☕

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.

He slid onto his usual stool at the far end of the bar, in a black shirt, and some joggers, badge and scrubs stuffed away in his backpack. 

He looked up at the bartender, but it wasn’t his usual guy. Instead, a girl with the darkest hair in a ponytail, walked up to him with a tired expression. There was a small white pin that said ‘Lisa– TRAINEE’ clipped to her uniform. 

“Evening, sir,” she greeted. 

“Afternoon, and just Jack, please,” he corrected with a small smile, glancing at the fancy clock on the wall. 4:43 pm. He still had a few hours off duty.

“Oh yeah–sorry! I get a little lost in here sometimes. Ugh, the only thing getting me through this shift is knowing I’m off tomorrow for the PittFest,” she said, making him chuckle. 

“Trust me, I get it. I’m also looking for something to help me get through mine,” he shrugged. “Festivals are not my thing, though. I’ll leave that to the ones with healthy knees.” 

“Mm, that’s fair,” she said, chuckling back. “So what can I get for you, ‘just Jack’? Gin? Old fashioned?” 

“No drinks, but can I get a slice of that infamous chocolate cake?” 

The girl looked at him like she wasn’t necessarily expecting that, but you know what? Hell yes, old guy. 

“Sure.” 

She walked round the bar, to a discreet door that led toward the kitchen, and asked for the cake to be served before stepping back to the bar again. 

“Thank you, Lisa,” Jack smiled, finally letting his shoulders loosen. 

You needed a stress reliever. 

You weren’t stressed now, but you knew that in less than 24 hours it would become your new normal…again. You are meant to start your first shift at PTMC as a second year resident tomorrow. 

New city, new program, and still…no apartment. But at least your hotel room was nice and ready for you to make it an early night, slightly tipsy and relaxed for your last blissful hours of freedom. Which is why at four something, you decide you’re going to treat yourself to be first in line for the hotel’s happy hour like the responsible adult you are. 

The hotel lounge is large and dimly lit. A couple takes one of the single couches, curled into each other with matching martinis. The rest of the space is almost empty, aside from–

Wait. That man is cute. Wait again. You have to do a double take. 

An attractive–no, very attractive man is sitting at the far corner of the long bar, waiting for his order. Simple outfit, camo backpack resting by his feet. He looks a little worn to be honest, but then again, don’t we all? 

Huh. Guess someone beat you to happy hour.

You take the opposite corner, leaving about six empty stools between you, when the bartender approaches you. 

“Afternoon, Miss.” 

“Hi, Lisa,” you smile. “I don’t really know what cocktail to get. Can I just get whatever your favorite is?”

“Oh–yeah I can do that,” she shrugs with a smile, turning back to her inner counter to mix the drink. 

Your phone vibrates in your pocket so you pull it out, checking the payment notification from the guy who’s buying the festival tickets you’re selling. You text him to confirm he has to pick them up at the hospital tomorrow, hoping you get a spare minute to walk out the ER, when someone walks out a hidden kitchen door and slides a plate in front of you. 

“Chocolate cake,” the guy announces politely, but before you could even say that’s not yours, he turned around and disappeared into the kitchen again. You shrug, turning to the bartender who’s handing a drink to the man you saw when you came in. 

“I didn’t order this,” you both say at the same time. 

His head snaps toward your voice, and your eyes meet across the row of empty stools. He sees the generous slice in front of you, and with a not so subtle up and down look at you, a smirk lifts the corner of his mouth. Something flutters in your chest, so you break eye contact first, dropping your gaze to your phone and pretending to read another message. 

Come on, play it cool. 

“No drinks for me, Lisa. Remember?” you hear him say playfully, turning back to the counter. 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” she rushes out, reaching for the drink in front of him. “I’ll switch them right now, I–”

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, stopping her by wrapping his hand around the glass. “I got it.”

Your thumbs froze over your phone. He got it?

From the corner of your eye, you see him stand up, and duck down to scoop up his backpack. Your heartbeat does something very stupid as you try very hard not to stare while he walks in your direction. Okay. Okay. This is fine. Silver fox is walking toward you. You are not freaking out. You are a doctor, you have seen actual organs on tables. You can handle an older guy with pretty eyes. 

He slides easily onto the stool right next to you, setting the glass down with a soft clink. Fuck. Of course he smells good. You have no choice but to look at him properly this time, and up close, he’s even more handsome. Fluffy, wavy grey hair, with matching stubble (makes you wonder if the carpet matches too) and a glint of humor in his eyes that you know is trouble. 

“I believe this is yours,” he says, nudging the cocktail close to where you’re still holding your phone for dear life. 

“Then I believe this is yours,” you say, setting your phone with a smile and sliding the plate toward him.

He narrows his eyes playfully, looking between you and the cake. “Tell you what.” He leans in, and nudges it closer so it sits between the both of you. “I don’t mind sharing…do you?”

Oh. Okay. So that’s where this is going. 

“I don’t mind a lot of things,” you tilt your head, leaning one elbow on the bar, deciding to match that dangerous glint in his eyes with your own. His smirk grows before turning to the bartender again. 

“Can we get another spoon, please?” 

“Oh, sure. Here,” she says, handing it over. 

He takes it with a quiet ‘thank you’, then holds it up in front of you like an offering.

“I’m Jack, by the way. Don’t think I heard your name.”

You let out a small chuckle as you take the spoon, the tension in your shoulders loosening a little under his charming gaze. You tell him your name, his smile softening when he repeats it back to you.

“Nice to meet you, thanks for sharing my cake,” he says, finally digging his spoon into it. 

“Thanks for bringing me my drink,” you reply, reaching for the glass. You definitely need some buzz if you intend to survive this interaction. “I guess we’re even now, Jack.”

“Not yet,” he says, getting the first bite of cake. He hums in delight, wiping the corner of his mouth with his thumb. “But we’re getting there.”

You divert your gaze to your phone once again, heat blooming your cheeks. He smiles triumphantly at your reaction, deciding to push you a little more. 

“Well, aren’t you going to try it?” 

You bite back a smile, nodding as you dig your spoon into the cake. He watches your every move like a hawk as you lift it towards your mouth. You mirror his hum when you taste it, instinctively running your tongue over your lips to get the sugary remains off. 

Jack shifts in his seat. 

“Great, isn’t it?” He says, “tried it once and never was the same.”

“Would’ve never thought to try it, to be honest,” you chuckle.

“Me neither, guess I just needed something sweet today,” he shrugs, still too calm and too smug, still making your heart rate go crazy without even trying. “Looks like I came to the right place, though,” he winks, digging his spoon again for another bite. 

Yeah, no. He’s definitely trying. 

“So, what brings you here to the land of cake instead of…I don’t know, a whiskey?” You ask, playing with the straw of your drink.

“No drinks for me,” he shrugs.

“Designated driver?”

“Designated something, I have to leave at seven,” he glances at the clock again. You follow his gaze, and see it’s just after five. 

“What, you gotta catch a flight or something?”

“Yeah, something like that,” he grins.

His answers are vague, intentionally so. You recognize it instantly because you use that tone too about your own job, when you don’t feel like opening that door with a stranger. 

“What about you? Are you celebrating something?” He asks, and you swear with every question he shifts a little closer to you. 

“I’m making it an early night, tomorrow’s a big day,” you nod with a smile.

“Oh yeah? Festival?” he asks, you can feel the genuine curiosity under the smug tone. 

“I wish,” you shrug. “I got tickets but something important came up, so…here I am, first in line for happy hour instead. Making the most of that hotel lifestyle,” you lift your glass, he lifts his spoon with a chuckle. 

“You’re staying here?”

“Mmhm. It’s actually pretty great. Nice room, silk bed sheets, the works.”

“Decent cake, too,” he adds mocking seriousness. “Too bad someone stole it.”

“Excuse me,” you protest playfully, “If it wasn’t for me you’d still be looking sad and lonely at the end of the bar.”

He laughs, catching the attention of Lisa who’s clearly not trying to eavesdrop. “Yeah. I’m glad I’m not, then,” he says quietly. “Company’s good.”

From there, the conversation just flows.

At some point, you realize you’ve barely touched your cocktail, or the cake between you. You can feel the tension building with every shared look. The way his gaze dips to your mouth when you bring the spoon to your lips. The way your knee kept drifting closer to his, the faintest brush when either of you shifts on your stool. 

And that warm, electric buzz in your veins has very little to do with sugar or alcohol.

Your eyes flick instinctively toward the clock on the wall when you laugh about something he said, and see it’s a few minutes past six already. 

This is the moment where you could let him go, say goodnight and head upstairs alone. But you feel like you haven’t gotten your fix yet. That good moment of pure bliss before you go back into charts and monitors and reminding yourself you love the career you chose.

Some people do drugs or caffeine, or apparently, sugar as a stress reliever. The poison you chose today was supposed to be alcohol, but maybe you have something better sitting right next to you. 

Huh. Sometimes dick does the trick too. 

You turn your gaze back to him, lashes half lowered and innocent, catching him watching you already.

“It’s getting late,” you say casually, “but I think you still have time to walk me to my room.”

For a split second, the words just hang in the air. Clear and irreversible. His expression doesn’t change much, because he’s already been giving you bedroom eyes this whole time, but you notice the way his jaw tightens slightly, before that unmistakable smirk reappears.

“Yeah, I think I do,” he rasps. 

Cake be damned. He’s got a sweeter dessert right in front of him. 

He straightens on his stool and lifts a hand, catching Lisa's attention with a small wave, then reaches for his wallet. You press the button to pay with your phone, but he puts his hand over yours to stop you. 

“Don’t worry, I got it,” he says, sliding his card over the counter before you can protest. 

You’re not sure what exactly made your heart almost jump out of your chest again, the gesture or his electric touch on your skin. Maybe both. 

You distract yourself by looking at your glass, still more than half full. 

“Thank you. I didn’t even finish it…” 

“I don’t think we’re going to miss it,” he looks at it, then back at you amused. 

Your face warms–again–at the implication. 

The girl gives him the receipt, and the way his arm flexes on the counter when he signs it with a quiet ‘thank you’, makes your thighs rub in anticipation. He slips a final twenty over the receipt as a tip, before turning fully toward you. He stands up first, grabbing his backpack with one hand, and helping you out of your stool with the other. His hand finds its way to your lower back, settling there as you walk. 

“Lead the way, sweetheart.”

By 6:10 pm the door of your room clicks shut. 

Jack drops his backpack somewhere to the side, one hand finds your waist, the other cups the back of your head before he pins you against the wall, and his mouth finds yours in an instant. 

You gasp into the kiss, immediately grabbing him by his white shirt, dragging him impossibly closer. His gray stubble scrapes your skin in the best possible way, burning along your jaw as he tilts his head, deepening the kiss. You slide one hand up to his hair, it’s softer than it looks, and he makes a low sound when you tug it just enough to angle his mouth where you want it. 

His hands slip under the hem of your shirt, rough palms spreading over your back. You can’t keep your hands to yourself either when you get past his shirt, running them through firm muscle and chest hair. Your hands can’t help but wander around his strong back, nails scraping against his skin when he starts kissing down the line of your jaw, scraping his beard along your throat in a delicious burn. 

“Jack…” you breathe, tightening your grip in his hair.

He smiles against your skin, dragging his lips and stubble slowly across your neck, sending sparks all the way down to between your legs. When he sucks a particularly sensitive spot, the sound that slips out of you is embarrassingly close to a whimper.

“I got you,” he whispers, pulling back just enough to tug the hem of your shirt. “Is this okay?” 

You nod quickly, and soon enough both of your shirts end up somewhere on the floor. You’re left in your bra, chest rising and falling as you try to catch your breath, but it’s hard when his gaze drops to your chest and lingers there. 

So you ogle him too. 

He’s built like a brick wall. Solid, toned chest dusted with hair, and framed by broad shoulders. And those arms? Oof. God, you can’t wait to feel all that strength he hides under those tired eyes and easy smiles.

He nudges you away from the wall steering you backwards, mouth never leaving yours, until the back of your legs bumps into the base of the bed. He gently guides you to sit on the edge of the mattress. You look up at him, already dazed. His hair is a mess from your fingers, chest rising and falling quickly, that cheeky smile of his still on his face. He reaches for your jeans next, and you lift your hips to help him slide them off. The cool air of the room kisses your skin as he throws them somewhere in the room. 

“You’re still too dressed,” you chuckle, left only in your underwear.

“You’re still too desperate,” he jokes, laughing when you gasp and slap his chest weakly. “Hmm. Harder next time, sweetheart.”

You probably shouldn’t have liked that as much as you did, but he seems satisfied with your silence. His hands go to the waistband of his joggers, barely grabbing the elastic when his hands suddenly stop. If you weren’t watching his face, you would've probably missed the way his confident smile faltered for a second. 

“Are you okay?,” you ask, straightening up on the bed.

“Yes,” he says quickly, but his hands are still frozen on his hips. “Yeah, I am. I just–”

You notice the way he shifts as if to step away from you, but your body reacts before you can think. “Hey, wait–”

You hook your feet around his calves to stop him from pulling away, but your left foot feels something different than you expected. It’s not the familiar firmness of muscle, but the unmistakable sensation of metal where skin should be. You don’t really need to see it to know what it is. 

His camo backpack and the vagueness of his answers suddenly click to you, but Jack is frozen in place, trying to read the expression on your face. 

“I’m sorry,” he starts, you figure it’s the script he probably hates having to say but feels obligated to in situations like this. “I should’ve told you before we came up, it’s okay if you don’t want to–”

“Jack,” you cut him off, quickly standing up so you’re pressed against him, before he decides to step back again. You tilt your head back a little, pressing a hand to his chest. “You don’t owe me anything, okay? If I didn’t want this, you’d already be standing shirtless in the hallway,” you chuckle, trying to lighten the mood. 

“You don’t…mind?” His hazel eyes scan your face, still trying to find the desertion you’re not giving him. 

You can feel his heart racing under your palm, and it almost makes you laugh how the doctor in you wants to inject him with something to fix his tachycardia. Opting for a less aggressive approach, you slide your arms over his shoulders to play with the hair on the back of his neck. 

“I don’t mind,” you say, as reassuring as you can. You liked him the second he shared his stupid cake. This? This just adds more to it. “But if you do, we can stop,” you add, slowly pulling away from him but he slides his arm behind your back.

“I don’t want to stop,” he rasps, pressing you tighter to him. The bulge digging against your skin agrees with him.

“Hmm. Then you better hurry, we’re running out of time…” you sing-song, grinding yourself against him. 

He breathes out a laugh. Oh, how I love this girl. He halts the movement of your hips, his hands become sure and steady once again as they settle on your waist. He forgets about his pants for a moment, innstead, he decides to focus on you. 

“Turn around,” he says, but you don’t move an inch, just blink at the sudden change in his voice. He chuckles, loosening his grip just a little. “Turn around, sweetheart.”

Now you’re the one who needs help stabilizing their heartbeat. 

You nod, then do as he says, shifting so your back is to him. He closes the gap immediately, one arm around your shoulder to hold you while the other settles just above the hem of your panties, but he doesn’t slip inside. His hand drifts lower and lower, stopping right over the slick leaking through the fabric, making you gasp. 

“There she is,” his pleased voice while he drags teasing circles around your clit–but not really there–makes a chill run down your body. “Thought I lost you for a second there.”

You let your head tip back onto his shoulder, prompting him to apply more pressure, or find the right spot, but he keeps you pinned right where he wants you. He keeps rubbing slowly, still over the fabric, still teasing, coaxing the smallest sounds from you. 

“I know you said to hurry, but I gotta take care of you first,” he whispers right in your ear. “Think I can do it this way? Without really touching you?” He barely grazes the base of your clit, dragging his finger back down immediately just to hear you whine again. 

“Jack I–fuck.”

He chuckles when the faintest additional pressure makes you squirm, but that's no issue to him, he easily shifts you into the angle he wants. His fingers finally skim higher, now properly rubbing your clit. A moan escapes your lips, the friction of the cotton against your most sensitive spot has you feeling embarrassingly needy, moving your hips to chase more. 

“That’s it, right there,” he coos, encouraging you. “How does that feel?”

You make another sound that’s not even close to a word. He chuckles onto your hair, shaking his head but still moving his fingers quicker. 

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Feeling good?”

“Yes,” you manage to say between ragged breaths. “Really good.”

“Yeah?” He helps you move just a bit more, pressing his whole palm over your clit, before letting you take over. You start grinding his hand, clinging to his arm for support. “That’s it, just like that. You’re doing great.”

The praise lands harder than it should. You’re used to being talked at, ordered around on chaotic shifts, and occasionally complimented for a good job…but this is different. 

You feel the pressure building in your stomach quickly with every buck of your hips, but what makes you see stars is feeling the outline of his hard cock rubbing against your ass with every grind. 

“Shitshitshit I’m gonna–” you cry out mid sentence. 

“It’s okay, sweetheart let go,” he coaxes, moving his hand faster. 

When you finally break in a strangled moan, he stays wrapped around you, his firm body braced behind you so you can learn all your weight back, holding you together while you fall apart. He places a kiss on your shoulder when you shake under his grip, whispering praises you can’t make out as you ride your orgasm out. Jack finally takes his hand away when your clit twitches violently under him, squeezing your ass playfully. 

“Breathe,” he reminds you, immediately inhaling and exhaling louder to show you just how. You instinctively match him, effectively grounding yourself. “Good girl.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuck–

“Easy,” he says when he feels you tense again. “It’s okay, you were doing so well. Just breathe.”

Still panting, you tap his arm so he lets you turn around to face him. You meet those devilish eyes again, hazel overtaken by dark pupils, a smirk on his lips as he takes in your flustered appearance. 

“You’re really…really bossy, you know that?” You chuckle despite yourself.

“I’ve been told,” he smiles, bringing you in for a peck on your lips. “And I’m about to get more bossy so why don’t you turn around for me again?”

There it is. That fucking tone again. Your mouth falls open, but you can’t bring yourself to say no. If anything, you turn around before he even tells you twice, slapping his arm behind you when you hear him mutter “eager.”

He stirs you toward the bed again, until your knees bump the mattress. You hear the shuffle of his joggers, but it doesn’t sound like he’s taking the leg off, instead letting the fabric fall and pool at his feet. You don’t turn to look, giving him the moment. 

The whole thing only makes him feel more devastatingly real. 

He leans closer to you, his palm traveling up your spine to gently bend you forward. You follow his guidance, hands sinking into the mattress, ass on full display. You feel his foot nudge your left leg, parting you open for him.  

“There,” he says, giving you another playful slap. 

Heat rushes to your face again, feeling completely exposed to him even if you’re still covered in your underwear. So, Jack takes this as his chance to finally drag your soaked panties down, slowly, and lets them sit at your feet just like his pants, leaving you just in your bra. He groans at the sight, your soft, glistening pussy dripping and ready just for him.

“God, look at you,” he mutters under his breath, more to himself than to you. 

The next thing to land over his pants are his boxers, freeing his heavy, swollen cock into his hand. He lines himself up, dragging just the tip across your wet folds, his pre cum mixing with your slick as he drags it up and down. After more whimpers from you, he pushes only the tip in, and you let out another moan that makes him groan.

“Deep breath for me,” he says, and at this point, you’d do anything he wants. 

He makes sure to move with you, timing himself to your inhale. The first roll of his hips makes his cock slowly stretch you open, inch by inch. You gasp, fingers clutching the silk bed sheets. He groans as he watches himself disappear inside you, gripping your ass to help you find the angle he knows will have you seeing stars. 

“Fuck me,” he hisses, skin meeting skin when he bottoms out. 

“Please…” is all you whisper, he’s thick, hard, buried deep, and the stretch burns in the best way. 

And you can’t wait for him to fuck all the stress out of you. 

“Shhh, pretty girl. You’re okay,” he coos, slowly dragging out.

You clench around him before he leaves you completely empty, and he curses again, his hips jerking forward as yours slam back to meet him. He huffs a strangled laugh, stopping you by digging his fingers on your waist to take back control. 

“There you go. Let me do the work, sweet girl,” he rasps.

The rhythm finds itself, fast and deep, skin slapping against skin, your moans echoing off your hotel room walls. You’re still too sensitive from your previous orgasm, and you can’t stop moaning every time his hips snap against your ass. The bed creaks under you, and the sound of his cock dragging in and out is loud and filthy. 

“Relax–fuck, sweetheart. You’re doing so well.”

You try to “relax.” You really do. But the angle, the rough rhythm he coaxes you into, the praises, are a lot. Your legs start to tremble, the effort of holding yourself up becomes a harder task with the pleasure building inside you.

He notices, of course he does. He tightens his grip to hold you better, barely slowing his pace. “Hey, hey, talk to me.”

“My legs…” you choke out in a breathless laugh. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” he huffs out a chuckle. “Hold onto the bed, for me,” he instructs. You obey brainlessly, fingers fisting in the covers. 

His hand wraps around your right leg first, just behind your knee to lift it, throwing away your panties in the process to make it easier. He places that leg up on the bed, then does the same with the other. The new position pulls another weak sound from you, both knees now on the bed, opening you up to him in a way that makes you miss him inside you. He presses you back into the mattress, not wasting time in pushing himself back in with a harsh thrust.

“There you go, that’s better,” he says, setting his rhythm again. The new angle is more comfortable for him as well, leaning his legs on the bed for support while he pounds into you. 

You let the sounds spill out of you, choked off gasps and desperate little sighs. Every one of them seems to go straight to his cock. You can hear it in the quiet curses he mumbles, the way his hands find all the familiar places, your hips, your waist, slipping under your stomach to push down the fabric of your bra so he can watch your boobs bounce with every thrust. 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he groans when you start pushing back, chasing more and more. “There you go. Take what you need, sweetheart.”

When your legs start to shake again, this time it’s not from strain, it’s from how fucking close you are.

“Jack–” You squeeze your eyes shut, fingers clawing the sheets, little sounds spilling out of you that you can’t control. It’s too much and not enough at the same time, and your body is about to snap. 

“I know,” he says, quickly sensing your overwhelm. “Come here.” 

You barely have time to think before his arm loops around your waist, pulling you up from your forearms. You gasp as he lifts you, slamming you back against his chest so you’re half kneeling, half suspended in his hold.

And then…his free hand comes up to cover your eyes. You gasp when your world goes pitch black, narrowing only to the sound of his voice and the feeling of his body behind yours. 

“Shh,” he coos near your ear, placing delicate kisses all over your jaw. “Just feel, sweetheart. That’s all you have to do.”

Without sight, everything else slams into focus, the heat of his chest behind you, the roughness of his stubble on your neck, the tight grip of his arm keeping you upright. He starts thrusting again, chasing that sweet spot that makes your head go dizzy. 

It’s more than enough now. It’s too much. You feel undone and held together all at once.

And to top it off, he decides now is the time to reach for the clasp of your bra, unhooking it with his free hand to hold you up by cupping your bare breasts. Your fingers reach back blindly, to his hair, his thigh, wherever you can reach. Jack just keeps his sweaty palm over your eyes, shielding you from everything but him.

“Fuck, you’re clenching,” he groans, knowing you’re almost there. “Let go for me, don’t think…just feel.”

You come with a shaky cry, your entire body shuddering in his hold. He keeps fucking you through every helpless little sound, feeling his own release building up. 

After a few moments, when he considers your breathing has sort of stabilized, his hand finally slips away from your eyes, caressing the hair sticking to your face as he keeps pounding you from behind, still fast, still deep, but sloppier. You can tell he’s close by the way his cock twitches inside you.

“There you go,” he praises you, even if his breathing is ragged now. “That’s it. You did so good for me–shit–”

As your eyes adjust again, the post nut clarity hits you. 

Your fucked out doctor brain freaks out. No protection, you’re very irresponsible, don’t let him. He seems to make the same calculation–pretty strange for a man–because he starts to pull back. 

Fuck it.

Before he can deal with it himself, you wriggle out of his grasp to free yourself, and get off the bed. Your jelly legs barely hold you up before you sink to your knees in front of him. From there you get a clear view of all of him, the fact that the carpet does match the drapes, and even the leg he’d been hiding. He instinctively steps back, almost stumbling over the pants pooled over his feet. 

“Hey, careful,” you coo, placing one hand on his thigh to nudge him forward, the other wraps around his glistening cock, making him curse. “Let me? Please?” 

“Jesus,” he breathes. His hand holds the back of your head, managing a weak smile. “Atta girl, be good to me.”

Jack doesn’t have to tell you twice. 

You don’t even have to do much, just a quick pump at the base of his length as you lean forward to place a teasing kiss on his leaking tip, almost sending him right over the edge. The sight alone makes him twitch, he was going to have to cover his own eyes if you kept looking at him like that with his cock on your mouth. 

You wrap your lips fully around him with no warning, letting his cock stretch your mouth as you swallow every inch. Every strangled sound he makes encourages you to be as devoted to him as he was with you. Your head bobs up and down, guided by his firm grip on your hair. 

“Fuck–you’re gonna kill me–” he chokes out, you take that as your cue to nod at him, mouth too full to tell him to let go. “Okay, that’s…I’m–”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence, because he’s already finishing inside you. He groans as he spills strings of hot cum on your tongue, fingers tangling in your hair a bit rougher, pushing his hips forward to fuck the last of his orgasm out. You choke just a little, holding onto his thighs, trying to swallow every drop he sends down your throat. 

Jack pulls out with a groan when the adrenaline of it passes, dragging his thumb over your lips to wipe the remnants off. 

“Pretty girl…” He praises, as you look up at him with swollen lips and glassy eyes. 

“Atta boy, you did good for me,” you rasp, making him laugh. 

“Come here.” He helps you get on your feet, then back to the bed. 

“Thank you,” you mutter, tugging the duvet off to cover your body when you sit down.

He stays quiet as he hauls his joggers back up and finds his shirt somewhere by the door, until he can’t avoid looking at his watch anymore. 

“Shit.”

“So…no cuddling?” You chuckle. 

“Sorry,” he mutters, even though you both knew this is how your little hotel affair was going to end. He slings his backpack over one shoulder, and walks over to you. 

He takes a moment to cup your cheeks, memorizing every feature, and you try to do the same. Your eyes trace every line of his face, the glint that never left his hazel eyes, the gray dust adorning his jaw. 

God, he’s so handsome. How are you supposed to forget him? 

Jack starts leaning forward, but you meet him halfway, closing the space between you. The goodbye kiss is not rushed like you expected, no, he still takes his time even if he’s gonna be late to wherever he’s headed. He pulls back with a smile, and a small, disbelieving huff of laughter as he licks his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“You taste like cake,” he says, clearly amused, then adds with a little tilt of his head, “and…something else I probably shouldn’t think about on my way out.”

“Oh, just go!” you laugh, shoving him away. “Before you’re late and whoever’s waiting for you files a missing persons report.”

“Yes, ma’am. They will,” he says, lifting his arms up innocently as he walks toward the door. “Good luck tomorrow with your…big day.”

“You too, with your…something,” you smile. God, you’re definitely going to need a good night's sleep after all of this. 

He nods, and with a devilish wink, he’s finally gone.

You wake up feeling like you can take on the world.

With a pep on your step, you walk out of the hotel with clear scrubs and an even clearer conscience. Good sex? Check. Good sleep? Check. Daydreaming about the silver fox stranger you’ll never see again? Check check check. 

You’re ready to kick ass and save lives. 

Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center is just a short walk away, but it gives you enough time to self regulate your emotions before you walk through those doors. You get there early, greet everyone politely and exchange a few words with some nurses before your shift actually starts. For a moment, you almost forget you’re the new kid, and you feel like you’re right where you belong. 

You make your way through triage, mentally rehearsing how you’re going to introduce yourself to your attending, when your sneaker slips on something. You don’t know if it’s saline, or water, or spit, all you know is that one second you were walking and the other you’re losing your balance. Your hands desperately find the wall with a smack, saving yourself from landing flat on your ass, but your forehead still hits the edge of a door frame with a sharp little crack.

You see stars for a second there, the same kind you saw yesterday. 

“Whoa, hey! Are you okay?” Someone calls. 

You groan, but straighten immediately, because what else are you going to do? Sit down and let the tears from your eyes spill? Absolutely not. Not on your first day. You swipe your fingers over your forehead, hissing at the sting, and when you look at your hand there’s the smallest smear of blood.

Perfect. 

“I’m fine,” you say quickly. “I’m–”

“Absolutely not, come here.” A woman in black scrubs and a ponytail approaches you, holding your jaw to assess the wound. “I’m Dr. McKay, and you are?”

“I’m okay,” you say, trying to shrug her off. “Really, it was just a slip, it didn’t even hurt. I really need to go meet Dr. Robinavitch–”

“You slammed your head into a door frame, Robby can wait,” McKay says flatly. 

You try to protest but she steers you toward one of the small triage rooms right off the ER entrance. You groan as she nudges you to sit on the bed. “I just need a band-aid, it’s just a scra–”

“A scratch, yeah, I heard you. You’ll get your band-aid after I make sure you’re not walking around with a concussion,” she says, then holds a finger up as if to say ‘wait’ and walks to the door, “Perfect learning opportunity, actually.”

Oh no.

“Hey! Santos, Whitaker, Javadi, come here,” she urges more people with scrubs. Great. “Consider this your first patient.” 

You consider faking your own death.

All three of them clock your black scrubs and badge, and your bruised ego dies a little more when they realize you’re one of them. McKay just stands next to you like this is science class and you’re the classroom’s skeleton. 

“We get all types of patients here. And today…” She pats your shoulder with the back of her hand. “It’s a colleague who discovered the floor is slippery on her very first day.”

Redacted. 

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “Really. I just need a band-aid.”

“After we use you for educational purposes, now look up please,” she says, shining a light in your eyes to check your pupils. You resist the urge to slap her hand or lean away. “Headache?”

“No.”

“Any loss of consciousness?” 

“You literally saw me since I hit my head,” you say, a little too aggressive, but McKay ignores your tone. “Sorry–no.” 

“Nausea? Blurred vision?”

“No. I swear, I’m okay.” 

“Alright. Whitaker, you’re up. What are your concerns when someone hits their head?”

“Um…we should ask what caused the fall?” He says, and McKay nods approvingly. He turns to you, “Did you feel dizzy before you slipped? Lightheaded?”

“No. There was just…something on the floor. I didn’t see it and unfortunately I slipped.”

“Good,” McKay says, more to them than to you. “No dizziness, no neuro complaints, no loss of consciousness, minor external injury that doesn’t need stitches.”

“And no reason for a CT,” one of the girls adds. 

“Correct, Santos. So we’ll clean it, come on, you’re up.” 

Your shoulders drop in the smallest relief. Now you have to survive the rest of the day after this humiliation, but adding unnecessary imaging on your first day would’ve ended you right there and then. 

Mckay just smiles at you as Santos gloves on and prepares the stuff she’s gonna use. You look outside the door for a moment, trying to remember the confidence you’d walked in this morning, when a figure walking by catches your eye. 

All you see is a flash of broad shoulders in a dark shirt, and a camo backpack slung over one arm. You make eye contact for a brief second as he glances inside casually, before doing a literal double take when he realizes who’s in there. He stops in his tracks, just as your heart stops inside your chest. 

For a brief second you think you do need that CT, because there’s no way you’re not hallucinating talk-you-through-it Jack in front of you. 

Here. In your ER. Wearing matching uniforms. 

Jack, the man you let manhandle you last night–or afternoon?–whatever. The man who covered your eyes and told you to just feel. The man you sent you into orgasm oblivion and then kissed you goodbye tasting cake and himself on his tongue.

No. No way. Absolutely not.

You hiss when Santos presses something wet in your wound, and Jack decides that’s the best moment to step in and cause you a stroke on top of everything. 

“Everything okay in here?” he asks casually, looking at you with the same glint in his eyes as yesterday.

You want to die.

“Abbot! Thought you were on your way out,” Mckay beams. 

“I was, then I saw you tormenting the new blood. Didn’t want to miss the show,” he gives her a tired grin, shrugging, then looking around the room. “Morning, everyone.”

Javadi just smiles awkwardly, while Whitaker shifts on his feet and nods at him. At least Santos is having a blast enjoying the hell out of your tragic situation.

“Our colleague here decided to introduce her face to the wall,” she chuckles, shutting up when she realizes she only gets an unimpressed look from McKay. 

“Hmm. Minor head trauma on the first day…that’s one way to make an entrance,” Jack jokes trying to lighten the mood, pulling on a fresh pair of gloves with a snap. “Mind if I take a look?” he asks you.

You hesitantly shake your head, and Santos barely steps back before he gets between your knees and you have to look up at him, and wow, that’s familiar. His fingers are gentle as he tilts your chin higher, focused on the small scrape by your hairline.

“It’s just a scratch,” you mumble under your breath.

He ignores it, and brings a penlight to your eyes, doing the same little routine Mckay did. Is this what your first day is supposed to be? A tortuous loop? 

I might just fake a seizure right now. 

“Any reason you might’ve tripped? Blurry vision? Sudden vertigo? Or…any specific memory that made you lose focus?”

It’s the way he drops his voice lower that makes you almost choke on your own spit. That exact same tone. That damn voice in your ear.  

“We already asked those, Dr. Abbot. She said she slipped on a wet patch. No dizziness, no other symptoms,” Whitaker, bless his oblivious soul, chimes in. 

Jack slowly turns his head to look at him, with an unimpressed stare that clearly says no one asked you to speak, white boy without using a single word. 

Before anyone can torture you any further, a blue eyed doctor bursts in. 

“McKay! We’re doing rounds.”

“Alright, meet us there once Dr. Abbot is done with you,” she says to you, ushering the others out. “Don’t forget to give her that band-aid she’s so desperate for.”

“I’ll take good care of her,” Jack replies, with an innocent smile. 

The audience of your public execution finally leaves. And it’s great! Perfect. Exactly what you wanted: alone time. You don’t realize you’ve been holding onto the gurney for dear life until Jack–or should you call him Dr. Abbot now?–chuckles. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He asks, amused.

“I don’t know, you’re the doctor here, apparently. So you tell me, how’s my head?” you snap, in a mix of nerves and residual embarrassment. 

He grins. Oh he grins like fucking devil. “I don’t have any complaints.”

Heat rushes to your face instantly, and suddenly it’s like you’re back flirting in that bar again, sharing a chocolate cake. You shake those thoughts away, clearing your throat. 

“So um…your flight was actually a night shift…in this hospital,” you say. 

“Yeah. And your ‘big day’ was starting your first morning in this same ER. Nice upgrade from anonymous hotel guest, I guess.”

“This isn’t funny.”

“It’s a little funny,” he chuckles, but you’re still looking at him skeptically. “Hey–it’s not that bad. People have done worse.”

“Worse than sleeping with an attending?” You say. “Like what–stealing medicine or secretly killing patients?”

“What? No–I hope no one’s doing that” he frowns.

This is the moment you start panicking for real. 

“God, Dr. Robinavitch’s gonna kill me or worse,” you gasp. “He’s gonna fire me. Fuck–he’s gonna fire me and this is gonna be over before I even start my shift–“

“Whoa okay, no one’s getting killed or fired today. You just need to get out there, and focus on your work. Alright? Can you do that for me?”

That. Fucking. Tone. 

“Stop talking like that!” You whisper shout, knowing nurses could be nearby. “This is my first day, and I already have to convince everyone I’m not a complete disaster. So yes, I can do that for you. Happy? I’d like my band-aid now, please.”

“Okay, okay. You’ll get your band-aid,” he says calmly. “You just have to be more patient.”

You shoot him a glare, but he just smiles, still unbothered. He walks to a cabinet, pulling out a bright pink box of band-aids with a huge “My little pony” printed on it. 

“What is that?” 

“Best we have in triage,” he shrugs, amused. He looks back inside into the cabinet, before smirking at you. “We got Spongebob too.” 

“…My little pony is fine,” you mutter. 

“Alright,” he nods, invading your space again. “Look up for me.”

You’re grateful you’re not hooked to a heart monitor. You close your eyes, take a deep breath, and tilt your head up.

“Almost done, you’re doing great,” he drawls, smoothing the stupid band-aid over your life threatening injury with ridiculous care. “There,” Jack says, finally stepping back. “All done. You did so good for m–”

You snap upright from the bed so fast you almost cause yourself another injury by bumping into his big ass head. 

“I have to go,” you blurt, already making your way to the door. “Thank you, Dr. Abbot. I hope we never see each other again.”

He peels off his gloves with a laugh, tossing them into the bin. This is the most entertaining thing that’s happened to him all week.

“No promises, doc,” he winks, “PTMC is not that big.”

You don’t give him the satisfaction of a response or even to see the panic on your face. You practically launch yourself into the hallway, and start speed walking toward the ED with a My little pony bandaid on your forehead. 

Best sex of your life. 

Worst coincidence of your career.

And yet…you can’t wait till you see him again.

Thank you so much for reading 🤍 feedback is always appreciated ✨

“I haven’t done this in a while.” 

The words stumble from Jack’s lips in an exasperated sigh. They nearly get lost between kisses, the confession hidden amidst the steamy exchange as your bodies barrel through his front door. 

Reaching up to thread your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck, your forearms rest on his shoulders to steady yourself as he maneuvers you into his bedroom. 

You don’t reply to his admission, just smile into the kiss as your hands trail down his torso finding the hem of his shirt. Your fingertips carefully tracing his skin underneath the material. 

He wanted to tell you it had been years since he’d been with a woman like this— wanted to apologize in advance for being a bit rusty, but the light touch of your hands exploring the skin just above the waistband of his pants, had him losing his previous train of thought. 

He couldn’t think about how long it’d been since he’d brought a woman back to his place, couldn’t even think about how insanely wrong it was to be kissing you in his bedroom.

With that being said, he should be proud of himself for holding out this long.

It had been months of having you on his shift.

Week after week of watching you prance around the ER with that cute little smile on your face, following every last one of his orders. Always meeting his sarcastic remarks with witty comments of your own, the two of you working effortlessly together like there was some sort of magnetic field between you that pulled him to every case you worked on. 

It was so innocent at first, shared inside jokes and granola bars in the breakroom. Him giving you a hard time for your absurd coffee intake through the night, making comments about how the quad shot of espresso you walked in with was going to send you into cardiac arrest. 

But then, there was the time he put his hand on your lower back to squeeze behind you at the triage desk. The second his touch met the polyester of your scrubs, applying just enough pressure to seep through the thin fabric, your head turned in his direction. 

You didn’t mean to look at him, but you couldn’t help it. His fingers stayed splayed out on your back for one second too long, and your eyes shot to his, the electric current running through your body impossible to ignore. 

A sudden tension emerged in the small space between you, his stare raking down your body to where his hand sat just above your waist, taking his time trailing them back up with a knowing smirk on his lips. 

The moment was fleeting but it played out in slow motion before his hand was gone and he was breezing past you into the trauma bay.

After that it became a game of cat and mouse, both of you sensing a pull of desire toward the other but almost too afraid to do anything about it. 

For Jack, it was because you were his intern, just a first-year resident looking to him for guidance and education. His apprentice. It felt wrong to look at you in any other way. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he took advantage of the obvious power imbalance at play in the situation. 

Not to mention he was off his game. 

He had no problem coming across abundantly confident at work, but as far as dating went, Jack hadn’t waded into those waters for years. There was a part of him that gave up on his love life. Maybe that’s why he threw himself into work, to avoid the loneliness that found him in his lack of companionship. 

You could sense his apprehension.

The way he would subtly flirt with you and then walk away from the conversation like nothing happened. He was trying to avoid the guilt of getting too familiar, but it left you confused about his intentions. 

It wasn’t until one morning that you decided to rip off the band aid entirely, asking him to join you for breakfast after your shift. 

It was a simple invitation, one that could’ve been strictly friendly, but the way he smiled when you asked, looking around to see if anyone else heard, told you it was the start of something else entirely. 

And it was.

The two of you went to breakfast, talking for hours in a corner booth, over a stack of pancakes and a few slices of bacon. 

It was the first time you saw each other outside of the hospital.

Everyone else in that restaurant could recognize the two of you for what you were; happy. Finding joy in each other’s presence through constant laughs and affectionate smiles. But Jack couldn’t see it that way— couldn’t shake the conflicting feelings of guilt.

It wasn’t until you reached over him to dip your bacon in a pool of syrup on his plate that he finally relaxed. He soaked it in, sitting with you like that, because when the nagging thoughts of how inappropriate it all was began to cloud his mind, the gentle touch of your hand brushing his thigh chased them away. Your fingertips curled just above his knee as you continued telling him a story, the hold making him forget why he was even worried about saying yes to your invitation in the first place. 

That was the first time he crossed a boundary with you. Allowing himself to get lost in your voice, hidden away in some diner down the street from the hospital. But it didn’t stop there. 

The next time was when he walked you home after work, only three days after your shared breakfast date. 

He knew he shouldn’t have done it, but you parted ways outside the sliding hospital doors and he watched as you walked down the street, all by yourself.

For a split second he could imagine what his frame would look like walking next to you, and so he followed, catching up to your stride with satisfaction running through his veins at your surprised smile to see him standing at your shoulder. You lived in an apartment building a block away, he knew because you mentioned it one time, and even though his leg was killing him after such a brutal shift, he walked next to you all the way to the front door of your complex.

Your bodies lingered on the sidewalk, palpable tension bouncing between them through prolonged goodbyes. 

That was the first time your gaze fell to his lips. 

The curiously hopeful look in your eyes made his mouth go completely dry, because Surely you weren’t going to kiss him in broad daylight… right? The world spun around him while your eyes stayed fixed on the straight line of his mouth, until they fluttered back up, meeting his line of sight and smiling brightly.

“Goodnight Jack.” Your hand met his bicep, squeezing lightly as you turned to walk into the building with a small wave. 

Goodnight, even though it was nearly eight in the morning. 

It was something you said to everyone after each shift, bidding your coworkers a good stretch of sleep, knowing you all shared a fucked-up sleep schedule due to working the night shift. 

Jack found the greeting endearing. Smiling wide every time he heard the sing-song chime of your voice wishing everyone a restful day before leaving work in the morning. 

His days were hardly restful though, he never got much sleep when he went home, because you were always on his mind. 

After that day in front of your apartment building, he went out of his way to walk you home nearly every morning, if only for a few extra minutes of hearing your voice, and a small hope that you would look at his lips like that again. 

When you finally did kiss him, it was well worth the wait. 

It happened on the roof. 

An especially hard night landed you outside for some fresh air, overlooking the city as you tried your best to clear your mind. 

Jack came up to check on you. 

Avoiding him entirely, your apathetic stare stayed plastered on the lights of the city. He stood next to you in silence for a while before placing a gentle hand of reassurance on your cheek, bringing your gaze to his and searching your eyes to make sure you were okay. 

It was emotionally charged, the way you crashed your lips into his.

He held your face delicately in his hands, using his jaw to dive into the kiss, hungry and sloppy and undeniably passionate. 

More than anything he wanted to explore every inch of you— to let his hands travel your entire body, but instead his palms stayed strictly on your face, careful not to push things too far. 

In fact, weeks of suppression followed while Jack tried to respect the unknown undercurrents of your relationship. 

A few more kisses were shared, even some heated make out sessions and heavy petting in the on-call room at work, but nothing more. 

He’d be lying if he said his trepidation wasn’t slightly due to the rather lengthy sexual hiatus taking place in his life. But he could only deny his urges for so long, and this morning after breakfast, instead of walking you back to your apartment, he invited you over to his place for the first time.

An unspoken agreement hung in the air the whole way home, one laced with heavy sexual tension. 

That’s what landed you here— barely two feet past the threshold of his bedroom door with your hands dangerously close to the waistband of his pants, and Jack couldn’t dare to think straight. 

The only thoughts he could muster revolved around how much he fucking liked you. This other worldly figure standing before him, toying with the ties on his pants, fingertips brushing his abdomen and fuck- he was on another planet. Your touch was sending a vaguely familiar heat rushing through his body and he wanted more— needed it. 

Something about the situation sent him on a power trip. His cock pushing against the lose restraint of his scrubs at the sudden realization that he finally had you right where he wanted you after all this time. Months of getting to know each other and countless dates ending in polite kisses and lingering goodbyes— all of it leading to this moment with his fingertips curling into your waist. 

But there was still a little sliver of him that felt nervous, slightly unsure of venturing into unknown territory with you. 

He was still trying to convince himself that you were genuinely interested in him, because when he looked at you he saw this beautiful woman, all radiant and self-assured, on the arm of some guy nearly twice her age who rarely smiled and always had a grumpy wise-ass remark on his tongue. 

His hands went rigid at the thought, the doubts taking him out of the moment for a few seconds, and you could sense the uneasiness in his touch.

Pulling away from the kiss, you watched his expression, his lips parted to make way for fast shallow breaths as he stared back at you, his eyes hooded with desire but swimming with hesitation. 

“We don’t have to do anything Jack.” Your words were sincere as you continued looking for any sign of regret in the hazel of his eyes.

“No, I want this.” His brows furrowed as the winded confession fell from his lips. His hands grasped at your hips, holding firm while his thumbs rubbed into your sides. 

“You sure?” Voice changing slightly, you moved into a more playful state, fingers coming to the tie on his pants as you kept your eyes trained on his face. 

“We could just talk.” 

A playful whisper slid between your lips as you undid the drawstring between your fingertips.

“Or maybe watch a movie.” 

Then, your hand slid into the waistband of his underwear, only a few inches, just enough to make his breath hitch. 

He tried to cover his surprise at your touch, now dangerously close to the base of his cock. Mustering enough self-control to speak, his words come out calm and collected despite the dizzying effect of your hand down his pants.

“You’re funny, kid. You know that?” 

Kid. 

A nickname he'd been calling you since the day you were assigned to his shift.

You were just an intern; young, hungry, and passionate. Had he known you’d end up with your hands halfway down his pants in the middle of his bedroom, he might've opted for a different title of endearment.

“Seriously Jack, we can take things slow-“

A low chuckle interrupts your attempt to comfort him, trying to give him a chance to back out. 

He guides you back to sit on the edge of his bed, smirking and shaking his head from side to side.

“Stop talking.” The words are rushed. A deep rasp from his lips as he leans in to kiss you, pushing your body until your back meets his mattress.

“I don’t think you realize how long I’ve thought about this.” It was apparent that Jack was hungry— starving even— to see more of you. His hands working quickly to get your pants down your legs and onto his bedroom floor. 

“And what do you think about Jack?” He’d never heard that tone in your voice before, low and sultry while you leaned up on your elbows to look at him through your lashes.

“Jesus- I’ve thought about having you on my bed like this,” There was nothing subtle about the way his eyes scraped over your as he paused between words. Eyes drifting to your lower half, legs parted slightly, a pair of black panties acting as the only barrier between his eyes and your naked body. “all spread out for me like this.”

At his words, your legs open further, sending a muffled growl straight to Jack’s closed mouth as he lets his hand fall on your inner thigh. Trailing upwards, his fingertips come in contact with the hem of your underwear. 

“Can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about pulling you into the on-call room after our shift.” He’s leaning above you, eyes glued to your clothed core, fingers toying with the thin material of your panties at the inside of your thighs. 

“How badly I’ve wanted to fuck you on one of those shitty beds, or maybe even against the wall…” 

“But you deserve better. To be treated right, on a real bed.” Suddenly the smooth linen of his comforter feels much warmer beneath you, your hands splaying over the pillowy fabric at your palms. 

Jack watches the way your shoulders relax, and your head falls an inch to the side at his words, your body melting into the moment of shared desire. 

“Want to take my time with you. Make you feel good. Watch you fall apart.” He leans in to kiss you, right as one of his fingertip’s dip below the fabric of your panties to run along your slit. You gasp into the kiss, and he takes the opportunity to pull away.

“To hear the little noises you make for me.” His lips are only inches from yours as his breathless whisper fills the space between them. His hand fully pushes your panties to the side, his touch light as a feather, and lingering at your core.

“Bet you sound so pretty when you cum.”

Your mouth falls open and you’re not sure what triggered it, his words, or the way he pushes a single finger into you. The movement is slow and precise as he watches your eyes flutter in pleasure. 

For someone who’s sex life was currently non-existent, Jack didn’t miss a beat when it came to the rhythm of your gratification. The moan dripping from your tongue coming right on cue as he slips another finger in with the first, stroking with purpose and dedication as his name comes floating from your lips. 

“Jack.”

The word was foggy and desperate as his touch subdued you, his fingers curling at the sweet call of his name, hooking at just the right spot. 

“Fuck that’s it.” A whine of pleasure rippled through you at the pressure of his fingers against your walls. With one stroke after another, the building tension in your abdomen threatened to overflow. 

Jack’s stare falls on his fingers as they work you open. 

He can hardly handle how responsive you are to his touch; your hips bucking into his palm, little pleas falling from your lips— It’s enough to make him cum right there in his damn pants. 

“God- you sound gorgeous.” The compliment is almost primal, his voice nearing a growl as he looks down at your body writhing on the simple motion of his fingers inside you, a slave to his touch.

He lets himself get lost in the noises flowing from your mouth, allowing each moan to act as a signal, showing him exactly where and how you want him. 

“Even better than I could’ve imagined.” He finishes his thought and brings his stare back to yours, the fucked-out expression in your eyes telling him just how close you are. 

His words send you reeling, acting as a catalyst for the strain pulling in your abdomen. 

He can feel your body preparing to tumble over the edge, walls clenching around his fingers, and thighs flexing.

“There you go sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. That’s new. 

It surprises you both the second it leaves his lips. But the surprise of it barely registers, instead the word is unleashing a flutter in your chest and a warmth between your legs. You’re obsessed with the way it sounds in the rasp of Jack’s voice. In fact, you like it so much your body trembles and whimpers fill the air as you come undone on his fingers.

His eyes watch as his movements slow, digits coated in your slick and pushing into you continuously even after your body finishes shuddering.

It’s almost sadistic the small smirk he’s wearing as his eyes stay fixated on his fingers sliding in and out of your body. 

He was starved. Starved of touch— the warmth of another’s body. The way you pulled him in with each thrust of his fingers made him want to stay there all night, making you cum over and over again to feed his craving of your body at his mercy. 

If it weren’t for your delicate hands gripping at his forearm, forcing him back to reality, he would’ve kept going, would’ve seen just how much more you could take. 

“Jack.” Your voice breaks him from his trance, hand wrapping around his arm and pulling him back to hover parallel over your body. 

An unsolicited grunt erupts from deep in his throat as your hands, once again, slide into his underwear. Only this time, they fall far enough to envelop his cock in your soft touch. 

His hand comes down forcefully next to your head, palm flat against the mattress to hold himself steady as pleasure washes over him.

You’ve only pumped over his length once and he’s already squeezing his eyes shut in focus, trying not to spill into your hand. 

“Sweetheart.”

In retrospect, he probably shouldn’t have used that nickname again. Not right now, when he was seconds away from having an embarrassingly quick orgasm. 

Your grip tightened slightly at the word, hand working a little faster, and paying extra close attention to his overly sensitive tip. He has to put a hand over yours to conceal your efforts. 

“I’m not gonna last long if you keep that up.” His brows raise at your smug expression, your hand still stroking him despite his attempt to stop you. 

“I’m serious.” A breathless snarl meets your ear as his head falls lower, nearly resting in the crook of your neck.

You hum in response, one hand continuing its work between his legs, the other pushing at the pants still around his hips.

He was quick to oblige your unspoken request, bringing his own hand down to rid himself of his pants and underwear. His hands are then at your hips yanking your panties down your legs.

In a heated frenzy both of you took a few seconds to take off any remaining clothes. Sitting up to swiftly pull off shirts, and while you’re reaching to take off your bra, Jack stretches to his bedside table, fishing out a condom from its box that’s been sitting untouched in his drawer for far too long.

Then, you’re back to square one, his body hovering over yours, and his lips kissing down your neck.

Your hand finds him again, palm encircling his member as he freezes under your touch.

“You sure you wanna do this?” His voice is lost in the skin of your chest, his lips melting against your collarbone.

“You’re asking me? I thought you were the one who needed convincing.” The giggle in your voice has Jack nipping playfully at your skin, his hand confidently fitting between your legs.

“What can I say, you’ve persuaded me.” A teasing tone slips through his lust clouded whisper, fingers collecting the slick at your core with a groan on his tongue.

You grab the condom out of his hand, tearing it open and rolling it onto him with ease, the feeling causing him to lean further into your touch. 

This was one of the reasons Jack was so drawn to you.

You held such discreet authority. Always taking charge with a charming smile and a sweet command in your voice.

He couldn’t have imagined the same power he witnessed at work would roll over into the bedroom. Your captivating ability to take quiet control was suddenly so obvious in the way you were guiding his now protected length to line up with your entrance, body shimmying down the bed to coerce him into you. 

When the head of his cock finally pushes into you, you both let out noises of relief.

The placated gasp from your lips, and the profound groan on his, proves that you’d both been longing for this exact moment for weeks.

He takes his time. Learning the hug of your body. Savoring every inch of pure bliss, as he fills you at a painstaking pace. Your hands shoot to his back, fingertips digging into the broad expanse of his shoulder blades, just enough to encourage his movement until he enters you completely, pushed in to the hilt.

His eyes stay on yours, watching the way your lids almost close while you adjust to him, your mouth parted slightly at the stretch.

Then he’s pulling out and thrusting back in, moaning at the way you feel wrapped around him.

Your head tilts back into his comforter at the sweet friction of his strokes, and the sight beneath him has another moan bubbling up Jack’s throat. 

It was exactly how he’d dreamt this moment— your back on his bed, with your head thrown back in pleasure. Getting to watch your body respond to him his perch above you, your naked figure far more beautiful than anything he could’ve imagined. It was all so perfect. You were perfect. 

He picked up the pace of his thrusts, not too fast, but perfectly timed with the squeeze of your fingers on his back. He knew he must be hitting something right in the way you were gripping his shoulders and crying out for him. Crying out for him. Your voice was strained and winded as his name fell from your lips in a chant. 

His self-control must’ve been at an all-time high, because he closed his eyes for a moment, gaining his bearings and talking himself down from cumming at the sounds of your whines.

He collects whatever composure is left in his body and brings a hand down between the two of you, fingertips finding that sensitive spot just above where his cock is driving into you.

He rubs steady circles into your clit, and judging by the way his name jumps from you an octave higher than before, he knows he’ll get to watch you cum again. 

He makes it his goal. Setting his thrusts at a fixed pace, as his fingers deliberately stroke your bundle of nerves. He focuses completely on your pleasure to distract himself from the pulsing pressure running through his veins.

He needs to see you let go for him one more time before he can finish. An easy task given the way your back is arching off his bed, sending your hips further into him. 

“I’m gonna-“ The words are hardly coherent as they slip between your gasps and moans— wanting to tell him you’re close but unable to string more than two words together.

“Come on sweetheart.” His words were directed straight to your core, eyes back down and watching between your bodies as he slides into you. His mind growing hazy at the sight of you taking his cock so well. 

His encouragement was all you needed to let go. Your release washing over you in waves of bliss.

Jack’s eyes make the journey back to your face, watching in awe at your expression as it takes on a state of utter relief, your head falling even deeper into the blanket underneath you.

That image is what finally makes him succumb to the persistent chase of his release.

He’s groaning and panting, one of his hands coming to grip your hips, the other balancing himself on the mattress, pressed flat on the space next to your face.

He’s grunting profanities as he spills through his orgasm, allowing his elbow to bend so he can rest his forehead against yours. Both of you breathing heavy, eyes meeting in a moment of vulnerability and understanding as you bring a hand up to lace through his hair. Almost petting his grey curls, you lazily smile through the puffs of breath on your lips.

He doesn’t think he’ll ever get over seeing you like this, an angel laid out on his bedspread— just for him. Giving you both a moment to recover, he stays like that for a minute. He’s leaning into you, listening to your soft breaths even out, and he can feel himself getting hard again. His dick is still throbbing, not even fully soft and he’s already ready for another round.

His cock getting hard again, that fast after sex, was something he hadn’t experienced in over a decade.

These days Jack needed plenty of time between orgasms to even think about getting another erection, but in this moment, still buried in you and hearing the tiny gasps of breath coming from your heaving chest, he wanted more. He could feel his addiction to you growing stronger, reminding him of the forbidden nature of your budding relationship.

“What are we getting ourselves into.” Speaking his thoughts aloud, his voice fills the room, a grin lingering in his lips.

He can’t help but smile as he imagines what the future holds for your relationship, his forehead still pressed gently against yours. 

“You know what-” Baz snapped, his voice rising.

“The ‘how’ doesn’t matter!” Craig yelled, cutting Baz’s argument short. “What matters is how we’re gonna help him. I’ve heard some bad shit about what happens to people who don’t act on their urges under the drug. We gotta find someone for him.” The knot in your stomach twisted and you tilted your head at Craig, not quite believing what you were hearing.

“Someone for him to what? Fuck?” You asked in disbelief.

“Yeah,” He said with a shrug. “Like a hooker.”

“Sex worker.” You corrected him automatically before your head caught up with what he suggested. You shook your head vigorously.

“No, no, no. We are not arranging a sex worker to come here and have sex with Pope in his drugged state.” The idea of some random woman coming over to the house to sleep with Pope when he’s in this compromised state made a wave of nausea roll through you. The fact his brothers seemed to think this was even an option really said a lot about their upbringing and lack of care for their brother. Baz scoffed at your words, rolling his eyes.

“We are not doing anything.” He said, gesturing between the three of them and you. “We are handling it.” He gestured between himself and his brothers. “We will-”

“I’ll do it.” You said suddenly, surprising yourself a little. Your declaration took a moment to settle in your mind and when you realized the gravity of what you said you decided that this was the best solution. Pope was your closest friend, you loved him and you’d treat him with care. You’d talk him through it and make sure he was alright.

“What?” Deran asked, his confusion mirroring his brothers.

“I’ll have sex with Pope and help him through the effects of the drug. I’m his friend, I’ll make sure he’s okay. I’m the best person for this. I’m volunteering.” Baz opened his mouth, likely to object, but Craig interrupted him.

“Works for me!” Craig clapped his hands together in finality, clearly happy to have the problem solved and the rest of his day back. Deran shrugged, agreeing with you, and grabbed Baz to pull him away before he picked a fight for not being the person to solve the issue.

“I’ll text you all tomorrow when the effects have worn off and it’s safe for Baz, Cath, and Lena to come back.” You said as you moved towards the door to the house. Craig paused a bit before leaving, turning towards you.

“By the way, we had to tie him up so he wouldn’t hurt himself, just so you know.” With that last piece of information, the Cody brothers hopped in Deran’s car and drove away.

***

The house was mostly quiet, save for the whimpering and groaning you could hear from the bedroom. As much as you’d wanted to rush to the bedroom to release Pope from his restraints, you knew there were some things you needed to do first.

You closed and locked all the windows and doors, and shut the curtains. You wanted to disturb the neighbours as little as possible. You grabbed two water bottles from the fridge and some energy bars from the cupboard. From what little you’d heard about the effects of this drug, you and Pope were going to be hungry and thirsty when it was all over. You grabbed some spare towels and left them in the bathroom for the shower you’d both inevitably need at the end. You moved as quickly and efficiently as you could, not wanting Pope to wait another moment. You searched briefly for condoms but were unsuccessful. You decided that was probably for the best and since you had an IUD anyways, you weren’t worried.

The moment you crossed the doorway and entered the room, Pope’s eyes were on you.

He was lying on his back, fully clothed, each of his wrists tied with rope that secured him to both bed posts. His grey t-shirt was soaked with sweat, his forehead glistening with it, his face flushed. He was wearing jeans that did nothing to hide the way his cock bulged against the material. The moment he saw you his body moved instinctually to try and get closer to you, only to be stopped by the ropes. The wood creaked as his arms pulled on the restraints. Despite his body practically screaming with want, his face told a different story. His brow was furrowed and his mouth turned down in a look of misery.

“You shouldn’t be here.” Pope choked out the words, his voice rough and low, his breathing heavy. You closed the door behind you and as you moved closer to the bed his hips lifted eagerly without his permission, uncoordinatedly humping into the air for a moment to no satisfaction.

“Pope I know what’s going on. I’m here to help.” You said softly as you reached the edge of the bed.

“Oh god,” Pope whined, his face twisting in a look of torment as his head fell back against the pillows.

“It’s okay.” You said as you toed off your shoes and put down your purse and things from the kitchen. “I want to help.” You looked him over, weighing your options. You knew how strong Pope was and you could see how desperate he was for some relief. You knew Pope would never hurt you, you trusted him, but in this state you needed to help him out a bit before letting him go. “I don’t think I can release the restraints just yet-” Pope’s head snapped up quickly.

“Don’t.” Pope said, his voice strangled. “I told them to tie me up. I could hurt you.” You held Pope’s anguished gaze, his glassy, pleading eyes pulling on your heart.

“Okay.” You said again. “It’s okay. You need to act on the urges the drug is giving you otherwise you might-” You stopped as an unexpected lump formed in your throat. You hadn’t heard much about this drug but what you had wasn’t good. “I won’t let anything happen to you, I promise. You’re safe with me.” You held Pope’s gaze while he mentally weighed his options. Pope nodded frantically after a moment, letting you know he was alright with you being there. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you reached under the flowy skirt of your short summer dress to pull your panties down and off. Pope’s chest rose and fell quicker as he watched you, the anticipation filling his veins with fire and sending more blood to his already painful erection.

“I can take your pants off but I can’t remove your shirt without releasing your arms.”

“Please,” Pope whined, pulling on the ropes. “Please take my clothes off, it feels like sandpaper on my skin.” Thinking quickly, you grabbed your purse and pulled out the Swiss Army Knife Pope had given you for your last birthday. You returned to the bed and climbed up onto the mattress, making quick work of getting Popes pants and boxers off. He sighed loudly in relief as his cock sprang free, large and aching. You did your best to focus on the task at hand and not his impressive length, with its red, leaking tip, straining against his stomach. You opened the small scissors feature on the Swiss Army Knife and cut as quickly as you could to remove his shirt. When you moved further up his chest, Pope leaned up as best he could, pulling the ropes taut. He extended his neck as much as he could to get his face closer to you, his mouth open and wanting.

“Pope! I could have cut you.” You scolded as you leaned back out of his reach.

“I need to touch you.” Pope begged. “Please. I need you.” His eager tone sent a zap of pleasure straight to your core. You looked over to see how his biceps bulged with the effort to resist his bindings.

“Let…let me touch you.” Pope pleaded, his eyes locked on your lips, his breathing heavy and ragged. You swallowed thickly and licked your lips, eliciting a groan from Pope.

“Fuck.” He whispered.

“If…if you let me remove the rest of your shirt, I’ll give you what you want.” You did your best to keep your voice even despite how fast your heart was racing. Pope nodded slowly in agreement, his eyes never leaving your lips. You reached up cautiously and continued to cut away at his shirt. You leaned closer to get the right angle to make the last cut successfully and Pope took the moment to his advantage, turning his head to push his face into your hair and against your neck. His skin was hot, almost feverish against yours, making you gasp at the contact. You tossed the scissors aside, and they clattered against the hardwood floor as you pulled the scraps of his shirt off. Pope couldn’t hold you with his hands tied so he grabbed you the only way he could.

With his teeth.

Pope bit down on your shoulder, near your neck, making you cry out. He moaned into your skin as you felt a gush of wetness between your thighs. You were learning things about yourself today. Like how Pope’s desperate, almost animalistic energy was a huge turn on. As much as his teeth pressing into your skin felt incredible, you need to get to the main event fast.

You reached forward, one hand threading through Pope’s auburn curls and tugging hard, the other blindly grabbing his cock. Pope let you go with a ragged moan, his head following the path of your tugging hand as his hips rolled into your touch. You managed to get him to lie back down and straddled him before he made any other movements. With one hand bracing on his stomach, you raised up on your knees to situate yourself above his throbbing length.

“Take your dress off. I want to see you.” Pope’s gravelly voice sent a shiver through you as you obediently grabbed the hem of your dress and pulled it up and over your head, discarding it on the floor behind you. You made quick work to remove your bra as well. The moment your breasts were on full display Pope moaned, his hips bucking up into the air. The sudden movement sent you forward, both of your hands bracing on his stomach to keep you from falling on top of him, inadvertently pressing your tits together in the process. Pope was panting at this point, practically drooling at the sight of you, his eyes wide with awe.

“Oh fuck, you’re perfect.”

You couldn’t take it anymore, you needed him in you yesterday.

You grabbed his cock, eliciting another tortured moan from Pope, and guided him to your soaking entrance before sinking down onto him. The two of you moaned in unison, your heads falling back in pleasure. The stretch of him was delicious, filling you completely in ways you’d never experienced. You’d been so turned on it was easy to slide him all the way into you and for you to be fully seated on his cock.

Finally having what he craved, Pope wasted no time planting his feet on the mattress and right as you started to rise up Pope thrusted up into you. He thrusted so hard it almost knocked you off of him and you knew you’d have bruises tomorrow. It took you a moment to get your bearings before you were able to match his rhythm, moving down to meet his upwards thrusts.

It felt amazing.

Pope had been your friend for years but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wanted to mean more to him. To be more to him. You’d quietly fantasized about being with Pope for the better part of two years now and he’d been the star of every late night fantasy that resulted in an orgasm. His body, his voice, his hands. Everything about him turned you on, including his gentlemanly approach to you like opening doors and carrying you to bed when you’d fall asleep on the couch. His kindness and tender heart made you want to hold him and never let go.

The rest of him made you want to ride him and never let go.

There was time later for a discussion about being more than friends, but right now you needed to focus on helping him through this.

Due to how tightly wound he had been, Pope came quickly, spilling his release inside you as he yelled your name. Despite coming, he was still rock hard inside of you, and continued to desperately drive his hips up into you. The punishing rhythm, Pope’s groaning and whining at the feeling of you, and the rub of your clit against his pelvis at every downward movement had you coming soon too. You cried out as your orgasm overtook you, your walls tightening around his cock as it plunged into you over and over. Pleasure spread through your body, prolonged by Pope’s movements.

“Oh, Andrew.” You moaned, your head tilted back and your eyes closed.

You’d been so preoccupied with your pleasure that you hadn’t heard the creaking and cracking of the bedposts as Pope had pulled on them. You missed the look that crossed his face, the dark, dangerous one that made his nose twitch as his lips curled and his teeth clenched.

He needed to touch you now.

His name spilling from your lips as you rode him through your orgasm, your face slack in the pleasure he gave you, was enough to give him the last bit of strength he needed. Pope pulled hard enough to break the bedposts, the wood giving way under the strain, and freed his arms from their restraints.

Your eyes flew open as you gasped in surprise at the sound. Your brain didn’t have time to comprehend what happened before Pope grabbed you, and flipped you both so he was on top, practically tackling you to the mattress. With his new freedom Pope had the leverage to drive into you as fast and hard as he wanted.

The pace was brutal, his hips slapping hard against yours as you squealed with pleasure at every thrust and you did your best to wrap your legs around his hips. The headboard banged against the wall over and over as he hung his head over you, your foreheads touching.

He hadn’t expected you to walk into the bedroom but he was so glad you did, that of all people it was you who stepped up to help him. While you had volunteered to help him, Pope was sure you hadn’t imagined it would be like this, fast and rough. And he couldn’t stop if he wanted to, you felt too perfect.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Pope said again and again with each drive of his cock into you.

“Don’t be, don’t be, don’t be,” You replied back, breathless. You brought your hands up to his face, making him look at you. You smiled. “I want this. I want you. I’ve wanted us for so long, Andrew.” Pope moaned loudly at the mention of ‘us’ and his eyes rolled back as he came inside you again, his whole body shuddering as his hips slammed into you.

His rhythm slowed after a moment but didn’t stop and you leaned up to kiss him. Pope kissed you back feverishly, his tongue slipping inside your mouth as he pressed you against the mattress. The kisses spurred him on and his thrusts grew in speed again. He was still hard inside of you and you guessed you’d be in for a long night before it was all out of his system. You were able to turn your head to free your lips to speak, which did nothing to deter Pope who began kissing and sucking on your jaw and neck.

“Use me however you want Pope.” That got his attention enough that he pulled back to look at you. You nodded encouragingly. “I’m yours for the night. Use me however you want, however feels good.”

Without a word Pope sat back enough on his knees to pull the remaining rope from his wrists and grabbed your legs to put the backs of your knees over his arms. He leaned back down, pressing your knees to your chest, and pushed himself even deeper inside of you to a spot that had your eyes rolling back. Pope picked up his movement, returning to the previous, frantic thrusts that had the headboard hitting the wall again. The wet sounds of his cock ramming into you joined the sounds of your sweaty skin slapping against each other. You moaned with each brutal push of his cock, your face flushing as your orgasm built. Your nails dug into his beautiful, freckled biceps as your pleasure climbed higher and higher.

“Yes, yes, yes, Andrew!” Your orgasm crashed over you, making your legs tremble and shake in the crook of Pope’s arms, your back arching as much as it could under the weight of him. Pope fucked you through it, as he did your last one, prolonging the warm sparks moving through you. He continued his unrelenting pace, pushing his cock deep inside you. Your limbs felt weak and you could feel how low your energy was with how heavy your eyelids felt. Considering how Pope likely wasn’t anywhere near done, you knew you needed to tell him he could keep going.

“Use me Andrew,” You moaned. “Even if I pass out, use me however you need.” Pope nodded in understanding and thrust into you a few more times before coming again.

For the first time in a while, Pope pulled out of you and you groaned at the loss of his cock inside you, as your legs fell limply on the bed. He grabbed your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach. You could feel his cum leaking out of you, unsurprising considering he came in you three times already. Pope draped himself over your back, lined himself up with your leaking entrance, and slid back in. Your head was turned, cheek pressed against the mattress as you moaned loudly at the feeling of his cock filling you again. Pope began to drive his cock in and out of you again, his hips smacking against your ass every time he pushed inside of you. You could feel the warmth of his skin against your back and his breath in your hair as he leaned his forehead against your temple. He wanted to be close to you, to feel how good he made you feel, to have you.

“Use me.” You whimpered as his cock pumped in and out of you, your clit rubbing against the mattress with the force of his thrusts. “Use me, use me, use me.”

“Yes,” Pope moaned against your skin. “Yes.” Pope continued to fuck you, grunting in your ear as his hips roughly slapped against your ass, jolting your body forward with each thrust, sending sparks of pleasure through you as your hips moved. Pope needed you in this moment like he needed air. He felt like an animal, hungry to take you how he pleased and mark you how he could. He wanted to bite you again. He wanted to suck on your skin until it bruised. He wanted to fill you again and again and again until he physically couldn’t anymore.

“You’re mine.” Pope groaned in your ear.

“Yes,” You sighed against the mattress, your toes and fingers curling with pleasure. Pope pulled back from your head and put his hands on your shoulders to give him leverage for each brutal thrust. The hold pinned you to the mattress, leaving you at Popes mercy.

“You’re mine.” He put more weight on his hands, holding you down. “Mine, mine, mine, mine,” He growled, punctuating the words with each thrust into you.

“Y-yours.” You gasped out. Trapped between Pope and the mattress, you couldn’t have felt safer. The man holding you down was strong (you knew that, he broke the headboard) but his hands weren’t hurting you, they were just keeping you in place. You’d stay between Pope and this mattress forever if you could.

With the two previous orgasms and the constant rubbing of your clit against the sheets, your next orgasm built and burst through you fast, leaving you twitching and trembling on the bed. Exhaustion hit you hard and right before you passed out you heard Pope moan your name, desperately groaning “I’m yours!” to you as he came again.

***

There was soft sunlight coming through the window when you woke up. Pope was asleep next to you, his face relaxed as he calmly breathed in and out. You were a few inches apart and Popes arm was strewn across your waist. It was so rare to see him like this, so peaceful. The sun lit strands of his auburn curls a bright cooper and you couldn’t help but smile. 

Without moving, you knew you were sore, but you also knew you needed to pee and shower. And drink some water. Where were those bottles of water you grabbed before this started? You tried your best to move without waking Pope but when your thighs rubbed together you winced audibly and that roused him. He blinked awake, clearly confused at his surroundings before you watched the night reply in his mind as a dozen emotions crossed his face. It settled on remorseful, which broke your heart.

“Are you okay?” Pope asked as he sat up with a groan, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. You smiled lazily at him.

“I feel fantastic. A little sore but that’s to be expected.” Pope shook his head at your comment.

“I shouldn’t have-”

“I’m going to stop you right there. Pope, I knew what I was getting into by volunteering to have sex with you, and your body was under the effects of a drug. Don’t apologize to me for the best sex of my life so far.” Pope blinked at you for a moment, stunned.

“The best?” He croaked out. You smiled widely, glad he focused on that rather than the guilt he shouldn’t have.

“Yes. So far.” You sat up, wincing a little. “I'm excited to see what you can do when you’re not on a crazy sex drug.” You leaned forward and placed a kiss on his bare, freckled shoulder. When you looked up at his face, you saw surprise and hope in his features. “I’d like to date you Andrew Cody. If that’s okay with you.” Pope smiled sheepishly before he dipped his head to press your foreheads together. Your eyes naturally closed.

“Thank you.” He said to you quietly. You hummed a soft acknowledgement before leaning in and kissing him slowly. You pulled away after a moment, eyes opening to see Popes mouth trying to follow you. You laughed a little at his eagerness, especially after he spent who knows how long last night fucking you.

“How many more times did you come last night after I passed out?” You asked. The tops of Popes ears turned pink.

“I think three.” He glanced down at your naked chest. “I got a bit carried away.” You looked down to see that your tits were covered in hickeys, purple bruising both on and in between your breasts.

“Damn! I can’t believe I missed that. Promise me that next time you give me a hickey, you’ll do it when I’m awake.”

“I promise.” Pope said, his voice rough. You looked back up at Pope to see him staring, his eyes filled with wanting. Your cheeks flushed under Pope’s full attention. You needed to change the subject before you two attempted something your sore body parts might not forgive you for.

“We should have a shower and clean up this place a bit before telling Baz to come back.” Pope nodded in agreement, before his eyes glanced behind you and you turned to follow his gaze. The broken headboard. You cringed as you turned back around.

“Oops. Forgot about that.” Some memories of how the headboard broke flashed in your mind and you blushed even more as you looked at Pope. “That’s on you to pay for. And I think it’s best if we just toss these sheets, for Baz and Cath’s sake.” Pope nodded a bit, holding your gaze before a giggle bubbled up and out of him. You bit your lip to keep from laughing but it escaped you anyways and the two of you sat on the bed in the morning sunlight, laughing together.

***

“Is it safe?” Baz asked as he entered the house, one hand covering his eyes.

“Of course. I wouldn’t have texted you otherwise.” You said in a clipped tone. You muttered ‘asshole’ under your breath for good measure. After the laughing fit, you and Pope had showered together, drank two glasses of water each, and put fresh sheets on the bed. You also remembered to open up every window in the house to get any smell of marathon sex out.

“Hi Uncle Pope.” Lena called out with a wave as Cath carried her inside. Pope was washing the cups you’d used and he waved back.

“Hi Lena.”

“Is that Baz’s shirt?” Cath asked as she set Lena down on one of the kitchen island chairs. You looked over at Pope and back to Cath.

“Yeah, we had to throw away Pope’s shirt. Baz will get his back.”

“What happened to your neck?” Lena asked, staring at the purple mark at the base of your neck. You’d put on Pope’s jacket, zipped up, in an effort to cover your hickeys up but Lena was too observant. You slapped your hand over the bite mark, hiding it from view.

“I got in a fight.” You stated simply as Cath and Baz shared a look.

“One she lost.” Pope joked bluntly as he came to stand beside you.

“I don’t know about that. You’re taking me out to breakfast so I’d say I won. Plus you’re forgetting about that ‘best so far’ comment.” You countered with a smile, which Pope returned. You stared contently at each other for a moment before Baz ruined it.

“What’s going on here?” He asked. You sighed, your mood souring at the sound of Baz’s voice.

“None of your business.” You said firmly. Pope grabbed your bag and handed it to you as you both got ready to leave.

The man turns. His brows lift when he sees you. “You’ve gotta be kidding.”

A smile pulls at your lips. “Nice to see you too.”

He laughs, slinging his weekend bag more comfortably over one shoulder. He’s wearing a simple, dark henley, jeans, and boots, and you curse yourself for how long you’re staring at his forearms. “What are you doing here?”

You gesture toward the resort. “I was invited. My friend Amy’s getting married. We’ve been close since high school. You?”

“I was Harry’s attending for a few years.” He says, “we go on morning runs together.”

You both stand there, processing. “Well,” you say, “small world.”

“You here alone?” he asks.

You nod. “Yeah. I figured a three-day wedding was too much for a plus-one.”

You actually don’t have anyone to ask.

“Yeah… same,” he says.

You adjust your jacket and glance up at him. “Well. Looks like we’re each other’s only familiar face this weekend.”

Jack glances at you sideways, a smile playing on his lips. “Could be worse.”

Just then, the check-in staff hands over your key cards, and you go your separate ways, promising to catch each other later at night.

The first night of the wedding weekend is a casual dinner, just something to help everyone unwind after the long drive. There’s no assigned seating, no pressure, just softly lit tables scattered across the area and the low hum of laughter and clinking glasses.

You scan the crowd and spot Jack near the open bar, standing with his hands in his pockets, waiting on a drink.

You smooth your dress—wait, why? Your brows furrow. It’s just Jack. You work with him every day. You’ve seen him elbow-deep in trauma, yelling over chest compressions, running on three hours of sleep.

But you’ve never seen him like this. Standing there, wearing a nicely fitted navy button-up, the sleeves casually rolled past his elbows, the fabric pulls across his chest when he crosses his arms, and a glimpse of veins and muscle you’re trying very hard not to stare at. The light hits his hair just right. He looks…too good. Your mouth suddenly feels dry.

You swallow and start walking before your thoughts get any more dangerous.

He looks over just as you approach. “You look great.” Jack compliments.

“First time seeing me not in scrubs, Jack?”

He smiles, glancing away for just a second, “No, but not like this. You look beautiful.”

You feel your cheeks flush. “Thanks. You’re not so bad yourself.”

You’re about to order yourself a drink when Jack’s already flagged the bartender down. “Margarita, extra salt?”

You try to hide your smile. “Yes, please.”

It was months ago, when Shen made attending and everyone’d gone out to celebrate. You didn’t plan on getting drunk, so you stood back with Jack. He noticed your empty hands, then made it a game: guess your favorite drink by your expression alone. You ended up sharing ten drinks between you, laughing harder with each one, until he got it right—margarita, extra salt. You’d both been drunk by the end, but you’d remembered the way his eyes crinkled when you called him a sore loser. You’d remembered that night more than you probably should have.

And he hasn’t forgotten.

“You still remember my drink.” You point out.

He smirks, “Hard to forget when it took me 10 guesses.”

“And one hell of a good time?” You offer.

“With you?” He chuckles. “Always.”

You and Jack spend dinner at a small table for two, the buzz of the crowd fading into background noise. It’s the first time you’ve really talked—not flirted, not exchanged sarcastic quips in between traumas, but talked. About life outside the hospital. Your childhood. Books he reads when he can’t sleep. The way you like your coffee. How you both hate the same podcasts. It's easy and warm, and a little addictive.

You’ve never seen this side of him before. It makes it harder not to like him more than you already do.

It shouldn’t feel like this—any of this. But it does. Like a date. Like a weekend away together for a couple in love. You catch it in the way his eyes keep drifting to your lips, the way he hovers protectively when guiding you through the crowd, the quiet smiles he gives you when no one else is looking.

Whatever this is, it’s not just you. It’s different for him, too.

You’re in the middle of a conversation about some travel mishap of his when you hear a familiar squeal.

“Oh my God, you made it!”

You stand to greet your friend—Amy, glowing with excitement, bouquet swapped for a champagne flute. “Congratulations,” you beam, hugging her tightly. “Amy, I’m so happy for you. And this wedding? It’s like a Pinterest board came to life.”

She laughs, squeezing you back. “I’m so glad you’re here. And I want to let you know, if I’d done bridesmaids, you’d have been first on the list.”

You smile, touched. Meanwhile, Harry’s pulling Jack into a bro-hug.

“Wait,” Amy blinks, looking between the two of you. “You know Jack?”

“He’s my attending at PTMC.”

“Small world.” Harry comments, and Amy squints, connecting the dots. She glances between you and Jack, then grins like she’s just solved a puzzle.

“Wait a minute—are you guys… together?”

“Oh n—”

“Looks we’ve been found out.” Jack cuts in smoothly, sending you a wink.

You give him a questioning look. This was never something you talked about or planned, so you think he’s trying to pull a prank on you, or… nothing. You have no idea what’s going on.

“OMG since when??” Amy gasps.

“Only been a few months. Nearing a year.” He says.

A year???

Amy bumps your shoulder, “And you didn’t tell me?? I could’ve put you guys in one of the bigger, nicer rooms!”

“I—I…” You stammer.

“I suggested not to tell anyone,” Jack saves you. He somehow sounds like he has this all planned out. “Didn’t want to risk her reputation, you know.”

Harry nods understandingly. “Right, especially with your exams coming up.”

You chuckle nervously, “Ah, yeah… still need to take the exams.”

“You’re gonna do great.” Amy clasps your hands, “You’re the smartest person I know, you’re gonna ace it.”

You smile, flustered but grateful. The conversation turns to easier things—honeymoons, the venue, the resort spa—and eventually Amy and Harry are off to greet the next table.

“What the hell?” As soon as they’re gone, you turn to Jack with a half-laugh, half-glare. “So we’re in a relationship now?”

He leans back in his chair, fighting a grin. “Figured it’d be a good way to make the weekend interesting.”

You blink at him. “You couldn’t have warned me?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” he says, taking a slow sip of his drink. “Besides… you didn’t say no.”

You want to argue—but you don’t. So you just try to hide a smile behind your margarita and look away.

The night winds down quietly. Amy’s sister plays a photo montage of Amy growing up, meeting Harry, and their early years together, while Harry steps up to thank everyone for coming. The staff announces tomorrow’s rundown: free time until 5PM, when the ceremony begins in the garden, and then gently ushers everyone to get some rest.

You and Jack are making your way back toward your rooms when Harry catches up to you, grinning.

“Hey,” he says, handing you a small card. “Quick thing.”

You blink, taking the card. Your brows immediately pull together.

“What’s this?”

“An upgrade,” Harry beams. “Amy and I moved you guys to one of the nicer suites. It’s bigger, better view. Our little gift.”

Your stomach dips. “Oh no, Harry—seriously, that’s really sweet but we can’t—”

“Come on,” he waves a hand. “Let me do this. For my wife’s best friend,” he says to you, then claps a hand on Jack’s shoulder, “—and for my greatest mentor. You’re both our dear friends.”

You glance at Jack, silently begging him to say something—to fix this—but he looks just as stunned.

“Harry—” Jack starts.

“Nope,” Harry cuts him off, walking backward with a grin. “Already moved your bags. Enjoy!”

He disappears before either of you can stop him.

You and Jack stand there for a moment, staring at the spot where Harry had just been.

You turn slowly. “We’re terrible people.”

Jack lifts a brow. “We? You didn’t exactly stop me back at dinner.”

You gape at him. “You said we were dating out of nowhere! What was I supposed to do?”

He smirks. “You could’ve denied it.”

“I was stunned! You lied so confidently I thought I had missed something.”

He chuckles and starts walking again. “Come on, let’s check out this palace we’ve been gifted.”

And you find out soon enough—he wasn’t exaggerating.

The suite is beautiful. Massive windows overlook the forest, soft yellow lighting glows from fixtures built from stone and wood. There’s a sunken living room with a couch, a cozy fireplace, a soaking tub the size of a car, and one king-sized bed with silk sheets and pillows you could drown in.

You both stop in the doorway, silently taking it in.

“Well,” Jack says after a beat, setting the key card on the entry table, “this got out of hand fast.”

“No kidding,” you mutter, though your disbelief is already turning into laughter. You sit on the edge of the bed like it might still vanish. “This your idea of a fun weekend?”

Jack undoes the first buttons of his shirt, shrugging. “Hey, I said interesting. Didn’t say how.”

You shoot him a look. “One bed.”

He nods. “I can take the couch if you want.”

You grab a pillow, chucking it at him. “You better not hog the blanket.”

You’re not scared of sharing a bed with Jack. He’s respectful, responsible—he’d never do anything to make you uncomfortable.

What you’re scared of is yourself.

Because you can’t deny the attraction. Not when he steps out of the bathroom in just a pair of low-hung sweatpants, his dog tags resting against his chest. His skin is still dewy from the shower, his hair slightly damp and curling at the ends. You try not to stare, but it's a losing battle.

And to make matters worse, you only packed the nice nightwear. Silky, a little sheer, a bit too short. You’d brought it thinking this weekend would be a quiet getaway. A solo indulgence. But clearly, plans have changed.

It’s awkwardly quiet.

“So…” You start.

“So.” He sits beside you. Still no shirt on. “I’m sorry I got us into this mess.”

You smile, sitting up a little. “A great view, a nice bathtub, and silk sheets? I wouldn’t call this a mess.”

Jack lets out a quiet chuckle.

You glance over at him, then down—he still has his prosthetic on. “You don’t take it off when you sleep?”

He hesitates. “…You don’t mind?”

“Of course not.” You furrow your brows. “I’ve seen you take off your leg multiple times at work.”

“I guess… but this is different.”

“How?”

“…I don’t know,” He pauses, “It just is.”

And you kind of know what he means, but you don’t address it. Jack makes sure you’re okay with it once again before leaning forward and taking his prosthetic off. He groans in pain, and so without thinking, you reach over to help.

Jack’s breath hitches when he notices you climbing over your side of the bed and is massaging his leg. And then he sees what you’re wearing. A satin, violet nightgown, with lace decorating the hem and bust area. Spaghetti straps hang delicately off your shoulders, the fabric brushing high along your thighs. His eyes linger, his mouth slightly parted.

You feel his eyes on you. It’s only then that you realize—oh. You’re practically on top of him in this thing.

“Don’t judge me.” You mumble, “I thought I’d have a room to myself.”

“’M not.” He grunts.

That’s when you notice his flushed face, his grip on the sheets, the way his eyes flicker down your body and then guiltily back up. Your heartbeat quickens—he likes it. Maybe even wants it. You.

You move back to your side, dragging the covers up to your chest, and Jack follows, shifting under the covers, trying to will away the heat still buzzing under his skin and in his pants.

“So,” you say, trying to focus on anything else, “we’re going to have to keep this up the whole weekend?”

Jack nods. “At least to the just-married couple.”

“We’re gonna have to get them a gift from us. This room must’ve been expensive.”

He chuckles. “You’re right about that.”

“Well, we’ll be stuck with each other the whole weekend anyway.” You say. “Shouldn’t be too difficult, right?”

Jack lets out a slow breath, trying to calm the way his pulse is racing. “We’ll manage.”

You pause. “We should probably, I don’t know… practice. So we don’t look awkward.”

He glances at you. “Practice?”

You raise an eyebrow, heat crawling up your neck. “You know. Just in case they’re watching. A kiss or two might sell it.”

Jack is awfully quiet.

“I—I mean, we— forget it.” You stammer, “I was just—”

He turns to you and leans in, eyes never leaving yours. And you’re surprised, but you don’t pull away. You close the space first, just enough to brush your lips against his, soft and uncertain.

His hand rises to your cheek, deepening the kiss. He tastes like mint and something warm, and your heart feels like it’s exploding. His thumb brushes your jaw, his mouth tilting against yours, and you barely suppress the small sound that rises in your throat.

You don’t know who breaks it first, but you part—just barely.

“…That was…” Jack starts, voice low.

You breathe out, “Convincing?”

He huffs a soft laugh. “Yeah. That’s one word for it.”

You both lay back down after that, still facing each other.

He brushes your hair behind your ear and whispers, “We should get some sleep.”

You blink, caught off guard. “Right. Yeah.”

You both shift under the covers. Careful not to touch, even though the warm feeling is still there in his skin. On your lips.

Jack stares at the ceiling, then turns to look at you, your back now facing him, your breathing shallow and uneven.

None of you can sleep, wondering how the hell you’re supposed to get through the rest of the weekend pretending as if any of this doesn’t mean something.

-----

Day two

Thankfully, Jack is not a blanket hogger.

But you are.

Sometime during the night, you must’ve robbed the covers like a seasoned thief. Because now, Jack is half-wrapped around you, as though he had to burrow under the blanket you hogged to survive the night. One leg hooked around yours. One arm draped across your ribcage, his hand resting just under your breast. The other curled under your neck like a makeshift pillow—how did that even get there?

His chest is warm and solid against your back. He’s still asleep, his breathing even, slow. His nose is near your temple, breath fanning lightly against your ear, and it takes every bit of willpower not to shift. Not to look.

Your heart, however, is pounding.

You need a cold shower. Immediately.

So you slip out of his grasp as quietly and quickly as you can, running to the shower. You immediately turn on the cold water setting, but it doesn’t help the itch between your thighs.

You try to force your mind away. Think of something else.

Work. Traumas. Codes. Blood. Bloodied gloves. Jack's hands in gloves—fuck.

You groan. Your hand wanders to where Jack’s was a few minutes ago. Just under your breast. If he had just gone up a bit… just slightly brushing your nipple, and squeezing, and pinching—you bite your lip and sigh.

Against your better judgment, two of your fingers lower to where you need it most, a small hiss escaping you as you relieve the tension. You touch yourself like you imagine he would. His rough, padded, calloused, experienced fingers toying with your clit. How he would absolutely tease and bring you over the edge just from them.

You sigh, rubbing your clit in figure eights, your other hand pinching and squeezing your breast. Your fingers move lower, quietly cursing to yourself as you feel how wet you are. It’s all for him and he’s not even here to see it. You insert one finger in, then two, and you wonder if two of Jack’s fingers would feel similar. You know it’s not the same. Your fingers curl to hit your spot, and your head hangs forward, thumb circling your clit to chase your release.

You come quickly. Easily. But it’s hollow. You’ve done this yourself so many times, and it’s just too easy for you to come. But it’s not what you want. It’s not what you need. A mere release from your fingers isn’t enough… but it’ll have to do. For now.

You finish showering and wrap yourself in one of the hotel’s bathrobes. You were in such a rush you forgot a change of clothes. When you step out of the bathroom, Jack’s already up—still shirtless, coffee in hand, standing near the window and looking out at the forest.

“Morning.” You offer.

He smiles, “Morning. You got up earlier than me.”

“That surprising?” You raise a brow.

“I’m usually an early bird.”

You towel your damp hair as you move to the vanity table. “Must’ve been really comfortable, then. Maybe the cuddling helped,” you say lightly—despite your own reaction to it—watching him in the mirror.

Jack chuckles. “I’m not the one who hogged the blanket.”

“And I guess I was just helping you sleep.” You smile, as he shakes his head. “So, what’s your plan for the day?”

“Breakfast,” he says easily. “Then maybe I’ll check out that heated pool. Care to join me?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Good.” He saunters over to you, surprising you with a lift of your chin, and pecks you lightly on your cheek. “For practice.”

And then Jack disappears into the bathroom, and you think you almost died. He’s playing with you. Teasing you. He probably knows what he does to you—and oh, Jack Abbot… two can play that game.

You rifle through your bag for something to wear. Your fingers hesitate on the safer choices… then drift toward something else.

It’s cheeky. Flirty.

But you wonder… how far can you push him before he finally cracks? Before he lets go of his self-control and gives you what you really want? So fine. You’ll wear something cute. Maybe just a little sexy. Just enough to stay innocent, but more than enough to keep you in his head all day.

A cute sundress. Spaghetti strapped, short, just enough cleavage and thigh, and most importantly, no bra. Why would you? You’re headed to the heated pool. You’ll be changing into your red bikini anyway. Your very red bikini.

You smirk to yourself.

You’re finished doing your hair just as Jack steps out wearing shorts, and a loose white linen shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, collar open enough to hint at his chest. The man knows he looks good.

“You can swim with your leg?”

“It’s waterproof.”

“Fancy.”

“Didn’t pay for it.” He chuckles. “Ready to go?”

“Mm-hm.” You hum, bending over in front of him to put on your shoes. You can hear him curse behind you. “Ready.”

You turn to face him, and bat your eyelashes innocently, “Something wrong?”

Jack’s jaw clenches and he reaches for the key card. “…Nothing. Let’s go?”

You’re still smirking as you walk out the door—Jack trailing a step behind, and probably hating how much he’s staring.

Breakfast isn’t crowded. It’s still early—most guests are probably sleeping in, nursing hangovers or enjoying the quiet. Which is why, as you sit across Jack at your table, you dare reach over for the jam—anyone behind him would be able to see that you’re not wearing a bra. And Jack—poor Jack—almost chokes on his orange juice.

“Christ.” He coughs, eyes wide, flicking from your chest to your face like he can’t quite believe what just happened. And then a twinkle of playfulness, like he’s saying: It’s on.

You pretend nothing happened, spreading jam all over your bread and taking a bite.

Jack watches you like a man possessed. Then he leans over the table. His thumb brushes the corner of your mouth slowly.

“Missed a spot,” he murmurs.

And then he sucks his thumb clean.

Your jaw drops.

It seems like you’ve silently created a game of who will fold first. And you’re both damn competitive.

Jack clears his throat, changing the topic. “Can I ask you a serious question?”

You raise your brows. “Of course.”

He leans back slightly, watching you. Not with the usual flirt or challenge in his eyes.

“How are you still single?”

The question catches you off guard. You blink, caught somewhere between flattered and exposed. But you try to cover it. “Such a serious question.” You deadpan.

He doesn’t smile. “I mean it. You’re smart, funny, beautiful, and… I don’t know, you’ve got this… thing.”

“I’ve got a thing?”

He gives you a small smile. “Like you know exactly what you want. And it’s damn attractive.”

You pause, a piece of bread halfway to your mouth.

“Wow,” you say. “I think that’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me over eggs and toast.”

Jack chuckles, but his eyes stay on yours. “Still waiting on the answer, though.”

You take your time answering. Spread a little more jam, chew thoughtfully, anything to delay the way your heart’s pounding in your chest.

You take a deep breath, letting yourself open up a little. “I guess…” you start slowly, setting your knife down. “Most guys say I’m too much. They like the flirting and everything, but when things actually become real… they kinda just want the flirty and sarcastic me.”

There’s a beat of silence between you. Jack’s still looking at you—he’s known to have a staring problem, and now you see why. You won’t lie, there’s a part of you that wonder if Jack would be one of those guys. If he just wanted the flirting, non-commital chase. Maybe he’d rather pretend none of this happened when you’re back in your regular, ER lives. The thought scares you a little more than you’d like to admit.

You add, a little lighter, “Besides, you think I’ve got guys lined up just because I can make a joke and wear a dress without a bra?”

Jack’s smirk returns, but his voice stays low. “No. I think guys like the idea of a challenge—and then punish you for having standards. I think you’ve been waiting for someone who actually sees you. Not just the version they want you to be.”

You pause. His words hit harder than you expect.

“Maybe.” You say. “It’s hard to find a man like that.”

“Not as hard as you think.” Jack simply says.

You sit with his words for a moment longer, chewing on your lip.

Then, maybe a little shyly, maybe to level the playing field, you ask, “Can I ask you something?”

Jack nods, already know what you’re going to ask.

“Why are you single?” you ask, tilting your head. “You’re handsome, funny, albeit a little annoying…” you add, smiling, “That should’ve landed you someone by now.”

It’s not a teasing question, not really. You already know about his past—about the wife he lost, even if you never asked for details. But you’ve always wondered. Jack could’ve had anyone. So why… no one?

Jack’s smile fades—not completely, but just enough for you to notice. His gaze drops to his coffee, thumb brushing over the rim of the mug. “I think I just stopped looking for a while.”

You nod, quietly.

“And when I did start again…” He trails off for a second, fingers tapping lightly against his mug. “No one really felt right. Not in the way that makes me want to stay. Or try.”

“And are you?” You regret the moment that left your mouth so quickly.

“Am I what?”

Too late to back out now. “Looking for someone.”

He holds your gaze a second too long. “Yeah.”

And suddenly, breakfast doesn’t feel so light anymore.

The pool is a little crowded, but it wasn’t bad. Some kids are in the pool playing, adults are on the other side just enjoying the warm water. Jack comes back from the bathroom already shirtless, ready to soak in.

“Try not to stare too much.” He whispers to you.

“You’re the one with a staring problem.” You bump his shoulder before going to change.

Jack watches you go, running a hand through his hair. His mind drifts—Are you? Looking for someone? Your question keeps looping in his head.

God, the number of times he’s almost asked you out is countless. He’s been drawn to you since Shen’s “congrats-you-made-attending” party, when you both downed ten drinks in the booth and you told him everything. You might not remember all of it, but he remembers every second. How you laughed without holding back. How you leaned on his shoulder like it meant something. How your eyes lit up when you talked about what you loved—he hasn’t stopped thinking about it since.

There’s a glow in you that he wants to protect. Feed. Watch grow brighter.

But he always holds himself back. Because he’s scared if you think he might be too old for you. Not anymore. This weekend sums it up. He’s going to ask you out by the end of the week. By tomorrow.

As he watches you walk back to him, his resolve almost breaks right there. Because now he’s seeing you, in a glaring red bikini, making your way to him and time seems to slow down, it’s like he’s watching Baywatch. He has to swallow the saliva pooling in his mouth.

“Try not to stare too much.” You tease him.

He groans audibly into you, his head resting on your shoulder. “You’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never.” You fake a gasp.

You go into the water first before Jack follows. You thought Jack would be a little uncomfortable, with everyone looking at him for a longer second, some even doing a double-take because of his leg, but he seems fine with it.

You, on the other hand, seem to be glaring at everyone who looks at him a certain way or whispers after.

“Don’t worry.” Jack chuckles, “I’m used to it.”

“Doesn’t make it right.” You mutter.

He smiles at that. The water’s not too deep, so you just stand on the side, watching kids splash water around each other, some are crying, and you glance at Jack.

“You ever want kids?”

Jack turns to you, the corners of his mouth twitching before he gives an honest answer. “Used to. Not anymore. Not really. You?”

You shrug. “I only want it if my partner really wants it. Our jobs don’t exactly make it easy to have family.”

He snorts. “Spot on.”

You lean back a little, water sloshing softly around you as a kid cannonballs nearby. Jack lifts an eyebrow at the splash, brushing droplets off his face.

“I honestly think I’d be a bad parent.” You admit. “I wouldn’t know what to do if my kid is misbehaving.”

He sucks in a breath, “Well, seeing how you are in the ER… I don’t think the kid would even think about misbehaving.”

“Hey!” You hit him lightly and Jack laughs.

“Kidding.” He smiles, “I think you’d be a great mom. You’re strict, but you care.”

You roll your eyes. “Sure. You flirt like this with all your co-workers?”

And so the game continues.

“Only the ones I like.” He smirks. “And what’s your excuse for this red, hot bikini?”

You raise a brow, trying not to show how fast your heart is beating. “This one? It’s just red. Nothing special. Why? You like it?”

Jack’s eyes flick down, then back up. “I think that bikini’s not helping me stay on my best behavior.”

And then he turns away like he didn’t just say the most distracting thing in the world, pushing off the wall and floating backward lazily.

You’re left with your mouth gaping again, and a scoff leaves your lips.

It’s still a tie.

It’s been a few hours and now you’re lounging by the pool bar, nursing a margarita, watching over the crowd and Jack, a good few feet away, reading his book. You’re practically ogling him, and you’re pretty sure he knows you’re looking, because he just flexes his arm and puts it behind his head—you scoff. The gall.

But you’re not the only to notice, so it seems. One woman, decides to sit next to him—in your supposed chair—and starts talking to him. You frown, but would also like to see how it’ll play out.

She says something to him and Jack only gives her a curt, polite smile. Never says anything more than 4 words. And you don’t know why, but you feel like saying “that’s my man” when he technically isn’t.

That’s until she laughs a little too hard at something he didn’t even say and lands her hand on his arm. A little too close to his chest. So, fine, you’ll have to teach her a lesson.

You make your way to Jack and that woman. He’s sitting upright now, clearly trying to get away from the conversation. You step out of the pool dripping wet and place your hand on Jack’s shoulder, bringing his attention to you.

You don’t give him time to react, you just kiss him. Deeply. And Jack gasps a little before returning the fervor. You finally pull away first.

“I’m gonna head up to shower.” You say loud enough for the woman to overhear, “You wanna join me, baby?”

Jack swallows thickly, not expecting that, but abruptly stands up and follows you out of the pool area. You can only hear that woman scoff and groan while you grin, walking away with Jack holding your hand.

The second the elevator doors close behind you, Jack exhales sharply. He turns to you, trapping you with his arms. “You really committed to the bit,” he mutters, a half-laugh escaping him.

You grin, still dripping a little, your towel thrown over one shoulder. “You looked like you needed saving.”

“She was two seconds away from asking if I wanted to do a tequila shot in the hot tub.”

“Would you have said yes?”

Jack’s gaze flicks to you. “Not when I have you walking toward me looking like that.”

You tilt your head, playful. “So you were watching me.”

He smirks. “You weren’t exactly subtle yourself.”

Jack leans in a little, wanting to taste more of your honey, but the elevator dings and the doors open, and he groans. Terrible timing.

Back in the room, you go straight to the shower, and Jack lets out a quiet disappointed sigh, knowing he’d missed his chance of kissing you again. But that’s until you clear your throat, catching his attention from the bathroom.

He turns his head, watches as you only poke your head out from one side of the door. You have a playful smile on your lips as you put your hand out, revealing your red bikini—off, and dropped on the ground. You’re stark naked behind that wall, and the door’s wide open.

Jack’s jaw drops.

“Offer still stands, Jack.” You wink at him, and Jack’s never ran so fast in his life.

The bathroom’s already fogging up from the steam by the time Jack steps in, the door clicking shut behind him. You’re already under the spray, water gliding over your skin like something out of his wildest dreams.

He swallows, hard.

You tilt your head toward him, your smile gentler now, more real. “You coming in, Doctor?”

Jack doesn’t answer. He just pulls down his shorts, wanting to join you fast, and when he finally steps in, he looks at you for a minute. Like he’s trying to remember every curve, every dip, every supple flesh—and his hands finally touch your waist.

The heat of the water is nothing compared to the heat in your chest when he touches you.

Jack mutters against your neck, kissing your skin like he’s starving. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

You hum, arms around his neck, pulling him impossibly close, bare chests touching. “Oh I think I do.”

His mouth crashes into yours, all tongue and teeth. His hands roam down your back, gripping your ass, pressing you against him—and there’s no pretending now. No flirting for show. Just the hunger of two people who’ve been dancing around this for far too long.

Your back hits the tiled wall, water raining down between heated kisses and wandering hands. You moan into his mouth, and he swallows it like a man who’s been dying of thirst.

You can feel his length standing proudly against your stomach and you moan.

“God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, forehead pressed against yours. “You know that?”

You smile, breathless, and then a flashback of this morning plays in your mind. You bury your head in his neck, groaning.

“What?” He asks. “Something wrong?”

“No—nothing.” You say, still slightly avoiding his eyes.

Jack frowns, a little worried. “Sweetheart. Tell me.”

“It’s stupid, it’s just—” You sigh in defeat. “I… may have touched myself this morning thinking of you. Right here.”

Oh?

An amused smile quickly replaces Jack’s expression. A raised brow. And now a smirk. “Yeah?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Show me.”

“..Huh?”

“Show me how you touched yourself.”

You blink a few times. You’re trapped between Jack and the wall, with no escape.

“Go on.” He encourages and you close your eyes, biting your lip as you repeat what you did this morning.

One hand on your breast, the other on your clit. And you feel so shy now. Because he’s watching you, watching as you play with yourself, legs slightly apart to finger yourself, and because you know he wants you to beg.

The figure eights aren’t working for you. Your eyes search for his as your free hand grips his wrist.

“Jack, please, I—”

He hums, “What’s that, sweetheart?”

You let out a breath. “I… I can’t cum like this. I—I need you. Please, Jack—”

He smiles, kissing you once more before bringing his own hands to your core. It’s wet and sloppy, and he knows he’d have no trouble fucking you right now but he wants to take his time.

So he kisses your neck, toys with your breasts, pinches your nipples in better ways than you imagined as he basks in all your moans and whines.

He finally reaches where you want him most, and you jolt in surprise when you feel his fingers rubbing your clit. His calloused fingers are rougher than you expected, and you welcome it warmly.

He puts in one finger into your core and you gasp, maintaining eye contact as Jack watches you crumble before him. “You’re doing so good for me, princess.”

Fuck him and his pet names. You bite your lip. It makes you feel things.

He pumps his finger a few times before adding a second and you moan loudly, feeling the stretch that is oh so good. “This how you imagined me?” He asks.

You hum, nodding your head. “Yeah… Just like this—ah fuck, Jack…” You call out his name when he hits the right spot.

You moan as he pumps his fingers, thumb circling your clit with practiced, devastating skill. You’re barely holding yourself up, legs trembling, breaths choppy and uneven. He kisses you again, swallowing your cries as he fucks you with his fingers, relentless, until you’re falling apart in his arms.

You fall over the edge, body shaking, clutching him like you’ll drown without him. He holds you through it, fingers slowing until your legs can steady again.

“That’s a good girl…”

You think your lips must be bruised by now. Jack is looking at you like he’s trying to coax out another orgasm, but you shake your head.

“Want you… please.”

He groans, “You keep asking me so nicely like that, and how can I say no?”

And when he finally lifts your leg around his hip and you feel the hard length of him press against you, you realize just how big he is.

“Having second thoughts?” He asks.

“Fuck no.” You tell him. “You’re just… so big.”

Jack chuckles. “You’ll be able to take it. Won’t you?”

You whimper as he pushes his tip in.

“That’s it…” He coaxes, “My good girl.”

You pant when he finally bottoms out inside you. He’s practically splitting you open.

“Feel that, baby?” Jack says, his hand rubbing your lower belly. “I’m all the way in there.”

You never took Jack as a dirty talker, but you love it.

“So deep, Jack—” Your breath hitches when he finally moves his hips, snapping up sharply.

You kiss him desperately, biting his lower lip, your cries muffled into his mouth.

You grip his back, dragging your nails down as he thrusts into you again—and again—slow at first, then harder, deeper, as your bodies find the rhythm you’ve craved.

He fucks you with purpose, with heat, with every ounce of restraint he’s been clinging to. His hips snap against yours, your bodies slick and hot, your name falling from his lips like a broken record.

Your moans echo off the tile, drowned slightly by the water still rushing above you.

He slips out of you for a second, turning you around to press you up against the wall, before gripping your hips, slamming back inside you from a new angle, and you gasp, because he’s much deeper now, and you feel him more. Especially with his balls slapping against your clit with every single thrust.

“You feel so good,” he pants. “Squeezing me so tight—”

“Jack—oh my God—Jack—”

“That’s it,” he murmurs, his hand reaching for your shoulder, pulling you back. “Let go for me, baby.”

Your second orgasm comes hard, clenching around him with a sharp cry, body writhing in pleasure as your vision flashes white. Jack groans, burying his face into your neck as he follows, spilling deep inside you with a shudder and a hoarse growl of your name.

You moan, feeling him twitch inside you and filling you up. It’s warm, and you keep pushing back against him, wanting more of his cum.

“Fuck, you like that, don’t you?” He grins, one hand on your throat as you lean back onto him. You only bite your lip return.

Jack whispers a ‘Jesus’ and hugs your waist, pressing a kiss on your shoulder.

He pulls out of you and you whine from the loss, feeling him drip out of you and down to your thighs. Jack groans at the sight.

You both breathe, hearts hammering, water cooling.

Jack kisses your temple. Then your cheek. Then your lips, slower this time.

By the time you’ve finished showering, it’s already 3:30PM. You only have about 30 minutes to get ready because Amy needs you to help her.

Jack helps you dry your hair while you do your makeup, casually brushing through the strands with a towel as if he’s done it a hundred times. It’s domestic. And if you didn’t already feel dizzy from what happened earlier, this would’ve done it.

You slip into your dress—a deep emerald green satin that hugs and flows in all the right places, held up by two delicate straps that run down your back. It’s timeless. Quietly stunning. And the moment Jack sees you in it, he lets out a quiet breath, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt like it’s the only way to stop his hands from reaching for you.

You catch his eyes in the mirror just before he steps up behind you, his hands finding your waist.

“Is everything you own made of silk?” He hums, lips brushing just below your ear.

“Satin,” You correct, “But no, just this and yesterday’s nightie.”

He groans softly into your neck, “Don’t remind me.”

You laugh. “I have to go earlier to help Amy. I’ll see you in the garden?”

Jack nods. “Want me to go with you?”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, “Probably some girl stuff.”

He hesitates, then nods again. You press a kiss to his cheek and start to walk away—but his fingers catch your wrist, stopping you mid-step.

“Wait,” Jack says. His voice is quieter this time, a little uncertain. “Can we talk? Tonight?”

You pause. You know exactly what he means. This isn’t pretend anymore—it hasn’t been for a while now. And even if there’s a chance he might tell you this was all a mistake… you don’t think that’s what he’s going to say.

You hold his gaze. “Yeah,” you say softly. “Of course we can talk.”

He exhales, relief flashing in his eyes, and lets your hand go. You walk to the door.

But before you can leave, he calls after you one last time.

“You look beautiful.”

You wink at him before closing the door.

Turns out Amy needs help getting dressed. Her stylist is busy retouching her makeup—because she bawled earlier—and now your mission is to use as many tide pens as it takes to erase the smudges she left on her dress.

“Oh my God,” Amy mutters, fanning her face with both hands. “I can’t believe I made a huge mess of myself.”

You chuckle, dabbing at the fabric. “It’s your wedding, girl. Tears are part of the dress code.”

“Don’t even say the W-word,” she hisses. “Talk about something else. Quick. Or the waterworks are coming again.”

“Uh—okay, what do you want me to talk about?” You panic, attacking another mascara stain.

“You and Jack.” She grabs your wrist. “Distract me with how you fell in love with him. Give me the juicy details.”

You blink.

Shit.

“Well… I…” You gulp. “I guess it started when I transferred. Like two years ago.”

It’s not a lie—you’ve had a crush on Jack practically since day one. The man’s competent, confident, funny as hell. Checks all the boxes. And when he calls you by your first name in that deep voice of his? Game over. “He made me feel like I had a high school crush again.”

“That’s it?” Amy stares at you flatly, “Give me more details! Where’s the tea??”

You groan, finally caving. “Okay, okay. I fainted once, and he caught me in his arms.”

Her jaw drops. “Like a princess?”

“Yeah, except covered in blood,” you laugh. “It was one of those marathon shifts. I’d just finished doing CPR on a guy, barely slept, barely ate—next thing I know, lights out. And Jack—he just broke my fall and carried me to the on-call room like it was nothing.”

A chorus of soft “awwws” breaks out in the room from Amy’s mom, cousin, and stylist.

You roll your eyes. “Relax. He probably did it out of duty. He’s my attending. Professional courtesy.”

Just then, you hear a loud voice from the hallway.

“Jack!” Harry calls from just outside the room. The door is slightly ajar.

Your entire body goes stiff. You whip your head to Amy, wide-eyed. “Do you think he heard all of that?”

Amy winces. “Would it make you feel better if I said no?”

Fuck. It’s not a huge deal, it’s just… a little silly. A little secret you hope Jack would never know because then he’d know you’ve had a thing for him for years now.

Amy finally walks down the aisle, her father giving her away. The garden is glowing—fairy lights strung between trees, blooms in every shade of pinks and whites, and soft mist curling along the grass like something out of a dream.

You’re standing next to Jack, having met him by the garden after helping Amy get ready. You’re not sure if he heard your whole fainting confession from outside her room, but if he did, he’s been polite enough not to bring it up.

Now, as the guests settle into their seats, watching Amy and Harry at the altar, Jack places a hand gently on your knee. You rest yours on top of his without thinking.

And when your best friend starts her vows—shaky but glowing with joy—you feel the tears build up. Jack silently hands you a folded handkerchief.

“God,” you whisper with a watery laugh, dabbing at your eyes. “You’re so old.”

“You like me old.” He whispers back.

The ceremony ends beautifully—vows exchanged, cheers rising, a kiss under the canopy of lights. Soon, everyone begins drifting toward the ballroom for food, drinks, and dancing.

You’re at the bar by yourself, sipping your second margarita, watching Amy spin around the dance floor in Harry’s arms. She looks completely happy. The kind of happy you hope stays forever.

“Amy’s best friend, right?” You hear someone beside you. “I’m Jackson. A friend of Harry’s.”

You squint for a moment before shaking his hand. “Avery?”

“Guilty.” He smiles. “How’d you know?”

“I’ve seen you on the news. And your mother. And grandfather.”

Jackson hums. “Figures.”

You nod. “How do you know Harry?”

“We went to the same med school.” He says and glances at your drink, “I take it you love margaritas?”

“Gee, what gave it away?”

He laughs, “Well you were drinking one earlier today too. By the pool.”

You narrow your eyes slightly. Is he flirting with you? “Oddly observant, aren’t you?”

“No,” He denies, “You just make quite the impression. Hard to miss.”

Okay he is flirting.

You raise a brow, amused, and you glance over your shoulder. Jack’s across the room, just finished talking to some people, and now he’s weaving through the crowd, eyes locked on you with a slightly furrowed brow.

“Boyfriend?” Jackson asks.

“Yep.” You say without hesitation.

“Darn.”

“You didn’t see how I was making out with him by the pool?”

Jackson smiles, shrugging. “My mind must’ve been elsewhere.”

“Well,” he says, already stepping back, “I should go before he decides to break my nose.”

You smirk. “Nice meeting you, Jackson.”

“You too.” He gives you a nod before disappearing into the crowd.

Just then, Jack reaches you, sliding a hand to your lower back like he’s staking a claim. You lean into him, pleased. And just a little smug.

“Hi,” He smiles.

“There you are.” You smile back.

He offers you his hand. “Dance with me.”

You blink, caught off guard. Jack Abbot dances? But you take his hand without question, letting him lead you to the floor just as a soft, slow cover of The Way You Look Tonight drifts through the speakers.

“Didn’t know you dance, Jack.”

Jack pulls you in gently, one hand resting on your bare lower back, the other folding around yours. Your free hand finds his shoulder. You breathe in the clean scent of him—his cologne and something you can only describe as him—and try not to melt into him entirely.

“Only with the right person,” he replies, voice quiet near your ear.

Your cheeks flush. You hope he doesn’t feel how fast your heart’s beating.

“So,” He starts casually, “Jackson Avery, huh?”

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Jealous?”

Jack shrugs, “A little.”

Your eyes flicker up to him, surprised. No man would ever admit that so easily—have themselves be vulnerable in front of a woman like that. It makes you feel warm inside, the thought that Jack can be protective of you because another man was flirting with you.

“I’d understand,” Jack says, a little dejected. “He’s a lot younger, more handsome, definitely rich—”

“—I shoo-ed him away.” You cut his sentence.

Jack raises a brow. “Why’s that?”

You mimic his shrug, trying not to smile too much. “I have a boyfriend.”

And he grins, a genuinely happy smile that makes your heart skip a beat.

You rest your head lightly against Jack’s shoulder, eyes fluttering closed for a moment as the music sways through you both.

“So should we rip off the band-aid now?” You daringly ask.

He chuckles under his breath, the vibration soft against your cheek. “If you want to.”

You pull back just slightly so you can see him.

He lifts his gaze to yours, steady and warm.

“This weekend,” you say, your voice quiet but clear, “it’s not just pretend. Right?”

“No,” he says simply. “I…I don’t know how to say this without sounding like a sap,” he admits. “But I want to be with you. In every sense of the word. I want to make you laugh, be there when you cry, I want… I want everything with you.”

Your heart trips over itself, but your smile is calm.

“Me too.” You don’t hesitate. “I want all of it with you, Jack.”

He exhales, like he’s finally letting go of something he’s been holding onto for a long time. Then he leans in and kisses you, soft and slow and full of promise. When he pulls back, your lips are still tingling, and you hum at the loss.

For a second, you both just look at each other, breath mingling.

“So…” Jack tilts his head with a teasing smile, “you’ve had a crush on me since you transferred?”

“Ugh,” You try to hide your face in his chest. “So you were eavesdropping??”

“By accident,” he says quickly, laughing. “I was just looking for you.”

You squint. “Missed me that much, huh?”