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Jack had never been a patient man, not in the way people usually meant it.
In the ER, he moved fast, thought even faster. His movements were always in reaction to something. He cracked jokes when the world seemed too much and reached condescension when he was exhausted. It was not something Jack was particularly proud of, but it kept him moving.
He was always one step ahead of everyone, anticipating a patient’s need, a colleague’s panic or a friend’s mood like it was second nature.
His version of care resided in preparation, precision and anticipated needs, so yes: patience was not his forte.
And yet, when it came to Samira Mohan, he had been waiting.
He met her in 2019. Well actually, he stared at her from across the room and did not introduce himself until a few weeks later when he absolutely had to. Jack had just moved from the West Coast to Pittsburgh—a whim, really, he arrived in Pittsburgh with too many ghosts and little to no roots. The move was impulsive, and he actually never expected to stay this long. She was still an intern when he first saw her. She made a quick observation during rounds, a subtle catch that Adamson had purposely left out to assess the interns. Jack watched as the attending grinned and complimented her for the commentary.
“Not many people would have dared on their first day. Well done, Mohan.” and Samira’s entire face lit up.
After that, Jack kept noticing: her sharp eyes during rounds, the way she always stood just a little straighter when she was about to argue with someone senior. She was brilliant, obsessively focused. He shared a few of his medical journals when she was just an R2 simply because she had asked politely. And a few months later, he started sharing all the interesting medical articles he read and thought she’d like.
She was so invested in being good at her job that she barely noticed the orbit of attention around her. Over the years, not all that attention was good, the nickname about her thoroughness, while it had some truth to it, was never deserved, the way Robby always excepted more of her–she was capable of everything the man asked of her but Jack was reticent at the way he went about it.
Adamson wouldn’t want you to treat people like this was a lways on the tip of Jack’s tongue.
Jack was part of Samira’s orbit. And after Pittfest, he'd made himself a satellite, close but never intrusive: he brought her coffee during double shifts, he made sure to leave space for her to speak, to take credit, to shine.
He never pushed.
Take the win Doctor Mohan.
He flirted, of course–his own version of it: stupid jokes, peacocking, medical articles in her locker.
And he waited.
Samira never flirted back.
She was focused, devoted to becoming the kind of doctor people remembered.
So Jack waited.
And waited.
Until one night (long past when most people would have given up) she finally did it. It was subtle: a quick glance at his lips, a grin, a single comment delivered with intentional softness. She had teased him like she wanted to be caught doing it
“Are you flirting with me Doctor Mohan?”
“What if I am?”
He kissed her that night. He had not planned to, but she had given him permission. She flirted first, finally, and he had moved fast in the way he always had.
He would have waited another five years if he had to, if she needed that much time. But she did not.
And thank God for that.
By the time she decided that she wanted him: he was ready. He had become less reckless over the years. He was less broken. Jack had been more himself than he’d ever been since he lost Chris. And whatever she wanted, he would have given.
Whatever pace she chose, he’d match.
x
The first time he made her come wasn’t romantic. The old man in him would have preferred it, would have liked to take his time, bring her to the brink a few times before, learning what she liked and the way her body responded before having her come undone. It was nothing like that, instead, it was terribly messy and incredibly needed.
Samira had been humiliated during a case: dismissed by a patient who ignored her advice and stormed out, only to crash his car in the parking lot five minutes later. The mess landed in Jack’s lap, because even afterwards the idiot refused her care.
Afterwards, they found themselves in an unused on-call room neither of them ever entered. Samira was buzzing with frustration, her hands shaking.
She kissed him first.
Jack backed her against the door and kissed her back with the same need.
He let her lead, let her decide. Samira guided his hand under her scrubs, his fingers instinctively slipped into her underwear. His mouth stayed on hers as she gasped against him, her hips grinding down, chasing pressure. He set a cruel pace like only a man with deep patience could do until she was panting and breathless.
She came against his hand, lips buried in his neck, and whispered “thank you” against his lips like he had given her air.
Jack couldn’t move at first. He stayed leaned against the wall for a full minute, watching the dirty ceiling and trying not to think about the very real erection trapped in his pants and the fact that he still had half a shift left to survive by her side. She left first, her steps calmer: he watched her go, the way she checked herself in the mirror of the on-call room to look presentable driving him mad.
Slow and steady wins the race, he thought.
And damn if that wasn’t exactly how she had gotten to him.
x
So let’s revise the previous statement, Jack could be patient.
When he came home that night, the door to the bedroom was ajar, cracked just enough for him to hear it: a breathless, broken sound. A whimper, low and urgent, followed by the quiet, slick rhythm of fingers working slick skin.
Jack stilled.
He pressed his palm to the door, pressed just slightly to open it more, and looked in. The bed covers had slipped down to her thighs, her tank top shoved up to reveal the smooth slope of her belly and the delicate swell of her breasts. Her left hand pinched a nipple between two fingers, twisting lightly, while her right moved between her thighs—slow, focused, purposeful.
Samira arched, soft gasps escaping her lips, her eyes half-closed in concentration. She didn’t know he was there. She didn’t need him tonight.
Jack swallowed hard. It was the most glorious thing he had seen all week.
His cock twitched in his pants. He watched her fingers circle her clit, watched as her hips chased the sensation. Her movements were practiced: she knew exactly what her body craved. Her mouth parted again on a sigh, her brows furrowing as she pressed deeper.
He should have looked away. When her legs began to tremble and her breath hitched higher in her chest, Jack stepped forward and the floor creaked. She froze at the sound.
“Oh,” she whispered, breathless. Her fingers stilled between her thighs, and she turned her head toward him, her cheeks flushed, her brows furrowed in frustration at the interruption.
“Don’t stop on my account.”
She stared at him for exactly two whole seconds, then she slid her fingers back between her folds. Jack felt the air punch out of his lungs. She moved slower now, aware of his eyes, teasing herself with a deliberate flick over her clit. Her hips tilted toward her hand, her body inviting his gaze.
Was she testing him? Testing his restraint?
Jack didn’t speak. He only watched. He could see her orgasm building, he saw the quake in her thighs, the tremor in her hand, and her movement growing more and more desperate. And just as she started to come undone, Jack crossed the room in two steps and sat on the edge of the bed.
His hand caught her wrist.
Samira gasped and her hips jerked in protest.
“Jack,” she whispered, desperate. “Please–”
He didn’t let go. Instead, he lifted her hand slowly and brought her slick fingers to his mouth. Samira whimpered like it hurt. He parted his lips, tasting her.
“Perfect,” Jack murmured, more to himself than to her. His eyes roamed over the curve of her thighs still slightly parted, glistening. “Couldn’t even wait for me to get home, huh?”
Samira didn’t blink. She propped herself up on one elbow and met his gaze, assured. “You were late.”
“And you’re impatient.” He chuckled. “Good things happen to those who wait, don’t you know that?”
“Who said I couldn’t have you after getting off on my own?” She asked, smirking.
“Greedy.” He groaned.
Samira leaned back against the headboard. “I’d say ambitious.”
Jack shook his head, but the grin tugging at his mouth betrayed him. He climbed onto the bed beside her, pressing close, she scooted in the middle of the mattress, letting him settle next to her. He dipped his head, brushed her lips with his own: tender, barely there kisses that teased more than they satisfied either of them.
Then his resolution broke and he kissed her for real.
He kissed her like he wanted to memorize her taste, like the hours without her hands on him scraped something raw in him. She kissed him back, matching his hunger with deeperate precision, a gasp catching in her throat when his tongue slipped past her lips. Samira tugged him closer, her fingers curling into his shirt like she could anchor herself there. Jack didn’t rush, he had plans. He let her mouth open beneath his, kissing her until she broke first and bit by bit, with each kiss, her breath started hitching and her hand fisted his hair instead of his top, demanding more of him.
“You know how beautiful you are?” he asked, pulling back just enough to speak against her lips.
“You keep telling me,” she replied, smiling.
“I need to keep reminding you,” he said. His lips trailed down her neck, lingering at the hollow of her throat. “Can’t have you forget you’re the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Now, will you stop being sweet and fuck me instead?”
She shivered as his fingers ghosted over her ribs. Her skin prickled with anticipation, her hips shifting toward him instinctively.
“I have an idea,” he said against her collarbone, kissing her just above her pulse point.
“Oh?” Her fingers tangled in his hair again, holding him close. “Is this one of your Dr. Abbot treatment plans?”
He grinned against her skin. “Something like that.”
He eased her onto her back again, hands firm but careful. He kissed his way down her chest, taking his time, dragging his mouth along the curve of her breast before flicking his tongue against her nipple. She gasped, arching up, and he did it again, slower this time, circling with maddening patience.
Jack looked up at her, his eyes dark with promise.
“I’m going to touch you,” he said, dragging a hand down her stomach, stopping just before the place she ached. “And lick you.”
Samira’s breath caught. Her legs parted further without thinking, instinct giving her away.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he continued, mouth brushing the inside of her thigh now. “And eventually,” he said, lips curling as her hips trembled, “somewhere in there…”
He exhaled against her ùaking her whole body jerk.
“I’m going to make you come.”
Samira’s laugh came out as a moan. “Eventually, huh?”
Jack grinned and kissed the soft skin just beside her cunt.
Her response was nothing but a curse, swallowed by a gasp as he finally licked her: long and deep, like he had all night to worship her and absolutely no intention of hurrying, which he did. He didn’t tease. He devoured.
And still, he held back. She tangled her fingers in his hair and tried to rock up into his mouth, but Jack pressed her hips down with one arm across her hips.
“Easy,” he said. “We’ve got time.”
“What the fuck?” she finally managed to gasp out.
“I’ve explained the plan, sweetheart,” he said before diving back in.
He added his fingers this time too, and she tightened the grip of her thighs around his head, hoping it’d be enough to keep him there until she came. It was not, but Jack would happily give her some hope about it. He brought her to the edge again, faster this time and he recognized the sign as her walls tightened on his fingers. With a final lick on her cunt, he stopped.
“Fuck–Jack,” her tighs trembling. “Please. I need you.”
“You have me.”
“Fuck you.”
“Later.”
Samira blinked up at him. “ Why? ”
Jack wiped his mouth, kissed her inner thigh.
“Because,” he said, standing. “I’m going to shower.”
“You’re kidding.”
“No dirty clothes on the bed. That's y our rule, sweetheart.”
“We can forget it tonight,” she said, attempting to grab at his scrub.
He bent, kissed her temple. “I don’t think we can.”
“Jack.”
He paused at the door, grinning. “Don’t come while I’m gone.”
“You are a monster .”
“Say it.”
Samira chewed on her bottom lip, and for a second Jack thought she might just tell him to go fuck himself and dip her fingers right back in her cunt.
“I won’t come,” she said instead.
x
Samira groaned the moment the bathroom door clicked shut, the sound of running water following close behind. Her body throbbed—need coursing through her like a fever. Once jack was gone she shifted restlessly on the bed, fingers clenched in the sheets, trying not to reach between her legs.
She had promised.
The minutes dragged, she wondered if Jack took his time on purpose. Her skin still hummed from his mouth, wanting more. When the door finally opened, the sound of his steps on the hardwood made her ache.
Jack returned shirtless, his skin damp and flushed from the heat of the shower. His hair was pushed back, beads of water trailing down his chest, collecting in the dip of his collarbone and the carved line of his abdomen. A towel hung low on his hips, barely.
Samira’s gaze devoured him.
“Bed still warm?” he asked, smug. He pulled the towel off with slow, unhurried confidence, revealing a body she already knew, his cock already half-hard, heavy between his legs.
Samira sat up. “Come here.”
Jack crawled over her slowly, settling between her legs and pressing her back into the pillows. His hand skimmed her belly, then down, down, until his fingers brushed the slick heat waiting for him.
“You listened,” he murmured, pleased. “Didn’t come.”
“I’m dying,” she hissed. “I need you.”
“Then you’ll have me,” he promised.
He didn’t tease this time. He pressed the head of his cock against her, rubbing slowly through her wetness until her legs trembled. Then, with one slow thrust, he slid inside.
They both moaned–She was so tight around him, her body clenching greedily, welcoming him in. Jack braced himself on his forearms and dipped his head to her shoulder as he bottomed out, hips flush to hers, every inch of him buried in her heat.
“Jesus,” he breathed against her skin.
Samira arched beneath him, nails raking down his back. “Move.”
He obeyed. He drew back slowly, then sank in again, each thrust deep and thoughtful. He wasn’t fast and every stroke hit her just right, the drag of his cock against her walls enough to make her lose her mind.
“You feel so fucking good,” he whispered, mouth on her throat.
Jack grunted and adjusted, driving in with more force, the slap of skin against skin filling the room. He pinned her wrists above her head with one hand, the other gripping her thigh and pulling her open, giving himself room to fuck her deeper, rougher.
She gasped, legs wrapping around his waist, locking him in.
“Touch me,” she begged, desperate. “Please, Jack—”
He released her wrists and slid his hand between them, fingers finding her clit. He rubbed in tight, perfect circles, matching the rhythm of his thrusts.Her orgasm hit like a wave— her back arched off the bed, a high, broken cry tearing from her throat as her body seized around him, pulsing and pulling him deeper. Samira shattered and Jack swore, hips jerking. He fucked her through it not giving her a second to recover.
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, voice strained. “You’re so perfect like this.”
She was still trembling when he pulled her legs up higher, changing the angle, hitting even deeper. She bit her lip, overwhelmed, body still quaking from the first release when he pushed her toward another.
“Again,” he said, dark eyes locked on her face. “I want to feel you come again.”
She couldn’t answer. She could only take it, moaning his name as pleasure built again, faster this time, sharper. His fingers never left her clit.
“Come with me,” he growled and Samira did.
She came with a cry, her whole body convulsing, nails sinking into his shoulders again. Jack followed, his hips slamming deep, cock twitching as he spilled inside her with a hoarse groan.
They stayed tangled like that, sweaty and breathless, his forehead resting against hers, both of them still trembling.
“You okay?” he asked after a minute, voice softer now.
She nodded, eyes dazed. “More than okay.”
They stayed tangled like that, sweaty and breathless, his forehead resting against hers, both of them still trembling. Jack shifted slightly, brushing his fingers down her thigh, back between her legs. But the moment he touched her, Samira flinched.
“Wait,” she whispered, catching his wrist. “Too much. Just–give me a second.”
He stilled instantly. “Okay. Yeah.”
But she was already moving, reaching down between them and wrapping her fingers around him. She stroked him slowly, her grip soft but purposeful.
“Not fair,” he murmured.
Samira’s eyes were dark with want. “So you’re the only one who gets to ruin me?”
Jack inhaled, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. “Samira–”
She kept going, thumb brushing the sensitive underside of his tip, making him moan in response. “You didn’t even let me touch you. You just had me like that. You can’t tease me like that and get away with it.”
His hand covered hers, halting her strokes, she removed her hand, objectively pouting.
“I wasn’t trying to get away with anything,” he said softly. “I just… wanted to take care of you.”
“I know,” she whispered. “But I wanted to take care of you, too.”
For a long second, they just looked at each other. Then Jack leaned in and kissed her slow, open-mouthed and unhurried. There was no urgency. He pulled back and brushed a curl from her cheek.
“Another time, let’s clean you up.”
She nodded, pliant from the high of it all.
He rose first, stepping into the bathroom and returning with a warm cloth. He was gentle as he cleaned her up, murmuring soft apologies when she winced at her own sensitivity. He kissed her knee when he was done, then tossed the cloth aside.
He removed his prosthetic and slid under the covers with her, pulling her against his chest. She tucked herself in like it was second nature—one leg between his, cheek resting over his heart.
“You okay?” he asked quietly, fingers moving slowly through her hair.
“Mmm,” she hummed, eyes already heavy. “Yeah.”
Jack kissed the top of her head, arms wrapping around her, his fingertips drawing lazy lines down her spine.
“Slow and steady wins the race.”
Samira snorted. “Did you just—” Her head lifted an inch so she could squint up at him. “Are you seriously quoting a children’s fable to me right now?”
“Seemed fitting.”
“That is the corniest thing you’ve ever said to me.” She laughed and let her forehead drop back against his shoulder.
“It’s true, though.”
Samira didn’t argue–not really. Even if it was, indeed, the corniest thing he had said to her, which was saying something, Jack spent half of his time with her putting his foot in his mouth.
After a few seconds, she said, almost too soft to hear, “Yeah. I guess it is.”