im damned to loving you

She's Too Young

jack abbot x fem!reader

Summary: Robby convinces Jack to come out for a drink and becomes smitten with a wild young girl dancing on top of the bar. 

warnings: 18+, age gap, mention of sexually explicit fantasies (exposing breasts and receiving female masturbation), touch on the topic of drinking and consenting, if I missed anything please let me know!

author note: okay darn it I'm making this into a series because im already planning just how hot and sexy this can beeeee.

wc: ~2.1k

Dr. Jack Abbot was not supposed to be out tonight. After a grueling night with a stab victim and another, yes another, baby jane doe, he was supposed to go home, sleep for a thousand years, and enjoy his next couple of days off. But Robby called him at around 8 PM. “What are you doing?” “Trying to get my beauty sleep.” He replied rolling in his sheets. “Well knock it off, that shit faded ages ago. Come get a drink with us.” “Come on man—” “I came out last time after you called me 50 times.” Jack looked at the side of the bed. His prosthetic leg propped up easy for reach. Oh for fuck sakes. “One beer and I’m gone.” “I’ll have 4 beers for you waiting.”

He quickly got dressed, running his wet fingers through his hair to fix and reshape his curls. Why am I even doing my hair? He brushed his teeth, grabbed his jacket, and headed out the door. The nearby bar was a 10 minute drive, and surprisingly easy to find parking. Once inside he met with Robby and the other day shift folks, celebrating and drinking away another shift. They cheered as Jack made his way to their table. Santos sarcastically raising her glass at him. “Oh my god they’ve let the senior citizens out tonight.” She laughed. “And how's charting coming along?” Jack quipped back. She rolled her eyes and turned back to the table.

Robby’s warm hands hooked around his shoulder, handing him a beer bottle. 

You were on the other side of the bar dancing. Girls night out that you'd planned weeks ago with friends. You wore your favorite white baby tee, low waisted leather pants, and black pointed toe shoes. You hair was curled and swooshing around as you danced and swayed and lost yourself in the music. Grinding and playfully groping on your friends, because of course that’s what girls do. And then suddenly you found yourselves dancing on top of the bar, putting on a show. 

At first the loud noise had startled Jack, blurring his vision. Robby gently squeezed his arm, relaxing him. “Seems like a couple of girls are dancing on the bar.” He said pointing in your direction. That’s when Jack turned to look and saw you. Everything was in slow-mo. Yes all of the girls were extremely gorgeous, but you? You were this man’s fantasy. He watched you, moving and twisting your hips and waist. The way your pants were just a little too low. His eyes trailed up your bare stomach to notice the t-shirt suffocating your breasts. Fuck she’s not wearing a bra. His mind was racing watching you dance as he took another swig of his beer. He stayed like that for a long time, completely infatuated with the sight, making Robby laugh. “Oh no.” “What?” Jack said, snapping out of the trance you’d kept him in. “She’s too young for you man.” 

“You don’t think I still got it?” “I think she’ll take one look at you and take you back to the nursing home.” He kept his eyes on you. Studying your hips and arms. Smiling as you laughed and hugged your friends. A couple of guys reached their hand out to help you and your friends down from the bar. Suddenly Jack gained a confidence he didn’t know he had. Maybe it was the beer. Maybe it was the fact Robby didn’t think he could do it. Or maybe he was just tired of being scared. He put his beer down and shoved his jacket into Robby. “It’s show time,” he winked as he walked to your direction. 

While your friends were entertaining the guys that had helped you down, you watched the hottest man you’d ever seen coming your way. Your breath caught in your throat. His pepper hair with messy curls, his slimmed down face kissed with freckles and all the right signs of age. His forearms so toned. You licked your lips at the sight of him. He stood right next to you, leaning on the bar. You watched him for a second, waiting for his big move. “You wanna water?” He asked right into your ear. “A water?” You asked confused. What the hell? “Yeah. You must be thirsty from all the dancing.” Before you could answer he signaled to the bartender for two waters. You stood there shocked. No sleezy comment? No groping? No creepy man shit you’ve come to expect? “Thank you so much for caring about my hydration.” You joked. “Well you know dehydration is a leading cause of spoiled nights.” He joked back. He somehow inched a little closer to you. Your arms were just barely touching, and it made your cheeks flush. 

“What are you a doctor?” He reached back to grab one of the glasses of water to hand to you. “I am actually.” “Is that what you tell women to impress them?” “It’s what I’m admitting to impress you.” His eyes locked on to you as he took a sip. Oh he’s smooth. “And when you’re not telling women you’re a doctor?” I asked, lifting my eyebrows. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be.” He said, biting his bottom lip. Oh how you love an older man, and this man right here was already turning you on. You had nothing to say, so you took another sip of water, trying to distract from the fact he had gotten you to smile. He had gotten you to flush your cheeks and actually feel a little thrown off. “What’s your name?” You asked. “Jack.” “Oh so Dr. Jack huh?” You moved a little closer, fitting between his thighs and wrapping your arms around his neck. Jack tensed up, he didn’t think about how far he was getting with you. From the corner of his eye he could see Robby and the day shift watching. He felt a little embarrassed. Look at this incredibly hot woman wrapping herself around an old man. But then he thought to himself this hot woman is fucking wrapped around me. “Dr. Jack Abbot actually.” He said with a little sass. You giggled, looking at his lips and then back up at his eyes. He was smiling now, his little crows feet forming on the sides of his eyes, his teeth peaking out as he bit his lips, looking at your face. He couldn’t get over your big eyes and long lashes. You could make him melt with just those alone. Your skin looked so soft. Every now and then he could smell your perfume. Vanilla with cedarwood, and cherries. It was driving him crazy having you this close. “So what’s the plan here…Jack?” You asked. “Well I gotta be honest. I didn’t expect to get this far?” “Why not?” You pouted. “Didn’t think you liked an older guy.” “I love an older man.” You whispered.

He turned to look at Robby, who was completely confused. All of day shift clapped and cheered, causing you to turn back to see them. “Those your friends?” “Coworkers.” He corrected. “They said you were too young for me.” “Well that’s not nice.” You fingers started digging through his hair. “How ‘bout we give them another show?” Without hesitation you leaned in to kiss him. Jack was completely stunned. For a second while you studied his lips, he was completely still. No way this worked. No way she’s actually kissing me.

You pulled him in deeper, this time his hands gripped onto your bare waist, holding you still as he kissed you back with a passion that sent a hot wave down to your pussy. He kissed you with such force that you felt your knees wanting to give way, he was such a good fucking kisser. You loved the way his hands were gripping you, so firm and sexy like he was ready to just take you right there and then. You both found a rhythm that was hungry for more as he cupped your cheeks and pulled you in closer. Oh my god just fuck me right here you thought to yourself. It was mainly the alcohol talking, but also definitely just your clit already desperate to be touched. 

When Jack finally pulled away, he couldn’t help but gently tuck the stray stand of hair behind your ears. He needed to take you home now. Before he wakes up and this was all a sick dream. “Wanna get out of here?” He asked you. “Yeah.” You said in disbelief. He held your hand firm, already a little possessive and walked you over to Robby. He grabbed his jacket from his hand. “Goodnight everyone.” He winked. 

You played into it, blowing a kiss and winking at everyone before he rushed you out the door. You two couldn’t even make it down the street without him pinning you up against the wall to kiss you again. It was addicting for him to grab your waist. It was the perfect size for his hands. You were made for him to just grab you and throw you around however he pleased.

He walked you back to his car, helping you into his truck that was too tall for you. Once inside you two finally caught your breath. That’s when he finally noticed the smell of alcohol on you. He looked at this hot girl in his car, and started freaking out. You were drunk, he had taken you away from your friends, were you even able to make your own decisions? Fuck this is really bad he thought as he gripped his steering wheel. You on the other hand were drunk, but very much in need of this man. He was silent holding onto his steering wheel, so you decided to creep over, climb on top of him, and straddle his lap. He winced a little, holding you up by the waist. “Oh my god did I hurt you?” You asked scared. “No no no.” He said adjusting you. “S’just uh my prosthetic leg.”

“And does that stay on during sex?” You giggled kissing on his neck. He couldn’t think straight. He really needed to fuck you. He would fuck you right here. Ripping off your shirt to expose your perky breasts and taking them into his mouth while his hands reached into your pants to play with your swollen and wet pussy. He wanted it so badly, but he couldn’t help but feel disgusting that he was taking advantage of you. “Sweetheart,” He said, pushing you off him. “You’re drunk.”

“So?” You giggled, leaning in for more. He again pushed you back. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He admitted. “I-I took you away from your friends. They’re probably wondering where you are.” “You don’t want me?” You felt those words hit the pit of your stomach. Something about being rejected, especially by him, made you feel small. Ugly. Suddenly you even sobered up to realize that maybe you were the fool in this. He sat up, springing his hands to cup your face. “No no no,” he said in a calm whisper. “Trust me I would fuck you right here right now.” “So just good ahead and fuck me,” you said lifting up your shirt. “Woah.” He laughed pulling your shirt back down. Your nipples were staring right at him. Already he had been hard, but with you on this lap he could feel his cock pressing up against you. “I wanna fuck you when you’re not drunk. Okay?” “But I’m soooo much tighter when I’m drunk,” you whined. 

“Let me take you home. Okay?” You sighed in defeat. You had to admit, something about this was way hotter to you. A man that wants to respect you, and make sure you always have consent. You made your way back to your seat as he turned on the car.

“Okay where am I taking you?” “Mmm I don’t know,” you whined out. You were getting sleepy. The kind of drunk sleepy that makes everything you say or do incoherent. He’d seen it a million times at work with young girls coming in because they’re too drunk to stand. Shit shit shit. You were closing your eyes, making yourself comfortable against the window. “Hey no no no you gotta stay awake and tell me where to take you.” He said reaching over to grip your shoulders. “Your house.” You blurted out. “I wanna go to your house.” You giggled and closed your eyes. 

Jack watched you fall asleep. Your were so calm and peaceful. The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen in a long time, and now she's asleep in his car.

Fuck what did I get myself into?”

PERSONAL TRAINER JACK ABBOT . . .

MDNI. 18+ content ahead.

PERSONAL TRAINER JACK ABBOT who is employed by the new gym you started going to. part of your membership included an optional free trial with a personal trainer, and it just so happened that trainer abbot had space for an extra client. 

PERSONAL TRAINER JACK ABBOT who intimidated you the moment you showed up to your first session at 7 PM. the side of his body was leaning against the front desk, chatting away with the receptionist when you walked in, clad in your new matching set and water bottle in hand. he introduces himself with his credentials, taking your smaller hand into his for a firm handshake.

PERSONAL TRAINER JACK ABBOT who knows he’s the oldest out of all the personal trainers at the gym, and always gets stuck training the elderly clients because they think he understands them the best, but makes up for it with years of knowledge from med school and an incredible physique.

PERSONAL TRAINER JACK ABBOT who listens intently to what you want, and lays out a solid, concise plan for your training. he gives you a thorough run down of everything, but some things you don’t catch because you’re a little distracted by his tight black tee and the way his arm muscles bulge out from the demonstrations. you can’t help it, your trainer is attractive!

಄ daryl lets you hold onto him, but doesn’t really hold you back. at least, not for the first few months. he’s stiff and awkward, just letting you cling to him as long as you need.

಄ refuses to ask for advice in how to show affection, so he ends up making a fool of himself regularly. once gave you a bloody squirrel as a gift. “dinner,” he’d said, holding it up as it dripped onto the wood floor.

಄ poor thing can’t handle your flirting. never knows what to say back after you call him handsome, or compliment on how ‘yummy’ his arms look. he just grunts, waves it off, but his stomach’s in knots.

಄ when daryl does something romantic, you’re blushing and giggling, but your reaction makes him groan and take it back. a grumble of “oh my god” after you call him a romantic. “i take it back.”

಄ but he is romantic, just not in the traditional sense. he’ll make sure you’re fed before even thinking to feed himself. he’ll move like a guard dog at the first hint of danger. and yeah, on an occasion, he’ll hum you to sleep, kiss your forehead, or squeeze your hand. just don’t acknowledge it, or he’ll probably stop.

಄ really a german shepherd as a man.

಄ you want him to have nicknames for you, but he rarely even refers to you by your name. or at all, really. you should know when he’s talking to you. doesn’t quite get it when you ask him to, saying “why would you wan’ be called a bunny? y’ain’t prey.” oh, if he only knew…

಄ you know he doesn’t do well with emotions, so you often insist that you’re okay when you’re not. you tell him it’s okay to leave you to self soothe, but daryl wants to learn how to help. he starts small, just sitting nearby while you cry. maybe he rubs your shoulders, or strokes your hair. he doesn’t offer words.

಄ reluctantly indulges your late night ramblings, even as he rolls his eyes or groans, “go to bed.”

಄ always asks permission before going further in any sexual situation, even if you’ve said yes a million times.

಄ gets shy when he’s horny. poor puppy doesn’t know how to ask, but he desperately wants to sink into you. usually, his arms come up behind you, and he softly grinds against your backside. you’ll tease him about being needy, to which he’ll grumble “shut up” in response.

಄ refuses to stop until you’re satisfied. even if he’s shooting blanks, sore, near tears, he won’t let up until he knows you’ve had your fill.

why does samira get to help jack and not you? :(

jack abbot x reader, gn!reader, resident!reader, angst-ish, fluff (after the break room pic), mutual feelings, no description of reader, no y/n, author has no medical knowledge, 2k words

ah yes, another take on *that* scene, a rite of passage for abbot writers. :3

"did you do this intubation?"

"under active fire, yeah."

your eyes automatically snap to jack, catching him glancing over his shoulder.

"are you serious?" santos asks.

you turn your attention back to the patient, but make a mental note to check on jack later.

jack, however, stays to chat with robby and the new day shift attending once his SWAT colleague is stabilised, and you busy yourself with charting until he comes out of trauma 1.

"dr. abbot?" you catch up to him as he makes his way to the lockers, "were you hit, too?" you scan his shoulder for blood. "if you need help, I can..." you offer without finishing the sentence.

jack gives you a look you can't quite decipher. "it's nothing," he says after a beat, "bullet grazed my vest. don't worry about it."

you nod and let him walk away.

yet, only a few minutes later, when you move between patients, you see samira stand behind a shirtless jack, presumably taking care of the injury you were told not to worry about.

jack's eyes meet yours across the central hub and, like an idiot, you look away as if you were the one caught in a lie.

why would he have samira do it when you've already offered, you wonder. why lie and say he doesn't need help instead of telling you he'd rather someone else do it? although the latter would've hurt to hear, too, you admit.

'don't worry about it' resounds in your head.

your double shift feels even longer than usual. going offline was frustrating in itself. subsequently having to digitise all documents meant you got to take your half-time nap at the worst possible point in your circadian and failed to fall asleep at all. none of which is helping the low mood you've been in since jack snubbed you.

you're counting down the minutes until handover as you're finishing up on the last few charts for the day, when jack takes the chair next to you.

now what? you inadvertently tense up.

jack rests his arms on the desk and leans in closer to you to keep his voice low. "care to give me a hand changing my dressing?"

you're pretty sure jack is just throwing you a bone because he noticed your weird reaction to seeing him with samira. a grazed vest shouldn't require a new dressing so soon. unless that was a lie, too.

you don't want the bone. you don't need his pity.

"uh, dr. mohan is already in," you try to sound casual.

"i saw. i'm asking you," jack says with an intensity that threatens to make you flustered.

"what happened to continuity of care?" you fake lightheartedness, "really should have her do it." you turn back to your screen, putting an end to the conversation.

jack doesn't move a little too long for your liking, so you look back at him with what you hope is an oblivious 'anything else?' look on your face.

"...okay," jack then finally relents and pushes himself off the desk.

you immediately feel like shit. jack goes out of his way to make you feel better and what do you do? passive aggressively blow him off. not to mention the audacity to think you were somehow more deserving of helping him than samira, somehow special, like you're entitled to jack's... what? attention? favouritism? what were you even thinking asking him whether he was hit in the first place? it's none of your business. jack is none of your business.

just finish the charting, you tell yourself. make it through handover. get some sleep. act like all is good when you come back tomorrow and hope jack forgot about it by then.

a day and a half later, you're hanging back in central 10, watching nazely go through the initial evaluation of a 21 year old with alcohol poisoning.

you're a little more rested now and significantly less cranky, and jack acting like his usual self has you hoping that he's not holding the dressing change thing against you. if you're extremely lucky he didn't even think anything of it.

what you did realise after catching up on sleep though, is that you've missed out on your one chance of getting to see him shirtless up close. touch him, even. in a medically necessary and not at all inappropriate way. you wonder if samira was wearing gloves. wonder what it might feel like to let your fingers roam over his skin. what it might taste like if you kissed his shoulder better.

next to you, the door swings open and pulls you back into reality.

speak of the devil. "got a sec?" jack beckons for you to come out.

nazely seems to have the drunk man and his marginally less drunk brother handled, so you leave her to it.

outside the patient room, jack crosses his arms and leans a shoulder onto the wall, drawing you into a secretive huddle.

"i didn't ask her for help," he says and you instinctively look back toward the door you just walked through. "nazely?" you ask confused.

"mohan," jack clarifies. "my shoulder."

a wave of mortification crashes over you and you struggle not to show any reaction.

"she came in looking for a patient," jack continues, "saw i couldn't reach, offered her help."

time for damage control.

"okay...?" you say, hoping this one word sufficiently conveys 'i don't know why you're telling me, i wasn't being weird about this in the slightest.'

jack stares at you in silence until you get uncomfortable and break the eye contact.

"you get dibs on my next workplace injury," he offers.

you scoff. "i'm good, thanks." you need to get out of this conversation. "was there anything else?" you ask.

"no," he admits, "you're free to go."

you return to the alcohol poisoning, resisting the urge to bang your head against the door as you close it.

"i need you," jack taps on your shoulder as he walks past you while you're charting outside of central 8. you abandon the chart and hurry after him, hoping for a case more interesting than the kidney stone you were wrapping up.

except, instead of taking you to a patient, jack leads you to the staff break room. you watch him with curiosity as the door swings shut behind you and jack goes for the first aid locker.

"time to shine," he says and shows you his hand, sporting a barely there cut.

you don't catch on fast enough and jack has to prompt you again. "come on," he tells you as he carries the supplies to the table.

"wait, is this about the dibs thing?" you say in disbelief, still unmoving.

'you get dibs on my next workplace injury,' he told you six weeks ago.

"you were serious about that?"

"oh absolutely. just didn't think it'd take that long." he sits down by the table and nods for you to take a seat as well. "was on the verge of riling up my patients to trigger a code hula hoop."

you glance over at the door and watch the bustle of the ED on the other side of the glass pane. how would you explain this to anyone who happened to look inside, or even worse, came in? tell them you really needed to brush up on minor cuts?

"considered shooting myself in the foot," jack continues while you make up your mind, "but what if i got the wrong one, you know?"

that finally earns him an exasperated look. best get it over with, you figure. and quickly.

thankfully, jack is seated with his back to the door. you position your chair opposite him, counting on the angle to protect you from view of the walkers-by.

jack holds out his hand to you, a far too content smile on his face.

you scoot closer, having to slot one of your knees between his to reach his hand comfortably at the unnatural angle required to examine the cut on his fifth metacarpal.

"what happened?" you ask as you turn his hand this way and that, assessing the small cut.

jack doesn't reply and when you look up at him, his brows are furrowed and his gaze fixed on his hand in yours.

does he not trust you to treat a tiny nick? you look back down, wondering if there is something he sees that you don't.

"oh shit," you drop his hand, "i forgot the gloves!" you're immediately on the move, but jack's grabs your hand again, holds you in place.

"it's fine," he says, pulling you back down into your seat.

"it's not a problem, i can get some," you say.

"it's fine," he insists. "sit."

you oblige.

jack lets go of your hand so you can ready the antiseptic. the small spray bottle is unopened, the cap still sealed in plastic.

"what happened?" you ask again.

this time, the answer comes promptly. "thrashing patient met unsteady intern hands," jack says calmly.

"scalpel?" your eyes snap up to his.

"hadn't made the cut yet."

you nod. sterile blade, good.

"clean it?"

"yes."

why is jack suddenly so quiet, you wonder as you struggle with the plastic, where did all the wisecracking go?

"feel like you could've handled this one yourself," you try.

"hm."

you manage to unwrap the plastic and are about to remove to cap when you feel jack's hand on your knee.

you turn to him, but he just gives you a faint smile.

oh. your gaze drops to your lap. all he did was position his hand for your convenience. fifth metacarpal up, the other fingers holding onto you for stability. makes sense.

still, you feel the points of contact burn through the thin fabric of you scrubs. his hand lies heavy in a comforting way, its warmth seeps into your skin.

...as does the warmth of his leg. which you have practically squeezed in between your thighs.

all your blood seems to rush up your neck at once. when did this happen? have the two of you been sitting like this from the start? wouldn't you have noticed? did jack notice?

"sting," you warn jack out of habit before you spray the antiseptic onto the wound.

"ouch," he jokes, but you're too flustered to react or let him see your face.

you dress the wound more thoroughly than strictly necessary, but you figure a doctor's hands are at heightened risk of infection. "intern's gonna think he cut down to the bone," jack comments.

"you don't like it, you do it yourself."

"this how you talk to your patients? do we need to work on your bedside manner?"

you feel his eyes on you. you know the damn smile is stll there, too.

you pack the supplies back up and stand to return them to the first aid ocker.

"no care instructions?" jack complains. "how are you keeping your scores up?"

you sigh in exasperation, but before you can fire back john walks into the break room.

"what happened to you?" he immediately asks upon seeing jack's hand.

you don't stay to hear the story.

you only make it a few steps out before jack catches up to you.

"thank you," he says softly with a hand on your back and overtakes you.

"remember that time i came in with the SWAT guys? with a GSW to my shoulder?" jack asks on a random friday two years later, sitting in a bathtub between your legs.

you stop running your fingers over his back. in between the blotches of foam covering his skin, you can still see the tiny scar the incident left behind.

"yes...?" you ask cautiously.

"and you were sulking because i didn't let you treat it?"

"i– was not sulking!" you insist.

"right. must have imagined that." you can hear the grin in his voice.

"i did want to, you know" he says sincerely and turns his head even though he still can't see your face. "wanted it too much."

you're grateful you're sitting behind him and he can't see you tearing up over such a trivial thing.

you swipe the foam off his shoulder and kiss it better like you wanted to two years ago.

it tastes of soap.

gonna push him against the wall and kiss him like he’s a girl while he moans

GAHHHH i will cry right now

you were sat on the floor with lena, dolls in both of your hands as she laughed loudly at all of the voices you made them do. this had been how you and pope were spending more and more of your time recently. watching lena, taking her places, doing whatever you could to distract her from the utter chaos that was the cody family and the loss of cath. baz's voice was getting louder and louder from the kitchen as you heard him yelling at pope, some of it you could make out some you couldn't. every time their yelling would get a little louder, you would reach to turn the music from the small radio you had sitting to the side up, trying to keep her distracted from the argument happening in just the other room. it was hard from her not to hear, her gaze turning to the door every so often when things got harsh. you tried your best to keep her focus, making the barbies do something silly to pull her attention back to you with a laugh. it wasn't until you heard the words "no one is ever going to have a kid with you. ever." leave baz's mouth that your blood boiled and you saw red. "stay here, okay? don't come out till i come back," you spoke to the girl sat in front of you, standing and turning the radio up as loud as you could.

both men's gaze turned to you as you stepped into the kitchen, your much smaller frame marching right up to stand in front of baz's frame. you couldn't even stop yourself as you raised your hand, smacking the much taller man as hard as you could. you could see the shock on his face, a bright red hand print forming on his cheek. "let's go," pope mumbled, grabbing your arm in an attempt to pull you back but you shook him off immediately, slamming your hands against baz's chest to shove him again. "you better watch your fucking mouth. he's going to be a better dad than you could ever dream of being," you hissed, voice slowly beginning to raise. the older man couldn't help but laugh, his hand reaching up to touch the now stinging spot on his cheek. "you gonna give him a kid?" he laughed again with eyebrows raised, his laughing only pushing you over the edge. you slapped him again, a now cut forming on his cheek from the ring on your finger. "i'd give him a hundred kids if he asked me to. he is going to be the best dad ever. what are you? the most pathetic excuse for a father i have ever seen in my life," you yelled, your chest heaving up and down.

missing how thick shawn’s tummy used to be, makes me think of how you’re always rubbing yourself over titus’s/jack’s belly. can’t get enough of it when you ride him too. the pudge grazing against your sopping clit, right in the middle of where you two are connected — both your pubes damp with slick. when you’re about to come you brace yourself by grabbing onto his pecs and belly, riding yourself to release on his firm round, gut. he can’t help but fuck up into you harder when you do that, filling up your cunt with his load as easy as always.

“fuck, you came fast bunny. you alright?”

you’re breathing so hard, slumping yourself over his hard abdomen, the feeling of his hot body on your making you feel turned on all over again. you could barely process the next few words that came out of your mouth.