What happened at the end of the day in the on-call room between Jackson and April in 9x03.

APRIL

I was glad to be back.

There was no real way for me to express me absolute gratitude and appreciation for Hunt coming out to Moline and giving me my job back. It had seemed like the sign that was desperately needed: that God had forgiven my repentance, accepted my re-virginizing, and was giving me another chance at the life that I had so desperately wanted. I had prayed and prayed to Him, begging for forgiveness against my transgressions and how easily I had succumbed to temptation. He had really, truly come through for me.

But it seemed like the next person that I had needed to seek out forgiveness in was Jackson. It was a two-way street after I'd left. He had never called. I hadn't even known that he would still be here in Seattle, but there he had been, shirtless in the attendings' lounge. And then criticizing my choice to recommit myself to my faith.

Avoidance was no longer an option. Staying at the hospital until I could find myself an apartment was going to make it even more obvious. Living out a suitcase in an on-call room probably wasn't the peak of my life, but at least other things were falling into order. I would make a way for this one to fall into place, too.

Hearing the door of the on-call room open up behind me, I glance over my shoulder and see it's the exact same man on my mind. I'm not sure what to say for a moment, glancing back at the bag of toiletries in my hand and zipping it back up.

"Uh… sorry I ran off like that, I just…" I trailed off, not sure where I'm going with the statement.

Jackson interrupted before I had to figure it out. "So I am not gonna pretend it didn't happen." I turned around to face me as he spoke and he's already right there, hardly a foot away from me, easy arms distance. "I can't do that."

"I know. I, um, me either. I c– I can't stop thinking about it." The rambles start leaving my lips easily and I turn around for a moment to pace the length of the room, half needing some distance between us, giving my arms a little more room to flail to try and emphasize my point. "The more I think about it, the more the more I try not to think about it, I'm thinking about it, so…"

"Yeah, I know. I know." Jackson took a few steps toward me and I can't help but gravitate toward him. "Do you want to get married?"

"Uh, what?" I punctuated, blinking up at him in confusion.

"Because if you're serious about this whole re-virginizing thing, that means that the next guy that you sleep with is probably gonna be your husband. Right? That's what you want." Jackson spoke. He's so close to me that it's hard to focus just on what he's saying, but there's meaning to his words, meaning that I can't ignore. My gaze drifted to his lips for a moment. "And I am not ready to be anybody's husband. And I really don't think you're ready to be anybody's wife. So let's remember that it happened. Make sure it doesn't happen again. Unless we want it to. Unless we are ready." There's something in his voice drawing me in, the way he was looking at me. It's like a hypnotic pool, and I'm barely able to look up from his mouth. I can't help but think about the wonderful things he could do with it, had done with it, and… oh God, I need to stop.

"I'm, um, I can't I can't be near you or I might…" I'm already thinking about it, whether I want to or not. The way that he had taken me that first night, how sweet and gentle he had been, the way that I had cried out for him and how he'd moaned my name too.

"Me too." Yet despite the words, he's still right there. Right in front of me.

"Okay, so we, um…" It's hard to think straight about what I should do, what was the Christian thing to do when the grown woman inside of me is loud and horny and already knew exactly what she wanted. And it had nothing to do with walking away from him right now.

"We stay away from each other for-for a while," Jackson answered with a nod of his head. My gaze is still on his mouth and I'm trying to remember my control, trying to remember the nights that I had spent praying over this, all of the stress that it had brought me. I'd failed my boards because I'd been so distracted by it. And yet here I was, wanting it all over again, ready to succumb to desire.

Ready to succumb to what felt good. Why was it the things we weren't supposed to do were the ones that felt best?

"Okay. Um, so, um, I'm just gonna walk away now." I stuttered out, chewing on my lower lip. When I finally have the course to lift my mouth away from his mouth and back up to his eyes, green ones aren't staring directly at mine. Instead, they're a little lower.

"Uh, bye," Jackson muttered. But he doesn't move to walk away. He's staring at my mouth in the exact same way that I had been staring at his. The same raw lust in his eyes, the same desire that sends a shiver up my spine. He wanted me, just like I wanted him.

The distance between us doesn't grow. Instead, it does the opposite. I can't stop myself from moving into him, stretching up and sealing his lips over mine. The sentiment is reciprocated almost immediately, Jackson bending down to meet me, an arm wrapping around my smaller frame and large hands grabbing the curve of my rear. With anyone else, I would've thought that such a gesture was crass. But when it's his hands on my body, him wanting me, I feel sexy and desired like nothing else in the world.

My arms wrap around his neck, fingertips barely brushing over the short curls on the back of his head. In no time, he's moving me, back meeting the filing cabinet in the room as he pressed me up against it. The handle digs into my back uncomfortably but I can't find myself willing to care for a moment, not when his mouth has descended on me like I'm the greatest thing he's ever had.

Jackson's hands made quick work of getting off my lab coat and scrub top, leaving me half-naked. I wished for a moment that I was wearing something a little sexier, but he doesn't seem to care, mouth moving to suck and mark on my neck in a way that was sure to leave marks for the morning. Everyone was going to know.

From a young age, I had been taught about duty and discipline and about how I needed to appear. I understood this and accepted it for the most part. Such restrictions on what I said and did were the price I had to pay for the good to come after death. But this… it was wicked and wanton to do this, no less in the hospital that we both worked at. That wasn't about to stop either of us, though. We were both far too gone for that.

I managed to pull off his scrub top, running my hands over the sculpted muscles of his abdomen. He's even more built than he had been the first time.

Both of us fumble for a moment to get out of the new navy scrubs that we've been wearing all day, keeping them from getting caught around our ankles with little grace. But it doesn't matter, immediately, he's got me pushed right back up against the cabinet, mouth sealed over mine. His hands reached for my pale thighs, lifting me up easily and using the piece of furniture to his advantage to keep me set in place.

Jackson was hot where he is pressed against me, seals his mouth on mine again, and catches all of my little gasps. Something indistinguishable was muttered against my mouth, some kind of praise. Then, his lips on my cheek, his lips on my neck, shoulder and the top of my breasts.

He moves between us, hand sliding between where the outline of his cock had begun to press up against me. Despite all of the heat exploding between the two of us, Jackson was still so gentle and I was so wet that when he traced my folds over the thin cotton of my panties, they're completely drenched.

"Jackson…" I moaned out his name softly, unable to help myself.

"Yeah, Apes?" He replied, pressing a kiss against the curve of my neck, sucking on the tendon.

"Don't stop." It's all I can say, giving him clear consent, needing him to keep going. I needed him, all of him, inside me and on top of me, a part of me in every way possible. I didn't want to know where he ended and I began, didn't want to know any kind of separation between the two of us. I wanted to be one with him.

He used that moment to finally move over the fabric of my panties and push a finger inside me, his thumb stretching up to rub slow circles on my clit. All I could do was gasp, reflexively squeezing around his features. I had barely gotten used to the pleasurable sensation when he adds a second finger, stretching me out further. I'm tight still, but it's not as much as it was the first time, more a feeling of amazing pressure than any kind of discomfort. I quivered around him, already beginning to shake and tightening my thighs around him. Fingers curled and I was seeing stars. I could already feel that familiar coil tightening within me, something that I had only ever felt when I was with him. All it took was him was a few more thrusts of his fingers, rubbing a little faster and hard on my clit, and I cried out his name as I came completely undone.

It takes a few moments, but I finally remember to breathe again, body slumping involuntarily against him, and Jackson huffed in silent laughter. He shifts his hands to support her once more, steadying his grip and pushing me back against the cabinet a little further. It's then that I remember how harshly the cool metal had been pushing against my back – that was going to leave odd bruises.

"Jackson– the cabinet hurts," I admit with a small huff of laughter.

"Sorry," he kissed me once more, hands moving to my thighs to make sure they were wrapped firmly around his waist before he lifted me up, slowly carrying me over to the bed in the on-call room. It's not particularly large but was enough for us to manage to make do. He set me down gently, but quickly guided me to flip over so that I'm laying on my stomach and can't see him.

"What're you doing?" I asked, giving a little impatient squirm.

Lips against my hear hush me gently, blowing a cool stream of air and then nipping at the shell of my ear. He brushed my hair off of my back and began to kiss down the curve of my spine. Apparently, he could see exactly where the cabinet had been digging into my skin because he stops there, gently kissing and soothing over the skin with his mouth and tongue. I'd never realized how hot kissing could be until this exact moment because suddenly I need nothing more than him moving inside of me again. I gave a little whine, lifting up my hips a bit.

"I want you." The words come out as much more of a needy whine than what my attention had been but the more that he was gentle with me, the more that I wanted him for everything that he had. I could tell myself all day long that it was sex, and maybe for him it just was, but he was too sweet. Too good. It was impossible for me to not want more from him.

"Trust me, you're gonna get what you want," Jackson huffed out against my skin, tongue running along a dimple on my back, one hand on my rear. "I just want a little taste first."

Before I had the chance to vocalize anything, he propped me up enough and spread me open, his tongue running over my core. Shoving his face up into the slit between my legs, he lapped and sucked at any bit of flesh that he could. Teasing and toying and trying out every inch that might make me gasp and squirm, succeeding in doing so. It didn't take him long to find my sweet spot once again, tongue lapping and toying at it eagerly, squirming and moaning, grabbing a fistful of the sheets and pushing my hips back against his face.

I wanted to beg. And I wanted to cry at how good it felt.

Jackson moaned against me and I could feel the vibrations of the noise, shuddering. His nose up against me, lick a stripe from my clit to my ass. It catches me off guard when his tongue swiped up there against the tight picker of muscle, gasping out as he teased the rim. Then it returned right to where it had been like it hadn't happened in the first place.

"Please, I need you," I pleaded out once more, reaching blindly behind me and finding his head, fingers running through the tight curls on his head. There's something there to hold this time, more than there had been the first (few) times.

This time, he doesn't tease me or leave me wanting. His mouth pulled away for a moment and I hear him shed off his scrub tops and boxer. Then an arm wrapped around my frame, hauling me up. I turn around so that I'm facing him directly, his pupils blown with lust as he looked at me. Teeth catch between my bottom lip for only a moment before he's pulling me on top of his lap. His hands slid down my body to lift me up and position me above him, opening me up for that first, slow thrust as I sank down on him.

He's big. I don't say that from a place of someone with no experience – I'd seen penises before. Just because his was the only one I'd seen in a sexual context didn't mean that I didn't recognize that he was much more well-endowed than the average male.

Before he's even completely inside of me, I feel full. This position was intimate, closer in a different way than how we had been with each other before. A little more desperate for one another after the months that we had been separated by circumstances. My breasts brushed against the hard plane of his chest, his arm was wrapped around my waist, ensuring that I remained close to him. It was perfect to look at him, to admire him for how perfect he was. And to see that certain softness in his eyes.

My hands wrap around his shoulders for support and without certainty, I lift my hips up a few inches, sinking back down on him. Jackson groaned out, nodding his head in the approval that he knew I needed. I do it again, and again, seeking out a comfortable rhythm. He was giving me a little more control, holding me tight at the same time.

But the control doesn't last long as we both become needier. Jackson's hands were on my hips holding me tight and it's not long before he's beginning to thrust upward into me with just as much needed. We keep going like that until there was only heat and need and the sound of flesh against flesh, salacious moans vibrating from our lips. It's still just me and him, nothing else in the world matter. Taking a hold of my neck, calling upon his energy once more, he drew out of me and thrust in again. I clawed at his arms and twist in the overload of pleasure my body was going through, feeling another impending orgasm coiling in my body. Judging by his own desperation, the sheen of sweat across both of us, so was he.

His hand mood down between us and began rubbing my clit furiously, fast and tight little circles intended to send me right over the edge. I cry out for him louder, unable to quiet myself or any of the noises that escaped past my lips with what he was doing.

"I'm– Jackson, I'm gonna–" I couldn't even begin to get the words out.

"Me too. C'mon, April." Jackson grunted, thrusting up into me once more, harder.

I muffled my cry of release by burying my face against his shoulder, feeling him spill hot inside me, his body taut and shaking, his breath harsh and loud as he came. There's something hot about the way that he finished, the way that he clutched onto me harder than he did before.

Moments pass while we both just focus on breathing, trying to regain control of our bodies once more. I shift off of his cock, back into his thighs for a moment, but I don't distance myself entirely. He took that correctly as a positive sign, leaning forward into me once more and kissing me. This time it's gentle, nearly chaste as if the two of us hadn't just torn into each other's bodies like wild animals. But that just made me love it all the more, returning it softly.

Jackson let go off my hips and I slip back onto the mattress, but he doesn't release me completely. His hand moved up to my face, cupping my cheek for a moment and stroking his thumb gently across my cheekbone. I don't have anything to say, can't find something smooth, and instead, I just smile and blush. He stood up, bending down almost immediately and kissing the top of my head.

But I don't want him to go. Not like our first time.

"Will you stay a little while?" I asked impulsively, chewing on my lower lip and looking up at him hopefully.

"Yeah," Jackson answered with a smile.

He pulled on his boxers once more and lowered himself back on the twin size bed of the on-call room. I adjusted to make room for him and he curled up against my backside, wrapping up behind me comfortably, an arm resting around my waist. Just like that, against the warmth of his bare chest and with a fluid part of him still inside of me, I fall asleep.