#male insert

So, naturally, he cornered you.

It was after a mission, both of you in the locker room. You were busy pretending to sort through your gear, avoiding eye contact like it was life or death. Dick, still in half his suit, walked right up and planted himself in your space. “Did I do something?”

You swallowed, keeping your gaze firmly on the wall. “Nope.”

“That’s a lie,” he said, stepping closer. The scent of sweat and clean soap clung to him, his bare chest still glistening from exertion. “You’ve been dodging me for weeks.”

Your jaw flexed. “I’ve just been busy.”

“Bullshit.” He tilted his head, eyes sharp. “You’re avoiding me, and I want to know why. If I screwed up, tell me. Don’t just give me a cold shoulder and pretend I don't notice.”

You let out a humorless laugh. “It’s not that you screwed up, Grayson. It’s that my powers make it really hard to be around you without—” You cut yourself off, realizing you were about to confess that you’d seen everything.

Without missing a beat, he smirked. “Without what?”

Your pulse spiked. “Without getting distracted.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Surprise, then slow, predatory amusement. He stepped until his chest brushed yours, the heat of his body making your brain short-circuit. “Distracted by what exactly?”

You clenched your fists, eyes darting anywhere but him. “You know what.”

“Oh,” he said, grin widening. “I think I do.” His hand slid to your hip, pulling you closer. “You’ve got x-ray vision, right? So you’ve seen it.”

Your breath hitched. “Maybe.”

“Maybe?” His voice was a low purr now. “You’ve been giving me the cold shoulder because you can’t stop thinking about me naked?”

That was all it took to break weeks of pent up frustration. The moment your lips crashed against his, Dick’s breath hitched in surprise, then melted into a deep, hungry groan. You didn’t give him room to breathe, one hand tangled in the short dark hair at the back of his head, the other gripping his bare hip and yanking him closer until he was straddling your lap completely.

You could feel him through the thin material of his suit bottoms, hard and pressing insistently against you. Every flex of his thighs sent your self-control spiraling.

“Fuck—” he gasped between kisses, pulling back just enough to smirk. “So this is what you’ve been avoiding?”

You didn’t answer. You just hooked your fingers into the waistband of his suit and yanked it down, revealing exactly what you’d been torturing yourself over for weeks. He was thick, flushed, and already dripping.

Your smirk made him flush harder.

“Goddamn, Grayson,” you muttered, wrapping your hand around him and stroking slow just to watch him squirm. “You really have no idea what you’ve been doing to me.”

He bit his lip, hips bucking into your grip. “Then stop talking and—”

You shoved him back against the lockers mid-sentence, standing to tower over him. He didn’t even have time to protest before you were kissing him again, hard enough to make his head thunk against the metal. Your other hand slid down to cup the perfect curve of his ass—yes, the one you’d been obsessing over—and grabbed a fistful of it as if staking a claim.

Dick groaned, his hands flying up to your shoulders, nails dragging down your back. You manhandled him onto the bench, pushing him to sit while you knelt between his spread knees.

The first slow drag of your tongue from base to tip had him throwing his head back, a strangled noise ripping from his throat. You wrapped your lips around him and sucked deep, bobbing your head until you could feel him throbbing against your tongue.

“Shit—fuck—” His fingers threaded into your hair, pulling tight, but you grabbed his wrists and pinned them to his sides. You set the pace, taking him in until your nose brushed his skin, pulling back just to watch his face twist with desperation.

When you finally pulled off, he was flushed, panting, and staring at you like he wanted to devour you. “Get up.” you ordered, voice rough.

He obeyed instantly. You shoved him forward, bending him over the bench. His bare ass was right there in front of you, perfect and infuriatingly tempting. You palmed it roughly, kneading, spreading him open until he shivered.

“Always knew it was perfect.” you muttered, and then you were spitting into your hand, slicking yourself up before pressing the tip against him. He looked over his shoulder, eyes blown wide, mouth parted in a needy gasp.

“Do it.”

You pushed in slow, savoring the way his body stretched to take you, every inch sinking deeper until your hips were flush against him. He moaned, clutching the bench so hard his knuckles went white.

Once you were buried to the hilt, you didn’t hold back. Your hips snapped forward, hard and fast, each thrust making the bench creak under the force. Dick’s voice was a mess of gasps, moans, and broken curses, echoing off the tiled walls.

You leaned over him, one hand gripping his jaw and forcing his head back so you could kiss him while you fucked into him. “This what you wanted, Grayson? Weeks of teasing me for this?”

“Yes—fuck—harder.” he panted, pushing back against you.

You gave him exactly what he asked for, driving into him until your thighs burned. Every thrust hit deep, making him cry out. Your hand slid down to wrap around his cock, stroking in time with your hips until he was shaking under you.

“Gonna—fuck—I’m—”

“Do it.” you growled against his ear, pounding him through it. He came hard in your fist, spilling over your knuckles, body trembling. You didn’t stop, fucking him through his orgasm until you followed, spilling deep inside him with a groan.

You stayed there for a moment, both of you catching your breath, sweat-slick and shaking. Finally, you pulled out, watching your cum drip down his thighs before you smacked his ass, making him jolt.

“Next time,” you said, smirking as you grabbed his chin and kissed him again, “stop making me work so hard for it.”

You had never meant for it to get anywhere, to be something other than a way for you to earn some extra cash alongside your work. Student debt was killing you, but that was nothing new. It was killing all of the other nurses, as well. Still, it would have been nice to afford a proper meal at least once a day.

You mentioned it to a buddy of yours who off handedly suggested you start selling feet pictures. He was joking, of course. You hoped he was.

But it got you thinking of another friend who had gotten a sugar daddy and was now living life without any worries of her student loans. Gods, you would have lied if you said you hadn’t been jealous. So you reached out to her and she directed you to the site she had used, which was an immediate shock. Here, you could see multiple entries posted by sugar daddies and mommies alike, all of them in various ages and requirements for their sugar baby. You hesitantly filled out your own profile to be put on the site so others could see you.

Suddenly, it seemed too much. You didn’t want to compromise yourself or your body just for money. No offence to those who do, but a pit in your stomach told you that it wouldn’t be worth it.

Before you had a chance to close the site, you had gotten a message.

Your eyes flitted to the edge of the screen, a small pop-up message showing that a ‘Jack’ had written to you. Curious despite yourself, you clicked on his profile. There was no picture, weirdly enough. You couldn’t blame him, though, as you had also chosen to refrain from using a picture. You didn’t want any random people finding you or recognising you. Your name, you could handle people knowing, but your face was uniquely yours. You supposed this Jack felt the same way, or according to his message, he did.

JACK You also hesitant of these websites?

You paused, looking at his profile again. He had the ‘Sugar Daddy’ status, but nowhere did it say he was requiring anything sexual from you. It couldn’t hurt to reply, could it, right? Your fingers typed on your keyboard before you even had the chance to think about it.

YOU Yeah, is it that obvious?

He responded immediately, and it almost made you chuckle. This guy must really want to write with you.

JACK Takes one to know one, I suppose.

YOU What? Sceptical and cynical?

JACK You could say that.

YOU What are you doing here then?

JACK My therapist said I needed a hobby.

YOU Funny.

JACK I’ve heard I have a great sense of humour.

YOU You’re not at all what I was expecting from a man on this site.

JACK What were you expecting? A creepy guy only wanting to jack off to younger men?

YOU Kind of, how do I know you’re not one of those creepy guys?

JACK For one, I am not asking for anything like that. I respect whatever your wishes are.

YOU What are you asking for then?

JACK Company I guess.

YOU What, the people in your life aren’t company enough?”

JACK What is this, a job interview?

YOU Well, kind of. Since I am the one who will get paid in this.

JACK Touché. But then shouldn’t I be the one asking the questions huh?

YOU Guess you’re right, but it’s so much more fun if I am asking them.

JACK Fun for you maybe.

YOU Exactly.

JACK Okay. To be honest, I guess I’m a bit lonely. I don’t have a lot of time for people outside of my work and when I’m working all I’m thinking about is, well, work.

YOU So you are still working? What do you do?

JACK Of course, how old do you think I am?

YOU Do you honestly want me to answer that?

JACK Now that’s just rude. And I’m a doctor. Pays pretty well you know.

YOU That’s impressive. What position?

JACK Attending physician at the ER. Not a lot of people ask for what position you work as when you say you’re a doctor. You in the medical field yourself?

YOU Hmmm, I’m not sure I should tell anything personal about myself to a stranger.

JACK I told you, man.

YOU Well maybe you have less self preservation than I do. And here I thought with age comes wisdom.

JACK Good one. Maybe I want to get to know you.

YOU I hope you know that no matter wherever this goes, we will never actually meet.

JACK Wasn’t counting on it. Like you said, I’m only a stranger. And like I said, I respect your wishes, whatever they are.

YOU And you’re willing to pay me to just talk to you? Nothing else?

JACK Yeah, nothing else. I promise.

YOU It seems too good to be true. Why?

JACK Listen kid, I respect how careful you are. The truth is I don’t have anything good to else spend it on and I like taking care of people. Probably why I’m a doctor.

YOU Sounds about right. But why me specifically? Unless you have a group of younger guys you’re entertaining on the side?

JACK Oh god no. You’re the only one.

YOU I must be special, then.

JACK Kinda. I mean you are the only one I’ve properly written to on this website. You seem interesting.

YOU If you are trying to flatter me then you’ll have to come up with a better compliment than that.

JACK If I’m the one paying you shouldn’t you be the one complimenting me?

YOU Maybe when I find something worthy to compliment.

JACK You’re funny.

YOU I try. Listen, I hate to cut this short but I gotta go to work.

JACK Wait before you go. Give me your Venmo info.

YOU Why?

JACK How else do you expect me to send the money? Now come on.

YOU Well, thank you.

JACK It’s my pleasure, kid. Until next time.

You watched with awe as you get a notification from Venmo that five hundred dollars had been deposited into your account. This guy must really want this agreement with you to spend that much only on the first conversation. You weren’t one to complain, however, as you could finally treat yourself to a good meal. Thank fuck to whoever this Jack was, and thank fuck that your friend had set you up with the site.

Over the next few days, you got to know him better as you conversed. You had told him that you worked in paediatrics as a nurse, and you learnt that he worked nights, which left you little option when to message him, mostly before your shift, when his was ending, and after yours, when he had just woken up. He was easy to talk to and you enjoyed his sarcastic humour.

And he kept his promise, never pressuring you into doing anything more. However, you had noticed that Jack would occasionally address you with something that wasn’t strictly platonic but also not forthcoming enough to be discernible as flirting. But you would be lying if you said you weren’t flirting back.

It was simple and he was easy-going, and charming. Whatever ego Jack has, he wore it real well. He was cocky but not arrogant, and a little self-deprecating. And gods did he know how to bring a stupid smile to your face. Your conversation flowed easily enough that you didn’t even have to think about what to respond to him.

You still couldn’t help but wonder why he had chosen to talk to you, out of all the other applicants, who actually were willing to do more than platonic stuff.

You chose to ask him that a week later, one night after your shift, when you had arrived home and successfully crashed on your bed.

YOU I still can’t really get over why you chose to talk to me specifically. I mean, I’m sure there are lots of other guys vying for your attention?

His reply came only a few minutes later. He had told you that he worked nights, so you guessed he was writing to you in between patients.

JACK I wouldn’t be so sure about that. And none are anywhere near as interesting as you.

YOU Still, my point stands.

JACK Are we not done with the twenty questions yet? Thought I showed I was serious about this arrangement.

YOU OK, that’s fair. I’ll stop.

JACK You are terrible at letting up control. Let me take care of you.

YOU I just feel bad because I’m getting so much from this and all you’re getting is sucky conversation from me.

JACK You better step it up then, kid. I told you I’d be expecting compliments.

YOU Wow.

JACK I’m only pulling your leg. Don’t sell yourself so short. You’re really great. I enjoy talking to you.

YOU Thank you. I also enjoy talking to you.

JACK Look at that, I knew you could take a compliment. I’m proud.

You couldn’t help the small smile that spread across your lips. Damn Jack and his easy charm.

YOU Maybe because this one was actually good.

JACK There’s more where that’s coming from.

YOU Shut up.

JACK Unfortunately I don’t know how to.

YOU Damn, guess I’m stuck with you then.

JACK Guess you are.

YOU It’s not the worst thing in the world.

JACK High praise. You really know how to warm a guy’s heart.

YOU What can I say? I’m a charmer.

JACK Oh I bet you are.

He was just so effortless in the way he spoke and complimented you that hadn’t you previously agreed to keep this professional between you two, you would have seriously thought there were something between you. The thought didn’t exactly displease you. Of course, you had no way of knowing if he even wanted more. His profile was suspiciously empty of any sexual wishes for his sugar baby and he had said he wasn’t expecting anything of the sort. Maybe he was the one who didn’t want anything non-platonic and was just acting under the guise of respecting your wishes to stay professional. Maybe you were the one who was going too far, flirting and acting this casual with him, perhaps even making him uncomfortable.

Fuck, the thought filled you with dread. Not only because you’d grown to care about Jack over the past couple of weeks enough to worry about making him feel uncomfortable, but also because this was technically supposed to be a business agreement. He was your client and you were making money from this. The agreement had been clear and you couldn’t let Jack’s personality lead you astray from that.

He had wanted company and conversation. It wasn’t his fault that it happened to make something stir within you, just by him being himself. You cursed yourself for letting yourself get in the way of yourself. Jack’s a good guy, genuinely caring and thoughtful, and he wanted to take care of you, so you couldn’t let anything ruin that what you had.

He just made it so fucking hard when he was such a gentleman.

YOU Hey, is there any possibility I could get an advance on this week?

The notification of your Venmo came before the notification of Jack’s reply and you inwardly cringed of how readily he sent you the money, without a second thought even. You knew he made more money than he had use for and was more than happy to spend it on you, but his willingness to help you still made your heart skip a beat.

JACK Of course. What gives?

YOU Just got in a bit of a bind. Needed the money quickly.

JACK Anything more I can do to help?

YOU You don’t have to do that, you know.

JACK Do what?

YOU You know, care so much.

JACK How do you mean?

YOU This is a professional relationship and you’re technically my client, Jack. Please feel no obligation to do any more than you want to.

JACK Well then, I want to. Simple as that, kid.

You rubbed a hand over the bridge of your nose, sighing in frustration. How was it that Jack managed to solve your problems that easily at the same time as he caused new ones? Because how were you supposed to maintain a professional relationship with him when he went around saying shit like that? He both infuriated and made you joyous at the same time.

Any hope of avoiding any growing feelings would have meant to avoid talking to Jack altogether, but that was impossible since your agreement meant literal conversation, and because Jack was impossible not to talk to. You kept your back and forth, messages sent between shifts and breaks, whenever you had the time over the next month. When you needed him, he was always there.

YOU Hey do you have a minute? You don’t have to pay me for it.

JACK Of course, is everything okay?

YOU Yeah, I just needed a distraction.

JACK And you came to me? I’m flattered.

YOU Shut up.

JACK Wouldn’t dream of it. Are you sure you’re alright?

YOU No. I’m not. I lost a patient at work today. A kid. I guess it just hit me heavier than I thought.

JACK Hey that’s nothing to be ashamed of. We’ve all had those days where things feel a bit too tough to handle. You just gotta remember that none of this is your fault. You did the best you could but sometimes that isn’t enough.

YOU I know you’re right but it’s hard not to feel like this one is on me.

JACK I know you are terrible at letting up control but you gotta trust me on this. All you can do is focus on the medicine. The medicine is the only thing that saves the patient. And your sanity. You are excellent and there was nothing more you could do.

YOU Thank you, Jack. It means a lot coming from you.

JACK Anytime. Remember to breathe and try to take it easy. Even nurses deserve breaks you know.

YOU And god do we need it. I’ll try, but with the way people are getting hurt I can’t see me getting a break anytime soon.

JACK I hear you there. Hey I sent a little something as a pick-me-up. Enjoy it.

YOU I told you you didn’t have to do that.

JACK And I told you that I want to take care of you. Accept it and shut up.

YOU Sir, yes, sir.

It felt good to confide in someone like this. He could relate to the feelings and trauma that came with working at a hospital; that, sure, you saved and helped a lot of people, but you weren’t magicians. There were bound to be people you couldn’t save. Every hospital worker learnt not to take it personally, 

Like Jack, you worked a lot of long shifts after each other, rarely having a free day for yourself. It didn’t exactly allow you to socialise or make friends with a lot of people outside of your work. You supposed you and Jack had that in common.

 He, however, liked to keep much busier than you. Since he worked nights, you had figured he would sleep most of the day, but no, he was just as quick to respond to your messages during the day as he was in between your shifts. You started to suspect that he didn’t sleep much, since he had also mentioned he usually tries to keep tabs on the police scanner he owned in case of any emergency. You had asked if he had anything outside of saving lives to keep him busy and he had suspiciously avoided the question with a clever quip. So, you decided not to push it, allowing him to share however much he wanted to with you.

Eventually, you exchanged numbers with him, when you felt that you were more comfortable with him. Despite yourself, you had grown to trust this man, with his easy remarks and charm, disregarding all the safety measures surrounding strangers your mum had drilled into you since an early age. Jack wasn’t just a stranger anymore, but someone who you could confide in, trust with your doubts, and who could easily cheer you up with a simple message.

JACK Buy yourself something pretty alright?

You smiled when you saw the text, currently out shopping for things you needed. However, he changed that, and you decided to go get something you wanted. A nice top that fit your torso nicely. You took a quick picture in the dressing room, showing how the shirt wrapped around you, accentuating your muscles. Your face was still hidden, however, so you figured it would be safe to send to Jack.

YOU [ATTACHMENT: 1 Photo] This pretty enough?

JACK Very.

That caused a smile to spread across your lips. You weren’t sure if he intended for it to have the effect on you that it did. It felt like he was flirting, but it could also be part of his natural charm. You didn’t want to be the guy who misinterpreted every interaction and thought he was into you when he wasn’t so you didn’t dare say anything. But you couldn’t help but play along.

Especially when you started calling, two and a half months in, and you heard his voice for the first time.

“Hey.” He said it almost like a whisper and he sounded almost out of breath, as if he was nervous? That couldn’t possibly be the case, however. You were probably just imagining it.

“Hey, Jack.”

Fuck, his voice was amazing. It was all melodic and low, sounding as if it came from deep in his chest, a light rumble to it. You couldn’t help but imagine all the things that voice could tell you.

“Feels weird actually talking now that we’ve been writing for so long, huh?” he said, and you nodded subconsciously.

“Weird is one word for it,” you agreed with a light chuckle.

“Don’t tell me you’re regretting it now,” came his quick reply.

You scoffed. “No, fuck, that’s not what I meant.”

“What did you mean then?” he asked. Perhaps you were imagining it, but you thought you could hear a teasing tone to his voice, almost as if he knew exactly what you meant but wanted you to hear it for himself.

“You know, you’re just as annoying to talk to as you are in writing.” Despite your words, a small smile formed across your lips.

“So I’ve heard.”

“It’s a wonder I’m still talking to you,” you muttered.

“And every day I thank God for that.”

You tilted your head, frowning. He didn’t peg you for a religious man, but you never knew. “You’re religious, Jack?”

“Not one bit.”

“Hmm.”

“Have I told you you have a very pretty voice?” Jack asked, a sweet roll to his voice. It was the most beautiful thing you had heard and you were sure he was aware of it.

That made something in your stomach flip. Stop it, you were scolding yourself. Jack had been the one that told you that what the two of you had was strictly platonic and professional. He was respecting your wishes, and you had to respect his. Still, with the way he was speaking to you, it was difficult to keep your heart in check.

“You have not, no,” you breathed out, careful not to let your voice shake with nervousness.

“Okay.”

“Aren’t you going to?”

“Hmm, maybe.”

“God, you’re an ass,” you said, laughing lightly.

“I like to refer to it as my charm.” God, he sounded smug. Somehow that made him even more attractive.

“Hmm, don’t know if I would call it charming.” Yes, you would. But no way were you going to admit that to Jack.

“I would.”

“I know, Jack.”

You heard how he took a deep breath on the other side of the call, the silence being filled by his slow exhale, before he spoke. “You know, I do love hearing you say my name after all this time.”

You weren’t sure how to respond to that except for with a witty remark, “Sure you do,” effectively letting the matter drop.

———

Jack was a busy man.

Anyone who knew him knew that, and there weren’t a lot of people who did know him for that matter. You had been recently added to that list, with the amount of time he spent texting and calling you.

He liked to work as much as he could, usually sticking to the night shifts but occasionally taking on a double or jumping in during the day when he was needed. And even when he was free, he liked to stay at home listening to the police scanner he had or going with his buddy’s SWAT team as their field medic. He liked to do as much as he could. Robby had called it an addiction of his.

Jack knew he was right, and so was his therapist when he had told him that he needed to find something else outside of work and outside of SWAT. He also realised that he was lonely, because all the people he conversed with were tied to those two.

He knew he didn’t need a lot, but someone who he could bond with outside of it and perhaps care for. Ever since the death of his wife, he had missed having someone to take care of. He had a ton of disposable income that did nothing but collect interest in his bank account so he might as well spend that on someone, he thought. He knew that he’s not in the right place to meet someone the old fashioned way, and after seeing an advert for sugar babies, he went that route.

Jack felt hesitant to do that, though. It felt perverted to use his money to require sexual favours of a younger person, like he saw other sugar daddies and mommies do on the website he had found. Could he put in no requirements to his page? All he wanted was company and conversation to feel less lonely. That’s why he didn’t see a point in putting a photo up either. Since he didn’t want someone to talk to him merely because of his looks, but rather someone who could match him in conversation.

That’s when he found you, a younger man who seemed decent enough based on his profile, but it was hard to tell because like him, you had no profile picture. You had also specified that you would not engage in any sexual activities as your role of a sugar baby, so he thought he might as well shoot you a message. It couldn’t hurt, right?

From the very first message, Jack found himself interested in you. You matched him easily in his banter, had fun quips ready to respond to his, and he found that he had fun talking to you. Despite the unnatural arrangement of him paying you for conversation, it felt weirdly natural between the two of you.

As time went on, your messages developed from the regular get-to-know conversations to more banter and comments that bordered on flirty. Jack couldn’t ignore it, the pull he felt towards you, and he couldn’t help but indulge in it. It was just too easy to compliment you, or tease you, because your personality drew him in with something he hadn’t felt in a really long time.

He found himself telling you things he didn’t tell a lot of other people, some things even Robby didn’t know about. Jack told you about his past; his time as a war physician, his leg that had gotten amputated, his late wife. You took it all in stride and somehow it didn’t feel awkward after he’d told you, like it did with most people, but he rather felt much lighter in the chest. However, he did not tell you about his problems sleeping, at keeping the trauma at bay, because he didn’t want to worry you. In truth, he didn’t want to be a bother.

It was ironic that he wanted you to be able to rely on him, so he could take care of you, but he was afraid of being a burden to you. So, instead, he usually sent you small comments each day, updates about his shifts or his coworkers, or just little observations about you. He could talk to you for hours if you’d let him.

You had told him about starting a new job soon. You’d still be a paediatric nurse, but it was in a new hospital because your last one hadn’t treated you so well, is what you had said. You hadn’t shared which hospital it was, and Jack hadn’t pried. It wasn’t like he wasn’t curious, because he was—when it came to you, he wanted to know practically everything he could—but he didn’t want to force any information you weren’t willing to give up. And you had made it clear that you weren’t ever going to meet, so what was the point? He couldn’t pretend that he wasn’t the slightest bit of disappointed by that fact, but he refused to let it cloud his relationship with you.

It got you talking about your jobs one afternoon, almost three months in.

JACK I don’t think I could ever do pedes. I tried it during my MS days, but it’s way too boring for me.

YOU Hey, watch your words, old man.

JACK Oh I know you’re not calling me old man, kid.

YOU Keep running your mouth and I will keep calling you that.

JACK Okay, sorry. It’s way too… Advanced for me.

YOU OK, now you’re just being patronising.

JACK Alright, let’s just say it’s not for me. Don’t get me wrong, I do like kids. But there’s something about how busy the ER gets that keeps me coming back.

YOU And that’s fine. I love pedes because it’s so much calmer. The ER stresses me out. And well, kids can be really sweet. It’s just like night shifts are not for me. They sound brutal, I don’t know how you do them.

JACK My therapist thinks I find comfort in the darkness. I like nights. Don’t you?

YOU OK Batman. I like sleeping through them.

JACK I can’t argue with that.

YOU Damn right you can’t. I’m sorry, Jack, no matter how much I like you my bed will always be my #1.

His heart skipped a beat at that. You liked him, you had said. Then he shook his head, mentally berating himself. No, you had merely meant platonically that you liked him—nothing more than that. You had made it painfully clear that you wanted this relationship to stay professional, despite his unconscious attempts at flirting. He couldn’t help it! You were just too easy to compliment.

JACK That’s hurtful, you know?

YOU You can handle it.

JACK I’m not so sure, I might need some reassurance now.

YOU I think you’re being a baby. But, sure. [ATTACHMENT: 1 Photo]

What you had sent had Jack choking on a breath, his eyes flitting over the phone screen in rapid movements. He could feel the beating of his heart as he took in the view before him. What you had sent him was a picture of your chest, your skin revealed by the top buttons of your shirt being unbuttoned, and your throat adorned by a silver chain. It wasn’t even that revealing—Jack saw plenty of undressed guys at work every night—but something about the thought of you posing for him to see this made his stomach tighten.

JACK You must be an amazing nurse because I’m suddenly all better.

Maybe he had read you wrong—or, well, right. Maybe you did want something more with him, despite what you had said. Or, were you only sending that because you felt pressured by him? Oh god.

He rubbed a hand over his neck, closing his eyes. Had he been too forward, too much? Had he made you  feel so uncomfortable you felt you had to play along with him in order to still receive the money? The knot in his stomach wasn’t from happiness anymore, but now from worry. He silently cursed himself. You had made it so clear to him and still he kept walking that line between flirtatious and platonic because he couldn’t keep his damn feelings in check. Sure, he was a flirt by nature, but you managed to draw it out of him so easily, and he wanted to with you.

Jack decided to try to keep himself in check from now on, despite how difficult it would be.

———

Today was the day: the day you started at your new job.

You were slightly nervous, seeing as this hospital seemed much better than your last and you really wanted to keep this job, so you couldn’t fuck up. Despite their ER being nicknamed ‘The Pitt’, you were impressed by their stats and by the few members of staff you had met at your interview. And besides, you weren’t going to be working in the ER, but in the paediatrics department.

A message from Jack and you smiling at your phone. Somehow, he knew you would be nervous for this without even having to tell him anything. That’s how well he knew you.

JACK Hey kid, good luck today. I know you’ll knock it out of the park.

YOU Thank you, Jack.

The message ended up not being needed, since your first day went swimmingly. You decided against telling Jack that, though, because any praise or encouragement was more than welcome from him.

To be honest, anything he sent was more than welcome. Usually it was banter, a flirty comment here and there that never failed to put a smile to your face and made you question the nature of your relationship, or some updates from his work and the occasional gossip about his colleagues. Sometimes it were heavier things, like things from his past that made you frown with sympathy for him, because no one deserved to have gone through all that. But it never got heavier than that.

That’s why it came as such a surprise when he called you in the middle of the day when you were at work, his breathing uneven and words clipped with a cadence that you didn’t usually hear from him.

“Hey, I— I’m sorry, it’s… fuck!” he started, then coughed. “I’m bothering you—”

You immediately put down what you were doing, rushing to go into an empty room. “You’re not bothering me, what’s up?”

“I—I just, fuck. I can’t—” He was breathing heavier now, sounding as if he was gasping for air but unable to take any in.

“Oh shit, Jack. Jack, listen to me. Just breathe. Hey, focus on me,” you tried, calming your voice to the one you usually used for patients in distress. Jack needed you, and that was all you needed to know for you to enter a deep state of focus.

“I can’t breathe, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” you interrupted him. “Listen to me, I know you can do this. Just focus on my voice. Breathe in…and breathe out. Slowly. And again. In… and out…”

There were several minutes of silence, the only sounds being Jack’s breathing on the other side of the line. They were ragged, heavy and deep, with quiet sobs accompanying them every once in a while. You waited patiently, a steady presence for him to lean on. You only wished you could do more for him.

When the breathing had gotten quieter on his end you dared speak again. “Jack, how’re you doing?

“Uh, better. Not great.” His voice sounded like full of gravel, thick with unshed tears and sobs that he seemed to be choking down.

“Okay, that’s something,” you said. You took a breath before asking, “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”

Jack sniffled. “I, uh, had a pretty bad dream. From the war.”

Ah.

“I was back there, and, um, I was getting shot at and, uh, shit, and—” His voice was getting unstable again, his words quivering as he got worked up again. You interrupted him before he had the chance to.

“Hey, it’s okay, you don’t have to explain more,” you said.

You heard a small laugh come out of him. “I just, fuck, all I could think about when I woke up was you.”

His voice sounded pained and heavy with memories of his time as a soldier and you could only imagine the trauma he carried with him from it. A stab of pain shot within you in empathy for him. A sudden urge to be there, physically, with him to be able to hug and hold him better.

“Listen, Jack, it’s OK,” you said, trying to stop any oncoming protests from him.

It didn’t work. “I’m sorry,” he breathed. “I know this is far beyond what our agreement was—”

“I don’t mind, seriously. I like being here for you.” You said the last part especially slow so that he could really understand how much you meant those words. You don’t even think you had known how much you meant them before that moment, but now you did.

“Oh, thank God.” He let out a relieved laugh, before sucking in a breath. “Don’t know what I would’ve done if you turned me down.”

A smile spread across your lips. “I would never do that.”

He cleared his throat and let out a small laugh. “I think I’m good to go now. I need to try to get some more sleep, and you should… go back to work?” His words were clipped and dismissive, as if he wasn’t telling the entire truth.

You frowned, but nodded. “Are you sure? Please, I don’t want you saying that just to not worry me.”

“I— thank you. But I am seriously alright,” Jack said, and you chose to believe him. “I’ll send the money later. Thank you.”

That made you pause. “Don’t you dare,” you said quickly.

“What?” came his shocked reply.

“Jack, you know I care about you,” you said, your shoulders relaxing. Did you really need to spell it out for him? “Let me be here for you, without the money.”

There was a small moment of quiet where you feared he wouldn’t respond. When he did, his voice was smaller, somehow. “Okay—I will talk to you later?”

“I can’t wait,” you chirped, smiling.

———

Jack was confused.

The way you had spoken to him and cared for him, without the expectation of money, made him feel all warm inside and as if your relationship had grown outside of your agreement. Maybe it wasn’t such a crazy thought to have. Jack found himself smiling more since he had begun talking to you and even imagining meeting you in real life, despite that you had said that would never happen on the very first day. He had to respect your wishes, because he was nothing if not a gentleman.

No longer was he only losing sleep because of the nightmares from the war, but he also found himself thinking about you. When he closed his eyes, all he could think about was how you would look and all he could hear was your voice, talking to him in that sweet way of yours. It kept him up, thinking about you, but he found that he didn’t mind one bit. Especially as it seemed that you were just as eager to talk to him as he was to talk to you.

YOU I’ve been thinking.

JACK Should I be worried?

YOU Thinking about you.

JACK Okay now that sounds more promising. Can’t say I don’t think about you either.

YOU I’m relieved to hear that. Well, I’ve been wondering what you look like.

JACK Wow is my sparkling personality not enough? You need to see my handsome face as well to satisfy your needs?

YOU I don’t know if I would describe your personality as sparkling.

JACK You didn’t deny about the handsome face part.

YOU I haven’t seen it yet so I can’t really judge, can I? That was sorta the point.

JACK No you don’t want to see this old face. Surely it’s got nothing on yours.

YOU I wouldn’t be so sure. What Jack, are you shy?

JACK I don’t get shy.

YOU Time to put your money where your mouth is, then. I’ve heard your voice and if you look anything like how you sound I’m sure I won’t be disappointed.

A warmth that had nothing with the actual temperature in his apartment spread across his body, feeling it colour his cheeks. How could you say those sort of things and not expect them to affect him? There was no way you weren’t aware at this point, but the thought that you were aware and still did it made his cheek grow even warmer. Fuck, what were you doing to him? And he hadn’t even seen you or met you! Not that he would ever do the latter thing, anyway.

JACK Jeez I knew you were a charmer but not like this.

YOU That isn’t a no.

JACK Fine. But only if you also send a photo of yourself. This is an equal partnership you know.

YOU That sounds fair, but you first since I asked first.

JACK If you insist. [ATTACHMENT: 1 Photo]

It felt as if the beating of his heart thundered in his throat as he stared at the three dots on his screen. Despite his usual confidence, Jack was scared. He knew that he was good looking, if all the comments he had received over the years was anything to go by. But he felt an unusual sense of nervousness at the thought that you would finally see what he looked like and reject him—which was ridiculous, but still he couldn’t help it. He wanted so badly for you to think he looked good, because the alternative was too scary.

YOU You have freckles.

JACK How did you know that’s exactly what I wanted to hear?

YOU Sorry, I just wasn’t expecting it. It suits you.

JACK Thanks? I hope.

YOU Yes, it’s a compliment. Thought you wanted more of them. Now take it.

JACK Wow bossy. I kind of like it.

YOU What can I say? I have many sides.

JACK I can’t wait to see them all. Now you go.

YOU Since you asked so nicely. [ATTACHMENT: 1 Photo] Can’t wait to hear all your compliments now.

Fuck, Jack thought as he stared at the photo you had sent. He felt the threads that kept him together so carefully start to unravel, because it couldn’t be, could it? But he knew he was lying to himself, trying to convince himself that what he was seeing wasn’t true. There was no doubt about it, it was you. The same nurse he had caught a glimpse of in the hallways a few days ago at the Pitt. He had thought you were handsome, his eyes following your movements, and of course Robby had teased him about it.

But now that it meant that the guy he had been talking to and grown closer with over the better part of three months, who he was effectively dreaming and thinking about every free moment he had, who could put a smile to his face much easier than anybody else he knew, and who he had made peace with never meeting, was the same guy he was looking forward to seeing on the rare chance he’d come to the ER. Which meant that you could be meeting, which he was sure you did not want. Sure, you could have been flirting with him this entire time, but you had made it painfully clear that you did not want to meet up.

YOU Jack? Hello? OK, I was only joking, you know?

Fuck, what was he supposed to do with this now? He couldn’t ignore you and he couldn’t lie about the fact that he knew you worked at the same hospital as him.

A reminder popped up on his phone that his SWAT shift was starting soon and he cursed. He didn’t have time to think through what to say to you, but figured he would respond later when he was free. Jack thought that he could use the time on his shift to figure out what to respond with.

———

Fuck.

That was the first thought that flew through your mind. 

First it had been because of finally seeing Jack’s face because, unfortunately, he was unfairly attractive despite his older age. Second, it had been because he wasn’t responding to any of your messages.

What the fuck was Jack thinking, leaving you on seen like that? You had sent your picture, just like he had, and then he didn’t respond? Did he not know the effect he had on you? This was something that could easily send you spiralling, and it would have, had you not been called in for work.

It was looking to be a busy 4th of July, but without any other plans you might as well work and earn some extra pay. If nothing else, it would also keep your mind off of Jack and his lack of reply.

You had finally seen the looks of him and he was the very picture of handsome silver fox, someone you would dream about had you met them for real. The fact that the sarcastic and funny guy you had gotten to know the last three months was someone this good looking sent your mind spiralling somewhere too far for you to reach right now.

So, you did the only thing you could: put on some gloves and got to work.

You had been right, it was a busy day. Other than the normal chaos of a holiday, it was unusually hot today and Westbridge hospital had been closed down as well, so the PTMC was taking the brunt of it. It was difficult to keep track of everything amidst the chaos. A the beginning of your shift, you had gotten a call from the ER that they had a baby Jane Doe who needed tending, and despite your dislike for the ER you had gone down to check on her every once in a while throughout the day.

However, as you went down slightly after 12 PM, you were met with a sight you had not expected. You had just checked on the baby when you went to the reception to talk to Princess. Despite not working in the ER, it was difficult not to become friends with the other nurses here, as they were more than chatty and sometimes friendly..

A team in army uniforms, ‘POLICE’ written over their chests, rushed inside from the ambulance bay with a gurney carrying another one of them between them all. A figure you recognised as Dr. Robby moved to them immediately, looking to the man who was holding the ventilator balloon to the patient.

You followed his gaze and swore your heart stopped.

He was rattling off the words, looking increasingly stressed. “Intubated neck wound, sats not great. We were diverted here.” Then he turned to the reception, and you hoped against everything that he wouldn’t notice you. Luckily, he seemed to only briefly glance up and shout, “Is there a trauma room open?”

Princess pointed to a room to the right. “Trauma 1,” she replied.

As they all went into the trauma room, you felt your breath return to somewhat normal, the initial shock settling for something else. You had to be seeing things, right? It couldn’t be him.

But however much you tried to convince yourself, you knew you were wrong. Despite only having seen one picture of him, you knew you would recognise that man anywhere. It was the same salt and pepper curls, the same faint constellation of freckles smattered over his face, and that same voice. The voice you had so often heard on your calls with him and more often than not in your dreams about him, as well. And the fact that he was dressed in a SWAT uniform. It all checked out. There was no doubt on the matter. It was Jack.

You still had to make sure, however, so you turned to Princess and cocked your head to trauma room 1. “Who the fuck is that?” you asked.

She tilted her head to the side. “Who?”

“The guy in the military uniform.”

Her answer confirmed both your worst fears and your greatest hopes. “Oh, that’s Dr. Jack Abbot. He’s the attending on the night shift.” She glanced at your face, smirking smugly. “Smoke show, right?”

“Right. OK. Fucking great.” You nodded, absentmindedly, before turning to go back upstairs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

You swore inwardly with every step that you took up the stairs. What were the chances, out of all the hospitals in America, or even in Pittsburgh, that Jack had to work at the very same as you? Technically, he had been working here longer than you, but that fact didn’t matter. All that mattered was that the man you had tried but effectively failed to get out of your head, was some kind of boss to you. Not directly, of course, since you answered to the paediatric department. But every once in a while, against your will, you would be called down to the ER when they were short-staffed, and that would put you under Jack.

You dragged a hand across your face, groaning. You couldn’t believe your luck, that the man you were practically dreaming about and definitely flirting with was your once-removed boss. Would you need to get HR involved? No, nothing had happened. Yet, a small part of your brain supplied helpfully. But you and Jack had agreed to never meet, so what you would do with this information now was as of yet unclear to you.

That was also when you remembered the fact that Jack had avoided answering to the photo you had sent him. You had never thought of yourself of ugly or anything of the sort, but maybe you just weren’t his type? Maybe that was the reason he hadn’t replied. The thought of then having to see him in person, knowing of all the times you had flirted with him and must have embarrassed yourself, mortified you beyond anything else. You weren’t sure if you could live with knowing the answer.

But not knowing was so much worse, you realised, and against your better judgment you stormed back down to the ER in search of him. You grabbed hold of the first nurse you saw, which happened to be Jesse.

“Hey, is Dr Abbot here?” you asked, trying to sound more cool than you felt.

He blinked at you before nodding. “I think I saw him go into Central 7.”

“Great, thanks,” you threw over your shoulder as you rushed in the direction.

Without allowing yourself a moment to hesitate, you threw open the door and pushed away the curtains. There, shirtless and tall, stood Jack Abbot in all of his glory. He had his back turned to you, showing off the broad muscles that rippled under his skin as he moved, as well as the constellations of freckles that extended across his shoulders and down his arms. God, he was in good shape, was the first thought that popped into your traitorous mind. The second being that there was a wound on his left shoulder, but that fact catalogued itself somewhere in the back of your brain in favour of the view of a shirtless Jack in front of you.

“Jack?” you said, before your brain had time to catch up with the fact that you were currently seeing him shirtless, of all things. “Oh, shit—” Here’s to first meetings, you supposed.

He turned around with a frown before his brows lifted in shock. “Yeah? Oh.”

You bit your lip, crossing your arms over your chest. Jack looked just as good from the front as he did from the back. You had to physically shake your head to rid your thoughts, focusing instead on meeting his eyes. God, he had a steady gaze, you realised. It was difficult not to feel put on the spot underneath it.

“Maybe I should be calling you Dr. Abbot, instead?” you asked, although rather unkindly.

Jack only nodded dumbly, his mouth still hanging open slightly.

You grimaced. “You know, for a man who can never seem to shut up you’re being unusually quiet.”

“Uhuh, well,” he croaked, his voice unusually unstable. Then he let a small smile lift the corner of his mouth. “I am just a bit caught off guard. What are you doing here?”

“I work here. Well, in pedes upstairs.” You gestured upwards, scoffing as if it was obvious.

“Right,” he replied, those beautiful hazel eyes narrowing at you. “What are you doing down here? Thought you said the ER stresses you out.”

“It does,” you said, frowning slightly. You were surprised he remembered that detail you had mentioned in passing. “You remember that?”

“Yeah, of course.” Something about those simple words twisted something in your stomach. The casualness that he said it with, as if it had been obvious that he would remember the small things you told him.

You cleared your throat, coming out of your thoughts to answer his earlier question. “Got an abandoned baby that I was called down to check on. The better question is what you’re doing here? As far as I’m aware, it’s not night.”

“Good solve, Sherlock.”

Even in person, Jack was quick to answer with a witty remark. Gods dammed his wit and his sarcasm and his humour. He was just as attractive in person as he was over the phone, if not more, and his intense stare made you want to avert your eyes. Was it always this intense, or did it just feel extra so under the circumstances?

“This is less than ideal,” he finally said after clearing his throat.

“Yeah,” you breathed out. You took in his shirtless torso, quickly looking away so that he wouldn’t notice your staring. “Do you want me to come back? Give you a moment?”

“No,” Jack replied with a small smile. He was sitting down now and putting forward medical supplies and bandages. “It’s okay.”

To avoid whatever that meant, you focused on the task his hands were doing, which also meant you had to keep your thoughts in check, because damn, even his hands were attractive. You cleared your throat. “What happened to you?

“Oh. Bullet grazed my vest,” he said simply, his eyes on his hands, as casual as if you had asked him about the weather.

“You got shot?”

“Shot at,” he corrected, eyes flitting up to yours. “It’s no big deal. I can take care of it myself.”

As Jack said that, you saw him reach a cotton swab with a lotion over his shoulder, struggling to get the angle right. After a few minutes of craning his neck, you sighed and stepped forward, relaxing from your tense posture.

“Let me help you,” you said, beginning to put on a pair of gloves.

His head turned in your direction as he grimaced, his hand gesturing as if to wave you away. “No, don’t worry about me, I’m fine.”

An eyebrow raised in his direction. “Now who’s the one being too stubborn to accept help. I’m a nurse, let me do my job.” You stepped around him, holding out your hand for him to give you the swab.

“A nurse in paediatrics,” Jack pointed out, but relented with a small sigh. The brief brush of your gloved fingers meeting his ungloved one caused shivers to travel up your arms, almost as if you had been shocked by electricity.

You scoffed. “That doesn’t matter. A wound is a wound.”

You began cleaning his wound, carefully inspecting him for any sign of discomfort. Instead, you only found how much more handsome he looked up close. You could see the small wrinkles on his forehead, the way his eyes stayed dutifully ahead of him, and his posture was as straight as a soldier’s. Not the only thing that remained from his war days, you thought as you sneaked a glance at his right leg. But it didn’t make him look old, no. He looked like a weathered man, with tons of stories held inside that pretty head of his.

Your thoughts went back to the conversation at hand, sighing as you swapped the cotton swab for another. “Y’know, I never pegged you for one to look down on other areas of medicine,” you mentioned.

“Sorry, I don’t,” he said, shrugging a bit as if bashful. “I’m just still surprised that I’m actually seeing you right now. That we’re finally meeting.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t sound so surprised.”

It took a second for him to answer, and it was with a grimace you could only half see has he turned his head away from you. “Well, I knew you worked here.”

You paused in your movements. What? “And you didn’t say anything? How long have you known?”

“Only found out when you sent your picture,” he admitted, craning his neck to meet your eye. “I recognised you.”

“What?”

“It’s hard to forget a face like yours.” Jack’s smirk was infectious and you had to fight your own from forming as he then shook his head. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.”

“No, um,” you cleared your throat, “what do you mean by that?”

Jack shrugged sheepishly. “Just that I noticed you, even before knowing that you are, well, you.”

“Oh,” was your only reply, continuing to clean his wound. “Well, I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Very.”

You could almost hear the smirk in his voice, that tone that you had gotten painfully familiar with over the past couple of months. And God was it a blessing to be able to see it now in person, finally witnessing how it made his eyes scrunch up in delight, wrinkles forming around them, and it made him look exactly as self assured as you had pictured during your long talks.

You ignored it in favour of putting down the cotton swab and beginning to dress his wound, clearing your throat at the same time.

“So, care to tell me the story behind this?” you asked, just to get away from his burning gaze.

Jack looked down into his lap, his smirk dropping. “Geniuses thought today was the day to rob a goods warehouse. Didn’t think about how long it would take to load the appliances. They panicked. All hell broke loose.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, applying the wound dressing. “Why do you do this?”

“My therapist said I needed a hobby,” he said as he shrugged.

You scoffed. “Thought that was the reason you reached out to me, remember?”

“I can have two hobbies.”

Your hands smoothed out the dressing before you removed the gloves and stepped around Jack, shaking your head. “Not if one is putting you under active fire.”

“Careful, it almost sounds like you care.”

When you looked at him you saw a tiny smirk playing on the edge of his lips. You averted your eyes from them, raising an eyebrow and humming a reply. As you turned around to walk away, Jack’s hand shot out to grab your wrist.

“Listen,” he started, letting go of your hand. You already missed the warmth from his skin. “I wanted to say sorry.”

“For what?” Your voice was carefully devoid of any emotion that he had managed to stir up in you.

“For not answering, earlier.”

You merely hummed as a reply.

His eyes looked up to you, now shadowed by a hint of guilt and sadness, not unlike the eyes of a puppy. It made something twist inside you, a twinge of guilt suddenly shooting inside you from the knowledge that you were the cause of it. “It wasn’t cool of me, I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“You didn’t worry me,” you said, way too quickly.

He ignored your words, still keeping that damned eye contact. “I should have just responded right away, but I wasn’t sure what to say. Or do. You said you didn’t want to meet, so…” He chuckled, sounding a bit unsure of his own words.

You tilted your head to the side, crossing your arms over your chest. “So, what, you figured you would keep it secret that we worked in the same hospital? Just so we’d never meet.”

“I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable,” Jack explained, a pleading tone now sneaking into his voice.

You sighed, rubbing a hand over your face. “Jack, I’ve told you. You could never make me uncomfortable.”

Something in his eyes lit into a spark. “Really?”

“Please,” you chuckled, glancing to the side with a hint of a smile. “The fact that you were ever worried… is kind of attractive.”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. You closed your eyes in frustration and berated yourself. It was one thing to flirt over text, because that gave you plausible deniability. But admitting he was attractive after he had effectively ignored you for the better part of the day after had had finally seen your face, was something else. If he really wasn’t interested and you hadn’t chased him away yet, you would surely have done it now.

However, when you looked back to Jack, meeting his gaze, all you could see was the mirth in his eyes.

“You think so?” he asked, and that smug smirk was back on his face.

Your eyes narrowed at him, taking in the way he was leaning slightly forward and looking up into your eyes, all open and honest. There was something in the way he was looking at you that made your stomach twist, but not in a bad way, as if he knew something you didn’t. You didn’t know what, but it felt like the air had suddenly gotten heavier in the room, your shoulders tensing and lips pressing together.

That smug smile on his face made you roll your eyes. “Fuck off, you know you’re good-looking.”

Jack’s head tilted to the side, but his eyes never left yours. “Hmm, is that so? And do you find me that? Good looking?”

He was enjoying this more than he should. “Perhaps,” you said and shrugged, despite yourself. “Although I must say your picture does not quite make you justice.”

“Now, that’s a compliment.” His smile had widened, reaching his eyes as well and the sight was almost too much for you.

“I do know how to give compliments, y’know,” you said with a scoff.

“Would love to hear more of them,” Jack replied with small nod.

You gave him a meaningful glare. “Don’t know if your ego could take it.”

At that, his smile widened into a grin. “I can take more than you think.”

Your narrowed eyes met his smug ones and you had to fight the urge not to smile. He really had a reply to everything, this man. Then your eyes flitted down to his body, noticing the army pants he still wore, remembering how good he had looked in his SWAT uniform earlier.

“In that case,” you started, “you fill out that uniform quite well.”

“You should see me as a flight attendant,” Jack said. He didn’t miss a beat, his eyes still trained on you, eyes flitting all over your face.

“Mmm, bet.” When you noticed he wasn’t saying anything else, but merely staring at your face, you spoke again.“Jack.”

He nodded. “Mhm.”

“You’re staring.”

“I’m just looking,” he said, but he was definitely staring.

You lifted an eyebrow at him, taking in the way he was staring at you. More than once, you had noticed how his eyes flitted down to your lips and that made your stomach fill with warmth. “No, you’re looking at me as if…”

“As if what?” he asked, head tilted but that smile on his face that told you he knew exactly what you meant.

“No, forget it,” you countered, ever so stubborn.

Jack stood up, now looking at you from your eye-level. “Tell me.”

You tried to discern whatever he was trying to say behind those eyes, but all you could see was a hint of teasing and hopefulness in them, as if wanted you to say exactly what you were thinking. Could he really want the same thing as you, even after all this time?

You furrowed your brows but finally said what was on your mind. “As if you wanna kiss me.”

“Would that be so bad?” His smile formed into something kinder, softer, as he took a step closer. 

You shook your head before your mouth had a chance to catch up. “No, not really.”

“In that case, may I?” he asked, as one hand reached out to caress your cheek, the other landing on your small back. Your arms uncrossed themselves to grab his arms and the nape of his neck. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you at his question—the fact that he even had to ask.

“We’re at work,” you whispered, despite wanting to relent and press into him with all that you had.

Jack closed his eyes in frustration, forehead pressed against yours. He was so close, yet so far away…

“Fuck,” he muttered. Despite all his feelings for you and the desire to do nothing else than press you up against a wall right there and then, he still had some sort of decorum and professionalism in him. But when he gazed at you, looking so handsome in his arms, his resolve started to dissolve bit by bit. “I’m not on the clock, though.”

“But I am.”

Jack bit his lip as he looked away, swiftly stepping out of your grasp and going over to close the door of the room before he pulled the curtain closed as well. Then he stepped closer to you, the question written in his eyes as clear as days. You couldn’t help but grin at him, at the slight flustered breath as he leaned in closer.

“You’re such a dork. C’mere.” You saw his eyes soften as they traveled down to your lips.

“Thank god,” was all he said as he leaned in and met your lips with his.

Jack’s skin was warm as he pressed closer to you, his lips moving against yours with a hunger and firmness you weren’t expecting. The way he moved his hands over your body made you groan into his lips which only made him grasp you harder. He felt heavenly against you, the way his warmth seeped into yours.

You grasped the nape of his neck, deepening the kiss by pushing against him. It was hard to ignore his shirtless torso as well, so you made sure to run your hand down his back, noticing the shivers that erupted in your fingers’ wake. He let out a low moan at that and you made sure to file that information away for future use. When you pulled away, his full blown pupils were staring into yours with smirk on his lips.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he breathed, his lips venturing further south as he placed small kisses against your chin, your throat, down to your collarbone.

You let out something that was a mix between a laugh and a moan. “I think that broke the rules of our agreement.”

“Fuck the agreement,” Jack said as he met your eye properly. “I want you, with or without it.”

Your smile turned crooked. “Does this mean you’ll stop paying me?”

“No, you should be prepared to be spoiled even more,” he replied, his own smirk widening.

“You don’t have to, Jack,” you said, meeting his gaze with a meaningful glare.

Jack merely stepped even closer, incasing you in his strong arms, his lips lowering to your ear as he whispered, “I want to.” And looking into those eyes of his, you think you finally believed him when he said that.

It all started innocently. Your dad went to Jack's place to watch a game, and you had to stay a few extra hours at the library cataloguing a box of new arrivals, which was a bit boring, so you got home exhausted. You took a shower, fixed something quick to eat, and went upstairs to watch something in your room. You managed to watch twenty minutes of Sex in the City before you sleep took the best out of you. 

You woke up in the middle of the night, thirsty, and got up to have a glass of water. As you were wearing only a pair of boxer shorts, you wrapped yourself in a fluffy robe, and your father's door was closed, so he probably got home after you fell asleep. 

You turned on the kitchen lights and heard someone yawning in the living room. You slowly peeked into the room and found Jack stretching his back and getting up from the couch. "Robby? What time is it?" He spoke walking towards the kitchen.

"It's me," You said, simply taking a sip of your water. "It's two-thirty, sorry for flashing the lights on your face, I didn't know you were here," You said, taking a look at him. He was wearing an almost transparent white undershirt and a pair of dark and light blue plaid boxer shorts. 

"Power ran out mid-game, and we came over to watch the rest of it here," He explained, stretching his back once again. The movement made his shirt go up and reveal part of his abdomen; your eyes were immediately drawn there, and his shorts that seemed to be getting tighter by the second. 

"Midnight-wood, huh?" You teased, placing the now-empty glass inside the dishwasher. "Oh... well, I'm old, not dead," He defended himself. "I might take you up on that," You teased once again. You didn't know exaclty were that was coming from, maybe a few years of repressed feelings for him, and the multiple times you masturbated thinking about him on top of you. 

Shit, you really wanted that guy. 

You turned to face him, and at the same time, he seemed to be a bit shocked; his cock was now bulging and definitely hard. "What? I've seen you checking me out discreetly a few times." You spoke, getting closer to him. "Yeah, but you are Robbby's son," He spoke, taking a step back and leaning against the counter. "Let's pretend I'm not then," You said, ending the distance between you two and attacking his lips. His short beard scraped against your chin, and his avid tongue explored your mouth. Your cocks rubbed against each other with a thin piece of fabric in between them. 

"Shit, kid, I" He spoke and you susshed him "Just enjoy it" You knelt in front of him and pulled down the boxer shorts down to his anckles. Damn, he was big; it wasn't a surprise, he had big dick energy, but actually seeing it was arousing. 

Swallowing his length was difficult; you teared up multiple times and gagged a few, and that made him enjoy it even more. "Are you crying for me, Doll? C'mon I know you can take it," He spoke, holding your head and trusthing his hips against your face "Fuck your throath feels amazing" Jack spoke enjoying the pressure your mouth, thongue and throath applied against his lenght. 

The male facefucked you for a while until he came deep inside your throat. You gasped for air when he removed his cock from your mouth. Jack softly slapped your left cheek and placed another kiss on your lips "You should go back to your room. We don't want to wake up your dad, and if you stay down here I'm positive i'll make you scream" Jack spoke and you gulped. 

You had a taste of him, and you wanted more, so much more. 

~ X ~

Nine months later, and you never expected that blowing your dad's best friend in the middle of the kitchen during the night would result in you riding him, yet here you were. Jack's hands were placed at the side of your body, and he guided you up and down as he rearranged your insides. That definitely wasn't on your bingo card, and you hated yourself for that, but no one fucked you as good as Jack did; somehow, he knew exactly how to make you cum, whine, and purr for him. 

"Shit, daddy... " You mumbled, holding onto the bedframe as Jack started pumping harder against your prostate. Needless to say, that was enough to make both of you cum together, your third time and his second. "You are amazing," He whispered, hugging you and placing a kiss on your forehead. 

"What do you need? Water? Food? A shower," Jack asked, and you smiled, hugging him. "Probably all that, but at least thirty minutes of cuddling with you before," You pleaded, and he laughed, grabbing you as if you were weightless and placing you by his side, turning you into the small spoon. "No need to ask twice, Angel." Jack wrapped you in his arms, and you snuggled there for a good amount of time. 

Once you felt ready to get up, Jack took you for a long shower filled with kisses and helping hands. After the shower, he'd prepared a snack and would leave before you had to go to work. That's how most of your afternoons went by, in between classes from college and the part-time job you had at the public library, Jack would stop by and take care of you. 

Telling your father was absolutely off the table, and it was something you both agreed to after the first time you slept together. Robby knew you were queer since he found you kissing your neighbor on your 12-year-old birthday. The real issue was the fact that you were seeing a guy much older than you, and that guy was his best friend.

Hiding it was getting harder; he saw a few hickeys on your neck, and a pair of Jack's underwear also ended up in your basket of dirty laundry by accident. You liked asking about your father's day when he got home. The hospital was a lot for him, so having someone to share with was important, and you wanted to be there for him. 

During one of those conversations about his day, he said that Jack seemed happier than usual. He suspected his friend had a girlfriend. You choked on your food when he told you that you were the "girlfriend"; hopefully, he wouldn't put 2 + 2 together and figure it out, but you reminded Jack to be more careful. 

The closest call happened in your house during dinner, it was a Saturday, and Jack was there to watch the Super Bowl. Despite loving your father, you hated football, so you'd only come downstairs to watch the halftime show and get back to your room when the game was back. 

After the Chiefs victory, much to your father's delight, you guys had pizza for dinner and sat together around the table. Abbot was right in front of you, and your dad was by your side. 

"Daddy, can I have the ranch, please?" You asked about cleaning your mouth with a napkin when it all happened. Jack and your dad reached for the dressing at the same time, and Jack managed to pick it up first. You kicked him violently under the table, and he realized what he had done. 

"Sorry, I was closest to it" He spoke, shoving pizza inside his mouth, you tried to make some small talk about something else and it apparently worked, your dad was probably too drunk and too extasiated about the chiefs win so he decided not to drag the "Daddy" event, but his subconcious surely registered it and that took a few hours of sleep from you. 

And then, the day you dreaded for a long time came, Jack was still on top of you, kissing and biting your earlobe as he slowly exited your hole. Your dad was supposed to be at the hospital for at least another five hours, so the idea of him showing up did not cross your mind. 

"You know, there is a huge hematoma on my calf  after you kicked me under the table." Jack said, "So you went extra hard today in retribution?" You asked while slowly sitting down, feeling some pain in your bottom. 

"Did daddy wreck your ass?" He was smiling from ear to ear and running his fingers inside your hole. "Yeah, you did," You said back, kissing his lips while his fingers twirled inside you. "Fuck" You sighed as he added another one. 

"Hey, son, I got you... What the fuck?" Robby's voice echoed from your door, and everything froze. You slowly turned your head towards the door and saw your dad standing there, red with anger, holding a Starbucks bag. "Dad, I..." You tried speaking, but there was nothing to be said. You were naked, Jack was naked, you two were kissing, and his fingers, until three seconds ago, were inside your ass. 

Robby dropped the bag and jumped towards Abbot, pressing him against the wall. "You're fucking my son? Are you out of your goddam mind?" Robby screamed. 

"Dad, please," You pleaded, getting in between them. "Let's talk, please don't do this," You cried out with tears rolling down your cheeks. "Did he hurt you? Did he force you to do this?" Robby asked, and you cried even more, "No, Dad, I promise he didn't do anything wrong. It was consensual," You said. 

Robby looked Jack up and down and took a step back, running his hands over his head. "Get dressed, both of you. We need to talk." He ordered and left the room. You allowed your tears to roll freely, and a suppressed cry echoed from your throat. Jack held you in his arms and promised a million times it was okay, but you couldn't wrap your head around it.

You got dressed in a pair of grey sweatpants and a matching hoodie and went downstairs. Jack got dressed and accompanied you. Robby was sitting at the dining table with his hands crossed, resting on top of it. 

 You sat at the table completely embarrassed, your face was burning, and your ass was aching. You avoided visual contact, and Jack tried to start the conversation, "Robby, I..." Your father interrupted him with a simple hand gesture. "

"How long?" Robby asked, and you swallowed dryly, "Dad..." You started, and Jack spoke, "Nine months." He knew your father well; they worked together, and during a crisis, Robby needed precise information and not smoke blown up his ass. 

"Who started it? How did it start?" He asked, "I did. That night, you guys were supposed to go to Jack's place to watch some game, but the power was out, and you guys came here; that's when it started," You confessed. "I woke up in the middle of the night to grab some water and saw Jack sleeping on the couch. He woke up when I came downstairs and... well, you can imagine," You added 

"I'd rather not," Robby said, and you gulped. "He is old enough to be your dad, you know that? He is my age," He said, and you looked down. "Dad, I'm an adult... I know it seems weird, but I like Jack. I really like him." You spoke, and the male grabbed your hand under the table.

"You better be the best fucking boyfriend in this world or I will fucking end you. Do you understand me? I don't care how long you've been in the army, if my son as much as sheds a tear because of you, I'll end your existence here," Robby threatened Jack, and the male smiled softly.  

You breathed in relief and also cried, "Hopefully those tears don't count?" Jack tried joking, and Robby remained static. "Don't push it," Your father instructed, and Jack gave him a thumbs up. "No more secrets, okay? I... I need some time to forget what I just saw," Robby said. 

"What do you mean?" You inquired, partially scared because you thought he was having a delirium, and also worried he meant to break you and Jack up. "My best friend fingering my son, that's what I want to forget." Robby vented, covering his face, Jack held his laughter, and your face basically erupted, "Oh... that... yes. Okay," You mumbled, looking for words. 

"I need to find her," you muttered, already heading for the door. You pulled out your phone, typing out a quick message asking for her location, asking if she'd heard.

The responses from the other members started flooding in immediately, but you were already out the building, half-jogging to where you'd parked the company car.

Chuu's apartment was several blocks away—no parking, naturally—so you ended up abandoning the car and running the last three blocks. By the time you hit her buzzer, you were panting and covered in sweat.

"Come in." Her voice through the intercom sounded raw.

You took the stairs two at a time.

When you pushed open her door, you found her pacing her living room like a caged animal. Her eyes were red and puffy, mascara tracked down to her jawline, but she wasn't crying anymore. Now she just looked furious.

"Those fucking bastards," she was muttering. "Holy shit, I'll end—"

"Chuu."

She spun around. For a moment, her expression crumpled, then she set her jaw. "You heard."

"Everyone heard." You closed the door behind you. "Are you okay?"

"Do I look okay?" She laughed, but it came out bitter. "They tried to control everything. Everything. What I say, where I go, who I talk to. And now they just—" Her voice broke.

You moved on instinct, going to her kitchen. Her fridge was surprisingly well-stocked for someone who was never home. You found ginseng tea, prepared it carefully, brought it to her.

"Here. Drink this."

She took it with shaking hands, sank onto her couch. You sat beside her, close but not touching, and just waited.

The KKT group chat was blowing up. You typed out a quick message:

You: She's with me. I've got her.

The responses came fast—relieved, worried, angry at the company. Slowly, the chat quieted as the members headed home to process in private.

Chuu finished her tea. Set the cup down. Stared at nothing.

"How are the others?" she finally asked.

"Devastated. Yeojin was crying. Heejin looked ready to fight someone." You paused. "They're worried about you."

She nodded slowly, then drew her knees up to her chest. "I should call them."

"You should rest first."

She looked at you then—really looked at you. Something shifted in her expression.

"Oppa," she said quietly. "Thank you. For coming here. For..." She gestured vaguely. "Everything."

"It's my job to take care of you all."

"Not anymore. Technically." Her mouth twisted. "I'm not one of your twelve anymore."

The words hung between you.

"Fuck that," you said. "Fuck that company. Whatever you all decide to do, I'm with you."

Her eyes went bright again, but not with tears this time. She shifted closer.

"You know what?" Her voice dropped. "They tried to control everything about me. But this—" She gestured between you both. "This is mine. My choice. They can't touch this."

Your pulse kicked up. "Chuu—"

"You know we talk about you, right?" She was looking up at you through her lashes now. "The members. We talk about... things."

"Things?" Your mouth had gone dry.

"The kind of things twelve girls talk about when they're bored and stressed and their manager is—" She bit her lip. "Well. You."

Jesus Christ.

"I didn't know that," you managed.

"We've been good about hiding it." She shifted even closer. You could smell her shampoo—something floral, sweet. "But I don't have to hide anymore, do I? I'm not part of LOONA anymore. I can do whatever I want."

Her hand landed on your chest. Light at first, then pressing flat. She had to feel your heart hammering.

"Chuu, what are you—"

"I want this." Her eyes locked on yours. "Do you want this?"

This was insane. You could lose your job. Lose their trust if this went sideways. The professional boundary you'd maintained for months was about to shatter. But her hand was sliding down your stomach and your body had already made the decision.

"Yes," you heard yourself say.

She kissed you.

It wasn't gentle or tentative. She kissed you like she'd been thinking about it for months, like she was starving for it. Her tongue swept into your mouth and you tasted the ginseng tea, something sweet underneath—her lip tint, maybe strawberry. Your hands found her waist without permission from your brain.

She made a small sound against your mouth and suddenly she was climbing into your lap, straddling you, her fingers threading through your hair and tugging. The kiss broke long enough for you both to gasp for air, then she was back, aggressive and demanding.

"Fuck," you breathed when she pulled back again. "You've been holding back, huh?"

"You have no idea." Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide. "But not anymore. Tonight you're mine, Oppa. Okay?"

Before you could answer, she was kissing you again, her small hands working at the buttons of your shirt. She got three undone before losing patience and just yanked. Buttons scattered. You heard one hit the window.

"Sorry," she said, not sounding sorry at all.

"You're doing my laundry anyway."

Her laugh was bright and genuine—the first real one you'd heard from her all day. Then her hands were on your bare chest, nails dragging lightly over your skin. When she brushed your nipple you jerked, and she noticed. Did it again, deliberate, watching your face.

"Sensitive there?" Her smile turned wicked.

"Apparently."

She leaned down and replaced her fingers with her tongue. You groaned, your hands tightening on her hips. She was still fully dressed and you were rapidly losing the ability to think straight.

"Chuu—"

"Hmm?" She didn't stop.

"You're still—fuck—you're still wearing clothes."

She sat up, that smile still playing at her lips. "Well. Fix that, then."

Your hands found the hem of her white shirt. She lifted her arms and you pulled it off, revealing a peach lace bra that made your brain short-circuit for a second. She reached back and unclasped it herself, let it fall.

You'd tried so hard not to notice their bodies. Professional boundaries. But now Chuu was topless in your lap, small and perfect, her brown nipples already hard, and you were allowed to look. More than look.

"You're staring," she whispered.

"You're gorgeous."

Her face went scarlet and she smiled, pleased and shy at the same time. You cupped her breast, thumb brushing over her nipple, and she gasped. Sensitive there too.

You leaned forward and took it in your mouth. She made a high, surprised sound, her hands flying to your hair. You sucked gently, then harder, and her hips rolled against you. You were painfully hard now, straining against your pants, and she could definitely feel it.

"Oppa," she breathed. "I can feel you."

"Yeah. You feel what you're doing to me?"

She nodded, then slid off your lap. For a confused moment you thought she was stopping, but then she was on her knees between your legs and your brain just—stopped.

"I want to see it," she said simply.

Your hands moved on autopilot, reaching for your belt, but she pushed them away.

"Let me."

She unbuckled your belt slowly, maintaining eye contact. Popped the button of your pants. The zipper sounded obscenely loud in the quiet apartment. She hooked her fingers in your waistband—both pants and boxers—and pulled down.

Your cock sprang free and her eyes went wide.

"Fuck, Oppa. You're huge."

"I'm really not—"

"Shh." She wrapped her hand around the base—small hand, tentative grip at first. "Let me appreciate this."

She stroked upward slowly, testing, and you bit back a groan. Her other hand cupped your balls, rolling them gently, and your thighs tensed.

"Am I doing it right?"

"Yes," you managed. "Fuck, yes."

That satisfied smile again. She stroked you with more confidence now, her thumb swiping across the head and coming away slick with precum. She looked at it curiously, then at you.

"Can I taste?"

Jesus fucking Christ.

"Please."

She leaned in. Her breath ghosted across your cock and every muscle in your body went tight. Then her tongue—soft, warm, curious—licked from base to tip.

"Fuck, Chuu—"

"Good?" She was still watching your face, learning what worked.

"So good. Where did you learn—"

"Porn." She grinned. "We watch a lot when we're bored."

Before you could process that, her mouth closed over the head and your brain shut down entirely. She sucked gently, still stroking the base, and made a small pleased sound when you groaned.

She wasn't expert. Her teeth scraped once and she adjusted. But what she lacked in experience she made up for in enthusiasm and attention. She watched your reactions, learned what made you curse, what made your hips jerk.

When her hand started twisting on the upstroke—where the fuck did she learn that?—you knew you were in trouble.

"Chuu," you warned, your voice coming out strangled. "I'm close, I'm—"

She pulled off just enough to look at you. "Where?"

"What?"

"Where do you want to cum?"

Your brain was too fried for this decision. She glanced around—no tissues, no towel within reach—and made a choice. Her mouth closed over you again just as the first pulse hit.

You came with a groan that felt ripped from your chest, one hand flying to the back of her head—not pushing, just needing to hold onto something. She made a small sound around you, half-surprise, half-satisfaction, and kept sucking through each pulse.

When her cheeks hollowed one last time and she pulled off, the final spurts caught her lips and chin, dripping down her neck to her collarbone.

"Fuck," you breathed.

She swallowed—you watched her throat work—and then opened her mouth to show you. Empty. That fucking smile on her face, proud of herself.

"That was a lot, Oppa." She wiped her chin with the back of her hand. "Was I good?"

"You were so fucking good. Jesus."

She laughed, then looked down at herself. "I'm a mess."

"Here." You grabbed the towel you'd brought earlier for her tears—god, that felt like hours ago—and gently cleaned her face, her neck. She sat back on her heels and just looked at you.

"My turn?" she asked, almost shy.

Something in your chest tightened. "Yeah. Your turn."

You stood, pulled her up with you. She'd worked your pants down to your ankles; you kicked them off entirely, then reached for her jeans. She helped, lifting her hips so you could slide them off. White panties underneath, already showing a damp spot.

You hooked your fingers in the waistband and looked at her. She nodded.

When you pulled them down, she was bare underneath—completely bare, smooth and pink and already glistening. Your mouth went dry all over again.

"Do you like what you see?"

"Fuck yes." You pressed her back onto the couch, her head on the armrest. "You're perfect, Chuu. Absolutely perfect."

Her face flushed deeper and she smiled, pleased and embarrassed at the same time. You knelt between her legs on her carpeted floor, ran your hands up her outer thighs. Her skin was impossibly soft.

"Can I taste you?"

"Please," she whispered.

You pressed a kiss to her inner thigh first, then the other, taking your time. Her legs were already trembling slightly. When you finally dragged your tongue up her slit, she gasped like you'd shocked her.

She tasted sweet and salty and distinctly her. You did it again, slower, and her hips lifted off the couch.

"Oh fuck," she breathed.

You settled in, gripping her ass to pull her closer to your face. Licked and sucked and explored, paying attention to what made her gasp, what made her thighs tense. When you found her clit and circled it with your tongue, her whole body jerked.

"There, oh god, right there—"

You focused there, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention. Her hand found your hair, gripping tight, not directing but holding on. The sounds she was making—small gasps that turned into moans that turned into words you couldn't quite make out—were the hottest thing you'd ever heard.

Her thighs started to shake. You slid two fingers into her—tight, fuck, so tight—and crooked them up while your mouth stayed on her clit.

"Oh god, oh god, I'm gonna—don't stop, please don't—"

The words dissolved into a cry. Her thighs clamped around your head hard enough that your ears rang. You couldn't hear, could barely breathe, just felt her shaking and the flood of wetness against your tongue. Her pussy clenched around your fingers in waves.

You worked her through it until she pushed at your head, oversensitive. When you pulled back, your face was soaked and she was staring at you with wonder.

"Holy shit," she breathed. "That was—holy shit."

You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand, grinning. "Good?"

"Oppa, I think I just saw God."

You laughed, moving up to kiss her. She could taste herself on your tongue and didn't seem to care, just kissed you back hungrily.

"I need you inside me," she whispered against your mouth. "Please. I need it."

You were hard again—had been getting hard again the moment you'd tasted her. "You sure?"

"I'm sure. I'm so sure. Please."

You lined yourself up, dragging your cock through her wetness, coating yourself. The head bumped against her clit and she whimpered, trying to angle her hips to take you in.

"Ready?"

"Yes, fuck, please—"

You pushed into her slowly. Tight—jesus fuck, so tight—and hot and slick around you. Her breath caught. You watched her face, watched her eyes flutter closed, her mouth fall open in a silent gasp.

"Okay?" you managed.

"Don't stop. Keep going."

You sank deeper, inch by inch, until your hips met hers and you were buried completely. You stayed there for a moment, letting her adjust, feeling her pulse around you.

"Move," she said. "Please move."

You pulled out slowly, then thrust back in. Her back arched and she made that sound again, high and needy. You found a rhythm—slow at first, deep and deliberate, watching her face for every reaction.

"Harder," she said. "I won't break."

Fuck. You gripped her hips and gave her what she wanted. The couch creaked with each thrust. She was meeting you halfway now, her hips rolling, her pussy clenching around you.

"That's it," she gasped. "Just like that, don't stop—"

You couldn't have stopped if you wanted to. Some distant part of your brain was screaming that this was insane, unprofessional, that you'd crossed every line. The rest of you didn't give a shit.

Her nails dug into your back—you'd have marks tomorrow, crescent moons you wouldn't be able to explain. She was getting louder, less coherent, her body starting to tense.

"Close," she managed. "Oppa, I'm so close—"

You shifted the angle slightly and she cried out. You'd found something good. You kept hitting that spot, hard and fast, and suddenly she was coming, her whole body going rigid then shaking, pussy clenching around you in waves so tight you almost couldn't move.

"Fuck!" She was loud, uninhibited. "Fuck, fuck, fuck—"

You didn't slow down, couldn't, you were too close yourself. Just kept fucking her through it. She was oversensitive, gasping and twitching with every thrust, but she didn't tell you to stop.

"Inside," she managed, her voice wrecked. "I'm safe—please, I want to feel it—"

That did it. You slammed in one last time and came with a groan that felt ripped from your chest, your cock pulsing inside her, filling her. Her cunt was still fluttering around you, milking every drop.

You collapsed on top of her, both of you breathing hard. Her arms came around you, holding you close.

After a moment, you carefully pulled out. Your cum immediately started leaking out of her, obscenely white against her pink, used pussy. She made a small sound, whether protest or satisfaction you couldn't tell.

"You came a lot, Oppa," she murmured.

"Yeah." You shifted to lie beside her on the couch. "You fine?"

"So fine..." She turned her head to look at you, that smile playing at her lips again. "My members are going to be so jealous."

Your brain was still foggy. "What?"

"That I got to be your first." She stretched like a cat. "From the twelve of us."

"Wait, what do you mean the twelve—"

"We talk about everything, Oppa." She was grinning now. "And after tonight? They're definitely going to want their turn."

"Chuu, that's not—I can't just—" You didn't even know how to finish that sentence. Could you? Would you? Should you?

"We'll see." She sat up, winced slightly. "I need a shower. Join me?"

"I should—" You stopped. Should what? Leave? Pretend this didn't happen?

"Please stay," she said, softer now. "I don't want to be alone tonight."

So you stayed.

You woke up to sunlight streaming through unfamiliar windows and the sound of a shower running. For a moment you were disoriented, then it all came back. Chuu. Everything that happened.

Fuck.

You sat up on the edge of her bed—you'd eventually made it to her bedroom sometime after the shower, after she'd pulled you down for another round, slower and softer than the first. Your clothes were scattered somewhere between the living room and here.

Your phone was on her nightstand. The screen showed dozens of notifications—the group chat, mostly. You scrolled through: questions about Chuu, worry, anger at the company. Nothing that required an immediate response.

The shower turned off. A moment later, Chuu emerged, wrapped in a towel, her phone in hand, hair wet and face bare of makeup. She looked younger like this. Softer.

"Morning," she said, smiling when she saw you were awake.

"Morning."