𑣲bnbg

Robby’s reminders were fairly simple: No smoking, no parties, no pets, no babies—yours or anybody else's.

You remember rolling your eyes at your brother when he was listing things. You weren’t a smoker, you’ve never been to a party in what felt like forever, you have no pets and you’ve got zero plans of having children of your own; did he really think you’d want to care for one at all?

By now you’ve lost count of the times you’ve been to Robby’s place. It didn’t matter if it was for breakfast or a random weekend afternoon for a harmless grocery shopping in his pantry. You’ve come by so much he was beginning to be a huge dick about your frequent visits. Why are you here? This isn’t the reason why I gave you a duplicate. You can’t just take all my eggs and leave! Non-sense, really. What’s the point of having a big brother living in the same city as yourself if you cannot mooch off them?

You let a week pass by before you eventually caved and decided to do your sisterly-duty of making sure Robby’s house hasn’t burnt to the ground. Yet. 

Conveniently enough, his house wasn’t that far from your apartment that you could easily deviate from your usual route on your morning runs to drop by and visit. You figured, house-sitting was an errand you can check-off your own list on your day-off. You didn’t really have the time to check on Robby’s home considering you were working overtime five times a week on top of your fifteen-hour shift at PTMC. 

Huh. 

To your surprise, you found Robby’s house immaculately clean—spotless. It was as if he hadn’t lived in it at all. There was practically no sign of Robby left other than the picture frames lined atop the family mantel and the ACDC poster hung by the living room wall. You didn’t think he’d leave his place this clean. 

Clearly, you expected a lot worse from your poor brother. It wasn’t because he was that bad at housekeeping, but as you know from experience, he isn’t exactly above purposely leaving the entire place a wreck just to annoy you. 

One time he’d left the entire sink filled with dirty dishes when he went away for a medical conference in Chicago. He even left you a note that said, “Oops. Too lazy. Hope you like it.” 

At the immaculate state of Robby’s house, your surprise would surely be well-expected. 

Without removing your airpods, you close the front door with your back as you toss the keys onto the accent bowl you’ve gifted him for his 51st birthday. 

You eased your way into the kitchen, thinking you’d be proven wrong by how the living room looked. To your dismay, it was just as clean as the previous room. You can probably hear your shoes squeaking against the cold tile-floor. 

Now that you thought of it, walking around Robby’s home in your running shoes would be a crime against whoever managed to get his house this clean. Too bad you weren’t Robby. 

You make your way out of the first-floor bathroom, heading for the stairs. 

Hopefully, your brother had only half-assed cleaning his home and left the entire second floor looking less staged and more lived in by someone like Michael Robinavitch himself.

“I’m that bitch, been that bitch, still that bitch,” you sing animatedly, mouthing the lyrics to Megan Thee Stallion’s Savage. Mel’s crash-out playlist has been coming in handy on your runs, you’ve got to make sure you compliment her about it. 

Your footsteps are heavy against the floorboards as you round your way through the stairs to the second floor. Just when you’re about to walk towards the hallway leading to Robby’s bedroom, you see him: Jack Abbot. 

Not just Jack Abbot. 

Naked Jack Abbot. 

Right in the center of your brother’s entertainment area; bare ass with muscles hard like stones rippling underneath his skin as he held onto a yoga pose so obscene it was rather enough to make you forget whose naked ass it was you happened to be staring at. 

You gulped, absent-mindedly taking off your airpods. 

You have always thought him to be muscular and fit. Logic dictates he would be; after all, he was a military man first before he was a doctor. But you hadn’t expected Jack Abbot to be so… jacked. 

He met your eyes the second he caught sight of your figure through the mirror. 

The two of you froze instantly, unsure of where to look other than your respective gaze. 

Jack recovers faster than you, the look of shock on his face now replaced by the cold smug stillness he usually carried so effortlessly. 

Screw his military instincts. 

“Enjoying the view, Robinavitch?” 

With that, you blinked, immediately turning your back against him so fast you could’ve easily gotten yourself a whiplash. Jack Abbot is buck naked. You find the need to remind yourself. Buck naked in your brother’s house with nothing else but a giant grin now plastered on his stupid face. 

Up until this point in your lives, you hated his guts. He’s always been so insufferable. Arrogant. A huge prick and a know-it-all that fondly maintained a liking to making you feel incompetent and small. 

You feel an unfamiliar warmth spread on your ears and your chest. 

What the fuck is wrong with you? 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You tried your best to sound miffed by his presence. 

He’s on his feet now, one hand taking off his own earbuds whilst the other covers himself. 

“House-sitting for Robby. Isn’t it obvious?” 

You face him again as if to correct the previous notion, “I am house-sitting for Robby.”

“Really?” He arched a brow as he continued to watch you intently. “How come I didn’t see you last week?” 

“Didn’t think a visit would be that urgent.” You answered him with a pointed look, fighting every fiber in your being from looking anywhere else but his eyes. 

He doesn’t say a word but only smirks, reaching for the towel haphazardly draped on the leather couch. You willed yourself to look away but in the corner of your eyes you watched him as he turned to his side and wrapped the towel around his waist. 

He’s waiting for you to break the ice. 

Speak goddamnit. 

“Are—are you decent now?” 

“Only one way to find out.” 

You rolled your eyes, knowing full-well that remark was accompanied by a smug look on his face. 

Why does he have to be so full of himself?

You turned his way to see him still half-naked. 

“You could’ve at least put on a shirt.” You snarked. 

He merely shrugged, “Pretty sure you’d rather have me covered from the waist down, Robinavitch.”

“Please.” was the only remark you could utter. 

Fucking hell.

You didn’t expect him to be this hot naked. 

Half-naked. 

You try diverting your gaze anywhere else but at him. Him and the sharp V-line starting  from his waist and disappearing just below the cotton-fabric of his towel. Only when your eyes landed back to his eyes did you realize that just like you, Jack Abbot was staring. 

Suddenly, you’re hyperaware of the fact that you weren’t in your hospital scrubs; the outfit he usually and more importantly regularly saw you in. You were in your favorite set of athleisure, chest exposed, skin still visibly sticky with sweat from your morning run. 

“It’s rude to stare, Abbot.” you reprimand as you mirrored the same proud look he had. 

“Could easily say the same thing, Robinavitch.” He answered, eyes trailing down onto your physique as though cataloging every part of your body he could hungrily gaze upon.

You scoffed a laugh because it was the only noise you could manage to muster. 

Robby’s house is unexplainably hot all of a sudden. It didn’t make sense. There must’ve been faulty wiring in his cooling system. 

Jack pulls you back to where you stood, chuckling with sarcasm. “Sure fire way to win an argument: Laughing.” 

“This barely counts as an argument.”

The corner of his lips lifted infinitesimally just as he tauntingly asked, “Then what is this?”

Oh, you hate him. You hate his guts. 

He’s enjoying this. Seeing you flustered and uneasy; catching you off guard just so he can say he had managed to shake the better Robinavitch under his palm. 

It was barely eight in the morning and Jack Abbot had decided to play a dangerous game. 

You’d kill Robby for being so despicable; for messing with you worse than a month-old load of dirty dishes. This… Jack Abbot and you with little to no clothing under one roof was simply diabolical. Even for Robby’s taste.

But killing your own brother would have to wait. For now, you’ll have to deal with his best friend. 

You walked towards him, closing the huge gap that parted the two of you as you maintained your gaze upon him. His hazel eyes looked at you, visibly amused but nevertheless maintaining his cool and detached demeanor. 

Your hand swiftly took the shirt placed on the armrest of a chair you assumed to belong to him. Jack had gone completely still. 

“Depends on what you want it to be.” You softly suggest, eyes lingering on his for a beat longer just before it lands on his lips. “Why? Did you think I’d cave and run off after seeing you… exposed?” 

You caught the way he was breathing and you swore you felt as though fire was being lit up on your abdomen. He was pissed. You know he’s aware of it. 

“Not so talkative now, aren’t you, Jack?” You smirked, pushing his shirt against his rock-hard chest with a gentle shove. “You’re in my brother’s home. The least you can do is be decent.” 

You were about to let go of his shirt when you felt his hand wrapped firmly around your wrist. Your eyes darted back at him. 

He had regained himself. 

“I distinctly remember there were no rules against nudity in your brother’s home.” He said, mimicking the tone of your voice. “No smoking, no parties, no pets, no babies—yours or anybody else's. Remember?” 

“That doesn’t mean I have to stomach seeing your wrinkled ass unprompted.” 

Jack laughed at that. 

“Wrinkled, you say?” He asked, voice sounding like a grunt just enough to make your knees tremble. “Then why do you look like you’re desperate to climb me, Robinavitch?”

Your breath hitched as you realized how close his face was from yours. 

You might’ve just crossed a line with Jack Abbot. 

You tried to break from his hold with just enough force in order to free yourself, but to no avail. He was simply and undeniably stronger.

“What? No snarky comeback off that smart-mouth of yours?” You hated the arrogance lacing his tone.

Incompetent and small.

That’s how you’ve always been to Jack Abbot. 

Right now, the longer you fail to make another move, the more ammunition there is for him to use against you. Abbot can continue underestimating you and that’s the exact thing you can use to your advantage. There’s simply no way you will come out of this with a losing hand. 

Stubbornly, you lifted your chin high as you met his gaze, hazel eyes trying to decipher what’s inside your mind. 

“You know what I hate the most?” 

You edged him on with a question he least expected. You know he isn’t going to do anything else other than talk you into embarrassing yourself more in front of him. He enjoyed that more than anything else. You know he liked making you feel uneasy and small and below him. Now, you’d called his bluff. There’s no turning back. 

You catch his jaw clenched just as his grip on your wrist tightened. 

“Men who talk too much.” 

Without missing a beat you pull his weight towards you using his hand still wrapped around your wrist and kiss him. 

Jack Abbot had remained stoned to the ground despite the fact you were kissing him. He was yet to recover from the shock of having Robby’s sister in his arms—with her tongue invading his mouth. 

You feel his grip on your wrist loosen and it was enough for you to break free. With his shirt now on the ground, completely forgotten about, you take your hand and wrap it around his nape.

Come on, just a little more and you’d win against Jack Abbot. 

With your teeth clashing, he manages to speak, “Is this really what you want?” 

He felt your smirk in between kisses. 

You wanted nothing else but win. 

Instead you say, “I want you, Jack.”

You feel the last string of restraint leave his body and that’s when you knew winning was the only thing you’re destined to get out of this unlikely endeavor. 

Jack pushed you towards the wall as if to cage you in his hold. One hand caressed your jaw while the other supported the small of your back. His kisses were hot and heavy and fueled with need you couldn’t quite understand how it came to being. It was as though he’d been starved for far too long and now, here you were, offering yourself to the enemy with all too willing hands reaching out for him. 

You feel him push his body against you, fully aware of the fact that you can easily unwrap his towel loose to get a hold of his erection. He was hard. Just like how his muscles felt beneath your touch. 

You slid your left leg around his midsection as you let out a moan. Jack’s hand left the small of your back and snaked its way onto your ass. You bit his lower lip and slid your tongue into his mouth as you continued to kiss him passionately. 

“Take off your clothes.” He ordered, already working on pulling down your leggings just as you remove your sports bra. You didn’t even find yourself opposed to the idea. You just willingly gave in to whatever he wished. 

“Fuck, Robinavitch.” He breathed, taking your lips into his, speaking in between kisses, “You have no idea how I longed to touch you like this.”

Jack’s kisses were doing more things to you than you’d initially expected. It was— it was more than ordinary. You always felt aghast by the idea of him touching you whenever Santos and Javadi would suggest it, but now it made sense. His touch was burning, his kisses fervent with more than just necessity. It almost felt as though Jack Abbot was fueled with nothing else but greed. 

His right hand made its way to your breast, caressing it, twisting your nipples in between his thumb and pointing finger. You find yourself failing to contain your whimpers as your hand finds its way to his hair, pulling him as close as possible to your body. Jack offers himself quite willingly, taking one bud in his mouth—the heat of his tongue just enough to cloud your better judgment. 

“Christ—” You curse, biting your lip as you arch your back, pushing your body further towards him. 

Just when you think Abbot could never have you completely at his mercy, you feel a cold and foreign friction down your slit. 

What is it? Was that his wedding ring?

“Already fucking wet for me.” He grinned, his ring finger gliding amidst the wetness of your clit. “Is this what you want?”

You fail to answer, settling with moaning his name, growing all the more impatient with his relentless teasing. 

“Just say the word and I’ll stop.” He says, despite his lips trailing kisses down the crook of your neck and onto your clavicle. 

A whimper tore itself off your throat when you felt him slide a finger inside you. 

“Please. Don’t stop.” 

“That’s it.” He said, the famed smug look finding him once again. “Beg for it.”

He finds the need to ask again, pushing yet another finger. “Do you want me to stop?” 

You could only moan and squirm as an answer. 

You catch him smile, pulling his fingers in and out of your pussy in an agonizingly slow manner. 

“I need your words, Robinavitch.”

You hate him. You hate him so badly. 

You curled your leg around him tighter just as you wrapped your other leg around his waist. He pulls his fingers out of you and catches you with practiced-ease as if your weight had meant nothing to him.  

“Don’t stop.”

You wanted to win. You wanted this round against him. 

That is what you wanted. 

Isn’t it? 

Jack pulls away momentarily, planting wet kisses on your cheek and on your jaw as though marking you in subtle ways he can claim his territory.

“Tell me where you want me to fuck you.” He breathes, kissing you once more just as he begins listing parts of Robby’s house he’d been fantasizing about fucking his bestfriend’s sister. “The couch, Robby’s bed, or this wall? I will fuck you whichever way you want.”

Win, Robinavitch. 

You wanted to win. 

“I want you on the couch.” You ordered as you caught your breath, sliding off of his grasp and nudging him towards your brother’s leather sofa. 

Jack Abbot doesn’t even stumble. He simply let his body fall onto the leather surface and watch your naked body flaunted before him. 

“Come here,” He stated, clearly thinking you’d sit on top of him. 

With nary a word, as you kept your eyes pinned on his, you dropped on your knees to take him. 

With a gentle tug, the towel is lost.

You see the faint hesitation in his eyes fade behind the glint that settled quickly at the forefront. Hunger and greed. Who knew Jack Abbot could be so possessive? 

As your hand wrapped around his shaft, the reality of what you’re about to do befall you. He was… well-endowed, to say the least. So much so, you’re beginning to second guess your ability to take him. 

Jack must’ve sensed your reluctance, causing him to gently hold your hand to pull it away from him.

“You don’t have to.”

Win. Win. Win. 

You pulled your hand free and smirked, “Underestimating me, Abbot?” 

Jack stilled and his hazel eyes darkened. He looked at you in a way enough to scare most people. Too bad you weren’t ‘most’ people. 

Instantly, Jack’s breath caught in his throat the second your lips envelope around his head. He feels your tongue dance around him, teasing him just like he did with you a while back. You look at nothing else but him, refusing to look away as you ease down on his girth and length, making sure he gets to see how well you take him. 

“Fuck—” He gasped, breathing your name, hand darting out to catch the side of your head; fingers weaving through your hair and forming into a grip. You feel the pressure of his hold, fueling your own greed to win. Win win win. 

Slowly, you drew your head back as Jack guided you down the entirety of his length. With both your hands, you hold him in place, twisting and pulling him as your mouth nestled his head. 

You watched Jack’s chest begin to heave just as his hips jerk ever so often. 

With it, you let him go with a pop—sliding your tongue underneath his length, causing Jack’s thighs to shake. 

“God—you’re so good, Robinavitch.” He praised through his groans. “So good, you take me so fucking well.” 

You let the praises go straight from your left ear, out to the right and continue to please him. You tightened your grip on his shaft as you drew your head back once more—taking him closer to the edge. 

He went completely rigid. 

“Stop—” 

You looked at him puzzled, “Why? Did I do something wrong?” 

You see a faint smile creep into his lips just as his calloused thumb grazed over your cheek, falling onto the corner of your lips to wipe the saliva pooling off it. 

“You’re nothing short of perfect.” He simply said, “I just don’t want to come yet.”

Oh. 

Without a word, he leaned forward, taking you by your arms as though guiding your way to his lap. 

“Sit.” He commanded whilst fisting himself. 

His free hand held you by your waist as you positioned yourself on top of him, clearly not needing anymore of his instructions. 

When he lets go of his shaft, he pulls you into yet another kiss, each time more fervent than the last. 

“So wet for me.” He said in between kisses. 

You feel him sliding along your slit as though to gather all your wetness, just before he pushes your hips onto him. Indistinguishable moans and groans echoed through the four corners of your brother’s home the second both yours and Jack’s hips met, grinding desperately to meet your own ecstasy.  

Jack’s right hand was planted on the crook of your neck—his thumb pressing onto your pulse point whilst the other remained on your waist, guiding the way you grind against him. 

Thirty minutes ago he wouldn’t have imagined himself being in this position; with you grinding on his lap just to prove a fucking point. 

You continue moving against him swiftly; fucking him with purpose as you feel the coil tightening in your abdomen. 

“Yes, that’s right.” Jack urged you further, letting out a groan. “Use me, Robbie.”

You whimper against his lips, refusing to breathe. 

“That’s it, baby.” Jack grunted, feeling his own hip jerk. He takes his hand away from your neck—his thumb finding your clit instead. “Come for me.”

“Oh my god, Jack.” You begin to shake around his thumb, feeling yourself close. 

The release, inevitable with the way his touches burned punishingly and so unforgivingly. Your thighs shake underneath his hold just as you relish in your own high—moaning no one else’s name but Jack Abbot’s. 

With both of your chest still heaving from your respective orgasms, a wicked smile is discernible on your lips the second you meet Jack’s gaze. 

You bucked your hips against him, still relishing the feeling of his entire length inside you, just as you declare, “I win.”