the people's princess ୨ৎ

January 2026

You’ve learned three things about Dr. Jack Abbot since you started working at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center last year:

1) Dr. Abbot is a vampire – that’s not the only reason he works the night shift, but it’s certainly a factor. In fact, about half of the staff of the Pitt, both days and nights, are members of “The Community”, as the vampires and were-folk and Fae of the Pittsburgh metro area have come to call themselves.

2) He’s a goddamn hero. Even while the sun was still in the sky, he booked it to the hospital during the Pittfest incident back in September, fighting off a rough sunburn to serve as co-attending in the ER with Robby and Shen. You even heard that he joined in the mass donation, using his good leg – the patients who got his blood had improved recovery times from their wounds. The only downside for those patients is having to wear sunscreen more regularly so they don’t get the red blistering he did.

3) He despises you.

…Ok, so that last point may be melodramatic on your part. Nevertheless, you can tell you aren’t Dr. Abbot’s favorite person. You don’t think it’s a species thing – he gets on just fine with Dr. Ellis, who’s human like you. There doesn’t appear to be any of the stereotypical vamp-werewolf animosity with Dr. Shen or Dr. Robby. No…you’re the only one he's cold to.

It’s not even like you see him often. You work in the pharmacy, and it’s less than half the time that you make a direct delivery down to the ER. However, the times you’ve made the run, Dr. Abbot has frozen you out. In fact, you could swear that the first time he looked at you, he wrinkled his nose.

You know you’re not everyone’s cup of tea – your partner, Jared, has reminded you of this – but something about Dr. Abbot’s rejection is more hurtful than a simple difference of personality. You just wish you knew why you got on his shit list. If everyone else likes him…there must be something wrong with you.

--

May 2026

The Millvale Music Festival has been a raging success, and that means there have been more people coming in this evening with the usual drug and alcohol-related injuries and illnesses.  As such, your personal runs down to the ER have been even more common, especially for loads of Librium and pain meds.

In all the commotion, you don’t notice Jared in one of the beds until he calls out your name. “Hey, babe, I need some of those!!”

You feel your stomach lurch – it was only last week that you finally kicked him out for good; you’d hoped ideally to never see him again. You see Bridget at the nurse’s station and wave her down, figuring she’ll know which nurse is assigned to Jared’s case.

You have the hand-off completed, but before you can turn around, you feel a hand grab your arm, and Jared pulls you towards him – he must have gotten up from his bed when you weren’t looking – why isn’t he hooked up to an IV?

“I said I needed those!” he screams in your face. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it!” God, his breath is awful – he must still be half-drunk from whatever he had at the festival.

You’d been assertive when you’d kicked him out of your house, but right now, you are paralyzed. He was never physically violent with you while you were together, and your brain can’t process him acting this way in public. Bridget looks like she would gladly deck him, but hospital policy being what it is, she can’t touch him – you hear the crackle of her walkie talkie as she tries to get a hold of security.

“Get your goddamn hands off of her.” The voice calling Jared out isn’t loud, but it’s commanding and instantly recognizable. Dr. Abbot comes walking over quickly from whatever he was doing, and with one strong hand, gets you and Jared separated, putting you behind him. “The fuck do you think you’re doing coming after one of my pharmacists?”

“One of his?”, you briefly wonder to yourself.

“She’s withholding meds, man! My head is killing me!”

“She’s doing no such fuckin’ thing,” Dr. Abbot says. “I saw her following protocol and you stalking her like some kind of low-life. You will go back to your ER bed and wait there under security escort, or I swear I will throw you out myself.”

Vampirism may not be horror-movie obvious, but the signs are there for those who know how to look – resonance in the voice, slight redness around the irises, the hint of sharpness in the teeth. Jared must know these signs, because he sneers, “You don’t scare me, parasite.” Your mouth drops open in shock at the use of such a slur.  

Dr. Abbot merely shrugs. “Fine.”

He gently pushes you towards Bridget, who helps you sit down and grabs you some water. Turning back to Jared, he picks him up by the front of the shirt and carries him with one hand to the entryway. You expect Jared to kick and holler, but the realization of just what more Dr. Abbot could do must have hit him – his eyes are wide, and his hands are shaking. He seems almost relieved when he’s pushed out into the street.

You’re catching your breath when Dr. Abbot comes back, and he asks, “Are you ok?”

You look up at him and your nod is sincere, even as the tremors are still leaving your fingers. “I will be, Dr. Abbot – thank you.”

“Please – you can call me Jack.”

--

October 2026

You would never have imagined getting to see Jack Abbot like this – buzzed and cheerfully chatting with other Communal doctors after two or three drinks. However, in the months since the incident with Jared, you two have become good enough friends that he invited you as his plus one for the Community Medical Conference. You’ve opted not to have any alcohol – the Kimpton, where the conference is being hosted, is way out of your price range, so you’ll be heading home after making sure Jack gets to his room in one piece. The last thing you need is for him to fall asleep in an exposed hallway and get burned once the sun comes up.

It’s about 4 am when Jack calls it a “night”, and the two of you walk quietly to the elevators from the ball room. If these had been different circumstances, you would have thought he was freezing you out like he used to – but his eyes are warm, the crimson edges looking like living clay-filled soil or autumn leaves, not grave dirt. The elevator opens and you walk in with him.

He groans low in his throat, and in a different circumstance, you would like that sound very much. However, you know from context that his prosthetic must be killing him. You remember him telling you the story – how the medic who turned him had saved his life, but no amount of vampire venom could have brought his leg back. Your heart ached to hear of it, but you knew when he told you that he must count you close to him to let you in on it.

On top of it, with the two of you in a closed space, you wonder if your scent is closing in on him a bit. He’s never brought it up, but you figure that’s him being polite.

“You ok?” you ask.

“Will be…” Jack mumbles as the door opens onto his floor. “Just not so young anymore…”

You can’t disagree. Even with choosing to stay sober, you’re exhausted from the night’s festivities – the cocktail hour had been followed by dinner and music, and this was on top of a busy seminar schedule. It’s an even slower walk down the hall to his suite, and you’re dreaming of getting home and into comfortable clothes.

It takes you a second to register that Jack is holding open the suite door for you, and a burst of panic cuts through your exhaustion.  Your poker face must be failing you, because Jack quickly says, “Just wanted to ask you to go close all the curtains, that’s all!”

Oh. Oh, that makes much more sense…though you can’t help a tiny amount of disappointment as you walk through the suite. It is stunning – all gold and green and dark polished wood.  The sofa near the big window is large enough for three people to sleep on, and the bathroom has a massive shower along with a free-standing tub. Your drive back home seems less appealing by the second.

After you make sure that Jack can still unhook his prosthetic after you go, you get ready to head out. Your hand has barely brushed the door when Jack calls out to you, “Do you mind staying?”

You look over your shoulder at him in confusion. “What for?”

He’s now seated on the couch and shrugged out of his suit jacket. FUCK he looks good...the lights of the room are making his gray waves look like polished silver.

“Some colleagues of mine are from out of town…they might think you’re a donor.”

Shit, that hadn’t occurred to you. You’d like to think that it’s obvious you’re not there to be fed on – you’ve seen the human volunteers floating around the convention wearing red badges. But if someone comes around who’s drunk and who doesn’t know you…the thought makes you shudder. And besides, you’re already exhausted…

“It’s your choice,” he says, and you see that fireside warmth in his eyes again. “Just don’t want you getting in trouble.”

You bet he can hear it in your heartbeat when you decide. “Ok,” you sigh. “Don’t know what I’m gonna do about my clothes, but ok. Can I get the first crack at the shower?”

“Sure,” he says, “and you leave the clothes question to me.”

--

The shower is heavenly – you don’t feel bad at all for helping yourself to the good lotion and soap. Jack had called down to the concierge, and you’re delighted to see a robe and pajamas in your size waiting for you on the other side of the bathroom door. After you get dressed, albeit having to pull on your pre-shower underwear, you see that someone, maybe the night staff, has hung up your conference clothes in the closet.

It's already past 4:30 at this point, and you’re only half awake as you pad across the room to the couch. Jack is already tucked into the king-size bed, bare-chested, his eyes closed. As such, his voice makes you jump: “No way are you sleeping on the couch.”

“I didn’t pay for the bed,” you say with a shrug. “I already owe you for putting me up for the day.”

“And I’ll owe you if you end up tweaking your back sleeping on that thing,” Jack insists. His eyes flick open, and you swear he’s pleading with you. “There’s room enough for both of us.”

Again, your exhaustion wins out, and you crawl into the bed as Jack scoots over to make space. “You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Abbot.”

“Always,” he says, and you hear the slight lift of a laugh in his voice as he turns out the lights. “Get some rest, kid.”

--

You wake up around 11:00 am, the whispers of a wonderful dream still in your brain – and you realize that you can’t move. A strong arm is draped over you, and you feel the warmth of Jack’s breath on the back of your neck. He must have adjusted sometime in the night, and now he’s wrapped around you like you’re already his. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been his for weeks now.

The thought makes you feel a little weak, and you try to pull away. “Jack…JACK, I need the toilet…”

His mouth is still muffled behind your ear, and you can’t hear what he says. “What was that?”

“You smell good, why do you smell so good…”

The comment should make you happy, but instead, tears start forming at the corner of your eyes. “Dammit, Jack, LET GO.”

He must hear how upset you’re getting, because he does just that, and you sprint to the bathroom, trying to catch your breath. You forget to close the door behind you, but to his credit, when Jack follows after reattaching his prosthetic, he stays on the other side of the threshold, out of your line of sight.

“Hey, whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re the last person in this world I want to hurt.”

“Then don’t lie to me…” You want to shout it defiantly, but it comes out as a whimper. “I know you don’t like how I smell, and you’re my friend anyway, and that’s great and just….don’t say I smell good to you when I know I don’t!”

You can almost hear the gears in Jack’s brain grind to a halt. “…when have I EVER said that?”

“You don’t have to,” you say. “Don’t you remember when we met? You winced like I reeked of garlic and I was actively hurting you!” The rant is gaining steam, and now you don’t think you can stop. “I barely expected us to ever even be friends, so don’t get my hopes up, for fuck’s sake…especially if being around me is tough for you.” You wipe your eyes, hating how red they look in the bathroom mirror. “I don’t….I don’t want to drag you down.”

Another pause from outside the bathroom. “…can I come in?”

“Whatever.”

“I need a real answer.”

“Fine, just…fine, come in.”

Jack peeks around the threshold, and his expression is hard to read as he steps in to join you. Why does he have to look so handsome even as he’s pitying you? It’s just not fair. He reaches out to you, and damn you for being unable to resist this man – you step into his arms and let him hold you.

The two of you stand together quietly for a moment, and then he says, “You weren’t the problem, and I’m sorry I made you feel like it.”

“Then what was?” You ask, your head still resting near his bare collarbone.

“I think it was that shithead ex of yours,” Jack tells you. “How long had you two been a thing before you and I met?”

You ponder, flipping your mental calendar and doing some math. “About…eight months, but we’d been living together for four then.”

“Yeah, that tracks. He was stressing you out so much that I could smell the cortisol on you from the next hallway some days. It’s like an alarm siren in the blood, and it was so loud for you…yeah, I smelled it, but I was worried for you. For all I knew, you were going to fall into an attack one of those days. It was easing off after you dumped him, but the day he was in the ER? It was like your body was screaming for help.”

“Fuckin’ Jared,” you mutter. “So…what does that mean now?”

“It means that most days…you smell happy.” You could be wrong, but you think you hear the smile in his voice. “And you deserve to. You’re one of the kindest, smartest, hardest-working people I know.”

“Then why not just tell me?” you ask.

“Because I thought you knew…you think I’d invite just anyone to come with me to this sort of thing?”

You laugh a little bit at yourself. “I guess not.” You lift your head to look at him properly. He is smiling. “Are we good?”

“We’re good – and still friends, if that’s what you want.”

Before you can lose your nerve, you kiss Jack right on the mouth, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. When you pull away, Jack is quiet, but his eyes are almost glimmering under the bathroom lights. “Losing Jared isn’t the only thing that makes me happy…” you tell him, praying that you haven’t just made a terrible mistake. When Jack pushes you against the sink and kisses you back, your tears come out in force, but this time, they’re tears of relief.

“Are we doing this?” he asks, kissing the tear trails down your cheek.

“Jack, if you don’t take me to bed, I think I might just die.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that…” He lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his trim waist. You chase his mouth with yours as he’s carrying you, but he only chuckles, dodging you like this is all some wonderful game.

“You goddamn tease…I should – ” Your indignation cuts off in a brief shout as he drops you on the bed. “Hey!”

“You should what, honey?” Jack asks – and that warmth from his eyes is now spilling into his voice.

“I should…I should…I should let you call me honey some more…” It’s such a simple nickname – and yet, you can’t remember the last time someone actually used an endearment with you.

“I can do that…honey.” God, if you’re not careful, you’re going to fall in love with this man. He gently pushes your shoulder and you get the hint, lying down on the soft comforter. He properly smiles now, reaching for the hem of your sleepshirt. “Can I?”

“Yeah…” Your breath catches in your throat as he undresses you, piece by piece – like he’s unwrapping something precious. When you’re completely naked, you could swear you see his teeth sharpening.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says, almost more to himself than you.

You could bask in his admiration for hours, but you can tell that he put on his prosthetic in a hurry – he’s wincing slightly. “C’mere…” you murmur – “Come rest…”

He gratefully joins you on the bed, and you help him unlatch his leg and get off his sleep pants and boxers. He’s already half-hard, a welcome sight indeed – and you suspect that if you were vampiric yourself, your own fangs would be popping out. That low lovely ache between your legs is getting more pronounced all the time.

“You’re no slouch yourself, ya know…” you tell him, as you reach down and start stroking him. “I always thought you were good-looking, I just thought it would never be relevant.”

“And I’ll never stop making up for that,” he promises, his words swallowed by a groan of pleasure. “Fuck, honey, just like that….”

You’re squirming for need of touch too, but you’ve never been good at multi-tasking. Thankfully, Jack sees the way you’re rubbing your thighs together, and he takes mercy on you, giving you his hand to rock against. You know you’re nowhere close to coming yet, but even just the gentle friction is a relief.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, gently giving each other pleasure between lingering kisses, but you can feel that Jack is fully erect now, and you don’t want to deny yourself any longer. It takes some maneuvering – along with a quick verification that you’re both clean – and Jack has you facing away from him, sliding his cock into your heat.

Jack Abbot is a generous lover, to say the least. You miss seeing his face, but he makes up for it with well aimed thrusts and a continuous rain of kisses over your neck and shoulder. Taking you from behind helps take pressure off his amputated side, and he’s making sure you get that extra pressure in spades.

However, you’re not so far gone that you don’t hear the groan of Jack’s voice turning into an animalistic growl in your ear. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, fuck me, you smell so good…please, I’ve gotta taste you…”

You’re not naïve, you know what he’s asking – you’ve seen enough people come in and out of the Pitt with bite-related injuries. And yet…you WANT him to taste you. You want him to feel the joy in your blood as if it’s candy.

“Yes…fuck, yes, Jack, taste me…”

His thrusting becomes more arrhythmic, and you swear that he moans when he bites into the side of your neck. You cry out in agony and adrenaline, but he does his best to soothe the pain – moving his fingers fast on your clit to bring you to your peak. He drinks like your blood will save his life, and with every pull, you can tell you’re getting closer.

“Fuck…Fuck, Jack, I’m gonna come!” The words are barely out of your mouth before they’re coming true – you feel your orgasm pop like the bursting of a balloon, and the cool relief washes out like a wave. Jack is close behind, and after he finds his satisfaction, the two of you take a moment to catch your breath.

You feel your eyes fluttering closed, and you groan in protest when Jack turns you around to face him. He reaches for his phone, and you look at him in confusion. “Who could you possibly need to call right now?” you ask.

“Room service,” he says, kissing your cheek. “You just gave me enough lunch to last me a week – the least I can do is make sure you’re fed.”

January 2026

You’ve learned three things about Dr. Jack Abbot since you started working at Pittsburgh Trauma Medical Center last year:

1) Dr. Abbot is a vampire – that’s not the only reason he works the night shift, but it’s certainly a factor. In fact, about half of the staff of the Pitt, both days and nights, are members of “The Community”, as the vampires and were-folk and Fae of the Pittsburgh metro area have come to call themselves.

2) He’s a goddamn hero. Even while the sun was still in the sky, he booked it to the hospital during the Pittfest incident back in September, fighting off a rough sunburn to serve as co-attending in the ER with Robby and Shen. You even heard that he joined in the mass donation, using his good leg – the patients who got his blood had improved recovery times from their wounds. The only downside for those patients is having to wear sunscreen more regularly so they don’t get the red blistering he did.

3) He despises you.

…Ok, so that last point may be melodramatic on your part. Nevertheless, you can tell you aren’t Dr. Abbot’s favorite person. You don’t think it’s a species thing – he gets on just fine with Dr. Ellis, who’s human like you. There doesn’t appear to be any of the stereotypical vamp-werewolf animosity with Dr. Shen or Dr. Robby. No…you’re the only one he's cold to.

It’s not even like you see him often. You work in the pharmacy, and it’s less than half the time that you make a direct delivery down to the ER. However, the times you’ve made the run, Dr. Abbot has frozen you out. In fact, you could swear that the first time he looked at you, he wrinkled his nose.

You know you’re not everyone’s cup of tea – your partner, Jared, has reminded you of this – but something about Dr. Abbot’s rejection is more hurtful than a simple difference of personality. You just wish you knew why you got on his shit list. If everyone else likes him…there must be something wrong with you.

--

May 2026

The Millvale Music Festival has been a raging success, and that means there have been more people coming in this evening with the usual drug and alcohol-related injuries and illnesses.  As such, your personal runs down to the ER have been even more common, especially for loads of Librium and pain meds.

In all the commotion, you don’t notice Jared in one of the beds until he calls out your name. “Hey, babe, I need some of those!!”

You feel your stomach lurch – it was only last week that you finally kicked him out for good; you’d hoped ideally to never see him again. You see Bridget at the nurse’s station and wave her down, figuring she’ll know which nurse is assigned to Jared’s case.

You have the hand-off completed, but before you can turn around, you feel a hand grab your arm, and Jared pulls you towards him – he must have gotten up from his bed when you weren’t looking – why isn’t he hooked up to an IV?

“I said I needed those!” he screams in your face. “You don’t have to be a bitch about it!” God, his breath is awful – he must still be half-drunk from whatever he had at the festival.

You’d been assertive when you’d kicked him out of your house, but right now, you are paralyzed. He was never physically violent with you while you were together, and your brain can’t process him acting this way in public. Bridget looks like she would gladly deck him, but hospital policy being what it is, she can’t touch him – you hear the crackle of her walkie talkie as she tries to get a hold of security.

“Get your goddamn hands off of her.” The voice calling Jared out isn’t loud, but it’s commanding and instantly recognizable. Dr. Abbot comes walking over quickly from whatever he was doing, and with one strong hand, gets you and Jared separated, putting you behind him. “The fuck do you think you’re doing coming after one of my pharmacists?”

“One of his?”, you briefly wonder to yourself.

“She’s withholding meds, man! My head is killing me!”

“She’s doing no such fuckin’ thing,” Dr. Abbot says. “I saw her following protocol and you stalking her like some kind of low-life. You will go back to your ER bed and wait there under security escort, or I swear I will throw you out myself.”

Vampirism may not be horror-movie obvious, but the signs are there for those who know how to look – resonance in the voice, slight redness around the irises, the hint of sharpness in the teeth. Jared must know these signs, because he sneers, “You don’t scare me, parasite.” Your mouth drops open in shock at the use of such a slur.  

Dr. Abbot merely shrugs. “Fine.”

He gently pushes you towards Bridget, who helps you sit down and grabs you some water. Turning back to Jared, he picks him up by the front of the shirt and carries him with one hand to the entryway. You expect Jared to kick and holler, but the realization of just what more Dr. Abbot could do must have hit him – his eyes are wide, and his hands are shaking. He seems almost relieved when he’s pushed out into the street.

You’re catching your breath when Dr. Abbot comes back, and he asks, “Are you ok?”

You look up at him and your nod is sincere, even as the tremors are still leaving your fingers. “I will be, Dr. Abbot – thank you.”

“Please – you can call me Jack.”

--

October 2026

You would never have imagined getting to see Jack Abbot like this – buzzed and cheerfully chatting with other Communal doctors after two or three drinks. However, in the months since the incident with Jared, you two have become good enough friends that he invited you as his plus one for the Community Medical Conference. You’ve opted not to have any alcohol – the Kimpton, where the conference is being hosted, is way out of your price range, so you’ll be heading home after making sure Jack gets to his room in one piece. The last thing you need is for him to fall asleep in an exposed hallway and get burned once the sun comes up.

It’s about 4 am when Jack calls it a “night”, and the two of you walk quietly to the elevators from the ball room. If these had been different circumstances, you would have thought he was freezing you out like he used to – but his eyes are warm, the crimson edges looking like living clay-filled soil or autumn leaves, not grave dirt. The elevator opens and you walk in with him.

He groans low in his throat, and in a different circumstance, you would like that sound very much. However, you know from context that his prosthetic must be killing him. You remember him telling you the story – how the medic who turned him had saved his life, but no amount of vampire venom could have brought his leg back. Your heart ached to hear of it, but you knew when he told you that he must count you close to him to let you in on it.

On top of it, with the two of you in a closed space, you wonder if your scent is closing in on him a bit. He’s never brought it up, but you figure that’s him being polite.

“You ok?” you ask.

“Will be…” Jack mumbles as the door opens onto his floor. “Just not so young anymore…”

You can’t disagree. Even with choosing to stay sober, you’re exhausted from the night’s festivities – the cocktail hour had been followed by dinner and music, and this was on top of a busy seminar schedule. It’s an even slower walk down the hall to his suite, and you’re dreaming of getting home and into comfortable clothes.

It takes you a second to register that Jack is holding open the suite door for you, and a burst of panic cuts through your exhaustion.  Your poker face must be failing you, because Jack quickly says, “Just wanted to ask you to go close all the curtains, that’s all!”

Oh. Oh, that makes much more sense…though you can’t help a tiny amount of disappointment as you walk through the suite. It is stunning – all gold and green and dark polished wood.  The sofa near the big window is large enough for three people to sleep on, and the bathroom has a massive shower along with a free-standing tub. Your drive back home seems less appealing by the second.

After you make sure that Jack can still unhook his prosthetic after you go, you get ready to head out. Your hand has barely brushed the door when Jack calls out to you, “Do you mind staying?”

You look over your shoulder at him in confusion. “What for?”

He’s now seated on the couch and shrugged out of his suit jacket. FUCK he looks good...the lights of the room are making his gray waves look like polished silver.

“Some colleagues of mine are from out of town…they might think you’re a donor.”

Shit, that hadn’t occurred to you. You’d like to think that it’s obvious you’re not there to be fed on – you’ve seen the human volunteers floating around the convention wearing red badges. But if someone comes around who’s drunk and who doesn’t know you…the thought makes you shudder. And besides, you’re already exhausted…

“It’s your choice,” he says, and you see that fireside warmth in his eyes again. “Just don’t want you getting in trouble.”

You bet he can hear it in your heartbeat when you decide. “Ok,” you sigh. “Don’t know what I’m gonna do about my clothes, but ok. Can I get the first crack at the shower?”

“Sure,” he says, “and you leave the clothes question to me.”

--

The shower is heavenly – you don’t feel bad at all for helping yourself to the good lotion and soap. Jack had called down to the concierge, and you’re delighted to see a robe and pajamas in your size waiting for you on the other side of the bathroom door. After you get dressed, albeit having to pull on your pre-shower underwear, you see that someone, maybe the night staff, has hung up your conference clothes in the closet.

It's already past 4:30 at this point, and you’re only half awake as you pad across the room to the couch. Jack is already tucked into the king-size bed, bare-chested, his eyes closed. As such, his voice makes you jump: “No way are you sleeping on the couch.”

“I didn’t pay for the bed,” you say with a shrug. “I already owe you for putting me up for the day.”

“And I’ll owe you if you end up tweaking your back sleeping on that thing,” Jack insists. His eyes flick open, and you swear he’s pleading with you. “There’s room enough for both of us.”

Again, your exhaustion wins out, and you crawl into the bed as Jack scoots over to make space. “You drive a hard bargain, Dr. Abbot.”

“Always,” he says, and you hear the slight lift of a laugh in his voice as he turns out the lights. “Get some rest, kid.”

--

You wake up around 11:00 am, the whispers of a wonderful dream still in your brain – and you realize that you can’t move. A strong arm is draped over you, and you feel the warmth of Jack’s breath on the back of your neck. He must have adjusted sometime in the night, and now he’s wrapped around you like you’re already his. If you’re honest with yourself, you’ve been his for weeks now.

The thought makes you feel a little weak, and you try to pull away. “Jack…JACK, I need the toilet…”

His mouth is still muffled behind your ear, and you can’t hear what he says. “What was that?”

“You smell good, why do you smell so good…”

The comment should make you happy, but instead, tears start forming at the corner of your eyes. “Dammit, Jack, LET GO.”

He must hear how upset you’re getting, because he does just that, and you sprint to the bathroom, trying to catch your breath. You forget to close the door behind you, but to his credit, when Jack follows after reattaching his prosthetic, he stays on the other side of the threshold, out of your line of sight.

“Hey, whatever I did, I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re the last person in this world I want to hurt.”

“Then don’t lie to me…” You want to shout it defiantly, but it comes out as a whimper. “I know you don’t like how I smell, and you’re my friend anyway, and that’s great and just….don’t say I smell good to you when I know I don’t!”

You can almost hear the gears in Jack’s brain grind to a halt. “…when have I EVER said that?”

“You don’t have to,” you say. “Don’t you remember when we met? You winced like I reeked of garlic and I was actively hurting you!” The rant is gaining steam, and now you don’t think you can stop. “I barely expected us to ever even be friends, so don’t get my hopes up, for fuck’s sake…especially if being around me is tough for you.” You wipe your eyes, hating how red they look in the bathroom mirror. “I don’t….I don’t want to drag you down.”

Another pause from outside the bathroom. “…can I come in?”

“Whatever.”

“I need a real answer.”

“Fine, just…fine, come in.”

Jack peeks around the threshold, and his expression is hard to read as he steps in to join you. Why does he have to look so handsome even as he’s pitying you? It’s just not fair. He reaches out to you, and damn you for being unable to resist this man – you step into his arms and let him hold you.

The two of you stand together quietly for a moment, and then he says, “You weren’t the problem, and I’m sorry I made you feel like it.”

“Then what was?” You ask, your head still resting near his bare collarbone.

“I think it was that shithead ex of yours,” Jack tells you. “How long had you two been a thing before you and I met?”

You ponder, flipping your mental calendar and doing some math. “About…eight months, but we’d been living together for four then.”

“Yeah, that tracks. He was stressing you out so much that I could smell the cortisol on you from the next hallway some days. It’s like an alarm siren in the blood, and it was so loud for you…yeah, I smelled it, but I was worried for you. For all I knew, you were going to fall into an attack one of those days. It was easing off after you dumped him, but the day he was in the ER? It was like your body was screaming for help.”

“Fuckin’ Jared,” you mutter. “So…what does that mean now?”

“It means that most days…you smell happy.” You could be wrong, but you think you hear the smile in his voice. “And you deserve to. You’re one of the kindest, smartest, hardest-working people I know.”

“Then why not just tell me?” you ask.

“Because I thought you knew…you think I’d invite just anyone to come with me to this sort of thing?”

You laugh a little bit at yourself. “I guess not.” You lift your head to look at him properly. He is smiling. “Are we good?”

“We’re good – and still friends, if that’s what you want.”

Before you can lose your nerve, you kiss Jack right on the mouth, stroking his cheekbone with your thumb. When you pull away, Jack is quiet, but his eyes are almost glimmering under the bathroom lights. “Losing Jared isn’t the only thing that makes me happy…” you tell him, praying that you haven’t just made a terrible mistake. When Jack pushes you against the sink and kisses you back, your tears come out in force, but this time, they’re tears of relief.

“Are we doing this?” he asks, kissing the tear trails down your cheek.

“Jack, if you don’t take me to bed, I think I might just die.”

“Well, we wouldn’t want that…” He lifts you up so you can wrap your legs around his trim waist. You chase his mouth with yours as he’s carrying you, but he only chuckles, dodging you like this is all some wonderful game.

“You goddamn tease…I should – ” Your indignation cuts off in a brief shout as he drops you on the bed. “Hey!”

“You should what, honey?” Jack asks – and that warmth from his eyes is now spilling into his voice.

“I should…I should…I should let you call me honey some more…” It’s such a simple nickname – and yet, you can’t remember the last time someone actually used an endearment with you.

“I can do that…honey.” God, if you’re not careful, you’re going to fall in love with this man. He gently pushes your shoulder and you get the hint, lying down on the soft comforter. He properly smiles now, reaching for the hem of your sleepshirt. “Can I?”

“Yeah…” Your breath catches in your throat as he undresses you, piece by piece – like he’s unwrapping something precious. When you’re completely naked, you could swear you see his teeth sharpening.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he says, almost more to himself than you.

You could bask in his admiration for hours, but you can tell that he put on his prosthetic in a hurry – he’s wincing slightly. “C’mere…” you murmur – “Come rest…”

He gratefully joins you on the bed, and you help him unlatch his leg and get off his sleep pants and boxers. He’s already half-hard, a welcome sight indeed – and you suspect that if you were vampiric yourself, your own fangs would be popping out. That low lovely ache between your legs is getting more pronounced all the time.

“You’re no slouch yourself, ya know…” you tell him, as you reach down and start stroking him. “I always thought you were good-looking, I just thought it would never be relevant.”

“And I’ll never stop making up for that,” he promises, his words swallowed by a groan of pleasure. “Fuck, honey, just like that….”

You’re squirming for need of touch too, but you’ve never been good at multi-tasking. Thankfully, Jack sees the way you’re rubbing your thighs together, and he takes mercy on you, giving you his hand to rock against. You know you’re nowhere close to coming yet, but even just the gentle friction is a relief.

The two of you stay like that for a few minutes, gently giving each other pleasure between lingering kisses, but you can feel that Jack is fully erect now, and you don’t want to deny yourself any longer. It takes some maneuvering – along with a quick verification that you’re both clean – and Jack has you facing away from him, sliding his cock into your heat.

Jack Abbot is a generous lover, to say the least. You miss seeing his face, but he makes up for it with well aimed thrusts and a continuous rain of kisses over your neck and shoulder. Taking you from behind helps take pressure off his amputated side, and he’s making sure you get that extra pressure in spades.

However, you’re not so far gone that you don’t hear the groan of Jack’s voice turning into an animalistic growl in your ear. “Fuck,” he mutters. “Fuck, fuck me, you smell so good…please, I’ve gotta taste you…”

You’re not naïve, you know what he’s asking – you’ve seen enough people come in and out of the Pitt with bite-related injuries. And yet…you WANT him to taste you. You want him to feel the joy in your blood as if it’s candy.

“Yes…fuck, yes, Jack, taste me…”

His thrusting becomes more arrhythmic, and you swear that he moans when he bites into the side of your neck. You cry out in agony and adrenaline, but he does his best to soothe the pain – moving his fingers fast on your clit to bring you to your peak. He drinks like your blood will save his life, and with every pull, you can tell you’re getting closer.

“Fuck…Fuck, Jack, I’m gonna come!” The words are barely out of your mouth before they’re coming true – you feel your orgasm pop like the bursting of a balloon, and the cool relief washes out like a wave. Jack is close behind, and after he finds his satisfaction, the two of you take a moment to catch your breath.

You feel your eyes fluttering closed, and you groan in protest when Jack turns you around to face him. He reaches for his phone, and you look at him in confusion. “Who could you possibly need to call right now?” you ask.

“Room service,” he says, kissing your cheek. “You just gave me enough lunch to last me a week – the least I can do is make sure you’re fed.”