomfortable, but more so the fact that now you're incredibly more turned on than in pain at the moment. You want to laugh realizing how ridiculous this would look to anyone walking by the transparent doors. Rhinestone boot thrown over the shoulder of the rugged attending doctor in the PTMC.

"Ready, Abbot."

He nods, pressing his weight down into the side of your hip, waiting for it to click back into place. At the satisfying POP! of your hip, he releases his grip, allowing your leg to finally move freely. He watches you flop your leg into a normal position, satisfied grin taking over.

You sigh at the instant release, no longer immobilzed by the joint. "I will say," wiggling your hips to regain feeling, "I've never tried that one before."

At that, Dr. Shen can no longer hold in his laughter as practically cries out. He's leaning down on the edge of the computer, full hysterics consuming him. When he's semi-done, he wipes stray tears from his eyes, "This is why you're my favorite artist."

Before you can thank him for the much needed flattery, the trauma doors swing open again, but this time it's Sophie who rushes in. She looks exhausted, L.L Bean tote about to fall off her shoulders as she reaches to grab your hand.

"Oh thank god, are you okay?" She looks to both doctors for any sort of confirmation that you are perfectly in tact, "Is she alright now?" Sophie turns back to you, hands coming onto your face to examine you up close. You feel like a rag doll with everyone throwing you around.

Dr. Abbot stands with his hands behind his back next to Dr.Shen, eyes tracing your figure as subtle as he can. Which isn't subtle at all. "Dislocated hip, did a quick manuever to put it back into place so she should be okay to go home after we give you the discharge papers," he nods at you before adding, "… She's also a little high off of some morphine we gave her for her pain."

"Soph don't worry, I'm fine," you smile. You try throwing her a low-key wink, but it ends up coming out very cartoonish, "I was in great hands."

Her eyes glance over to Dr. Abbot,who is having a hard time not getting flustered at your comments, and then back to you. By the one comment she has witnessed, she knows she's going to have you at her hotel door in the morning ready to knock back a few mimosas to forget what happened in the E.R tonight.

"Wait! Sophie before we go we haveee to give them tickets to my next show," you point at Shen, "…he's a huge fan and he basically helped save the tour."

Dr. Shen looks like he could faint. Or vomit. One of them will happen sooner or later.

You look at Dr. Abbot, mouth opening before you can stop, "…Make sure the sexy doctor gets one, too."

Sophie looks embarrassed for you, one hand rubbing at her temple because she hopes this man doesn't have a wife. Or at the very least a daughter that listens to you. She's about to dismiss you, blame your words on the drugs or that you're running off of 4 hours of sleep when Abbot smiles.

He throws his non-sterile gloves in the trash, opening the door with his back as he steps out and nods,"See you at the show."

But the restlessness won. You hit the call button anyway, your thumb acting before your brain could protest. You weren't actually expecting him to answer. The plan was to leave a goofy, sleep deprived voicemail about your vendetta against your bedding and call it a day. You’d give him something to laugh at on his walk home.

The first ring echoed in your ear. Then a second.

You were already inhaling to start your "Hey, it’s me, don't mind the 5 AM rambling" speech when the line clicked.

Before you could even start your planned monologue, his voice came through the speaker.

“You know, people usually wait until the sun is up to start harassing me,” Jack said. “Or are you just calling to check if I’ve survived the night? Because I’ll have you know, a toddler sneezed directly into my eyeball around midnight, so there’s that.”

The mental image of the professional Dr. Abbot being taken down by a toddler caught you completely off guard.

A sound escaped you that was anything but graceful. A loud, snorting, unrestricted honk of a laugh. It was the kind of ugly, wheezing laugh you reserved for private, but in your sleep deprived state, it slipped.

On the other end of the line, Jack let out a soft laugh of his own.

“God, I’m sorry,” you wheezed as you rolled onto your back. “I didn’t actually expect you to pick up. I was going to leave you a weird message about my flat pillows.”

“Lucky for me I beat the voicemail, then.” You could hear his footsteps against pavement and the distant chirp of a morning bird. “I’m just walking home. Shift ended a bit ago. I had to come in early yesterday to help with an emergency event so they relieved me earlier than usual.”

“Oh I’m sorry Jack.” The reality of his job and your current problem was sobering. He’d been up all night attending to people in need and you’re pissed about flip flopping in bed. “Are you okay?”

“I’m better now. The walk is quiet. And I have a strange girl laughing in my ear. It’s a good way to end the day. Or I guess start it.” Jack’s voice drifted through the line, you could hear his boots crunching on the pavement. “To what do I owe the pleasure of speaking to you this early? Has Luna been meowing for treats all night or are you just missing me?” You could see his smirk so clearly in your head now. And it sent flutters through your belly without warning.

“I wish it was the cat,” you sighed, shifting on your bed and trying to find a spot on your sheets that wasn't uncomfortably warm. “I just can’t sleep. I’ve tried everything. Counting sheep, white noise, flipping the pillow for the fiftieth time. I think it’s because I spent all day yesterday researching new books to stock the shelves with. Now, every time I close my eyes, all I see are SKUs, publisher prices, and ISBN barcodes dancing behind my eyelids.”

Jack hummed. “The hazards of the trade. Speaking of can you set aside the new V.E. Schwab book for me? I’ll come get it Saturday. I’m off. You working then?”

A small smile tugged at your lips. “You already know I’ve set it aside for you. It’s been sitting behind the counter with your name on it for three days. And just so you know, when you finish it, I’ll be expecting a full thesis from you because I finished it and I've had to keep my big mouth shut to avoid spoiling it for you.”

Jack laughed. “A thesis? I can do it.”

“You better,” you teased. “And yes, I’m working Saturday. Bright and early. Can you come on my lunch break? I want to actually be able to sit and talk with you. I miss you.”

There was a brief pause on the other end, followed by a sigh. “I know. I’m sorry about that. Things got hectic at work. We’ve got a crop of new residents on the night shift that need a lot of hand holding. And,” he hesitated for a fraction of a second, “I’ve taken up some SWAT shifts as well.”

The teasing mood evaporated instantly. Your brow furrowed, a knot of cold anxiety tightening in your chest. “I don’t like that one bit.”

“Yeah,” Jack said softly, his voice tinged with a guilty sort of honesty. “That’s why I didn’t tell you.”

“So now I’m awake because I’m mad at you.” you said, though the edge it it had softened.

“Don’t do me like that,” Jack countered. “You know I’m fucked up and don’t know how to quit.”

That had you going quiet for a bit. You stared up at the dark ceiling.

Jack was a sensitive soul who had spent a lifetime building a fortress around his heart. He stayed sane by thrusting himself into situations that forced him to remain focused on objectives because if he focused on that, he didn't have to focus on the person. 

He could minimize feeling by being useful.

It was his greatest strength and his most exhausting flaw. Case in point: being an ER doctor meant seeing some of the gnarliest shit imaginable. To save a life, he had to remove his own human emotions in the moment. But the problem with it was that habit of detachment had leaked into his everyday life, a slow acting poison.

He was working hard to unlearn that. He was trying to let himself feel the messy, inconvenient parts of life again. And most of all, the parts that included you. But then he’d go and sign up for SWAT shifts, retreating back into the safety of high stakes but emotionally simple.

“I know it’s a cliche and you hate to hear it and obviously I’ve told you this many times, but you’re not alone” you reminded him, clutching the phone a little tighter. “You’re talking to someone who cares for you always. Even if it is little old me. That counts for something.”

“It counts for everything.” he said softly.

Jack cleared his throat, the sound slightly muffled as he shifted the phone. “I’m about five minutes from my house. I’m going to tell you about everything I’m seeing and hearing. What I want you to do is set your phone on the nightstand and close your eyes. Just focus on my words. Nothing else.”

You let out a sleepy, skeptical huff, your head sinking deeper into the flat pillow. “Not going to work, Jack. But okay.”

“Oh, ye of little faith.” he murmured, and you could hear the smirk in his voice.

You did as you were told, fumbling to set the phone down and rolling onto your side. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“The sun is just starting to bleed through the clouds,” Jack began. “It’s that pale blue color of early morning. There’s a breeze hitting the oaks on 4th Street. You can hear the leaves rubbing together. There’s a guy three houses down, he’s already out in his driveway. He’s wearing an old cardigan and fumbling with his keys, getting into a beat up blue sedan..”

As he spoke, the world began to dissolve. You weren't in your sweltering room anymore. You were walking beside him in the crisp morning air. You listened to the description of a bird landing on a fence post, the smell of someone doing early morning laundry, and the thump of his boots on the sidewalk.

Suddenly, it worked. Your mind stopped racing to keep up with the world and started to drift. Your eyelids felt heavy.

The last thing you felt was the sheets and the fading sound of his voice. Just as the darkness claimed you, you swore you heard a whisper.

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

The line went silent, but the warmth of the words stayed, tucked under your heart as you finally drifted off into a dreamless, peaceful sleep.

…

Saturday morning at the bookstore was busy enough. Your feet were already starting to ache and you had seven hours left in the shift. You were restocking a display of new releases, but your eyes kept drifting to the large front window.

Then you saw him. Jack was walking up the sidewalk. "Here comes your boyfriend," your coworker muttered from behind the register, her voice dripping with amusement.

You didn't even turn around, though you felt your cheeks heating. "Not my boyfriend," you snapped, attempting to look busy with a stack of paperbacks.

"Yeah, okay. Whatever you say."

The bell above the door gave a chime as Jack stepped inside. Even with the shop crawling with customers, the air seemed to shift the moment he arrived. You didn't stay behind the display. You abandoned the books and walked around the counter, meeting him halfway near the back of the fiction section.

Without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his waist in a huge hug. Jack froze for a heartbeat before he finally let out a long breath and wrapped his arms around you. When he squeezed back, it was the best feeling in the world. You leaned your head against his chest, closing your eyes and breathing him in. He smelled like clean laundry and the faint, lingering scent of the outdoors.

You were one step away from your fingers twisting into the hair at the base of his neck, but then you caught sight of your coworker over his shoulder. She was staring at you, shamelessly making a lewd hand gesture with a shit eating grin.

Your face went hot. You reached out a hand and flicked her off, then quickly disentangled yourself from Jack, steering him toward the counter. You reached under the register and pulled out the book he had requested.

"I hope you have no plans tonight," you told him, sliding the book across the wood, "because you won't be putting this down."

Jack reached for his wallet and laughed. "None at all. Reading this and rotting on the couch all day."

"My dream date. And you know that." you jested, leaning your elbows on the counter.

Jack’s eyes sparkled at that. He knew exactly what you were doing because you’d been flirting with him since the day you met. He’d flirted back from time to time, brief flashes of heat in his gaze or a hand lingering on your shoulder, but he’d never fully allowed himself to sink into it.

As he watched you ring him up, a thousand factors blew through his mind. The biggest one was the twenty year age gap. It still shocked him sometimes. You’d joked once about bridging the gap between generations, and while he’d laughed, it slightly hit a nerve. He was older, more cynical, more broken by the things he’d seen.

But then he looked at you.

You were beautiful. Gorgeous, really. His mind flashed back to that concert you’d begged him to go to. He remembered the way his jaw had nearly hit the floor when you showed up at his house in that outfit. He might be getting older, but he was still a man, and he’d spent the entire night looking everywhere but at your legs just to keep from pitching a tent in his pants.

He valued your friendship more than almost anything. But hearing you say you cared for him the other night.. Would it be so bad to let himself fall? he wondered. Would it really be the worst thing in the world to just be happy?

"Come on," you said, breaking his train of thought as you handed him his bag. "Let's go outside and sit on the patio. It feels nice."

You grabbed your sweater and started pulling him towards the side doors. Before you stepped out, you looked over your shoulder at your coworker. "I'm taking my break," you called out firmly. "Don't bother us!"

You could hear Jack laughing as he followed you out the door. 

-saturday, january 5th-

You’re locking your apartment door, half awake and trying to balance your backpack, your keys, and the travel mug you definitely overfilled, when you hear the soft ding of the elevator across the hall.

Quickly, you glance at your reflection in the gloss of your tumbler, squinting a few times to ensure you didn’t look you came from hell and back. In a rush of trying to look presentable, you somehow unlocked and locked your door twice, intently listening for the familiar tired footsteps.

Jack steps out the elevator just as you turn around, and for a second your brain forgets how to function.

Still in scrubs, eyes heavy with the exhaustion of a long shift in a way that somehow made him even more hot. He pauses when he sees you, like he wasn’t expecting anyone to be awake at this hour.

“Oh.. hey,” he speaks, voice low and hushed like he was trying to be as quiet as possible.

You blink, trying not to stare. “Hi.”

It comes out softer than you meant and you mentally scold yourself. But he doesn’t seem to mind. You linger by the safety of your door, nibbling on your bottom lip as he steps across the hallway to his own apartment.

He shifts his bag on his shoulder, setting it down for a moment to grab his keys. “You heading out?”

You nod quickly. “Yeah. Uh, class.”

He pauses for a moment, swinging his apartment door open just enough for you to catch a quick glimpse inside. “Grad school?” He asks, looking over his shoulder at you.

Nearly giving yourself a concussion with how fast you nodded, cheeks warming. “Yeah.”

He gives a small, tired unfairly attractive smile. “Impressive. I can barely keep my eyes open after a shift.”

You don’t know what to say to that, so you just smile back, your own legs forcing you to step towards the elevator to save yourself from any embarrassment. “I’ll uhm— I’ll see you around.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes follow you until you round the corner, ducking into the seclusion of the elevator. You’re forced to stand and replay that interaction for three floors until you step out into the lobby. Getting into your car, hands shaking just a little you pull out of the lot, and only one thought hits you so hard you have to laugh at yourself.

Wow.

You are in so much trouble.

-sunday, january 12th-

You’re tiptoeing down the hallway, keys in hand, trying not to wake the entire building as you come back from your friend’s place. It’s early, way too early to even be coming home. You’re beyond exhausted in that warm, slightly delirious way that comes from staying up way later than you meant to.

You’re halfway to your door when you hear the elevator door open behind you.

You freeze for a second, eyes closing tight like if you hadn’t moved you wouldn’t notice him. Then he speaks.

“Oh, hey neighbor.” You slowly turn around, giving him a small smile as you tried not to focus too much on the sight of him.

When his eyes land on you, something in his expression softens as he makes his way to his door. You clutch your keys a little tighter, nodding at him before snapping your head to the lock hole as you rush to unlock the damn door. “Hi.”

He glances at your bag, eyes dipping a little lower to where the bag rested against your hip, then back up at you. “Long night?”

Your face heats instantly, looking over at him to where he lingered by his doorframe. “No, I— yeah. I was just… I was at a friend’s. Helping her study for this huge exam.”

“Mmm.” He hums lowly, tilting his head at you with a grin. “How do you think she’ll do?”

You puff your cheeks at his answer, looking up at the ceiling for some divine answer. You weren’t sure if you were hoping for this conversation to be cut off short or for it to keep going. “I hope she aces it. Or otherwise, I guess I’m not a good study buddy.”

He lets out a short chuckle at that, sending your stomach into tiny bursts of flutters. “I’m sure she’ll do great.”

You nod, trying not to stare at him, despite the literal magnetic pull towards. “Yeah, uh-huh.”

He seems to catch it, but thankfully, doesn’t comment on it. He nods toward your semi-unlocked door, giving you a once over, and there’s something in the way he looks at you. Maybe you’re hallucinating, maybe it’s the lack of sleep catching up to you, but there was something almost… dark about how his gaze lingered. “I’ll let you get your rest then.”

You finally get your key to fully unlock the door, hands fumbling to push and he watches with an amused look. You push the door open, then turn back to him. “You too.”

He gives you that soft, crooked smile, holding your gaze until the door closed behind you. You lean against it, crouching down as your heart pounded like you’d just ran a marathon.

You’re so screwed.

-friday, february 7th-

One month.

One whole month of pure torture.

Every day you bumped into Jack. Before his shift, after his shift, days when he was off (which was rare), but not a day went by without you seeing him. Often times, you found yourself wanting to bump into more and more, just for a quick conversation, just to see the way the fatigue of the day weighed down on him in the same irritable way.

The closer it got to May the more irritated you got. You were never a fan of the heat, but it seemed like the universe was definitely torturing you. Everywhere you went all you could see is Jack. On the street. In the hallway. In your fucking dreams.

It was awful. You had to confide to your friend about your problem, and of course her only solution was to jump his bones. It wasn’t fair. Night and day, all you could do was think of him. Nights were, admittedly, the hardest part of your day.

His voice replayed over and over again. His smile, his smell, his everything.

The way his calloused hands would feel against your skin, how he’d undress you slowly, taking time to savor and touch in the way you’d need. The warmth of his mouth against your neck, your stomach, your hips, biting and kissing in between your thighs. The stretch of having him finally slip inside you, and you wondered how he’d actually fuck you. Would he do it nice and slow? Would he let out all his pent up energy after a long shift? Would he use his tongue or his cock?

It was awful, and you felt so guilty, but the thoughts didn’t stop. And honestly, you didn’t try to stop them.

-saturday, february 22nd-

You don’t even remember the exact moment it happened. One second you were distracted, walking down the stairs with your friend as she boasted about how she passed her exam, the next you were overwhelmed with the sharp pain rushing up your leg. The sudden jolt of heat stopped you in your path, vision blurred as you gripped onto the railing to keep from falling over.

Your friend insisted on driving you to hospital, refusing to call the ambulance because the last thing you needed was to pay thousands of dollars on a ten minute drive. Now you’re sitting on a gurney in a curtained bay, ankle throbbing, nerves buzzing and head swimming with every possible negative.

Hospitals were always chaotic, and of course, being alone made it worse, but your friend had no intention of leaving you alone. A nurse finishes wrapping an ice pack around your ankle. “Someone will be with you soon, sweetheart. Just try to relax.”

You nod, but your chest is tight. Your friend rests her hand over your own, giving you some support through the silence. Coughing, machines beeping, people crying, people complaining, doctors and nurses yelling out patient statuses; it was a building of anxiety. You’re trying to breathe through it when you hear footsteps outside, then a voice.

“Who’s in six?”

You freeze.

You know that voice. That’s the very voice of the man who’s been plaguing your dreams all week. The curtain pulls back, and Jack steps inside, chart in hand, hair slightly messy from hours of work, scrubs wrinkled, eyes heavy.

He looks up from the chart, giving you a quick look before glancing at your friend beside you.

Everything in him stops. His brows lift, confusion flickering into recognition, then into concern. “What happened?”

He steps closer immediately, chart lowering to his side. Your friend glances between the two of you, and by the way your breath catches, her lips curl up into a smirk. “Oh, is this—”

You quickly interrupt her, pinching the side of her hand before she could say a thing else. “I—I just twisted my ankle. My friend, Hailey, brought me.”

He casts her another glance, giving her a polite smile before looking at your ankle. He gently lifts the ice pack, examining it closely. “You hurt anywhere else?”

You shake your head. “Just my ankle.”

He crouches beside the bed, he examines the swelling. His touch is careful, doing his best to not add to the pain. “Does this hurt?” He asks, pressing lightly, looking up at your face.

You wince, pulling your ankle away from him. “Yeah.”

His sucks in a slow breath, rubbing his brow as he stands up right again. “Okay. Im hoping it’s just a sprain, buttt… let’s do an X-ray just to be sure, alright?” He rests a hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring pat. Hailey looks down at his hand, eyebrows raised and lips pursed as she glanced up towards you.

Your face warms instantly, giving him a silent nod. He steps back, checking something in the chart, before moving towards the curtain. “Thank you, Hailey, for bringing her in.”

At the sound of her name, she instantly perks up, nodding all too eagerly. “Of courseee, Doc.” He smiles at the two of you, ducking out of the room and you watch him walk away. Your pulse is racing, and your ankle is definitely not the only thing throbbing. Your friend turns to you with wide eyes, shaking your arm in disbelief.

“What the fuck?! That’s Jack? He’s hot.” She loudly whispers to which you quickly smack her arm.

“I know.”

-6:50 pm-

The boot feels heavier than it looked in the ER. Every step is clumsy, awkward, and a little embarrassing, especially with Jack walking right beside you, one hand hovering near your elbow like he’s ready to catch you at any second.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asks for the third time as you reach the apartment building.

You nod, even though you’ve been more focused on the feeling of his fingers grazing against your arm. “Yeah. Just… slow.”

He chuckles slightly. “Slow is fine.”

He opens the front door for you, then waits for the elevator with you, keeps a firm grip on your elbow just in case. You’re hyper‑aware of everything— his warmth, his presence, his attention, his hands.

By the time you reach your floor, you’re out of breath and flustered for reasons that have nothing to do with the injury.

When you reach your apartment, you fumble with your keys to which he just gently plucks them from your hand. “Here,” he murmurs. “I got it.”

He unlocks your door and pushes it open, then turns back to you, one hand hovering behind you. You step inside, and he follows just far enough to make sure you don’t trip on the threshold.

“Do you need anything before I go?” He asks, taking a look around while you have your back turned to him as he set the keys down on key holder against the wall. “Water? Pain meds? Food? I can grab something on my way back.”

You blink, turning around to look at him as he leans against the doorframe. “You’re… you’re going back to work?”

He shakes his head with a small frown. “Just need to finish charting.” He paused at the look on your face, scratching the back of his neck. “Do you… want me to come after?”

You look up at him, thinking of the question because the obvious answer was yes, but for some reason the word wouldn’t come out of your mouth. “I don’t— you should probably rest. I can handle it.”

His eyes linger on you as you limp toward the couch, and he’s instantly moving, hand back against the small of your back. When you sit, he kneels in front of you, eyes glued on your face as his hand instinctively rests on your calf.

“Does it hurt?”

“A little.”

He nods, looking down at your foot before turning his attention back to you. “Keep it elevated. Ice every few hours. And don’t walk on it more than you have to.”

You nod back at him, looking down at your booted foot. “Yes, sir.”

He blinks slowly, his eyes shifting from your eyes to your nose and down to the small pout on your lips. He clears his throat, standing up again and quickly adjusting his pants. “I’ll check on you later,” he says finally. “Just text me if you need anything.”

You look up at him through your eyelashes, titling your head in confusion. “I don’t have your number.”

He pulls his phone from his pocket, handing it to you. You blink once, looking down at his phone as he motions to it. Your fingers brush his when you take it, and he freezes for half a second, just long enough for you to feel it.

You type your number in, hand it back, and he gives you the same crooked grin that makes your throat tighten up. “Get some rest,” he says, backing toward the door.

“I will.”

He hesitates in the doorway, eyes lingering on you as you leaned against the couch, propping your foot up on a pillow. He closes the door with a soft click, letting out a heavy exhale, as he glances down at the half chub in his scrubs. He quietly readjusts himself, stepping back towards the elevator.

-sunday, february 23rd-

There’s a knock at your door just after eleven, he had sent you a quick text telling you when he’d be over, so you came prepared on unlocking the door beforehand. He was about fifteen minutes late, and he’ll admit, he got a bit…. a head of himself.

Seeing you all vulnerable left him in a way. He spent the rest of the shift sporting half a boner, which eventually turned into an actual boner once he was home. Turns out having a boner for longer than thirty minutes really puts stress on a man.

You’re still in your oversized shirt, boot propped up on the same yellow pillow, tv playing the latest episode of your personal favorite show. “Come in.” You call out from the comfortable position you were in, and after a minute, he carefully pushes the door in.

Hair a little messy and damp from the shower he took, scrubs swapped for a T‑shirt and sweats, he steps into the living room, kicking the door shut behind him. He lifts a small paper bag in one hand. “Thought I’d check on your ankle,” he approaches the couch as you sit up to move to give him room but he gently stops you, keeping your foot propped up. “And I brought something to eat. Just in case you haven’t had anything yet.”

“Oh, wow, thanks. You didn’t have to.”

He sets the bag down on the coffee table, pulling out two deli sandwiches as he wipes his hands on his pants. He kneels beside your feet, one hand propped against the armrest as he studies the boot again.

“How’s it feeling?” He asks quietly, gently resting his hand on the boot.

“Better,” you sigh, wiggling your toes after he points to them. “Still sore.”

He nods, checking the straps and making sure there wasn’t much swelling.

“Looks good,” he murmurs. “Let’s just keep that ice on it tonight, mkay?”

You nod quickly, sitting up as he grabs the ice pack that shifted onto the pillow, examining it before looking at you. “Oh, uhm, my fridge is just behind this wall.” Pointing behind you, he stands up with the melted ice pack in hand, patting your head as he ducked around the corner to put the pack back to freeze. You can faintly hear him shuffling around in your kitchen, opening the freezer door and moving some things. You’re suddenly very self conscious, and you have to remind yourself that you were lucky he came on a day where you’d already done some heavy grocery shopping.

Then he makes his way back to you, crouching over to carefully tuck a frozen bag of mixed berries over your ankle. “Keep taking it easy, don’t wanna put too much weight and exertion on this leg.”

You nod, subtly peeking through your eyelashes to glance at his sweatpants as he turned to grab one of the wrapped sandwiches. “I will.”

He motions to the sandwich in his hand, then nodding his chin to the other one. “This one is for lunch, the other one is for breakfast tomorrow.” You listen to him intently, reaching out for the sandwich as he extends his arm out to you. Your fingertips graze against his open palm, the calloused warmth is the exact same as when you’ve dreamt of it.

He hesitates, just another second, lifting his finger in the air before grabbing the extra sandwich on the coffee table. “I’ll put this away for you.” He disappears back towards the kitchen, leaning back against the arm rest you peek around the wall, trying to catch a glimpse of him as he walks away.

Hearing his footsteps, you immediately lean away, unwrapping the sandwich as if you weren’t completely ogling him. His hands come together in a quiet clap, nodding at the sight of you taking a bite of the pastrami sandwich. “You good?”

You look up at him again, chewing slowly before giving him another nod. “‘M good. Thanks.” He smiled slightly, resting a firm hand on the side of your neck as he leans down just enough to press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

It’s barely anything. Just something friendly. But you nearly choke on the bite of food already in your mouth.

“I’ll check on you tomorrow.” He reminds in a hushed voice, patting the arm rest as he pulled.

You look up at him, cheeks warm. “Okay.”

He gives you a smirk, the one that makes your stomach flip every time, then heads for the door. “Rest.” He repeats, hand on the knob.

“I will.”

He leaves, the door clicking softly behind him, and you sink back into the couch, heart pounding, head still tingling where he kissed you.

-thursday, may 8th-

Your ankle is finally healed, two and a half months of long awaited bliss. Those two months went by incredibly slow, between Hailey and Jack checking in on you, you weren’t sure how long you’d last. Though you hadn’t complained over having to see Jack twice a day while you were healing.

No boot, no limp, total freedom. You’re carrying a small bag of groceries down the hall when you hear voices near Jack’s door.

One of them is his. The other is unfamiliar, lower, gravely, definitely not the same tired as Jack usually sounds after a shift.

You round the corner just as Jack steps out of his apartment with another guy beside him. The stranger is tall, sharp‑featured, wearing a hoodie and a frame of glasses that had you doing a quick double take.

Jack sees you before his friend does.

“Oh, hey.” He greets softly, voice softening ever so slightly, eyes following you as pass the two of them. You smile slowly, lips curling up into a shy smile, nodding at Jack.

“Hi.”

The stranger looks between the two of you, eyebrows lifting just slightly. He leans toward Jack, whispering something just quiet enough that you couldn’t really her. You look at the two of them curiously, eyebrows furrowing at the slight scolding look Jack gave his friend.

Robby steps forward, offering a large hand. “I’m Robby. I work with this guy.”

You glance down at his extended hand, balancing the brown bag in one arm as you eagerly shake his hand. His hand envelopes your own in a firm, calloused shake. “Hi, Robby, nice to meet you.” You speak politely, savoring the feel of his name on your tongue, and he clearly doesn’t mind how it sounds, giving you a pleased grin.

Jack clears his throat, stepping closer to you like he’s trying to subtly insert himself between you and Robby’s ‘curiosity’. “How’s the ankle?”

You blink once at him, nodding before carefully bending down to lift up the bottom of your jeans, making a show of rotating and moving your ankle. “Good! Really good. I’m back to normal.” Robby takes the opportunity to catch a good look at you as you’re focused on showing Jack your ankle, who’s stuck looking between what you’re showing him and the curve of your ass.

Both their attention snaps back up to your face as you stand up straight again, looking at the two of them with that sweet little smile. “Glad to hear it.” Jack says gently, and Robby just steps back, watching the interaction with obvious interest.

“So you’re the neighbor.” He speaks, nodding like everything makes sense now that he put the puzzle together. You tilt your head at the enunciation towards ‘the’, but give him an another eager smile anyways.

“Oh, yeah. That’s me.”

Robby’s grin darkens, arms crossing over his chest. “Yeah? Jack’s mentioned you.”

Jack’s head snaps toward him. “Robby.”

“What?” Robby says innocently. “You have. Sorry to hear about your ankle, sweetheart. Glad you’re better.”

Robby’s studying your face, watching the way your smile twitches into a coy little look. “Thank you,” you shift your grocery bag, lingering by them for a moment before taking a hesitant step towards your door. “Well… it was nice meeting you, Robby. I should probably—”

Jack steps forward, eyeing Robby as he watches with a smug smile, reaching out for the overfilled bag. “Here, let me.” He holds the bag in one hand, patiently waiting for you to unlock your apartment door and swing it open.

“Thanks.” You turn to him with a flutter of your lashes, reaching out for the bag again as he stands there, physically struggling to look away.

You slip inside, offering a shy wave to both of them before closing the door, and Robby has to grab Jack by the shoulder to tear his eyes away. The second the door clicks shut, Robby turns to Jack with a small chuckle.

“Oh yeahhh,” he nods in approval, squeezing Jack’s shoulder. “I get it now.” Jack laughs breathlessly, tucking his hands into his pockets.

“No wonder you’ve been in a good mood lately.”

-wednesday, may 14th-

It’s late afternoon, the kind of summer heat that comes in waves and makes everyone easily irritated. Jack and Robby are standing near Jack’s car in the parking lot, talking about something work‑related, or at least Robby is. Jack’s half‑listening, half‑zoning out like he always does after a long shift.

Robby’s mid‑sentence when he suddenly stops.

“Brother?”

Jack snaps out of his trance, looking away from the piece of chipped paint on the floor. “What?”

Robby tilts his chin toward the sidewalk. “Is that your neighbor?”

Jack’s head literally whips over to where Robby was looking, leaning against the hood of his car.

You’re walking toward the building, headphones in, sunglasses on, wearing the shortest fucking shorts either of them have ever seen in their life. If it weren’t the shorts that were the problem, that tight tank top did nothing to help, hugging in the right places, pushing just enough of your tits to barely spill out from the top.

Your hair is pulled up off your back, bag slung over your shoulder, and you’re carrying an iced drink that’s already sweating in the heat. Neither one of them say anything, just focused on the sight of Jack’s all too cute neighbor walking around with more skin showing than clothes. You spot them from the corner of your eye, pulling out one earbud with a light smile.

“Hi there.”

Jack clears his throat, not even attempting to try to hide his gaze. He did always have great eye contact, just so happened his eye contact shifted from your tits to your actual face. “Hey.”

Robby’s eyes remain on you, giving you a slow smile. “Afternoon.”

You let out a content sigh, taking another slurp of your refreshment only to catch the attention of both men as your lips wrapped around the straw. “Great weather we’re having, right?” You slipped your sunglasses off, tucking the arm into the middle of your tanktop. The subtle motion caught Robby’s attention, who gave Jack a quick nudge for his friend to indulge in the sight.

“You look like you’re enjoying the weather.” Robby says. Your lips curl into a knowing smile, looking between both men as you catch their peeks towards your cleavage.

You laugh softly. “Trying to. It’s so hot out.” You lifted your free hand to fan yourself, letting out a tired huff.

“You coming back from somewhere?” Jack asks, voice a little rougher than usual.

“Just the park,” you looked over your shoulder to where you came from. “Thought I’d get some sun.”

Robby smirks. “Mission accomplished.”

You snicker at him, one hand reaching out to playfully nudge him by his arm. Jack’s eyes instantly magnetized to your hand, watching in slow motion as your palm touched Robby’s sleeve.

“Well… I should head in. It was nice seeing you both. Jack, Robby.” You grab your sunglasses, slipping them back on before give them last look over the rim of the glasses, lips curled into a bright smile. The two of them watch in silence as you make your way into the building, sunlight catching on your shoulders like something out of a movie.

The second you’re out of earshot, Robby lets out a low whistle.

“Holy shit.”

“Tell me ‘bout it.”

Robby shakes his head in disbelief, crossing his arms as he turned to look at Jack. “If you don’t make a move, I will.”

-saturday, may 17th-

You’re halfway through folding laundry when you hear a knock at your door, somewhere between a frantic and polite knock. You wipe your hands on your shorts, pushing the basket aside before making your way towards the door.

Jack’s there.

He looks like he came straight from a shower, hair a little mussed, skin faintly damp, eyes dilated and focused. He’s in a loose grey shirt, and sweatpants, hands shoved into his pockets like he’s trying to keep them still.

“Hey.” He speaks softly, one hand coming out from the pocket to rub at the side of his jaw. “Sorry to bother… can I…?”

You instantly nod, stepping aside to let him in. “Yeah. Of course.”

He steps inside when you move back, turning back to you as you closed the door. He stares at you for a moment too long before looking around the room to figure out the right words.

He hesitates, looking up at the ceiling as he scratches the back of his head. He exhales slowly, shaking his head as you take a small step toward him. “I’ve been— hmm… I thought about this before, and I just… I just wanna see what’ll happen.”

You stand by the doorway, taking another small step towards him as you watched every emotion flicker on his face. “Jack?”

At the sound of his voice, he lets out something between a groan and a sigh, running his hand down his face. Once you’re within arm’s length, he reaches up, hand wrapping around your wrist to tug you closer. He gives you the chance to step back or to pull away, maybe he was giving himself the chance to change his mind. But you don’t move, staring up at him with those wide eyes, face painted in confusion.

His fingers brush your cheek, palm coming to cup your jaw. You nervously swallow the lump in your throat, eyes glued onto his face as he leaned forward. You look down at his lips, your focus diverting from his eyes to the fact that you can almost count each individual stubble on his face.

You subconsciously lean forward, your faces just within an inch from each other. His hand falls down to rest against the side of your neck, thumb brushing along your pulse point, a small smile slipping on his lips at the increase of your heartbeat. “Nervous?” He whispers, words falling into a caress against your lips. You shake your head slightly, lips parting as he moved in close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him.

“You sure?” His eyebrows furrow just ever so slightly.

You nod. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

He leans in slowly, like he was trying to test the moment and savor it all at once. You don’t move away, eyes fluttering close at the warmth of his lips against yours. The kiss is soft at first, the languid movement of lips on lips whose only mission is to just feel. To savor the feeling of your lips against his, taking the opportunity to fully test the waters.

The slowness is over longer than it lasted, because as soon as you lean into him, arms lifting and wrapping around his neck, that’s all it takes. His other hand slides to your waist, pulling you closer, as his tongue pressed inside your mouth deepening the kiss in a way that made your knees weak. He exhales against your mouth, a quiet desperate shaky sigh, or maybe that was you.

All you could focus on was the feel on his hand roaming your body, large palm sliding down to your ass and giving it a firm squeeze. His mouth moves with yours in a slow, hungry rhythm, each second pulling a little more out of him. He leans down without breaking the kiss, one arm tightening around your waist while the other slides lower, tucking under your ass in one smooth motion.

Before you can catch your breath, he lifts you, pulling you closer as you cling to his shoulders. The two of you make sure the kiss doesn’t break, in a heap of limbs, messy lips on lips and dominant tongues. Both of you stumble together toward the couch, too caught up in the buzz of each other to even attempt to pull away.

There’s a quiet urgency in the way he kisses you, a hot rush of need pushed through the softness, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of your lips, the way you gasp against his lips, the way you lean into him. His hand tightens at your waist, guiding you backward against the couch until the two of you come together in a fumble of breathless pants. You break away from the kiss for a quick second, just enough time to suck in a sharp breath before he leans back in for another kiss.

His fingers tighten at your waist, urgency slipping in his actions with pent up need. Caught up in the moment, in the months of tension finally breaking open between you, his lips drag down along your neck, sucking, kissing and nipping at your pulse point.

You’re still catching your breath, head tilted to the side as his hands trail up under your shirt, seeking skin-on-skin contact. “Been wanting to do that for months.” He murmurs against your skin, voice thick with barely concealed lust.

You let out a little breathless whimper as he mouths over a sensitive spot, hands gripping at his arms. “Yeah— yeah, I noticed.”

-sunday, may 25th-

It’s been days since that kiss. It had left your lips warm for hours and your thoughts scrambled for days. Unfortunately, nothing else happened after that night, as much as you wished it had. You haven’t seen Jack since, not really. Just a glimpse of him in the hallways, the sound of his door opening and closing when he left for work, but the two of you sort of chickened out on each other.

So when you step into the hallway after a long day of class, bag in in hand and nearly collide with him, your breath catches.

“Hey.” He greets first, stopping short.

You give him a tiny smile, nodding at him as you slip your bag over your shoulder. “Hi..”

For a second, neither of you moves. He looks at you the way he did right before he kissed you, like he’s remembering it and he replaying it in his head.

“You’ve been busy?” He asks, slipping one hand in his pocket. Casual, like his tongue wasn’t in your mouth a week ago.

“A little, yeah. You?”

“Hard not to be.”

There’s a moment of silence, tense and awkward in a way that makes you shift from foot to foot. Jack’s apartment door is cracked open, warm summer air drifting in as the sounds of whatever game was playing spilled out into the hallway, along with the occasional groan of whoever was inside. You peeked towards the light pouring from the half closed door, attention snapping to him again as he stepped closer.

“Listen, I’ve been meaning to…” he trails off, searching for the right words as his gaze flicked along your face. “I didn’t want you to think I was avoiding you.”

“I know.”

“Because I wasn’t. I just—” he exhales, licking his bottom lip as he looked over his shoulder towards his apartment. “Honestly, I’ve been… trying to figure out how to talk to you without immediately wanting to kiss you again.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” his teeth catch on his bottom lip, knuckles rubbing against the side of his jaw. “You aren’t mad, right?”

“No, not really. I get it.”

“Do you want to come in?” He offers, motioning towards the door, looking hopeful but careful. “Just to… talk. Or… whatever you want.”

“Sure, thanks.”

He nods, a little too quickly, like he’s been waiting to hear that. He takes the book bag from your shoulder without asking, resting one hand on your back as he guided you towards the open door. As you step past him, his palm hovering against your back, he follows close behind you, his stride matching yours.

Jack’s apartment is warm in that lived‑in way, soft lamplight, a faint smell of detergent, the low hum of his AC unit rattling in the corner and the muffled cheers of the audience when their team scored a point. The place is tidy, simple, in a homey comfort type of way.

You’re halfway through taking in the room when you notice someone else sitting on the couch.

Robby.

A warning would’ve been nice, but you were glad today was a day you chose to wear something decent to class and not sweatpants. Jack gently sets your backpack down beside the couch, closing the door behind him as you awkwardly lingered by the armrest of the sofa.

Robby’s kicked back like he owns the place, one arm draped over the back cushion, a half‑finished beer dangling from his fingers. His boots are crossed at the ankles, and he looks perfectly at home. His attention shifts from the game, eyebrows lifting the second he sees you.

“Well, well,” Robby grins at you from the top of the can. “It’s great to see you again.”

Jack steps closer to you, not touching, but close enough that you feel the shift before motioning with his chin for you to take a seat. “You can ignore him.” Jack mutters, low enough that only you hear it, rubbing your upper arm.

Robby snorts. “Yeah, good luck with that,” he scoots down the couch to give you some room to sit, setting his can down on the coffee table. “You just get back from class?”

“Yeah. Long day.” You admit with a heavy sigh, stepping through the small gap of Robby’s legs and coffee table to take the empty space beside him. You look towards the tv, crossing your arms to seem like you weren’t two seconds away from cowering away like a turtle. “Who’s playing?”

Robby raises a brow at Jack as your attention is on the tv, eyes shifting to the empty space on the left of you silently motioning for his friend to join. “The Sixers,” he turns back to you, arm slowly stretching out to the back of the couch where you sat, testing the waters. “D’you drink?”

You laugh under your breath, shaking your head quickly. “Oh, no, thanks though.” Jack moves to sit beside you, leaning ever so slightly to the side just so he could fully look at you. You cast quick side glances at both men, studying Jack’s posture, Robby’s scent, their warmth, the fact that you were sandwiched by two hot, older guys.

This was a dream and nightmare at the same time.

You can feel Jack scoot closer, just enough that your arms are pressed together. Robby’s hand shifts towards your shoulder, lightly playing with your hair. “So, tell me everything about grad school. Jack’s been very quiet about you. A bit greedy, don’t you think?”

Maybe it’s the dim lighting. Maybe it’s the way Jack’s knee nudges yours again or the way Robby’s fingers toy with a strand of your hair. But you’re starting to suspect this might get you in trouble. This could either be the best thing ever, or an actual curse.

“I’m not greedy,” jack corrects quickly, voice low enough that it’s meant for Robby but close enough that you feel the warmth of it against your shoulder. “I just don’t tell you everything.”

Robby raises an eyebrow, eyeing you up and down. “Yeah, I noticed.”

He lets the strand of your hair fall, then reaches out to grab the can of beer, eyes flicking between the two of you with way too much interest. “Soo,” he says again, slower this time, “grad school?”

You clear your throat, trying to focus on Robby’s question instead of the way both of them seem to be orbiting you. “Well… I’m in my second year,” you swallow the lump in your throat, glancing from Jack, to Robby and back at Jack. “It’s a lot of clinical hours and late nights, but I like it.”

Robby nods pretending like he’s listening when his eyes are glued onto the curve of your neck, looking back at Jack who couldn’t help but stare at the jeans you were wearing. Robby’s fingers brush your shoulder again, slow and light.

Jack notices immediately. He shifts closer, enough that his arm presses fully against yours now, legs spread just to capture your attention. His hand hovers over the couch behind you, fingers lifting over Robby’s arm to brush along the back of your shoulder.

“Second year’s no joke,” Jack agrees quietly, his voice low and warm in your ear. “You’ve been working hard.”

The praise sends a little spark through you, forcing you to perk up, and Robby catches it instantly.

“Oh, she’s definitely been working hard,” Robby says, hand moving away from your shoulder as he leaned back. “Doesn’t hurt to get physical motivation from a neighbor either.”

You try to keep talking, but it’s impossible not to feel the way both of them are tuned into you. Robby watches you with that amused, knowing expression, Jack sits so close you can feel every breath he takes.

“And, um… my professors are great.” You add, though your voice comes out softer than you meant. Jack’s fingers graze your shoulder again, hand sliding to wrap around the back of your neck.

You’re suddenly very aware that neither of them is paying attention to the basketball game anymore. They’re both paying attention to you.

You blink between them, your brain trying to keep up with the way Jack’s hand is pressed against neck, guiding your head ever so slightly so you’d meet his eyes. Everything feels… a lot. Warm. Confusing. A little overwhelming. Mainly entirely welcoming.

“Uh…” you pause, eyes meeting Jack’s as he nods for you to continue speaking. “What is happening right now?”

Jack doesn’t say anything at first, he just rubs his thumb along the side of your neck, looking up at Robby who’s quietly watching the two of you. The three of you share this silent look, each of you waiting for the others to break the silence. There’s a look in their eyes, this dark warmth that dilated their pupils.

“Ohhh… shit, okey dokey.”

-exactly 4 minutes later-

The dim lighting cast shadows across your three figures entwined on the plush sofa. You sat nestled on Jack’s lap, one arm draped casually around his neck as he pressed a slow kiss against your lips.

Robby’s part watching, admiring the way your eyes fluttered to a close and the way you arched up against Jack’s touch. He waits, one hand resting on the small of your back before leaning in to kiss your neck. It’s a sudden warmth that surprises you, forcing you to pull away from the kiss with Jack with a small squeal. Your hand snaps up to your neck in protection, the two men sharing a sudden heated look of interest.

“Sensitive little thing.” Robby carefully presses another kiss to your neck, at first he tried to avoid any ticklish, sensitive spots. Jack watches for a moment, one hand grabbing at your chin to tilt your head back before he follows his friend’s show. He licks his kiss swollen lips, dragging his tongue along the side of your throat.

Your head shifts back, staring at the game that continued on the tv, biting your bottom lip to stifle the soft gasp that slipped from your lips. Four hands explored the contours of your curves, two pairs dragged down towards your hips, guiding you to rock yourself against Jack’s lap, while the other pair busied itself with the gentle squeeze of your breasts. You naturally arched into their touches, craving more.

Their lips inch up, further up along your neck and with one gentle hand on your head, their lips are guided towards your face. Robby’s lips finds yours first, a quick, wet tangle of lips and tongues. Under you, Jack watches, waiting until Robby pulled away from your lips to replace his with his own. They swap for a few rounds, wet smacking, sore lips and breathless pants filled the room.

At some point, you’re not sure how to distinguish whose lips are whose, and you’re almost certain they’ve somehow kissed you at the same time. Tongues flickered out, tasting, messy and sloppy with desperation. Two pairs of soft lips molded to yours, firm and slow, as they captured your mouth and their own in a long kiss.

Breathless, you broke away from the kiss, chest heaving and lips buzzing as you tried to suck in as many greedy breaths as possible. Their scents mingled together into this heady, dizzying aroma of musk, citrus and pure men. It filled your lungs and clouded your mind this weird mind binding state.

Jack’s fingers skimmed along her inner thigh, inching higher and higher until his fingers rested along the waistband of your jeans. He looks up at you, waiting for your eager nod of approval before helping you out of your pants. You stumble off his lap, eyes shifting from both men staring silently and eagerly at you as you slowly peeled off your jeans.

The two men watch with keen interest, Jack’s mouth slightly agape, breathing heavy as Robby tilted his chin up in an attempt to see you better. Wiggling out of your jeans, Jack’s eyes linger on your face before taking a subtle peek at the black lacy panties you had on.

“C’mere, sweetheart.” Robby extends a hand out to you, you quickly look over to Jack who furrows his eyebrows slight with a small nod. You rest your hand in his warm palm, following after him as he lightly tugged you in between his spread legs. His hands slowly traced up the sides of your thighs, dragging up towards the back of your thighs to cup the groove of your ass in his hands.

You scooted closer to him, hands resting on his shoulders as he toyed with the elastic band of your panties. Noticing the flushed look on your face, Jack lightly cleared his throat. “You don’t gotta be so nervous.” Jack scooted down the couch until his knees bumped against Robby’s, one hand reaching out to rub your arm.

“Yeahh, yeah, it’s okay. You’re okay… we just like you, that’s all.” Robby spoke soothingly, hands slipping around your hips to rest against your knees.

“‘M not nervous.” You retorted quickly, tilting your chin up despite the butterflies fluttering around your stomach. Robby’s hand gave your ass a firm smack, eliciting a shy yelp from you.

He cupped your mound through the thin lace of your panties, watching the way you nervously bit your bottom lip, thighs clenching together. Your hips twitched forward on their own, cheeks heating up.

“It’s alright, we’ll go slow,” Jack reassured, standing up from the couch to rub your shoulders soothingly. “How ‘bout you take a seat and spread your legs for us?”

Glancing up at Jack, you quickly took a seat back on the couch, watching as Robby and Jack joined each other at the end of the couch. You brought your legs up onto the cushion, slowly propping your feet up as you maintained eye contact with them. You nibbled on the inside of your cheek, spreading your legs apart.

“I’ll be kind enough to let you go first, brother.” Jack clapped a hand on Robby’s back, leaning against the armrest as Robby grinned up at him.

You watched as he licked his middle and ring finger, making sure they glistened with saliva. Keeping eye contact, he slowly pushed his thumb beneath the elastic band of your underwear, lightly tugging on the fabric to pull it down your legs. You pressed your lips together, stifling a whimper as he exposed your pussy to the warm living room air.

He sucked in a low breath at the sight of your slick folds, licking his lips before shifting to the side to give Jack a better view. “Look at that.” He mumbled more to himself than either of you, Jack let out a shaky exhale watching as Robby slowly dragged the tips of his fingers along your slit.

You arched up into his touch, the heels of your feet digging into the cushions. Robby planted a gentle kiss on your inner thigh, easing one wet finger into your pussy. Pumping his finger languidly in and out of your cunt, his other hand grabbed your left leg, hooking it over the head of the couch to give him a better look at you. His index finger circled your clit with small tight circles, another finger slipping in.

You gasped and writhed under him, one hand coming up to grasp at his shoulder, pussy walls fluttering around his fingers. “Shh, shhh. Listen.” He glanced over at Jack, curling his fingers as he worked his way knuckle deep. Between the game on the tv and your soft gasps, the subtle squelch and slick of your wetness was heard, his fingers rotating and spreading apart.

“Fuck, look at you.” Jack stepped to your side, peeking down at where Robby’s fingers disappeared and reappeared from your cunt. It wasn’t until he approached your side that you noticed the erection straining in his pants, forcing out a shaky groan from your lips. Jack’s mainly focused on the sight of his friend’s fingers fucking in and out of you to care for the obvious tent in his pants.

You’re trying to speak, mouth parting only to be interrupted by your own moan as Robby slowly pushes a third finger in. You’re so close to attempting to form a coherent sentence, and you’re so close to coming, you can feel the rush of blood traveling through your body. “Don’t let her cum.” The words sound muffled against your ear, which is weird because it almost sounded like Jack told Robby to not let you come.

Robby’s fingers falter for a moment, his attention snapping up to Jack as he adjusted himself. Those three fingers slowly pull out of you, an annoyed huff leaving you as you turn to look at Jack. You only had the capability to form one word: “why?”

Jack reached down to brush a few stray strands of hair from your face, giving your head a soft pet. “I’m sorry, baby. I really am, we’re gonna make it up to you.”

Robby stop up from the couch, one hand hovering over the outline of his erection, adjusting his pants. You propped yourself up on the armrest, clit throbbing at the loss of attention. Jack quickly took his place between your spread legs, hands grabbing at your inner thighs to move your knees up against your chest.

You wrapped one arm around your legs, keeping your knees propped up against your torso. You could faintly hear his zipper coming undone, tilting your head to the side to try to catch a better view of what he was doing. Robby took a seat on the armchair, belt unbuckling somewhere in the distance.

Tugging his pants off until they pooled somewhere along his mid thighs, Jack carefully pulled his boxers down, freeing the angry erection from its confinements. One hand wrapped around the base of his cock, the thick, length bobbing slightly as he stroked himself. “Hurry.” You breathed out impatiently, catching the attention of both men who both seemed to physically remind themselves how to breathe.

Jack leaned forward hesitantly, eyes studying your face as he dragged the pre soaked head of his cock up and down your slit, painting himself with your arousal. You shuddered at the first touch, hips lifting involuntarily to chase the fleeting contact. Jack began to rub the tip against you, watching every shift of emotion on your face. Robby watched, transfixed at the sight of your pussy clenching as Jack teased you.

Pushing forward with incredible slowness, Jack glanced down, staring down at the way your pussy stretched and enveloped around him. Your breath hitched, a soft gasp escaping your lips as you felt every thick inch of him stretching and dragging against your walls. He nudged further until he was bottomed out in your pussy, balls resting against your ass, giving you a moment to accommodate to his thickness. “Fuck— don’t clench, relax a little.” He cooed, fingers dipping along your slit to rub against your clit.

He fucked you slow and soft, hips rolling in long, controlled strides dragging his thick length almost all the way out before sinking back in until his hips ground against you. Each stroke made a wet, obscene sound, your pussy lips stretching shiny around him, creamy ring of mixed precum and juices building thicker at the base of his cock.

He kept the pace steady and gentle, every deep slide making your body jolt slightly against the armrest, your clit throbbing against his fingertip. His hips stuttered once before he locked back into that slow rhythm, pulling out shiny and slick before easing back in until your juices coated his balls. From the corner of your eyes, you could see Robby’s cock freed from his own pants, one hand tightly stroking himself. The wet squelch of skin on skin filled the blur of the room, quiet and messy, your arousal coating down his length.

He held deep for a second, grinding in tight circles so the fat head rubbed right against your g-spot. You whimpered under him, pussy clenching around him again as he gave your clit a small pinch. His free hand slid up, fingers wrapping around your throat with just enough pressure to guide your face towards where Robby sat.

“Oh, shit.” You muttered breathlessly, voice strained as he fucked against that sensitive spot. Your eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, eyes glued onto Robby’s as his hips bucked up into his own hand.

“C’mere,” Jack grunted slightly, chin jerking towards Robby for him to approach the two of you. Jack looked back at you, his hand wrapped around your throat lightly tapping against your cheek. “Open your mouth.”

Your lips parted at his command, Robby stopped in front of you, one hand guiding the tip of his cock towards your open mouth. He watched with hooded eyes as your tongue darted out to lap at the weeping tip before taking him fully into her warm, welcoming mouth. Robby groaned, one hand coming up to rest on the top of your head, inching further into your mouth.

You hummed around his length, the vibrations sending jolts of warmth up his cock. You could feel him throbbing against your tongue, hips jerking forward slightly. Relaxing your throat, you took him to the hilt, nose pressing against his pelvis as you swallowed around him. Robby cursed under his breath, gripping your hair as he fought the urge to buck into your mouth.

You slowly pick up the pace, sucking him sloppily, awkwardly bobbing your head from the angle. His hand slowly guided you, hips carefully moving against your face. Your body trembled and quaked under Jack, teetering on the brink of orgasm. Jake's movements turned shaky, hips stuttering and slapping against you quickly as your pussy clenched tightly around him.

Robby's breathing turned ragged, his grip tightening on your head as messily slurped around his cock. “Just like that.. good girl.” Your clit throbbed at the praise, inner muscles clenched around Jack’s length in a way that had him grunting heavily.

The obscene slap of sweat-slicked skin against skin echoed through the room, punctuated by their escalating pants and your gargled moans. Your body tensed abruptly as your orgasm rushed over you, back arching as a sudden surge of heat burst from your core. Your juices gushed out around Jack’s cock, a surprised, breathlessly laugh leaving him. Your orgasm splattered against his groin and thighs, the unexpected flood caught him off guard. He faltered briefly, momentarily stunned as he pulled his drenched hand away from your clit.

“Goddamn..”

“Jesus Christ.”

Both men spoke at the same time, watching as you gasped and shuddered. Robby quickly pulled his cock out of your mouth, shiny and slick with your spit as he stroked his cock over your face. You breathed heavily, chest heaving and lips all swollen, tilting your head back against the cushions.

Jack’s hips continued to buck into you, quickly chasing his own orgasm. Your hands stumbled to grab at his wrists as he grabbed your hips, fucking you with rapid strokes. With a quick, rough thrust, he buried himself against your spasming pussy. His cock jerked and pulsed as he emptied himself, flooding your walls with wave after wave of warm, white seed.

Jack slowed his hips, gradually easing back until finally, he withdrew entirely from your cunt. Turning your head, you watched as Robby stepped back, one knee resting behind Jack, one hand lazily drifting down to circle his spit wet dick. Jack grabbed his own softening member, looking over his shoulder at Robby, who regarded you with a smug smirk.

clark could write the upmost descriptive novel about how hard it turns him on. looking, watching. you’ve always heard that men are visual creatures, that they like what they see. clark didn’t just like it, didn’t just grow a stiffy when you bent over or strutted around in a pair of panties and a shirt. he got distracted, enthralled. you could make him do just about anything if you flashed him, could make him promise to do your dishes for the rest of the month, could make him agree to rewatch one of your favorite movies that night instead of a new one of his own.

clark’s brains so easily turn to mush. he’s putty in your hands with any kind of visual stimuli

-

this felt essential