SEX POLLEN·˚༉‧₊˚.
Pairing: Joel Miller x Female!reader x Jack Abbott
Summary: It wasn’t supposed to happen. One wrong turn past the perimeter, one breath of unknown, drifting pollen, and suddenly Joel is pounding on Jack Abbott’s door with you burning up in his arms. Now it’s the middle of the night, the town's asleep, and the only medic who won’t report the two of you is the one staring at you down like he already knows this is going to get real bad.
Warnings: 18+, Smut, THREESOME, slight fluff, Age gap (Joel is 60, Jack is 50 and reader is in her 20s), sweet!joel, gentle!jack, fictional sex pollen, double penetration, inaccurate medical/scientific shit, needy!reader, pinv, unprotected sex, lots of fluid and cum lol, nipple play, finger sucking, medical kink, gloves kink?, pet names, clit rubbing, oral f!receiving, fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, medical exam, sub!reader kinda
A/N: guess who watched The Pitt and fell for yet again another old man...also! I finally learned how to do this cool gradient text thingy and now i feel even more aesthetic✨ none of this below makes sense like AT ALL but just ignore it and enjoy the smut pookies <333
"Open the goddamn door, Abbott!"
Joels boots hit the wooden steps of Jack Abbott's clinic hard enough to rattle the whole damn porch. His first knock wasn't even a knock—it was a fist slamming into the wood, a desperate, violent slam that echoed through the otherwise quiet streets of Jackson.
The night air was thick with a cold that etched deep into bones, wind so strong it moved trees and houses. But Joel couldn't feel it. Not when you were burning up in his arms, your body almost a furnace pressed tight against his chest, your breaths coming in short, ragged gasps that tore at his heart one by one.
Your skin was slick with sweat despite the chill, and your eyes—those sweet eyes that usually held so much warmth, so much life—were glassy, trying to focus but failing to land on anything.
Then, a light flickered inside. The lock scraped, and the door swung open to reveal Jack Abbott, still half-dressed in a worn pullover over his undershirt, his grey hair mussed from sleep that had clearly been interrupted.
"What the hell happened?" He asked, eyes going worried.
Joel didn't answer.
He just moved, carrying you past Jack and down the narrow hallway that led to the small clinic room Jack kept in his home.
The space was clean but lived-in: a metal examination chair in the center, shelves lined with bottles and worn medical texts, a couch, a single lamp casting a warm, yellow glow over the worn wooden floor.
Jack Abbott arrived in Jackson a little over two years after Joel did.
He had been traveling with a small group before, acting as their medic, but the constant moving wore him down.
Jackson was the first place in years that felt safe enough to stop, so he stayed when Maria asked him if he wanted to, while the others moved on.
Within a few months, he turned one of the unused small houses near the edge of town into two spaces: a tiny clinic in the front and a small living area for himself in the back.
People started calling it Abbott's clinic.
Joel met him after a patrol accident left him with a deep cut.
Jack stitched him up with quiet, steady confidence, and Joel respected him immediately.
He didn't ask too many questions, no bullshit, no small talk. Over time, Joel kept ending up at Jack's door, Jack kept patching him, and a quiet, practical friendship formed between them.
So when Joel set you down on his examination chair he knew you were in good hands.
His hands stayed on you, steady, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt.
Jack followed close behind, already pulling out a pair of latex gloves from a box on the counter.
The snap of rubber against his wrists was sharp in the quiet room. He moved to your other side, his eyes scanning you with the practiced efficiency of someone who had seen too many emergencies in too many late hours.
"Joel." He said it firmly, not a question. Then softer, more insistent. "Joel. Talk to me. What happened?"
Joel dragged a hand down his face, the stubble rough against his palm.
"We—" He stopped. Swallowed. And then started again, his voice lower. "We weren't supposed to be there."
Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Where?"
"The old storage yard. Past the perimeter."
The silence stretched for one beat, two, three and Joel could see the thoughts racing behind those dark eyes—the implications, the danger, the sheer stupidity of it.
Jack let out a slow breath, his jaw tightening. "You two were past the forbidden perimeter?"
Joel nodded once, feeling guilty, miserable.
"She saw…" He let out a frustrated huff, shaking his head. "Hell, I don't know. Rabbits or somethin'. Wanted a closer look."
His voice cracked on the last words—with frustration, with...with anger at himself, at the moment of weakness that had led him to agree, to let you wander just a little too far, just a little too deep into the overgrown brush beyond the safe zone.
You had smiled at him. God—that sweet, hopeful smile that made it impossible to say no. And now you were here, burning up and it was all his fault.
"She breathed in this cloud of…dust. Pollen. Somethin'."
Jack only stared at him, open mouth, gaze caught somewhere between disbelief and the cold calm of a man processing information.
He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then, very quietly, he said: "Joel."
"It ain't important right now," Joel snapped, the words cutting through the air like a blade. But the edge softened almost immediately as his eyes flicked back to you, and his voice dropped to something quieter, more fragile. "Just—just fix her, alright?"
Jack held his gaze for a long moment. Then he nodded, once, and turned his full attention to you.
He leaned in, his movements careful, deliberate, as he reached for a small penlight from besides him. "Alright, sweetheart. Let's take a look at you."
He leaned closer, bringing the penlight up to your eyes. But your head lolled slightly, and you squirmed on the chair, a low, restless sound escaping your throat. Jack paused, his hand hovering near your jaw.
"Easy now. I need you to hold still for just a second, okay?" He tilted his head, meeting your gaze from behind the flashlight. "C'mon. Look at me."
Your eyes—glassy, unfocused, pupils blown wide—drifted toward him.
Jack clicked on the penlight, shining it first into your left eye, then your right, watching the way your pupils reacted—or failed to react. His brow furrowed. He hummed low in his throat, a sound that made Joel's stomach clench.
He clicked off the penlight, put it back into his place, and straightened up. He met Joel's gaze, his expression thoughtful.
"Pupils are dilated and sluggish. Could be a neuroactive toxin," he said, his voice carrying the weight of professional assessment. "Some kind of alkaloid, maybe. That targets the central nervous system." He paused, then added, almost to himself, "But her skin is flushed, and her pulse is tachycardic. Heart rate's way up. Could be pyrexia, but…" He trailed off, then turned back to you, his voice gentle again. "How did this flower look? Can you tell me anything about it?"
Your lips parted. "Trans…translucent. Purple."
Jack's eyes sharpened suddenly.
He turned away, crossing to the cluttered desk in the corner where a worn leather notebook sat among scattered papers. He opened it and the silence stretched while he flipped through it.
"Damn it," Jack muttered under his breath.
Joel stiffened. "What?"
Jack didn't look up. He kept turning pages, his finger tracing lines of cramped handwriting. "I've seen mentions of this before. Not many though, just scattered reports from patrol medics out west. And a couple of passing mentions in some old pre-outbreak botany notes I found in the library archive." He stopped on a page, reading it intently. Then he let out a slow breath and turned to face Joel.
"Reports of what?" Joel pressed, his voice tight.
Jack hesitated. It was a hesitation that Joel had never seen on him before.
He set the notebook down and crossed his arms, his gaze flickering between you and Joel.
"A mutated flower. Causes fever, disorientation, elevated pulse…and some....sexual changes."
Joels head snapped up. "It ain't the time for jokes, Abbott."
But Jack didn't flinch. "I'm not joking. That's what the reports called it. I told you—it causes fever, disorientation, elevated pulse." He paused, letting the words settle. "The body's been flooded with a compound that mimics extreme sexual arousal. It's not toxic on its own, but if left untreated, the fever and heart strain can cause complications."
Joel stared at him and when he turned back to you, he saw the way your fingers curled and uncurled against the metal and the way a soft, breathy sound escaped your lips as you shifted restlessly on the chair.
"Complications," Joel repeated, his voice hollow. "What kind of complications?"
Jack moved closer, his expression softening as he looked at you. He reached out, pressing the back of his hand gently against your forehead, feeling the fever that radiated off you in waves.
"If we don't address the underlying arousal-based symptoms, the body will keep ramping up. Heart rate spikes. Temperature climbs. Eventually, the system burns out." He pulled his hand away, his voice dropping lower. "The only effective treatment recorded in those reports is…direct physical release. Sexual stimulation to completion, multiple times, until the compound is flushed from the system."
He held up a hand as Joel opened his mouth, ready to protest. "Look, I know how it sounds. But I've seen enough strange things in this world to know that nature doesn't care about what sounds reasonable."
Joel turned away, his hand dragging through his hair, frustration in his face.
"So what are you tellin' me? That I gotta—" He couldn't even finish the sentence.
"I'm telling you that she needs care, Joel. And that care is going to involve intimacy. Whether that's with you, or with me helping her through it medically, or both—that's up to you. But she can't wait much longer." Jack's voice was calm, steady, the voice of a man doing his job. The room fell silent again. The only sounds were your labored breathing and the faint ticking of a clock somewhere deeper in the house.
Joel then turned back, his eyes meeting yours. He saw the fear in them—and something else, something raw and needy that he didn't know how to name.
And suddenly—
"Please," you whined, the word thick and broken. "Please…need…need something."
Your body was a furnace, burning from the inside out. Every nerve ending felt raw, exposed, screaming for relief. The fabric of your shirt clung to your skin, damp with sweat, and it felt like a cage. Your hands moved before your mind could catch up—grabbing at the hem, tugging, pulling.
Joel's eyes widened. "Hey, hey—hold on—"
But you couldn't hold on anymore.
You were beyond reason, beyond shame. You squirmed against the chair, your movements jerky and frantic, yanking your shirt over your head and tossing it aside.
Joel caught your wrists gently, trying to slow you down, but you twisted out of his grip, your fingers fumbling with the button of your jeans, the zipper, pushing them down your hips with a desperate, whimpering sound that tore at Joel's chest.
"Honey—" Joel started, his voice cracking.
But Jack held up a hand, his expression calm but intent. "Let her. The compound is driving her body to seek release. Fighting it will only make it worse, Joel."
Joel's hands fell to his sides. He watched, helpless, as you rid yourself of the last of your clothing, tossing jeans and panties to the floor until you were bare on the examination chair, your skin flushed and slick with sweat, your chest heaving with every ragged breath.
Your legs fell open without thought, your hips rolling against the cold metal, searching for friction that wasn't there.
"Need…please…I need something…" Your voice was a broken loop, tears starting to stream down your cheeks.
Joel's throat tightened. He looked at Jack.
When Jack met his gaze, there was no judgment in those dark eyes—only the weight of a man who understood the gravity of the situation. Jack's hand paused over your body, as he turned to Joel, his expression asking a silent question.
May I?
Joel stared at him for a long, breathless moment. Then he nodded, his voice low and rough. "Do what ya gotta do. I trust you."
Jack's shoulders relaxed a fraction and he moved to the foot of the chair, positioning himself between your spread legs.
"I ain't no gynaecologist," Jack said, his voice carrying a hint of dry humour. "But I need to see if it's really the flower we're talking about. The reports mentioned specific physical changes."
Joel clenched his jaw, stepping closer and placing his hands on your shoulders, holding you steady as you squirmed beneath him. You looked up at him, your eyes glassy and wet, and you whimpered.
"Please…let him…"
Joel let out a shaky breath. He looked at Jack and gave a short, sharp nod.
Jack leaned in. His gloved fingers found your thighs, then he gently parted your labia with precision.
He murmured to himself, cataloging observations as he worked. "Labia swollen. Significant engorgement. Vulvar tissue appears hyperemic, engorged with blood flow consistent with severe vasocongestion."
You gasped as his thumb accidentally brushed against the hood of your clit, a jolt of electricity shooting through your core. Your hips bucked involuntarily, a desperate, wordless sound escaping your lips.
"Easy," Jack murmured, more to himself than to you.
He shifted his grip, using his thumb and forefinger to part the inner folds, exposing your entrance. It was gaping, red, and glistening with a clear, almost viscous fluid that had already pooled on the chair beneath you.
Joel's hands tightened on your shoulders, his knuckles almost white.
He trusted Jack—hell, he was the only man in this godforsaken place he trusted you with. But he still couldn't help the way he felt. A little too protective. Maybe even jealous.
"Her insides feel swollen," Jack said. He pressed two fingers—index and middle—against your opening, testing the resistance. The muscles fluttered and clenched, straining against the intrusion before it even begun. "Loss of tone in the pelvic floor muscles. Usually, there's some natural tension, but here…it's like her body is actively pulling things in."
And then he pressed inside.
The latex-covered fingertips breached you with a wet, slick sound that echoed in the small room.
You cried out—not in pain, but in need that tore through every nerve ending. Your back arched off the chair, your head thrown back, Joel's name falling from your lips in a desperate, ragged moan.
"Oh, fuck—!"
Jack didn't move. He held his fingers still, buried to the second knuckle, his eyes fixed on your face, watching your reaction with clinical detachment even as his body betrayed a slight tension.
"She's extremely sensitive. The internal tissues are swollen and hot—probably a few degrees above normal body temperature. The flower is causing nerve hypersensitivity."
Your hips bucked again, grinding against Jack's hand, seeking more. Every bit of shame leaving your body.
But the pressure of his fingers inside you was maddening—not enough, never enough. You whimpered, a high, thin sound that turned into a gasping sob as Jack slowly began to withdraw his fingers, dragging them along your inner walls.
And then, suddenly, an orgasm hit you without warning.
It crashed through you like a wave, sudden and violent, pulling a strangled scream from your throat. Your entire body clenched, your inner muscles spasmed around Jack's retreating fingers, and a gush of fluid flooded out of you, soaking his gloved hand and dripping onto the chair in thick, sticky ropes.
Jack pulled his hand back, his fingers coated in the warm, translucent fluid. He held them up, examining the consistency with narrowed eyes.
Joel could only stare, his mouth hanging open.
His gaze flicked from your flushed, trembling body to Jack's dripping fingers, and then back to your face, where tears and sweat had mingled in a mask of desperate relief and craving.
"Did she just…?" Joel's voice was hoarse, cautious.
Jack nodded slowly, wiping his fingers on a clean cloth. "Ejaculate. Yeah. That's…that's exactly what that was. The flower causes her body to reach climax extremely quickly—and just as quickly, the need returns. It's like the release doesn't satisfy anything; it only opens the door for more."
You were already squirming again, your hips rolling against the empty air, your breath coming in sharp, frantic pants. "Please…more…need more…"
Jack set the cloth aside and picked up the blood pressure cuff, wrapping it around your upper arm.
He pumped it up, watching the gauge as the numbers climbed.
"This is an unusual procedure," he said, his voice flat. "Her body will need release. Repeatedly. And even then, the effects might last for hours—until the compound works its way out of her system."
Joel ran a hand through his hair, pulling at the grey strands in frustration. "Jesus Christ. Is there any medicine? Anything you can give her to stop this? To slow it down?"
Jack shook his head, the blood pressure cuff hissing as he released the pressure. "No. This is all about managing symptoms. The fever, the blood pressure, the dehydration. The only thing that treats the root cause is—" He paused, glancing at Joel. "—well, you know..."
He pulled off his gloves with a snap, tossing them into a bin. Then he grabbed a fresh pair, pulling them on with practiced efficiency.
"I could now let you two go," Jack said, turning to face Joel fully. "Let you handle this on your own. Just fuck like goddamn rabbits for the next few hours. But her blood pressure is 160 over 110. That's stroke territory if we're not careful. And her fever is also still climbing."
You whimpered on the chair, your hand reaching out blindly. "Please…Joel…I need…"
Joel caught your hand, pressing it to his chest. "S'okey, honey. I'm right here. Don't be scared." He leaned down, pressing another kiss to your damp forehead, his voice softening to a trembling murmur. "I got you. I ain't goin' nowhere."
He turned to Jack, his eyes hard and resolute. "I'll do it. You keep her fever and blood pressure in line. I trust you."
Jack nodded.
He pulled the chair behind your head, positioning himself so he could put cool towels on your forehead and monitor the equipment.
"I'll keep the cold packs on her neck and forehead, monitor her vitals. You handle the rest."
Joel let out a long, shaky breath. He shrugged off his jacket, tossing it onto the nearby counter. He moved between your legs, his boots scraping against the worn linoleum.
"Jesus Christ," he muttered, looking down at the mess you've had made.
Your pussy was a complete wreck; swollen, red, glistening with a mix of your own fluids and the lingering evidence of your climax. Your clit stood out, big and glossy, twice its usual size. Your hole gaped, soft and open, the muscles twitching with unfulfilled need.
Joel had never seen you like that. Not even when he fucked you countless times the night before.
Jack's voice came from behind your head, quiet and steady. "I know. That's the flower."
Joel looked at your face—your tear-streaked cheeks, your parted lips, your eyes glassy and fixed on him with desperate, animal hunger. He placed his rough, calloused hands on your inner thighs, spreading you wider.
"You'll be fine, babygirl," he whispered, more to himself than to you. "I'll take care of you."
Joel's jaw tightened, his gaze flicked anywhere but towards Jack as he unzipped himself and wrapped a calloused hand around his own cock.
He stroked himself slowly at first, trying to will himself hard despite the awkward weight of another man's eyes in the room. Embarrassment flushed his neck, but the sight of you—needy, swollen, and waiting—pushed him forwards.
He needed to do this for you, his sweet girl, no matter how strange it felt with his old friend watching.
Joel lined himself up, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance before he pushed inside in one steady thrust.
A high-pitched moan tore from your throat, your hips bucking up to meet him as your walls fluttered and sucked him deeper.
"Continue," Jack said quietly, nodding once, his voice calm and measured.
Joel grunted, hips snapping forward.
The wet, splashing sounds of your soaked pussy filled the small clinic room with every thrust, obscene and loud.
He punched into you harder, the head of his cock dragging against that sweet, sensitive spot inside while your cunt milked him greedily, rhythmic pulses drawing him in.
"You need to talk to her the way you guys always do it, Joel," Jack instructed, still monitoring your pulse. "Keep her grounded."
Joel's eyebrows furrowed, but he nodded, voice rough. "D-does that feel good, honey?" He drove deeper, breath hitching. "Prettiest cunt all fuckin' swollen. Look at you, takin' me so good."
You whined, the praise sending fresh heat through you.
Jack suppressed a smirk, trying to focus instead on the steady thrum beneath his fingers. "Pulse is elevated but stable," he murmured. "Pupils are still dilated."
And without warning, another orgasm crashed over you.
This time, your thighs fell further apart as a raw cry teared from your throat, back arching off of the examination chair. Your cunt clamped down, once, twice, then opened. A hot, gushing stream bursted hard, pushing Joel's cock out and making a splashing sound in the quiet room.
"Joel—"
Joel's breath hitched as your cries echoed off of the walls, his eyes widening when the hot flood gushed against his groin.
"Fuck," he muttered, almost to himself. His eyes landed on Jack's calm ones, and a wave of embarrassment hit him. He was standing there like this was nothing, like the whole scene wasn't awkward as hell, and Joel just couldn't decide if that made it better or worse.
Jack nodded, his eyes landing on your clenching tummy. "Normal reaction."
Joel cursed again, gripping his slick cock and thrusting back inside your still-quivering pussy.
"Wanted to see those bunnies, huh?" he rasped, tsking with his tongue as he set a punishing rhythm. "Now look at what happened to you."
Each thrust made your squelching cunt echo wetly around him.
Jack's gaze sharpened as he noticed drool slipping from the corner of your mouth. "Hm. Another autonomic response; excessive salivation," he noted, and glanced at Joel mid-thrust. "Mind if I help keep her calm?"
Joel nodded without breaking his rhythm. He didn't care anymore. He just wanted you to feel better.
"Easy now. Breathe for me." Jack slid two latex-gloved fingers past your lips. "I'm just gonna help you."
And you immediately sucked them in, tongue swirling, a broken whimper escaping around them. "Please, doctor…"
Jack's breath got caught in his throat, his own cock twitching to life, growing visibly against his pants even though he was trying to he professional.
"S'okay, sweetheart." he soothed, fingers gentle but firm in your mouth.
You sucked on them with desperate, whining pulls, saliva coating the gloves.
Joel shook his head, voice strained. "God damn flowers."
"I know," Jack replied, eyes flicking down to where Joel's cock disappeared into your soaked cunt. "Reports were way worse. It's like heat for humans—constant need until the cycle breaks."
Joel kept thrusting, the filthy wet sounds growing louder, his thumb finding your sensitive clit, giving only gentle, light rubs. You moaned around Jack's fingers, whimpered, your body arching from the stool as another orgasm ripped through you.
He buried himself deep, grunting as he came too, hot pulses of cum flooding your cunt while your walls clenched around him.
Jack's free hand stroked your hair. "You're doing so well," he whispered. "That's it. Let it all out."
Joel slowly pulled out, watching thick ropes of his release trickle down from your swollen pussy. He tucked himself back in, thinking that would be enough.
But the needy ache in your core hadn't faded. Your hips still rocked, eyes glassy, silently begging for more. Your cunt started clenching again, desperate to be stuffed.
Jack pulled his fingers out of your mouth, taking his gloves off.
"She's…she's still not done," he said, his voice softer now, laced with an uncertainty that wasn't there before.
He swallowed. "The flower's effects are cumulative. She's had three orgasms so far, but the pollen load was significant."
Jack's fingers trailed down your cheek, your jaw, until they rested on your collarbone. "Your heart rate's still high." He glanced at Joel. "Can you hold her steady? I need to examine her cervix again."
Joel nodded, his hand moving to cradle your head. He leaned over you, his face inches from yours, his breath was warm against your cheek, pressing a kiss on your nose. "You hear that, baby? Doctor Abbott's gonna take a look. Just breathe, okay?"
Jack pulled on a fresh pair of gloves, the snap of latex loud in the quiet.
He positioned himself between your legs again, his fingers gentle as he parted your slick folds.
Your cunt was still a swollen, pink mess—puffy and raw, dripping with Joel's cum and your own release.
Jack's brows furrowed deeper, his tongue wetting his lips. "No tearing. But she's inflamed. The tissue is still pretty engorged." He pressed two fingers just inside your entrance, and you gasped, your hips bucking. "Still sensitive. Very sensitive."
Joel watched, his eyes dark, the grip on your hand tightening. "What do we need to do?"
Jack withdrew his fingers slowly. "I think…I think she needs stimulation again. But maybe a different angle. She's been stimulated vaginally. The flower's compounds are absorbed through the mucous membranes, so oral stimulation might also help" He looked at Joel, and for the first time, a faint blush colored his cheeks. "I could…only if that's okay with you, I could use my mouth. On her. It's the gentlest way. Fingers or a toy might be too rough with the swelling."
Joel's eyebrows rised. He didn't say anything for a long moment, just stared at Jack with a mixture of surprise and unsureness. But he trusted him. "You're the doctor."
Jack's answer was a shaky breath.
He knelt down, his prosthetic clicking softly as he positioned himself between your spread thighs. He looked up at Joel, eyes wide, his voice was barely above a whisper. "I won't do something that you don't want."
"You won't," Joel said, and there's a quiet certainty in his voice. "You're good at what you do. And you care. That's all that matters."
Jack leaned in, his lips brushing the inside of your thigh first, a soft, hesitant kiss. He started murmuring to you, his words muffled against your skin. "It's okay, sweetheart. Just relax. Let me help you."
He trailed his mouth up, leaving a wet path, until he reached your pussy.
He hesitated at first, his breath hot against your swollen folds, and then his tongue darted out, flicking tentatively over your clit.
You cried out, a sharp, high sound, your hips jerking.
Joel shushed you, his hand stroking your hair. "Easy, easy, honey. Let him work."
Jack's tongue moved in slow, careful circles, his eyes closed, his whole being focused on the task. He was so gentle—so so gentle it almost hurt. He let his tongue flatten, just barely, dragging the softest, wettest line from the bottom of your slit all the way up to the hood of your swollen clit.
When he reached the nub, he didn't flick or circle.
Instead, he parted his lips just enough to take the tiny bud between them, not sucking, not even really holding—just resting it there, letting his breath ghost over it. He knew you were sensitive so he gave it a single, featherlight pulse of his tongue, like a heartbeat, before releasing it just as gently.
He pulled back for a moment, looking at Joel. "She's still very wet. The pollen keeps secreting fluids. That's good—it means her body is actively metabolizing."
He pressed another kiss onto your inner thigh, his hand coming up to cup your mound, his thumb rubbing soft circles. "You're doing so well. Just a little more, okay? I'll make it good."
Joel watched, his breath coming heavier. He was hard again, his cock pressing against his jeans.
He didn't touch himself, though. He just held you, his eyes locked on Jack's mouth as it worked over you, his own throat tight with something that feels like gratitude and jealousy all tangled together.
"I got her, Joel," Jack said between gentle strokes of his tongue, his voice strained. "She's responding. Clenching. She's—" He broke off as you moaned, your body beginning to tremble again. "She's close. Another one."
Joel leaned down, his lips brushing your ear. "Let go, baby. Let Jack take care of you. You can do it."
Your orgasm build, slow and deep, and when it finally broke; it's was a rolling, shuddering wave that pulled a desperate sob from your chest.
He didn't stop, his tongue gentling through the aftershocks, drawing out every last tremor until you're limp, your body sagging into the chair.
"Good, yeah, that's real good," Jack pulled back, wiping his chin with his hand while looking at the fluids you released. "She did well."
You breathed out, already feeling your cunt spasm again, in need of another release.
Jack checked your fever and your blood pressure again, letting out a soft breath, turning to face Joel. His voice was low and gentle, unhurried. "It's still not stabilizing the way I'd like. Her heart rate's come down which is good. But her blood pressure's still sitting high, and her temperature's not dropping."
Joel's grip on your hand tightened. "God dammit. What else can we do?" He asked. "You said oral would help."
Jack nodded slowly. "It did help. It brought her some relief. But the pollen is trapped in her pelvic tissue now. To fully clear it, she needs a stronger parasympathetic response. I think at this point, oral alone won't reach that deep."
He paused, thinking.
"There's another option," he said, looking at Joel first, then down at you. "It's a bit more...involved. But I think it would work. I've read it in the reports."
Joel's brows furrowed. "Just tell me."
"Dual stimulation. It could trigger a more complete autonomic response. Simultaneous penetration of the vaginal and anal canals would increase overall parasympathetic activation, potentially clearing the pollen from deeper tissue through intensified contractions and fluid release."
He held up a hand, reassuring. "I know it sounds like a lot. But i've read enough of them in the reports."
Joel looked at you, then back at Jack. His voice was rough but not angry. "You mean, hell—both of us? At the same time?"
"If you're comfortable with that," Jack said, his tone still gentle, almost apologetic. "I wouldn't suggest it if I thought there was another way. But she's still suffering, Joel. I can see it in her eyes. And I don't want her fever to spike again."
Joel stared at the floor for a long moment, then looked at you. Your skin was still flushed, your eyes glassy with need, begging him to do something. You squeezed his hand weakly, a small sound escaping your throat.
He let out a breath. "Fine. If it'll help her. But I swear to god above, Abbott, if she stays like this. Then—"
"Joel… I hear you," Jack murmured, hands half‑raised in a calming gesture. "I'm not…I'm not thrilled about this either. But I won't let anything happen to her. I promise you that."
He then knelt between your legs again, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. "I need to check if she's ready," he said. "The pollen causes natural relaxation, but I want to be sure there's no discomfort."
He pressed a thumb gently against your perineum, then traced it along the rim of your anus.
The touch was featherlight, exploratory but uour body responded without a thought: a shiver, a soft gasp.
Jack looked up at Joel, his expression calm.
"She's already relaxed. No prep needed." He nodded.
Jack shifted his gaze to you. His hand remained where it was, a grounding pressure against your most intimate space. He spoke slowly, his voice a soothing murmur.
"Sweetheart, I'm going to tell you exactly what we're thinking, and you can take your time. There's no rush."
He paused, waiting for your eyes to meet his.
"Joel will be with you the way he always is—inside you, slow and gentle. And I'll be behind you, entering you here," he said, his thumb pressing just slightly inward, "in your bottom. We'll move together, very slowly, matching each other's pace. It'll feel full—intense—but it won't hurt if you're relaxed, and you are. The pollen will release, your fever will come down, and your heart will settle."
He watched your face, his eyes patient and warm.
Joel leaned down, brushing his lips against your nose. "It's your call, babygirl. I'm right here."
Your breathing hitched. The heat inside you coiled tighter, desperate. You looked up at Joel, then at Jack—his dark eyes patient, his hand steady on your body.
You nodded, needy.
"Yes," you whispered. "Please. I need something."
Jack's lips curved into a faint, reassuring smile. "That's good. That's real good." He withdrew his hand slowly and looked at Joel.
Joel's jaw tightened. He lifted your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, slow and deliberate. Then he looked over his shoulder at Jack, and to the couch in the room. "This couch work for you? She'll be more comfortable there—pillows, somethin' to brace against."
Jack nodded, already moving. "I'll get it set up."
-
Jack cleared the sofa with efficient movements: tossing aside a pillow, spreading a clean blanket over the cushions, positioning two more pillows against the armrest.
His hands moved with practiced precision, but there was a slight tremor in his fingers as he smoothed the fabric.
He was trying to stay professional. It was cute, in a way; this man who had stitched up Joel's wounds and patched up Jackson's sick, now preparing a makeshift bed for something more intimate.
And you wouldn't lie if it didn't excite you.
While Jack worked, Joel stayed with you. He cupped your face in both hands, his thumbs tracing the line of your cheekbones.
"Hey," he murmured, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. "Look at me."
You did. His eyes so soft. Tender. The same eyes that had watched over you during patrol, that had softened when you begged him to take you to the forbidden parameter just to see those stupid, wild rabbits and play with them.
"It's gonna be alright," he said. "You trust me?"
"Always," you breathed.
"Trust Jack?"
You glanced towards the sofa, where Jack was adjusting the last pillow. He caught your gaze and offered a small, reassuring smile—the same smile he gave before setting a broken bone, before delivering difficult news.
Professional. Always kind and gentle.
"Yes," you said. "I trust him."
Joel leaned in and kissed you then. Slow, thorought, a kiss that promised you stability. His lips moved against yours with a gentle pressure, his tongue brushing the seam of your mouth, tasting you. One hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head, while the other found the small of your back, pulling you just slightly closer.
When he broke the kiss, you were breathless. He rested his forehead against yours.
"Good girl," he whispered. "You're doing so good. Now let's get you comfortable."
Without warning, Joel slid one arm under your knees and the other behind your back, lifting you off of the exam chair as if you weighed nothing.
You gasped, your arms instinctively winding around his neck.
Jack had positioned himself on the far end of the sofa, sitting sideways, his legs spread, a condom wrapper discarded on the side table.
He was already hard—you could see the outline of his cock straining against his jeans, and when he shifted, the fabric pulled tight.
"Come here," Jack said, his voice a low murmur. He patted the cushion besides him. "There we go."
Joel lowered you gently onto the sofa, your knees sinking into the plush cushion. You were facing him, your hands braced on his broad shoulders, while he sat down too.
And behind you, you could feel the heat of Jack's body.
"Alright," Joel said, his hands sliding from your shoulders down your arms, leaving a trail of goosebumps. "He's gonna take care of you from behind. And I'll be right here." He tapped your chin, making you look at him. "Right in front of you. You need to stop, you tap my arm twice. You need a breath, you say my name. You hear?"
"Yes," you whispered.
"Good girl."
He touched you gently, his hands guiding your hips, your knees, until your back was closer to Jack and you were still facing Joel. He then positioned you on your knees, the cushion soft beneath you, your thighs spread just enough to accommodate what was coming.
Jack's breath caught.
His eyes roamed over you; the curve of your ass, your pretty waist, and your back.
"You're in control," Jack said, and his voice was strained but still carrying that professional cadence, the doctor's calm. "I'm gonna put on a condom, then you can take it at your own pace."
You heard the crinkle of a condom wrapper. Then the slick sound of him rolling it on. You looked over your shoulder, watching him position himself—knees spread, cock standing up from his body, the condom sheathing him in a thin layer of latex.
His cock was thick, smaller than Joels, standing full and erect from a nest of dark and grey curls. His head was already a dark plum shade, slick with pre-cum bubbling on top, indicating that he was already hard all the while he examined you earlier.
"Whenever you're ready, sweetheart." Jack said, and there was a raw edge to his voice now, the professional slip giving way to something hungrier. "Lower yourself onto me."
You reached behind you, fingers brushing his thigh. He flinched—a tiny jolt, involuntary. You saw his cock twitch, the head bobbing slightly.
"Please," you whispered.
Jack's jaw tightened. His nostrils flared. He forced himself to nod, keeping his hands on his own knees. "It's okey. I'm right here."
You braced one hand on the back of the sofa, the other reaching down to guide him. Your fingers found the head of his cock, slick with latex.
You positioned it against your entrance—the tight ring of muscle that had just been stretched—and pushed back.
"There she goes." Joel murmured.
The pressure was intense.
A fullness that bordered on overwhelming.
You felt every ridge, every inch as you sank onto him, your body yielding slowly, grudgingly. Jack's breath hissed through his teeth, a sharp, bitten-off sound. His knuckles were white where he gripped his own thighs, the tendons in his forearms standing out with the effort of staying still.
Joel breathed out, holding onto your waist as he guided you gently down.
"Good," Jack managed, his voice strangled. "That's…that's perfect. You're doing so well."
He was fully sheathed inside you then—your ass stretched around his cock, the sensation so deep it seemed to reach into your belly. You felt full, split open, but not in pain. Just…finally filled the way you needed it.
In front of you, Joel watched your face with an intensity that made your stomach flip. His hand left your waist and stroked your thigh, a slow, grounding rhythm, his thumb tracing the crease where your leg met your hip. "You're my good girl." He whispered.
His own cock was hard, straining against his jeans, but he made no move to touch himself.
All his focus was on you.
"You got her?" Joel asked Jack, his voice low and gravelly.
"Yeah," Jack said, and his hands finally moved, settling on your hips. Not to guide you, not to push—just to steady. His palms were warm through the thin gown. "She's fully seated. Go ahead, Joel."
Joel's eyes never left yours. His cock thick and flushed, already slick with precum and your release from earlier.
He shifted closer, his knees bracketing yours on the cushion, his cock pressing against your wet, waiting entrance. He didn't push in immediately. Instead, he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your forehead, then your temple, then your lips—soft, lingering.
"I've got you," he murmured against your mouth. "Breathe for me. Deep and slow. I can feel you clenching already—you're so ready, baby."
"Yes," you breathed.
He pushed in.
The sensation was indescribable—Joel's cock filling your cunt from the front, Jack's cock stretching your ass from behind.
They were separated by only a thin wall of flesh, and you could feel every movement of each man through the other. Joel's thickness pressed against Jack's length, a constant, intimate pressure that made you gasp.
Joel groaned low in his chest, his forehead dropping to yours. "Fuck," he breathed. "There we go, honey. There we go. You feel so perfect around me."
Behind you, Jack's grip tightened on your hips. "Jesus christ."
"I know," Joel said. "I know."
Joel stopped there, buried full, and let out a low breath against your neck. Then he looked down.
Your cunt was stretched wide around his shaft, the lips pulled apart, pink and slick with your own wetness. Below that, Jack's cock stuffed deep in your ass, making the whole patch of skin between your legs look swollen, used, full.
He watched the way his own cock disappeared into you, how the flesh clung to him like it didn't want to let go.
He then pressed a palm flat against your belly, rubbed slow circles just above where he's buried to calm you down.
They stayed still for a long moment—both of them buried inside you, your body stretched and full and trembling. Joel's breath was warm against your cheek. Jack's chest pressed against your back, his heart hammering against your shoulder blades.
"We're gonna move when you're ready. Slow and deep. Get your body to get used to it." Jack said behind you, gripping your waist.
Joel huffed as a nod, giving your cheek a kiss before his hand touched your mound, spreading you to watch himself.
Then they began to move. Small, shallow thrusts.
At first, it's barely more than a pulse—a subtle shift of both cocks deep inside you, rocking in place. Your pussy flutters around the first, a gentle squeeze that welcomes the tiny motion. Your ass clenches around the second, holding him tight as he budges fractionally in and out.
You gasped, burying your head into his neck.
"Shh, it's okey." he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. "You can take it, babygirl."
His lips found your cheek, soft and lingering. He pulled you back just enough to meet your eyes—half-lidded, glassy, still lost in the haze of pleasure. His thumb traced over your cheekbone, wiping a smear of drool from the corner of your mouth.
"So damn beautiful, aren't you?"
Behind you, Jack's breathing was heavy, controlled. He was pumping inside you, careful not to be fast, his hands resting on your hips with a gentleness that belied the tension in his shoulders.
Over your shoulder, his gaze met Joel's.
A silent conversation passed between them. A nod.
A confirmation. We're good. She's good. Keep going.
"She is doing good," Jack murmured.
Joel nodded, his hand sliding down your side, fingers tracing the dip of your waist, the swell of your hip. "Best girl," he said, low and warm. "Yeah, baby?"
A sound tore out of you then.
Loud, ragged, utterly needy. It rose from somewhere deep in your chest—a whine that had no shape, no words, just pure, aching want.
Jack smiled. "Is she drooling again?"
Joel pulled back just enough to look at your face. Your lips were parted, slack, a glistening string of saliva stretching from your lower lip to your chin.
Your eyes were all hazy, unfocused, your breath coming in shuddering gasps.
"Mmhmm," Joel hummed. "Look at you, baby. All drooling to your chin. Messy thing."
Jack couldn't help but chuckle, his cock twitching inside you. His hand came up from behind then. His finger in latex, pressed against your lips without hesitation. The touch was light though, asking permission, even now.
Your mouth opened, and you took him in.
You closed your mouth around him and sucked, hard, hollowing your cheeks, pulling him deeper. A deep, shuddering satisfaction rolled through your chest.
Your eyes fluttered closed. This was what you needed. Something to suck on. Something to anchor you.
Jack's hissed out. "There you go. That helps, huh?"
Joel's hand slid down your belly, past the slick, glistening mess of your thighs, until his thumb found your clit. It was swollen, angry red, twice its normal size and pushing out from its hood like a small, desperate pearl. The barest brush of his calloused thumb made your whole body jolt, a shockwave of sensation that ripped through you.
"Easy, Joel." Jack murmurs, his voice a low. "Her clitoris is sensitive right now. If you apply too much direct pressure, she might get overwhelmed. Try lighter, circular motions, just around the hood. Let her build."
Joel nodded, his eyes analysing your face as he touched the little nub gently. Slow, deliberate circles, barely any pressure.
Your back bowed, arching into Jack's chest, your mouth clamping down on his finger, sucking for dear life.
The orgasm that ripped through you was sudden, violent but perfect. It started in your clit, that single point of pressure and radiated outwards in hot, electric waves. Your cunt clenched around Joel's cock, your ass tightening around Jack's.
A broken cry escaped around the latex in your mouth.
"That's it," Jack groaned, pushing his finger deeper into your mouth, feeling your throat convulse around the tip. "Just like that, sweetheart. You got it."
Joel's smile was soft, his eyes wet with something profound. He kept his thumb moving in slow, steady circles, drawing out every last tremor of your climax.
"You're doing so good for us, baby. Flushin' all that pollen out, huh?"
You nodded as best you could, gasping, drool pooling around Jack's knuckles.
They held still then, pausing their thrusts and letting your body catch up, letting the aftershocks of your releasre ripple through you.
Jack's free hand moved to your wrist.
His thumb pressed into the delicate skin, feeling the rapid thrum of your pulse. He counted silently. Then he moved his hand to the side of your neck, feeling the beat there, strong and wild. He pressed his palm to your forehead, then your cheek.
"Fever's going down," he said, the doctor's cadence threading back through the ragged lust in his voice. "Pulse is still a touch elevated. One more good one should flush the last of it out of her system completely."
He pulled his wet finger from your mouth with a
slick pop. A string of saliva connected his glove to your lower lip, stretching thin, then breaking.
Your mouth stayed open, seeking, needy so Joel planted open mouthed kisses on the corner of your lips.
"S'so much, Joel," you whined, the words slurred and breathless. Your voice cracked. "S'too much. Can't—can't take—"
"I know, babygirl." Joel leaned in and pressed a long, lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips stayed there, warm and steady. "I know. But you can. You're almost there. One more. Just one more for us."
"Gonna be a good girl for me?" He asked. "For Doctor Abbott, too?"
Joel glanced over at Jack, catching the faint flush rising in his cheeks. Jack swallowed dropping his gaze, and that tiny, embarrassed gesture pulled a low chuckle out of Joel.
You whined, nodding your head quickly. Your head lulled back, dropping to Jack's neck and looking up at him.
"Are you?" he murmured, looking at you, the words slipping out before he could stop them—quiet, direct, and meant only for you.
Joel’s brows lifted, a slow grin tugging at his mouth.
Your eyes went wide at his question. You nodded before you even realized you were doing it, breath catching as you stayed pressed against him.
Then, before you could turn around, Joel started thrusting upwards again. Slow, deep, deliberate.
Each stroke was a long drag against your walls, a languid exploration of the slick, hot grip of your cunt.
Jack started matching him, finding the counterpoint rhythm—sliding deeper as Joel pulled back, filling the space Joel left. His eyes were still on you, steady, nodding against the thrusts and counting them.
The fullness was overwhelming, the stretch a perfect pressure that occupied every empty inch inside you.
A whine broke from your mouth. Your head stayed on Jacks shoulder, while your eyes landed on Joels face again.
He grunted, speeding his hips, calloused hands on your thighs moving you to the rhythm he built.
"Someone's close," Jack said, his voice low.
"She is," Joel agreed breathless, hair falling damp to his forehead. "My sweet girl."
You moaned—sweet, broken, the sound rising from your chest like a prayer. Your head fell still Jack's shoulder, your eyes fluttering closed. Sweat glistened on your skin, beaded on your collarbone, trickled between your breasts.
Jack's hands slid up your damp stomach then.
They were slow, exploratory, tracing the lines of your ribs, the soft swell of your belly.
His palms cupped your breasts, lifting them slightly, feeling their weight. His thumbs found your nipples—hard pebbles against the cool latex of his gloves. He rolled them gently, watching your face for reaction.
"These are also very sensitive," he observed. The clinical observation was a thin veneer over the raw truth—he just wanted his hands on you. And he started to become bold enough to do so.
His thumbs circled and circled, pressed and pressed while pinched ever so lightly.
You whimpered, your hips bucking upward, grinding against Joel's thrusts.
"They are," Jack repeated, more to himself. "Good. That's good."
Joel watched your face, his pace quickening. A fine sheen of sweat covered his forehead, and a vein stood out on his neck.
"Look at me, darlin'. C'mon. Let me see those eyes."
You forced your lids open. Joel's gaze was locked on yours—dark, tender, burning.
"There you go," He growled. "Look at my babygirl...enjoying herself on two cocks, yea?"
Your cheeks flushed red at his words, closing your eyes again.
The slick, wet sounds of your bodies filled the room. Jack's fingers stayed on your nipples, rolling, tugging, pinching in rhythm with the thrusts.
"Hey, look at me." Jack said behind you, firm.
You did, looking into his eyes lazily.
"You're close. I need you to focus on us, is that clear?" He asked, eyes searching for any discomfort in your face.
Your eyes went wide at the sudden firmness in his voice. You nodded quickly, breath catching as you tried to steady your focus on him like he asked.
Joel let out a low, hum. “Yeah,” he said, a slow grin pulling at his mouth. “Listen to him.”
The pressure was building again—impossible, overwhelming. You were close, just like Jack said. Your thighs trembled. Your belly tightened. A hot coil wound in your core, drawing tighter with every stroke.
"C'mon," Joel urged, his voice dropping to a growl. "Give it to me, sweetheart. Let go. I'll catch you."
Jack's hips slapped against your ass, faster now, deeper. "Cum for us, sweetheart." he whispered against your ear. "Release it all. One more time."
And you did.
A hot gush came out of you—not a trickle, not a spasm, but a flood. It poured from your cunt, soaking Joel's cock, your thighs, his lap, the blanket beneath you.
A broken cry tore from your throat, raw and desperate, as you squirted hard, the release feeling like the fever finally leaving your body.
Your vision went white.
"Fuck," Jack groaned. He pulled out in one slick motion, the condom still snug on his cock. He ripped it off, stroking himself twice, three times, and spilled into the latex with a raw, shuddering groan that seemed to come from deep in his chest. "Fuck, fuck, fuck."
Joel's arms were around you instantly.
He dragged you flush against his sweaty chest, your weight settling on top of him as he fell back against the couch cushions.
He was still inside you, buried deep, and he didn't stop. He thrusted up into you—four powerful, driving strokes, each one hitting that perfect, swollen spot.
"One more, sweetheart. C'mon. One more for me." He whispered into your ear.
You squirted again—a weaker gush, a final release that flooded his belly and pooled beneath you. You cried out, burying your face into his neck.
Joel let out a guttural grunt, his hips stuttering as he came, hot and thick, pumping into you with a desperate, possessive rhythm. His fingers dug into your hips, holding you in place.
Your body went limp, boneless, slack against Joel's chest. Your face burrowed into the hollow of his throat, into the damp, salty warmth of his skin.
His heartbeat thudded against your cheek, strong and steady.
The world finally went soft, and your body relaxed.
Jack on the other hand, moved with quiet efficiency besides you. His hands were gentle as he pressed two fingers to the hollow of your throat, counting the steady thrum of your pulse.
He lifted one of your eyelids gently, checking your pupil response. A small flashlight flickered in his hand—when had he grabbed it? You had no idea. He pressed his palm to your forehead, your cheek, the side of your neck.
"She's asleep," he confirmed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Completely out. Pulse is seventy-two. Pupils reactive. Skin temperature normal. Pollen's probably fully out. She's going to be just fine."
Joel's arm tightened around you, a possessive, protective reflex.
He pressed a long kiss to the crown of your head, breathing you in. His hand came up to stroke your hair, smoothing the damp strands away from your face.
"God damn," he said to the ceiling, his voice a worn-out rasp. "That was wild."
He turned his head. Jack was on his feet, pulling his jeans up his hips, fastening his belt. Reaching for his flannel shirt. His movements were precise, unhurried, but there was a tremor in his hands that betrayed the cost of control.
"Thank you," Joel said. "No more bunnies for this Honeygirl."
Jack paused mid-motion, chuckling, his hand on the collar of his shirt. He looked at Joel, then at your sleeping form, tucked into the curve of Joel's throat. Your lips were parted, your breath even and deep.
He gave a single nod.
All that needed to be said, understood perfectly between them.
He finished buttoning his shirt and padded quietly into the kitchen. The faucet ran. A glass clinked. He was already preparing water for when you woke up, already thinking ahead.
Joel held you closer, his hand stroking your back in slow, soothing circles.
He pressed another kiss to your hair, then let his eyes close, just for a moment, listening to the steady rhythm of your breathing, the proof that you were safe.
The way i googled the weirdest things guys...i've literally learned so much about the body LMFAO. if anybody sees my history they would think i've gone crazy. Also this is definitely not an excuse to write medical kink no no🫣
I hope this met some expectations, i'm still very very new to writing Jack abbott so please bear with me!!!
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