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The bedroom is still dim, early February light leaking around the edges of the curtains in pale gray stripes. The radiator clacks softly under the window, doing its best against the cold, and the sheets are a warm, tangled cocoon around the two bodies in the bed.
Frank is plastered to Robby’s back like he’s trying to fuse with him. One arm is locked tight around Robby’s waist, leg thrown over Robby’s thigh, face buried in the crook of the man’s neck. Frank’s breathing is slow and even, but the second Robby shifts even a fraction, trying to ease toward the edge of the mattress, Frank’s grip tightens instinctively.
“No,” Frank mumbles, voice thick with sleep and stubbornness. “Five more minutes.”
Robby huffs a quiet laugh, the sound rumbling under Frank’s cheek. “You said that twenty minutes ago. And fifteen minutes before that.”
“Inflation,” Frank mutters. “Minutes are worth more in bed.”
Robby tries again, slowly and carefully, attempting to peel Frank’s arm away. Frank responds by hooking his ankle around Robby’s calf and hauling him back in, pressing closer until there’s no space left between them.
“Frank.” Robby’s voice is soft, fond, but there’s a thread of real urgency under it. “I have to get up. I’m on shift, changing with Jack in—” he cranes his neck to squint at the alarm clock on the nightstand. “—forty-three minutes. Traffic’s gonna be a bitch if I don’t leave soon.”
Frank makes a low, wounded sound and nuzzles deeper into Robby’s neck, lips brushing skin. “Jack’s a big boy. He can handle an extra ten minutes without you. Tell him his boyfriend said so.”
“Which one?” Robby asks dryly.
“The one who’s off today and gets you all to himself.” Frank’s hand slides up under Robby’s worn T-shirt, palm flat against his stomach, fingers splaying possessively. “Come on. It’s so cold out there. Stay.”
Robby closes his eyes for a second, clearly tempted. He covers Frank’s hand with his own, threading their fingers together. “You’re evil.”
“I’m effective,” Frank corrects. He presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss just below Robby’s ear, then another a little lower, feeling the way Robby’s breath catches. “Ten more minutes. Then I’ll even make you coffee for the road. Real good stuff.”
“You know I’m trying to cut down on caffeine.”
“I’ll make something else, then.”
Robby groans softly, turning his head just enough to catch Frank’s mouth in a lazy, sleepy kiss. It’s soft. Frank hums into it and tightens his hold. Robby’s free hand comes up to cup Frank’s jaw, thumb stroking along his stubble.
When they part, Robby rests their foreheads together. “I’ll be late because of all your kissing.”
“You’ll be late because you can’t stop kissing me back,” Frank points out, smug.
Robby laughs quietly, the sound warm in the quiet room. He steals one more kiss and carefully disentangles himself, rolling away before Frank can reattach like a determined octopus.
Frank makes a dramatic, bereft noise and flops face-down into Robby’s abandoned pillow, inhaling deeply.
Robby sits on the edge of the bed, stretching, back muscles shifting under the thin cotton of his shirt. “I’ll text you when I get there.”
Frank’s voice is muffled by the pillow. “Tell Jack to make it quick.”
Robby stands and leans down to press a kiss to the back of Frank’s neck, right where his hair curls messily. “Will do. Love you, gremlin.”
Frank turns his head just enough to grin, sleepy and soft. “Love you more. Go save lives or whatever.”
Robby pads toward the bathroom, shaking his head, a smile still tugging at his mouth. Behind him, Frank burrows deeper into the warm spot Robby left behind, covers pulled up to his chin.
The bed still smells like all three of them—faint traces of Jack’s citrusy cologne lingering in the sheets from last night, Robby’s shampoo, Frank’s shower gel. Frank relishes it. He has the whole day off. Plenty of time to be lazy.
Robby lingers in the bathroom doorway for a second, toothbrush in hand, watching Frank burrow deeper into the pillows with a dramatic sigh. The sight tugs at him. He notes how Frank’s hair sticks up in every direction, the sheets pulled up to his chin, that stubborn pout still on his lips even though his eyes are closed.
He finishes brushing quickly, splashes water on his face, and runs a hand through his hair. He pulls his scrubs on efficiently, which causes Frank to crack one eye open to track Robby across the room.
Robby grabs his watch from the dresser, fastens it, then pauses. He knows the routine. Knows Frank will toss and turn the second the apartment feels too empty. Knows the bed will cool off on one side and Frank will hate it, even if he won’t admit it out loud.
So he detours to the kitchen.
The hot water bottle lives in the drawer under the kettle, the red rubber already faded after years of use. Robby fills the kettle, sets it to boil, pulls the bottle out, and rinses it under warm tap water first to even the temperature. When the kettle clicks off, he fills the bottle carefully, just three-quarters full, and screws the cap tight. He wraps it in the soft flannel cover Frank likes because it doesn’t get too hot against skin.
Frank’s voice drifts down the hallway, sleepy and grumbling. “You better not be making coffee.”
“Not coffee,” Robby calls back softly as he pads back to the bedroom, bottle cradled against his chest.
Frank is sitting up now, sheets pooled around his waist, rubbing one eye with the heel of his hand. “What’s that?”
Robby doesn’t answer with words. He just climbs onto the bed, kneels in front of Frank, and tucks the wrapped bottle against his stomach, guiding Frank’s arms around it. The heat seeps through immediately, and Frank’s eyes flutter half-closed as he hugs it close.
“You’re spoiled,” Robby murmurs, but there’s no heat in it.
Frank presses his face into the warm flannel for a second, breathing in the faint scent of their laundry detergent and home. “You’re enabling me.”
“Guilty as charged.” Robby leans in and kisses him until Frank makes a small, content sound, melting back against the pillows, bottle clutched tight.
When Robby pulls away, Frank’s already settling, eyes drifting shut again. “Tell Jack I’m keeping his side warm,” he mumbles.
“I will.” Robby brushes a thumb over Frank’s cheek, then forces himself to stand.
He pauses at the bedroom door one last time.
“Love you.” Frank’s voice is barely audible now, sleepy and smug.
Robby smiles, soft. “Love you more. Go back to sleep, baby.”
He pulls the door almost closed behind him, leaving just a crack so the hallway light doesn’t spill in. The apartment is quiet again, like a substitute heartbeat.
Robby grabs his coat and slips out into the cold, the door clicking shut gently behind him.
He’s definitely going to be a few minutes late.
Totally worth it.
Jack’s eyes are gritty, shoulders aching from twelve hours of nonstop motion: a four-car pileup at 2 a.m., a kid with febrile seizures at 4, endless charting in between. He’s leaning against the nurses’ station counter, scribbling the last of his sign-out notes, when he hears familiar footsteps coming down the hall.
Robby rounds the corner in fresh scrubs, hair slightly damp from the snow, a smile already in place even though it’s barely seven a.m. He looks rested. Unfairly rested. Jack feels the exhaustion lift a fraction just seeing him.
“Hey, night owl,” Robby says softly, voice pitched low for the quiet floor. He stops closer than strictly professional, but no one’s really watching. His free hand brushes Jack’s wrist, thumb stroking once over the pulse point. “You survived?”
“Barely.” Jack’s voice is rough, but the smile tugging at his mouth is real. He straightens, suddenly aware of the small square in his pocket. “Happy Valentine’s Day, by the way.”
Robby’s eyebrows lift, amused, as Jack reaches for something. “We said no gifts.”
“This doesn’t count as a gift.” Jack pulls out a mini card. It’s a cheap drugstore one, bright red with a cartoon puppy holding a heart balloon. The front reads, in glittery script: You’re Paws-itively the Best Valentine!
Jack hands it over like it’s contraband. “Found it in the gift shop on my break. Thought it was too stupid to pass up.”
Robby takes it and flips it open. Inside, in Jack’s neat handwriting: To the guy who makes even the worst days bearable. Love you. –J
Robby’s expression goes soft, eyes crinkling as he smiles. He tucks the card carefully into his own pocket, then leans in and presses a quick, warm kiss to the corner of Jack’s mouth. It’s enough to say everything.
“You’re a sap,” Robby murmurs against his skin.
“And yet you’re the one keeping it,” Jack counters, voice low.
“Obviously.” Robby pulls back just enough to meet his eyes. “Go home. Frank’s keeping the bed warm.”
Jack exhales a quiet laugh, exhaustion and affection mixing in his chest. “I’m cashing in on cuddles the second I walk through the door.”
“I bet.” Robby squeezes his hand once, then nods toward the chart in Jack’s hand. “Sign-out?”
“Yeah.” Jack hands it over, fingers brushing Robby’s a second longer than necessary. “Bay three’s the asthma kid, so watch his O2 sats. Trauma two’s waiting on an ortho consult. The frequent flyer in five is probably gonna circle back by noon.”
Robby nods, already scanning the notes, but his eyes flick up one more time. “Happy Valentine’s to you, too, by the way.”
Jack feels the warmth spread through his bones.
The apartment is quiet when Jack lets himself in. The keys clink softly against the bowl on the entry table. He toes off his shoes, drops his bag by the door, and pauses just to breathe. The air smells faintly of the lavender detergent they all pretend to hate.
Jack showers fast, water as hot as he can stand it, scrubbing away the night. He doesn’t bother with clothes beyond loose sleep pants. He grabs his crutches and makes his way into the bedroom.
When he slips under the covers, the sheets are still holding the heat Robby left behind. Frank is curled in the middle, hugging the red hot water bottle.
Frank stirs the second the mattress dips. A low, sleepy grumble leaves his lips, then his eyes slit open, unfocused and soft.
“Jack,” he says, voice rough and relieved.
“Hey,” Jack whispers.
He slides in closer, careful, but Frank doesn’t let him be careful for long. The hot water bottle gets nudged aside, and then Frank is on him. One arm locks around Jack’s waist, leg hooking over Jack’s thigh, face pressing into the warm curve of Jack’s neck. Full barnacle mode activated.
Jack exhales a quiet laugh, arms coming up automatically to wrap around him. Frank’s skin is warm from sleep, hair a disaster.
“Missed you,” Frank mumbles against Jack’s collarbone, already burrowing closer like he’s trying to occupy the same space. His hand slides up Jack’s back, palm flat between his shoulder blades. “Bed was too big. Robby left me with a substitute. It wasn’t the same.”
Jack presses a kiss to the top of Frank’s head, lips lingering in the soft locks. “He told me you’d be keeping my side warm.”
“Mission accomplished.” Frank’s voice is thick, half-asleep already, but his grip doesn’t loosen. If anything, it tightens. His knee slides higher, chest flush to Jack’s, heartbeat steady against Jack’s ribs. “You’re stuck now. No escaping till Robby gets home.”
Jack’s eyes are already drifting shut, exhaustion winning now that he’s horizontal and wrapped in Frank. “Wasn’t planning on it.”
Frank makes a small, triumphant sound and nuzzles closer, lips brushing Jack’s throat in a lazy kiss. “Good. Happy Valentine’s Day, by the way.”
Jack smiles against his hair. “You too. Love you.”
Frank’s answer is a squeeze, a soft hum, and the slow, even breathing of someone sliding back into sleep.
Jack follows him in seconds, the cold February morning shut out completely. They’ve got hours before Robby’s shift ends. Plenty of time to stay exactly like this: tangled, warm, and perfectly still.
Jack wakes slowly, disoriented for a second, then the warm weight of Frank’s arm across his chest anchors him.
Frank is standing above the bed with a tray in his hands.
Jack blinks up at him, brain catching up.
It’s breakfast in bed, unmistakably Valentine’s-themed.
A stack of heart-shaped, slightly lopsided pancakes sits in the center, drizzled with strawberry sauce in a messy swirl that’s probably meant to be a heart. Fresh strawberries are arranged around the edge like petals. There’s a small bowl of whipped cream and a single red rose stuck in a coffee mug because they don’t own a vase.
Jack’s chest does a little flutter.
“Morning, sunshine. Or afternoon. Whatever.” Frank smiles brightly.
Jack meets Frank’s gaze and feels a smile pull at his mouth before he can stop it. “You made me heart pancakes.”
“I followed a TikTok recipe,” Frank says, like it’s no big deal. “Don’t look at them too hard. They’re structurally questionable. But they’re made with love and an unreasonable amount of red food coloring.”
Jack reaches out and brushes his thumb over Frank’s wrist as he takes the tray from him. “You didn’t have to do this.”
“Yeah, I did.” Frank leans in and kisses him, slow and lazy, tasting like coffee and the strawberry sauce he definitely sampled. “You worked all night. The least I could do is feed you in bed before you remember you’re a functional adult.”
Jack laughs quietly against his mouth, then pulls back just enough to eye the tray again. “There’s only one fork.”
Frank’s grin turns wicked. “That’s intentional. I ate my batch during the plating phase.”
When the plate is mostly demolished, Jack sets the tray aside on the nightstand and pulls Frank back down against his chest.
“Hey,” he says, voice low, fingers tracing idle patterns along Frank’s spine. “I know we said no big celebrations, but I thought we could do something nice. I got us a dinner reservation. The fancy place. Eight o’clock.”
Frank goes still for half a second, then props his chin on Jack’s sternum and looks up at him. “The one with the tiny portions and the waiter who talks in slow motion?”
Jack huffs a soft laugh. “That’s the one. Robby doesn’t know yet—I wanted it to be a surprise when he gets home. Figured we could all get dressed up, have one nice, overpriced meal where nobody complains about the portion size for at least two hours.”
Frank’s mouth quirks. “You’re really committed to this romantic dinner thing, huh?”
Jack shrugs, a little sheepish. “It’s Valentine’s. And you both deserve it. Even if the food’s bullshit.”
Frank studies him for a long moment, then leans up and kisses him.
Best Valentine’s Day wake-up Jack has ever had.
Frank stretches lazily, arms overhead until his back pops. He rolls out of bed with a satisfied groan. The empty breakfast tray is still on the nightstand, strawberry sauce dried in a faint pink smear on the plate. He glances back at Jack, who’s propped against the headboard, scrolling through his phone.
“Shower time,” Frank announces, already padding toward the bathroom in nothing but his boxers. “Gotta look presentable for tonight. Can’t have the maître d’ thinking we’re randoms who wandered in off the street.”
Jack snorts without looking up. “You’re shaving? For a restaurant that serves food the size of postage stamps?”
Frank pauses in the doorway, one hand on the frame, eyebrow raised. “Yeah. And lotion. And maybe that fancy face mask thing Robby bought me last month. The one that smells like goat milk.”
Jack finally sets his phone aside, a teasing grin spreading slowly. “Jesus, you’re high-maintenance tonight. Full spa treatment? You planning to seduce the scallops?”
Frank laughs, low and unbothered, leaning his shoulder against the door. “I’m planning to look so good you two forget how to speak in complete sentences. That’s the goal.”
Jack props himself up on his elbows, eyes tracking Frank from head to toe with exaggerated appraisal. “You already do that in sweatpants on a random Tuesday. The high maintenance is just showing off.”
“Damn right it is.” Frank nods toward the bathroom. “You want in?”
Jack shakes his head, still smirking. “Nah. I’ll stick to lounging here. You go ahead and pamper yourself, Frankie.”
“Keep talking,” Frank calls as he steps fully into the bathroom. “You’ll be the one begging for hugs when I step out with my skin all soft and smelling like vanilla.”
The door clicks mostly shut, and water starts running, steam already curling out into the hallway. Jack settles back against the pillows, listening to the faint sounds of Frank humming off-key under the spray.
Jack smiles to himself.
It’s just a quarter past seven when the front door opens with a familiar click. Robby steps in, coat already half-off. He looks tired, but the second he spots Jack and Frank in the kitchen, his whole face lights up.
“I’m home,” he announces. “And I come bearing gifts.”
Frank is at the counter in nothing but low-slung sweatpants, holding up two shirts for Jack’s advice. Jack’s leaning against the fridge in a fresh button-down, sleeves rolled to his elbows, hair still damp from his second shower of the day. They both turn at the sound of Robby’s voice.
Frank beams immediately. “There he is. Our hero of the hour.”
Robby drops his backpack by the door and crosses the room in three long strides, holding a bag of donuts that he got on the way back, Valentine's special with heart-shaped sprinkles. He pulls them both in without hesitation. They stay tangled for a long beat, foreheads pressed together in a messy triangle, simply breathing the same air.
“Missed you two,” Robby murmurs.
“Missed you more,” Frank says, already stealing a kiss, all quick and playful, nipping at Robby’s bottom lip before pulling back. “Go shower. We’ve got reservations at eight. Jack’s being fancy tonight.”
Robby raises an eyebrow at Jack. “We’re going out?”
Jack shrugs, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “The place with the tiny plates. Thought we’d try it. One night of pretending we’re civilized.”
Robby laughs softly, thumb brushing along Jack’s jaw. “You’re such a romantic.” He leans in again and kisses Jack slowly this time, unhurried.
The next twenty minutes are a warm, chaotic blur of getting ready.
Frank ends up in dark slacks and a charcoal button-down that hugs his shoulders just right, sleeves rolled, top two buttons undone. He’s fussing with his hair in the hallway mirror when Jack comes up behind him, resting his chin on Frank’s shoulder, arms sliding around his waist.
“You smell like cedar and trouble,” Jack murmurs, pressing a kiss to the side of Frank’s neck.
Frank tilts his head to give him better access. “Are you complaining?”
“Never.” Jack’s hands slip under the hem of Frank’s shirt, palms flat against warm skin. He kisses the spot just below Frank’s ear, slow and deliberate. “You look good. Really good.”
Frank turns in his hold and catches Jack’s mouth in a deeper kiss, hands sliding into Jack’s hair, bodies pressed close.
They’re still kissing when Robby emerges from the bedroom, buttoning up his crisp white shirt.
He stops in the doorway, leans against the frame, and watches for a second with a soft, fond smile. “You two starting without me?”
Frank breaks the kiss just enough to glance over. “Joining’s always an option.”
Robby only chuckles in response.
The restaurant feels like stepping into a softly lit dream. Exposed brick walls glow under vintage chandeliers, white tablecloths crisp against dark wood, candles flickering in small brass holders that cast warm pools of light across each table. The air carries faint notes of butter, herbs, and something floral drifting from the kitchen. It’s intimate without being stuffy: quiet conversations, the occasional soft clink of glassware, a violinist in the corner playing something slow and romantic that doesn’t overpower the room.
They arrive just before eight and are led to a corner table near a window that looks out on snow-dusted cobblestones. The server presents the special Valentine’s prix-fixe menu: a refined three-course tasting with optional wine pairings. No à la carte tonight; the chef is guiding the evening.
First comes the amuse-bouche: a single perfect bite delivered on tiny porcelain spoons. Seared scallop crudo with citrus foam, micro-herbs perched on top like jewels, a dot of yuzu gel that bursts bright against the richness. Frank stares at it for a second, lips twitching.
“It’s… artistic,” he says under his breath.
Robby’s foot nudges his under the table, amused. “Behave.”
Jack smiles quietly, already studying the wine list. When the server returns for drink orders, he and Robby confer in low voices, the sommelier hovering nearby with quiet recommendations. They settle on a crisp, mineral-driven white Burgundy for the early courses, then a lighter Pinot Noir for the mains.
“I’ll have the elderflower spritzer with a splash of pomegranate, please. No alcohol,” Frank adds.
The server nods. “Excellent choice. It’s refreshing, with a nice tart edge to cut through the richer dishes.”
Frank leans back, relaxed. “You two will have to get me drunk on bubbles and romance instead.”
Robby’s hand finds Frank’s knee under the table, thumb stroking once. “That’s the plan.”
Their courses unfold slowly.
The first proper course is beef liver with hibiscus chutney and brioche toast points so thin they shatter like glass. The wine pairing lifts the richness. Robby and Jack sip in appreciative silence; Frank’s elderflower drink arrives in a tall flute, pale pink and effervescent, tiny edible flowers floating on top. He takes a sip, eyes widening.
“Okay, this is good. Tastes like fancy lemonade had a glow-up.”
Jack chuckles softly. “Told you.”
The second course is branzino carpaccio, paper-thin slices arranged like petals, drizzled with black truffle oil and dotted with caviar. Robby leans over to steal a quick kiss from Frank’s temple while the server clears plates. Frank turns and catches Jack’s mouth in a soft, lingering press. No one around them bats an eye; the room is full of couples doing the same.
They talk in low voices between bites, everything from hospital stories to next weekend plans. Hands brush across the table, linger.
Dessert closes it: a shared dark chocolate religieuse, profiteroles stacked high, filled with vanilla pastry cream and drizzled in glossy ganache. Alongside is a strawberry-vanilla entremet that tastes like summer trapped in February. Not heavy with sweetness; just balanced indulgence. The server brings small glasses of sparkling water infused with a hint of rose to finish.
The check arrives with a small heart-shaped chocolate on each saucer. Frank devours his immediately.
Jack looks between them, eyes soft in the candlelight. “Tiny portions worth it?”
Robby exhales a quiet laugh, hand still resting on Frank’s thigh under the table. “Yeah.”
Frank leans in and kisses Jack slowly, then turns to Robby and does the same. “Best Valentine’s dinner. Even if I could still eat a whole pizza.”
They linger a minute longer, savoring the glow of the room, the quiet hum of other couples, the simple fact of being here together.
The door barely clicks shut behind them before Frank is backing Jack against it, hands fisted in the front of his jacket. Their mouths clash in a hungry, laughing kiss that tastes of wine and chocolate. Robby presses in from the side, chest to Jack’s shoulder, lips brushing the hinge of Jack’s jaw while Frank deepens the kiss.
Coats hit the floor in a heap. Shoes get kicked off somewhere near the entry table. They move like they’re magnetized, stumbling forward in a messy tangle of limbs and laughter, hands roaming under shirts and tugging at belts.
Frank breaks away just long enough to grab Robby by the collar and pull him in, kissing him hard while Jack watches. Abbot's chest rises fast, eyes dark.
Robby groans softly into Frank’s mouth, one hand sliding up to cup the back of his neck, the other reaching blindly for Jack, dragging him closer.
They miraculously make it down the hallway and into the bedroom.
Jack pauses at the foot of the bed, breathing hard, lips swollen. “Give me a sec,” he says quietly, voice rough with want.
Frank nods and tugs Robby down onto the mattress, both of them still mostly dressed: shirts open, belts undone, pants low on hips.
Robby pulls Frank on top of himself, their legs tangling, and mouths crashing together in a slow, filthy rhythm. Frank’s hips roll down instinctively, grinding against Robby’s, drawing a low moan from the older man. Robby’s hands slide under Frank’s shirt, palms flat against heated skin. His thumbs brush over Langdon's ribs, then move higher to tease his nipples until Frank gasps.
Jack sits on the edge of the bed for a moment, back to them. He reaches down and unfastens the socket of his prosthetic with practiced ease. The liner comes off next, set carefully on the nightstand beside the hot water bottle. Abbot flexes his residual limb, working out the stiffness from hours spent with the prosthetic on. The sounds behind him continue: wet kisses, soft gasps, and the unmistakable rustle of fabric as shirts finally come off completely.
Frank breaks the kiss with Robby long enough to glance over toward Jack. His eyes are heavy-lidded, cheeks flushed. “You good?” he asks, voice soft but steady.
Jack nods, a small smile tugging at his mouth. “Yeah. Just have some catching up to do.”
Robby props himself on his elbows. His hair is a mess, lips red and wet. He reaches out, fingers brushing Jack’s bare back. “Come here, baby.”
Jack shifts onto the bed, crawling up between them.
Frank and Robby make space immediately, moving so Jack can settle in the middle.
Langdon kisses him first, tongue tracing the seam of Jack’s lips until they part. Robby watches for a beat, then leans in from the other side, kissing the corner of Jack’s mouth. He lingers there for a moment and then slides lower, mouthing along Jack’s neck.
Jack exhales shakily against Frank’s mouth, one hand threading through Robby’s hair, the other cupping Frank’s jaw. “Missed you both,” he murmurs.
Frank hums, nipping at Jack’s bottom lip. “We’ve got all night.”
Soon enough Frank is on his back, legs parted, one knee hooked over Jack’s hip.
Jack is braced above him, kissing him slow and deep, tongue sliding against Frank’s in lazy circles while his hand works between them. His fingers are already slick with lube, easing inside Frank with careful strokes. Frank’s breath hitches every time Jack curls his fingers just right, hips lifting into the touch, small broken sounds spilling into Jack’s mouth.
Robby moves behind Jack, their bodies pressed together. His left arm rubs lazily over Abbot's abs, the right one stroking Jack's cock in slow, firm pulls. He kisses the nape of Jack's neck, teeth grazing skin just enough to make Jack shudder.
“You ready?” Robby murmurs against his ear, voice low.
Jack nods. “Yeah. Fuck—yeah.”
The prep is hasty—lube poured straight from the bottle, fingers working fast. Robby drags his hand away, slicks himself quickly, then lines up behind Jack and presses forward inch by inch, keeping the pace slow.
Jack’s breath punches out in a low groan when Robby finally bottoms out, their hips meeting.
Robby stays still for a moment, letting Jack adjust. “Okay?” he asks, forehead pressed between Jack’s shoulder blades.
Jack nods, turning his head to catch Robby’s mouth in a messy, sideways kiss. “Yeah, move.”
Robby does. Only slow rolls at first, deep and deliberate, pulling almost all the way out before sliding back in.
Langdon is already slick and open, so Jack lines himself up, pressing the head of his cock against Frank’s rim. He sinks in on the next slow push from Robby. A perfect chain reaction.
Frank arches, mouth falling open on a quiet moan. His hands fly to Jack’s shoulders, nails digging in just enough to leave half-moons.
“God—both of you—” Frank whines.
They find the rhythm together. Robby fucks Jack with long, rolling thrusts that drive the man deeper into Frank every time.
Frank snaps his hips desperately, trying to meet their thrusts halfway. His fingers thread through Robby’s hair over Jack’s shoulder, tugging him down so all three mouths can meet in the middle. It's clumsy and wet, a perfect three-way kiss that breaks into gasps when Robby finds the right angle.
Jack wraps his hand around Frank's cock, thumb brushing over the head, making Langdon moan loudly.
It doesn't take long. They're all wound up after the long week.
Frank's body locks tight around Jack, his cock spilling hot between them as his head tips back against the pillow, mouth open on a soft, wrecked moan. Jack follows seconds later, Frank's orgasm triggering his own. His hips stutter as he buries himself deep, staying there while he spills inside Frank. A low, broken moan sounds against Frank’s throat.
Robby lasts longest, thrusting through the aftershocks, chasing his own release while Jack clenches around him. He comes with a shuddering groan, face buried in Jack’s neck, hips grinding in small, helpless circles as he fills Abbot with his cum.
He eases out slowly, panting as he collapses half on top of Jack, who’s still inside Frank.
Frank’s voice is hoarse when he speaks. “Happy fucking Valentine’s.”
Jack huffs a quiet laugh against Frank’s collarbone. “Yeah.”
Robby presses a kiss to the back of Jack’s shoulder, then reaches around to brush a thumb over Frank’s cheek. “Love you both.”
Frank turns his head, pressing a kiss to the hand. “Love you more.”
Robby moves to the bathroom, Frank pressing lazy kisses to Jack’s collarbone in the meantime.
“You’re too good to us.” Frank hums lazily at the sight of Robby returning with a damp washcloth.
Robby chuckles softly. “Someone’s gotta be.”
He cleans their bodies up swiftly, eager to join them already.
Robby finally climbs back onto the bed, washcloth thrown on the floor carelessly. He slides in behind Jack, spooning up close. His arm slips around both of his lovers, resting over Frank’s waist, fingers grazing the skin there.
Frank reaches to find Robby’s hand, lacing their fingers together over Jack’s stomach. Jack turns his head just enough to catch Robby’s mouth in a slow, sated kiss.
They settle finally.
Langdon nuzzles closer to Jack, noses brushing briefly as Robby’s arm bands tighter around them both, holding the three of them close like he’s afraid the warmth will slip away if he lets go.
Frank breaks the quiet first, voice thick with contentment. “Best part of Valentine’s. Right here.”
Jack hums agreement, thumb brushing over Frank's cheek. “Yeah.”
Robby presses another kiss to Jack’s shoulder. “Love you both.”
Frank squeezes Robby’s hand. “Love you more.”
“Most.” Jack whispers.
Frank draws in air suddenly, almost dramatically, Robby humming in question.
“I forgot to give you your gifts.” Frank whines softly.
Jack scoffs against the pillow. “We agreed on no gifts.”
“Wait till I give you one of the three matching keychains.” Frank hums sleepily.
“I can hardly wait.” Jack laughs, leaning in to kiss him lazily.
The world is quiet around them as they sleep, cuddling through the night.