#Frances Neagley is sneaky

[theywhowriteandknowthings]

Crossfire - Pt 1 Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson) x F/AFAB! Reader.

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific Warnings: This is pure smut with story (but it’s mostly about the smut), Size kink, teasing, mutual pining, angst, P in V unprotected (birth control and trust re STI’s(get checked up and keep your partners informed frens)), drinking, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of war/war fighting, mentions of PTS/PTSD, trauma, military terminology, strip teasing, rough sex, size kink, (small) praise kink, feisty Reader. No mention of Y/N, Reader has nicknames, Teach/Bambi, was in the army with reacher, still doing covert stuff as a mercenary. This is a one shot, but might look at more instalments if people like it. Wordcount: 5,829

Summary: You run into Reacher after years apart. The flames that once burned inside you are ash, but the way he looks at you could start a forest fire.

Author’s Notes: I love Alan Ritchson and having watched Fast X and Reacher recently well… There’s an itch I want him to scratch.

Crossfire

The shitty inner-city bar was loud, too loud. Your ears ring as you watch the banker-bros and their dates laughing it up as they dance without rhythm to the modest-at-best live band. You worry at the label on your third beer bottle. The discarded shredded paper piling up as you try and calm your nerves.

“You doing alright there Teach?” Frankie, Frances Neagley, asks as she slides into the high stool opposite you. Her hair is pulled back in a tie, her olive drab denim tucked close against her as she twitches as people move too close to her, yet not close enough to touch her.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You sigh, shaking your head at the nickname that had stuck since West Point between you, Neagley, and Reacher.

“Do you prefer Bambi? We can call you that if you want?” Reacher’s deep rumble sets off a warmth in your spine you’ve tried to push from you mind for years. You swivel on your stool to take in the bull of a man that is raking his analytical blue-green eyes all over you. You mirror his analysis, taking in the new scars, harder lines on his face.

He’s aged faster than his years.

You think to yourself as you flip him the bird.

“That was one time, Teach at least has provenance.” You scoff, hating both nicknames but at least Teach was rooted in renown.

“How you holding up?” He asks you. With the way he’s looking at you, he’s clearly aware of the mercenary missions you’ve been on, even though he had been out of the force for some time. You’re unsurprised but it still bothers you how honed in on your life he always is.

“Nothing to report Sir,” You hiss, emphasising the last word to dig at him, “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” Reacher has his hooks into you, always able to press your buttons.

“Hey,” Frankie interjects, shooting Reacher a venomous glare before turning back to you, “You can leave if you want, but don’t let him be the reason, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m standing right here.” Reacher says matter-of-factly as he looks between the two of you.

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” You scoff, rolling your eyes but you look back at Frankie and relent, “Alright, Reacher, stay out of my way, I want to have a good time tonight.” You glower at him and the softest, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth has you cursing your own stubbornness. You should never had agreed to meet, and even then the moment he turned up you should have bugged out and high-tailed it home.

“Yes Ma’am.” He says softly before stepping away and blending into the swirling mass of the crowd. You try not to allow yourself to be impressed at the ease at which he could do that, considering his bulk and height.

“You two ever actually fuck?” Frankie asks you and you almost choke on the dregs of your beer.

“No, never, fucking hell Neagley, you trying to kill me?” You splutter, well aware that you’re far too flustered. Reacher notices it too and you see the vein on his neck pop as he stifles a triumphant smile.

“You should have, would’ve made things easier.” She shrugs as she takes another swig of her beer.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You needle back, knowing well that your relationship was tight knit enough to make that joke.

“Fair, but you’re a slutty little bisexual, either fuck him and get it over and done with or get over yourself.” Frankie says with a twitch of her lips. She has you there. The only thing that ever stopped you from fucking Reacher was your own ego.

“Fuck you.” You grumble as you gesture between your empty drinks before asking the obvious, “You want another?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Frankie says with a dazzling smile.

“Always, be back in a flash.” You say with a smirk. You love Frankie, you’d even, sort-of kind-of, dated for a while when you left the service, but Frankie being such a haptephobiac scuppered things for you both. You loved each other dearly but you’re a tactile, sexual person, and having to supress your own instincts wasn’t healthy for either of you. But it didn’t stop you loving one another, and that was something neither of you denied, you just expressed it differently, and that was ok.

You make your way to the bar, waiting patiently as the other, dressed up women got served before you. You’d grown used to it, you never dressed up, not for weddings, not for funerals, not for anyone. It had it’s perks, but in a bar, it meant you were served when you were served. You drum your fingers on the edge of the bar after a while, slowly getting tired of waiting.

“Hey,” Reacher’s low rumble makes you shiver as his large form cages you in. His navy shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as you see the firm, thick cords of his forearms hem you in as his large hands rest on the bar, “How’s Civvy life treating you?” He breathes into the shell of your ear as you shudder beneath him.

“Shit, I can’t be as lucky as you and land myself in the middle of murder investigations and big ol’ conspiracies like you J.” You say, using the nickname you know he hates.

“It cost me a brother, so I don’t know if you can call that luck.” He growls against your skin as he inches forward slowly. You feel the brush of his fucking marbled pecs against your shoulders as he tries to draw you in. This was a dance you had both done many times, riling the other up, pushing the limits to breaking point. But there was always an angle, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities to get what you wanted, or needed.

It’s the toxic part of your relationship with Reacher you never allow yourself to admit to, but it’s also the only thrill you get anymore. Years of the brass putting warfighting over warfighters meant you were numb to just about any stimulus. Except Reacher.

“Fair,” You nod, trying to keep your mind clear as your whole body screams to push back against Reacher, goad him on so he can finally give you what you’ve craved for over a decade, “But we both know you’re not here for sentimentality and feelings.” You breathe, trying so damned hard not to grind back against him.

He wants something, whatever this is will cost you.

“Correct.” He grumbles before a hand falls from the bar, resting against your hip instead, “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away.” He pants against the clammy skin of your neck as you try to wrestle control from the primal part of your brain that would let him rail you right now, against the bar in front of everyone.

“Why now?” You ask, the logical part of your brain interrupting at just the wrong time, you want to take it back, let Jack play his game, maybe let him win for once, then let him fuck you into oblivion but that simple question shatters the illusion. 

“Never mind, have a good night, see you ‘round Teach.” Reacher’s tone is clipped as he detaches from you with surgical precision. His body melds back into the crowd instantly as he flees from you retreating back to reality once more.

The bartender finally reaches you and you order your drinks, skulking back to find Frankie gone too. You check your phone and see that she’s bailed. You sit for a while, not touching the drinks for some time, trying to reconcile the night in your mind.

You down your beer and leave Frankie’s drink on the table before ordering an uber. You wait outside and almost scoff at the fact it took you less than a minute to realise Reacher was tailing you. He’s good, but so are you. You spend your nights checking for every sniper position, any potential ambush site. PTS, having the audacity to exist as a woman in the army, and pre-existing anxiety meant you were always hypervigilant.

You head back to your apartment, abandoning the Uber plan as you nip down dark alleyways. Every time he’s there. Sometimes a step ahead, often two or three behind as you watch him grunt in frustration from a rooftop as he reaches a dead end you guided him into.

*

You flop down on your shitty little sofa as the water still beads at your skin from the shower. You know he’s here, already inside your apartment. The tape you leave over the seams of your sash windows peeled back and replaced almost perfectly, but the room felt off, so when you prodded the adhesive tape it had flaked back without resistance. You had checked the bathroom first, wanting to shower uninterrupted, but you left the door ajar, just enough that if he wanted to, Reacher could see your naked form as you washed vigorously in your wet room.

You look around the studio apartment, the bare wood floors and deep red brick walls helped keep your anxiety in check, dirt shows less, stains easier to cover up. There is so little in the sparse room you’re starting to wonder if you were being paranoid. Then you hear the shift from the mezzanine bedroom. You gaze moves to look up through the balcony, eyes shifting along the dimly lit platform.

“You want a beer Jack?” You ask at the space under the bed you couldn’t see from here, position he was most likely in and you hear the soft grunt at the use of his first name. There’s a pause, where you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he decides it’s worth staying hidden for any longer.

“Fine.” He huffs as he rolls out from under your bed, exactly where you thought he’d be. Your bed is one of the few places anyone could hide in your apartment and you kept it that way for a reason. You pad over to the kitchen and grab a pair of import beers from the fridge, taking your time, hoping your loose linen shorts and thin tank top would entice Reacher to crowd you from behind again. But you’re left hanging as you hear the creak of your dilapidated groan under Reacher’s weight.

“So, what do you want?” You ask, nudging thew fridge door shut with your hip before you saunter over to sit on the coffee table, Reacher, even if he wasn’t currently sprawled across the whole length, would have taken up too much space for you to be comfortable.

“You.” Reacher says without pause, his sea glass blue eyes raking over the ample amounts of bare skin you have on show. You pop open the bottles with the end of the lighter on the coffee table next to your ashtray full of burnt-out joints, as you lazily take in the way Reacher’s tight jeans hug his strong thighs. The way his biceps strain against the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt has heat flooding straight to your core.

“Denied, anything else I can do for you?” You ask as you hand him the beer, his large fingers brush against yours and you have to battle with your self-control to pull away. Your skin is on fire, your heart in your throat as you feel the pressure of over ten years of pent up desire blotting out the rational part of your mind.

“Can I crash here?” He asks before taking a long swig of beer, you watch shamelessly at the way his throat muscles contract and flex as he swallows.

“Nope.” You breathe, your walls already crumbling as you actually consider saying yes.

“What’s up your ass Teach?” Reacher groans, his eyes hard as he sets the beer down on the table before shifting up into a sitting position, his knees brush yours and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The friction of his jeans against your bare skin, the intensity if his look, his hard stare, all of it riles you up and you have to force yourself to think straight.

“Just getting tired of whatever this is.” You gesture between your chest and his, the truth of your words biting as you steel yourself. You don’t want to fuck this up, you’re in the right place for the first time ever to actually let him in, but you can’t shake the decades of cold hard walls you had festooned around you.

“Understood, see you around,” And he says your name, soft, tender, vulnerable against his stoic, harder than titanium, façade he puts up for everyone. Everyone but you.

Reacher makes it two long strides, which was more like four of your own, before you grab him from behind, wrapping him in a bear hug as you anchor yourself to him. You notice the twitch of involuntary movement as your unexpected contact triggers his fight reflex. But he stills immediately, hands balled at his sides. You press your face into the span between his shoulder blades, inhaling the familiar cotton-fresh, pressed linen and neutral soap smell that you always associated with Reacher. No perfumed frills, as always he was utilitarian, clean, safe.

“Stay.” You whisper into his shirt trying not to sound as needy as you felt, but it’s painfully clear how much you needed this, you can’t hide it from yourself, and you certainly could never hide your feelings from Reacher, no matter how hard you both tried to ignore them.

God he’s warm.

“‘Sure? Seemed pretty clear you wanted me gone.” Reacher says as he places his strong hands on your forearms, as if to move them, but the moment his fingers brush your skin you feel the flash of desire in your chest, striking down your spine like lightning. The hitch in Reacher’s breath tells you he feels it too.

“Look at me.” You order, and without hesitation he turns in your arms, his hands sliding up to touch the bare skin of your biceps. The friction is maddening as you try to suppress the urge to jump him, to wrap your legs around his torso and fuse your lips to his.

“What?” Reacher says with a grunt, his jaw is tight with tension, eyes burning with desire in the low light of your apartment. His thumbs brush the skin of your biceps as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Kiss me.” You breathe, all thought, every ounce of bravado and cold, self-imposed emotional exile thrown to the wind. He hesitates for a split second before he claims your mouth with his own. It’s slow, cautious at first, barely a brush of skin on skin but that’s all it takes. It’s like kerosene poured on a bonfire, explosive, pressured, and unbearably hot. Nothing can stop this blaze now, and you were past being worried about getting burned.

Jack cups his right hand around the back of your neck, cradling it perfectly in his large hand as the other falls to your hip, pulling you against him, fisting the flimsy linen shorts in his hand as he groans down into you. His tongue presses against the seam of your mouth and you open willingly, moaning as his thick, hot tongue dominates you.

“Bed.” You mumble against his lips, pulling away to look up into his lust blown eyes, then you see a flash of mischief in his eyes. Before you can challenge him you’re being thrown over his shoulder. You yelp, embarrassment flooding you as you hear it, cursing yourself for getting caught off guard. Reacher chuckles, charging up the stairs two at a time before practically throwing you on the bed. You bounce lightly against the paisley blue sheets and glare at him, trying to muster every ounce of venom built up over the years for this man. But all you can manage is a pout, which only makes Reacher smirk triumphantly down at you from the foot of the bed.

“Clothes. Off.” Reacher growls the order and a flash of defiance makes you bold. You shift onto your knees and cross your arms, staring up at him with an eyebrow cocked in challenge.

“Make me.” You respond with a scoff, you might have obliged if he had asked nicely, maybe.

“Brat.” Reacher growls before slipping off his watch, kicking off his boots, and taking off his belt. You flush a little as you realise he’s removing anything damaging, sharp, or otherwise uncomfortable. They fall into a pile to his right before he looks you up and down, analytical as always as he prepares to strike.

You expect him to lunge at you, go in for the kill shot and use his brute strength to make you submit but that’s never been the game between you two. It’s always been about the chase, the delayed gratification, the thrill of drawing it out. The bed shifts dramatically as he lowers himself onto his knees.

Fuck, he’s big.

You think to yourself as he kneels, thighs spread as he towers over you. You shuffle back, feet brushing against the pillows as he slowly inches closer. His large hands fall to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open one by one. Each painfully slow motion reveals more and more of his muscular form. Sure, you’d seen Reacher naked before, hell you think you’ve seen him in every state of undress, including when you had to fish out a stray bullet and patch him up in Moldova. But this was different. This was for you.

“Trade?” Reacher says as he reaches the bottom button, his navy shirt hanging off his shoulders, exposing the scarred, rippling torso you knew so well. You could map every scar on his body, or so you thought, new, fresh, still-pink lines and indentations on his skin made you shudder.

“Trade for what Jack?” You say, trying to get under his skin as much as he had already gotten under yours.

“My shirt for yours?” He asks, eyebrow raised in challenge. You know if you refuse you’ve lost, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting you naked too quickly.

“Your shirt for one article of clothing of my choosing?” You barter and he cocks his head quizzically but nods slowly. You smirk and slip down the straps of your sports bra before unclasping it and throwing it away. It was the same colour as your tank top so it hadn’t been obvious it was there until your breasts spill out against the tight fabric of your tank top. Reacher’s eyes go glassy as you see his position shift on the bed, even in the low tungsten lighting you could see the bulge in his dark jeans.

“Impressive.” He breathes, you aren’t sure if he meant your trade, or your breasts, but it didn’t matter. The praise had you open mouthed and trying not to squirm as he inches closer, shouldering off the shirt. He goes to throw it on the floor but you snatch it from his hand, quickly pulling it over your shoulders. It swamps you and you bury your nose into the collar to inhale the crisp, clean smell of Reacher before looking back up through your eyelashes at him. His hand trembles as he swipes it back through the short hair on top of his head.

“What next?” You purr, taking in the broad expanse of his shoulders, his thick neck, and the soft yet defined muscles of his chest and abs. Reacher wordlessly pulls down his zipper, slowly shifting his jeans down over his thighs, letting them pool at his knees as he watches you like a hawk. You exhale aggressively through your nose as you see the dark patch of pre-come on his grey boxers, his cock straining against the tight fabric. You knew he had a big dick, but seeing it erect, erect for you has you pushing your thighs together as your cunt aches to be touched.

He stays like that for a few more agonising seconds and you’re almost at breaking point, about to relent and strip bare for him to take you right there when he finally hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and manages to take them off in a graceful motion, without moving from his knees.

You don’t wait for the next instruction, you had a plan, you mimic his actions in removing your shorts, pooling them at your knees to reveal the white cotton panties that hugged your mound. They were slick with your own arousal, making them cling to you in a way that made you ache further.

“Fuck.” Reacher hisses as he wipes one large hand over his face, sweat beading on his brow as his eyes roam your body, of course he notices the way your panties cling to you, the way your mouth is parted and eyes blown out with desire. He notices the peaks of your nipples painfully hard and pebbled under the thin fabric of the tank top.

“Looks like you’ve only got one piece left to trade Reacher, going to have to pick what I take off next.” You breathe as you bite on your lip, your eyes piercing his as you notice his Adam’s apple bob violently as he swallows hard.

“Me first.” He rasps, thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers, revealing a smattering of light brown curls as he lowers his underwear slowly, letting his cock spring free with a bounce. You exhale through your nose to try and alleviate the desire building at the base of your spine but you can’t help the whine that accompanies it. He’s larger than you remember and, but then again you’d never seen him hard, and the pearlescent bead of pre-come leaking from his thick, ruddy tip had your hands balling into fists at your side. You notice the slight upwards curve of it and try not to think about how it was going to feel tight inside you.

He watches you with a smug grin, clearly feeling like he had already won but you look away from his beautiful cock and back up into his hungry eyes.

“What next?” You ask, voice pathetic and breathy but you weren’t ready to buckle yet. Reacher swiftly takes off his boxers before shuffling closer, looking between your cotton panties and your peaked nipples as they strain against the fabric.

“Top.” He murmurs, he’s so close now you can smell the perspiration over the usual freshness of Reacher and it does nothing but increase the ache between your thighs. You had hoped he’d say that, you don’t waste your time now, shrugging off his shirt before, peeling the material over your head with a huff as you lose your vision for a split second. The bed shifts beneath you and when you pull the tank top over your head you see him, towering over you, knees almost touching as he tilts his head down at you with a wide smile on his face.

He says nothing but slowly leans forward, his chest millimetres from your face as he reaches behind you to pull his shirt back over your shoulders. You shudder as his fingers brush the bare skin of your shoulders before looking up into his blue-green eyes as you see the strain in his neck muscles as he tries to hold back.

“Looks like you lost Reacher, I’ve still got my panties on.” You breathe as he rocks back down onto his knees, his fingertips trailing down from your shoulders before he reaches your pebbled nipples. He brushes his knuckles against the sensitive buds and you arch forward at the touch, the pleasure blinding as his rough skin scrapes blissfully against them.

“Who said getting naked was the goal?” He asks, his hands trailing down to your thighs, gripping the flesh of your ass in his hands as he leans down into you, his strong nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just short of your own.

“Then what?” You breathe, your right hand rests atop his on your ass, you trail your middle and index fingers down from the hollow of his neck, following the valley of his sternum and tight stomach before ghosting along the patch of curls just above his shaft.

“I think you know.” He breathes, pressing his forehead against your own as he wrestles internally for control.

“Hmmm, think I need you to spell it out for me Reacher.” You counter, removing your hand from his torso to slide it up your thigh instead, tracking slowly up to the seam of your panties where they curve over your mound.

“Fuck.” He grunts but clearly not giving in so easily. You smile and push up on your knees, forcing his hands up as you unfold your legs, flopping back against the pillows under him as you cant your hips up towards him. His hands shift up from your thighs as you move, pinning you down by your hips as he moans above you. You hook your ankles over his calves and look up into his dark eyes with your best bedroom eyes, batting your eyelids as you pull your right hand up to your mouth, pulling your panties to the side with your left. The air hits your soaked pussy and you shudder at the sensation. Reacher’s eyes don’t leave yours, not daring to look down.

“Teach.” Reacher growls in warning but that only spurs you on more. You push your two fingers into your mouth slowly, all the way to the knuckle, hollowing your cheeks out as you suck hungrily on your own digits. He watches you, entranced as you pull them back out, saliva glistening between the digits as you lower them to your clit. Reacher says nothing as he follows them down, he’s practically vibrating with tension now.

You slide your fingers through your drenched folds, whimpering at the sensation as you gather your arousal over your fingers, you bring them back up to your lips but before they get there Reacher snatches your wrist in his hand. Without pause he pulls them into his mouth and groans around your fingers as he laves his tongue between them, savouring your slick like a man starved. Your fingers leave his mouth with a pop and he breathes your name as he cups your cheek with one hand, the other tight on your hip, you were sure it was going to bruise but you didn’t care. He repeats your name again through ragged breaths.

“I give in, can I please fuck you?” He asks and triumph takes a backseat in your mind as you feel the heat rush through your veins.

“Yes.” You breathe against his lips and he presses his tongue into your pliable mouth. You can taste yourself on him and you moan as the hand on your hip pulls you flush against him as he devours you. His length grinds against your slit, rubbing blissfully at your clit as you buck up into him. You want his cock so bad, you wriggle and whimper against him as he continues to lick into your mouth with fervour.

“Need another taste.” He mumbles as he pulls back, dropping onto his elbows as he wastes no time pressing his thick tongue deep into your desperate little hole. You cry out and buck up into it as he laps up your arousal. He shifts up to your clit, swiftly replacing his tongue with two of his large fingers. You cry out as the stretch burns but it’s soon assuaged by the way he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue in rapid, punishing circles as he fucks you with his strong fingers, his knuckles rutting against your core as you feel the burning heat of your orgasm building. He laps greedily against your clit as he picks up the pace thrusting into your cunt with his fingers.

It’s blinding, like a supernova spreading from the base of your spine, blowing through your cunt and splintering at your toes as you convulse around his digits. You quake as he continues to piston in and out of you as you ride through your orgasm. He watches your face twist and contort, occasionally flicking his tongue against your clit to elicit another shudder from you.

“Jack.” You plead, cupping his jaw as you gently push him away.

“Sorry, ‘just looked too good, twitchin’ f’me.” He babbles, your slick coating his hard jaw as he looks down at you with reverence. You pant up at him but you’re still not truly sated, you want more, so much more. You reach down to his cock and grip him tightly at the base, Reacher’s eyes go wide and he smiles down wickedly at you.

“You sure?” He asks, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing his tongue against the skin there.

“Please.” You beg, you need to feel him, need him to split you open. Reacher groans softly and nestles down between your legs, one hand on his cock, the other holding you steady by your hip. He swipes his head through your folds before pausing in realisation.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks, voice strained as he tries to be good, to do the right thing.

“Reacher I’ve not had sex in months, I’ve had clean bills of health since, and I’m on the pill, unless you’re packing an STI,” You look up at him this time with a face of judgement, “Which I will be pissed we’ve gotten this far and you haven’t said anything,” You add and he grins down at you incredulously, “I’m down if you are.” You say, looking between where his thick head is already stretching your entrance and his handsome face.

“Hundred percent sure?” He asks once more, twitching as he tries to restrain himself.

“Reacher, just fuck me already.” You growl. Reacher obeys and presses his tip inside, the stretch so much more intense than his fingers but you’re already so wet it’s no more than a pleasant burn.

“Fuck, so tight.” He breathes, easing further in as you buck up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed to pull against his lower back. He groans as he finally lets go, thrusting deep into you as you cry out in bliss. He fills you so tightly it’s overwhelming, you squirm under him as he brings a hand down to swipe his thumb against your clit.

“Fuckin’ Beautiful.” He growls as he starts a steady pace, his balls slapping gently against your ass each time as he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks down into you, spurring him on his thick cock rakes against your fluttering walls as every thrust threatens to unravel you.

“Reacher, fuck.” You groan as his tip hits your g-spot, making you writhe and clench, your right hand falls from his shoulder as you drop it down to swat his hand out of the way. You circle your clit with two fingers, matching his pace with ease fro this angle. He growls at the sight of you touching yourself as he fucks into you harder now, both hands on your hips as his rhythm falters.

“Can I-?” Reacher begins to ask but you cut him off, scraping angry red marks down his chest.

“Come inside me.” You command and that, combined with the sensation of your nails biting into his skin has Reacher stuttering his hips against you as he paints your walls with his spend. You come seconds later, pulsating around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, not slowing until you’re fully spent.

He rolls off you, almost falling off the modest double bed, only for you to catch his arm as you move over to give him some room. His cum is leaking out of you but you don’t care, sheets can be washed, or burned, but this moment with Reacher is precious.

“You ok there Teach?” He asks breathlessly as he turns to face you, pulling you against his chest, looping his strong thigh over yours caging you in against him.

“Seriously? Did you not hear me? Ok would be an insult to you.” You say with a laugh, prodding his sternum lightly with your finger.

“Fair point.” He says as he runs his fingers up ad down your body, tracing every curve, every scar, noting the places where you shudder. You place soft kisses to his chest, dragging your nails of your free hand up and down his back. It’s the most tender moment you’ve ever had, with anyone and the fact it was Reacher who was giving it to you was bizarre but you don’t care. After a while you feel yourself drifting off, but you know you need to wash up, even if you had only just showered.

“Reacher, gotta pee, c’mon.” You grumble against his skin and he sighs.

“I know.” He says softly as he places a kiss to the top of your head, but neither of you move, both terrified that if you let go it will shatter the illusion, the perfect moment neither of you wanted to lose.

“Reacher?” You whisper, anxiety bubbling in your throat as you prepare to ask the question that almost ruined it earlier.

“Hmm?” He responds sleepily, it he props himself up on his elbow and blinks the sleep away as he hears the concern in your voice.

“Why now?” You ask softly, trying to maintain eye contact, not wanting to shy away from this.

“Because,” He says softly, cupping your left cheek as he looks at you in earnest, “I’ve lost a lot of people I love, and I’m tired of pushing the people I love away, because I’d rather live and lose than never live at all.” He says and you can’t help but stifle a giggle.

“Did you just paraphrase Shakespeare at me?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s Tennyson, actually.” He grunts but the smile doesn’t leave his lips. You roll your eyes, he always was more into poetry than you.

“Do you want to crash here?” You ask softly leaning up to meet his lips, the kiss is soft, passionate, yet not the same as the hunger from before.

“Thought you’d never ask, c’mon let’s get cleaned up, I’m exhausted.” He mutters against your lips before hoisting you up into his arms, swinging his legs over the bed before carrying you to the bathroom. You grumble something about manhandling being degrading but he just laughs, because he knows deep down you like it. And you do too.

“Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile, and you use it only for me.” - Semisonic (Was listening to this while about mid-way through this and I just thought it was appropriate. Let me know what you think! I really liked writing this and would love some more Reacher stuff as it's pretty sparse as far as I can see? As always, likes and reblogs and comments are SO appreciated.

#Reacher #jack reacher x you #jack reacher smut #jack reacher #jack reacher x f!reader #alan ritchson #fanfic #fanfiction #jack reacher fanfiction #jack reacher fanfic #jack reacher x female reader #Frances Neagley is sneaky #vi writes #viwrites #viwritessmut #smut