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chattahoochiecoochie · 1 year

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Patients, Plural

Summary: A bengals athletic trainer gets caught up with her favorite and his friend.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: mild dub con / inappropriate workplace behavior

A/N: Apparently I don’t have rules or boundaries because this is X Reader which is against all of the above. So fuck it, I guess let me know if you want more, of whatever this is specifically.

“Pigtails today, huh?” Sam is laying back, staring at you like he always does, with that funny look in his eye like he might know something he shouldn’t.

“Yup.” You pop the ‘P’, trying to seem nonchalant as you work your way up from his knee. It’s always a knee, one or the other.

He comes in, limping a little, wincing when you finally get up to his thigh. Always hiding the same slight smirk when you tell him to take his leg out of his pants—just the one—so you can tape him up. He always goes for both legs, pretending to be flustered when you tell him you only need the problem leg undressed.

So that's where you are now, face to face with his problem leg, trying not to blush as he flexes beneath your touch. It's worse today, with two sets of eyes on you. Joe Burrow is in the chair behind you, waiting with more patience than Sam has probably ever held a day in his whole life. But he’s looking at you, watching—albeit with a different look in his eye than Sam.

“It’s cute.”

You say nothing, biting your tongue as you wrap the black tape around his kneecap, one hand tracing over it as you press it to his skin.

“You’re cute.” He twists slightly beneath you, looking over at Joe. “She’s cute, isn’t she?”

Joe says nothing, and though your back is to him, you’re sure he’s probably blushing like you are, shy under Sam’s dangerous tone.

“Joey thinks you’re cute too.”

You sigh, looking at the warped tape, your work messed up by his movement. Committed to the bit, Sam sees the frustration on your face and puts a hand over yours, swinging his legs off the table as he hoists himself up to sit in front of you.

“You know, it actually feels pretty good. Thanks for taking a look at it.” He shakes his leg for good measure, knee knocking against your thigh. Somehow, he’s still holding your hand, and when you pull away, his grip tightens. Smiling at you, he rips the tape off his knee with his free hand.

“Your turn Joey.” Sliding off the table, he stands in front of you for a moment before letting you go, moving to stand beside you. “I think I’ll watch.”

“Your quad again?” You look at Joe, trying to keep your tone professional. He nods, standing up from the chair. God he’s tall. They both are. Sam’s taller, bigger too, but they’re both so damn tall. For a moment, you falter, getting lost as you stand between the two of them.

“‘Kay, get that right leg out for me and hop up here.” He’s wearing shorts, always more thoughtful than Sam is.

With broad hands, he tucks the hemline into his briefs and hops onto the table with his thigh exposed.

All too aware of Sam behind you, you turn your fractured attention to Joe, prodding him with delicate hands to identify the source of his discomfort. Where Sam is always a knee, Joe is always a thigh. For a moment, you find the pattern between the two of them. It slips from your grasp as Sam inches closer, until his chest grazes your shoulder.

Shuddering at the touch, you blink slowly, trying to look harder at the man lying in front of you. “Here? How about here?”

With a soft groan he tenses beneath your touch. The area is tight to the touch—at least he’s not a faker.

Pressing your fingers deeper, you feel around the area for more tightness. Behind you, Sam shifts, bracing against the table.

“I thought I was special.” From the corner of your eye you can see him pouting slightly. “You touch everyone like this?”

“I’m a trainer.”

“Did you think you were special, Joey?”

“I am.”

“Oh Mister Quarterback thinks he’s special.”

“I am.” Taking the bait, Joe looks up at you with a glint in his eye. “Aren’t I?”

It’s unconscious, the way you play into his hand. He’s trickier than Sam, with those baby blue eyes and long lashes. It seems so innocent.

“Very.” You turn away from them both, reaching for your tape, regret only flashing through your mind when you turn back to find Joe smirking at his friend.

“She thinks I’m very special.” He swats Sam across the stomach. “I’m probably her favorite patient.”

“I—” Yes, yes definitely.

“He’s your favorite? Joey’s your favorite patient?”

“I don’t…” You falter, suddenly very aware of the way Sam is standing against you.

“You don’t have favorites?”

“Careful, Sam gets jealous easy.” Joe laughs, his nose wrinkling as the sound rings out.

“I’m not jealous.” A hand is in your hair suddenly. From the corner of your eye you can see Sam winding his fingers through the end of one of your pigtails. “Not yet.”

Joe has a serious look on his face suddenly, and he’s tense beneath you. Leaning on your hands for balance you pry away from Sam’s looming figure. How long have you been holding his leg like this?

“Does Joey get special treatment? Since he’s your favorite?” It’s so hot in here, and Joe’s on fire beneath you. You’re still holding him? “Do you blush when you touch him? You get all rosy when you work on me, I bet you blush for Joe don’t you?”

“I…”

It’s hazy, the scene before you. Sam’s voice is deep and soft, softer than the hip of his that's digging into your back. When did Joe sit up? Your hands are on his thighs still, fingers spread across the broad space.

“You kiss him better? Your favorite patient?” Sam's hand is on your back, crawling towards your waist until he’s holding you steady against the table, between Joe’s spread legs. “She kiss it better for you Joey?”

“I don’t.” It's weak, your voice. Why does it sound so small?

“But you want to don’t you?” Sam’s breath is on your ear, he’s leaning down next to you, the scruff of his chin grazing you gently. They’d walked into your room together today, smirking at each other now that you were trying to remember. What had Sam been saying? Why hadn’t you paid more attention? “You wanna kiss Joey better?” There's his voice, pulling your attention back.

Without thinking, you dig your fingers into Joe’s skin, trying to find something to hold onto. Kiss who? Kiss him.

In your periphery, Sam is nodding. Why is he—oh.

Joe is kissing you, cupping your chin as his mouth works over yours. He’s so soft, so gentle against you. There's a whimper lost between the two of you, caught as he slides his tongue over your lip. Somewhere behind you, there's the distant sound of a door shutting and a lock falling into place. That's good.

A hand leaves his lap, finding the nape of his neck, your fingers work through his hair while he nips at you. He’s even gentle then, biting at you, with a grin you can feel. Another whimper leaves your lips as you press against the table, trying to get closer to him. Sucking at his lip, you let the palm of your other hand dig deeper into his thigh, sighing when he takes a hold of your wrist and pulls you even closer.

There's weight behind you suddenly—Sam. Before you can react, his hand is back on your waist where it had been moments earlier, and his breath is on your neck, and then his mouth.

You falter against Joe, shivering as Sam kisses the side of your neck. “’S’okay.” He whispers against you, his other hand coming up to hold your chin steady. Together, he and Joe both now have a hold on your face. Broad hand around your neck, you relax into Sam’s grasp, lost between the two of them.

It’s dizzying, when they finally let you up for air, Sam’s hand even softer on you as Joe’s falls away completely. Hands in his lap, his forehead rests on yours, a loose curl trapped between the two of you. He’s breathing heavily, and his cheeks are flushed pink. God he’s pretty.

“I think Sam feels left out.” You follow his eyes to your right, catching Sam’s gaze. “Go on.” Joe's voice is gentle, and soon his hand replaces Sam’s on your waist.

With far less grace, Sam presses himself against you. He’s rougher to the touch, the scruff on his chin rough against you as he kisses you. He’s heavier on you, and he bites harder, nipping at your lip like he means it, tugging on it until you relax into him. There's a warm feeling spreading through you when he finally lets up a little, sucking on your tongue as he holds you by the throat. Tighter, you think.

You must say it out loud, into his mouth, because his grip is stronger suddenly, fingers pressed into the side of your neck as he kisses you harder.

A hand still on your waist—is it Joey’s still? Another grabs at the one still in Joe’s lap, splaying your fingers across something warm. Twisting in Sam’s grasp, your eyes open. Hand over yours, Joe has you touching him. A whimper rises in your throat and Sam’s grip tightens again.

Releasing your mouth, he turns his attention back to your neck, relaxing only enough to let you look down at Joe’s lap. He’s hard under your hand, thighs flexed as he strains against your touch.

“I think Joey’s sore, baby.” Sam’s hand is falling from your neck, sliding down until he’s got your breast in his palm, rolling the sensitive skin under his fingers. “You don’t want your favorite patient sore, now do you?”

Your head shakes, and before you can think about it, Joe is helping you with the waistband of his shorts. God he’s—whose hand is that?

Still pressed to your back, Sam has a hand over your breast and another over the front of your leggings, his fingers grazing your center. “Joe, baby, worry about him. I’ll worry about you.” I’ll worry about you. Has Sam’s voice always been so deep?

Leaning back on the table, Joe has a hand braced behind him, and the other on the band of his shorts, holding them down as you turn your attention back to him. It’s big, just like the rest of him. Ignoring how heavy he is, you wrap your hand around it, shuddering as Sam touches you again.

There's a brief blur, as you begin to stroke Joe, all while trying to focus through Sam’s hands. He’s being so, so rough. Faltering against Joe, you shudder as Sam pulls your leggings down, tearing through the fabric.

You don’t know what happens first, but there's a hand at the back of your head, and one around your throat and you're choking for a moment. Joe’s cock is still in your hand but now he’s in your mouth, leaking onto your tongue. Behind you, Sam has his fingers on you—no—in you.

“That’s a good girl.” Joe’s voice sounds sweet, earnest, despite the vulgarity of the situation. You’re smiling at his tone when he pushes further into your mouth. When he moans, you’re grinning.

“Such a good girl, kissing Joe better while I touch you.” You're dripping around his fingers, warmth spreading down your thighs as he works his fingers within you. “You want more baby? You think she can take more, Joey?”

Through heavy eyes you look up in time to see Joey nodding weakly, jaw slack as he keeps himself steady against the back of your throat. I can, I can take more, please, Sam. You nod too, spit slipping down your chin.

And that's all it takes, in an instant, his fingers are replaced by something much bigger, and when you think it’s almost too much, just when you start to choke, he’s moving against you, hands braced at your sides as he grips the table in front of you.

“Just like that Sam, fuck.” Joe tenses, his thighs flexing as you rock against him. “God I wish you could see her face.”

“Yeah?”

“She’s so pretty.” Joe looks down at you, that same, earnest look in his bright blue eyes. “You’re such a pretty girl, taking him like that, choking all over me. She’s trying so hard.”

He’s still talking moments later, even when you’ve gotten lost again, and when he tenses again, he doesn’t stop. “Sam, dude, I can’t—fuck. God she’s so—Jesus Christ.” Babbling incoherently, his cock throbs against your lips until he’s spilling down the back of your throat, eyes rolling in his head.

You’ve hardly let him go when Sam follows. Hands tight on your waist, he bears down against you, chest pressed tight on you as he comes hard. And that’s it. It’s over in an instant, the heat of the moment gone, leaving only the wet feeling between your legs and the dribble of spit on your chin behind as evidence.

Body limp, you crumple against Joe’s chest, breathing heavy in time with the rising and falling of his shoulders. His heartbeat is loud and fast, thundering in his chest as you rest on him, unable to move.

With a hand on your cheek, he pulls you closer, using his shirt to wipe at your chin. In a moment of clarity later you would realize the sweetness of it, but for now, you just whimper into his hand, letting your tired eyes close as he holds you.

“Shhh.” Stroking your face with his thumb, you can hear movement behind you. Sam’s calloused hands are on you, tugging your leggings back up. With fingers too thick for fine work, he fumbles with the waistband, trying to smooth it out across your skin.

“There she is. How’s my favorite trainer?” Joe tilts your chin, meeting your eyes with a smirk playing on his lips. Really, really good.

“I…” Have you always stuttered this much? “I’m good.”

“Yeah?”

“Tired?” He presses a kiss to the crown of your head, laughing.

“Thirsty?” It's the first thing you think of, cheeks pink with a twinge of embarrassment. They seem so put together, why are you such a mess?

“Yeah? You wanna get a beer, with your favorite patient maybe?”

“Patients. Plural.” Sam's voice is low and clear behind them. “It was my idea, after all.”

A/N: Find the next part here.

#HELL.#IN A HANDBASKET.#me for writing it you for reading it #and x reader????#😭😭😭#chattahoochiecoochie writes #joe burrow #sam hubbard #joe burrow smut #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fic #joe burrow fanfic #sam hubbard smut #bengals smut #idk what to tag this I'm so ashamed

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