you run a flower shop conveniently close to baran’s favorite cafe, and she always finds reasons to stop in — even as the months pass and you start dating.
The first time Baran steps into your shop, it’s to buy flowers to give to her sister to celebrate her engagement.
She’s been eyeing your place for a while. It’s conveniently close to her favorite coffee shop, and on her days off when she allows herself to wake up slowly in the mornings with tea and a pastry, she always has the urge to slip into your shop afterwards to check out what you’ve got for sale.
It always looks so beautiful through the windows. The shop is soft and sunlit, cool even in the summer to preserve the state of the flowers, and occasionally she catches glimpses of customers leaving with the most beautiful bouquets she’s ever seen. The shop’s hours are flexible, the atmosphere quiet, and whenever Baran passes by she thinks about how peaceful it must be to work somewhere like that instead of in the chaos of the hospital.
She found out about her sister’s engagement over the phone last night. It hadn’t surprised her, she’d been expecting it to happen for a while, because her sister has been with the same boyfriend since high school and they’ve always had the same plans regarding marriage, settling down, kids.
Baran agreed to dinner with her sister and her sister’s fiance during that same conversation. The couple had already planned a small gathering, just friends and select family, at a restaurant downtown. It would be casual and informal and for the handful of people they’d chosen to tell before a bigger reveal to the rest of their circle, after which they would throw a much larger party.
Baran thought flowers would be a nice gesture. But as she stands in the middle of your shop now with all different kinds surrounding her, bouquets and gift baskets and arrangements she can’t even name, she feels lost having just stepped in through the door.
Then she sees you. You’re behind the sales counter near the back of the shop jotting down notes in a journal, so completely engulfed in your work that you haven’t even noticed her yet. You look at peace here, not intimidated like she is by all of the excess.
Baran approaches the counter, stepping carefully so as not to disrupt the displays around her — she hadn’t realized before how cramped this place is — and when she finally reaches you, something about your presence in front of her brings a faint nervousness to flutter in her stomach.
You look up from your notes. You, too, freeze for a second. You hadn’t noticed her, you hadn’t been expecting any other customers tonight since there’s not usually much of an evening crowd. And apart from that, there is something about her — soft brown eyes that study you intently, curls long down her back, cream-colored sweater that you think might have cost more than your car payment.
There is so much that draws you to her.
You clear your throat, force yourself to find your voice. “Good evening,” you say, and curse yourself for how awkward you sound. “Is there anything I can help you with?”
Baran looks around again, taking in the shop. She thinks she needs to keep her eyes off you or else she won’t be able to speak, to do anything but stare into your eyes and get lost in them.
“I’m looking for a bouquet I could bring to an engagement party,” she says. “It’s a small event, but I thought it would be a nice gesture.”
You’re not sure why you feel so suddenly disappointed by that, the idea that this random woman who just walked into your shop might have someone waiting for her. An engagement party.
Regardless, you nod and circle around the counter to guide her across the store to a display of bouquets. There are bouquets in every style and color combination, with every type of flower that you could find inventory space for.
“We have these over here,” you tell her, gesturing to the bouquets. “Roses are pretty typical for romantic gestures—”
“Oh, no, it’s nothing like that,” she says quickly. “They’re for my sister, it’s her party.”
Oh. You pause, reassess. You allow yourself a moment to look at her again, as if you feel allowed to look now. Your disappointment fades.
Next to you, she reaches out for a bouquet you made this afternoon. It’s one of the bigger ones on display, with peonies and hydrangeas all selected by you and tied together with a light purple bow.
“How much is this one?” she asks, turning it in her hands and studying it intently.
You tell her the price, and she turns back toward the counter.
“I’ll take it.”
Usually, it takes your customers at least five or ten minutes of wandering around the store and another five or ten minutes of sales pitches and coercion before you can make a sale — selling flowers isn’t always the most profitable profession. But the woman before you is quick and decisive, and by the time you round the counter again she already has the cash ready in her hand.
“Are you sure you don’t want to look around a little more?” you ask. “There are plenty to choose from, and—”
“This one is perfect,” she smiles. “Thank you, though.”
You complete the sale, give her change for the cash she hands you.
“This place is beautiful, by the way.”
You look up at her, smile. You allow yourself to look into her eyes for a moment and remark to yourself that they’re so beautiful, that she is so beautiful. You don’t want her to leave.
“Thank you,” you reply. Then, going out on a limb, you tell her your name — and extend your hand across the counter for her to shake.
She does shake your hand, but only after a moment of holding it, and for too long — to savor the warmth of it, the softness of your skin, of this stranger who makes her want to ditch the engagement party and pretend to look around the shop a little longer.
“Baran,” she offers, running her thumb over your knuckles once before releasing your hand. “My name is Baran.”
“Come back soon, Baran.”
You know she will, and that this won’t be your last meeting — part of you has known that since she first walked up to the counter.
—
The second time you see Baran is the morning after the engagement party. She walks into the shop with two paper to-go cups of coffee in her hands and a smile directed at you that makes her look a little more anxious to see you than she would like to appear.
“You’re back,” you say. You wave her over to the counter and offer her a red rose from the bouquet you’ve been making, setting it down in front of her on the counter. “How was your sister’s party?”
Baran shakes her head, looking down at the rose and studying it for a long moment before answering. “Long, loud, and not nearly as small as I thought it would be.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” she says. “It brought me in here, didn’t it? Highlight of my night.”
“Oh, come on.”
“I’m serious,” she says. Then she sets down one of the coffees and takes the rose in exchange. “That coffee is for you, by the way, to thank you for your help last night.”
Really, it was just an excuse to see you again. And that much is clear to you, but you don’t comment on it.
“Oh, thank you. You didn’t have to,” you smile.
You look her over, taking in the casualness of today — her white t-shirt, hair up in a clip, face bare of the heavy makeup she had worn last night. She looks just as perfect like this, sipping her coffee and fiddling with the stem of the rose in her hands.
“I wanted to,” she says.
You look down at the bouquet you’ve been arranging, adjusting some of the flowers in it. You need to keep your hands busy — something about being around her makes you nervous.
“Do you have business cards?” Baran asks, watching you handle the flowers. “I’d like to give my sister your number, if you’re in the business of doing floral arrangements for weddings.”
You pause, looking up to meet her eyes. You move away from the flowers and lean forward against the counter. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were just trying to find a clever way to ask for my number.”
She raises a brow. “Is that what you think this is?”
“Maybe. Or maybe your number is here on the coffee cup, like in the movies.” You make a show of examining the cup of coffee she brought you. “Shit, where could it be? Under the sleeve?”
“Do you really want it?”
“Would you give it to me?”
Baran crosses her arms, studying you. She likes your insistence, it gives her courage. And maybe it’s just the spirit of romance that she picked up from the engagement party last night, but after a moment she finds the bravery to pick up a pen from the cup on the counter and scribble her phone number down on a pad of sticky notes near the register.
“There,” she says. She rips the sticky note off the pad and sticks it to the side of your coffee cup. “Fixed it.”
“Perfect.”
“Now that you have my number, do you promise to call?”
“I promise,” you nod. “I’ll send you a picture of this bouquet once it’s done, and then maybe I can give it to you at dinner tonight.”
She raises a brow. “How forward of you.”
“Too far?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“So you will meet me for dinner?”
Baran considers you. She doesn’t see the harm in accepting a dinner invitation considering she just gave you her number, and that the whole reason she came in this morning was just to see you in the first place — she wasn’t even planning on buying anything.
“Sure,” she agrees. “Text me where you want to meet, and I’ll be there.”
When she leaves, she takes the rose you offered her earlier. She puts it in its own vase at home and sets it on her dresser, a reminder of you that’s set next to her perfumes and medication bottles, that she looks at while she picks her outfit for dinner and runs her fingers over the soft petals of once she’s back from it.
And while she knows with her entire heart by the end of the night that it will not be the last rose she receives from you, it will always remain her favorite as the very first.
—
You’ve been seeing Baran for two months, and you have developed a routine.
Every Friday, you pick her up from work. You park in the parking lot of the hospital and wait for her to meet you at the car, bag slung over her shoulder. You take said bag and load it into the back seat, then rush around the car to open the front passenger door for her before she can open it for herself.
Then, as always, she finds a tiny bouquet waiting for her on the seat. It changes every week — sometimes it’s more roses than anything else, sometimes a mix of peonies and hydrangeas and baby’s breath, sometimes it’s completely random flowers thrown together. But every week a new bouquet is waiting there on her seat, and every week it rides on her lap during the drive back to her home or yours.
Baran once asked you what you do with the flowers that wilt too early, or the ones that get smashed during transport, the ones that aren’t fit to be sold. She had been lying on the couch with her head in your lap after a hard day at work, and you got the feeling it wasn’t a question she would ask under better circumstances. But she had needed something fragile to mourn in the place of a patient, and she had chosen the flowers.
You told her that you tend to keep them. That you make little bouquets out of them that you keep at home so they don’t go to waste, because you are still able to find beauty in them even with petals missing and stems bent.
She had liked that. She had asked to see those bouquets, to run the pads of her fingers over the petals of the flowers and grace them with gentleness they wouldn’t have received at anyone else’s hands. So you incorporated that into your routine with the Friday flowers: every flower in the bouquets you make for her on those days are the ones that would have gone to waste otherwise, the ones with bent stems and missing petals.
Baran cherishes them every single week. She loves them with a grace that makes you, in turn, love her.
—
You’ve been dating Baran for four months when she formally introduces you to her son.
You weren’t expecting it to happen so soon. Baran was very clear with you from the beginning that she would only introduce you to Kaveh if things got serious with you, and that she didn’t want you to be offended if that meant waiting a very long time for an introduction.
You had been willing to wait. You had been understanding and content with hearing stories, seeing pictures, being rushed out of the house before his visits. But now the door chime is ringing and Baran is leading a six year old boy into your shop, his little hand clinging to hers, and you are terrified.
He’s smaller than you expected him to be, at least when he’s standing next to Baran, and she handles him with the same gentleness you’ve seen her use with the flowers you give her. The ones with the broken stems, the ones she cradles in her hands and looks down at with so much care.
She hoists him up onto her hip and holds him close, letting him rest his head on her chest. You wonder how long it will be until he is too big to carry, and how fiercely she will try to deny that day when it comes. You wonder if she would ever want another child to carry on her hip and close to her chest, one that would come from you this time.
“Kaveh,” she says, pressing a quick kiss to his forehead. “There’s someone I want you to meet, my love.”
When she gestures for you to come around the counter, you meet her on the other side of it and offer her son a small smile. You tell him your name, and in response he murmurs his so quietly you almost can’t hear him — Baran told you beforehand that he tended to be shy, just like she was at his age.
“She’s going to be spending a lot of time with us,” Baran tells her son, nodding over to you. “I want you to get to know one another. You don’t have to be shy around her, it’s okay.”
He nods, brows furrowing as he assesses you. You’ve seen that look before.
“Your mom invited me to your soccer game this weekend,” you say, and you can hardly believe he’s big enough to be in any sort of sports league, even with kids his age. “Would it be okay with you if I came to watch you play?”
Again, he nods. And maybe it’s too soon to tell, but you think that soon he will warm up to you. Soon he will be running into your shop to pick flowers out of bouquets, taking them home just because he knows he can, because you won’t scold him for it.
Soon, this shop will belong to all of you.
—
It’s been six months, and the two of you have just gotten into your first argument. It started over something stupid, more a result of your combined stress than anything really worth arguing about, and escalated from there.
You stand alone in your shop and all you can think about is how much you miss Baran, and that only seems to piss you off even more. It’s only been an hour since you last talked to her over the phone, but it feels like an eternity — you wonder how you ever lived without her.
You have abandoned the work you’re meant to be doing, and instead you sit behind the counter at the back of the shop and sulk. You draw little doodles on your pad of sticky notes and choose not to listen to the part of you that says you’re being childish and need to apologize.
The chime on the door rings, and you almost call out to greet your customer when you look up from the counter and see it’s Baran. She carries two paper to-go cups from the coffee shop next door and a small paper bag, and when she comes up to the counter you can smell the pastry within.
Baran sets all of it down without a word. She brings her cup to her lips, and you notice the string and paper label of a tea bag hanging out from beneath the lid.
“What’s all this?” you ask, trying and failing to seem unaffected. You ache to make up with her, to set your conflict behind you.
“I don’t want to fight with you,” she says. Her voice is even and controlled, the same tone you’ve heard her take with rowdy patients at the ER or Kaveh when he’s throwing rare tantrums, and you’re able to hear the suppressed anger beneath it.
“I don’t want to fight, either,” you say. And you could leave it at that, but you’re still angry, so you don’t. “But I’m not sorry.”
“You don’t have to be. Neither am I.”
It bugs you, but you don’t know how else to keep fueling the argument. ‘Agree to disagree’ might be your best bet at this point, even with how rarely that bullshit tends to work for people.
Baran nods to the paper bag and the coffee cup. “I brought your favorites.”
You try to joke with her, but it comes out sounding too harsh: “Trying to win me back?”
“I wasn’t aware that I’d lost you.”
Now you feel bad. Now you have to fold.
You shake your head, reaching across the counter and placing a hand over hers where it rests. You give it a small squeeze and she squeezes back.
“I shouldn’t have said that,” you murmur. “I’m sorry, that was stupid.”
Baran nods. ‘It’s okay,’ she wants to say, because that’s how she remembers responding to every apology in her marriage with Kaveh’s dad, when whatever had offended her was in fact not okay. So instead she tries, “I forgive you.”
—
It’s been nine months, and sometimes you pick Kaveh up from school when Baran is working and his dad can’t make it. You have been authorized for the pickup line and you close the store temporarily to be there at 3:15 when duty calls, and when Kaveh jumps into the backseat of your car he feels comfortable enough with you to jump right into telling you about his day.
You sit at the counter sometimes and help him with his homework on those days. You help him with his math equations and his spelling, occasionally brushing away some flower petals that fall onto the pages, and when Kaveh does well on his exams you always let him pick something out to take home from the shop. He prefers the tiny teddy bears in the gift baskets displayed near the window, and you don’t care that it messes up the display when he plucks them out.
You FaceTime Baran together on those days, too. Kaveh laughs at her when she accidentally has the camera oriented the wrong way, and then he holds up the graded school assignments he brought back with him and tells her he’s getting the best grades in his class.
“I’m so proud of you,” she always says, and then presses her face too close to the camera whilst trying to get a good look at the two of you, which makes Kaveh start laughing again.
—
It’s been eleven months, and Baran keeps hinting at the idea of taking the two of you on vacation for your one year anniversary. She comes up behind you when you’re writing notes behind the counter and she wraps her arms around your middle, asking if you wouldn’t prefer to be lounging on a beach somewhere right now.
“Think about the sun on your face,” she says. “Imagine the flowers.”
You roll your eyes, suppressing a smile. “I don’t know, I wouldn’t want to leave the shop. I couldn’t leave my flowers.”
“Get someone to cover for you,” she says. “Come on, surely there’s someone who could take over for a little while.”
“Maybe.”
She presses a kiss to the top of your shoulder, then the base of your neck, then up until she reaches the curve of your jaw. Her mood always lightens when she is around you and your many flowers.
“I want you all to myself,” she continues, “in a beachside villa where we can watch the tide come in.”
You do allow yourself to smile at that, but just barely. You don’t want to encourage her. “That sounds expensive.”
“Of course it will be expensive,” Baran murmurs, hands running up and down your sides. “And I have the money for it, azizam. Only the best for you. For us.”
You feel her hands sliding just barely under your shirt, resting on your waist not-so-innocently. You get the hint that if these regular methods of persuasion don’t work, there are others she will employ.
“Okay. Okay, fine.” You relent, turning in her arms and pulling her in to kiss you, soft and indulgent, and you couldn’t care less if someone walked into the shop right now.
—
It’s your one year anniversary, and the shop is being run by your best friend for a week. You’ve shown her the ropes, how to do inventory and complete sales, and you trust that your business is in good hands.
Meanwhile, you are lounging in a hammock at a beachside villa with Baran. You watch the tide come in and ever so often you look over at Baran from where she lies across from you, legs tangled with yours. Within ten minutes of settling down in the hammock, she is already asleep.
The hammock rocks softly in the breeze, which is salty in a way that makes you feel much closer to the water than you really are. The sun is out and in a bit you will sit up and wake Baran with gentle kisses to her forehead, the tip of her nose, her cheeks, and the two of you will put your bathing suits on and go lounge in the sand. Baran will lecture you about forgetting to bring the beach bag, the one with the sunscreen and towels. You never seem to remember it, but maybe that will change when you’re the one hiking up the dunes and back to retrieve the bag.
For now, you let her rest. She looks so beautiful like this, with the wind blowing at her hair and her face peaceful with sleep, and you can feel your own body growing heavier at the idea of rest.
—
It’s been a year and a half, and your shop is flourishing. You have been getting more business than ever, you’re thinking of buying a second location, and your home life is just as beautiful.
Since your anniversary, you have moved in with Baran. You live closer to your shop now and you get to wake up with your girlfriend every morning, your girlfriend who always insists that you bring home some extra flowers to decorate the house with on weeks where you don’t sell as much as you planned. You’ve learned that she loves orchids, but she can never keep them alive for long.
It’s June, and you are happy. Summer is in full bloom and your life along with it, full with the most gracious love, and you always make sure to change out the rose in the vase on Baran’s dresser.
thank you for reading <3 this fic might be one of my favs that I’ve written for the pitt tbh
no taglist bc im posting from my phone and it’s a pain to access the google form IM SORRY it takes me to all these different tabs and I have to log in a bunch of times and it stresses me out
okay imagine this.. reader x baran again from me.. they start dating towards the end of baran’s time at the ptmc and they agree that once it’s over they’ll become official and then baran takes a permanent job there and ends things with readers and it’s a whole bunch of angst, yearning, and arguing and what not..
nothingman, pt. 1 (baran al hashimi x reader) ˚₊· ͟͟❥ wc: 3.7k
tags: heavy heavy heavy angst, fighting, reader is PISSSSSED, hurt no comfort, nurse!reader, boss!baran, age gap but its legal obv, medical inaccuracies, baran's son mentioned!
note: we are so back. this was such a yummy request thank you thank you thank you for sending it!!
Technically, you and Baran Al-Hashimi are nothing. She is not your girlfriend. You are not hers. You would be reaching, probably, to even call her a friend.
But you have had a grand total of seven dinners together since Baran first came to PTMC. All of them were at restaurants on the far periphery of the city alternating between Uzbek, Ethiopian, Vietnamese, Szechuan, and once—out of some perverse sense of irony—a French-Vietnamese bistro in a strip mall wedged between a tanning salon and a place that only serves bubble tea.
Each restaurant was chosen by the older attending. At first, you kinda just assumed she was just a really big foodie, or just had a taste for the kind of garish decor and laminated menus those kinds of restaurants always had.
It took you until the third dinner, in a Kurdish place lit only by tea candles, to finally understand why Baran had never suggested anywhere closer to the hospital, or her neighborhood, or even central Pittsburgh: Baran is the acting department head; you are her employee.
Come March, you'll no longer her direct report. But for now, even the implication of fraternization is enough to set off the rumor mill, not to mention the inexorable march of the Title IX committee armed with a constitution of policies, some of which you have memorized.
Suffice to say, you're content with the arangment. You can play the part of the pretty little secret if it means getting seated across from Baran in a family-run restaurant where no one knows your last name, let alone what you’re doing there together.
Maybe it’s cowardice. You never ask for more than what Baran offers. When she cancels, you say “of course,” and when she texts you at midnight after three weeks of silence, you take an Uber across town without asking why. You have only spent the night together once, and even then, Baran was up before you, fully dressed, drinking coffee at the window and writing something long and complicated in a small, battered notebook. She did not try to explain. You did not try to understand.
Despite all the secretiveness, dinners with Baran are a truly lovely affair. She's attentive and never checks her phone, lets you order whatever you want, entertains your performative bicker over the check before picking it up with a firm glance. She walks you to your car after and waits for the text that you made it home, and in October, in the stairwell of the parking structure on the north side of the hospital, on a completely ordinary Wednesday night, she kissed you and then stood there afterward with her forehead against yours, eyes closed, not saying anything, just breathing.
You have been waiting for March since October. You're three weeks out.
She texts you on a Wednesday afternoon: Are you free Sunday? There's somewhere I'd like to take you.
Of course you're typing out and sending yes before you've finished reading it. The attention to punctuation and capitalization would make you shit your pants if the message was from anyone else, but that's just how Baran talks, and by extension, types. You've gotten used to the formality of it all by now.
Sunday comes and she's at your door in dark trousers and a coat that probably cost more than your rent, and she smiles when she sees you.
"Hi," you breathe, a giddy smile on your face. "Sorry, I just have to grab my shoes and we're good to go."
"Take your time," she encourages easily, but she doesn't step into the threshold of your doorway. You shoot her a look.
"I'm not diseased, I promise," you joke, still light, still high on the anticipation of spending an evening with the beautiful doctor, but your smile fades when she just tilts her head and doesn't enter.
You pause, give her a chance to come in. She doesn’t.
"Okayyy," you say slowly, slipping on your slides. "Well, nevermind. I'm ready. Let's go."
She takes you to a wine bar twenty minutes from the hospital. You sit across from each other in low lighting and dutifully do the first-fifteen-minutes-of-a-date thing, the catching up, the small careful questions. A server comes. Baran orders sparkling waters for you both.
You look at her, tracking those careful hands once the bottle comes and she’s pouring it into two glasses for you both. She'd ordered you a glass of something you hadn't even known you wanted in September and gotten it exactly right, and tonight she is ordering sparkling water?
You feel a wave of nerves crash over you and it’s then you notice how weird the restaurant she’s chosen is. It can hardly qualify as such, it’s more of a bar. Every other patron is in a suit, but not a date night suit, business attire. They all look like lawyers and bankers. There’s not a couple in sight, no candle-lit intimacy. People seem like they’re coming here for deals.
You swallow. "No drinking tonight?”
"Early morning tomorrow."
Her fingers press white against the glass, the knuckles bloodless, and you watch her look at the table instead of you. The nothing taste of having not eaten enough today sits at the back of your throat, sharp and hollow as your tongue finds the inside of your cheek nervously.
"Baran—" you start.
"There's something I need to tell you," she says, at the same time.
Baran wraps both hands around the glass and you watch her do it.
"They've offered me the permanent position," she says. "Full-time department head. I accepted on Friday."
The chair beneath you is the kind that looks comfortable and completely isn’t, the hard edge of the seat digging into the backs of your thighs, your vertebrae, sending a painful twinge up your back.
You blink. “I’m sorry?”
"I wanted to tell you in person. I thought—" She stops, looking down at her hands. "I thought we should talk about it."
"When did they come to you?"
She pauses and takes a deep breath. "There had been some preliminary conversations. Back in October."
Your brain helpfully supplies a mental calendar of October: the forehead against yours, her eyes closed, one minute, two minutes, the promise of March was in October, the first dates, if that’s even what you can call them.
"Preliminary conversations?" you repeat, voice rising.
"Nothing was decided then," she says quickly, and there's something almost pleading in it. "I swear, Y/N, it was just conversations. Feeling things out. I didn't know if I was even going to take it."
"But you knew it was a possibility."
"Yes." She looks pained. "Yes, I knew it was a possibility."
"Regardless, did you think I didn't need to know that?"
"I didn't know what to say." She leans forward, and you can see the tension in her shoulders. "I was trying to figure it out. The job, us, all of it. I didn't want to worry you about something that might not even happen."
"Worry me?" You stare at her. "Baran, we were—I thought we were—"
"I know." She reaches across the table like she might take your hand, then stops. "I know what you thought. What we both thought. But this position—it's permanent. It's stability for me and for my son. I can't just—" She stops, frustrated. "You don't understand the pressure I'm under."
"Then help me understand, Baran."
"You're young," she says, and it lands wrong immediately. You watch her realize it, watch her try to backtrack. "I don't mean that as—I just mean you're in a different place. You don't have a child depending on you. You don't have—" She stops. "This job is everything. It's my career. My son's tuition. Our health insurance. I can't risk that for—"
She doesn't finish the sentence. Doesn't say for you. But you both hear it.
"So what was I, then?" Your voice comes out smaller than you want it to. "Just something you were trying out until you got what you actually wanted?"
"No." She looks genuinely distressed now. "No, that's not it. Y/N, I care about you. I do. But I have to be realistic about what I can afford to lose."
"And I'm not worth losing anything for?”
"That's not what I'm saying." Her voice rises slightly, defensive. "You're twisting this into something it's not. I made a career decision, a good one at that, one I had to make. The fact that it affects us doesn't mean I was trying to hurt you."
"But you knew it would,” you reply. “You had to know it would.”
She's quiet for a moment. "I knew it would complicate things."
"Complicate." You laugh, and it sounds bitter even to your own ears. "Yeah, okay.”
"I said if circumstances changed—"
"But you knew they weren't going to change!" Your voice breaks. "You knew in October that they weren't going to change, so why the fuck would you dangle that in front of me to begin with?”
"I wasn’t certain!" She's getting frustrated now, you can hear it. "I was trying to see if there was a way to make both things work. I didn't lie to you, Y/N. I just—I didn't know what to do."
"So you did nothing."
"I did what I had to do." There's an edge to her voice now. "I made the choice that made sense for my life. I'm sorry if that hurts you, but I can't—" She stops, takes a breath. "I can't put my entire future on hold for a relationship that might not even work out."
You gape at her. “Do you really — do you seriously have that little faith in me? Do you trust me that little?”
“Can you let me talk? You’re not being fair.”
"I'm not being fair?" You stare at her. "Baran, I have been waiting for you since October. Don’t pretend you don’t know that’s true because I’ve told you that, and you’ve kept taking me out on dates, and—" Your voice cracks. "And you've known the entire time that it was never going to happen."
“I was trying to figure out if there was a way—"
"There wasn't." You pick up your bag. "And you knew that. You just didn't want to tell me."
"Y/N, please—" She reaches for you, and you pull back.
"I need to go."
"Can we talk about this?" she huffs. “Y/N, come on.”
"I think you've said everything you needed to say." You stand up, and your hands are shaking. "Congratulations on the position."
You watch something in her face go through a door and shut. She doesn't try to stop you and doesn’t follow you out.
When you glance back through the window, she's still sitting there, staring at her untouched water.
—
You show up Monday because you have to show up Monday, because Baran Al-Hashimi is your department head now, permanently, indefinitely, and the department doesn't know what happened in a wine bar on Sunday. The department just needs you there, so you are there.
She doesn't treat you differently. She keeps with your last name in briefings, first name in the hallway, she defers to your clinical judgment when it's relevant, and you have no idea what it costs her and you are not going to ask. You have learned how to stop asking things. You should be given something for it.
Three weeks in she falls into step beside you between the supply room and the east corridor and says how are you doing.
"Fine," you say.
"You don't seem fine."
You completely ignore that, turning toward the nursing station where you can see Trinity and Dennis talking to Robby. You know Baran won’t do anything with an audience.
Predictably, she stops several feet away, grabbing your arm to get you to stop too.
"I'm not trying to—" She stops. "I'm asking because I want to know."
"I frankly don’t care what you want,” you reply face intentionally void of emotion. “Please let go of my arm.”
"Y/N, I know you’re upset," she says, all quiet, big eyes trailing over your face. She drops your arm cautiously as if testing to see if you’ll dart. "I don’t want you hurting.”
"That’s not how it works,” you shoot back, “I’m trying to do my job without letting this get in the way, so how about you grow the fuck up and do yours.”
Baran’s eyes go a bit wide at that, plush lips dropping open as she scans your face in shock. “You're being entirely unfair."
You bark out a laugh. "That’s rich.”
"I never promised you a relationship, Y/N."
You stare at her. "Seriously?"
"I promised you that if circumstances changed, we could explore one."
"And are those oh-so different to you?”
Baran straightens up. “Yes, Y/N! Those are two very different things!”
"So what line are you drawing between them? What, you'd keep me on a leash? Just far away enough so you could test out if you were actually willing to be with me? What was I to you, Baran, a free trial?"
Baran's expression sharpens immediately.
"No," she says. "And you know that's not what this was.”
"Don't tell me what I know." Your voice rises despite yourself. "You don't get to decide what this feels like from my side. You don't get to spend months building something with me and then act shocked when I have a reaction to finding out you've been making plans I wasn't even aware existed!”
"I’m more surprised by how determined you are to interpret everything in the worst possible faith!"
"The worst possible faith?" you repeat. "You sat across from me in that bar and told me you'd known since October there was a possibility you'd stay. October. Do you understand how insane that sounds to me now?"
"You are an adult," Baran says, voice clipped now. "With your own agency. I did not manipulate you into developing expectations."
You take a step closer before you can stop yourself. "Oh, sure, you just conveniently benefited from them, right?"
“Y/N—”
“Fuck all the way, off, Baran,” you snap. “You’re my boss permanently now, remember? So unless it’s for work, leave me the hell alone.”
—
April arrives, March bleeds out. The two of you are still in the same building, in the same department, wearing the same laminate badges in the same fluorescent light, and all the waiting was for nothing, has soured into a cold-hard nothing, and will stay that way. It sits in a lump in the corner and rots, rots, rots.
—
It’s Lena Handzo, the night shift’s charge nurse, who tells you that Dr. Al-Hashimi turned down a conference in Boston last month.
"Said she couldn't leave the department for that long," Lena says, eyebrows raised and smirking, and you make a noncommittal sound go back to your work.
Lena frowns. “What’s up with you? You love gossiping with me.”
“Long week,” you reply sympathetically, not looking up from your computer. “I’m behind on my logs, too, and if I hear one more Attending bark up my ass I think I’ll just have to quit.”
Lena tsks. “Let’s not do that.”
“I won’t, if I can get these done,” you say. “Thanks for the update, Handzo.”
She nods, patting your shoulder. “Honey, you know it’s my pleasure. I’ll see if I can keep everyone off your back.”
You are still thinking about it three hours later when Baran spawns right behind your swivel chair. You smell her before you see her, something deep and earthy and vaguely antiseptic and painfully recognizable.
"Do you have a patient in bay seven?" she asks.
"Doctor Mohan has a patient in bay seven," you reply shortly. “I’m just assisting.”
"Do you want me to take a look?"
"Suit yourself.”
You hear the sharp intake of breath behind you. You imagine her power stance, hands clasped behind the lululemon, the curls that couldn’t quite be contained with the claw clip. You fight every animal instinct that begs you to turn around and snarl. You imagine you must look like an animal on edge, ears perked up in attention, waiting for a sign that she’s gone—
"I heard you covered the Delgado case this morning," she says.
Your eyes stay trained on the keyboard, fingers pressing the keys, clicking one, then another, then another. "I did."
"That was above and beyond. You didn't have to stay for that."
“Well, I did.”
"I believe it turned into a twelve-hour shift," she says. "You were only scheduled for eight."
"Mhm.”
She is quiet for a moment. "Are you sleeping?”
“Are you meant to be asking me that, Dr. Al-Hashimi?”
"I'm asking as someone who—" She stops. Recalibrates. "Yes. As your department head. Who notices when staff are working themselves into the ground."
"Then I appreciate your concern for my wellness." The words come out flat, professional, empty. "I'll make sure to log my hours appropriately."
"That's not what I—"
"Perlah," you call out, louder than necessary, swiveling your chair just enough to address the nursing station without looking at Baran. "Would you pass along the updated labs for bay seven when you get a chance?"
Perlah glances up, then past you to where Baran is standing. Her eyes flicker with confusion before she nods. "Sure thing."
You turn back to your screen. Baran hasn't moved.
"You look exhausted," she says quietly. Too quietly for anyone else to hear over the ambient noise of the station—Dennis on the phone, Trinity’s keyboard clicking, the distant beep of monitors.
"I'm fine."
"You're not. You look exhausted."
"With respect, Dr. Al-Hashimi, I don't think my appearance is really—"
"Y/N." Her voice has an edge now. "Stop.”
"Stop what?"
Her jaw tightens. "This little pity party. As your department head—"
"Already pulling rank? How's that working out for you, by the way? The career move, I mean. Worth it?"
"That's not—"
"Because you look tired too, if we're doing wellness checks." You tilt your head, examining her with clinical detachment. "Actually, while we’re on topic, when's the last time you slept?"
Something flashes across her face. Hurt, maybe. Good.
"We are not doing this here," she says, ice chilling her voice.
"Doing what? Having a conversation? Isn't that what you wanted?" You turn back to your screen. "Or did you just want me to say 'yes ma'am, thank you ma'am' and make you feel better about—"
"Watch yourself." Her voice drops, sharpens. "I understand you're tired, but you need to watch your tone right now."
"Or what?" You spin around. "You’re gonna put something in my file?" You're talking faster now, the words tumbling out. "You already have access to that anyway, so—"
"I said that's enough." Her voice is quiet. Deadly quiet. Samira has definitely stopped typing. "You're not in a state to be here right now. Go home."
That catches your attention. You gape at her.
"I have four hours left on my—"
"I'm aware of your schedule." Each word is precisely placed. "As your boss, I am telling you to go home. Clock out. Leave."
"On what grounds?"
"Because you're exhausted, acting immature, and you're disrespecting your superior in front of the entire station. This is not a discussion. Go home before I have to make this official.”
The worst part is she's right, to some degree. But what cuts is the way she is using the position, the authority, the thing she chose over you—to send you away. To protect herself. To prove that she can.
"Fine." You stand up too fast, chair rolling backward. "Anything else, Dr. Al-Hashimi?"
Something flickers across her face. But her voice stays steady. "No. That's all, Y/N."
You grab your bag. You don't look at Perlah. You don't look at anyone.
You definitely don't look at Baran as you walk past her toward the exit.
But you feel her watching you leave.
—
"Dr. Al-Hashimi? Can I borrow you for a second?"
"Of course." Baran doesn't look up immediately. She finishes the lab she's reviewing, hands it off to Langdon, sets down her pen. Baran follows the woman who she is slowly recognizing as Melissa from HR three steps away from the station, just far enough that the noise covers their voices.
"We received a resignation letter this afternoon," Marissa says. "Effective immediately. I wanted to let you know before processing it."
"Who?"
Marissa says your name.
Baran goes very still. "What?"
"It was submitted about two hours ago,” Melissa supplies. "It surprised me too. But I just wanted to check if there were any performance issues we should document, or if—"
"No." Too fast. "No, nothing like that. She’s—she’s an excellent nurse."
Marissa nods slowly. "Okay. Then I'll process it. We'll need to arrange an exit interview, but given the circumstances—"
"Yes. Fine. Whatever the protocol is."
Marissa hesitates, blinking at the tone. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Thank you for letting me know." Baran's already turning back toward the nursing station. “Excuse me."
She beelines down the east corridor, past the supply room, into the medication room at the end. It's empty. She closes the door.
Her hands are shaking. She presses her palms flat against the counter and tries to breathe.
She pulls out her phone, fingers hovering over your name in her contacts. She hasn't texted you in weeks, the most recent message still the invitation for dinner, and your eager response with its exclamation points and little beaming emojis.
She types: What are you doing? You're throwing your career away over this? You worked so hard to get here.
She stares at the words, thinks about nursing school, the late nights you told her about, the clinical rotations, the NCLEX. How proud you were when PTMC hired you. How much this job means to you.
◞ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘 ． after another exhausting week working at pittsburgh trauma medical hospital , baran quietly admits to trinity that she wants to try something different together . what starts as nervous teasing and a late night phone call quickly spirals into both of them becoming completely addicted to the stranger on the other end of the line . 24.7k
◞ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ． porn with plot . mdni ． trinity x baran ． phone sex operator!reader ． praise kink ． cunnilingus ． fingering ． thigh riding ． nipple play ． dirty talk ． begging ． body worship ． messy / wet sex ． reader listening in ． mutual masturbation ． multiple orgasms ． possessive trinity ． needy!baran ． emotional intimacy ． soft dom dynamics ． exhausted trauma doctors making horny decisions .
The apartment always feels strangely quiet after hospital shifts. Not peaceful quiet either. Exhausted quiet. The kind that settles heavily into the walls after twelve straight hours of fluorescent lights, trauma calls, ringing monitors, and people speaking too loudly over each other for an entire day. Baran feels it immediately the second she pushes open the apartment door that night.
The warm yellow light above the stove is already on, casting a soft glow across the kitchen while takeout containers sit forgotten on the counter beside Trinity’s half-empty iced coffee from earlier that morning.
Somebody’s abandoned hoodie hangs over the back of the couch. A pair of sneakers rests crookedly beside the front door because neither of them ever remembers to put their shoes away properly after shifts anymore.
The television plays quietly in the background even though nobody is actually watching it, some random late night cooking show murmuring softly through the apartment while the city glows faintly outside the windows.
The entire place smells faintly like leftover takeout, laundry detergent, and Trinity’s vanilla perfume lingering somewhere in the air. Usually coming home makes Baran feel lighter immediately. Tonight she just feels tired all the way through her bones.
Trinity is already sprawled across the couch by the time Baran walks fully into the living room. One leg hangs lazily over the side of the cushions while her head rests against the armrest beneath a blanket she clearly dragged out halfway through trying to stay awake.
She’s still wearing her hospital scrubs too, dark blue fabric wrinkled from the shift while her curls spill messily across the pillow beneath her head. The second Baran walks into the room, Trinity glances up from her phone without moving anything except her eyes.
“You look dead,” she mutters tiredly. Baran lets out a soft laugh beneath her breath while dropping her bag onto the kitchen counter harder than she means to. “Feel dead,” she answers quietly before finally kicking off her shoes beside the door.
Everything about their relationship has always looked like this. Tired affection. Shared exhaustion. Late nights spent half conscious together after brutal shifts at The Pitt.
Neither of them are particularly good at slowing down on their own, which is probably why they work so well together in the first place. Trinity forces Baran to laugh more, while Baran somehow keeps Trinity from completely self destructing every time work gets bad.
Sometimes Baran still thinks about the first day they met at the hospital. Trinity had been arguing with one of the attendings loud enough for half the emergency department to hear her while Baran stood nearby trying very hard not to laugh. Something about Trinity had immediately pulled people toward her back then.
The confidence. The attitude. The way she carried herself like she owned every room she walked into even while surviving off terrible cafeteria coffee and two hours of sleep.
Baran remembers thinking she looked exhausting. Then Trinity turned around halfway through the argument, caught Baran smiling to herself, and pointed directly at her in the middle of the hallway.
“You,” she’d said immediately. “You think I’m right.” Baran still remembers laughing out loud for the first time during that awful shift because of it.
After that, Trinity kept finding reasons to end up around her constantly. Sitting beside her during charting. Stealing drinks from her coffee cup. Showing up in radiology for absolutely no reason except apparently wanting to annoy her specifically.
Now, almost two years later, their entire lives seem stitched together so tightly that Baran sometimes forgets there was ever a point where Trinity didn’t exist inside every part of her routine. There are traces of her everywhere inside the apartment. Trinity’s rings sitting forgotten beside the bathroom sink.
Trinity’s jackets hanging over chairs instead of actual coat hooks. Trinity’s handwriting scribbled messily across sticky notes left on the fridge reminding Baran to eat something before work. Baran notices all of it automatically every time she comes home.
Especially tonight. She quietly grabs two bottles of water from the fridge before finally moving toward the couch where Trinity immediately lifts the blanket wordlessly in invitation.
Baran settles beside her with a long exhausted sigh, body sinking heavily into the cushions while Trinity instantly leans sideways against her shoulder like muscle memory. The warmth of her body settles comfortably against Baran’s side.
Neither of them speak for a while after that. The cooking show continues talking softly in the background while traffic hums faintly somewhere far below the apartment windows.
Baran stares quietly toward the television without really watching it. Her body aches everywhere tonight. Her shoulders feel tight from stress while exhaustion drags heavily behind her eyes after another brutal shift at the hospital. There had been too many patients today. Too many families crying in waiting rooms.
Too many moments where somebody looked at Baran like she personally held their entire life in her hands. She normally carries the pressure well, but lately it feels like work follows both her and Trinity home more often than it used to.
Even now she can feel it sitting between them beneath the quiet comfort of the apartment. Trinity notices too.
Baran knows she does because after a few more minutes, Trinity slowly lowers her phone onto her chest before finally glancing sideways toward her properly. “You’re doing that thing again,” Trinity murmurs quietly.
Baran blinks once. “What thing?” Trinity shifts slightly closer beneath the blanket while studying her face carefully. “The thing where you get all weirdly quiet when something’s bothering you.”
Baran lets out another soft breath while rubbing tiredly at one eye. The truth is she doesn’t fully know how to explain the feeling sitting inside her chest tonight. It isn’t unhappiness exactly. She loves Trinity more than anything. Loves this apartment. Loves the life they’ve built together between exhausting shifts and stolen mornings and late night takeout dinners on the couch.
But lately something has felt missing too. Not emotionally. Physically maybe. Intimately. Somewhere between surviving endless hospital shifts and collapsing into bed half asleep every night, both of them have quietly fallen into routine without meaning to. Baran misses feeling wanted sometimes.
Misses the excitement they used to carry around each other during the beginning of their relationship when even a glance across the trauma bay could make Trinity smirk at her for the rest of the shift. The realisation sits heavily in Baran’s chest while Trinity watches her carefully beside her beneath the blanket.
“You know you can tell me things, right?” Trinity asks softly after a minute. Baran finally glances toward her properly then, dark eyes lingering on Trinity’s tired face while a strange nervous thought slowly begins forming somewhere in the back of her mind.
Trinity keeps watching her carefully after that, phone forgotten against her chest now while the apartment settles deeper into late night quiet around them. The television continues murmuring softly in the background, some chef enthusiastically talking about garlic and olive oil while neither of them pays attention to a single word being said. Baran’s fingers tighten slightly around the cold water bottle resting in her lap.
She can physically feel nervousness beginning to creep beneath her skin now, which feels ridiculous considering this is Trinity. There’s nobody Baran trusts more than her. Nobody she’s more comfortable around. And yet somehow the thought sitting in the back of her mind still feels strangely embarrassing to say out loud.
Trinity notices the hesitation immediately. Of course she does. She shifts slightly beneath the blanket until her thigh presses more firmly against Baran’s while one hand comes up to rest lazily on Baran’s knee.
“Okay,” Trinity says quietly after another second passes. “Now I definitely know something’s going on.” Baran lets out a soft breath through her nose at that.
“It’s nothing bad,” she says quickly.
Trinity raises one eyebrow immediately. “That’s usually what people say before saying something insane.”
The comment pulls a quiet laugh out of Baran before she can stop herself. Trinity’s mouth twitches upward slightly at the sound like she’s relieved to hear it. The tension in Baran’s shoulders loosens just a little beneath the blanket while she stares down at the label of the water bottle in her hands.
She doesn’t really know how to start this conversation without sounding awkward. That’s the problem. Because the thought itself isn’t even that dramatic. It’s just… new. Different. Something she’s been quietly thinking about for longer than she wants to admit now.
The idea first popped into her head during a night shift weeks ago after overhearing two nurses whispering and laughing about some ridiculous story involving a phone sex line.
Baran had laughed it off at the time. Then somehow the thought never fully left afterward. Now it keeps reappearing at the worst possible moments.
During charting. During long drives home from the hospital. During nights exactly like this where she and Trinity sit together exhausted but still craving closeness neither of them quite knows how to ask for anymore.
Trinity studies her face for another few seconds before finally shifting closer again. “Baran,” she says softly now, voice quieter than before. “You’re starting to scare me a little.”
The concern in her tone immediately makes guilt twist through Baran’s chest because she knows Trinity’s brain probably jumped to something much worse by now.
“No, no,” Baran says quickly while finally glancing toward her properly. “It’s not serious.” Trinity visibly relaxes at that, though curiosity immediately replaces the concern instead. Baran watches the exact moment Trinity’s expression changes too.
The slight narrowing of her eyes. The tiny smirk beginning to tug at the corner of her mouth now that she realises this conversation might actually be interesting instead of upsetting. “Oh,” Trinity says slowly. “So this is embarrassing, then.”
Baran groans quietly beneath her breath while leaning back harder into the couch cushions. Trinity immediately brightens. “Holy shit,” she laughs softly. “It is embarrassing.” Baran covers part of her face briefly with one hand while Trinity grins beside her like she’s just been handed entertainment for the night.
“You’re enjoying this way too much,” Baran mutters tiredly.
“Absolutely.”
Baran shakes her head softly to herself while Trinity continues watching her with open amusement now. The teasing somehow makes it easier though. Less heavy. Less awkward sitting there beneath the blanket with late night exhaustion wrapped around both of them while the city glows dimly outside the apartment windows.
Trinity’s thumb starts rubbing absentminded little circles against Baran’s knee through the blanket while waiting patiently for her to continue. The simple touch grounds her more than anything else could. Baran swallows once before finally forcing herself to speak again. “Do you ever feel like…”
She trails off immediately. Trinity waits. “Like maybe we’ve gotten too used to routine lately?” The question settles quietly between them afterward. Trinity’s expression softens slightly at that. Not defensive. Just thoughtful now. Baran keeps her eyes fixed downward while continuing quietly,
“Not in a bad way. I just mean…” Another soft sigh leaves her chest. “I miss when everything felt newer, I guess.” The honesty of the confession makes warmth creep up the back of her neck instantly.
Trinity stays quiet for longer than Baran expects.
Long enough that nervousness starts twisting through her stomach again.
Then finally Trinity leans her head against Baran’s shoulder properly and lets out a slow breath. “I know what you mean,” she admits softly. The answer immediately eases something inside Baran’s chest she hadn’t even realised was tight until now.
Trinity shifts slightly beneath the blanket afterward until she’s half curled against Baran’s side, fingers still absentmindedly tracing over her knee while she speaks. “I think we’re both just tired all the time lately.”
Baran nods quietly because it’s true. Hospital exhaustion changes people. It steals energy in ways neither of them fully noticed happening at first. Most nights now end exactly like this — takeout, exhaustion, collapsing into bed while one of them falls asleep halfway through a conversation.
There’s still affection everywhere between them. Still love in every touch and glance and lazy kiss exchanged in kitchens at two in the morning. But spontaneity has quietly disappeared somewhere along the way.
Trinity sighs softly before tilting her head upward slightly to look at Baran again. “Okay,” she says after another moment. “So what brought this on?” The question immediately makes Baran tense all over again.
Because now she actually has to say it.
Baran stares straight ahead at the television for a few long seconds while trying to figure out how to phrase the thought in a way that doesn’t sound completely insane.
Trinity notices the hesitation immediately and starts grinning again before Baran even opens her mouth. “Oh my god,” Trinity says quietly. “You really are about to say something insane.”
Baran laughs weakly beneath her breath despite herself. “Maybe.” Trinity actually sits up a little straighter now, suddenly far more awake than she’d been five minutes ago. The blanket slips lower into her lap while she turns fully toward Baran on the couch. “Wait,” she says immediately. “Now I’m invested.”
Baran groans softly and drags one tired hand over her face again. Her pulse has started kicking annoyingly hard in her throat now over something that probably shouldn’t even feel this dramatic.
Trinity watches her with bright curious eyes while softly biting back another smile. “Baran,” she says gently. “Just say it.” Baran exhales slowly through her nose before finally glancing sideways toward her.
Then, very quietly, she says, “Have you ever thought about calling one of those phone sex lines?”
The silence afterward feels almost violent. Trinity just stares at her. Not blinking. Not speaking. Completely motionless on the couch while the television continues rambling pointlessly in the background about homemade pasta like the world hasn’t just tilted slightly off its axis inside their apartment.
The only sound Baran can hear now is her own heartbeat thudding annoyingly hard in her ears while regret immediately starts crawling up the back of her neck. Maybe she should’ve phrased it differently. Softer somehow.
Less like she’d secretly been thinking about it for weeks. Trinity’s expression stays completely unreadable for another long second before finally her eyebrows lift slowly toward her hairline. “Excuse me?” she says carefully.
Baran immediately hides part of her face behind her hand again with a quiet groan. “Okay, see, this is exactly why I didn’t want to say anything.” Trinity’s mouth twitches dangerously at the corners like she’s trying not to laugh.
“No, no,” she says quickly while shifting fully toward Baran now. “Hold on. Rewind. What the fuck do you mean phone sex line?” Baran can physically feel heat rising into her cheeks now. Which only makes Trinity look more delighted.
“You’ve actually thought about this,” Trinity realises immediately, voice full of growing amusement. “Oh my god, you’ve seriously thought about this.”
Baran drops her hand from her face long enough to glare tiredly at her. “You’re being annoying.”
“You just randomly asked me if I’ve ever wanted to call a phone sex operator,” Trinity shoots back instantly.
“You don’t get to decide what counts as annoying anymore.” That finally pulls another reluctant laugh from Baran despite the embarrassment trying to swallow her whole. Trinity notices immediately too.
Her expression softens slightly around the edges even while curiosity continues lighting up her face now. “Wait,” she says again, quieter this time. “You’re serious?” Baran hesitates for half a second before nodding once.
The teasing expression on Trinity’s face fades into something more thoughtful afterward. She leans back slightly against the couch cushions while studying Baran carefully now instead of laughing at her. “Huh,” Trinity murmurs softly.
That reaction somehow makes Baran more nervous. Because now Trinity’s actually considering it.
The apartment suddenly feels warmer than before. Smaller somehow too. Baran shifts slightly beneath the blanket while Trinity continues staring at her with this unreadable look that makes her stomach twist harder every passing second. “I don’t know,” Baran admits quietly after another minute of silence.
“I just thought maybe it could be…” She trails off again immediately. Trinity’s eyes narrow slightly in amusement.
“Hot?”
Baran groans under her breath. “Can you stop making me say things out loud?” Trinity laughs softly beside her before nudging their knees together beneath the blanket.
“Baby, you literally brought this up.” Baran lets out another tired sigh while leaning her head back against the couch cushions. “Forget it,” she mutters quietly.
“It sounded less embarrassing in my head.” Trinity immediately reaches over and catches her wrist before she can fully retreat into herself. The touch stops Baran almost instantly. “Hey,” Trinity says softer now. “I’m not making fun of you.” Baran glances sideways toward her carefully.
Trinity looks genuinely interested now. Which somehow feels worse. Or maybe better. Baran honestly can’t tell anymore.
“You’ve really been thinking about this?” Trinity asks after another moment, thumb brushing lazily over the inside of Baran’s wrist while she speaks.
The simple touch settles some of the nervousness buzzing beneath Baran’s skin. “A little,” she admits quietly. Trinity’s eyebrows lift immediately. “A little?”
Baran exhales softly through her nose before finally mumbling, “More than a little.” That fully breaks Trinity again. She laughs hard enough to fall sideways against the couch cushions while Baran covers her face completely this time. “You’re evil,” Baran mutters from behind her hands while Trinity continues laughing beside her. “No,” Trinity says through another grin. “I’m obsessed with this.”
Baran peeks at her through her fingers with the most exhausted expression imaginable. Trinity just looks brighter now than she has all night. More awake. More alive somehow. The sight alone makes warmth curl unexpectedly through Baran’s chest despite the embarrassment.
Eventually Trinity calms down enough to sit back upright again.
Though the smile never fully leaves her face. “So,” she says slowly. “Hypothetically.” Baran immediately groans again. “Oh my god.”
“No, seriously,” Trinity continues while tucking one leg beneath herself on the couch. “What exactly were you imagining here?” The question instantly sends another wave of heat creeping up Baran’s neck. Because unfortunately she has imagined it. More than once.
The thought alone makes her stomach tighten nervously while Trinity watches her with open curiosity now. “I don’t know,” Baran says carefully. “Just…” She pauses again before forcing herself to continue. “Somebody talking us through things maybe?”
Trinity goes quiet at that. Baran notices immediately. The shift is subtle but obvious enough after years together. The slight change in Trinity’s breathing. The way her eyes darken just slightly while picturing it properly for the first time.
“Talking us through things,” Trinity repeats slowly. Baran nods once without meeting her eyes. Another silence settles between them afterward, though this one feels different. Thicker somehow. Charged.
Trinity leans back deeper into the couch cushions while studying Baran’s face carefully again. “You’ve definitely thought about this more than me,” she murmurs softly.
The response comes so automatically that both of them laugh softly afterward. The tension eases again for a moment while Trinity’s hand slips from Baran’s wrist to lace loosely through her fingers beneath the blanket instead.
Their apartment feels quieter now. Intimate in a different way than before. Like the conversation itself has shifted something subtle between them already.
Baran glances toward Trinity carefully after another minute passes and catches her staring off toward the television with that thoughtful expression she gets whenever she’s seriously considering something dangerous.
“You’re thinking about it,” Baran says quietly. Trinity immediately looks back at her. Then, very slowly, a grin spreads across her face again. “I mean…” she says casually. “Now I kinda wanna know what kind of voice you’d like.”
The words hit Baran so suddenly she actually chokes on her own breath. Trinity bursts into laughter instantly while Baran stares at her in disbelief. “You’re awful,” Baran mutters weakly. Trinity just squeezes her hand tighter beneath the blanket while smiling lazily against the couch cushions.
“But you’re blushing,” she points out softly.
Baran immediately tries pulling her hand away after that comment.
Trinity refuses to let her.
Instead her fingers tighten more firmly through Baran’s beneath the blanket while the smug grin on her face only grows wider watching Baran visibly fall apart over one teasing sentence. “You are blushing,” Trinity repeats softer this time, clearly enjoying herself now.
Baran turns her face away toward the television immediately even though she knows Trinity can still see the warmth spreading across her cheeks. “You’re so annoying,” she mutters weakly beneath her breath. Trinity laughs quietly beside her before shifting closer on the couch again.
Their thighs press fully together beneath the blanket now, warm skin and tired muscles tangled comfortably while the apartment continues glowing softly around them. “No,” Trinity says lazily. “I just think it’s cute when you get embarrassed.”
Baran lets out another quiet groan, though it lacks any actual irritation behind it. Trinity notices immediately. She always notices. The teasing smile on her face softens slightly afterward while her thumb starts tracing absentminded little circles over the inside of Baran’s palm beneath the blanket. The touch feels gentle at first. Familiar. Comforting.
Then Trinity’s hand slowly slides higher.
The movement is subtle enough that Baran almost thinks she imagined it initially. Fingertips gliding from her palm to her wrist before slowly tracing upward along the inside of her forearm beneath the blanket while Trinity continues looking at her like nothing’s happening. The touch sends an immediate pulse of warmth through Baran’s stomach anyway.
Trinity notices the reaction instantly. Of course she does. Her eyes flick briefly downward toward Baran’s mouth before returning to her face again, dark with quiet amusement now. “So,” Trinity murmurs casually while her fingers continue moving slowly higher.
“What exactly started this?” Baran swallows once. The soft drag of Trinity’s nails against sensitive skin makes it difficult to focus properly now. “I told you,” she answers quietly. “I overheard some nurses talking about it.”
Trinity hums softly beside her. “And then you just sat there at work fantasising about strangers talking dirty to us?” The bluntness of the question immediately pulls another embarrassed laugh from Baran while her shoulders tense slightly beneath the blanket. Trinity grins at the reaction. Her hand finally reaches Baran’s elbow before slowly sliding higher again.
“Trin,” Baran mutters softly.
But there’s no real warning in it.
If anything, her voice sounds shakier than before.
Trinity clearly notices that too because her expression changes immediately afterward. The teasing remains, but something else settles beneath it now. Something warmer. Heavier. Her fingers glide slowly over Baran’s upper arm before settling briefly against her waist beneath the blanket instead.
The touch feels intimate in a way that instantly makes Baran’s heartbeat kick harder. Trinity leans slightly closer afterward, curls brushing softly against Baran’s shoulder while the television light flickers lazily across her face. “You know what I think?” Trinity asks quietly.
Baran shakes her head once without trusting herself to speak properly anymore. Trinity’s hand smooths slowly over her waist beneath the blanket while her eyes stay fixed completely on Baran’s face. “I think you’ve been thinking about this because you miss attention.”
The words hit Baran embarrassingly hard. Her breath catches immediately while Trinity’s fingers press a little more firmly against her side. “Not because I don’t want you,” Trinity continues softly. “I just think we’ve both been exhausted lately.” The honesty in her voice makes Baran’s chest ache warmly.
Trinity’s hand slips lower.
Only slightly.
But enough that Baran immediately notices.
The blanket hides everything from view while Trinity’s fingertips drag slowly along the soft fabric of Baran’s sweatpants near her hip, movements absentminded enough to almost feel accidental. Except they’re definitely not accidental. Trinity keeps watching her too closely for that.
“You get so quiet when you want something,” Trinity murmurs softly after another moment passes. “Did you know that?” Baran glances toward her finally and immediately regrets it because Trinity is so close now.
Close enough that Baran can see the tired smudge beneath her eyes from the shift. Close enough to smell her shampoo and the faint lingering scent of hospital soap against her skin. Close enough that the warmth of her body beneath the blanket suddenly feels overwhelming.
Trinity’s fingers continue tracing lazy patterns against her hip while the apartment stays wrapped in soft late-night silence around them. “I don’t know how to ask for things sometimes,” Baran admits quietly before she can stop herself.
The confession settles heavily between them. Trinity’s expression softens instantly at the honesty in her voice. Then her hand slides fully onto Baran’s thigh beneath the blanket.
Baran’s breath catches sharply.
Because now Trinity’s definitely doing it on purpose.
Her palm settles warmly against the inside of Baran’s thigh while her thumb strokes slow circles there through the fabric of her sweatpants. The touch immediately sends heat curling low in Baran’s stomach. Trinity watches the reaction carefully while leaning even closer against her side now.
“Baby,” she says softly. “You could literally ask me for anything.” The words alone nearly melt Baran into the couch cushions. Especially because Trinity sounds completely genuine saying them. Her hand continues resting high against Baran’s thigh while the television murmurs quietly in the background, neither of them paying attention to it anymore.
Baran’s pulse feels loud enough to hear now. Trinity notices the way her breathing changes too because her thumb drags slower over her thigh afterward, teasingly close to where Baran’s legs part slightly beneath the blanket.
“You nervous?” Trinity asks quietly. Baran laughs softly beneath her breath without answering. Trinity grins immediately. “That nervous, huh?” The teasing tone makes Baran finally glance toward her fully again.
Big mistake.
Because Trinity immediately leans in.
Not enough to kiss her.
Just enough that their noses almost brush.
“You know what’s really getting me?” Trinity murmurs softly while her fingers squeeze Baran’s thigh once beneath the blanket. “The fact you’ve clearly imagined this already.”
Baran physically hides her face against Trinity’s shoulder at that point with a quiet groan while Trinity laughs softly beneath her breath. Her arms immediately slide around Baran automatically the second she curls into her side, holding her comfortably against her chest beneath the blanket.
The position somehow makes everything feel more intimate now. More dangerous too. Trinity’s fingers remain resting high against Baran’s thigh while she presses a sleepy kiss against the top of her head. “Hey,” Trinity says quietly after another minute. “Look at me.”
Baran reluctantly lifts her head slightly. Trinity’s expression has softened again now, teasing fading into something warmer beneath the dim apartment lighting.
“You wanna try it?” she asks softly. The question settles directly into Baran’s stomach while Trinity’s thumb strokes slowly against her thigh again beneath the blanket.
Baran stares at her for one long second before quietly asking, “You wouldn’t think it’s weird?” Trinity immediately snorts. “Baby,” she says gently. “We work in emergency medicine. Nothing is weird anymore.”
The conversation somehow follows them through the rest of the night after that.
Not seriously at first.
Mostly teasing.
Trinity absolutely refuses to let Baran live down the fact she brought up phone sex lines completely unprompted while they clean up the apartment together before bed. Every few minutes she keeps glancing over from the kitchen counter with this smug little smile that immediately makes Baran regret opening her mouth earlier.
“You’ve definitely thought about this while charting before,” Trinity says at one point while rinsing out one of the takeout containers in the sink. Baran nearly chokes on her water.
“Can you please stop psychoanalyzing me for five minutes?” Trinity laughs softly beneath the warm kitchen lighting while shaking water from her hands afterward.
“I’m just saying,” she replies innocently. “You don’t casually ask your girlfriend about phone sex operators unless you’ve mentally planned the whole thing already.” Baran groans quietly while tossing one of the blankets back onto the couch.
The apartment feels lighter now somehow. Softer. The exhaustion from the hospital still clings heavily to both of them, but the conversation shifted something subtle between them tonight. Something warmer. Playful. It lingers in every glance afterward.
Eventually they start getting ready for bed properly.
The entire routine feels deeply familiar after years together.
Baran brushes her teeth while Trinity sits lazily on the bathroom counter scrolling through her phone half asleep, one sock missing because she somehow always loses clothing between the living room and bedroom every single night. Their apartment grows quieter the later it gets.
Lights click off room by room while the city outside the windows settles deeper into darkness beyond the glass. By the time they finally make it into the bedroom, both of them look exhausted again. Trinity immediately strips down to an oversized t-shirt and boxers before collapsing dramatically face first onto the mattress. “Dead,” she mumbles into the pillows.
Baran laughs softly beneath her breath while pulling back the blankets on her side of the bed. The bedside lamp casts soft golden light across the room while Trinity rolls onto her back with another tired sigh, curls spread messily across the pillows now.
Baran slides beneath the blankets beside her a second later, warm sheets tangling around tired legs while the mattress dips comfortably beneath both their weight. Trinity immediately shifts closer without even thinking about it, one arm lazily sliding across Baran’s waist while she unlocks her phone again with her other hand.
Baran notices instantly.
“You’re not actually googling it right now.”
Trinity looks over at her with zero shame whatsoever. “Absolutely am.”
Baran lets out a tired laugh while covering part of her face with one hand. “Trinity.”
“Relax,” Trinity says immediately while shifting onto her side beside her. “We’re not actually calling anybody tonight.” Her thumb continues moving across the screen while she speaks. “This is research.”
Baran snorts softly at that before eventually giving in and scooting closer beneath the blankets until she can see the phone screen properly too. The bedroom light stays dim around them while Trinity types lazily into Google one handed.
The results immediately make both of them laugh because most of the sites look aggressively fake. Neon pink banners. Terrible graphics. Women with obviously stolen stock photos posing beside phone numbers in tiny glittery fonts.
Trinity visibly recoils at one point. “Absolutely not,” she mutters while scrolling faster. “This looks like it steals credit card information.” Baran laughs harder beside her while resting her chin against Trinity’s shoulder now, both of them tangled together beneath the blankets while half searching out of curiosity and half because neither of them actually wants to sleep yet.
Then Trinity suddenly pauses scrolling.
“Huh.”
Baran glances downward toward the screen again.
This site looks completely different from the others.
Minimalistic. Dark background. No flashing advertisements or fake looking photos everywhere. Just a simple independent page with soft colours, discreet booking information, and a small paragraph introducing you without giving much away personally.
Trinity immediately sits up slightly straighter against the pillows while reading silently. Baran notices the shift in her posture right away.
“What?” she asks quietly. Trinity scrolls lower slowly. “This one’s independent.” Baran moves closer automatically, shoulder pressing more firmly against Trinity’s while both of them stare at the screen together beneath the dim bedroom light.
There are no actual photos of you anywhere on the page. No overly edited selfies or fake looking promotional pictures like the other sites. Instead there’s only a small audio icon beneath your username with the words:
hear my voice before booking.
Something about that instantly changes the atmosphere between them again.
Baran notices it immediately.
So does Trinity.
The bedroom suddenly feels strangely quiet now apart from the faint city noise outside the windows. Trinity glances sideways toward Baran briefly before tapping the audio button.
The voice note crackles softly through the phone speaker a second later. “Hi, sweetheart,” your voice says warmly. “Take a breath for me first, yeah? We don’t rush anything here.”
Both of them physically still afterward. The softness in your voice settles directly into the room somehow. Calm. Low. Intimate in a way neither of them expected from something so simple. Trinity’s eyes flick immediately toward Baran the second the clip ends. Baran’s entire face feels warm now.
“Okay,” Trinity says slowly. “I get it.” Baran immediately hides part of her face against Trinity’s shoulder again while Trinity starts grinning beside her. “You’re blushing again,” Trinity whispers, sounding genuinely delighted by it.
“I hate you,” Baran mutters weakly.
“No you don’t.”
Trinity scrolls further down afterward while Baran stays curled quietly against her side trying very hard not to think too much about your voice replaying in her head already. The reviews underneath your page somehow make everything worse too.
Not exaggerated fake sounding reviews like the other sites had. These feel real. Personal. Most of them aren’t even explicitly sexual either. A lot of people mention how comfortable you make them feel. How patient you are. How natural conversations with you become after the first few minutes. Trinity reads one out loud quietly:
“felt more intimate than half the real relationships i’ve been in.”
Baran physically groans into the pillow afterward. Trinity laughs softly beside her while continuing to scroll. Another review catches her attention:
“her voice alone nearly ruined me.”
“Jesus christ,” Trinity mutters beneath her breath while glancing sideways toward Baran again. Baran refuses to look at her this time because unfortunately she completely understands the review already.
Something about your voice lingers unpleasantly well inside her head now. Warm enough to feel personal even through a ten second audio clip. Trinity notices Baran going quiet beside her afterward and immediately smirks.
“Oh, you’re gone,” she says softly. Baran finally looks up at her with the most exhausted expression imaginable. “We are not calling anybody tonight.” Trinity hums innocently beside her while locking the phone and tossing it onto the nightstand.
“Didn’t say we were.” Then she pulls Baran fully into her side beneath the blankets, smiling sleepily into her hair while the room settles back into darkness around them. “But we’re definitely saving that number.”
Your apartment always feels warm at night.
Not physically warm exactly.
Intentional warm.
The kind carefully built through soft amber lighting replacing harsh overhead bulbs, expensive candles burning low across marble countertops, jazz humming quietly through hidden speakers tucked somewhere inside the walls, and the distant glitter of city lights spilling through enormous floor-to-ceiling windows stretching across your living room.
Most people imagine something entirely different when they think about what you do for a living. Cheap lingerie tossed carelessly across dirty carpet. Pink neon signs glowing in cramped apartments. Sad women forcing fake moans into cheap headsets for lonely strangers at three in the morning.
You stopped finding those assumptions insulting years ago. Mostly because your reality couldn’t feel further from any of it. Your apartment sits high above downtown inside a luxury building with private elevators and a lobby that permanently smells faintly like expensive perfume and polished stone.
The furniture is soft cream and ridiculously overpriced. Fresh flowers sit arranged beside your kitchen sink because you genuinely like them there. The city glows endlessly outside your windows while low music drifts softly through the apartment and your bare feet move quietly across heated hardwood floors.
You’ve done well for yourself here.
Not obscenely rich.
Not private jets and million-dollar watches rich.
But comfortable in a way your younger self never could’ve imagined while sitting cross-legged on the floor of that awful first apartment years ago surrounded by overdue bills and final notices. You still remember that place vividly sometimes.
Tiny kitchen. Thin walls. Neighbours constantly screaming at each other through the night while your laptop balanced on your knees because you couldn’t afford a proper desk yet. Back then you’d been working miserable retail shifts that barely covered groceries, let alone rent.
Everything felt humiliatingly difficult all the time. One random comment online about independent phone work paying surprisingly well had changed everything without you fully realising it at first. You hadn’t entered the industry because of fantasy or secret desire. You entered because survival leaves very little room for pride sometimes.
You made a profile half convinced you’d quit within a week. Chose a fake name. Bought a cheap microphone. Practiced lowering your voice slightly before your first call because you thought that’s what men probably wanted to hear. At the time the entire thing felt transactional. Mechanical almost.
Then people started talking to you.
Really talking to you.
That was the part nobody warned you about.
The intimacy.
Not sexual intimacy either. Emotional intimacy. Vulnerability. Loneliness. The strange quiet honesty people slipped into once they realised there was somebody on the other end of the line willing to listen without judgment.
Sure, some clients just wanted orgasms. Those always existed. But the conversations you remembered afterward were never the easiest ones.
They were the nervous ones. The shaky voiced women calling for the first time trying to figure out how to tell their husbands what they actually liked. The exhausted married couples whispering to each other through laughter because they’d forgotten how to flirt after years together.
The closeted girls admitting fantasies they’d never spoken aloud before. Some people cried with you too. Not often. But enough that you stopped seeing the work as shallow years ago. Somewhere along the way you realised most people aren’t actually desperate for sex.
They’re desperate for permission. Permission to feel wanted. Permission to feel interesting again. Permission to rediscover parts of themselves they quietly buried beneath routine, marriage, exhaustion, children, insecurity, or shame.
That realisation changed everything for you.
Especially once you started working independently instead of through agencies.
The larger companies felt cold almost immediately after you tried them. Artificial scripts repeated endlessly to strangers who barely viewed the women on the line as human beings.
Timers ticking constantly in the background. Managers pushing fake personalities and exaggerated performances because apparently authenticity didn’t “sell” well enough.
You hated it within weeks. Independence gave you freedom instead. Freedom to choose who you spoke to. Freedom to set boundaries. Freedom to slow conversations down and actually create atmosphere instead of rushing people toward quick orgasms. That became your entire reputation eventually.
Intimacy over performance. Comfort over spectacle. Even your website reflects that now. No stolen stock images. No fake glamour shots. No ridiculous exaggerated promises splashed across neon banners. Just your voice. Warm lighting. Soft colours. Minimal design. You intentionally never show your face either.
The mystery helps, but honestly? You discovered people relax more when they aren’t busy comparing themselves to the woman on the screen. They focus on each other instead. On touch. On vulnerability. On connection. That’s the part you genuinely care about now.
Your favourite clients have always been couples.
Especially women.
There’s something deeply intimate about listening to two women slowly unravel together over the phone. The nervous laughter during the beginning of calls. The hesitation. The way one partner usually acts far more confident until you start paying attention directly to her too and suddenly she’s blushing just as hard as the other one.
You love hearing walls come down in real time. Love the exact moment conversations stop feeling awkward and start feeling honest instead. Some women call you because they’re curious. Others because they feel disconnected from their relationships lately and don’t fully know how to fix it.
Sometimes people simply want to feel desired again after months of exhaustion and routine swallowing their intimacy whole. You understand that feeling better than most.
That’s why you never rush anyone. You ask questions softly. You tease gently. You make people breathe before anything else. Half your reviews mention your voice, but the other half mention how safe they felt speaking to you. That matters more to you than money ever did. Though admittedly the money helps too. The apartment alone proves that much.
Tonight had been relatively quiet compared to usual.
Only two calls.
One regular client wanting company after a painful breakup and another nervous married couple from Chicago who spent almost twenty minutes laughing awkwardly before finally admitting they’d never actually talked dirty to each other before.
You’d guided them through it slowly afterward while curled comfortably across your couch wearing silk pajama shorts and an oversized sweater, one leg tucked beneath you while expensive red wine sat balanced dangerously close to the edge of the coffee table.
By the end of the call they sounded softer somehow. Closer. You could hear it in the way they spoke to each other afterward. That feeling still lingers warmly in your chest now while you move quietly through your apartment shutting off lights one room at a time before bed.
Your phone rests facedown against the kitchen counter charging overnight while the city continues glittering endlessly beyond your windows. Somewhere out there couples are fighting quietly in expensive apartments just like yours. Some people are cheating.
Others are lying awake beside partners they haven’t properly touched in months. Some exhausted woman is probably nervously googling phone sex operators right now while pretending she’s “just curious.”
The thought almost makes you smile to yourself while disappearing down the hallway toward your bedroom. You have no idea that two trauma doctors are currently lying tangled together beneath soft blankets replaying your voice note over and over again in the dark.
The conversation never really leaves either of them after that night.
It lingers quietly beneath everything instead.
During shifts. During late night drives home from the hospital. During exhausted conversations in the kitchen while reheating leftovers at one in the morning because neither of them had eaten properly during work again. Baran notices the change first. Or maybe she notices it because Trinity suddenly becomes impossible to ignore afterward.
Every touch feels different now. Charged somehow. Trinity starts touching her constantly again like they’re back in the beginning of their relationship before exhaustion and routine settled permanently into both their bones.
Hands settling low against Baran’s waist while squeezing past her near overcrowded trauma bays. Fingertips dragging lazily across the back of Baran’s neck while she reviews patient charts at the nurses station. Mouth brushing softly against her shoulder while waiting for terrible vending machine coffee during overnight shifts.
None of it is overt enough for anyone else to notice, but Baran notices every single thing. Especially because every touch reminds her of Trinity lying beside her in bed replaying your voice note over and over again in the dark.
The tension only gets worse from there.
By the third day Trinity starts kissing her whenever she gets the chance.
Not quick casual kisses either.
The kind that leave Baran flushed and breathless afterward while pretending she’s perfectly capable of returning to attending responsibilities thirty seconds later.
Trinity corners her beside empty supply closets twice during shifts just to kiss her properly for a minute before somebody inevitably starts calling Baran’s name from across the emergency department again.
One night Baran barely survives a trauma intake because Trinity spends the entire time standing beside her close enough that their shoulders keep brushing while she quietly murmurs sarcastic comments beneath her breath just to make Baran smile. It feels unbearable. Especially because neither of them have actually called you yet.
Everything happening between them now exists entirely because of anticipation. Possibility. The idea itself somehow becoming foreplay before anything has even happened. Trinity clearly enjoys watching Baran unravel over it too. She keeps choosing the absolute worst possible moments to tease her.
“Think she’d tell you you’re pretty?” whispered softly beside Baran’s ear while they restock IV kits together near the medication room. Baran almost drops the entire tray immediately.
Then there’s the bathroom incident.
Which becomes entirely Trinity’s fault.
Baran blames her completely afterward too. They’d both already been halfway through a brutal overnight shift inside the ED when Trinity casually walked past her near the nurses station and murmured, “You know what I keep thinking about?” without any warning whatsoever. Baran should’ve ignored her immediately. Instead she made the mistake of asking what.
Trinity had leaned closer afterward, dark eyes full of amusement while quietly saying, “What your face is gonna look like hearing her flirt with you.” The words physically short circuited Baran’s brain on the spot.
Ten minutes later Trinity had her gently pinned against the locked hospital bathroom door while kissing her hard enough to make her dizzy beneath awful fluorescent lighting.
Baran still remembers gripping desperately at Trinity’s scrub top while Trinity’s mouth moved against hers, soft breathless sounds spilling helplessly into the kiss while distant intercom announcements echoed faintly outside the bathroom. Trinity had laughed quietly against her lips afterward.
“See?” she whispered while kissing slowly down Baran’s throat. “You’re already losing it and we haven’t even called her yet.” Baran hated how right she sounded.
By the end of the week they finally have the same rare day off together.
No overnight shift.
No attendings calling Baran back into work.
No ambulances flooding the emergency entrance every twenty minutes.
The second Trinity notices the shared schedule she immediately looks up from her phone across the kitchen table with that dangerous expression Baran recognizes instantly by now. “We should do it,” Trinity says casually while stirring sugar into her coffee. Baran nearly chokes on her breakfast.
“You can’t just say things like that at eight in the morning,” she mutters weakly while Trinity grins lazily over the rim of her coffee cup. But the truth is Baran’s already been thinking the exact same thing since checking the schedule herself earlier that morning.
The anticipation has become almost unbearable after days of stolen kisses, lingering touches, and constant teasing between shifts. Trinity notices the hesitation flickering across Baran’s face afterward and immediately softens slightly.
“Only if you want to,” she says quieter this time. The sincerity in her voice settles warmly into Baran’s chest. Because despite all the teasing, Trinity’s taken this seriously too.
Carefully. Like she genuinely wants this to feel good for both of them instead of simply turning it into a joke. Baran stares down into her coffee for another second before quietly saying, “I want to.”
That’s how they end up back in bed together that night with your website open between them again.
The apartment feels softer somehow than usual.
Warmer.
Trinity lies sprawled comfortably across the pillows in loose sweatpants while Baran rests curled against her side beneath the blankets, laptop balanced carefully across both their thighs while your page glows softly against the dark bedroom. Neither of them are laughing this time. Not really.
The nervous energy feels different now. Heavier. Real. Trinity’s fingers absentmindedly play with the ends of Baran’s hair while they stare quietly at the booking screen together for a long moment. Baran notices her own pulse speeding up embarrassingly fast the second Trinity clicks onto your availability calendar.
“Still okay?” Trinity asks softly without looking away from the screen. Baran glances sideways toward her afterward and immediately notices Trinity looks just as nervous now too despite all her confidence earlier that week.
The realization settles something strangely comforting inside Baran’s chest. Slowly, Baran reaches down beneath the blankets and laces her fingers through Trinity’s while whispering, “Yeah.” Then Trinity finally clicks confirm.
The confirmation email arrives almost immediately.
Both of them stare at it for far too long afterward.
The soft glow from the laptop screen spills across the dark bedroom while the city lights shimmer faintly outside the apartment windows behind them, but neither Baran nor Trinity pay attention to any of it now.
Trinity’s fingers stay loosely tangled with Baran’s beneath the blankets while the booking confirmation sits quietly in the center of the screen like something far more dangerous than it actually is. Baran can physically feel her heartbeat now. Fast enough to make her chest uncomfortable.
The call isn’t even tonight. It’s scheduled for tomorrow evening. Forty-five minutes. Private session. Couples welcome. The details somehow make this feel painfully real all of a sudden.
Trinity notices the exact moment Baran starts spiraling too because she immediately squeezes her hand gently beneath the blankets. “Hey,” she says softly while closing the laptop halfway. “You okay?”
Baran lets out a slow breath through her nose before nodding once. “Yeah.” But her voice comes out quieter than usual. Softer. Trinity studies her face carefully afterward and immediately notices. “You’re nervous,” she murmurs.
Baran gives her a tired look before hiding part of her face against the pillow.
“Obviously.”
The honesty makes Trinity laugh quietly.
Not teasingly this time.
Warmly.
Affectionately.
She shifts closer against the pillows afterward until Baran ends up half sprawled across her chest beneath the blankets while the laptop gets abandoned near the foot of the bed completely forgotten for now.
Trinity smells faintly like body wash, coffee, and the lingering sterile scent of hospital soap still buried somewhere inside her hoodie from earlier. Baran relaxes into the familiarity automatically. That’s always been the thing grounding her most about Trinity.
No matter how overwhelmed life gets, Trinity somehow always feels like home underneath it all. Trinity’s fingers start combing slowly through her hair after another quiet minute passes while Baran stays curled close enough to hear the steady rhythm of her heartbeat beneath the hoodie fabric.
“You know,” Trinity murmurs eventually, voice low in the dark bedroom. “I kinda love this.” Baran glances upward lazily. “Love what?” Trinity smiles faintly against her hair afterward. “This whole week.”
The confession settles warmly into Baran’s chest almost immediately because she understands exactly what Trinity means without needing further explanation.
Something shifted between them this week.
Not dramatically.
Not relationship-ending or relationship-saving dramatic.
Just… softer.
Closer.
Like they’d accidentally remembered each other again beneath all the exhaustion and routine swallowing their lives lately. The emergency department has consumed both of them for months now. Endless trauma patients. Double shifts. Falling asleep halfway through conversations because they’re too exhausted to function properly anymore.
Somewhere inside all of that they stopped flirting the way they used to. Stopped teasing each other just because. Stopped touching each other without purpose. But this week? Trinity has kissed her more in five days than she probably had the entire month beforehand.
Baran’s laughed harder too. Smiled more. Felt wanted again in this bright aching way she hadn’t realised she missed so badly until now. And underneath all of it sits this constant nervous anticipation that refuses to leave her alone.
The thought of tomorrow’s call keeps replaying embarrassingly often in her head. Your voice. Trinity beside her. Somebody listening carefully enough to notice every tiny reaction she makes. The idea alone makes warmth spread low in her stomach every single time.
Trinity notices Baran going quiet beside her afterward and tilts her chin gently upward.
“You’re thinking too hard again,” she murmurs softly.
Baran smiles faintly despite herself. “Maybe.” Trinity immediately presses a lazy kiss against the corner of her mouth. “You’re cute when you spiral.” “That’s not a compliment.” “It is to me.” Baran laughs quietly beneath her breath while Trinity grins softly against her skin afterward.
The bedroom stays comfortably dark around them apart from the faint city glow filtering through the curtains now. Somewhere below them traffic hums softly through the streets while the rest of the apartment settles deeper into silence.
Trinity keeps tracing slow absentminded patterns along Baran’s waist beneath the blanket while neither of them speaks for another minute or two. The intimacy of it all suddenly feels almost overwhelming. Not the sexual part. The emotional part.
The fact that this entire thing started because Baran quietly admitted she missed closeness. Missed feeling desired. And Trinity immediately responded by giving it back to her everywhere she could. The realization makes Baran press even closer unconsciously against Trinity’s chest afterward.
“You know,” she murmurs softly after another moment passes. “I was kinda scared to tell you.”
Trinity’s hand stills briefly against her waist.
“About this?”
Baran nods once against her shoulder. Trinity goes quiet afterward in that thoughtful way she gets sometimes when she’s taking something more seriously than usual.
Then her fingers slide gently beneath Baran’s chin again, guiding her face upward carefully. “You never have to be scared to want things with me,” Trinity says quietly. The sincerity in her voice nearly hurts.
Baran stares at her for a long second afterward while Trinity watches her carefully beneath the dim bedroom light. She means it. That’s the dangerous part. Trinity genuinely means every word she says. Suddenly Baran feels embarrassed for ever doubting that in the first place.
Trinity notices the expression on her face immediately too because her features soften almost painfully afterward before she leans down and kisses her slowly. No teasing this time. No desperation either. Just warmth. Familiarity. Trinity’s mouth moving softly against hers while her hand cups the side of her face carefully enough to make Baran’s chest ache.
When Trinity finally pulls back slightly, Baran still stays close enough that their noses brush together.
“Besides,” Trinity murmurs quietly against her lips afterward. “I’m curious now.”
Baran immediately groans softly beneath her breath while hiding her face against Trinity’s shoulder again. Trinity laughs quietly, arms tightening around her beneath the blankets while Baran melts into the warmth of her body almost helplessly.
“No, seriously,” Trinity continues while pressing a kiss against the top of her head. “I wanna know what happens when somebody else flirts with you properly.” Baran physically curls tighter against her at that point.
The thought alone makes heat rush straight into her face all over again. Because unfortunately she’s been thinking about it too much already. Your voice praising her softly. Trinity watching her react beside her.
Somebody noticing how needy she gets beneath all her composure and confidence at work. The fantasy itself keeps making her stomach twist embarrassingly hard every time it slips into her head. “Trin,” she mutters weakly into the fabric of her hoodie.
Trinity instantly grins because she recognises that tone immediately now. Shy. Flustered. Quietly needy in the way Baran only ever gets when she’s genuinely affected by something. “See?” Trinity whispers softly while rubbing slow circles against her waist. “You’re already getting shy about it.” Baran makes another horrified little noise into her shoulder while Trinity laughs quietly above her.
“You are never letting this go, are you?” Baran mumbles tiredly.
“Absolutely not.”
You’re halfway through folding laundry when the confirmation comes through.
The entire apartment smells faintly like vanilla and fresh linen from the candle burning low on the kitchen island while soft music drifts lazily through hidden speakers somewhere overhead.
One of your oversized silk robes hangs loosely from your shoulders, sleeves pushed halfway up your forearms while warm city light spills through the enormous windows stretching across the living room. The night feels quiet tonight. Slow.
Your phone rests faceup beside a pile of neatly folded clothes on the couch while you move comfortably through the apartment barefoot, absentmindedly smoothing fabric between your fingers while thinking vaguely about whether you should order sushi later or cook something yourself instead.
It’s domestic in the most ordinary possible way. The kind of scene most people would probably never associate with someone like you. Then your phone vibrates softly against the couch cushion beside you.
The sound immediately pulls your attention downward. You glance toward the screen lazily at first before noticing the booking notification sitting there waiting unopened beneath the soft apartment lighting. Your entire job has conditioned you to recognize the difference between certain bookings instantly. Something about this one catches your attention immediately.
Maybe it’s the names.
Baran and Trinity.
Couples booking.
Forty-five minute evening session.
The details sit quietly against the screen while you pick up the phone properly and unlock it with one hand. You settle back against the couch afterward, robe shifting softly across bare thighs while the city glows endlessly outside your windows behind you.
Most clients don’t use real names. Especially couples. They usually hide behind fake usernames or initials during first sessions because vulnerability becomes harder when people feel perceived too clearly.
But these two used real names. Or at least names that feel real enough. Something about that immediately sparks your curiosity. You open the attached notes section afterward expecting maybe one sentence at most. Instead you find a short message sitting there awkwardly polite beneath the booking details:
“first time trying something like this. we’re both nervous lol.”
The honesty instantly makes warmth flicker quietly through your chest. You can almost picture them already. Probably curled up together somewhere debating whether they should’ve actually gone through with booking the session.
One partner more confident than the other. One pretending to be less nervous than she actually is. You smile faintly to yourself before setting the folded sweater in your lap aside completely.
You’ve gotten very good at reading people over the years.
Even before calls start.
Sometimes you can tell exactly how conversations will unfold simply from booking notes alone. There’s always a rhythm to couples during first sessions. Usually one person takes the lead while the other hangs back quietly at first. Some couples overcompensate with fake confidence because they’re embarrassed. Others become painfully shy the second your voice greets them properly.
You don’t mind either reaction. Honestly, nervous clients are usually your favourite. They tend to feel the most authentic once they finally relax. Something about this booking already feels soft in your mind too. Intimate in a way you can’t fully explain yet.
The note doesn’t read like two people chasing novelty for the sake of boredom. It reads like curiosity. Exploration. Like they’re trying to rediscover something together rather than escape each other.
That difference matters more than most people realize. You lean back deeper into the couch cushions afterward while your thumb hovers thoughtfully across the screen. Then, almost automatically, you open the profile attached to the booking information.
No social media linked.
No profile pictures.
Just ages and a city location.
You don’t usually go searching further than that because frankly it feels invasive, but you still catch yourself wondering about them anyway while the booking sits open against your screen. Trinity. Baran. The names settle strangely pleasantly in your head. You imagine tired women.
Maybe healthcare workers or lawyers or something equally exhausting based purely on instinct alone. Women who probably spend too much time surviving responsibilities instead of touching each other properly.
Women who love each other deeply but maybe forgot how to play together somewhere between routine and adulthood. The thought lingers longer than expected while you stand from the couch again carrying the folded laundry toward your bedroom.
Your apartment remains wrapped in low music and warm lighting around you while the booking notification stays open on your phone screen resting in your hand. You wonder briefly which one found your website first. Which one pressed play on your voice note.
Which one got shy afterward. The curiosity almost makes you laugh softly to yourself because technically none of that should matter. Yet somehow it always does. The emotional dynamic between couples tells you almost everything you need to know before a session even starts.
By the time you finish putting away clothes, you’ve already started thinking loosely about the call tomorrow night.
Not scripting.
You never script.
That’s another reason clients stay with you longer than most services. Everything with you feels conversational instead of manufactured. Real instead of performative. Still, you prepare mentally for sessions in your own way.
You think about pacing. Tone. Energy. Some couples need softness immediately. Others need teasing to break tension faster. Some people want dominance while secretly craving reassurance underneath it all.
You’ve learned how to read hesitation in breathing patterns alone over the years. Learned how to hear smiles through silence. The thought makes you glance toward your phone again resting now on the kitchen counter while the confirmation remains open beneath the dim apartment lighting.
First time trying something like this. We’re both nervous lol. The message repeats quietly through your head afterward. You already know tomorrow’s session will probably start with laughter. Nervous couples almost always laugh first.
Eventually you move toward the kitchen to pour yourself another glass of wine.
The city glitters endlessly outside the windows now while soft jazz hums quietly through the apartment and cool marble presses beneath your fingertips as you lean briefly against the counter.
Your phone lights up again with an automated reminder confirming tomorrow’s appointment time. You glance toward it lazily while taking another sip of wine afterward.
Somewhere across the city two women are probably lying tangled together in bed right now thinking about tomorrow’s call far more than they should be already. Maybe one of them keeps replaying your voice note in her head. Maybe the other one keeps teasing her about it.
The idea settles warmly into your chest for reasons you don’t fully examine too closely. You’ve always liked anticipation. The quiet intimacy before something actually happens. Sometimes that part becomes even more revealing than the session itself.
You reach over and finally mark the appointment as personally confirmed before locking your phone again. Then you disappear down the hallway toward your bedroom while the skyline continues glowing softly beyond the windows behind you.
By the time the next evening finally arrives, Baran feels like she’s losing her mind a little.
Not dramatically.
Quietly.
Constantly.
The anticipation has followed her through the entire day like static humming beneath her skin no matter how hard she tries focusing on anything else. Even waking up beside Trinity that morning had felt different somehow.
Softer. More dangerous. Trinity had immediately noticed too because the second Baran opened her eyes, she’d smiled lazily against the pillow and murmured, “You nervous already?” in that amused voice that made heat crawl straight into Baran’s face before she’d even fully woken up yet.
The rest of the day only gets worse from there. Every accidental touch feels charged. Every glance lingers too long. By late afternoon Trinity has kissed her three separate times while they cook dinner together simply because apparently she can’t stop herself this week.
Baran nearly burns garlic at one point because Trinity walks up behind her, slides both hands around her waist, and quietly whispers, “Think she’ll like hearing how shy you get?” directly beside her ear. Baran physically has to lean forward against the kitchen counter afterward because her knees suddenly feel embarrassingly weak.
Meanwhile across the city, you’re getting ready for the call.
Your apartment glows warmly beneath soft evening light while jazz drifts quietly through hidden speakers and the skyline burns gold outside enormous windows stretching across the living room. You move slowly through your routine tonight. Unhurried. Comfortable.
There’s still almost an hour before the session starts, but preparation has always mattered to you. Not because clients can physically see you. Most never do. But because confidence changes your voice. Mood changes pacing. Atmosphere changes intimacy.
You shower slowly beneath steaming water before moisturizing your skin carefully afterward simply because it makes you feel good. Soft silk settles smoothly across your body once you change into comfortable lounge clothes, oversized sweater sleeves slipping halfway down your hands while you pad barefoot across polished hardwood floors toward the kitchen.
Your phone sits charging neatly beside the couch while the booking details remain open quietly against the screen. Trinity and Baran. First session. Nervous couple. Something about the thought still lingers pleasantly in the back of your mind hours later.
Back at the apartment, Baran is trying very hard to pretend she’s functioning normally.
She absolutely is not.
Trinity notices immediately.
The second dinner finishes, Baran starts cleaning dishes far too aggressively while avoiding eye contact completely. Trinity watches her for approximately thirty seconds before laughing softly beneath her breath. “Baby,” she says while leaning casually against the kitchen island.
“You’re literally stress washing a plate.” Baran glares weakly over her shoulder while Trinity grins openly at her now. The apartment feels warm tonight.
Domestic. Soft yellow lighting spilling across countertops while music hums quietly through the speakers and the city glows beyond the windows outside. Usually evenings like this calm Baran down.
Tonight every second only seems to pull her closer toward the call waiting later. Trinity eventually walks over behind her afterward, sliding both arms around Baran’s waist while her chin settles comfortably against her shoulder.
“Hey,” Trinity murmurs quietly. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” The reassurance settles immediately into Baran’s chest. She leans backward automatically into Trinity’s warmth afterward while slowly drying her hands against a dish towel.
“I know,” she says softly.
That’s the thing though.
She wants to.
Badly.
Which honestly might be the most embarrassing part of all this.
The curiosity has grown into something much needier now over the past week. Baran keeps imagining your voice unexpectedly at random moments throughout the day. Keeps imagining Trinity beside her while somebody else notices every tiny reaction she makes.
The fantasy alone makes heat spread low in her stomach every single time it slips into her head. Trinity clearly knows that too because she kisses slowly beneath Baran’s ear afterward before quietly whispering, “You’re thinking too hard again.”
Baran exhales shakily beneath the touch while Trinity’s hands slide slowly over her waist. “I can’t help it,” she admits quietly. Trinity hums softly against her skin afterward. “You know what I think?” Baran already regrets asking. “What?”
Trinity smiles lazily before kissing the side of her neck again. “I think our attending is secretly desperate for attention.” Baran physically hides her face against Trinity’s shoulder with a horrified noise while Trinity bursts into laughter immediately afterward.
Across the city, you finally settle comfortably onto the couch with ten minutes left before the session starts.
The apartment feels beautifully quiet now.
Your candle burns low beside the coffee table while soft jazz hums through the room and the skyline glitters endlessly beyond the windows behind you.
Your headset rests beside your wine glass untouched for now while your phone screen glows faintly against the couch cushion. You reread the booking notes one final time before the call. First time trying something like this.
We’re both nervous lol. The message still makes you smile faintly to yourself even now. Nervous couples always bring a different kind of energy to conversations. Softer. More vulnerable. More honest. You suspect Baran will probably be the quieter one almost immediately.
Trinity feels like the type who’ll compensate with teasing confidence at first before eventually unraveling herself once enough attention turns her way too. You’ve gotten frighteningly good at reading dynamics over the years. Still, part of you remains curious tonight in a way you don’t usually allow yourself to become.
Your fingers wrap slowly around the stem of your wine glass while the appointment timer quietly ticks lower on the screen. Then finally, with less than sixty seconds remaining, your phone lights softly with the incoming call notification.
On the other side of the city, Baran immediately forgets how breathing works.
The apartment around her suddenly feels too warm, too quiet, too small all at once while Trinity’s thigh presses firmly against hers beneath the blankets.
They’re sitting tangled together against the headboard exactly the way they’d been for the last fifteen minutes pretending neither of them were nervous while the call timer counted steadily downward toward this moment.
Trinity holds the phone loosely in one hand near the middle of the bed, speaker turned on low while Baran curls instinctively closer against her side without even realizing she’s doing it.
The second the line clicks alive, both of them physically still. Soft jazz hums faintly somewhere behind your voice while the sound of your breathing settles warmly through the speaker before you finally speak.
“Hi, sweet girls.” The greeting is gentle. Warm. Calm enough that it immediately catches both of them off guard because neither of them expected you to sound this real. This soft.
Trinity’s eyes instantly flick sideways toward Baran and nearly betray her completely right there because Baran’s entire face goes visibly pink within seconds. You haven’t even done anything yet besides say hello and somehow Baran already looks like she’s trying to survive a medical emergency.
Meanwhile you’re smiling softly to yourself from your couch.
Because you can hear it immediately.
The hesitation.
The nervous little silence stretching just a second too long after your greeting.
You shift more comfortably against the cushions while the city glows endlessly beyond your apartment windows and wait patiently instead of rushing to fill the quiet. Nervous couples almost always need a few extra seconds during first calls.
You’ve learned that silence can become comforting when you let people settle into it properly instead of forcing performance too early. Eventually Trinity clears her throat softly on the other end of the line.
“Hi,” she says first, voice carrying that careful confidence people use when they’re trying not to sound nervous at all. You immediately recognize the energy. The protective one. The partner trying to hold the conversation together while the other one quietly melts beside her.
“Hi, Trinity,” you answer warmly enough that she laughs softly under her breath in surprise. Then you pause deliberately before adding gentler,
“And hi, Baran.” The effect is immediate. You hear Baran inhale sharply over the line before she mutters the quietest little “hi” imaginable from somewhere beside Trinity. Trinity physically bites back a grin watching it happen in real time beside her.
The apartment around Baran feels unreal now.
Her entire body is hyperaware suddenly.
The blankets tangled around her legs. Trinity’s hand resting warmly against her thigh. The sound of your voice moving softly through the speakers while low music hums faintly somewhere behind you. It all feels far too intimate already considering this call has existed for less than sixty seconds.
Baran keeps her face half hidden against Trinity’s shoulder while Trinity openly watches her unravel beside her with growing amusement.
“Okay,” Trinity says eventually, unable to stop smiling now. “See, this is exactly what I knew was gonna happen.” You laugh softly on the other end of the line at that. The sound immediately settles warmly through both of them somehow.
“What was gonna happen?” you ask gently. Trinity shifts slightly against the pillows afterward while her fingers begin absentmindedly rubbing slow circles against Baran’s thigh beneath the blankets. “She gets shy when she’s flustered,”
Trinity answers casually while Baran immediately makes a horrified little noise beside her. You hum quietly afterward like you’re considering the information carefully.
“Mm,” you murmur softly. “I noticed.” The words physically short circuit Baran’s brain almost instantly. Trinity bursts into laughter beside her while Baran hides her entire face against Trinity’s neck now.
And honestly?
You think they’re adorable already.
There’s something deeply soft about them together even through a phone call. You can hear the affection in the way Trinity keeps laughing gently instead of cruelly.
You can hear the trust in the way Baran immediately curls closer instead of shutting down completely. Most importantly though, you can hear exhaustion sitting quietly beneath both their voices.
The kind of exhaustion that comes from jobs swallowing too much of people’s lives. You’ve become strangely good at recognizing it over the years.
“Long week?” you ask softly afterward while adjusting more comfortably against your couch cushions. The line goes briefly quiet again before Trinity groans dramatically. “You have no idea.”
You smile faintly to yourself while tracing your fingertip lazily around the rim of your wine glass resting beside you. “Hospital?” you ask gently. Trinity immediately laughs again. “Was it that obvious?” You hum quietly afterward.
“You both sound tired.” The observation settles softly between all three of you afterward. Then Baran finally speaks again for the first time in almost a minute. “We work in the ED,” she says quietly, voice still soft with lingering embarrassment. Something about hearing her talk more confidently for a second makes warmth flicker pleasantly through your chest.
“Emergency medicine girls,” you murmur thoughtfully.
“That explains a lot.”
Trinity smiles immediately at the soft amusement in your voice while Baran slowly lifts her head again from Trinity’s shoulder beside her. “What does that mean?” Trinity asks curiously. You shift slightly against your couch before answering honestly.
“Means you both probably spend most of your lives taking care of everyone except yourselves.”
The silence afterward feels different from the earlier nervousness. Heavier somehow. More intimate. Trinity’s fingers stop moving briefly against Baran’s thigh while Baran physically feels her chest tighten unexpectedly at the observation.
You continue softly before either of them can answer. “People in caregiving jobs usually forget they’re allowed to want attention too.”
The words settle directly into Baran’s stomach like you physically reached through the phone and touched something vulnerable inside her.
Trinity notices instantly because she glances sideways toward Baran and finds her already staring downward at the blankets looking completely affected again.
“Holy shit,” Trinity mutters softly beneath her breath while tightening her hand slightly against Baran’s thigh. You laugh quietly at the reaction.
“What?” you ask innocently. Trinity immediately shakes her head while still staring at Baran beside her. “Nothing,” she says carefully. “You just read her frighteningly fast.”
You smile softly to yourself on the other end of the line after that.
Not smug.
Just warm.
Because Trinity’s reaction tells you almost everything you need to know already. You can practically picture the look Baran must be wearing beside her right now without needing to physically see either of them. The shy silence. The lowered eyes.
The way she’s probably curling further into Trinity’s side while pretending she isn’t completely affected by being perceived this quickly. “I’m not trying to psychoanalyze anybody,” you say gently afterward while adjusting more comfortably against your couch cushions.
“You’d just be surprised how easy people become to read once they relax a little.” Trinity hums thoughtfully at that while her fingers resume slow absentminded circles against Baran’s thigh beneath the blankets. Baran physically feels every movement now.
Her body seems embarrassingly sensitive tonight. To Trinity’s touch. To your voice. To the fact both of you are suddenly paying attention to her at the same time.
“That sounds fake,” Trinity says eventually, amusement still lingering in her voice. You laugh softly through the speaker afterward. “You think I’m lying?” Trinity immediately grins. “I think you’re very good at this.”
The compliment settles pleasantly through your chest.
But Baran’s the one you keep noticing.
Mostly because she’s so quiet now.
Not uncomfortable quiet.
Listening quiet.
The kind of silence people slip into when they’re absorbing every word too carefully. You’ve learned to recognize that reaction almost immediately over the years too. “You okay over there, Baran?” you ask softly after another moment passes. The effect is immediate.
Trinity visibly watches Baran tense beside her while heat floods instantly into her face all over again. “Mhm,” Baran answers too quickly. Trinity bites down hard on her lip afterward to stop herself from laughing again. You hear the movement faintly through the phone anyway.
“You know,” you murmur thoughtfully, voice still soft enough that Baran’s stomach twists harder immediately. “I think Trinity’s right.” Trinity perks up instantly beside her. “About what?” You hum quietly afterward before answering,
“You do get shy when attention lands on you.” Baran physically hides her face against Trinity’s shoulder again while Trinity finally loses the battle against laughter completely.
“Baby,” Trinity says between soft laughs while wrapping an arm tighter around her. “You’re literally proving her point right now.” Baran makes another horrified noise directly into Trinity’s hoodie.
And honestly?
The sound nearly makes you smile harder.
There’s something painfully genuine about them together already.
You can hear years of affection in every tiny interaction between them. Trinity teases constantly, but she softens every single time Baran gets overwhelmed. Meanwhile Baran melts into every touch Trinity gives her automatically like her body already knows exactly where safety lives.
The intimacy between them sits everywhere beneath the conversation now. In the quiet little laughs. In the way Trinity keeps rubbing slow circles against Baran’s thigh while speaking. In the way Baran’s breathing visibly steadies every time Trinity touches her.
“How long have you two been together?” you ask eventually while lifting your wine glass lazily from the coffee table beside you. Trinity answers first this time. “Almost two years.”
You hum softly afterward. “And how’d you meet?” Trinity immediately laughs quietly beneath her breath. “Hospital,” she says. “Very romantic.”
Baran finally lifts her head enough to speak properly again afterward, voice still quieter than Trinity’s but steadier now. “She got into an argument with an attending in the middle of the ED.”
Trinity sounds offended immediately. “I was right.”
“You were loud,” Baran corrects softly.
You laugh quietly through the speaker at that.
The sound settles warmly through the room around them.
“See?” you murmur afterward. “There she is.”
Baran immediately freezes.
“What?” she asks carefully.
“You sound more relaxed now,” you answer honestly. “I was waiting for that.” Trinity physically watches Baran short circuit beside her again after hearing that.
The realization that you’re paying this much attention to her reactions specifically seems to completely undo her every single time. Trinity honestly can’t decide if it’s adorable or cruel anymore. Probably both.
“You really like making her nervous, huh?” Trinity asks eventually, smiling into Baran’s hair afterward while Baran stays half hidden against her shoulder again.
You consider the question thoughtfully for a second before answering carefully. “Not nervous.” Your voice softens slightly afterward. “Seen.” The word settles heavily through the line afterward. Baran’s breath catches quietly enough that you almost miss it completely.
Almost.
Trinity notices too though. She immediately glances sideways toward Baran and finds her staring downward again with that same overwhelmed expression from earlier. Something warm twists unexpectedly through Trinity’s chest at the sight.
Because honestly?
Baran deserves this.
Deserves attention that doesn’t revolve around work or responsibility or surviving trauma shifts half asleep. Deserves softness. Deserves being looked at carefully enough that somebody notices how quickly she folds under genuine affection.
Trinity presses a quiet kiss against the side of her head afterward before speaking again. “Okay,” she says eventually while pulling Baran slightly closer beneath the blankets. “Now I’m curious.”
You smile faintly to yourself. “About?”
Trinity glances downward toward Baran before answering honestly. “How you figured her out so fast.”
You laugh softly again afterward, the sound low and warm through the speaker. “That part’s easy,” you admit gently. “Baran sounds like someone who spends all day holding herself together for other people.”
The words settle directly into the center of Baran’s chest. Trinity physically feels her go still beside her afterward too. You continue softly before either of them can interrupt. “People like that usually melt the hardest once somebody starts taking care of them instead.”
Silence follows immediately afterward. Thick. Warm. Intimate enough that even you can feel it through the phone. Then Trinity finally looks down toward Baran again and quietly says, “Holy shit, baby.” Because Baran genuinely looks like she might combust beneath the blankets beside her.
Baran physically cannot look either of you in the metaphorical eye after that.
She just curls tighter into Trinity’s side beneath the blankets while heat floods all the way down her neck, one hand gripping weakly at the fabric of Trinity’s hoodie like it might somehow save her from this conversation.
Trinity, unfortunately, looks completely delighted by the entire thing now. “No, because she’s right,” Trinity says softly while staring openly down at Baran beside her.
“That’s literally exactly what you do.” Baran groans immediately into her shoulder. “Please stop talking about me like I’m not here.” You laugh quietly through the speaker at that, the sound warm enough that Baran’s stomach twists all over again.
“Sorry, sweetheart,” you murmur gently. “You’re just very easy to read.”
Baran makes another weak little noise while Trinity tightens her arm around her waist beneath the blankets. The entire apartment feels too warm now. Too intimate. Baran can physically feel the call settling deeper beneath her skin every passing minute.
She’d expected something performative tonight. Something dirtier immediately. Instead somehow this feels worse. Softer. More personal. Like you’re slowly peeling her open without even touching her.
Meanwhile you’re trying very hard not to smile too much into your wine glass.
Because honestly?
You like them.
Not in the unhealthy way people outside this line of work sometimes assume happens constantly. You’ve learned long ago how to keep emotional boundaries intact. But some clients click easier than others. Some conversations feel natural immediately instead of forced. Trinity and Baran already feel like that.
The affection between them hums constantly beneath every sentence. Even through the phone you can hear how instinctively Trinity takes care of Baran. How quickly her teasing softens into reassurance whenever Baran gets too overwhelmed.
“You know what I think?” you ask softly after another moment passes. Trinity hums curiously while Baran stays mostly hidden against her shoulder still. “I think Trinity likes watching you get flustered.”
Trinity immediately laughs. “Oh, absolutely.” Baran physically tightens her grip on Trinity’s hoodie afterward.
“This is bullying,” she mutters weakly. You laugh quietly again while Trinity presses another kiss into Baran’s hair.
“No,” Trinity says softly. “You’re just really cute like this.”
Baran hates how warm the praise makes her feel.
Especially hearing it from both of you now.
The attention settles low and heavy in her stomach every single time one of you focuses too closely on her. Trinity notices it too. She can physically feel how tense Baran’s become beside her now beneath the blankets. Not uncomfortable tense. Affected tense. Like she doesn’t know where to put all the nervous energy building inside her body anymore.
Trinity’s hand slides slowly higher along Baran’s thigh afterward almost automatically, fingers smoothing absentmindedly against soft fabric while she keeps listening to your voice through the speaker.
“Can I ask you both something?” you murmur softly from your couch across the city. Trinity answers first. “Sure.”
There’s a small pause afterward before you ask gently, “Who suggested this first?” The reaction is immediate. Trinity bursts into laughter while Baran physically groans beside her like she already knows she’s about to be exposed horribly.
“Oh, it was absolutely her,” Trinity says instantly while pointing downward at Baran curled against her side. “Trinity,” Baran whines quietly. The sound nearly destroys both of you at once.
You actually laugh out loud this time.
Not mockingly.
Genuinely amused.
“Wait,” you say softly afterward. “Really?”
Trinity sounds thrilled by this entire conversation now. “Oh yeah,” she says immediately. “She randomly brought up phone sex lines one night out of nowhere and then acted like she wanted to die after saying it.” Baran makes another mortified sound while hiding her face completely against Trinity’s neck now.
The movement exposes the side of her throat slightly beneath the soft apartment lighting, and Trinity instinctively turns her head enough to press a slow kiss there without even thinking about it. Baran visibly melts the second she does.
You notice immediately through the tiny shaky breath she lets out afterward. So does Trinity. “There she is,” Trinity murmurs softly against her skin while smiling to herself now. “That’s the sound she makes when she’s embarrassed.”
Baran physically tightens against her again beneath the blankets while you stay quiet for one deliberate second too long on the other end of the line. Then finally you murmur gently, “You sound beautiful when you get shy.” The silence afterward feels catastrophic.
Trinity’s eyes widen immediately beside her.
Because Baran genuinely stops functioning for a second.
Her breathing catches sharply while her entire body goes tense beneath the blankets, fingers clutching hard enough at Trinity’s hoodie now that Trinity can physically feel the reaction through the fabric.
“Holy shit,” Trinity whispers softly before she can stop herself. You laugh quietly through the speaker afterward, though your voice softens immediately once you realize how affected Baran actually became from one sentence alone. “Too much?” you ask gently.
Baran shakes her head instantly despite the fact you can’t physically see her. “No,” she says quickly. Too quickly. Trinity immediately grins afterward because she recognizes the tone in Baran’s voice now.
Breathless. Quiet. Needier than before. “Baby,” Trinity murmurs softly while brushing her fingers slowly against the inside of Baran’s thigh beneath the blankets. “You okay?”
Baran finally lifts her head slightly from Trinity’s shoulder afterward, face still flushed pink while she tries very hard to gather herself together enough to answer normally. “Mhm,” she whispers. You hum thoughtfully on the other end of the line afterward.
“You know,” you murmur gently. “I think you spend too much time trying to stay composed.” The observation settles directly into Baran’s chest again. “I don’t think anyone tells you nice things often enough.”
Trinity physically feels Baran’s thighs press together beneath the blankets afterward. And honestly? That reaction nearly ruins Trinity completely.
The conversation becomes easier after that.
Not less intimate.
Just softer somehow.
The nervousness slowly starts dissolving from Baran’s body piece by piece the longer the call continues. Trinity notices it first. The way Baran finally stops hiding her face every thirty seconds.
The way her shoulders gradually loosen beneath the blankets while your voice continues moving warmly through the apartment speakers. Even her laugh changes eventually.
Earlier it had sounded embarrassed every time it slipped out. Tight. Breathless. Now it starts sounding fuller instead. Real. The shift settles pleasantly through Trinity’s chest while she watches Baran curled comfortably against her side beneath the dim apartment lighting. Your conversation drifts naturally after that too.
Less focused on teasing. More conversational in a way that somehow feels even more intimate than if things had turned explicitly sexual immediately. You ask about their shifts at the hospital.
Trinity tells you a ridiculous story involving a drunk patient trying to flirt with half the emergency department while Baran laughs hard enough beside her that she nearly snorts into Trinity’s shoulder afterward.
The sound pulls a warm laugh from you through the phone too. “There you are,” you murmur softly once Baran finally calms down again. “You sound lighter now.”
Baran smiles automatically at the comment before she even realizes she’s doing it.
Which honestly says everything.
The apartment feels completely different now compared to the beginning of the call. Earlier every silence had made her panic slightly. Every question felt loaded enough to send heat straight into her face.
But now? Now she’s relaxed enough that her legs are tangled fully with Trinity’s beneath the blankets while one of Trinity’s hands rests absentmindedly against her stomach, fingers lazily tracing back and forth through the fabric of her hoodie.
The intimacy of the position settles warmly through Baran’s body while she listens to you laugh softly at something Trinity says again. You sound comfortable too. Natural. Nothing about your voice feels fake or exaggerated the way Baran half expected before tonight. There’s no performance in the way you speak to them.
No awkward forced seduction hiding beneath every sentence. Somehow that makes everything feel far more dangerous instead. Because Baran can physically feel herself liking you. Not romantically.
Just… comfortably. She likes the way you ask questions and actually listen to the answers afterward. Likes how patient you are with silences. Likes how you never once made either of them feel stupid for being nervous tonight.
Meanwhile you’re noticing the exact moment Baran finally settles properly into herself too.
It always happens eventually.
There’s a point in most calls where people stop performing nervousness and simply exist instead. You can hear the difference instantly over the phone now. Baran interrupts Trinity more comfortably. Laughs easier. Speaks before overthinking every sentence first.
The sound settles pleasantly through your chest while you shift deeper into the couch cushions with your wine glass balanced loosely between your fingers. “Okay,” you murmur eventually once another round of laughter settles between all three of you. “I have another important question.”
Trinity immediately groans dramatically. “Why does that sound threatening?” You laugh softly at the reaction. “Because it is.”
Baran smiles faintly beside her while Trinity narrows her eyes suspiciously toward the speakerphone resting on the bed between them. “Alright,” Trinity says cautiously. “What is it?”
You hum thoughtfully for one second before asking casually, “Who fell first?” The silence afterward is immediate. Then Trinity bursts into laughter while Baran groans loudly enough that you physically smile into your wine glass again.
“Oh my god,” Baran mutters weakly beside Trinity.
“You’re evil.”
“Answer the question,” you reply sweetly.
Trinity’s entire body shakes with quiet laughter now while Baran immediately tries hiding her face against her shoulder again out of pure instinct. The difference this time though is that she’s smiling while doing it instead of genuinely panicking.
“It was her,” Trinity says instantly while pointing down toward Baran beneath the blankets. “Traitor,” Baran mutters into her hoodie. Trinity presses a kiss against the top of her head while still grinning.
“Baby, you literally followed me around the ED pretending you needed help with patients you absolutely did not need help with.” Baran finally lifts her head again just enough to glare weakly upward at her. “That happened one time.” Trinity immediately scoffs. “You asked me to help you start an IV.”
“I was tired.”
“You’re an attending.” The entire apartment fills with laughter afterward. Yours joins theirs easily now too, warm through the speakers while Baran finally laughs loudly enough that Trinity physically feels the sound against her chest. It’s probably the hardest Baran’s laughed in weeks honestly.
And maybe that’s why Trinity suddenly goes quiet afterward.
Just briefly.
Because she’s watching Baran carefully now.
Watching the relaxed softness that’s settled into her body over the last hour. The easy smile lingering around her mouth. The warmth in her eyes. Trinity hadn’t fully realized how tense Baran’s been lately until tonight started slowly peeling it away piece by piece.
Work had swallowed both of them so thoroughly these last few months that Trinity almost forgot what Baran looked like fully relaxed. But now she’s here. Warm beneath the blankets. Smiling into Trinity’s shoulder while talking openly with someone who somehow managed to make her feel seen within minutes.
The realization settles strangely emotionally into Trinity’s chest. You notice the shift too. “You okay over there?” you ask gently after Trinity falls quiet too long.
Trinity blinks once before smiling faintly toward the speakerphone again. “Yeah,” she says honestly while her fingers slide slowly through Baran’s hair.
“I just…” She glances downward toward Baran curled against her side before finishing quietly, “I haven’t heard her laugh this much in a while.”
The confession settles softly through the line afterward. Baran immediately stills slightly beside her before looking upward again. Trinity smiles softly the second their eyes meet. Then she leans down and kisses her gently before either of you can say anything else.
The kiss is soft at first.
Barely there.
You only hear the quiet shift of blankets and the faint sound of Trinity moving closer before silence settles briefly through the speaker again. Then comes the unmistakable sound of lips meeting somewhere on the other end of the line. Warm. Slow. Familiar in a way that immediately changes the atmosphere between all three of you.
You don’t interrupt them right away. That’s one of the first things you learned years ago doing this work. People need room to fall into each other naturally before you guide them anywhere deeper.
So instead you stay quiet on your couch with your wine glass balanced loosely between your fingers while soft jazz hums through your apartment and the city glitters endlessly beyond the windows behind you.
On the other side of town, Trinity’s hand cups gently against Baran’s jaw while she kisses her slowly beneath the blankets, their conversation fading naturally into touch instead. Baran melts immediately. Of course she does.
Trinity can physically feel it happening beneath her fingertips the second Baran sighs softly into the kiss and curls closer against her chest. Something warm flickers through your stomach hearing it through the speaker.
Not jealousy. Satisfaction maybe. The kind that comes from recognizing exactly when two people stop overthinking and start wanting each other instead.
You smile faintly afterward before finally speaking again.
“There she is.”
The words settle softly through the apartment around them.
Trinity pulls back first, though only barely, lips still brushing lazily against Baran’s while Baran visibly tries gathering herself together again beneath the blankets. “You can hear us?” Trinity asks with quiet amusement in her voice.
You laugh softly through the speaker. “Sweetheart,” you murmur warmly. “I can hear everything.” The effect on Baran is immediate. Trinity physically feels her tense slightly beneath the blankets again while warmth floods straight back into her face.
“Oh my god,” Baran whispers weakly while hiding briefly against Trinity’s shoulder afterward. Trinity grins immediately at the reaction before pressing another kiss into Baran’s hair.
“You’re doing that thing again,” Trinity murmurs softly beside her ear. “What thing?” Baran asks quietly.
Trinity’s smile grows lazier afterward while her fingers slide slowly down Baran’s side beneath the blanket. “Getting all shy because somebody’s paying attention to you.” Baran physically shivers at the words this time. You notice immediately.
And honestly?
Now you finally understand the dynamic fully.
Trinity’s confidence isn’t performative the way you initially assumed.
Not entirely.
A lot of it revolves around Baran instead. Around taking care of her. Teasing her. Watching her unravel safely beneath attention and affection. Meanwhile Baran clearly spends most of her life holding herself together so tightly that being wanted openly almost overwhelms her every single time.
The realization settles warmly into your chest while you shift more comfortably against the couch cushions. “Can I tell you both something?” you ask softly afterward. Trinity hums curiously while Baran stays suspiciously quiet beside her now. You smile faintly before continuing.
“You sound happiest when you’re focused on each other.” Silence follows immediately afterward. Not awkward silence. Heavy silence. The kind where words settle directly into people instead of simply passing through conversations meaninglessly.
Trinity’s fingers still slowly against Baran’s waist beneath the blankets. Baran’s chest aches unexpectedly hearing it spoken aloud like that. Because it’s true.
Somewhere between endless shifts and exhaustion and routine, they’d stopped looking at each other this carefully for a while. The realization sits quietly between them now while your voice continues warmly through the speakers.
“You know what I think?” you murmur gently.
Neither of them answers immediately.
You continue anyway.
“I think you both miss being wanted without responsibility attached to it.” The words land directly inside Baran’s chest hard enough to make her breathing falter briefly again. Trinity notices immediately. Her hand slides upward beneath the blanket afterward until her fingers settle softly against the back of Baran’s neck instead.
“Fuck,” Trinity whispers quietly beneath her breath. You hear it anyway. “Too accurate?” you ask softly. Trinity laughs weakly afterward while brushing her thumb slowly along Baran’s neck.
“A little.” Baran stays quiet beside her for another second before finally speaking again, voice softer now than earlier. “Work’s just been… a lot lately.” Something about the honesty in her tone makes your own voice soften instinctively in response.
“I know,” you murmur gently. “That’s why tonight matters.” Trinity glances downward immediately afterward and finds Baran already staring at her beneath the dim bedroom light with this open vulnerable expression that makes Trinity’s chest tighten painfully.
Because suddenly this feels bigger than sex.
More intimate somehow.
You notice the shift too.
The emotional openness settling through the line now.
That’s usually the moment sessions begin changing shape for people. The moment vulnerability stops feeling theoretical and starts becoming physical instead. You set your wine glass carefully onto the coffee table afterward before speaking again, voice dropping slightly softer than before.
“Can I ask for something?” Trinity answers first this time, quieter now herself. “Okay.” You smile faintly to yourself. “I want you to kiss her again.”
The silence afterward feels immediate and electric. Baran visibly freezes beside Trinity while Trinity’s eyebrows lift slightly toward the speakerphone resting between them on the bed. You continue gently before either of them can overthink it. “Slowly this time,” you murmur.
“And I want Baran to stop hiding when she likes it.” The words settle heavily through the room around them. Trinity’s eyes immediately slide downward toward Baran again while Baran visibly struggles not to combust beneath the blankets.
“Baby,” Trinity whispers softly afterward, voice full of quiet amusement and affection all at once. Baran lets out the smallest embarrassed laugh imaginable. Then Trinity cups her face carefully in both hands and kisses her again anyway.
Trinity kisses her slowly this time.
Exactly the way you tell her to.
No teasing now. No laughing either. Just deep deliberate kisses while both her hands cup Baran’s face carefully beneath the dim bedroom light, thumbs brushing slowly across flushed cheeks while her mouth moves against hers with growing hunger.
Baran melts immediately beneath it. You can hear every tiny reaction through the speaker now that she’s stopped trying so hard to hide them. The soft shaky breaths. The little whimpers slipping loose whenever Trinity deepens the kiss properly.
The faint rustle of blankets shifting while Baran unconsciously crawls closer into Trinity’s lap like her body already knows exactly where it wants to be. You lean deeper into your couch cushions across the city while soft jazz hums quietly through your apartment and listen to them unravel together.
“That’s it,” you murmur firmly through the speaker. “Touch her properly.”
Trinity groans softly against Baran’s mouth afterward before immediately obeying, one hand sliding down from Baran’s jaw along her throat while the other grips harder at her waist beneath the blankets. Baran visibly shivers beneath the touch, breath catching sharply when Trinity’s fingers tighten possessively against her side.
“There you go,” you praise softly afterward.
“She sounds prettier every second.”
The compliment nearly destroys Baran completely. Trinity physically feels her thighs press together beneath the blankets while another weak little sound escapes her mouth into the kiss.
“Fuck,” Trinity whispers hoarsely against her lips before kissing her harder again. The entire atmosphere in the apartment changes now. Earlier everything had felt soft. Intimate. Nervous. Now there’s heat sitting heavily beneath every touch and breath while the call slowly drags them somewhere much more dangerous.
Trinity’s mouth trails away from Baran’s lips toward her jaw before moving lower along the side of her throat, kissing slowly enough that Baran’s breathing completely loses rhythm beneath her.
“Don’t rush her,” you murmur through the speaker while shifting your wine glass lazily between your fingers. “Explore her.”
Trinity obeys instantly. Her hands move slower afterward. More deliberate. Fingertips dragging carefully beneath the hem of Baran’s hoodie while her mouth kisses lower against warm skin. Baran physically arches beneath the touch without meaning to, soft breathless sounds slipping from her every few seconds now.
You smile faintly to yourself hearing it.
Because now they’re forgetting about the phone.
Forgetting about embarrassment.
Forgetting about overthinking.
That’s always the point where sessions become truly intimate. Trinity’s hand slips fully beneath Baran’s hoodie now, warm fingers spreading slowly across her stomach while Baran visibly trembles beneath the contact.
“Good,” you murmur softly afterward. “Now undress her.”
The silence afterward feels electric. Trinity pauses briefly against Baran’s throat before glancing downward at her beneath the dim bedroom light. Baran’s entire face burns instantly hearing the instruction spoken aloud so casually.
“Trin,” she whispers weakly while Trinity smiles lazily against her skin. “You heard her, baby.”
Your voice softens slightly afterward, though the firmness stays there now. “Take your time with it,” you instruct quietly. “Touch her like it’s your first night together again.”
Trinity visibly swallows at the words before her fingers slowly curl around the hem of Baran’s hoodie. The fabric slides upward inch by inch while Trinity kisses every new piece of exposed skin she uncovers. Baran physically melts beneath it.
The hoodie disappears onto the floor beside the bed a second later.
Then Trinity stops moving entirely for a moment.
Just looking at her.
You hear the silence through the line immediately. Heavy. Focused. Trinity’s breathing slows while her hands settle carefully against Baran’s bare waist now like she’s genuinely rediscovering her body all over again. “Tell her what you’re seeing,” you murmur softly through the speaker.
Trinity exhales quietly afterward before speaking in this rough low voice that immediately makes Baran clench her thighs tighter together beneath the blankets.
“She’s beautiful,” Trinity says softly while her hands slide slowly upward along Baran’s ribs. “Always acts all composed at work and then falls apart this easily the second I touch her.”
Baran whimpers softly at the words while Trinity’s thumbs brush teasingly beneath her bra. “There,” you murmur warmly. “That sound again.”
Trinity groans weakly afterward because hearing somebody else notice every tiny reaction Baran makes is doing something deeply unfair to her too now. “Take her bra off,” you instruct calmly. “Then touch her slowly.”
Trinity obeys immediately. Her fingers move behind Baran’s back before the clasp snaps open softly through the speaker. Baran visibly shivers the second cool air hits her skin afterward while Trinity slowly pulls the fabric away and tosses it carelessly somewhere across the room.
“Fuck,” Trinity breathes quietly afterward.
Not teasing anymore.
Completely gone for her now.
Her hands settle against Baran’s bare chest almost reverently while Baran visibly tries not to collapse beneath the attention. Trinity’s thumbs drag slowly over her nipples before gently pinching one between her fingers, earning the prettiest sound yet from Baran’s throat.
“That’s it,” you praise softly through the speaker. “Let her hear you.” Baran’s breathing completely falls apart afterward while Trinity lowers her head immediately, mouth closing warmly around one nipple while her fingers continue rolling the other between careful fingertips. The sound Baran makes nearly ruins both of you.
Trinity groans softly against her skin before sucking harder, one hand sliding lower along Baran’s stomach while Baran’s back arches helplessly beneath her mouth. “Touch each other like you’re starving,” you instruct more firmly now. “Like you forgot how good this feels.”
Trinity obeys instantly. Her kisses grow messier afterward, mouth moving greedily across Baran’s chest while her hand drags lower toward the waistband of her shorts beneath the blankets. Baran physically gasps when Trinity’s fingers finally brush between her thighs through thin fabric.
“There she is,” you murmur warmly through the speaker while listening to Baran unravel completely now. “That’s the girl who wanted this.”
Trinity’s hand stills briefly against the inside of Baran’s thigh after that.
Not because she’s hesitating.
Because she’s overwhelmed.
The blankets had already been shoved messily toward the end of the bed at some point during the kissing, leaving both of them fully exposed beneath the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp now.
Baran sits half sprawled across Trinity’s lap in nothing except her soaked shorts and panties, flushed skin glowing beautifully against dark sheets while her chest rises unevenly with every shaky breath slipping from her mouth.
Trinity can physically feel heat radiating from her body. Feel the way Baran keeps unconsciously spreading her thighs wider every time she touches her somewhere sensitive.
The thin fabric of Baran’s shorts clings embarrassingly close between her legs now too, visibly soaked through from how wet she’s gotten during the call alone. Trinity notices immediately.
Of course she does.
Her fingers brush slowly over the damp fabric covering Baran’s clean-shaven pussy while Baran gasps sharply beneath her, thighs twitching helplessly around Trinity’s hand.
“Fuck,” Trinity whispers weakly while staring downward. Baran physically tries hiding her face again at the sound of genuine awe in Trinity’s voice.
You hear the movement through the speaker immediately and smile faintly to yourself from your couch across the city. “Don’t hide from her,” you murmur more firmly now. “Let her look at you.”
The words settle heavily through the room.
Trinity obeys instantly.
Her fingers hook slowly into the waistband of Baran’s shorts while her eyes stay fixed completely on her flushed trembling body beneath the warm bedroom light.
“Take them off,” you instruct calmly through the speaker. “Slowly.”
Trinity swallows once before sliding the shorts carefully down Baran’s thighs inch by inch until they disappear onto the floor beside the bed. The sound Baran makes when cool air finally hits her soaked panties nearly ruins Trinity on the spot.
She’s drenched already. The thin lace clings tightly against the outline of her pussy while wetness visibly darkens the fabric enough that Trinity can clearly make out the shape of her swollen lips beneath it.
“Jesus christ,” Trinity breathes quietly. Baran whimpers softly at the tone alone while her thighs instinctively try pressing together from embarrassment.
Trinity immediately slides one hand between them to keep her spread open instead. “No,” Trinity murmurs roughly while staring downward at her. “Let me see you.”
The possessiveness in her voice sends another pulse of wet heat through Baran’s body instantly.
You shift slightly deeper into your couch cushions afterward, thighs pressing together unconsciously beneath your silk robe while warmth curls low in your stomach in a way that genuinely surprises you. Usually you stay detached enough during sessions to maintain control easily. Tonight feels different somehow.
“Take her panties off too,” you murmur quietly afterward.
Your voice sounds slightly lower now.
Softer.
More affected than before.
Trinity obeys immediately, fingers hooking carefully beneath damp lace before peeling the fabric slowly down Baran’s trembling legs. The second her pussy is exposed fully beneath the bedroom light, Baran physically jolts beneath her with a broken little sound. Trinity actually groans out loud this time.
“Fuck, baby,” she whispers weakly while staring openly between Baran’s thighs now. Her pussy looks gorgeous. Completely bare and slick with arousal, wetness glistening visibly between swollen folds while her clit twitches helplessly every time cool air brushes against sensitive skin.
Baran visibly squirms beneath Trinity’s stare alone, thighs trembling slightly while slick gathers embarrassingly fast between her legs. Trinity’s fingertips drag carefully through the wetness coating her folds afterward, spreading her arousal slowly while Baran gasps softly at the first direct touch.
“That’s it,” you praise warmly through the speaker, your own breathing noticeably slower now too. “Touch her like you missed this.” Trinity lowers her head immediately afterward, mouth brushing slowly against the inside of Baran’s thigh while her fingers continue gliding through slick folds again. Baran’s entire body arches helplessly beneath her.
And honestly?
You’re affected now too.
More than you should be.
Your wine glass sits completely forgotten on the coffee table while your thighs remain pressed tightly together beneath your robe, warmth pooling low in your stomach every time Baran makes another desperate sound through the speaker.
You usually guide conversations carefully without letting yourself fall too far into them emotionally or physically. But something about these two together feels unfairly intimate.
The way Trinity looks at Baran. The way Baran completely melts beneath praise and attention. The way they touch each other like they genuinely forgot how starving they’d become for this. You inhale slowly before speaking again, voice quieter now but firmer too.
“Now I want Baran to touch Trinity.” The instruction immediately shifts the energy again. Trinity finally lifts her head from between Baran’s thighs, lips glossy already from kissing soft skin while Baran blinks down at her dazed and flushed.
“Baby,” Trinity murmurs softly while brushing damp fingers along Baran’s thigh. Baran visibly swallows before finally moving for the first time in several minutes. Her hands slide shakily toward Trinity’s waist afterward while Trinity sits back enough to let her.
“Undress her,” you instruct gently through the speaker.
“Like it’s the first time you’ve ever had her.”
Baran physically shivers at the words before immediately obeying. Her fingers tremble slightly while pushing Trinity’s oversized shirt upward inch by inch, exposing warm skin and toned stomach beneath the soft bedroom light.
Trinity helps eventually, pulling the fabric over her head before tossing it carelessly aside somewhere across the room while Baran stares openly at her now. You hear the exact second Baran’s breathing changes again through the speaker.
Trinity’s nipples are already hard from arousal beneath her simple black bra, chest rising slowly with heavier breaths now while Baran’s hands settle carefully against her waist.
“Pretty girl,” you murmur softly without thinking. Trinity actually groans quietly hearing it while Baran visibly clenches between her thighs again. “Take everything off,” you continue more firmly afterward. “I want you both bare for each other.”
Trinity immediately reaches behind herself to unclasp her bra before sliding it away completely. Baran stares openly now, eyes lingering on Trinity’s chest while her hands move slowly upward almost reverently. Trinity visibly shivers beneath the touch when Baran’s thumbs brush softly over her nipples. “There you go,” you praise quietly through the speaker. “Now keep touching her.”
Trinity’s sweatpants disappear next.
Then her panties.
And suddenly both of them are fully exposed beneath the warm bedroom light together for the first time that night.
Baran visibly loses her breath the second Trinity settles back between her thighs completely naked now too. Trinity’s pussy looks entirely different from hers. Dark curls spread softly between strong thighs, trimmed but still thick enough to frame glistening folds already soaked with arousal.
Slick shines visibly through the dark hair while her swollen clit peeks beautifully between wet folds every time she shifts against the sheets. Baran actually moans softly at the sight before she can stop herself. Trinity nearly collapses hearing it.
“You like looking at her?” you murmur softly through the speaker while your own fingers tighten slightly against the fabric of your robe now. Baran nods instinctively before remembering you can’t see her.
“Yes,” she whispers immediately afterward. Trinity groans quietly while Baran’s hand finally drifts lower between her thighs, fingertips brushing hesitantly through damp curls for the first time tonight. Trinity’s head falls back instantly with a rough exhale.
“Fuck,” she breathes weakly while Baran stares openly between her legs now, fascinated by how wet she is already. Slick coats Baran’s fingertips almost immediately when she drags carefully through Trinity’s folds, gathering warmth and wetness while Trinity visibly trembles beneath the touch.
“That’s it,” you murmur warmly through the speaker while heat coils tighter inside your own body now too. “Explore each other properly.”
Baran’s fingertips stay resting between Trinity’s thighs for another long second after that.
Almost hesitant.
Not because she’s nervous anymore.
Because she’s overwhelmed by how beautiful Trinity looks spread open beneath her like this. The warm bedroom light catches against slick folds and damp curls while Trinity’s chest rises unevenly with every heavier breath slipping from her mouth now.
Baran can physically feel wetness coating her fingertips already from that one careful touch alone. It makes her stomach twist hard enough to ache.
“Good,” you say softly through the speaker while shifting deeper into your couch cushions. Your voice sounds different now too. Lower. Heavier around the edges. “Now tell me what you see.”
The instruction settles directly into the room between them. Trinity visibly shivers beneath Baran while Baran immediately glances upward again with flushed cheeks and parted lips. “I…” she starts weakly before stopping altogether.
Trinity laughs breathlessly beneath her, one hand sliding slowly up Baran’s thigh afterward. “Baby,” Trinity says softly. “Use your words.” The teasing warmth in her voice immediately makes Baran’s pulse jump harder.
You smile faintly to yourself listening to them.
Because this part always matters.
Making people slow down enough to truly look at each other again. Baran visibly swallows before her eyes drift downward once more between Trinity’s thighs. Her fingertips move carefully through damp curls again while Trinity’s hips twitch helplessly against the sheets beneath her.
“She’s…” Baran exhales shakily before trying again. “Fuck.” Trinity visibly melts hearing genuine awe in her voice. “There you go,” you praise warmly through the speaker. “Keep going.”
Baran’s hand slides slowly higher afterward, fingertips dragging through slick folds while Trinity’s head tips back immediately with a broken little moan. “She’s so wet,” Baran whispers softly, voice completely wrecked already. “Like… really wet.”
Trinity groans weakly at the words while Baran keeps staring openly between her thighs now, fascinated by every tiny reaction she pulls from her.
“Her pussy’s so pretty,” Baran continues quietly afterward, confidence slowly building with every sentence now. “And soft.” Trinity physically clenches around nothing hearing her describe her like this.
“Describe all of her,” you instruct calmly through the speaker.
“Take your time.”
Baran obeys instantly.
Her free hand drifts slowly upward along Trinity’s stomach afterward while she leans down carefully, lips brushing softly against the side of Trinity’s throat. Trinity visibly shivers beneath her the second Baran kisses her there. “She has these little freckles here,” Baran whispers while kissing slowly along warm skin beneath Trinity’s jaw.
“And here.” Her lips trail lower afterward toward Trinity’s collarbone while Trinity’s breathing turns rougher immediately beneath her. “And she smells so fucking good.” The honesty in her voice nearly ruins Trinity on the spot.
Baran’s mouth moves lower along her chest afterward while her fingertips continue stroking lazily through slick folds between Trinity’s thighs. “Her boobs are…”
Baran visibly loses her train of thought for a second once her mouth brushes against one soft breast. Trinity gasps softly beneath her while Baran kisses slowly across warm skin before finally closing her lips around one nipple.
“Fuck,” Trinity breathes sharply while her back arches immediately off the mattress. You physically shift against your couch cushions at the sound, thighs pressing tighter together beneath your robe while heat pools lower in your stomach now too. “That’s it,” you say firmly through the speaker. “Use your mouth on her.”
Baran obeys beautifully.
Like she’s forgotten the phone entirely now.
Her tongue swirls slowly around Trinity’s nipple while her fingers drag carefully through slick folds below, spreading wetness through dark curls every time Trinity’s hips twitch helplessly upward toward her hand.
Trinity’s fingers immediately tangle into Baran’s hair while soft desperate sounds spill freely from her mouth now. “Look at her,” you instruct quietly. “Tell me what happens when you touch her.”
Baran pulls back from Trinity’s chest just enough to look downward again, lips glossy and swollen from kissing skin while Trinity lies completely wrecked beneath her now.
Her nipples are hard and flushed from Baran’s mouth. Her chest rises quickly with every uneven breath. Slick glistens heavily between dark curls while Baran’s fingers keep slowly parting wet folds apart.
“She keeps shaking,” Baran whispers softly afterward. “And her thighs keep twitching every time I touch her clit.” Trinity visibly whimpers hearing herself described so openly while Baran’s thumb brushes experimentally over the swollen bundle of nerves again. Trinity’s entire body jolts beneath her immediately.
“There,” you say sharply through the speaker. “Do that again.” Baran obeys instantly. Trinity moans openly this time, head falling back against the pillows while Baran stares down between her legs almost mesmerized by the reaction.
Meanwhile you’re struggling more than you’d ever admit aloud.
Usually sessions never affect you like this.
You enjoy them.
You guide them.
You stay controlled throughout all of it.
But tonight warmth sits heavily between your own thighs now while your breathing has noticeably slowed listening to Baran kiss and praise Trinity like this. Something about the intimacy between them feels almost unfair through the speaker.
The way Trinity softens beneath every touch. The way Baran keeps sounding more confident every time she makes Trinity lose composure beneath her. You shift against the couch again afterward while one hand grips loosely at the edge of your robe.
“Now kiss lower,” you instruct firmly through the speaker, voice rougher now than before. Trinity visibly shivers at the tone while Baran immediately obeys again, mouth trailing slowly down Trinity’s stomach afterward. Soft kisses press against warm skin one after another while her hand keeps moving carefully between Trinity’s thighs.
“Good girl,” you praise quietly once Baran settles lower between Trinity’s spread legs. Trinity physically moans hearing the words directed at Baran while Baran visibly trembles between her thighs now.
“Spread her open properly,” you continue calmly. “I want you to look at her while you touch her.” Baran’s fingers obey immediately, carefully parting slick folds while Trinity gasps softly above her. “Tell me what you see now,” you instruct.
And this time Baran answers without hesitation.
“So fucking wet,” she whispers while staring openly between Trinity’s thighs.
“Slick everywhere.”
Her thumb drags slowly through wet folds again afterward, gathering slick before rubbing carefully over Trinity’s clit while Trinity moans loudly enough that even you physically shiver listening to it through the speaker. “Her pussy keeps clenching every time I touch her,” Baran continues breathlessly.
“And she tastes—” She cuts herself off completely the second her tongue finally slides experimentally through Trinity’s folds for the first time. Trinity visibly breaks beneath her instantly. One hand fists hard into the sheets while the other grips tightly at Baran’s hair.
“Holy fuck,” Trinity gasps sharply while her hips jerk upward helplessly toward Baran’s mouth. Baran moans softly against her pussy at the taste alone before immediately licking through slick folds again slower this time.
“There she is,” you say softly through the speaker while heat coils painfully tight inside your own body now too. “Now make her fall apart for you.”
You stay quiet after that.
Completely quiet.
No more guidance for now. No praise. No teasing. Just the faint sound of your breathing occasionally slipping through the speaker while you let them sink fully into each other without interruption. The silence somehow makes everything feel even more intimate than before.
Trinity can still feel your presence there with them in the room through the phone resting forgotten near the pillows beside her head, and the thought alone sends another pulse of heat straight through her already aching body.
You’re listening. Hearing every little sound Baran makes. Every gasp slipping from Trinity’s mouth. Every wet drag of Baran’s tongue between her thighs. The realization settles heavily in Trinity’s stomach while her fingers tighten helplessly in Baran’s dark hair.
“Baby,” she breathes shakily while looking down between her spread legs again. Baran looks devastating there. Completely bare beneath the warm bedroom light, flushed cheeks pressed against the inside of Trinity’s thigh while her tongue drags slowly through slick folds again and again like she’s addicted to the taste already.
Trinity’s entire body jolts every time Baran moans softly against her pussy. The vibrations alone nearly make her lose composure immediately.
And Baran?
Baran’s completely gone now.
The embarrassment disappeared somewhere several minutes ago the second Trinity started reacting this openly beneath her. Now all she can focus on is the way Trinity tastes. Warm. Slick. Completely drenched already beneath her mouth while dark curls brush softly against Baran’s fingers every time she parts Trinity open wider to lick deeper between swollen folds.
Trinity’s thighs keep twitching helplessly around her head while soft desperate noises spill constantly from her mouth now. Not forced. Not performative. Real sounds.
The kind Trinity usually buries behind sarcasm and confidence everywhere else in her life. “There you go,” Trinity gasps weakly while Baran’s tongue circles slowly around her clit before sucking gently.
“Oh, holy shit— baby, just like that.” The praise makes Baran moan softly against her pussy again. Trinity physically arches upward off the mattress at the vibration, hips jerking helplessly toward Baran’s mouth while one hand fists harder into the sheets beside her.
Somewhere through the haze of pleasure she remembers you can hear all of this. Every wet sound. Every broken breath. Every pathetic little whimper she can’t stop making anymore. The thought alone nearly sends her over the edge.
Baran’s fingers slide lower afterward.
Slow.
Careful.
Like she genuinely is rediscovering Trinity’s body for the first time again.
Two slick fingers drag slowly through wet folds before circling teasingly around Trinity’s entrance while her mouth keeps working lazily against her clit above. Trinity gasps sharply at the combination, thighs trembling visibly around Baran’s shoulders now.
“Please,” she breathes helplessly before she can stop herself. The word nearly ruins Baran immediately. Trinity never begs. Trinity barely even asks for things normally.
Hearing her sound this needy beneath her sends another gush of slick pooling between Baran’s own thighs while she presses harder down against the mattress unconsciously seeking friction.
Her pussy aches painfully now. Completely soaked already from listening to Trinity unravel like this while your silence hums heavy through the speaker nearby. Baran’s hips shift instinctively against the bed again.
Slow little grinding movements against the sheets while she moans softly into Trinity’s pussy without even realizing she’s doing it at first. Trinity notices immediately though. Of course she does.
She glances downward and nearly loses her mind at the sight alone. Baran grinding desperately against the mattress while still eating her out so carefully like her own pleasure barely matters right now.
“Oh, sweetheart,” Trinity breathes weakly while brushing trembling fingers through Baran’s hair. “You’re humping the bed for me?”
The humiliation should embarrass Baran.
Instead it just makes her wetter.
A broken little moan spills from her throat while she finally pushes two fingers slowly inside Trinity at the same moment. Trinity cries out immediately. Loud enough that the sound echoes softly through the bedroom before spilling straight through the speaker toward you across the city.
Your hand tightens hard against the edge of your robe hearing it. Usually you stay detached enough to guide sessions cleanly no matter how explicit they become. Tonight your thighs remain pressed tightly together on the couch while warmth pulses low in your stomach every time Trinity moans Baran’s name like that.
And God, Trinity keeps saying her name now. Constantly. “Baran,” she gasps shakily while Baran curls her fingers slowly inside her soaked pussy. “Baby, right there.”
Baran moans softly at the praise while her fingers thrust deeper again, slick sounds filling the room every time she pumps slowly into Trinity while her tongue circles relentlessly around her clit above. Trinity’s body reacts beautifully beneath her. Strong thighs shaking harder every passing second.
Back arching helplessly from the mattress. Nipples flushed and hard while uneven breaths spill constantly from swollen lips now. “That’s my girl,” Trinity whispers weakly downward afterward, half praise half disbelief. Baran physically clenches around nothing hearing it.
And still you stay silent.
Letting them drown in each other.
The only sounds now are breathing, soft moans, and the wet obscene noises Baran keeps pulling from Trinity’s body every time she sucks harder on her clit or thrusts her fingers deeper inside her.
Baran’s hips continue grinding desperately against the sheets now too, slick spreading embarrassingly between her own thighs while she chases friction without even thinking anymore. Trinity notices every movement.
Watches Baran’s soaked pussy drag helplessly against the mattress while she eats her out with complete devotion beneath her. The sight nearly makes Trinity combust.
“Baby,” she gasps shakily while her fingers tighten in Baran’s hair again. “You’re so wet, aren’t you?” Baran moans softly against her pussy in answer.
Trinity physically trembles at the sound. “Look at you,” Trinity whispers weakly while staring downward completely wrecked now. “Taking care of me while you’re dripping all over the bed.”
The words visibly affect Baran instantly. Her hips grind harder into the mattress while another desperate little noise spills from her throat against Trinity’s clit. “Jesus,” Trinity breathes sharply afterward.
“I didn’t know you could get this needy.” And somewhere across the city, hearing Trinity unravel like this while Baran falls apart beneath her too finally forces a shaky breath from your own lips for the first time all night.
Trinity feels it building long before she says anything.
It starts low in her stomach. Tight. Hot.
Each slow curl of Baran’s fingers inside her pulls the pressure tighter while her tongue keeps working relentlessly against her clit below, soft wet sounds filling the bedroom every time Baran moans into her pussy or grinds herself harder against the mattress seeking friction. Trinity’s entire body feels oversensitive now.
Every touch lands directly against raw nerves. Baran’s fingers are soaked at this point, slick coating her knuckles every time she thrusts deeper while Trinity’s thighs shake harder around her shoulders. “Baby,” Trinity gasps weakly while staring downward at her completely dazed now.
Baran looks devastating between her legs. Hair messy. Lips swollen and glossy from kissing and licking her. Dark eyes half lidded while she watches Trinity unravel above her with this desperate hungry expression like she can’t get enough.
The sight alone nearly pushes Trinity over the edge. Then Baran sucks softly on her clit again at the exact same moment her fingers curl deeper inside her. Trinity physically cries out.
“Oh— there, there—” Her voice breaks completely. The sound shoots straight through Baran’s body.
She moans helplessly against Trinity’s pussy while her hips grind harder into the bed beneath her now, slick smearing embarrassingly across the sheets while her own aching clit drags against the mattress with every desperate movement.
Trinity notices immediately. Of course she does. Even half lost in pleasure, she still notices Baran humping the bed beneath her while she eats her out so devotedly between trembling thighs. The realization nearly destroys her.
“Fuck, sweetheart,” Trinity breathes shakily while one hand slips down toward Baran’s head, fingers trembling against dark hair. “You’re so fucking good at this.” Baran visibly whimpers at the praise. The sound vibrates directly against Trinity’s clit again.
Trinity’s back arches hard off the mattress afterward while another broken moan spills from her throat. Somewhere beside the pillows, your silence still hums heavily through the speakerphone.
Trinity keeps remembering you can hear every single thing happening to her right now. Every wet thrust of Baran’s fingers. Every pathetic sound leaving her mouth. Every shaky plea she’s failing to swallow back. The thought only makes the pressure tighter.
And Baran doesn’t stop.
Not for a second.
She’s completely consumed by Trinity now.
Her mouth. Her sounds. The way her pussy keeps clenching desperately around Baran’s fingers every time she moans. Baran’s own body aches almost painfully from how turned on she is.
Her pussy feels soaked enough to drip now while she rocks helplessly against the mattress seeking any kind of relief she can find. But she can’t stop focusing on Trinity.
Not when she looks like this. Completely wrecked beneath the warm bedroom light while slick coats Baran’s fingers and thighs alike now. Baran drags her tongue slowly through Trinity’s folds again before sucking firmly on her clit while thrusting deeper inside her at the same time.
Trinity physically jolts beneath her with a loud cry. “Baran,” she gasps desperately. “Baby, I’m—” Her words collapse completely into another moan afterward. Baran moans softly against her again in answer before curling her fingers harder inside her. Trinity’s thighs shake violently around her shoulders now.
“Oh my god,” Trinity breathes shakily while tears almost sting unexpectedly at the corners of her eyes from how overwhelming the pleasure suddenly feels. “Please don’t stop.”
That word nearly ruins Baran completely.
Please.
Trinity asking for more.
Begging.
Baran’s hips grind harder against the mattress again while her tongue moves faster now, licking through slick folds before circling Trinity’s clit over and over while her fingers thrust deep enough to keep pulling those desperate sounds from her mouth. Trinity’s entire body trembles beneath her uncontrollably now.
One hand grips hard at the sheets while the other stays tangled tightly in Baran’s hair. “That’s it,” Trinity whispers weakly between broken moans. “Right there, sweetheart, just there.” The praise pours straight through Baran’s body like gasoline. She moans helplessly into Trinity’s pussy while sucking harder on her clit.
Trinity physically sobs at the sensation. The sound echoes softly through the bedroom before spilling through the speaker toward you across the city.
Your breath catches quietly hearing it. One of your hands slips beneath the edge of your robe almost unconsciously afterward, fingertips brushing slowly between your thighs before finally circling gently around your clit through slick warmth already gathered there.
The touch pulls a soft exhale from your lips immediately. Usually you stay composed during sessions. Controlled. Detached enough to guide people through pleasure without physically falling into it yourself. Tonight feels different.
Listening to Trinity come apart beneath Baran while Baran moans so desperately against her pussy has warmth pulsing low through your entire body now. Your fingers move slowly over your clit while you listen to every broken sound spilling through the speaker, thighs pressing tighter together against the couch cushions beneath you.
Then Trinity breaks completely.
It hits her all at once.
Hard.
Her entire body locks beneath Baran for one sharp second before pleasure crashes through her violently enough to steal the breath from her lungs entirely.
“Baby—” Trinity cries out brokenly while her thighs clamp hard around Baran’s shoulders. Her pussy clenches desperately around Baran’s fingers while slick floods against her hand and the sheets beneath them both.
Baran moans loudly against her through it, still licking and sucking through every shaking pulse of Trinity’s orgasm while Trinity visibly trembles apart above her. “Oh, holy shit,” Trinity gasps helplessly while her back arches hard off the mattress again. Her entire body shakes uncontrollably now.
Legs trembling. Chest heaving. Fingers still tight in Baran’s hair while pleasure keeps rippling painfully through her overstimulated body. Baran finally slows her mouth after another long moment, kissing softly through wet trembling folds while Trinity twitches helplessly beneath every tiny touch now.
“Too much,” Trinity whispers weakly while laughing breathlessly through the aftershocks. Baran finally lifts her head enough to look up at her then. Slick glistens across swollen lips and chin while her own chest rises unevenly from need and arousal still burning through her body. The sight alone makes Trinity groan weakly all over again.
“Jesus christ,” Trinity breathes while staring down at her completely wrecked.
“That was… fuck.”
And for the first time since the call began, you finally speak again.
Your voice comes out lower than before.
Noticeably affected now too.
“Good girl, Baran.”
Baran visibly melts the second the praise leaves your mouth.
The reaction is immediate.
Her entire body softens between Trinity’s trembling thighs while another quiet sound slips helplessly from her swollen lips. Trinity feels it straight through her overstimulated body. Feels the way Baran’s fingers twitch inside her pussy again at the praise alone.
“Fuck,” Trinity breathes weakly while staring down at her completely dazed now. Baran finally pulls her fingers slowly from Trinity’s soaked pussy afterward, slick stretching obscenely across trembling fingers before breaking against the sheets beneath them.
The sight alone makes Trinity clench again through lingering aftershocks. Baran’s own chest rises unevenly now too, flushed skin glowing beneath the warm bedroom light while slick glistens visibly across her lips and chin from Trinity’s release.
She looks completely wrecked already despite not having come once herself yet. The realization settles heavily through Trinity’s chest while she watches Baran unconsciously grind her hips down against the mattress again seeking friction.
“Baby,” Trinity whispers softly afterward, voice rough with affection and lingering pleasure. “You’re still humping the bed.” The humiliation in the observation immediately sends another pulse of wet heat through Baran’s body. She whimpers quietly instead of stopping.
And somewhere across the city, your fingers keep circling slowly over your clit.
Gentle.
Measured.
But enough to make warmth pulse steadily through your body every time Baran makes another needy sound through the speaker. Your robe hangs loose around your thighs now while soft jazz continues humming faintly through the apartment behind you, completely drowned out by the sounds spilling from the call instead. Trinity’s breathing.
Baran’s soft whimpers. Wet slick noises still echoing faintly through the bedroom whenever either of them shifts against the sheets. You close your eyes briefly while your fingertips drag carefully through slickness gathered between your thighs before circling your clit again slower this time.
The sensation pulls another quiet breath from your lips. Usually you’d redirect the focus back onto them immediately. Tonight you can’t fully stop yourself from falling into the intimacy too.
“Poor thing,” you say softly through the speaker afterward, voice lower now than it had been at the beginning of the call. “She made Trinity come apart and she’s still aching.” Baran visibly shudders at the words while Trinity groans weakly beside her.
“She’s soaked,” Trinity admits hoarsely while staring downward at Baran grinding helplessly against the mattress. “Like… really fucking soaked.” The honesty in her voice sends another pulse straight through your own body too.
Baran finally lifts herself shakily from between Trinity’s thighs afterward.
Her lips brush slowly along Trinity’s stomach while she crawls upward over her body instead, dark hair messy around flushed cheeks while slick still shines wetly against her mouth. Trinity watches her approach almost reverently. Still half dazed from the orgasm Baran just dragged from her body.
The second Baran reaches her properly again, Trinity immediately grabs her by the waist and pulls her fully against her chest. Their bodies slide together hot and slick beneath the warm bedroom light. Baran gasps softly the instant Trinity’s thigh presses directly between her legs.
“There she is,” Trinity whispers weakly while wrapping both arms tightly around her. Baran physically trembles against her afterward. Her pussy aches almost painfully now. Completely swollen and soaked while slick smears between her thighs every time she moves against Trinity’s leg. Trinity notices instantly.
“Baby,” she murmurs softly while one hand drifts lower along Baran’s spine. “You’re shaking.” Baran buries her face immediately against Trinity’s neck afterward, embarrassed by how desperate she feels now that the focus isn’t entirely on Trinity anymore. Trinity just laughs breathlessly and kisses the side of her head. “No, no,” Trinity whispers warmly. “Come here.”
Then Trinity slides her thigh harder between Baran’s legs.
Baran physically moans against her throat.
The sound is wrecked.
Completely helpless.
Her hips jerk instinctively against Trinity’s bare thigh while slick immediately spreads warm across skin beneath her. “Oh my god,” Baran whispers shakily before grinding down harder without even thinking. Trinity groans softly at the feeling of Baran’s wet pussy dragging desperately against her thigh now.
“There you go,” Trinity breathes weakly while both hands settle firmly against Baran’s hips guiding her movements slower afterward. “That’s what you needed, huh?” Baran whimpers quietly in answer while rocking harder against her leg, finally getting the friction she’d been chasing against the mattress this entire time.
You listen silently for another few seconds while your own fingers keep moving gently over your clit beneath the robe, pleasure coiling steadily lower in your stomach now too. The sounds coming through the speaker feel unbearably intimate suddenly. Baran’s soft moans. Trinity’s shaky praise.
Wet slick noises every time Baran grinds herself harder against Trinity’s thigh. You exhale quietly afterward before finally speaking again. “Let her use you,” you say softly through the speaker. “She’s been taking care of you this whole time.”
Trinity visibly shivers at the words before immediately tightening her grip on Baran’s hips again. “You hear that, sweetheart?” Trinity whispers against Baran’s ear while guiding her harder down against her thigh. “Now let me take care of you.”
Baran breaks a little at that.
You can hear it happen.
The second Trinity starts moving her properly against her thigh, Baran’s composure completely dissolves. Soft desperate sounds spill freely from her mouth now while her hips rock helplessly against warm skin searching for more pressure.
Trinity watches every reaction with blown pupils and parted lips, still visibly wrecked from her own orgasm but already obsessed with the sight of Baran falling apart above her now too.
“Fuck, baby,” Trinity whispers weakly while slick coats her thigh more heavily every passing second. “You’re dripping all over me.” Baran physically whimpers at the words while her clit catches perfectly against Trinity’s thigh again.
“Please,” she gasps softly without even realizing she says it aloud. Trinity groans immediately hearing it. “There she is,” Trinity murmurs while kissing slowly beneath Baran’s jaw. “That’s my needy girl.”
The praise shoots straight through Baran’s body while her hips stutter harder against Trinity’s thigh again. Across the city your own fingers finally slow against your clit while you listen to Baran unravel completely beneath Trinity’s touch now. The warmth still pulses low in your stomach, but the satisfaction settling through your chest listening to them rediscover each other like this somehow feels even stronger.
Baran’s hips keep moving against Trinity’s thigh in these desperate uneven little motions for another few seconds before you finally speak again.
“There you go,” you say softly through the speaker, voice warm and steady despite the heat still pulsing low through your own body. “Don’t rush yourself.” Baran whimpers quietly at the sound of your voice returning while her hands clutch tighter against Trinity’s shoulders for balance.
Trinity’s thigh stays firm between her legs, slick coating warm skin now every time Baran rocks herself down harder searching for friction against her swollen clit. “Slow her down,” you instruct calmly afterward.
Trinity obeys immediately, both hands tightening against Baran’s hips while she guides her movements into slower deeper rolls instead of frantic grinding.
The change nearly ruins Baran on the spot. A broken moan spills from her mouth while her head falls backward exposing more of her throat beneath the bedroom light. “That’s it,” you continue softly. “Make her feel every part of it.”
Baran physically trembles against Trinity while her pussy drags slowly against warm skin again, slick spreading messily across Trinity’s thigh with every movement. “Good girl,” you praise quietly. “Ride her properly.”
The praise shoots straight through Baran’s body again.
Her entire rhythm stutters.
Trinity groans softly underneath her at the reaction while watching Baran completely unravel above her now. “She’s so sensitive,” Trinity breathes shakily toward the speaker while guiding Baran harder down against her thigh again. “Every time you praise her she clenches.”
You smile faintly to yourself hearing the genuine awe still lingering in Trinity’s voice. “Describe her,” you instruct gently afterward. Trinity visibly swallows before immediately obeying. “She’s soaked,” Trinity whispers hoarsely while staring downward between their bodies. “My whole thigh’s covered.”
Baran physically whimpers at the words while her hips keep rocking helplessly against her. Trinity’s hands slide slowly up Baran’s waist afterward before settling against her bare chest, thumbs brushing softly beneath flushed nipples while Baran gasps shakily above her.
“And she keeps making these little noises like she can’t help herself,” Trinity continues weakly while watching Baran ride her thigh harder now. “Like she’s trying so hard not to lose it.”
The honesty in her voice sends another pulse of warmth through your stomach too. Your fingers twitch faintly against your own thigh where they’d finally stopped touching yourself moments earlier. Tonight isn’t about you. You force yourself to stay grounded in that.
Meanwhile Trinity physically can’t stop touching Baran now.
She looks too beautiful like this.
Completely wrecked already despite not having come yet. Baran’s chest rises unevenly while slick shines between trembling thighs every time she rocks herself against Trinity harder. Her nipples are flushed and sensitive already from earlier attention, and Trinity suddenly wants her marked.
The thought hits hard enough to ache. Trinity leans forward without thinking afterward, mouth closing warmly around one of Baran’s nipples while her hands keep guiding Baran’s hips steadily against her thigh below.
Baran cries out immediately. Loud enough that the sound echoes through the bedroom before spilling straight through the speaker toward you. Trinity groans softly against her breast at the reaction while sucking harder.
“Oh, fuck,” Baran gasps shakily while her hips jerk harder against Trinity’s thigh again. Trinity’s teeth scrape gently around the sensitive skin afterward before she bites softly enough to leave warmth blooming beneath the surface immediately. Baran physically trembles above her.
“There she is,” Trinity whispers weakly against her chest while switching attention toward her other breast. “That’s my girl.” The possessiveness in her voice nearly destroys Baran completely. Her pussy pulses hard against Trinity’s thigh while slick drips visibly down warm skin beneath her now.
You inhale quietly listening to them.
Trying not to picture it too clearly.
Trying not to imagine Baran grinding herself desperately against Trinity while Trinity marks her chest with soft bites and sucking kisses beneath the bedroom light. But God, the sounds alone make it impossible not to. Baran’s broken moans.
Trinity’s shaky praise. Wet slick noises every time Baran drags herself harder across her thigh searching for release. You close your eyes briefly afterward before forcing yourself to focus again.
“Baran,” you say softly through the speaker. Her answer comes out immediately wrecked. “Mhm?” You can practically hear how close she is now. “Look at Trinity while you ride her,” you instruct gently. “I want you to watch what you’re doing to her.”
Baran obeys shakily. Her eyes lift downward toward Trinity beneath her while her hips continue rolling desperately against slick skin below. Trinity looks completely ruined already.
Hair messy against the pillows. Lips swollen. Dark eyes fixed entirely on Baran like she can’t look anywhere else. Fresh marks already bloom softly across Baran’s chest from Trinity’s mouth too.
The sight nearly pushes Baran over the edge immediately. “Oh my god,” she whispers weakly while her movements start losing rhythm again. Trinity groans softly beneath her before kissing another mark against the curve of her breast. “You’re so fucking beautiful like this,” Trinity breathes shakily. “Look at you riding my thigh like you need it.”
That’s what finally breaks Baran completely.
The praise.
The marks blooming across her skin.
The way Trinity keeps staring at her like she’s something devastating.
Her orgasm hits suddenly afterward. Hard enough to steal the breath from her lungs while her hips jerk sharply against Trinity’s thigh one final time. “Trin—” Baran cries out brokenly while her entire body locks above her. Slick floods warmly across Trinity’s thigh while Baran visibly trembles apart, thighs shaking uncontrollably every time another pulse of pleasure tears through her body.
Trinity immediately tightens both hands against her hips to hold her steady through it while soft desperate sounds keep spilling from Baran’s mouth uncontrollably now. “That’s it,” Trinity whispers weakly while watching her fall apart above her. “That’s my girl, sweetheart, there you go.”
Baran physically collapses forward afterward, forehead pressing shakily against Trinity’s shoulder while aftershocks keep making her twitch against sensitive skin beneath her.
Across the city your own body tightens painfully listening to it. Your fingers almost drift back between your thighs again instinctively while heat pulses sharply through your stomach at the sound of Baran crying Trinity’s name like that.
For one dangerous second you’re close. Really close. But then you stop yourself. Your hand grips hard against the edge of your robe instead while you force yourself to exhale slowly through the feeling. Tonight belongs to them. And honestly? Hearing them rediscover each other like this already feels satisfying enough to ache.
The bedroom stays quiet for a long moment afterward apart from breathing. Heavy. Uneven.
Baran still lies half collapsed against Trinity’s chest while Trinity keeps one arm wrapped tightly around her waist, fingers drifting lazily across overheated skin beneath the warm bedroom light. The sheets beneath them are a mess now. Slick smeared across Trinity’s thigh.
Pillows shoved carelessly across the mattress. Fresh marks blooming softly over Baran’s chest where Trinity’s mouth had been moments earlier.
Neither of them seems capable of moving properly yet. You stay quiet too for another few seconds, letting them settle naturally back into themselves while soft jazz continues humming faintly through your apartment on the other side of the city.
The warmth between your own thighs still hasn’t fully disappeared either, but your breathing has finally steadied again while your fingers rest harmlessly curled against the edge of your robe now instead of touching yourself.
Eventually Trinity lets out a shaky little laugh beneath Baran’s hair. “Jesus christ,” she whispers weakly while kissing the top of her head. Baran just groans softly in response and curls closer into her instead.
You smile faintly hearing it. The softness afterward has always been your favorite part.
Not the orgasms. Not the explicit parts. This.
The quiet intimacy once people stop performing completely and simply exist together again. Trinity’s hand moves slowly through Baran’s hair now while Baran’s fingers trace lazy patterns across Trinity’s stomach beneath the dim light.
Neither of them sounds tense anymore. They sound warm. Relaxed. Closer somehow. “You okay over there?” you ask softly after another quiet moment passes. Trinity laughs quietly under her breath. “I think you broke her.”
Baran immediately makes a weak offended noise against Trinity’s shoulder while you laugh softly through the speaker. “I’m alive,” Baran mutters tiredly afterward, voice rough and sleepy now. The sound settles warmly through your chest. “Good,” you reply gently. “Drink some water for me.”
Trinity hums softly in agreement while pressing another kiss into Baran’s hair. “We can handle the rest,” Trinity says quietly afterward. There’s something sincere beneath the words. Appreciative. Like she understands what tonight actually gave them beyond just sex. You hear it immediately.
And honestly? That’s enough for you.
You shift slightly deeper into your couch cushions afterward while looking out toward the glowing skyline beyond your apartment windows. The city feels quieter now somehow. Softer. “I figured you could,” you answer warmly. Trinity stays quiet for a second before speaking again. “Thank you.”
The sincerity in her voice catches harder than expected. Baran finally lifts her head slightly afterward too, still sounding completely wrung out while she murmurs a soft little, “Yeah… thank you.” The words settle gently through your chest while you stare out across the city lights for another moment.
Most people assume your work revolves entirely around fantasy. Performance. But nights like this always remind you why you stayed in this job long after you stopped needing the money. Sometimes people just need permission to find each other again.
“You two did all the hard work yourselves,” you say softly afterward. “I just helped you slow down enough to pay attention.” Silence follows briefly. Warm silence this time. The comfortable kind.
Then Trinity laughs quietly again.
“Still,” she says softly while tightening her arms around Baran beneath her. “You’re very good at your job.”
Heat flickers low in your stomach again at the praise, though this time it feels softer.
Less physical. More personal somehow.
You glance down toward your untouched wine glass resting on the coffee table before smiling faintly to yourself again. “Get some sleep, emergency medicine girls,” you murmur warmly through the speaker afterward. “And take care of each other.”
Trinity immediately hums softly. “We will.” Baran stays quiet for another second before speaking again, voice still small and a little shy despite everything that just happened. “Goodnight.” The softness in it nearly makes you smile harder.
“Goodnight, sweetheart,” you answer gently. Then finally, after one last quiet goodbye from Trinity, the line disconnects. The apartment falls silent around you afterward apart from the low hum of jazz and distant city noise beyond the windows.
For a long moment you just sit there alone on your couch staring at the darkened phone screen in your hand while warmth still lingers faintly beneath your skin. Somewhere across the city two women are curled together in tangled sheets rediscovering each other properly for the first time in months. And somehow, tonight, that feels enough.
“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration.
“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.
You’re out for drinks with some of the night shift crew, but you can’t stop texting and calling your girlfriend.
Notes: some tooth-rotting fluff to offset the angst that is to come with other fics. alcohol, hurt/comfort, minor anxiety attack, neurodivergent reader, sexting, masturbation
Baran hears the ping of two text messages from the end table, but it isn’t your text tone, so she ignores it. It’s a Thursday night, and she’s curled up on the couch with a blanket and a memoir she’s been meaning to read for a while, a mug of tea close by.
The house is emptier than usual. Baran’s son is with his dad for the weekend, and you’re at a bar with Shen and Ellis. The three of you try to go out semi-regularly. First it was to blow off steam with fellow “night crawlers” — a name Baran found distasteful but liked the way you said it low in her ear. But then Shen and Ellis started dropping by for dinner, and Baran was grabbing lunch with Shen without you, and before any of you realized it you’d all become friends.
Still, going out is more your thing, and Baran rarely drinks, so she gave you a lingering kiss goodbye and told you to be safe and have fun.
Your text tone sounds in the quiet living room, and Baran sets down her book, reaching over to grab her phone. You usually send her a selfie or two when she’s not out with you, something Baran always looks forward to. Reading the texts on her lock screen, however, draws a frown.
9:24 pm
John Shen: I fucked up
9:25 pm
John Shen: It’s probably fine
9:28 pm
Azizam: do you still love me?
Worry and irritation well in Baran in equal measures. She taps the call button, feeling you probably need to hear the answer in your ear and not from a screen.
9:29 pm
Outgoing call: Azizam
Call declined.
Baran’s worry grows, and her fingers fly. As an emergency medicine doctor, she’s adept at remaining measured and logical in almost any situation, but when it comes to you or her son, something much more urgent and primal fights for dominance.
9:29 pm
You: You know I love and adore you very much.
You: Is everything OK?
9:30 pm
Azizam: can’t talk they’re playing party in the usa
9:30 pm
You: And that’s more important than finding out if I still love you?
9:31 pm
Azizam: needed to hype myself up in case
This does not ease Baran’s worry. She knows you know, on some level, this is silly. If Baran were ever going to say something so devastating — and she had no plans to — she wouldn’t do it over text while you’re at a bar. But you are in your head enough to type it out and send it, which twists in Baran’s gut.
9:31 pm
You: Please call me when your song is over, so you can hear me say it.
Azizam reacted with: ❤️
Baran opens her thread with Shen, her irritation now simmering into something resembling a rubber band pulled taut right at his head.
9:31 pm
You: Are you the reason my girlfriend is asking me whether I still love her?
9:33 pm
John Shen: Shit
9:34 pm
Incoming call: Azizam
“Am I being needy?” are your first words to her, nearly shouted over the club music blasting through the earpiece.
Baran takes the phone an inch away from her ear, blinking, a weary hum catching in her throat. She’s not a fan. And neither are you — too chaotic and overstimulating. Probably Shen’s choice in venue tonight.
There have been times that Baran’s had to keep a steady, grounding hand on the nape of your neck and another on your knee to keep it from bouncing. You’re a good sport — always wanting to be supportive of Shen’s favorite spots, a quality she loves about you — but there are nights the two of you just go home. And in the quiet car, you hide your overwhelmed and embarrassed tears in the window as Baran rubs the top of your thigh.
It’s something you perceive as a contradiction to how cool and collected you are as an emergency medicine doctor. Baran recognizes it as rooted in control because she too needs it in certain ways to feel safe. You’re a skilled physician — you expect all possible scenarios, and you’re prepared for each one. You know how to mentor because you know how residents work, what they need, how they learn. It’s all planned and logical and built from years of experience and practice. Outside of work, things are more unpredictable. And loud crowds are one of your more sensitive spots. You’re ashamed of it, but Baran has never once made you feel that way.
You sound anxious and unsure on the phone. Baran takes a breath and settles deeper into the couch. She wishes she were there with you.
“Honey, where is this coming from?” she asks softly, carefully.
“That’s not a no.”
Baran presses her lips together. We’re not doing logic tonight, she sees.
“Asking me one time if I love you does not make you needy. But it does make me worry,” she says with so much love and gentleness. It seems to break through to you.
“I’m just anxiety spiraling,” you groan, the sounds of the club getting a degree quieter. Baran frowns and circles her fingers soothingly around her forearm, imagining it’s yours.
“Walk me through it.”
Talking through your thought process doesn’t always make you see a situation more clearly, but it’s the best Baran can do so far away.
“It’s stupid. This club is too loud. It’s crowded, and I’m hot, and I’m, like, trying not to make the walls close in by taking shots. And I just…is me being on nights hurting us? Are we okay? I feel like you’ve been distant lately, and —”
“Azizam, pause. Take a breath,” Baran cuts you off, firm but tender. It’s exactly what she suspected was happening, minus taking shots to quell a panic attack, which is something she’ll address in more depth with you later. “If I weren’t happy with any aspect of our relationship, I would tell you. You’ve never had to guess how I’m feeling. That’s still true.”
Baran pauses, listening, but you’re quiet, and she thinks there may be something hot clawing up your throat. So she just breathes evenly on the phone with you, and when she thinks you’re okay, she speaks.
“I love you. More than words.”
“I love you,” you sigh, the tension gone from your voice. There’s her girl. A small smile tugs at Baran, and she’s itching to hug you and kiss your skin where your neck meets your shoulder.
“Are you satisfied?” she teases lightly.
“Can you say it again?”
Baran smiles lazily, chewing her lip. She likes when you ask for what you need.
“Kheyli dooset daram. I love you very much. With all my heart.”
“Mmm. Okay, I’m satisfied,” you hum happily, and Baran’s heart swells.
“Enjoy the rest of your night, drink water, call me if you need me, and come home to me soon.”
“I love you so much.”
When you end the call, Baran takes a deep breath and opens her texts with Shen.
9:41 pm
You: What the fuck did you say to her?
9:43 pm
John Shen: She was saying how she wants to feel closer to you since you’re on opposite shifts, and I told her not to stress it. Everyone goes through rough patches
9:44 pm
You: Are you kidding me?
You: What would possess you to say that?
Especially in a place already known to make you anxious, Baran thinks.
9:45 pm
John Shen: Like I said, I fucked up
John Shen: I wanted her off the trail!
John Shen: 💍💍💍
Baran laughs humorlessly, shaking her head as she types, a scoff under her breath.
9:45 pm
You: ???
You: She wasn’t ON the trail.
9:55 pm
John Shen: I thought you were planning something or whatever??
9:56 pm
You: Yes, and I would prefer she not think I’m breaking up with her when it happens.
Baran told Shen she’s planning to propose specifically so that he could tell her if you started to suspect — not for him to actively make you think Baran is harboring ill will toward you. Most of your shifts were together, so he saw you more than most. He would have a fairly accurate read on your mindset.
You and Baran have talked about your future together several times, and you’re both on the same page. A proposal wouldn’t be unexpected, but Baran wanted it to be a surprise. She didn’t want you coming home one day already knowing. None of this, of course, stops Baran from being terrified you’ll say no. She loves you so much it hurts sometimes, and she cannot imagine doing the rest of this life without you. And asking you to marry her puts that all on the line.
Baran takes a breath and tosses her phone to the other side of the couch. She tries to focus back on her book with little success and wonders if she should get Ellis involved to run interference on Shen. No, that would be an even worse idea.
Her phone pings, and she grabs it.
10:02 pm
John Shen: Well, she seems fine now
Baran rolls her eyes and stands up. She needs a long, steamy shower.
10:35 pm
Azizam: parker is being disgusting
Azizam: she knows i’m yearning and she’s being cruel by making out with someone right in front of me
Baran sees the text when she’s doing her skincare routine and chuckles, the mirror still fogged up. She finishes rubbing lotion into her leg before replying.
10:42 pm
You: I highly doubt it’s malicious, my love.
You: You’re yearning?
You get cute when you’re drunk, clingy and sweet. A little too loud, a little chaotic, but you always come back to Baran and give her the softest, most pathetic eyes as your hand slides places it shouldn’t be in public and you kiss her cheek and her ear until Baran shivers and pulls you reluctantly away.
Your next text comes through as Baran settles on top of the covers, resolved to stay up a while longer and wait for you. She doesn’t always, but you’re dipping into a neediness Baran can never resist.
10:47 pm
Azizam: can you send me a pic of your lips?
10:47 pm
You: No?
10:47 pm
Azizam: pretty pretty please, sweetie
10:48 pm
You: You have many, many pictures of me on your phone.
10:49 pm
Azizam: i want your lips
Azizam: i want to kiss you
Baran’s stomach flips, and when it settles, there’s heat swirling low in her core. She licks her lips, sitting up in bed.
10:49 pm
Outgoing Facetime: Azizam
As soon as the call connects, Baran sees your flushed, grinning cheeks as they come closer to the screen. You give it several exaggerated, smacking kisses before pulling your phone back a respectable distance. Baran hums, a lovesick smile on her face, eyes hooded.
“You know, you can come home and kiss me yourself,” she says, lolling her head to the side as she watches you.
“You are so pretty,” you say, singular and simple and full of adoration.
“You’re drunk,” Baran counters, taking you in, the haziness of your eyes, the sheen of sweat on your brow, how deliciously warm and soft you look. But it’s moments like these that Baran feels the weight of the ring box heavy in her work locker — the only place she thinks you won’t find it.
“Am not. Still true, though.” There’s a slight slide to your words that you clearly don’t hear. You frown. “Did you shower without me?”
Baran’s hair is damp, and her skin is glowing with various oils and creams that you always tell her smell wonderful right before you dip your nose into the skin behind her ear, lips skating. And the only thing Baran can think about is how she wants you in her arms.
“It’s almost 11 pm, azizam. Yes, I showered without you.”
“Baby, no!” You look urgently devastated, a dramatic groan leaving your lips, petulant in a way you only are when you’re disinhibited. Like when you match her son’s early morning grumbles over a healthy breakfast instead of pancakes, Baran shouldn’t, but she finds it endearing.
You love showering with Baran — for more than just the obvious reasons. There’s something reverent in the way you often insist on taking a soapy washcloth to Baran’s body, trailing over her curves as you pull her close and leave delicate kisses to her shoulder. Or, you just watch her with the most loving, steady eyes. And when she lets you wash her hair, you dig expert fingers into her scalp, and she always leans back into you, humming contentedly. You don’t even have to touch her, and Baran has never felt more worshipped than when she’s naked with you.
Before Baran can tell you she’ll shower again if it’ll wipe away that sad puppy dog look, Ellis is sliding up next to you.
“You are bringing down the energy in this whole fucking club,” she accuses playfully, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing. “B, no offense, but your girlfriend is kind of codependent and sappy when she’s drunk.”
“I am not drunk!” you insist, looking at Ellis, who raises her brow and glances between you and Baran as if looking for backup.
“You are, eshgham,” Baran agrees easily. Ellis grabs the phone from your hand.
“Byeee!” she grins at Baran. The call ends.
Both Ellis and Shen have an ease to them that she doesn’t see in the day shift. They have their flaws — both a little too unsympathetic in the ED for Baran’s taste — but they have firm boundaries and shed their work personas like snakes each morning, something she respects. And around the dinner table, they’re funny and easy to be around, and Baran knows you’re in good hands.
11:02 pm
Azizam: [image attached]
It’s a photo of you, Ellis, and Shen in a new, quieter looking bar. Shen is sipping something fruity looking, waving at the camera. You’re grinning, and Ellis is holding up two stiff-looking drinks. Baran knows without a doubt you’re going to be hungover tomorrow, all grumpy and far away and disheveled. Good thing Baran enjoys taking care of you.
You reacted with: ❤️
11:07 pm
Parker Ellis: [video attached]
Parker Ellis: down bad
It’s a short clip of you talking animatedly with Shen. Ellis zooms in on your face and then pans down to your hand, where your phone is open to a selfie of the two of you curled up on the couch last month.
Baran feels her heart swell and contract in her chest, and she pulls up the same photo on her camera roll. She’s molded into your side under a blanket, her head tucked under your chin, her hand around the back of your neck. And you’re smiling like you just won the lottery.
11:21 pm
Azizam: i need you so bad right now
Baran’s scrolling through instagram, missing you next to her, when the notification appears. She smirks, wondering when you’d finally start getting like this.
11:22 pm
You: Oh?
11:23 pm
Azizam: fuck
Azizam: what are u wearing?
Baran rolls onto her back, sighing, hair splayed out. She can picture you, breathing measured, maybe pressing your thighs together. Feeling hot and desperate thinking about her. And Baran loves making you ache.
But you’re also out with friends, and Ellis has already ragged on you for being clingy twice tonight. Do you really want to do this right now?
11:24 pm
You: Shorts and your t-shirt.
11:24 pm
Azizam: looking at a pic of ur neck rn
11:25 pm
Azizam: fuck you. sext me for real
Baran raises her brow and settles deeper into the bed, one hand skating over her belly absently. She knows what photo you’re probably looking at. It’s innocent enough. Baran wasn’t paying attention, smiling and craning her neck to look behind her at a dinner party. If she let you, she knows you’d leave dark marks up the length of her every chance you get. It does something maddening and insatiable to you. Baran, of course, uses this to her advantage.
11:27 pm
You: You want me to tell you my fingers are on my neck, wishing it was your mouth?
You: Running over my chest.
You: Up my inner thigh.
11:27 pm
Azizam: yes
Azizam: are they?
They are. Dancing and light but enough to start setting Baran’s nerves on fire. She spreads her thighs and slides her fingers down over her underwear.
11:27 pm
You: Maybe.
11:28 pm
Azizam: show me
Azizam: need your mouth on me
Baran hums. One hand slides under her shirt — your shirt — lazily, teasing a nipple that pebbles too easily. Her breath catches, and clarity descends on her. You’re out with friends. You deserve to enjoy it — while staying in the present moment.
11:31 pm
You: You should focus on Parker and John. You’ll have me all to yourself when you get home.
11:32 pm
Azizam: [image attached]
It’s a photo of you in a bathroom stall. Your hand is holding up your shirt and bra against your sternum, chest exposed to the air. Your nipples are hard, and Baran’s lips part, her previous text completely wiped from her memory. On instinct or some base need, her fingers slide under the elastic of her underwear. Of course she’s wet.
11:33 pm
You: Baby…
You: You are so fucking gorgeous.
She stares at the photo, jaw slack. What she wouldn’t give to have her hands on your breasts, your nipple in her mouth right now. Baran’s fingers circle her clit, gathering wetness, working herself up as easily and thoughtlessly as breathing.
11:35 pm
Azizam: thinking about u
Azizam: [image attached]
Baran moans. It’s a photo of your hand in the low bathroom lighting. A stringy slickness connects your middle two fingers. She can practically taste you on her tongue, feel how your hand would grip her hair, feel the way your hips would rock into her mouth. And she can feel that familiar tension coiling in her, her muscles tensing.
11:36 pm
You: Oh, sweetheart.
You: That wet and desperate just from thinking about me?
You: I’d get on my knees for you right there in the stall.
You don’t reply right away, and Baran has a sinking suspicion you got pulled away from your phone. She groans, closing her eyes and feeling unfairly frustrated and horny. She should stop, wait for you like you have to wait for her. But you’ll be too drunk for her to fuck you when you get home, and you’re going to throw yourself at her anyway. And she’ll feel less pent up and guilty about it if she’s not hot and bothered when you walk through the door. So, Baran stares at the photo of your fingers and slides two inside of herself.
Her phone pings again when she’s sweaty and twitching and catching her breath, fingers slick as they rest on her stomach, careful not to touch the sheets.
11:44 pm
Parker Ellis: stop engaging with her!!!! you’re intruding on girls night
Parker Ellis: whore
Baran groans and closes her eyes briefly, embarrassed and just about fed up with Ellis and Shen. She just wants her baby in bed with her.
11:49 pm
You: Inappropriate. I am an attending.
12:03 am
Parker Ellis: rolling my eyes rn
Parker Ellis: not My attending
Parker Ellis: don’t be bitter. bar bathrooms are gross. i’m saving her from a yeast infection
Baran decides to ignore that and pointedly not think about what Ellis interrupted you doing.
12:06 am
You: Isn’t John with you?
12:08 am
Parker Ellis: he’s one of the girls
Baran is drifting between waking and sleep when her phone pings and jolts her out of it, her face smashed into a pillow and her bedside lamp still on. She swallows and drags her phone to her face.
12:39 am
Azizam: Parker found me texting :(
Azizam: we’re at a new bar
Azizam: need you to fuck me slow to this song on repeat btw. it was on the radio
Azizam: [Spotify Link] Southland by Lindsay Lou
This wakes Baran up a little, and she’s selfishly happy to know you didn’t get too far in the bathroom. She opens the link and listens as she replies.
12:44 am
You: Noted, baby.
You: Are you drinking water?
12:45 am
Azizam: i’m not a pussy
12:45 am
You: If you want me to go down on you when you get home, you’d better be drinking water.
It’s a ruse, and Baran thinks you know it, but your response is cute.
12:45 am
Azizam: on it boss
Baran is woken up from a deeper sleep to another ping. The song you sent is still playing softly on repeat, and you stop it. Baran can see why it turns you on and already has plans on how she’s going to fuck you to it.
1:21 am
Azizam: r u sure ur ok that m on nights?
The spelling and insecurity in your text tells Baran you have not, in fact, been drinking water. She exhales slowly, an unfair sort of annoyance twinging in her sleepy mind. Not at you, with whom she’s never truly annoyed. It took a long time — some unlearning and careful assurances — for you to be so raw and honest with Baran about your more prickly anxieties. And she took that vulnerability very seriously. No, Baran’s just tired, impatient you’re not with her, and feeling a little needy herself.
1:24 am
You: Yes. But if you want to talk more about it in the morning we can.
1:25 am
Azizam: what if u stat reesnting me
1:25 am
You: Do you resent me for being on day shift?
1:25 am
Azizam: no
Baran rubs her eye and yawns. You’re drunk, and she’s half asleep, and she doesn’t see the point in either of you pursuing such a delicate subject any further.
1:26 am
You: I love you.
1:26 am
Azizam: I LOV Y
Baran smiles, her eyes dry. You’re easily distracted. Giving up on sleep until you’re home, she goes back to scrolling on social media, too tired to pick her book back up.
1:47 am
Incoming Facetime: Azizam
“Baran!” you smile.
“Hi, honey,” Baran coos, her voice raspy and low, her head resting on her bent arm over the pillow. If you were more clear-headed, you would have started fawning over it. Despite how tired she is, Baran loves that you want to talk to her so much while you’re drunk and away from her. It sparks something fond and possessive in her.
“Would you love me if I were a worm?” You’re definitely slurring now.
“What?” Baran is caught off guard.
“If I turned into a worm, would you still love me? Shen said I should ask you.”
She opens and closes her mouth, unsure what that even means, when a familiar voice drifts to her ears, the equally familiar face following quickly into view.
“Dude, you can’t just leave me at the bar. You’re supposed to be my wingman.”
“Dr. Santos?” Baran asks incredulously, shocked into formality. She’s wearing smoky makeup and a swooping top and talking to you with the ease of good friends — a connection Baran is sure just happened tonight.
“Oh, shit,” Trinity hisses, ducking out of view. You blink at Santos, confused, and she slowly, sheepishly returns to the camera. “Hi Dr. Al-Hashimi.”
More awake now, Baran raises an eyebrow.
“How’s your 102-degree fever?” she asks humorlessly, sitting halfway up to offer herself some semblance of authority as she reprimands her resident while laying in bed at two in the morning.
“Better, yeah,” she winces, and you laugh suddenly.
“You didn’t tell me you called out sick,” you blurt, and Trinity glares at you.
“I didn’t want you telling my boss I’m here,” she accuses, motioning to your phone.
“So, you thought I’d go home to my future wife and not tell Baran I saw you and Whittaker at the gay bar?”
Baran’s ears ring, something sharp and hot shooting through her. She remembers the first time she brought up marriage to you, you were watching Bridesmaids together. You’re a few years younger than Baran, and unlike her, you’d never been married before. You didn’t have a kid to think about. Though, you loved Baran’s son dearly, and she loved that you loved him — and that he loved you back.
Have you ever thought about it? Marriage? She asked carefully as your head lay in her lap, and she played absently with your hair. Your fingers stilled on Baran’s thigh, and in the few seconds of silence, Baran thought she might throw up.
Are you asking? You murmured, turning to look up at Baran with unreadable, sparkling eyes.
Yes, she said easily, and then blinked, understanding too late what you meant. I mean, yes, I’m asking if you’ve —
Yes, you cut her off. With the right person. Yes.
She can’t believe she ever for one second doubted you might say yes if she got down on one knee. Baran shouldn’t have then, and she certainly doesn’t now that you’d called her your future wife. The shock quickly melts to a steady warmth that seems to blossom throughout her entire body, an easy sureness she knows is there for good.
“You’re really fucking irritating,” Trinity says to you emphatically, working her jaw, but she knows this situation is her own fault, so there’s no real bite to it. It brings Baran back to the present.
“Whittaker’s there, too?” she drawls, knowing Dennis is definitely on the schedule tomorrow.
“Ooooo, Dr. Santos, you are in so much fucking trouble. I gotta go, babe,” you say, pressing your fingers to your lips and then the camera before the call ends. Truth be told, Baran isn’t really irritated, but she can’t let Trinity know that.
She looks back down at your contact card, a soft, sweet photo of you greeting her. A wave of affection sweeps over her so intensely it knocks the breath from her. Her future wife. Baran swallows down the lump of emotions building in her and focuses on texting you.
1:52 am
You: Be safe. Make good choices. Come home soon. I love you.
1:52 am
Azizam: 😍❤️👅🐱
Baran lays back down, setting her phone by her head and staring at your contact photo like a lovesick teenage girl. She doesn’t wake up this time when Shen’s text comes through.
2:09 am
John Shen: ETA 20 min
John Shen: BTW, I think she’s onto you
Baran is stirred awake by the bed dipping next to her and quiet curses. A groggy noise rumbles in her chest, her limbs too heavy to move, her eyelids like lead.
“Back to sleep, honey,” you whisper, your words coming out a little slurred still, unsteady as you crawl toward her on the soft mattress.
Baran forces herself to turn over, another incoherent, almost whiny noise rising in her. She licks her lips and swallows, her eyes blinking open to see you settle next to her in a t-shirt and underwear.
“Azizam,” Baran mumbles happily, and you grin, leaning over to kiss her.
Instinctually, Baran fists the front of your shirt and drags you closer, her other arm wrapping around your shoulders. Your lips slide against hers, both of you uncoordinated and sloppy from alcohol and sleep but content in it. The thick, sweet smell of the bar lingers on you, along with the faint familiar tang of your sweat, and your tongue dips between Baran’s lips. She moans faintly, and you scoot closer so you can intertwine your legs, your hips pressing into hers.
“I drank water,” you breathe against her mouth, sliding your kisses to her jaw and her neck, wet and open. Baran sighs, more awake now, her core muscles twitching. One thing that really gets Baran going is sleepy sex, and you are definitely using this to your advantage. She remembers her faux promise to you and smiles, tangling a hand in your hair.
“Sleep, eshgham. We have three days together. Just you and me,” she sighs, tilting her chin to limit your access to her neck. You hum softly, dipping your face to her shoulder.
“Dooset daram,” you mumble into Baran’s skin. You know a few phrases in Farsi now, but according to you, this is the most essential, the one you learned first. And every time you say it, it makes Baran weak in the knees.
Her hand tightens in your hair, and she kisses your head, holding you firmly against her. She can feel you drifting off to sleep already, muscles relaxing, breathing even. And Baran feels that stubborn tightness in her throat again now that she finally has you in her arms.
She hadn’t known exactly when she was going to do it, waiting for the perfect time to present itself. This weekend. She’s going to propose to you this weekend.
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