Work Text:
Pittsburgh had finally shifted into that late-autumn, early-winter mood where the air wasn’t just cold, it nipped at your skin. Sharp enough to wake you up, soft enough to convince you it wasn't really cold yet. The kind of weather that made the streetlamps glow a little warmer, the sidewalks shine with thin frost, and every breath came out as a faint silver cloud.
Robby pushed his hands deeper into the pockets of his coat as he crossed the street toward the little café Jack had insisted they try. He wasn’t entirely sure why; Jack wasn’t exactly a café man. More of a hospital-coffee-because-I’m-already-dying-inside man. But Robby wasn’t complaining. A date was a date, and they didn’t get many shared days off. It was still early enough into their relationship that dates were thrilling, even at their age. Robby relished each one.
Jack had been waiting outside for him, leaning against the brick wall beneath the glow of the overhead light, tapping his foot in that absent way he did when he was thinking about something. Or, more accurately, overthinking about something.
Jack perked up when he spotted him. “You made it.”
“I live a couple blocks away,” Robby said. “It wasn’t exactly an expedition.”
Jack nodded solemnly. “Still. Penn Avenue can be treacherous at dusk. Crosswalks. Potholes. Unleashed children.”
Robby rolled his eyes. “Are you trying to impress me with your poor idea of humor?”
“Trying?” Jack deadpanned. “I thought I already succeeded.” He said it in his usual monotone, warm and dry, but the corner of his mouth twitched just enough to give him away. Robby felt a curl of warmth rise in his chest.
This was new. Dating. Them.
But somehow it all felt familiar. Natural in a way that shouldn’t have been possible so soon, except that they had built a steady, solid friendship long before the idea of anything romantic had ever crossed either of their minds. There hadn’t been any big declarations or big gestures. Their friendship just slowly, quietly bled into something deeper. Something intimate. Coming over to watch a game turned into falling asleep together on the couch. Going out for a beer turned into private drinks at home and making out in bed. Even shift changes turned into prolonged eye contact and not-so-subtle touches as they handed off patients.
They stepped inside the café, a book-lined little place that smelled like nutmeg and espresso. Jack ordered tea “because I’m trying to be a responsible adult,” and Robby ordered coffee “because I’m not.” They sat in a booth by the window. Outside, a few early wreaths and string lights were already appearing on storefronts, casting small reflections on the glass. Jack stirred his tea with entirely unnecessary focus.
“You’re thinking about work,” Robby said.
Jack looked up, caught. “I’m not thinking about work.”
“You’re always thinking about work. To be fair, we both are.”
“I’m thinking about…other things.”
Robby raised a brow. “Like what?”
Jack opened his mouth, paused, then cleared his throat. “Like…us. And this. And how you agreed to go out with me when I asked, even though you absolutely could’ve done better.”
Robby snorted. “Jack, I don’t know what better relationships you think I could be in right now, but I am perfectly happy with you. I seem to recall you referring to my past love life as a dumpster fire. I might be able to be friends with my exes, but that doesn’t mean those relationships were good. Definitely not better.”
Jack blinked a couple of times like he was processing that, his shoulders relaxing a little. He always needed a second to accept compliments; they seemed to land somewhere behind his rib cage and then slowly radiate outward.
Robby sipped his coffee and sighed dramatically. “If we are going to talk about work, though, my last shift was a nightmare. The med students tried to kill me again.”
Jack perked up instantly, eyes bright with nosy interest. “Which one?”
“All of them,” Robby said. “Whitaker tried to auscultate a blood pressure on a patient’s forearm with a stethoscope that wasn’t even in his ears. Clearly running on fumes when I try and stress the importance of grabbing water and a snack when you have the time between patients. I am surprised another one of them hasn’t fainted again.”
Jack chuckled softly.
“Javadi nearly gave the wrong patient meds. And Santos charted on someone who doesn’t exist after shoving both Javadi and Whit out of the way. She said she should get better patients as an intern and not a medical student. But she needs to understand that she is still learning, too. I swear they’re all trying to see who can shorten my lifespan first.”
Jack tapped his finger on the table thoughtfully. “I can talk to them if you want. During shift change or you can give one of them night shift.”
“No,” Robby said quickly. “God, no. They already think you’re some kind of night-shift cryptid.”
Jack blinked innocently. “I’m approachable.”
“On Mel’s first day, you were very unapproachable to her. I am surprised your attitude didn’t actually rub off on her.”
Jack just hummed into his drink. Robby could see a hint of a smirk there, behind the rim of his cup.
Robby huffed a laugh and shook his head, but he felt that soft warmth again, the one that always happened around Jack, especially lately. Jack didn’t try to be charming. He just was. Monotone voice, awkward sincerity, too-tired jokes, and all. He watched him take a sip of tea and look out the window at the early seasonal lights flickering along the street. He felt something settle low in his chest. Something good. Something he hadn’t felt in years. Something that was different than when he was with Heather. Different than when he was with Janey.
“I am glad we got today.” Jack set his cup down and met Robby’s eyes, soft and earnest in a way that still caught Robby off guard. “I know our schedules are cursed. Doomed to only cross paths during shift change.”
“That’s an understatement,” Robby muttered. “But yeah. Me too.”
They finished their drinks slowly, talking about nothing and everything: holiday staffing, the absurdity of hospital politics, Robby’s disbelief that Jack refuses to buy gloves because he “doesn’t like how they feel,” and Jack’s gentle mockery of Robby’s inability to function before his morning coffee. Or his afternoon coffee. Or his evening coffee.
By the time they stepped back out into the crisp evening air, Robby’s chest felt full in a way he didn’t know how to describe. Jack walked beside him, hands in his pockets, breath puffing in soft clouds. Their arms brushed occasionally as they moved.
Robby thought—not for the first time—that for two middle-aged men who’d seen too much and worked too hard, this was...nice. Easy. Safe.
They walked side by side, still talking, as they made their way to Robby’s apartment. Their arms brushed again, light, accidental. Then again, less accidental. Robby’s heart gave a quiet, ridiculous thump. He nudged Jack’s arm lightly with his own. A test. A question without actual words. Is this okay? Can we be closer?
Jack glanced down at the point of contact, then at Robby. His expression didn’t shift much. Jack rarely wore his emotions on the surface, but something softened there, subtle as breath. He let his arm fall naturally to the side nearest Robby, brushing him again, slower this time.
Robby swallowed. He nudged again, bolder now. Jack bumped him back, the corners of his eyes crinkling with something too soft to be humor. Robby’s fingers brushed Jack’s, feather-light. Jack didn’t pull away. In fact, he shifted his hand just barely closer. Not enough to grab, but enough to tell Robby he could if he wanted to. So he did. He laced their fingers together, tentative, unsure. He half expected Jack to tense, to flinch, to overthink himself into a spiral.
Instead, Jack just exhaled as though something inside him settled. He squeezed Robby’s hand once, steady and sure, his thumb brushing the back of Robby’s knuckles in a tiny, grounding stroke.
The street was quiet. The only sound was the soft scuff of their shoes, the faint hiss of a bus braking somewhere blocks away, and the wind skimming over rooftops.
Robby felt light. Silly. A little young, which was ridiculous. They were grown men, middle-aged and overworked and nearing the end of their biological tolerance for caffeine. But something about holding Jack’s hand made him feel like he was a teenager again, walking home in the cold, heart racing for entirely good reasons.
And Jack, he looked like he might be cataloguing every frame of this moment. His posture eased, shoulders lowering. That constant alertness he carried like a second spine relaxed, even if only slightly.
Robby squeezed his hand again. Jack squeezed back.
Everything was warm, safe, and good…
Until it wasn’t.
A dark shape moved out from between two parked cars. Not fast, not running, just stepping into their path with a sharp, jerky confidence that made Robby’s breath catch. The man’s hood was pulled low. His shoulders hunched like he was trying to look bigger than he was. His hand hovered near his own jacket pocket, too close, too intentional.
“Hey,” the man said, voice tight. “Wallet. Phone. Both of you.”
Robby froze. His pulse leapt, cold and bright under his skin. His brain snapped instantly into ER-mode: observe, calculate, comply. He raised his free hand slowly. He reacted the same way he would when trying to talk down a patient who was starting to become overly agitated.
“Okay,” Robby said, steady, professional, the way he talked to combative patients. “Just relax. We’ll give you whatever you want.”
He unclasped his other hand, the one still linked with Jack’s, and reached for his wallet. He didn’t want trouble. He didn’t want anyone hurt. He knew how quickly these things could escalate. He knew just how quickly someone could become a critical patient in the emergency room. The last thing he needed was for either of them to end up at PTMC on their day off with a stab wound or a skull fracture.
Jack didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink. At least not in any way Robby recognized. There was a moment where something cold and sharp flashed behind Jack’s eyes. A part of him that Robby saw only in the worst trauma events, in mass casualty triage, in the way Jack practically became another person to keep everyone alive.
Before Robby could finish pulling out his wallet, Jack stepped forward. In front of him. Blocking him with a wide, steady stance that was too practiced to be accidental.
“Jack—” Robby started, interrupted by the faint scrape of metal.
Jack had a knife in his hand. Out, open, held low and ready with a familiarity that turned Robby’s blood to ice, and heat, simultaneously.
Jack’s voice dropped, deeper, flatter, more dangerous than Robby had ever heard it. “Back up.”
The mugger was startled by this, startled by there being a weapon aimed at himself rather than the other way around. “What the, hey, man, I just want—”
“I said,” Jack growled, stepping forward with a smooth, lethal grace, “back. The fuck. Up.”
The man’s eyes widened. His own hand fell away from his jacket. He stumbled backward, tripping slightly over the curb. Jack kept moving, controlled, low to the ground, eyes locked on the man like he was assessing a target. Robby had never seen him like this outside the hospital, never this sharp, this fast, this frighteningly competent.
“Drop your hand,” Jack said. It wasn’t a request.
The mugger didn’t hesitate. He dropped both hands, palms up, shaking. “Are you a fucking cop or something?”
“I’m a doctor.” Jack’s knife flashed again as he adjusted his grip, quick enough that it might as well have been magic. “Now walk away.”
The mugger muttered something incoherent and bolted down the street, disappearing into the dark between two houses.
Jack stood still, breathing slowly, shoulders tight. The knife stayed in his hand a few seconds longer, his fingers clenching just once, before he clicked it closed and slipped it back into his pocket with a practiced, almost unconscious motion. Only then did he turn to Robby. Only then did the tension fall from his face, reverting to normal as if what had happened was completely ordinary.
“I’m sorry,” Jack murmured, breath fogging the cold air. “I’m sorry. That was...probably too much. I didn’t mean to ruin our date.”
Robby blinked at him. Blank. Stunned. Absolutely reeling. He couldn’t speak. Not because he was scared, he wasn’t. Not even close. But because Jack, quiet, monotone, tea-drinking Jack, had just transformed into something fierce and protective and so intensely competent that Robby’s brain hadn’t caught up yet.
He stared at Jack, at the composed set of his shoulders, the faint tremble in his exhale, the way his hand hovered near his pocket like he hadn’t fully convinced himself to keep the knife away. The streetlamps threw long shadows across Jack’s face, catching on the sharp line of his jaw, the crease between his brows, the soft, earnest worry in his eyes.
Jack shifted awkwardly. “Robby? Are you...Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. I shouldn’t have—”
“Do you always keep a knife on you?” Robby mumbled.
Jack swallowed. “I know that looked bad. I know it was...over the top. I didn’t want him to touch you. I didn’t want him to—” He cut himself off, jaw tightening. “But I know it was too much. I’m working on it. I just...I’m sorry.”
Robby inhaled sharply, like his lungs were just now remembering how to function. Then he said, very quietly, very clearly, “Jack, that was the hottest thing I have ever seen.”
Jack froze. Every muscle. Every thought. His eyes widened a fraction. “What?”
Robby’s heart was still hammering, adrenaline buzzing in his veins, heat pooling low in his stomach in a way that felt unfair considering they had just been mugged. “I said,” Robby repeated, stepping closer, “that was hot.”
Jack blinked. “Hot,” he echoed, as if the word were a foreign concept.
“Yes.” Robby moved closer still. “Really, unbelievably hot.”
“I...threatened a man with a knife,” Jack said slowly, like reciting evidence.
“Yes,” Robby said, “and then you protected me like some kind of terrifying Navy SEAL fever dream, and I…” His voice cracked embarrassingly. “Jack, I need you to start walking me home. Now.”
Jack looked baffled. “I wasn’t in the Navy...and we are already walking to your place.”
“Walk faster.”
“Robby—”
“Jack,” he said, grabbing Jack’s sleeve with urgency he couldn’t hide, “I need to get you inside my apartment right now, or I’m going to do something deeply inappropriate on the sidewalk.”
Jack opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. “…Oh.”
“Yeah,” Robby said, breath shuddering. “Oh.”
Jack’s face flushed faintly, visible even in the streetlight glow. “You’re...really not upset?”
“Upset?” Robby nearly laughed, high and breathless. “You disarmed a guy in two seconds, threatened him into next week, and then apologized to me for being too competent.”
Jack blinked. “I wasn’t trying to be competent.”
“That makes it worse,” Robby said, voice dropping. “You did that without thinking.” Jack made a low, helpless noise in his throat, half embarrassment, half something deeper. Robby squeezed his sleeve again. “Come on.”
Jack nodded once, quietly obedient, and let Robby tug him forward. The tension around Jack’s shoulders shifted, not gone, but redirected, softened, warmed by something that looked suspiciously like desire and disbelief mingling together.
By the time they reached the front steps of Robby’s apartment building, Robby’s pulse was a living creature under his skin. He fumbled his keys, cursed softly, and tried again.
Jack leaned in, voice gentle. “…You’re shaking.”
“I’m aware,” Robby muttered, breath short. “Not for the reason you think.”
Jack’s breath caught. “Robby.”
The door clicked open. Robby pulled him through. Jack let himself be pulled. The moment the door shut behind them, Robby pressed Jack against it, breathless, heart pounding, hands braced on either side of Jack’s shoulders like the only thing keeping him upright was the sudden, overwhelming need to kiss this man senseless.
“Jack,” Robby whispered, shaking with want and adrenaline and relief. “Do not ever apologize for protecting me.”
Jack’s eyes softened, a little dazed, a little undone. “I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“And I’m not hurt. I’m not scared,” Robby said softly, leaning closer to Jack. “I am so incredibly turned on, and I need you badly.”
Jack’s eyes widened slightly at Robby’s words, as though the air had been knocked out of him. He stood pinned between Robby’s arms and the door, breath catching in his throat, lips parted like he might apologize again, might argue again, might fold back into himself out of habit. But something in Robby’s voice, the ferocity, the need, stopped him cold.
The streetlight glow from the hallway window caught in his hair, turning a few strands a muted gold. His chest rose and fell in slow, controlled breaths, the kind that told Robby Jack was deliberately, consciously wrestling his instincts back down where they belonged. That quiet discipline, that effort to be soft when his body was still ready for danger, made Robby feel even warmer inside.
Robby lifted a trembling hand and brushed his knuckles along Jack’s jaw. Jack’s breath hitched audibly, his eyes fluttering half-closed at the gentle touch. The contrast between the man who’d just disarmed a mugger and the man melting under a simple caress nearly sent Robby to his knees. He stepped closer, their bodies flush, chest to chest. He could feel Jack’s warmth seep through his clothes, could smell the faint mix of tea on Jack’s breath and winter air still clinging to his coat.
“Look at me,” Robby breathed.
Jack did. Immediately. He swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. His hands, which had remained obediently at his sides as though afraid to initiate contact without permission, finally rose to rest on Robby’s waist. The touch was feather-light at first, testing, unsure.
Robby leaned into the contact, pressing closer. “You can touch me,” he whispered. “I want you to.”
Jack’s hands tightened instantly, holding Robby with a sudden, instinctive strength, not crushing, not rough, but steady, grounding, hungry in a way that made Robby’s breath stutter.
He felt Jack’s breath warm his cheek. He felt Jack’s heart hammering. He felt the shift in Jack’s body, the slow melting from hyper-vigilance into desire, into vulnerability, into the quiet shock of being wanted exactly as he was.
“Robby,” Jack said again, softer this time, not a warning, not a worry, but a confession he didn’t have the words for.
Robby kissed him. Not lightly. Not carefully. But with all the adrenaline and relief and aching need that had been building since the moment Jack stepped in front of him on the street.
Robby’s mouth was still warm against his when something in Jack shifted, subtle at first, then unmistakable. The tension that had curled along Jack’s spine, the hesitation in his hands, the soft, carefulness he clung to out of instinct...all of it loosened. Melted.
Jack’s hand slid from Robby’s waist to the back of his neck with a decisive, claiming pressure, fingers threading into his hair and tugging, not enough to hurt, but enough to pull a startled sound from Robby’s throat. Jack swallowed it in the kiss, his mouth suddenly fierce, certain, hungry in a way Robby had never felt from him before. His other hand gripped Robby’s hip, firm enough to pin him in place, to draw him flush against the solid line of Jack’s body. Robby gasped, and Jack followed the sound, deepening the kiss until Robby’s knees nearly buckled.
All the soft concern from moments ago evaporated. The gentleness was still there, but it was no longer leading. Jack was leading. He kissed like a man who had held himself back for far too long. Like he’d spent months trying to be careful with something precious, only to realize that what Robby wanted, what Robby needed, was not careful at all.
Robby’s hands fumbled uselessly at Jack’s shoulders as Jack pressed him harder against the door, swallowing every stray breath he managed to take. “Jack—” Robby breathed, dizzy, shocked, thrilled.
Jack didn’t let him finish. He kissed him again, rougher, deeper, angling his jaw with one firm hand until Robby opened for him without thinking. Jack’s breath shuddered against his cheek, but this time it wasn’t restraint, it was want, pure and unfiltered.
“You think I don’t know what you want?” Jack murmured against his lips, voice low and rough in a way Robby had never heard. “You think I didn’t see the way you looked at me back there? It just took a moment for me to process it, baby.”
Robby’s head fell back, his pulse hammering. “Jack—”
Jack’s mouth trailed along his jaw, slow for a single teasing second, then claiming again at the hinge of his jaw, at his throat. Not gentle kisses, heated, open-mouthed, desperate kisses that left Robby shaking under him. Robby’s breath broke into a helpless, wanting sound he couldn’t swallow. His hands tangled in Jack’s hair, pulling him closer, needing more, needing all of it.
Jack’s voice dropped to a low, commanding whisper, warm against Robby’s mouth, “Tell me what you need.”
But Robby couldn’t answer. Not in words. He dragged Jack back into another kiss, letting Jack feel exactly how badly he wanted this, wanted him, wanted the sharp edges and the raw honesty and the fierce protectiveness Jack kept buried under layers of caution. For the very first time, Robby felt the full force of Jack Abbot.
“Let me take you to bed,” Jack panted against Robby’s ear.
The moment the words left his mouth, he took Robby’s hand and pulled him away from the door with a confidence that made Robby’s heart stutter. Jack walked them down the short hallway like a man with purpose, never letting go of him, never once looking uncertain about where this was going.
Robby followed willingly, breath shaking, pulse racing in every corner of his body.
When they reached the bedroom doorway, Jack stopped, not hesitating, but taking stock. His hand came up to cradle the side of Robby’s face, thumb brushing over his cheek with a gentleness that contrasted beautifully, dangerously, with the iron grip he’d had on Robby minutes before.
Jack murmured, voice low, warm, steady, “Tell me if you want me softer.”
Robby swallowed hard, utterly undone by the fact that Jack was still giving him choices, still grounding him even now, even like this. “No,” he whispered, honest to the bone. “I want you. Exactly like this.”
Jack exhaled through his nose, something dark-and-soft-and-hungry flickering through his eyes. He stepped forward, guiding Robby back until the backs of Robby’s legs met the edge of the bed. Robby sat, breathless. Jack didn’t break eye contact. He leaned in, one hand braced on the mattress beside Robby’s hip, the other sliding along Robby’s jaw, tilting his face up with slow, deliberate pressure. The kiss he pressed to Robby’s mouth wasn’t hesitant, wasn’t exploratory.
Robby let out a sound, broken, needy, and Jack swallowed it whole, deepening the kiss until Robby’s hands were clutching his shirt, pulling him closer, needing every inch of him.
Jack moved with intention, guiding Robby down onto the mattress, not rough, but firm, certain. He kissed him again, slower this time but no less intense, like he was learning him by touch alone, mapping every breath, every shiver, every tremble.
Robby’s heartbeat thrummed under Jack’s palm where it rested over his ribs. Jack leaned back just enough to look at him—really look.
“You’re beautiful,” Jack whispered, voice hoarse and reverent and disbelieving all at once. “You know that?”
Robby let out a breathless laugh. “Jack, I...I don’t—”
“You are,” Jack said, firmer now. “And I’ve been holding myself back because I didn’t want to come on too strong.”
Robby reached up, fingers curling into Jack’s hair. “You’re not.”
Jack dipped down to kiss him again, a slow slide of lips that made Robby arch into him, every nerve lit up. “Good,” Jack murmured against his mouth. “Because I don’t want to hold back tonight.”
Robby shivered. “Then don’t.”
Then he leaned in, kissing Robby’s throat, right underneath his jaw, the spot that made Robby gasp and clutch at him. Jack’s hands roamed with confidence now, steady, sure, learning what made Robby melt and what made him gasp and what made his breath hitch into a quiet plea.
Jack’s forehead pressed to Robby’s, breaths mingling, warm and uneven. “I need to get my leg off. I need you to get undressed for me.”
Robby nodded instantly, breathless, overwhelmed by the sudden, intimate shift of it, how seamlessly Jack moved from commanding to vulnerable without losing an ounce of the control he now held in the room. Jack eased back just enough to sit on the edge of the bed, fingers already working at the edge of his prosthetic.
Robby pulled off his shirt first. Jack’s gaze followed the motion, slow and deliberate. When he went for his belt, Jack’s voice stopped him.
“Slow,” Jack said. “I want to see you.”
He did it slowly. Undoing his belt, letting it slide to the floor. It was agonizing trying to get himself naked this slowly, but he looked up and saw how Jack was watching every second. Jack stripped himself down the rest of the way while he watched Robby.
When Robby climbed back onto the mattress, Jack followed, weight shifting carefully but confidently, bracing one knee beside Robby’s thigh, leaning over him with the kind of presence that stole the air from the room. Jack brushed his thumb along Robby’s cheekbone again, that same gentling gesture from earlier, except now it contrasted with the absolute, commanding certainty in the rest of his body.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m aware,” Robby whispered.
Jack lowered himself until their foreheads touched. He kissed him again, deep, consuming, slow at first, then building with every sound Robby gave him, every arch of his body, every soft gasp he couldn’t swallow. Jack guided him down onto the pillows, bracing over him with one arm while the other slid down, firm and sure, mapping the lines of Robby’s ribs, his waist, his hip.
“You okay?” Jack murmured, mouth brushing Robby’s jaw.
“Jack...Yes...Please don’t stop.”
Jack’s smile was small, crooked, hungry. “I wasn’t planning to.”
With how long it was taking Jack to drag his hands along Robby’s body, he almost complained. Almost told Jack to get on with it, to beg him to make him feel good. But before Robby got any of the words out, he could feel Jack grinding against him. A slow movement of his hips, dragging himself on Robby’s skin, just enough for their cocks to brush together. It made him groan.
Robby was already a panting mess, and Jack only intended to make it worse. He brought his hand to Robby’s hard cock, laying flush against his hairy belly, gripping it tightly in his hand. Jack gave a few light, teasing strokes before he leaned over to open the drawer of Robby’s nightstand. They had only messed around a couple of times, but it was enough for Jack to know exactly where the condoms and lube were.
Jack took his time, making a show of it for Robby just to make him even more hot and bothered. He slowly rolled on the condom, giving himself a couple of gentle strokes. Moving at a snail’s pace to wet his fingers with lube, warming it up in his hand. All of this made Robby squirm and whine.
Eventually, Jack gave him what he wanted, rubbing slick fingers against Robby’s tight hole, carefully pushing one in, making him gasp and bite his lip.
“Easy, baby. Let me take my time with you, open you up for me. Want you to feel every delicious drag of my fingers before I let myself fill you up.” Jack punctuated every couple of words with a kiss to Robby's skin and a thrust of his fingers. He kissed everywhere he could reach. Robby’s lips, his jaw, his throat, his shoulders, his chest. He sank his teeth into the flesh of one of his pecs, leaving a bruise blooming against his skin.
Robby bit his lip but couldn’t hold back every groan that made it past his throat. He moved his hips in time with Jack’s finger, hissing every time he added another one. He felt delirious. Like he was floating in a void, and the only thing that existed was Jack. “Fuck, Jack, I won’t last long. Please just give it to me. Let me feel you. Please.”
Jack nodded, kissing Robby gently. As much as he wanted to keep taking his time, to fully take his boyfriend apart, he knew neither of them was going to last long tonight.
He pulled out his wet fingers, making Robby whine. He shifted himself onto the mattress so he could get into a better position for his leg, pulling Robby’s legs apart. His hands found their way to Robby’s hips, holding him tightly. Maybe even tight enough that you would be able to see every one of his fingerprints bruised into Robby’s skin the next morning.
“Tell me you want me, baby. Tell me to fill you up and I will, Robby. Need you to tell me.” Jack mumbled against Robby’s lips.
Robby made absolutely pathetic sounds into Jack’s mouth, barely having the mental capacity to give a verbal response. “Need you. Fuck, of course I need you. So badly...Need you to fuck me until I can’t think of anything else.”
“Well, I think we are close to that point already,” Jack said with a smirk.
Robby groaned in annoyance against his boyfriend’s lips. Before he could complain, he felt Jack start to line himself up, pushing the fat tip of his cock right into him. Robby wrapped his arms around Jack’s neck, holding him close as he moaned out in pure bliss. He arched himself into Jack, feeling the slide of warm skin against his own, currently neglected, cock.
“Fuck...Fuck...So good, Jack. Please. I’m not going to last.” Robby panted and moaned. It was true, he wouldn’t last. Even without any more stimulation directly to his cock, he was about to go over the edge. Pathetically lasting only a couple of minutes.
Jack panted too, nodding his head and trying his best to hold eye contact with Robby’s gorgeous brown eyes. “Me too. I’m not lasting, baby. Not when I feel so good inside you.” He leaned down and kissed Robby hard.
He kept pushing in, shallowly thrusting his hips as he devoured every moan, swallowing every sound Robby made. He let go of one of Robby’s hips and grabbed one of his hands. He laced their fingers together and poured all of his love into each kiss. Each thrust of his hips.
They were both completely done for. It took no time at all for Jack to bury himself fully inside of Robby, moaning into his mouth, and spilling into the condom. Robby went over the edge at the same time, untouched, clinging to Jack in any way he could. Both men stayed there, unmoving, breathing each other’s air.
It wasn’t until the ache in Jack’s leg that he pulled himself out and lay down on top of Robby, not bothering to try and clean either of them up. Jack collapsed onto him with a low groan, half exhaustion, half dazed bliss, pressing his forehead to Robby’s collarbone. Sweat dampened both of their skin, cooling in the faint winter draft that slipped under the apartment windows. Their breaths tangled, warm and uneven, chest to chest, rising and falling in an almost mirrored rhythm.
Robby didn’t think he could move even if he tried. His muscles felt loose, heavy, pleasantly wrecked. He kept one arm wrapped tightly around Jack’s back, the other hand drifting up to stroke the curve of Jack’s neck, brushing sweaty curls away from his forehead.
Jack tightened his hold around Robby’s waist, letting out a breath that sounded like relief and something dangerously close to wonder.
“…You alive?” Robby finally murmured, his voice wrecked into something low and soft.
“Barely,” Jack mumbled against Robby’s skin. “You?”
Robby huffed a laugh, breathless. “You just fucked me like you were trying to leave me with permanent brain damage. I’m not sure any of my limbs work.”
Jack let out an embarrassed grunt...but he didn’t move off him. If anything, he burrowed closer, as though Robby’s body was the only place on earth he trusted to hold him right now.
They lay there for another long, quiet minute. The kind that wasn’t awkward or uncertain. Just full. Warm. Heavy with something bigger than sex, bigger than adrenaline, bigger than fear or desire. Finally, Jack shifted just enough to ease the pressure off his bad side, sliding his thigh over Robby’s and settling with a careful little wince Robby almost missed.
“You okay?” Robby whispered, fingertips brushing down Jack’s spine.
“Yeah,” Jack said, and this time his voice was steady. Honest. “Just sore. Worth it.”
Robby smiled, slow and dazed. “Definitely worth it.”
Jack went quiet again. Too quiet. Robby recognized that silence, not withdrawn, not ashamed, but thinking. Heavy thinking. The kind that lived in Jack’s bones, whether he wanted it to or not.
Robby softened his touch, tracing gentle arcs between his shoulder blades. “Hey,” he murmured. “Talk to me.”
Jack exhaled. Long. Controlled. The sound of someone choosing vulnerability instead of instinct. “I try not to be like that,” He said quietly, voice roughened. “The knife. The…reaction. I’ve worked really hard to leave that part of myself behind. Therapy, grounding, telling myself I'm not still in the middle of a warzone every time someone startles me.”
“Jack—” Robby’s chest tightened.
“I didn’t want to scare you,” he said simply. So earnestly. “I didn’t want you to see that and think I was dangerous. Or unstable. Or too much. Especially when half the time, after a shift, you find me up on the roof.”
Robby’s breath hitched, a soft, almost broken sound. He lifted Jack’s face gently, coaxing him to meet his eyes. Jack looked wrecked in a different way now, flushed, sweaty, pupils blown wide with fading pleasure, but also raw in a way few people ever got to see. Vulnerable beneath every inch of strength. Waiting for judgment that would never come.
“Jack.” Robby cupped his cheek, thumb stroking the damp skin there. “You didn’t scare me. Not even for a second.” Jack blinked hard, the faintest furrow forming between his brows, like he didn’t trust the words. Like he didn’t know how to take them in. Robby leaned up, brushing their noses gently together. “You protected me. You stepped in front of me without thinking, because that’s who you are. That is the kindest, bravest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
Jack swallowed, looking like he didn’t know what to do with the warmth blooming in his chest.
“And,” Robby added, “It was unbelievably hot. Evident by the fact that we just had the best sex of my life.”
Jack let out a startled laugh, quiet, disbelieving, almost shy. He hid his face against Robby’s neck again, his breath warm and shaky there. “You are ridiculous.”
“You love me,” Robby shot back, fingers combing through Jack’s hair.
Jack froze, so did Robby. They hadn’t said it yet. Both of them probably knew it was true. Neither of them had dared to say it out loud. Not when things were already going so well. Usually, for Robby, those words were the turning point. Where things ended.
“Yeah,” Jack whispered, voice cracking just slightly. He lifted his head to meet Robby’s gaze again. “I think I do.”
“I think I love you too,” Robby whispered.
Jack let out a breath that trembled at the edges. He kissed Robby’s cheek. Then his jaw. Then his mouth again, soft and lingering. They sank into each other, warm and worn-out, Jack’s arm slung over Robby’s waist, Robby’s fingers tracing lazy patterns over the smooth skin of Jack’s back.
Robby smiled into Jack’s hair. “Stay the night,” he whispered.
“As long as you want,” Jack murmured back, already halfway asleep on top of him.