“of course, sir! let me look that up for you,” you said, opening the computer to check him in. “what’s your name?”

“um, should be under abbot. doctor jack abbot.”

“oh, a doctor! you must be really tense,” you joked. you found his name in the computer and pressed the button to check him in. “found you! and it looks like you’re with me today, sir! let me clear out a room and then we can get started, okay?”

jack nodded. “yeah. of course.”

jack sat down in the lobby while he waited for you, trying to ease the blush on his cheeks. doctor collins, the one who’d referred him to this place, had said your touch was like magic, but she failed to mention your face was just as mesmerizing. how was he supposed to get through an hour of your hands all over his body when all he wanted to do was admire you?

a few minutes later, you came back to the lobby and found jack’s eyes, smiling. “doctor abbot? right this way, sir.”

jack stood up and followed behind you as you led him to one of the massage rooms. “s’just jack, sweetheart. i’ll start getting flashbacks to the er if you keep calling me that.”

you giggled and opened the door for him. “sorry, sorry! but you worked hard for your title. you deserve to wear it out.”

jack chuckled and walked into the room. jesus, what kind of karma was it that you were as sweet as your face? he might just implode by the end of this.

“so, jack,” you hummed, testing the name out on your tongue, “our standard session runs for an hour and involves a deep massage of the entire upper and lower body. you can, of course, tell me to stop at any point or request less or more of anything. does that sound good?”

jack nodded. “yeah. it does.”

“good! if you’re comfortable, i’m going to have you take your shirt and jeans off. you can change while i grab my supplies, okay?”

jack nodded again, trying not to think too hard about the thought of being half naked before you. “sounds good.”

“great! i’ll be back.”

you left the room to grab some of the items you used in massages, like essential oils, creams, stones, and things of the like, and knocked upon your return. at jack’s little, “come in!” you stepped inside the room.

jack stood before you almost timidly, his hands fixed behind his back as he shifted from foot to foot. you smiled at him and set your basket of things on the counter. “you can lay down on the table, flat on your stomach, jack. let’s start there.”

“okay,” jack said. he did as told and laid down with his face against the headrest, his arms crossed below it. 

“the prosthetic’s. . .okay, right?” he said after a minute.

“oh, of course! we see clients with prosthetics all the time, don’t worry,” you said. you lathered some oil onto your palms and dripped some over jack’s back. “we’re going to start with some oil. might be a little cold, okay?”

“no worries,” jack said. he felt internally vulnerable being laid out like this, but he supposed there was no other way to do a massage. whatever it took to alleviate the tension, right?

you started working your fingers into the small of jack’s back, locating any knots and making a mental note of what areas needed the most attention. jack let out little grunts here and there as you massaged him.

“so, how do you like your job as a doctor?” you said.

jack chuckled. “it’s chaos in there. but i don’t think i could do anything else.”

“mmm. where do you work?”

“pittburgh trauma. not too far from here.”

“oh, i see! well, they are very lucky to have you, jack,” you said thoughtfully. “you deserve to shake some of that stress off.”

“thank you, s- sweetheart,” jack rasped through a particularly deep press into his back, your knuckles pressing into his skin.

“of course, jack! is this feeling okay?”

“yeah, more than okay,” he returned. he tried not to think too much of how his name sounded on your lips.

“good! happy to help,” you hummed. you made sure to also work out the kinks around his neck and shoulders, knowing people tended to hold a lot of tension there. you then applied some cream to his non prosthetic leg, smoothing it into his skin.

“just seeing where you’re most tense, okay, jack?” you said. “can you lay on your back for me?”

jack nodded his agreement and turned over to lay on his back, trying hard not to let his attraction to you show. he had yet to reign in the flush of his cheeks and was praying you weren’t thinking anything of it.

you started to gently massage his chest with the same oil from before, locating any kinks or knots that needed taking care of. you found them to mostly present in the area around his collarbone as well as his lower stomach.

jack was mostly silent until your fingers reached the latter area. at an unintentional swipe of your palm against his happy trail, jack let out a groan louder than any he’d elicited since you started.

“fuck,” he cussed silently. you’d thought you’d hurt him at first until you realized the issue—since he’d been stripped down to his boxers, it was impossible to miss the now prominent bulge in them.

“oh, i’m so sorry! are you. . .are you okay? do you want me to stop?”

jack shook his head. “s’okay, honey. i’m fine.”

“okay,” you said with a small frown. you stayed silent as you lathered more cream onto the other side of his leg, not knowing what to say, or even how to say it.

after you were done, you eventually found your voice, unable to ignore the elephant in the room. you cleared your throat and asked, “does that happen often, jack?”

“yeah. i’m sorry, i should have warned you. i’m an old man, sweetheart,” jack laughed, scratching the back of his head when he sat up to fully face you. “my age has caught up to me down there, if you know what i mean.”

“y- yeah, i do,” you said. you bit your lip as a thought occurred to you.  “i know this might be a little inappropriate, but. . .maybe i could help?”

jack let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head. “i couldn’t ask you to do that.”

“you’re not asking! i mean, you are supposed to be leaving here feeling relaxed,” you said. “i can help you, jack.”

jack tilted his head. “you’re sure?”

“mhm! so sure,” you said, stepping next to the bedside. “let me help you.”

“okay. . .” jack said with nonchalance, though internally, he could hardly believe an opportunity like this had just fallen in his lap, pun intended. “do you. . .have you ever done anything like this before?”

your hand found its way against his bulge of its own accord, palming it gently. “more or less. just tell me what you need.”

jack let a soft grunt out at the feeling of your hand against him. “you can take it out, sweetie. might feel better.”

you nodded and did as told, slowly removing his cock from his boxers. his tip was already dribbling pre-cum which spilled down the length of it, making your breath pick up a little. you started to stroke him carefully, keeping your eyes on him.

“is that good?”

“yeah, sweetheart. so fucking good,” jack murmured. he guided your hand to wrap fully around his dick, helping you pump it up and down. you followed his lead and stroked him the same way on your own, even circling his tip with your thumb.

“guess massages aren’t the—jesus—only thing you’re good at, huh?”

you giggled. “this is technically a massage if you think about it.”

“a good one, at that,” jack grunted. “fuck, your hands are like magic.”

“happy to be of service, jack,” you said breathily. you were feeling pretty worked up yourself at the sight of him succumbing to your touch.

“yeah?” jack said. “then. . .you wanna put your mouth on me, honey? think that’d reaaally help me.”

“anything to help you!” you said willingly. you lowered your head down to kiss the head of his cock, replacing your thumb, before slowly taking him into your mouth. you stared up at jack to look for approval in his expression, and moaned contently when you saw it there immediately.

“fuuuck, that’s it. just like that, doll,” jack moaned, holding his hand in your hair. he guided you up and down on his cock slowly, not wanting to hurt you by picking up the pace. “making this old man feel so good.”

you took him in a little deeper, trying your best to please him. you didn’t stop until your nose was flush against his balls, and by then, you were sucking him off completely, the only sound that of your whimpers and each pump of his dick down your throat.

“you’re doing so well, sweetie. fuck, might have to cum already,” jack moaned. “you always so generous with your clients?”

you pulled off to look up at him, a string of spit connecting your mouth to his cock. he rubbed it off with his thumb, swiping it over your bottom lip. “n- no. just you, jackie.”

“jackie, huh? you really are a sweetheart,” jack said. “you gonna finish me off, honey? make me feel good?”

you nodded eagerly, and before he could respond, you were back to sucking him off, determined to bring your goal to fruition. jack watched with hungry eyes as you practically devoured him. he couldn’t help but buck his hips into your mouth. he figured it’d be no big deal—you were already so willing, right?

you took every second of it as he pounded into your throat, becoming virtually pliant around his cock. jack didn’t stop until he was spilling ropes of cum down your throat, even more blissed out as he watched you swallow it without reservation.

you pulled off his cock to look up at him, licking the last of his cum off your lips. jack smiled at you, cupping your cheek with his hand.

“jesus, doll. didn’t know you guys offered that type of service. should advertise it,” jack chuckled.

“we don’t,” you giggled. “it’s only for. . .special clients.”

“oh, is that right?”

“mhm. but i’d never want it advertised,” you said. “as far as i’m concerned, i only have one special client.”

and maybe he is a bit endearing, hoofing it to your general direction like a loyal hound at every soiree, gala dinner, and satanic mass. giving you his undivided attention any time you're bored and feel like playing with him through less than innocent touches and coy teasing, delighted by the way he stammers broken flirtations back only for you to disappear moments after.

he'd even taken to leaving increasingly expensive and extravagant gifts at your doorstep that you're quickly running out of space for despite your staunch ignoring. endless flowers, jewelry, clothes, a custom crossbow with his name carved in the handle, a new mare topped with a hermes saddle, a hunting dog... quite honestly the list is almost endless.

but it still doesn't make up for him shooing away any other suitable bachelors that have approached you, ones that you were actually interested in no less! to top it all off, the poor souls that were brave enough to keep buzzing around have been mysteriously dropping like flies...though Titus denies any involvement, obviously. bastard.

you'll come around, Titus knows you will. he has high hopes for the both of you after all. ones that include you as the new mrs Danforth and his heir in your belly, Satan willing.

it doesn't bother him that you sneer at him across your own engagement dinner, knife stabbing into your steak as though imagining it was his neck instead. any other in your place would have been perfectly content while you seethed that this oaf outsmarted you.

he'd been nothing short of elated hearing of your father's acceptance of his marriage proposal from Chester. you, on the other hand, had been furious at your darling papa breaking the news of your impending nuptials by telling you that Titus Danforth was your best option. an honor really that he'd personally asked for your hand at all after everyone else mysteriously abandoned you. the sleazeball. the irritating, persistent, handsome cunt had won your little game of cat and mouse from right under your nose.

"You'll make a lovely Danforth wife," Titus heavily breathes out, all triumphant smiles while you glare bloody murder at him over your meal. "I'm sure we can work on our...relationship. in time."

Ursula chokes in her wine next to him. Titus has the decency to look somewhat embarrassed at his own delusions. your eye twitches.

"oh i'm sure we'll be perfectly happy. the perfect couple." you spit out in return, your tone pure venom. your fork stabs the back of his hand, crimson red droplets blooming as Titus gasps. his fucking cheeks redden instead of him recoiling like the normal individual he isn't. Your fiancé lets out a groan of what is surely sexual pleasure before his tongue laps at the bleeding wound.

"I know," Titus sighs, looking more lovesick than ever when you were aiming for horrified. "I can't wait."