#r writes

Age is just a number. That's what they say, right? You're only as old as you feel. That's another cliche that Jack has heard about age since he was a kid.

None of those people have ever had a super sexy girlfriend that's at least a decade (maybe two) younger than them. The age gap was apart of the appeal for both of you in the beginning. Stolen kisses in darkened hallways of the Pitt in addition to his seniority over you, both in age and rank, spurred the the beginning of the relationship. Jack didn't have time to be insecure about his age when he was constantly looking over his shoulder to see if anynoe noticed your newfound proximity.

However, that was months ago. The gidiness of the new relationship had faded resulting in Jack feeling a bit…insecure about his age. You didn't even know he wore reading glasses until several months into the relationship. He got very good hiding it, until one day he didn't hear you come out of the shower one night - his hearing issues are another insecurity - and didn't have time to stuff them into bedside drawer before you popped out of his bathroom.

"You have glasses?" your voice startles him, causing him to slam his book shut in alarm, "Are you reading smut?"

"What?" Jack is still trying to register that you're in the room while he has his glasses on.

"You slammed that book shut like you were a 13 year old who got caught looking at boobs on the Internet. Sorry 'nudey mags'" you use air quotes, "I forgot you were born in medeival times."

Jack rolls his eyes, putting his book on the bedside table before he grabs your wrist and pulls you on top of him, "keep talking about how old I am I dare you."

You settle into his lap, running your fingers through the short silver curls that rest above the arms of his glasses, "Seriously, how come I haven't seen these before?"

He shrugs, "I grew up when kids were still calling each other four eyes when they had glasses. I guess I have a thing about them."

You mock gasp, "Jack Abbot were you a bully? You know that I'm as blind as a bat without mine right?"

He has seen your skincare bottles 2 centimeters away from your eyeballs when you've taken your contacts off before finishing your routine. He supposes he shouldn't be worried about what you think about them, he can't help it anyways.

"I was not a bully, I just happened to see the bullying happening."

You giggle, "Well, evidedently you can't see much of anything anymore. But you don't have to hide them anymore I promise I won't make fun off you."

You lean down to kiss him, pulling his bottom lip between your teeth, "Besides, I think they're sexy."

Jack scoffs, "You dont have to say that to make me feel better."

"I'm not I promise," you grind down against him, he can feel his cock stir against his leg as your hips slowly move back and forth, "You look like a sexy professor."

"You had a crush on lots of your profs?"

"Not really, actually, a lot of my profs were just old and not attractive," your mouth moves down his jaw to his neck, sucking on the pulse point, "But if you were my prof I'd be at office hours every week."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah and I hated going to office hours. I'd even sit front row like a dork just to oogle you."

"I used to sit front row," he's mildly offended.

"My point stands."

He spreads his legs so you can settle betwen them. You tug at his pajama pants and ease out his cock. He groans at your touch. He moves to take off his glasses but you stop him.

"Leave them on please," you please, "for me?"

And truly, he is incapable of denying you anything.

But it's not just the glasses. Jack just has struggled to not being able to do the things he was able to do easily. When he was dating his wife all those years ago, he could take his luggage, her luggage and their carry on during vacations. Now? He was lucky if he could get the luggage out to the car without throwing out his back. You insist that you're perfectly capable of taking your own stuff, that you didn't need him to do heavy lifting for him, but just because you can doesn't mean you should.

And his hearing has been fucked up since he came back home. The ER is a loud place; trauma patients, alarms on machines, occasional fights in chairs ,so it's not usually a problem at work. However, when it's a quiet night in with just the two of you? He cannot hear half of the words that come out of your mouth. He's found a way to play to off by sidling up close to you and bringing his ear close to you. He keeps his voice low, nuzzling against your neck as your head falls back on his shoulder. You just assume he likes the proximity, and he does, but what you don't know is that keeping you close to him is the only way to ensure that he can actually catch every word.

And the worst part of having an extremly beautiful younger woman is the fact that other people find you extremly beautiful. Jack never used to describe himself as a jealous person, but after watching good looking guys whether it be patients, other staff memebers, or random people when you're on a date, he can't help but fear that one day you'll realize he is too old for you and find someone your own age to settle down with. Of course you never give them the time of day, sometimes don't even realize that you're being flirted with.

"Who was that?" you jump at the computer when he comes up behind you.

"Jack! You scared the shit out of me."

"Sorry baby," he keeps his voice low, until you become an attending you would prefer that your relationship not be out in the open "Who was that?"

"Who was who?" you're genuinley confused.

"The guy who you were just talking to. Long-ish hair, tall, some would call him handsome."

"Jack are you jealous?"

"No."

He keeps his face still but he says it too quickly.

"Jack, he was just the family member of a patient. He wasn't flirting with me."

"Of course he was flirting with you."

You roll your eyes, "Well if he was I didn't notice."

You stand up and keep your voice low, "The only thing I noticed is how sexy you look when you think someone's flirting with me."

Jack wants to kiss you so badly, right in the middle of PTMC. Show everyone that you are definitively taken. He also feels like he's going to chip a tooth with how hard he's grinding his jaw.

He takes a quick look around to see if anyone will notice before he leads you into a service closet. If he has to keep adjusting the collar of his shirt to hide the newly forming hickey you may or may not have given him, whose going to know.

The asolute worst thing about being old and having as many skeletons in the closet as Jack does, is the fact that the high dose of SSRI's that he needs severly fuck up his ability to have good sex. Expelling pent up jealous energy in workplace closetes usually only result in a hot and heavy make out session. Maybe, if he's lucky, he can get his fingers in you and swallow your moans with his mouth as he makes you cum. You've tried in the past to return the favour, but his dick just doesn't respond no matter how much he wants it to. Unfortunately for Jack, sex is usually reserved for the house where he can take his time and work up to it, but even then sometimes he ends up more frustrated than when he started.

The first time it had happened was when you first started dating. Your off days lined up and he cooked a nice dinner, opened a bottle of wine which all culminated in you naked in his bed. He was still wearing his boxers, body caging yours against the matress as he hikes your leg up on his hip. and grinds against your pussy.

Everything is working for him; the way your the sweat gleamed off your tan skin in the lowlight of his bedroom, the tiny mewls and gasps that he pulls from you when he gets the angle just right, the scratch of your nails against his back as you arch up against him when you cum. He hasn't dry humped in forever, forgot that it was a classic for a reason.

But his dick just doesn't get the memo.

"Jack," you moan as you come down from your high, "don't tease me please. Wa-wan't you so bad."

He gets a hand on his cock, trying anything to get himself going.

"Can't," he jolts away from you, embarrassed. He sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands.

"What?" you raise yourself on your elbows, "What's wrong?"

If this were 10 or 15 years ago the way your chest was heaving would have had him ready to go in a minute.

"I'm sorry I should have told you earlier," he takes a deep breathe, "I'm on a fuck ton of antidepressants and it kinda fucks with my ability to get an erection."

"Oh," you move to sit next to him and rest your head on his shoulder.

You knew he was a vet, and that he carried baggage because of it. You suppose somewhere in the back of your mind you knew that he had to be on some sort of antidepression medication because of it, but you didn't quite put two and two together.

"So does that mean you can't have sex…ever?"

He can't help but laugh a bit, "you didn't pay attention to the erectile dysfuction part of your medical textbooks?"

"Actually if I'm being totally honest no. I got really pissed off that there's more research on just ED than there is on the entirety of women's health so I just kinda skimmed it everytime."

"For feminism?"

You nod, "for feminism."

You lean in, gently pressing your lips against his.

"Sooo is there like some weird obscure porn that you can only view on a site that will immediately give my computer a virus or what?"

He laughs, "that's not exactly how it works."

"So how does it work?"

He groans and flops against the bed, running his hands through his head, "It's not you I swear. You are the sexiest woman I've laid eyes on in years, but sometimes it just takes a bit longer for my little guy to get the message."

"You call your dick little guy?"

"I never gave him a nickname when I was younger, then I got old and he stopped working so now I call him that out of spite."

"Maybe try being nice to him and that will work?"

And that's a nice thought, but not typically how Jack rolls. And he decides he doesn't care. He will get an erection tonight by the power of sheer will, he's going to have sex with you tonight if its the last thing he does.

He stands up and pushes your shoulders so you hit the mattress with a small bounce, "or maybe I tell him to get his shit together."

He spreads your legs, stands between them before he kneels in front of you. You feel his arms wrap around your legs before he yanks you forward and your body flies towards him. You melt under his touch as he presses kisses to your inner thighs. Your pussy is aching, your clit throbbing, but Jack takes his sweet fucking time teasing you, holding your legs open so you cant wrap your legs around his head to spur him on.

"Jaaaaack," you whine. It's music to his ears.

"Relax sweetheart, we've got all night."

He licks a stripe up your pussy before he sucks on your clit. His stubble pokes at the sensitive skin of your thighs deliciously. He slides his fingers through your folds before he holds them open, exposing you to the cool room air.

"You're so fucking gorgeous, baby."

Then Jack dives in like a man starved. He buries his face between your thighs, alternating between licking and sucking, tongue flattening against your clit, trying to figure out what makes you scream. You're still senstive from your earlier orgasm. Your leg shakes over his shoulders, hands pulling at his curls.

"Don't stop, Jack. Please, don't you fucking stop," he can hear the quiver in your voice.

As if he'd be able to. He slides a thick finger inside, revelling in the way your hips buck against face. He adds another.

"Let go for me baby, I know you're close," he pulls away just long enough to say that before he starts again.

You cum with a shout. He feels your walls clenching around his fingers and it makes him dizzy. He doesn't stop.

Your nails dig into his scalp but he keeps going. The next orgasm comes quicker, he has to hold your leg in plce so you don't kick him in the head somehow. He's so consumed by you he has no idea how long he stays there, how many orgasms run through your body before you're begging him to stop.

He stands up, ignoring the sound his knee makes when he does so. He sheds his boxers quickly, before crawling up your body. He slides the head of his cock between your folds. You're dripping. He's going to need to change the sheets after this.

"You sure you need a break, pretty girl?" his is hoarse in your ear, "I think he finally got the message."

Jack Abbot knows how to fuck.

Not to be one of those guys that massively overestimates his bedroom skills, but in college he had a constant hookup with one of his friends and when that fizzled out she actually recommended him to a friend of hers after her breakup. He generally prefers relationships so he may not be a complete whore like Robby, but he knows what he's doing.

Which makes it all the more frustrating when his dick goes soft when he's actively inside you. He's a doctor, he knows how ED works and how common it is especially among vetran's his age but he can't help the shame and embarassment he feels anyways.

You're still on top of him, soft cock still inside you. Your walls spasm around him, taunting him for not being able to keep up with you.

"Jack," your hand comes up to caress his face, "it's okay, really."

"No it's fucking not," he tries to lift you off him so he can go hide in his bathroom but you push his shoulders back against the bed.

"You're being dramatic," you say, peppering his neck with kisses, "there's nowhere else I'd rather be."

"The thing no one tells you about having a hot a younger girlfriend is that it's actually impossible to keep up with your hot younger girlfriend."

He can feel your giggle against his neck, "Is that all I am to you?"

"Of course. Just like how you're only with me cause I'm a doctor and I'm rich."

"I'm a doctor."

"You're a resident still, it'll be a while before you're rich."

He can't actually see your face but he's well acquinted with your annoyed face.

He knows your still keyed up. He's still inside you, can feel your warm heat wrapped around him. If he can't fuck you he has to make it up to you somehow.

"Sit on my face."

"I'm fine, we can take a break and try again later."

"Or you can sit on my face and we can try again later.

He may not have cum himself, but the way your thighs cage his head in place while you grind down on his face. Your scent, your taste, it consumes him. He reaches up to grip your hips pulling you down to try and get you to lean into him.

"J-Jack," there is no sweeter sound than his name falling from your lips, "Stop. I don't wa-wanna hurt you."

He only stops long enough to say, "Baby, I've survived so much worse than a pretty girl sitting on my face."

"Baby," Jack groans. Halfway through the movie you were watching you dropped to your knees in front of him and pulled him out of his sweats, "You don't have to do this."

"Don't have to," you wink at him, "want to tho."

You suckle on the tip of his cock and he groans. He tries to keep still but he looses his composure after you bob your head lower and lower each time, but he can't help himself. You gag a little and he should feel bad about how that turns him on more, but your mouth feels so fucking good that he can't be bothered. Your throat makes obscene noises as you take him deeper, his chest is heaving as he gets closer and closer to his orgasm.

He reaches down to tangle his hand in your hair. You moan against him, the vibrations travelling through his whole body.

"Feel so good," he pants, "Were you thinking about this the whole time?"

You nod as best as you can around the thick cock currently halfway down your throat.

"Such an easy girl for me," he runs his hand along the top of your head before collecting your hair in a ponytail, "If you didn't want to watch the movie you could have told me."

He guides your head at a slow pace, revelling in the way your breath hitches each time he makes you take more of him. You preen against him. He can see you slip your hand between your legs.

"Don't," He commands. You look up at him through your lashes, "you wanted to take care of me, so take care of me, baby. Hands up."

You obey. You let your hands rest on his thighs, the two slick fingers you used to finger yourself gleam in the light. He lifts you up by your hair so only the tip of his dick was in your mouth.

"I'm gonna fuck your throat now, squeeze my leg three timesif you need me to stop."

You nod in assent and then he slams his hips up. He sets a quick pace, sliding back and forth, enjoying the heat of your motuh and the feel of your nails tightening around his thighs. He thinks he can get off like this, can feel that familiar pressure building.

Yes, fuck, he's so close. The tears stream down your face taking your mascara with it, the tracks unlocking something feral inside him.

"So close, baby, " he grunts, "gonna shoot down your throat and your're gonna swallow every drop."

You moan around him. He closes his eyes, gets lost in the feeling of you. Can fucking feel it, within grasp. He quickens his pace, determined to do exactly as he said. He wants to watch you sputter on his cum, wants to hear the way your voice croacks when he's done with you.

And then nothing.

Just like that.

He's so frustrated he just pulls you off of him before he stands up.

"Baby," your voice is fucked. Somehow that makes it worse, "Where are you going? What did I do?"

"Nothing, nothing," god, the last thing he wants is to have you blame yourself, "I just-I need to go for a walk."

So yeah. Maybe Jack is a little insecure. He doens't actually think you'll leave him but the thought still rattles around his brain.

So did he take the Viagra? Yes.

Was it a stupid idea? Also yes.

He's pretty sure he's made a mistake as soon it hits bloodstream. He's consumed by the thought of fucking you - more than he already does which is saying something. His head is spinning, can feel his pulse in his dick. But he can't turn back now.

Thankfully, you return home from your yoga class that moment. Jack all but pounced on you.

"Hey Jack -" you have a grocery bag in your hand but Jack cuts you off, taking it out of your hands and gently placing it on the ground before he helps you up on the counter.

He's got his hands tangled in the hairs at the base your neck, tilting your head up and keeping it in place. One hand slips under the waistbad of your leggings, groans when he's met with your cunt instead of panties.

"You went like this to yoga?"

"P-pants too tight, and h-hate wearing thongs and working out," if you can still tell him about your underwear habits then Jack clearly needs to step it up a notch. But he does file away the information that you work out commando for later.

He tries to more quickly and efficently. His cock is aching, straining against his pants. He's got one finger in you, then two, then three, rubbing your clit with the heel of his hand. He follows the movement of your hips, swallowing your moans with his mouth. It's not long before you cum with a shout, digging your nails into his back.

He doesn't even take the time to undress the two of you, he just pulls his dick out before he pulls your yoga pants down just low enough to give him acess to your pussy before he slams his hips into yours.

"Fuck me…so good, Jack," you pant agains mouth.

His thrusts are quick and shallow, keeping you full as you head full speed towards your orgasm. He knows he's going to have track marks down his back tomorrow - he doesn't care just keeps going. He lays you down on the counter to give himself leverage pounds into you.

"Ja-a-a-ck," you moan with each thrust, voice hitching each time he's fullt sheathed inside you, "So close, baby."

He can feel your walls clenching around him when he cums. He follows soon after, spilling into with a deep groan. His cock softens inside you as you clench around him, riding out your orgasm.

Jack knows he's made a mistake when his refactory period basically nonexistent. He's ready to go again by the time you've made it to the bedroom, which is when you've figured it out.

"You didn't," you point an accusatory finger at him.

He blushes, embarrased but can't be bothered to try and hide it, "Didn't do what?"

"You're hard already, that hasn't happened the entire time we've been dating. You clearly took something. Which is stupid because you're on so many other things you're definelty gonna fuck yourself up."

Yeah Jack did not think this one through all the way.

"Well, I can't take it back now can I."

Jack finds it really hard to remember why the Viagra is a bad idea when he's holding your hips, guiding them along his as you fuck yourself on his cock. His eyes are fixated on the way your tits are swinging above him and he's conflicted between enjoying the show and wanting to get his hands on them.

"C-can't believe you did this," it's hard to still be mad at him when he's making sure that you're taken care of, "so fucking stupid."

Maybe he should tell you to be mean to him more often, "I know."

"If I wanted someone young I'd go fuck them."

"I know."

You keep going, calling him insults that he enjoys a little too much. You get yourself off first, grinding down on him. It feels good, your heat wrapped around him clenching and unclenching as you tease him, but not good enough for him to get off. He doesn't complain, just lets you use his body until you're satisfied. His skin is itching. You keep going until you thighs can't keep yourself up anymore.

He has you your arms pinned down with his as he fucks into you doggy style. You lost the ability to speak an hour ago. Your tears and drool turn the fabric of the pillowcase underneath you translucent as you're no longer able to form a coherent thought.

"Still with me, baby?" he gives you a light smack on your ass.

Weakly, you nod your head.

"Need words, sweet girl, need to know you're okay."

You moan, sound lightly muffled by the pillow, "S-so good Jackie. Can-can't think."

You didn't know your pussy could go numb.

You were all sweaty and sticky and covered in cum so Jack's original plan was to carry you into the shower clean the two of you up but then the act of rubbing his hands over your wet soapy body ultimately ended up with his erection poking you in the back.

"Still?" you ask, turning around to face him, "Baby, I'm gonna start getting offended if your dick doesn't stay down soon."

"It hasn't been 4 hours yet."

"Just 3 and a half."

"Still not 4."

And so Jack ends up seated on his integrated shower bench, warm water falling down on you as he bounces you on his cock. You have on the shower wall bracing yourself, and the other playing with your tits.

"Look at my girl," he says, voice low, "All cock-drunk and stupid for me."

You let out an honest to god whine.

"You did so good baby," he nuzzles his face against your neck, "so fucking good for me. Gonna fill you up again."

He's already leaking out of you, there's no way you can fit another load but that doesn't mean he's not going to try anyways.

"Jack you need to go to the hospital it's been over 4 hours."

"I am not going to work because my dick is too hard. Shen and Ellis are on, you think they're going to act normal about it?"

"We don't have to go to work. We can go to Presby or a hospital on the other side of the city."

"That's worse."

"How?"

He groans, "I don't know."

"Robby's not on," Jack looks at you. He looks like he wants to argue with you but he knows you're right.

She had grown used to habit.

Six AM. The sun would cast across her bed, indicating it was time to rise. The bed was made, tucked in, and she would stretch.

Seven AM. The door would open. The servants would come and go, clean the room, adjust the shelves, stoke the fire, and leave.

Eight AM. She would prepare.

Everything as it should be; not a thing out of place.

Her hair was brushed as she stared at herself in the massive vanity mirror that had been provided for her. 

Every piece as it should be; not a thing out of place. 

The brush was set down on the counter next to her when she heard a knock on the door. Back straightened and her gray eyes settled behind her as she focused on the barrier that lay between her privacy and everything else. 

“Yes?”

Hinges creaked as a familiar face appeared at the door. His name was Jameson. He was a handsome enough man and of a good build and height. His hair, which fell in loose waves around his shoulders, was still damaged from the effects of too much hair dye. Everything that qualified himself to be the standard requirements for a former Flare. They had been allowed ‘new lives’ in the Beautiful Tomorrow, as they had been promised, yet so many of them remained bound into old, familiar habits.

It made her stomach clench, though her features remained blank. 

“He is here, Lady Diantha.”

Fingertips lightly clenched into the fabric of her nightgown, but instinctively she bowed her head.

“Thank-You, Jameson. Let him in, please.”

The man nodded and closed the door behind him, leaving the fallen Kalos Champion alone again, though the relief would be brief. The woman once more stared at herself in the massive vanity mirror, catching her own gaze within the reflection. The years had not been kind to her, the wrinkles under her eyes growing more and more apparent every day in this hellscape. Not that he would allow her to stay that way for long. He never did. Fingertips ran themselves along the creases, as though to try and smear them away, alongside the faint tear that tempted to fall as well. 

No, no. None of that. 

Not for him. Never for him. 

She smoothed out her gown and stood up, exiting out the bathroom door to face the lion on the other end. 

Lysandre was a massive man. He always had been. When he walked into a room, he commanded it, and he did so now as he stood at the front of the door to her bedroom. The Weapon’s effects on him had been the most noticeable. He towered, hair practically touching the ceiling of her room. Though his hands were clasped behind his back and his shoulders were squared, Diantha always felt he appeared ready to spring at any moment. A predator, with the energy radiating within his muscles and core. Always ready to pounce when the prey was unsuspecting–lucky for her Diantha had never considered herself prey and certainly would not now.

“Your Grace.”

“My Lady.”

The predator bowed at the waist, a hand rested against his chest as he did so. The same movement, as it was every morning. All a part of their routine. Engagement within the gilded cage that was this home. For that was certainly what she was–a beautiful songbird bound in a golden cage.

She stared at the would-be savior of this world, but she saw him for what he truly was– a murderer. He towered over her and, though his form be pristine, she still saw the blood that covered his hands and the viscera that smothered his muzzle. That hand that had the audacity to press the button that destroyed the world. The Weapon’s aftermath had seemingly gifted him the most, swelling his size with the abundance of life that he gorged himself on routinely. His eyes glinted with the light of all those lives, reflecting like the rainbows that sprung from Xerneas’ antlers. She hated how they stared at her, the slits far more animalistic than they had ever been. So different than when she had first met him, in what felt like eternities ago. 

That much younger man, with such hope and joy in his face as he had sought out to change the world. She remembered meeting him at an up-and-coming conference, where the brightest minds of all of Kalos could meet together to discuss the future of their great region. He had been so full of ideas, discussing with great certainty the very thing they all sought in common– that Kalos was beautiful and that it was worth fighting for.

Comparing that young man from so long ago to the egotistical tyrant that now stood before her was enough to bring forth a sense of mourning, though all tears shed for him had long since been lost and dried out upon her cheeks before they could ever fall.

“You are early today.” She eventually spoke to break the ice that had settled in the room. 

“Hm. My patrol of the gardens went quite quick this morning. The frost that had set in relatively early this month has receded and the gardens have begun to bloom. It should prove an opportune time to begin research in redistributing a source of Grass-Types back into the environment.”

Diantha nodded. She knew all about Lysandre’s ‘ark project’ by now. His slow burned attempts to bring back the thousands of pokemon species that he had eradicated with the press of a button. SInce then, they had discovered that it hadn’t been as instant nor as painless as they had thought. Those located nearest to the Weapon had been the luckiest, with their transformation into stone taking but a fraction of a few moments. Those closest to the Weapon could still be found mid-activity, sweeping up their floors and settling down to eat their dinners.However, the effects had been slower the further out they had gone. For many on the outskirts of Kalos, and the world, the effects of petrification had taken days, even weeks. For some, it had been months. A slow, agonizing process. When Flare's scientists had gone out into the world to find the results of their efforts, they had found both pokemon and man in the worst of positions. Clawing at their skin. Choking as the life left their lungs. Some had decided to finish themselves off rather than let the petrification take its course. 

Not that Lysandre ever let that slip to the masses. For those not within Flare's Illustrious admin ranks, the word was it was quick and final and painless. Now was not the time to think on the past and grieve on the loss of life. Now was the time to rebuild. So rebuild they had, taking to immediately set into their new system they had been trained for. 

That had been almost ten years ago, Diantha calculated. Ten years to indeed see the pollution begin to clear the atmosphere and the waterways. The streets of Lumiose were a ghost town, as former Flare and their families had closed it off as a reminder of the Old Ways. The trees had begun to take over the moss and grass covered pathways. The buildings had begun to collapse and what wild Pokémon they had managed to bring back from the Ark were congregating there. Lumiose was now a Holy place. A sacred space where only the elites might tread, but she knew the truth and she always would.