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You wake slowly, tangled in Jack’s sheets. Not all the way awake – not yet – because the dream is too pleasant to leave behind.
In it, you're standing in line at a coffee shop six months ago, checking your phone while waiting for your order. It had been one of those mornings where everything seemed determined to go wrong. You were running late, your battery was nearly dead, and when you finally got to the cashier to pay, your mobile wallet chose that exact moment to stop working.
You tried again… and again… but nothing. “I swear it worked yesterday.”
The barista offered an understanding smile while the line behind you grew. Then a voice beside you said, “Let me get that for you.” You peered over your shoulder and forgot all about your coffee. Two shots, oat milk, caramel syrup, over ice even though it was chucking down with rain.
The man standing there was handsome and had an effortless charm about him. Tight curls, tired hazel eyes that somehow made him more attractive instead of less, and the kind of face that was completely unthreatening. It didn’t feel like he was coming on to you, just doing his good deed for the day. “Oh no, you don't have to-” You tried to protest.
“It's fine.” But Jack wasn’t having it. He sent you a small but genuine smile as he paid for your drink and his black coffee – the contrast in the drinks always amuses you when they’re ordered together.
You were late to work that day because getting to know that his name was Dr Jack Abbot and he’s emergency medicine physician was more important. There was some overt flirting from you both, laughter, and wide grins but when it came to asking for your number, there was obvious hesitation that was actually caution.
You can still picture it. The way he rubbed the back of his neck, appearing almost embarrassed as he admitted he wasn’t sure how you felt about the age different, but the age difference hadn’t even occurred. It didn’t matter then and it certainly doesn’t now.
Six months later, you spend more nights in his apartment than your own. You know where he keeps the spare sheets, which is his favourite mug, how he likes his eggs scrambled for his toast. Which side of the bed he unconsciously drifts towards during the night.
The dream fades gently and reality takes its place. The bed may be empty beside you with Jack at work, but you roll onto his side anyway, burying your face in his pillow that’s scented invitingly of him.
A sleepy smile pulls at your lips. Six months ago, he bought you a coffee. Now, somehow, his bed feels more like home than yours ever has.
It’s then sounds start to reach you properly and it’s the sound of running water which takes centre stage. You blink, lifting your head off the pillow as you hear that the shower is on. For a moment, you're confused because Jack should have been halfway through his shift by now.
Then you turn your head in the direction of the digital clock on his bedside table and your eyes widen. Oh. You slept in! A rare achievement these days. You have got so used to waking before your alarm, before sunrise, before common sense, that seeing the late morning time glowing back at you in green digits feels almost surreal.
It means though that the shower running isn’t because your sleepily forgot to turn it off, but because Jack is home. A grin spreads across your face. You push yourself up against the headboard, listening to the steady rush of water from the bathroom hoping it was a good shift. There have been too many difficult ones lately.
Too many mornings where he has come through the door exhausted, carrying the weight of whatever had happened at the Pitt. Too many times, you've watched him stare silently into his breakfast/dinner before finally telling you about a particularly rough case or a patient he couldn't stop thinking about. The job takes so much from him at times, but he doesn’t know any other way.
Yesterday evening there was a short window where you were both home. You having got in from work, him preparing to depart for it, and as he started to head out, you stole one last hug while he laughed at your inability to let him leave on time. It’s okay though, because he’s always very early. “Have a good shift.” You told him with a sweet kiss on the cheek, and he smiled his smile that’s only reserved for you.
“It doesn't matter.” This confused you, evident by the frown that made its way onto your face.
“What doesn't?”
“The shift.” His hands had settled at your waist. “Because after this, I've got three straight days with you. No work, no distractions, just you.” The words themselves had been enough but the way he uttered them had nearly melted you into the floor. Low and warm and unmistakably flirtatious, like he was already counting down the hours.
The memory sends a pleasant heat through you now as your stomach flutters and your cheeks become pink.
For a few moments, you stay exactly where you are, just breathing and listening. Listening to the steady rush of water from the bathroom, the occasional moaning of old pipes, the city that has recently woken beyond the windows. A distant siren fades into the background, a delivery van rattles down the street, birds singing to one and other.
The sounds drift together into a comfortable sort of morning soundtrack. It’s ordinary but incredibly peaceful, a type of peace you never used to appreciate until meeting Jack Abbot.
You throw back the covers and sit up. The room is bright with late-morning sunlight peeking up above the closed curtains. They’re inviting you to pull them open to enjoy a rare dry day. Jack was overjoyed when he saw the forecast, immediately suggesting all kinds of different activities that could be done over the next three days, but you would be happy to just be tangled with him beneath the sheets.
It would certainly be a good place to start before he sleeps.
You climb out of bed, sleep shorts riding up slightly higher on one thigh as you stretch. The oversized tank top you stole from his laundry basket yesterday because it smells of him hangs comfortably against your skin.
Barefoot, you make your way across the room, the floorboards cool beneath your feet. A quiet creak follows each step. The closer you get to the bathroom, the louder the shower becomes with steam sneaking between the partially closed door, spilling warm air invitingly into the hallway.
Your smile returns automatically at the prospect of three days together with no responsibilities, and they’re starting right now. You reach the bathroom door and rest your hand against the frame, already looking forward to seeing him.
When you step inside, you immediately spot his standing naked form through the frosted glass of the shower. The noise of the running water and his tired humming means he doesn't hear you enter, and when you knock on the glass stall his hand flies to his chest with shock, almost losing his balance entirely on his one leg. But then he laughs and when he pushes open the door a tad, he is grinning. “You trying to give an old man a heart attack?”
“Less of the old.” You tut.
His gaze drops briefly to your tank top and sleep shorts. “You know you're clothed, right?”
This makes you giggle. “I had noticed.” Without another word, you step into the shower. The water immediately soaks through your top leaving little to the imagination all while your partner stares, pupils blowing wider.
Water drips from your hair as you move closer, clothes already clinging uncomfortably to your skin but that doesn’t matter. Jack shakes his head, smiling despite himself. “You couldn't wait five minutes?”
“Nope.” You sound, popping the ‘P’ dramatically.
The smile he gives you then is so fond it nearly hurts. It’s the kind that catches you completely off guard, like he’s genuinely thrilled to see you, like you’re the best part about coming home. He knows he’s happier now, he knows he doesn’t linger at the hospital for as long, he knows he doesn’t obsess about potential disasters while listening to the police scanner like before.
And that’s all because of you.
You reach for him first, your hands settling against his shoulders while his automatically find your waist. And then you're kissing him – slowly and deeply – as the warm water falls around you both. How Jack kisses you back is not rushed nor desperate, just familiar and full of affection.
The last traces of sleep disappear completely as you revel in having three uninterrupted days with him. He’s already suggested turning his phone off so the hospital can’t reach him, but you’re not that selfish and you know he’s one of the first people they need in times of dire emergency.
Jack's hand settles against the small of your back as he rests his forehead briefly against yours. “Good morning.” He murmurs and you smile. It’s definitely a good morning.
“Morning my love.” You greet in reply, pulling back to quirk a brow at him. “You should be sitting.”
This makes him roll his eyes with a huff, fleetingly glancing to the wall-mounted shower seat that’s folded up. “I’ve got good balance.” He claims, standing firm on his one leg, knowing that the metal grab rail isn’t far away if he needs it. But you don’t move on it and he sighs before unfolding the seat and sitting down on it. “Happy?”
“I am now.”
“Hm.” He hums, taking how soaked you’re becoming under the stream. “You’re getting wet.”
“I am getting very wet.” You insinuate and his eyes turn as dark as the dark circles beneath them.
“Fuck baby.” He growls, reaching forward to pull you closer to stand between his parted legs – he just about catches the fabric clinging to your hips.
It is difficult for him to pull your clothes off as they are sopping. When he is successful, he rewards himself by drawing your nipple between his teeth and you gasp upwards, water spraying into your eyes in the process. Your shorts make a splash sound when they smack the floor of the shower. It is an amusing sound really and he chuckles as he sucks at you before you clumsily kick the clothing out of the stall and more importantly, out of the way.
He switches sides. You rake your nails down his scalp. He nips at you. You moan.
It’s then that your brain catches up and you’re pulling back, dislodging your breast from his mouth and bringing two fingers to under his chin to tilt his gaze up to meet yours. “Will you let me look after you?” You ask, cupping his cheek and brushing a thumb under his eye.
It’s not something he finds easy, being looked after. Jack is independent even during times when he shouldn’t have to be. Even when he lost his leg, he was determined to get back on his feet with very little assistance. When his wife was dying, he didn’t want any outside help to care for her. When he’s been low and stood on the roof of the hospital, the last thing he’s wanted was for Robby or anyone else to find him.
But now as he stares up at you, hazel eyes practically shimmering with adoration, he’s happy to accept. “Only if I can help you too.” But there’s a caveat, of course there’s a caveat. “Then we could sleep a little.”
“Sounds perfect.” And then you’re lowering yourself to your knees.
The base of the shower is harsh against the skin and bone, but you don’t care because you get a hand to his cock. Jack makes a noise that could be described as a blissed-out sigh as he settles more comfortably against the wall, shoulders sagging with relief to have you in his life.
“Tell me about your shift.” You request as you slowly start to wake him up with your fist.
Jack lightly laughs, not quite believing that you’re up for a chat right about now, but he also acknowledges that he’s no longer a young man and it takes him a little longer than it used to to get hard. Thankfully, you’re patient. “It was relatively quiet as the night shift goes.” He starts by saying. “Intox related cases mainly. We didn’t lose anyone which is always something.” Your hand rolls over his tip then earning a soft whine, spreading the dribble of pre-cum as he stiffens in your grip. “Shit baby.”
“Feel good?” You smirk and he hums.
“You’ve got magic hands.”
“Is my mouth also magic?”
“Fuck.” With the shower continuing to run around you both, you take his semi-hard cock into your mouth, lazily sucking at the head while continuing to stroke the base of it to wake him fully.
Jack is definitely the oldest sexual partner you’ve had so it’s taken some getting used to having to be patient like this, not being able to just jump on him and ride him orgasm. This is almost sexier though because the process of getting him ready makes your thighs slick with dripping arousal. No one works you up like he does – and that’s even with him barely touching you.
His fingers weave into your hair, keeping you in place as you drag your tongue along the underside of his standing member before swirling it around the head. He tastes delicious. Salty but also a little sweet almost like the popcorn you share at the movie theatre. “Mmm…” He murmurs. “Someone is cock hungry this morning.”
You’re smiling when you pull off him, saliva pooled at the corners of your mouth. “Only for you.”
“Who knew that mousy girl who couldn’t pay for her sickly-sweet coffee was this dirty in bed?”
“We aren’t in bed.” You remind cheekily lips encasing his tip.
“Behave.”
You’re smirking as you peer up at him through your lashes, before you’re sinking down on him, swallowing every inch of his long length down like it is nothing. Jack groans at the ceiling, nails digging into your scalp as you hold position with his cock snug down your throat.
He yanks your hair back then, forcing you to breathe making a warmth spread in your test because even when aroused, he’s looking out for you. You send your thanks with round doe-like eyes meeting his and he manages a smile before his lips part as you find a rhythm.
And he’s in heaven.
The first time wasn’t like this. It was awkward and a little clumsy both of you so far into your heads it was almost painful. Jack had limited experience since the passing off his wife, he certainly hadn’t engaged with anyone that wasn’t meant to be anything other than a casual fling, while you were intimidated by his age, wanting to live up to the history created in your mind. But then you paused and talked about it and neither of you have looked back since.
It’s a safe space, sex with him. There are no expectations, no roughness unless previously negotiated, and certainly no kink shaming. There may be a healthy discussion first but there’s nothing you haven’t tried.
Jack stops you from expertly servicing his cock by gently pulling you off him with a dazed smile. “Is something wrong?” You ask, sounding a little hoarse from him being stuffed down your throat.
“I don’t want to finish yet.” He admits, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead lovingly. “Thirsty?”
“I am but-”
“But nothing.” He cuts in, creating a cup with his hands, reaching forward to let some of the shower stream easily pour into it. You blush as he feeds you this warm water, grateful to feel it soothe your throat. “There you go, good girl.” His cock is leaking, rock hard and an angry red but he doesn’t pay it any attention because that doesn’t matter compared to you. “Get up.” You do as he says.
But you’re barely to your feet when he’s pulling you into a kiss, with him craning upwards the best he can and you dipping downwards. Initially it’s a soft brush of lips but then it becomes all tongue and teeth and rising need accompanied by little noises of pleasure. One of your hands is on his jaw while the other tugs at the little curls at the nape of his neck, his hands are firmly on your hips, keeping you close.
Jack takes his time because he always takes his time.
His fingers trace the curve of your waist, then lower, exploring in a way that makes your breath hitch against his mouth. “Put your leg up.” He coaches and slightly inelegantly you do plant your foot on shower seat next to him. That’s when he leans in and inhales your sex peeping out from between your thighs, humming like you’re a tasty meal.
When you first starting dating Jack Abbot, he was self-conscious about his disability. He tried to hide the various aids in his home, was spending less time on his crutches, played off when he was in pain because he didn’t want to be seen as different. At the earliest opportunity, you quashed those anxieties and now one of his aids is being used for shared pleasure.
He starts to suckle at your engorged clit, fingers swiping absently at your slit as a series of involuntary noises escape you. Breathy sounds that could be mistaken (perhaps rightfully so) as whimpers. You grip onto his shoulders to keep yourself steady on the shower floor.
Jack moves his thumb slightly to nudge into you folds just enough to confirm you’re practically dripping. “So wet for me baby.” He grunts.
“Jack… Please I-”
“Use your words sweetheart.” He instructs, rubbing at you lazily, taking note of each subtle change to your breathing.
“Need more.” You whisper and he obeys, sliding two of his slick digits inside you.
A loud moan leaves your parted lips that could be a curse word if it wasn’t so strangled. It’s muffled by how you drop your head onto his shoulder, subconsciously widening you gait to give him better access. At first, his movements are unhurried, wanting to work you up gradually, but how you keen against him makes it obvious that you need much more.
His strokes become quicker, accompanied by the curling of his fingers, and you can’t prevent the needy noises from leaving your lips, practically mewling. It’s not enough though. “Need… more.”
“More fingers baby?”
“No.”
Jack has an impressive cock. It’s bigger than two of his fingers easily, and even when he adds a third it doesn’t have the same effect. His hardness is longer, cervix-bruising, girth wide enough to create the perfect stretch that can border on being painful if he doesn’t prepare you long enough. But you were already wet when you woke up so you know you’re ready to take him.
Jane removes his fingers from your sweltering heat before being nothing but a witness to you turning around so your ass is in his face. He slaps it playfully making you yelp, him snaking a hand around your waist stopping you from slipping. “Sorry.” He apologises.
“Don’t apologise. I like it.”
“Good to know.” You hear the grin in his voice even though you’re not facing him. “You going to sit on my cock baby?”
Backing up to him, his arm still around you, you lower slightly to feel the head of his hardness poke against you. “Yes. Will you-”
“I’ve got it.” He reassures, gripping the base of his member with his free hand to help guide it to your opening. You gasp when he feeds the tip inside, your lips enclosing around it. “There you are sweetheart.”
It’s all the encouragement you need to squat down, both groaning in sync as he splits you open inch after inch. It’s hardly been long since he last fucked you but still there’s a tightness that he has to stretch. But it isn’t long before you’re sitting in his lap, his mouth sucking at your neck as you accommodate to his size. “Fuck.”
“You feel so good baby.” He praises. “Not going to… Not going to last long.”
“N-Neither.”
“That’s lucky.” With one hand squeezing your own thigh and your other holding on to the accessible grab rail, you start to move, pulling upwards so that he almost pops out entirely before using gravity to your advantage to drop completely down on him once more, knocking the breath form you both. “Jesus baby.” And then you start fucking yourself on his cock.
It isn’t the first time you’ve had sex in his shower. The first time took a lot of persuasion with him reeling off all the shower related injuries he’s seen in the ER. Slips, trips, bangs on the head – even a broken collar bone on one occasion, but then you showed him that his seat has other uses.
You’ve become quite adept at it too, thighs much stronger than before, plus feeling secure in how he holds you. The grab rail helps as does how he ruts upwards into you, hardness stroking all the best parts inside you while his fingers draw tight circles on your clit.
The moment he left you for his shift, dreaming of what the next three days could be like, you secretly planned for something like this to happen before he slept his shift off. He always sleeps better after an orgasm, and a well-rested Jack means more joy and pleasure later. “My perfect girl.” He growls, hugging you tighter against him as you bounce on his cock freely.
The stall walls amplify all the sounds that are made, even above the constant stream of the shower running. Skin against skin. Squelching wetness. Staccato breaths. Needy whimpers and whines. It’s pure filth in a space meant for cleanliness.
But it also means that once you’re done, he will clean you up, wash your sweaty skin and carefully wipe your swollen centre. He will insist on you using the seat while he does, taking his time, being gentle despite being tired and wanting to fall into bed. He won’t let you out of the bathroom until you have peed, knowing the risks of infection if you don’t especially because of fucking him raw.
You will protest a little but not much, actually loving how much he dotes on you. How aftercare becomes part of the experience as opposed to an afterthought. “You’re squeezing me baby.” He groans as your cunt starts to flutter around him. “You going to cum for me?”
“Hmm.” You fuck yourself faster on him, his fingers use more force on your sensitive nub as he thrusts upwards off the seat. “Fuck Jack.”
“It’s okay baby I’ve got you.” Your moans get louder and at the pitch that he knows means he is getting you near to completion. “I’m right there with you.” While your legs quiver, you feel how he throbs, ready to fill you up and that’s where you need him to be because you’re on the edge of exploding. “Cum for me baby.”
The invitation has you immediately seeing stars. The moan that’s ripped from your throat is almost a scream of his name as you completely soak him with your release, smothering his cock as he spills inside you just a few seconds later. He grunts as his muscles contract and he empties, stuffing you with his hot seed.
Jack feels your heartbeat in two places when you drop against him. In your chest as his palm is spread across one breast and your cunt as it pulsates around his softening member. You’re barely cognisance as you catch your breath, very grateful for this seat right now as he presses a kiss into your neck. “That was some welcome home.” He comments breathlessly, trailing his tongue into your clavicle, tasting your sweat.
“Hm.” You murmur. “I got nine hours sleep but think I need a nap after that.”
“We will go to bed soon.” He nips at your ear before peppering kisses just below it. “First we need to get cleaned up.”
And you’re smiling because he’s so predictable in a way that you’re utterly in love with.