After seven hours of relentless work fueled solely by caffeine, Conrad has one very precious hour to rest and intends to take full advantage of it in an on-call room. His eyelids grow heavy as time goes by so there is no point anymore in fighting against the wave of exhaustion that is creeping over him. On the edge of well-earned sleep, he vaguely registers the door opening and closing, followed by the click of the lock. The mattress sags with the weight of a body that can only belong to Nic and he does not bother to open his eyes. Her scent is all around, pleasantly luring him into a relaxed state of mind that only she can provide.
They make the same intimate dance in the cover of darkness that is altogether too familiar to them. Conrad shifts and Nic molds herself to him, laying on her side while he holds her from behind. They finally settle down when he pulls her closer with one arm before she falls asleep, entirely tired herself.
Sometime later, a faint disturbance in the silence draws Conrad back to consciousness and he wakes up to the same darkness. There is a sigh at first, low and almost imperceptible, and any trace of sleep vanishes from him at once. Even though his eyes adjust rapidly to the absence of light, Conrad can only distinguish the outline of her body when her back arches, pushing her breast forward.
His mind is fully alert and his body so in tune with hers that when she releases a long moan in the form of his name, his eyes widen in recognition, mouth opens in shock. He contemplates the logistics of abandoning the bed, if only for a few seconds, to turn on the light and watch the vision that is Nic having a sex dream that features him while he is quite literally pressed flush against her. It does not matter in the end, he has neither will nor room to move since Nic has him firmly trapped between the wall and her hips, so he stays and for a while only takes short breaths, fearful of disturbing the dream.
Conrad is well acquainted with her pleasure expressions and his memory is all too eager to provide the clarity that darkness does not allow him to witness. To him, she is a glorious sight, even without seeing her, and he forgets all else when her legs press together as if trying to relieve the pressure building between them.
She goes on with soft moans that fluctuate both in intensity and pitch, Conrad is suddenly torn between allowing the dream to unfold and eventually fade away into the recesses of her mind or providing a layer of realism to whatever images of him her mind is conjuring.
It is not surprising when his own body voluntarily reacts to her sounds, blood rushes downwards making his pants feel uncomfortably tight against the curve of her ass. The novelty of Nic dreaming about him so vocally renders him briefly paralyzed, then he shudders all over when she presses against his erection, yet it does very little to alleviate the tension.
Unable to maintain self-control any longer, Conrad removes the ring from his index finger and lets it fall somewhere between their bodies. The tips of his fingers have been yearning for her since he woke up and he tentatively brushes the patch of skin that is exposed on her belly. At the lightness of his touch, he is immediately rewarded with a deep sigh and goosebumps erupting across her skin.
“Wake up baby, reality is much better,” he whispers hotly in her ear while his hand disappears under the waistband of the scrubs.
An indistinguishable murmur of voices passes by outside the room but he carries on safe in the knowledge that even nearly taken by fatigue Nic still had the presence of mind to lock the door when she arrived.
His fingers trace the lace trim of her panties and she finds the voice to urge him on.
"Please, Conrad," she breathes out heavily with desire. “Don’t stop.”
Obedient to her needs and always finding his own pleasure in hers, his hand travels lower between her legs to find her already aroused and wet, and he silently thanks dream Conrad for the head start. Nic yelps when his fingers press on the most sensitive spot, undoubtedly in contrast with the intangible dream, but eventually relaxes as soon as he starts to move them languidly. In that moment, locked inside a pocket of dark solitude inside the hospital chaos, there is only them connected by his hand.
A string of breathless profanities fall from her lips and the only part of his brain that is not yet fully consumed by blind desire takes smug satisfaction in the fact that he’s the only one able to make her lose composure in that way. Of all versions of Nic, the one that completely loses control in his arms is perhaps the one he loves the most.
Nic rolls towards him and her legs open wider, giving him nearly unrestrained access. The new angle makes her whimper and allows her to grasps a handful of his shirt to bring him closer. Their mouths clash clumsily, tongues brush along one another while his fingers move on her wet folds with ease, drawing skillful circles, just as she likes.
Conrad sucks gently on her lower lip and tastes the highs and lows of her moans, the high pitch when his fingers slide inside her while the thumb applies pressure to her clit, the low mumbles of a desperate need for release. In the darkness, those often-subtle inflections of her voice are the only cues that guide his hand and they all form a wonderful symphony that will soon culminate with biting her lip, clenching her fists and calling the divine until her voice fades away.
"Faster, yes, right there." She demands against his lips, gasping for air.
Her heartbeat is palpable in the way she clenches around his fingers, already close to release, and her whole body vibrates. But it’s not her at all. The right pocket of his pants vibrates again between them with a loud noise that cuts through their heavy breathing and he stops, fingers deep inside her, heart pounding.
Nic flinches away from the offending pager and deflates against the bed. All pleasure-induced frenzy is about to evaporate into the air, so she draws her knees together, trapping his hand in between and silently begging him not to leave. The pager beeps relentlessly, disregarding their immediate need for each other, until it eventually reaches the familiar 911 tone that cannot be ignored any longer.
Conrad curses loudly, reluctantly withdraws his hand from the warm pool between her legs and places a lingering kiss on her forehead by way of apology. Then he runs out of the room in a flash, leaving the door open and her body experiencing the most cruel absence of his touch.
"Rude." Nic mumbles under her breath, completely awake and unsatisfied.
To shield against the bright light that is now flooding the room and muffle a frustrated groan, Nic pulls the pillow over her face. There is a sharp pressure against her back and with blind fingers she finds his forgotten ring. Closing her hand around it, she runs her thumb over the smooth metal edges polished by years of constant nervous handling and hopes the repetitive motion sends her back to a dream where Conrad will not be interrupted.