you let out a sleepy huff, still too warm to move very much. “you’re so annoying.”

“mm.” his thumb strokes over your cheek, “yet you keep me around.”

“obviously,” you smile.

he laughs under his breath, shaking his head before leaning in to press an absentminded kiss against your temple.

“you did so good, honey,” he whispers, “i know you get in your head sometimes.” his eyes meet yours, “but you never have to with me.”

your cheeks burn immediately. you don’t know what to say in return. you think pressing a kiss to his cheek and then hiding in his neck is enough.

his fingertips trace up and down your neck.

“sweetheart,” he smiles and tries to scoot away, so you come out of your hiding again. he tries again, “baby, look at me.”

his thumb strokes slowly along your shoulder before his fingers disappear into your hair, gently scratching at your scalp.

you only hum against his neck.

another kiss lands in your hair.

he slips two fingers beneath your chin, not forcing you, just waiting. “can i see you?”

after a second, you finally peek up at him.

your cheeks are warm enough that you know he notices immediately.

his thumbs brush over your skin.

“cute.”

before you can complain, he leans down and presses the softest kiss to your lips.

when he pulls back, he’s smiling to himself.

you let out the most dramatic sigh, “you’re impossible.”

“yeah?”

“mhm.”

you lean forward anyway, stealing another kiss.

he kisses you back without hesitation, smiling against your lips before resting his forehead against yours.

for a long moment, he just looks at you.

there’s so much warmth in his eyes that it makes your chest ache.

“what?” you whisper.

he shakes his head.

“just thinkin’.”

“about?”

“about how special this is.”

your expression softens.

“jack…”

“i mean it.” his thumbs sweep gently across your cheeks. “i spend so much of my life watching people lose the people they love. watching families fall apart in waiting rooms. watching days change in a heartbeat.”

he pauses, “then i come home and i get you.”

your eyes sting.

“you’re the best part of my day. you are home.”

you pout.

he brushes another strand of hair behind your ear, “you have no idea how beautiful you are.”

you immediately shake your head.

another kiss brushes your forehead, “you’re the most beautiful woman i’ve ever met.”

your eyes drift shut for a second.

“inside and out.”

he really does a great job to leave you speechless. you lean forward and kiss him.

when you pull away, your forehead finds his again.

“thank you,” you whisper.

he frowns just a little.

“for what?”

“for being the perfect boyfriend.”

his eyebrows shoot up.

your fingers find his hand, intertwining with it, “and… thank you for making me feel safe.”

your voice grows even quieter.

“all the time.”

he just stares at you.

like the words hit somewhere deep. his eyes glisten for the briefest second before he smiles and lets out the smallest laugh.

“my girl,” he whispers and kisses your cheek.

he shakes his head.

he brings your joined hands to his lips, kissing your knuckles before leaning in to kiss you again.

“i’ll spend the rest of my life making sure you always feel that way.”

his nose nudges yours.

“that’s a promise.”

you smile. “i love you, jack.”

he grins.

he leans in and kisses you again, smiling against your lips halfway through.

“i love you, honey.”

you share another kiss before you let your head fall against the pillows again.

you push one leg out from beneath the blankets with the biggest sigh imaginable, chasing even the slightest bit of cool air. it doesn’t help much. your skin is still warm, your breathing still uneven enough that your chest rises and falls a little faster than normal. you flop dramatically onto your back, throwing an arm over your eyes.

jack watches the whole performance with the tiniest smile tugging at his mouth. his hair is glueing to his forehead, a little crease settled beside one eye from where he’d been lying on the pillow.

“you alright there, honey?” he asks, amusement slipping into his voice as his fingertips drift lazily along your forearm.

you groan, “too hot.”

“yeah, tell me about it.” the blanket is so far down jack’s body you can see his packs glistening.

you kick the blanket away from your leg another inch.

he chuckles quietly, shaking his head. “baby,” he says, brushing a loose strand of hair away from your forehead, “you gotta use the bathroom anyway.”

your eyes stay firmly closed.

“mmm… no.”

“that’s not really how this works.”

“i’m comfortable.”

he lets out another laugh, the kind that rumbles low in his chest, before leaning over the side of the bed. “you’re killin’ me.”

his hand disappears over the mattress until his fingers find his discarded t-shirt on the floor. he picks it up, gives it a little shake, then turns back toward you.

“arms up.”

one eye cracks open.

you let out the most dramatic sigh he has ever heard, but you still lift your arms above your head.

“atta girl.”

he smiles to himself as he carefully slips the shirt over your head, taking his time so it doesn’t catch in your hair. his hands guide your arms through the sleeves before he gently tugs the fabric down over your shoulders, smoothing it absentmindedly where it’s twisted.

it absolutely swallows you.

the neckline slips off one shoulder just slightly.

“well,” he murmurs, brushing his knuckles against your cheek, “that’s a pretty nice view.”

you immediately duck your face toward the pillow.

“don’t.”

“you really need to get used to me giving you compliments.”

you peek up at him.

his thumb brushes gently beneath your cheekbone before he leans down, pressing a lingering kiss against your cheek. another follows near your jaw, then one at your forehead as he smiles against your skin.

“because you,” he stops to kiss your jawline, “look,” another kiss, “hot.”

you shake your head.

“now,” he says with a fond smile, giving your nose the tiniest nudge, “go humor your very persistent doctor.”

you groan so dramatically that it makes him laugh all over again. “fine. if i even manage to get to the bathroom.”

he winks at you before his face breaks out into a proud grin.

he offers you his hand.

“c’mon, i got you. let’s go clean you up and then how does pizza in bed sound like?”

You were just passing through. The longer stretch of the trip was still six hours ahead of you, traveling upstate in your used sedan that you finally paid off a month ago. 

This short stop was for gas, dinner, and maybe a beer because your car doubled as your hotel room the last few nights since you saw no point in wasting a hundred bucks on a bed when your backseat and blanket did the trick just fine. But it was a bit much on your back…a beer or two would help.

The bar you found was a few miles from the run-down gas station where you filled up and grabbed handfuls of bags of chips, Little Debbie snacks, Gatorade, a gallon of water, and a couple hot dogs. Dinner tonight and breakfast when the sun rose the next day. Killing two birds with one stone and saving money and time? A win-win-win.

But the beer at the tiny dive was nearly seven bucks…seven bucks. The bartender seemed to turn his hairy nostrils up at you asking him to verify the price. You couldn’t name this place on a map and, no, you didn’t have one but this small, dusty town seemed to be all on one road so what the hell? You fished through your wallet and found a few singles that you could use and the rest would go on your card but you hated to use it when every dollar counted at this point. 

Those remaining three bills could go towards gas, another hot dog, or a new pair of sunglasses from the dollar store since the ones you hit the road with fell off your face and into the river you were peering at your reflection in when you pulled over to ask a pedestrian in a different town how to get back on the interstate from there. That’s what you get for wanting to rest your weary eyes with a picturesque view of burbling waters and lush greenery instead of cracked asphalt and neon signs.

“I’ll pay for it. Put it on my tab, Steve,” a voice wafted over your left shoulder and you almost flinched. It was close, or rather he was close, the voice a kind of deep, coarse, melody that snatched your attention from your wallet as you whipped around to see the man who had generously paid for your Corona.

He was towering over you as you sat on your barstool with his hands in his dark jeans pockets, his arms concealed in a black, leather jacket that didn’t really do much to hide his biceps, or his chest that nearly strained against his navy t-shirt. Two thin, silver-plated dog tags on his silver chain necklace graced his thick neck, his Adam’s apple present as he cleared his throat when your eyes caught his, his grayish, stubbled jaw clenching before his pink lips grew into a soft smile that touched his brown eyes. You noticed the crinkle around them like he was much older than you or just tired like you, but either way, you smiled back and said, “Thank you.”

There was a hesitancy to your voice that didn’t outweigh the politeness in it because you didn’t believe in meeting kindness with rudeness, but you weren’t a dummy, either. You were a young woman on the road and on her own and that meant virtually anything could go wrong. For that reason, you kept a Smith & Wesson 640 under your seat when you drove or tucked it into the pocket of your denim jacket that you wore now. You could feel the weight of it on your left side as you slipped your wallet into the other pocket on your right and watched this man slip onto the barstool next to you.

He had a casual look about him, his strong-looking thighs spread wide—the muscles apparent even in the heavy denim—as he placed his right hand on the right one and his left elbow on the bar before he grabbed one of the two Corona bottles Steve had sat on black napkins in front of you both. The man tipped it to you before he took a swig, his lips glistening a bit afterward with the liquid before he licked them and smiled again, a soft, reserved one because maybe he noticed your smile wasn’t as big as his. But you still grinned as you took your beer now, too, and enjoyed a few icy cold swallows that made your chest feel nice and warm before you raised the bottle in the air a little as a silent cheers back.

“You’re not from around here,” the handsome stranger stated. And yes, he was handsome. A little too easy on the eyes because he made it difficult to pull your eyes away from him as he kept his gaze on you like you were some heavenly body that descended from space and landed right in this bar before him. Made you glance around the dive bar then, at the rustic wood floors and tables. The cream-colored (or maybe it used to be white) jukebox crooning a scratchy rendition of “Don’t Be Cruel” by Billy Swan. The one small, plasma screen TV mounted in the corner of two walls blaring the local news. And the glowing beer signs littered on the rest of the wall space highlighted some interesting characters. Mostly men, mostly in leather like him, and mostly older. Like him. But he had a look about him like he didn’t belong here, either. A bit too clean and polished, his auburn, salt, and pepper hair cut too neat, his skin too moisturized instead of weathered, and even his voice too soft where the chatter around you was rough, grumbling, and in some corners, boisterous.

But he didn’t seem soft…actually, he seemed very aware of the way your fingers flexed on your lap when you weren’t taking sips of your beer. You weren’t reaching for anything in particular but, of course, you would if you had to. And he looked like the kind of man who knew how to protect himself, too. Made you wonder what he was hiding in that snug, leather jacket of his.

“I’m not…just here for tonight,” you replied and he nodded his head. You raised an eyebrow at him. “Are you from around here?”

He smirked at that and brought his hand up from his lap to rub at the scruff on his chin. Didn’t take his eyes off you and for some stupid reason, that made you twitch. Not your fingers this time, though. You looked away and at your beer that was a swallow from being empty and you saw from the corner of your eye this man wave over Steve to give you another one. He brought two and the man tilted his head back a bit to finish off the beer he was working on to catch up to you. His neck had muscles that lead to his collarbones just peeking above the rim of his shirt, those muscles moving with his sips and you felt yourself lick your lips. Um, yikes. You yanked your eyes away again to enjoy your second beer on the house as his pleasant, raspy voice cooed from your left, “This is my hometown but I live in Pittsburgh. Just visiting my folks for the holidays.”

That made you take a glimpse at him again with slightly widened eyes as you rested your elbows on the bartop. “Shit,” you whistled. “I forgot Thanksgiving is this week.”

It was Tuesday and the holiday was this Thursday but that hardly registered to you because you weren’t here to see family nor on your way to do that, either. You weren’t sure where you were headed, actually…somewhere in Rhode Island, Chicago, or maybe Maine…anywhere that wasn’t Alabama, to be honest, and very far from it. 

“Not close with your folks?” The handsome stranger asked as he held his beer to his lips. Almost like he paused himself to hear you speak, his eyes on you again, and, really, they had never left. He seemed fascinated with you and a part of you was thawing to the fact that maybe it was because you were a breath of fresh air in this sausage fest of a bar and maybe his family, too. You used to hate forcing a smile on your face at family functions with your ex during the holidays when you’d rather be anywhere else on earth.

But the other part of you still shrugged off his question as you sipped your beer and looked ahead of you at the wall of polaroid pictures behind the bar. A lot of them yellowed with purple sharpie writings in the white space that used to be black ink, you were sure. Groups of guys and some women smiling, holding up pitchers of beer, shooting pool, but you didn’t see a pool table in here now. You just saw this man who was making you a bit warm with his gaze…or maybe it was the second Corona heating up your blood. You spoke slowly because you didn’t want to accidentally reveal some shit that wasn’t his business just because you may or may not be getting a buzz.

“Not really. I like to move around a lot. On my way to my next spot come mornin’.”

“Where to?”

“I’m not at liberty to say.”

“Are you on the run?”

“You always ask people you just met this many questions?”

He chuckled at that. A hardy one that made him hang his head with a little shake before he lifted his eyes to look up at you with a smirk. He wagged his finger at you. “No. No, I don’t, actually. I’m just curious…you can probably tell from the look of this place that people like you don’t walk through the door often.”

“People like me?”

“Beautiful women, yes.” 

There it was. You were waiting for it. All this sweet talk, if you could even call it that, was to butter you up for the impending onslaught of compliments to hopefully coax you out of your panties. That is, if the beers he was intending to feed you didn’t soften you up enough. It made you set your bottle down onto the bar with a clank as you clapped and wringed your hands together in an almost pleading gesture, but you were not about to beg this man for shit.

Instead, you hissed resolutely, “If you think a couple of free beers and pleasantries is all it takes to get me out of here with you, you’re sorely mistaken.”

The man’s eyes widened a bit before they settled into a disappointed grimace. But to your surprise, the disappointment didn’t look like rejection but rather…empathy? The fuck?

He held up his hands in defense as he said softly, “I apologize if I came on too strong. I just…I couldn’t imagine walking into a place like this and feeling…comfortable. Just wanted to show some decency.”

“I’m perfectly comfortable,” you spat but then jumped out of your skin when a roarious cacophony of gruff laughter and fists pounding on tables from someone apparently making a hilarious joke exploded from somewhere behind you. That you could deal with. Kind of snooty bartender you could deal with. Handsome stranger gazing at you with warm eyes that matched the warmth creeping up your nape and spreading into a blush your brown skin wouldn’t reveal? Um…

He breathed out a laugh through his nose before he wiped a big hand over his mouth and stubbly beard. Looked like he was thinking of what to say next to keep you from running away from him but you beat him to the punch. “Thank you for the drinks but I gotta head out. Long drive ahead of me tomorrow.” You went back into your pocket for your wallet to leave those three dollars on the bar as a tip and stood, not bothering to finish your beer as you started to turn and walk away. 

“Wait, hold on,” you heard him utter at your back. You didn’t stop walking, though, pushing the heavy or stuck door open to step into the humid night as you swiveled your head to locate your car. It was a rather small parking lot but it looked a lot different when the sun was out and now the moon was just a slither among scattered, dull stars and one, lone streetlight that flickered like a strobe light. You heard the bar door open and shut again behind you and you rolled your eyes. It could’ve been other patrons stumbling out but you knew when you looked over your shoulder, it would be the handsome stranger man. That should have struck panic through your spine but…it didn’t. He stood there and he didn’t follow you any further and just held out his hand. You saw your pistol resting on it.

You sucked in a gasp as you patted at your jacket pockets and, sure enough, neither of them held your gun, but he did. It must have leapt from your pocket when those noisy patrons jumpscared you before. He wasn’t pointing it but, instead, held it in his palm like an offering to you. You started to begrudgingly walk back to the bar and towards him, staring at his other hand at his side to make sure it didn’t reach anywhere it wasn’t supposed to…taking in his posture that was kind of militant with a slightly wide stance, squared shoulders, and chin tilted up a bit as he stared at you, too.

Made you wonder if he’d served, if the dog tags weren't already an indicator, and if this stance was to disarm you because he kept still and compliant even when you stood right in front of him and plucked your weapon from his palm. Even though you appreciated him handing you your gun, it was a bit jarring to see him go from easygoing inside the bar to stoic outside in minutes. You tucked your piece into your pocket and took a step back from him, watching him watch you with those eyes that had an almost playful gleam in them before that now shined with concern.

“I know you’re not at liberty to say, but…if wherever you’re headed requires protection like that,” he tipped his chin towards your jacket pocket, his voice low with hidden worry, “...are you equipped with enough power for the trip?”

Your jaw tried to drop but you clenched it and inhaled a sharp breath to steady yourself and keep from blurting, “I do not need your help.”

Because any more favors from this man might make him think you owe him one, giant one. But the truth of the matter was…you only had as many bullets as the chamber could fit. You weren’t some gun freak who toted a variety with ample ammo and touted how you’d use it if pressured. You just wanted to keep yourself safe. And you didn’t think you’d ever need more than five bullets. God, you hoped you’d never need even one.

The longer you took to respond, a few seconds lingering between you in the hushed night, the more worry filled his eyes and he spoke right as you parted your lips to speak, too.

“I can get you squared away with some, if it helps.”

“I don’t need anything, thanks.”

You talked over each other and it didn’t help that ruckus laughter and music from inside and barreled against the door you two stood by.

You said, “What?”

He said, “Huh?”

And then you repeated, “I said I’m good on ammo, thanks.”

“Come with me to my truck. I got somethin’ that can help,” he suggested at the same time.

You caught the first part this time as he was saying, “Sorry,” for interrupting you and it made you shake your head furiously at him. Handsome or not, didn’t seem like the best idea to follow him anywhere.

“I’m good. Really,” you assured him but then he walked off. Rude. But he didn’t head back inside and, instead, through the parking lot and into the shadows where he disappeared for a minute before emerging back through the black with his hand out again. This time you saw his palm filled with a smallish, greenish paper box with red labeling. You didn’t have to look too closely to see it was bullets. At least fifty rounds. “I’m not on the run,” you answered his question from earlier with a quieter tone, folding your arms over your chest as a sultry breeze crossed by. It kicked up some dust from the dirt you both stood on and also his cologne that you didn’t notice before. Something heady like tobacco and vanilla and it made you look up at him and hold his gaze that was already steadfast on you.

“I believe you,” he replied just as quietly. Jiggled the box in his hand once like it was a treat but his face was smooth. His tone became insistent but still soft. “Even if you were, I don’t think you’d get caught ’cause you’re smart.”

You went still as you assessed his words. There wasn’t a lick of sarcasm in them, but rather a well of sincerity you were starting to see wasn’t running dry because he didn’t move. He waited for you to move and his gaze flickered down to your hand that swiped the box of bullets from his palm.

You shoved them into your jacket pocket along with your wallet, peering down at it when it wouldn’t fit all the way in, but your eyes shot up to glare at him when he declared, “Atta girl.”

“Nah, I’m a grown woman,” you reminded him.

“Apologies. Noted,” he replied and watched you huff when the damn box still wouldn’t slip into your pocket without threatening to fall and spill bullets all over the dirt…and maybe you also huffed because his gaze was still warm and trying to simmer beneath your skin like he could see the depths of you.

It made you twitch again, somewhere in your gut like you had butterflies and maybe a bit lower and you wanted to curse at him for making you feel that. You didn’t know this man and what he was capable of…but he did just do you a kindness. Even though you never wanted to be in the South again, that Southern hospitality was rooted in you something deep. “Thanks,” you muttered, instead.

“Welcome,” was all he said before he extended his hand again to you. This time for a handshake. You looked down at it and then back up at him as he added, “I’m Jack. Can I know your name or are you not at liberty to share?”

That made you almost smile before you rolled your eyes and declared, “Ugh, give it a rest already,” and told him your name. Jack didn’t hide his smile from you, especially when you put your hand in his and shook it. You couldn’t help but notice how his hand tried to swallow yours and how warm and mostly soft his palm and fingers were. A bit calloused in the grooves and thick as they held onto you and you felt those butterflies again when he slipped his hand from yours gingerly, like you were made of glass and he didn’t dare let your hand carelessly drop to your side. His thumb brushed along your thumb knuckle and your hand jerked itself away, a reaction out of your control because, well, you weren’t used to anyone touching you lately and certainly not kind, handsome strangers.

“Sorry,” he gave under his breath and even took a step back from you to give you your space. You shook your head, not to refute his apology, but to clear your thoughts that were coming in hot and fogging up your mind with stupid ache because, Jesus, had it been that long since you’d been touched that a handshake made you feel tingly all over?

You knew the answer to that question was an unfortunate and resounding yes.

“S’okay,” you gave back and then crossed your arms over your chest to glance around the lot awkwardly as you rocked on your heels. Trying to avoid his warm gaze that was fixed on you. Curious about you. And maybe you were a bit curious about him. But the words, “I should get out of here,” still left your lips. 

Yet when your feet didn’t move, Jack asked, “Not tryin’ to get in your business, I swear, but…did your piece come loaded or did you load it?”

You forced yourself to meet his eyes and you could still see the concern in them for you. This man had maybe fifteen years on you and likely had those “traditional values”—yuck—of protecting women he found helpless, but you weren’t helpless. You had a loaded weapon on you right now. And what’s more, you wanted to find it weird that a stranger would want to care this much about another stranger in this day and age.

But then again…maybe he knew better than you did of the dangers that lurked in this seemingly small town that you planned to sleep through in your car. He was from here after all…

“It came loaded,” you answered honestly, hands tucked in your pits as you thumbed the seams of your denim jacket. You shrugged and added a bit flippantly, “And no, I’ve never loaded it before. But I was gonna teach myself.”

“How?”

“YouTube.”

Jack sucked his teeth at that and placed his hands on his hips as he assessed you again with new eyes. You could feel the weight of his concern needling into scrutiny and you pouted at him. “What?!”

“Have you even shot it?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Do you wanna learn?”

“Why are you assuming I don’t know how to shoot?!”

“Because you don’t know how to load the damn thing, either. Bet you were gonna ‘YouTube’ that, too.” He threw up air quotes with his fingers at the word like self-guided videos were the bane of his existence. And you took special offense to that because you taught yourself how to change your car’s oil with one of those videos, damn it.

“Excuse me?” Your mouth fell open with shock to hear him curse at you and you pouted again as you unfurled one of your hands from your chest to point a finger at him with an accusation, too. “You know what they say when you make assumptions…”

“Yeah, well. I’d rather make an ass out of myself than know you have a piece you can’t use when you need it. And because you’re smart, you’ll let me show you before you get back on the road.”

Your hands at your sides now turned into fists before you took a tiny breath in and out through your nose to relax your shoulders and slowly unclench your hands, just as slowly folding them back over your chest as you said through your teeth, “Fine.”

Jack let out a gruff snicker at that and said back, “There’s a clearing less than a half mile from here. You probably passed it if you got here off the east exit. We can practice your shot there.”

“You drivin’?” you assumed and felt your cheeks burn to do the thing you accused him of just moments ago. His face remained even and calm, thankfully.

“Whatever makes you comfortable, ma’am.”

Your better judgment would normally scream at you to ignore the handsome stranger’s charm, hop in your car, and peel out of the parking lot with the free ammo. But…he was also offering a free lesson you could actually benefit from…and there it was again when you looked at him. The warmth in his gaze that softly glimmered in the faint moonlight and showed no malice or mischief. Just a man who wanted to see to it that a woman like yourself could hold her own. Hmm…

“I’ll follow you there,” you decided and Jack nodded in agreement. The clearing was indeed only four minutes or so away from the bar, the black of the night nearly swallowing the brown grass, dirt, and tall trees that were mostly bark and limbs as the fall had stolen their leaves or turned them the same color as the grass. You parked your beat-up car next to Jack’s sleek, champagne-colored pickup but that wasn’t the source of shame, oh, no. It was how bad your shot was when you imagined a simple point and shoot would be a piece of cake. At least loading the gun after he showed you was fairly easy.

But Jack was patient…taking his time to walk over with a slight limp you just noticed, crouch down, and reset the row of empty water jugs he’d had bagged in his truck bed that were due for the recycling center now getting dinged by your shot, no holes. He kept his headlights on to illuminate the clearing and they were goddamn bright so it wasn’t like you couldn’t see. Maybe the targets were too small? Or maybe you were still a bit fuzzy from the beers?

You huffed as you saw another plume of dust rise from the dirt when you missed your shot again, the water jug in the center of the five untouched. Felt like you were wasting bullets at this point but Jack stood nearby behind you to watch your form and provide a little feedback.

“Your point is steady but you jolt when you shoot…gotta keep still.” His voice floated over your shoulder, benign like he wanted to ease your growing frustration. You still whipped your head around to glare at him with slits for eyes.

“It’s too much kickback…I can’t keep still.” You lowered your arms, both your hands still on your piece as you started to turn to face Jack who was shaking his head and coming closer.

“Yes, you can. Here…may I?” he encouraged as he hovered his hands around your arms. And again, you wanted your better judgment to try and step in, warn you that you shouldn’t let him touch you…but once again, it was silent and replaced with the reality of his big hands settling on your shoulders with a warmth you felt seep through your jacket to your skin after you nodded once at him.

He gently turned you back around to look at your targets, standing close enough that the heat of him was against your back but he didn’t brush up on you. He just guided your arms into place to aim again, keeping one on your upper arm as the other ghosted along your wrist so his fingers could find yours to guide them, too. His touch was tender again, his hand overtaking yours but his thumb merely rested on yours as his pointer carefully cushioned itself between the trigger guard and your pointer finger. 

You felt like his puppet for a moment as he held your hand steady in the air, the weight of the piece and your hand in his much larger one as he pointed for you. You also felt his other hand slip to your elbow to bend it a little, a gentle motion, gentle like his warm breath on the side of your face. He must have popped a mint into his mouth on the short drive because it smelled sweet and fresh, but you didn’t hear the suckle of it in his mouth. You did hear the slight crinkle of his leather jacket shifting as he posed you, you could smell it, too. It was real leather, clean yet earthy, and mingling with the succulent scent of his cologne you got a whiff of before. 

And when his voice grazed your cheek with a hushed question, “Does this feel good?” you felt tingly all over again. God, you tried to stay still and prayed he didn’t feel it, too.

“Mmhm,” was all you replied with through your sealed lips.

“‘Good’ like…does this stance feel natural to you?” Jack replied back with more heft in his tone. Maybe to wrangle in your focus since you didn’t offer him much in response, but you were paying attention. Your eyes were on the middle target, even if your mind was on the soft coarseness of his voice next to your ear as he added, “If I let you go…can you hold it comfortably?”

“Yes...it feels good.” The words left you automatically but it felt like the truth, especially with his fingers still gently pressed to yours. You felt his breath on your nape when he breathed out a small chuckle at you and while it made you tingle again, you felt yourself grin, too. A half-shy, half-charmed grin…ugh.

“Alright…go for it. You got this…” Jack took a little longer than you thought he ought to to step back from you and let you hold your aim on your own…but you didn’t mind it. You took a breath through your nostrils to steady yourself and closed one eye to zero in on your target, that pesky jug, before you pulled the trigger.

And you saw a hole appear almost through the center of it before it toppled over on the dirt.

“Oh, shit!” you squeaked.

“Well, look at that!” Jack yelped behind you.

You lowered your arms and switched around to stare at him with an “o” for a mouth and a light in your eyes that wasn’t from his headlights still shining on you. You saw him staring back with a smile and his eyes twinkling, too, crinkling at the sides, he was smiling so big. A half-impressed, half-satisfied smile.

He clapped his hands four times, a mini applause just for you, before he started walking towards you and you felt your heart skip a beat. Was he coming in for a congratulatory hug? Why did the thought of him getting close to you again and holding you to him sound delicious?

But Jack breezed past you and towards the jugs to reset them again as he asked, “Wanna keep going?”

You thought about it…nailing that shot felt great but you’d popped enough shots tonight that you worried local authorities might show up to see what was all the noise about. Jack didn’t seem worried but where you were from, it was a real and very unwelcome possibility. “Nah. I think I got it.”

He nodded at that and started collecting the jugs, holding them between his fingers instead of you like he did moments ago as he turned to you and stated, “You can keep these if you want…free target practice whenever you want. I can put ’em in your car for you.”

“Um. Sure,” you piped up after a moment because you didn’t trust your voice not to betray you with a quiver from the thought still rolling around in your head about how good this handsome man smelled and looked. And he looked at you now with a nod before he breezed by you again to pop open the door to your backseat and load it with the jugs.

When he finished, he was turning around to see you’d migrated closer to him to stow your piece under the driver's seat. You felt his eyes on you and that warmth that was becoming more familiar and welcomed by the minute. It slipped up the backs of your legs and over the curve of your bottom that his gaze followed along your lower back, a bit of exposed skin where your shirt and jacket lifted as you bent to nestle your pistol and the bullets he gave you where they’d be safe. And, sure, it could all be in your head that he was staring at how your hands flitted to your chest to smoothen out your jacket as you stood up right, but you caught his eyes flitting away when you looked up at him. 

Your heart raced again and you began to wonder if now was a good time to get on the road because god forbid you fall behind schedule thanks to a handsome stranger who made your thoughts race, too. Okay, you didn’t really have a schedule…you just weren’t that type of woman…you didn’t give in to men just because they talked a good game and did you a favor…right? Right?

“So…you drivin’ straight through the night or you have some place to lay your head?” he asked slowly. The words left his lips one by one like he knew each one would be blocked by your sarcastic, little “not at liberty to say” comment from earlier that amused him, but it seemed like he couldn’t help but ask. A layer of empathy blanketing his tone that amused you because it was likely second-nature to the man. You’d only known him a few hours but for all the men you knew from Alabama for years were only this caring for their ATVs or motorcycles.

Jack shoved his fists into his jacket’s pockets as he watched you and waited for your answer which you decided to give him earnestly, albeit you tooted your plump lips to quietly blow a raspberry and awkwardly tuck your hands into your jacket pockets, too. “Gonna sleep in my car. Beats payin’ for a fancy hotel.”  

His hooded eyes widened slightly at that before he shook his head in disbelief. “If it’s a hotel here, it’s a motel and the furthest thing from fancy. They should be payin’ you to sleep there.”

That got a little giggle out of you and he grinned when he heard it before you both parted your lips to speak over each other again. 

“I’ll be alright,” you said.

“Put anything on your stomach today besides those beers?” he asked.

He tilted his head at you and you rolled your shoulders at his question, trying to appear taller and firmer in your stature even though Jack had a good five inches on you. But you kept your voice even as you responded honestly again. “Yeah. Picked up somethin’ at a gas station earlier…but listen. I get it’s almost Thanksgiving but…I’m not a charity case, Jack. I can take care of myself.”

Now it was Jack’s turn to straighten his posture as if to brace for the impact of your words, his chin tipping down before he ultimately sighed and pursed his lips. He had that disappointed glint in his gaze again and you felt it in your chest. Made you feel kind of…silly…to keep shirking off his kindness to prove to yourself that you could survive without it. Because, yeah, you could but…

“I know you can,” he said in a soft, matter-of-fact tone. Squared his shoulders as if to mirror you, maybe try to put you at ease once more? It was kind of working, especially with the warmth of his eyes on you as he added even softer, “But would you like real food and a real bed for a night? Would it help you get rested for your drive in the morning?”

“Who’s bed?” The intrusive thought escaped your mouth and you wanted to slap your hands to your face because what the hell was that question? Jack just sucked his teeth with another shake of his head, meeting your eyes that you swore shone a whisper of the same intrusive thoughts…hmm.

“It’ll be your bed tonight. My place isn’t too far from here…got a guest room with its own bed, bathroom, and such,” Jack explained as you crossed your arms over your chest. It wasn’t cool out, quite the opposite, but you felt a slight shiver dance along your spine at the thought of going to this man’s house…this man you just met…this very handsome, generous man…

This is where your better judgment was supposed to kick in for real this time because it was already a choice to follow him to a second location for this impromptu shooting lesson…and now there was a third location? You’d been traveling alone for three days with no real run-ins with trouble because you always kept it moving. It was gas, food, drive, sleep, repeat. 

You were just a passing breeze on this unseasonably humid, autumn evening. Here tonight, gone tomorrow. You were out of cash but had just enough cash left in the bank to get somewhere nice upstate and then come up with a more permanent plan. And staying the night at Jack’s was nowhere in that plan. That sounded like trouble.

But…

“You said you have real food…are you gonna cook or…?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Well, then…

“How, um, how long is the drive to your place?”

“Fifteen minutes headed northwest.” He removed a hand from his pocket to throw a thumb over his right shoulder in that direction. “If you’re headed further north, I’m about twenty minutes from that exit. You probably noticed this tiny ass town has one way in and one way out.”

You giggled again and tried to stifle it by clearing your throat. “Does this town even have a name?”

Jack giggled a bit, too, and pronounced his next word slowly as if he knew you’d find the name funny-sounding. “Ellsinore.”

You nodded dutifully, keeping your arms crossed and shifting your weight to your right boot as you looked around the clearing and then up at the crescent moon like it would tell you the next thing to say or do. But you knew you didn’t need the extra push to take him up on his offer that was too good to resist…a good meal, clean, soft sheets, and a long, hot shower? God, yes.

And when your eyes fell on his to find he was studying you like you’d studied the moon, looking at you like you were the moon…that curiosity about you lingering in his tender gaze, tender on you as heat kissed your cheeks…

Well, there wasn’t anything left to say but, “Let’s go…I’ll follow you again.”

The little red numbers on your sedan’s dashboard clock glowed 11:32 P.M. before your eyes flit back to the dark road. It grew darker and narrower when the rear of Jack’s pickup lit up with brake lights as he made a right turn. This road wasn’t paved like the main stretch of asphalt that ran through the town…Jack’s home was the dead end of a lonely dirt road surrounded by a dense forest of trees you could only see through when both sets of your headlights cut through the pitch black of the night.

You parked next to him on the grass, a makeshift driveway from the repeat tire tracks indenting the brown blades down to more dirt and dead leaves that crunched under your boots when you hopped out. Jack climbed out of his truck, too, and approached you to grab your duffle bag from your trunk after you popped it for him. He insisted he carry it and anything else you wanted to bring inside as you trailed behind him to his porch that lit up when you both neared it. The small, lantern light mounted to the right of his front door highlighted the silver of his hair and turned the rest of it hazel, the same hazel you saw touch his eyes from the glow when he glanced over his shoulder at you with a cute, inviting grin.

“Come right on in,” he chirped as he stepped inside and flipped on more lights to chase away the dark. First the lamp on the console table against the wall by the door and then the ceiling fan light that revealed the open space of the living room, den, and kitchen as his home. Reminded you of the double wide mobiles you left behind this week to prayerfully never see again. But Jack’s place was cozy…“Your bedroom is here, second door on your right. This other door is the linen closet if you wanna grab extra towels or sheets.” Jack’s voice filled the place as he walked ahead of you towards a couple of doors on the opposite end of where you meandered by the loveseat, just a few steps from the front door as you nodded and took in his domain. 

It wasn’t what you pictured in your head on the drive here…a refined, possibly military man like him lived in a quaint cottage? It was roomy but that room was teeming with walnut wood furniture and rustic knick knacks—like the row of porcelain duck figurines on the mantle above the fireplace—that belonged to another time, well-preserved, though.

The quilted throw over the back of the loveseat felt soft beneath your fingertips that you skimmed along it as you followed him into your bedroom. It held a large chest of drawers and a storage ottoman bench at the end of a queen bed made with a cream-colored, down comforter and several floral-printed and tan pillows stacked against the barnwood headboard. It even smelled nice here, pleasant and homey like patchouli and a hint of vanilla…but maybe that was Jack’s cologne filling the room.

You watched him slip your duffle bag strap from his shoulder to set your things on the edge of the bed before he turned to face you and clasp his hands together near his chest. “This is all you. Bathroom is through that door there. Soap, shampoo, and such under the sink…please make yourself at home. If you need anything in the meantime, I’ll be in the kitchen,” he made known with a nod and you nodded back. With that, he went to leave but not before you muttered his name to make him pause in the doorway, a hand on the doorknob as he looked back at you expectantly.

“Thank you,” you gave softly and for the first time tonight, you really meant it. Jack didn’t say anything but he gave you a half-smile that put those butterflies in your tummy again before he closed the door behind him and left you alone. Alone with your thoughts that didn’t usually race this much because you weren’t an anxious woman…just a cautious woman. 

Caution led you out of the seedy neighborhood you grew up in. Caution carried you away from the people who meant to do you harm. Caution kept you whole, kept you breathing. And here, standing by yourself in this quiet room, your breath hitched when you thought about how you were throwing caution to the wind because the handsome stranger successfully sweet talked you and coaxed you out of the bar.

But not out of your panties as you originally assumed was his intention. 

You were starting to see now Jack had nothing but good intentions…but when you closed your eyes in the shower and let your mind race with images of what his muscles looked like under his clothes…what his hands felt like when they weren’t on your shoulders but between your thighs…you weren’t so sure the same could be said about you. 

The water was deliciously hot with the perfect pressure that pulsed on your tired muscles you’d been ignoring from days in your car, sitting behind the wheel and riding the day or curling up in your backseat during the night. You didn’t realize how much tension was in your neck, shoulders, and back until you were able to melt in the shower for more than an hour.

You almost felt bad to run up Jack’s water bill like that but he did say to make yourself at home…so you took your time washing your braided hair and lathering and rubbing every inch of your skin with the fresh bar of soap you found under the bathroom sink cabinet. The mirror above that sink was foggy when you finally stepped out and wiped your palm over it to see your reflection, dripping wet afro coils and dewy, brown skin that felt as warm and supple as it looked from that wonderful shower. You’d wrapped yourself in a fluffy towel that was nearly as big as the blanket you slept under each night—and it was much softer. Reminded you that you should probably throw that poor blanket and your clothes in the wash before bed, if Jack didn’t mind adding just a few more dollars to his water bill, that is. You had a feeling he wouldn’t mind at all.

You decided to keep taking your time since you weren’t going anywhere else tonight…Jack’s home was your residence for the next ten hours or so. You rooted around your duffle bag until you got your hands on your body butter and coconut oil to moisturize your body and your hair, perched criss-crossed on the soft bed as you rebraided your hair that framed your face and fell down your back. You couldn’t find the hair tie you knew you’d packed in your bag and you already knew Jack didn’t have one with that near buzzcut he sported, so you shrugged and got dressed in the last clean bit of clean clothes you had: gym shorts and a t-shirt. It was a baggy fit and swallowed you up, which you liked because it was comfy and would deter the male gaze from trying to undress you with their eyes.

Yet it hit you again that Jack was the only man here and maybe…maybe you wanted him to see you. The thought of seeing him without clothes still flitted through your mind as you tiptoed around your temporary bedroom, spotting a small picture frame along with the other little trinkets atop the chest of drawers. When you leaned in to look closer, because the picture couldn’t be any bigger than four by six inches, you saw it was a faded photo of Jack next to two other men. The three were in uniform, you assumed from the camouflage it was the Army, and each wore thin smiles as they stood in a line in a field of some sort. Jack was missing his gray hair and the crinkles around his eyes, but you noticed even on active duty, those eyes were still warm as they looked back at you from the photo. You couldn’t help but think he was a handsome, young man and an even more handsome, older man…or maybe you thought that because the older man had fully charmed you this evening. Oof.

That fact remained indeed a fact when you wandered out the room to follow the alluring aroma of butter and herbs…and your nose didn’t steer you wrong because you stepped into the kitchen, you found Jack standing at his stove manning a cast iron skillet and spooning sizzling butter with a sprig of something green over a strip steak. You tucked your arms under your pits as you leaned against the wall and remained silent, watching him cook, hesitant to startle him because it appeared he might burn himself from the looks of the dish towel he’d wrapped around his hand to hold the skillet handle and tame the steam rising from it.

Which worked out for you because you were enjoying the view…he’d been wearing a leather jacket all evening but now it was gone and you could see the muscles of his large, freckled biceps as they flexed with his movements. Those muscles moved in his neck and shoulder blades, too, and leading lower to a firm butt in his fitted jeans. Made you wonder how often he worked out, how much he could lift with all those muscles, how strong would he feel if he laid his weight on top of y—

He startled you when he glanced at you and caught you staring. You even jumped a little, goddamn. It made him breathe out a chuckle before he returned his attention to the task at hand and remarked, “I meant to ask what you had a taste for before I left you earlier, but I didn’t wanna double back and disturb your shower sooo…hope you’re not a vegetarian.”

“M’not,” you replied quietly, your heart still thudding a bit as you tried to compose yourself. “Smells yummy.” You padded across the wooden floors and sat down after you pulled back a chair from the small dining table, also made of wood like everything else in this old-fashioned but intriguing house. You used your fingertip to trace the lace patterns on the placemat in front of you before you added, “You have interesting taste in decor, you know.”

That made him laugh aloud as he plucked your steak from the skillet with a pair of tongs to rest on a ceramic plate on the tile countertop. “I can’t take the credit. This is my mom and dad’s place. They definitely had…‘interesting taste.’”

“Oh…I didn’t mean—”

“No, no, you’re good. I take it the photorealistic mallard bathmat didn’t freak you out, huh?”

Your eyes widened in surprise as you met his gaze and blurted, “I didn’t even notice. I think I was…zenned out from my shower.”

Jack laughed again as he opened the oven to retrieve a baking sheet of roasted potatoes and asparagus from it with his dish cloth still in hand. “I’m glad it treated you right…” he offered softly as he fixed your plate. Then he walked over with your food prettily presented with the herb sprig as a garnish atop your steak, setting it on your placemat with a timid tone that you found sweet. “...I’m no chef and I was in a hurry at the store to get back here and start dinner…my, uh, sincerest apologies if the steak is charred.”

It was your turn to laugh because from the sight and smell of the meal alone, it was going to be good. And when you picked up your fork and knife from your placemat to dig in, you were right. Juicy, savory, buttery, a bit spicy, and you loved your meals with a little heat…it beat gas station hot dogs and snack cakes by a thousand miles. 

“I have no complaints. None. Wow,” you mumbled midchew and realized that might look unbecoming so you hovered a hand over your mouth. Jack didn’t seem to mind and admired you with a proud smirk as you chowed down before he fetched two tall glasses from his cabinet, a plastic pitcher of iced water from his refrigerator, and took a seat across from you after pouring you both a drink.

He sipped it a couple of times as he leaned his elbows on the table and kept his eyes on you, making you look up from your plate when you felt him staring. “You’re not gonna eat?” you muttered with your mouthful, pointing your fork at him.

Jack shook his head with a playful frown and replied, “No, I’ll have more food than I can fit in my truck on the way home come Thursday. My family overdoes it every year. This is all for you…you’re spared from my Aunt Betty’s hot chicken salad since you’ll be long gone by then.”

You snorted with a giggle as you swallowed your bite and wiped your mouth with the paper towel you tugged from the wooden holder in the middle of the table. “If that’s a kind of casserole…I can do you one better. You ever had a ‘dump and bake’ Doritos casserole?” You giggled again when Jack stared at you like none of the words you said existed in the human language. “I swear it’s delicious. Cheese, sour cream, salsa, nacho Doritos, ground beef, and more cheese.”

“You don’t have to confirm this, but you gotta be from the South, too, if you’re eatin’ shit like that,” Jack quipped as he folded his arms and teasingly inspected you with narrowed eyes. You grinned at first before it wilted a little because, unfortunately, yes, you were from the South…and you didn’t expect to think about that right now and definitely didn’t quite want to share why with him. Or anyone for that matter. 

It dawned on you that his hospitality could only soothe you so much before reality tapped at your spine, making your shoulders stiffen and your appetite wane as you placed your fork on your half-eaten plate to drink a bit of water, instead. Wash down the bitter reminder that no matter where you were headed, where you came from was likely written all over your face, your speech, your damn taste in food, even.

And it wasn’t his fault…you didn’t want the man catching strays from old battles that had nothing to do with him. But it seemed like he felt the shift in you, anyway, because he quickly uttered, “You, ah, ready for dessert? I picked up some ice cream, too…butter pecan,” to switch the topic. You appreciated that, but you need to let him know at least a little something about you to clear the air…

“No, thanks. I’m full but this was amazing.” You sat up straighter in your seat and gave him a tired smile. “You’ve been amazing, actually…men where I’m from…I’m, uh, I’m just not used to this. I don’t wanna get into it. Hope you understand.”

“I do,” he agreed with a nod. His eyes fell to his hands that he’d clasped together on the table, running a thumb along his pointer as you saw the wheels turning in his head to say something else in that hushed tone to make you believe that he truly understood. When his soft gaze touched you, you already believed him before he said quietly, “You don’t owe me anything. If it’s a privilege to know you…I’d like the chance to earn it.”

“Yeah?” you heard yourself say in a voice that sounded nothing like you. Too breathy, too drawn out, too charmed by his words floating in the air between you. 

Even though you were certain he had his central air conditioning running, the air became warmer…or maybe that was his body heat when he’d slipped from his chair to come closer to you, leaning into you slightly as he grabbed your plate for you and replied, “Yeah,” in a raspy voice that you felt breeze through your scalp. Made a warm tingle crawl down your spine and that feeling was nothing new at this point. Made you want to feel it again…and again.

You stared after him as Jack went to his sink and used your fork to scrape your scraps into the drain. Must have been a garbage disposal, you figured, and he must have felt that warm tingle, too, because he didn’t dare look at you as he mumbled, “I bought some other stuff to make you breakfast in the morning, too…eggs, bacon, bread. Take it with you, if you want. I have an extra cooler…I’ll box it up for you.”

“Oh, that sounds good,” you mumbled back but you wanted him to look at you…you wanted to see if his eyes still held that warmth and if it was simmering into a heat you felt, too. Because if it was…well…maybe you wanted to feel it. More of that heat…more of him. His warm breath that was on you just a moment ago…maybe you wanted to feel it on your face when you kissed him…

You were on your feet before your brain finished the thought, swiping your water glass to add to the sink as you approached him. Your bare soles moved on the cool wood beneath them that creaked a little with your steps. Jack didn’t move with the sound alerting him that you were behind him as he turned on the faucet to rinse off your plate, but you did notice him glance at you through the corner of his eye when your hand appeared next to his as you dumped out your water. You were going to grab the dish soap he was reaching for, too, to wash your glass but his elbow poked yours in the process and hit your funny bone, forcing it to fly out of your hand. Smooth.

The poke didn’t hurt but the glass that shattered at the bottom of the sink when you uttered, “Oops, sorry,” slit your left middle finger when you tried to clean it up really hurt. “Ow!” You hissed sharply as you noticed the running water try to wash away your blood that colored the white resin. 

“Shit, you alright?!” Jack asked but took your wrist into his hand to inspect your cut even when you nodded to his question. The cut didn’t feel too deep but you were still bleeding, and the only thing that seemed to slow it was the running faucet when he guided your finger under its flow. “Keep it here for a minute, okay? I’m gonna grab my first aid kit.”

“Okay,” you whispered and watched him rush out of the kitchen and to the other side of his house where his bedroom must be. He rushed back in less than a minute, holding a small, white box with a red plus symbol on it and placing it on the counter to pluck the tools he needed from it like he did this task every day. He assembled them in a neat, little row next to the kit: an antiseptic wipe packet, a tiny tube of antibiotic ointment, and a bandage. “You’re handy. I meant to bring one of those with me on the road but I guess it slipped my mind,” you gave in a small voice, hearing it hitch when Jack reached to remove your hand from the running water to hold in his again.

You shut off the water with your free hand as you studied him at work with a half-grin on his lips from your comment, eyes on your finger that he patted dry with a paper towel he swiped from the roll near the sink before he cleaned your thankfully minor cut with the antiseptic. That stung pretty good and you hissed again through your nose as he murmured, “Sorry. I keep one in my car, too. And another at my place in Pittsburgh. Guess I’m wastin’ money when I could just steal the supplies from work.”

“Work?” you parroted and his eyes flit up to yours for a second as he nodded. 

Jack reached for the ointment next that he dabbed with the blunt tip of his finger, applying pressure that matched the softness of his skin. The sting was gone now as the ointment and his touch soothed you for a few seconds. Made you fight to concentrate on anything but that sensation as it threatened to shoot a thrill through you he’d likely feel. You were grateful when he spoke again so you could focus on that. 

“Yeah. I’m an attending physician. Emergency medicine. Happy accidents like this are my speciality,” he replied as he wrapped the bandage around your finger snugly, even though the bleeding had thankfully stopped. You hummed understandingly at his profession. That explained…a lot, actually. His kindness. His generosity. His tenderness. “Feels better?” he nearly whispered and pulled you from your thoughts before you nodded again. You didn’t feel the cut at all now. Just his touch. He observed his handiwork for a second longer like he wanted to make sure he’d done a good job for you before giving you your hand back.

Except you didn’t let go of his gentle grip on you. 

That stupid ache that’d been gnawing at you since the moment you laid eyes on him didn’t feel so stupid anymore. You weren’t one to come on to men because maybe a large part of you didn’t trust men anymore. But this man…those intrusive thoughts that you’d been pushing out of your mind were louder than ever in the hush of the kitchen. You could only hear his breathing and your heart starting to pound in your chest when you felt the urge to act on another thought before it finished playing in your head.

You saw Jack’s eyes slowly lower to your lips when you brought his hand to them to lay a kiss on his middle knuckle. Lingering your kiss there before your lips trailed to another knuckle. Then to the back of his thumb. You didn’t pull your eyes away this time as you watched him watch you kiss the tip of his thumb, firm enough to just barely suckle it between your lips with one more kiss. That made his lips part like he wanted to sigh but no sound slipped out.

Instead, he carefully slipped his hand from yours to cradle the side of your face in his palm. His thumb skimmed the corner of your mouth and you were tempted to kiss it again, but he moved first, closing the space between you when he took a step that brushed his body against yours. His lips brushed against you, too, making your eyes fall shut as you felt his warmth surround you. His touch, his breath, his lips, letting you feel how soft they truly were when you tilted up your chin to put your mouth on his. Made that thrill finally shimmy through your body that you knew he felt when he slid his other arm around your waist.

Jack kissed you back like your lips were too precious to ruin, tentative pecks as his nose nudged yours and his thumb caressed your cheek. His palm even rested just so on the small of your back and it made the ache in you swell. You hadn’t let a man touch you like this in a long time…so long that the need to jerk away as you did earlier completely drained from your body to be replaced with greed to be held. Greedy for him to pull you closer. Greedy for him to kiss you harder. Greedy for him.

You moved faster than your thoughts again…your lips pressing in and your hands smoothing up his torso to feel the hard muscles behind his shirt until you could spread your fingers across his wide chest. Your bandage tried to catch on the cotton as you felt his pecs flinch under your touch like he couldn’t stop his reaction…and felt his own fingers start to rub circles along your spine he pressed his mouth to yours, following your lead. Tasting your greed.

You tasted his, too, when he let out that sigh, husky and sweet, you caught it with your tongue. Your lips wove together to taste more of each other, the greed dripping off the tip of his tongue as it grazed yours like he wanted even more. You sighed, then, too, more than eager to give it to him because his mouth fit yours in a way you didn’t expect. Lips not nearly as full as yours but still meshing just right with yours at the seams before he suckled your top lip to let you suckle his bottom one. His big hand on your lower back turned into both settling there to pull you against him, fingers softly digging into the fabric of your shirt and making you sigh again as you cupped his face in your hands.

“Is this okay?” Jack breathed, lips still on yours with just enough room in between to let you answer. Thumbs pressing into your back with a bit of urgency as he waited. 

“Yes,” you breathed back, fingers crawling into his hair to tug him back into your kiss that he dared to break for even a second. He let out a quiet groan when you licked into his mouth a little, squeezing you a little less than gently in his hands as you, and you didn’t hide the groan it pulled from you because, god, his grip on you was good…strong hands that you knew were strong from the look of them. Veins and thick fingers, feeling those fingers rub on your lower, gripping your bottom to pull you flush against him so he could feel you, so you could feel him, so he could guide you a couple of steps to the counter.

The backs of your thighs pressed to it when he boxed you in with his hands gripping the edge of it now instead of you. Trapping you between him and the hard place, feeling his mouth mold to yours like he was hungry for a deeper taste of you. He didn’t feed you the tip of his tongue this time but nearly the whole thing as he lapped at your tongue because you greedily opened your mouth to let him in. 

You didn’t try to whimper when his lips closed around the tip of your tongue to swallow the saliva from it, it just happened, and he chased your involuntary sound with one of his own, a tiny huff as you tugged at his hair again, your fingers so entwined with every strand you could reach that you felt the warmth of his scalp under your touch. A warmth that competed with his body pushed up on you and you swore you could feel how excited you had him…his heart thrumming against your chest…his bulge growing prominent in his jeans.

The whimper that pulled out of you was closer to a moan because you didn’t expect to feel it, let alone his hands that crawled all over you as he tucked them under your bottom again to lift you off your feet, sitting you on the counter so he could stand between your legs. Your head tilted back as Jack’s mouth followed the angle of your jaw to your neck, leaving soft kisses that lingered at your pulse before he tasted you there with a small lick, almost like he was testing how much you’d let him explore you…how much of you he was allowed to have.

You didn’t have any real parameters for that test because your mind was one track at the moment, focusing on the way his nose skimmed your collarbone over your shirt; the way his breath seeped through the fabric when he kissed there; and the way his palms soothed up your back, through your braids, down your sides and along your thighs, shifting your loose clothes around on accident, surely, because you didn’t think he meant for his thumb to hook under the right leg of your gym shorts and graze your inner thigh.

Any higher and he would have discovered you weren’t wearing any panties, just like he’d learned you weren’t wearing a bra when his other palm ghosted over your chest before you released a hand from his hair to make him hold your breast, breathing heavily as his thumb swept over your nipple until it was firm and pronounced through your shirt. You thought he’d peel your shirt off and suckle it like he had your tongue, fuck, that’s what you wanted, your body already arching into him as he held you there and squeezed at your thigh with a hand that was half-hidden under your shorts.

But no, Jack seemed to have a one track mind, too, as he was still caught on your lips like your kiss was the only thing providing him air. Every heavy breath he inhaled and exhaled with a pant and you wanted to hear it turn into a moan like yours when his hand snuck further up, his thumb tracing the seam where your thigh and hip met, letting him hear how pathetic you sounded when he accidentally stroked your bare mound. 

Or maybe it wasn’t an accident this time because Jack did it again when you moaned like that from the surprise of his touch…carefully thumbing through the thin coils of your bush to find where you were becoming slick before he pushed a little to part you. Swiped his thumb there, just over the hood of your clit, his lips still against yours but his kiss paused as he listened to the sound you might give him then. Your arms draped over the bulk of his shoulders and you were tempted to reach down and help him touch you again, make him rub your clit firmly because it tingled from the mere glimmer of his touch circling there without pressure like he just wanted to feel the silk of you under his thumb, making you mewl to him in a heated breath he took in like it was his.

You thought about tilting your hips up to meet more of his touch but Jack started to pull away altogether, the abrupt action ripping your eyes open as you watched him take a step back from you like you were on fire. You were on fire, though, your whole body hot and throbbing from just a few minutes of his touch and his lips still burning on your skin where he’d kissed you. Teased you. So maybe it came out a bit rougher than you meant it when you uttered, “What…what’s wrong?”

Jack’s chest heaved with a deep breath you shared because he seemed to still be as worked up as you, and yet he stood nearly two feet from you now, wringing his hands together in front of himself like he was guilty of something he didn’t want to speak on. That was concerning to you, and a little scary, because you’d been trying to remind yourself that you made a sound decision to come here tonight, that you weren’t in any danger here with this man. This man you barely knew. This man you barely knew in his home in the middle of nowhere in the dead of night. Oh, god.

“What?” you pressed and now you sounded a little worried but you tried your best to not let him hear it in your voice that maybe this was all one big, huge, stupid mistake and that you should leap down from his counter and yank open the nearest drawer to find a knife in case you needed it. Because of course your fucking gun was still under your driver’s seat in your car outside.

“I think…I think we should get some sleep,” Jack said under his breath, holding his fists to his chest before swinging his arms at his sides awkwardly. Your jaw went slack at the switch in his demeanor. Huh? Before you could say anything, he settled his hands on his hips and looked down at his feet in black combat boots to add, “Yeahhh…it’s late. I’m, uh, used to bein’ up this late but I don’t know. Maybe we both need to go to bed before we do something dumb.”

“‘Dumb?’” The word jumped out of you as you repeated it like you didn’t understand it. Because you kind of didn’t, actually. You remained on the counter but your fingers curled around the edge to literally and figuratively get your bearings as you looked at him with your eyebrows knitted together. “Did I…misread things? Did I come on too strong?”

You thought back to earlier in the evening when he’d said those words to you in that shitty, little dive bar. The dive bar where you were starting to think you should have never stepped foot in or bothered to turn your head when he saddled up next to you to chat. You took a sharp breath and let it out slowly. You didn’t want to be as frustrated with him as you were getting right now because, deep down, you knew it wasn’t his fault. You just…you didn’t like this feeling. At all. It was too close, too humiliating. You didn’t have all the pieces to the puzzle to solve what exactly was happening here but you’d solved plenty of similar puzzles…each one revealed a picture of a man who would say and do anything to fuck you and leave you like you were the dumbass for believing the sweet things they said when they wanted something from you. 

“No, no. You didn’t. Swear to god,” Jack quickly replied as you were taking in another deep breath through your nose. You could tell he realized he may have upset you and you felt bad for the way he thought to hold up his hands and soften his voice to say, “I just…I don’t want you gettin’ the wrong idea about me. I offered you my guest room so you’d have some place comfortable to sleep for the night. Don’t want you thinking this is how I expect you to show your gratitude. Because it’s not.”

He gestured at the tiny space between the two of you and a cool whisk from the air conditioning vent somewhere nearby fit in that space, reminding you of how hot he had you just a moment ago. Your face and neck still felt warm with a blush that wasn’t from arousal but a prickle of shame because that’s not what you believed just happened. “I don’t think that. I thought we were two adults who just wanted some…relief,” you stated in a low tone, your fingers flexing around the countertop edge as you glanced around his kitchen before your eyes sought his again...his eyes a kind of wince like your words twisted the knife you didn’t realize you already found and stuck in him, after all. 

You noticed it was 1:57 A.M. when your gaze had drifted to the digital clock on his stove. It was indeed late but you could see from just observing Jack’s scrunched face, his rigid posture, that he had been hoping for that relief. Just like you. That he was maybe touch-starved like you. That he wasn’t denying himself to earn any points with you. It seemed like he just genuinely wanted you to find respite in his care…even if it was for just one night.

He didn’t protest your words that tried to steer his comforting words to you into something that benefited you both because you could tell by now Jack wasn’t interested in kindness for it to be reciprocated...you felt it when he decided to close the gap between you one last time to leave a whisper of a kiss on your cheek and murmur, “I'm sorry. Good night…see you in the morning,” and walked away. You watched him head off into the shadows reaching from the hallway right of his kitchen, and after several seconds, you heard two light switches flip and a door softly click shut.

You were frozen in place for a minute or so, not sure what to do with yourself because you’d never been rejected before…not like this. Not by a man who clearly wanted you back but thought against it for your sake. Practically unheard of where you’re from, from the men you’ve “dated,” from the man you almost married before you skipped town.

Jesus, that wasn’t something you wanted to fall into your ex-shaped rabbit hole thinking about tonight. Or ever again. Instead, you eased off the countertop and onto your bare feet that embraced the cold wooden floors that warmed under your soles as you stood there for a moment too long, debating if you wanted to go to bed or go knock on Jack’s bedroom door and tell him he was wrong. Tell him you wanted to have your cake and eat it, too, because you never truly got the chance to savor it and that maybe this was his chance, as well. Because he couldn’t fake the hunger in his kiss…his touch…and you had never been touched like that before. With tenderness.

You were touching the bandage around your finger now, mindlessly, damn near picking and peeling it off as you started to walk and turned in the direction he went, instead of the opposite that led to your room. Every room except for the kitchen was dark, including the living room to your right as you passed by it, just a spot of moonlight entering from sliding glass doors that appeared to house his back patio and outdoor laundry room as you noticed a washer, dryer, and empty clothes hamper huddled in a corner. You thought to go poke around in there to figure out how the controls on the machines worked because you’d like to wash your things…and maybe you wanted to be a little nosy? See more of the man who had you tiptoeing closer to his door like there was an invisible string attached to him on the other side of it, tethered to you, too, and luring you forward when you realized you should probably leave Jack alone at this point.

He said what he said and you refused to be the sex pest whom he assumed you thought he would be. And as you approached his door, eyeing the soft, gold light that escaped from the crack above the floor, you weren’t going to knock and ask him to reconsider now. Even if that was your first, instinctive thought that yielded to the ache still in you, the one that he’d soothed for a few, sweet moments. Because no, your second thought was what was that sound you heard wafting from behind his door? 

When you got right next to it, leaning in to hold your ear near it but not your body weight as you folded your arms across your chest, you heard water pitter-pattering in the quiet, near distance. The telltale drip of excessive water falling from a wash cloth he may have wringed or simply rolling off his body to the tile let you know Jack was in the shower. You tried not to let your mind wander away from you picturing that…besides, there was another sound that caught your ear. Soft music. Soft like the melody was doldrums with bluesy guitar and dreamy vocals…but also soft like he was purposefully keeping the volume down. Maybe because he didn’t want to disturb you in your bedroom where you should’ve been.

You just found it difficult to pull away before you could place the artist of the song…after a few more seconds, you deemed you didn’t know it but you were certain a man like Jack shouldn’t, either. It sounded indie and interesting for a middle aged doctor. You didn’t mean to pass judgment, you’d done enough of that tonight, and you truly weren’t, you just…you were curious about him all over again. Curious how in the hell you found yourself so enticed by him when you’d been fighting all night not to be. Running from yourself all night. Running for years. Trying to trick yourself into thinking you didn’t need anyone, not a friend, and definitely not a man because you’d gotten yourself this far on your own and you’d be indebted to nobody. 

But as you retreated to your bedroom and crawled under the sheets, your mind wouldn’t let go of the theory that perhaps independence wasn’t compromised with support. You had a support system once…very small, but steady. When you were younger, just shy of your early teens. However, the older you get, you realize some things you have to handle yourself. Sometimes you have to save yourself. But maybe Jack wasn’t trying to save you. He opened his home to you to support you on your way, not trap you here or manipulate you to do his bidding.

Maybe it was you who felt trapped in your head too often because while you weren’t anxious, or at least you didn’t think you were, there was something always holding you back from just accepting that good things could find you. That those good things could hold you gently and mean the sweet things it whispers in your ear. You couldn’t help but think of Jack’s voice, letting it play in your head as you rolled over onto your tummy to try and get more comfortable. The bed was plenty cozy, actually, not too firm with soft sheets, pillows, and a downy comforter that swallowed you beneath it…it was your mind that was keeping you from falling into the sleep you needed.

Your eyes were closed, though…picturing Jack’s face when it was just inches from yours an hour ago. When he was breathing you in, holding you to him. His raspy whimper on your lips just from kissing you…you let that sound play on repeat until you felt yourself throb between your thighs. And throb again when you remembered his warm palm on you…his wide thumb rubbing at your clit…

You were wet then and even wetter now, you felt it sticking to your skin and the center of your shorts that were more snug as they bunched up the more you tossed and tussled. You huffed into one of the pillows your cheek lay on as you decided to take the shorts off altogether to free yourself of the restriction, reaching down and tugging them down your legs until they were bunched up at the foot of the bed under the comforter instead. The sudden thought of Jack under the comforter, too, behind you and on his knees as his palms smoothed up the backs of your thighs made your bare pussy twitch and you huffed again. Your fingers didn’t feel like his but it still felt good…especially when you squeezed your thighs around your right wrist just a little to keep it in place as you rolled your hips against your palm.

Thinking of how he would hold you like this, too, if he cupped his hand to your pussy and let you grind on his fingers…if he circled harder on your clit like this when he felt you twitch like that…if he held your ass cheek and spread you just to hold you open as he pushed in a middle finger like this to find your g-spot and make you buck against his palm…if his voice floated over your shoulder in that handsome, coarse tone as he coached you…

“That feels good? Keep goin’...chase that feeling.”

“You’re so close…so wet…goddamn…I need you to come so I can taste it.”

“That’s it…yeah…come on my fingers. No, don’t stop grinding. Give it to me. All of it.”

You wanted to pull your fingers away when you felt yourself grow too sensitive, but at the same time, you couldn’t stop because it felt too…fucking…“Ohh…mmhhh...oh, f-fuck.” The pillow absorbed your little moans that you couldn’t hold in, and thank god because you didn’t want to feed the chance of him hearing you if he was still awake, even if he was across the house. You hid your face to whimper when you curled your finger and rocked yourself against your hand again, ignoring the dull ache in your wrist because the way your palm was soft and sticky and slick with your wet that coated it made it so delicious each time your clit met it.

You didn’t stop until you came again, feeling yourself getting wetter as this time visions of Jack with his tongue shoved in your pussy to lap up the mess you made took over your thoughts. Your finger still cushioned inside you acted as his tongue and you fluttered around it from the mental image of him gripping your hips to lick and wring every throb of your orgasm that dripped into his mouth. Your tired hips bucked once more before you finally relaxed back onto the mattress, your tummy indenting it with each pant as you slowly retrieved your soaked fingers that you wiped on your shirt before you peeled it off and threw it to the floor.

The sheets settled around your satisfied, trembling, naked body like a hug and your eyes fell shut again with a calm exhaustion you hadn’t felt in a long while. You didn’t remember the last time you masturbated and you knew it’d been even longer since you came like that. For a long while now, pleasure just wasn’t your priority. Survival was. 

But here…you felt safe. It was a feeling that embraced you before you embraced it as you quickly fell asleep without dreams because your mind was at peace. If it wasn’t for the morning sun flooding the bedroom through the curtains that were already open because you didn’t think to draw them shut last night, you’d still be knocked out and enjoying the best night of rest you ever had. 

You weren’t sure what time it was because you were too cozy to reach for your phone on the nightstand to check, but you debated going back to sleep, anyway. Where you were headed would still be there when you got back on the road. You just didn’t want to disturb the nest you’d made for yourself in this warm bed…even if the smell of fresh coffee found its way into your room in hopes to tempt you out of it.

You knew it was fresh because you’d been “refreshing” yourself with burnt, gas station coffee for the last few days. And when you remembered that Jack said he’d also bought breakfast ingredients…it made you wonder if it’d be a mistake to leave behind this little slice of heaven before the sun went down again.

Before you agreed to spend the night, the answer seemed obvious. And even as you started to sit up in bed, you knew that it still was. Even if you’d like to maybe stay a little longer…you had somewhere to be. And it wasn’t in Jack’s arms.

You didn’t expect to see him in the kitchen when you emerged from your bedroom to grab a cup of coffee. You had taken his sudden attitude shift to mean he wouldn’t show his face around you until perhaps he had to…like when he’d see you off as you shoved your things back into your car in another hour or so—you imagined that’s how long it’d take to wash and dry your clothes and blanket—and waved goodbye forever to each other.

But there he was. Standing at the counter close to where he had your thighs around his waist last night, tending to the old school glass pot and coffee maker as he filled it with a water bottle. The pot was less than half full but you didn’t see his mug on the counter. You thought to make yourself quiet as you went to find a mug for yourself, not sure if you should even say good morning or bother him…but you weren’t sure which cabinet held his glassware.

“Hey, mornin’.” 

His voice was coarser than before, deeper, stretched a little thin with sleep he just woke from up or didn’t get enough of the night before. You hoped it wasn’t the latter, hoped it wasn’t your fault, and really hoped he didn’t catch you freeze from the surprise of his greeting as you turned to look at him, your hand midair to open a cabinet as he glanced back at you over his shoulder. 

“Hi,” you mumbled, feeling caught for some reason? Maybe it was the residual awkwardness of how you both ended things just a handful of hours ago after getting each other riled up…or maybe it was because you were struggling not to moan his name to yourself as you came to the thought of him right after. You thought you’d washed away the guilt when you took another shower and brushed your teeth this morning, but when Jack turned away from brewing more coffee to lean against the counter and fix his gaze on you, you felt hot all over.

“You’ll have to wait a few minutes, if that’s alright. I almost drank the first pot by myself so…figured I’d make you a fresh one,” he explained quietly, the loudish burble and drip of the coffee maker brewing almost drowning him out. “Mugs are in that one.” He squinted an eye and pointed to the cabinet on your right before you rummaged through yet another one that contained spices instead of cups.

You gave him a nod and a small, “Thanks,” but cut your eyes away to grab the first mug you touched, which happened to be a chipped, brown ceramic one that sported a flock of ducks painted on it. It made you crack a tiny grin because his parents really seemed to have loved their ducks and you hadn’t actually seen even one in Ellsinore so far. Or any animals for that matter. Maybe that was something you could ask him about if you didn’t think it was potentially inappropriate.

You didn’t want to share your past with him so you couldn’t expect him to share what happened to his parents with you. Yet he was blocking the coffee pot where he stood with his hands in his navy plaid pajama pants pockets, his freckled and brawny arms exposed in a white t-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders. You may have felt awkward but he was still handsome and you couldn’t help the quick once over you gave him, including when your eyes flitted to his feet in gray loafer slippers, his right foot black with a dull glisten like it was metal from what you could see under his pants leg. You weren’t going to ask him about that, either, because you felt it was also inappropriate. But it made you wonder if he’d lost it when he served?

“Excuse me,” is all you said, instead, once the coffee maker finished with its noise, watching him scoot a couple inches to his right to make room for you to reach the pot. The lingering silence was filled by the slosh of coffee you poured into your mug, standing still for a moment to blow away the steam and take a slow, delectable sip. You peeked at the bag of coffee still on the counter and made a mental note to find that exact brand again in a store…wherever you ended up.

When you shifted to go and take a seat at the dining table with your mug to your chest, its warmth comforting, Jack’s voice followed you as he asked, “Slept okay?” You didn’t turn around to look and respond until you were in a chair with your elbows on the placemat and your mug to your lips as you nodded and took another sip.

“Did you?” you more or less mouthed, the piping hot coffee scalding your throat a little. And maybe your throat was thick with emotion you wanted to be embarrassed to feel? You weren’t going to cry or anything but the tension in the air was just as thick and you thought you might choke on it. And that felt so, so silly when you reminded yourself that none of this would matter at the end of the day. You’d be gone and Jack would become a memory. A half-formed one of tentative moments in the sun made even more tender by your own resistance to that warmth because maybe it was too bright, too sudden…then a sudden courage to bask in it…only to be met with the sun hiding away from you because maybe you were the moon after all.

You couldn’t blame the sun. You’d done a damn fine job resigning yourself from warmth like it for a long time now because what if it burned? Yet what did it matter that when you actually wanted it in, god, who knows how long that you couldn’t have it? Jack was a grown man who made a decision and you were a grown woman who respected it. These things happen. You weren’t a brat. You were just…feeling the fatigue of endless nights with no sun in sight. Until now.

Because there was a light at the end of the tunnel. It was somewhere north and somewhere waiting for you to begin a new life. You had nowhere left to go but up and it could be anywhere…but not here.

You peered into the deep brown, almost black, liquid of your mug that still swirled from your last sip as you heard Jack scrape a chair back to sit across from you, just like last night, as he replied to your question in a meager tone, “You want the truth or do you want me to say, ‘Yeah, I slept great?’”

You looked up at him then and tried to keep your face even, but the way he was sitting back in his chair and looking back at you with that glint of warmth in his eyes that felt all too familiar now made you furrow your brows with concern. Did he…hear you last night? Oh, Christ. “The truth.” You could handle it.

“I grew up in this house but I never liked how quiet it gets at night here. I live in the city now and without those car horns, people yellin’ at each other down the street, and all that racket, I can’t get to sleep. The quiet is too loud,” Jack said with a chuckle, the charming sound of it tugging at one corner of your mouth. 

“I’m used to it. Well…I’m used to at least a few crickets chirpin’, too. It’s dead quiet ’round here,” you gave as you palmed your mug and watched a brief smirk appear on his face.

He mimicked your pose, elbows on the placemat and his hands together but no cup in the middle. Reminded you of how he sat in that same spot last night and observed you like you were his muse, like you were a poem he hadn’t quite figured out how to interpret. But when he expressed, “Yeah, it is. Doesn’t help, either, when I’m up all night thinkin’ about you,” he spoke your language.

“What about me?” you heard yourself ask as curiosity got the best of you yet again. No point in hiding it now. Not with his soft eyes on you that kept stoking the flames of it. 

Especially when he said, “Everything about you. Where you’re from. How you ended up here. With me. What a woman as beautiful as you would ever want with an old guy like me.” Jack blinked with an incredulous smile and a shake of his head. Perhaps to clear his thoughts as he added wistfully, “I think when I saw you at Steve’s last night…I had some liquid courage to approach you? I was over in a booth by myself and had a couple beers before I watched you walk in and decided to sit next to you…but I was sober when you kissed me. I started thinkin’...‘you need to cool it, Jack, because you don’t know this woman and—’”

“You didn’t want to do something ‘dumb,’” you murmured to yourself but he stopped talking like you interrupted him. Your words made him shake his head again.

“No. I mean, yeah, but…I didn’t want to open my old wounds and make them your problem. I figured I’m used to sleeping alone so one more night wouldn’t kill me…but you in your room, me in mine…it kind of did. That’s weird or crazy, I know, but—”

“It’s not,” you interrupted him on purpose this time. You didn’t know what his wounds were but something told you they were similar to yours. Something that had carved fear into you both to never touch a rose lest its thorns cut you first. And all that ever did, you realized, was train you to nip a beautiful thing in the bud before it had the unlikely chance to blossom into something ugly. Maybe Jack was the same? You sighed and tapped your fingers on the side of your mug, debating if you wanted to be as honest with him as he was with you. Here goes…“I couldn’t fall asleep until I got you out of my head.”

Jack’s face was smooth but his voice dipped an octave and struck a chord in you as you felt that tingle trace your spine when he asked, “How’d you accomplish that?”

“I think you know.”

“I do. I finally got some sleep after I thought about how you might’ve sounded if I’d gotten down on my knees while I had you on the counter.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

It felt like déjà vu to you, the rasp of his handsome voice coaxing you. Damn near coaxed you right out of your chair and around the table to cup his face in your hands, straddle him, and kiss him. Hard. But if this truly was déjà vu, you learned your lesson last night that making the first move may not work out so well. Your coffee was cool in your mug when you went to take another sip and you almost didn’t care because you were feeling hot again all on your own. However, you still chose to slowly rise from your chair and pick up your mug to heat it up in the microwave you spotted over the stovetop range. You slept wonderfully but if this was the direction the conversation was going…you needed more caffeine to give you the energy to wrap your head around it.

But Jack’s fingers slipped around your wrist at your side when you tried to walk past him. You went to look down at him where he sat but your eyes trailed up to meet his gaze as he stood and slid his other hand over yours holding your mug. “Can I take this?” he asked in a near whisper that grazed your lips because he was right up on you, taking your mug from you when you nodded and setting it on the table so his hand was free to cradle the back of your head. He didn’t pull you to him because there was only an inch between your mouths and you captured his lips to get rid of it. Replace it with the slow twist of your kiss as you craned your head to shape your mouth to his as he held your nape and hip to shape you to him.

He was solid muscle yet warm and soft, keeping you close in his arms that surrounded you when he circled them at your waist, his hands searching for the perfect spots to rub you before they settled on your bottom with a squeeze that accidentally parted you a little in your shorts and swept his fingers where it made you breathe out a whine. His grip felt even better than it did last night, holding you firm but not rough, just enough to pin you to him so you could feel how easily you excited him, just like the night before…

But unlike last night, you wouldn’t settle for what you imagined Jack would feel like if you got him in your bed. You pulled your lips from his just long enough to make it clear you wanted him to follow you as your palms on his shoulders fell to his hands so you could hold them and pull him towards your guest bedroom as you started to walk backwards.

Jack stood still and gently tugged you back to him, though, as he kept one of your hands in his and tipped his head over his shoulder in the opposite direction of your room with a cute grin at you as he stated, “My bed’s bigger.”

The room you found yourself drawn to last night opened up to you when Jack led you through the door by the hand. It smelled faintly like the candle you spotted on one of the nightstands, vanilla and lavender, and it was certainly the master bedroom as it spanned nearly as wide as the living room, making the space for a large window across from where you both stood in the middle of the room, the curtains slightly drawn to reveal a forest of brownish, orange shrubs and tall oaks and let in the late morning sunshine. 

That sunlight touched the rolled-up baby blue Yoga mat leaned against a wooden rocking chair in the right corner of the room, the tall, farmhouse dresser with a mirror, and the vast brown, faux fur rug that was soft under your feet. A few more steps and you’d fall onto Jack’s bed that was indeed bigger than the queen in your guest room, the king mattress dressed in golden tan comforter and chocolate brown sheets that matched the four pillows, two of them decorative with pinecone and green pine needles fabric. Not ducks, you were stunned. He’d taken the time to make his bed after he’d gotten out of it, you saw, and you almost felt bad that you’d be messing it up once you got him between the sheets.

But Jack didn’t seem to be in a hurry to fall into his bed. His thumb skimmed along the ridges of your knuckles with your fingers still laced with his at your sides as his other hand reached to caress your cheek with the backs of his fingers. The way he was staring at you made you feel as if he could see what you’d been trying to hide from him, from yourself...but the softness in his eyes didn’t seem like he wanted to peel the petals of your past apart to uncover the truth of you. No, his thumb on your bottom lip traced gently like he wanted, needed, your permission to even hold a rose as beautiful as you.

“What do you want from me?” he asked in a hushed breath as he still held your chin and planted a kiss on your cheek. Then another on your jaw. And another on your neck. You wanted every and anything you could get from him in that moment, his lips stirring the tingling warmth in you that started under his lips and spread through your entire body.

You used your free hand to curl your fingers at the hem of his pants, your heart starting to race at the thought of getting him naked, getting him on top of you. “I want these off. All of this off.” You breathed and realized you sounded perhaps a bit impatient and that’s because you were…you’d never been this aroused by a man who made you slick between your thighs with just his lips on your throat. 

But Jack let go of your hand to grab the one on his pants and hold it instead, compelling you to look at him when your eyes were closed from enjoying his mouth on your throat. You worried for a split second that maybe your greed was unbecoming in the light of day in comparison to how it nearly swallowed you both whole last night. But Jack didn’t appear disgruntled but rather captivated by you…his lips slowly forming a handsome grin that soothed your nerves that tried to prickle.

“How ’bout I’ll show you mine if you show me yours. Deal?” he gave and sealed it with a light kiss on your lips when you nodded, making you smile against his mouth.

“Deal,” you said before you slipped your hands under your oversized shirt to hook your thumbs into the waist of your gym shorts and pulled down your legs. You couldn’t take your eyes off Jack because he couldn’t take his eyes off you, holding your gaze and not staring at how your shorts pooled at your feet and exposed the tops of your bare thighs that your shirt just barely covered. “Your turn,” you quipped and he grinned, following suit as he lifted shirt up his torso and over his head. 

You tried to keep your eyes on his as he did with you but you couldn’t resist letting them feast on the body you knew looked as strong as it felt. A bit of salt and pepper hair at the sternum of his broad chest and soft abs that led to a softer v-cut right above his pants. His pants that couldn’t hide the slope of his bulge that nearly grazed you as you stood so close.

You didn’t back away because you wanted to be even closer but you had to take a slight step back to remove your shirt without bumping him since it was your turn again. Once you discarded it to the floor, you were nude, nothing left to hide from him…and Jack’s gaze washed over you like a warm caress as he saw you naked. You expected him to lift a hand to touch you where his eyes lingered but instead, he found your eyes again with another handsome half-grin and began to tug down his pants. You grinned back and willed yourself to keep your hands at your sides instead of wrapping them around him when he stepped out of the fabric that he tossed to the side. No boxers underneath.

“You’re a commando kind of man,” you noted in an airy tone to settle yourself and calm the heat whirling through you at the sight of him. You wanted to be patient like he was as he studied you right back but it was difficult to ignore how he hung between his athletic, freckled thighs.

Jack laughed at your observation as he slid off the loafer on his left foot with his right one. “No, uh, not usually. I like to practice Yoga at sunrise to stretch, clear my mind…guess I forgot to put a pair on when I got dressed to make us coffee.”

“Ohh,” you mouthed and you were listening, yes. He did Yoga…nude? The more you learned about him, the more you liked him…and that made you feel a bit rude to stare at the tuft of hair trimmed just above what appeared to be seven or so inches, thick with a slightly pointed tip, a little veiny, very pretty…

You felt his fingers gather under your chin and shift your focus back to his face. In the morning light, you noticed his brown eyes had specks of green in them as he witnessed the appetite in yours that he whetted with his mouth pressed to yours. Letting him show you that his appetite matched yours when he deepened the kiss, your noses brushing together as his warm, wide palms followed the swells of your bottom and hips and lower back to secure you to him. All of him was warm and wide, actually, fitting you like a puzzle as the curves of your body and the grooves of his melted together.

He didn’t let any space sneak between you even when he carefully hooked his arms under your thighs to lift you as you wrapped your arms and thighs around him, kissing on his lips and cheeks and hearing his quiet grunt as he crawled onto his bed with you in tow. His right arm was cushioned around you and he used his left to reach down and remove his prosthetic that he placed on the rug next to the bed, then extending that arm to the bed as he settled you on the plush comforter under him, your long braids fanning out along one of the pillows. 

You could tell he was trying to keep his weight on you but not crush you, but you wanted to feel the fullness of his warmth seeping into you. Every muscle, every inch of skin, especially as his mouth traced your throat to kiss there and make your hips move on their own, a slight tilt that helped the hard length of him prod at where you were slippery for him.

Your thighs locked around him, using them to pull him closer and Jack obliged, tucking his hips into you and making you groan softly when he rubbed up on your clit and nuzzled his nose beneath your jaw. Jack’s voice was almost a moan when you started to gently rock your hips against him, breathing onto your skin, “Tell me…what you want.”

You wanted his clothes off and he’d given it to you…and now all the other things you wanted from him filled your mind like a sensual blur of scenes you craved to create with him. His mouth on your breasts, his head buried between your thighs, his hands on your hips as he thrust into you…you wanted everything. 

Jack’s lips parted to smudge kisses along your shoulder and collarbone and bring you out of your imagination and back to reality…back to him guiding your hips with his fingers that left soft dents in your skin as he pulled you to him, rolling his hips until you whimpered and kissing the valley of your breasts as he whispered your name. “Talk to me,” he urged you sweetly and your hands found his face to steer his eyes to you so you could see him. See him just like he saw you…something beautiful.

“I just want you,” you whispered back to him. 

“I want you, too,” Jack purred to you, the coarseness of his voice tested with a heavy breath from how he must have felt you throb against him when you pressed your hips to him. You matched his sound as you stroked your thumbs at his cheeks and watched him bite his lip before he panted, “I…I want to make you feel good…what makes you feel good?”

You weren’t used to that question or any of this, really, but one particular desire came to the forefront of your mind…and you could see in Jack’s eyes that he was willing to indulge you. “Your mouth would make me feel good.”

“Yeah? Where? Here…?” Jack’s voice trailed off as he kissed the top of your breast, opening his mouth a little to kiss the bud of your nipple. Your hands slipped around his head as you huffed, wanting to close your eyes to enjoy the feel of his soft lips closing around you as he licked and sucked lazily on you. “Or did you mean here?” He switched to your other breast that he cupped in his hand, lapping at your left nipple until it became a stiff peak on his tongue as you whined and combed your fingers through the silken blades of his hair.

Your hands moved with his head as he moved lower, taking his time to run his tongue along your skin and marking it with a wet kiss over your ribcage, down your tummy, and on your right hip…across your mound…your left hip…then back to your mound where his warm breath spread through your bush that he kissed. “Right here, yeah?”

“Yes,” you uttered, a bit pitched, your hands falling to the comforter that you palmed in anticipation. Butterflies circling in your belly that pulled in with your exhale from the cool air of the room that quickly dried his kisses but couldn’t do a thing about the wetness sticking to your inner thighs when Jack held them apart in his hands as he laid on his elbows and stomach.

He went to rest a palm on your mound but his fingers fanned through your bush, his pointer and middle gently spreading you open more than you already were so he could see how you glistened in the delicate sunlight filling his bedroom. You felt…vulnerable but not exposed. You liked how Jack looked at you…his gaze was just as soft as his two fingers that ghosted down your slit, over your clit and just barely through your folds and back again…and again as he gathered your wetness of the softish pads of his fingertips to slowly slot one of them into you. 

He met no resistance because you were soaked, feeling him glide his thick finger into you until his knuckle met your skin and you contracted around it. He watched how your pussy did that again as he pushed a little, starting to move in and out as he curved his finger to the shape of you, his eyes only leaving how his finger disappeared in you over and over to look up at you moaning and holding your breasts as you thumbed one of your nipples.

You didn’t know what else to do with your hands because you didn’t want to push his face to you, even though the thought entered your mind. Instead, you wanted to silence your greed to savor the moment, savor him…and you knew that he wanted to savor you, too, because he still wasn’t in a rush. Jack wanted to prolong your pleasure, you could feel it in how he slowly slipped his finger out but paused each time you throbbed and whimpered…only to hold two fingers together to slip back in, feeling yourself stretch around them as he angled them up against the spot that he’d found on the first couple of drags, making a deep groan escape you.

“Does that feel good?” he asked under his breath as he lay his hand on your inner thigh to keep you spread when your hips bucked a tiny bit on accident. It didn’t disturb his rhythm as he drew his fingers from you an inch just to sink them in again and up until your face fell apart. Your hands were on the bed again and digging into the comforter as a hot wave lapped at you right where his fingers curled. Goddamn, you were about to come and it made your head spin because you didn’t realize you were already on the edge until he spoke. It was like his voice lapped at you, too, your back arching a little when that wave caressed you again as he cooed, “You’re close…aren’t you?”

“Yes…mmhh…” Your mouth stayed open because you couldn’t hold in the moan that fell from it, a louder one rushing from you when Jack pressed his fingers in firmly to rub your spot and dipped his head to cover your clit with his mouth. The way he laid his tongue flat in a lick that swirled into a languid circle on your clit with the tip of it on each pass made you come from just the third pass as he held his fingers in you, feeling yourself flutter around them and under his tongue as white-hot waves washed over you from head to toe. His name spilled out of you just like your orgasm you felt coating the scruff of his beard on you as he closed his lips around your clit to suckle you softly. “Fffuck!”

You couldn’t lay still if you tried, your body sitting up on its own as your hands flew to his head to tug his hair, push him away, pull him deeper. You wanted everything at once but you didn’t know how to communicate it when your head was fuzzy as Jack let you close your thighs around his head and held your waist in his free hand. “Jack, mmmff! Oh, my god…” His name was a sharp cry that must have alerted him you were losing your damn mind because he suddenly unfastened his lips from you to kiss at your bush, instead.

“You okay?” he huffed in concern, your eyes finding each other when you finally opened them as he withdrew his fingers again. You nodded as you fell onto your back again but Jack didn’t stop touching you, though, almost like he wasn’t sure how as he flexed his fingers on your waist and aligned his two, sticky fingers at the seam of you again, not pressing but carefully spreading your puffy folds again like he wanted to see his handiwork, admire how your pussy was soft and leaking with a lone drip onto his comforter in a tiny puddle under your bottom. It reminded you of last night when he tended to your cut finger that was all better today, the bandage discarded earlier this morning. Your only worry now was if you’d be able to handle another orgasm if this is how he’d use his skills to mend the ache in you…

The ache was beginning to ease the longer you allowed yourself to settle into yourself, your body still humming with tingles but from the afterglow that Jack paid special attention to…kissing up your body until his lips were on yours and your hands were on his back. He tasted like you and you tasted his sigh as it left him, deep and throaty when your nails lightly scratched down the muscle of his shoulder blades to the small of his back. It made him tilt his hips towards you like he was inside you, but instead, the curve of his thickness nestled to your clit again and you whimpered from the sensitivity.

“I want you…” His words were a low smolder that simmered on your lips as he breathed them out but you felt that simmer all over, especially where he pushed his hips again to get you to whimper for him again. His palms were on the bed on both sides of you now and your thighs trembled around him, feeling your pussy weep from the feel of him, wetting him as he moaned from the feel of you, asking faintly, maybe even a little desperately, “Can I have you?”

As tender as you felt, god, you wanted him, too. You wanted him to have you...but it had to be at your own pace because if this is what overstimulation felt like...oof. It was too much of a very good thing. And you knew Jack wanted to satisfy you, that he’d listen when you murmured to his lips, “Only if I’m on top.”

You touched his face with your palm on his cheek when he looked down at you, your thumb grazing the crinkles at the corner of his left eye as he gave you a small grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

He eased off of you to give you room to sit up at his side, watching him lay down with his head on the pillow next to the one you’d indented. You let your eyes sweep along his bare body as he got comfortable and placed his hands on his stomach, watching you take particular interest in the swell of his muscles in his thighs, his taut balls between them, and his dick that rested on the left one before it moved by itself with slight twitch. 

It was too tempting not to touch before you climbed on him, and Jack’s eyes fell to your fingertip that soothed a path from the base to his tip and back, fascinating yourself with how easily you made him twitch again and listening to him let out an airy sigh. That sigh deepened into a gruff moan when you wrapped your fingers around it to hold it upright and feel him pulse in your palm when stroked up and down and up to catch the bead of arousal you’d coaxed with your thumb. He felt bigger in your hand than he looked and made a lush thrill shiver through you at the thought of fitting him in you as snug as he did in your fist…it’d been a while and you still felt pretty supple from just his fingers…

“Do you have a condom?” you asked and bit your lip when you heard Jack give you a handsome whimper. He nodded and pointed behind you at the nightstand to your right.

“There, in my wallet. Let me get it.” Jack started to sit up but you laid a gentle hand on his chest. 

“I got it…I didn’t know people still stashed condoms in their wallets,” you remarked as you pulled your hand away and rolled onto your knees to crawl across the bed and pull open the drawer. You were half-kidding, half-serious because you’d only seen that trick from a scene in the movie House Party. 

“Been doin’ it that way since high school. Some habits never die, I guess.” You heard Jack reply with a chuckle over your shoulder as you retrieved his black leather wallet, flipping it open to see his pretty mug on his driver’s license behind the clear panel, a couple of credit or debit cards, and three fifty dollar bills tucked into the center flap with his dog tags necklace and the gold tinfoil wrapped condom cushioned behind his money. And not to your surprise, the wrapper looked a bit worn like it’d been in there for a while once you fished it out, just like in that movie you watched.

“Uh…I hope this doesn’t pop,” you thought aloud as you put his wallet back where you found it and returned to his side. “Have you had this condom since high school?”

Jack laughed again and you did, too, especially when his freckled cheeks turned a cute shade of pink at your teasing. He still sucked his teeth and muttered, “No…I think I bought that one sometime last year?” before wiping his hand over his face like it would get rid of his blush.

“I believe you,” you voiced with a sweetness woven into it because you didn’t mean to make him bashful, no matter how adorable it was. He recovered quickly, anyway, as he took your wrist and brought your hand that held the condom to his lips, kissing your wrist before he used his other hand to take the condom from you. You’d thought to put it on for him but he unwrapped himself, so you did the next best thing you could think of and made a fist around him again to hold him as he rolled it down his length.

You moved your hand for him to sheath himself to the base but circled your fingers around him again to feel how he filled out the smooth latex, keeping him steady in your grasp as you raised your left thigh to straddle his thighs and stroke him in front of you. Jack moaned to you and it encouraged you to twist your wrist as you worked him, feeling him grow somehow harder and placing a hand on his chest again to balance yourself as you sat up and leaned into him, your braids falling around his head like a curtain. He helped you with his hands on your waist and breathed out another moan as you breathed in a tiny gasp when his head prodded softly at your entrance before you lowered yourself on him.

“Mm, slow down…m’not goin’ anywhere,” Jack reminded you in a husky moan as his thumbs brushed at your sides, yet his grip on you was firm like he wanted you to give each thick inch a minute or two to form to you…adjust in you…mold you two together. And for a fleeting thought, you wondered if that was because he just wanted to keep you here longer…if he just wanted more time with you.

You weren’t in a hurry, anymore…you just wanted to feel more of him because the first few inches or so already felt so fucking good. Pushing up on spots you didn’t remember you had and nestling to your g-spot…making you feel warm and full when he sat in you to the hilt. He was the perfect fit…

Both your hands were on his chest now, the muscles of his pecs barely giving to how you squeezed a little as you sat on him, moaning to him as you felt that warm wave tingling between your thighs, making you clench around him until he moaned back to you. God, you felt like you could come already…but you wanted to grind on him…wanted to watch the faces he made when you bounced on him. You took a little breath to steady yourself and started to rock on him, slow swirls of your hips that made his dick knock into your spot that crumpled your face as much as his before he mouthed, “Fuck…” and bit his lip.

His face, his sounds, his hands pinning you down on him when you whined from the way his groin rubbed to your clit each time you rolled your hips, all of it was urging you to return to the edge…luring you closer to it with deep throbs of your pussy that made you feel weak to fight it, that he made you want to surrender to when he reached a hand to tuck a braid behind your ear and hold your face. 

Gazing into your eyes, lips parted, and letting the rasp of his voice lap at you as his thumb swept your cheek. “You’re holdin’ back from me…just let it happen…use me,” Jack whispered on your lips before he kissed you and you whimpered into his mouth. Your forehead rested against his because you were losing the strength to sit up, only reserving enough for your body to act on instinct and chase the heat you felt coiling deeper, hotter, before it broke you down piece by piece with jagged moan after moan.

Jack waited to drink your moans until they thinned into whines as he held you together with his arm wrapping about your waist and his hand palming the back of your head. Your head felt fuzzy again and you swore you saw spots when your eyes flitted open to focus on his face, his eyelids low, brows knitted, and mouth an “o” as you kept rocking, hearing the soft slosh of your wet sticking to him as you kept letting the tender throbs of your pussy guide you to use him because your orgasm hadn’t let go of you yet so you couldn’t let go of him…

“W-wait…I’m close,” Jack abruptly stammered to you and you groaned at the same time as him when his hands shot to your hips to pull you up. There was something delicious about the gentle urgency in his airy tone, something about it that made you want to milk it, watch it lead him to pant and run his tongue over his bottom lip that he bit when you mustered a bit of strength to sit up and sink back down onto him. You placed your hands over his and redirected them to glide up your tummy and palm your breasts that held on his own when you released them and reached behind you to grip the bulk of his thighs.

Maybe it was the way your body glowed with a pleasure you never felt so liberated in…maybe it was the way you had this grown man whining and trembling under you…but as you locked eyes with his, that sweet urgency staring back at you, you wanted to see him it break him down as it did you. Feel him fall piece to piece so that you could hold him together now and know that for one of the first times in your life…you were in control. Not the kind of control that steals, no…the kind that Jack gifted to you willingly because he wanted you to have it. 

“Do you want to come?” you purred to him as you perched on your knees that sank into his comforter and arched your back, your body a beautiful slope that slowly slid up and down the length of him with a wind of your hips.

Jack looked so damn handsome, so wrecked, as he whimpered, “Yes…please,” to you, still holding your breasts like he was stuck in pleasure you commanded with every thrust you made him give you as he rode him.

“I want you to, too…let me have you.”

He gave you a gorgeous grunt, one after the other, as he tipped his hips up and slid his hands down to cup your bottom, his eyes following to watch how your pussy swallowed him before they squeezed shut as his orgasm devoured him whole. His moans made you churn your hips faster on him, the sound of it stroking you in the right spot as you moaned back until it left you in heavy breaths that matched his when he uttered your name. 

When he groaned it again, your eyes fell to him as his hands on your thighs grasped underneath and tugged you up so he could pull himself out, seeing his biceps flex with the motion as he settled you back down on him. You felt him exert a bit of effort to reach around and remove the condom as his chest rose and fell with another little grunt when you lay on him, feeling his heart thudding like yours when you rested your cheek there. When you closed your eyes, you swore your hearts were beating in sync.

“Are you alright?” you couldn’t help but ask softly, shifting to rest your chin to his chest, instead, so you could see him. Jack gave you a tired yet satisfied smile as he traced a few fingertips through your braids and along your spine.

“Yeah…more than alright. Just not used to this,” he admitted slowly, mirroring your words from the night before whether he meant to or not. It made you smile back at him, especially when he added, “I…I don’t have another condom, unfortunately. I’d have to run to the store if you wanted…to go again.”

The pink returned to his face and it prompted you to inch yourself up with your palms on his chest so you could kiss him and assure him in a whisper, “No, no…I just want to lie here with you and…talk.” It was the truth. You didn’t want to disturb the warmth he’d made for you, held you in…not yet.

You could hear the relief in his voice to not have to leave you as you felt his fingers caress your side before he curled around you there and whispered back, “I’d like that. A lot.”

The morning sun slipped into the afternoon, and the only way you could tell was from how the shadows shifted in Jack’s bedroom, cloaking his comforter that hid the lower halves of your bodies where your legs were entwined while you faced each other…the sunlight slipping past your shoulder to illuminate the green in his eyes again as they focused on you speak. 

You were telling him you were indeed from the South, Alabama to be exact, and that you decided to hit the road to leave a bad situation behind before it got worse. You didn’t want to alarm him with the gritty details because you didn’t want to rehash them yourself…all he needed to know was that you needed that gun he helped you learn how to shoot just in case your ex-fiancé made you decide whose life was more precious, his or yours…

“I didn’t want to kill him…so I left before I did,” you shared in a small but resolute tone, the harshness of your words in such contrast to the softness of Jack’s pillow beneath your cheek. His fingers were soft, too, that were holding yours under the sheets.

He tried to make you smile after that by offering to cook you breakfast if you were feeling hungry or pack it up for you or even give you money if you told him the number, anything in his power to assist you on your way. But you made him smile when you said, “You’ve done enough for me…I don’t need you to be my white knight riding in with a shiny stethoscope.”

However, there was one thing you thought that he could do for you…“What song were you playin’ late last night? I, um, overheard it…I thought it was maybe Mac Demarco.”

“Never heard of him,” Jack confessed and you giggled. “Ah, one of my med students. She was with us for maybeee three weeks last spring. Couldn’t keep her AirPlugs or whatever out of her ears. Said she had anxiety and music helped. I get that. Caught her on her phone in the break room once and I must have spooked her because she jumped and one of her plugs fell out of her ear. I picked it up for her but before I handed it over, I heard the song she was listening to and I actually liked it. Not the one you heard last night but the same artist. Blood Nose.”

“‘Blood Nose?’ Yeah, sounds like something up your alley,” you teased him and he rolled his eyes before teasing you back with a little poke to your belly with his finger because he’d learned you’re ticklish there. A laugh slipped from you as you swatted at his hand and reminded him he’s the one who said his shift team calls themselves “The Night Crawlers” because they preferred “weird and wild” cases. You were almost afraid to ask what one of those cases looked like.

When the sunlight began to wane outside and blanket you both in soft shadows, you knew it was time. You finally got your clothes in the wash and took a shower in Jack’s bathroom this time, hearing him walk in to announce that he had fresh towels for you and ask you quietly if you thought it was a good idea to get back on the road so late. The concern in his voice sounded genuine…and it wasn’t like you hadn’t pondered it as you bathed…but you decided if you didn’t leave tonight that you’d have trouble leaving the next night and the next. Besides, how would he explain to his family on Thanksgiving Day that a young woman he met a day ago was suddenly staying with him? You did not want to be in the middle of that...

Jack was still standing there when you cut the water and pulled back the shower curtain, your towels folded beside his hand that gripped the edge of his sink countertop as he leaned against it. You both talked while you were still rinsing your hair, the conversation straying to lighter subjects…like him asking you if you were excited to see more of the country or settle down somewhere soon.

He handed you the towels and watched you dry yourself and wring the water from the tips of your braids, wrapping one towel around you and the other on your head like a scarf. The silence was charged with a twinge of forlornness even though Jack said he was happy for you when you admitted, “I don’t know where I’m headed…but I know I want to get there by the end of the week. And I know wherever I wind up will be the right place.”

“I believe you,” Jack said with a soft grin. He watched you approach him and drape your arms over his shoulders, compelling him to grin bigger when you kissed his cheek. That’s when he encircled you in his arms, too, his thumbs skimming your hips over your towel. “Forgive me. I’m bein’ selfish…I shouldn’t want you all to myself, huh?”

You kissed the corner of his mouth this time and Jack turned his head to kiss your lips, tempting you to fall back into his warmth as he held you close. Yet as you pulled apart, his nose bumping yours, you murmured to him, “In another lifetime, maybe.”

EPILOGUE

“I have good news and bad news, Ms. Gutiérrez. Which do you want first?” Jack asked as he put his hands on his hips, standing next to his patient’s bed as she slowly turned her head on her pillow to look up at him with a weak smile.

“Bad news. Let’s get it over with,” she replied in a tired voice but with enough flippancy to make Jack smile back. Especially since it wasn’t even an hour ago that her son hurried her inside in the wheelchair the nursing staff promptly provided as she wailed at the top of her lungs in pain. Tramadol for the win. But Ms. Gutiérrez still pursed her thin lips at him with a tsk tsk sound. “And what did I tell you, hm? You can call me Lucia.”

Manuel had his arms folded over his chest, his glare locked and loaded to tell his 74-year-old mother for a third and final time to stop being fresh with the doctor. But instead, he asserted, “Ma, let him speak. Please.”

“It’s alright,” Jack assured him as he held up a polite hand, shifting his weight to one foot before he folded his arms, too. Wasn’t the first time a patient hit on him—and, unfortunately, he knew it wouldn’t be the last. He leaned in a bit to catch his mother’s eye again as he added softly, “Okay, Lucia. Bad news first. You have a right femoral neck fracture. But the good news is we can prep you for the OR and give you a partial hip replacement so you can walk out of here in the mornin’ feeling brand new. How’s that sound?” 

“Like a pain in my ass and hip.” The gleam in her brown eyes dimmed a little under the overbed light before she rolled them like the news annoyed her. Jack knew for a fact it did. He’d only just met Lucia but he could tell she wasn’t the kind of woman who wanted to rely on anyone’s help, pre or post-operation. After all, she broke her hip trying to remove her dwarf fiddle leaf figs from the mantel above her fireplace to repot them…she used a step stool but as Manuel filled him in, she fell because she just had to do it herself and couldn’t wait for him to get back from picking up dinner ingredients at the grocery store to do it for her.

“Ma, stop that. He’s trying to help,” he said now with quiet exasperation and Jack just shook his head with a half-grin at them both. He could understand that getting older and losing some independence was never fun, especially when your kids decide to move back in to take care of you when you didn’t ask for their assistance. Jack didn’t have any kids but on days he was drained from last night’s shift and didn’t want to be bothered with cooking for himself or spending cash on expensive ass deliveries, he’d appreciate a Manuel. The man now gave him a pleading look with his downturned eyes as he added, “She’ll be going into surgery tonight?”

“If she elects to have it, yeah. Or we can schedule it. Whatever’s convenient for you, Lucia. The procedure will take two hours, tops. Dr. Yolanda Garcia is our best trauma surgery fellow physician and your best bet to get Manuel off your back…no hard feelings, Manuel,” Jack murmured the last part with a teasing shrug to him and wink to his mom, making a raspy chuckle escape her. He noticed Manuel thaw a little, too, his shoulders falling even though he kept his arms crossed. 

The son looked almost the same age as him, give or take a few years, so Jack couldn’t imagine the man was thrilled to put his life on hold to care for his mother. But the fact that he did so voluntarily was beyond noble to him…and Jack made sure to give him an encouraging word and pat on the shoulder as they spoke just outside of Lucia’s room while waiting for Dr. Garcia to arrive.

So far, it had been easy cases like this all night, likely due to the thunderstorm pouring down outside and keeping folks away, but Jack almost didn’t want to jinx it by taking a trip to the break room to sit for a minute and grab a beverage. He could hear the soft pitter patter of rain beyond the hospital’s walls and it made him realize that he hadn’t drank water in maybe three hours—and god forbid he neglected hydration before the seats filled with an influx of patients who needed critical care. He rounded the corner to slip into the lounge that was surprisingly empty because he was sure everyone would take advantage of the slow shift. But it just reminded him that his staff liked to keep busy helping people, which meant he’d done his job right. He, too, would hop on the next case as soon as he quenched his thirst.

Jack swiped a bottle from the fridge and eased onto a chair at the table, fishing his phone out of his scrubs’ pants pocket to check his notifications as he tilted the water to his lips for a few cool, refreshing gulps. It was only 10:12 P.M. on a Tuesday and the rain paired with unusual quiet made his mind drift and his eyes glaze over his work emails and personal texts when he realized he wasn’t in the mood to respond to any of them. Instead, his thoughts wandered to you. Again.

Where you might be. How you were holding up. If you were safe. If you were happy.

Something in his gut told him you were. There was something about you that was not only resilient but…ardent. You weren’t going to stop until you ended up exactly where you desired to be.

Jack understood you wished to leave no trace of yourself behind once you left his place that day, but man, he wished he had your phone number to check in on you from time to time. Make sure everything was okay with you. If that was okay with you. He just wanted to hear your voice. Thankfully, his memory of it was clear and palpable...your cute laugh…your pretty whimpers. Some nights and most days, they played on a loop in his head along with flashes of your beautiful face because even four months into the new year, he hadn’t met another woman like you. 

You weren’t easy to forget and he didn’t want that, anyway…he wanted to hold on to you in the only way he knew he could. Even if that was simply to think about you almost every day.

“Hey, hey. You got mail.”

Lena’s singsongy voice interrupted his thoughts and he glanced up at her holding a wad of envelopes as she stood in the doorway. He quirked an eyebrow at her as he put his phone facedown on the table. “Oh, yeah? If it’s another medical supplies catalog or AARP newsletter, you can trash it,” he said as he tapped his fingers on the side of his water bottle and made his charge nurse giggle.

“You know you can call their customer service and opt out of them…if you’ve got three hours to spare,” she reminded him as she walked over to him and plucked a single postcard from her stack to place on the table. “But you got lucky this time.”

She slid it across the surface to him like she was passing him a secret note before she spun on her heels and left. Jack’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion when he read the words GREETINGS FROM THE WINDY CITY on the front of the card in glossy, red, orange, and blue retro-style letters. He’d never received mail solicitation like this. These medical suppliers were getting creative.

He picked it up from the table and flipped to the back where he spotted his name and the hospital’s address in almost-cursive yet elegant handwriting. Odd. But when he noticed the little message next to it in the same penmanship with a phone number at the end…he chuckled to himself and his lips curled into a smile he couldn’t make any smaller if he tried. You just had that effect on him. Permanently, it seemed.

“Luella’s hot honey chicken is going to change your life. I’m sure it’s no Aunt Betty’s hot chicken salad, but you can come and tell me if it’s close.”

If you made it this far, wow, THANK YOU so much for reading. This is my first big fic, like, ever...I started writing it in March and meant for it to be a lil 2k one shot and then this spilled out, lol. Hope you enjoyed. 🥹

Likes, reblogs, and comments appreciated if you liked this! Thank you again for reading! 💚

Tagging @sippingchai @joannasteez @333creolelady @eve-the-temptress @loreofsarai

Across the department, you were leaning against the nurses’ station with a cup of coffee in hand. You were talking to one of the paramedics. Jack couldn't remember the man's name, but he knew he was younger than him. He was in his early thirties, tall and charming. 

The paramedic said something, and Jack watched your face light up. You laughed, not a polite laugh. Not the kind you gave patients or colleagues. It was a real laugh that made your eyes scrunch. The one that Jack loved. He watched as the paramedic mimed something with his hands, acting out what must have happened on a call, and you doubled over, covering your mouth as another laugh escaped.The paramedic grinned at you like making you smile was the easiest thing in the world.

Jack looked away.He told himself he wasn’t bothered. Except you seemed so light over there. Young, happy and beautiful. He watched you tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear as the paramedic handed you his phone. You smiled at the screen for a second before laughing again. Jack’s stomach tightened. He knew he shouldn’t stare, of course he knew that but he couldn’t seem to stop. He tried telling himself again that it was playful, friendly and nothing more. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that someone had reached into his chest and squeezed. “Dr. Abbot?”

Jack blinked, dragging his eyes away. One of the residents was waiting beside him with a chart.

“Sorry.”

By the time he’d answered the question and looked back, the paramedic was walking toward the ambulance bay. You caught his eye and your smile was immediate and warm. Entirely for him.

“You ready?” you asked twenty minutes later, slipping your bag over your shoulder and Jack tried his best to force a smile.

“Yeah.”

You reached automatically for his hand as you walked through the parking lot. Usually he’d lace his fingers through yours. But tonight, his hand stayed loose. You noticed.

The drive home was unusually quiet. The radio hummed softly in the background, some classic rock station playing a song neither of you was really listening to. Streetlights flickered across Jack’s face as he drove. One hand on the steering wheel, the other resting heavily against the centre console. You stole another glance at him. His jaw was tight.

“You ok?”

“Mhm.”

You waited for something more, but nothing came. 

“You seem tired.”

“Long day.”

“Yeah.”

Silence settled again. You watched the city blur past the window. Normally he’d tell you about an interesting case. Ask what you wanted for dinner. Reach over at a red light to squeeze your knee. But tonight there was nothing. You shifted in your seat.

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

His answers came too quickly and your stomach knotted. You knew Jack better than you knew anyone.You knew the tiny crease that appeared between his eyebrows when something was bothering him. The way he rubbed absent circles against the steering wheel with his thumb.

The way he got quieter instead of louder. He’d been doing all three since you’d left the hospital. You reached over, resting your hand gently on his forearm. He looked at it for the briefest second, then back at the road. He didn’t move away but he didn’t turn his over to hold yours either. It hurt more than you wanted to admit. 

“You know,” you said softly, “whatever it is, you can tell me.”

His grip tightened on the wheel.

“I know.”

Another red light, where usually he’d look at you and smile. He would steal a kiss or maybe two. But he just stared straight ahead until the light turned green. You looked back out of the window, your reflection staring back at you. You knew something was wrong, you just had no idea what it was. 

By the time you pulled into the driveway, the silence felt heavy enough to touch. Jack switched off the engine but didn’t make a move to get out. The dashboard lights faded until the car was swallowed by darkness.

“You coming?” you asked gently. He blinked, like he’d forgotten where he was.

“Yeah.”

He climbed out slowly, his limp just a little more pronounced after the drive. You unlocked the front door and stepped inside, kicking off your shoes. 

“You want something to drink?,” you called over your shoulder.

“Ok.”

You frowned. Usually he’d already be behind you, stealing a quick kiss while you busied yourself in the kitchen, his arms wrapping around your waist. Instead, you heard him lower himself onto the couch with a tired sigh.

“You’ll never guess what happened after you left the department.”

No answer.

“Mrs. Murphy, the little old lady in bed six? She tried to set Mateo up with her granddaughter.”

A faint hum drifted from the living room. Not quite a laugh, not even a response. You glanced around the corner. Jack was sitting exactly where you’d left him. Elbows resting on his knees. Hands clasped together, staring at nothing.

“And apparently she had photos ready.” You laughed softly. “Poor Mateo looked like he wanted the ground to swallow him.”

“Mm.”

Your smile faded. You carried the glasses into the living room, setting one on the coffee table in front of him. He didn’t reach for it. Instead, he just thanked you quietly without lifting his eyes. You settled beside him, close enough that your knees brushed.

“So,” you said, trying again. “What do you want for dinner?”

“I don’t mind.”

“Pizza?”

“Whatever you want.”

You looked at him for a long moment. Every answer was automatic. Like he wasn’t even hearing the questions. You watched him stare at the untouched glass as if he expected it to tell him something. Your chest tightened.

“Jack.”

“Hm?”

“Where are you?.”

He looked over at you now.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m not mad. I’m worried.” You turned fully toward him, tucking one leg beneath you on the couch. “You’ve been gone since we left work.”

He opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again.

You reached across the small space between you, rubbing your thumb over the sleeve of his sweater. His shoulders sagged. You searched his face. The exhaustion was there. But underneath it there was something else. Something that looked like fear. Real fear. Your stomach dropped.

“Jack,” 

Your voice softened.

“You’re scaring me, please talk to me.”

His hand settled instinctively on your leg, warm and familiar. Like it belonged there, because it did. You covered it with yours.

“I don’t care if it’s work. I don’t care if you’re angry with me. I don’t care what it is.” Your thumb stroked slowly over his knuckles. You searched his eyes. 

“Just please don’t shut me out.”

He looked down at your joined hands. Took one long, shaky breath. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. Then, with a sigh that sounded like it had been trapped inside him all day, Jack finally looked up.

“I’m not blind.”

“Jack, I don’t understand.” You shook your head.

“I’ve got some pretty obvious wear and tear,” he gestured to his leg and you felt your heart sink. 

“I am trying to deal with my mental load. I go to therapy and it’s working.” He turned to you, nodding his head like he was trying to convince you. Your heart broke a little more with every word. It took everything in you to keep from shaking sense into him. You wanted to stop him talking, kiss him and tell him how much you love him. But he needed to talk this through, you knew that even if it was killing you.

“I got so lucky when I met you. I don’t know what I did to deserve you. But I am happy with the time we’ve had together. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.” 

Your whole body tensed and your hand slowly slipped from him. He noticed the absence immediately. 

“What does that mean Jack?”

“I think,” He swallowed hard, his jaw tightened. “I think maybe it’s time we stop pretending this makes sense.” Your stomach dropped.

“No.” 

He squeezed his eyes shut for a second, like hearing you say that hurt more than he had expected.

“You deserve someone who doesn’t come with all this. Someone your age. Someone who isn’t carrying around thirty years of mistakes and bad habits.”

“I don’t want that.”

“But you should.”

“No.” Your voice came out sharper than you intended. “You don’t get to decide that.”

He blinked.

“I saw you today, you were laughing with him.”

“The paramedic?”

“He made you smile.” His voice was almost a whisper. “Really smile.”

“So?”

“So,” he laughed once, bitterly. “I couldn’t remember the last time I made you laugh like that. I watched you two together and,” He shook his head. “It just hit me. We just don’t fit.”

You stared at him, completely stunned.

“That’s what this is about?”

“It’s not just that.”

“It sounds exactly like that.”

“You deserve more than this. I’m trying to do the right thing.”

“For who?”

“For you.”

“No.” You shook your head, tears burning behind your eyes. “You’re trying to protect yourself.”

He didn’t argue.

“You think if you leave first it’ll hurt less.”

He looked down at his hands.

“You think I’ll wake up one day and realise you’re older than me?” You let out a disbelieving laugh. “Jack, I knew your age when I first met you.”

“I know.”

“I know your past. Maybe I don’t know everything, not yet. But I know enough.” 

You stood up from the couch, suddenly unsure of what to do with yourself. 

“I choose you every day, and now you’re not choosing me anymore.” 

His eyes were glistening as his hand reached for yours, trying to catch you and bring you back to him, but you stepped back.

“The paramedic,” you shook your head, raking your hands through your hair. “He’s proposing to his partner.”

Jack frowned.

“He was showing me the ring and the flowers he bought.”

Jack just stared back at you.

“And he joked that I was next,’ you laughed out a slight cry. “And I laughed, thinking about you picking out a ring, and the perfect flowers.That’s what you saw. And from that you decided to end our relationship? You didn’t talk to me, tell me you were feeling insecure? You just try and break up with me.

“No.” He stood up this time to reach for you, trying to defend it. To take it back, but he knew it was true. That was exactly what he had done.

“You didn’t trust me enough to have one conversation.”

His shoulders slumped.You gripped his face, pulling him to look at you. 

“I didn’t pick you because I couldn’t find someone else. I picked you because you’re it for me.” His hand reached up to hold yours against his face, tears spilling out as he closed his eyes. Your anger had softened into something infinitely sadder.

“I love you, I want you and I’m always going to want you. So if you want to end this,” your breath caught at the thought of that being a possibility. You swallowed the ball in your throat. 

“If that’s what you want then fine. But that’s what you want, not what I want.” 

Jack's eyes snapped open, his head shaking side to side. 

“I don’t want that. You’re what I want.” He kissed you, like he was trying to cement the truth. 

“I am so sorry.”

You lean forward until your forehead rests against his.

“If you ever get scared again,”

“I’ll talk to you.”

“You don’t get to make decisions for both of us.”

He nodded immediately.

“I won’t. I promise.”

The bedroom was quiet. Jack laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. You slipped beneath the covers beside him. For a moment, neither of you spoke. Then, almost shyly, his hand reached for yours. You smiled. His fingers threaded through yours before he turned onto his side to face you. His eyes searched yours, as though he was still looking for the moment you’d change your mind. You lifted your hand to his face. Your fingertips traced the lines beside his eyes, the silver at his temples, the familiar curve of his jaw.

“So handsome,” you murmured. He let out the smallest, embarrassed huff.

“You don’t have to keep saying that.”

“I know.”

You smiled.

“I’m saying it because it’s true.”

He looked away. You gently guided his face back towards yours. His cheeks coloured.

“You always do that.”

“What?”

“You look away whenever I compliment you.”

He smiled sheepishly.

“I don’t know what to do with it.”

“You could believe me.”

“I want to.”

“I know.”

You brushed your thumb over his cheek. His eyes glistened. You leaned forward, pressing a slow kiss to his cheek. He closed his eyes.

“I love this face.”

A quiet laugh escaped him.

“It’s just my face.”

“It’s my favourite one.”

That earned you the smile you’d been waiting for all evening.

“I’ve missed that today.”

“What?”

“Your smile.”

He ducked his head instinctively.

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologise anymore.”

He loved you, you knew he did. You just wished he knew how much you loved him. You slipped your hand upon his chest resting your head against him. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear. For a long while, neither of you spoke. His thumb stroked absent-mindedly over your hand. 

“You should try and sleep.” he murmured against your hair. 

“So should you.” 

You pulled away, looking up. Your fingers skimming along the line of his jaw. The familiar scratch of his stubble brushed against your skin. You planted a kiss on the underside of his jaw. Then another. His hand snaked up your spine, pulling you in closer. 

“You know,” you said in between kisses. He hummed slightly to tell you he was listening. 

“I still get butterflies when I’m around you.” You felt his chest rumble and he laughed lightly. 

“Is that right?” He asked, combing through your hair, pulling your head back to look at you. 

You nodded with a big grin on your face, completely unashamed of the effect that he had on you. 

“I love you so much.”

He went still under you. His throat moved as he swallowed. 

"I don't know how you do that," he said quietly. "Look at me like there's nothing wrong with me."

He exhaled, long and shaky, like something in his chest had finally loosened. 

"I love you so much it terrifies me sometimes."

You gripped onto him, rolling gently, so you were beneath him, his arms bracing himself as he steadied above you.

“Jack,’ you whispered to him. You gripped his wrist, slipping in slowly between your legs. You bit your lip to suppress the moan that threatened to slip through you. 

“Jesus, y/n,” his head dipped into your shoulder taking a deep breath, breathing you in as his fingers glided against you. 

“Do you feel that?” You asked him, breathlessly. He nodded, lifting his head to look into your eyes. 

“Yeah,” he moaned into your mouth, kissing you deeply. You reluctantly pulled away from him. 

“That’s because of you Jack,” you stifled another moan as his fingers continued to work against you. Your grip tightened at the hairs on the nap of his neck. 

“Before you’ve even kissed me, touched me. That’s what you do to me, just looking at you. Thinking of you, being close to you.”  

His free hand slid down to your waist, pulling you flush against him, and you felt the last of his hesitation give way entirely. Slowly, deliberately, your hand reached from him, feeling him through his boxers and he cursed again your mouth.

"Let me show you," you whispered against his lips. "Let me show you I mean it."

The rest of the night unfolded slowly, every touch a quiet argument against everything he'd doubted about himself. By the time you both finally slept, there wasn't a shred of that doubt left in the room

There’s no way the universe should be this insistent on fucking you over.

Your shitbox of a car died a day before you were set to present your research at a conference in upstate New York in the middle of January. It was the biggest opportunity of your medical school career so far, and was going to secure your residency. But you couldn’t afford to fix it or buy plane tickets and there was no bus that could get you from Pittsburgh to Syracuse in time.

So when your program advisor called you into his office to say he found another student driving to the conference that would be willing to carpool, you nearly jumped for joy. Until the next words out of his mouth put a bullet in the brain of your newfound hope.

“-Jack Abbot! You’ve met him, right? You’re in the same year.”

Yes, you had met Jack Abbot. Several, miserable times. 

Every interaction you’d had with Jack ended with you seething and him smirking. He seemed to be addicted to pushing your buttons every chance he could.

But you didn’t have a choice. And you’d definitely made sure to verify that Jack was your only option. You must have asked every other student you had classes with, but they were either flying or not going at all. So you were stuck with him.

Stuck in the confined space of the cab of his small truck, side by side on the bench seat, for five and a half hours.

Everything about him pissed you off. His perfect curls were irritating, especially since you were sure he used 15-in-1 soap to wash it, the woodsy scent of his aftershave made every breath feel agonizing, and the way his legs were spread wide was obscene. It was his car, you had no right to complain that he was taking up so much space. But god did you wish he was cowering against the door like you were. You wished he put more space between the two of you, but the small cab left about a foot between you, even with you folding your body into the farthest corner your seatbelt allowed. It was entirely too close for comfort.

You’d made it a point to avoid looking at him as much as possible since this disastrous ride had begun 2 hours ago. So far, you’ve managed to mostly succeed, focusing on the falling snow and the freezing scenery outside. But you felt his eyes on you every few miles. His gaze was hot whenever it landed on you. You could feel it, even through your thick sweatshirt and jeans. 

But Jack didn’t say anything. He hadn’t said a single word since you’d met him in front of your apartment building at 1 pm and loaded up your bags into the covered bed. It was unusual for him. Normally, he liked to goad you into a reaction, sending barbs your way constantly. So the silence unnerved you. You didn’t know how to exist in a space with Jack Abbot when you weren’t on the defensive.

And then the universe decided to fuck you even harder.

The snow was falling even harder as Jack pulled off the freeway and onto a smaller back road. You wanted to question him, but you didn’t want to be the one to break the silence. Plus, you didn’t know where you were. For all you knew, Jack had driven through this area a thousand times before. 

But the farther you got down the road, the heavier the snow was getting and the slower Jack was driving. You hadn’t seen another car or building for the past 30 minutes and the plows clearly weren’t running out here. 

And then - truly the cherry on top- the engine started sputtering.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Jack braked hard, the tires slipping slightly as he pulled off the road onto the shoulder.

“What the fuck?” You looked over at him for the first time in an hour.

Jack threw the truck in park before he was grabbing his coat. “Stay here.”

Where the fuck did he think you were going to go? You were in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of a snowstorm. The cab of the truck was pleasantly warm, and the burst of cold air when Jack opened his door convinced you even more that you were not going to get out.

You watched him round the front. He popped the hood of the truck, hiding him from view. What the hood didn’t hide, though, was the cloud of smoke that billowed out.

“Oh fuck me,” there was no way you were making it to the convention. You checked your phone. No service. Of course.

The hood slammed shut and you jumped, looking up to watch Jack walk back around to the drivers side. He slid back in, shutting the door hard behind him and scrubbing a hand over his face. 

“We’re fucked.”

“What are we going to do?” You chewed on your bottom lip as you looked at the land around you. “I do not want to die of hypothermia in your shitty truck.”

“My truck isn’t shitty,” he sounded like a petulant child.

“It just fucking died on us,” you leveled a glare at him. “I’d say that makes it shitty.”

He grumbled something under his breath.

Both of you sat in silence for a moment.

“We need to find somewhere to shelter,” Jack was looking out the windows.

“There is nothing out - ”

“There,” he was pointing into the trees at something that you could not see. Everything blended together in the dim lighting and haze of falling snow.

“What?”

“There,” Jack started gathering a few things scattered around. His phone, his water bottle, and the keys made the cut, all being stuffed into the pocket of his heavy duty coat. “There’s a cabin.”

“Bullshit there's a cabin. I don’t see anything,” you really didn’t. All you could see was a mass of black and gray and green.

“There is,” he opened his door again. “Are you coming or are you going to freeze to death here?”

There wasn’t much of a choice. You could already feel the chill creeping in through the thin glass of the windows now that the engine was dead. You could follow Jack into the woods and either find shelter or freeze to death in the snow, or stay in the truck and freeze to death in the carcass of his shitbox.

No matter what, the threat of hypothermia was real and, even though you weren’t officially a doctor yet, you knew the risks. So you gave one last long suffering sigh, and opened your door. 

You were immediately thankful you’d put leggings on beneath your jeans that morning. The temperature change slapped you in the face as soon as you stepped out into the ankle deep snow.

Jack was rifling through the bed of the truck, pulling out his duffel bag. You watched him hesitate for a minute, before abandoning the garment bag containing the suit he’d packed. You tried not to think about just how good he’d look in a formal get up.

“Grab your shit,” Jack was pulling on a pair of gloves. His cheeks were already rosy from the freezing wind. “We’ve gotta get there fast.”

You gathered your things, yanking your own gloves and coat out of your bag. You left your own garment bag containing the gown you’d thrifted for the final banquet in the bed alongside the covered poster board for your research. It was going to be ruined if you and Jack ever made it back to the truck alive, given that there was not a chance you’d be making it to the conference, you didn’t bother trying to save it.

“Lead the way,” you slung your bag over your shoulder, pulling the hood up over your head to try and shield you as much as possible from the chill.

Jack led you across the frozen road and down into the treeline. The snow came up to mid calf, soaking your feet through your boots. Very quickly, you started to shiver, trying to curl into yourself as you walked.

You were both grateful and pissed to see the shape of the cabin come into view. You needed to get warm, but you did not want to admit Jack was right. 

It took about 20 minutes for you to reach the front porch. By now, the snow was falling so hard that you couldn’t see the road or the truck through the haze.

“C’mon, c’mon,” Jack tried the door handle, sighing with relief when it swung open. 

The inside of the cabin was simple. About the same size as your studio apartment back in Pittsburgh. It was dark, but you could see a fireplace against one wall, across from a full sized bed. There was a small kitchenette and a small bathroom you could see through a half open door. The whole place was dusty and looked like it hadn’t been used since last summer, but it would have to do.

Both you and Jack tumbled in. It was cold, but at least the sturdy wooden walls kept the wind chill out.

“You got a lighter?” Jack was already moving towards the fireplace, inspecting a few of the logs piled next to it. He seemed to approve of a few of them, piling them up.

“Yeah, here,” you fished a lighter out of your jacket pocket, tossing it to him as you set your bag down on the bed. 

You watched him for a moment. He shed his coat, pushing the sleeves of his sweatshirt up as he set a few scraps of newspaper alight. With a gentle few breaths, he grew the flame before placing it under the pile of logs he’d formed in the fireplace. It took a moment, but gradually the flames grew until there was a bright, flickering fire lighting up the small room. 

You could feel the warmth it was putting off starting to seep into you, but it wasn’t enough. Your coat was still on, but you were shivering beneath it. 

Jack noticed, doing a double take over his shoulder when he saw you still standing by the bed.

“Come over here.”

“I’m fine,” your voice was unsteady.

“You need to get warm,” Jack was untying his boots, digging through his bag for a new pair of socks as he discarded the damp pair he’d been wearing. “You’re gonna get frostbite.”

“No, I’m not,” but you were moving towards him, crossing the small room to stand beside him in front of the fireplace.

“Take off your clothes.”

You looked over at Jack like he’d grown a second head, ready to tell him off. But the words died in your throat when you saw he was stripping his shirt and hoodie off, leaving him bare from the waist up. You froze for a moment, eyes wide and brain buffering, until his hands grabbed for the zipper of his jeans.

“What the fuck?!” You spun around, trying to will your blush away.

“We need to get into dry clothes and get warm,” the shuffling sounds of his clothes hitting the floor was tempting you to turn around. You wanted just a little peak.

“I’ll be fine.”

“No, you won’t.”

And then Jack’s hands were at your waist, pulling up your sweatshirt.

“Woah!” You spun away from him, putting distance between you and begging your heart to slow down its rapid beating.

“I’m not letting you blame me when your toes fall off,” Jack crossed his arms over his chest. He’d changed into a plain black t-shirt, gray sweatpants, and thick wool socks. God damn it, he looked good. “I won’t look, but you need to change.”

“Fine,” you walked back towards your bag. “Don’t look.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Jack’s eyes raked over you once before he was turning back to face the fire.

You moved quickly, stripping out of your layers. You’d been planning on being in a nice, cosy hotel and convention center, tucked safely away from the cold, so you’d only brought jeans, slacks, and your comfortable sleep shorts. Tight, spandex shorts that left very little to the imagination. The leggings you wore under your jeans were soaked up to the thighs with melted snow and unwearable.

So you grabbed your most modest shorts, although ‘modest’ was a stretch. They were tight and short, covered completely by the oversized crewneck you pulled on after. You didn’t have too many options for socks, stuck with a relatively thin pair of white ankle length ones. Your nice, insulating ones were soaked from your trek through the snow.

“Is it safe yet?”

You glanced over at Jack, silhouetted against the fire. His shoulders looked a hell of a lot broader than you’d realized, the muscles of his arms standing out. God fucking damnit.

“Yeah, it’s safe,” you cleared your throat, looking away from him as you moved your bag away from the bed, setting it on the floor by the nightstand.

“That’s what you’re wearing to not freeze?”

His judgmental tone made you bristle, reminding your traitorous mind that you did, in fact, hate this man.

“I didn’t have a lot of options,” you unnecessarily straightened your duffel, looking anywhere but at him. “I didn’t plan for you to get us stranded in the fucking woods. I packed for a fancy hotel and a conference, which is where we would be if you didn’t try to kill us.”

“I didn’t try to kill us,” he scoffed. You risked a glance at him. He was digging through his own bag. “I took a shortcut to go around the traffic on the interstate. Here.” 

He wadded up a pair of flannel pants and threw them at you. You caught them, trying not to take a deep breath. They smelled like detergent and that addicting smell of his cologne.

“These are fucking ugly,” the idea of wearing his clothes and being stuck in such a small space with him triggered your fight or flight instinct. Seeing as flight wasn’t a reasonable option with a blizzard outside, you decided to fight. 

“By all means,” Jack rolled his eyes. “Freeze to death because my pants are ugly. I’d finally get some peace and quiet.”

“The fuck do you mean ‘peace and quiet’? I didn’t say a fucking thing the whole car ride!”

“Yeah, and it was fantastic.”

Grumbling to yourself about what a dick he was, you gave in. You were fully aware he was trying to get you to wear the stupid pants. You could sacrifice your pride to put them on and deny him the satisfaction of you going silent.

“Maybe if I’d said something, we wouldn’t be stuck here,” you tugged the god awful pants up over your shorts, having to double know the waistband to keep them up around your hips.

“Oh so you agree, this is your fault,” Jack looked smug. He sat down on the rug in front of the fireplace, his legs spread out before him. His feet were blisteringly close to the flames. You hoped his stupid socks caught on fire.

“How is this my fault? I didn’t tell you to drive off the main road in the middle of a snowstorm. This is your fault,” begrudgingly, you made your way towards him. You sat down 3 feet away from him, relishing the wave of heat that greeted you once you were close to the fire. The rest of the space was slowly warming up, but the cold still seeped in through the fogged over windows and wooden walls.

“Well I wouldn’t be stuck out here if I didn’t have to drive you to this stupid convention,” Jack leaned back on his palms. He looked calm and relaxed, and that made you even more irritated.

“Oh, so you only took this backroad because of me,” you stretched out your hands to warm your frigid fingers. “Glad you admitted this was attempted murder.”

“‘Attempted murder’ my ass,” he shook his head, narrowing his eyes. His gaze scanned you from head to toe. You told yourself the shiver that ran through your body was from the cold. “I would be nice and cosy in my apartment if it wasn’t for you.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I only agreed to go to the conference because you needed a ride.”

“Bullshit,” you scoffed. That didn’t make any sense. Why the hell would Jack do that? He’d been a massive dick since you met him. Every group project or hospital rotation you ended up on with him was hell. He pushed your buttons, poking and prodding at you with sharp little quips until you snapped.

Jack didn’t say anything. He turned his face back towards the fire, focusing on the flickering flames.

“Jack…?”

He stayed silent. 

You didn’t know what to say. You were confused. He hates you, so why would he agree to be locked in a car with you for an extended amount of time. Maybe he truly did want to lure you out into the woods and kill you. 

But why? Sure, you were classmates, both competing for residency spots in a technical sense, but that wasn’t strictly true. It pained you to admit it, but Jack was in a league of his own. He was smart. Annoyingly so. He was constantly at the top of your class, leading test scores by a mile. You weren’t stupid, not at all, but Jack was something else. You weren’t competition for him.

“Did you…” How do you ask a classmate if he planned to kill you? You swallowed hard, suddenly very nervous. “Did you bring me out here to - to get rid - ”

“Jesus Christ, [name],” he finally looked at you again, sitting up and resting his elbows on his outstretched legs. He looked horrified. “You think I agreed to drive you, took a shortcut, and sabotaged my truck to - to what? Kill you?”

“Then why did you agree to drive me?” You couldn’t wrap your head around it.

“Just drop it, ok?” He scrubbed a hand down his face, rubbing at his jaw and looking away.

“Just doesn’t make sense,” you were mumbling. You scanned him, reading the tension in his shoulders.

“Drop. It.” This was the most emotion you’d seen him exhibit in all four years you’d been in school together. His jaw was clenched.

In the flickering light, it was hard to tell if his cheeks were flushed from the rising heat of the fire or if he was actually blushing.

“No, I’m not going to drop it,” you finally had a chance to push his buttons, but you also wanted to know why he’d go out of his way to drive 12+ hours round trip if he wasn’t presenting or trying to network at the conference. “It doesn’t make sense.”

“I like you, alright?” He buried his face in his hands. “I’ve liked you for years. I wanted to do something nice for you. I wanted to spend time with you. I like being near you, I like talking to you when you’re not being a bitch - ”

“Don’t you fucking dare call me a bitch, Jack Abbot,” you were still trying to process his confession, the wheels in your brain turning at a snails pace.

“Fuck, fuck, you’re right. I’m so sorry, I’m fucking this up,” Jack took a deep breath, lifting his head to look at you. His expression was pained. “I like talking to you when you’re not trying to piss me off, and even when you are, I still enjoy it. You’re smart, you’re gorgeous - incredibly gorgeous. And we’re about to graduate soon, we’re both leaving for residency in a few months and I couldn’t - I couldn’t not say anything.”

You didn’t know how to respond. Jack paused for a moment at your silence, but then he carried on like he couldn’t stop.

“I practiced this whole little speech for the gala at the end of the weekend,” he laughed sardonically, running a hand through his curls. “I was gonna pull you to the side, somewhere pretty and romantic and tell you how amazing I thought you were, how beautiful you looked in whatever dress you brought. I was gonna ask you out on a date when we got back to Pittsburgh. And then I fucked it up. I swear, I didn’t know my truck was going to die.”

He was definitely blushing now. “And I didn’t take a shortcut. I went the long way around to get more time with you since I knew you’d ignore me as soon as we got to the hotel. But I really was trying to avoid traffic on the interstate! I just didn’t expect it to start snowing so hard.”

For a second, you were quiet. You still didn’t know how to respond, but words fell from your lips before you could stop them.

“The car ride back would have been awkward as fuck if I said no.”

Jack laughed, eyes crinkling as he shook his head. 

“Yeah, it would have been,” he sobered up, hope sparking in his eyes. “But I was willing to risk the humiliation if there was a chance you’d give me a shot.”

Would you have given him a shot? You didn’t know. For years you’d been so insistent that you hated him, but you couldn’t deny that you’d been attracted to him since day 1. You’d noticed him immediately at orientation, but you hadn’t gotten a chance to speak to him until the first randomly assigned group project in your cadaver lab. He’d been a know-it-all, correcting your technique with a scalpel, raising one of those condescending eyebrows and judging every move you’d made. It rubbed you the wrong way, and clouded your perception of him.

You’d written him off after that, but the two of you kept being forced together. Same professor assigned group projects, similar friend circles, same hospital rotations. Every interaction just reinforced your view of him. It pissed you off every time you caught him staring at you, every time he sat next to you in lectures, asked to share your notes, when he poked and prodded and teased you.

But everything looked very different with the knowledge that he’d been into you since the beginning. Now, he looked less like a piece of shit that wanted to torment you and more like a lovesick puppy that wanted your attention. Either way, it wasn’t a flattering look for him, but the latter option was much more forgivable than the former.

“So?”

You jumped, ripped out of your thoughts to find Jack staring at you again. 

“So…?”

“Do I get a chance?” He looked terrified of what your response would be.

“I - ” you didn’t know. Your mind was spinning, trying to parse out your feelings and figure out exactly how you were feeling about the situation.

“It’s ok if you don’t feel the same way,” his hand ran through his hair again, tugging at his curls as he went. “I get it, I’ve been a dick - ”

“No - I mean, yes you have been, but,” you took a deep breath. “I - I don’t know. I had no clue you felt this way. I’m just… trying to process this.”

“Ok, yeah, yeah that’s ok,” Jack was nodding, his eyes fixed on the floor. “Yeah, I mean, you don’t owe me an answer. And you can say no.”

He laughed again, but it was gruff and self deprecating.

“I swear I’m not going to kill you if you say no.”

“Gee, that makes me feel so much better.”

Both of you were quiet for a moment, and then you burst out laughing. A real laugh, not the sad imitation Jack had let out previously. You felt hysterical, the situation did not call for the intensity of the laughter spilling from you, but it did help to diffuse the tension that had been rising in the confined space.

When you were able to calm yourself, both of you gasping for breath and staring into the flames, your thoughts turned back to everything. You were hesitant to just accept, still struggling to reframe the last 3 ½ years now that you had more context. But you were curious. 

“If we live,” you broke the silence that had fallen over the room. “If we make it out of this fucking murder cabin, I’ll give you a chance.”

Jack snorted, a smile tugging at his lips.

“Then we better survive.”

The two of you sat there in front of the fire for a few more hours, passing bags of chips and candies back and forth, trying to make the time go by and conserve the batteries of your phones. You drifted in and out of conversation and silence. Surprisingly, you found yourself enjoying talking to him. For the first time since you’d been introduced, you had a pleasant conversation. Neither of you brought up his confession or your tentative acceptance.

Instead, you asked about him. And you learned a lot, shockingly. You knew the basics; he was a few months older than you, he was too smart for his own good, and he’d sold his soul to the Army and would be doing his residency at a military hospital. You almost envied the fact that he got to skip the stress of match day. Almost. You would absolutely not trade that stress in exchange for the next 10 years of your life.

Jack was from Maryland, and he was getting to go back to do his residency at Walter Reed. You saw his eyes light up with hope when you told him your first choice for residency was John Hopkins, but he didn’t say anything. You’d be pretty damn close to each other if you got lucky, but you didn’t dwell on that.

His first name was actually John, and he looked disgusted by it, but his expression softened when you laughed after he revealed he was actually John Andrew Abbot III. You pretended not to notice that, too.

You shared information of your own, also. Jack smiled when you told him about your childhood pets. He laughed when you told him silly stories from undergrad. He stayed quiet, letting you speak when you shared about struggling to make ends meet while still in school.

It endeared you but also pissed you off that he knew just how to react. He was empathetic and sweet when he wasn’t pushing your buttons.

You liked talking to Jack, you realized. You liked getting to know him.

The two of you had started yawning about an hour ago, but neither of you were ready to stop talking. It was only when the conversation finally lulled and you found yourself fighting against your increasingly heavy eyelids.

“We should get some sleep,” Jack was pushing himself up from the floor, dusting off his hands and sweats as he went. He extended a hand to you, and you found yourself not hesitating to take it, allowing him to pull you to your feet. His hand was warm and steady, and you found yourself fighting off a twinge of disappointment when he let go. “You can take the bed.”

“What? No,” there was only one bed in the one room cabin. It was so small, there wasn’t even room for a couch. The only other furniture in the space was a small kitchen table and two chairs, and a beaten up armchair covered by a thin white sheet. “Where are you going to sleep?”

He shrugged, shifting his duffel closer and moving the clothes in it around until he seemed satisfied with the shape. “Here, in front of the fire. I can make sure it keeps going all night.”

“No,” you grabbed his arm, stopping him from moving towards a small linen closet neither of you had bothered to peek into so far. “No, you’re not sleeping on the floor. We…” 

He raised an eyebrow, gaze flicking between your face and your hand still holding onto his bicep. You let go, taking a step back.

“We can share the bed,” you glanced over your shoulder. The bed was small, probably full sized. Just barely big enough to fit the two of you, although you’d have to scoot pretty close to the edge to avoid touching. 

“I’m not complaining about sharing a bed with you,” Jack looked at the bed too. “I think I’ve made myself clear about that - ”

You swallowed hard. You hadn’t let yourself think about that aspect of his confession. In fact, you’d beaten it back into the shadowy corners of your mind as aggressively as you could. You wouldn’t survive however long your confinement was going to be if you let yourself think about the more physical implications of Jack being into you.

 He looked down at you. The light from the fire was dancing across the planes of his face, knocking the breath out of your lungs with how ethereal he looked. He was handsome everyday, but he looked unreal in this lighting. 

“ - but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. You haven’t told me how you feel, and you haven’t agreed to go out with me - not that that means you have to… y’know…” he seemed to be struggling to find the words. He was blushing again. “Be… be that close to me.”

“I - ” you paused, searching for the right words. You really were starting to be willing to give him a chance, especially with how well your conversations had gone. And yes, fine, maybe you’d been physically attracted to him from the beginning, but when you’d found yourself in moments of weakness before, you’d imagined any sort of physical or intimate encounter being… well, not nearly so emotionally charged. In those late night fantasies, it was rough, aggressive, something born out of hate and frustration. But now, he looked nervous, his eyes soft and apprehensive. You once again didn’t know how to handle this type of interaction with him. 

So, you decided to be an adult about it. For fucks sake, you were 26. You could share a bed with a man who just confessed he’d been in love with you for years and who you’d been fantasizing about for just as long.

You cleared your throat, taking your hand off his arm. “We can share a bed without… without it being anything more.”

“Right, right, of course,” Jack let out a breath. “As long as you’re ok, then yeah.”

“Yeah,” you were a big fat liar. “It’ll be fine.”

So the two of you got ready for your doom. You gathered your toiletries as Jack threw a few more logs on the fire to hopefully keep it going all night.

The bathroom thankfully had running water, even if the rest of the cabin had no electricity, so you were able to take turns brushing your teeth. You went first, taking many deep breaths and giving yourself a silent pep talk in the small, dark room. 

“All yours!” Your smile and chipper attitude felt forced when you let him have his turn. You sat on the side of the bed with your bag, digging through it, searching for nothing to give your anxious hands something to do.

“You ready for bed?” 

Jack came out of the bathroom, crossing to the other side of the bed and starting to pull back the covers. You stook, giving him a nod and pulling back the ones on your side. Both of you slipped in silently.

“Good night,” Jack rolled over, his back to you, facing the front door.

You followed his lead, turning your back to him and trying to snuggle in underneath the thin blankets. “Good night.”

Jack’s pants and the residual warmth in your clothes from sitting in front of the fire for so long helped lull you to sleep, and quickly, you found yourself falling under.

When you woke, it was to a warm presence at your back and freezing air nipping at the exposed skin of your face. It was completely dark in the room, no light coming in through the windows or from the now extinguished fireplace.

You pushed back, chasing the heat behind you. That’s when you became aware of several things at once. 

That warmth behind you was Jack. The entire length of his body was pressed against yours and his arms were wrapped tightly around your waist, one above and one below, keeping you firmly in place. Those arms were underneath your sweatshirt, one palm resting just below your breasts and the other right above the waistband of your borrowed pants. His face was nuzzled in the crook of your neck, breath hot against the sensitive skin.

You tried to shift, to move out of his hold and restart the fire so that you didn’t have to confront exactly how hot the skin on skin contact was making you deep inside.

Jack didn’t let you move, though. His arm tightened around you, tugging you back against him even more firmly. That was when you really felt him. The hard length of his cock was pressed against your ass.

He was still asleep, but that didn’t stop his hips from grinding forward. You gasped, clenching your thighs together. Involuntarily, you pressed back against him again. His hand shifted up, sliding over your breast and loosely squeezing the flesh.

“Jack,” your voice was quiet and broken around another gasp as he pushed his length against your ass again.

He mumbled something incoherent, before squeezing your breast again. The hand on your stomach dipped lower, his fingers just beginning to slide underneath your bottoms.

You were existing between sleep and waking, half convinced this was some sort of extremely vivid dream.Your pulse was racing, hips pushing back to meet his at every sleepy movement. Both of you were breathing harder, the cold seemingly beaten back by the rising heat between you. 

“[Name],” you could just barely make out the slurred groan of your name breathed against your neck. It sparked even more heat in your core to hear him say your name.

“Jack?”

God, you sounded fucked out already. Jack’s hand was pushing even farther into your pants and under the shorts you wore beneath.

The first brush of his fingers over your folds had you whining, and that was when Jack finally woke up.

You felt him freeze behind you, his hands tightening on reflex, dragging his fingers through your folds and against your clit. It ripped an embarrassing moan out of you, your hips pushing back against his cock in response to the jolt of pleasure.

“[Name]?” Jack’s voice was sleepy and confused. 

“Jack,” you whined in response.

“Oh fuck,” he pulled back, hands leaving you. “Fuck, I’m so sorry.”

“Wait - ” but Jack wasn’t listening

“Fuck, I told you I wouldn’t try anything, I’m so fucking sorry. That - I can’t believe I did that. Fuck.”

“Jack, stop,” he was sitting up, elbows on his knees and hands in his hair. The heat in you died when you saw him so upset. “Jack, look at me.”

“I’m sorry - ”

“Stop apologizing,” you pushed him flat onto his back, swinging a leg over his hips and leaning over him. Your hair created a curtain, closing the two of you into a little bubble.

“But I - ”

“Shut up!”

And then you kissed him. He froze for a moment, but he quickly melted into you, his hands coming up to grab your waist. He let you lead for a moment, his lips following the slow, languid rhythm you set.

Until your tongue swiped over the seam of his lips. Then, his hold on you tightened and with a firm buck of his hips, he was rolling you onto your back. He settled between your legs, grinding his length against you as his tongue stroked against yours, licking into your mouth and swallowing the noises that leaked out of you. Your hands tangled in his hair, holding him to you.

“Fuck,” Jack pulled back, gasping for air. His forehead rested against yours. “Are you sure - ”

“Yes, I’m fucking sure,” you bucked your hips up against his, tugging on his hair as you did. He groaned, meeting your thrust. “Wanted this for a long time.”

“I thought you hated me,” Jack’s hand was slipping back underneath your sweatshirt to push it up. His thumb dragged over your newly exposed pebbled nipple.

“Yeah, I did,” your back arched, pushing your chest even further into his hand. “Doesn’t mean you’re not hot, though.”

“Yeah?” He was smirking, his lips ghosting over yours. “I’m just that irresistible?”

“Shut the fuck up,” you pressed your lips against his, drawing him into a filthy kiss. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him back down so you could chase your own pleasure with his body. One of your hands slipped under his shirt, dragging your nails down over his chest and abs.

He moaned, grabbing your hand on his chest and pinning it to the mattress beside your head. He broke the kiss, nipping at your lower lip as he went.

“Unless you want this to end way too soon, you better fucking stop that,” his voice was low and ragged, fingers flexing against your wrist.

“Stop what?” You wanted to both know exactly what was driving him crazy, and to play dumb and rile him up.

“Touching me,” he ducked his head, nipping and sucking at the skin of your neck. “Looking so fucking good underneath me, all of it.”

“See,” you bit back a whimper. “I don’t think you really want me to stop.”

Your back arched and your hips bucked up again as he sucked a dark mark into the skin below your jaw.

“I don’t, but I don’t want to cum in my pants, either,” he moved lower, to a new, unblemished patch of skin. “So either take your pants off or tell me to go take a cold shower.”

“Gotta let go of my hand first,” your teeth dug into your lower lip as he licked a stripe up your neck.

“Are you gonna keep it to yourself?” Jack pulled back to look down at you. You grinned back up at him and he rolled his eyes.

“No.”

He laughed, releasing you and sitting back on his knees between your spread thighs. His hands came down to the drawstring, undoing the bow at lightning speed, pushing the pants down your hips. Jack groaned as your shorts came back into view.

“These little fucking shorts,” he stripped the pants off you, lifting your legs into the air as he did. “Made me hard earlier.”

His hand trailed over your hip, brushing across the fabric until he was stroking a finger over your covered slit. Your teeth bit into your lip even harder to smother the whine that he was drawing out of you.

“You’re fucking soaked,” that little smile tugging at his lips was smug and self satisfied. He pressed into you a little harder, circling your covered clit through the spandex. “Is this all for me?”

“You’re an ass,” your teeth were gritted. Every circle he made had your hips twitching up, little sparks shooting from the light touch.

“I think you like that about me,” Jack’s hand left you for just a minute, long enough for it to slip beneath the waistband of your shorts. For the second time tonight, the first with both of you fully aware, his fingers dipped below your soaking folds.

Jack leaned forward, his unoccupied hand braced against the bed by your head. His eyes fixed on yours, chest heaving as he watched every shift of your face while his hand moved. He was exploring, teasing, fingers wandering through every soaked inch of you, the tips just barely dipping into your entrance and then moving back up to circle your clit.

“Fuck,” you were panting, trying to move your hips against his hand, guiding him to the right spot. But every time his fingers found where you needed him, he’d move them away, smiling as he worked you up.

“Jack, I swear to god, I’ll - ”

“You’ll what? Hmm?” He slowed to a stop, his index and middle finger sandwiching your clit between them, pressing down to keep you from rocking into them and chasing your pleasure. “C’mon, tell me what you’ll do.”

“If you don’t make me cum in the next 2 minutes,” his cocky demeanor made you want to simultaneously punch him and kiss him. You hated it, but it fueled the heat and desire curling low in your stomach. Judging from the hard length of him you can just barely make out through his sweats, he was enjoying it, too. “I’ll never let you touch me again.”

His face fell, hardening into determination. “Is that so?”

“Yes - ”

Jack’s fingers pressed directly against your clit, rapidly drawing tight circles around your clit. It was like an electric shock to your body after so much of his teasing. Your back arched, eyes falling shut as your moans filled the air.

“How’s that? Is that what you wanted?”

“Shut - fuck - shut up!”

You were impossibly close, already wound so tightly that you were dangerously close to snapping beneath him.

“I thought you liked it when I was a dick?” Jack leaned even farther over you, his lips closing around your nipple, flicking the bud with his tongue and scraping over it with his teeth. 

“Stop fucking talking, Jack!” You felt him laugh against your skin, sending vibrations through your breast. 

Your hand tangled in his hair, yanking at the strands. He groaned, switching to your other breast and sucking hard.

You cracked, thighs trying to snap closed around his hand and hips. He didn’t let you, pushing his body even farther into yours to keep them open as he worked you through it. Your legs shook and your hips jerked against his fingers that were still going, drawing even more tremors and cries out of your lips.

You writhed beneath him, forced to let each wave crash over you as Jack held you through it.

“Fuck - no more,” it was nearly impossible to get air into your lungs, but as the sensations died down and overstimulation, Jack backed off.

He pushed back up, easing his hand out of your shorts. He let you breath for a moment, his hands rubbing over your thighs until their trembling slowed to a stop.

“You good?”

“Yeah,” your voice was breathy.

“Can I fuck you now?” 

You cracked your eyes open to look at Jack. There was a small wet patch on his sweats, right over the head of his cock. Fuck, he looked long and thick.

“Yes, please,” your hands found the waistband of your shorts, pushing them down.

Jack laughed, his hands joining yours to help remove the shorts from your legs. 

“I should have made you cum 3 years ago,” he threw the shorts over his shoulder once he got them free from your ankles. “So nice and polite.”

“Shut up and get naked, asshole,” you sat up, reaching for his sweats, tugging them down his hips. 

Suddenly, you were face to face with his cock. He was bigger than you though. The flushed length of his cock slapped against his stomach when it was freed, the leaking head smearing clear fluid against his abs.

You couldn’t help yourself. You leaned forward, licking a stripe up the length from base to tip. The skin was smooth and soft, his cock twitching beneath your touch.

“Fuck!” Jack’s hand grabbed your hair, pulled your head back and away from him as he hissed. “Don’t do that. You’re gonna make me cum.”

“Isn’t that the goal of sex?” You smiled up at him, straining against the hold he had on you to try and get your tongue back on him. 

“Yeah, but I’m trying not to embarrass myself and end this way too soon,” Jack guided you by your hair, easing you down onto your back again. “You can blow me later, right now, I think I might die if I don’t get inside you.”

“Then hurry up,” you lifted your legs, hooking them around his waist and pulling him down onto you.

“Alright, alright,” Jack slipped a hand between your bodies, grabbing himself by the base. You forced yourself to breathe as his tip swiped through your folds, coating his cock in your fluids before he was lining himself up. He pressed in slowly. You felt yourself part around him, your walls stretching around the crown of his head. You were impossibly full, and he was barely in you.

He kept pushing in, both of you panting and looking down, eyes locked on where you were joined. You didn’t think you could take anymore, but he kept going, your walls sucking him in and pulling him into your depths.

“Fuck,” your head dropped back when he bottomed out. He ground forward, staying fully seated inside you and letting you adjust.

“Oh shit,” Jack sat up between your legs, hands gripping your hips, keeping them pressed fully against his. The shift in angle had you keening. “Look at that.”

Your eyes cracked open, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

“Can fucking see myself, holy shit,” one of his hands left your hips, tracing around the very visible sight of his cock outlined in your lower stomach. You were transfixed, watching with bated breath as his fingertips brushed against your skin. Goosebumps broke out across your body at the sensation.

“I wonder…” Jack trailed off, eyes still focused on your stomach. His hand moved, gently laying over the outline of his cock. He let it sit there for just a moment, palming his length through your skin.

And then he pushed down. 

Both of you cried out at once. You’d already felt full, but the added pressure of his hand made his length feel even bigger. He was everywhere, completely consuming you from the inside out.

“Holy fuck!” His hips jerked into you, snapping against a spot deep inside you that had you arching in his hold.

“Oh fuck, Jack!”

“Yeah? You feel that?” Jack started moving, his hips withdrawing and punching back into you, rapidly working his way up to a punishing pace. You couldn’t answer with words. He was pushing the breath out of your lungs with every thrust. “God, you’re so full of me, baby.”

And then Jack hiked your legs up over his shoulders, releasing the pressure on your stomach in exchange for keeping your thighs pressed tight to his chest. It opened you up even more to him.

“Oh my god,” Jack bent forward, burying his face back in your neck, pushing your legs into your chest, folding you in half. He was rutting into you, groaning as he chased his pleasure.

You were getting close again, too. Every thrust had the neatly trimmed hairs at the base of his cock grinding over your clit as his tip slammed home against your g-spot. Your eyes were closed, lost in the pleasure. You couldn’t move, completely pinned beneath him and forced to take the overwhelming pleasure.

“Jack! Please!” Your hand tangled in his hair again, holding the strands tightly. It was your only lifeline and you used it to tether yourself to reality. 

“Oh fuck,” Jack was panting into the skin of your shoulder. “Fuck, I’m close. C’mon, cum for me. Please, need to feel you.”

You were so close, only a hair's breadth from your peak.

When Jack bit down on your shoulder and his hips stuttered, you came again. You clamped around him, walls spasming and squeezing while he rutted even deeper into you. Jack was groaning your name while he spilled deep inside of you. The hot pusles of his release propelled your own, the two of you pushing each other even higher.

He finally let go of your legs, helping to ease them down until they were resting on the mattress on either side of his hips. He didn’t move to pull out, though. The two of you stayed wrapped around each other, his softening length buried inside you, until the cold was too much to bear.

“So,” Jack gingerly climbed off of you, the cold air rushing in. “Can I take you on a real date now?”

“If you get me a washcloth to clean up with and get the fire started, I’ll marry you as soon as we get out of here,” you were shivering now.

Jack grinned, leaning back down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Promise?” 

Tonight was somehow worse, Jack had invited the crew over, a barbeque to celebrate the halfway point of summer. You were all for fun and games, but this meant you had to tone down the flirting, drag your eyes off him when all you wanted to do was watch him all night, resist the magnetic pull he seemed to have hypnotised you with. Even just one second too long of a lingering glance and everyone would have a field day, pushing the two of you together like awkward chess pieces coupled with relentless hours of teasing, prodding for personal information that you certainly didn’t want to give away.

Nevertheless, the evening was going smoothly and as the sun disappeared, stars taking over the dark sky, you did what any good houseguest would do and discreetly started to tidy up. Finally slipping inside with a small stack of dishes, away from prying eyes, away from the temptation, inside, where it almost felt like you could breathe properly again. 

Over at the barbeque, Jack stacked up the last of the grilled pineapple onto a serving platter before turning off the grill and officially shutting it down for the night. He announced dessert, a tub of ice cream in his other hand as he placed both down on the patio table, unsurprised at the speed the tipsy medical staff lunged for it. He took the opportunity of empty chairs and side tables to clear a handful of things, keeping up now meant less to deal with in the morning.

Jack stepped through the sliding glass door, pulling it shut behind him with one hand, small stack of plates in the other. Two steps into the house and he found you in the kitchen, facing the sink with the water running.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, a small grin in his voice and you glanced over your shoulder.

“Cleaning as I go.” You replied with a smile, placing a chip bowl in the drying rack, “less mess to deal with later.”

He crossed the room, slipping the plates into the sink, “I thought cleaning was the party hosts job.”

You chuckled, “you’re letting me stay here for free for an undetermined amount of time, it’s the least I can do.”

“You remember there’s a dishwasher, right?” He asked with a tease, leaning against the counter beside you and you playfully rolled your eyes.

“Already running. It was mostly full of dishes from the week.” You wiped and rinsed one of the plates he’d brought in, “go back out.” You nodded toward the door, “hang out with the team.”

“I’ve been hanging out with those idiots for long enough,” he inched closer, determined to make this happen tonight, you’d both been waiting long enough, “can’t I wanna hang out with a pretty girl instead?”

Your cheeks warmed, a flush creeping its way up the back of your neck as you let out a small laugh, “I’m almost done.” You rinsed the last plate, pulling the plug on the sink and he instinctively reached for the towel looped around the oven handle, wordlessly passing it off so you could dry your hands, “I was just gonna put the dry stuff away and come back out.”

“Let me help.” He offered and you shrugged in response, not really wanting to send him away quite yet.

Jack’s hand caught yours and your heart leapt into your throat, you’d been playing this game all week and for the briefest second you thought he was about to pull you to him. Instead, the towel slid through your fingers and he turned on his heel to fold it back over the oven handle. 

You let out a low breath, turning back to the dish rack in an attempt to distract yourself and calm your racing heart. The glassware and cup cupboard was in front of you so you started with that, coffee mugs from that morning on the first shelf, shorter glasses on the middle one and the taller cups on the third and highest shelf. 

When he turned back from the cutlery drawer Jack let out a small laugh at the sight of you teetering on the tips of your toes attempting to put away a cup on the tallest shelf. He stepped up behind you, a palm flattening across the small of your back as if to steady you as he reached around you with his other hand to pluck the glass from your fingers. 

“Here.” He murmured, placing the glass onto its shelf with ease, almost unintentionally caging you into the counter. 

He hadn’t meant to linger but the smell of your shampoo invaded his senses once he’d stepped up to you, warmth wafting between your bodies and he no longer wanted to move, he wanted to breathe you in for as long as he could. You dropped back down onto flat feet, bringing the top of your head to just under his chin, if he tilted his face barely an inch he could brush a kiss to your hair. The hand he had on your back twitched, fingers daring to curl around your waist, thumb brushing the exposed skin between your shirt and shorts. 

Bracing your hands on the counter you took a breath; this was doing nothing for your blood pressure. You could feel the heat coming off his body, his fingers resting on your skin, his warm breath on the shell of your ear. You slowly spun yourself around, daring to look up at him, 

“Jack… what’re you doing?”

“What I’ve been waiting for all week.” The hand not on your waist lifted, curling under your chin, tilting your face up to him and after a brief second to let you pull away if you wanted, he leant down, pressing your lips together in a chaste kiss.

Your hands flew to his shoulders instantly, one gripping into his shirt, keeping him where he was and deepening the kiss. The thundering in your chest had turned to fireworks, leaping through your entire body, dancing their way through your limbs, tingling through your fingers and surging their way into his skin. The hand he had on your waist slid around, arm circling and pulling you closer together as your lips continued to move with grace against one another. It was only when a loud laugh echoed through the room from the back yard that you pulled apart, frozen in time, eyes pouring into each other as you waited for another sound announcing someone coming inside yet were met with nothing.

“You’ve been waiting all week to kiss me?” Your lips curved up into a grin and he let out a small laugh. 

“It’s been driving me crazy all night to not be able to.” Jack hand slid up your back, “to not have my hands on you, not have you in my lap out there.”

“Good.” Your eyebrow raised in a tease, “cause I’ve been waiting since that first night after the movies. So you better be planning on doing it again.”

“Oh I am.” It was his turn to grin before he stole another kiss, this one longer than the first. 

Jack’s arms tightened around you when you practically melted into him, his confidence growing with just how much you were enjoying it. He never wanted to stop, he wanted more, wanted to know what his mouth felt like ghosting over every inch of your skin, wanted to know what your pillowy lips felt like other places on his body. When your lips parted in a dreamy sigh he took his chance, tongue plunging into your mouth and he couldn’t help but groan. You tasted like the fruity punch of your seltzer, a hint of vanilla from one of the after dinner treats. You tasted like heaven and he couldn’t get enough.

When you finally pulled away your lips were kiss swollen and parted just enough for your panting breaths to escape, “Christ.” You muttered, feeling far more fuzzy headed than you had from any of the drinks, you weren’t sure you were going to be able to find the words to properly convey your thoughts. 

Jack chuckled, leaving a kiss on the tip of your nose, “m’not stopping anytime soon either.” 

His nose nudged at your cheek, turning your face to the side and he kissed your jaw, brushed his lips just under your ear. The hand on your cheek shifted to your nape, fingers trailing up and down your spine, tangling into your hair and he turned your head further. He kissed the side of your neck, eagerly sucking at the sensitive skin, pulling a gasp from you. 

“Shit…” Your hand fisted his shirt, body arching into his.

“So sensitive.” He murmured with a smirk, his breath hot on your neck and you let out a little whimper that made him weak. “Christ baby.”

Jack pressed his lips into your neck again, leaving wet kisses up and down the column of supple skin until you let out a shiver and his teeth sunk into the crook of your neck. His hand slid further up into the roots of your hair, fingers threading around locks before pulling. 

“Jack…” You groaned, a pulsing shooting through your body.

A smirk on his lips, his tongue laved over the bite mark before he did both movements again, but this time harder, tugging on your hair until your head was rolling back and your eyes were fluttering shut with a soft moan. 

“If you keep doing that, I’m going to ruin my underwear.” You whined.

It was Jack’s turn to let out a low groan, blood soaring south and he nipped at your neck in retaliation, relishing in the way you shuddered in his arms.

“I’m serious.” You gasped, fingers clawing at his shoulders, digging into his skin through his shirt.

When he pulled away from the crook of your neck, hand trailing up and down your nape he caught you panting, pupils blown and a surge of need burst through him. His mouth ran dry at the way you were looking at him and he wanted to fucking eat you alive right then and there.

“You have company, we can’t exactly both disappear for twenty minutes.” You pointed out, as if you could read his mind and he tilted his head to the side. 

“Not without them figuring out exactly what we were doing.” He chuckled, a playful darkness shifting into his eyes, “and I need far more than twenty minutes with you.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss you again as his hand slid down your side, gently squeezing your ass before circling to the front and sneaking up your thigh. “But if you’re gonna ruin ‘em anyways, I may as well check right now.”

Smirk on his lips Jack snuck his hand under your loose shorts and when his thumb pressed into your pussy through your underwear you gasped, hand flying over your mouth in an attempt to stay quiet. He chuckled, rubbing his thumb up and down the length of your heat, pressing the fabric into the patch of wetness dripping out. 

“Jerk.” You muttered, hips jumping toward his touch and you couldn’t help but let out another whimper that made his cock twitch. 

“I was planning on playing nice.” He pressed a kiss to the other side of your neck, “but then you started making all those pretty noises.” His thumb brushed up, circling your clit and you mewled, knees nearly buckling. He looped an arm around your waist again, holding you tight to him as he continued to brush his thumb over the wet spot on your underwear, “yeah, like that one.” His teeth nipped into your neck and your nails started to dig into his shoulders, “y’know, I’m starting to think I could make you come without even really touching you.”

You were trying to come up with an insult, a comeback, honestly anything at this point before your body proved him entirely right when there was a sudden yell from the backyard, this one louder and much closer to the door, footsteps approaching. You whipped around to face the sink again, flinging the tap on like your life depended on it. In one smooth movement, Jack stepped to the side, grabbing the dish towel and sliding two already clean plates back into the sink to go along with your charade. 

“You know we coulda helped with that.” Dana greeted, moving into the kitchen to dump a handful of empties into the recycle. 

“Almost done.” Jack replied, glancing over his shoulder with a grin, “but thanks.”

“Yeah, you got any more of those ciders? McKay wanted a couple more.”

“Garage fridge. There’s some more Sam Adams out there too.” 

“Great, thanks.”

A second later Dana was gone, the glass door sliding shut again and you let out a low breath, gripping the edge of the sink. Jack chuckled, moving the plates back into the drying rack. His hand rubbed across the small of your back when he moved past to put the towel back, sending tingles shooting through your body again. 

“I swear to God, Abbot, if you don’t fuck me tonight, you’re dead to me.”

A pulse shot through his body and the next thing you knew he was caging your into the counter again, breath hot on the back of your neck as his body pressed against you. 

“Baby the second they’re out the door I’m gonna have my hands all over you.” His arm wound around you, fingers splaying out across your stomach, “need to feel just how wet that pussy’s been all night for me.” He kissed the side of your neck, “wanna taste you, eat you out until you can’t handle it anymore and are begging for my cock.” He ground his hips against your ass and you could feel him, half hard already, “hell I’ll bend you over the counter and take you right here.”

With another roll of his hips your breath caught in your throat, hips clashing into the counter and suddenly a gust of cool air hit your back when Jack stepped away, smirk on his face.

“You’re a jackass.” You fought back a laugh, watching as he pulled open the fridge to grab a beer for himself before pulling out a seltzer.

“Want one? You look like you could use a cold drink.”

____________

“Meatball! Where are you, my little baby?" You called for your cat as soon as you got home.

He had the audacity to rebel against your wishes to be an indoor cat, always finding the way to scape.

"Spoiled cat” you murmured while you kept turning your place upside down to find him.

Your cat is a beautifully colored Siamese cat, adopted and spoiled. He's your whole world and you love him deeply but he gets in your nerves too easily.

First time cat mom and your fur baby kept refusing to listen and stay in the safeness and comfort of your home.

You looked everywhere he liked to hide on before panicking. You don't have a clue how he escaped, you made sure to close every door and window before going to work.

While checking windows and doors you realized you had left the door to your balcony with only the screen door closed. Same one that now had a big hole made by the little paws of your demon cat.

“Shit" you murmured while you stepped into the balcony, looking for any trace of your cat.

You caught sight of his tail as he entered your neighbor's apartment. You were going to strangle that cat.

Unfortunately, you knew nothing of your next door neighbor except that he was a doctor and apparently worked nights. Or that's what another neighbor had told you.

Oh, right. He works nights so he probably will be sleeping…. shit.

With a resigned sigh, you knew you had to wake up your neighbor to get your cat. That was if the little shit hadn't woken him up already, he had the habit to wanting cuddles when everyone was sleeping and he wasn't known for his patience.

Before leaving your house you grabbed your keys and a handful of buttercream cookies you had baked last night, hoping they were enough apology to your neighbor.

Once in front of the door of your neighbor's apartment you took a few breaths— you were not good at talking with people you didn't knew beforehand— before ringing the bell and waiting patiently for him to open the door.

A few minutes went by before hearing the door open and being greeted with the sight of your very handsome very shirtless neighbor. His hair was in all directions and his face showed he was asleep before you interrupted him.

Oh, and he was carrying your very big very fat cat like he was a baby. And the fucker was purring.

“Hello, may I help you?" He asked seeing your dumbfounded expression, yet his voice was somewhat kind.

You blinked a few times before forcing yourself to look away from him "Uh, yes. Dr. Abbot, right?” you pointed towards your door "I think that's my cat”

He hummed, observing your flustered expression while leaning against the threshold, still carrying your cat. "Call me Jack” He offered, his voice friendly “And yes, I had the suspicion that it was from one of my neighbors"

You raised your eyes to met his, a frown set on your forehead "Meatball looks like he's too comfortable”

I would he too if I was carried in those arms

Your neighbor smiled at you with humor. "Meatball, huh? I have been calling him Greg”

"Greg? Huh, I guess he does resemble a Greg” You murmured softly before glancing down at the cookies you were holding "Oh, these are for you”

He blinked at you, then followed your like of sight. "Oh, you didn't have to.”

You waved him off "I wanted to, it's kind of an apology for finding my cat"

“I think that Meatball was the one who found me” Jack replied with amusement “Come on in so I can put him down" He offered.

You nodded, entering and closing the door after you. Once he put your cat down, you handed him the cookies.

"These look delicious" the corner of Jack's mouth started to water at the sight of the cookies.

Staring down, you observed how your cat was meowing and practically asking for Jack to pick him up once again.

"He didn't wake you, did he?” You asked mortified when you remembered how spoiled by you he was and seeing that he had taken a liking to your neighbor…

Your neighbor merely shrugged with a small smile “He wanted cuddles, apparently"

A groan left your lips "I'm sorry, he's a bit spoiled and likes his cuddles”

A smile curled in his lips “No worries, he's a cute little fella"

“You could say that" you murmured under your breath.

A laugh cut through the silence in the room, soft and breathy "And Meatball owner's name?”

Eyes snapping up to him, you muttered your name shyly.

“Jack Abbott" He introduced himself “About time we know each other, we're next door neighbors"

“I agree" you smiled at him “Though I must admit I'm not the most friendly person, contrary to that little shit" you pointed at your cat who was trying to get Jack's attention.

Your very handsome neighbor only laughed at your description of Meatball. He could tell it all was rough love, hearing the tenderness in your voice.

“You work nights, right?" You asked him, earning a nod from him “That's why we haven't met, I usually get to my place after work and crash until next day”

“Makes sense" He hummed softly, staring at you with interest. "But now we know each other, thanks to Meatball”

You chuckled softly, he was right. “Well, apparently he likes you because he is ignoring me right now and asking for you to pick him up"

He leaned down with a smile, scratching between Meatball's ears earning a satisfied purr. “He's cute and… big”

“You can say it, he's fat" You shrugged softly “I don't have a clue why, I have him on a strict regime"

Jack looked at you with a teasing smile "Are you fat shaming your cat?”

Squirting at him, you repressed a laugh “I'm saying a fact. He's big and fat and mean"

“He's adorable" Jack defended your cat.

“That too" you agreed with a smile. You were glad that your neighbor was nice and wasn't mad at you for not controlling your cat.

The two of you stared at each other for a few moments, a smile on both of your faces, before breaking out of the haze.

“Shit, I'm keeping you while you probably should be sleeping or getting ready for your shift" You blurted out, realizing you might be imposing.

He waved you off "I have a few hours until I have to be on my way to my shift. Sit, let's eat these delicious looking cookies you brought”

You chuckled softly “I don't want to impose, I should leave—"

He raised a hand, stopping your excuses “If you have nothing to do, stay and have a cookie."

Jack was giving you an out, yet you didn't want to go, he intrigued you.

With a sigh, you relented “Alright, alright"

That's how you ended up staying most of your afternoon in his place, talking and eating your cookies. It was cut short because he had to work, but before you left he made you promise to bake him more cookies.

You accepted, of course. Also, you had the feeling that Meatball was going to find his way to his apartment again.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

The next time you saw him was in your day off, it was early in the morning, way too early for someone like you who didn't like mornings.

You were deep cleaning and throwing a bunch of stuff you didn't need into trash bags. And you had a lot of it.

Once you had everything you needed to get to the containers, you made an escape plan. Yes, escape plan because your cat would bolt out the door as soon as you opened it. Unfortunately, you were not quick enough and the little shit beat you to it, sprinting out the door.

“Meatball!" You groaned and followed him, trying to catch him but he was fast for such an oversized cat.

He was fast and slippery, quickly tiring you out before sprinting on the opposite direction. Rounding a corner on the hall and towards the flights of stairs, and then you saw Meatball jump into someone's arms. Jack's.

"Oh. Hey, Meatball” Jack was quick to adjust the cat in his arms, watching as you breathlessly stopped in front of him. “Jail break?"

You stood in front of him, trying to regulate your breathing "Yeah”

“I have the feeling that Meatball doesn't like being in your apartment" He pointed out teasingly.

You sighed heavily “Too bad, he's an interior cat"

Jack merely hummed, amusement lacing his face.

Looking at him— really looking— you realized he was wearing scrubs, shifting the weight from one leg to another. "Coming home from work?”

“Yes, shift rang long" He was now distracted petting your cat.

You responded with a hum, staring to walk towards your apartments and away from the stairs and possible freedom of your cat.

Stopping by your door, Jack could see that you had something going on. “Cleaning day?" He asked you, his eyebrows raised.

"Deep cleaning day” You corrected him "That's how this Tasmanian devil escaped, he ran out the door when I was trying to get these to the container” you pointed towards the big trash bags.

He blinked at you, still holding your cat who was very happy to be held by him "Seems like you take cleaning very seriously”

“Something like that" You murmured, now realizing what a mess you had made with your idea of deep cleaning. "Anyway, let me take this one off your hands so you can go rest”

Meatball hissed angrily when you tried to take him from Jack.

With a frown, you pointed at your cat with your index finger "Meatball, don't hiss”

He responded by slapping your finger with his paw before melting onto Jack, who was grinning while trying to suppress a laugh.

“Do you want a cat?" You asked your neighbor with a dead ass expression "It's free, I'll throw in 20 dollars if you accept”

Jack was now full on laughing, shaking his head "Nah, he's all yours”

"50 dollars, then”

“Tempting" Jack answered with a smile “Still no"

You huffed, glaring at your cat "Seems like the fucker adopted you”

Jack frowned at your words “Adopted me?”

“Yes” you answered with a firm nod "It happens, they pick their favorite human”

“Wouldn't that be you?" Jack tilted his head in confusion.

"No, I am only the human that feeds him and keeps him alive” You rolled your eyes at your cat "You're his favorite human now.”

“I guess that is… good?” He asked softly, not fully understanding what you meant.

You gave him an amused glance "You're not much of a cat person, are you?”

He shook his head bashfully “Not really, no. I've always been more a dog person"

With a chuckle, you nodded "You have that vibe about you, yeah. Doesn't matter now cause you officially been adopted by my cat"

Jack gave you a doubtful glance "Didn't he adopt you too?”

“Nope, I adopted him, he adopted you" You shrugged “Weirdly enough"

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

That's how you started making friends with your next door neighbor, through your cat.

Meatball seemed to love Jack, always scratching the door when he would hear him arrive or pass by your door while you tried to explain to him that it was way too early for him to he planning mischief.

Though your cat did not care for any of your chiding, looking for a way to get to Jack. It was official, Meatball had adopted Jack.

The doorbell rang a little too early for your taste on day. Opening one eye, you glanced at your clock, seeing it was a little past 7:30 in the morning. Yes, you had to be starting to get ready for work in about 20 minutes if you wanted to leave on time but those were minutes you liked to get of sleep.

With a groan you threw your blankets off you, grabbing a robe and putting it on before moving to answer the door.

There, you found Jack with Meatball lounging comfortably in his arms. You didn't even know when had Meatball escaped from the comfort of your home but seemed like the little demon wanted to always be with Jack.

You sighed heavily “Hi, Jack"

He smiled at your disheveled appearance "Hi. Meatball was sleeping on my couch and I thought you might want him back”

You opened the door for him to step in. “Offer still stands, get the cat and 50 dollars"

He chuckled, putting Meatball down "I think it is a hard pass still. He would grow lonely”

You smiled at him, going into the kitchen to serve Meatball his breakfast. “I don't know how you work nights" You commented.

Jack shrugged, following you to keep the conversation through the kitchen threshold "My therapist says I find comfort in the darkness”

Huh, that sounded about right.

"Overrated”

You scoffed softly "There is nothing in the world I love most than sleeping. I think I was a mite in a past life"

“And what about sleep?"

That got him to chuckle “Very unlikely but I know what you mean"

You saw Jack grab a cookie from the plate on your kitchen counter. After the first bite, he let out a sound of agreement. "These are delicious. New recipe?”

It was endearing how much Jack loved your baked goods and how he always complimented you. It was not helping you to avoid having a crush with your neighbor.

You hummed with a smile “They have a tiny bit of lavender"

He pointed at you "Delicious. I'm going to get big only by eating what you bake”

With a chuckle, you grabbed the plate, putting a few on a container "You are not. You exercise and do yoga and a lot of shit, you’re safe”

He took the container once you handed it to him “Maybe, but still."

"If you don't want it…" you started, reaching for the container.

Playfully, he pushed your hand away “No, no. I want cookies"

“That's what I thought" you smiled at him before glancing at your clock. "Oh, shit. It's late, I have to get ready for work”

He smiled at you, grabbing the container so he could leave "I'll see you around. Have a good day at work”

“Thank you for bringing Meatball" You returned his smile “I owe you"

Jack showed you the cookies “Payment enough. I'll let myself out, you do what you have to"

“Bye, Jack. Thank you so much" You said, already making your way to your room to get ready.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

A few weeks passed by before you saw Jack again, yet this time it was you seeking for him.

You knocked on his door, a big plate full with a variety of sweets in your hands while you waited for him to open the door.

Once he opened the door, he smiled when he saw you. "Well, hello”

You gave him a sheepish smile "Hi, Jack"

He rested his weight on the doorframe, staring at you with suspicion “I'm guessing those sweets are to convince me of something"

"I always give you baked goods!” You defended yourself before sighing "But this time I do need something”

With a chuckle, Jack invited you in. Once the two of you were comfortably sitting, he asked “Shoot. What do you need, Sweetheart?"

Sweetheart? He's calling me sweetheart? Oh, I'm going to swoon. Dramatically.

You blinked at him "Sweetheart?”

He nodded “Sweetheart"

You shook your head, letting it go for the moment "Alright, so I need a big favor to ask you”

“Didn't know we were on the stage of asking big favors" Jack smirk showed when he said that.

“Didn't know we were on the sweetheart stage” You threw back.

“Touché. What's the big favor?"

At that, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself "I need to know if you could be my cat-sitter for a couple of days?”

He raised his eyebrows at that "Cat-sitter?”

“Yes, I need to get out of the city for a few days and as much as I'd like to take him with me, I can't" You explained, your tone desperate.

"Everything okay?” came Jack's question.

Wait, he looked… worried? He's not helping my dumb heart.

You sighed heavily “Yeah, it's just kind of a family thing and I don't have a place adapted for Meatball at my parent's house, besides he always get too nervous when traveling"

“Your parents live far?”

“Three hours by car" you answered “and I'm driving all the way there. Meatball definitely won't last that long in his carrier. I usually leave him with a friend but she has a newborn now and you're my last budget friendly option"

It was obvious you almost blurted out that information, seemingly talking fast when you were nervous or anxious.

He was staring at you with a tinkle in his eyes "You really know how to talk a lot without breathing, don't you?"

You left out a groan “Jack! Focus, please"

Jack raised his hands in innocence “Alright, alright. I think I can manage with Meatball"

"Really?” You asked him, relieved "Oh, I will he in debt with you forever”

"When are you leaving?”

"In three days” You answered softly "I will write down everything you need to know and I'll bring you everything you need” Giving a look around his place, you dared to ask "Would you mind if he stays in your apartment? It's just that he gets clingy"

He nodded "Yeah, no problem. Besides, I think it'll be better that way”

"You're my savior” Relief laced your words.

Jack pointed at you "You owe me a lot of baked goods”

"Of course” the sigh that left your lips was one of pure relief and you could tell Jack was finding it amusing “Thank you so, so much"

Your stress was quickly replaced with relief, you could not let your baby be alone and Jack seemed like the logic options since Meatball loved him a lot. You were doubtful of asking him to cats sit, but he was your last resort and you didn't have the money to spend on a hotel for pets, they were too expensive and you were a tiny bit distrustful about how complete strangers would treat Meatball. So that was a no.

…

"… and you call me if something seems slightly off with him, so I can call the vet and—”

Jack put his hands on your shoulders, leveling his gaze to yours “I have it under control, Sweetheart."

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your nerves “Sorry, I tend to get anxious"

Rubbing your shoulders, he shot you a smile "I assure you, Meatball is in great hands”

Looking at said cat, he was comfortably laying on Jack's couch, without a care in the world.

Jack Abbot is very aware of the fact that you are overly protective of Meatball, he can see it in the constant worry etched into your face anytime he doesn't eat his full plate of food or meows the wrong way. Jack has spent enough time around you and your cat to know when something is off in your eyes regarding Meatball.

"You're right, I'm being a lot right now”

He chuckled softly "You're just worried, it's normal. He's your baby” Jack pointed towards Meatball, who was sleeping belly up, a very good signal that he was comfortable with Jack around.

Looking down at your clock, you let out a sigh “I think it's time for me to go"

"Everything will be fine” He said slowly, reassuring you once again. He was being too patient with you. "Text me when you get there, okay?”

"Of course” you nodded, making your way to say goodbye to Meatball.

Feeling you near, Meatball opened his eyes, looking at you with curiosity before letting out a little meow, asking for you to pet him.

You peppered kisses on his little head "I love you so much, little shit. Be good for Jack” with wack kiss to your cat you murmured your words, asking him to behave.

Once you were a bit satisfied you stood upright, moving towards the door, opening it but not quite leaving yet.

"Last thing, he likes his food served far from his water—”

“… and at certain hour, I know” Jack was confirming everything you had told him, patiently.

“— he has to have a little play time or he gets angsty—"

"…Yes, 20 minutes everyday is the minimum”

“— he will wake you up for cuddles almost always, he's clingy like that—" you kept on rambling.

"… but if I'm tired I should keep his mouse toy close so he could focus on it instead, yes”

"— he can have two treats each day, if he behaves—”

“…not more than two, I am aware”

“—also, he doesn't like to eat alone so you must—"

"…put his bowl next to where I eat and eat with him. I know"

You squinted at him, realizing he had indeed listened to you. “Okay, you have everything under control. I'll leave"

He smiled at you, getting closer to bid you goodbye “Drive safe, we will see you in a week"

With a reluctant sigh, and without really thinking about it, you moved to kiss his cheek "You're the best, see you”

Jack saw how you left after that, standing frozen in place while his heart was beating so fast because of a little kiss on the cheek. God, you were going to be the end of him.

The days passed and there was not a single day when you wouldn't be texting him or calling him to know if Meatball was okay.

…

Neither of you would admit it, but the calls and texts were the best part of both of your days.

It was becoming increasingly hard to ignore the crush you had on your neighbor yet you couldn't bring yourself to be forward with your feelings. Besides, what if Jack didn't feel the same? You only knew each other recently and most of your conversations happened because of your cat or the sweet treats you gave him.

Jack Abbot was not fairing better than you, he could not stop thinking about the owner of the cat he was sitting. You had come into his life full of chaos and comfort and now he could not dare to think about a life without your cat, sweet treats and you in it.

Shit, thinking about it, maybe you do look like a schoolgirl with a crush.

On the last day before going back to Pittsburgh, you called Jack two hours before he was to start his shift, knowing his schedule almost by memory.

The phone rang two times before Jack picked up. “Hello, Sweetheart”

Shit. Fuck. You could not let his voice affect you the way it does.

“Hi, Jack" You answered into the phone while packing your bags. “How's my baby?"

You could hear movement on the other side along with the chuckle that left his lips “He's okay, asking very loudly for treats”

A laugh left your lips at that. Even in the distance, you knew your cat and how spoiled he was “Yep, that's my baby. Means he's okay, though"

Jack hummed and you could hear the smile in his lips "I must admit, Meatball is a tiny bit spoiled”

“Try very spoiled" You rolled your eyes “I thought he was going to take harder the fact that I was not around but I think he's doing pretty good" A pause “I don't know if I should feel relieved or offended"

“If it's any consolation, he was trying to scape earlier"

“Sadly, it's not. Meatball keep refusing to a life of luxury, full meals and a warm bed." You didn't know what else to do for that cat to understand he had it nice and he doesn't appreciate it.

"He wants to experiment, be a bad boy and find love” Jack's voice was full of amusement. He loved those little chats were both you and him left your minds fly free, grateful that you understood his humor.

"Don't we all” You murmured, trying to remember if you were forgotten to pack anything.

"What? Find love?” Jack asked you while laying on his bed, your cat by his side.

"Yeah” You answered, your mind still preoccupied "I mean, I love love but I can't seem to find it”

His heart ached at the thought of you not finding the love you deserved “You’ll find it, I'm sure of it"

“How can you be so sure?" You asked him, now flopping into your bed. “I've been single almost my entire life"

"Good things comes to those who wait”

“Then I'm getting the fucking best of what love has to offer" Humor was lacing your words.

Yes, you were a little skeptical of the ways life worked.

“Be patient, I'm sure it's in the way" He tried to comfort you, hearing your voice change a bit.

A groan left your lips, sounding more tired and sleepy than awake. The bed was too comfortable and a nap sounded good.

You could hear the chuckle that left his lips through the cellphone “Sleepy, are we?" he teased you.

He could hear the ruffling of the bed as you turned into your side in the bed “Yeah, a little."

“You should probably have a good night sleep, you're coming back tomorrow, right?"

You hummed and nodded, even when he couldn't see you. “Are you on your way to work already?" your question was interrupted by a yawn. You were indeed tired.

A chuckle left his lips at your yawn, he could only imagine how adorable you looked all sleepy, yet you were still asking about him. He checked his clock before answering you “Probably should head out any minute now. I'm cuddling with Meatball at the moment”

You could not help but let out an ‘aww’ at the mental image of it "That sounds comfy”

“Meatball is such a good cuddler"

Your smile turned into a frown once you thought about how much hair Meatball shed "Wait, your scrubs are black”

“And?"

"You will be full of Meatball's hair!” your tone was one of worry, you usually did not care for cat hair but Jack's a doctor, you're pretty sure that's a health violation.

"Oh” he said in realization of what you meant "I have one of those sticky rollers thingy”

You chuckled softly at that "You mean a lint roller?”

“Yes, that thingy"

Without helping it, you rolled your eyes with fondness "I don't know how you're able to memorize all that doctor language but not the name of a lint roller"

"Doctor language is easy stuff”

“I beg to differ, I’ve never been able to correctly pronounce the name of complicated medicine"

“That’s cause you're not a doctor, Sweetheart” Jack's voice was laced with teasing.

A yawn left your lips, sleepiness taking over you almost completely now. “Yeah, you're right"

“Go to sleep, Sweetheart" His voice was firm “I shall see you tomorrow"

You hummed in response, your eyes already closed "Bye-bye, Jack”

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

The drive back to Pittsburgh was uneventful and peaceful, giving you a lot of time to think and reflex about the dumb crush you were developing for your very handsome neighbor.

It took you a total of one hour driving alone with your thoughts to get to the conclusion that you were, indeed, fucked. Of course you were, you had a bigger and softer heart that you would like, always falling hard for people that didn't feel that way about you.

Oh, you stupid lover girl.

The rest of the drive, your thoughts were swarming with plans of how to fall out of love with him.

Love? Who said love? Stupid heart.

Yes, maybe love was a strong word but, as said before, you were kind of a lover girl, so the months you had known him got you dreaming of being with him.

As said before; Fucked.

It was around noon when you arrived to your apartment complex, unloading your bags and things you brought from your parent's place. You were almost sure that Jack would be sleep, given the hour, so you decided not to bother him until later, only shooting him a text.

You

Hey! I'm home, let me know when you're awake so I can pick up Meatball.

:)

While you waited for Jack's reply, you took on the task to dust off and prepare a little snack, wanting to be as productive as you could be before going back to work the next day. Good luck your mom sent you home with a week's worth of meals.

It was a couple of hours before your doorbell rang, signaling someone was there and it probably was Jack.

From your place on the couch, you asked “Who is it?"

"It's me” came Jack's voice from the other side of the door.

“Come on in, it's open" You shouted, not caring for moving from your very comfortable place on the couch.

It was a few seconds before you heard the door opening, and there he was; Jack Abbot holding your chubby cat in his arm. Meatball was quick to jump from his arms and run to you, snuggling against your chest making you chuckle.

"Hi, baby” you kissed his little head "Looks like someone missed me”

Jack moved to sit across from you after closing the door, staring at the image in front of him with a soft expression. "Yes, we missed you” He confessed.

You tilted your head, looking at him with an inevitable smile “We?"

You were basking on both the purring coming from the cat in your chest and the warmth you felt when Jack uttered those words.

"We” Jack confirmed with a nod of his head "It wasn't the same without you around”

“I was only gone for a week"

"It was more than enough to miss you” Jack said almost instantly, his words sounding too honest for your liking.

Your only answer to his words were a smile, you did not know what to reply to it.

Shaking your head, you tried to stir the topic away from things that would make your heart act irrationally.

"How this little fur ball behaved?” You asked Jack.

“He was delightful, though he didn't like one mug I had"

You groaned loudly, of course Meatball had to break havoc on another house “He did not"

"He did” Jack confirmed "Let's say he looked quite pleased when it landed on the floor and broke to a million pieces”

You nodded solemnly "I know what you mean” with a sigh, you reached for your cellphone "I'll transfer you the money”

Jack immediately held one hand up "You will not”

“I need to atone for any mischief Meatball did, that includes paying you for what he broke"

He shook his head "I don't want your money, it was an ugly mug anyway"

You gave him a deadpan look, not liking the idea of not paying for something your cat broke intentionally “I must insist to pay for the mug"

"I don't want your money”

“Jack" you said in all seriousness.

"Sweetheart” He matched your tone.

“I'm paying for the mug" You were not willing to let it go.

“I will accept cookies as a payment, that's it"

You pursed your lips, not liking how he didn't want to let you pay for your cats misdeeds. "Money”

“Nope. Cookies"

You shot a glare in his direction. "I give you cookies because I want to, I don't like to see it as a bargaining chip or I would lose any interest however to bake them. There has to be payed with money"

He pursed his lips, his eyes showing that he was thinking about what to do next. “I will not accept your money. It was just a dumb mug"

"I don't care, I pay my dues” the stubborn monster in you was taking reign.

Silence involved your loving room for a few moments before his face lightened with an idea.

“Alright, I'll tell you what" he was trying to make his smile seem innocent but he was failing “I know how you can pay me back"

You squinted at him, carefully nodding "I'm listening…”

“You can let me buy you dinner" He all but blurted out.

Shit. He wants to take you on a date? You go, girl.

A frown etched itself into your face despite of your heart screaming for you to agree “Wouldn't I have to buy you dinner?"

"I know what I said. I will buy you dinner” His voice was absolute, leaving no room for negotiation.

“I haven't said yes"

"You haven't said no” His smile was growing bigger by the minute.

“You work nights, you can't buy me dinner"

“Breakfast, then" He was quick to solve any problems you were throwing his way. “or lunch"

Holding his gaze for a few seconds, you finally let out a sigh, making Jack's face to light up even more.

“Alright, you win. I will let you buy me lunch" your resigned tone could not be far from the real party that was going inside your head.

Jack was now full on smiling, making his way to you, stretching his pinky your way.

You looked at him up and down, a fake disgusted face on “What?"

"We have to seal it” He pointed out "It's the only way”

With a roll of your eyes, you sealed the deal pinky swearing.

He let out a satisfied sound before leaning down, his eyes finding yours “Stop looking pissed, I shall see you tomorrow for our date. I'll text you"

Before leaving he made sure of saying his good-byes to Meatballs, who poured happily from the attention.

Jack stooped by the door, shooting you a different smile from the ones before. This one was lacking any kind of teasing, leaving in its way a soft smile, full of expectation and… longing. “Bye, Sweetheart."

You matched his smile, no doubt looking foolish "Bye, Jack. See you tomorrow”

"I can't wait”

And with that, he left you alone with your cat.

Alone. Now it was the time for you to panic and crash out.

You just agreed to have a date with Jack Abbot.

You were fucked.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

Sadly enough for both of you, you could not make it to the lunch. The chaos around you in your work was a bit too much, impending you to grab lunch with him.

You took a few minutes away from the chaos to call him, this was two hours before you were supposed to met.

It rang a few times before you heard the call connect.

"Hey, Sweetheart”

" Don't hate me” was the first words you uttered when you head his voice “I won't be able to get away for lunch"

You heard the disappointed sigh that left his lips and it made you feel worse with yourself.

" That's okay, we will reschedule” His voice was kind, trying to mask the disappointment. He was a little too excited about the date.

“I will make it up to you, I promise" You quickly reassured him, picking on your nails nervously.

" I know you will, Sweetheart. Don't worry”

You didn't answer, merely staying silent while your mind was screaming at you for this. It was mortifying, you really did want to go out with him.

His voice snapped you out of your head, taking you back to reality.

“Hey, you still with me?"

“I- yeah. I'm here" your voice was small, apologetic even. " I'm real sorry, Jack”

"I understand, okay. Don't feel guilty.” His voice was warm, caring. “I have a night off on Friday, maybe we could go to dinner after all?"

A chuckle left your lips “Yeah, okay. I'd like that"

"I'd like that too, Sweetheart. I'll see you later, okay?”

"Okay, Jack”

You said your respective goodbyes before hanging up, yet you still couldn't stop feeling guilty. You were expecting to grab lunch with him too much, but stupid work things that didn't allowed you were your first enemy now.

You spent all day at work thinking about Jack. Yes, stupidly enough. You didn't understand how destiny didn't allow you the simple favor of letting you go on a date with Jack. It was unfair.

…

Your luck was getting worse and worse with each passing moment. You had gotten home way later that you were used to because you had to solve some problems back at work.

It was a given that your mood was pretty bad by the time it was dark. You had wanted to see Jack before he went to work, but again, that was not possible thanks to your own job.

All you had now was the shining opportunity of a shower, food delivery and couch rooting next to your fat cat.

You were naive to believe it would be that easy. Yes, you took a long shower, dressed in your comfortable pj's and moved to the couch to put on your show while you waited for the food you had ordered to arrive.

Everything was going good, even Meatball was cooperative by sharing the couch with you, asking for cuddles.

Pity your luck had not gotten better since the start of the day.

When the food arrived, you got up from the couch, going to get your purse to pay for it. Little did you noticed that Meatball was already planning his escape as soon as you would open the door.

Once with your purse, you made your way to open the door, engaging in small talk with the delivery guy while he handed you the food.

It was an instant that you got distracted. It was enough.

Meatball ran out of the door with all his energy. The delivery guy— God bless his soul— tried to catch him only to end up bitten by your demon cat.

“Shit! Sorry, he's vaccinated!" You all but shouted while sprinting behind your very fast cat.

Meatball was on a mission, live a life of freedom away from your cozy home.

It wasn't the first time he tried to run away, though this time he was set on doing it right. He kept dodging you, making his way towards the stairs, you could not let that happen, if he got there, it would be a pain to catch him.

So you put your all into trying to catch the fucking cat, running after him with only socks in your feet. Bad idea. Very bad. And you knew it the moment your cat took a turn right instead of going straight in direction of the stairs, making you try to break sharply. It didn't work, your socked feet sent you flying forward, the floor too slippery thanks to the fabric on your feet.

You don't really know what happened after that, only feeling a sharp pain in your arm, that was twisted in a strange position that was not definitely normal, and a stinginess in the side of your face.

You were laying on the floor, disoriented while looking around. You fell down a few steps of the stairs, now laying on the stairs landing.

Well, shit.

It was a while until the ambulance arrived— that was called by the delivery guy— and the paramedics quickly put you on a gurney, letting you know that you had dislocated your shoulder and had a minor laceration to your face.

You were about to ask if anyone had seen your cat, you could not leave him alone, when the little shit jumped into the gurney, settling his little body on your chest.

“Ma'am, he can't ride with us—" A paramedic tried to tell you.

"I'm not going anywhere without him” You said firmly, not leaving any room for negotiation.

Apparently, your paramedics were a little too tired that didn't even refute, merely nodding before they kept going.

“Wait" You suddenly said, startling everyone around. “Could someone go to my apartment" you pointed out to the wide open door when they were wheeling you down the hall “And grab his harness? It's hanging from behind the door”

With a long, tired sigh, one of the paramedics quickly went to get it so they could get you to the hospital and hopefully, clock out.

The ride to the hospital was quite uneventful, it took three minutes before Meatball worked his charm— he was a little too friendly for a cat sometimes— and had the paramedics wrapped around his little paw.

The pain wasn't all that bad, yet. You knew it was matter of time before the pain would start killing you, probably thanks to the adrenaline of the whole ordeal.

Deep down, you knew you almost asked the universe for it. Why? Simple. You were bitching about your day and how unlucky you were, blah blah. Last time you were acting like that you sprained your ankle. Once again the universe was reminding you that it always can get worse.

You felt the ambulance come to a stop, most surely arriving at the emergency room where you would be drugged up and fixed. Good, it was starting to hurt.

You were wheeled down the ambulance and into the other side of the sliding doors.

Ugh, hospital lights are always too bright.

As soon as you were spotted, two doctors made their way to you, addressing the paramedics.

“What do we have here?" Asked a tall doctor, a little gruff looking but he seemed nice.

The paramedics were quick to present you, telling your age and a lot of things you were not listening that intently "— old female, BP 139/88, HR 112, RR 19. She took a fall down a couple of steps, shoulder dislocation and face laceration. Patient is responsive”

“And what about the cat?" The question came from the next doctor, who looked a little too carefree while holding a concernedly big cup of iced coffee.

One of your paramedics turned to look at him with a deadpan expression "She wouldn't let us bring her here without Meatball”

Not far away from there, a doctor that you knew well, was reviewing some labs from a patient, not moving to tend to the new arrival since it was Shen's patient, lifted his head in curiosity when he heard the name Meatball.

Jack Abbot scanned the ED until his eyes fell on your laying form on the gurney, Meatball laying comfortably in your side, wearing his harness.

As soon as he spotted you, he was moving, calling your name. "What are you doing here?”

Meatball was quick to demand attention from his favorite human with a meow. Jack patted his little head mindlessly.

"Meatball. Jailbreak. Stairs. Fall. Hurt” You explained simply.

Jack sighed, staring at you with concern but ultimately shaking it off while turning to the other two doctors. "Shen, I got her" He addressed the caffeine holding one “Crus, you're with me" He said to the tall, stern looking doctor.

"North 15 is open!” A redheaded woman called from behind a very big desk, offering you a friendly smile.

You were wheeled to what you suspect is North 15, quickly being moved into a hospital bed before the paramedics said a brief goodbye and left you in the hands of capable doctors and nurses.

Both Jack and Dr. Crus started working on you, checking vitals and making sure that nothing else was broken.

“How's the pain?" Jack asked you, checking you pupils.

"Getting stronger by the minute” You murmured, focusing on petting Meatball with your good hand.

“Push 1 m.g. of Ketamine for the pain" He addressed a nurse who quickly nodded on injected a liquid into an I.V.— same one that you didn't even feel when they pooked it into your arm.

"You're giving me the good drugs?” You asked him with a smile.

“Only the best" Jack winked at you, continuously working on the preliminary exams.

You allowed them to keep assessing your injuries by staying silent, Meatball laying by your side while he followed every one of Jack's movements. Freaking cat was obsessed with him.

They were talking between them in terms you didn't understand. Doctor gibberish. But ultimately Jack turned to look at you. "I'll order and x-ray to discard any broken bone but I don't think it's more than the dislocated shoulder. Head seems fine and you're responsive” He smiled at you with relief "But we'll have to take care of that cut on your cheek”

You couldn't see the cut but you knew it wasn't pretty. “How many stitches?"

"Probably three but hopefully it won't leave a scar” He reassured you softly.

“Good, I cannot look too bad, I have a date on Friday" You teased him slightly, already feeling the effect of the meds.

He hummed, crossing his arms on his chest, his biceps popping out. "Is that so? Must be quite the guy”

"Well, my cat likes him, so…” You shrugged, pointing towards your very comfortable looking cat.

“A good judge of character" Jack nodded in approval “I still don't know how you managed to get them to bring Meatball along"

You shrugged softly, your head resting tiredly on the gurney "I refused treatment and asked them if they could get his harness from my apartment”

Jack shook his head, a chuckle leaving his chest “You are something else"

A knock on the glass door interrupted you, Jack was being called away, he turned to look at you hesitantly.

“Go" You said with a smile “I'll be alright"

He nodded at you, smiling softly before walking out of the room, facing his fellow attending Dr. Shen.

“Your patient in Central 14 is asking for you" Shen slurped his coffee was too loud for Jack's patience.

“Alright, thanks" Jack started to walk away, Shen following him. “Do you need something?"

“Who's the cat lady?" Shen asked, being his nosy self.

"She's my friend and neighbor”

Shen's eyebrows rose, staring at Jack “Oh, she's that friend, isn't she?"

“What are you talking about now?" Jack keep walking, wanting for Shen to go away and stop asking questions.

“Lately you check your cellphone and smile when you're reading texts of someone. I'm betting she is the one texting you and making your face light up every time"

“Shut up, Shen"

Shen raised his hands in innocence, deciding that short conversation was enough to confirm his suspicions, before going to tend to his own patients.

Of course Shen was right, Jack has had a crush on you almost since he met you, always smiling when you were around or when he received a text, though he was not going to let Shen know how right he was.

Once Jack was free and your x-rays were delivered, he made his way back to your room, finding you snoozing off. The cut on your cheek had been already stitched up and Meatball was being a complete angel, not moving from your side.

Jack moved to sit by the side of the bed, when you heard movement you opened your eyes, looking at him.

“Hey, Sweetheart" He said softly.

"Hi” was your response, followed by a yawn.

“Tired, are we?"

A groan left your lips “You have no idea"

“Good news, we can fix you up by popping your shoulder back in place" He informed you “No broken bones"

“That sounds painful, though"

His expression softened even more, if that was possible "We'll give you something for the pain. You will only feel a mild discomfort”

You only hummed, already feeling too tired to speak.

“Who did your stitches?" He asked you, tilting your head to observe the work.

"Dr. Crus” you replied "I didn't feel a thing"

He nodded satisfied with the work of the stitches “Good, that's good"

"So you'll pop back my shoulder and I can leave?” You asked hopefully, really wanting to go home and sleep.

“I don't think so" He replied instantly, watching your displeased frown “I know your family doesn't live close by and you can't go around all by yourself like this, the shoulder will take a few weeks to heal"

You pursed your lips, you were used to be independent and Jack knew it “Then what does that mean? That I have to ask my parents to come watch me as if I'm a child?"

He shook his head "I could help you, take care of you” Jack proposed softly “That is, if you want. But for the rest of the night I was thinking you spend it here and I'll drive you home after my shift"

"I don't want to spend the rest of the night in the hospital” You grimaced.

"Well, you can't go home by yourself. I'm your best option right now”

You let out a huff, acting a bit like a child but you were not happy with the whole way your day was going.

He tapped your forehead playfully, wanting to see that frown turn into a smile. You shot him a glare, not entirely pissed with him but partly.

“You'll get wrinkles" He teased you softly.

“Good"

"Sweetheart” Jack leveled his gaze to find yours, his face warm and kind "I know it's not ideal but it'll only be a few hours that you will spend sleeping”

"I will try to make my escape” You murmured with a frown.

Jack raised his eyebrows skeptically “With the meds that we're going to give you to fix the dislocation? I don't think so. You'll be drowsy"

“Keyword; try”

Despite himself, he chuckled softly “Look, my shift ends in…” he checked the clock on his wrist "Six hours. I'll buy you anything you want for breakfast if you make it that long without trying to escape"

"What about Meatball? His zoomies will kick in any moment now” You pointed at your cat.

“We'll manage" He shrugged softly.

You huffed once again “You're not letting me win this one, are you?"

He shook his head, trying to suppress a smirk, knowing you were about to give in.

“Alright, I'll wait"

"Attagirl”

…

It was a while before they were able to fix your shoulder, and Jack was right, you didn't feel a thing. Soon enough, you were sleeping comfortably with the lights off and clear instructions you were not to be bothered.

Every one of his colleagues were shooting him suggestive looks, amused with the fact that Jack seemed overly protective of you. He paid them no mind.

Jack keep working through his shift, stopping now and then to check on you and Meatball— who was laying protectively on your chest.

When it was nearing the time for hand offs, he asked Shen if he could cover, wanting to get you out of the hospital and into your apartment as soon as possible, knowing you would not be happy if you woke up and his shift had extended longer, as it was usual.

Once he set up everything to go, he woke you up, since he had already taken care of everything for discharge, he guided a sleepy you across the ED—while holding also holding Meatball— to get you seated in his truck comfortably.

You were sleepy and still drowsy thanks to the meds but you seemed in good spirits, enabling in conversation with him while holding Meatball in your lap.

Jack let you choose the food, and you decided you wanted to eat in your own comfortable home, so he decided to pick the food before getting there.

Once settled in your couch, he took it upon himself go feed Meatball before preparing you a plate of food, kind of hovering while you ate.

“I can feed myself, Jack. You don't need to hover” You murmured, taking a bite of your food.

“How's the shoulder? Any pain?"

"I'm good, stop acting like a doctor” You chided him, not being used to be fuzzed over.

“I am a doctor"

You simply rolled your eyes while letting the silence setting in.

"Jack?”

“Yes, Sweetheart?"

"Thank you for taking care of me” You said, looking firmly into his eyes.

Jack's expression melted, becoming one of pure warmth. “You have nothing to thank me for"

"I do, you're taking care of me and my cat”

He shook his head “I am doing it with pleasure, Sweetheart. You need me, I'm here. Simple as that"

You beamed at him, he was not helping your feelings towards him. "I guess we'll have to reschedule that date, huh?”

“You kidding? No more rescheduling" He shook his head “I'll cook you something special and we'll dine here”

“That's not how a first date is supposed to happen" You pointed out.

With a sigh, he moved to sit next to you, on your good side. “Don't you know?" he grabbed your chin, guiding your face towards his “I do not care about the date, I care about you"

Your breathing stuttered, seeing how close he was. “But—"

"No buts, Sweetheart” He tsk, leaning in slightly, his eyes lost in yours before glancing briefly at your lips “We will have that date, and hopefully you'll allow me to kids you"

You gulped softly "Why not kiss me now?” the words left your mouth in a whisper.

He moved to kiss your forehead tenderly "I am a gentleman. I'll wait for our date, make it special”

Jack was looking at you with bright eyes, caressing your cheek, being utterly careful of the cheek with the cut.

That got a laugh out of you, feeling your cheeks warming up. "I can't wait"

“Me neither" He whispered, looking at you with utter awe. “I want cookies once you're healed, though"

"As many as you want, Jack”

do not copy, reupload, translate or feed to artificial intelligence.

©yawnlovescookies.

“You made me lose it.”

The complaint is half-swallowed against the wet skin of Jack’s back and the dull crash of the waves.

You cling tighter as Jack wades through the surf, arms hooked around his neck, cheek pressed between his shoulder blades where the sea has left him slick and gold and gleaming.

Every step moves you against him, your body sliding closer, nipples flattening to the hard line of him, and when he laughs, the sound moves under your skin before it reaches your ears.

A small, private earthquake.

He turns his head just enough that water slides off the edge of his jaw. “I did not make you do anything. You did that all on your own to avoid my excellent points about tiger sharks.”

“That’s not a true recollection of the events and they only sounded excellent because you were saying them in your stupid doctor voice,” you grumble, chin now hooked over his shoulder while the waterline drops lower and lower around his legs, the drag of the tide giving up on both of you inch by inch. Near the shore he slows, more careful now, one hand firm beneath your thigh while his prosthetic sinks a little into the uneven sand before he shifts and steadies and steps again. “You were supposed to agree with me.”

Jack smiles. 

“I’ll try to remember that next time.” He steps out of the water, dragging both of you into the moonlit shallows. “Agree with you first. Correct the shark misinformation second. Recover the missing bikini top…never.”

He puts emphasis on the misinformation part.

You roll yours eyes and cinch your arms tighter around his neck.

The second you clear the waterline you seem to realize the ocean was doing more for you than you gave it credit for. In the water, at least, there had been plausible visual confusion. Distortion.

Out here there is only the moon, a waxing gibbous tonight, and your own bad luck.

Your bikini top had not come off in any glamorous way either.

A wave basically clotheslined you mid-argument, you went under still debating your point, and by the time you surfaced your top had been ripped clean off.

You had crossed both arms over your chest and stared at Jack with horror.

He, to his credit, or maybe to his deep private enjoyment, had just turned around so you could climb onto his back and use him as a human wall and shield.

“Convenient,” you murmur. “I’m starting to think you have a vested interest in the bikini top staying missing.”

“Trust me,” he says, voice dry, “if I had a vested interest in seeing you topless, I’d prefer it happen under circumstances that involved fewer opportunities for you to drown.” 

You glance toward the vacant stripe of shoreline, suddenly grateful for the hour. Almost midnight. No passing strangers, no coworkers smoking in little clusters on the sand, no one to witness you wrapped around your attending in wet bikini bottoms and not much else besides nerve. 

Lucky. Because this whole thing seemed like a very good idea twenty minutes ago and now feels a little less airtight.

You’re both tipsy, brined with salt and that strange vacation logic that makes every bad idea glow with intrigue. This was not among the more sensible things either of you had ever done.

But you had tilted your glass toward him, smiled over the rim, and said please in that sweetly loaded voice that seems to dissolve whatever remains of his better judgment on impact.

Cause and effect. Something you love to keep in your back pocket for emergencies.

You bite back a grin. “Jack, are you trying to tell me there are circumstances under which you’d find this whole situation acceptable?”

The beach house looms closer with each step. Most of it is dark now, but one light still burns upstairs. His room, you think.

Jack lets out a low, quiet laugh and hikes you a little higher on his back.

“Yes,” he says simply. “Ideally somewhere private. Dry. Preferably with you in my bed.”

A little startled giggle escapes you before you can stop it. You press your face at once in the curve of his neck. You’re not sure you can believe he’d say something like that so plainly.

As if that was the most ordinary thing in the world to tell you.

“Oh.”

Entire vocabulary gone. Reduced to a single syllable by one middle-aged man with a good mouth and a bad attitude. 

“That’s all you’ve got?” he asks, dry amusement curling through the words. “Interesting. You seemed a lot more talkative in the ocean.”

“I was talkative because we were discussing facts,” you mumble. “Tiger sharks are mostly found in tropical and subtropical water, yes, but sharks generally can end up in weird places sometimes, so I feel like I was making a broader point about ocean unpredictability, which was valid.”

“Uh-huh.”

The sound is mild, but dismissive enough to make it clear he is not entertaining your argument as anything but cute deflection. 

By then the porch is beneath him, old boards washed pale under a flickering lamp to the right of his shoulder. You worry about splinters on his bare foot. 

He lowers you carefully from his back, slowly enough that your hands trail over him in stages, shoulder to arm to chest, your palms smoothing there as though your body is reluctant to stop touching his. 

He doesn’t let it.

Instead of setting you down and stepping away, he catches you before your balance can settle, your feet coming to rest over his, your toes tucked against the tops of them so you never quite have to meet the porch at all. 

You stay suspended against him, your naked chest pressed to the front of him, every chilled inch of skin suddenly aware of where he is warm.

Your nipples tighten into points almost immediately.

“You get shy when I’m direct,” he says, eyes on your face like he’s studying something newly confirmed. “That’s useful information.”

“Why? Do you like making me nervous? I don’t know what that says about you.”Your fingers flex once against his chest.

He tilts his head. 

“I think I like knowing I can,” he says. “There’s a difference.”

“And what exactly are you planning to do with that information now that you have it?”

Jack’s eyes flick once to your mouth, then back up. 

“Depends. How cooperative are you feeling?”

It is a ridiculous question, considering your current position, considering the fact that you’re still practically draped over him, and maybe that’s why you don’t answer fast enough — because he takes the pause as permission and closes the distance himself. 

His mouth is warm and salt-touched and far too certain, and when he kisses you it feels less like a question than a decision, one he’s been circling for a while and has finally chosen to act on. 

For one strange second you forget every single thing you’ve ever known, including your own name, the year, and the fact that human beings typically continue breathing through moments like this.

Then the air comes back all at once and you pull in a startled breath against his lips.

When he draws back, his forehead stays close to yours.

You can still feel the shape of the kiss still in your lips, in your throat, in the pit of your stomach where everything has gone loose and sparkling. 

“Oh, that’s horrible,” you say.

Jack’s brow lifts in surprise. “Horrible?”

“Yes. Very manipulative.” His hands slide up and down your bare sides. “You lured me into a vulnerable conversational position and then took advantage of the pause.”

His mouth twitches. “That’s one interpretation.”

“It’s the correct interpretation.”

He laughs again, hand shifting higher on your back, feeling the goosebumps there.

“C’mon,” he says. “You can keep telling me how wrong I am inside.”

“Good,” you mutter, ignoring the impulse to reach up and kiss him again. “Because I was planning to.”

“I know.”

this fic was part of my 2 year celebration: maria's summer in santorini 𓆉°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ to learn more, click here!

He pays rent two days early, every month, without fail. He wipes down the counter after he cooks, because apparently, in Jack’s mind, you could be an M3 and have the time to cook (Oh, fuck off, is your main and consistent thought every time he sets a plate of actual food in front of you at breakfast and dinner). He rewinds the VHS before returning it, and he even agrees to 4am study sessions when you are doubting yourself with the tracheobronchial tree structure.

The only problem with Jack Abbot is…he does not bend. For anyone.

It’s a mistake people make about him at the hospital. They assume that because he listens more than he talks and doesn’t talk the loudest in the room, he must be easygoing. They’re all wrong because in ‘easygoing’, there’s the word easy. And Jack is many things – observant, funny, annoyingly competent - but easy is not one of them. Right now, for instance, he’s being impossible.

Sprawled at the dining table, legs stretched out, hair still damp from the shower and curling at the nape of his neck and a gray shirt clinging enough to make you look away, Jack is in the middle of Sabiston Textbook of Surgery, annotating it.

You pause in the doorway for a second, watching him read before clearing your throat.

“Jack.”

He doesn’t even look up. “No.”

“I haven’t said anything yet!”

“Don’t need to,” he replies, flipping a page. “If it’s prefaced with my name in that tone, the answer is no.”

You step closer and place your hand flat over the open page of Sabiston, earning a mildly annoyed look from him.

“I just need a small, tiny favor.”

“No.”

“Please at least listen to me!” you implore.

One corner of his mouth lifts, and there it is, that smirk that you want to either punch or kiss “You want to switch our trauma shifts tomorrow.”

You hesitate just long enough for him to catch him, his eyebrow lifting slowly. “Why do you need it?”

“I…” you exhale, a little embarrassed. “I haven’t completed my procedure log. I’m missing one intubation and I really need it to pass the rotation.”

“One intubation,” he repeats, a little judgy, closing the book with his pen marking the page. “Haven’t you been on three different procedures already?”

“I know,” you snap, heat creeping up your neck. “I know. But Meyers took the first one because he is an asshole who can’t stop himself from playing mister Know-it-all, the second one went to Patel because he hadn’t logged one either, and the third…”

“You froze.”

I hate you for remembering this, I hate that you noticed, I hate how right you are, you thought.

“It was just…one second.”

“In trauma,” he replies, leaning back in the chair and hands folding behind his head, “one second is the difference between life and death.”

You glare at him. “Jack…I am missing one intubation. Just one. If I don’t log it, Reyes will tank my evaluation, and I’m not repeating this rotation, I physically cannot handle doing another six weeks of this while pretending I don’t care when he calls me ‘sweetheart’ in front of the interns like I’m a pretty accessory instead of a med student. So yes. I want your trauma shift cause I need it. You can’t even fathom the depth of my despair right now.”

“Oh, I think I have a pretty vivid imagination,” he replies.

“I’ll do the dishes for a month.”

He snorts.

“I’m serious!”

“You can’t be trusted with my plates.”

“I will pay for your coffee for a month,” you add quickly, stepping forward and leaning into his space.

He keeps shaking his head, so, in a moment of pure madness, and lacking better ideas, you just say: “I’ll go down on you.”

That gets his attention. “You…You’re not going to go down on me.”

“I’m sorry, which part of ‘despair’ don’t you understand with your so-called vivid imagination?”

He frowns, with that tiny crease between his brows that you want to kiss as much as his smirk, his throat moving as he swallows. “You’d actually…do that?” he asks carefully.

You hadn’t expected that answer and for a moment, the weight of what you just offered settles in. The apartment suddenly feels too quiet, and you become acutely aware of the fact that you are standing very close to Jack, that his hair is still damp and you want to run your hands through those curls, and the way the lamplight catches in his hazel eyes and turns them warmer, almost golden.

The fact is…you like Jack. You’ve liked him for the past few months, and quite frankly, being his roommate has not helped with your massive crush problem.

You shrug, forcing your voice into something light and easy. “Yeah. I’m okay with it. If you are, I mean.”

His fingers flex against the edge of Sabiston, not looking away from you and saying quietly. “So, um…we do this and you get my shift?”

“A privilege for another,” you clarify, voice steady even if your pulse is sabotaging you. “You help me log the intubation and I… return the generosity.”

He nods once, and to your quiet, personal satisfaction, a faint blush creeps across his freckled cheeks, like a tell he can’t suppress. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay,” he says again, quieter.

You reach for the back of his chair, gently turning him toward you, your faces now inches to each other. “How about now Jack? Or are you too busy studying…let me guess: the saphenous vein?” you murmur, with a teasing smile.

“It was the VSD actually,” he breathes, his gaze dropping briefly to your mouth before snapping back up. “But…yeah. Now is fine.”

You drop to your knees, his knees parting quickly, confirming your personal theory: it has been a long time for him. Probably as long as it’s been for you. Third year is not exactly fertile ground to start having relationships: no time, no personal life, no sleep and not to mention that you have never seen him bring anyone back here. Not once. He’s never acted on any nurses’ or classmates’ flirtations. The apartment has always been just the two of you.

You hook your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, pulling it down as he lifts his hips. “I’m not entirely sure that I haven’t passed out on the table and this is all just a hallucination,” he continues, a groan escaping his mouth when you let your palm graze over his half hard cock, eyelids shutting completely the moment you wrap your hand properly around him.

“I don’t know…” you joke as you start moving, enjoying the view of Mr. Perfect Grades keeping his hands diligently on his legs and pressing his teeth on his lips. “You look very awake to me.”

You wet your lips lightly, running your tongue over them as his gaze finds yours. You’ve always loved that part: the control, deciding when and how it happens, to go slower or faster, feeling someone react under your hands and mouth, but still…you’re a little nervous. It’s been a while and you hope you haven’t lost it in…oh my god a year ago now? Yeah, it was definitely a year.

Either way, you don’t give yourself more time to think about it before dipping your head to take him in.

Multiple things come up to your mind: first, he’s not the kind of guy to put his hands on your hair to get you to move faster or deeper – which you appreciate - second, he’s vocal, muttering your name and profanities each time you manage to fit him entirely in your mouth - you still don’t know how you do that, the guy is huge - and third, you are officially on your knees, blowing your roommate, crush and student rival.

Once he’s done, you stand back up, knees numb and wiping the back of your hand over your lips, both struggling to catch your breaths.

“6am. For tomorrow. But get there at 5.30,” Jack says, closing his eyes briefly before putting his pants back on. “And you better do this intubation.”

──────────

Two weeks later, he’s the one standing in the living room.

“Hey.”

You don’t look up from your notes. “No.”

He exhales sharply through his nose, dropping onto the couch beside you. “Please.”

“No,” you repeat, turning a page calmly even though the corner of your mouth is threatening to betray you. There’s something so satisfying about denying Jack Abbot anything.

He drags a hand through his hair, mussed from the shift at the hospital, and puts his hand on yours (don’t freeze over that, it’s stupid anyway). “It’s just one procedure.”

You raise an eyebrow, finally looking at him. “Doctor Abbot missing something on his log?”

“No,” he starts before hesitating, his pride wrestling with the request, “it’s about the thoracostomy. Reyes is letting one M3 take lead tomorrow and I need someone to cover triage so I can stay in trauma long enough to be picked.”

You let your gaze drag slowly over him, pretending to think. “No.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he sighed, his hand still clasps around yours.

“Oh, immensely.”

“Please. I’ll make it up to you.”

You snort softly and close your notebook, setting it aside before turning fully toward him, your knees brushing his. “How, doc?”

“I’ll go down on you.”

“What?” you ask slowly.

He shrugs, trying for casual, one hand still loosely wrapped around yours, his thumb brushing absently over your knuckles. “One privilege for another. That’s…that’s our thing, right?”

“Um…yeah. You really want to do this thoracostomy?”

His lips pull into that maddening kissable half-smile that you love more than anything, the one he gets in the ER whenever he answers correctly to one of the residents’ questions. “I really want to do it and erase Meyers’ smile once and for all. So, what do you say?”

“Okay,” you reply, parting your legs (oh yes, Jack, you’re gonna have to kneel for this one, no way I’m passing on an occasion to let you do everything) “but be quick, I still have to read the biological markers of…”

The words don’t get out of your mouth when he kneels in front of you, pulling off your pajama short and underwear, the leather of the couch making you feel hotter than you were already.

“I’ll be very quick and thorough, I promise,” he replies, amused – probably because you were now completely silent – before working his tongue on you.

And wow, you have received plenty of good cunnilinguses in your life, even if it’s been some time, but this one…is miles from the rest. You can recognize it happily… Jack has some wicked knowledge of the human anatomy and how to get you there in a few minutes.

“You better be fucking great for this thoracostomy, Doctor Abbot,” you say as you’re try to catch your breath, Jack picking up your notes, ready for a new study session (you don’t comment over the fact that he doesn’t go rinse his mouth or put distance between you and just…drags his thumb across his lower lip and then licks it clean).

“You know me,” he replies with a smug smile that makes you roll your eyes.

And yes, you know. The next day proves it. You’re buried in triage when you hear from your resident, the Doctor Robinavitch – a young, tall man, barely a few years older than you who keeps trying his best to be half your friend, half your boss – that Jack had been an example of calm and solid, earning a fist bump from both Reyes and Robinavitch.

You nod slowly, pretending you don’t feel the faint flare of something warm under your ribs, travelling down your body. Pride. You are so proud of him, and you want to reply to the resident, of course he was solid, of course he didn’t choke, this man is great and kind and…actually is also a great giver, but you don’t need to know that.

You catch sight of him later in the hallway, walking toward you with a protein bar in hand, a little smile on his face. And that smile, Jesus, all warm and bright and unguarded…it’s definitely a second privilege he doesn’t need to know about.

──────────

Four days after, you get behind on your charting.

Because you’d rather slit your wrist than stay late in the ER with Reyes breathing into the back of your skull, you make another deal with Jack.

“If you stay up with me until it’s done,” you murmur to Jack in the CT-Scan room, “I’ll give you a very nice orgasm.”

He checks to his left and right. “Define ‘very nice’”.

“You’re insufferable.”

“Hey, I’m the guy who’s gonna stay to help you, so be a little more grateful.”

You salute him with your pen. “Aye aye doc.”

Late that night, steam fogs the bathroom mirror, the water running hot. He’s already under the spray when you step into the doorway, taking off your clothes (after all there’s almost nothing he hasn’t seen already). You step closer before putting your hand on him, his palms ending up on the tiled wall behind you and muttering a “Jesus fucking Christ.” at the combined feeling of the water cascading on his body and your movements who only grows faster, making him come in a few minutes, your name on his lips.

“You know…it’s stupid to waste the water,” he murmurs after a while.

“Oh, really.”

“I mean, we’re two broke med students, it’s cost-effective. And we’re already in here anyway.”

Surely you can’t disagree with this idea.

Efficiency, after all, is very important in medicine.

──────────

“Hey kid.”

You look up, the Doctor Robinavitch standing there with that expression – the one who wants to gossip but tries to refrain himself from it.

“Um,” you say cautiously, pen lingering over the chart. “What?”

He glances down the hall then back at you. You follow his gaze automatically.

Jack is at the nurses’ board, talking to one of them, arms crossed and sleeves rolled up. He laughs at something, shaking his head. You look away, glancing back at the resident, who’s already staring at you, leaning over the table just enough to meet your eye level.

“…What?” you repeat, sharper now.

“How long?”

You blink. “How long what?”

“Whatever that is,” he replies, gesturing vaguely between you and the air.

You scoff lightly, going back to writing your charting. “There is no ‘that’, Doctor Robinavitch.”

He sighs deeply, rubbing a hand down his face. “Listen kid, you realize the entire staff has a betting pool, right?”

Your pen freezes mid-word. “On what?”

He just stares at you until you break (my god how you hate when he does that, condolences to all the future doctors who’ll get him as an attending).

“We’re not together. It’s…it’s not like that,” you try to explain weakly instead of saying we’re just roommates who are the type to perform oral sex to get what we want, no big deal there. oh, and now we take showers together every night to save the planet, not to…give the other a freebie.

His smile widens. “Oh, so there is a ‘that’.”

You look back at the nurses’ station. Jack is still there, but now he’s looking directly at you, an eyebrow raised with a small, knowing smile – like he can feel that your mind is turned to this morning and the two orgasms he gave you before going to work.

You can’t help but smile back at him.

Robinavitch follows the silent exchange, then looks back at you with open disbelief. “That,” he says slowly, “right there, is definitely a thing.”

Before you can gather your words to get a more convincing denial, a monitor alarms from down the hall.

“Go, kid. And try not to share lovey-dovey looks over the patient.”

You shove his shoulder as you pass him, heat rising in your cheeks.

“I hate you, Robinavitch.”

“I know that’s not true!” he calls after you.

Annoyingly…he’s right. You don’t hate him.

And there is a thing.

──────────

It happens after the code blue.

You and Jack are walking home in silence, refusing to mention how, when you had stepped into the patient’s room, he had handed you the laryngoscope without hesitation – you, not himself – like there has been no other option in his mind.

Your hands brush every few steps, neither of you pulling away.

By the time you reach the apartment, your body feels heavy, exhausted, dumping your bag on the hallway floor and ripping of your jacket as you go straight to the bathroom.

The light is too bright. It exposes everything: the smudged mascara under your eyes, the dark circles who can’t be hidden well by the foundation, the way your eyes are reddened by your need to cry.

You grip the edge of the sink and stare at yourself, murmuring “You did well, don’t worry. The woman is alive. The baby is alive. You did well.”

The door opens quietly behind you.

“If you’re about to tell me I did great, don’t.” you mutter, voice flat, refusing to meet his eyes in the mirror. If you look at him, you might crack.

He doesn’t answer. Instead, you feel him step into your space, listening to him opening the cabinet and the rustle of cotton pads. He reaches around you, close enough that his arm brushes you before gently turning you by the shoulder so you’re facing him instead of your – miserable, pathetic – reflection.

“Hold still,” he murmurs.

His face is close to yours – barely four inches away. Close enough that you can see the freckles across his nose. Enough that you could close that distance with the smallest tilt forward and drown your thoughts in something easier than this ache sitting in your chest.

The cotton pad is cool against your skin. He wipes slowly beneath your eye, careful, his thumb steadying your jaw. “Can you do me a favor?” he asks quietly.

“I’m not in the mood tonight,” you reply automatically.

He rolls his eyes, but there’s no heat in it. “No, not like that. Not…” he exhales, dragging the pad gently across your cheek, “not everything is about having sex.”

“I wouldn’t call exactly what we’re doing ‘having sex’,” you say, sharper than you intend.

He stills and for a fraction of a second, something flickers across his face in between surprise and hurt. “Oh. Um…Okay.”

His throat bobs as he switches to a clean pad, focusing on your eyes.

Eyes closed, you try to explain yourself better, words coming out before you can filter them. “That’s not what I meant,” you murmur. “I just…I don’t want this tonight and I don’t want this to be another thing that happens because we almost lost someone. We…we can’t keep doing this.”

Fuck, you don’t even know what this is anymore.

You feel him getting even closer – so close that his breath brushes your lips when he exhales. He finishes wiping up your face. “Can you…” he starts, voice lower now, uncertain like you’ve never heard from him, “can you let me just be here? With you?”

You open your eyes slowly, now seeing everything: the faint traces of tears at the corner of his eyes, the way his curls have fallen messily over his forehead from running his hand through them too much. He looks younger like this.

“I’m sorry Jack. I didn’t mean to make it sound like…like what we do doesn’t matter. I just…” your voice breaks, “I don’t want it to be the only reason we touch.”

He doesn’t hesitate. “It’s not.”

You study him, skeptical.

“Fine,” he admits quietly. “It started that way because we’re two massive idiots who don’t know how to say what we want without turning it into…a mess. But it’s not why I continued doing that.”

He sets the cotton pad down in the sink and brings both hands to your face now, his palms feeling warm against your cheeks.

“I don’t want this to be about that. I…I want to be the person you come home with after something like tonight. Not just the guy you’re giving blowjobs to who turns out to be your roommate.”

“Great blowjobs, you mean. Wonderful. Fantastic,” you reply, trying to smile a little.

“Yes, sure. All of the above and more,” he nods, matching your grin with that crooked, infuriatingly gorgeous one before leaning in slowly, giving you time to pull away if you want to. He waits until you give the smallest eager nod before his mouth brushes yours.

Oh. Oh. Okay. You should have started here weeks ago.

The kiss is nothing like the moments you’ve shared before. It’s unhurried and soft, his lips moving against yours like he’s learning a part of you he doesn’t know.

And God, he’s a good kisser too – good doctor, good giver, does this man know how to be bad at something?

He tilts his head slightly, deepening it and learning to read every small reaction: when you sigh softly against his mouth, he runs his tongue against yours, when your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, he pulls you closer.

Out of breath, he rests his forehead against yours, noses brushing.

“I like you, okay? I like you when you study until four in the morning. I like you when you are right about a diagnosis and high five me. I like you when you’re scared. And stubborn. And exhausted,” he whispers against your mouth. “You’re my person. In the ER, here, everywhere.”

You swallow. “My god, how didn’t you get with, like…all the girls of the hospital?”

“Well, you see, I was a bit busy trying to get the attention of a certain woman,” he replies, chuckling.

“Oh, do I know her?”

“Hm. I’m not sure,” he murmurs, lips still close enough that your breath mingles. “She’s obstinate. Overworks herself and pretends she doesn’t need anyone. Terrible at dishes.”

You pinch his side. “Rude.”

“Oh, and she rolls her eyes when I’m right,” he continues. “Which is very often.”

“Unbelievable.”

“And,” he adds, softer, “she has this look she gives me every time there’s an alarm. Like she’s checking if I’m okay.”

You swallow. “Oh. Her.”

“Yeah.” His mouth curves, his nose brushing yours deliberately. “Her.”

You shake your head, smiling despite yourself. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love that.”

You hesitate before nodding. “Yeah,” you admit. “I do love that.” I love you, I love you, I love you.

“Yeah?” he asks, a smile spreading across his face as his hand slides to the small of your back. “Good.”

You don’t give him time to get smug about it before kissing him again, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt and pulling him closer until there’s no space left between you. His breath catches against your mouth, a surprised sound that makes you press him against the bathroom’s door.

Against his lips, still holding onto his shirt, you murmur, “Shower?”

“Shower.”

“I need a favor.”

Jack was used to you asking him for help, had been for the two years since you moved into the apartment directly across from his.

He didn’t mind offering you a lending hand when he saw you struggling to carry your boxes from your small run down car, it wasn’t an inconvenience to collect your mail if you ever had to leave town for a few days, and he really couldn’t complain about having to remind you to get your laundry from the unit down below because it held him accountable too.

It was such a common occurrence, you asking him for a favor, that he wasn’t too surprised to find you at his door. He only gave a soft sigh as you pushed past him to enter his apartment, offering you a lot more patience than he did the newbies at the hospital.

You were always sweet, maybe a little bossy at times, but it gave him some amusement in his otherwise strict routine.

Plus it was admittedly nice to feel needed.

You came to him when your apartment had a leak or your air conditioning went out, knocked on his door whenever it was raining and you’d forgotten an umbrella after locking yourself out, and you even sometimes popped over just to get his opinion on what you should wear out on a random night.

Everybody was always telling Jack he needed a hobby that didn’t involve putting his life on the line, so he rarely told you no and tried his best to brush off Robby whenever he asked what was keeping him so busy lately.

It would be hard enough to explain the dynamic he had with his much younger neighbor but even more so considering you were now standing in the middle of his apartment with a frustrated look on your face, hands on your hips as you tapped your bunny slipper covered foot.

“What is it now?” His voice was gruff and disinterested but you knew well enough that he would do whatever you asked and he was well aware of that too. Still, it helped him just a little to pretend to contemplate it for a second or two first.

“I need you to have sex with me.”

You said it like it was as simple as asking him to come over and check your water pressure, falling out of your mouth casually and landing heavily in the quiet room.

There was no need to pretend this time as he fell into a bewildered silence, raising an eyebrow in your direction and letting his eyes track you as you dramatically sighed and went to flop down on his couch. You’d demanded about a year ago that he got some pillows for it, along with a few other interior design suggestions.

He’d picked up four after his shift that night.

“Please say something.” You were turned around on the couch so you could face him over the back of it, arms crossed as you rested your chin ontop of them.

“I have nothing to say to that.” He shook his head immediately, that stern expression he used on an unruly patient or Robby when he got a little too pushy.

This just made you sigh again, loud and exaggerated as you turned back around to fully lay flat on his couch.

“Why are you even asking me that?” He didn’t want to pry because he knew you well enough by now to know you’d just be encouraged by that but his curiosity got the best of him, circling around to sit across from you on one of the living room chairs.

You didn’t sit up but you turned your head to the side to look at him, a slight frown on your face that he didn’t think was particularly genuine. Your personality was always something Jack admired, not getting a lot of time in his own life to be so bold with his emotions and carefree in the way he spoke and behaved.

He was serious and guarded where you were a walking billboard for spontaneity, coming to him crying about random problems after only half a week of living in the building.

It was mostly endearing but there was the more critical part of him that wondered how lonely you must be to be making friends and finding comfort with some random guy across the hallway, a much older one at that.

Jack knew he had a bit of a hero complex but it typically manifested in a more extreme way, quite literally jumping into battle to save lives or operating on them in their lowest moments. This dynamic with you was a new form of care taking and there’d been a handful of times he’d doubted his own motives.

“Because I have a date next week and I am a complete lost cause when it comes to all things intimacy.” You still had a theatrical flare to your voice, not facing him anymore and instead rambling straight up to his ceiling with your hands gesturing wildly.

He tensed up for two reasons now, one being the mention of a date and the other was your implication you didn’t have any experience.

“But you’ve had sex before.” It came out slowly and half like a question, half like an assumption.

There wasn’t any real reason for him to think that other than his own social expectations. You were gorgeous, one of the prettiest women he’d seen in a very long time, and had a naturally magnetic energy to you that even he couldn’t resist most of the time, platonically but also selfishly deep down, a little more than that.

He’d seen you go on a handful of dates in the last year or two, all guys your age that didn’t seem to know how to pick up a check let alone please you properly.

That’s where Jack’s problem stemmed from.

There had been almost no ulterior motive the first year he had known you, genuinely trying to be helpful and to be a good neighbor. He would get upset when his coworkers would call him anti social or make digs at how unfriendly he was because he hadn’t always been like that and he figured helping out the girl next door was a good first step to getting that part of himself back.

You’d told him after a few months that you had no family on this side of the country, completely starting fresh at a new company you’d applied to on a whim.

It was completely innocent.

Yes, you were undoubtedly beautiful in a way that made his head spin for a second when he first saw you. You had been standing near your car and fighting with a box, both by tugging at it and saying less than kind words in its direction like it could understand you.

Jack had hesitated for a handful of seconds before making his way over and offering to help, feeling this weird pull in his chest when you blinked up at him in surprise and eagerly thanked him.

Once you were in his life, you never left. And he made space for you effortlessly because, quite frankly, he had plenty of it to offer up.

About seven months ago was the first time he had ever seen you with a guy.

He’d been coming home from a long and rare day shift (covering for Robby so he could attend Jake’s graduation), dragging his leg behind him and praying nobody stopped him on the way to his apartment so he could crawl into bed for a few short hours before he had to do it all over again for his own shift.

The only distraction he would have allowed was you but you were clearly busy, standing in the hallway as he got off the elevator and touching the rather small bicep of a guy your age.

Jack hesitated, considered getting right back on the elevator before it could close on him, and then slowly walked to his door.

He had hoped you wouldn’t acknowledge him because his throat was already weirdly tight as he eyed you and the way you stared up at the man (boy, if Jack had to really label it) with that soft and curious expression you always had.

“Jack.” Your voice was full of excitement and he faltered, his key left in his doors lock as he turned to give you an attempt at a polite smile. “Covering somebody again?”

If this had been any other day then Jack would have invited you into his apartment to talk instead of lingering in the hallway. He would have ignored his exhaustion to pair his black coffee with the hot chocolate flavor you liked that he kept in his bottom drawer, complained to you about being tired and listened to you scold him for working too much when he didn’t need to.

But you were in a pretty dress that was clearly on its way to dinner and your date was giving Jack that possessive stare that guys fresh out of college thought was intimidating.

So instead he simply nodded his head and continued to unlock his door.

“This is Asher.” You continued abruptly as he turned his door handled, leaving it cracked as he stopped to look at you again.

He gave you a once over to make sure everything was okay, wondering why you were still insisting on talking to him when you were so clearly meant to be going somewhere else. You didn’t look too uncomfortable but you were watching him back just as intensely so he mentally stored the name and face of the guy anyways, just in case something happened.

“Ashton.” Your date finally spoke and his voice was annoyed and laced with immature bitterness, although slightly valid considering you had forgotten his name.

Your eyes widened, still boring into Jacks, and he smiled a little before giving you a small wave and heading inside.

Jack realized quickly after that encounter that his intentions were a lot less innocent than he had initially thought they were. He’d closed his door before immediately pressing his back against it, listening to the sound of your small heels leaving the hallway as you apologized to your date with a clenched jaw and a pain in his stomach.

The next few dates after that just confirmed what he had already realized from the first one.

He was attracted to you.

Maybe even liked you.

You talked to Jack about almost everything going on in your life, even things he definitely would not have cared about if it came from anybody else, but you never once brought up the dates. At first he had worried you had somehow noticed his weird demeanor that day in the hallway but Jack wasn’t very expressive in general so he figured you must keep that part of your life private for other reasons.

The attraction part was easy to accept mostly, he was only a man and you were clearly gorgeous. Although the age gap was something Jack couldn’t get himself to look past.

You were barely in your early twenties, over half his age younger and overly obviously so. You radiated youth, from your appearance and the way you spoke down to your hobbies and interests.

You were clearly a very young girl and he had felt like a pervert from the moment he saw you outside of that car for the way his body warmed. Jack hadn’t felt much attraction to anybody at all since his wife died, at first out of a lingering loyalty to her that barely faded and then just due to his busyness and his own mental blocks.

That was not a problem when it came to you and he had to give a genuine effort when he was around you to act normal.

You’d come over in tiny sleep shorts or a tight tank top that showed your hardened nipples through the thin fabric, join him for morning yoga in downright sinful leggings and he even was attracted to the stupid bunny slippers you wore.

But you were a young girl and he was a disciplined old man so he barely looked twice in your direction when you were bending over to get mail and he never once touched you, setting boundaries for himself and keeping them.

Which was why it was so hard for him when you slowly shook your head to his question about having sex before.

“What about those guys?” His eyebrows furrowed as he looked at you and you sighed like you were embarrassed, a rare emotion to see from you.

“We barely kissed.” You shrugged and finally sat up from your dramatic position on the couch. “Please Jack, I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“I’m not sleeping with you.” He said immediately, slightly offended you were seemingly only asking him because you had no other options.

You looked completely dejected now but Jack knew there was no way he could possibly accept this request, for too many reasons but especially because of his own moral code. He also didn’t want to ruin what you’d had going on, enjoying your company on his hard nights and finding himself finally letting somebody in after so many years alone.

“Okay so no sex.” You say softly and you stand up when he does, following him as he walks into the kitchen and leaning against the counter to watch him set the coffee machine settings. “But can’t you show me little things.”

He sends you a sharp look that you return with a gentle pleading smile, bouncing in place a little like you think your cuteness is the answer to everything.

And it just might be because Jack sighs softly and turns his full attention back to you.

“Like what?” He knows him asking for specifics will give you hope and he can see it immediately on your face, brightening and taking a step closer to him that makes him tense.

“Maybe just telling me what guys like?” You suggest softly and the words coming from your mouth make him almost groan, keeping his face flat and emotionless as you speak. “And some kissing lessons.”

“You know how to kiss.” He shook his head at you and went to turn back to his coffee but your hand wrapped around his wrist to stop him, successfully keeping his attention on you. He realized that it might be the first time you’d ever actually touched him, skin against skin. “I’ve seen it.”

His posture tightens as he reminds himself of that fact, easily recalling the vivid memory of leaving his apartment to head to work and finding you coming home from a date and making out with a guy against your door.

You hadn’t noticed him at first but he had slammed his door harder than normal, shamefully intentional.

There’d been a pang of guilt when you jumped in surprise and separated from the guy who looked the douchiest out of all of them but it was hard to feel it when you have him a slightly grateful look on his way to the elevator.

You were blinking at him now, almost like you were realizing something, and he looked away in favor of glancing at the clock on the wall.

“Not a kiss that feels good.” Your voice was more serious now, sounding genuinely disheartened by the conversation and the slow unveiling of your inexperience.

He sighed again, just trying to get rid of the tightness in his chest, before shaking his head firmly and fully turning away from you to fill up his coffee mug.

“I’m not doing it.”

—

Jack thought about your offer for the next two weeks. Obsessively.

He waited to hear you bringing somebody else over, someone who had jumped on the golden opportunity to touch you for the first time when he hesitated. You didn’t seem to go on any dates but he supposed you wouldn’t have told him anyways.

The thought of you experiencing sex with some asshole you met off a dating app, nervous and unsure on what to do without guidance, was eating away at him.

Jack was a fixer, he liked to help you, and he had already accepted the fact that he was extremely attracted to you. It wasn’t like he didn’t recognize the jealously in his stomach everytime he saw you with somebody else, a type of anger he hadn’t felt since he was preparing to go into a real life war.

Subdued by age and a calmer reality now but it was still fresh hot anger that he couldn’t shake no matter how much he tried.

You came to him with this problem, not just for pointers and tips but you had actually asked him to be the one to take your virginity.

Virginity.

Jack couldn’t get the concept out of his head and while he hadn’t necessarily considered himself somebody who would care about that type of thing, especially not as he entered his fifties, it did bring a wave of heat over him whenever he thought about it.

You’d never been touched before outside of a few unsatisfactory make out sessions. You, the pretty girl with downright sinful choices of pajamas that consumed his day to day life so easily after he spent such a long time alone.

He thought about it endlessly until it led to him knocking on your door, a rare switch of the usual dynamic that left him feeling a little awkward before you answered.

The sensation went away when you looked up at him, eyes a little wide with confusion as you silently stepped back to let him inside. It was rare for you to be so quiet but maybe you could tell what he was thinking by the look on his face, maybe you were thinking about the same exact thing.

“I’ll help you.” His voice was gruff and flat, waiting until your door closed behind him before he spoke. Your face immediately lit up but he silenced anything you were going to say with a raised hand, your parted lips closing as you waited for him to finish. “But I’m not sleeping with you.”

You pouted a little at the condition but stepped forward after a few seconds, far too close to him for his sanity but he figured you’d be getting a lot closer soon so he forced his breathing to stay level.

Jack used to consider himself quite smooth, still a natural flirt when he joked around with older patients or teased Robby.

But he was completely thrown off of any existing game when it came to you. He didn’t even know he could still feel this way about somebody, the yearning and lustful feeling having been dormant for a long time before you moved in.

“I’ll take whatever you give me.” Your voice was soft now and he’d never heard you like that, maybe a bit of a whine when you impatiently asked him to help you with something, but never so pleading.

You’d shifted even closer as you spoke and he couldn’t help himself now that he practically had permission, his large and rough hand sliding over your waist to rest on the small of your back.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the feeling and he was suddenly aware of how much fun this was going to be if you were that sensitive.

“Not tonight okay?” He replied and his low tone made your eyes soften, nodding eagerly and hesitantly letting your hands land on his chest in balled up fist. “We can talk about it more later and work out some conditions.”

“You’re giving me rules?” You’d collected yourself enough to finally give him some of that familiar attitude, smiling slightly as you stared up at him. He rolled his eyes but let his hand tighten against your back, moving you forward and just trying to test your reaction to the touch.

You lost your smile immediately, shuffling closer until you were pressed against him as your eyes darted all around his face with surprise. It was clear you didn’t expect him to accept at all let alone this easily, despite his two weeks of contemplation, he wasn’t at all hesitate now.

“You need them.” He retorted and his free hand brushed some of your hair behind your ear, the first time you were ever really touching each other being this intimate was sending another wave of affection through him.

A few years ago, Jack couldn’t even get himself to look at another woman, let alone hold one so gently. Even with the slightly out of the ordinary circumstances, he cared for you and you trusted him and that was all that really mattered in his eyes.

“You’re mean.” You’re whispering it and his head tilts at the sound it, overly fond and curious how you can affect him so much just by changing the tone of your voice. “Kiss me atleast.”

It comes out a demand and his eyebrows naturally furrow at the sound of it, knowing immediately that will have to be one of the rules he gives you when you talk them over.

Manners.

He doesn’t respond for a second but you seem to understand before he even needs to scold you, lips parting in realization before they form a small pout and you unclench your fist so your palm is flat on his chest now instead.

“Please give me a kiss Jack.” You sound sweeter now and he would think it was an act, making fun of him for his sudden silent sternness, if it wasn’t for the genuinely pleading look on your face.

The knowledge that you listen so easily, even when he doesn’t actually say it, overrides his senses so much that he actually does bend down to kiss you.

It’s soft at first which you don’t seem to understand, immediately trying to eagerly make out with him like that’s all you really know. He moves one of his hands from your side to hold under your jaw, applying a little bit of pressure near your throat to indicate he wants you to slow down.

You melt against him at the touch but do as he silently communicates and relax a little bit, still moving your mouth a bit sloppily against his but learning to adapt to his slow and easy pace.

Eventually you get the rhythm down perfectly, lips moving together without anything extra added. You asked Jack to teach you so he was going to do exactly that, starting from the basics.

Your face was completely dazed when he pulled back, instinctively shifting forward to try and kiss him again and making a small disappointment noise when his hold near your throat tightened in warning.

“You asked for a kiss.” He said in a low voice, still close to your face so he could perfectly see the way your widened eyes shifted around his features.

He was a bit mesmerized by the way you looked now, so unlike yourself on any other day. It both made his guilt over being perverse grow and also solidified that he didn’t care how wrong it was as long as you kept looking at him like that.

“Get some sleep.” He waited a few seconds before taking the necessary steps away from you, taking a sharp breath as he turned and left your apartment.

His own door had barely closed behind him before there was insistent knocks on it, his head immediately hanging since he knew exactly who it was.

Your eyebrows were furrowed when he pulled the handle to reveal you in the hallway, standing stiffly and glaring up at him but not making any move to come inside. You shifted in place and let out a huff of annoyance as you seemed to search for the right words to convey what you wanted.

“Can you kiss me one more time?” You eventually settled on the blunt question, shifting closer so you were both halfway in his doorway.

While he had a foot inside his apartment still, you had one in the hallway. It left you standing too close for his sanity, feeling it slip almost entirely again when your small hand landed on his forearm and rubbed softly.

“What’s wrong?” He asked softly, sensing your frustration but not knowing where it was stemming from.

He cupped your face with one of his hands, letting the other rest back on your side. You stared up at him as he took a few slow steps forward, backing you up with each one until your back hit the doorframe and took a soft near gasp from your lips.

“Nothing I just…” You trail off as you pout, scanning over his face and then down his chest until you can’t bend your head anymore to look. “I want one more. Please.”

You added it as an afterthought but it was enough for him, pressing his mouth back against yours.

This time, apparently a very quick learner, you were able to meet his pace right away and your mouths moved softly together. Your arms went around his neck so you could fully cling to him as you kissed deeply, heads tilting and quiet pleased noises rumbling in your throat.

You only got louder when his tongue pressed lightly into your mouth, mostly just to test your reaction but unable to stop himself when you were eagerly matching the actions.

It was sloppy and a little too wet, sounds of your tongues tangling together filling the silent hallway and sending a sharp heat down to his gut. He liked how clumsy you were, growing addicted to the way you seemed to have no idea what you were doing but too desperate to stop yourself and ask him for his help.

Jack knew he liked feeling needed but this was a whole different beast, one that came paired with some light shame.

You weren’t innocent and you knew exactly what you needed to about sex but your body was inexperienced and it was getting clearer by the second, your little gasp when he kissed you deeper and the way you tightened your hold on him everytime he went to pull back and attempt to slow down.

You’re red in the face by the time he manages to get you to stop eagerly kissing him, still instinctively shifting closer when he moves back. He gives you a lighthearted sigh, occupied by the softest smile he can manage so he doesn’t actually hurt your feelings when he presses you back against the doorway with the hand that’s still on your hip.

“Time for bed.” He tries to keep his tone light but it comes out more authoritative than he had meant for it to, most likely driven by the way you automatically started to frown as soon as he held you away from him. “We can talk tomorrow.”

You clearly weren’t happy about that but you surprisingly gave him a soft nod, shifting your body until you were out of his entrance and closer to your own.

He watched you and your dazed face, slightly wobbly on your feet, as you disappeared behind your apartment door with a small wave.

-

Jack had started off his day rough the following morning, barely able to sleep after what had happened.

It was a completely split mixture of wanting you so bad it was driving him to literal insanity and feeling disgustingly guilty for even looking in your direction.

He almost considered calling Robby about it but he really didn’t need to hear the lecture that would undoubtedly come his way about the situation. Plus he figured that whatever Robby knew, Dana knew, and if Dana knew then it was only a matter of time before the entire emergency department was gossiping about Jack Abbot and his young neighbor.

The dilemma was so strong that he had almost completely forgotten about the fact he had told you that you’d talk today, although almost intentional.

He was halfway avoiding having to actually sit down and make this arrangement a reality, still having a hard time believing what had happened last night was even real.

He had just started to get changed for work when the knocking on his door started and he knew it was you immediately, standing still and hanging his head for a few seconds like he figured he could just wait you out.

It didn’t take long for his senses to kick back in and he was pulling on a plain black shirt before making his way over to the door, raising his eyebrows at you when he saw how irritated you looked.

You brushed past him immediately and he lingered with his hand on the door knob for a moment before closing it and preparing himself to face whatever wrath you were about to send his direction.

“You didn’t come over.” You immediately accused, finger pointing in his direction as you stood in the middle of his living room with an angry expression. “You didn’t even text me.”

He was already walking closer to you as you spoke and your defenses naturally crumbled at the proximity, especially when his hands were sliding over your ribs to both hold you steady and let him feel your breathing as subtly as possible.

“You can’t just kiss me like that and then ignore me.” You continue on but your tone is a lot softer now that he’s touching you, already getting that dazed edge to it he had heard last night.

“I didn’t mean to ignore you.” He shakes his head and frees a hand to tuck some hair behind your ear, your features have completely softened now at the movement.

Jack wonders for the first time if you might have feelings for him beyond trust and attraction.

For some reason, he hadn’t really considered the possibility before. You were practically his polar opposite and he had nothing in common with any of the boys you went on dates with.

But now, with you blinking up at him like you were hanging on to his every word, he let himself think it might just be likely.

“I figured you changed your mind.” Your words are a little slurred from the insistent pout you have on your face and he sighs again, gently leading you over to sit on his couch.

Your knees brush together as you scoot closer to him the second he’s settled on top of the cushion, your hand wrapping around three of his fingers and squeezing lightly as you wait for him to respond to your fear of being rejected.

“I didn’t but I want to make sure you understand what you’re asking.” His voice is low and nearing stern, the same tone he uses on the new med students who seem a little more cocky than they are willing to learn. He knows that’s not the case with you, knows you’re desperate for any expertise he can offer you, but he still wants you to pay attention and properly understand him. “There’s other ways for you to do this.”

“What, like other guys?” Your eyebrows furrow like the thought confuses you.

His stomach tightens immediately, sick at the thought of it, but he stiffly nods his head.

You’re shifting even closer immediately and he lets out a breath when you’re leaning over his knee nearly, closer to his face than before and scanning over it again.

“I don’t want another guy Jack. I just want it to be you.” You’re whispering now and he can’t stop himself from pressing a light kiss to your mouth, brief but necessary when his brain processes the lack of distance between you. That makes you smile finally and he suddenly feels very stupid for ever questioning you when you’re making a request like this.

“Tell me why.” He mumbles, easily sliding his hands around your middle so he can tug you over more and into his lap. You kiss him again once you’re settled in his lap, still quick like you’re both using it as punctuation during your conversation. “Why me?”

He wants to hear you give a legitimate reason, to undo the hesitance you gave him when you said it was only because you didn’t have anybody else to ask. That’d been weighing on him more than anything else, the thought that you had just settled for your older lonely neighbor who was clearly willing to help you with anything in spite of himself.

Your next kiss was much longer, deeper as you fully sink down in his lap and move your mouth against his desperately. He’d accept that alone as an answer, big palms rubbing over your back and sides so he can keep pulling you impossibly closer.

Your nose is rubbing against his when you pull back, the sounds of your breathing being heavier now making his head spin with the necessary impulsivity to keep making terrible decisions with you.

“You’d make me feel good.” The answer you’d landed on was much more devastating than he was prepared for, his eyes darkening at how confident you sounded in that fact. “I know you would.”

His hands tightened around your soft skin for a second, needing to take a deep breath to ground himself.

It takes a second for him to reply, tucking his face into your neck and inhaling sharply. You smell as sweet as you always do but it’s intoxicating to have it this close after so long, skin soft under his lips as he kisses you softly.

Your breathing gets shaky, arms looping around his neck so you’re practically hugging him. You’re warm on top of him and making the sweetest noises when he moves along your jaw, shifting in his lap to try and get his attention back on your conversation.

“You’ll do it right?” You ask softly, running your hand through his hair and tugging just enough to make him finally look back at your face. His eyes are dark and unfocused as he stares at your pretty features. “Jack?”

“Yeah honey.” He says back after another long silence, voice deeper than he’d ever heard it as he leans in to kiss you again.

You kiss for a long time, wiggling around in his lap when your tongues tangle together and you get to taste him properly again. It’s addicting for both of you, both of your hands running all over the other’s body like you’re trying to learn every part of it you can reach.

Eventually you’re fully rocking against him from your neediness and it takes a second for him to process it, snapped back to focus when he hears the way your whines are getting higher pitched. A near growl leaves his throat as he grabs your hips firmly, thumbs pressing into the bone so he can stop you from moving on top of him like that.

“Jackie.” You whine desperately, kissing him again and successfully distracting him long enough that you can start humping again.

“Stop baby I have work soon.” He scolds in between the sloppy kisses, lips and chin slightly wet from how uncoordinated you still are.

You make another soft noise and he’s confused for half a second before he realizes it’s because of the pet name, smiling softly from his fondness for you as you hide down in his neck for a second.

“You’re hard now, I can feel it.” You’re whispering right against his skin and a shiver runs over him at the lewd words falling from such a pretty mouth, high pitched and almost innocent voice making the sentence sound so much dirtier than it needed to be.

At first Jack doesn’t think you’re right, knowing himself and his body enough to expect he’s not stirring down there even if he wants you so bad it makes him feel insane.

He’s had issues with it for years now, a deadly combination of his age, his traumas, and the carousel of medications he has to be on for a variety of things he wouldn’t disclose to you out of his own pride. That was the reason Jack had stopped trying to hook up with people years ago, giving up on porn entirely when he’d have to spend an hour trying to get hard before he could even attempt to actually get himself off.

It was in the back of his mind when you’d asked him to help you with this but he figured this was about your pleasure, he wouldn’t need to be hard to get you off especially if he stuck to his guns about not actually having sex with you.

He was sucking in a deep breath to explain this to you in less detail, make sure you understood that he wasn’t hard but it had nothing to do with you or his attraction to you, when you gave a particularly deep and slow roll of your hips.

And the effect was completely undeniable.

A shudder ran over him, eyes dropping to his lap that you were still rocking on top of. Your tiny little shorts were so clearly pressing against the tent in his scrub pants, catching on it whenever you lost the energy to move properly as you let out another needy whine and hid back in his neck.

You were completely unaware of his current mental situation, baffled at how easily you’d gotten him to this state from just some sloppy kissing.

You must’ve thought he was ignoring you because you picked up your head to glare at him, a pout on your swollen lips.

“Sorry sweetheart.” He sighed and kissed you gently, rubbing your sides up to your ribs and coming back down right when he felt the swell of your breast against his fingertips. “I really have to go.”

“Let me suck you off.” You requested easily and his breath caught, nearly choking at how simple you made it sound. “I wanna learn and you’re so hard right now Jackie. Please let me do it.”

“That’s not the point of this.” He shook his head immediately and moved you by your hips so you were sat next to him and no longer settled in his lap, clearly upsetting you as you scrambled up on your knees and gripped his bicep so he couldn’t get off the couch yet.

“The point is to teach me things about sex and I’ll need to know this.” You counter, eyebrows furrowing in confusion at why he’s rejecting you.

He finds it a little amusing that you’re so used to him accepting your requests for things that you’re genuinely lost when he doesn’t immediately fold for you. It’s a bratty habit he should have corrected months ago but he can’t find himself caring too much, liking how dependent you’d become on him.

Jack has to contemplate this because he knows you’re right, stomach turning a little at the reminder that you’re going to use whatever he shows you on somebody else down the line.

That selfishly makes him want to cancel this whole thing and leave you completely clueless, hopefully to the point you decide to swear off sex with other men entirely. But he knows how stubborn you are and how stuck you get on something once it catches your attention, figuring you’d get on a dating app and find some idiot in finance to take your virginity as soon as he put an end to this arrangement.

So he lets you slip to your knees off the couch, taking his hesitance to decline again as a positive sign.

“Wait.” He interjects and you freeze, sighing in annoyance as you prepare for him to give another reason you can’t do it. Instead he pulls one of the pillows off the couch and slides in near his feet, your eyes softening as you shift so you’re kneeling on the plush cushion instead of the floor.

“How do I start?” You ask softly, eyeing the bunched up fabric in front of you with interest. He has to stare at the ceiling for a second, slightly losing it at the sight of you kneeling on his floor between his legs. “Do I have to get you ready?”

“No.” He says it gruffly and you tense again, his tone way sharper than he’d meant for it to be. “It’s… I’m ready baby trust me. Just give me a second.”

That calms you down immediately, enough that you rest your head on his knee as you try your best to be patient. His eyes go back to you at the touch and he watches the way you squirm against the pillow, clearly still riled up from the kissing and maybe even the thought of taking him in your mouth.

“Has it been awhile Jack?” Your voice is ridiculous now, clearly teasing him and developing this soft purr that almost irritates him.

His hand goes into your hair at the sound of it, tightening enough that you lift your cheek off his knee and stare up at him with wide eyes.

“Watch it.” He says lowly, using his free hand to untie his scrub pants as you eye the movement with fascination. Your lips part as you stare at his hand and the way his fingers twist the strings, he has half the thought to make you choke on the digits before you try and take anything bigger but your attitude has left him feeling just as impatient. “We’ve got to work on your manners if you want me to teach you.”

That makes you snap back into focus, frowning at his words and shaking your head as you straighten up on your knees.

“I have manners Jack.” You’re clearly trying to convince him, small hands smoothing over his thighs.

He starts to deny it but he’s cut off when you lean forward to nuzzle against him, face pressing right where he’s currently aching under two layers of fabric. His breath catches in his throat and he instinctively tightens the hand that’s in your hair, mumbling out an apology when you make a pained noise but barely loosening it after.

He feels like he needs to keep it there to have any sort of control in this situation, especially given the way you’re almost desperately rubbing your face on his lap.

“Should’ve told me you were this needy.” He half scolds as he shifts his waistband down lower, waiting for you to notice and pick yourself up just long enough to get his pants down.

You don’t give him long at all before you’re back to obsessing over the sight in front of you, eyes fully dazed now that it’s just his boxers separating you from putting your mouth on his hard length.

You’re clearly trying to be patient in an attempt to prove you have any sort of manners, a little pride rippling through him similar to the feeling he got when you had corrected yourself the other night to politely ask him for a kiss.

“You wouldn’t have done anything about it.” You say softly, not accusatory but confident in it like you know it’s true. You lean forward and kiss against the covered bulge, a groan leaving him. “You’re too good of a guy.”

“Clearly not.” He rasped just as you start to lose that faux patience you’re trying so hard to pretend you have, tugging at the waistband of his underwear and smiling softly when he lifts his hips off the couch without arguing. “And you know I never tell you no sweetheart.”

“Yeah?” You’re still trying to talk to him but now you’re completely lost in the sight of him half naked and sitting there with his legs spread in front of you, too desperate to even be intimidated by the size of him. “You would’ve let me do this months ago Jackie?”

He sighs and tightens his hold in your hair again, bringing you forward until he can feel your breath where he’s most sensitive.

Your eyes flicker up to him and the sight is devastating for how deprived he’s been, a pretty young girl like you sitting so nicely on your knees for the first time ever. He can barely even feel that guilt and slightly sick sensation, knowing how perverted it is that he could probably get off just looking at your face and thinking about the way he’s about to corrupt you.

“Stop talking.” He instructs gruffly and you nod eagerly, eyes back on his length and only now looking a little nervous as you swallow before your lips part in anticipation. “You sure you want to do this?”

“Want it so bad.” You don’t hesitate to answer and your voice is a little whinier, swaying forward like you don’t even realize you’re doing it.

Jack lets you move until you’re right there, eyes locked on your face as you give him a nervous look and try to take him in your mouth.

It’s awkward and you’re tense, expression full of hesitation like you’re waiting for him to tell you how to do it properly but he lets himself bask in this for a few seconds.

He knows it’s sick but he finds you the most beautiful like this, confused and desperate to please him without knowing how to. You go between sucking and licking at the tip of his length and while it feels good, no doubt about that especially after how long it’s been, it’s nothing compared to how clearly inexperienced you are.

Finally, he snaps out of his sick fantasies of watching you embarrass yourself trying to please him, and he decides to actually do what you’d asked and teach you something.

“Relax your jaw baby. Just take what you can okay?” His voice is low and gentle, hand loose in your hair but clenching into a tight fist whenever you brush against his sensitive skin with your teeth on accident or try to overachieve and take him deeper.

You do seem to calm down a little now that he’s finally speaking, shoulders slumping and your eyes fluttering shut as you get used to the feeling of him on your tongue.

You’ve barely taken him at all but he’s transfixed by the sight, perfectly content to sit here and cock warm your mouth until you were ready to move him down your throat.

He watches you closely as you pull back to take a few deep breaths, pouting a little at his length and hesitating before you’re touching him with your hand. It’s all experimental, tugging and feeling the skin against your palm while he grunts above you and tries to control himself.

It’s barely sexual on your end considering how fascinated you are by the new experience but he’s halfway losing his mind knowing this is the first time you’re touching somebody like this.

“I gotta go soon sweetheart.” He says and your eyes finally snap back up to him, turning a little red considering you’d been caught just staring at his length as you touched him. “You can play with me all you want after my shift.”

Now you’re full on blushing but you nod your head obediently and lean back in to take him in your mouth again, a little more confident now as you lick around the head and repeat movements whenever it draws a sound out from him.

Jack can barely stand it and he has to put both hands in your hair to keep himself from fucking up into your warm mouth, groaning from the effort it’s taking and considering telling you to get back on the couch before he goes too far with you too early.

You’re clearly just as impatient because you try to take more of him finally and immediately gag at the sensation, pulling back and frowning up at him.

“Help Jackie.” Your voice is whiny and has a little rasp to it now and he kisses his teeth at the sound, petting your hair back out of your face.

“I can’t help with that baby, you’ve just got to practice.” He tries his best to soothe you but you’re clearly frustrated.

“Can’t you just force my head down?” You’re rubbing his thighs as you speak in that ridiculously bratty voice, wiggling around on the pillow like the thought alone is exciting you.

He wants to say no, wants to tell you why it’s such a terrible idea for him to forcefully fuck your throat right before he has to go to work. There’s a million reasons he should be rejecting you right now but that sick voice in the back of his head is struggling to get the words out, especially when you go back to softly kitten licking at his length to keep him hard.

“Fuck you’re nasty.” He gruffs out and your eyes light up at the words, nodding your head and taking him back in your mouth as you keep trying your best to fit him deeper. “You want me in your throat that bad?”

You can’t talk now but your desires are obvious.

He eyes the way you’re shifting on the cushion below you, adjusting his foot the best he can so it’s between your thighs as you kneel. That seems to make you even more desperate, rubbing against him almost feverishly now as you try to focus on having him in your mouth.

There’s no option to do so when he brings his hands back to your hair, silently showing you he accepts your request when he moves his hips off the couch and keeps your face firmly in place so he can push deeper down your throat.

He feels you gag slightly around him but your eyes roll to the back of your head at the same time and you hump against his foot even faster so he can’t find it in himself to stop, thrusting slowly to make sure you don’t end up getting sick or feeling too sore by the time he’s finished.

Jack knows this is far beyond teaching, he’s not even speaking anymore and instead just using your throat to get himself off but you’re even more eager for it than him and he’d never deny you anything you asked for.

“This tiny little throat.” His voice is nearing a growl as he helps move your head up and down his length, reveling in the way you gag and drool around him. “You’re doing so good baby.”

The praise seems to do it for you more than anything else, rubbing your core against his foot so eagerly that you can barely focus on sucking him off. You’re getting too messy to control yourself, mouth slipping off every few thrust before you whine at the loss and immediately take him back in your throat.

Jack takes pity on both of you, both for his own sanity and because he can’t stop thinking about the fact he’ll need to leave as soon as this is done.

You’re clearly upset when he pulls you off, making a loud noise of disagreement that barely sounds like an actual word and frowning at him when he sends you a stern look and wraps his hand around himself instead.

You seem to forget your anger pretty quickly as you watch him touch himself, hips slowed down to a slow rock against his foot as you stare at his length and the way he’s making himself feel good above you.

Jack has to look away when he comes because he feels pretty close to forcing your head back down and making you swallow it, although half positive you’d actually enjoy that more than him judging by how eager you are to try things.

You’re laying your head back on his thigh while he grunts and curses, tightening his fist and going back to staring at your face just for a brief moment so he has a clearer picture to think about.

It’s quiet in the living room afterwards and he feels an odd sense of embarrassment, a rare vulnerability considering you’re still fully clothed and kneeling on the floor. He fixes one of those problems by effortlessly pulling you up by your arms, settling you back against the cushions.

He stands and pulls his pants up while he does so, knowing he’ll have to shower off before he can go to work and get a new pair of scrubs anyways.

There’s a second of hesitation before he goes to get you some water, leaning over your dazed frame and kissing you softly.

“Was it good?” You ask quietly against his mouth, hand tangling in his hair like you don’t want him to go anywhere without answering you first. “You stopped me.”

“You were perfect.” He answers simply and he means it, would probably feel the same if you had accidentally bit him though.

“I wanted to taste you.” You’re pouting again and every time he thinks he gets used to you, you prove him beyond wrong. He sighs and leans further against you on the couch so you’re fully sinking into the cushion below you.

“Next time.”

It comes out before he can stop it and he fully plans to backtrack but your eyes light up at the idea of him letting you do that again so he doesn’t, letting it linger for a few seconds.

“Not when I have to leave you right after. You won’t like it and I don’t want to hurt you.” He’s talking in the stern and no nonsense way he does at work, trying to make sure you understand even though you’re slowly starting to smile as he speaks and he realizes you’re probably not paying any attention.

“You won’t hurt me Jack.” You whisper and it’s so sweet he almost considers calling in so he can stay with you a little longer. “Not in a way I won’t like.”

That makes him scoff out a laugh, a rare sound from him and you look even more pleased at the noise.

“You don’t even know what you like sweetheart.” He says softly and brushes your hair out of your face, letting both his fingertips and eyes trail down your neck until he reaches your collarbones. “But I’ll show you.”

“You’ll show me?” You’re teasing him now, biting your bottom lip to try and hide your smile to no avail.

“Yeah I will.” He smiles too and kisses you again, a little too soft considering what you actually are to each other.

He eventually manages to get off of you long enough to get you some water, watching carefully as you take a few sips and rubbing your knee when you wince at first. He wants to feel guilty for making your throat sore but he can’t, sick enough to admit he just feels the urge to make you take him deeper next time to see if you’ll really let him.

You’re still laying on his couch when he gets out of his brief shower, having changed his pants and taken a few deep breaths while staring in the mirror to try and get ahold of himself. He needs to switch back to reality for atleast a few hours, become the weathered doctor who doesn’t lose his mind over a pretty girl asking for favors.

You set your phone down on your chest, giving him your full attention as he moves towards the door to tug his shoes on.

There’s no indication you plan to leave before he does but he can’t find it in himself to mind the intrusion, going back over to the couch to give you a kiss on the forehead.

“Staying here?” He says in a low voice and you nod eagerly, eyes locked on his.

He lets himself think about his entire way to work, the image of you being there when he gets home from a hard shift. It had been a long time since he had someone to come home to and having you across the hall was already a gift within itself.

Now you’d crossed a line and if he let himself forget the terms and conditions, the fact you were loosely using him just to end up with somebody else as the actual end goal, then he could pretend for a moment that you were the person he got to crawl into bed with when work was tough.

Despite how much he thought about you during his shift, every moment he wasn’t being bombarded with questions or saving somebody’s life on autopilot, you weren’t actually there when he came back.

He knew it before he even opened the door, confirmed by how neatly the pillows on the couch were placed again and the fact your glass of water was rinsed and put away in the dishwasher.

You’d made it look like you were never even there and he knew you still enjoyed his company, maybe enjoyed the newly added sexual dynamic even more, but that didn’t mean you wanted to comfort him after he lost a patient or help soothe him when his leg was bothering him from standing all day.

Jack had to remind himself of the part he was playing in your life currently and try his best to not be disappointed.

It’s two days until he sees you again and he thinks it’s one of the longest spans you’ve gone without talking in almost a year.

He’s just about to start really acting out of character by banging at your front door and asking if you’re avoiding him when he runs into you downstairs, freezing as soon as he enters the lowly lit laundry room to find you leaning against one of the washers and looking extremely bored.

You’re as beautiful as always, casually dressed in nothing but an old band shirt that hangs off your shoulder and a pair of shorts so small he’s pretty sure it’s just boxy underwear.

You don’t look up when he comes in until his leg slightly catches on the step, accustomed enough to the sound of the light dragging he sometimes can’t stop from happening when he’s extra tired.

It’s a relief to find that you don’t have any awkwardness on your face, no sign of being uncomfortable or upset with him.

Then he figures that might just be worse.

He would just about die if he had done anything that made you want to avoid him but the alternative seems to be that you just didn’t want to speak to him and that makes his chest sting.

There’s nothing but silence and the rattling of the old washer as it rocks back and forth on the cement floor, both of you seemingly having decided to not speak to each other first.

(sorry for the brief awkward spacing tumblr says this is too long)

It’s another five minutes of the now awkward stretch of quiet before you clear your throat, turning to face him where he’s fidgeting with his laundry baskets broken handle just to have something to focus on.

“So I went on a date last night.” You say softly, eyebrows raised like you’re genuinely interested in his reaction.

His stomach turns but it’s a relief to have you looking at him again so he takes it, swallowing hard and racking his brain for a response that’s appropriate.

“How’d it go?” He’s asking out of politeness but he’s silently praying you suddenly decide you don’t want to tell him about it. It wouldn’t even make him feel better to hear it had ended terribly, not wanting you to feel any type of negative emotions even if it technically was in his benefit.

He definitely can’t take any sort of mention of you being with another guy physically. He knows it’s coming eventually, it’s the sole purpose behind why he even gets to touch you, but he’s not ready just yet.

You’re quiet again and he really looks at you now, takes in the silent contemplation on your face and the way you tap your fingers on the metal of the washer for a second before pushing off of it entirely.

Then you’re in his space again and it’s like an instinctive move to cup your face, hand on your waist so he can lightly push you back against the machine he’d been in front of. You touch his chest, lightly rubbing in soft circles, and he wants to sigh in relief if that wouldn’t be so painfully obvious.

“Wasn’t a great time.” You whisper and your eyes are on his lips as you speak.

His eyebrows raise and his hand on your body tightens slightly at the same time he uses his thumb to press under your chin and make you tilt your jaw back.

“Why not?” He hates the thought of getting details but he needs to know some idiot from a dating app hadn’t done anything to hurt you.

You don’t answer right away, just standing there and letting your eyes scan over his features on rotation. You finally let out a small breath like you’re about to speak but it never comes, small hands moving to grip his biceps.

“Did he touch you?” He can’t stop himself from asking even though the question makes his voice come out low enough that your eyes flash with surprise for a second, snapping away from his mouth to meet his stare again like you’re looking for something in it.

You shake your head immediately, squeezing his arms and shifting against the vibrating machine.

He’s kissing you then and he tells himself it’s out of relief, the knowledge that you’re still untouched by anybody except for him instantly making this conversation easier.

You’re returning it right away and he’s pleasantly surprised by how quickly you caught on to the type of kissing he likes, his personal preference. He figures he should eventually tell you that not ever guy was going to like your constant licking into his mouth but for now he lets it be, wants you to be trying to please him specifically and not whoever you’d use these lessons with.

It’s ridiculously cute how desperate you get, only needing a few seconds of your tongue inside his mouth before you’re arching off the machine and making soft noises against his lips.

His hands are all over you as soon as he notices the state of you, sliding down to cup your ass with both palms and tug you tighter to his frame.

That makes you out rightly whimper, clumsily trying to hitch a leg around his waist and sighing in relief when he holds your thigh to keep it there. The wet sounds of your mouths fill the small room, body slightly shaking both from need and from the way the washer is vibrating against your back.

“Missed you.” You whimper it out when he pulls back to let you breathe, kissing down your jaw and tightening his grip on the soft curve hidden under your underwear. “Didn’t call me.”

“Were you waiting for me to call baby?” He asks softly, despite how much it had been bothering him, he would never want to make you feel guilty for not reaching out to him after what you’d done.

You don’t answer so he pulls his head out of your neck to look at your face, seeing the soft frown and the hesitation in your eyes.

“Hey.” He breaths out and pushes your hair back to get your attention fully on him, your body softening and completely leaning against his to the point you’d definitely fall if he took a step backwards. “I wanted to give you space. Let you decide when you wanted to continue this, if you did.”

“I don’t want space.” You counter and it’s a little past bratty but he’s so beyond fond of you that he can’t help but let the corners of his mouth turn up at the sound of it. “You’re supposed to take care of me.”

He’s not sure when your dynamic became this way but he feels it as much as you apparently do, knows it’s his duty to make sure you’re always fine and not needing anything he can’t fix. Now there’s the added element of making you feel good, touching you in ways you’re not used to and showing you what pleasure can be like, and he’s not taking it lightly.

“Then I’ll call.” He say softly and your eyes lock on his as you nod in agreement, his hand cupping your cheek so he can keep you still enough to kiss you briefly. “You want me to chase you and I’ll chase you.”

“Right now I just want you to kiss me.” You whisper and he doesn’t need to hear anything else.

You’re back to kissing and it’s feverish now, more tongue than anything and your hands groping each other anywhere you can touch.

He’s lifting you up off the ground just so he can press himself between your legs and swallow the soft needy noises you let out at the feeling, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist so he can’t pull away at all. You’re pressed back against the metal with his hands under your shirt and wrapped around your frame to make sure you don’t fall, thick fingers splayed out against your ribs.

It’s getting hotter in the room and it’s mostly due to the way you’re whining and trying to roll your hips into him, unsuccessful considering how hard he’s got you pinned back to the washer.

“Jack please.” You pant and pull away from his mouth, tucking into his neck and rubbing your soft cheek against his stubble like a needy cat. “Please touch me. Do anything.”

He’s grunting at the request and gently setting you back down on your feet so he can free up a hand, using it to push your shirt up to your neck. He’s not too surprised to find that you’re not wearing anything underneath and your surprised gasp swallows the sound of his low groan.

You’re whining lewdly when he leans down to press kisses against your skin, middle of your breast first to avoid putting his mouth where you really want it. You’re panting, chest rising and falling under his mouth, and tangling a hand in his ash colored curls to try and steer him where you need him.

He wants to smack your hand away and warn you to be patient but he wants you too bad to try and discipline you right now, letting his mouth latch onto to one of your hard nipples so he can hear whatever noise that brings out of you.

It’s loud and intoxicating, his head spinning a little as he keeps sucking and licking your skin, letting your shirt rest on the top of his head so he can use his other hand to roughly grope your other breast and make sure you’re getting equal attention.

“Oh fuck Jack.” You’re whimpering and trying to hump against nothing, back arching as you whine and hold him to your body like he has any plans of getting away from you. “T-that feels so good.”

“Come upstairs.” His voice is so rough it surprises himself, picking his head off your chest and letting your shirt drop so he can kiss you swiftly.

You frown at the loss of contact, rubbing your nose against his and still lightly petting his hair.

“Why not here?” You ask softly and he gives you a disapproving look that makes you sigh and rest your forehead down against his shoulder for a few seconds while you catch your breath. “It’s too far.”

He thinks for a moment before he’s adjusting his stance to pick you up off the ground, abandoning your laundry and his that both likely need to be switched out soon. He’d gladly let it sit and wash it again later if it means getting you up to his apartment as fast as possible.

You make a small surprised noise and cling to him, arms behind his neck and legs wrapped around his middle and he makes his way up the few stairs towards the elevators.

“Jack your leg.” The sight of the steps seems to remind you of his disability and he’d be more irritated by your worry if it didn’t sound so genuine.

You clearly don’t ever think too much about his leg restricting him, never shying away from asking him to lift heavy things or walk with you down to the store. You don’t treat him like he’s fragile or any less of a man for having limitations and he’s always liked that about you, same way he somehow likes your gentle concern even though it would have bothered him if it was anybody else.

“Think I can’t throw you around because of my leg?” He mumbles and you tense in his hold as he walks like you think he might be serious before you’re breathing out a laugh and hiding in his neck.

Jack finally gets back to his apartment, going crazy from the way you’d started to kiss his jaw and whine impatiently in the elevator. Your hands run up and down his arms like you’re marveling at the strength it takes to carry you for as long as he was, making soft needy noises and squirming around.

He can’t even care about the possibility somebody could see him with you, one of the neighbor he’d lived next to for years watching as Jack Abbot carries the much younger girl next door through his entry way as she whines for him to touch her more.

“Calm down baby.” His voice is soft once he gets to his room, setting you down on his bed and taking a few seconds to stare at you as you lay there and pout up at him.

You’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen and his gut twists a little at the observation, a mixture of desperate unfamiliar need and the same guilt from before accompanied by a new layer of it.

He thinks of his wife for the first time in a while. He used to spend every waking second with her on his mind but she had naturally started to fade from his mind once he met you, something he hadn’t even noticed until you’d already been living across the hall for a few months.

You’d came over for the first time and asked him to borrow some ingredients, strolling around his living room and eyeballing the photos on his walls while he poured some sugar into a small tupperware bowl for you to take back to your place. You had turned to him with a curious face and asked him where his wife was, obviously confused considering you’d never heard of her before despite how frequently you and him small talked.

That was the first time Jack noticed how little he’d been thinking of her lately, not just in the painful mourning way he’d been suffering through since she passed but in general too.

Now he was waking up in the morning and anticipating the next time you’d knock on his door, focusing on his health again so he could occupy you on your walks and not picking up too many extra shifts at work just incase you needed something and he wasn’t there.

Jack was thinking about her again now as you laid on his bed but only because he couldn’t remember the last time he had wanted something this bad, trying to compare the feeling of you to how he felt in his marriage and still thinking it fell short.

He had loved his wife, undoubtedly, but he craved you in a way that almost felt inhumane.

“You’re being mean to me.” You say softly to break him out of his trance, having zoned out just staring down at you and the way your chest was rising and falling with every deep breath.

“I’m never mean to you honey.” He whispers back and finally moves to lay down with you, hovering over your frame and running a hand from your waist to your ribs as he kisses you softly. “I take good care of you, don’t I?”

It’s a bit mean to throw your words from earlier back in your face, especially as he lets his mouth trail down your neck. You make a whiny noise and grip his shoulders, nodding your head and shifting under him so your legs are spread further.

“Yes Jack yes, you take care of me.” You’re practically whimpering and he feels almost drunk from how easily you get this needy, pausing his soft kisses to shift up on his knees and tug your shirt over your head.

You’re the prettiest sight he’s ever seen and he can’t help himself from bringing his mouth right back to your chest, drinking in the way you gasp and moan while he’s licking and sucking on your nipples. His other hand is softly groping whichever breast he doesn’t have his mouth on at the moment and your backs arching off his bed, scratching his shoulders through his shirt.

“Please touch me.” You’re begging after only a few minutes of the slow torture and he lets out a sharp breath, shifting so he’s more to the side of you than on top.

You’re quiet when he rubs his hand down your chest and over your stomach, rubbing at the waistband of your underwear for a few seconds just to hear the way you pant before he’s smoothing over your thighs.

Your back is basically against his chest as he hooks your leg over his to make sure yours are nice and spread for him, kissing your neck softly when he rubs your hips above your underwear.

You bare your neck for him easily and he’s selfish in the way he marks you, sucking any part of your warm skin he can reach so you’re left purple and red all over. He wants anybody you see for the next week or two to know you’ve been with somebody else, to see the claim he laid to your body even if he doesn’t let things go as far as you want him to take it.

Jack doesn’t need to be asked twice to touch you, big hand leaving your hip so he can fully palm your core.

Your reaction is just the way he had hoped it would be, sharp gasp leaving your lips as you instantly buck up against his touch. You whine desperately when he goes back to rubbing your thigh instead, giving you a second to work yourself up to the point he wants you to be at.

“Jack.” You don’t even sound like yourself now and it’s intoxicating, so pleading and broken. “Please.”

“Please what?” He’s practically whispering, perfectly calm and the direct opposite of how broken you sound just from him lightly touching you.

He moves you so you’re fully between his legs, back against his chest as he cages himself around you to keep you from moving.

You’re practically shaking, whimpering and moving your hips against nothing with the hopes he’ll cave and end up touching you again. You’re distracting to look at, body bare except for the pathetic excuse of underwear shorts you’d been wearing under your shirt, like you’d just been hoping he would be the one to find you in the laundry mat.

He has half the thought to make fun of you for that, make you tell him exactly what you were thinking when you left your apartment wearing so little, but he doesn’t think you could handle him saying much at all right now especially not something so demeaning.

“I’m going to touch you.” He says gently instead and kisses the side of your head, letting his hand go back to groping your chest just to make sure you stay worked up.

Even though he doubts at this point he even needs to touch you for that to happen.

“Yeah yeah.” You’re nodding in agreement, seemingly pleased at his decision as you relax back against him and let him touch you freely.

His other hands back between your legs now, letting you get used to the feeling of somebody touching you where you’re most sensitive. He’s just rubbing back and forth, listening to the way you pant and pulling back whenever you start to try and shift against his hand on your own.

“You’re wet just from that?” His voice is a little mean now but you don’t seem to mind, trying to clamp your thighs around his hand but being stopped by the sharp swat he sends to your skin. You wince but move your foot back to the other side of his leg so yours stay open, pouting softly at the silent punishment. “Answer me when I ask you something.”

“I’m always wet around you.” You admit with an embarrassed tone lacing your words, squirming like you wish you could hide yourself from the way he’s staring down at your body. “Want you so bad.”

“I want you too.” He kisses the side of your head, still rubbing you with just enough pressure to make you feel the friction but not to actually get off. “Gonna make you feel so good, you’ve just got to be patient.”

“Stop being scared to hurt me.” Your voice is shaky but as firm as possible, trying to show him you’re a big girl and can handle a little bit of the roughness he’s so clearly holding back.

It’s obvious in the way he was grabbing your throat your first kiss, moving your body around easily whenever he needed to, and scolding you just enough for you to be able to catch the mean tone seeping in accidentally.

Jack clearly has a darker side to him that he’s not letting you see and it’s obviously frustrating you, wanting to be taken seriously.

“I’ll hurt you if that’s what you want sweetheart but not for your first time.” His words don’t leave any room for argument so you don’t even try, sinking back against his firm chest and letting out a deep breath when he shifts behind you and presses himself forward.

It’s not long before you’re not able to wait anymore and he lets you scramble to tug down your underwear, keeping his fingers lightly rubbing between your folds and watching as you struggle to get the fabric past his insistent hand.

Eventually he lets you pull them off and then he’s right back to touching you, bare this time. You both suck in a breath at the contact and you’re practically laying down from how far you’d slid down his chest, spreading your legs as wide as they can go and whimpering while he touches you.

“Do you touch yourself like this baby?” He can’t help the curiosity, the image of you in your bed trying to get yourself off stuck in his mind now.

You shake your head and frown, trying to twist your neck to look at him but being stopped when he uses his free hand to roughly grip your chin and make you keep your eyes on the way he’s touching you, thumb on your sensitive clit now while you roll your hips the best you can.

“No I…” You can barely think let alone speak, clearly struggling as you make a pained and desperate noise. “I get nervous.”

Jack sighs and collects some of your wetness on his middle finger before finally pressing it against the tightness of your hole, not pushing in just yet but teasing it with light pressure and letting you get used to the feeling.

“When you’re with somebody, they should always be this gentle with you at first.” He’s saying softly, remembering that he’s supposed to be actually teaching you something and not just getting you off because he desperately wants to.

You frown deeply as he starts to talk and he doesn’t really understand why, thinks maybe you’re still being pouty that he won’t get rougher with you.

He tries to distract you by finally pressing a finger inside of you and it seems to work for a second, another gasp leaving you as you instinctively clench around the intrusion. He groans, his length throbbing against your back at the thought of being fully inside you instead of just a finger.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He rasps and buries his face in your hair for a few seconds to try and collect himself enough to keep teaching you something, anything at all so he doesn’t keep letting himself think this is something it isn’t. “They’ll have to really get you stretched before anything okay? You need to remember that baby.”

It bothers him so much he can barely focus, the thought of somebody not taking their time with you. He doesn’t want to picture you with another man in general but especially not in a way that hurts you, leaves you too sore the next morning with nobody to take care of you.

He’s so distracted by his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice your face stiffening at first, body a little tenser against him even though you’re still softly squirming to try and get him to put his finger deeper inside you.

“Jack stop.”

He does so immediately and goes to pull out of you before you’re making a panicked noise and closing your thighs around his hand. He lets you this time, pauses all movements just to wait for whatever it is that you need.

“N-no don’t stop that, god please don’t stop that.” Your voice is breathier now like the thought of him taking his hand away from you makes your chest tighten. “Just… stop talking about anyone else.”

It takes him a few seconds to register that and then his hands moving again, enough for you to relax and spread your legs back open.

You’re both quiet now as he adds another finger, lingering in the weight of your request and what it could mean if anything. He’s half sure you only asked because it was pulling you out of the moment, maybe making you nervous to think about doing this again with actual stakes, but the way you desperately tried to stop him from pulling away lets him pretend it was for another reason.

He’s selfish in the way he touches you now, thick fingers moving in and out of you while you cry and whine, gripping at his forearm whenever it feels like too much. He likes the way your nails dig into his arm when you think you might be close, thighs clenching and shifting when his thumb gently circles your swollen clit and how your lips part in breathy cries of his name.

He especially likes that.

You come with moans of his name filling the room and nobody else’s after you’d specifically asked him to stop mentioning other guys. Jack knows it’s selfish, even a little sick and perverted, but he could probably finish just from hearing that.

He’s throbbing against your back and he’s sure you’d be able to feel it if you were able to focus on anything after coming, body shaking a little as you pant endlessly and fall limb in his hold.

There’s a lot of softness that comes after, kissing the side of your head and being gentle in the way he cleans you up. It’s torture to be between your legs and getting to fully appreciate the sight of you for the first time without be able to touch you more but he doesn’t want to overstimulate you so early on.

He does let himself think about that vividly though, kissing against your thighs and picturing when he’s going to be able to put his mouth on you.

You’re quiet above him, eyes a little tired but still overly soft as you run your fingers through his hair and watch him wipe you down.

Then he’s back ontop of you and kissing you softly, shifting your back so you’re laying back against the pillows and not sitting up. It’s soft and bordering on romantic which makes his chest tighten, hoping you have no plans to leave his bed anytime soon.

“You okay?” He asks quietly against your mouth and he can feel you smiling, still touching his hair with one hand and letting the other drift down to the back of his neck.

“Felt so good.” You whisper back and your voice is a little hoarse from all the whining you’d been doing, nose bumping against his and then rubbing on his stubble for a few seconds. “Can I take a nap here?”

“You can do anything you want.” He says immediately, no hesitation as he gets up to get you one of his shirts and help you get comfortable, jumping at the opportunity to keep you with him just like he wanted.

Jack typically has a hard time sleeping through the night in general so he definitely never naps, needing to be truly past the brink of exhaustion to ever rest.

Yet he finds it to be the most simple thing in the world to crawl into his bed with you after taking off his leg, kissing you for a few more minutes before he’s wrapping you in his arms and tugging you back against his chest. He’s rubbing your stomach softly, hand under the shirt he’s given you, listening intently until he hears your breathing even out and then drifting to sleep right after you.

—

It’s one of the highlights of his decade to get to wake up with you still there, warm and making soft tired noises when you feel him start to stir.

His room is dark now other than the slight illumination coming from the moon outside of his window, casting just enough light for him to be able to watch your eyes flutter open.

You give him a soft sleepy smile and instinctively lean in to give him a kiss.

It’s easy to pretend that you are more than whatever this is when you act like this, mouths moving together sensually as if you have nowhere else you’d want to be.

Jack groans softly when your tongue pushes into his mouth, meeting it eagerly with his own and moving so hes hovering over you. Your hands are on his back, spreading your legs below him to let him slot between them.

He feels like a teenager again from how quickly he gets hard, your soft body under his putting him under some sort of spell. His hips shift and you let out a needy whine, scratching his shoulders lightly like you’re trying to encourage him.

You’re still making out slowly when he starts to thrust down against you, slow rolls of his hips to give you just enough friction to start to get desperate.

You’re tugging at his shirt fabric and he takes only a second to sit up and pull it over his head, back on you immediately and kissing you even more frantically. He’s moving your own shirt up towards your ribs but neither one of you wants to stop long enough to take it off, only able to when you need a quick second to take a breath.

It’s the first time you’ve both been nearly undressed together and he feels the effects of it instantly, your chest pressing against his when he lays back over you. Your skin is soft and hot to the touch, those now familiar soft whines leaving you when he lets his hand knead at your chest again.

“Jack please.” You’re whimpering and he finally stops kissing you in favor of sucking at your neck, bringing those marks from earlier back to the surface. “Can’t you just fuck me?”

He groans at the words and has to tuck his face in your shoulder, still rocking his hips against you even though they stuttered when you said that in that whiny voice of yours.

“Trust me, I want to fuck you so bad I can’t even think.” It leaves his mouth before he can stop it, not wanting to reject you again without making sure you know how badly he wants you.

“Then do it.” You’re begging now and he picks his head up to look at you, eyes wide and a little frustrated like you know he’s going to say no. You gasp when he thrusts down even harder, biting your lip as you stare at each other desperately. “Please Jack? Want you inside me.”

“I can’t baby.” He growls and kisses you to give himself a second to think without you arguing.

You’re quick to forget you were trying to convince him of something because you’re kissing him back deeply, angling your head so his tongue can get further and further inside your mouth.

He has that sick and perverted thought again that he’s coincidentally training you to be the perfect girl for him, kissing in a way he likes and not knowing how else to do it. Jack is selfish and wants everything you do to be for him, wants your body to instinctively move and react how he taught you regardless of who gets you next.

The thought of somebody else makes him want to forget his morals and fuck you like you’re begging him, be the one to take your virginity and fill you up for the first time.

He starts to reason with himself that it would actually be a good thing because Jack would never let himself hurt you in a way you didn’t like, he’d make sure you felt good around him and came so hard you weren’t able to see straight.

There’s nobody else who could fuck you like he could so he’s almost convinced himself that it’s a good idea when your phone rings on the nightstand.

You both stop, you’re completely tense under him and he sighs as he kisses you one more time and rolls off of you.

He lays there on his back as you sit up to grab your phone, screen a little too bright in the dark room and causing you to wince. He stares at your pretty face under the light as you open it up and answer it, not thinking much about the interruption despite the small disappointment he feels.

His hand is on your bare knee and rubbing your skin is soft circles, soothing both you and himself by keeping the contact.

“Hello?” Your voice is as soft and sweet as always, a little confused sounding which makes his eyebrows raise. “Oh Carter.”

Jack tenses up at the sound of a males name leaving your lips, his hand freezing and falling still on your knee. You’re avoiding looking at him as you listen to whoever it is speak on the other line, a deep voice bleeding through the speakers just enough for him to hear but not enough to make out the words.

“Tonight?” Your eyes go to the small digital clock on Jacks side of the bed, having to glance over his body in the process. You meet his eyes just for a second before they’re darting away again and it makes the pit in his stomach grow in understanding. “Of course I didn’t forget. I’ll be ready by nine.”

You’re hanging up after a quiet goodbye and now it’s suffocatingly silent in the room.

You’re still sitting up with your legs crossed under you, avoiding looking at him like you’re not still wearing his shirt and covered in marks he’d given to you. He waits for a minute before he’s sitting up and running a hand over his face, on the opposite side of the bed from you and facing the wall so you can’t see his expression when he finally gets himself to speak.

“You’ve got a date tonight?” He rasps out, trying his best to sound unaffected even though it comes out low and tight.

“I forgot.” You whisper back and you sound further away now, a glance over his shoulder confirms that you’d stood up off the bed and are searching for the shirt you’d shown up in so you can swap out of his. “He’s taking me to some art show downtown.”

Jack stares at you as you move around the room, eyes scanning over your body when you pull his shirt over your head and neatly fold it before putting it on his dresser. It feels really final to watch you change back into your own clothes, turning to meet his eyes and letting out a soft sigh when you see he’s already watching you closely.

He hopes it doesn’t show on his face, doesn’t want to be too obvious that he’s probably about two seconds away from throwing up.

“Carter.” He says simply and now you really stiffen.

You stand there for a few seconds like you’re waiting for something, eyes a little expectant and then full on disappointed when he scoffs and moves to put his leg back on so he can stand up and get out of the room that’s suddenly suffocating.

You leave his apartment and all the warmth goes with you.

He stands in his dark kitchen with regret sitting heavy on his chest, wishing he had stopped you and asked you to stay with him instead.

He isn’t sure if it’s the fear of rejection or his own guilt that stopped him but he knew he couldn’t ask you to do that. You deserved better than him and his baggage, his late hours at work and his dangerous hobbies that he needed to keep himself busy with to not think about the things that sent him spiraling.

He couldn’t imagine forcing you into a life where you had to explain him to your friends and family, ignore the curious and judging looks from his own when they realized just how young you were.

Jack knew you were lonely, it was obvious considering how much time you willingly spent with him and it was bad enough he’d taken advantage of your desperation for connection and nearly slept with you.

He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he stopped you from enjoying your youth, having a fun late night in the city surrounded by artsy people your age and not stuck on his couch watching old reruns because he’s too tired after work to properly take you out.

Jack hates himself for thinking all this and then still obsessively wanting you.

So much so that he purposely lingers near his truck right around the time you’d told your date you’d be ready. In his defense, he did actually need a few things from the corner store, so he sat in the parking lot and waited until he saw you come down.

Your date met you at the entrance of the lobby but didn’t take your purse from you or the jacket you were holding, smiled at you politely but couldn’t be bothered to open the door of his car or even wait for you to get in before he did.

It made Jack sick to his stomach all over again, jaw clenched as he sat in the dark interior of his truck and watched you drive off with some asshole only an hour after he’d had you sleeping next to him, panting under him and begging him to fuck you.

Jack decides right then that it all needs to stop, not just the sex lessons but helping you in general. He can’t be that person for you without wanting more, he’s selfish and possessive over somebody that was never supposed to be his and he knows it’s not fair to you.

So he doesn’t answer any of your texts that night, stays quiet in his living room whenever you knock on his door and waits until he hears you leave for work before he goes to check the mail.

He feels terrible for avoiding you but keeps trying to convince himself it’s in your best interest.

Jack is half asleep when the silent treatment finally breaks.

He’d fallen asleep on his couch accidentally, a beer can too many on the table in front of him and the same movie he’d been watching beforehand starting to roll credits. He should have been in bed sleeping after pulling a double at work but he couldn’t stand being in there lately, tossing and turning and trying to catch the faint scent of you lingering on his pillows.

There was a second of confusion, not sure why he had waken up in the first place, until the sharp knocks on his door made him flinch.

He was standing up on autopilot to open it, wincing at how stiff and sore his leg felt from falling asleep with it still on.

Any thought of his pain was gone the second he opened his door and saw your face, tears on your cheeks and your eyebrows furrowed in frustration.

“I need to talk to you.” You said immediately and he ushered you into his apartment, not necessarily wanting to be in an enclosed space with you but recognizing your tearful voice was far too loud to have a conversation in the hallway.

“What’s wrong?” He said softly and takes a few steps towards you on instinct, cradling your cheek and staring down at you when you nuzzle against his touch. “Why are you crying?”

“Because you’re an asshole.” You seem to remember that you’re mad at him because you step away from his touch, pushing his arm back down to his side and storming further into his apartment.

He stands there completely frozen as you toss your purse onto the chair near the couch, your eyes scanning over the beer cans and the obvious indent of where he’d been sleeping.

Then you’re back to looking at him and he knows what he probably looks like to you. The exhaustion is obvious on his face, clothes a little baggier than normal from a lack of taking care of himself and a constant awkward shifting on his leg to keep pressure off of it.

“Why aren’t you talking to me?” Your voice cracks a little and he deflates, taking a few steps closer again even though he doesn’t think you want him to touch you. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What?” His face faces in disbelief at the idea you could ever do anything wrong in general, especially to him. “Of course you didn’t sweetheart.”

“Then why?” Your words are louder now and they linger in the tense air, face pained as you wait for him to answer.

He sighs and runs a hand over his stubble that desperately needs some maintenance, wishes he had the time to plan out everything he wanted to say to you so he doesn’t accidentally fuck it up more than he already had.

“I just… I can’t do it anymore.” He lets his hands fall to his sides with a loud defeated clap and shrugs his shoulders. “I can’t watch you go out with these idiots knowing they can’t take care of you.”

He hopes what he’s trying to say is an obvious to you as it is to him, not able to bring himself to actually voice the fact that he has feelings for you beyond helping out a neighbor.

“You didn’t stop me.” You sound devastated, head shaking like you don’t believe anything he’s saying to you.

You’re not crying anymore thankfully but you look so hurt and disappointed that it makes him physically ache, moving to grab your arm softly and guide you to sit down on the couch with him.

“I waited for you to stop me and you didn’t.” You continue once you’re sitting beside him, legs pressed together in a small amount of addicting content. “Isn’t it obvious by now that I only want to be with you?”

The words hit him so hard that he doesn’t even have time to process them, eyebrows furrowing as the need for more information pushes him to speak.

“Why would that be obvious? The entire point of this was for you to be ready for other people.”

You look a little embarrassed at his sound logic, staring down at your lap where your hands are fiddling with your fingers. He sighs and takes one of them in his, squeezing it softly until you let your gaze drift back up to his.

“I don’t want other people.” You whisper, staring at him with a small amount of hope in your eyes like you’re just waiting for him to understand. “And I don’t want you to be with anyone else either. I just figured… you wouldn’t cross that line without a good reason.”

Jack thinks it’s a little juvenile of a plan but he also knows you’re not wrong. He would have never touched you without the feeling of helping you out with something, no matter how much he had wanted you since the second you moved in.

That little lie was all he needed to get himself through the shame and guilt, the ability to pretend it was for a greater cause and not because he was sick and desperate for a girl half his age.

“Jack.” You sigh when he doesn’t respond for a few seconds, turning so you can face him better and press a soft kiss to the side of his jaw. “Stop thinking.”

“That’s a big ask.” He mumbles back but he gladly turns to give you a real kiss, holding your face in his hand and keeping your mouth against his.

You kiss until you run out of breath, pulling back from him but rubbing your nose against his and letting your small hands grip his forearm desperately.

“Then just be with me for tonight.” You try to reason with him in any way you can, rubbing his arm softly and blinking at him with those big pretty eyes that drive him so crazy.

He stares at you for a moment before he’s standing up off the couch and tugging you along with him, ignoring the little surprised noise you make in favor of lifting you up with his hands on the back of your thighs. You gasp and then giggle softly once he’s got you in the air, arms behind his neck and legs around his middle as he starts to walk you to his room.

“You’re crazy if you think you’re going anywhere after tonight.” He tells you once he gets you settled on his bed, kissing the smile off your face as he climbs over you.

It’s a direct mirror of the other night as you get each other undressed fully this time, kissing the entire time and tasting his tongue deep in your mouth when it starts to get more heated.

“You’re going to be mine.” He says firmly once he’s got you in nothing but your panties, making sure your eyes are locked on his when you hear it. His free hand is all over your body, rubbing from your smooth thigh up to your chest and cupping around your neck for a brief moment while he waits for you to respond. “If I fuck you then you’re mine.”

“I’ve been yours.” You whisper easily, like you didn’t have to put any thought into it.

He falters, hand tightening around your throat on instinct and then releasing the pressure when he sees the way your eyes light up with interest.

“Don’t be nasty baby.” He’s teasing, kissing the corner of your mouth and bringing your leg up so it’s around his waist and he can press himself against you. “Gonna be gentle with you for your first time. You deserve it.”

“I want you to fuck me.” You’re pouting and gripping at him impatiently, running your hand between your bodies to touch his stomach and fidget with the waistband of his boxers. “That’s what I want Jackie.”

“Didn’t ask what you wanted.” He grumbles back, not caring that it comes off a little mean because you whine at the sound of how rough his voice had gotten and he knows you like it.

He’s back to kissing you and it’s filthier than normal, more tongue and spit than anything else.

You’re as vocal as always, whining and begging impatiently when he gets your underwear off and starts to touch you again.

Jack can barely think straight when he’s back inside of you, fingers pushing in easier this time now that you’ve felt the intrusion before and know what to expect. You’re gasping and crying out immediately, unintelligible words that he blocks out in favor of focusing on how you feel when he’s stretches you out.

“Want it so bad.” Your near sob gets through to him and he hisses through clenched teeth at how wrecked you sound already, shushing you softly and kissing your cheeks to try and calm you down.

“I know baby I know.” He’s whispering but you don’t seem to be hearing him, spreading your legs further to try and make space for him to slot back between them instead of using his fingers.

Jack is just as impatient as you but he’s terrified of hurting you too early, although throbbing so hard in his boxers that it’s painful to shift around.

It’s not long before it’s too much prep for both of you and you’re watching him with your chest heaving as he gets himself undressed the rest of the way, leg going on the floor right alongside your underwear that he had slowly pulled down your body before climbing back over you.

Your eyes go down between your bodies where his leg is and he tenses for a second despite knowing you mean well with the concern you have on your face.

“Let me ride you.” You say softly and his chest tightens with that old familiar shame he was still actively working on ridding himself of.

“I can fuck you.” He says gruffly and your eyes flash with regret, pouting a little like you’re worried you’ve hurt his feelings with your thoughtful suggestion. He kisses the expression off your face, a long deep one followed by a few quick pecks to try and ease your mind. “Next time baby.”

He says it both because he knows realistically he has limitations, there will be plenty of nights he’s not able to rail you into his mattress like he wants to, but also because he knows he would die a happy man the second he got to see you bouncing on top of him and desperately trying to get yourself off.

You look like you want to argue but you’re stopped when he’s pushing your legs apart and moving between them, sharp gasp leaving you when you feel his hard length pressing against you finally.

“Fuck Jack.” Your voice is sharp and already a little pained just from the dull sensation of him lining up with your hole, a growl leaving him at the sound of your distress.

“Just relax baby.” He says as softly as he can even though his throat feels tight and raw, kissing you gently to try and get you to calm down enough for him to push in. “You’re too tight sweetheart.”

“I… I can’t.” You let out another sharp cry when he shifts forward, nails digging into his shoulders so deep it makes him wince and lower his head down on your shoulder.

Jack has to use every ounce of self control he can muster to not just fully push himself into you and feel that tight heat he’s getting a taste of, that same sick and selfish part of him that wants you in the first place begging him to just take you already.

Instead he takes a few deep breaths before he’s kissing you with more focus, going back and forth between softly rubbing your side and massaging your inner thigh to try and urge your body to relax and accommodate him.

It’s a torturous ten minutes, especially due to your soft whimpers and the way you cry his name whenever he accidentally moves himself deeper.

Then you’re finally calm enough, bare chest rising and falling with the deep breaths he’d instructed you to take.

“Want you inside Jack.” You’re whining in his ear, clinging to him tightly and almost suffocating him when he immediately takes your queue and pushes in. You tense up again at the brief surge of pain and then let out a satisfied cry when you feel how full you are, clenching around him so ridiculously that he almost needs to pull out to give himself a break despite barely starting.

You’re both too overwhelmed to speak much more once he starts to actually fuck you, deep thrust accompanied by filthy kisses to keep you from waking up the neighbors with how desperately you’re whining for him to keep giving you more.

It’s pure need on both ends, your hips eagerly rocking upwards to try and meet his thrust sloppily while he uses his free hand to roughly push down on your stomach and keep you in place.

“Jackie.” It’s nearly a sob from you now and he can tell you’re close from how much tighter you’d gotten, almost an impossible squeeze for him to keep fucking you through.

He’s grateful you’re so inexperienced because he doesn’t think he’d last long either, not with the way you look as you stare up at him with teary and trusting eyes.

“I know baby you’re doing so good for me.” It’s more of a growl than anything else but he can barely think let alone speak enough to keep encouraging you. “Taking me so well sweetheart.”

“I’m so full Jack.” You whimper and cling to him tighter, nearly pulling him fully down on top of you and knocking him off his balance. “Feels so good.”

You’re stuttering through your sentences and slurring each word, eyes a little dazed in a way that makes him need to squeeze his shut to avoid coming inside you just from that fucked out look you have.

It’s more sweet than heated when you actually do finally reach your peak, holding onto him still and kissing the side of his jaw softly with your face buried in his neck as you squirm and shake your way through your orgasm.

He stays inside of you for as long as he can so you’re not shocked from the sudden feeling of emptiness but you’re squeezing him too tight and he has to pull out as soon as you’re starting to relax. You whimper immediately at the lose and pick your head up to pout at him, eyes panicked like you’re genuinely distressed he didn’t finish inside you.

He shushes you gently and kisses your face over and over, rubbing your side as he lets you fully come back to reality before attempting to clean either of you up or get you dressed.

“Jack.” You’ve got the needy and frustrated tone he loves so much and he knows you’re not dropping it, meeting your eyes with a fond sigh as you glance down at where he’d came instead of inside you.

“Next time.” He promises again and he means it, fully intending to have that conversation with you ahead of time now that he’s got you like this.

Jack isn’t too opposed to the idea of getting you pregnant, not even sure he’s able to with the amount of pills he takes, but he has to push down that thought along with the rest of the sick ones he gets when he looks at your needy eyes.

You smile a little at the loose promise and tuck yourself back into his shoulder, soothing any concern he has about what just happened or how you’re supposed to operate going forward.

He’s undoubtedly the luckiest guy in the world to have you wanting him like this, feeling safe in his arms and desperate for him in the way he’d been for you since the second he laid eyes on you.