Lily >_0

dr. jack abbot md :

“fuck, bun, you that hungry?” jack mocks with his hand on the back of your head, forcing your head up and down on his cock.

this nasty son of a bitch. or, maybe that’s you. you can’t really figure out who’s in control here. you waited by the door around the time you knew he would come home. you didn’t really care if he was exhausted or not. when you saw his face, you were on him.

“alright- al- woah, girl!” he says in shock every second you pull away.

you find yourself sinking to your knees, looking up at him with that dumb little look that made his brain all mush. what a lucky old man he was getting treated so nicely after such a long shift by such a pretty young thing. he swallowed down any signs of protests he wanted to give. a shower could wait.

you pulled the string of his scrubs and they shimmied down to pool around his shoes. it took a little more force to pull his boxers off. he looked a little ashamed, his cock not hard enough yet. couldn’t even look at you. but you didn’t care. slurrrrping his soft dick right through your lips, you suck on the squishy skin.

he’s fuckin’ stumbling back into the front closed door like he was lightheaded. the tingles of the stimulation you were giving him was bringing him to life. you were feeling him harden in your mouth and you knew you were done for.

when you saw him look down finally, the power was back in his eyes. and that’s when he began dragging your head baaack and forth, enjoying the feeling of your throat fluttering each time you gag. that gluck gluck gluck echoed in the foyer of your shared home. he pulled your head back for moment, the stringy saliva still connecting your mouth with his wet dick.

“drooling like a little slut,” jack mumbles, wiping the spit from your chin. “taste yummy?”

“mhm,” you nod, voice all raspy.

“i can tell,” he teased, slapping his cock against your cheek before sliding back inside. “theeeere ya go. won’t let you go without for too long.”

andrew “pope” cody :

“ohh, i don’t know about this…” andrew’s voice is shuddering as his head shakes back and forth.

“popey,” you drawl, your hands running up and down his shaft. you were knelt between his legs as he sat on the couch. down there for ten minutes trying to convince him to let you take him in your throat.

“baby, i don’t know…”

ignoring his protests, you sliiiide your tongue right up from the underside of his shaft to swirling around his pink tip. his words were interrupted by a guttural groan. his spine arched from the tingles of pleasure running through his body.

“just relaaaax,” you mumble, sticking your tongue out and relaxing your jaw to take him all the way in. you steadied your breathing to prevent you from gagging around him already.

but he can’t relax. not when you’re staring up at him with hungry eyes. he’s not sure where to put his hands. on your hand on his thigh? on your head? he fears if he does that, he may not be able to control what he does with it.

your mouth was so warm for him. close to the feeling of your pussy… it was different. like if your pussy was alive, moving how it wants.

the only way he knew how to calm himself down even a little bit was to tilt his head back, staring up at the flickering light of your shared apartment. he kept telling you he would fix it. it was bothering your eyes. and the buzzing was keeping you up. maybe tomorrow he’d go to the hardware store and-

oh god.

his eyes shot down once your pretty moans interrupted his thoughts. he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. your eyes were squeezed shut, dick shoved to the hilt in your mouth, and your hand down your pajama shorts, hips grinding into your palm.

you were getting off on this just as much as he was.

his whole body tensed at the sight. he had to or else he’d fill your belly real fuckin’ quick. the pressure of his belly hurt, his eyes watering to try and keep it down.

you were truly gonna kill him if you continued like this.

sir. titus danforth :

“you fucking brat.”

your head flies to the side from the force of his hand across your cheek. you should give it right back to him for that disrespect. but the smile growing on your lips tells him you enjoy it. the stinging and the mean words that tumble from his lips.

you were kinda fucked in the head for it. he was worse.

“that all you got, old man?” you spudder out once he grabs your chin and yanks you back to meet his narrowed gaze. “no wonder you’re not in charge.”

that’s where you fucked up.

his hand grabbed onto your shoulder and pushed you down, your knees hitting the beautiful wooden floor with a crack. he observed your face to silently make sure you were still okay. you were dazed, but good dazed. like he was all you needed.

with one hand gripping your hair, the other unbuckled his expensive belt, letting his pants fall to the ground.

“all you are is a fuckin’ mouth,” he rasps, shaking his head with a tsk tsk tsk. he pushes the hem of his boxers down, pulling his hard dick out with a harsh pump. “always expect me to be the one to fill it. i’m a busy man, y’know that? i don’t have time to shut you up every goddamn hour.”

that’s a lie. it’s his favorite part of his days.

with a muffled squeal he shoves his cock right into your loose jaw, already getting to work to slide your head back and forth.

“mm, yeah, you fuckin’ like it,” titus chuckles, moving his hips like he was fucking your pussy. how he liked it. “drooling all over it… this all you good for? suckin’ fat cock?”

you shake your head to the best of your ability though the bruising grip he had on the hair close to your scalp.

“i’m not buyin’ it,” he huffs. “you’re so good at it, makes this ‘old man’ believe otherwise.”

a sob sputters some spit out from around your full mouth which only makes you gag. your throat grows tighter and spurs him on. you’ve got no control here, just your crying eyes to make him closer to blowing his load.

any other person would run.

you were right where you wanted to be.

chief brett richards : 

the poor guy’s been working for too many decades. you can’t even fathom it. he never imagined himself ending up with someone so much younger to him. with all that smoke inhalation and years of heavy lifting, he wasn’t full of much energy like the guys closer to your age. luckily, you were fine with spending the night winding down in bed with him and watching TV.

he was up against the backboard, you curled up lower with your head resting on his soft lower belly. his hand scratched at your scalp just as he would do for the few cats you two have adopted. no wonder he was the favorite.

over time, he found you getting a little lower. a little too restless.

“what do you think you’re doing?” he asks with a smirk, his big hand rubbing your head once your hand paws at his sweatpants.

you hum without an answer and push the grey fabric down to meet face to face with his soft cock. he wasn’t wearing boxers. always said it was too constricting. it was good for you. you place it right into your warm mouth, laying your head back down on his belly. his tummy fluttered once he felt the occasional soft sucks.

you seemed to have a oral fixation, especially with him. his fingers, his arms, his neck. he let you, watching with a lopsided teethy grin.

his hand moved down to stroke your back. what a good little thing, helping the chief relax after a long day. he was so grateful for you. even more since this seemed to help you too.

“you okay, dollface?” he asks in a deep voice that vibrated your ear. he was so sweet and caring that it made you want to cry.

“mhm,” you nod, letting his hardening cock fall out of your mouth and flop on his pelvis. your finger drags up a prominent vein that was shimmering from the saliva coating his length. he shuddered. “just like feeling you, i guess…”

“alright, well, go ahead then,” brett whispers softly, twirling a strand of your hair around his thick middle finger. your tongue darted out to suck him back in. he watches the back of your skull with hearts in his eyes. “you make me so happy, y’know that, honey?”

his soft voice had your mind growing all fuzzy.

“so happy.”

officer sammy bryant :

“i don’t wanna hear it,” you shake your head. your heels clacked on the tiled ground as you stomped through the police station, dragging you idiotic boyfriend right behind you.

“baby, i’m sorry!” sammy tries to apologize. “i really didn’t forget, i swear! we’ve just been really busy today!”

“yeah, you looked it.”

he didn’t seem to mind all of his coworkers watching him being walked like a bad dog on a collar in his own workplace. it was sort of his fault anyways. because he did forget the date he planned for you that afternoon. what made it worse was you just had to have walked into the precinct the second he was sat at his desk munching on a cookie that one of the other cops’ wife had brought in. caught red handed with crumbs all over his uniform.

he followed behind, feet stumbling over themselves as your acrylic french nails dug into his hand. you looked so pretty he just wanted you to accept his apology so he could spoil you until morning.

finding one of the empty storage closets, you practically threw him inside, slamming the door shut behind you. he leaned up against one of the shelves, accidentally knocking a few of the cleaning products onto the ground,

“please forgive me, please,” he begged, watching you turn around with low patience in your eyes. “we can still go! it’s not too-”

“late?” you finish his sentence off short. “no, officer bryant. it actually is too late. the restaurant is closed. and i’m starving.”

he’s really fucked now.

“so what you’re gonna do is drop your pants and fill my stomach,” you point your finger at his chest. “or i’m gonna be really fuckin’ pissed.”

“baby, i uh… this is my job and-”

you raise an eyebrow. that really gets him moving.

scrambling to get his belt off, as well as his holster by the time you dropped down to your knees, he threw it to the ground to free his already hard dick for your open mouth. he lets you take him deep, hand on his thighs preventing him from moving. a strangled moan escaped his throat, his hands struggling to find balance against the shelves.

he could hear things falling all around him but he didn’t care. he couldn’t care.

“gooooood, i’m so sorry.. fuck! baby- baby, please please… i feel like such an i-idiot…”

“you are an idiot,” you pull away for a second to say.

“i know, i know… a big idiot… just.. just do whatever you w-want, okay! whatever! i can take it!”

biiiig mistake. he would pay for this all night. and the rest of the week.

(google doc link)

The first time it happened, you had just turned 18 and were at a pool party. You fought with Leon over a drink choice so badly that your friends insisted you two take it somewhere else. You remember him screaming at you, and you leaning in to kiss him. That was the first time he ate you out in the garage.

After that, it became almost a tradition – every fight ended up with him in your bed, shower, or even the pantry. It was an unwritten rule between you two: it’s just sex and your brother can never know.

It was Friday, and your brother had planned a ‘boys' trip’ to the mountains. He had already left, leaving you home alone, free to play loud music and video games for the entire weekend. Unfortunately, your bliss was interrupted by a quick text message.

“Forgot the keys to the cabin, Leon will jump in to pick them up. Be nice, don’t kill him.”

Your heart beat faster as you texted your brother back: “No promises.”

You don’t even remember how you ended up in this… position this time. Sprawled over your bed, his lips teasing you through your panties.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he whispers.

“And you’re so annoying,” you almost moan, tugging at his hair as he nibbles at the cotton underwear.

“Oh, so you want me to stop?” he asks, nuzzling your clothed sex one more time.

“Don’t even try,” you say, pushing him closer as he chuckles with satisfaction.

He doesn’t even bother to take off your underwear; he just pushes the material to the side to devour you with his tongue. Oh, and he was skilled. The pace, the motion, the pressure – everything was so deliciously perfect that it sent you over the edge in record time. Moaning his name like a mantra, you almost made him bald from how hard you tugged at his hair. He smirks at you again as he emerges from between your legs, his ego almost bursting from the satisfaction of making you such a panting mess.

“As sweet as ever,” he says, wiping his mouth and crawling up to kiss you.

You could feel yourself on his tongue as it slipped between your lips, his hands cupping your face as he ground against you.

“Leon, I need you now,” you whimper, and he doesn't hesitate.

His clothes leave his body in an instant, and he lines up his cock with your entrance. He observes your face as he slips into you, agonizingly slowly. He loved the sight of your furrowed brows and the way you bit your lip when you thought he was taking it too slow.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he scolds as you close your eyes in pleasure. You oblige, though, and he smiles again as you gasp at the feel of him stretching you out. “That’s m’girl, taking me so well,” he mutters as he slips in and out of you.

“I need more, Leon,” you mewl, and he thrusts into you harder, toying with your clit.

“You’d be such a catch if you weren’t so annoying,” he says between thrusts.

“And you would be such a catch if you shut up sometimes,” you say as you pull him down and change positions so that you’re on top. Before he can say anything, you shut him up with a kiss, riding him. “It's a good thing you have an amazing dick; otherwise, you’d be useless,” you mumble into his lips.

“Oh, I love it when you talk dirty to me,” he smiles, grabbing your hips to help you sink onto him.

You can feel another orgasm building up as he thrusts upward, your core full of his length. Your tits bounce up and down, and he reaches out with one hand to squeeze your nipple. You moan at the sensation, earning a satisfied sound from him. He could feel your pussy clenching around his shaft, making him grunt. Your nails scratch his stomach as he quickens the pace, fucking you even harder.

“Leon, I’m not gonna last long,” you pant.

“I’m close too, sweetheart, if you keep squee-oh, fuck,” he groans as he spills into you, his dick twitching, hands gripping your waist as he rides out his pleasure. He pushes through the feeling of overstimulation, continuing to grind against you, his thumb toying with your clit. “Come for me, sweetheart,” he says, a different kind of softness in his voice. You brush against his thumb one last, sweet time before collapsing on him with his name on your lips.

He brushes your hair off his face as you fall onto him. He gently strokes your back as you lie like that for a few minutes.

“I hate you so much,” you mutter quietly, without any real bite to it.

He just chuckles and kisses your temple with a soft, “I know.”

He picks you up so you both don't make a mess and carries you to the bathroom to take a shower. He notices how your legs still tremble, which makes him smile to himself.

“Need a hand, sweets?” he asks, his brow raised.

“It’s all your fault,” you say, placing your hand on the shower wall to steady yourself.

“Oh, I know that.” His smirk makes your blood boil, but your heart also skips a beat. You mutter something incoherently as he steps into the shower, wincing under the hot water. “Are you showering in a volcano?” he asks.

“I’m just a beast from hell,” you retort as he washes you up.

“More like a fallen angel,” he says, making you blush as he shampoos your hair.

It wasn’t the first time that this “enemies-with-benefits” act had turned into something more… domestic. You hum as he massages your scalp.

“How is it going with that girl from work?” you ask, trying to sound as casual as you can.

“Oh, it’s not going at all,” he says, looking at you as you rinse your hair, steadying you with his hand. “We were on one date, and that’s all.” He shrugs, but you can feel there’s something else.

“I feel like you’re not telling me the whole story.” You tilt your head to the side.

“It’s, um…” he scratches the back of his neck. “She said she could feel I was thinking about something else the entire night.”

“And?” You turn off the shower, and he hands you a towel.

“I kinda was.”

“And what could you have been thinking about that stopped there being another date?” you ask, drying your damp hair.

“You.”

The confession leaves you baffled.

“Wait, what?” you ask, suddenly feeling too naked for this conversation.

“Listen, sweetheart, we both know that we don’t really hate each other anymore. We drive ourselves crazy, but not with hate anymore.” He tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Don’t you think we should try making this, I don’t know, a relationship?”

“I don’t think my brother would be happy with that,” you say before you can think, earning a laugh from him.

“I think he’d prefer me falling in love with you over us hating each other’s guts.”

You look at him for a moment longer, really taking in his naked form as he asks you to become his girlfriend. You knew emotions weren’t his strong suit, and God, you’ve felt something other than hatred for him for a long, long time now.

“Okay, Leon, let’s try,” you nod. He leans down to kiss you – this time slower, more filled with emotion than lust. “That doesn’t change the fact that I still find you infuriatingly annoying,” you whisper.

It was like you sensed something was happening. One moment you were laughing with Whitaker; the other your eyes had found the two men staring at you.

It felt as if the world froze, and all any of you could sense was each other.

“Just imagine how pretty she’ll look,” Jack was murmuring, only for Robby to hear, “with two cocks filling her up... How out of it she’ll be while we use her until she can’t take it anymore.”

Michael inhaled sharply, his traitorous mind picturing exactly what Abbot was putting in his head.

“You know you want that,” Abbot continued, sensing Robby’s breaking point closer. “You know you wanna feel her come on your cock while she moans around mine.”

The night’s attending was met with silence for a moment- that was until Dr. Robinavitch finally gave up, shaking his head as he groaned, “Fucking damnit”.

__  __  __

- I’m leaving -

The text told you all you needed to know.

It had been weeks now.

Weeks of stolen glances and murmured praises and secret texts that told you when to start saying goodbye to people so as not to seem suspicious when Dr. Robby left too.

At the end of most shifts, you ended up going home with Micheal, sometimes you even spent the night.

You were, as he put it, his special girl. And it was a feeling like no other.

The only thing that was hard was pretending like nothing ever happened while you were at work. You caught yourself slipping up more times than you liked to admit.

Sometimes it was a reference to “last night,” sometimes it was a touch that lingered too long, or a stare that conveyed too much... thankfully, however, no one seemed to suspect anything.

Or at least no one had brought it up with you.

You made your round of goodbyes, and with the excuse of being tired, you finally managed to get out of the bar.

The chilly night’s air greeted you as the doors closed behind you.

You shivered, closing your jacket as you started to walk to where you knew Michael’s car was parked.

The streetlamps illuminated the sidewalk with a soft glow as silence wrapped around you.

There was no one out.

No one except...

Dr. Abbot was leaning on a car you knew all too well.

Shit.

What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t exactly stop there now. What were you gonna tell him? That you were waiting on your attending so he could take you back to his home and fuck you?

Not to mention the fact you didn’t want Michael to see you talking to Jack- hell, him flirting with you was the reason all of this started.

You were planning to just give him a little nod of acknowledgment and keep walking, when, to your dismay, he shattered all your plans.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

You skidded to a stop, trying to think of what to say.

“Dr. Abbot. Hi,” you finally regained the ability to speak, conceding him a quick smile.

“You can come closer, I don’t bite,” he chuckled.

His arms were crossed against his chest as he watched you with amusement.

You must have looked dumb, blinking up at him from five feet away.

“I just... I was making my way home,” you lied, your voice weak.

“You sure?” his lips pulled into a smirk.

“I-” you trailed off, watching the look in his eyes intently.

And in an instant, it clicked.

He knew.

“Do you... Do you know?” you asked, your voice low as you hurried closer to him.

Again, he laughed as he looked you up and down, seemingly happy with what he found.

“I know a lot of things, sugar,” he murmured, his fingers moving some hair out of your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek,

His touch warmed your skin like liquid fire, sending shivers to places they had no business going.

“I know you’re very beautiful,” he murmured softly, his words caressing your skin. “I know that even if you try to hide it, you like looking at me...”

“Stop,” you whispered, biting your lip, “y- you shouldn’t.”

“Shouldn’t do what?” he hummed, his eyes falling to your lips as he leaned closer.

Your heart picked up like a hummingbird. You could almost feel his lips on yours, his beard on your skin, and his hand in your hair- when someone cleared his throat to your right.

Fuck.

You gasped, jumping back as if Abbot’s touch had turned scorching hot.

Dr. Robinavitch was right there, looking at what was happening- looking at you.

“We weren’t- nothing happened,” you blurted out immediately, eliciting a cackle from Abbot.

You were expecting to see anger in Michael’s eyes, but when you looked closer... There was just some jealousy; the rest was something else.

“It’s ok, baby,” he reassured you.

“R-really?”

He gave you a simple nod, and you sighed shakily with relief.

Your breathing was starting to get back to normal, but as you watched the two men before you, a weird sensation overwhelmed you.

Michael had moved to stand beside Jack, and both their eyes were on you.

You’d noticed them before,talking in the bar while looking at you, but you just assumed it was something to do with work, but now it felt... different.

What the hell was going on?

“You ever been to Paris, sweetheart?”

It was Abbot’s voice that broke the silence.

“Jesus,” Robby laughed, shaking his head.

Huh?

“W-what?” you murmured, confused.

But they simply looked at each other, a grin on both their lips.

“Nothing, baby, just get in the car.”

__  __  __

You felt dazed as you followed Dr. Robby into his apartment.

The door closed behind Abbot with a loud click, and you almost jumped.

You had no clue what was going on. You had no idea how you were supposed to act.

You certainly couldn’t behave like you did when you and Michael were alone, but it’s not like he remembered that.

He’d already touched you inappropriately, and you hadn’t known how to react.

This was all so confusing.

“You want something to drink?”

While Jack answered positively behind you, you could only shake your head no.

Dr. Robinavitch smiled for a moment before walking to the kitchen, leaving you alone with the other man.

“Let’s get on the couch, yeah?”

When did he get so close?

His breath was fanning your neck, causing shivers down your spine.

“Mh-mh,” you hummed, complying.

You stared at your hands as he sat beside you.

“You don’t have to be nervous, sweetheart,” he spoke gently.

His voice was tinged with a delicious warmth.

“I just... I don’t really know what’s happening.”

Abbot couldn’t help but grin as his index finger guided your face up to look at him.

“We’re just here to... enjoy each other’s company,” he murmured, looking at you sweetly. “You don’t enjoy being around me?”

“No, I do,” you nodded shily.

“And you enjoy being with Robby?”

“Y-yes”

“That’s good,” Abbot bit down a proud smile as he moved closer, his fingers toying with your hair. “I bet he makes you enjoy yourself a lot.”

You choked on nothing at those words, heat spreading on your cheeks like wildfire.

“W-what? I-I”

I mean, it’s not like he was wrong. Dr. Robinavitch was definitely the best sex you’d ever had.

“It’s ok, sugar,” he shook his head, caressing your cheek soothingly. “I’m sure he does. There’s nothing wrong with it.”

Your breathing quickened, “Y-you shouldn’t know that.”

“Oh, Robby doesn’t care that I know what you two do,” he grinned, his gaze shifting behind you as Michael came into the living room. “Do you?”

You couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look at the man.

“Can’t say that I do.”

The answer shocked you. Why didn’t he want anyone else to know, but Abbot was fine? That made no sense.

“W-why?”

Michael was shrugging, finally in your line of sight now. He handed a beer to Abbot and sat on your other side, taking a swing of his own bottle.

“’Cause sweetheart...” Jack murmured, placing the beer on the coffee table next to him, before letting his hand slowly move to your thigh, “Robby and me... we’ve got a history.”

You swallowed, trying to make sense of his words.

“A history?” you repeated, watching each man questioningly.

A beat passed, then two.

“A history of sharing women, sweetheart,” Jack spoke softly, but your heart skipped a beat nevertheless.

Did he just say...

“You’re in a rush,” Robby commented, arching a brow at the other man.

“I’ve been wanting this for a long time,” Abbot answered truthfully, his eyes only on you.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, and yet you felt almost hypnotized by the look in Abbott’s eyes.

He just grinned, his fingers leaving your face as he reached for his beer and took a sip.

“At the same time?”

It felt dirty to even say it, but the lava-like heat low in your belly was everlasting.

The things you were picturing...

“Yes, baby,” Robby spoke now, his hand finding your other thigh.

“Y-you mean...” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, your brain was short-circuiting.

“Yes, sugar.” Michael leaned closer, kissing you slowly without any warning. “We like to fuck women at the same time.”

You were pretty sure you weren’t breathing anymore.

Both their hands and stares were on you, and you felt like you could have died.

“Is that something you’d be interested in?” Abbot asked, his gaze burning.

“I’ve never done anything... like that.”

You glanced at the beer bottles forgotten on the coffee table, trying to calm yourself.

“We’ll teach you, sweetheart.”

You gulped as Robby asked, “So?”

You looked at each of them, eyes wide, breathing erratic, and the answer was out before you could stop it.

“Yes”

I mean, it’s not like it was much of a tough question- You couldn’t think of one person on this earth that would turn the opportunity down.

Robby’s lips pulled into a smirk.

“Good girl,” he praised you, before crashing his mouth with yours.

You whimpered into the kiss as he tasted you like he owned you- the kiss was hard, branding, and it left you breathless.

He pulled away way too soon, but then he nodded to Abbot, and you felt about to combust.

Was this really happening?

Your question was answered in a matter of seconds, because as soon as you turned around, Abbot was leaning closer.

His kiss started softer, like he was trying to test out the water, or perhaps trying to hold himself back.

But then something switched, your tongue started exploring his mouth too, and he groaned, as his movements turned desperate... hungry.

His hands gripped your face as he forced you impossibly close to him, and he made a point of tasting every single inch of you until he could barely breathe.

Your puffy lips caused a smile to Jack’s face as he leaned away.

He really had been wanting to do this for a long time.

“Let’s go to the bedroom.” Robby’s voice broke the thick silence.

__  __  __

You were sitting on the bed like you’d been told to, watching with a mix of anxiety and excitement as the two men glanced at each other, communicating silently, before looking back at you.

You had so many questions- you wanted to ask how any of this was gonna work, you wanted to ask what was gonna happen... but no words could make it out of your mouth.

They were silent too. Not in your panicky way, but in a calm, confident way.

Jack moved first, walking to you before slowly kneeling down. His hands fell to your legs, and butterflies filled your stomach.

“Let’s get you out of these clothes, yeah?”

Robby rounded the bed, the mattress creaking underneath his weight as he came to kneel behind you.

Wordlessly, Jack undid your pants while Robby helped you out of your shirt.

In moments, you sat there in only a pair of panties and a bra.

You would have felt self-conscious, if it wasn’t for the adoration blanketing the men’s eyes.

Michael took off your bra, and you watched Abbot’s jaw tick as his eyes fell to your naked chest.

He didn’t move - it was Robby who initiated the dance.

His mouth fell to your neck, leaving hot, wet kisses on it while his hands traveled up to cup your tits hard, squeezing and groping as he groaned against your neck.

Your eyes were on Abbot as you bit your bottom lip, trying and failing to silence your moans.

It was a weird feeling, having someone watch such an intimate moment... but it was extraordinary too.

It took a moment for Jack to snap out of it, but once he did, he just smirked at you as he slowly peeled your panties off.

You held your breath, your hand shooting to Michael’s hair as he sucked on a spot behind your ear that made you feel dizzy.

Abbot couldn’t resist anymore, as much as he enjoyed the show, he guided your legs to open, watching with twisted satisfaction your whole heat come into view for him.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed, leaning down further, his fingers gripping the outside of your thighs, “You’ve got the prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen.”

You only whimpered as he moved your legs to rest on his shoulders, his breath fanning to your core while his lips started to leave taunting kisses on the inside of your thighs.

Soft whines left your throat as his stubble grazed your skin, his mouth inching closer to where you needed it, but never fully reaching it.

You tried to wiggle your hips to get him closer, but all that caused was a smirk on Jack’s lips and a sudden bite to your skin.

You yelped, causing both men to laugh.

“Please,” you mumbled, your chest heaving.

“Begging already?” Abbot shook his head, chuckling as he continued to torture you.

“Jack’s taking his sweet time, huh?” Robby spoke to your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

You nodded desperately, hoping he’d get on your side and tell the man to get to work... only of course, Robby absolutely loved seeing you like this.

“I wanna enjoy this,” Jack spoke in between kisses, and now licks, to your sensitive skin. “Who knows when you’re gonna let me do this again.”

“If.” Robby corrected him immediately, moving your hair to the side to grant some attention to other spots on your throat. “If I’m gonna let you do this again.”

“See?” Abbot arched a brow, laughing softly as he looked at you. “He’s seriously possessive about you, sweetheart- You really cast a spell on him.”

You couldn’t help but smile at that. The thought of you being so special to Robby... it did things to you.

The distraction lasted only so long, because soon Jack was back at kissing your skin and you were back at whining.

“I’ll give you something to keep you occupied, baby, don’t worry.”

With that, Robby undid his zipper, quickly guiding you to lie down and taking his cock out of his pants.

He pulled your head on his lap, giving his dick a quick squeeze.

“Open up.”

In a second, you found yourself sucking his big tip into your mouth.

“That’s it, baby, that’s it.” Robby inhaled sharply, moving your hair out of the way.

You wanted to do a good job, but the moment you felt Abbot’s lips on your mound, the task kind of fell into the background.

You looked, as much as you could, down at Jack, as he finally gave you what you wanted.

In seconds, all that teasing was forgotten. The man was starving.

His tongue delved into your slick pussy like he’d been waiting his whole life for it. He was licking and kissing and sucking everything he could find, and you were already over the moon.

“Fuck- you taste amazing,” Abbot groaned.

You moaned around Robbys cock, as Jack’s lips began focusing on your clit, stretching it and sucking it into his mouth enough to drive you crazy, just to stop and focus everywhere else.

The room filled with the sound of his feasting and your pathetic attempt at giving Robby head.

Abbot’s nose was deep inside your core as his tongue delved into your hole, eating you out from within and making you see stars.

Your back arched from the bed, but his strong hands quickly pulled you back down.

His biceps were bulging against his shirt, and his eyes were laser-focused on you, watching every single proof of his good job cross your face.

“Jack’s making you feel good?”

You nodded desperately, looking up at Robby, one of your hands gripping his forearm as his friend made out with your pussy.

“Yeah? So much so, you forgot how to suck my cock?”

Those words sent a wave of something desperate through you as you immidiately began trying to bob your head and suck more of him into your mouth.

You looked up at him with apology, trying to please him as much as you could in the position you were in.

“Have mercy on her, Robby,” Jack spoke against your core, shooting delicious vibrations through your body. “Who knows when’s the last time someone ate her out this is good,” he smirked, shooting you a wink. “Ain’t that right, sweetheart?”

Heat invaded your face as you pretended not to hear, all the while not being able to silence your moans.

He really was spectacular at it.

It’s not like Dr. Robby didn’t eat you out, it’s just that it was different... Robby was quick, aggressive; he was a taker. He made you come as if you owed it to him- while Abbot... he was taking his time tasting all of you, showing love to every inch of you, and just simply... giving.

You were making a mess, you were drenched and slick all over, and you could see your juices all over Jack’s face, but he simply kept going, groaning into you in pleasure as he dined.

“Mmmph-” You hummed around Robby’s cock once Jack finally started focusing on your clit again, your free hand moving to grasp his silver locks.

He watched you like a hawk, gripping your thighs as he quite simply decided to put an end to this torture and make you come.

Which he did- in an embarrassing short amount of time, you found yourself crying out like a madwoman as a tsunami of pleasure washed over you.

You regained consciousness as Jack’s lips found your stomach, starting a trail that led him all the way to your mouth.

Robby had taken his cock out of your mouth somewhere in the meantime.

Abbot kissed you softly, letting you taste yourself as your hands cradled his face, palm against his humid stubble.

“You did real good, sweetheart.”

“Thank you,” you mumbled, eyes half-lidded as you tried to calm your breathing.

He smiled, kissing you once more before leaning away and off of you until he was standing up.

It was then that you noticed Michael was already undressing, and renewed heat pooled in your belly as both men stood shirtless in front of you.

“I wanna look at her,” Jack spoke to his friend as he got rid of his pants.

Robby looked at him for a moment as he did the same, appearing almost annoyed with the request.

“Fine. As long as you don’t come inside her.”

At that, Abbot’s lips pulled into a grin and he shook his head, looking at you as he muttered, “So possessive.”

You wanted to smile, but then Jack took off his underwear, and all thoughts left your head.

Your mouth hung slightly open as you blatantly admired him. His pecs, his strong, broad chest, the V-shape pointing downwards to his big, huge cock...

“You can handle it, sweetheart,” he winked, slowly stepping towards you.

Without so much as a warning, he pulled you closer to the edge of the bed, your feet planted on the mattress and legs spread for him.

He wasn’t much bigger than Robby; he was just girthier.

You glanced at Michael, swallowing dryly.

He was still wearing underwear as he watched the scene unfold.

He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed this.

“You’re gonna be good for Jack, baby?”

You nodded mindlessly, whining softly as Abbot gripped his dick and slid it against your slick folds.

“I’m sure you will, sugar,” he smiled, leaning down to kiss you quickly. “You’ll have to forgive me if I can’t fuck you missionary, it’s kind of hard with my leg,” he murmured against your mouth.

He was saying it mostly for himself. It was at times like this that he hated what had happened to him- getting robbed of normalcy, not being able to do what so many took for granted. Not being able to kiss the woman he was fucking, just because of his fucking prosthetic, angered him much more than it should have.

Your eyes panned down to his right leg, nodding slowly “It’s ok,” you murmured.

With that, he kissed you once more before standing upright again.

With how wet he’d made you, he managed to slip into you with ease... or the first inch at least.

Your back arched from the bed as he retracted his hips and thrust into you, repeating the routine over and over again until he was finally fully seated inside of you.

You cried out his name as you fisted the sheets under you, your legs wrapping around his waist as he gripped the outside of your legs.

“Fuck me,” he groaned, stopping for a moment to regain some sort of control. “So tight for me, sweetheart.”

You could only moan in response, the feeling of being so full rendering you a putty mess.

“Please,” you murmured, your hips trying to move to gain friction, “Please, Dr. Abbot.”

“You want me to move?” he taunted.

You nodded feverishly, eyes shut as your heart beat like crazy in your chest.

Yes, please.

“Look at me,” he ordered, watching you comply in a second, “Like that, good girl.”

Your eyes met his, and just like that- he started fucking you.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as his dick began plunging into you over and over again, balls slapping against your ass as you felt him reach parts so deep inside of you that had you curling your toes.

You were whimpering with every thrust, your pussy barely able to stretch around all of him.

“So pretty,” Jack grumbled as he started going harder, faster, shutting your brain down altougether.

You were so lost in Abbot’s gaze that you didn’t notice Robby walking to the end of the bed, right where your head lay.

He was fisting his cock slowly, watching you take his friend’s dick like a champ, until he couldn’t simply look anymore.

Without speaking a single word, he turned your head towards him, guiding your mouth to open with a thumb to your bottom lip.

“R-robby,” you cried out, pupils filled with ecstasy as they almost rolled to the back of your head.

Abbot was making you feel that good.

“I know, baby, I know,” he cooed, impatiently guiding his cock into your mouth.

This time, you didn't even try to suck it. You were too far gone.

Thankfully, however, he took pity on you and simply started using your mouth as he would with your pussy.

The feeling of both of them inside you... both of them using you however they pleased made you feel on top of the world.

You were hot all over, drooling around Michael’s shaft while soaking Jack’s.

Both men were groaning in pleasure, a choir of sounds that made you feel close to the edge even faster.

“Doing so good for us, baby,” Michael groaned, looking down at you almost proudly as he abused your throat.

You were gagging, tears welling in your eyes as your right hand went to grip his waist, needing something to keep you grounded- keep you sane.

“Jack’s making you feel good?”

“Mh-mh,” you nodded as best as you could, glancing at the man furiously fucking you.

“Yeah, I am,” He growled, his movements frantic, desperate, “I can feel you squeezing me, sugar.”

You could feel every ridge and vein of his dick against your velvety walls, claiming every inch of you as if he wanted to leave an invisible mark.

“Taking me so good, sweetheart,” he murmured, “So deep.”

You could only moan in response, involuntarily squeezing him tighter and eliciting a deep rumble from his chest.

“Let me hear her.”

Michael hesitated a second before complying, pulling himself out of your mouth.

Immidiately, you were moaning like crazy into the thick air, your eyes on Jack’s.

He was gonna remember those sounds for the rest of his life.

“Fuck” he grumbled as you whimpered for him, “You’re gonna come for me?”

“Y-yes,” you couldn’t help but mumble the truth, “Please Dr. A-Abbott- please.”

“Jack, sweetheart,” he smiled, “Call me Jack when I’m fucking you.”

You nodded, biting your lip.

“Oh!” you squeaked as Michael’s hand materialized on your clit. “O-Oh my god- Jack- I-I-”

“I know sugar, come for me,” he breathed, “come around my cock like a good girl.”

You glanced at Robby, and when he nodded in encouragement, you couldn’t help but let go.

The tension in your belly exploded with the force of a volcano as your orgasm took over your body.

You writhed and moaned and cried, eyes shut in pleasure, until you could finally remember where you were again.

Jack was still slowly thrusting into you, letting you ride out your high, but the movements were very quickly turning overstimulating.

You could only whine, opening your eyes up again as you tried to scoot away from him.

“Too much?”

“Y-yes,” you nodded, biting your lip.

He smirked, eyes falling to where you were still swallowing him up. “I’d love to get another one out of you, but I think someone’s getting impatient.”

Your eyes panned to the man next to him, eyes dark and cock angry... yes, he indeed seemed impatient.

You gave Jack a lopsided smile, already feeling fucked out of your mind, and he finally pulled out of you.

It was a miracle he’d managed not to bust inside you.

“Get on your hands and knees, baby.”

You felt weak as you obeyed Michael’s command. Your legs were barely holding your weight as you got into position, but it was when you felt Robby climb onto the bed and slide his dick against your folds, when Jack came into view, standing before you, his cock right in line with your face- that you gulped.

You had no clue how you were gonna survive this.

“I-I,” you stuttered nervously, looking at Robinavitch behind you.

He only shushed you as his palm stroked your ass, and he started guiding himself into your core.

“Shh, baby,” he cooed, “You can do it- I know you can... now be good and suck Jack’s cock while I fuck you, yeah?”

You swallowed the sand in your throat, trying to stifle your moans as he filled you up.

“You want to be a good girl for me, right, baby? For us?”

Finally, you nodded. Of course you did.

You looked back at Abbot as Michael seated himself completely inside of you.

You cried out, your body and consequently your face sliding forward with the thrust, making your lips come in contact with Jack’s tip.

Having it right in front of you like this made a completely different effect. Trimmed gray hair adorned his base, and his cock looked even bigger up close.

You eyed his member worriedly before looking up at him.

He smiled at the look in your eyes, his hand shifting to move some hair away from your face, his thumb lingering on your cheek to caress your skin.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” he soothed you, gently guiding his dick into your mouth.

His head fell back, hissing under his breath as you instinctively hollowed your cheeks.

“Jesus,” he groaned, his hand going to fist your hair in a makeshift bun as you began working him into your mouth, all the while looking up at him like a literal angel.

Michael needed to speed things up because he was already much too close to the edge.

Thankfully, it was like the other man heard him and did exactly that.

Robby’s pace quickened and hardened at the same time. His thrusts turning brutal, scathing, and leaving you a complete mess.

You could feel him everywhere, every single cell in your body was being overriden by how good he was making you feel.

He was fucking you like he always did. He claimed you, fingers buried into your skin enough to bruise, and cock so deep inside of you, you’d feel like something was missing the moment he pulled out.

Actual tears dampened your cheeks as his pace forced you to gag around Jack’s cock.

“Good girl,” Michael groaned, landing a quick slap on your ass, “take it, like that- good.”

“Doing so good, sweetheart,” Abbot breathed from above you, knuckles white with the effort not to come in your mouth much earlier than he wanted to.

You were moaning around him, nothing but a doll at their mercy as your body moved however they wanted.

You weren’t in control anymore- not that you ever were- but now you felt truly so out of it you almost wondered if you’d already fallen asleep and this was just a hot, lucid dream.

As spent as you felt, however, a burning, familiar feeling started coiling low in your belly.

Michael’s hand reached your tits, his fingers toying with your nipples, before suddenly pinching your right one, and that feeling only heightened.

Your walls were strangling Robby’s cock as you struggled to keep your eyes open.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned, “Fuck- that’s it.”

His fingers found your bundle of nerves, and it was like the pearly gates of heaven opened up for you.

Your muffled cries sounded through the room as, once again, you reached your peak.

“Good girl— come for me.”

Jack didn’t even try to hold it anymore and came with a loud grunt, forcing himself as deep as he could down your throat and painting it all white.

“I’m gonna fill you up now-” Robby was hissing, his thrusts turning sloppy as he got closer and closer “Gonna give it all to you, baby— all of it.”

And that’s exactly what he did. He filled you up with a growl, flushing his pevis with your ass in one brutal final thrust.

Your legs trembled as you dropped onto the bed, eyes closed and breathing erratic.

Both men were staring at you, at the come leaking out of your core, at the mess that had become of your hair, at the flush on your cheeks... and they couldn’t help but chuckle.

“Fuck, man,” Robby shook his head, still out of breath.

“Told you it’d be worth it.” Jack grinned, patting the man’s back.

The dim lamplight coming from your desk became your only source of vision, having turned the harsh spotlights off hours ago. You’d been answering calls from international offices, notifying about the Raccoon City incident since the bombing. It was exhausting, granted not as exhausting as your boss being the one who was actually in the shit and fighting for his life, but goddamn your limit as a PA was wearing thin.

Leon’s office was in clear sight from your desk, his office door directly in front of you, you could often see him sat as his computer if you peered at him above your own.

Four years you’d been his assistant, and it only took about 3 months for him to say he hated being called Mr Kennedy, so since then you’d called him Leon, it felt so natural to you now.

Swirling your finger softly over the rim of your coffee cup you saw the dark brown liquid settled undisturbed inside. You brought the cup to your lips and took a sip as you flipped the page of your reports strewn across your desk. Cold. Very cold. Very disgusting. You spat the coffee back into the cup in disgust. There was nothing worse than cold coffee.

Making your way to the office kitchen you fixed yourself a fresh cup, pouring one for Leon as well since you knew full well he hadn’t left his office in hours. Holding both cups in one hand, the handles clanking together as you balanced them perfectly in your fingers, you grabbed the documents you needed Leon to sign and made your way to his office door.

You heard grunting, a muffled voice through the door caught your attention. There was a chance he was on the phone, so you knocked quietly and peeked your head in to see if you could get his attention.

The chair was swivelled to the side wall, his left profile on show, head fallen back against the chair as his eyes rested closed. Your eyes squinted, confused as they drifted down towards the desk hiding the lower half of his body. Then you spotted his hand, rising up and down between his legs, you heard the skin on skin contact, your eyes widening as you realised exactly what he was doing to himself. But you couldn’t look away immediately, your eyes fixated on him, the way his mouth fell open as his hand sped up, the way his hips bucked slightly into the air, how his free hand gripped the arm rest of his chair, veins pushing against the skin of his forearm. It was only his voice that snapped you out of your trance.

“You gonna stand there watching, or you coming in?” he huffed through a smirk, eyes still closed. How the fuck did he know you were there. Panicking that you’d been caught, you closed the door, but didn’t move away from it. Placing the coffee cups beside you on the table, your mind began to race.

Over the years there had been tension, sure. Working late nights with the guy had brought you two closer. Staff dinners and friendly drinks had brought you two very close, but not close enough that you’d acted on the instinct of wanting to drag him into your car and ride him in the backseat, even though it was on your mind constantly. A few touches here and there, his lips a little too close to yours when he leaned in to say something in a bustling bar late at night. A hand on your waist as he walked you back to your car after a long night at the office. Tension definitely grew for you two over the years, and you’d both imagined what it’d be like to get the other into bed, but he was your boss, and you were his assistant.

Fuck it.

You opened the door and he was there. Pants promptly back around his waist, his hair slightly slick with sweat, tousled on his forehead. You stared up at him, not expecting him to be so close. He just smirked, staring at you in the doorway, a look in your eye but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.

“You coming in then, darlin’?”

“Why? You think I’m interested?” You tried to make out like this was exactly what you wanted.

“Why’d you open the door again, then?”

Shit.

Words wouldn’t formulate in your mouth when you parted your lips to speak, so Leon took the opportunity to stop you speaking altogether. His hand reached up, his fingers grabbing under your chin as he pulled your face to his, lips crashing onto yours with want.

Your hands drifted up his shirt, feeling the muscle that tightly clawed at the fabric of his clothes underneath until they reached his neck, wrapping your arms around it, pulling him flush against your body.

God, he’d dreamt about this. Not necessarily in his offie, he’d imagined it in other, more private locations. Driving you home and pulling you into his lap when he pulled up to your house, hands in your pants as you worked on unbuttoning his jeans. Or whenever you were at his place for work, scrapping all the reports on the kitchen counter and bending you over it, pounding into you until all you could scream was his name as you clawed at the wood countertop, his hips flush with your ass as he spilled inside you, filling you up with his cum. But the office was good enough this time.

He pulled you in, slamming the door behind you and pushing you against it, trapping your body against his as his hands roamed over your waist, your hips, until they found their way around the curve of your ass. “Fuck, you know how long i’ve wanted to do this to you, hmm?” Leon whispered as his lips moved to your neck, licking a stripe up to your ear. “Been dreaming about this for months.”

He was a man of mystery, Leon Kennedy. Hard to read. But now all he could do was tell you exactly what was on his mind.

Your fingers made quick work of his buttoned pants, undoing it with ease, sliding the zipper down slowly. You could feel a wetness in your jeans already, fuck this wasn’t taking too long for him to undo you.

“You jumping straight into it, huh? Skipping the fun altogether, what’s the point in that?” His tone almost made it sound like he didn’t want it over with that quick. But that wasn’t what you were doing, you had other ideas.

“Who said anything about skipping the fun parts?” You brought his lips back to yours for one more messy kiss, tongues melding together in a dance, his teeth nipping at your bottom lip before he saw you gradually sink to your knees, fingers prying his jeans down his thighs. You looked up at him through hooded lids and god, he thought that was the best sight he ever laid eyes on.

Your hand toyed with him through his boxers, musing playfully at the straining cock beneath the fabric, desperate to be released. Placing a kiss to the bulging fabric, you felt a twitch, making him sigh above you. Still pinned against the door, your back pressed firmly against it, he knew that’s exactly where you wanted to be.

Pulling his boxers down, you freed his cock from its confines and widened your eyes at the sight. Leon’s forearm came to rest on the door for support while the other drifted to your hair, entwining his fingers in your soft locks.

Wasting no time, your tongue licked up the length, tickling over the tip where precum had started to leak from when he was pleasuring himself in his chair. Your lips wrapped around his cock, your throat relaxing as you took him in to the hilt, breathing softly through your nose.

Leon looked down at you, his hand gripping your hair tighter, slowly rocking his hips against you, not too much to force a gag from your throat, but just enough to draw him closer to an orgasm. He refused internally to cum before you did, but fuck, seeing you like this as he towered above you made him want to spill straight down your throat and watch you swallow every last drop.

“Fuck that’s so fucking good, baby. You’re doing so good, looking so pretty with my cock down your throat,” he mewled as his forehead pressed against the door just below where his arm rested. He set the pace for you, your head bobbing rhythmically as his hand and hips guided, his eyes drifting past your chin to watch your hands reach down your own newly unbuttoned pants to touch yourself.

Fuck, you were getting off on this. Off on the fact that your mouth was full of his cock, your fingers playing with his balls, massaging them gently as you rubbed your own clit out of sheer desperation.

The thought of that made his hips buck faster against you, your head fully resting against the door as your throat fell lax, your jaw slack as you took him in fully with every thrust, your tongue dancing along the underside of his cock.

Shit he was going to cum. He gripped your head in place, slowing pulling himself out of the warm wetness of your mouth, his dick slapping against his stomach as he did.

“What’s wrong?” you whispered up to him as he helped you to your feet.

“Nothing, baby. Just don’t want to be finished with you so soon, do I? Wanna take my time with you”, he smirked hands falling to your ass, lifting you in his arms as he walked you towards his desk, lips firmly against yours, tongue exploring your mouth.

One hand holding you up, the other swiping everything from his desk onto the floor, he laid you on the desk, his lips never leaving your body as they trailed down to the swell of your breasts.

“Um excuse me, I worked hard on those reports I gave you”, you rolled your eyes, looking at the strewn papers discarded to the floor.

He looked up at you from a kneeled position, his hands making quick work of removing your shoes followed by your pants, leaving you almost naked before him.

“Oh I’m so sorry, sweetheart. Should I take the precious time to clean that up, or would you rather I eat you out? Hmm?”

He was smirking. You could hear it in his tone without even looking. You didn’t even give a response, the corners of your mouth upturning slightly.

“I’ll take your silence as the latter, then.”

You didn’t even open your mouth to form a quick witted remark before he’d already pulled your panties aside, tongue flicking against your clit deliciously. Your thighs caged his head, trapping him between your legs as he ate your pussy like a man starved. His tongue dipped into your wet hole, his lips wrapping around your clit. And to top it off, his fingers teased you so gently, running through your folds until you whined at him, begging him to use them.

“What do you want, baby? Tell me? You want me to use my fingers inside you? Shove them inside your desperate little pussy and finger you until you cum? That what you want?”

You nodded eagerly, head pushed back against the desk, your hands gripping his hair like a vice, keeping his mouth occupied on your sensitive nerves. “Fuck, please Leon. Please.”

Please was all it took.

Two fingers sunk deep inside you, curling as far as they could to hit a spot that sent your eyes rolling, and after that his pace never faltered. He kept the same rhythm, anything to hear those pretty little moans escape you. Licking through your folds, sucking on your clit harshly, fingers buried deep inside you, it was almost too much. Your hips rose off the desk, using his shoulders as leverage to grind your pussy against his face. You were close, way too fucking close to an orgasm, and he could feel it, basically sense it through your body language.

You felt his movements stop, his fingers retreating as well as his tongue. You whined as his bod left yours, watching as he rose to stand, grabbing your thighs and pulling you towards the edge of the desk with such ease.

Lining himself up, Leon’s eyes practically fell into the back of his head as he pushed his cock into you with care. Watching the way you clenched around him, basically sucking him deeper into your pussy, he could have cum right there and then.

“You’re doing so fucking good, taking my cock so well. God, feels so good inside you, wish I could stay here all fucking night”.

He couldn’t stop himself, he had barely pushed full to the hilt before pulling almost all the way out and slamming back into you with force. Setting the pace, Leon’s brutal thrusts almost sent you off the desk, his arms wrapped around your elevated thighs being the only thing keeping you close.

You could barely form a sentence, your eyes back into your head as your hands grabbed at whatever part of him you could to ground yourself, his wrists being the closest thing. “Please, please, fuck Leon,” you whimpered as he pulled your legs up to his shoulders, your ankles dangling beside his head.

“That feel good, huh? Taking my cock like a good girl, god I can feel how fucking wet you are. That all for me, hm? You getting wet over your boss fucking you on his own desk?”

Fuck. Yes. The idea of someone hearing or catching you in her only spurred you on further.

“Please don’t stop, Leon. Fuck. I’m so close.”

“Oh baby, you don’t get to make the rules here. You’re in my office.”

He pulled out so swiftly the feeling of emptiness hit you like a truck. About to protest, he didn’t give you a second to speak before he’d pulled your body off the desk completely and spun you round to face away from him, the fronts of your thighs hitting the desk harshly.

“Give me your hands, darlin’. Don’t want your pretty fingers scratching into my desk now, do I?”

You obliged, feeling the palm of his hand pushing your lower back to bend you over the desk. Leon grabbed his tie from the chair in front of you, the heat of his chest seeping into your back, his musky smell filling your nostrils.

Tying the tie around your wrists into a perfect knot, leaving a tail on the end long enough for him to wrap his hand around to manoeuvre you as he pleased, he pushed his cock back into you, all the way until you felt him in your stomach.

Forceful thrusts that shook the desk, you felt every inch, every vein, every goddamn part of his cock filling your walls. One hand wrapped around the tie for leverage, the other burning fingerprints into your hip as he forced you back onto his cock, meeting you in the middle.

Fuck if anyone could hear you right now, your moans and screams were like candy to him, filling the room with your noise only brought him closer to completion. You were so close, almost fucking there as the tip of his cock buried deep inside you, hitting that spot that made your vision blur.

“Shit shit Leon i’m gonna cum! Fuck please don’t stop, please. Let me cum on your cock.” Your pleads set something off inside him, his thrusts growing erratic, a quickened drawing you both closer to a high. The sounds of skin slapping against skin, the smell of salt in the air from the sweat falling from both of your bodies. How the fuck was it so hot in this room?

“Come on baby, let it go. Cum on my cock baby, i’m so fucking close. Where do you want it, hm? Your pretty face? Your tits? Tell me what you want.” He didn’t want to state the obvious choice he wanted, even though he wanted it so fucking badly, but he didn’t have to. You said it for him.

“Inside me. Please,” you managed to whimper breathlessly as your felt your orgasm on the verge of tipping over. “Cum inside my pussy, please Leon, I want you to fill me up.” Your words became incoherent after that, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm hit you, drowning his cock in your juices, leaking out of you as he watched it drip off his cock to the floor.

He wasn’t far behind, ramming into you with such vicious speed, his balls slapping against your ass as he came inside your sweet pussy, filling you completely with his own seed. His hips slowed to a stop, still buried inside you as his forehead fell gently to the center of your shoulder blades, his hands stroking over your hips and waist gently. The both of you sucked air back into your lungs, breathing heavily as he pulled out of you slowly. A quiet moan escaped your lips as he pushed the escaping cum back into your pussy with his fingers, making sure not to waste a single bit.

You turned around, leaning against the desk and looking up at him. He leaned down to kiss you gently, reaching behind you to untie the bindings and release your wrists.

“You okay?” he asked, a note of concern in his tone at your flustered cheeks and wet eyes. His fingers caressed your cheek, drifting to your chin to tilt your head to meet his eye line.

You nodded, smiling up at him sweetly. Fuck, he loved that smile. He saw it everyday and he still loved it. “I’m good. Really fucking good actually,” you laughed, watching him return the same smile.

It took a minute to find every item of clothing you’d both thrown across the room carelessly, but eventually you managed to put yourselves back together, but you could still feel his cum inside you, seeping to your underwear, but you couldn’t care less.

“What were you actually coming in here for the first time?” he asked over his shoulder, grabbing his jacket off the back of his chair. He looked over to see you eyes widen slightly.

“Shit the coffee!” your mind drifted to the coffee cups laid abandoned on the table outside the office, freezing cold most likely after its abandonment. “I was bringing you coffee to help you finish your reports,” you giggled, the cups long forgotten.

“Sweet gesture,” he mused, walking forward and kissing the side of your head, “but I enjoyed this a lot more than any coffee you could have given me.”

“I bet you did,” you replied, smirking, poking your finger playfully into his chest. “Shit, the sun’s coming up soon, we should probably get going. You could just make out a pinky orange glow beyond his window past the tall buildings blocking the view of the mountains.

Walking out to the parking lot, you breathed in the fresh air, letting it fill your lungs completely, clearing your head.

“Where you going?” You heard behind you, turning to see Leon opening the passenger side to his car, cocking his head to the side.

“This great place I like to call my home. Where my bed is. And my shower. And my fridge where I keep my food.”

“Get in the car, baby,” he rolled his eyes, gesturing to the empty seat with a wave of his hand. “Got all those things at my place, what more could you need?”

You walked towards him, eyes rolling once more. “Ever heard of this thing called sleep, Leon? It’s something I might need since I have to be back here in like, four hours.”

“Darlin, I’m your boss. Which is convenient because I’ve decided you need to take a day to work from home. Which conveniently so do I. So get in the car, because I never said I was finished with you just yet.”

~~~

Nursing is by no means an easy career—especially in the ER.

You’re on your feet the whole shift, most weeks strung together in back-to-backs or three 12s that blur into one long fluorescent day. It’s a miracle if you get a real lunch break. You never know what’s coming through the doors in the next hour—sometimes not even the next ten minutes.

And still, you love it.

Even when your back aches and your calves cramp and you’re pretty sure your future includes at least one ortho consult with your name on it.

You’re heading out, grateful to be done for the week, already building a mental checklist—hot bath, epsom salt, your vibrator—when you pass by the man everyone seems to orbit on nights.

Dr. Abbott.

Jack Abbott is one of the reasons you stayed on nights. Sure: no management breathing down your neck, differential pay, your people. But if you’re being honest, it’s him. You like the way he runs a room. You like the way he trusts a good nurse and expects competence without making you prove it twice.

“Heading home?” he asks, nudging your shoulder as he falls into step beside you.

You discovered one night that you live only a couple of buildings down from each other, and ever since then, he’s insisted on walking you home. Something about the streets not being safe for a girl alone. Honestly, it sounded like your dad.

But you welcomed it. Because the walk is quiet and private in a way the ED never is. Because you like hearing him talk when he isn’t running trauma. Because you like that he never asks questions just to fill the silence—he waits until it matters.

“You’re an old man,” you say, choosing a blunt statement to break the comfortable silence between the two of you.

He makes a sound, half scoff, half laugh. “Gee. Thanks.”

“No—wait. I mean—” You scramble, because it comes out wrong. “I mean, you probably have, like… back pain and aching joints-”

“Wow, just shoot me while I’m down, kid.”

“Jack!” You’re exasperated now, “I mean my back’s been killin’ me and I’m not even thirty. I figured you might have tips. Tricks. Anything that actually works.”

He glances at you—one measured look, the kind he gives a room right before he takes control of it. Like he’s deciding if this is a safe question or a dangerous one.

Then, quietly, “You like massages?”

Your stomach drops, warm and immediate.

“Ugh, are you kidding?” you say, trying for normal. Trying for light. “I love them. I swear I need someone to crack my back real good.”

“I could do it for you,” he says.

The words shock you like an AED.

You swallow. “Yeah?”

He doesn’t smile. Not really. But his voice goes lower.

“Only if you want.”

You nod and keep walking because stopping would be admitting how fast your pulse just jumped.

The rest of the walk feels charged. The city air is cold enough to sharpen everything. You can hear your own footsteps, the quiet crunch of the gravel path, the soft clink of his badge against his scrub top.

When you reach your building, your hands shake a little at the scanner.

You tell yourself it’s exhaustion.

You open the door, step inside, and the hallway light makes the moment feel too real. Setting your work bag down at the doorway beside his camo one.

This isn’t the first time he’s been to your place. Sometimes you invite him in for a drink and conversation after a hard shift—nothing more than two tired people debriefing over a couch that’s seen too many late nights.

But boundaries were never crossed.

And this—this offer from the attending you’ve been pining over for a year and a half—feels like a line you can’t uncross.

“You want a drink?” you offer, because you need to do something with your hands, your voice, your whole nervous system.

“’M good, kid,” he answers gruffly.

Kid. He says it like a habit. Like a shield.

But the way his eyes flick to your mouth isn’t habit at all.

He sits on your couch and, without ceremony, takes off his prosthetic and rests his leg. It’s a familiar sight—something practical, unglamorous, intimate in a way that makes your chest tighten. There’s a faint, irrational guilt that you’re about to be pampered when he’s the one who carries himself through the world with that extra weight.

As if he senses the thought, he murmurs, “Don’t.”

You blink. “Don’t what?”

“Start feeling sorry for me.” His eyes lift. Steady. Flat. “I offered.”

Heat runs up your neck.

“Sorry,” you murmur as he shoots you a sidelong glance, “I mean not sorry for you, just sorry that I- y’know,” you ramble as you begin to pull out the sofa bed to cushion some of the embarrassment you’re feeling. It also felt safer than leading him to your bedroom. Too private. Too intimate. Exactly where you want him most.

“Didn't mean no disrespect…just-”

“You got any oils or lotion you like?” He asks, effectively cutting off your word vomit.

Your brain stutters.

You manage, “Yeah—uh. One sec.”

In the bathroom, you stare at yourself in the mirror and look like someone who’s about to do something brave and stupid.

When you come back, you’re holding a bottle of lavender lotion with a hand that’s only slightly unsteady.

You pass it to him. Your fingers brush his. The contact is brief, but it feels like a promise.

“Top off?” he asks, voice even.

You hesitate. One beat too long.

His gaze doesn’t move from yours. “If it's a no, just say so.”

You exhale. “It’s not no.”

“Good,” he says, and the word is quiet—softened around the edges.

You turn, tug your scrub top over your head, and lie flat on your stomach across the expanse of your couch, suddenly aware of every inch of skin the room air touches.

He puts his hands on you tentatively at first—palms warm, pressure careful—starting at your shoulders like he’s giving you time to change your mind.

You don’t.

His hands continue their diligent work—patient, methodical, like he’s mapping you by touch. He uses his thumbs first, slow circles that sink in and hold, then his knuckles, then the broad heat of his palms.

Pressure, release. Pressure, release.

Like he’s coaxing your body to remember it’s allowed to let go.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says again, quieter this time.

“It’s not,” you manage. “It’s… perfect.”

You feel him pause for half a second, like the word lands somewhere it shouldn’t. Then he exhales, long and controlled, and resumes—only a fraction deeper.

Your muscles give in one by one. Shoulders first. Then the place between your shoulder blades that always feels like it’s holding your whole week. When his hands move lower, he doesn’t rush. He stays respectful, measured, working along the long lines of tension with the kind of focus you’ve watched him use on patients.

Heat rises across your skin, equal parts relief and vulnerability. You shift your head to the side, cheek pressed against the cushion, trying not to think too hard about the fact that his hands are the steadiest thing you’ve felt all week.

“God, right there.” You don't mean to make it sound so dirty, but when his strong hands finally reach the site of your back where you’ve been aching, it feels like heaven at his fingertips.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” You tense then under his touch; you’ve never heard him sound like that before.

Or call you sweetheart.

It shouldn’t undo you the way it does. It’s one word. One quiet, careless word—and it changes the air in the room like someone dimmed the lights.

Mhm. You hum, not trusting your voice at the moment, not when you can feel an ache building just south of where his hands are.

So close yet so far away.

His hands keep moving, but you feel the difference now—the way his control is deliberate. Like he’s holding a line. Like he’s deciding what he’s allowed to do and what he’s not.

“Good,” he murmurs again, and the praise hits warmer than it has any right to.

He works the knots out of you with slow insistence. His thumbs press and hold until the ache turns into something else—something that makes you bite your lip and squeeze your eyes shut.

You don’t know when it starts to shift—when “massage” becomes something heavier, the way a storm builds without thunder at first. It’s the scent of lavender in the warm air. It’s the ache dissolving in your back while something entirely different gathers between your thighs. It’s the way you can feel him behind you—his presence, his heat—so close it’s hard to pretend there’s still a safe distance.

But the change is so much more obvious after a subtle shift backward, pressing into that hardness just enough to feel it twitch through the layers of cloth.

There.

A groan from the man behind you, his breath coming in a little heavier.

He’s been rather quiet. And now you know the reason why.

It’s gently prodding at the curve of your ass.

You gasp at the feeling. His hands stopping in their tracks at the sound that escapes you.

You freeze. The quiet is loud—just your breathing, his breathing, the soft hum of the city outside.

For a moment, neither of you moves, like you’ve both reached the edge of something and you’re deciding whether to look down.

Not until you arch, pressing back into him as his groan fills the air and his grip tightens on your hips.

“What’re you doin’?” His voice is strained, like he’s trying so hard to maintain control and composure before you can’t turn back from this moment

“Feels good,” you sigh, “think it helps with the ache,” you add with another roll of your hips back onto him.

“Sweetheart-”

“Don’t you think?” You can’t bear to look at him, not now, not when you’ve put yourself in such a vulnerable position.

Not when you feel him shift behind you and worry that he might be leaving.

Not until you feel your legs trapped between his thighs and the weight of his body press along the length of yours, arms caging you under him, breath tickling the shell of your ear.

“Yeah, warm pressure’s good,” lips brushing against your temple, “lemme make you feel good.”

“Jus’ relax.” His grip tightens on your hip, steadying you as his hips roll forward in a tentative grind. The friction is muffled by your pants and his, but it's there: the thick ridge of his cock dragging along the cleft of your ass, slow and deliberate. He keeps it controlled at first, like he's still pretending this is part of the relief, his other hand resuming its circles on your lower back to anchor the motion.

You bite your lip, stifling a moan as he finds a rhythm—forward, back, the heat of him building through the fabric, his hand on your hip guiding your subtle rocks to meet him.

It feels so wrong in the best way, the couch creaking faintly under you both. His breath comes heavier now, matching yours, the lavender lotion slicking his palms as they roam your sides, but he doesn't push further.

Not yet.

The line you're blurring makes every grind pulse with forbidden heat, your core clenching with an ache that's no longer just in your back.

Minutes stretch like that, the grinding intensifying, his cock throbbing insistently against you, the fabric between you growing damp from your arousal seeping through. You're whining now, soft and needy, unable to hold it in as the pressure coils tighter in your pussy.

He knows.

Of course, he does—his movements falter for a beat, then his lips brush your ear, voice a gentle rumble.

“The real ache's lower, isn't it?” He whispers, calm as ever, like he's diagnosing a subtle symptom. “I can feel you trembling. Let me help there, too. Turn over for me…lie on your back.”

Your pulse races, but his tone soothes the edge of nerves, making the surrender feel almost natural.

You nod, twisting carefully on the couch, and he eases back just enough to let you settle. Before you can fully relax, he reaches for one of the couch pillows, sliding it under the small of your back with careful hands. The arch it creates lifts your hips perfectly.

He kneels between your legs, eyes dark but steady, searching your face. “Can I?” he asks softly, fingers hovering at your waistband, waiting for your answer.

“Yes,” you breathe, the permission making it all feel so much more real.

With a nod, he hooks his fingers in and tugs your scrub pants and panties down your thighs in one fluid motion, bunching them at your knees. The cool air hits your bare pussy, slick and aching, and you feel exposed—vulnerable—but his gaze is reverent. He doesn't touch himself, doesn't free his straining cock; the bulge obvious and tented.

Starting slow, he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, just above the knee, then another higher, his stubble grazing your skin in a teasing path. It's build-up, deliberate and gentle, his lips lingering on the soft flesh, nipping lightly before soothing with his tongue. You squirm, the ache sharpening, but he doesn't make you wait long—your whines pull a soft chuckle from him, vibrating against your leg.

“Patience,” he murmurs, but his voice sounds as hungry as you feel.

He spreads your thighs wider, settling his shoulders between them, and finally, his mouth finds your core. A tentative lick along your folds first, tasting you, then his lips part yours gently, tongue circling your clit with firm, flat strokes.

You gasp, fingers flying to his hair, tangling in the soft curls to guide him exactly where the pleasure sparks hottest.

He groans in approval, the sound humming straight into you, and dives deeper—tongue thrusting into your pussy, lapping at your walls like he's savoring every drop.

He's a man possessed between your thighs, happy and focused, nose nudging your clit as he eats you with starving fervor. One hand slides up to join, two fingers pressing in alongside his tongue, curling to stroke that inner spot while he sucks your clit between his lips.

The dual sensation has you arching off the pillow, moans spilling freely now, the taboo thrill amplifying everything— Dr.Abbot, always so composed, reduced to rutting his hips against your couch cushions for friction. You catch glimpses of it: his body shifting, grinding down into the fabric as he loses himself in your taste, pants straining with his need.

“You taste like heaven,” he mutters against you, voice muffled and rough, pulling back just enough to swirl his tongue around your entrance before plunging back in. “So wet, so open for me—fuck.”

His fingers pump steadily, tongue flicking relentlessly, and the build is relentless. Your grip tightens in his curls, hips bucking into his face, chasing the edge. He matches you, grinding harder into the couch, breaths ragged as your pussy flutters around his fingers.

It hits you first—waves crashing, your walls clenching on his tongue and digits as you cum, crying out his name, juices flooding his mouth. He drinks you down, lapping through every spasm, and that's what tips him over.

A muffled growl against your core, his hips stuttering against the cushions, and you feel the tension snap in him too—his cock pulsing untouched in his pants, soaking the front with hot spurts of cum as he rides out his release with yours.

He works you gently through the aftershocks, fingers slowing, tongue soothing, until you're boneless on the couch. Pulling back, lips glistening, he meets your eyes with a soft, sated smile, his own pants a dark, sticky mess.

“Better?” he asks, voice tender, thumb brushing your thigh.

“Best massage ever.”

~~~

A/N: I have terrible back pain that’s aggravated by being an ER nurse, so I dreamed this up while going to sleep, need him badddd // as always, feedback is greatly appreciated, reblog and lmk what you think! <333

tagging moots and some of my fav Pitt/shawn writers💋

@kill3ill // @erwinsvow // @softundermoonlight // @superhoeva // @titus-danforth // @ovaryacted // @pope-codys // @pittrabbit // @thebumbqueen // @ofstarsandvibranium // @bubblebuckys // @hangmanapologist

You seem to be everywhere. Ever since that first day, he hasn’t been able to shake you. Any corner he turns, every trauma room he enters, there you are. Even when he can’t see you, you still haunt him. He picks up the faint smell of your shampoo, sometimes. Hears your laughter ringing somewhere in the halls and can't help but turn his head towards it.

It’s worse when you’re next to him. You’re great at what you do, there's no denying that. But it's been difficult to work alongside you, elbows and arms brushing while you crowd over whatever patient is bleeding out on the table in front of him. His brain just can't keep up, sometimes. Not with the warmth of your body next to his. Commands come out a little slower than usual. He hesitates for a second longer than he usually does.

However, it's the worst when you’re batting your eyelashes at him when you finally have a moment of downtime. Handing him some coffee from the break room, letting your fingers linger on his for just a beat too long. Casually laying a hand on his bicep when you talk to him, leaving him tingling for an embarrassing amount of time after you leave. He knows exactly what you’re doing. That you know exactly what it does to him. He’s got scars older than you, but that doesn't stop his gaze from following you as you flit around the ER. And he knows you feel it. You’re real young, you’re real fucking pretty and you’re real fucking capable.

Which is why it feels like a cruel joke that you’re always flirting with him. Especially since he’s pretty sure you’d never actually see him in the way that he sees you. Honestly, it makes this inconvenient attraction he has towards you all the more complicated. Jack can't help but notice the way you chew your lip when you’re deep into charting. The curve of your neck when you adjust your hair. When you look up at him with those big eyes, just eagerly waiting for him to tell you what to do next.

Fuck, he’s hard just thinking about it.

His thoughts always wander in that direction when it comes to you. He finds himself at home, thinking of the way that you looked at him earlier in the day or when you swept a slow thumb over your bottom lip absentmindedly, lost in thought. Jack feels filthy when he thinks of you like this, but he still can't help but palm himself through his pants when the thoughts come. Which is more often than he'd like to admit.

When he thinks of you outside of that, however, he’s not entirely sure how he feels. It’s more than just something carnal. He wants to take care of you. And he does, sometimes. Leaves a protein bar by your hand when he hears you complain about how hungry you are, and steps in when patients start being rowdy or handsy with you. 

It’s an entirely different feeling while he watches a doctor get handsy with you instead.

It's the early hours of the morning, and the day shift has started to trickle in. It was always interesting, crossing paths with them. The night shift attracted a certain kind of person. Someone who prefers working under the cover of darkness. Jack noticed that the people on the night shift always played their cards closer to their chests, had a little more hidden depth. Maybe that's why they all worked well together, moving like a unit, fluid and unspoken. 

The day shift on the other hand was, well, bright, in a sense. They were all dazzling smiles and caffeinated energy, bouncing from one patient to the next. They clashed like nobody’s business, bold and brash. There were exceptions of course, like Mohan, who Jack had grown fond of and even attempted to convince to join the night shift on more than a few occasions. (She always said no.)

Then there were the textbook examples. And no one embodies the day shift more than Robby’s prodigal son, Frank Langdon. 

Frank Langdon, who was standing just a little too close to you, elbow propped on the nurse’s station as he gave you one of his signature smiles. Jack was too far away to hear exactly what he was saying, but he didn't miss the way his fingers played with your badge, the light glinting off it as he fiddled with it and examined your photo. Jealousy twists in Jack’s gut, but he can't make himself turn away. He just grips his tablet harder, listening to you giggle at whatever Langdon had to say. It’s the same giggle that you give him when he's just a little too sarcastic in an attempt to make you laugh. That was his giggle.

A hand on his shoulder snaps him out of his daze.

“What'd the tablet do to you?” It’s Robby, looking at Jack expectantly to begin their hand off for the day. Jack can't curb his jealousy fast enough and the other man follows his gaze right over to you and Langdon. He can see the gears turning in Robby’s mind, piecing everything together until he barks out a laugh and shakes his head. “You’re so screwed, brother.”

“I don't know what you’re talking about.” Jack grumbles, and Robby raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him. He’s still gripping onto the tablet, probably moments away from cracking the damn thing in half.

“Right…” Robby has to basically wrestle it out of his grip and Jack finally drags his eyes over to his friend, who looks thoroughly unimpressed. “So you’re just here, burning holes into Langdon for no reason.”

“I’m not,” Jack says, a little too indignantly for his liking. “He’s married. He shouldn't be flirting like that.” Robby laughs at him again, which is really starting to get on his nerves. He knows that it’s a terrible lie, but his mind is too foggy from his overnight shift to think of a better one. He wishes his friend would cut him a little slack here.

“Sure. And it’s got nothing to do with her, I’m guessing,” Robby nods over in your direction, and Langdon is still there. He’s leaning on the nurses station, still talking away while you nod, full attention on him. Doesn’t this guy have a job to do? A beat of silence passes, and Jack doesn't answer. “Okay, well, good luck with that then.”

With that, Robby takes his leave, but not before he grabs Langdon by the scrubs, wordlessly hauling him away. You seem shocked at the sudden intrusion, waving goodbye to the dark haired doctor just a moment too late.

It seems like his best friend can cut him some slack, after all.

—

You’re already two drinks deep when Jack Abbot walks through the door.

You’re in the day shift’s favourite bar, squished into the booth seat next to Trinity. She’s yapping away and gesturing wildly to Robby and Garcia who are sitting across from you, looking equally as squished. Truthfully, you’d tuned her out a few minutes ago; it was a story about Dennis and the farm girl she’s told you a million times before.

Your eyes are wandering across the bar, drifting over your friends who are scattered around as if they own the place. Samira and Cassie are perched on stools at the bar, Parker is trying and failing to teach Dennis how to play pool. Movement catches your eye and your gaze drifts towards the door, where John strides in, with Jack in tow.

You can't even pretend to notice Shen, not when Jack catches your eye right away. He’s got his typical black shirt on, tight in all the right places. His hands are shoved into his pockets as he saunters in, looking confident as always. You swear that you’ve never seen him look out of place before. Everywhere he enters, it feels like all heads turn in his direction.

Well, yours does at least.

And it’s really irritating how fucking good he looks all the time. Scrubbed up, in his civvies and in that unbelievably hot uniform that he rolled up in on the fourth of July. He really has you feeling a lot of things you definitely shouldn’t be, considering that he’s your attending. But that still doesn’t stop your eyes from wandering across his broad frame, up his freckled arms to the grey stubble on his jaw. You practically have to physically stop yourself from biting your lip.

“Oh my God, drool much?” Trinity says in a low voice. She’s clearly stopped telling her story, as Robby and Garcia are now engaged in a conversation of their own. Trinity has caught you checking out Abbot on multiple occasions and she never gives up an opportunity to bemoan you about it. “He’s like, geriatric.”

“Not geriatric. Kind of like, silver foxy?” You laugh, shaking your head. “Plus, I thought we kind of had a thing for older people?” You gesture not-so-subtly at Garcia, who’s taking a sip of her drink and nodding along to whatever Robby is saying. Trinity rolls her eyes at your comment and slips past you, out of the booth.

“Okay, well, I’m gonna get another drink,” She tells you, waving her empty glass. Before she leaves, she sneaks a peek over her shoulder and then leans in closer to you, her breath tickling your ear. “He’s heading your way. So try not to cream your pants, huh?”

That makes you sit up straight as Trinity saunters off and Jack comes into view. He’s looking down at you in a way that makes you squeeze your thighs together. He stares, but only for a moment before sliding into the booth across from you, next to Robby. Garcia seems to have slipped off to get another drink as well. What a coincidence.

‘Well, look who finally made it!” Robby gives Jack a slap on the shoulder as he settles in, whiskey glass in hand. He gives his friend a nod, glass extended in an invitation. Robby accepts, clinks his bottle against his cup and both the men take a sip. You can’t help but be drawn to Jack’s hands, much like you always were during surgery. There was just something about them — the way his fingers were nice and thick maybe, and you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly they would feel like skimming your body. 

You almost let your gaze trail down to his mouth, but you shake your head in a daze as Jack sets down his drink. He still catches you though, the ends of his lips quirked up in an almost smirk. Your heart pounds in your chest as you look down at your hands to avoid any further eye contact, but you can still feel the heat of his gaze on you. It’s dangerously enticing and fuck, are you enticed.

He opens his mouth to say something to you but Dennis plops himself in the spot next to you, interrupting. He’s looking around, beer hugged close to his chest. “I think if I missed one more time, Ellis would have actually killed me.” He says, and you glance over at the pool table where Shen has gracefully slipped into Whitaker's role instead, much to Ellis’ delight.

The conversation takes off again and you can't help but wonder what exactly Jack was going to say to you. He’s wrapped up with Robby and Samira, who has floated her way down to your booth and is looking as angelic as ever. She’s perched on the corner of the table, all long legs and sweet smiles. You watch the way Jack talks to her; smooth, easy and familiar. You’re sure your smile twitches and you give Dennis a tap on the shoulder.

“I think I’m going to get another drink too.” You say, both to Dennis and to no one in particular. You stand and Samira gives you just a bit of a liquored up grin as she helps you adjust your short dress. You thank her with a smile of your own, turning around. There’s hope blooming in your chest at what feels like Jack’s eyes on your back as you walk away, but you're too cowardly to look back and see for yourself.

Trinity is standing at the bar, looking about as dishevelled as you expected. She quirks an eyebrow but doesn’t say anything as you approach.

“Your drink is taking a long time, huh?” You nudge her with your shoulder and she just rolls her eyes. Ignoring her attitude, you rest your elbows on the bar, trying to get a look at where the bartender fucked off to. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Trinity is reapplying her lipgloss and attempting to tame her hair, using her phone to assess her reflection. You try to help and she gives you a grateful smile in return. She nods towards the bartender, who is still kind of ignoring you. “I already got one for you.”

“You’re the best,” You’re still smoothing down her hair, giving her a big smile back. “Should we, like, kiss?” You fake going in for a kiss, and she pushes you away with a laugh.

“Please. You wish,” The bartender finally slides two drinks towards Trinity, who hands you one of the glasses. The chill from the glass is definitely welcome against your warm flesh, flushed from the drinks previous. Trinity shoots you a smirk as she grabs your hand to lead you back to the booth. “Besides, don’t you have a silver fox to catch?”

The two of you arrive at the booth and in the short time you’ve been gone, the people seem to have rearranged themselves. Robby and Whitaker have disappeared and Samira has taken your place, McKay beside her. On the other side is still Abbot, nursing his whiskey. Heads turn at your presence and the pair of you are greeting with excited chatter and big smiles from the girls.

It takes you a minute to realize that the only open spot is next to Jack.

Trinity gives you a small push and you claim the seat next to him. Trinity slides in after you and it’s a bit of a tight squeeze, leaving you thigh to thigh with the attending you definitely don’t have an inappropriate workplace crush on. You can feel the heat radiating off him — his arms, his thighs. You swear you feel him stiffen for a second, but the moment is over as quickly as it happened. He smells woody and warm, and it’s got you basically swooning. Is that just the way he smells, or is it cologne, body wash? You resist the weird, perverted urge to take a sniff of his neck and take a sip of your drink instead.

Conversation comes easy for you guys, especially as the drinks continue to flow. People come and go: Ellis, Shen, Dennis — everyone shuffles through, exchanging seats and manoeuvring around each other as easy as they do on the floor of the hospital.

You and Jack though, you don’t move.

Your two stay pressed together, even when Trinity is long gone. Eventually, everyone thins out and spreads across the bar instead, leaving you and Jack alone together. It’s getting hard to ignore the mirth swimming in his eyes, your faces just a little too close together for the conversation you two are having.

You trace what’s left of the condensation from your empty glass with your finger, savouring the feel of the cool water. Is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

“How about I get you another drink?” Jack offers, the timbre of his voice lower than usual. “On me?”

 It feels like he’s getting closer, close enough that you can smell the whiskey on his breath. It’s probably inappropriate to want to kiss your boss, right? Especially one almost twice your age? The prospect of the situation makes you almost dizzy with want, especially when he’s looking at you like that. Or maybe that’s just the alcohol rushing to your head.

Yeah, it’s definitely just you.

“Actually, I think I need a smoke.” You manage to utter, like the responsible adult you are. You need to remove yourself from the situation, fast. He retreats from your space slowly, and you immediately feel the absence. It takes everything in you to suppress the urge to lean back into him again, instead giving him a shy smile as you exit the booth. Jack lets you leave wordlessly, and this time you’re certain his eyes are on you as you walk away. 

The cool breeze outside is a welcome reprieve from the overwhelming heat inside and you take a moment to let it wash over you. You press your back against the brick of the bar and pull out your pack from your purse and stick a cigarette between your lips, fishing around for your lighter. After some digging, you finally find what you were looking for and you cup your hand around the cigarette, flicking the lighter on until you see the familiar cherry red at the end. Things seem a bit less hazy when you take a deep inhale and exhale slowly, grey smoke curling around the dark sky.

You close your eyes and rest your head against the wall, feeling the tension leave your shoulders. Taking another long drag, you review the night in your head. You’ve always enjoyed flirting with Jack, sure, but Jack also flirts with anything that has a pulse. You never really expected anything to come of it, except maybe something to think about later in the night while you were alone. Lately though, it’s been feeling different. He’s always brushing against you, placing his hand on the small of your back as he squeezes past you. The way he looks at you recently is glimmering with something you can’t exactly place. The way he looked at you when Langdon was trying to charm you.

You lift your hand to take another drag when the cigarette is suddenly plucked from between your fingers. Your eyes flutter open and there stands the subject of your thoughts, Jack Abbot, who has your cigarette between his lips now. 

“Whiskey makes Jack a bold boy, eh?” You tease, watching as he takes a drag. It’s unfair how good he makes it look. He gives a small chuckle at your comment but doesn’t reply, letting silence settle between the two of you. Instead, he extends the cigarette towards you and you take it back. Something is painted on his face, like he’s mulling something over, but you don’t ask. You two continue this for a while, just enjoying each other’s company for a moment, taking turns until you finally hit the filter. It’s easy to admire him in the quiet you share. The flex of his biceps, the way he shifts his weight between his prosthetic and his good leg. He’s so broad and handsome, especially when he’s in his tight shirt and cargos. It’s got you wanting to drop to your knees right then and there.

You don’t miss the way he’s looking at you either, though. It’s common knowledge that Jack’s got a staring problem. It makes you flustered at the best of times and wet at the worst, but this stare was different. You can see the want in his eyes as his hazel eyes basically bore into your soul. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he was giving you bedroom eyes. Every so often his eyes flicker down to your lips instinctively, especially when they’re wrapped around the cigarette the two of you are sharing. You’re sure that you’re probably doing the same.

“So, can I buy you that drink now?” He asks huskily as you put out the smoke, tossing it into the garbage can behind you. Your eyes flick between the door of the bar and your phone; the numbers flashing at you indicate that you’ve been out longer than you’ve anticipated and it was late.

“I was actually kind of thinking of pulling an Irish goodbye. I live pretty close,” You say sheepishly, tucking your phone back into your purse. He almost looks disappointed, and you revel in the feeling. You’re not sure if it’s the drinks you’ve had or the way that he was staring at Langdon like he wanted to strangle him with his bare hands for flirting with you the other day, but the words slip out of your mouth before you can really think it through. “Want to walk me home?”

Your tone is shy but warm, an airy lilt at the end of the invitation. Or at least that’s what you aimed for. Realization spreads across his face, until it’s replaced with a smirk. You know it’s an offer he can’t really deny. Even if he didn’t want to fuck you, Jack Abbot was nothing short of a gentleman. He’d never let you walk home alone so late at night. “Of course.”

“Why thank you, Doctor Abbot.” You give him a smirk of your own as you push off the wall, enjoying the way that he watches you move languidly. He scoffs at your joking use of the professional title you call him at work, tongue darting out to wet his lips. You adjust your dress and you two look at each other for a moment; him staring down at you with that obnoxiously smug look on his face, and you staring up at him half lidded like you don’t know what you’re doing.

“Lead the way, sweetheart.” He gestures with a sweep of his arm, breaking your staring contest. You start off in the direction of your apartment, shooting him a cheeky look over your shoulder as he takes a minute to follow behind you.

“Think you can keep up, old man?”

—

He hangs back, just for a second, to admire the view as you flounce away, your heels clicking against the pavement. He can’t help but appreciate just how good you look, dress hugging your figure in all the right places. It doesn’t help that he caught a glimpse of your panties earlier when you left the booth, and he’s been thinking about taking another peek ever since. He’s so distracted that he barely catches the words you throw at him.

“Watch it, kid.” He warns, starting off after you. The night is just cool enough that he can feel the alcohol flowing hot through his veins as he reaches you, matching your stride. The nickname was just a slip of the tongue, something he calls you when you’ve made the right call when treating a patient or when you’re offering to refill his coffee in the break room. You give him that look that you’ve been giving him all night, the one that’s got him in this mess in the first place. Blinking through your eyelashes, like you want to climb him like a tree. It does make him feel like a bit of an old man in a way, chasing after a girl basically half his age. 

But you’re the one that invited him, right?

“I’m not sure what you mean.” You say innocently, another flutter of your eyelashes. He gives a chuckle at that, rolling his eyes. The night is quiet at this hour and the tension is thick between you two as you walk alongside each other. Jack’s got his hands tucked into his pockets, watching as you walk a bit unsteadily and he’s not sure if it’s the drinks you’ve had or the shoes that you were wearing. Before he could ponder on it any longer, your heel skids and you stumble over a small lift in the sidewalk.

He grabs your waist instinctively, catching you before you go down. You’re closer to him now and the scent that he’s become so familiar with fills the air, masked a bit by the perfume you wear, all floral and ambery. The proximity between you two almost makes him stumble as well. 

“Careful, sweetheart,” He says, voice low, still affected by just how close you are. “Don’t think you’d like to make a detour back to work before your next shift.” He hauls you upright and you give him another sweet smile. Jack can’t help but give you one back.

“Why would I need to?” You recover much faster from the stumble than he does, smoothing your dress down with the palms of your hands. “You wouldn’t patch me up? I’d be in very capable hands, no?” You tease, smirking. He knows you’re joking but the idea of getting his hands on you, being able to touch you beyond the feather light touches you have shared, makes his heart beat in want.

“Yeah, you think so?” He smirks and you slow to a stop in front of a building that he assumes must be your place. You answer his question with a small nod, suddenly shy. He can see you scanning his face, looking for some kind of answer in it. You press your lips in a thin line and finally speak in a small voice.

“Walk me up?”

He should say no. Any sort of gentleman would leave it here, say good night. Especially one as old as he is.You’re staring at him, not breaking eye contact as you await his response. He should definitely say no.

“Sure.”

Goddamn it.

You give him a smile as you turn, pulling the door to your building and he grabs it, holding it open for you. The climb to your place is quiet, the click of your heels against the stairs punctuating the terrible choice he’s making. But the choice doesn’t feel as terrible as it should when he gets to watch you climb the flights of stairs, getting the flash of your panties that he was desperately wishing for earlier.

You approach your door, fumbling with your keys for a second before he hears the soft click of the lock. He’s got his forearm resting against your doorframe, watching as you slowly pull the door open. Jack catches a glimpse into your apartment for a second before you face him; it’s a small studio, lived in and inviting. It smells like you.

You’re just staring at him for a moment and he’s staring right back. The thought that this is a terrible idea is swirling in his mind somewhere, but the heat pooling in his gut as you look at him seems to be all he can focus on right now. You cock your head and enter your apartment, door still wide open. Jack’s body moves before he can even think about it, one foot after the other, crossing the threshold. Something he can’t take back.

He closes the door behind him with a gentle hand, like any loud noise might snap one of you out of a trance. You’ve got your windows open and you’re bathed in the moonlight, the same way you were outside the bar. That exact vision of you has hijacked his better judgement tonight and landed him in the apartment of a pretty young girl. He tries to push the thought aside.

Jack opens his mouth to speak, maybe even tell you how bad of an idea this is, but you’ve already hooked your fingers in his belt loops, pressing your lips against his before he can get a word out. He can taste your lip gloss and it makes his knees buckle a bit, the words suddenly dying on his tongue. You don’t hold back, all dirty and desperate, slipping your tongue into his mouth. He can feel you sigh and pull him closer, hands resting at his stomach now. Your nails scratch against the skin above his waistband and it makes all his blood rush downwards.

You let out a shaky moan into his mouth and his resolve just breaks. His hands finally move and take what he’s been wanting, cupping your jaw for a minute before moving down, rough, skimming down and pulling you flush against him, hands coming to a rest on the curve of your ass.

It’s intoxicating the way you kiss him, like you just can’t fucking get enough. Your hands are wound in his hair, carting through the grey curls. You pull away all too soon, chest rising and falling quickly in an attempt to catch your breath. It sends a shiver down his spine when he sees the sultry look on your face and you grab his hand and pull him deeper into your apartment.

He lets you lead him and come to a stop at your couch. Jack must be drunker than he thought, because you barely push his chest and he lands on the couch behind him. It’s a sight to see when you drop down to your knees without a word, dress rucking up at your waist. He can’t help the moan that slips out from between his lips as you look up at him, the same way you do at work. Waiting for him to tell you what to do. His legs part involuntarily and you slip yourself between them.

“Fuck, baby,” He can’t help but take in the moment, cupping your cheek as you lean into his touch. “ You want to suck my cock that fucking bad, huh?” 

You nod —eagerly, he can’t help but note— and he grabs a fistful of your hair loosely. He gives you a small nod, giving you permission to go ahead. Biting your lip, you trace a soft finger over the bulge in his pants and he can’t help but shiver. You take your time unzipping his pants and pulling him out, hand wrapped around the hard length of him. It’s fucking delicious watching you like this, pumping his cock slow, a wicked grin on your face.

You press a kiss to his tip and his hips stutter at the sensation and then you’re pressing the flat of your tongue against him, licking him from root to head. He lets out a loud groan, grip on your hair tightening ever so slightly. He takes in the scene in front of him, you on your knees just for him. It feels perverted in a way, like he’s way too old to be this undone, especially for a woman so many years his junior. But then you place him between your soft lips, lip gloss all smeared from the sloppy kisses you two had shared earlier and he can’t really bring himself to care. Your hands skim down the sides of his bare legs, not even pausing when you feel the heat of skin turn into cool metal on one side.

Your mouth is so warm and wet and it’s got him wondering what your pussy will feel like if your mouth already feels this good. Honestly, he can’t remember the last time someone has had him like this. Your hand is soft where it grips him at his base, spit dripping onto your knuckles and you take him deeper and deeper, until he almost hits the back of your throat.

“Such a good girl for me.” He drawls, voice shaking as you swallow around him. You’ve settled into a rhythm now and Jack is happy to hold you by the hair and let you take control. It feels so fucking good that he can’t help but thrust into your mouth, a crooked grin forming when you gag and drool for him. He can't help but praise you. “You look so pretty on your knees, drooling all over your tits like that.”

That earns him a moan from you and he can feel the vibration of it around his cock. He thinks it can’t get any better than this, and then you look up into his eyes, lips still wrapped around him and a guttural moan rips its way from his chest. This seems to invigorate you as you begin to suck harder, cheeks hollowed as your other hand sneaks its way up to his balls, rolling them in your palm. It’s sloppy and wet and loud —the only sounds in your apartment are the loud, filthy way you’re taking him deep into your throat, and Jack's soft pants and utters of your name. His brows are burrowed in pleasure and it takes all of his focus to not cum in your mouth. He’s basically dripping from your spit, wet all the way down to his balls.

He pulls you up by your hair, rough. You let out a small whimper, like you’re real sad that he’s not letting you suck his dick like you were trying to suck his soul out of it. His lips are parted and his pupils are blown with lust, the hazel of his eyes barely visible around the black. His voice is husky when he speaks next.

“Get on the bed, sweetheart.” The apartment is small, and the bed is just behind him. You’re still wearing your heels and the sound of them reverberates in the cramped space. You don’t bother to pull your dress down this time and he soaks it all in as he pulls off his shirt, trying his best to kick off his boots and pants that have pooled around his ankles at the same time.

He catches up to you in no time and he knows you’re teasing him, walking all slow and sexy like that. Then he decides you’re teasing just a bit too much and he grabs you by the waist and tosses you onto the bed. You land with a soft bounce on the mattress and he crawls on right after you, pulling you towards him.

He’s nosing at your pussy through your panties, the dampness forming for him to see. You smell so fucking good that it makes him throb and he can’t help but wrap a fist around himself and pump loosely a few times.

“You’re soaked for me,” He says gruffly and you mewl, desperate for him to touch you more. “Should I have a taste?”

Now he’s running his fingertips over your covered slit, and your hips buck. Jack can feel the heat of you just under the thin cloth, radiating through the lace and he briefly wonders if you’ll let him keep them after.

“Yes…” You breathe, and he takes a peek at you from between your legs. You look absolutely wrecked, propped up on your forearms, staring down at him through half lidded eyes.

“Why don’t you ask me nicely?” He coos and you groan, head tipping back. He loves having you like this, nice and pliant under his hands. You’re better than he imagined when he was alone, touching himself to the thought of you. “Tell me how bad you want it.”

“Please, Jack,” Your voice cracks as you plead, hips rolling, craving some kind, any kind of friction. “I want it so fucking bad, please…” 

“You always listen so well to me, sweetheart. So obedient.” Jack can’t deny you when you whine for him all breathy like that, so he pulls your panties to the side and does exactly what he said he would do, taking a taste. He laps at your pussy like a man starved, your wetness smearing all over his chin, gathering in his stubble.

He feels your hands grip his hair as you pull him in deeper, wordlessly asking for more. Obliging, he dips his tongue into your cunt and you tighten around the muscle, making Jack’s eyes roll back into his head. He’s sure he’s moaning just as much as you are, one hand on your hip, the other one stroking his cock roughly.

Once he’s had his fill of fucking you with his tongue he lets his fingers take over, sliding two of them into your sopping entrance. Your hips buck again at the intrusion and he lets out a deep growl. “You taste so good, baby —could eat you all fucking night. You like having my fingers buried deep in your cunt?”

The whiskey has worn off by now but he’s drunk with lust, his head spinning as he ducks his head back down, sucking your clit softly. He can feel you fluttering around his fingers, getting tighter as he fucks you rough. He’s caught you staring at them more than once and your little comment about his hands earlier hadn’t gone unnoticed by him.

He can tell you’re close by the way you’re moaning and the way you’re gripping his fingers; he can barely pull them out. The pace he sets is brutal and then you’re coming on his hand and face before he even realizes. The taste of your cum is heady and he’s licking it all up like it’s his last meal.

You’re catching your breath and he flips you over without a word, ass up for him. His hands are rough and calloused on your soft skin, pulling down the top of your dress to expose your breasts. You both moan as he tweaks a nipple between his fingers, before palming your ass and yanking your soaking panties down your thighs.

“Fuck…” Jack curses. He’s rutting against you, coating his cock with your cum, moving infuriatingly slow. You’re pushing against him, pleas falling from your lips as he places a hand on your bare back, pushing you deeper into the mattress. Jack has half a mind to hope that your apartment walls aren’t as thin as he thinks they are. He’s busy trying to sear this moment into his memories to care all that much about it though; you’re under him, moaning his name, begging for him. “Still think I’m an old man? That I can’t keep up?”

He’s throwing your words back at you, the frantic shakes of your head as you rut back into him going straight to his ego and his dick. Jack can't resist the sight any longer as he drags himself up and down your entrance, tapping on your clit a few times and loving the way you jump at the sensation. He’s barely got the tip in when you start moaning for him again, breathy and desperate. Ignoring your begging for him to start moving faster, he pushes in nice and slow instead, mesmerized by the way your pussy just sucks him in.

Gripping fabric of your dress that has bunched up around your waist, he sinks in deeper until he’s fully bottomed out. He stays still for a moment, letting you adjust to his size and schooling his breathing so he doesn’t cum embarrassingly fast. You’re so tight and he can’t help but think you’re one hundred percent better than what he imagined and one thousand percent better than his fist that he fucks into when he thinks of you. Sharp pain interrupts his thoughts, your nails scratching at his thighs as you try to get him to finally move.

“Feels like you’re made for me, sweetheart. So fucking tight for me.” Thoughts are spilling out now, pleasure taking over and loosening his filter. As much as he wants to savour this, savour you, he’s on the fringes of his self control. You’re gripping his cock in a way that makes his head spin and your small pants have him feeling downright sinful. He tries to start slow, he really does, but he just can’t resist. He’s been thinking about having you for so long, the way you would look under him, and now that he has you, he’s not letting you think about anyone else again. Jack wants you to think about him every time you crawl into bed without him.

He fucks you in earnest, the wet slap of skin on skin just spurring him on. He buries a fist in your hair again, yanking your head up so you’re on all fours for him, back curved. The frame of your bed creaks quickly in time with his thrusts, the same way his thrusts are punching small gasps out of you each time. He loves listening to the noises you make and he pulls your hips up higher, balls slapping your clit as he buries himself deeper. Your moans are getting louder, walls squeezing him tight and he pulls out quickly before his vision goes white.

“Jack, please!” He can tell you’re getting tired of the way he’s been teasing you all night, thinking that he just might edge you all night. But really, he just wants to see what your face looks like when you cum around his cock. He flips you over easily, biceps flexing. Before you can even muster out a squeal he’s back inside you, filling you up to the hilt. Your lips part and your eyes roll back into your head, and he can’t help but smirk as he begins to move once more.

This time the pace he sets is punishing, determined to make you cum before even thinking about chasing his own high. Jack can tell by the way that you’re squeezing him like you don’t want to let him go that it won’t be long. He allows his eyes to sweep over your body appreciatively, your thighs, your stomach, the way your breasts bounce, how absolutely blissed out your face looks.

It’s hard to resist the temptation to splay a hand just below your neck, gauge your reaction, so he doesn’t. His hand is so large against the base of your throat and the way your eyes flutter in pleasure makes his dick twitch. He lets it rest there for a moment, then dips two fingers between your lips, tongue swirling around the tips of them like it was around his dick just a little while ago.

Leaving a wet trail down your chest, he makes his way down to your clit, drawing tight circles around with rough fingertips. He lets out a growl at the noise you make, deep and primal. He glances down, noticing the cream gathering around the base of his cock, his happy trail covered in your slick. His legs shake at the sight, his climax suddenly a lot closer than he anticipated. He can guess that yours is too, judging from the way your cunt is fluttering around him and that you’ve seemed to stop caring who can hear just how good he’s making you feel. 

“You gonna cum on my cock, baby?” You’re nodding loosely, like you barely even registered the question. He loves seeing such a capable girl come apart in his hands like this. “Yeah? Cum for me then.”

And you do, as he should have expected, since you always do what he tells you to.

Your cunt is milking his orgasm out of him, and he can feel his hips stutter. He barely squeezes out the words, asking you where he should finish, half aware that he’s not wearing a condom. You look up with shiny wet eyes, fingers tangling in the curls at the base of his neck  and he nearly cums at the sight.

“I want you to fill me up.” You say, and yeah, that makes him want to cum even more. A few more messy thrusts and he gives a low groan, spilling deep inside you. He’s hutched over your form, body shaking in pleasure, loving the heat that’s radiating from your body. After a few moments the haze of sex dissipates and you two are left chest to chest, your nipples brushing his chest with every breath.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, sweetheart.”

—

Jack cleans you up, all nice and sweet, with a warm rag from your bathroom. The action is tender, especially compared to the way he just wrecked you. It makes you feel taken care of, which is not something you would admit aloud to him for now. You’re a little confused about the position that this puts you in with your attending. The only thing you can really make sense of is that the entire situation has gotten about a million times more complicated than it was eight hours ago.

But when Jack looks at you, eyes soft in a way you’ve never seen before when you offer to help him remove his prosthetic, you decide that you don’t really care. You’d give anything to have him look at you that way again.

And now he’s here in your bed, freckled back to you and breathing even. He’d fallen asleep soon after you asked him to stay the night, which you thought was sweet. Old man was up way past his bedtime.

Your phone vibrates on your nightstand and you flip it over, squinting at the bright light. You’d pretty much ignored it when you left the bar with Jack, pretty one track minded. You’d miss a flurry of text messages from everyone else: Garcia asking if she could bum a smoke, Samira asking if you left and then following up asking you to let her know you got home safe, Robby wondering if you had seen Abbot anywhere, Dennis just sending you a blurry picture of the bar floor, which you assumed was a drunken accident.

Trinity has sent you the most recent text, sitting atop of your stack of notifications.