Archive of Our Own ^beta

Jack Abbot ran his thumb along her lower lip.

“Get down on your knees and suck it for me, ok?”

Samira Mohan was never sure how to get things started, so she was actually more thankful for the direction than anything else. It's not actually a question, since he's paying her to be here, but she appreciated it all the same.

She knelt and reached out to undo his zipper.

********************************

It all started a few months after Pittfest.

After Samira confirmed out loud what everyone already suspected, that she was depressingly single on top of being a workaholic, it seemed like everyone she worked with came out of the woodwork to try to set her up with a cousin, or a friend of a friend, or he's such a nice guy, you'll love him, I swear.

She had held off and deflected these attempts at every turn. Samira had no desire to spend her very limited free time with strangers who would only ask for the goriest stories she had and had no interest in hearing about the toll being an emergency medicine doctor had on her, as her last boyfriend two years ago had.

Then the chief resident position came up.

“I know it'll look good on my résumé,” she had bitched to Trinity Santos, who'd become a friend in the first half of her intern year, “but it’s a ton of extra work for no more money. I'm going to be paying off my medical school debt until I diiiiieeeeee.” She slumped her head down on the table in the break room and immediately regretted it when her forehead touched something sticky.

“You could always resort to prostitution to supplement your income,” Trinity sarcastically suggested in the same dry tone with which she'd once joked about selling Whittaker's kidney.

A clatter across the room got their attention as they both turned to see Dr. Abbot, who they'd both forgotten was even in the room, fumble badly with the coffee pot. He froze like a prey animal hoping it wouldn't be noticed, before cleaning up the spill he'd caused in his shock.

“Thank you for that brilliant idea,” Samira matched her sarcasm, trying to telegraph that this was all a big joke, and not a reason for the night shift attending to report her to the ethics board.

Abbot continued pretending to be invisible and practically ran out of the room without even getting the cup of coffee he’d clearly come in for.

“He's such an old man, he's probably forgotten what sex is.” Trinity laughed at her own joke.

“Don't be mean, you scared the poor guy. You really ought to learn to read the room.” Samira felt a touch lighter, glad to share her worries and some little stupid jokes with a friend.

And that might have been the end of it.

But three weeks later, the slow unfolding disaster at the federal level finally hit Dr. Samira Mohan when the program subsidizing her education was cut and the funding dried up overnight.

“Uggghhh.” She slumped over the same shitty table in the break room, having lunch with Trinity once again. “Do we know if anyone knows someone who needs a roommate, preferably one who would take IOUs as rent?”

“You're probably gonna have to start selling feet pics on OnlyFans.”

“At this point, I might just have to consider it.”

Face down on the table, Samira didn’t notice Dr. Jack Abbot push open the door, catch the tail end of the conversation, then turn right around and leave again.

********************************

He backed out of the room as quietly as he could.

Jack wasn't an idiot. He'd known the first time Santos suggested it that she had been joking. But he was an older guy who worked with a number of beautiful young women, and he'd never want to make anyone uncomfortable, so he spent a lot of his work day sort of pretending to be some kind of sexless being that would only jokingly flirt with patients over the age of 75.

So he was a little surprised to hear that kind of talk in the break room, and had left as quickly as he could to leave them to it.

But once was a joke. Twice was something to actually think about.

And, yeah, he was an old man, but he knew what OnlyFans was. She absolutely could not be allowed to do that. She was applying for fellowships nationwide. The internet was forever, and if word got out...

Reputations were a fragile thing. Especially for a woman. Especially for a woman who wasn't white. It sucked to think about, but he knew it was true.

And she knew it, too. She was too smart to even remotely consider it.

She was also a gorgeous woman who he had been deliberately not thinking about since the day he'd met her.

But the idea was out there now.

Over the next two weeks, he kept an eye out for Mohan, watched as she stopped ordering food with the rest of them, but was first in line when a patient's family brought something in. Watched as she scrolled through increasingly shady roommate listings. As she started to look more drawn and unkempt than he'd ever seen her.

It was time for him to say something. Hopefully before Trinity Santos did.

********************************

Samira knew she should have waited till she was farther from the hospital to pull this baffling app up on her phone. Trinity was kidding, and there was no way in hell she would even consider it, but things were getting bad, and it was only going to get worse.

So it was that she had the landing page to OnlyFans open on her phone when Dr. Jack Abbot walked up behind her on her way to the parking garage.

He made a strangled noise at the back of his throat.

“Mohan, you can't do that, I don't care what Santos says,” he burst out, speaking way too fast. “If you're putting out for money, it's gotta be me or it's no one. The internet’s a fucking cesspool.” He winced like he hadn't meant to say any of that. He scrubbed his hand over his face, but he didn't take it back.

Samira just stared at him.

********************************

Jesus, fuck, and he calls himself a combat veteran? When he panics like that and says the stupidest shit imaginable?

He had only just decided to check in on her, hadn't even begun to think of what he was going to say. And now it was all out there.

The sexual harassment lawsuit would have her set for life.

Though now, stewing in this awful silence, Jack did realize something.

Several somethings.

He hasn't been with anyone since his wife died. That means that he hasn't taken off his prosthetic or revealed his residual limb in front of anyone new, at least not in this context. Robby and his orthopedist don't count.

Obviously Mohan was about to kill him, so it wouldn't matter, but if he ever was ready to get back out there, paying for someone's time might actually be the way to go for him. A professional wouldn't judge his altered appearance, which had taken him a long time to come to terms with. And he could get in some practice with guardrails in place.

It was really too bad this was only occurring to him now, when he was about to be dragged in front of HR, then probably Gloria's firing squad.

********************************

“Ok, then it’s you.”

What the hell are you doing?

It really had been a joke. Money was tight, but she was still thinking her way through her options, and she wasn't completely desperate just yet.

But Jack Abbot had just come right up to her and offered.

it's gotta be me or it's no one

Samira had been repressing thoughts of how attractive she found Dr. Abbot since she'd met him. She would never have done anything – he was her superior at work, not to mention a widower probably twenty years her senior.

But now that he'd said it out loud, she couldn't stop thinking about it.

This man she’d had a crush on, swooping in like a white knight and offering to pay her to do something she wanted to do anyway?

Yeah, sign her up.

“What?” he finally asked, baffled.

“What do you mean, what? You’re the one who said it. Were you serious or not?”

He blinked.

“I would say I’m as serious as you are about that app on your phone. You know as well as I do that you can't risk your career like that.”

“As opposed to the risks with you?” she snapped.

Jack looked around to check they were alone, all too aware that they were in the parking deck at work.

“Can we talk about this somewhere else? You can follow me to my place?”

It was the earnestness in his voice that made her agree. She nodded, then simply turned and headed for her car. Samira saw him throw his head back and run a hand over his face before he did the same.

********************************

This was absolutely batshit insane. Jack had to use all his concentration not to crash his fucking car on the drive to his place. He also had to keep checking his rearview mirror to ensure Samira was following him.

He could not believe what was happening right now.

Maybe she'd come to her senses during the drive.

Maybe he would.

No, probably not. Now that he started to think about it, he knew he was never going to recover from this.

Whatever happened next.

Jack had to stop himself from imagining the possibilities when he realized he was starting to get hard.

He had to get that shit under control before they got to his place. He truly didn't want to make her uncomfortable, any more than he probably already had.

He had to start thinking with his upstairs brain.

If she said no, the answer was no, and all that would be left to do is see if they could salvage the last dregs of their professional rapport.

If she said yes ...

********************************

Samira Mohan could not believe what she was about to agree to. She held back a hysterical giggle as a scene from a TV show she’d watched once popped into her head.

’I can’t believe I’m gonna sleep with him.’

‘Well, you don’t have to.’

‘Nah, I’m gonna.’

She really must be this close to losing it.

She tried to shake off the non sequitur. She had to get it together if she was about to walk into what would essentially be a business meeting.

Dr. Abbot seemed like the type who would give her one last chance to back out, but Samira had already made up her mind.

Nice work if you can get it, indeed.

********************************

After getting themselves set up with drinks (water, of course, this conversation was too important) and one awkward ‘your place is nice,’ Jack and Samira sat side by side, neither sure what to say for a moment.

“So I thought about it on the drive over,” she jumped in, “and I'm in if you are. You were right, the internet is too public, and I'd much rather do this with you than some stranger. Besides, you're risking almost as much as me at work. Not quite as much, but almost. If this got out, it wouldn't look good for either of us, so we're both motivated to make sure it doesn't get out.”

“Oh, thank God. This has been the worst game of chicken I have ever played in my life. And I know you're taking a bigger risk than I am, I promise to honor that.” He had slumped back on the couch, relaxing out of his stiff posture as soon as she'd begun talking.

She wasn't quite there yet.

“Ok,” she huffed out a breath, “so let's talk numbers.”

“What is your monthly student loan commitment? If I took that over, would that give you enough breathing room?”

“You were thinking something regular, not just a one time thing?”

“Well, it's not like your loans are going anywhere any time soon. So, tell me, what have you been paying down so far?”

“I've only barely been keeping up with the interest.”

“Jesus, Mohan.”

“What?! You know exactly what the residents make. It's the best I can do until I start making that sweet, sweet attending money.”

“I know, I know.” He put up a hand. “So how about this – I pay your monthly principal and interest, from now until the end of your residency. We'll reassess if you take a fellowship outside of Pittsburgh.”

“That's almost a year from now. In exchange for what?” She asked cautiously, pulling at the hem of her shirt.

He grinned.

********************************

Wasn't that the million dollar question?

Second only to, how to even have this conversation without popping a boner.

“Well, now we're getting to the fun part. You tell me, Mohan, what's on the table?” He might have felt bad, but now that they were really doing this, he was really going to be paying the best doctor he'd ever seen for sex, he thought it wouldn't make it any worse if he enjoyed watching her squirm a bit. He wanted to hear her say it. Besides, this way she could set the terms of what she was actually comfortable doing.

This was a terrible way to conduct a negotiation, but who cares? No matter what she suggested, he would still be getting what he really wanted.

Samira Mohan, under him at home and beside him at the hospital.

********************************

“Blowjobs, obviously.”

“Obviously.” He nodded, gesturing broadly with his drink as if to say, ‘go on.’

She tried to think fast after her initial answer. She’d blurted out the first thing she’d thought of, mesmerized as she was by the suggestion of his bulge as he leaned back on his couch.

He’d always been a good-looking man; she was just now coming to realize how much she’d been stopping herself from noticing that up until this point.

She swept her eyes over his body and thought about everything she wanted to do to him. Or let him do to her.

“Penetration, obviously.”

“Obviously,” he echoed again.

“I would say, anything you'd consider ‘the basics’ is on the table. Weekly?” It was a lot of money after all.

“Let's say – weekly, as our schedule allow.” He wouldn't press her when she was already slammed by the demands of her last year of residency. “What if I want something beyond the basics?”

“What is it exactly that you want Jack?” She uncrossed and recrossed her legs and took a sip of her drink.

“Don’t exactly know yet, just want to know what my options are.” He fell silent for a moment. “If I want to talk to you? Tell you what to do, tell you how you’re doing?”

She swallowed with a click.

“Yeah. Yes, Jack, to all that.” She shook off her daze. “How about this – anything that's gonna require equipment, or prep or recovery time, we talk about in advance, and anything else, let's assume it's a yes unless one of us says otherwise when it comes up in the moment.”

“That’s a lot of leeway, Dr. Mohan.” His grin was feral.

“I trust you, Dr. Abbot.” She simply held his gaze for a long moment. “So... what now?”

“No time like the present.” He sat up straight and reached out a hand toward her. “Come over here.”

Samira crossed the room.

He reached up to run his thumb along her lower lip.

“Get down on your knees and suck it for me, ok?”

She was never sure how to get things started, so she was actually more thankful for the direction than anything else. It's not actually a question, since now he's paying her to be here, but she appreciated it all the same.

She knelt and reached out to undo his zipper.

********************************

He was going to have an aneurysm.

She hadn't even started yet, and he already felt like he was going to lose his mind.

Samira started with just some gentle passes over his boxers, tenting up quickly after the conversation they just had.

He almost checked the impulse to tuck a lock of hair behind her ear, then followed it when he remembered the money let him do what he wanted.

“You've got this. It's just you and me here.”

She tugged his boxers down just enough to get his dick out. He couldn't tell if she was deliberately avoiding his prosthetic, but he wasn't going to worry about that right now, not when she was spitting into her hand and stroking him up and down.

“Samira.” He took a playful, mock-scolding tone. “This isn't what I asked for. Put your mouth on it.” He raised an eyebrow to help the joke land. He'd even gotten her permission to talk this way.

She simply nodded and leaned forward, licking her lips as she nudged forward on the floor.

Jack might have blacked out for a second there. All he could process was the warmth of her mouth, the pressure of her hands on his knees.

Samira set a slow pace, pushing forward another inch before pulling back with a swipe of her tongue. She let the head of his cock bump up against the roof of her mouth.

She never let him catch his breath. One moment, she took nearly the whole length of his cock into her mouth, the next she pulled back to run her tongue under his head.

Jack could do nothing but sit there and gasp as she worked her magic, trying to keep the movement of his hips polite.

He held back as long as he could, but the first time someone else was touching him in years was too much for him.

His vision whited out when he came. When he roused himself enough to become aware of his surroundings once more, Samira was still sat between his knees, wiping the spit from her chin.

Jack felt like he was floating and never wanted to come down.

He whipped out his phone, and, at his look, she rattled off her information. Almost before she'd finished speaking, he clicked submit and turned his screen towards her.

“That's twice what we talked about.” Her tone was carefully flat.

“Consider it a signing bonus.” It hadn't been a question, but he answered anyway. He couldn't stop smiling. Was this how other people felt all the time? This was worth anything.

Lost in his giddy haze, he still noticed Samira begin to take stock and rise to leave. Before she could, he reached out his hand again and tugged her up to sit next to him. He figured that putting an arm around her and nuzzling into her hair still fit within the bounds they'd talked about.

It didn't require any equipment, after all.

They sat there together, saying nothing, for a long few minutes before Samira finally did stand up.

“I do have to go. I'm back on shift tomorrow.” She gave him a look he wasn't sure how to interpret.

“Of course, let me walk you out.”

“No need,” she waved him off. “Text me... when...”

She clearly wasn't sure how to finish that sentence, but it's not like he had any better ideas.

“I will look at the schedule, and I'll reach out about next week. I promise not to write anything down I wouldn't want read out loud in court.”

She let out a little chuckle at that, then, with a final nod, turned to go.

When the door closed behind her, Jack collapsed back onto the couch and stared at the ceiling until the feeling returned to his legs. Leg.

********************************

Well, that happened.

Samira Mohan walked calmly out of Dr. Abbot's apartment, still not totally sure what just came over her. Or that any of it was real.

She just exchanged sexual favors for money. And she's planning to do it again.

I can never donate blood again. She tried to push away the inane thought about the donor prequalifying question that had never before been relevant to her life in order to focus on the situation at hand.

The facts were these: She gave Jack Abbot a blowjob on his couch, and he paid off two months of her student loans in exchange. He'd done that while she'd still knelt in front of him, swallowing down the last of his cum. It had left her with a feeling in her gut, somehow strange and wrong, but at the same time a kind of delicious that left her squirming.

And she'd be back to do it again, all that and more, sometime next week.

She broke out into a grin and practically skipped all the way home.

Over the next three shifts, she re-read every one of the notes she had left over from her MS4 ortho rotation. And if she really focused in on adaptive functioning and accessibility needs in lower limb amputees, who was there to know.

He caught her attention at handoff five days after they'd come to their agreement on his couch.

“Dr. Mohan, a moment of your time?” He gestured to the relative privacy of the empty staff lounge. She followed him in, and he quickly shut the door.

“So?” she turned to him and asked, right to the point. They likely wouldn't have this room to themselves for very long, as Samira herself had learned from her conversations with both Trinity and Abbot.

“I took a look at the schedule. Can you come by on Thursday afternoon for –” He cut himself off when the door squeaked open, revealing Dennis Whitaker, clearly on the hunt for caffeine.

“Yeah, that works for journal review,” she quickly threw out the first thing she could think of, unsure how much, if anything, Dennis had heard. “I'll see you then.”

And with that she turned and left. At least now they had a code phrase they could use. Though now, if anyone asked, they'd need to be able to name at least one discussion topic.

********************************

On Wednesday night, Jack sat at the Hub and wrote the name of a 2022 article of The Lancet down on a sticky note sometime around the mid-shift lull, just in case anyone ever asked.

On Thursday, after a hot meal, a shower, and a solid few hours sleep, he opened the door to his apartment before Samira Mohan even had the chance to knock a second time.

He could tell he had a stupid grin on his face, but there wasn't much he could do about it.

“I'm here for journal review?” It had the cadence of a question, but the sly look in her eyes gave her away.

“Very funny. Come on in. Need anything to drink?” He gestured her into the living room, back to the couch they were now very familiar with.

“No, thank you. I'll probably want some water ... later, but not right now.” She cast her eyes around the room, looking anywhere but at him.

“Alright then.” He straightened up, and reminded himself that they’d talked about this, that she’d already agreed to anything he wanted. “In that case, Samira, I'd like to take you into my bedroom and fuck you until one of us passes out. How does that sound?”

“Yes please. Lead the way.” She started towards his bedroom door at speed, which he found very gratifying.

In the dark of his bedroom, Jack finally remembers that there's one more thing they need to talk about. The reason he hasn't dared attempt anything like this since the loss of his wife.

“Mohan, I'm going to take the leg off. So, go easy on me, ok?" he asked in a light-hearted tone.

“Of course,” she didn't even hesitate, “would you prefer to strip off completely first? would you like me to take it off? would you rather me be on top, or you? anything else I should know?” Her rapid-fire questions might have fit right in at work, but here they echoed off the walls of this quiet room.

“Stop trying to take a patient history,” he snapped out, because telling her to shut the fuck up wouldn't help recapture the mood. He forced his eyes closed for a moment to shake it off before looking at her once more. “Get on the bed. Keep your eyes on me, but no color commentary, yeah?”

Samira simply nodded, then sat down at the edge of the bed.

Jack took off his shirt, slowly, trying to get back into it, before sitting as well to take everything else off, including his leg, as he usually did. It wasn't particularly sexy, but at least the practicalities were out of the way, and Samira quickly tossed her clothes off as well.

She reached out to touch his shoulder, pausing when he snapped his head in her direction, not expecting it. After catching his eye, she resumed simply exploring the expanse of his chest and his arms, seemingly for no other reason than because she wanted to.

“I hope it's clear that I think you're an incredibly good-looking man. I've always thought that.” Samira kept up her massage, moving in soothing strokes as Jack lay back and practically melted into a puddle.

She was so beautiful.

She switched her focus from his chest, to his shoulders, the length of his arms, his hands, then back again. She took special care to rub out the tension in his knuckles and fingers, then finally set his hands down with a kiss to the palm of each hand.

Jack found himself somehow both more relaxed than he'd ever been, while also half-hard from Samira simply touching his bare skin. For long, uninterrupted minutes.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered softly, “I won't do that again.”

With all the blood in his body currently elsewhere, he barely remembered why he had snapped at her. She was trying to help, even though she'd missed the mark.

“Can I kiss you?” she asked, hovered over him where he sat back on the pillows.

He nodded eagerly, though it was hardly a question with how close she was.

Their lips connected just once in a soft brush, before she leaned in even further and deepened the kiss. Jack locked her in place with a hand in her hair, slipping his tongue into her mouth for the very first time. The kiss was languid and slow, which perfectly fit the quiet mood they'd established with Samira's gentle massage.

When was the last time anyone had touched him that softly? Had he ever once had that?

But. Jack wanted more. He sat up, nudging her off balance. Samira was forced to wrap a hand around his biceps to catch herself. From there, her hands began to wander once again.

“Come here.” Jack pulled her over him so she sat straddling his lap. He reached a hand between her legs, only to find her already wet. She really wasn't kidding about being attracted to him. That was good to know.

He traced his fingers around her outer lips, watching carefully to see what worked for her. She twitched her hips when he zeroed in on her clit. A series of gasps and moans let him know he was doing something right.

“Stay right there, Samira.” He reluctantly pulled back to pull a condom from his bedside table and quickly rolled it on. “Are you ready?”

She couldn't even speak she was so turned on, but she quickly nodded her head and moved over him. She let out a little squeak as his dick slid inside her inch by inch.

“Oh, god,” she groaned, “Oh, my god, Jack.”

“Yeah, yeah, Samira.” He rested his head on her sternum and pulled her further down. The tight, wet, heat of her overwhelmed him. Full sentences were not really happening for him right now.

After that, it was all soft touches and slow, steady strokes. Samira rose, then fell over him like she had all the time in the world, grinding against him every time she bottomed out.

The only sound in the room was their heavy breathing, neither wanting to break the peace they were finding here together.

Eventually, Jack could tell she was getting close when her walls fluttered around him. He didn't change a single thing he was doing, letting her ride it out. When she finally came, her harsh bite to his clavicle triggered his own blinding orgasm and he collapsed backward beneath her, completely and utterly boneless.

They lay there panting together to catch their breath for a long time.

“That was a lot softer and slower than ‘fuck you until one of us passes out.’ Not that I'm complaining. We have to save something for next time after all.”

He relished the thought of ‘next time’ for a long while.

Eventually, they pulled away from each other for the necessary cleanup, then Samira hesitated on joining him back in his bed.

She stood in the doorway to the bathroom, looking unsure of what to do next.

“Come back here.” Jack patted the space beside him. “I know you're working tomorrow, but come catch some sleep here before you have to go home. We can even order some dinner later, if you like.”

“Yeah?” she asked, a small smile growing on her face as she took a half step closer.

“Yes.” He answered her with a firm, clear nod. “Get over here.”

With that, Samira slid between the sheets next to him and pressed close to his side. Her hands fluttered a moment, as if not sure where to land, before one came to rest over his chest. She settled down in another moment and her breathing slowed.

They were probably both too keyed up to really sleep just yet, but it was beyond nice just to sit in this restful moment together.

Jack ran his hand through her hair and let his heart rate even out, eventually falling into a peaceful dose of his own.

********************************

Samira woke from her nap hungry, but very well rested. She took stock of her body and realized she was going to be feeling this afternoon's activities in her body for a while.

Worth it.

Samira usually snapped out of bed right when her alarm went off, but she figured she could get away with a more leisurely wake up, considering she was napping in the late afternoon and she wasn't even in her own bed.

Dr. Abbot stirred next to her, probably because she'd started moving. She gave him a soft smile which he returned, even only half-awake as he was.

“Good morning,” he said blearily. “Or, not morning. I don't know what time it is. I'm a night shift guy, it kind of is my morning.”

“Yeah, I don't know either.”

“It is,” he leaned over to the clock on his bedside table, “close to six. Good thing I'm off tonight.” Jack started to shake off the haze and sit up more. “Do you want something to eat? A shower?”

Samira thought a moment. This was lovely, the whole afternoon had been, but it wouldn't do to get too cozy in this situation. They could be professional at work, but here, she wasn’t his girlfriend and it wouldn't help either of them to start acting like she was.

This thought did nothing at all to dampen her mood. She loved well-defined boundaries, and just because money was involved didn't mean she couldn't appreciate the nice moments as they came. They were still well within the parameters they’d talked about.

“I'm going to say no thank you to dinner,” she said with an easy grin, “but I will take you up on using your bathroom. Give me a few minutes to freshen up, then I'll get out of your hair.”

Samira knew she'd made the right call when he simply nodded and left her to it while he got dressed himself.

This time, he did walk her to the door and sent her on her way with a kiss to her hairline.

She got home with a renewed sense of energy, even as her calves and thighs were really starting to feel sore. She had enough of a second wind to cook herself an actual meal and get a few things done around the house before setting her alarm and falling into a deep, dreamless sleep.

The next month and a half sailed by in pretty much the exact same way.

Once a week, Jack would leave Samira a sticky note in her locker with a date and time, and the name of an obscure journal article for the sake of plausible deniability. She felt like she was in a Mission Impossible movie every time she ripped up one of these notes after reading it.

They initially negotiated monthly payments, but nearly every time they'd met, Jack had sent an additional chunk of change toward the bulk of her student loans.

He'd said nothing about it and she wasn't going to mention it either. Why look a hot, older gift horse in the mouth?

He continued to tell her exactly what he wanted, and she continued to provide it.

Sometimes it was just like that first time in his bedroom, soft and slow and sensual. Other times, it was hard and fast when the mood struck them.

Sometimes her ortho reading even came in handy, when they wanted to try a new position or adjust something with the strategic use of body pillows.

Every time, Samira left sated and feeling great about her life and her choices. She was even sleeping better on those nights when the two of them tired each other out. To say nothing of the fact that her worries about money had all but evaporated, cutting her stress levels by a not insignificant margin.

Yeah, this had definitely been a great decision. She might have sent Trinity Santos a thank you card for suggesting it in the first place, if that wouldn't have raised some questions she had no intentions of answering.

This was nobody's business but theirs.

********************************

Jack needed to talk to someone about whatever the hell was going on with him and Dr. Mohan.

As low a bar as it might have been, he was actually pretty proud of himself for how not-weird things had been at work. Samira continued to be an incredible doctor who he rarely overlapped with, and he wasn't showing any obvious favoritism or interfering with her career in any way.

Earlier this week, she'd fucked him on his couch so hard he saw stars, and this morning she'd waved to him at hand off the exact same way she always had. He was pretty sure they were getting away with this.

None of that stopped Jack from his cycle of sleeping with her, paying for the privilege, feeling amazing in the moment, then guilty about the implications, then justifying it to himself all over again.

Sometimes, the entire arrangement seemed like the best idea he'd ever had.

The sex itself was amazing, and he was as reasonably certain as he could be that Samira was having a good time as well. The money did complicate his assessment there, but there was probably an upper limit on the average person's ability to fake it, and he hadn't seen anything to suggest that she was.

In terms of the money, he had plenty to spare and he was happy to do it. This was probably a much better use of his overtime bonuses than obscure medical equipment, the purchase of which was probably only fueling his paranoia anyway.

And, not to say that sex was magically healing his PTSD, but it was probably no coincidence that he was sleeping much better since they’d started this arrangement.

So, in that respect, things were going great.

Until he remembered all the reasons this was a terrible idea.

Though it might be hard to prove on paper, what they were doing was technically a crime. He could lose his medical license, or, even worse, she could lose hers.

He could certainly lose his attending position if anyone ever found out what he was getting up to with a resident.

And he certainly knew he was taking advantage of her financial vulnerability. She never would have agreed to it if money wasn't so tight.

So, thanks for that, Gloria, I guess.

To say nothing of the fact that it couldn't be avoided that he ranked over her at work. He could never be sure that Samira hadn't felt the need to agree to his proposition under duress. It hadn’t been his intention, but that underlying fact was impossible to totally ignore.

The only thing that could be said in his favor was that he was never supervising her at work. Even on the rare occasion they worked the same shift, ultimately Robby was the only one completing her evaluations and determining if she made it through the program.

Jack knew it was an incredibly thin justification.

As long as he wasn't thinking about the state of things too hard, and Jack was very good at compartmentalizing when he needed to, everything was going great.

His therapist had probably never guessed that he would be using the tools she taught him for this. Who knew that sex was the best grounding technique he'd ever tried. She was always telling him to stay in the moment.

Of course, that didn’t explain why he was thinking about Samira more and more all the time.

Even when they weren’t together, he spent every spare moment thinking about and planning the next time he would see her. He was kind of becoming obsessed.

It was a miracle that he could still concentrate at work when shift change was approaching and he knew he was about to see her even for just a few minutes. Or that no one had noticed how often he was looking at all the residents’ work schedules.

It was definitely a good thing that he didn't set the schedule, or he would be barely holding back from putting her on his shifts to make it easier to spend time together outside of work period. That would absolutely be interfering, and she deserved better than that from him.

Literally the only downside, at least professionally speaking, was that he could never write her the glowing letter of reference she deserved to be able to write her own ticket to whatever prestigious fellowship she wanted.

He was just so glad that she existed, that a woman like that, a brilliant doctor to boot, was willing to spend any of her time on him, no matter the reason.

Sooner or later, and probably sooner, someone was going to catch on to his good mood and start asking pointed questions. Ellis was absolutely going to start mocking him and asking if he was getting laid any day now. He was going to need to get his act together to keep his poker face on for the inevitable interrogation. It would probably make good practice if the ethics board ever came around asking questions.

He also had to cool it for Samira's sake. This was an arrangement, with very clear boundaries, and there was no reason to forget that. So the small, quiet voice that was starting to say stupid shit like but it didn't have to be, could kindly fuck off.

He was already the grateful recipient of her time and her body, there was absolutely no excuse to get greedy and ruin everything by asking for any more than he already had.

********************************

Samira felt like she turned around and blinked and suddenly Match Day was barreling down on her like a runaway train.

She knew what it was that she actually wanted, but was too superstitious to voice it out loud.

It probably said nothing good about her psychological make up that one of her most deeply held beliefs was that if you said what you wanted, you wouldn't get it.

A therapist could have had a field day with that, but Samira was too smart for that. She didn't have a therapist.

Either way, she'd already done everything she could about that. Her paperwork was all in, and she'd interviewed practically everywhere. There was nothing else for her to do.

Meanwhile, she'd been sleeping with Dr. Jack Abbot for months now, with no signs of stopping or of either one of them getting bored with the other. Yes, he was still paying towards her student loans, but as soon as they’d worked out a regular routine to see each other, he put it on autopay and Samira had pretty much put it out of her head. Or, tried to, at least.

Certainly, at this point, the money wasn't what kept her going back to his apartment week after week.

And it wasn't as though they were automatons who fucked but then never spoke a word to each other outside the bedroom. They'd always been at least friendly and had had a good rapport before all this, but in the last few months, Samira felt as if she had gotten to know him more, in big and small ways.

They knew each other’s favorite takeout order. They’d bickered on his couch about what to watch on TV.

When he'd inadvertently asked her over on what would have been her father's birthday, they’d talked a little about some of the grief they both carried.

All of that to say, these days, Samira felt a lot more like a girlfriend, if a casual one, than a paid sex worker, a descriptor she had been very reluctant to apply to herself to begin with. (She had thought about using the phrase ‘sugar baby’ once, but hadn't gotten around to saying it out loud.)

And if she was buying into the fantasy a little too much, what was the harm? Jack clearly was too.

He'd never once treated her disrespectfully because of what they were doing.

Or, rather, if he did, it was within the context of a well-negotiated encounter.

Samira tried to shake off that thought, not wanting to get sidetracked thinking about the one time they’d played around with that idea.

She failed.

A month ago, after hashing out the details in a state of post-coital bliss the week before, Samira had arrived at Jack’s door buzzing with anticipation for the scenario they were about to play out.

After making some chit chat and reestablishing that they were, in fact, doing this, Jack had ‘slipped into character,’ so to speak.

“Come on, Samira, we talked about this.”

“Yeah, we said if we need equipment, we need a conversation, not you springing it on me at the last minute.” She had tried to keep her voice annoyed, as though they hadn't discussed all of this in detail.

“It's handcuffs and a blindfold, it's hardly the most involved thing you've ever done, I'm sure.” Jack raised his eyebrows and aimed for a condescending tone.

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Principle?” And, here, he had really exaggerated the condescension. “You think you get to have principles, Dr. Mohan? When you come here, week after week, taking my dick just like you take my money? I mean, let's be perfectly clear here, Samira, you don't exactly get to say no. So when I tell you that I want you to wear these,” here, he had gestured to the silk eye mask and gorgeous leather handcuffs they had researched together extensively for just this purpose, “when you blow me, you'll do it and you'll say thank you.”

It was perfect, exactly what she asked for.

Samira had tried to work up a tear or two to really sell it, but the glowing warmth of being here with this man who gave her everything she wanted didn't really let her.

Instead, she’d grumbled out her most reluctant ‘ok, fine,’ and knelt on the bedroom carpet in front of Jack. She'd flinched and pulled away just a bit when he’d closed the handcuffs over her wrists, but pretty much as soon as they were on, she couldn't even remotely pretend she wasn't having the time of her life.

And Jack just kept talking. It spilled out of his mouth like he couldn’t hold it back.

“I know it's not your favorite, but it's not so bad, huh? Isn't it worth it, to keep me happy? And you need to keep me happy, give me everything I want so I can keep paying you. And you earn it every time, Samira. God, your fucking mouth on me is worth every penny. Just like that.”

Robbed of her sight and the use of her hands, there wasn’t a lot Samira could do at the moment. Jack held her head steady as he moved his hips in delicious little increments, pulling back to let her breath almost at random.

He had come with a shout and barely any warning, and the both of them stayed there collecting their breath for a long time.

That day had been the only time they’d even approached the idea of him treating her any differently, and they’d even had a little M&M conference after to double check they were both still cool.

Samira had never once felt anything like the emotions their scene had been meant to evoke, not from Jack at home or at the hospital. The clear reality was, he had immense respect for her, both as a doctor and a person. Which was what had led to her feeling more like a girlfriend than anything else in the first place.

But the scene must have scratched an itch for both of them, because in the month since, they'd even talked about if there were other scenarios they wanted to explore.

In the meantime, the end of her residency was still fast approaching, and Samira knew there were conversations to have and she would eventually have a decision to make.

********************************

Jack needed to figure out what the hell he was gonna say to Robby if he asked about why he wrote references for Shen and Ellis the last two years, but completely recused himself from the whole process this year.

Probably the only thing he reasonably could say was that he could only truly speak to the performance of those who were predominantly on the night shift with him. For anyone who worked days, he could very reasonably say that he didn't have enough data to know if they were truly worth their salt.

It was just that it was going to look real fishy if anyone ever asked why he chose this year to stay away from the match process, but still had something to say about the R3s about to become R4s.

He hadn't worked with McKay nearly enough to justify giving her his stamp of approval for next year's chief resident, and he'd done that without thinking too much of the optics.

So, if Robby asked, he needed a good answer. But maybe he'd get lucky and Robby wouldn't ask.

Much more important, the conversation he needed to have with Samira. He didn't know, and he had no right to ask, what her professional plans were for after the completion of her residency. But he at least felt that he owed it to her to make it clear that, personally, he wanted to keep on seeing her indefinitely, especially if she stayed in Pittsburgh.

And even if she didn't stay in Pittsburgh, a quiet and majorly unhelpful voice whispered in the back of his mind.

That was the thing he couldn't say out loud.

In order to even consider a long-distance relationship, you first needed to be in a relationship, and Jack knew what they had wasn't that. It was an arrangement, even still, months into it, even if he had to keep reminding himself of that fact.

If Jack wanted to, at least in the privacy of his own mind, act like her boyfriend, if he wanted to pay for their takeout and smile like an idiot every time he thought about her, that was nobody's business but his.

He still needed to actually communicate his intentions to her, so she could make her decision with all of the available information.

So, just like he'd been doing for most of the year, he wrote her a sticky note and waited for her arrival.

Samira was as beautiful as ever, even coming off of a day shift when Jack had a rare night off. She walked straight into his apartment and couldn't look more at home if she tried.

“Hi,” she greeted him with a quick kiss, “Did you order Thai, I thought I could smell it from the hallway.”

And that was it, he was done for. In the end, it wasn't something amazing she’d done at the hospital, or something mind blowing she’d done in the bedroom that caused him to snap; it was the casual way she moved about his space, and spoke as if she were familiar enough with its rhythms to note any changes, as if she belonged here, which she certainly did if you asked him.

Just Samira, existing in his space and comfortable in his home.

He told her everything.

“Stay.”

“Jack, of course, I just got here.”

“No, I mean, stay. Stay in Pittsburgh. If it makes any difference to you at all, I want us to keep seeing each other, and, uh ...” he looked away for a moment before resuming his usual eye contact, “for real this time. Whatever that means to you. I would never want to keep you from going after a placement you really want, but you deserve to have all the facts. Which are, that I care about you, kind of a lot, and I would miss you if you left.”

There was complete silence in the apartment as the words sunk into Samira’s brain, so quick at the hospital but always a little slower to process her personal life.

Jack could hear the television playing next door. He would give her the time she needed to digest everything he’d just told her. He wasn’t about to collapse under the silence and try to walk it back when she didn’t respond right away.

He owed her his honesty, at the very least.

Plus, he got to look at her beautiful face while also watching the hamster wheel spinning in her mind.

“I ranked PTMC first.”

In any other conversation, it would have been a non sequitur. But if she'd done that already ...

“You're staying?” he asked, needing to be sure.

“I want to. I really want to.” She nodded her head quickly. “I’ve lived here what feels like my entire adult life. I’ve got – people know me here, professionally. I’ve got friends, or at least I’m starting to.” She paused. “And I’ve got you. I’m not deciding my whole life around you; I can’t do that. But I care about you too. Probably too much – way beyond the scope of what we talked about. But I think you’re right, I think this could be something real, if we wanted it to?” She looked up at him through her lashes as her tone rose in a question.

There was only one possible answer.

Jack kissed the hell out of her, right there in his entryway.

They weren't done talking. They'd need to figure out how this changed the boundaries they'd been clinging to. How to tell people at work, and if they even should.

If he should pay off the rest of her student loans today, or wait til they moved in together.

But here, in this moment, none of that mattered.

The only thing that mattered was the two of them, tangled up together. Physically, personally, professionally, here, and at the hospital, and everywhere else.

In every way that two people possibly could be.