Work Text:
Trinity Santos was reviewing labs at the nurses' station when Dr. Garcia appeared beside her, close enough that Trinity could smell the familiar scent of her bodywash. After just a few months working alongside her, a single breath was enough to make Trinity's heartbeat spike.
"Santos. A word?"
It wasn't a request. Trinity saved her work and followed Garcia to her office, surreptitiously checking to see if anyone was watching her. There were enough whispers about her without tossing more fuel on the fire.
Garcia closed the door and leaned against her desk, arms crossed. "I heard something interesting today."
Trinity's stomach tightened. "Oh?"
"Apparently you have a date tonight. With that new nurse. What was his name, Kim?”
Fuck. If Whitaker had squealed, Trinity was going to disembowel him. She crossed her arms, resisting the urge to hunch her shoulders. “Ken. It's just coffee. He seems nice."
"Nice," Garcia repeated. She was quiet for a moment, studying Trinity with that intense focus that always made Trinity feel laid bare. "Come here."
Trinity crossed the office until she was standing in front of Garcia's desk, heart quickening. Garcia didn't move, just watched her.
"I've been considering.” Garcia said slowly, “Considering this. You. What I should do.”
Trinity's stomach flipped. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I'm trying to decide if I should let you go." Garcia's tone was casual. "If I should allow you to waste your evening on someone who can't possibly satisfy you."
The word 'allow' sent a jolt of anger through Trinity's body, followed very closely by a surge of heat. Fuck. That should not turn her on as much as it did. She saw Garcia notice her reaction, saw the satisfaction flicker across her face. Trinity glared at her.
"You don't get to decide who I date.”
"Don't I?" Garcia rose, and with deliberate slowness, circled the desk, not looking away from Trinity. "If I told you right now not to go, would you?"
Trinity opened her mouth to say yes, to assert her independence, but realized with a shiver that she wasn’t sure. If Garcia looked her in the eyes and said no, Trinity didn’t know if she’d be able to defy her. Fuck, even thinking that was making her wet.
"That's what I thought." Garcia was close now.”You’re hoping I won’t. Hoping you won’t have to discover how tight the leash really is. But part of you wants me to, doesn’t it?”
"No," Trinity said, but her body betrayed her, swaying slightly toward Garcia.
"Liar." Garcia's hand came up to rest against Trinity's throat. “I know you, Trinity. And I know what you want better than you ever have.”
Trinity's breathing was quick and shallow, lightheaded even though Garcia hadn’t even squeezed. She felt like she was teetering on the edge of a scalpel.
"Here's what's going to happen," Garcia said, her thumb stroking along Trinity's jaw. "I'm going to let you go on your little date. You have my permission to have coffee with Ken.”
Trinity felt the anger in her gut rise up again, but it was struggling against the insidious tide of arousal that Garcia had awakened. She should have said, I don’t need your fucking permission, and walked out. Instead, she licked her lips, and whispered, “Why?”
Garcia patted her cheek. “Because I care about you. I want you to be happy, and I want you to learn. You’re like a child, reaching for the glowing coils of a stove, thinking how pretty they look. Sure, I could tell you not to touch it, but I’d be denying you the lesson. The chance to grow. If you think he has something to offer you, if you think he can make you happy, what kind of mentor would I be if I didn’t let you discover the truth for yourself?” Garcia’s hand squeezed for a moment, then released her. Trinity took a very, very small step back, trying not to sway.
“What truth?” Much to her embarrassment, the depth of condescension in Garcia’s voice had Trinity so turned on, she was starting to worry that she was going to need new scrubs.
Garcia pressed a thumb against her lip, and Trinity couldn’t stop them from parting.“That you won’t be able to stop thinking about me. That no matter what happens on the date, you’ll come crawling back to me to get what you really need. That every time he touches you, you’ll wish it was me. That you belong to me, Trinity.” Instead of pressing into Trinity’s willing mouth, Garcia released her, and strolled back around the desk.
“I don’t belong to anyone.”
Garcia was already picking up a file and flipping through it, “Whatever you say, Trinity. Shut the door on your way out.”
Trinity left, and spent the rest of the shift suffering through the experience of working in very wet panties. She had spares. She wasn’t stupid. Unfortunately, she’d recently moved her stash to Garcia’s office, since that was where she usually ended up needing them, and she was not going back and asking for a pair.
At the end of the shift, she went home, showered, and got dressed. She spent the better part of five minutes trying to find underwear Garcia had not fucked her in, then gave up and settled on a cute black lace set, hoping she’d be able to to forget the fact that just three weeks ago, she’d been riding straddling Garcia’s thigh with these panties stuffed in her mouth to muffle the desperate sound of her pleasure.
Ken was waiting outside the coffee shop when Trinity arrived, and he smiled when he saw her, warm and genuine. When he offered to pay, she protested, he insisted, and Trinity felt a flare of interest. Garcia always insisted on paying for her.
They found a table by the window and Ken asked about her day. Trinity told him about a challenging procedure, and he listened attentively, asked intelligent questions, seemed genuinely interested. He was easy to talk to. Comfortable.
Safe.
The thought made Trinity's stomach twist. Dammit, when had she started thinking of 'safe' as a negative again?
"You okay?" Ken asked, and Trinity realized she'd zoned out mid-sentence.
"Sorry, yeah. Just tired. Long shift."
"I bet." He smiled sympathetically. "Dr. Garcia really keeps you hopping, huh?”
At the mention of Garcia's name, Trinity's whole body responded, heart fluttering, skin heating, the ghost sensation of Garcia's hand on her throat making her breath catch. She took a sip of coffee to cover her reaction.
"She's an excellent mentor,” Trinity managed.
"She clearly thinks highly of you. I don’t think I’ve heard her say more than two nice words about anyone’s work except yours.”
Trinity wondered what Ken would think if he knew exactly how Garcia talked about her work. How she'd whisper "you were so fucking competent today" while bending Trinity over her desk, three fingers buried inside her.
"Trinity?" Ken was looking at her with concern. "You sure you're okay? We can reschedule if you're too tired."
"No, I'm fine. Tell me about you. Where did you train?"
Ken launched into a story about his nursing program, animated and funny, and Trinity tried to focus. You won’t be able to stop thinking about me. Fuck, she was trying. Trying so hard. But when she looked at Ken’s hands, all she could think of was Garcia’s hand on her throat.
You belong to me.
She didn't belong to Garcia. She didn’t.
"That's when I realized I was talking to the wrong patient!” Ken was saying, laughing at himself, and Trinity forced herself to laugh too, even though she'd missed most of the story.
Ken didn't seem to notice. He kept talking, kept being charming and self-deprecating and nice. So fucking nice. Trinity wanted to appreciate it. At one point, she saw him move his hand as if he was going to take hers, then hesitate. Do it. Come on. Don’t ask if it’s okay, just do it.
His eyes searched her face for permission, and when he didn’t find it, he drew back. It was sweet. It was polite. And it made her feel vaguely ill.
After they finished their coffee, he walked her to her car.
He asked her if she would get dinner with him that weekend.
Trinity said yes, because she was an adult who could make her own decisions.
Then she drove straight to Garcia's apartment.
Garcia answered the door in a robe, hair damp from the shower, and her smile was knowing and amused. "That was quick."
"Shut up," Trinity said, pushing past her into the apartment.
"How was your date?" Garcia asked, closing the door and leaning against it. "Did he kiss you goodnight?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I left early." Trinity turned to face her, feeling exposed and angry and desperately aroused. "Because you were right. Because I spent the whole time thinking about you and it wasn't fair to him."
"No," Garcia agreed, moving closer. "It wasn't." Her hands went to the belt of her robe. "Are you angry with me, Trinity?"
"Yes."
"Good." The robe fell open, revealing Garcia's naked body underneath, and Trinity's mouth went dry. "Show me."
Trinity closed the distance between them, gritted her teeth... and then she shoved her. Hard. Garcia stumbled back a step, surprise flickering across her face before it transformed into something darker, more predatory.
"Feel better?" Garcia asked, her voice dangerously soft.
"No." Trinity shoved her again, channeling all her frustration and anger and desperate need into the movement. This time, Garcia only rocked back a step. “I hate you. I hate this. I hate feeling like this.” She felt suddenly on the verge of tears. She went to shove Garcia a third time.
Garcia caught her wrists, twisted, and suddenly, she had Trinity’s arms behind her back, and was slamming her up against the wall. Garcia’s forearm came up and pressed hard against Trinity’s throat. When Trinity tried to move her arms out from behind her back, Garcia leaned forward, cutting off air, and hissed, “Don’t. Move.”
Trinity froze.
Garcia’s other hand found the waistband of Trinity’s pants, undid the belt with practiced efficiency, and yanked pants and panties halfway down her thighs. Trinity made another attempt at resistance, but the arm against her throat pressed forward and she stopped. Garcia’s fingers found her cunt, and cupped it, possessive and smugly pleased. “Mmm. That doesn’t feel like you hate me. That feels like you hate how much you want me. You hate how much you need me.”
“That's… the same… thing.” Even without pressure, breathing was getting hard, and she tried to grind against Garcia’s hand to distract herself.
“No, it’s not, baby. You don’t hate me. You love me. Isn’t that right?”
Trinity tried to get enough breath to deny it, but Garcia sunk two fingers into her, and Trinity’s eyes fluttered shut. Garcia was right, she needed this so badly it hurt. But needing it hurt almost as much. “Come on, Trinity. You’re a big girl. You’re strong enough to admit it. Tell me the truth. Tell me you’re in love with me. Tell me you have been since the first time I touched you. Tell me that no one else will ever be enough.”
Trinity shook her head, frantic and dizzy, and trying to focus on the fingers, not on the words. But the fingers stopped, and she thrashed with frustration. Her anger seemed to be slipping away, and in its place was something much less easy to face. “I don’t…. want… to be in love with you.”
"I know." Garcia's voice was surprisingly gentle. The arm over her throat backed off, and Garcia cupped her chin with that hand instead. "It would be easier if you weren't. If this was just sex, just stress relief. But it's not, is it?" Her fingers inside Trinity sped up, and Trinity whimpered.
“No.”
“That’s right, baby. Tell me the truth.”
The words burst free of Trinity’s lips in a torrent. “I love you.” Saying the words felt like having her ribs pried open. “I love you and I hate it. I hate—” A third finger pressed into her, and a shudder went through her body as she struggled to get the words out. “—that I need you. I hate that I can’t think of anyone but you. I hate that you did this to me.”
"I know," Garcia said again, and, despite a wordless sound of protest from Trinity, withdrew her fingers, and leaned down to kiss her with unexpected tenderness. "I know, baby. And I'm sorry."
The gentleness and the deprivation of touch undid Trinity completely. She started crying in earnest. Garcia guided her down to the floor, until they were both seated, and then pulled Trinity into her lap.
"I'm sorry," Garcia murmured "I'm sorry I make this so hard for you. I'm sorry you can't be happy with someone sweet and nice who treats you like a princess.” She pulled back to look at Trinity, wiping away her tears with her thumb. "But I'm not sorry enough to let you go."
Her fingers slipped back into Trinity, and began to fuck her with familiar confidence and immaculate skill. It didn’t take her long before Trinity was shuddering on the edge for her, hands grasping at Garcia’s thighs. Her fingers slowed for a second.
“Say it again, baby. Tell me the truth.”
Trinity’s mind was a burning white incandescence of pleasure, and she tried to get herself over the edge, but Garcia held her firm, and after a few more seconds, Trinity found her voice, and began to babble.
“I love you, I love you, I love you, I lo—” Garcia’s fingers thrust into Trinity with each repetition, and on the fourth, Trinity came with a scream, the word elongating into a sound of pure surrender, the white fire in her mind expanding to consume the world.
When it faded, she was curled up in Garcia’s lap, limp and shivery. Garcia was stroking her hair, and murmuring something that sounded like “There’s a good girl,” over and over, making Trinity flush. Had Garcia said the most terrifying three words Trinity knew back to her? Did she want her to?
Garcia noticed her opening her eyes, and leaned down, kissing her on the forehead. “You’re mine, baby. Don’t you forget that again.”
Hers. Belonging to Yolanda Garcia was terrifying in its own way, but god, it was easier to handle than love. And it was so much easier to convince herself she deserved it.
“I won’t.”