playing dangerous ₊˚⊹♡
masterlist | ao3
pairing: Jack Abbot x reader rating: 18+ tags: age-gap, college-aged reader, ddlg themes, voyeurism, fingering, self-pleasure, oral sex, sweet sex, rough sex, biting, reader is Robby’s daughter (Jack met you as a minor, but nothing occurred), word count: 6,806 summary: you show Jack how you really feel
“I've been bad, I've been wrong, playing a dangerous game. I'm in love, lovin' hurricane.”
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“Also heard you touching yourself the other night when I was leaving, heard my name slipped in there a few times. You call me Jack when your fingers are inside you?” His eyes land back on you, brow raising in confusion. Not confusion that you’d masturbate to him, but confusion that you use his real name in your fantasies but not with him.
It was innocent. Or at least you believed it was. Your crush on one of your father's closest friends, Dr.Abbot.
It felt innocent when you first saw him those years back in that hospital, your dad introduced him as one of the best attendings he’s ever worked with and also one of the shittiest pool players, which earned a tight-lipped smile from Dr.Abbot that made your heart clench in your chest.
“Your dad wouldn't have made it this far without me, sweetheart,” He offered back at you, voice deep and soft, eyes scanning and looking you over as he would his patients.
His salted hair perfectly tussled back in little curls, spotted freckles up his neck with deep lines there to show his age and combat history. Handsome as ever. An astute observation, despite your youth.
Once his eyes had landed on you, it was as if all the air was sucked from your lungs, barely being able to remember your own name when introducing yourself, hopeful you didn’t make yourself seem too incoherent, avoiding eye contact in fear of collapsing right in front of him.
“Rob's been hidin’ you from us, it seems,” Jack’s brow raised at the accusation, challenging Robby on his chest of secrets, you being one of them.
It wasn’t that your father hid you; your mother and he weren’t extremely fond of each other. You were the result of an impulsive one-night stand he had in his late 20s or early 30s. He wasn’t even present for the birth; he only found out you existed once your mother sued him for child support.
This resulted in the school years spent with your mother & summers with your father. The courts decided he wouldn’t have as much time as a resident to provide the care and attention necessary.
Sure, in your youth, you found yourself gravitating to your mother, having spent most of the year with her, including most major holidays. But, as you grew, your father grew on you too, becoming an attending offered him more freedom and more of a chance to make you his priority.
Although the years in school took you away from him, abroad overseas as well, a local internship in Pittsburgh helped you find your way back to him.
And also back to Dr.Abbot.
“Her mom's fault,” Robby snorted, brows raising in a way they always did when he had to mention your mother or anything about her. You could see him tense up in his usual fashion, grasping the stethoscope around his neck to ease any tension pulsing through his body.
He would’ve regretted that night if it hadn’t brought him you. The reason he finds himself still breathing.
Every summer, you’d see Dr.Abbot around, whether it was to drink and shoot the shit with your dad, or when your dad impulsively bought a new motorcycle and had to show it off to him.
Every meeting seemed to be more difficult than the last, almost coughing on your spit every time he’d appear unexpectedly in your home.
Abbot was always kind, asked about school, work, and sometimes even boys or girls, mentioning that he’s “hip” and down for the cause.
Your father would plug his ears and say, “La, La, La, not listening.”
It pained you a little to shut him down dryly after every conversation, refusing to show him how ditzy he makes you, how weak you feel under his direct gaze. How you’d give anything to know what aftershave he wears so you could have your current boyfriend use it and dream of being had by him when your boyfriend was inside you.
From then on, you distracted yourself from Dr.Abbot, pushing him further from your mind, understanding that it would be wildly inappropriate for you to pursue a relationship with your father’s closest work friend, especially at your young age.
It didn’t work. Never did. Every interaction you had with Dr.Abbot only left you drifting further in your own desire.
When you’d drop food off for your dad, Dr.Abbot was there, focused on some medical emergency where he was in his element, brows knit, focused, and shouting orders while delicately instructing.
When he’d spot you near the nurses' station, he’d tease, leaning in so close you could feel his breath on your ear, “What’s a guy gotta do around here to get a sandwich too?”
You didn’t know how to respond, falling back into a blushing state and a shrug, attempting to think of some witty response before he was pulled away to another emergency.
It carried on like this, little remarks here and there, you assumed any of your father's friends would make to poke fun at his daughter, to create some sort of friendly bond.
However, your feelings were never solely friendly, and it made you feel a bit perverted to think about the ways he could have you every time you caught a glimpse of him.
Your feelings progressed into a state of complete avoidance. Keeping your distance from him to the best of your ability, refusing to become a silly schoolgirl in his presence, which you often found yourself reduced to whenever he was near.
Luckily, college eventually took you far away, taking internship jobs over the summer as well. Bummed that you would spend so much time away from your father, except when he visited on family weekend or dropped in to surprise you. A large part of you was relieved, however, to not have to face Dr.Abbot for some time.
Once you returned, after graduation, purposefully taking a job to bring you back to Pittsburgh after years of your father's pleading, you were able to avoid him. Not greeting him when he came over, often saying you didn’t feel well. Or Ubering food to your father's work so you could still show your love and not have the chance of seeing Dr.Abbot in fear for what not seeing that man in years could do to you..
It went well for months, your feelings tended to subside until you saw him, Dr.Abbot, on your front porch with your father, sharing a pack of beers.
“Fuck,” You whisper under your breath, clenching the bag over your shoulders, digging your nails into the leather material, sucking in deep lungfuls of breath, attempting not to do or say anything stupid in front of Dr.Abbot.
Dr.Abbot, who’s a war vet. Dr.Abbot, who helps the police from time to time. Dr.Abbot, who consistently saves lives. Dr.Abbot, who has defended a nurse or two against physical attacks from patients. Dr.Abbot, who, despite being closer to your father's age, was someone who drove you insane with desire.
It was hard not to be stupid in front of him. Feels like your default state.
Your footsteps gain their attention as they turn their heads to the right to see you approaching them, a tight smile on your face to hide your embarrassment, hoping you can get inside with just a hello, knowing it's rude not to greet the man you haven’t seen in years, but it might kill you.
“Thought your shift ended at 4?” Your dad checks his watch, worn every day, visibly beaten up by another hell of a shift.
“It does, went out with a few co-workers,” You nervously bite at your lip, knowing it’s well past 4 and you wouldn’t have an issue with this conversation if it wasn’t in front of the most intimidating and attractive man you’ve ever seen in your life, one who you’ve refused to look at since you’ve approached.
“Well, you should text and let me know. Also, shouldn’t be walking home alone at night, especially after a drink or two,” He continues, seeing through your facade to look as sober as possible.
“I like walking,” You shrug, trying to ignore the way Dr.Abbots eyes burn into your side, always forming eye contact as if he’s programmed to. You can’t do it back, you’ll imagine you’ll melt.
“Well, I like it when my daughter’s returned to me in one piece, crazy people out there- just today I saw-”
“I know, got it, I’ll make sure to use your card to Uber next time,” You respond a little sassily, earning a chuff from your dad, who blocks the entrance to your home with Dr.Abbot.
He gestures over with his head to Dr.Abbot, instructing you silently to greet him. Noticing your hesitancy.
Truth be told, he noticed your hesitancy a month or two ago after your 15th excuse to not see Abbot and confronted you on it. Asking if anything was wrong with Jack, which you immediately shut down. Mentioning you just tend to be shy, grateful that the answer was accepted. Not wanting your father to know the reality of the situation, quite accustomed to your father's temper.
“Hi, Dr.Abbot.” You turn to him, taking calculated breaths to control your breathing, eyes connecting right where his were staring at you, locking there. It’s hard to ignore how they seem to take in your full appearance, not necessarily knowing if he’s judging you or not.
“The prodigal daughter returns,” He takes a sip of his beer, holding eye contact there as you realize you aren’t breathing, heart on absolute fire - still to this day not knowing how to match his wit, watching as he throws his hand up, rolling his eyes.
“Oh, and still with the Dr.Abbot?” His fingers flex around his beer, lip twitching up in a challenging, teasing manner, his default, it seems, as you try to gulp down a looming whimper.
“Thought you worked nights?” You question, an attempt to match his tone, trying to gesture to your father to move so you can get out of this conversation. He doesn’t, knowing very well all you want is to go inside.
“My day off, and your dad can’t seem to function without me either. Seem to be called in every time.” Jack turns his focus towards your father, grateful that you don’t have to be under his burning spotlight as he smiles towards your dad.
“Ahh, not true. You’re an adrenaline junkie who practically begs me to call him in.” Your dad finishes the beer, moving to a new one, easily fitting into this routine conversation.
“But you love it.” Jack brightens his smile, tilting his head before turning his attention back to you, right lid dropping down in a quick wink that almost sends you tumbling back.
“Sure, I do.” Your dad shrugs with an eye roll, as if all three of you don’t know how important Jack is to him.
“Hate to break up this love fest, but can I go and sleep now?” It’s a cry for help, desperate to be away from Dr.Abbot and his flirtatious winks, and how his bicep bulges from his shirt when he lifts his beer. You feel 13 again, just finding a new boy band to obsess over.
“Go on, kid, sleep well.” Robby acquiesces, sliding over to give you some space as you eagerly pass him up the stairs towards the front door.
“Night, Dad.” You sigh, opening the door to finally free yourself from this torment.
“Am I chopped liver?” Jack's voice, graveled with a tinge of jealousy that you can’t make out, is real or not, stops you in your tracks, head whipping around to him as you can’t fight the heat flooding your cheeks.
“Goodnight, Dr.Abbot.” It comes out in a puff of breath, hurrying inside so he doesn’t see your reaction, the door closing behind you, where their conversation continues.
He’s good for your father. He needs friends, needs people to rely on, and it can’t always be you. You know he suffers silently, and it would be shitty of you to jeopardize that, but when you go upstairs, you do find yourself spreading your legs and touching yourself to the thought of something occurring with him, one day.
-
“You’ve gotta be kidding me,” You murmur outside of your home, the sun high above your head where it’s beating down on you. The mixture of the heat and brunch mimosas settling into confuse your hazy mind.
Your keys were gone. Maybe left inside, maybe dropped in the street, they were gone, and you were exhausted. It was a co-worker's birthday, and you agreed to join a group for a boozy brunch, which led you outside of your shared home, calling your dad's phone.
Of course, being the senior emergency attending physician meant he was rarely able to take your phone calls, which led to multiple texts about your current situation and a few voice notes complaining if he could hurry because it’s hot and you’re still drunk.
Eventually, you settle on your porch step, drifting off into a sleep that you don’t awaken from until you hear your name being called out.
“Ya?” you murmur back, less drunk than before but still buzzed, assuming it’s your father who snuck out on a break to scold you but also open the door.
To your surprise, once you peel your lids back, you see him, Dr.Abbot, in front of you with a silly grin on his face, his body shielding you from the sun, creating a shadow over you as you imagine this was the worst-case scenario.
“Why’re you here?” Is all you can get out, mortified by how you look on this porch, one heel off your foot, legs spread in the most unladylike manner in your brunch dress. You think you took your bra off and shoved it into your bag on the way home, too. You don’t remember.
“Not the reaction I was expecting…” He chuckles, taking you all in, eyes roaming once more in a way that makes you feel judged, closing your legs in a hyper-aware manner, attempting to straighten yourself out.
“I have a house key- being Rob's emergency contact means I get the duty of doin’ things like helping his daughter get in the house when she’s locked herself out.” He continues to look you over with a sly smile, brows going up where your strap has fallen off your shoulder.
“Huh, funny, don’t you sleep during the day?” You’re a bit meaner than you intend to be, moreso angry at yourself for revealing yourself to him in this way, wishing you had reapplied your lip combination before this meeting.
“Don’t sleep at all, I'm a vampire,” He hums dryly, reaching up past you to turn the key in the lock before pushing the door open with ease, granting you a whiff of his classic aftershave.
“Bite me,” You mumble under your breath, grasping the wall to help you stand up, tripping a bit over your feet as one heel is on, giving you zero balance as you squeak out a giggle, dropping your purse with an oops.
“Let me uh-”
“I got it,” You snap a bit back, trying to overcompensate for the fact that you probably look a mess and you don’t want him to see you looking more of a mess than you already do, reaching over to pick your purse before stumbling forward.
His arms are around you in no time, fitting around your waist to hoist you up to him before plunging, in one motion, cradling you up to his muscled chest as you connect with the scent of him there, fear rising in your throat as you come to realize your predicament, reacting quickly before you can map out how his arms feel when he holds you that tight.
“I can walk,” You push him away quickly, like a bratty 3-year-old, legs fighting to find their place on the ground.
“Then walk.” He grumbles irritably, voice gone low and hushed as he sets you firmly on your feet in front of him, placing his hands on his hips in an expectant way, insisting you walk since you’re clearly able to do so.
You do walk, you walk one step then two until you’re falling over, forgetting to kick off your other heel as he grabs you once more, hoisting you up.
“No- Dr.Abbot!” You whine like a toddler who doesn’t want to leave daycare as he skips the cradle hold and throws you into a fireman's carry, your stomach connecting with his shoulder as he holds your leg and arm firmly to him, mumbling about something as he treks up the stairs, your voice caught in your throat as your world is physically turned upside down.
“As stubborn as your dad.” He huffs out, making it to the top in seconds as if he isn’t carrying a person, finding your room before throwing you onto your bed aggressively, back bouncing off of it as he does.
“He just told you to let me in, didn’t say anything about this,” you challenge petulantly, a frown swirling on your face to distract from the desire brewing in your core, the last thing you desired being Jack Abbot in your room. Maybe the first thing you desired, you can’t tell.
“Yeah, no, I’m sure if I left you on the porch, he’d have been just keen with me.” He snorts a bit, looking around your room curiously, making you hyper aware of the fact that you have Dr.Abbot in your fucking room.
“Don’t have to take care of me, m’an adult,” You throw your hands over your eyes, rubbing them eagerly to wipe away any haze, feeling as if this is some sort of dream, trying not to slur your words.
“Should act like one.” He speaks in a hushed tone, eyes falling on something on the floor.
“What's that supposed to mean?” You don’t care to look at what he’s staring at, curious as to what he could mean.
“Been avoiding me.” His eyes dart to yours and focus in, as if he’s a bloodhound sniffing out the truth, your own eyes going wide as you come to understand you’re not as sneaky as you want to be.
“I'm not-”
“Been avoiding me for years, you have, and you still are. Why?” He questions. You can’t sense if he’s irritated; his voice is soft with questioning, but his face tells another story, hard set on you, as if you lie, he’ll know. Somehow, like he knows you.
“Can I have some water?” You turn your attention to your ceiling, not being able to take this line of questioning, preferring to play damsel in distress and send him on his way as quickly as possible. Maybe if you weren’t slightly drunk, you’d feel a lot better about any answers you have. Attribute your avoidance to anxiety or something.
You hear him exit the room and go downstairs, grateful for some space that’ll clear your mind, but it isn’t long until he’s returned with an arm full of things, along with water, looking to your bedside table where he’s leaving coconut water, crackers, aspirin, and multiple water bottles.
Eventually handing you the water first, you mutter a quick thanks ignoring how thick his fingers are before downing half of it, expecting him to get bored and see himself out.
He doesn’t, still watching you in a way that makes you insecure, where you lie, “How are you feeling?”
It makes you wanna scream, every neuron remains on fire in your body, lit with desire for the man before you, who’s taken care of you in every way possible and seeks to help you more.
“Really?” You gasp out a laugh, absolutely bewildered by him. The mix of desire, embarrassment, and drunkenness is a lot for this moment where he stands above you, next to you, trying to figure out if you need anything else.
“Yes, really.” He pushes, clearly not leaving without some clarity on your well-being, which makes you burst then and there.
“I feel like I want to kiss you.” You shield your face with your hands, completely mortified once the words leave your mouth, overwhelmed by your newfound blunt nature, motivated by the alcohol in your system, not ready to hear his response. His rejection, you imagine.
It’s quiet. You think he left, maybe hope he’s left, until you hear him break the silence on a cracked voice, “I know.”
“You know?” Your hands immediately drop from your face, tears welling in your eyes where you look to him to see he’s looking back to the same spot on your floor from earlier, not at all disturbed by your admission, his reaction similar to a reaction when you tell someone that their shoe is untied. He actually reacts less than that.
“Can sense it. You get to my age, you can feel it…” His eyes hold there, a strange thing for him not to make eye contact with you, even stranger to not be baffled by your confession.
“Also heard you touching yourself the other night when I was leaving, heard my name slipped in there a few times. You call me Jack when your fingers are inside you?” His eyes land back on you, brow raising in confusion. Not confusion that you’d masturbate to him, but confusion that you use his real name in your fantasies but not with him.
You could die right now, you think, you wish the room would swallow you whole. You know, you probably look insane to him, eyes wide, color gone from your face, not knowing what to say when he holds your attention.
His gaze softens on something, maybe your fear, you think when he starts up again, but you’re quick to interrupt him, not wanting to hear rejection or hear him let you down gently, “Please go- get out.”
You cover your face where tears have begun to spill from your eyes, a lump caught in your throat as you don’t hear movement or the door being opened and closed.
“Jack fucking go.” You curse, against your nature, needing him to not see you, how you’ve tried so hard to not be seen.
There's a dip next to you in the bed, and you find yourself letting out a sob, keeping your face covered despite his presence, nauseated by this interaction.
“I think of kissing you, too.” He murmurs, sweetly as if he’s scared to scare you away, your fingers creating a slit for your eyes as you realize he’s looking down to where you’re crying, eyes focused on what he can see of your face.
“Y-you do?” You hiccup, still on edge. Not yet knowing if this is real. Could be just saying this so your dad doesn’t come home to find you in tears.
“Uh-huh,” He hums, reaching for your hands, his large, warm, dry ones wrapping around yours to pull them off your face so he can see you there, eyes glistening as you look to him, seemingly showing zero reaction, only a certain tenderness between his softly furrowed brows.
You imagine he’s probably faced more to warrant bigger reactions; a young girl saying she has a crush on him isn’t too high on his shocked list.
“I want you, believe me, I do- fuckin’ jacked off outside your window once I heard you that night, swear I saw stars when I came, believe me, I want you.” He laughs a bit at himself, shaking his head despite you lying there in complete shock, his hands still gripping yours tightly.
“Y-you can have me.” It's desperate, a little immature, you know that, but you’re far from being coy with Dr.Abbot; it’s all or nothing. Might as well.
He laughs, dryly, as if you know why that would be silly, but you can’t think of why it would be. Two consenting adults, it wouldn’t be bad.
“We can’t.” He insists, sternly, gripping your hand tighter as he clicks his tongue in his mouth, decidedly.
“Why?”
“You know why.” His eyes set sternly on you, narrowing in to show you he’s serious about this, his head shaking no decidedly.
“Do you know what you are to him?” He asks you, leaning over in the shared space, as you realize this is the closest you’ve ever been to him, eyes searching yours for some resolution you can’t give him.
“You’re everything to him, the reason he goes into work day in and day out. The reason he’s breathing…” He mutters, breaking eye contact as his eyes shut closed, “And I’m one of his closest friends- hell, more like a damn brother.”
He releases your hands, his fingers pinching at his nasal root as his eyes scrunch together, deep in tense thought that you can’t quite meet in your inebriated position.
You reach out to him instead, hands connecting on his thigh where he’s sat next to you, fingers swirling in a silly pattern as you shrug, “Jack?”
His eyes shoot open to you, darkened with the fact that the only other time he’s heard it off your lips was when you were deep in the throes of pleasure, “Just once...please.”
“Fuck it.” He mumbles harshly, filling the space between your bodies with himself as he leans into you there without warning, your mouth opening on a gasp that allows him to waste no time slipping his tongue in as your lips connect on a starved kiss - your thirst quenched after years and years of pining.
You moan, too loudly there, trying not to understand how your dreams came into fruition. His body weighing down on yours as he’s over you, chest pressed to yours when he deepens the kiss, arms snaking around your waist as he hoists you deeper to him, the kiss continuing as your lips glide against his.
“Need you,” you mumble into his mouth, feeling his puffs of hot air slide into your mouth as your tongue wraps around his, feeding into your own pleasure, legs wrapping around his hips as you connect yourself to one another fully clothed.
It’s hard to miss, that press that strains through his pants, his hard on that pokes where you’re covered in your underwear, a whine sliding out of your throat as your hips eagerly connect onto it, desperately trying to find it fit onto your nub between your legs.
“Easy, sweetheart,” He chuckles out, a little thrown by your sudden forwardness, enjoying this different side to you as you press your body to him, your lips connecting with his chin where he’s stubbled and gray.
He breaks away then, untangling himself from you as he stands, running his hands through his hair a little breathless as he smiles down to where you’re laid out expectantly, waiting.
“What are you-”
“Touch yourself. Like you did that night.” He commands, nodding down to you, backing away until his back hits the wall, undoing his button to his pants.
“Wh-what?” Your breath hitches in your throat, a little thrown as your eyes widen when he’s stuffing his hand in his pants.
“Do it. Lemme see it,” His brows go up, a little impatient at the fact that he had to say it again.
You’re hesitant at first, never having done this with someone watching, let alone Jack, but you do, at least try to remember what you did that had you moaning his name out of your bedroom window.
Your hand dips below your dress, where your legs are spread, sinking between your thighs to press three fingers over the material in a soft moan as they connect with your clit, rubbing them in a motion that has your hips rolling.
You can hear his labored pants from here, hear how he’s vigorously clutching himself in his briefs, feeling his eyes burn where your fingers are pleasuring yourself, ushering a subtle ‘uh’ from you.
Your other hand reaches up to grasp your chest, tweaking your nipple as you shudder, goosebumps forming as you squeeze yourself there, a cry leaving your mouth as you pick up the pace.
You’re lost in your own pleasure once you feel his hands on you, roughly tugging the dress from your body, ripping at it in a way where you can feel the zipper break, your hands going up to allow him to take it off.
“Get this off,” He murmurs harshly, tearing it from your body and flinging it to the side, leaving you sprawled out in just your underwear before he finds himself against the wall again, your hazed eyes making out that he’s fucking himself in his briefs again.
You continue your motions, giving him a better view of how you cup your naked breast, his eyes stuck on your chest as he drools a bit animally, a smile forming on your face at having this sense of control over him.
“Jesus, you don’t know what you’re doin’ to me, what you’re turnin’ me into-” He breaks off on a deep, subtle moan that has you biting back a smile.
It’s a sudden thought, but you find yourself slowly removing your underwear, starting with the hem, then tugging it over your knees, then ankles, throwing it to the side where you often throw your panties in the middle of the night when you wake up extra needy.
You realize suddenly that’s what Jack had been looking at on the floor. Your pair of lacey panties from the night before, when you’d used your vibrator.
It fills you with pools of desire that overflow as you spread your legs to him to reveal your glistening center, your hand sliding back down to offer him pleasure as he’s locked onto it from across you.
He doesn’t seem like his usual cool, calm, and collected self. He’s hungry, practically snarling where he’s touching himself while eyeing your pussy, watching the way your fingers slide through the folds, up and down ever so sweetly.
“Go on, baby, touch yourself, more,” He growls, spit on his lip where he’s salivating for you, pleasuring himself to you, pleasing yourself.
You give him what he wants, placing your middle finger down down down until it catches on a hitch, sliding into you as your toes clench on a cry, throwing your head back to feel how your hole sucks at your own finger.
“Fuck- do that to yourself again.” His voice is hoarse when he speaks, more animal than man, as he doesn’t make eye contact, completely focused on where his finger has disappeared into you.
You pull out of yourself, before swirling your middle finger around your hole, pressing in once more as you both groan at the same time, feeling your pressure give to the intrusion easily as you lay your head back.
He releases a sort of snarl-like growl once you hear him disrobe, hear the way his pants drop to the floor, and it soon happens in a whir.
“Open,” He turns your head to the side, where you barely have a choice to register his cock in front of you before it’s pushed past your lips into your mouth, sliding against your tongue, hitting the back of your throat as you gag.
It doesn’t take him long to find the back of your head, pushing himself down your throat with a jut of his hips and push from his hand which ushers out the deepest moan you’ve heard thus far, eyes blinkin back tears as you eyes focus on his greyed bush of hair at the base of his cock- large enough to have you desperate for air.
He doesn’t give you much time before his other hand greedily slips between your legs, where they're still sprawled outwards, where he stands beside you, playing with your pussy as his fingers rub that sweet spot that has your legs clutching closed.
“So shy, still so shy for me,” He mumbles in a teasing manner, your thighs not strong enough to cease his hand movements as he continues to rub you there, thrusting deeply into your throat until he’s had a nice test of your mouth, removing himself, leaving a trail of spit from his cock to your mouth.
You gasp and cough, not having expected him to be so rough when he had been so sweet earlier, fighting to catch your breath as he climbs over you into the bed, pressing your legs back as you try to understand what might be happening next. Feeling like a rag doll under his pleasure-filled might.
He maneuvers you, pushing your legs back to your chest and out so he can fit in between them on his knees, hosting you up as the back of your thighs land on the front of his, your legs loosely hanging around his hips as you get a better view of his cock now, watching as it twithces furiously between his legs, glistening with your spit as he positions himself.
“Won't hurt your leg?” You murmur concernedly, looking down to where his prosetheis is, wanting him to know you can take it slow if you need to.
He laughs then, a sweet thing as if that’s the most juvenile thing you could’ve asked. “Worry bout yourself, baby.”
He’s correct as his tip finds your notch, nudging there and pushing through without much time for you to adjust, filling the space with his mass as your core gives and gives to his pressure and hip push, finding his limit and yours as he buries himself in you, your head thrown back in a shuddering manner.
“Oh- Oh fuck!” You cry as he finds a comfortable pace for himself, giving you zero time to adjust, hips fucking out his pleasure as he fills you repeatedly over and over and over with a jut of his hips, looking down to where you’re reaching up to claw at his arms, nails sinking into his bicep as they soon position on his shoulders where hes leaned over, eyes focused on where you’re connecting.
“That’s it, let it out, sweetheart.” He smiles a bit, finding pleasure in your surprised nature as he thrusts deep into you, rolling his hips after every thrust to deepen himself so you can fully feel his girth as you grip onto it ever so tightly.
“I-I can’t,” You cry out, legs gone like jelly as they hang loosely over him, your breasts bouncing lazily on your chest as tears spill from your eyes at the overwhelming pleasure granted.
He leans over then, nuzzling his nose into your tear-stained cheek, “Yes, you can.” He mumbles back over your lips, kissing you there sweetly before burying his face in your chest, his hand connecting with your nub sweetly as he keeps his pace.
It’s a brutal thing, your orgasms. You tend to live in a state of pent-up emotions, so when it happens, it’s intense, it’s blinding, and it’s why you insist on fucking with the light off often, too ashamed to see the mess you turn into. But it’s too late.
“I-I-,” Is all you make out until your back arches on something unexplainable, a knot forming in your core that unfurls with every pump of himself in your tight, warm cunt that has you screaming out his name as your legs and hands grip him, certainly leaving marks where you’re fingernails dig in as the pleasure washes over you like waves onto shore.
“That’s what I was lookin’ for, great job, baby.” He mumbles above you fucking out his last few thrusts that get you to your high before ceasing his motions.
He didn’t finish. It makes you freeze, eyes peeling open to ask him why he’s stopped before he’s removing himself and flipping you, landing on your stomach as you screw your brows together.
Your hips are grabbed and hoisted up as you land on your knees, the lower half of your body still sunk into your bed as you murmur confusedly, until you feel him poke you from behind, nuzzling into the same spot as before, as you give in to his pressure.
“Oh my god- Jack!” You cry into your pillow, feeling his hands tug at your hips to meet his brutal pace, realizing he was taking it easy earlier for your shared first time, that this is his natural pace.
The headboard of your bed pounds against the wall with each push, that has you screaming and crying, wondering how you’ll explain to your father how you put a crater into the wall.
It’s brutal and unforgiving, the way his hips slap onto your ass with every thrust, your hands gripping at your comforter as you clench your teeth, grateful he had taken it easy on you at first, your poor cunt shuddering around his mass as it forces its way into you repeatedly. Twitching inside you.
“Almost there, sweetheart,” He mutters behind you, pace quickening as you wonder if you’ll be able to walk the next day, feeling him dig into your depths with his mass, your hole clenching around him to mold against his cock that’s jittering with anticipation.
Three big thrusts have your knees collapsing and him pressing his full weight onto your backside, hips nuzzling in as deep as they can go to bury himself in your sweetness.
He bites at your shoulder, teeth sinking in a claiming mark as he moans against your skin, fucking out his orgasm, shooting loads of his seed deep into your womb, coating you from the inside with him as his hips thrust out the last of his throws before rolling off of you, your head turning to face him.
His chest is furiously rising up and down as he pants out the remainder of his pleasure, hands on his face, rubbing out his pleasure and exhaustion as he sighs out, cock going soft again, as you realize it’s not just him post-orgasm. He’s upset.
“What’s wrong?” You question quietly, confused, wondering if you did something that made him feel so torn.
“Fuck- this… this was not good.” He mumbles where his hands are placed over his face in distress, shaking his head no as he sighs out, your stomach dropping around ten stories.
“This was bad?” Your voice cracks on horror at the fact that he didn’t enjoy fucking you, didn’t enjoy being with you. Which was worse than rejection.
His eyes snap open at that, landing on where you’re shaking, staring at him, nude and vulnerable, eyes watering as he murmurs ‘no, no, no’, taking your face in his hand, swiping at a tear with your thumb.
“Not this, baby, not this. This- was the best thing I’ve done in… shit, I can’t even remember.” He murmurs to you in the small shared space between your bodies, as if you’re the only girl in the world.
“I just mean- I’m Rob’s friend, his brother. You’re his… prized possession. He gets crazy when it comes to you, and I mean, well fuck, I clearly get crazy when it comes to you.” He corrects himself, huffing out, eyes searching over your face for any hint of discomfort, it seems.
“He won’t know… it’ll be a secret.” You shrug softly, a bit immature about the situation, but you need him to know you wouldn’t do that to him, jeopardize his relationship with your father. Never that.
He opens his mouth to respond before his phone rings from his pile of clothes, rolling off the bed to grab it in his jeans, looking at the caller ID before looking back at you and answering.
“Hey Rob… yeah, no, she’s good, she’s in bed now…. Yeah, tucked her in myself.” He mumbles into the phone, earning a little giggle from you as you watch him pace around the room, a little exacerbated.
“Yeah, I can head in, knew you missed me,” He mumbles into the line before hanging up, giving you eyes before slipping on his briefs, coming over where you're still nude in the bed, on your back now, looking up to him like he hung the moon.
He’s sweet when he presses two kisses to your lips, short and lingering, knowing you just heard the conversation, not feeling the need to explain it anymore.
“I’ll see you ‘round,” Jack mumbles making eye contact in a simple way, as to tell you he’s not trying to fuck and leave, slipping his pants on, looking around for his shirt.
“Mhm, see you around, Dr.Abbot,” You tease, watching him get dressed like he’s a freshman in college, who just got laid.
“No more Dr.Abbot,” his eyes narrow at you, as a warning, before placing his shirt on.
You think for a moment, recalling his brotherly relationship with your father, “Okay, Uncle Jack.”
You watch his eyes pinch closed, sucking in a breath as his hands go to his hips, “It’s probably fucking sick that I’m hard again, huh?”



















