Three Isn’t Always A Crowd
Pairing: Jack Abbot x Reader x Dennis Whitaker
Summary: You’re sharing one bed with Jack Abbot and Dennis Whitaker, purely for comfort and body heat. You just happen to be sandwiched in the middle of the two when you have a saucy dream. Chaos ensues.
Warning 18+: NSFW Grinding. Dry humping. Oral sex (fem receiving) fingering. Dirty talk. Edging. Threesome. F/M/M
NOTE: this is an except from my 218k word fic on Ao3! So spoilers for crush. My reader is named Reid, so that’s why she’s named here.
You can find the full fic here:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/79106356/chapters/207527516
You knew that you were dreaming this time because you weren’t seeing a memory.
You saw faces in your mind, dark swaths of color, and your body tingled in response. You couldn’t make sense of the things you were seeing. It was all bathed in shadow, moving shapes and dim watercolors behind your eyelids. It was almost like it was painted in candlelight.
A piercing pair of dark brown eyes.
A warm hand and soft smile. Blue eyes.
None of it made sense to you. You couldn’t see who the eyes belonged to, or remember who had that soft smile.
All you knew was that you could feel.
You felt warm in places you shouldn’t. Your chest tingled as a rosy pair of lips pressed themselves to your overwarm skin.
You knew you were dreaming then, because when you looked down, you met those dark brown eyes.
Your body felt strange as you arched under the touch, feeling something solid and warm pressing against your back. And the motion just felt so good, so very good as you rocked against something wedged between your legs.
You could feel the liquid heat pooling in your belly. You could feel your heart in your throat. You could feel the goosebumps rise on your skin.
The gentle hands turned to your waist, and you writhed as this dream man caressed your sides. Your clit rubbed so perfectly over whatever was between your thighs that you couldn’t help but keep rolling and rolling your hips. The friction the sensation created made your breathing quicken.
You turned your head, trying to spy those captivating and deeply lined eyes again, but when you went to look, your hands were full. They were full of a head of soft silver curls, and you managed to see a sinful mouth curving, and you involuntarily called out, writhing against the solidness at your back, the solidness between your legs. Your chest positively ached, practically begging to be touched as a throbbing need built between your thighs.
This dreaming version of you revelled in the touches, the sights, the sounds, and your body had a mind of its own as you continued to roll your hips against whatever you could feel. The friction was practically sinful.
A solid warm arm tightened around your waist, the hand splaying over your stomach, holding you to its owner. You could already feel that powerful and all consuming tidal wave building in your belly, just waiting, just a little more. You needed more.
You heard a distinctly male sigh in your ear, coming from behind you, and it only spurred you on further, on faster. You felt something prodding into your backside, but you paid it no mind as you chased your own high.
Then you heard a throat clearing.
That didn’t make sense in your lust addled dream. No, your dream was all soft sighs and deep groans.
Only to meet a pair of definitely awake hazel ones.
Your heart stuttered in your chest as your brain caught up with your body. Your body had moved during the night.
You were no longer in Jack’s arms, instead you were in Whitaker’s. And it was his back you were pressed against. His arm around your waist. You were facing Jack, barely any space between you now. You could feel his breath coasting over your face.
And then you looked down, at the barely visible space between your bodies, only to find that it was Jack’s thigh wedged between your own.
It was his thigh you were-
Your face flamed hotter than the sun as embarrassment and shame crept up your neck.
And suddenly you were very aware of the hardness pressing into your back. Whitaker’s-
You tried to escape Whitaker’s hold, going where, you didn’t know, but his hold tightened, and you only succeeded in wriggling. This caused Whitaker to make a noise you’d never heard from the man, and your whole body flushed hotly at the sound.
You could feel wetness pooling in your lower belly, soaking through your underwear. Oh, god. You were so embarrassingly wet, you were sure that Jack could feel it beneath the thin material of his scrubs.
Your stomach fluttered and your heart pounded as the three of you froze.
Whitaker breathed your name, the syllables stirring up your hair at the nape of your neck.
The aching need in your belly and the hardness pressing into you was impossible to ignore, and it only flamed the fans of desire more when Jack sidled even closer to you.
Jack took your chin in his hand, his fingers pressing in delicately as he met your gaze.
He glanced once behind you, presumably at Whitaker, and then back to you.
You could have sworn your whole body was on fire.
You had- Oh, god. Had you really made those sounds out loud?
You were too dizzy with desire to respond in words. All you could do was nod.
“You going to finish what you started, sweetheart?” Jack looked pointedly at where your hips had begun to roll again, your clit rubbing so deliciously against his warm thigh. The grind of the fabric just felt so good against the sensitive bud, you couldn’t help it.
Whitaker groaned in your ear as your movements only caused your ass to grind against his hard length.
“P- please don’t- don’t stop.” Whitaker’s words were desperate and needy in your ear, ruffling your hair as his breath danced over your ear. His arm tightened even further around your waist, pulling you harder against his solid chest.
Jack’s hand tightened on your chin, and you knew your eyes were going glassy as your movements became more frantic as you grew more needy. You were going to burn alive. Jack was staring at you so intensely you thought you’d die right then and there. Your breaths started to come out in short, sharp bursts, filling the room with the sound.
Your hips rocked and jerked against Jack’s thigh, chasing release, but Jack’s other hand came up and landed on your hip, halting your movements. He suddenly pulled his thigh out from in between yours, and you made a pathetic whimper at the loss of sensation. You hadn’t realised how bad you needed it until it was gone. You felt achy and empty.
Whitaker made a similarly embarrassing sound, a mix between a cry and a moan as you stopped writhing against him.
He’d- he’d had to be the smart one-
You’d fucked everything up.
Then Jack’s hand became more firm, more pressing on your hip and chin.
“I asked you a question.” He stated.
What the fuck was he talking about?
Whitaker groaned your name, his hand pressing into your abdomen as he tried to create any sort of friction.
“Whitaker, stop.” Jack demanded, and the younger doctor froze against you.
“This is how this is going to go.” Jack spoke, and you were mesmerised by his words, achy and needy for him, for Whitaker, for anyone. Anything to stop that incessant ache. “You only get to come if you're good, and if you listen to me. I asked you a question, Reid. Answer it.” He demanded.
Your mouth dropped open as your mind went blank.
What the hell was he talking about?
“Fucking hell! He asked if you were going to finish what you started!” Whitaker said, groaning from behind you, clearly just as achy for you as you were for him.
If your mouth wasn’t already open, it would have dropped open with shock. Had you ever even heard Whitaker swear? It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter one bit, not as Jack returned his sultry gaze to you.
“I need to hear you say it.”
You’d forgotten how to speak.
You were that needy, that desperate.
And you were loving every second.
“Jesus Christ! Just say it! Say what he wants! Say anything! I don’t care! Just- p- please.” Whitaker groaned from behind you, his chest squished against your back.
You forced yourself to meet Jack’s desire filled gaze. You forced your tongue to work.
“Yeah- yes- fuck yes. Yes. I want to finish what I stared- finish the dream- whatever you want me to say.” You cried.
Jack’s thigh thrust up, landing in its place between your legs, and you cried out.
You didn’t waste a second.
Your hips immediately started up their own rhythm, grinding and rubbing along Jack’s thigh with wild abandon.
So damn good you couldn’t help the little breathy sounds that began to form on your lips.
Your hair tickled the skin of your neck and cheek as Whitaker let out a surprised grunt from behind you, which quickly turned into a groan as your movements pressed and rolled against his hardness.
Your core pooled with warmth as your clit grinded mercilessly against the seam of your pants. The friction and the heat was a delicious combination that sent pleasure sparking up your spine.
You didn’t know where on earth your hips had learned to roll and undulate the way they were rolling against Jack’s thigh, but you didn’t have time to contemplate it.
“That’s it, baby. That’s it. Take what you need. Take it all.”
The heat, the friction, the sounds-
Your breathy sounds had turned to sharper little cries as Whitaker’s groans behind you turned louder, more impatient.
The heat of him at your back was downright delicious. His hips met your frantic ones as he continued to grind against you.
“I need- I need-“ your words were breathless.
“What do you need, baby?” You felt Jack’s hand on your hip, urging you faster.
The sensations were too much.
The sensations weren’t enough.
The sensation in your lower belly curled tighter, like a bowstring readying to be fired.
Whitaker’s low groans had turned into something higher, more needy. You could tell he was getting close.
You hadn’t realised your eyes were closed until Jack’s hand landed on your cheek. “Open your eyes for me, sweetheart.”
You couldn’t help but follow his order, your eyes flying open as your hips continued their frantic movements.
“R-Reid-“ Whitaker moaned from behind you, his words getting higher and higher.
Your now open eyes met dark hazel ones, and oh god-
His eyes were beyond intense. Beyond focused. Beyond heated.
Jack’s eyes were positively all consuming as he looked into your face, his mouth slightly agape.
Your answering cry was pathetic.
Your clit was hitting your seam just right-
“You like grinding up on my thigh like some needy little thing while Whitaker is fucking himself into you from behind?”
Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, and Jack’s hand tightened on your face.
“Oh no you don’t. I want those pretty eyes on me, and only me.” His tone brooked no room for argument.
His hand on your hip tightened as you refocused your gaze on him. But his stare was so intense, so focussed, your eyes closed of their own volition.
“Reid- Reid, I’m gonna- I’m gonna-” Whitaker’s voice cracked on the words.
You cried out as the spikes of pleasure continued.
Jack’s grip tightened on your chin.
“What did I just say? Eyes open.”
Your eyes opened once again, your mouth hanging open as you shamelessly grinded yourself against Jack’s hard thigh.
You moaned louder, your release gathering so closely you could almost taste it.
“That’s it. That’s it, baby. Just keep rubbing yourself. Just like that-“
And before you could get another word out, Whitaker groaned loudly from behind you, his breaths harder and faster as his movements became wild and erratic. Then they slowed.
And then you felt his hips withdraw from behind you.
“I- I- sorry- I-” was his explanation, and you whined as the sensation of him behind you stopped completely.
“Whitaker-“ you breathed, needing the feel of him at your back to spur you on.
Jack’s hand slowed at your hip, and you whined embarrassingly.
“Jack- please- I’m so close- I just need- I need-“ you begged.
“I know, I know, baby.” He soothed mockingly, his fingers in your hair.
Your hips continued to chase that release that was so, so close, regardless of the emptiness at your back.
Your hips had a mind of their own, your swollen clit continuing to ride Jack’s solid thigh.
“Please- please, Jack- please, I need-”
“You know you never have to beg me, sweetheart. Tell me what you need. Use your words. Just tell me.”
Your release was so close, so close all you needed was just another touch, another sensation, something else.
“You.” You breathed. “You. I need you, Jack. Please.” You knew you sounded pathetic.
“Oh, I think I know what you need.” He whispered.
Then he did the worst thing imaginable.
He withdrew his thigh from between your legs. Leaving you empty.
“No!” You sounded beyond pathetic, and you knew that you would be embarrassed in the morning by the pathetic sounds you made. “I was- I was so close!”
“Sh, sh, sh. I know, I know. I know you were so close.” Jack soothed your hair, and you felt stupid, angry tears gathering in your eyes.
“C’mon, Abbot, that was cruel.” Whitaker said from behind you.
“Trust me, Whitaker. It’s for a good reason.” Jack’s eyes were positively luminous as he shifted.
You could tell your face was lust addled, and you were pouting. Your eyes were shiny and wet, but you were so needy, so desperate. You just needed to relieve this pounding between your legs. You just needed a touch, a whisper, something.
This ache was going to burn you alive.
“Whitaker, please. I was so, so close, just, please.” You didn’t even know what you were asking him for at this point. You just knew you needed this ache to stop.
He looked down at you. “Of course.” He breathed, and his hand landed on your stomach, his fingers making a downwards trajectory to your waistband. His hand lit up the nerve endings on your stomach as his hand trailed further down.
You sighed in contentment as his fingers slipped beneath your waistband, your hips eagerly rising to urge him further, faster. You needed him just a few inches lower.
His fingers had just reached your thin underwear when a hand snaked out, gripping his wrist, stopping him.
“Not so fast.” Jack sounded delighted with himself as he stopped Whitaker, mere inches from where you ached desperately.
“Fuck!” You cried out, empty and desperate and needy and aching.
“Come on, Abbot. You’re just torturing her now. Let her come.” You were inclined to agree with Whitaker.
You nodded. “Let me come, Jack.”
Jack looked you over, at your flushed face, and your spread thighs, Whitaker’s hand down your pants.
“Whitaker, please remove your hand.”
Whitaker looked at you, an apologetic look on his face as he pulled his hand back. Traitor. You whined.
A devilish smile graced Jack’s beautiful face, the lines around his eyes crinkling.
“It seems as though I’ve just remembered a debt I owe.”
Your blood turned hot, then cold.
The decontamination room.
Him on his knees before you.
His head between your legs.
“You remember last time don’t you, sweetheart?” Jack’s eyes were on your face, and you swore your core pounded harder.
Jack didn’t respond to you. He just looked at you, and you looked down to notice that his own arousal was tented in his scrubs. Your eyes practically bulged out of your head as you realised that Jack Abbot, PTMC night shift attending, was rock hard for you. His size was a whole other matter. God, he was going to be a tight fit. If he fit at all.
You sat up as he moved off the bed, trying and failing to grab him and pull him to you.
Then he moved back towards you.
You tried to grab his waistband, but he dodged your clumsy attempt with ease.
That’s it. You were going to kill him.
You were going to kill Jack Abbot.
Right after he fucked your brains out.
“Whitaker, move her towards the end of the bed. Give me some room to work.” Jack ordered the younger doctor.
Your mouth dried up as your stomach flipped.
Before you could even comprehend what he was meaning, Whitaker’s strong arms wrapped around you, moving you like you weighed nothing.
Your ass was finally at the edge of the bed, and you reclined slightly on instinct.
Your heart rate sped up as a prickle of anticipation hit you.
What the fuck was Jack doing?
You had a good idea as your legs dangled off the bed.
Your heart started to pound harder, almost in time with your core as Jack moved back towards you.
You felt Whitaker watching the two of you closely, his own eyes wide.
You were now at the edge of the hospital bed, your legs dangling off the end, and as Jack looked at you, you knew exactly what he had in mind.
And then he licked his lips.
Could you die from a look alone?
Then, his hands came up to grip the waistband of your scrubs.
“What are you waiting for?” You cried. You were so desperate for him, your core was positively soaked.
You rested on your elbows, your chin on your chest.
“Are you- are you sure? Are you sure you want this? Want…me?” His tone held a twinge of self conscious and your heart faltered.
He’d been so confident before. So strong and in charge, seeing him nervous made you feel all the more for him.
His strong fingers were warm as they settled between your hips and your scrubs, but they were frozen as they waited for your answer.
“Jack.” You sighed, reaching up to brush a hand over his cheek. He leaned into the touch, and you could have sworn his fingers shook.
He looked up at you, waiting for your response.
The moment and the look he gave you was just so loving it made your heart melt.
“If you don’t rip my pants off and let me come, I might actually kill you.” You said tenderly.
Jack barked out a loud laugh at that, and with that, the soft moment was over, and the heat was back.
He yanked your pants down, taking your underwear with them in one go.
You were suddenly bare to him, the air hitting your heated flesh.
Your whole body was covered in goosebumps, and your breathing stuttered as he met your gaze, and slowly dropped to his knees before you. He used his strong hands to spread your thighs wide, nudging your knees apart. You were spread so wide-
A sudden wave of self consciousness hit you. No one had ever-
No one had ever seen you this exposed, this vulnerable.
Sure, Jack had seen you before, but not like this. Not spread out before him like his own personal feast.
Your knees twitched closer together, but Jack stopped you with a firm hand on your knee.
“Beautiful.” He breathed, staring up at you. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your thigh. Then another. And another. He placed a kiss on a freckle, on a stretch mark, on a dimple.
Your body heated as a fresh flood of wetness formed in your core.
He was the perfect height for his face to line up exactly where you both wanted it, and you shuddered as you felt his warm breath over your bare sex.
You needed him so desperately. So desperately you needed him more than anything you’d ever needed before. More than air.
He was half an inch from where you needed him most, from where you ached for him, when you sat up on your elbows, gripping his hair in a hand.
A thought had just occurred to you. Something you couldn’t just ignore.
He stopped instantly, his eyes slowly meeting yours.
“You want to stop?” He asked, his voice gravely.
You bit your lip, suddenly shy. “What about- what about you?” You asked, looking to where you knew his own arousal had to be positively killing him.
“Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. This night's all about you two.” He glanced over at Whitaker.
“What?” Jack’s head reared back in your grip.
“No. I won’t accept that. If you can decide when I come, then I feel like it’s only fair if I get to do the same for you.” You tried to make your tone as even as you could.
“You heard the woman.” Whitaker said from beside you, watching everything in rapt fascination.
Jack turned his betrayed gaze to him.
“Don’t like it when you have to play by your own rules huh?” You asked in your most bratty tone.
Jack grumbled a non committal answer.
You sat up slightly, resting on your elbows again.
“You can…finish…whatever you were going to finish with me, on one condition.” You announced.
“God, you and your conditions.” Jack rolled his eyes.
You gripped his hair tighter in your fist, pulling the strands hard enough to hurt. He only groaned. You filed that tidbit away for later.
“And what’s that one condition, sweetheart?” Jack grumbled, eyes on you.
And oh god, the sight of him kneeling between your thighs, looking up at you like that- you could have came on the sight alone. But you didn’t, holding out on your condition.
“I don’t come alone.” You murmured quietly, but Jack heard you.
His eyes widened to saucers.
“Wait- what?” Whitaker asked suddenly.
“I said, if I come, you come too, Jack.” You said, meaningfully staring down at Jack.
“You want me to…” Jack’s words trailed off.
“Jack yourself off.” You said, grinning at your pun.
Jack huffed a laugh at your dumb joke, and the breathy sound landed right between your legs. You shivered.
“Come on, Jack. Prove how well you can multitask.” You goaded.
Jack grinned then, a devilish grin that you knew meant only trouble.
“That, I can do.” He held up one hand, waving it at you as it dipped below the bed.
Oh my god. You couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe.
He was really going to just-
His groan of pleasure cut off all thoughts.
The sound ignited your blood, and you involuntarily scooted closer to the edge of the bed.
You saw his shoulder move as he pumped himself once again, groaning lowly. You knew he was fisting his cock, pumping as he watched you with heavy lids.
You couldn’t even fathom what you were seeing, the sight was so sinful.
Jack Abbot, night shift attending, pumping himself as he kneeled between your spread, bare thighs.
You were going to have an actual heart attack.
Or at least you thought you were.
And then he put his mouth on you.
Your head reared back as your grip on his hair loosed. You cried out as his lips closed over your swollen clit and sucked. Hard.
He wasted no time in using his free hand to spread your thighs even further apart. Then that free hand slipped higher, sliding into the tight heat of your core. You were drenched. Absolutely soaked.
His thick finger slid straight into you with zero resistance, and you moaned.
“God, baby, you are so wet. Is this all for me?”
Your answering groan made him laugh.
His skilled tongue began to lap at your clit, using a mixture of small pointed licks and hot, wet drags of his tongue. You were writhing madly, desperate for more, desperate for less.
“Oh yeah. This is definitely all for me.” He groaned.
You spared a glance down, seeing the mass of soft silver curls between your spread thighs, absolutely devouring you. You noticed Jack’s shoulder twitching with his own efforts as he continued to touch himself.
You couldn’t stop your cry as you once again felt your release gathering.
You would have been embarrassed at how fast you felt your release beckoning if you weren’t so lost with desire.
Your hips bucked and writhed against Jack’s face as his mouth and tongue drove you crazy.
You felt him groaning against you, against the most sensitive part of you, and it reverberated all the way up your body.
Your breaths became sharper and faster as Jack pumped that thick finger, curling slightly, and you could have sworn you saw stars.
Your cries became louder, becoming almost a whimper. You were so close. So close.
Jack groaned louder into you, his own pleasured sounds drowned out by the sound of him lapping at you. He was like a man starved.
And you loved every second of it.
You needed more- just a little bit more-
You didn’t even think, you just reached for Whitaker’s nearby hand. He was more than eager for you to take it, and you placed it over one of your breasts. He immediately got your idea, and squeezed at the tender flesh of your breast. Your nipple was rock hard, and Whitaker found the hard bud, pinching it over your clothes.
You cried out, louder and higher pitched than before.
You looked at Whitaker, his intense blue gaze on you as you writhed and bucked.
“Come on, Reid. You can do it. Just let go.” Whitaker encouraged.
You groaned, arching up into his palm as he continued to squeeze and kneed at your breast.
“I’m right here with you. Just let go.”
Your core pounded as Jack continued to stroke your inner walls with his fingers, pumping and grinding as his mouth feasted on your clit.
And as Jack moaned loudly into you, his shoulder working overtime, Whitaker’s hand squeezed, and you let go.
A wave of white washed over your vision as you cried out, moaning loudly. Your hand was fisted in Jack’s hair, forcing his face to stay right where it was as you grinded against his mouth, his nose, his chin. Jack was more than willing to allow this, not once slowing his movements as his own moans turned to a frenzied pitch.
Then his moans turned to more of a contented jumble of groans as he found his own release.
Your own orgasm released in waves of shimmering pleasure, and your ragged sighs filled the room. The sound was positively filthy.
Your chest rose and fell rapidly as the two men guided you through your orgasm, drawing it out.
All you knew was Jack’s mouth, Whitaker’s hand.
As the sweet burn of oversensitivity began to flare between your legs, you pushed Jack’s head back, and Whitaker eased his hand off your breast.
Jack made his way back onto the bed, lying on his side and facing you. His face was smothered in your wetness, and your cheeks heated. His nose, chin and mouth were shiny and dripping wet. He’d really given it his all.
And for once, your head wasn’t spinning with thoughts of doctors, or symptoms, or diagnoses. Of workplace boundaries, of workplace ethics, of your future, of your career, or of your father.
You couldn’t seem to even form a coherent thought.
You couldn’t even remember your own name.
But for some strange reason, the only names you could remember were those of the two men beside you.
pixelskylines
stormborns
theartofmadeline
2087
izzy806
