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“So, there’s this video Parker showed me.”
“Uh oh,” Robby says with a grin, because they both know how things start with that. But Jack has him cornered while Robby’s doing dishes, unable to go anywhere when he’ll inevitably want to escape this conversation. “Cute dogs?”
“Not quite,” Jack says, arms crossed. “This woman was struggling with her sex life, now hosts a king and queen night for her and her husband. It’s this- this once a month thing where they treat each other like, you guessed it, a king and queen. It’s one sided for a reason, they do it for connection and such. Showing each other their love and appreciation.”
Robby nods. “Sounds healthy.”
At that, Jack outright grins. “Yes, doesn’t it?”
“Do you want me to host one for you? Is that why you’re telling me?” Robby turns toward him, so excited at the idea. Jack grins. Oh, Robby.
“Not quite what I had in mind, brother,” he says. This is going to be the difficult part, but he has experience fighting this type of war. He braces himself. “I was hoping to host one for you.”
At that, Robby goes still, shutting off the water. “Steak and a blowjob?” he jokes, but his face is guarded.
“Yeah, that and then some. I’m not joking,” Jack says, stepping a little closer.
“Why don’t I just do one for you and we’ll see how it goes?” Robby asks, because he’ll keep up that bullshit no matter how long they’ve been married. Jack can already see it. He’s getting squirmy, walls going up, deflecting, distracting when he touches Jack’s sleeve with his wet fingers. Jack doesn’t break his stare.
“Because you do a king night for me every damn day,” he says. “You bring me midnight lunch at work with love notes in it, you clean my coffee maker before you go to bed, you tell me you love me in a thousand ways as well as saying the words. And you fuck my lights out until my brain shuts up long enough to let me sleep through the night.”
Robby’s ears are turning red, but he doesn’t deny any of that. “Can’t tell my husband I love him?”
“Robby—”
“Just because I do it every day doesn’t mean I can’t do it on one special night,” Robby says, trying to throw him puppy eyes. “What would you like, baby? You want me to cook you—”
“You can call me baby all you like, but I’m not negotiating with you,” Jack says, tilting his head and smiling. “I want to host one for you.”
Robby’s already shaking his head, eyes on the dishes. Jack knows exactly what his problem is, but he holds his tongue, deciding to let Robby tell him himself. “I don’t need any of that, man. I have you every day. That makes me feel like a king.” He leans over for a kiss that Jack allows. “Would you like to help me dry these dishes so I can get to cuddling you faster?”
Jack lets it linger a moment more, then sighs. Not in defeat. Just in postponement. He’s long used to navigating Robby’s Robbyness the way no one else can. It’ll keep. And he’ll let Robby think he’s won, but Jack’s not going to forget.
#
“So, what would you like to eat on your king night?” Jack asks over breakfast one morning before Robby has to go to work. The sun’s not up yet, and Robby could’ve easily slipped out of bed with just a kiss on the cheek goodbye, but he made them breakfast and dragged Jack out of bed to eat it with him. He wouldn’t have done that once upon a time.
Maybe discussion about this isn’t the reward Robby deserves, but they’re packed with back to back shifts for the next few days, and Jack wants to take this chance.
Robby stares at him, fork raised halfway to his mouth. “I haven’t said I wanted—”
“I know,” Jack says. “It’s just, the woman in the video made like, an intake form for her husband to fill out and vice versa. Letting each other know what they want for the night clearly, without having to say it.” Which is what he would’ve told Robby if he hadn’t been shut down the first time.
“A form?” Robby asks. Jack can see him reconsidering, actually thinking about it, in real time. “A form?”
“A form,” Jack confirms.
Robby frowns at his plate of eggs. “What is on the form?”
Jack tries not to smile into his coffee. “Dinner,” he says, “sex, aftercare, anything that would…” The word is pamper, but he knows Robby’s going to shut down as soon as he hears that word and forms a picture in his head. “That would connect us,” he says lamely, “and let me show my appreciation for you. There are options presented so y—so the user wouldn’t feel overwhelmed by choice, or feel put on the spot to come up with an answer.”
Robby is silent, but listening, so Jack takes his chance.
He takes his phone out of his pocket and shows Robby the video Parker helped him save. He’s not sure how much of it Robby watches as he eats, but the fact is, he’s not pushing Jack’s phone away. He’s not dismissing. He’s not outright accepting either, but with Robby, it’s always one step at a time. Jack is determined to do this. He’s going to keep chipping away at it.
#
“What makes you want to do this?”
“What?” Jack asks. Most of his focus is still on the TV, but as always, a little bit of his focus is on Robby, the feeling of his fingers in Robby’s hair, Robby’s head laid on his shoulder.
Robby lifts his head to look at him. “What makes you want to do the…the king night thing? For me?”
Jack turns to stare at him. Fuck the TV. “The fuck do you mean? I’m your husband, aren’t I?”
Robby breaks his gaze.
“You don’t think you deserve it,” Jack accuses. Is it an accusation if he’s known it’s true from the start, if he’s known exactly what Robby would say and why, before he ever brought it up?
“I don’t need it,” Robby says, a copout lameass excuse that saves his face for a second, but Jack’s not going to let it slide.
“No, no, you brought it up this time, that means you’ve been thinking about it.” Jack turns fully towards him, and Robby sighs. “You do deserve it. You deserve everything I could ever give to you.”
“Thanks,” Robby says, which is more than Jack would’ve got before they were married. “I love you.” Robby takes his fist and kisses it. “You know I’d be happy to do this for you—”
“Brother—”
“Or could we make it more equal in some way?” Robby asks, gesturing. “Both of us getting something?”
“That’s called marriage, brother.”
“You know what I mean,” Robby snaps.
“I know what you’re trying to say. That the only way you feel like you can have this is if I’m included too, but let me tell you something.” He’s biting his tongue on several points, like if Robby had actually paid full attention to the damn video, he would’ve seen that—
“It’s intentionally one sided. You know why? Because compromise is not the mother of all problem solving, and people want wildly different things, and fifty fifty is next to impossible to actually achieve and make two people happy. If you try to make a dream night for two people at once, it defeats the purpose of making one person feel appreciated.
“You’re going to end up with two people who feel unsatisfied and wishing they could’ve had this detail different, but they had to change it since the other person isn’t as into that as they are.
“Going all the way in for one person on one night of the damn month. And it is equal, by the way, since I’m the one who brought it up, I’m the one who wants to do this for you, and I’m being stubborn about it because that’s how badly I want to.”
“Why?” Robby whispers, and finally, Jack can go there.
Jack cups his cheek. “I try to worship your body, but you shy away. I give you a massage only after you insist on giving me one. I tell you I love you, but you don’t hear me. You cook and make my lunch and you always beat me to the dishes. You top me into next week.”
“I do hear you,” Robby whispers. “I married you. I know. I love you, too. I’m in therapy. I’m doing the work.”
Jack smiles then, unable not to. “I know,” he whispers, resting his forehead against Robby’s. “And I’m so proud of you for that. But you don’t think you deserve to have all the attention be on you without it being selfish. Without taking something away from me. But you’re giving me something, brother, you’re giving me the chance to let all of this out of me.” He gestures to his chest.
“How fucking crazy I am about you. How I want to keep you in bed forever and ever until I’m satisfied I've mapped every inch of your body. Baby, say yes. Let me show you that you deserve to be loved.”
Robby looks away again.
Jack tries, “Do you want it?”
Robby shakes his head, hems and haws, avoids eye contact, but Jack leans in close. “Forget all that shit in your head, man. Just answer me point blank, yes or no, right now, do you want it?”
Robby says, in a small and quiet voice, “Yeah, but—”
“Then it’s that.”
“Jack—”
“You want it,” Jack says, “therefore I’m going to make a damn form and serve you a king night not even Charlemagne could dream of. You might as well quit fighting me, brother, because I’m declaring victory.”
Robby chuckles something disbelieving and uncomfortable, face bright red, burrowing his face into Jack’s shoulder. Jack lets him hide, putting his hand back in Robby’s hair. He got what he needed.
#
“Here.” Jack plops a few papers down in front of Robby, along with a pen. “Fill that out for me.”
“What is this, insurance?” Robby asks, since Jack approached him at his desk with his glasses on, deep in hospital paperwork…and then Jack watches his face turn bright red as he realizes what the handwritten form Jack just dropped on him, is.
“Take your time,” Jack says, and as much as he longs to stay and watch, peer over Robby’s shoulder and make him explain his every answer, that’s the opposite of the point. The form might be Robby’s favorite part of this if it goes well.
The embarrassment and awkwardness it’ll save him, trying to communicate what he wants and needs, even to Jack. just checking a box out of multiple choices, carefully curated by Jack because damn it, he knows this man, is probably going to be worlds easier. So, Jack leaves the office with just, “Have it back to me by the end of the night,” and doesn’t look back, letting Robby take it in in private.
Jack is hoping that by the time this is over, he can message that woman and tell her she can add another success story to her tally.
When Robby goes into the bathroom to get ready for bed that night, Jack finds the form waiting on his side of the bed. Filled out, with Robby’s signature scribbled on the top page, because Jack’s husband is a nerd like that.
Jack picks it up to read while the shower is running. His heart is alight, holy shit he actually filled it out, I won’t have to bully him for the next week like a nag. He takes in every answer carefully, the categories of dinner, sex, bathing, aftercare, clothes—and Jack is shocked that Robby actually filled in what he wants to wear. For Jack, though, Robby chose the option for Jack to choose his own outfit. Jack’s mind is already swirling with ideas.
Robby comes out of the bathroom in a cloud of steam, sweatpants low on his hips, no shirt, toweling off his neck, and Jack has never been more attracted to him.
When he sees Jack looking at the form, he freezes up a little, but ignores him for the seconds between then and getting into bed. He turns his back to Jack, laying stiffly down on his side. “Don’t ask me about it. Just do it.”
He’s a little sharp, but it’s just the lion retreating into his den because he’s afraid of getting hurt. Jack smiles at him so lovingly he starts tearing up. He turns Robby’s face toward his to kiss him, thorough and passionate, just for a moment.
When he pulls back, Robby looks a little dazed, but Jack just smiles at him again and then turns off his light, placing the precious form on the nightstand.
Jack already has a date picked out, which was included at the end of the form for Robby’s advance notice; a few weeks from now. Part of Jack wanted to just spring it on him one evening after work, so that he won’t have time to stew in his head and chicken out of it in the interim, but Jack knew that wouldn’t be entirely fair.
The sacrifice, the mental leaps, the vulnerability Robby’s showing by just allowing Jack to do this for him at all…Jack doesn’t take a single piece of it for granted, and he’s going to give it allll back in just a few weeks’ time.
#
Jack goes shopping.
Online shopping, mall shopping, before work, after work, when he knows Robby won’t be home to inspect his bags or find out where he’s stashing things. He’s giddy, getting to plan all of this out. He doesn’t quite get to spreadsheet levels of planning, but he has a notes app bullet point list.
It’s one of his favorite projects in years, rivaling medical papers he’s cowritten with Robby. Of course, the girls of his night shift notice his peppy mood, how he’s always working on his phone when there’s a 4AM lull, but all he tells them is that he’s planning a date night for Robby. No, it’s not an anniversary, no, not his birthday, not Jack’s birthday either.
“Then why do you look so happy, boss?” Ellis asks, and Jack just grins to himself.
Robby can see it on him too. He doesn’t chastise Jack for being on his phone while they’re trying to watch a movie together, partly because it’s a movie neither of them particularly care about, partly because he has Jack’s foot in his lap and he loves the opportunity to rub it for him. He does it every day; case in point about why he doesn’t need to take a special night to do the same for Jack.
And of course, it’s not that Jack doesn’t pamper his husband on the daily in whatever ways he can, of course he’s always giving because he’s so head over heels for Robby it’s not even funny—but one of them needs a little more tender lovin’ care than the other. One of them has chronic low self esteem.
One of them is slowly inching his way up through the trenches of therapy after a lifetime of putting himself and his needs last, thinking his worth is dependent upon what he gives and not what he is, and it’s not Jack. therefore, king night.
“There will be two packages coming tonight while I’m at work,” Jack says. “Don’t open either of them. Try not to even look at them if you don’t have to.”
“Okay,” Robby says, a mix of amusement and resignation, as he’s had ever since he turned in the form. “How is everything over there?”
“Paradise, brother,” Jack says, finally putting his phone down with a wild grin. “You’re going to love it.”
“As long as you do,” Robby murmurs. If Jack has to frame this as something Robby is indulging his silly husband in, at least for now, he can do that. Whatever will get Robby in the room, so to speak.
#
The day finally comes. They don’t mention it, although Robby is a bit stiff with tension and some plain nerves on the morning of, when he’s getting ready for work. Jack sends him out the door with a kiss, telling him to have a good shift and to save some lives, that Jack will be waiting for him when he gets home.
“Do I need to…do anything?” Robby asks, rubbing his hands together in the doorway. Jack shakes his head, prouder than he can say that Robby’s not trying to back out of it at the last minute, that he’s really letting Jack do this.
Of course, they still have twelve hours to go, and there’s still the possibility that Robby will come in a tizzy, tell Jack he’s too tired or he’s changed his mind or he can’t do this, and Jack will have to either start a fight or swallow his disappointment. The things he has to do to convince Robby to let him care for him sometimes, his damn husband.
“You’ll be there,” Jack says now, putting his foot down, hoping to avoid all of that, “even if I have to tie you to a chair to get you to submit to it.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” Robby flirts, still covering up nerves. Jack sends him off, and then he gets to work prepping things.
When Robby gets home twelve long hours later, Jack is in the kitchen. Robby comes in with what are obviously stiff shoulders and a stiff neck, which he keeps rolling around to release the tension fruitlessly. His back is heavy, his face is weary, and he just looks tired. Tired of making decisions, tired of death and blood and stupid people and tired of the world.
“Hey, brother,” Jack says, going to him and wrapping him in a hug, turning off the stove. Robby doesn’t say anything about the thick, delicious scent of steak in the air, a window thrown open to air the kitchen out. Robby doesn’t say anything at all, just sighs as Jack rubs his back, pulling Robby’s head down to rest his chin on Jack’s shoulder.
Jack just holds him for a minute, bringing him back into their marriage and this moment of connection, guiding Robby with a few deep breaths of his own to follow. Robby’s shoulders release a little bit, but it’s going to take a lot of work to get him loose and forgetting his day’s troubles.
At least he doesn’t try to pretend otherwise. His eyes are hazy with weariness when Jack pulls back to look at him. All day, he’s been holding a department together, and now he can let it go.
Jack cups his cheek and smiles at him gently, stroking his thumb over Robby’s cheekbone, heart swooping at the way Robby turns to kiss his palm. “Brother, I am one hundred and ten percent yours. You’re not lifting a single finger all night.”
“Smells like steak,” Robby mumbles. “M’hungry.”
“Well, wouldn’t you know, there’s steak,” Jack says, making Robby chuckle. That’s good. He puts a palm on Robby’s chest, stroking through the chest hair exposed by his scrub top. “I want you,” he says, pitching voice a little lower, “to go into the bedroom and put on the robe I laid out for you. Don’t peek at anything else. Just change and then come back here, and I’ll feed you, caveman.”
Robby makes an affectionate little bear growl/caveman grunt, kisses his shoulder, and then wanders off. Jack plates the food and sits down at their dining table.
Robby comes out in just the soft, full length, fluffy red robe Jack got him, looking shy and a bit awkward but not completely closed off. Jack grins and his heart melts the moment he sees Robby in what he picked out, based on Robby’s input in the form that yes, he wanted to wear a robe for this.
The input that still melts Jack’s heart and makes him want to kiss over Robby’s whole face when he thinks about it, about Robby allowing himself to think about what he wants. “Sit down right here,” Jack says, “let me serve you.”
Robby doesn’t protest. Maybe the day was worse than Jack thought. But his heart is beating. He’s really doing it. He’s really giving Robby the king night of both of their dreams.
Robby’s expression melts into one of bliss the moment he takes a bite of steak, and Jack grins, watching him eat. “Didn’t eat today, huh?” he hums, and Robby shakes his head.
Jack wouldn’t say he’s rushing through dinner after all the effort he went to in order to make it, but there are more exciting things on the agenda than dinner, he’ll just say. “You cook for me so often,” Jack hums, sitting across from his beloved husband, “you deserve this. You deserve a nice home cooked meal. You deserve a nice dinner, always.”
Robby blushes, avoids eye contact, but Jack seems to have rendered him a little bit speechless. And oh, there’s so much more coming.
After they’re finished, Jack guides him to the bedroom, then to the bathroom, which Jack has prepared extensively. He’s turned the lights low, to just candles and a glowing lamp in the corner, easy on the eyes after a long day.
The candles are burning soft citrus into the air, and their rarely used bathtub, which Jack scrubbed clean today like new, he’s decorated with flowers and the bottles of their products along the edge. He sits on the edge of the tub now to run the hot water, smiling up at a Robby who still resembles a shy deer.
“I don’t,” Robby starts, but Jack holds up a finger.
“You said on the form that you’d be open to a bath,” Jack says. “Instead of a shower.”
Robby stands there for a moment with his hands in his pockets, hemming and hawwing, looking like he wants to back out. Jack resists the urge to question if the decorations and the look of it is all too much. He knows Robby’s just fighting that inner voice, that don’t deserve it you don’t deserve this, this isn’t meant for you. Jack waits him out.
“Ask me a different question, sweetheart,” Jack says.
After a long, unsure moment, Robby asks, “Will you sit in it with me?”
Jack smiles at him. “Better question,” he praises. “Maybe at the end, sweetheart. I gotta wash you down first.”
Once it’s full, once Jack has doused it with orange oil and Robby’s favorite soap, not the three in one shit but the good, quality, expensive foaming soap—Jack gestures to him, rolling up his sleeves.
“Come here, sweetheart.” He reaches for Robby’s hand, pulling him closer much like a spooked deer. He gives Robby a kiss once he’s close enough, feeling Robby sigh into it, though his shoulders are stiff and tense with nerves and the stress of his day.
He helps Robby ease into the bath, still holding his hand, still trying to catch his eye. Robby looks at him only after a long minute of sitting still in the quiet bathroom air. Jack gives him as much time as he needs.
Robby admits, “This is hard,” which is an admission alone that Jack is grateful for.
“I know,” Jack says, kissing his forehead. “I know. Close your eyes, maybe that will help. Just trust me. I love you.”
“Love you too,” Robby murmurs, reaching for his other hand to kiss. Jack moves behind him to start soaping up his hands, running them over Robby’s shoulders, resting his chin on Robby’s shoulder just to kiss his neck when he wants to.
“Relax for me, baby,” Jack whispers. “You don’t have to be anywhere. Don’t have to do anything. Just focus on my voice and my hands.” He squeezes Robby’s bicep, chasing it with a kiss.
He washes Robby with all the reverence he deserves, hoping Robby can feel every bit of his love in his touches. When he gets to washing Robby’s hair, Robby leans his head back without Jack having to ask. Jack’s heart twists. “I didn’t think I could love you any more,” he murmurs, “but you prove me wrong every day. You do deserve this.”
Robby just sighs, but it sounds more happy than disbelieving, so Jack smiles again.
When Robby’s at least clean, rinsed off, and Jack is afraid of him falling asleep, he nudges him to get up out of the bath. Robby goes slowly, drying off leisurely, eyes sleepy but content. Jack pulls him close for another kiss, then another, and another, until Robby’s more awake when their eyes meet again. He smells like heaven.
Jack puts Robby back in his robe, refusing to let him put it on himself, instead guiding him into it. He told Roby he wasn’t going to lift a finger tonight, and he damn well meant it.
Jack tells him to get settled on the bed while Jack slips into something a little more comfortable. Jack showered while Robby was at work, so he tries to be quick now, lotioning up his skin, easing into the black lace tanktop and shorts he bought for the occasion. Enough to be cute and suggestive, not obviously sexy. Not distracting.
Jack goes back out and stares at the wide eyed Robby on the bed, sitting under the soft halo of red mood lighting from the corners. They have a nice sound and lighting system in here, they can afford it, especially if they can use it for things like this.
Robby’s sitting back against the mountain of pillows Jack arranged for him, in just his robe, hands folded in his lap with the smell of soft orange floating around him, cheeks still flushed from the heat of the water. He’s sitting on the red bedding Jack dressed the bed with, sultry and sexy and sensual.
He’s watching eagerly as Jack comes out of the bathroom, inhaling at the sight of him in this little black getup.
Jack grins, walking over. “Stay there, just like that. You look so cuddly like that.” Jack can’t help himself, hugging Robby tight around the shoulders and grunting with affection as he squeezes.
And then he turns his attention to the things he’s left on the nightstand, the soft red mood of the room turning everything slow and syrupy sweet, the perfect environment for what he has planned. “Lay down for me on your stomach, robe off. It’s time for your massage.”
Robby is still stiff and uncomfortable, but Jack soothes, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen a thousand times before, brother. Would you rather be on your back?”
“No,” Robby says quickly, and peels out of the robe before turning and lying flat, landing on his stomach. Jack takes a moment to admire. If Robby doesn’t want him to, or squirms from the attention, tough shit—this is the name of the game. All Robby’s skin in the soft red light, glowing and naked and perfect, something only Jack gets to see. It’s a privilege.
“Gorgeous,” Jack says, and pours some of their fancy, scentless massage oil onto his back, making him shiver. Jack stands at the edge of the bed and gently works him over, trying to get Robby to relax. “I know it’s hard,” he whispers. “But can you try to let go for me?”
Robby looks away from him, still stoic and silent, and Jack can see him trying, but—only when Jack pushes down on the backs of his calves, only when he puts a hand down on Robby’s lower back and pushes with more than just massage, but with pressure, does Robby release. He needs to feel held down sometimes.
He needs a hard, firm touch, he loves Jack crushing him with his weight while they sleep. It’s what helps his head quiet down, what helps him realize that he is safe, that his body’s not in danger. Jack’s heart melts to see it now, just like he sees it when he puts a hand on Robby’s shoulder at handoff and watches the tension drain. Robby melts only for him. He doesn’t like being touched except when it’s Jack.
“I love you so much,” Jack whispers, tears welling up in his eyes from this simple thing, but it’s not simple at all, it’s an aching vulnerability. A few weeks ago, Robby would never have let him do this, would probably never have imagined he would put himself in this position. But here he is, stomach down and naked in bed for Jack to massage, to touch, to worship. To lather on his love.
Jack loves getting his hands on Robby’s skin, and he tells him so, pushing into the knots on his shoulders and back until he’s eased up a bit, until he’s not quite so painfully tight.
His skin is soft thanks to the bath and the lotion, and Jack can feel him going more boneless with every second. But this isn’t the end of the night. Far from it. Jack stops for a moment to take off his leg, then climbs on top of Robby and presses kisses to every inch of skin he can, sweeping his hands over all of it, just touching Robby and making him feel loved like he deserves.
Jack whispers compliments into his skin, like strong, brave, handsome, smart, and so fucking skilled it makes me crazy, which makes Robby chuckle and drag his head out of the pillow to turn his head and look at him. He reaches for Jack’s hand.
“How do you feel?” Jack whispers. “Better?”
Robby nods. “I want to hold you,” he whispers, and Jack can give him a version of that. Treating himself to the feast of Robby’s skin has certainly done wonders for him, and he’s achingly hard now, eager to do something with it.
“Up, against the pillows,” Jack says, and climbs off him to let him do so. Robby drapes the robe back around his shoulders with a little cold shiver.
Jack sits on his lap, legs spread over Robby’s hips, his shorts riding up. “You look so good,” Robby whispers, voice rough.
“So do you, thank you, handsome,” Jack replies. He looks at Robby all serious and says, just as serious, “Do you want to be my good boy?” as he slowly grinds back on Robby’s cock, which is rapidly fattening beneath him.
Robby nods with an eager noise, reaching for the hem of Jack’s tanktop, but Jack catches his wrists. “Lucky for you, it’s very easy to become my good boy,” he says, smiling and kissing Robby’s fist. “All you have to do is sit here and listen to me talk. You know I can talk, and I know you can listen. So that should be easy, right? Just sit here with me in your lap and listen to me talk, huh, good boy?”
Robby nods, licking his lips, eager to be good, eyes a little hazy. Jack grins. “You are so good for me,” he murmurs, stroking along the line where Robby’s robe meets his neck, running his thumb over the soft velvet, “when you let me take care of you. When you don’t fight me. When you let me tell you how good you are.”
Robby opens his mouth in protest, and Jack puts his finger up against his lips. “Shh, shh,” Jack says, “what did I say? What’s the one rule to being my good boy? Tell me.”
“Sit and listen,” Robby mumbles. Jack kisses him for that, once, for only a second.
“That’s right, good boy,” he says, watching color fill Robby’s cheeks. “Harder than you thought it would be, huh? But it’s easy, you’ll see. Just surrender. Just let me,” he insists, the two most important words of this whole night.
“Stop fighting me. Just let me tell you how much I love you,” he says, and slowly moves the tie of Robby’s robe aside to fit a hand around his cock, slowly slithering down his body. Robby’s already hard, hips twitching into his hand. Robby’s eyes are glued to him.
Jack takes it in his mouth, holding Robby’s eye, humming at the taste and the way Robby gasps. “So good,” he whispers, pulling off, stroking as much as sucking because of how much he has to pull off to talk. “I love this part of you just like I love every part of you, and you know that.” He indulges himself for one brief moment, going all the way down and holding himself there as Robby moans, legs shaking—and then Jack pulls off.
“Good boy,” he adds, smiling as it makes Robby moan. He climbs back onto Robby’s lap and holds his cock in place, sinking down on it easily since he’s already prepped, slick and ready since before Robby came home. Jack touched himself up in the bathroom while getting changed, but he’s been anticipating this all day. He knew exactly what would happen and when.
Robby’s face flushes hotter and brighter when he unexpectedly finds himself wrapped in slick heat. He gasps, hands flying to Jack’s waist, “You were—”
“Shh,” Jack soothes, rocking into him. “Don’t think about me, just feel. Don’t hold back. Let me hear you, handsome.”
He starts riding Robby, letting Robby touch him and paw at his clothes, the shorts pulled to the side. Robby’s moaning and whimpering and hiding his face in Jack’s chest, his neck, mouthing there with no real goal. Jack is in control, Jack is taking care of him.
After everything tonight, he knows Robby isn’t going to last, and he too is hitching his voice with how good this feels. To the tune of Robby’s whimpering moans, Jack rides him harder, with more intent, still bathed in this soft red bedroom.
He whispers in Robby’s ear, “You are worthy of love, Robby. The love of your friends and students and colleagues and me. My love,” he says. “You deserve my love just like I deserve yours. Just like we deserve each other. I love you so, so fucking much, handsome,” he rambles, babbling now, but it’s all true, every last word, even if it’s thoughtless. “Go ahead and come for me, sweetheart. Come for me, show me how good it feels.”
Robby reaches for him, not liking the distance between their bodies, it seems, and Jack lets Robby pull him closer, lets Robby tuck his face into Jack’s chest and wrap his arms around his waist and buck up once, twice, before he’s coming, moaning out a gasped breath.
Jack keeps babbling mindless praise through it, holding Robby tight, squeezing his cock, stroking his own with one hand caught between them.
Robby’s sobbing into his chest, a mixture of pleasures and intensity and emotional release, the stress of the day and his nerves about tonight and his love for Jack all culminating in one mindblowing orgasm. He’s throbbing and coming and pulsing inside of Jack for longer than he ever has before. Jack milks him through it all, taking every last drop.
Jack gasps as he comes into his own hand, Robby rendered entirely useless, though he’s so deliciously thick to clench down on. Jack’s own orgasm feels inconsequential, entirely unimportant in the wake of all of this. Robby whimpers in oversensitivity as Jack clenches on him, coming and gasping, but then it’s over, a gentle wave of pleasure nothing like the tsunami Robby just rode the waves of.
Jack stays on top of him, stays with Robby’s cock inside him until it slips out on its own, Robby still softly whimpering and making little choked off sobs into his chest. Jack strokes his hair, whispers, “You did so well for me, baby,” and, “I love you so much, good boy,” and a thousand other versions of the same sentiment.
It takes Robby a few quiet, sniffling minutes to take his face out of Jack’s chest, and even then, he looks utterly dazed. Looking at Jack like he’s a god. Jack knows that look; he’s looked at Robby that same way many times before when it’s him on the receiving end of something mindblowing.
And just as mindblowing as the orgasm will come the aftercare. Jack kisses his temple, his forehead, his cheeks, his lips, lingering there, though Robby is too weak to really kiss him back. Jack still pets him until he’s satisfied Robby’s back in his body and awareness, then swings a leg off and sits on the edge of the bed.
His hips are sore from being spread over Robby’s for so long, and his leg aches a little, as does his ass, but it’s all worth it. So beyond worth it, he hardly even notices.
“Lay back for me, baby,” Jack says, helping Robby flat onto his back as he rearranges the pillows. Robby’s eyes are already shut, boneless.
Jack stands up and retrieves the wet towel from the bucket on the nightstand that he put there in preparation for this, then strips out of his filthy lingerie, leaving it in the laundry hamper to deal with later.
He pulls back the covers and coaxes Robby to lay under them, finally peeling him out of his robe. Only then does Jack turn out the light and lay on Robby’s chest, putting his ear against Robby’s heartbeat.
He can’t tell if Robby’s already asleep, but Jack murmurs anyway, “I love you so much. We are definitely going to do that again, huh? Wasn’t as bad as you thought?”
“No,” Robby mumbles, pulling him closer. “Love you too. Thank you.” He’s soft and vulnerable, smelling like orange and feeling loose and fucked out thanks to the massage and Jack’s tender hands. Jack is honored to be the reason.
Jack kisses his chest, sighing in utter bliss.
He’s hoping Robby will sleep for twelve hours after all of that. It’s what his king deserves.