Parsley

As much as they were a pain in your back– literally– Jack always made sure to show his appreciation for his favorite assets of yours— or, at least one of his favorites.

It was brains, beauty and then boobs.

Jack loved your fucking tits.

If it wasn’t evident in the way he’d tell you, it was evident in the way he’d touch you.

You’d more often than not wake up with his large hand pressed under your shirt, cupping your chest. Other times, the first thing he does when coming home after a rough night at work is bury his face between them, muffling his groans as the heavy weight of his tired body pushes you deeper into the couch.

When you’d be cooking dinner for the two of you before he’d head to work, Jack would wrap his arms around you, voice low as against your ear as the two of you talk about anything and nothing at all, while letting his hands wander aimlessly– just needing to feel you before he lost himself for 12 hours–and in the end, always landing on the same place.

Your chest.

It wasn’t even in a sexual way most of the time, only that his hands needed to be on you at all moments, and why wouldn’t he indulge in the feeling of your soft, pillowy tits if he had access to them? 

He'd be insane not to.

You can hear him turn off the shower from where you’re standing in your bedroom, a sudden idea sparking in your mind. Why not torture your poor, loving, sweet boyfriend?

The door to the bathroom opens just as you finish planning your evil trick– the steam curling around Jack’s frame as he steps into your room, crutches beneath his arms. Unfortunately, he’s wearing his boxers, but his salt- and pepper curls are still damp, and you hungrily watch as a drop of water trickles down his freckled back– the farmer's tan he’s sporting making him even easier on the eyes than usual.

There’s nothing hotter than a working man, especially if that man is Jack Abbot.

He sits down on the edge of your bed, using a towel to dry his hair, and you force yourself to tear your gaze away again, setting your plan in action.

Another sigh, this time louder and more dramatic. You run your hands down the side of your body and watch through the mirror as Jack’s eyes land on you, that focused look whenever he’s with you on his face again, and clearly trying to figure out what was going on with you.

“You okay, honey?” he calls out from where he’s seated, and you don’t respond, just continuing to stare at yourself in the mirror. 

You hear the mattress creak and turn around just in time to get a final view of his toned skin— right before his shirt covers the sight, and then watch as he leans back against the headboard.

Walking over to where he’s sitting, you perch yourself on the edge of the bed first, and within seconds he’s grabbing you by the wrist, pulling you closer, then deciding that it’s still not close enough, and finally tugging you into his lap, your legs on each side of his hips as you straddle him.

A surprised laugh escapes you at his actions, and Jack relaxes further at the sound, hands rubbing up and down the side of your waist, the look in his eyes warm and filled with relief once he sees you smile.

Unfortunately for him, you can’t have that.

You grab his hands, pulling them to a stop and to rest between you as you look down, avoiding his gaze.

“Jack, I need to talk to you about something,”

Jack nearly has a heart attack. Though instead of letting it show, he simply gulps and nods, before he realizes you’re not looking at him. Clearing his throat, he speaks up.

“Of course honey, what’s going on?”

You let the silence stretch just long enough to make him nervous, shifting in his lap.

Jack’s hands, which had gone still under yours, start to tense slightly, his thumbs brushing against your fingers like he’s trying to comfort you, but you know it’s more to ground himself.

“Hey…” he murmurs, softer now, leaning forward a bit to catch your line of sight. “You’re scaring me a little,”

You almost break right there, 

But you press your lips together, forcing a small, conflicted sigh as you shift in his lap again, your gaze still downcast.

“It’s just…” you start, hesitating on purpose, “I don’t think this is working anymore,”

Jack freezes, and you feel his body tense beneath you.

His grip on your hands tightens just a fraction, like he’s afraid if he lets go you’ll disappear.

“What– what do you mean?” His voice is careful now, fragile in a way you don’t hear often.

You finally glance up at him, just enough to see the way his brows have drawn together, the way he’s already watching you, searching your face for answers he’s not sure he wants.

Letting go of his hand, though it was harder than expected since he wasn’t trying to let go of yours, you motion vaguely towards yourself– more specifically, your chest.

“They’re just too much,” you explain, a defeated look strewn across your face, before you continue, “I think I’m going to get a breast reduction,”

If he wasn’t sure before, he was definitely sure now– Jack was having a fucking heart attack.

“That’s, uh–” he begins, then laughs nervously, “That’s a pretty big decision honey– are you sure about this?” 

Please say no, please say no, please say–

“Yes,” you say, nodding your head adamantly, “I’ve probably never been more sure in my life,”

The silence that follows nearly has you breaking character and admitting to everything. Jack looks absolutely defeated, a far away look in his eyes.

“...I understand,” he says after a very long moment of silence, finally looking back at your face, “If that’s what you want, it’s what you should do. Always, honey,” Jack finishes off with squeezing your hands, then they settle on your waist again.

“Thank you,” you say weakly, and despite it just being a joke, it felt good to know he’d understand you and go along with your wishes if it ever came down to it. 

Well, now you just felt stupid. Your mouth opens, and you’re just about to fess up when Jack speaks up again, a small frown on his face.

“Can I say goodbye to them?”

You stare at him. Jack stares back at you, gaze unblinking. 

A sharp laugh bursts out of you, your head dropping forward as your shoulders shake, any attempt at composure completely gone.

Jack flushes, flexing his jaw as he looks away.

“Don’t laugh, honey– I’m serious! If they’re going away I at least deserve a proper goodbye–”

His words send your further reeling, and you slump against his chest when you calm down, struggling to catch your breath.

“Jack–”

“Please? Just one last squeeze and I’ll–”

“Jack!” you exclaim through laughter, cupping his face to stop his rambling. “I was just kidding,”

Jack blinks at you, face completely blank for a second as he tries to figure out if you’re telling the truth or just messing with him.

Then he groans, dropping his head back against the headboard again with a dull thud.

“Unbelievable,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face. “You are actually unbelievable,”

You’re still giggling, leaning into him now, your forehead brushing his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d–” another laugh slips out, interrupting your sentence.

Jack feels his lips twitch despite everything, and he would be lying if he didn’t say he was relieved you were just joking. Even if he had just embarrassed himself– at least his girls weren’t going anywhere. 

All three of them.

Huffing, he flips the two of you over, smirking at the small yelp you let out when he’s suddenly hovering above you, lips inches away from yours, yet not touching.  His hands slip beneath your top, brushing against the underside of your chest.

You feel your heart race faster, cheeks turning red as you arch into his touch.

“Jack…” you begin, only to bite your lip to stifle a sound when he fully cups it, his large hand squeezing it gently. His nose brushes against yours as he breathes harder into your mouth and says;

“I think I know how you can make it up to me,”

☆END NOTE: This took me less than an hour to write, because...let's just say I was inspired.