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By 6:22 p.m., Samira felt like her own body turned against her.
She was doubled over in the break room, cramps tearing through her lower abdomen. The heating pad she had plugged in didn’t do much to help. It was turned all the way to max, and yet no heat was coming out of it.
Her shift was almost over soon. Only 38 minutes left to go.
The door swung open, and she didn’t even bother to look up. She no longer had the energy to keep pretending she was fine. Whoever it was could see her like this for all she cared, even Robby. She hoped it wasn't him. He’d take one look at her and bark at her to get back to work. Sometimes she wanted to rip his head off.
“Samira.”
She knew that raspy voice without having to look. It was the same one that coaxed her out of bed in the morning and lulled her to sleep at night.
It wasn’t a surprise to her that her boyfriend showed up early for his shift. It must’ve been a military thing or something. The man thrived on structure and schedules. He claimed he liked to come in early to have time to settle in, but Samira knew better. It wasn’t about preparation. It was about her. Over time, she’d learned the little signs. A text pinging just before dawn, telling her to meet him by the stairwell or on the roof, a stolen ten minutes away from prying eyes.
His gaze swept over her. He had that uncanny knack for knowing how she felt without her saying a word. She hated how easily he could read her, even though she desperately needed it at the moment. “You’re hunched over.”
“No, I’m not. I’m sitting completely normal,” she lied.
“You’re folded in half like a lawn chair.”
She sighed. “It’s fine. I’m just…” She clutched the heating pad tighter against her abdomen, hoping he’d buy the non-answer. He didn’t. Jack leaned against the counter, crossing his arms. “How long?”
Samira pressed her lips together. There was no point in fighting him on it. “All day.”
His jaw tightened. “Bad?”
She nodded. Although, bad didn’t even begin to cover what was going on down there. She was close to crawling into the fetal position on the dirty floor.
“You should’ve gone home.”
She shook her head firmly, an ache running up her back. “I’m not leaving a shift early because of cramps.” Jack should’ve known her better than to say that. He was the same way after all. They could be actively dying and they would put all their efforts into treating their patients.
His voice dropped even lower. “I knew something was off.”
That was no shocker. Jack knew her cycle better than she did. It was like he had some sixth sense about it. He had once texted her to bring Advil, and she hadn’t even realized she was due that week.
Samira sagged against the couch, her face pinched as another cramp knifed through her pelvis. She tried to hide it, but her breath hitched. Her knuckles were drawn so tight she could feel her nails bite into her skin, making crescents.
“Samira, I hate seeing you in pain.” He moved toward her a step.
“I’m fine,” she insisted again. It would’ve been more convincing if she hadn’t immediately bent forward.
He crouched down in front of her until they were eye-level. They were way too close. Anyone walking in would see everything they weren’t supposed to. They haven’t told anyone they were dating yet. It’s not like anything was stopping them. The paperwork from HR was already filled out.
“Hey, look at me.” She did, meeting his hazel eyes that looked way more brown at the moment. It was like they couldn’t decide what color they wanted to be.
“It wasn’t this bad earlier.” It was true. She had been fine this morning. It didn’t really hit until after lunch.
“You’re sure it’s not something else? You seem to be in a lot of pain, sweetheart.”
“It’s my period, Jack.” She tried to laugh but winced. Jack reached out, rubbing her hip. “I hate seeing you in pain.”
He glanced toward the door, then back at her. “Let’s get you somewhere private.”
“I’m not going home,” she protested.
“I know. That’s not what I meant. We can go to one of the on-call rooms and you can lie down for a bit.” He offered her his hand to help her up.
Her legs wobbled the moment she stood, her pelvis screaming in protest. Jack unplugged the heating pad and grabbed the tablet she left on the table. His hand hovered on her back, ready to catch her if she collapsed. She was walking like the ninety-year-old patient she treated this morning.
“Take the elevator,” he told her before she could choose the stairs out of stubbornness.
She glared at him and pressed the button.
He smirked.
The elevator doors slid open. Luckily, it was empty. Jack guided her in, then pressed the button. The ER didn’t have on-call rooms. If anyone needed to lie down, be it attendings, residents, or med students, they had to find an empty exam room or go upstairs.
A cramp ripped through her lower abdomen, forcing her to grip the railing.
“Breathe.” It was the same tone he used during hectic traumas. He was always so calm. She didn’t get it.
She leaned her head back against the elevator wall, taking a deep breath.
“You’re white-knuckling it,” he commented.
“I’m okay,” she whispered, though she couldn’t unclench her fingers.
“You’re not.”
The elevator doors slid open. Jack stepped out first, turning back to hold them for her. She followed him down the hallway where the on-call rooms were. Most were nothing more than a single bed and a tiny nightstand, the kind of space that reminded her of her freshman dorm.
It was much quieter here compared to downstairs. He closed the door behind him and handed her the tablet. “You can still chart. At least here you can lie down while you do it.”
Samira sat on the edge of the bed as she looked down at the screen, where half-finished notes were waiting for her. Her fingers started moving, tapping through the chart.
“The heating pad didn’t help?” Jack asked.
“I think it’s broken. The heat wasn’t coming out.”
“Did you take any ibuprofen?”
“About a half an hour ago. Hopefully, it’ll kick in soon.” She toed off her On The Cloud sneakers and drew her knees to her chest.
Jack bit his lip, thinking for a moment, and she could tell he was trying to figure out what to do.
“You know orgasms can help with cramps.”
Her head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Oh my god. You’re not serious.”
“I’m completely serious. There’s research on it. Dopamine, oxytocin, and increased blood flow. It helps. Though, if it makes you happy, I’m sure I can find an article that supports it.”
Was he insane? His calm certainty only made it worse. Horrified, she glanced around the tiny on-call room, suddenly aware that they were technically still at work. The halls would start filling with attendings or residents trying to crash. And Jack needed to be downstairs soon for handoffs.
“Jack, we are literally at the hospital,” she whispered, horrified and intrigued.
“We’re in an on-call room that’s private. No one’s coming in here,” he countered.
“That does not make it better.”
“It doesn’t make it worse. Besides, we’ve done it here before. I think you remember the roof very well.”
Her face burned. “It’s like a crime scene down there.” Blood was currently gushing out of her uterus. She had never felt more unsexy in her entire life.
Jack didn’t even blink. “We work in an ER. We’ve been covered in every bodily fluid imaginable. You think your blood scares me?”
His voice was too damn sincere. “Don’t say it like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you’re not joking.”
He wasn’t. She could see it in his eyes, utterly unbothered by her embarrassment and thirty times more affected by her pain.
“Samira, let me make you feel better, please?”
“Only if you put down a towel,” she muttered.
“Done.”
She watched him stride out of the room, like he was retrieving equipment for a procedure. Which, technically, he was. Holy shit she was actually going to let him do this.
Thirty seconds later, he returned with a towel in hand. She could feel her pulse in her throat. “You’re really serious?"
Jack met her eyes. “Very.”
He placed the towel on the bed, smoothing it out with his hands. Then he sat beside her and held out his hands. “Come here.”
Her legs moved of their own accord, crawling into his lap. His arms wrapped around her waist as she buried her face into the crook of his neck.
His hand moved to her hip, his fingers kneading circles into the muscle that had been knotted all day. “You hurting here?”
She nodded, leaning further into him.
Jack kissed the side of her head. “Okay, let’s get you lying down.”
He eased her off his lap and up to the head of the bed. She watched him kneel between her thighs, his hands moving toward the waistband of her scrub pants.
“I’ll go slow,” he assured her as he peeled them off her legs. Her underwear followed shortly after. The cool air hit her skin, and she tensed.
Jack’s voice melted her spine. “Relax for me.”
He gently guided her thighs apart and lowered his mouth to her inner thigh. A delicate kiss. Then another, a little higher up. His hands continued massaging her hips, trying to soothe her. “Good, just keep breathing. In and out.”
Samira closed her eyes, sinking back into the pillow.
She felt the torturous glide of his tongue dragging upward from her entrance to her clit. Her hand flew to her mouth in an attempt to silence the moan rising in her chest. Jack paused for a heartbeat. “There we go.”
Her hips lifted on their own, aching for anything that might ease the relentless pain in her abdomen. He dove back in, adding more pressure this time, which caused Samira’s head to thunk back against the pillow.
Jack was good. Criminally good. If there were an award for eating pussy, he’d win every category. Fuck, he’d win a lifetime achievement award. She’d hand it to him herself.
She tried to stay quiet, knowing that there were people just outside these walls. Her whines were muffled by her fist.
“Don’t do that. Don’t hide from me,” he warned.
She tried to glare at him, but her eyes rolled to the back of her head when he sucked her clit into his mouth. “Shit…”
“Let me hear you. You’re in pain. I’m helping you. So let me hear it.”
Her hips jerked when he flicked his tongue, and she cursed under her breath, gripping the blanket.
Another sound escaped her, small but helpless, and Jack made a hungry noise in response.
“Good, baby. Let it help.”
The cramps that had been torturing her all day ebbed with every sweep of his tongue. His fingers pressed against her inner thigh, coaxing her to open just a little more for him. She did, without hesitation. He rewarded her with a slow drag of his tongue that made her toes curl.
“Taking it so well. Let me make you feel better, sweetheart.”
Her fingers slid into his curls, not to guide him but because she needed something to hold onto. Jack groaned like he loved the way she tugged at them. As if he could stay buried in her for hours if she let him. She most definitely would.
His mouth was already stained, red smeared across his lips and chin. She could feel the slickness as he shifted. He didn’t seem to be bothered in the slightest. Jack lifted his head just enough for her to see him a little more clearly. His pupils were blown wide, his hazel irises darker than she's ever seen them.
“Good fuckin’ girl, let it get messy,” he groaned.
“Jack… I need your fingers,” she whimpered.
“Anything you want.” He slid two thick digits inside her, stretching her out.
Samira tried to keep herself grounded, to remember where she was, what she was doing, and how insane this was. But Jack wasn’t giving her a chance.
Every time she tried to catch her breath, he did something that stole it right back. Flattening his tongue, tightening his grip, or pumping his fingers in a way that made her legs tremble uncontrollably. He angled his head and licked her again, like he wanted to savor the way her thighs shook around him.
“Fuck…,” she hissed, a helpless warning.
Jack didn’t stop or slow down. He pulled his fingers from her, placing one hand flat on her belly, right over the spot that had been torturing her all day, and pressed gently. “I know, honey. You needed this, huh? Gonna make it all better for you.”
Her heart nearly burst out of her chest as his lips sealed over her again.
“God… please…” She didn’t even know what she was pleading for. To stop. To keep going. To save her. To ruin her. All of it. None of it.
He hummed against her, as if her begging were the best thing he’d heard all week. “You’re almost there. I can feel it. I want to feel you let go for me. You’ll feel so much better, baby.”
She squeezed her eyes shut, pressing her teeth into her lip until the metallic tang of blood filled her mouth. It didn’t compare to the amount on his. A part of him carried her now, his tongue coated in her blood, and she couldn’t help wondering if he noticed, if it made him feel the same strange thrill she felt. Was it sweeter on him than it was on her own lips?
Her body felt like it was going through an exorcism. She was trying hard to fight the inevitable pull toward the edge. Jack’s hand pressed a little more firmly on her stomach, his thumb moving back and forth as if to chase away the last bit of ache.
Her vision blurred as her thighs clamped around his head.
“Yeah, that’s it. Give it to me,” he commanded, his breath hot against her.
She could feel it rising. It was unstoppable. The climax hit her so fast she didn’t even have time to brace.
Her hips jerked and a sound ripped out of her throat before she could swallow it back down.
Her eyes flew open in panic, her heart slamming against her ribs. Oh God… what if someone heard?
Jack didn’t let her spiral. He slid his free arm under her thigh and hauled her closer, pinning her hips to his mouth to drink down every last drop.
“Jack…” Her voice cracked, her fingers yanking hard at his curls because she had no control left. None, not even a little.
Her whole body clenched, every nerve firing at once. Heat tore up her spine. She swore she was going to cry. The relief was overwhelming.
“That’s my good girl,” Jack hummed against her. “Come on my tongue.”
His words shredded what was left of her composure.
Jack’s response was feral.
“That’s right, sweetheart. Ride it out,” he whispered, punctuating each word with a deliberate stroke of his tongue.
His fingers stayed inside her, supporting her body’s pulsing aftershocks. His mouth slowed, easing her down from the edge he’d pushed her over.
It took her a long moment to realize she was panting. Barely coherent. Jack was still between her thighs, licking her gently.
She blinked down at him, dazed, and saw the mess they made.
Blood smeared his mouth. His chin, stubble, all the way down to his neck. He almost looked like a vampire. His eyes were dark with heat when he glanced up at her, his mouth shiny. He’d never looked hotter.
His lips curled into the smallest, yet filthiest, smile.
“Knew it’d help you,” he rasped, proud of himself.
Samira flushed so deeply she felt it down to her toes.
“Any better?”
The cramps were gone. Completely gone. All that remained was exhaustion and the overwhelming urge to drag him up and kiss him stupid.
She nodded.
Jack dragged his thumb along the crease of her thigh, gathering slickness and blood, his eyes hooding at the sight.
“Rockstar... you made such a mess for me.” His voice went even rougher, almost affectionate.
She felt herself blush so hard her vision pulsed. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why not? You earned it.” He smirked, bringing his thumb to his mouth to lick it clean.
He dipped his head again, kissing the inside of her thigh. “I mean it. You’re a damn rockstar. Took everything I gave you, didn’t you?” He nuzzled higher, leaving faint smears as he went. “You let me help you feel good, and you give me this? You’re perfect.”
Her fingers twitched against the sheets. “You shouldn’t like this so much.”
“I like you. And I like making you feel better. Period or not. Doesn’t scare me. Hell, I fucking love it," he corrected.
“Love how you taste like this. How you fall apart for me. I’d eat you like this every damn day if it meant taking the pain away.”
“Oh my God,” she breathed, covering her face with one hand.
He laughed. “Don’t hide from me.”
“Stop,” she groaned.
“Never. I’m not letting you feel embarrassed about something that made you feel better.”
He finally lifted the towel and began wiping her gently. Samira let her head fall back, boneless.
“Lift your hips a little for me, baby.”
She did, though she was a bit sore. Jack slid her underwear back up her legs, guiding them over her thighs. Her scrub bottoms followed.
God, she could nap for the next three days.
Jack pulled a stack of hospital-grade wipes. The smell hit her instantly, sharp and bitter. Pure chemicals. He had blood everywhere. On his mouth, jaw, neck, and the edge of his hairline.
She felt his hand skim her arm and cracked one eye open.
“Sleep, I’ll check on you in a little bit,” he murmured.
“Come here.”
“Samira… I’m on shift. They’re gonna come looking for me if I don’t go down soon.”
She reached out and hooked a finger into his scrub top. “Just lie down with me. Five minutes.”
They both knew it wasn’t going to be five minutes.
Jack exhaled a tiny surrender, sitting on the cot before easing down behind her. He wrapped an arm around her waist, spooning her, his breath settling warm against the back of her neck. She relaxed instantly, melting into him like her body was hard-wired to seek him out.
“This is a trap,” he murmured.
“Maybe.”
“You’re going to fall asleep and I’m not going to be able to leave.”
She smiled into the pillow. “Sounds like a you problem.”
Jack chuckled. “What am I gonna do with you?”
“Love me,” she replied.
“I already do that.” He leaned down to press kisses to the nape of her neck.
She squirmed and gave his thigh a half-hearted smack. “Cut it out. I’m trying to sleep.”
He laughed and eased back, his arm wrapping around her waist. Samira felt her eyes grow heavy. She could feel Jack’s heartbeat against her spine.
She drifted off almost instantly.
•••
Downstairs, the ER was already shifting into the chaos of the early night shift.
Jack strode toward the hub, trying to reorient himself. All he could seem to think about was Samira’s shaking thighs.
He was halfway through a perfectly normal greeting. Then he saw Shen approaching with a massive Dunkin’ iced coffee in hand. The cup was sweating, probably on its third refill of the night. Jack still didn’t understand how one human could consume that much caffeine and remain alive.
Shen slowed. Then stopped completely mid-stride. His eyes locked on Jack’s face, and his expression went blank. “Are you bleeding?”
What.
No, he wiped his face. He was positive he got it all. Although he was distracted by a sleepy Samira. He lifted two fingers to his chin. Dark and vivid crimson flaked on the pads. Panic hit him so fast that it felt like a defibrillator shock. Samira would murder him if she knew.
Shen’s eyes widened, alarmed. It was probably because Jack still hadn’t uttered a goddamn word. “You okay, brother? What happened?”
“It’s… uh… not mine.”
Shen blinked. “Okay?”
Jack realized that sounded even worse. How is it that he suddenly forgot all of the English language? He tried again. “It’s not… it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“Were you helping with that trauma consult that was just taken up to surgery? I heard it was a nasty bleeder. Guess you got caught in the crossfire. I heard Walsh had come down guns blazing."
Jack made a vague, helpless gesture. “Something like that.”
Shen nodded like this made perfect sense. “Right. Okay. Blood. Not yours. Cool. I mean, you look like you're starring in a horror movie, but whatever.”
He took a slow sip of his iced coffee. “You sure you don’t need to get checked? That’s a lot of blood for…”
“Shen, I’m fine,” Jack assured him.
Shen hummed, unconvinced, but let it go. “Alright. Just… maybe clean yourself up so you don’t scare the patients?”
“Yeah, on it,” Jack muttered, already turning away.
Jack slipped into the nearest bathroom and locked the door behind him. He turned on the faucet, splashed water on his face, and finally looked up.
Jesus.
There was a streak of blood across his jawline he’d completely missed. Another on his cheekbone. He looked feral.
He grabbed a handful of paper towels and scrubbed his face, watching the blood dilute to pink in the sink. It was strange. After all the years of being drenched in things human bodies should never expel, he felt something warm swell in his chest instead of the usual dread.
Jack liked that Samira trusted him enough to let him help. He’d do it a thousand times over. He didn’t mean the sex, though he wouldn’t pretend he didn’t want her. It was the care. He had a natural instinct to comfort her, and she always seemed to relax under his touch.
He rinsed his face one more time, checking for any leftover blood. Then he patted himself dry.
Jack straightened, took another breath, and stepped back out into the corridor. Time to pretend he hadn’t just spent the last hour doing the filthiest, most intimate thing he’d ever done in a hospital.
•••
A couple hours later, the quiet creak of the on-call room door pulled Samira out of sleep.
She blinked, still a little disoriented. The pillow under her cheek didn’t feel like hers. It wasn’t the silk one Jack had bought after reading it would help protect her curls. And it wasn’t the one at his place she liked to bury her nose into because it smelled like him.
Jack stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with his hip. His shoulders were a little slumped, but the second he saw her awake, his expression softened.
He knelt beside the bed, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. “Hey, sleepy head. Feeling any better?”
Samira stretched a little under the blanket. Her muscles were loose and floaty. The persistent ache in her lower belly cut down to a distant throb.
“Much,” she whispered, her voice hoarse from sleep.
Jack smiled, relieved by her answer. “Good.”
He handed her ibuprofen and a bottle of water. She took it without argument and swallowed the pills.
“Why don’t you stay here tonight. I’ll take you in the morning after my shift.”
She nodded, settling back against the pillow. He leaned down and kissed her forehead. “I can get your stuff from your locker and bring it up. And if you’re hungry, I can order from DoorDash.”
“If the cramps come back, I’ll treat you again,” he added, his voice a low whisper.
Her whole body went hot in a way that had nothing to do with being bundled under the blanket.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her brows raised. “I didn’t know that was one of your kinks.” She tried to sound teasing and not completely flustered.
Jack’s expression didn’t even flicker with embarrassment. “My kink is all things Samira Mohan. Now sleep. We can talk more about them later.”
Samira was never getting to sleep now.
He squeezed her hand once and stood, moving toward the door.
“I’ll come check on you in a bit,” he promised.
He stepped into the hallway, leaving her with a pounding heart and an ache between her thighs that was no longer a cramp.