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"Fuck, Yoli, just like that," a breathy moan leaves Trinity's lips, her head thrown back.
Yolanda is above her – one hand pinning her hands above her head, the other one working below. The pace is almost brutal in it's force, quick strokes inside clenching walls – set only to get her off, to overwhelm Trinity's senses. Make her forget her own name, and only whine Yolanda's in return.
Yolanda. Yolanda. Yolanda.
"You look so pretty like this, baby," the older woman shifts to move her head near Trinity's ear.
The moans leaving Trinity's mouth are throaty in their nature. Not even moans, whimpers – one beginning and not quite ending when another is spilling out again.
Her hips are moving upwards, eagerly meeting Yolanda's long digits. Her milky thighs are shaking, covered in sweat and sweetness. It's almost like a dance – their souls intertwined and living off of each other.
Yolanda whispers something and Trinity turns her head to the side. She can't hear her, she thinks in confusion and she opens her eyes.
A semi-dark room greets her. Sunshine hasn't seeped in through the curtains yet but Trinity can tell its morning. Summertime has always looked different – distinct – to her. She groans and reaches for her phone, turning off the buzzing of the alarm. She silences it with more force than necessary, arm flopping back across the empty and cold side of the bed.
Empty?
She turns around, still sleepy and very much in her dream, to find Yolanda gone. The side of her bed is made up (the woman cannot not do her morning rituals, Trinity thinks and rolls her eyes), the glass of water that is usually at her bedside table gone, as well as her phone and her necklace. Clear tells that the curly haired woman isn't home. Trinity scoffs and lets her head fall back onto the pillows.
She lies there for a moment, staring at the ceiling, still half-submerged in the dream, her body hot all over. She feels the sweat sticking to her body, the slickness between her legs. Very much bothered by it, Trinity lets out a low groan that no one is around to hear.
She picks up her phone again. It shines an artificial light onto her face, and she squints at the device. There are a few texts from the culprit.
Got called in earlier, didn’t want to wake you.
Please eat something before your shift. I love you ❤️
Trinity stares at the messages like they’re a personal offence. She knows she is being unreasonable – her wife is a surgeon, and Trinity understands the job better than most people in the world even could. But she is already annoyed. Because she is horny, and there is no Yolanda. And because she has to get out of the house in half an hour.
Shit, she has to hurry.
Trinity lets out another groan from the back of her throat for good measure, hoping it'll soothe some of her emotions and then she moves. She puts her phone down, plugs it in to charge when she notices it at a lower percentage than she would like it at and gets up – pads down to the kitchen out of old instinct before remembering she can’t have caffeine either.
She arrives at work with 10 minutes to spare, throwing her things into the hub and rushing to the bathroom. She makes it just in time.
She had really hoped she would be in the minority.
Around seventy percent of pregnant women get morning sickness in the first trimester – a statistic Trinity has known long before it was ever personally relevant to her. She was happy at first, having not gotten a single queasy feeling for the first eight weeks, and thought she was in the clear up until last Thursday when it hit her like a truck in the middle of an incoming trauma. It hasn’t really eased since, and the first hours of the day were horrible. Because of course she got the one that prompted her to throw up a lot of the time too.
She cleans herself up at the sink, rinses her mouth as best as she can, pops a piece of spearmint gum in and goes back out.
Dennis is already at the hub, waiting for her. He is leaning against the counter with an iPad in hand, looking through the night shift charts.
If anyone had told Trinity back then – on the first day of her residency – that she would still be kicking it alongside Dennis Whitaker six years later, she would’ve laughed in their face. At first, he had been insufferable, especially as her roommate, blasting his shitty music while cooking or leaving his dirty socks on the couch, but the rat boy had quickly become her best friend. And probably will stay for the rest of her life, Trinity thinks.
“Are you alright?” He asks.
“Peachy, Dr. Whiskerter,” Trinity walks right past him to grab one of the iPads off the rack. She logs on and then looks up, rolling her eyes slightly. “I’m fine, just a bit nauseous. You know how it is.”
He did know how it is, actually. As it happens, Dennis has a kid of his own already. He met his wife (of two years now) Eden in a karaoke bar of all places, a nurse that worked over at pedes. The child was a thing that came to be a year ago, conceived by accident – information that was handed to her against her will and one she did not want to think about. Her godson is cute though. Unbearably, annoyingly cute. And although she won’t admit it to anyone, least of all Dennis, the kid had actually been a significant part of why she was two months pregnant now.
“Okay,” Dennis sighs. “Well, have you eaten something?” Dennis asks instead. He knew about her eating habits, and while they have definitely improved (especially with Yolanda by her side), Trinity could still slip into her old ways, even more so on busy weeks like these.
“I haven’t had time yet.” Trinity is moving again already – they do have to start handoffs. Better sooner than later, she thinks. He is fast to catch up with her though, used to her and to the pace of the ED.
“Trinity, you know not eating makes the nausea worse.”
“What are you?” Trinity only scoffs in return. "A doctor?"
But Huckleberry turns out to be right. She does not eat in the upcoming hours, and it does make her feel worse. She tells herself she definitely will after patient number four. But then a construction site accident comes in, and it is a worse case than they are initially warned about and then there is a kid in Central Eight with an asthma attack bad enough to make her stomach drop, and then the feeling passes altogether.
It is now eleven in the morning. They have yet another trauma incoming. She is, unfortunately, the only attending on today’s day shift. Dr. Al-Hashimi is on holiday for the next few weeks – travelling Spain with her son. Trinity knows she put the notice in months ago, and she knows she has no right to be annoyed about it, but the feelings swirl in her chest anyway. She left her alone. During her first trimester! One that is notoriously known for being the hardest one! Not that the other woman knows anyways, Trinity thinks. She has chosen not to tell anyone, not until she’s further along and cannot hide it anymore, in fear of anything going wrong. She did not need the pity after.
Deep down, though, she suspects people already know (even finds herself mindlessly checking the betting board every few hours too). They are all doctors and nurses – they see symptoms like hers every day. And she will admit her excuse of quitting caffeine for sleep and heart health reasons hasn’t been very convincing, not for her (who was used to four caffeinated beverages per day) and not in the middle of June anyways. Perhaps they should've done this during New Years.
“What’s the ETA?” Trinity asks Dana. There is one thing that still hasn’t changed around here and it’s this woman.
“Two minutes.” Dana looks at her over the top of her glasses.
“Okay – Whitaker, Lee, I want you with me.” She points at the fellow and the intern, David Lee, who is currently sitting down drinking a Monster. She likes Lee (they are both from UCLA after all – a fact Trinity was perhaps too excited to relay to Yolanda). The intern is a quieter and meeker person than she ever was, but she likes giving them a little push. They are a competent doctor who never ceases to impress her, and this will be a great learning opportunity – the kind she would have definitely sought out herself as a first-year resident.
Three minutes later the patient is getting wheeled into Trauma One.
"Mr. Elliot Connor, 27," the paramedic rattles off. "Pedestrian versus vehicle. Tried to chase a cat and got hit. Car didn't stop – clocked him going at least forty. Chest looked okay on scene, but he's been off his right side. BP's been dropping – 95 over 60 on scene, 89 over 57 on the way. Pulse is 102. No meds, no known allergies."
"Okay." She's at the patient's side before the gurney's even stopped. "Elliot, I'm Dr. Santos, I'm going to take care of you, okay? Can you tell me where it hurts?"
"Everywhere," Elliot gets out. His glassy eyes find her, face squinted tight with pain, sweat already beading at his forehead and plastering his hair to it.
"Yeah, I bet." She throws a glance back at the paramedics. "You didn't give him anything?"
"50 of ket on field." They roll him through the Trauma One doors.
"Okay," Trinity nods. They position around the length of the patient. "On my count – one, two, three." They lift in unison, transferring him across to the gurney in the middle of the room. Elliot makes a low sound in his throat and then the paramedics are stepping away – their job here is done.
"How bad is it?"
Trinity ignores Elliot's question, instead moving her hands across the base of his immobilized neck, then his chest, carefully examining along his ribcage until he flinches hard under her fingers on the right. All the while, the nurses are moving around them, cutting off his clothes. "You have a broken rib…or three."
At the same time, Whitaker is moving on the other side of her, penlight shining in both of the patients eyes. "Elliot, can you squeeze my hand for me?"
She turns to Lee. They have their stethoscope out and are moving it across Elliot's chest. "What do you think?"
"Breath sounds are decreased on the right. He's tachy. BP's falling–"
"So?"
"Probably hemorrhagic shock, ugh," the intern swallows, looking up expectantly. "Two large-bore IVs, fluids, whole blood–" Trinity nods at the nurses who are already moving, having done this countless times before. Lee continues. "We also need a type and cross and a complete lab workup–"
"And?"
"E-FAST?"
"Ding ding ding."
"Pupils equal and reactive," Whitaker says from the other side, looking over the patient. "Grip's weak on the left though."
Trinity is already preparing for the ultrasound. Normally she would have the residents do it, whilst she herself stayed back and oversaw, but they don't have much time, and they are the only three doctors here. A nurse pours gel over Elliot's abdomen and Trinity has the probe in her hand in seconds. She leans in to watch the screen and there it is – free fluid and the right lung not sliding the way it should be.
She exhales through her nose. "Hemothorax–" she says to the room, rolling her eyes. "He's bleeding into the chest cavity. Someone page surgery."
She knows the consult that will come down will be Yolanda. She was seemingly done with the surgeries, and Trinity knew that because she has been carefully and intentionally ignoring her phone that has buzzed four times in the last hour. Twice just before the trauma came in, likely because Trinity has yet to respond to the messages.
"Already here," comes a voice behind her. Trinity shuts her eyes. Just her luck.
Trinity moves her head to the side to find Yolanda. She is standing right beside the doorway, eyes already moving over the scene in front of her. She crosses over to the gurney, assessing.
"Talk me through it." Yolanda says, and it takes Trinity a few seconds to realize she's talking to Lee and not her.
The intern straightens up and presents the case. "Pedestrian struck at speed. Blunt thoracic and abdominal trauma – hemothorax on the right, E-FAST also shows free fluid in the abdomen, possi–"
"Sats are dropping." Someone calls out. "90."
"Shit–"
"Mm," Yolanda has already pulled on a pair of sterile gloves and is moving to her side. Her scent engulfs her. The heightened sense of smell is yet another one of her first trimester joys – one she finds both annoying and extremely useful at times. Right now, it's both. She is wearing the fragrance Trinity recently got her and it's acting like a pheromone. She is in a perpetual state of arousal, all because Yolanda is in the same space as her. "Glove up. If Dr. Santos doesn't mind that is?"
It is the first time Yolanda addresses her directly and Trinity hates how much it affects her. She is looking down on her, courtesy of their slight height difference, and her voice is raspy with a hint of amusement, as if she knows how distracted Trinity is right now. It takes everything in Trinity to not lose her focus and form words in her mind.
"They're all yours, Dr. Garcia."
"Good." Yolanda tips her head toward the gurney. "Come here."
Lee moves to her side – Trinity stepping back to make space – and Yolanda positions them efficiently. "Fifth intercostal space," she says, one hand guiding the interns to the right landmark of Elliot's chest wall. "Anterior axillary line. You feel that?"
"Yes."
"Good. Don't move your fingers." She talks them through the incision, her voice even and low and seemingly completely unbothered by the fact the monitor above them is beeping. She has the stillness that Trinity has only ever seen in surgeons who have done something so many times it's become routine – who know that panic will not make anything better, won't make their hands faster.
"Now the tube – angle it – yes, just like that – there you go. Push."
Of fucking course she would choose those words, Trinity thinks. Sadist. Lee pushes the tube in and immediately there is a rush of dark blood in the collection chamber. The tension in the room drops several degrees, as the numbers on the monitor do the opposite, now reading 92. Then climbing up to 93 and 95.
"Excellent work," Yolanda says and stands. The two words make Lee stand a little straighter.
Trinity watches them from afar with her hands crossed. She can feel Dennis staring at her, probably wondering why she looks so annoyed (he definitely wouldn't enjoy the answer). She keeps half her attention on Elliot – watches the color that’s returning to his face, the stabilizing numbers – and gives the other half to Yolanda. She stares at her hands (the same fingers that she would give almost anything to have on her right now) and the way her mouth is moving as she explains the securing suture to Lee, precise and direct.
The thing is that it shouldn't be as distracting as it is. Yolanda being good at her job is not new information to anyone. Trinity has seen her work hundreds of times, worked cases with her from day one, has seen the lengths she goes to keep up with the newest surgical tendencies. But watching her right now is only reminding her of her morning, and seeing the proficiency in which Yolanda does things is making her hot all over again.
Which is why she is grateful when Dana materializes at her elbow.
"Dr. Santos, they need you. Sixteen's gettin' twitchy."
She leaves Dennis in charge and goes, pulling off the gloves from her hands.
South Sixteen keeps her longer than she would like. The patient is a 58-year-old with a long history of heart problems. She looks over the ECG – nothing concerning – and then explains the information in four different ways to her husband and adult son. On the way back she also gets intercepted in the hallway by the sister of a patient (a forearm fracture from two hours ago) who has several more questions for her. By the time she makes it back to Trauma One they're wheeling Elliot out to the OR. The room is already half-stripped around him, staff moving with the efficiency of people who have done this so many times it's become muscle memory.
Yolanda stays back. "Hey."
"Hey."
"You doing okay?" Yolanda asks.
"Fine," Trinity moves towards the disinfectant dispenser, lathering her hands. The smell of the sanitizer makes her squint her face in displeasure. The other woman follows her movements. "Thank you for the little teaching moment, by the way. They're getting better."
"It's no problem, we're a teaching hospital," she replies with a smile and follows Trinity to the hub. Her expression becomes more serious. "You haven't been answering my texts. Have you taken a break?"
"It's been busy here. I have to go check on my charts."
"Trinity, have you even sat down?"
"I'm sitting down now." Trinity looks at her wife and plops down on the wheeled chair, swiping her badge and logging onto the computer.
"That's not what I meant, Trin," Yolanda sighs. "You've been on your feet this whole time?"
"So have you. Probably," the ED attending stands up again, moving to grab an iPad. "Not that I've seen you much today." She mutters.
Yolanda is quiet for a moment, and Trinity can make a guess as to why. She is being dismissive, she knows that, but the annoyance and agitation she feels right now seem uncontrollable. She can feel the older woman looking at her – a look that holds all of Yolanda's attention and has always been impossible to ignore. She keeps her eyes glued to the iPad, pretending to read.
"Did you eat?"
"Yolanda."
"It's a simple question."
"Well, have you?" She only retorts back. She can't lie though and makes herself look up, meet Yolanda's brown orbs directly. It's a mistake, really, because the older woman is looking at her with concern plastered all over her face. "I'm fine, I promise. It was a busy morning, I'll eat lunch."
"It's nearly one, Trinity. It's lunch now."
"I'm not one of your patients." Trinity rolls her eyes and starts walking. Where? She doesn't know yet.
"I know that." Something shifts in Yolanda's tone and she follows her.
"Great! Then stop hovering." Trinity makes a gesture with her arms in irritation. Her words come out sharper than she means them to. She knows that from the way Yolanda pauses before answering. Shit.
"I'm not hovering, I'm asking my wife if she has eaten." A beat follows. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience."
Yolanda says it all pleasantly enough that it wouldn't draw unwanted attention and could pass as neutral, but they've been together long enough for Trinity to catch the slight edge underneath it all. The surgeon moves to the direction of the stairs.
"Page me if anything comes in." She adds. Professional and work-appropriate but managing to communicate just how much frustration she is holding, and then she's gone. Yolanda only takes the stairs if she has emotions she doesn't know where to put, the younger woman realizes way too late.
Trinity stands in the middle of the hallway for a moment. She presses two fingers to the bridge of her nose and exhales slowly.
"Yeah," she says. "Will do."
She walks over to the board. Chest pain in West Thirteen she still hasn't checked out, odd rashes in Room Twenty she does not want to check out, and another abundance of patients. She sighs, wondering if she'll have to stay behind today as well like the past three days, or is today going to be lucky? Not even a minute passes until someone is at her side again.
"Trinity."
"What?" She snaps.
"Nothing," Dennis raises his arms up in mock surrender. "But you need to take a break." He sighs, looking at her.
Before she can say anything, he begins again. "Look, I can hold the front down for 20 minutes, and if we need you, we will come get you, okay?"
Trinity just stares at him. She wants to disagree with him, just to prove a point she can hold it out. That she doesn't need another person that overprotects her for no reason. But she knows it wouldn't be right for the one growing inside of her, and she is actually really hungry. The constant smell of blood only made her crave meat. Maybe Yolanda was right when they had argued two days ago (It's not normal to constantly crave the smell of blood, Trinity. It says here that it means an iron deficiency. You know what that does. Do you want to give our baby anemia?), maybe she does have low iron.
"Did she put you up to this?" She purses her lips, looking back at the board. It isn't too bad, she thinks. Fuck, she shouldn't say that. She doesn't wait for a response though. "Fifteen, I'm taking a fifteen."
Trinity leaves Dennis be, walking towards the North corridor and to the break room.
The room is empty, which the attending finds to be a miracle. She opens the fridge – one that's covered in a million different memes, a new one appearing seemingly out of nowhere – and digs out her metal Tupperware container. She found it this morning when she opened their own fridge in search of leftovers she could take to work. It had a sticky note with Yolanda's handwriting on top and inside there was a sub stuffed with steak and vegetables. Trinity didn't know when or even how it came to be, but she didn't question it, just throwing it in her bag.
She eats the sandwich with immense pleasure and immediately feels better. She doesn't rush it, even if she has essentially told Huck she'll only take a quick one. Eating on shift is rarely like this. It's almost always functional, something to be completed like a task when you're on the brink of passing out. But the break room is quiet (which is nice after the chaos of the last few hours) and the food is hitting. And she feels warm. Because being taken care of by someone who knows you so well, that just does things without being asked fills her chest with warmth. And gratitude.
Instinctively now, her left hand moves to her stomach. She'll get to do that to her baby soon too. And Yolanda will as well. The unprompted thought brings tears to her eyes and Trinity looks up, furiously blinking them back and away.
Now was not the time, baby.
---
Yolanda ends up coming down to the Emergency Department a few hours later. Having completed Elliots surgery, she lets her eyes roam the room but to no avail. They don't catch sight of the green-eyed attending. She does find the mousy best friend of hers though.
Next best thing.
"Whitaker."
"Oh, Dr. Garcia." He looks startled. Yolanda internally rolls her eyes. Six years and he still squeaks.
"Where is she?"
"Wh-Oh, in Trauma Two." He replies.
"Has she taken a break?"
"Yes, and thankfully," He exhales, dropping the iPad he was holding on the counter. Yolanda narrows her eyes at his words. "Wait, not like that, well, yes like that, but she was just really snappy before."
"Yeah, I know." Yolanda snaps as well. Regretting her action, she sighs. "Well, did she eat?"
"I think so?" Dennis says. There's no follow up to his words and the surgeon continues staring at him. "She seems better now, so I take it she has."
"Mm," she looks down the corridor in the direction of Trauma Two. She reaches into her pocket and holds out a pack of Nerds towards him – a small pink bag, of the gummy cluster kind. It has been Trinity's obsession for the past month and a half, the only one that hasn't really eased. The problem is the woman refusing to eat them in the presence of others. Yolanda still has to figure out why. "Okay, mouse boy, do me a favor and give her these. Don't say anything else, just drop it by her."
He looks at the bag and reaches his hand out to take them. The older woman is already beginning to walk away, but before she does, she turns her head. "And Whitaker–"
A pause until he looks into her eyes. "Thank you."
Dennis nods.
---
It turns out that today is the lucky day, after all. Ellis ends up coming in early, so Trinity gets to clock out on time – 7 p.m. on the dot – and she practically runs out of the E.D. The attending knows if she doesn't leave in the 10-minute increment she can, she'll be staying late. She gets into her car, a small SUV, shoots a message to Yolanda about being done on time, reverses out of the parking spot and hits the gas pedal.
When she gets home, she kicks off her shoes and throws herself onto the couch, the tiredness trying to overtake her. And she still has to shower and make and eat dinner. Trinity almost groans – she does not want to do any of that right now. Her phone buzzes near her and she picks it up. It's her wife again, which relieves her for a moment. There's nothing worse than getting home from a shift only to be called back in. She finds her own message hearted and Yolanda typing.
Leaving now
Going to Trader Joe's, you want anything?
All of a sudden, the irritation from this morning creeps in again. Is she serious right now? Trinity manages to get off on time, and the woman decides to get home even later? She scoffs but settles for an answer that doesn't give away her emotions.
get me some apples.
It's a test, really, Trinity thinks. Because she can only eat the Granny Smith one's now, finding any other kind absolutely disgusting. She has them with cinnamon, cut into slices, but it's a new craving and Trinity doesn't know if Yolanda will remember.
Whatever, she thinks, if she wants to come home late on purpose, Trinity can go have fun by herself. It'll take around an hour for Yolanda to get home anyways – the Trader Joe's is not in the way of their apartment near Polish Hill and she will have to drive around to get home.
Shower first though, there's no way she is getting hospital germs on their bedsheets.
Trinity washes herself quickly – sets the water on nearly the hottest setting and lets it soothe her muscles. The heat on her skin only amplifies the one between her legs though, so when she steps out, she doesn't bother with the skincare like she normally would. Instead, Trinity puts on a new pair of boxer briefs – that has always made the act easier for her – and plops down in the middle of the bed and lets her mind wander.
She considers getting a toy from their dresser at first, but they don't have any that wouldn't absolutely overwhelm her with their force one minute in, so she shakes the thought away. Lately her body has been way too sensitive for that kind of clitoral stimulation, which did make her sad at the beginning (she loved their toys) but it has also opened up opportunities to experiment with other things. Things she knew Yolanda was very happy about.
Yolanda.
The older woman has nestled under her ribs, pounded herself deep into Trinity's skeleton and created an ache to be on her and in her and around her. And now, just the thought of the woman makes a gush of wetness rush between her legs. But she doesn't touch herself down there, instead choosing to bring her hands to her breasts.
They are bare now, but just a few months ago there was a pair of curved barbells piercing her nipples. Trinity had done it three years ago – Ellis had gifted her a voucher after hearing her talk about them one too many times. It turned out to not only be a gift for her though, but one for Yolanda as well. When the woman had first laid eyes on them, she was absolutely entranced and from then on has always incorporated some sort of breast play into their scenes. Which is part of why Trinity could only get off after they have been played with now. She has been pavloved, she realizes.
Trinity lets her fingers run over the bare buds, slightly pinching the tips. The action shoots electricity down her body and makes her shiver. She stifles a moan – being loud while being alone has never been her favorite. The slick at her core only grows with each passing minute and it's not long until Trinity's hand wanders down to her aching core. It stops at the entrance to collect some of her arousal before bringing its attention to her throbbing clit. She begins to rub in slow circles, teasing herself a bit more, not letting the pleasure overwhelm her yet.
Before Yolanda, she was always used to the instant glorification of touching herself. She loved that she could get a quick massive surge of dopamine into her brain. That it only took her rubbing herself for 10 minutes at a fast pace to come. But the woman has shown her how much better it all feels when there is teasing involved, how much stronger.
Trinity whimpers and moves her other hand – the one that was just playing with the tip of her left nipple – lower down with the intention of filling her clenching cunt and that is when she hears Yolanda's voice.
"Hands away now, Trinity." Trinity stops her movements and turns her head to meet Yolanda's gaze. There is a curiosity in her eyes as she watches Trinity disobey and start moving her hand in small circles again. The act of being caught – even if the younger woman knew this would most likely happen – makes her even more wet.
"Yoli," she whimpers instead.
Yolanda moves towards the bed. She climbs up on it, not even bothering with her scrubs, towering over Trinity. The latter one can see her think, the way the older woman's gaze darkens as she continues looking at her. She leans forward and Trinity leaps up, instinct taking over.
But Yolanda moves back, not kissing her yet, instead opening her mouth to whisper. "Stop touching yourself right now, Trinity."
Trinity moves her hands away from her wet center and places them neatly in her lap.
“You have been a real brat today. You know that right.” Trinity whimpers and nods, not bothering to argue with Yolanda. She will admit, she has been pushing everyone’s buttons today. Yolanda’s hand slides up her side. Trinity whimpers at her touch but is quickly silenced by the soft kiss Yolanda presses on her pouty lips.
“You could’ve just told me you need to be fucked out, Trin. I wouldn’t have minded.” Yolanda says as she pulls away from Trinity’s lips. "You know I love to take care of you."
Trinity moans at her words and instead of replying, leans forward pulling Yolanda into another kiss. It quickly gets heated and Yolanda rolls on top of Trinity. The younger woman wraps her arms around Yolanda's neck, intent on kissing her as much as she can. Teeth nip her lower lip as Yolanda towers over her and threads her fingers through Trinity’s hair, tilting her head back to deepen the kiss.
Clinging to her, Trinity tugs on Yolanda's clothing, desperate to get through it, to release everything that has been steadily building up over the day. She pulls off her top, pulling her flush to her. Her hands find Yolanda’s shoulders, and she holds the woman close as they kiss. After a while they release and Yolanda moves her lips down to Trinity’s cheek, along her jaw until she settles down at her neck.
Yolanda’s hands start wandering over her chest, brushing against her nipples. Trinity gasps sharply at the contact, and she hears Yolanda huff out a small chuckle against her neck.
The surgeon moves her fingers to brush against her nipples again, pinching them softly between her thumbs and index fingers. Trinity moans, hands gripping the pillow near her. Yolanda continues the assault on the buds, rolling them beneath her fingertips, forcing Trinity to make the most sinful sounds. Yolanda presses soft kisses against her neck, gliding her tongue along the sensitive skin before gently biting down, making Trinity squirm.
One of Trinity’s hands drifts between her spread thighs. Yolanda notices and bites down a little harder before pulling back.
“Touch yourself again and I’ll stop.”
Trinity chokes back whimper but doesn’t say anything. She looks into Yolanda’s eyes and decides she better not argue now. It’s enough for the older woman and she moves her mouth down. Her lips kiss down towards her left breast. She avoids the nipple and instead leaves a mark to the side, just short of it. Trinity lets out a shaky breath at this and watches as Yolanda’s mouth moves to the other side.
“What’s got you so horny today anyways?”
When Trinity doesn’t answer, Yolanda halts her movements. The younger woman has her forearms raised and is covering her face. “Answer me, Trin.”
Trinity rolls her eyes and voices out – “A dream.”
“What kind of dream?” Trinity doesn’t have to look to know there’s a smile on Yolanda’s face now.
“You know what kind, Yoli.” All of a sudden, she finds the situation kind of embarrassing. She doesn't want to be interrogated right now; she wants to be fucked. Out of her mind, preferably.
“So, you couldn’t get off even in your sleep?” Garcia teases. “That’s what made you moody today. You were all pent up.”
“Poor baby.”
The words find their mark and Trinity groans, exhaling a heavy, tormented breath. “Oh fuck.”
Yolanda raises up and moves Trinity’s hands away from her face. The sight she finds is endearing.
“So beautiful blushing for me.”
"I'm not blushing," Trinity counters.
"Yeah? You're not crumbling at my touch?"
"No."
“So, I shouldn’t continue then?” Yolanda asks, smirking.
“Oh my god,” Trinity groans out. “That’s not what I meant.”
Yolanda doesn’t dignify her with a response, instead letting out a chuckle and getting back to Trinity’s chest. Instead, now she goes straight for the buds staring right at her. The surgeon sucks the left one in her mouth. She plays with it, rolling the tip of her tongue around and then releases it, blowing cold air onto it.
It earns a loud moan from Trinity and her hips buck up. The reaction has Yolanda smiling as she moves down, kissing and nipping. The kisses make shudders run through Trinity, especially as she looks down to see Yolanda's lips pressed against her soft tummy. For a moment she just watches her tongue start at the waistband of her boxer briefs and glide over her navel. Her fingers card through Yolanda's thick hair and she pushes her hips forwards, begging for pressure against her cunt.
“Need you inside, Yoli.”
Yolanda hooks her fingers into the waistband of her briefs. "Maybe I should just fuck you with them on? Push them to the side since clearly you couldn't wait? Hmm?"
"N-no." Trinity stutters out.
"No?"
Trinity shakes her head. She can see the woman debate something in her head and then start at the underwear. Trinity’s slick sticks to it and they can both see it drag down with the garment. The sight undoes Yolanda and she can tell just how needy Trinity is based on her wetness alone, but she wants to take her time and savor every minute of this. To tease her until she breaks.
"You're right. I should reserve that for when you get greedy in public, shouldn't I?"
Trinity doesn't dignify Yolanda with a response, closing her eyes and smashing her lips together in an attempt to be quiet.
"Open your eyes," Yolanda husks out, fingertips greeting Trinity's soaking outer lips. "Do you think you deserve it?"
"What?"
"Do you think you deserve it? After bratting at me all day?" Yolanda asks. Her deep brown eyes are hazing right into Trinity's light ones.
Trinity swallows, "..Yes."
"Oh really?" Yolanda teases her entrance again. A featherlight touch lands on the hood of her clit. Trinity's hips buck involuntarily, chasing the pads of the older woman's fingers. "After you rolled your eyes at me? After you dismissed me?"
"Hmm? Trinity?" the name leaves her mouth in syllables, breathy sounds spilling out one by one. Trinity would think Yolanda is being serious would she not be doing this, would she not be smirking down at her, enjoying the way a blush spreads over the woman’s face. The attention is too much for Trinity, so she turns her head, focusing on the golden glow of the lamp beside her.
"Please," Trinity begs, lightheaded and gasping. "I need you to touch me."
"Are you going to apologize?"
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, okay," Trinity loses it. "I'm sorry. Please?"
"Look at me, Trin. What are you sorry for?"
"Ignoring you,” Trinity is breathing long and hard, the words coming out after each exhale. “I’m sorry for ignoring you. Please, Yolanda.”
“I'll be good. I'll be so good. I'll do anything you want, whatever you want.” Trinity continues. “I don't care. Just fuck me, please fuck me. Please," Trinity's chanting the last word over and over again now, looking right into Yolanda's eyes. She is desperate, hoping the other woman will see the need, feel how strong it is, how overpowering. Trinity feels like she is on fire and that Yolanda is the only one who can put her out, stop the burning, remove the itch. It’s like a craving sits deep inside her soul, and she just knows Yolanda can fill it. If she would just–
"Fuck, Trin." Yolanda lets a crack in her composure. The domineering presence is still there, but she's softer now, clearly affected by what she sees. "You beg in such a pretty way, baby."
Her voice is breathless and Yolanda sinks down lower on the bed, grabbing the younger woman's thighs and spreading them apart. Wet tongue meets her inner thigh, making Trinity tremble in need.
"Mm," Trinity whimpers, eyes wide and staring at the gorgeous dark hair in front of her. Yolanda's tongue turns to her center, flicking her clit once and moving away. The whine this elicits is primal and Trinity shifts her hips around in disagreement. Her hands move down into the thick locks, tugging harshly as she whines.
But Yolanda is having none of it.
"Not yet, baby." she says in a firm voice, and then continues, her eyes flicking upwards, staring right at her. Her left arm wraps around Trinity's waist pulling her down to the bed and holding her in place. "I’m going to fuck you, but you can be a bit more patient, right? For me?"
And then her head is down again, lips moving and sucking her inner thigh, kissing and biting. Leaving trails of wet marks behind. She makes sure Trinity's thighs are covered in her little nips. Trinity bites back a moan. Yolanda leaving her marks on her never ceases to make her want her more. She loves looking at them after, loves pressing down on them and remembering how she got them. The marks make her feel surrounded by the older woman's love without the words being spoken out loud.
Trinity pants and Yolanda uses two of her fingers to circle the lips of the younger woman’s entrance. She moves her hips and tries to push down on them, except the second she does, Yolanda draws them away.
A low groan leaves the woman above her. "If you tease me any more, I'm leaving, Yo-"
The resident is cut off by Yolanda pushing two of her digits in. The older woman moans out loud at the heat they meet. Trinity's insides are on fire and she is soaked. Hot walls clench down on her fingers repeatedly, instantly covering them in her slick.
“Fuck, you’re so wet,” Yolanda praises. “Been thinking of this all day, haven’t you? Just needed my attention so I could touch you, hmm?”
Trinity lets out a groan as her answer, her abdominal muscles constricting even more around the surgeon’s fingers. The latter one works them in tandem to stretch Trinity out, padding at her walls. The pads of her fingers find a deep spot inside of Trinity that has her seeing static, a surprised high pitched moan jumping into the air.
Trinity’s hips buck into Yolanda's hand, instinct taking over as she mindlessly chases her own pleasure. Yolanda raises herself up in order to look at the sight in front of her, not removing her digits. Trinity’s eyes flutter half-shut, pretty mouth falling open, panting as slick sounds and moans fill the room.
Yolanda watches the woman withering beneath her, stares intently as Trinity loses herself in the pleasure she is giving. Yolanda loves her like this. Trinity looks absolutely devastating with the flush that spreads from her cheeks to her ears and down her neck. Her hair is a bit wet from sweat, messy and plastered over her forehead, looking up at her as if she is giving her the whole world.
Her breath hitches. "You're so pretty, Trin. Such a good girl for me.”
Yolanda moves down to bite at her neck and begins grinding down the heel of her palm against her clit. Trinity's eyes fly open as she moans, scrambling to cling onto any part of Yolanda that she can – her forearms, her back, her shoulders. Her thighs shake uncontrollably as she pants and whines, hips grinding down onto Yolanda's hand as she feels her climax approaching.
"Do you want to cum, Trinity?"
"Yes – I'm going to cum. I'm going to –"
"No, you're not, baby." Trinity can feel the smile forming on the lips that are kissing her neck. Yolanda draws her fingers away, denying her any more pleasure.
"No, no, Yoli," Trinity tries to close her thighs to get any sort of friction, but is unable to do so because Yolanda’s hand is gripping her right thigh and forcing her legs apart.
"You are so fucking evil." She groans and throws her head back. "I'm just going to get a vibrator, and you can go fuck yourse–"
Yolanda shuts her up with a kiss and enters her again, beginning to furiously move her hand again. The wet sounds that fill the room would be embarrassing if not for the fact they've been together for six years. When she feels Trinity get close again, she removes them and begins before the younger can whine again.
"Say shit like that again and maybe I'll leave you with the little plastic toy."
Trinity swallows hard. It's a feeble attempt at calming herself down as she watches Yolanda get up from the bed and walk over to the dresser. Yolanda knows Trinity is just joking, it's in her nature to be a brat, but she loves throwing her words back at her in bed. It's funny to watch to her – how quickly Trinity switches up.
"Get on your knees," Yolanda demands, walking to the side of the bed. "I want you to show me just how badly you want this."
That’s all Trinity needs to hear before she scrambles off the bed. She feels a little weak in the knees, but she ignores it, falling to her knees expectantly in front of the older woman.
She looks up at her through her lashes, right hand grabbing her cock, glancing at it in awe. Yolanda doesn't even have to say another word – Trinity leans forward and kisses the tip of the dildo. Then, she moves down to the base, leaving a wet trail with her tongue, and bites down at the edge of the harness, near Yolanda's cunt.
Yolanda watches her, lips parting and eyes hungry, a wild look crossing her face. Trinity moves back to the tip, opening her mouth and pressing a few inches in. She hollows out her cheeks and makes a show of it before letting go, spit dragging and falling onto her chin.
"So good for me, warming up my cock, getting it all wet,” Yolanda praises, entranced. "Do you want more?"
Trinity whines and Yolanda tangles her hand in her dark hair. She presses on her head, pushing the dildo further into her mouth. It presses against the back of Trinity’s throat and makes her gag. Yolanda lets her up and then pushes her back down again.
"Of course you do," Yolanda comments. "So greedy."
This time Trinity takes down more of it but not much. Spluttering and gasping she retracts her head. Yolanda seems satisfied enough by this, using her hands to spread the spit all over the cock.
“Please.” Trinity whispers.
“You want me to fuck your pretty little mouth more? I know how much you love that,” Yolanda taunts, slapping the tip of the black dildo against the younger woman’s cheek. Trinity did love it, loved feeling helpless as Yolanda used her mouth just like she asked, but right now it's not what she wants.
“No.” A whine. "I want you to fuck me."
"Do you?" Yolanda asks. “You seemed pretty content without me before.”
“No, I needed you, Yoli, please.” Trinity drops her head to rest against Yolanda’s thigh. “Please, I need your cock.”
"Yeah? Stand up.” Yolanda says to her, patting her head. Trinity stands up with her help and waits for another command. The older woman moves over to the bed, the strap on bouncing with each step. She makes a throne of the pillows near the headboard and sits against them, beckoning her over. Without an ounce of humiliation, Trinity climbs on the bed, getting on all fours and crawling towards Yolanda.
“You want my cock, Trin?”
“Yes.” Trinity pouts and straddles the surgeons thighs.
“You think you deserve it?”
The younger woman only nods.
“Then ride it,” Yolanda is staring right into her green eyes. She angles the dildo towards her, slapping it at her front a couple of times to accentuate her point. “Show me how much you want it, baby, and maybe then I’ll fuck you.”
The younger woman lets out a shaky breath, but it only takes a couple of moments until she is lifting her hips up and lining the tip up. She is stopped by a hand on her front though, Yolanda's playfulness half-gone. "Wait, Trin. Do you need lube?"
The question sends a shiver down her body and Trinity shakes her head. She lowers herself down while holding onto Yolanda’s shoulders, mouth falling open. All the while, Yolanda watches, first looking at how the tip gets engulfed by the younger woman's wetness, then at her face.
“One go, baby. Maybe you were needing it,” Yolanda smirks at the blushing woman on top of her. She lets Trinity get comfortable before moving her hands off her shoulders. “Hands at your sides, Trin. No touching.”
“Wha-“ Trinity whines out.
“You didn’t need me before, did you? So, you can do this alone too.”
“I said sorry for that already.” Trinity rolls her eyes. She should've known she's not in the clear yet. The action makes the older woman’s eyes sharpen, her hand quickly grasping her jaw and making Trinity look down at her.
“Yeah? Do you want to show it to me too, or should we stop?”
Trinity stays quiet until giving a slight jerk of her hips, beginning to do as asked. She wants to whine and protest some more, but her desire to please Yolanda keeps her from doing so. Being a good girl and getting rewarded does feel pretty good.
“Didn’t think so.” Yolanda mutters out and rests back. She watches as Trinity gives herself a moment to get used to the intrusion before moving more. She rocks herself on the older woman. Yolanda can see the way her muscles contract and forces herself to sit still, letting Trinity be. Trinity draws herself slightly up and then reseats herself.
"Feels good," she keens as she lifts herself up and slides back down, hands gripping her own thighs. Trinity begins to slightly bounce on her cock.
"I bet it does." Yolandas tongue caters out to wet her lips.
The younger woman whines once she realizes Yolanda is in fact not going to touch her and begins slamming her hips down. Still, the pleasure is overwhelming and her wetness drips down on Yolanda, coating everything. She moves her left hand to play with her nipple, in an effort to pretend it's Yolanda's hand instead but it doesn't work. It feels different, not as good as when it's Yoli that's the one touching her and Trinity lets out a groan.
Annoyed and on the brink of breaking, she shifts her hand down instead. Tries to rub at her sensitive clit while looking up at Yolanda through her half-lidded eyes. But Trinity knows it isn't enough, and it won't be enough. She needs–
"Please, Yoli. Please," she begs. Her legs are shaky and walls twitching. The pressure inside of her continues building but it just won't release. Trinity lets out a loud whine and gives up, falling onto Yolanda's front, nuzzling her head in her neck. "I need you to fuck me, I need you, Yoli. Please."
"Yeah?" Yolanda says, moving her hands to wrap around Trinity's waist.
The younger woman doesn't respond, nodding furiously against the surgeons skin instead. Yolanda chooses to finally take pity on her, pushing her on the bed on her back. She slides out and Trinity lets out a groan of protest.
"Inside, inside," she whimpers, pushing at Yolanda's shoulders. The woman on top smirks and doesn't comply, teasing the tip of the dildo against her wet slit. She moves it up and down, watching it get more and more wet and then quickly rubs it on her clit.
With the teasing from before (and her sensitivity increased), the action is enough to have Trinity's back arching. "Neck, on my neck, please, Yoli," she gasps out. "Please, pleas–"
The begging is cut off when Yolanda's hand makes contact with her throat. It was the second kink of hers that Yolanda managed to find out. The first one was the praise, and it was easy because of Trinity's reactions. This one was different – it had been easy because Yolanda also had it. The surgeon liked doing it more than being on the receiving end, which in their dynamic worked out wonderfully – Trinity was the opposite. It is dangerous play though and now with the younger woman pregnant, they have eased on it. Trinity only needs the touch of Yolanda's hand on her neck to feel the pleasure of it anyways. Continuing with her torture against Trinity's cunt, the woman lets her palm rest against her neck, no force behind it, just holding.
Trinity's eyes close and her mouth falls open in bliss.
"Don't," she breathes out. "Stop."
The last word ends with a long continuous moan, and Yolanda knows Trinity has reached the brink. The noises coming from the woman below her don't stop and Trinity spasms. Yolanda stops rubbing against her clit and watches Trinity's face, entranced by the sight before her, then takes her hand off, promptly moving her face directly over hers. Trinity's mouth is open and gives easy access for her to spit into her mouth.
Yolanda grasps Trinity's jaw, all wet from where some of her spit has dripped down, and commands, "Swallow."
Trinity gulps the saliva down, which earns a Good girl and, in her haze, thinks if the world was ending, she could survive off of it. That it's the only liquid she will ever need. She opens her eyes to find Yolanda already staring at her. Without breaking eye contact, she leans forward and takes Trinity's still hard nipple in her mouth, flattening her tongue. Trinity feels herself clench around nothing, Yolanda's fingers moving to her clit again.
The feeling is too much, and Trinity jerks her hips away, closing her legs. She raises her shaky arms to push Yolanda away. "Too much," she whispers. "'m sensitive."
The older woman instantly moves away, concern and confusion in her eyes. Usually, Trinity has more than one round in her and finds clitoral stimulation the most pleasurable. Whether it's by oral, fingers or one of the five vibrators they have.
"I'm okay, Yoli," Trinity beats Yolanda to her question. "It's just too sensitive right now. Overwhelming." She swallows, the orgasm still ebbing from her mind. "I still want you to fuck me though. You haven't done that." She pouts, nudging at Yolanda, looking at her with her green eyes. Hopefully it works again, Trinity thinks. She knows the woman's weaknesses and while she's often unrelenting, it sometimes works.
"You want me to fuck you?" Trinity nods rapidly. She is still burning inside, and the words have her clenching around the air. "Turn around, baby."
Trinity turns around on her belly only for Yolanda to lift her hips up.
"All fours," she husks, rubbing over her back. "Good girl."
Trinity can't see her from her position and groans, turning her head. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees Yolanda lower her head down. Trinity feels her spread her cheeks and then wetness drop down on her slit. She spit on her, Trinity thinks in disbelief.
"You're so wet, Trin." Yolanda groans. She presses a kiss to her cunt, moaning at the taste. "So pretty for me."
The words have Trinity shivering. The desperation from before still has her close to tears, and she whines, rolling her hips around. A faint laugh comes from behind her, a thumb pushing into her wet heat.
"Yoli, please," Trinity begs, squirming and clenching hard, the tight ring of muscle at her entrance convulsing against the tip of Yolanda's thumb. The surgeon teases her some more, rubbing up and down, feeling the way the woman beneath her melts into her touch.
"Fuck, Trin, you're so beautiful," Yolanda sounds breathless, removing her hand from Trinity, which makes her nearly sob, whining. But then the tip of the dildo presses against her and she squirms, gasping.
"Yes, yes. Please," she chokes the words out, trying to push backwards to sink the dildo into her. Yolanda's self-control explodes. Her hands grab Trinity's hips hard and she slams into her. Trinity comes again with a loud cry, arms trembling and giving out. She falls onto her front, explosions going off in her head, black spots crossing her vision.
Yolanda grabs hold of her then, keeping her up and chuckling. She had a feeling this would happen, especially with Trinity being so sensitive and the orgasm from before. She snatches a pillow that is near them and slides it under Trinity's hips just in case. Then, she gives a few experimental thrusts. The cry that leaves Trinity makes Yolanda groan, and she repeats the motion, squeezing the younger woman's flesh.
"More, more, more." Trinity lets out. Her voice is breathless and it's all Yolanda needs to speed up. She is precise in her thrusts, hitting a spot deep inside of Trinity that sends lightning shocks of sweet agony to her nerve ending every time. Each press of the older woman’s hips against Trinity sends tingles of pleasure up and down her spine.
Trinity's whole body is a ball of barely contained pleasure. She can't hold onto thoughts long enough to care about them, the only one important enough being that it feels good and that Yolanda is finally filling her. That she can finally give up control completely. Yolandas low moan comes from behind her, and Trinity tries her best to focus on her.
"You're doing so good for me," Yolanda praises her, voice wrecked with pleasure. "So, so good."
A gentle moan leaves the older woman. Trinity whimpers, her eyes vacant and mouth hanging open. Drool is rolling down her cheek, coating the sheets under her lips. "Fuck, baby," Yolanda whispers, her hands on Trinity love handles tightening. "You're doing such a good job, sweetheart. Fuck, you're going to make me cum."
Trinity lets out a groan at her words. "Pleas– Cum inside me."
"Yeah? You want me to knock you up again?" Yolanda tells her, gasping. The thrusts become harder and more desperate as the woman frantically chases her own pleasure.
"Yes, yes, yes." Trinity is whining softly. "You're so big, Yoli. I'm so full."
Then, the most sensual, soul-destroying moan comes from behind Trinity, Yolanda coming hard and gasping loudly. The noise is enough for Trinity herself to let go, crying out as the coiling in her stomach explodes all over her body and she twitches and jolts. The pleasure is far more intense than the first times she has cum, and Trinity finds herself addicted to the feeling, wanting it to never, ever end.
Yolanda doesn't stop with her thrusting; the intensity amplified with how sensitive Trinity is. The woman works both of them through their orgasms, their pleasured moans softening to gentler sounds.
"Fuck, Trin," Yolanda mutters, slowing her pace and stroking her hand over Trinity's hip and cheeks, where she has been gripping her tightly a minute before. Pulling Trinity's ass flush to her, Yolanda hisses a noise through her teeth. "You're perfect. Such a good girl. My good girl."
Trinity can hear it in her voice then, the rawness, the desire mixed with pleasure, the slightly slurred cadence. They both take a minute to calm down, and then Yolanda is sliding out of the younger woman. Trinity protests it with a whine but ends up completely falling onto the bed the second its fully out. It's not like she can handle another round right now.
She tries to catch her breath and listens to the noises behind her. Yolanda throws the harness and dildo on the floor and leaves the room. Trinity hears a clink of glasses all the way from the kitchen and then the older woman is back in the room, nudging her up.
"Hey, pretty girl," Yolanda whispers, tenderly pushing some strands of hair from Trinity's face. "You have to drink this."
Hazed out of her mind, Trinity sits up, taking the glass from Yolanda. The aftercare was a thing the woman had been relentless about since the very first times they had hooked up. Trinity still thinks it's part of why their relationship never felt strictly casual. At first, it was just ramen after sex, Yolanda making sure Trinity eats and replenishes her salts and energy, and then it moved on to movies and aloe vera on Trinity's ass where the woman had gipped or slapped too hard, lost in the heat of the moment. The glass of water did come first though and never changed (Yolanda was too in love with her routines to do so anyways).
"There we go," Yolanda coos when Trinity gives her an empty glass back. "Good girl."
But the woman is right each time. The cold water helps tremendously, and Trinity finally feels like she is returning to reality.
"You have to stop saying that, Yoli." The younger woman rolls her eyes fixes them on the woman sitting down before her. "Or I will get all horny again and trust me, you'll be fixing it." She points a finger at Yolanda, who only smiles.
The surgeon leans forward and presses a kiss to Trinity's nose and then moves to press one down at her lips. "Don't tempt me, honey."