Alright maybe now I’ve gotten them out of my head. That’s a lie. But I think I’ve finished this train of thought lol. Picks up immediately after the last addition abby/buck, bobby/buck, and a smidge of abby/buck/bobby
Bobby gets home to find Abby Clark on his couch. She’s spread out on one corner of it and made herself comfortable, a water bottle tipped at her side and her body relaxed. Bucks on the opposite end, a shy smile on his face to bounce off her wide one, Bobby's shorts tight on his thighs and a worn-out St Paul hoodie falling off his neck and shoulders.
Buck stiffens the second Bobby's visible in the doorway, stays the way while Bobby slowly closes the door. Bobby's a little stiff, too, flagging now at the sight of them. There’s an unanswered text on his phone, the last of a nearly harsh string of messages following Bucks impromptu nudie about respectable behaviour when one or both of them are on the clock. It featured mostly frowny faces and cheeky monikers from Buck's side and somehow that made his stomach flip even harder when he dropped the instructions to call Abby.
It's the chivalrous thing to do, Bobby said, and Buck replied with another frowny face, his face this time, in a selfie where he was blessedly not dick and balls out in the kitchen. Do you just like looking at yourself? Bobby sent back with a fond chuckle after a solid 5 minutes studying the photo. Buck sent back another where he’s shirtless, propped up on his bathroom counter, close to the mirror and angled upwards so there’s two versions of him peering up through his eyelashes. Don’t you?
The lord is giving him strength with the same hand it's being taken from him. He’s in the rig and he shoots off a Call Abby before the phone goes deep in pocket and stays there until - well, the plan was to hook it up to the charger while he reheats the soup and has Buck play the part of a disciplined rent boy. But now, here, there's Abby. Abby, who is now...stretching in place, her legs straight out from the couch. Her water bottle falls and Buck swoops down for it, sits it on the coffee table. She hums a thank you and Buck turns his eyes to Bobby.
“I’m sorry, Bobby, but – “
“I told you to call her, didn’t I?” He moves to the kitchen and starts unloading containers of soup and rice.
“Probably didn’t expect me to show up here, though,” Abby blows a raspberry, “I didn’t expect to come by either. Buck here’s just too persuasive.” There’s something in her eyes that makes him think that’s not quite true. “Don’t have to tell you that, though, do I?”
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“If you’ll have me,” she blinks like she’s surprised at the question. “I’ve heard you’re good in the kitchen.”
Maybe it’s the little devil in him that makes him scoff at her words – she doesn’t have to tell him about Buck, duh, not when Buck’s standing from the couch with a small wince and hobbles the first couple steps towards the kitchen. He comes to stand next to Bobby, turned away from the view into the living room. He’s sporting a little pout still, looking all the scalded puppy he is.
“I wanted to, I dunno…”
“Show her what she was missing?”
Buck flushes down his neck. Whines low, “Bobby, you told me to call her.”
Bobby bites back another ‘it’s the right thing to do.’ It’s getting a little redundant. He chances a glance to Abby still in the living room, taping on her phone and trying not to make it obvious she’s invested in their conversation. It lights up something in him, this dark pit down in his belly, and he uses that flame to draw him closer to Buck until he’s all but crowding him against the counter. Buck reaches to put his hands on Bobby’s hips but Bobby puts them on the counter, leans forward until he’s got Buck leaning backwards.
“I didn’t say it with a monkey paw, did I?” He thumbs at Buck’s chin.
The probie lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what that means.”
The thumb on Buck’s chin travels to his bottom lip, Bobby’s own turned up in a short laugh. Abby’s gaze flicks up to them and quickly moves down to her hands. “It means you’re being a brat.” Buck frowns and Bobby leans in, pulls his bottom lip down with his finger and places a featherlight kiss on his top lip. The kid chases it when he pulls back. “And greedy.”
“Not being greedy,” he mumbles.
Bobby thumbs his lip again, pensive. “Maybe that’s just me, then.” He lets go of one of Buck’s hands and it comes up quickly, wraps around Bobby’s middle and pulls the older man forward so he’s buried his head in Bobby’s neck, tucked in until he’s mouthing at the skin under Bobby’s ear.
Abby’s watching them now, lips parted and eyes low. That flame’s back in his belly. He cups Buck’s head and coaxes him out of his neck and into his mouth – the kid goes willingly, wanting, moving his tongue in Bobby’s mouth like he’s searching for gold at the end of a rainbow. He moans a little with it, they both do once he’s found that sweet spot that makes Bobby forget where they are for a moment.
It’s a quick moment, though, and soon enough Bobby’s pulling back and opens his eyes to meet Abby’s. Buck’s busy, moved onto his jaw and neck, and she follows him. Adjusts in her spot until her legs are at a steadier angle, flat lap, and one hand is clenching and unclenching on her thigh. He almost feels smug. What was she thinking, letting him leave? Is she regretting it now, maybe, watching Buck fall into his arms and take what he wants from someone who will give it?
Is she – covetous?
He feels a thrill at the thought.
“Buck,” low, then, “baby,” louder, when Buck doesn’t respond. The kid pulls away at that and Bobby pulls his eyes from Abby’s to meet Buck’s – wide, blown, birthmark flushed and lips parted. He looks fuzzy, focused to a pinpoint of Bobby’s voice. “Thought you weren’t being greedy, hm?”
Buck breathes out a sorry that lets him know he’s anything but.
“Why don’t you show me how chivalrous you can be?” He looks past Buck to Abby. She’s flushed, looking at him like she’s looking through him. “He said he was a gentleman on your date, did he lie to me?”
“Gosh no,” her voice is solid, thick, and it seems to startle Buck, who turns his head to her and his body closer to Bobby’s. “He did everything right, mostly. Until he left…for you, that is.”
The flame in his belly dies for all of the time it takes for him to look down to Buck, turned back to him and that fuzzy look back in his eyes, searching out Bobby’s voice. Bobby’s direction.
Bobby takes a step back, Buck’s arm falling from him. “Be a gentleman and show Abby how good you can be while I reheat dinner.” Buck furrows his eyebrows, looks back at Abby then to Bobby and all but tilts his head in question. Bobby can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at the motion. “You wanted to play host. Go on, baby.”
He does, slowly at first, one step forward towards his Captain in the kitchen before he’s redirected around the island and towards the living room. Abby’s tuned into his steps, moves in her seat until her back is straighter, and her smile slides back into place the closer he gets. She sets her glasses on the end table next to her and downs the last of her water bottle before he’s in front of her, both of them turning to look at Bobby moving around the kitchen now.
Abby’s eyes flitter from disbelief to thanks with one blink, and Buck’s still questioning, looking at him with his brows high and his bottom lip between his canines. “Like – Bobby?”
The adults look towards him in tandem.
Bobby opens his mouth to say – “Come here, baby,” Abby says for him, one hand reaching out and pulling him the rest of the way to her. He follows the hand down, lets it pull him until he’s sat with his thighs bracketing hers, one hand on her waist and the other still in her hand where she pulls it to her mouth and kisses his palm. “You’re such a good listener, hm? Doing what your Daddy tells you?”
Buck whips his head to Bobby at that, who gives a sardonic laugh back. “We don’t talk like that, Abby.”
“I don’t know, he looks a little excited – “
“We don’t talk like that, Abby.” Bobby repeats, hard. Even if – if Buck wanted that, they wouldn’t. He nods to Buck who nods back then turns to the stove, pot in hand. “Be courteous or leave.”
“Of course, Bobby,” then back to Buck with a sugar sweet, sing-song voice, “Hi, Buck.”
“Hi, Abby,” Bobby hears him say back, voice far away. He turns on the burner and works on getting the heat up while he listening to the loud, overexaggerated sounds of them kissing. It’s wet, reminds him of the Buck of yesterday who made those same noises against his sternum, let out the same low moans when Bobby worked him open to spread him wide.
Re: FILL: Part 3 - final
abby/buck, bobby/buck, and a smidge of abby/buck/bobby
Bobby gets home to find Abby Clark on his couch. She’s spread out on one corner of it and made herself comfortable, a water bottle tipped at her side and her body relaxed. Bucks on the opposite end, a shy smile on his face to bounce off her wide one, Bobby's shorts tight on his thighs and a worn-out St Paul hoodie falling off his neck and shoulders.
Buck stiffens the second Bobby's visible in the doorway, stays the way while Bobby slowly closes the door. Bobby's a little stiff, too, flagging now at the sight of them. There’s an unanswered text on his phone, the last of a nearly harsh string of messages following Bucks impromptu nudie about respectable behaviour when one or both of them are on the clock. It featured mostly frowny faces and cheeky monikers from Buck's side and somehow that made his stomach flip even harder when he dropped the instructions to call Abby.
It's the chivalrous thing to do, Bobby said, and Buck replied with another frowny face, his face this time, in a selfie where he was blessedly not dick and balls out in the kitchen. Do you just like looking at yourself? Bobby sent back with a fond chuckle after a solid 5 minutes studying the photo. Buck sent back another where he’s shirtless, propped up on his bathroom counter, close to the mirror and angled upwards so there’s two versions of him peering up through his eyelashes. Don’t you?
The lord is giving him strength with the same hand it's being taken from him. He’s in the rig and he shoots off a Call Abby before the phone goes deep in pocket and stays there until - well, the plan was to hook it up to the charger while he reheats the soup and has Buck play the part of a disciplined rent boy. But now, here, there's Abby. Abby, who is now...stretching in place, her legs straight out from the couch. Her water bottle falls and Buck swoops down for it, sits it on the coffee table. She hums a thank you and Buck turns his eyes to Bobby.
“I’m sorry, Bobby, but – “
“I told you to call her, didn’t I?” He moves to the kitchen and starts unloading containers of soup and rice.
“Probably didn’t expect me to show up here, though,” Abby blows a raspberry, “I didn’t expect to come by either. Buck here’s just too persuasive.” There’s something in her eyes that makes him think that’s not quite true. “Don’t have to tell you that, though, do I?”
“Would you like to stay for dinner?”
“If you’ll have me,” she blinks like she’s surprised at the question. “I’ve heard you’re good in the kitchen.”
Maybe it’s the little devil in him that makes him scoff at her words – she doesn’t have to tell him about Buck, duh, not when Buck’s standing from the couch with a small wince and hobbles the first couple steps towards the kitchen. He comes to stand next to Bobby, turned away from the view into the living room. He’s sporting a little pout still, looking all the scalded puppy he is.
“I wanted to, I dunno…”
“Show her what she was missing?”
Buck flushes down his neck. Whines low, “Bobby, you told me to call her.”
Bobby bites back another ‘it’s the right thing to do.’ It’s getting a little redundant. He chances a glance to Abby still in the living room, taping on her phone and trying not to make it obvious she’s invested in their conversation. It lights up something in him, this dark pit down in his belly, and he uses that flame to draw him closer to Buck until he’s all but crowding him against the counter. Buck reaches to put his hands on Bobby’s hips but Bobby puts them on the counter, leans forward until he’s got Buck leaning backwards.
“I didn’t say it with a monkey paw, did I?” He thumbs at Buck’s chin.
The probie lets out a shaky breath. “I don’t know what that means.”
The thumb on Buck’s chin travels to his bottom lip, Bobby’s own turned up in a short laugh. Abby’s gaze flicks up to them and quickly moves down to her hands. “It means you’re being a brat.” Buck frowns and Bobby leans in, pulls his bottom lip down with his finger and places a featherlight kiss on his top lip. The kid chases it when he pulls back. “And greedy.”
“Not being greedy,” he mumbles.
Bobby thumbs his lip again, pensive. “Maybe that’s just me, then.” He lets go of one of Buck’s hands and it comes up quickly, wraps around Bobby’s middle and pulls the older man forward so he’s buried his head in Bobby’s neck, tucked in until he’s mouthing at the skin under Bobby’s ear.
Abby’s watching them now, lips parted and eyes low. That flame’s back in his belly. He cups Buck’s head and coaxes him out of his neck and into his mouth – the kid goes willingly, wanting, moving his tongue in Bobby’s mouth like he’s searching for gold at the end of a rainbow. He moans a little with it, they both do once he’s found that sweet spot that makes Bobby forget where they are for a moment.
It’s a quick moment, though, and soon enough Bobby’s pulling back and opens his eyes to meet Abby’s. Buck’s busy, moved onto his jaw and neck, and she follows him. Adjusts in her spot until her legs are at a steadier angle, flat lap, and one hand is clenching and unclenching on her thigh. He almost feels smug. What was she thinking, letting him leave? Is she regretting it now, maybe, watching Buck fall into his arms and take what he wants from someone who will give it?
Is she – covetous?
He feels a thrill at the thought.
“Buck,” low, then, “baby,” louder, when Buck doesn’t respond. The kid pulls away at that and Bobby pulls his eyes from Abby’s to meet Buck’s – wide, blown, birthmark flushed and lips parted. He looks fuzzy, focused to a pinpoint of Bobby’s voice. “Thought you weren’t being greedy, hm?”
Buck breathes out a sorry that lets him know he’s anything but.
“Why don’t you show me how chivalrous you can be?” He looks past Buck to Abby. She’s flushed, looking at him like she’s looking through him. “He said he was a gentleman on your date, did he lie to me?”
“Gosh no,” her voice is solid, thick, and it seems to startle Buck, who turns his head to her and his body closer to Bobby’s. “He did everything right, mostly. Until he left…for you, that is.”
The flame in his belly dies for all of the time it takes for him to look down to Buck, turned back to him and that fuzzy look back in his eyes, searching out Bobby’s voice. Bobby’s direction.
Bobby takes a step back, Buck’s arm falling from him. “Be a gentleman and show Abby how good you can be while I reheat dinner.” Buck furrows his eyebrows, looks back at Abby then to Bobby and all but tilts his head in question. Bobby can’t help the chuckle that escapes him at the motion. “You wanted to play host. Go on, baby.”
He does, slowly at first, one step forward towards his Captain in the kitchen before he’s redirected around the island and towards the living room. Abby’s tuned into his steps, moves in her seat until her back is straighter, and her smile slides back into place the closer he gets. She sets her glasses on the end table next to her and downs the last of her water bottle before he’s in front of her, both of them turning to look at Bobby moving around the kitchen now.
Abby’s eyes flitter from disbelief to thanks with one blink, and Buck’s still questioning, looking at him with his brows high and his bottom lip between his canines. “Like – Bobby?”
The adults look towards him in tandem.
Bobby opens his mouth to say – “Come here, baby,” Abby says for him, one hand reaching out and pulling him the rest of the way to her. He follows the hand down, lets it pull him until he’s sat with his thighs bracketing hers, one hand on her waist and the other still in her hand where she pulls it to her mouth and kisses his palm. “You’re such a good listener, hm? Doing what your Daddy tells you?”
Buck whips his head to Bobby at that, who gives a sardonic laugh back. “We don’t talk like that, Abby.”
“I don’t know, he looks a little excited – “
“We don’t talk like that, Abby.” Bobby repeats, hard. Even if – if Buck wanted that, they wouldn’t. He nods to Buck who nods back then turns to the stove, pot in hand. “Be courteous or leave.”
“Of course, Bobby,” then back to Buck with a sugar sweet, sing-song voice, “Hi, Buck.”
“Hi, Abby,” Bobby hears him say back, voice far away. He turns on the burner and works on getting the heat up while he listening to the loud, overexaggerated sounds of them kissing. It’s wet, reminds him of the Buck of yesterday who made those same noises against his sternum, let out the same low moans when Bobby worked him open to spread him wide.