Chapter Text
He’d noticed him dropping her off when he was leaving one morning. A tall guy, decent car. They kissed and she ran inside with her face all flushed.
It amused him, he shook his head and left it at that.
A few weeks later though, he overheard Perlah gossiping with Lena, something about finding Samira crying in the bathroom last shift. He shelved that information away, decided to keep an eye out.
The picture became more clear when days later, he found himself in a bar with the residents and Robby after pulling a double due to fires in the area.
He was nursing a beer in a booth with Robby when, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed Samira being pulled from the bar by the same man he’d seen dropping her off weeks prior. He kept an eye on her, noticed how her shoulders tensed up and her smile didn’t make her squint when they talked. She kissed the man and joined Javadi and McKay back at the bar.
When a few minutes later she excused herself, he did too and Robby was none the wiser when Dr. Abbot followed Dr. Mohan to the hallway leading to the bathrooms.
When she left the bathroom, her face and the hair framing it was wet. Tops of her cheeks were puffy and red. She jumped a little at the sight of him.
“You’ve been crying,” he said simply.
“What?” she laughed, turning her face away, wiping the cold droplets off, “No way. I was just-”
“What did he do?”
She looked caught when she turned to him. He kissed his teeth, pulled himself off the wall. “Is it him? Did he make you cry?”
“Jack, come on.”
He took a step too close, she hit the wall. He really shouldn’t, he thought at the sight of her doe eyes. But he has had a bad day. “Is he your boyfriend?”
“Who?”
“The guy who just left.”
“Yeah,” she whispered. She’d noticed his eyes dropping to her lips, but made no move to escape. He noticed her chest heaving in sync with his own rushing heart. Her hair had been mussed down, individual curly hair stuck to shiny skin around her temples and eyebrows.
He licked his lips, leaned closer.
“I just said that I’ve got a boyfriend,“ she warned. Calmly.
He looked a little offended, made no move to put distance between his lips and her breath. “I know you do.”
“You should back off then.”
“I should back off.”
“Jack…”
“No, I agree with you. You shouldn’t be here with me.”
He kissed her cheek. “I shouldn’t do this,” he whispered as his hands slid down to her ass.
“We shouldn’t," she echoed, but in direct opposition to her words, her fingers raked up his back to pull him close.
He growled then, took in the citrus smell of her shampoo and pushed her flush with him, groin against groin. The friction fueled him like gas would a flame. He leaned back to take her in, focused too long on how plush and wet her lower lip looked; how devoted she looked staring at him, red in the face and worked up and probably feeling bad. She was a goddamn full course meal.
They could still stop. Barely anything happened.
His hands squeezed her ass, knee knocking hers apart as he wet his lip.
“What are you doing?” she asked, controlling her lungs to empty without a whimper.
“Is he coming back?”
“He said he’ll pick me up.”
“When?” His fingers dug into her flesh, even through jeans he could tell her skin was steaming.
She swallowed, eyes already heavy. “Soon.”
“Then we better hurry.”
She bit her lip and looked at him like her fate was in his hands.
Someone opened a door in the distance, Jack pulled her along to a maintenance closet, pushed the door open with his back and she was already kissing him, climbing over him, chasing the tension coiling inside of her in all the places they touched.
Her nails scratched down his scalp, her leg hooked over his hip where he picked her up, sat her down on a dryer.
She was relentless, searching out his tongue with hers, lips locked. Groin against groin, they both chased the friction when her phone suddenly buzzed.
“Is it him?” he asked, licking her taste off the corner of his lips. She tried to make him stop asking such stupid questions, but he suddenly put a finger into her mouth, pressed down on her tongue as his own ran over his teeth. He hissed, battling his own self-control with her like this when she sucked on it. “What’d he text you?” He grinned at her red face. Pulled the finger out of her mouth just to trace it down her belly.
Almost dropping her phone, Samira moaned as he began undoing her pants, leaning her back against the wall.
“Read it out loud,” he ordered, licking down her collarbone, pushing her shirt open with his face.
“He says ‘don’t stay late’.”
Jack chuckled, thick fingers skimming the inside of her thighs. She squealed, squeezing his hand between them. It was hardly a challenge. He found his way down her panties, brought their faces together and kissed her senseless while pumping in and out of her with a finger.
“You should answer him.”
“What?” she asked against his lips, eyes shut and body mellow with hot pleasure. He added another finger.
“Text him back, tell him not to worry. We’re making good time.”
She moaned again, face reddening from how wet she was making his hand. The sounds filled the whole room. “I can’t.”
“Call him then.”
“What?” she gasped. He unbuttoned her shirt and sucked on her left nipple, kept stretching her on his fingers.
“I’m gonna.. I’m gonna text him,” she managed to string together. Hand clawing at his shoulders as she felt her cunt pulsing, hot and exposed and at the mercy of a man who had none. It was making her dizzy how little blood she had in her head and how much of it was pulsing through her chest to where his fingers were fucking her.
“Why not a call? Afraid he’s gonna be jealous?” He asked into her sternum, looked up at her, his own face sweaty and kissed and mouth wet with spit. “Afraid he’ll hear you like this? That he will know you’re getting fucked in the maintenance closet?”
She held her own mouth shut, her legs began to shake, her back arched as the pressure continued building.
“He should be jealous. A girl as pretty as you. Tsk tsk. Someone could try to take you if he’s not nice to you.”
He didn’t stop for a second, pulling fingers in and out of her with his thumb teasing her clit.
“When has he ever fucked you like this, huh? I’m using just one hand,” he pulled back to look at her, eyes full of black and judgement, “And you’re in shambles.”
She cried out, skin covered in hot bruises and his spit, shirt open and pants at her knees, falling apart with an orgasm he was stretching out for her.
“I never made you cry,” he said after she had calmed down, kissed the top of her head while buttoning up her shirt. “Did I?”
Her gaze was soft on him, then she looked away. Gently, with her permission, he brought her back by her chin.
“He should never again, Samira.”
“I’m gonna break up with him.”
He gave her a lopsided, non-commital smile and kissed her the way that sucked all air out of her. Slowly, needily and so passionately it set her alight again.
“Do what you need to do,” he said once they parted, a smirk on his face.
She exhaled, nose tracing up his face, breathing him in. “Fuck you, Jack.”
“Uh-uh. I don’t think your boyfriend would like that.”
He enjoyed the resistance she put up to not smile.
She could do so much better.