Take Care
pairing: Brendon Park x Wife!Reader
summary: Known throughout the hospital as the intimidating "Park the Shark," your husband Brendon only reveals his soft, protective side to you. When he sees just how tired you are after a monster of a shift in the emergency department, he's determined to have you forgetting about the day before the night is over.
unedited.
Nearly 15k words! Ah
a/n: It's 7am and I've been working on this all night, I hope its okay.
warnings: slight age gap, not specified, language, mentions of injuries (patients) blood, hospitals/medical procedures (probably inaccurate), Robby being a butthole, youths teasing old man Jack, mentions of reader having hair long enough for a bun, teasing, begging, oral mentions (f!receiving), fingering/clit stimulation, slight degradation, breast worship/touching, possessive behaviour, bodily fluids (cum), biting, unprotected sex but mentions of birth control,, aftercare, soft!dom Brendon, mocking/taunting, kissing, dirty talk, pvn - creampie, possessive nature, dumbification of reader if you squint.
taglist for this fic: @beebeechaos @behindthescreenobsessed @oklahomapeach @agirlwhoneedalittlelovingtonight @madkingcrowley @chickens474 @cabingrlandrandomcrap. @rainaris-ac @citrina-apricot @princesscelesticc @mythologicallyversed @annabellq @eloisewellesley @peachiestevie @ohheyitssj @gragrace
let me know what you think!
_
Were the lights always this bright?
The lights of the ER, buzzing, annoying and relentless. You had been drowning in them for over fourteen hours now. Your feet ached down to the bone, your shoulders locked in a knot, your muscles screaming underneath your scrubs with every move.
A multi-vehicle pileup had turned the department into absolute chaos. Bloody and messy, not a single resident, intern or attending left standing idle. Jack and the nightcrawlers had even been called in early to assist, the ER full to the brim with doctors of all trades.
You've had no lunch, some sips of water and certainly no actual breaks - just the endless patients and the ceaseless, urgent calls from Robby.
Casualty after casualty, two fatalities, you can hear Robby still in your ear even after watching the chief attending go home ten minutes prior.
'I need you in Trauma One. Go to CT now. Call neuro.'
'Don't lose that airway. Where's ortho? Call him down, I don't care that you're scared, well ask our Dr Park then. What’s fucking confusing? Get our Dr Park to call down their Dr Park.'
That last part was aimed at some intern.
'Is their chest clear? How’s that airway looking?’
'Move it Dr Park. Move. Move. Intubate. Move it."
You're hunched over the hub, elbows flush against the counter as Shen and Jack talk amongst themselves over their plans for the night. The sun had well and truly set, and your mind felt anywhere but present in the moment.
You don't even register Jack's 'go home kid', nodding aimlessly as the attending just playfully rolls his eyes.
"Hey shark bait, I got your shit for you," Trinity's gently placing your bag by your feet as you thank her, watching as she sags beside you at the hub. Her hairs askew, eyes bloodshot as she nods towards the two attendings on the other side. "God, my back actually feels insane. If I pay one of you five dollars, you think you could walk on it?"
"I don't think that would feel the best with what I've got going on," Jack huffs a laugh before he tilts his head towards you. "And I don't think having to call back Park the Shark to come fix a resident's broken spine will go down well with Gloria."
Your lips quirk. "So just blame Shen."
The other attending looks like he had been betrayed, mouth opening and eyes widening as he swishes the coffee he had door dashed. "The fuck dude," He points back to Abbot. "It's the old white guy's fault for hypothetically breaking her back, you don't gotta throw me in this."
"Actually, I think we can work on this," Santos ignores the unamused expression on Jack's face as she and Shen nod, mentally conspiring together. "You'll get all of Jack's shifts, I'll get a new back and some good workers compensation, shark bait here will get a cut of Dr Park's pay from my surgery, it's a good plan, a perfect plan even."
"So what do I get out of it? Besides fucking fired," The veteran attending looks between the three of you, the extra greys in his hair no doubt caused by your endless jests. "'Cause I'm not seeing how any of this will work for me."
"You get fired and enjoy your retirement in peace away from this place," You point at him before giving a thumbs up. "Or jail, or retirement home maybe? Canada when you inevitably flee the country?"
All of you laugh, save for Jack who just shakes his head again. "All I am hearing is that my fellow night crawler and day shift residents are attacking a disabled, widowed veteran, isn't that equally as bad? Part of that's called ableism, no? That’s not very nice team. "
"Are you hearing this?" Trinity gasps, Shen smiling into the coffee he was sipping as your laugh gets louder. "Who the fuck taught him that? Jack Abbot, who taught you that word?" Trin is leaning over the counter to swat at his hand gently. "You've been speaking to Javadi haven't you?"
"She told me I need to stand up for myself more," Finally the older man cracks a smile, sinking into his chair as he hands Shen another piece of paperwork. "And I am a doctor Santos, I knew these terms before you were born."
"That's hot," Trin pats the counter, pushing herself off before turning to you again. "Speaking of old guys, where is the shark? I thought I saw him leaving hours ago."
"He did right after that spinal fusion," You hum, rubbing the back of your neck before echoing her movements. "He wanted to stay but I thought there was no point having us both here if everything was okay upstairs."
"So are you alright getting home?" Jack pipes up again, still listening in.
"Yeah, Cassie offered me a ride, she lives about five minutes from mine," Both you and Trinity grab your bags from the floor, slinging them over your shoulders in tandem. "You two gonna be okay now? Are we free to go?"
Shen waves you both off. "You guys were free to leave awhile ago, the last half hour was purely self inflicted."
The two of you begin to walk after exchanging goodbyes, waving to Ellis and Crus on your way out. Each step felt like you were closer to freedom. Friday night and the weekend off? You had been practically counting down the hours until you were home and in Brendon's arms.
It had been some time since you both had a clear schedule, Bren having opted to take the weekend off with you and not be on call.
You'd spotted him a few times today, having been called down to the pitt for multiple consults after the pileup. At work, he was his usual self - what others would describe as blunt and off putting, but you just saw someone who got shit done and was straight to the point.
Could he be an asshole? Absolutely, but others had noted that since the two of you met, dated and got married, 'Park the Shark' was more tolerable.
Still an asshole, but tolerable.
The last you had seen him, he had walked past you in the hallway as you discussed a patient with Robby and Dennis, his hand on your shoulder for barely a second before he was whisked upstairs for a surgery. It was brief, a blink and you miss it moment, but it was Brendon's way of telling you that he had you even when he had to go.
Your last conversation was a couple of hours ago, his texts left unanswered on the phone that had died sometime between Shen's door dash order and Robby finally fleeing the pitt.
'Cassie is going to be taking me home tonight, a bunch of us are staying back. Don't wait. Love you x.
He had text back within a minute. At first, it was just a thumbs up, his usual when he was busy - but within twenty minutes, your phone had buzzed again.
🦈💍: 'Call me if anything changes.'
Within five seconds, an additional text that made you smile despite the loudness around you.
🦈💍: ’I love you too.'
"Hey are you sure Cassie's taking you home?" Trinity's voice breaks you from your thoughts. God you were exhausted. Had she been talking this entire time? You would've felt bad if it weren't for the fact you knew she was equally as tired. "I could've sworn I saw her leave around the same time as Dana, like an hour ago?"
"What?" You look over to her as you walk. "You sure?"
"Yeah," Your stomach drops a little at your friends words. "Maybe she's just waiting in her car? Has she messaged at all?"
Your phone hadn't buzzed since Brendon's last message, and it had long since died. Still, you murmur a no. Cassie wouldn't just offer you a way home and leave you if she wasn't sure you received her text, but you try to remember if you had seen her at all during the last hour of the carnage that was day shift.
Thinking the worst came almost instantly, and as the two of you exit the hospital through the sliding doors, you're immediately scanning the grounds for a certain resident. Cassie is nowhere to be seen, and your feet are moving before you realise it. Despite having a completely different way home, Trinity follows after you.
"If you don't mind waiting for Huckleberry, I can take you home?" She offers, huffing as she forces herself to match your stride. "Something probably came up with the kids and she had to bounce, I'm sure it's nothing bad."
"Thank you Trin, but I live the complete opposite side of town, I'm not taking up anymore of your day, but,” The word is dragged out. “Has your phone got any charge left? If her cars not in the lot, I might have to call Bren."
Reluctantly, of course. The ER wasn't the only floor that was all hands on deck, your husband having done back to back surgeries, both scheduled and emergency.
A part of you hoped he was already asleep, but you knew deep down he was probably in his office, still working away.
Your friend digs into her pocket for her phone, nodding as she checks the battery percentage. "Yeah, 24%," She's turning the brightness down as you keep walking. "Should be enough to give Brenny a call."
A snort leaves your nose, the sound echoing through the parking lot. "You know he's aware that you call him that right?"
"Bullshit."
"Hand to god, he thinks it's funny though," You nudge her with your elbow, and Trinity just looks unamused at the idea of PTMC's top surgeon knowing she makes fun of him. "You don't believe me?"
"I just can't imagine still having a head if he knew," Her eyes are wide, full of humour despite her tone. "Like, why hasn't he bitten it off yet? He chewed out Ogilvie this morning for calling him Park the Shark to another intern."
You shrug. "If it makes me laugh, then he's happy too,"
Trinity had once believed that Park wasn't even capable of smiling. Your friend was convinced (and had roped a few of the others into it) that Brendon had come out of the womb at 6'3, with a scalpel in hand and the inability to show emotion.
It was only after the two of you got together that she realised that whilst, yes, he may have shot out of his mother visibly constipated, he was capable of feeling happiness.
Only when it came to you.
She had nearly dropped her chart when she saw that the background on your phone was a picture of the man grinning from ear to ear. She called it AI, placing a bet on the floor that it was a fabricated picture. He was incapable of such a smile, it had to have hurt him.
"He also thinks it's funny when you make all these jokes but can't look at him in the eye when he's down for consults." You continue.
"Yeah well, have you not watched Animal Planet? You don't look an apex predator in the eye."
"You have literally been in our house more times than I can count Trin," You stop walking, realising you definitely couldn't see Cassie's car anywhere. "You can talk to him y'know?”
"And I don’t look him in the eye there either, that's his nest dude, a shark nest," Her eyes narrow at her own words, trying to figure out herself if sharks even had nests. "I respect his space."
"You slept in our bed last time and made him sleep in the spare bedroom."
"You have three spare bedrooms! So what?" Trinity is grinning from ear to ear at the memory of your birthday, everyone having come back to the house for drinks after a lavish dinner (that Brendon sweetly paid for) in the city. "We had a lot to talk about, sue me."
"Exactly, you could've slept in any one of those spare bedrooms," You remind her, your lips matching hers in a beaming grin. It almost hurt, every muscle hurt, but after a day like today, you would take every good memory to try vanish today's shift from hell. "And you fell asleep instantly mind you.”
"Oh! Is that Park?" She says in retaliation, and you roll your eyes at her attempt at changing the subject. She's looking over your shoulder, hitching her bag up further over her shoulder as she squints. "Can't see him yelling at anybody or staring at your ass, but it definitely looks like him."
"Really Trin? That's all you can say? You know you go foun-“
"What? No, fucki-" She points her finger behind you again, and you follow her gaze. "Look, idiot."
Ready to tell her again that she's being delusional, your words are cut off as your line of sight ends on a familiar looking SUV parked in the attending parking lot.
That, and the man leaning against the driver's side door, one hand in his pocket and the other holding his phone.
He was still dressed in his work trousers, sporting the black compression shirt he usually wore under his scrubs. It was cold out, and yet he didn't seem affected by the chill of the Pittsburgh air. His dark hair was still neatly gelled back, though a few strands had escaped onto his forehead.
Even broad shouldered and relaxed, his tall frame and large arms gave him an imposing silhouette. His ring flashed under the light in the carpark.
He was none the wiser to the two resident's watching him, eyes stuck to his phone.
He hadn't gone home.
"Must've told Cassie to go home when she came out," Trinity speaks up again, lips pursed as she looks almost impressed. "That's kinda sweet of him - better than me, I would've left your ass here and been in bed already."
"I love you so much, and I hate you as well because you absolutely would do that," You're still staring at your husband in disbelief. Had he really been here for two hours? Just waiting? You knew he was built for it, but the idea of having worked the same amount of hours and still deciding not to make the twenty minute drive left you befuddled. "Jesus, I think I hate him too."
"See you say that, but your eyes are looking at that tight shirt and are telling me that baby shark might be here in nine months," She raises her hands up in defence as your head whips around fast at her words, and you have to hold in your laugh. "Hey, tits are tits, even I'm staring."
"Trinity." A warning, playful and lighthearted.
"Made you smile though didn't it?”
It did. Even after all the jokes, the two of you knew that today took it's toll, and she gave you a tight smile. You adjust your bag, nodding as you bring her in for a hug. She wraps her arms around you. You pat at her back gently, and she mirrors you, the two of you just catching your breath after all the traumas and joking around.
"You did good today y'know," She murmurs, feeling her head move from where she rests in the junction of your neck. "And I'm sorry about Mr Andrews and Mr Talbot."
"S'okay," You think back to the two patients who had unfortunately arrived too far gone. Mr Andrews had sustained severe head trauma, Mr Talbot had hit his femoral artery in the accident and lost too much blood. "Jack and Robby broke the news to the families," You slowly pull away from the hug, your movements growing sluggish by the minute as the exhaustion hits you. "Tough gig."
"No kidding," Trinity's phone pings from her pocket, and she huffs a little. "You okay from here? Dennis is waiting outside the doors, thinks I've abandoned him like a little bus stop baby."
You didn't even question the quip. "We've established that you would leave us behind not even a minute ago Tri- y'know what? Yeah, I'm okay. I'll go dump everything on Bren and leave him wondering why he deals with me."
"Magical pussy?"
"Goodbye Trinity," Sung like a song. You've already started walking, leaving her there with her head thrown back as she beams. "Love you."
"Didn't deny it!" She shouts back, and it's this that causes Brendon's head to snap up, hearing the familiar tone to the woman who had drunkingly kicked him out of his own bed and left foundation on his pillow.
He visibly relaxes at the sight of you walking through the parking lot to the attendings side. The stern mask of 'Park the Shark' disappears, leaving behind Brendon, the man who had already called both Robby and Jack when you didn't reply to his last text. He figured your phone had died, remembering that you had left the house this morning with barely any battery.
Could he have just waltzed back into the emergency department to find you? Yes, easily - who was going to tell him no? His wife wasn't answering her phone, he had every right to look for her.
But, the more reasonable part about him knew that you were still in the pitts of hell, and he didn't want to invade your space when he knew you were neck deep in cases.
A flare of loving annoyance sparks in your chest the closer you get. Despite the weight of the day, seeing him there waiting for you still left your skin feeling warm. You open your mouth, fully prepared to march over there and tell off your husband for waiting in the cold.
The car that he had insisted on buying had heated seats for Pete's sake! Yet the doctor in question didn't even look the least bit affected.
Even after a marathon of a shift in his own department, Brendon looked deliciously good. Not an ounce of tiredness on him, and it pissed you off in the same way it made you appreciate just how handsome he was. He stalks forward to meet you halfway, his phone long forgotten and thrown into his pocket the moment he heard Trinity's cackle.
"Brendon Park, why the hell are y-"
"Shut up." He's read the exhaustion from the moment you started walking towards him, the slump in your shoulders that came from hunching over more beds than you could count. His arms are open, engulfing you immediately when you're in front of him, your face pressed into his chest as you sigh in content.
You'll cuss him out for telling you to shut up later.
Whatever righteous lecture you were about to give evaporates into thin air. One of his hands pull off your bag, dropping it to the floor below before Brendon’s heavy, warm arms wrap instantly around your waist, pulling you flush against him. You melt, and his other hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, angling your face in a way so that you could breathe properly.
He smelt like the OR, the faint scent of his cologne fighting it's way through after 14 hours. "Yell at me later," He murmurs, his deep rumbling voice vibrating against your cheek. "You look like shit."
"You're supposed to say I still look really hot even when I look like shit," Your words are still muffled as you're pressed into his shirt. "That's like… number two on the list of shit to say when you're married."
"You're also not meant to lie," He quips, and even though he irritated you to all hell, it still made you smile against him. "But I meant more that you look worn out, Robby give you a hard time?"
"Mm, gave the whole floor a hard time," You nod, and Brendon's hand rubs up and down your back as he keeps you grounded. "But we lost two patients, I'm not sure if you were with us down in the dungeon when it happened."
You feel him shake his head. "Had two back to back replantations, but McKay got me up to speed before. I'm sorry sweetheart."
Words felt useless at that point, neither one of you were strangers to patients dying, and there was only so much you could say that you hadn't all heard a thousand times before. It was rough for the both of you when these kinds of days came around, and usually your remedy was a hot shower, Chinese take out and a pair of large biceps holding you as you slept.
So you just tilt your head to look up at him through your lashes, your eyebrows furrowing. "Did you send Cassie home?"
Brendon doesn't even look the least bit ashamed, his lips kept in a tight line as he peers down. "If I did?"
"Bren-"
"I am perfectly able to take my wife home, I didn't need anyone else to do it." He looks incredibly sure of himself, almost insulted that you even asked someone else for a ride. He had always been stubborn from the moment you met four years ago, always so eager to prove a point and show off his capability as a doctor and husband.
"She lives five minutes from our house," You remind him, and again, he just raises an eyebrow as if to say so what. A slow step backwards is taken, keeping your hands on his lower back as you huff. "Did you seriously stand out here for two hours? You could have been in bed by now, did that not sound incredibly appealing to you at all?"
"What sounds appealing is having you in the bed with me."
"Right answer - but still, two hours Bren?" He would always be too proud to admit to you if he was feeling anything other than peachy. Even when he had a severe case of the flu, he had refused to label it, insisting it was hay fever and that he was fine.
He also seemed to forget that you were also a doctor, a doctor who knew the difference between seasonal allergies and the inability to get out of bed because of full body chills. He still refuses to admit it, even when the same flu had gotten you sick a week later. Typical.
"I stood for five hours during a multi level spinal fusion, three hours for both replantations, you think I give a shit about another two hours if it means I can make sure my wife is okay?" He had no idea how hot he sounded when he talked orthopaedics.
"That's hot." You press back into him, and the words are muffled again, Brendon's chest moving as he huffs a small laugh.
He didn't let you pull away just yet. Brendon tucks his tall frame closer, leaning his head over yours as he presses his cheek against the top of your head. It was probably uncomfortable, but he didn't comment or complain. His broad chests blocks the breeze, and you attempt to absorb the heat from him like you were going to freeze without it.
You let out a soft sigh, dropping your head between his pecs. Underneath his large hands, Brendon could feel every knot strung tight along your upper back, your body practically radiating with the aftermath of a nightmare shift. He feels every single ounce of that tension. His ringed hand rubbed long, firm strokes up and down your spine, his thumb pressing against a certain spot between your shoulder blades.
"Jesus, sweetheart," He muttered into your hair, his voice low and heavy. "Did you sit down once today? We gotta get you home."
"It was just... non stop," You breathed, the muffled confession floating against his chest. "The moment the pileup rolled in, it was as if anything that could go wrong, did. A fucking nightmare Bren, I only managed to sneak away for a pee like… two hours ago."
"Robby have a problem with that?"
A scoff. "Yeah, he had something to say, told him I wasn't risking a UTI, especially when my belly hurt so bad. I know he's going through it right now but god, he's just taking it out on everybody, no one's safe."
Brendon’s hands stilled for a fraction of a second, his posture subtly hardening. Up on orthopaedics, rumours travelled fast, and he knew that Robby’s personal life was falling apart behind the scenes before he was slated to take his upcoming sabbatical.
But Brendon didn't give a damn about Robby’s personal life. Didn't care for Robby full stop. The only thing that mattered to him was that the man was taking it out on the ED floor, and on you.
"I'll have a word with him," Brendon said, his tone dropping an octave, slipping into that flat, dangerous tone that made resident's shit their pants. "Monday when we come in, you can wait in the car.”
You pulled back just an inch, looking up into his dark, sharp eyes. "Fuck no. It's fine Bren, he’s going through a lot right now before his sabbatical, he's just stressed and he's hav-"
"I don't give a fuck what he's going through," Brendon cut in smoothly, his thumb running over your cheekbone. "He doesn't get to use you as a punching bag because his life sucks, just say the word and we'll have a talk. Is he still here?"
"No, he's gone home," You say firmly, shaking your head against his chest, and thank god, because Brendon would absolutely march in right now if Robby was still on site. "I don't need Park the Shark to come down into the trenches to intimidate my Chief Attending because he wouldn't let his wife pee, okay? I'm a big girl."
"Yes, and you're my girl. I wouldn't be intimidating him, attending to attending - I'd just remind him that he needs to sort out his priorities." You could tell from the faint ghost of a smirk playing on his lips that he wasn't being truthful, the smile not being able to cover the expression in his gaze that screamed I am dead serious.
You let out a tired, breathy laugh, knowing full well that despite your refusal, he will probably find a subtle, terrifying way to corner Robby one way or another before his sabbatical.
He was far too proud and far too protective to let any form of disrespect slide. Ironic considering his behaviour to first years or people who asked stupid questions.
"You know," Brendon continues, sliding his arms further around you, resting his chin lightly on top of your head as he held you close, "My offer is still on the table, you could always just quit. I'd prefer it actually."
You snort softly into his shirt. "Right. Just walk away after years of study and debt."
"I'm completely serious and you know it," He says, and while his words carry a light teasing edge, you could hear just how much he means it. His salary was far more than anything you'll ever earn in your lifetime, and you were proud of him for it.
He had earned it just as much as you earned yours, but you still loved your job even through the shit pay and long hours. Deep down, nothing would make his overprotective heart happier than knowing you were at home safe. "You sleep in, finally read those books you keep ordering, whatever you want. You know we can afford it."
Brendon can afford it.
He had paid off your med school debt like it was nothing, like the negatives in your account hadn't kept you awake for years on end. He had paid it without hesitation, almost smug that the charge wasn't even a dent in his savings. Even though you still felt bad for it, he reminded you constantly that this is was marriage was, he would look after you no matter what.
But still. "Bren, I love my job, and I like earning my own money."
Brendon let out a low bark of laughter, tilting his head down to look at you with an amused eyebrow raised. "Baby, you use my card for literally everything."
Guilty, because again, Brendon can afford it.
"That doesn't count," You protest, looking up at him with a tired glare that lacked any real bite. "You literally cut my card up, I have no choice. Plus that's mainly on household shit - the chicken and rice doesn't just show up by itself Brenny."
He rolls his eyes at your dig towards his meal planning and the nickname he can’t stand. "What about that kindle that came Tuesday? Or the new cat tree," He counters with a smirk that made you roll your own eyes in return. He leans down, pressing a firm, lingering kiss to your lips that made your stomach flip despite how tired you were. He pulls away with a smile. "S'good though, use it more. I like it when I see you buying things for yourself, drain the account baby, see if I care."
"You're ridiculous."
"And? Can't blame a man for trying to keep his gorgeous wife in bed all day," He shrugs, kissing your forehead this time. He finally releases the tight grip around your waist, stepping back just enough to let you adjust. "Now get in the car before you freeze, we can discuss your early retirement on the way home."
You just snort again.
Brendon reaches down to pick up your heavy bag from where you had dropped it before opening the backdoor and tossing it effortlessly into the backseat. You've already walked to the passenger side, and before you can touch the handle, Bren is already one step ahead, opening the door and waiting until your legs had swung in.
He waits until you're settled, nodding towards the corner of the seat. "Belt," He instructs as he reaches for the door again. "Now."
"Yes sir."
His jaw ticks. The door shuts, and he's pointing his finger at you through the windows. "Watch it."
Through the tinted glass, Brendon stood in the quiet parking lot for another moment, watching you. Now that you were out of his arms and sitting in the quiet, dim interior of the car, he watched you visibly deflate. Without his body holding you up, your shoulders caved in entirely.
Your head fell back against the headrest, your eyes fluttering shut as the sheer weight of the day finally crushes down on you. You looked defeated, and utterly drained in the shadow of the passenger seat. Even with the small smile on your lips at getting under his skin at the small mention of sir, he knew you were too proud to say you were drained.
Brendon’s jaw tightened. A deep frown carved it's way into his brow as he rounded the front of the vehicle, his dark eyes never leaving your face through the windshield. He hated seeing you like this. As he opened the driver's side door and climbed in, the quiet hum of the engine roaring to life, he made a silent mental note that Robby was definitely getting a visit Monday morning.
_
The SUV purrs to life, a steady hum that vibrates through the car as the heater instantly fills the cabin. Brendon pulls out of the parking lot with ease, his hands resting casually on the wheel as if they hadn't reattached limbs just hours prior.
The silence was a welcomed contrast in comparison to the beeps of monitors and multiple ambulances you had endured all day, but Brendon wasn't going to let you drown in the thoughts of your shift.
"Talk to me," He speaks. "What're we feeling for dinner? Craving anything? Indian? Italian? Italian couldn’t hurt," Shocker. "Or I can order that sushi place you've been eyeing, just name it and I'll call 'em, have it at the front door by the time we pull up."
You hear him - you really do - but your brain was too fried to process the menu options he was giving. Instead, you just leaned your head back against the headrest, eyes fixed on his side profile.
The streetlights flicker across his face, highlighting the sharpness of his jaw, the bridge of his nose he often would complain about much to your displeasure, the dark, gelled hair that stayed majority slicked back even after a full day.
It still brings a quiet, giddy flutter to your chest and somewhere else, the stark realisation of the massive difference between your Brendon, and the one the rest of the hospital knew.
You have heard it all.
'How do you deal with that?’
It wasn't uncommon for you to be asked to call him down for consults. If others paged, he's there but there is that usual blank expression, straight to the point attitude.
When he sees your name on the page? There's a pep in his step. He's in the pitt before someone can even ask if he's seen your call. Half the staff swore he was entirely incapable of forming complete sentences - that is until you told him to cool it once, all because he didn’t explain himself to a student.
An interns eyes had nearly bulged out of their head when they heard you reprimand him, not even piecing together that you and the orthopaedic surgeon shared the same last name. They waited for his bite, waited for him to tear you apart, but instead, Bren’s head had turned on an angle as he looked at you, murmuring a 'sorry sweetheart' before continuing to listen to Dennis present the case.
He made you apologise to him that night. Not by getting on your knees and pleading for forgiveness, but by riding him until your thighs ached and you were begging for him to take over.
It wasn't much of a punishment, nor did he really care that you even said anything at work, he just wanted an excuse to hear your pleas to be looked after thoroughly.
Yet here he was now, driving you home and casually filling the car with whatever came to mind just to give you something else to anchor to after today's shit show.
"That replantation this afternoon?" He continues, keeping his eyes on the streets ahead. "You did real good on the prep, we managed to revascularise both digits with microvascular grafts. Standard case, surprised that kid downstairs had it in him to bag everything properly. We were practically in and out."
A faint, tired smile tugs at your lips. You weren't really listening to the medical specifics, you were just watching the movement of his lips, the slight tick to his jaw as he thinks of Ogilvie and the various limbs he had managed to bag, the calm, absolute authority he carried without even trying. He was just so smart, so assertive, god he was hot without even really trying.
Without taking his eyes off the road, Brendon reaches his arm over the centre console. His warm hand settles naturally on your upper thigh, his broad palm resting on what he would say felt like home. The heat of his skin instantly soaks through your scrub pants. It was a simple, habitual gesture, one he did every time you were side by side - but in your exhausted state, it activated an almost instant wave of wanting that made your breath hitch.
The sheer presence of him, the broad chest in his compression shirt, the thick biceps straining against said shirt, the absolute certainty that he was utterly and completely yours. It all sent a sleepy, warm ache humming through your lower belly.
Before his fingers could idly wander any higher up your thigh, you reach down, wrapping your fingers over his. You gently lift his hand and slide your fingers between his, entwining them tightly and anchoring his palm flat against your lap so that he couldn't distract you any further.
Brendon glances down briefly, a faint, knowing smirk curling the corner of his mouth before he looked back at the road with a quick tilt of his head.
"You're quieter than usual," He points out, his thumb gently caressing the side of your hand. "Any verdict on dinner? Or should I just pull into the store now? I can grab some things for the weekend instead of tomorrow, or I could order it in. I was thinking I'd make you breakfast in bed in the morning? Still can't make pancakes properly but I can do pretty much everything else. What do you think? That sounds good to you?”
You just stare down at your joined hands. Your fingers looked so small, so soft wrapped inside his heavy, blunt grasp. The hand of a master surgeon, hands that put people back together, yet hold you like you were the most precious thing in existence. The same hands that would grip at you like you were the last thing he was ever going to touch.
Your mind felt completely clouded, wrapped up in a foggy haze of something akin to awe. "Mm hm." You mumble softly, your thumb tracing over the faint scar near his knuckle.
"Mm hm to the store or mm hm to the breakfast?" He asks, voice laced with amusement. He had the patience of a saint when it came to you.
"Mm…" You mumble again, squeezing his hand a little tighter.
The SUV rolls to a smooth stop at a red light. Brendon looks down at you again, thankful the road was damn near empty. He studies your face, the heavy eyelids, the soft scrunch of your nose, the way you were practically caressing his fingers like you were in a trance. "Alright sweetheart," He speaks a little louder now. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"
You blinked up at him slowly. "What do you mean?"
"I mean I've asked you three direct questions and I've gotten two 'mm-hms'," He teases, reaching out with his free hand to lightly pinch your chin between his thumb and forefinger as he angles your head more to look at him. "Are you just completely brain dead from work or is there something else going on?"
He didn't even need you to answer. Brendon could read you better than he could read an X-ray at work. He saw the dark, heavy desire lingering in your tired eyes, the subtle way your posture relaxed under his touch, the clingy, needy way you were holding onto his hand.
He knew that beneath your sheer physical exhaustion, your brain had completely checked out and was trying to hand all control over to him. You started to turn soft, and he was more than happy to pick you up.
His eyes darkened slightly, a slow, darker smile spreading across his face as his thumb stroked your jawline. The light turns green, but Brendon makes no effort to drive. "You thinking about me baby? Need something from me?"
"Brendon…”
"You want me to take care of you when we get home?" He ignores your small warning, but he moves back into his seat when he sees a car coming up behind. The car starts to move again, but his eyes dart back between you and the road. When you don't answer him, choosing to wiggle in your seat and hold onto his hand as if he was threatening to take it away, he clicks his tongue. "C’mon baby, answer me."
Immediately your eyes snap up to his, and you sit up straighter in your seat. He had you trained well, like a switch that could go off at any moment. "But you're tired too-"
His tongue clicks again as he tuts. "Try again, one more try."
A beat. "Brendon."
His says your name back in the same tone as yourself, an almost mocked attempt. "Mm? C'mon," He looks over one more time to see if you were actually wanting this Brendon, and not just saying things to make him happy in your state. When he sees the loving gaze and small nibbling at your lip, he knows you're exactly where you want to be. "I'll ask one more time. Yes or no?"
He unravels his hand from yours, turning it over to punctuate the last part of his sentence with a squeeze to your thigh. Feeling yourself get lightheaded by the second, you entwine them again, bringing his hand up to your lips, pressing a kiss to the back of his hand. Brendon smiles at the action, but says your name in warning, wanting words over actions.
"You already take care of me though?" Your voice is even smaller, and the hand on the wheel squeezes the leather a little tighter. He was losing you by the second and knew you needed to be at home sooner rather than later.
"You know that's not what I mean sweetheart," He takes a turn into your street. "You need to tell me now if you just want to have a quiet night in, it's okay if you do, otherwise w-" You're immediately shaking your head, say no and please over and over again, pawing at his hand as he chuckles. "Good, so is that a yes?"
"Please."
Good enough.
When Brendon pulls into the driveway of your house and waits for the garage door to open, he turns his attention to you completely, saying your name again. When you perk up and give him your full attention, he nods towards the door that leads inside your home. "You're going to head right to our room, leave your stuff in here okay? I've got it. You're going to get the shower started for us, think you can manage that? Or do you need me too?"
"No, no I can do it," You nod, clicking off your seatbelt as the car is put into park. A hot shower sounded like heaven right now, but a hot shower with your husband and the promise of what's to come made you feel incredibly giddy. With your last semblance of strength, you lean over the console, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he chuckles. "Thank you Brendon."
He thought you were so cute like this.
“I love you," He feels that you're in need of a reminder, because once you're in the bathroom, he's not going to stop until you're completely unable to move tomorrow. "Now get out."
He almost laughs at the way you jump out of the car, already in the house before the car is completely off.
_
Now, standing in the master bathroom as you remove your shoes, you could hear the muffled sounds of Brendon moving around the floor below.
The familiar clatter of his keys dropping into the dish on the entryway console. The thud of both your work bags hitting the kitchen island. The sound of the tap follows after, and you smile to yourself, knowing he was filling the water bottle he insisted was abnormally large.
By the time you hear his footsteps walking upstairs, you have already turned the shower on, letting the water heat up as you stand in front of the vanity in the bathroom. Still dressed in your scrubs, your hands rest against the counter as you take in your appearance.
Gosh.
There was no hiding the affects of today under the bright lights. You felt small, exhausted and utterly drained of every ounce of energy you possessed. Yet, as you stare at yourself, a quiet warm thought surfaced through the fog in your brain.
As the steam from the shower slowly creeps across the mirror and you pull your hair out from what once been a bun 14 hours ago - you hear Brendon now parading around in the bedroom.
It never mattered how tired you looked, your husband still looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. Like you were undoubtedly the most beautiful thing he had ever laid his eyes on. It was an intoxicating kind of devotion from someone like him, and it belonged entirely to you.
A pulse of anticipation ripples through your belly when you hear the bedroom curtains close, and you meet your own eyes in the foggy mirror, your chest heaving just a little faster as his footsteps thud closer to the bathroom door.
Brendon appears in the doorway, stepping into the frame without making a sound. He doesn't walk in right away, he just leans his tall frame against the door, crossing his thick arms over his chest as he takes you in.
Through the steam, his dark eyes lock onto yours in the mirror, and he watches as you begin to brush through your hair. You expected him to comment on the fact you were still dressed, but realistically you had followed his demands to a T.
Beneath his quiet exterior was clear intent. Bren loved being the one to undress you. He loved taking off your layers, stripping off everything that belonged to PTMC until there was nothing left except for what belonged to him.
Behind him through the doorway, you spot your drink bottle on the bedside table, and your lips quirk just a smidgen. He follows your gaze with a small turn of his head, shrugging with one shoulder. "You're gonna need it."
You don't comment, just nodding as you continue to brush. He just smirks at your quietness, before he uncrosses his arms, pushing off the doorframe. He moves in, closing the distance between you in two strides and towering over you from behind. You set the brush down on the marble counter with a quiet clack, but before you could pull your hands away, Brendon reaches out.
His hands slid over your shoulders, the heat of his palms sending goosebumps through the thin fabric of your scrub top. His long, thick fingers gathers your hair, lifting it gently and sweeping it all over your left shoulder, entirely exposing the column of your neck.
You watch his reflection, your eyes feeling heavy as he leans down to press a kiss to where your shoulder and neck meet. You track the way his compression shirt stretches over his chest, the way his biceps flex as they rub over your shoulders and arms.
"Sure you don't want to sleep it off?" He says softly near your ear, just one more attempt at making sure you're one hundred percent on board for what he has in store. "I won't be disappointed, we have all weekend to ourselves to do whatever we want."
Something as simple as checking in on you shouldn't turn you on even further, but it's the way Brendon looks up from he rests on your shoulder, his eyes searching for yours in the mirror for your answer. He'd respect whatever response you give him - taking care of you went far beyond sex.
He says your name, and you nod for what felt like the umpteenth time, pressing your back against his chest. "I don't want to go to sleep just yet, unless you want to-"
"No," His thumb traces a slow, feather like trail over your pulse at the base of your throat, feeling the quick flutter of your heartbeat beneath your skin. Bren shakes his head, a low noise of satisfaction vibrating from his chest as he leans down again, lips hovering just a fraction of an itch from your ear. "Not when you're looking at me like that, do you have any fucking idea how much I had to stop myself from pulling you into an on call room when I kept coming down today? Seeing you working, talking back to Robinavitch," He nips at your ear. "Gets me hard every time."
"You're just saying that," Your skin feels hotter by the second. "You mean before the pileup I'm sure, I probably looked like a mess then too."
"Do I feel like I'm lying?" Brendon presses himself flush against you again, and you bite at your lip, feeling the way the prominent bulge in his scrubs digs into your lower back. "Every single day, breathtaking. Stop talking down on yourself all the time."
A sharp gasp escaped your lips as his mouth lightly grazes your jawline, another wave of heat rushing straight to your pussy. You'd been wet since the ride home, the moment his hand had touched your thigh, and you knew you were no doubt dripping through your panties. "Bren..."
"I mean it," He whispers against your skin, his hands sliding down from your shoulders, down over your breasts, watching as your eyes close and your head presses further against his chest. His thumbs lightly caress over the pair before sliding further down over your navel, right until they grip at the bottom of your scrub top and under shirt. There's another kiss to your jaw as he takes a small step back. "C'mon, arms up."
Doing what he says, you raise your arms, letting Brendon tug the two shirts up in one go and over your body, the two being thrown somewhere to the ground. You had it in you to comment on the fact that the shower had been running for some time now with no one in it, but you knew your husband would bite back about not being worried about the bill.
His hands return to the waistband of your pants, undoing the tie slowly as he gauges your reaction in the mirror. As your scrubs fall to the ground, you're left in your underwear, Brendon breathes you in, jaw clenching in silent approval, his hands running his hands all over your bare skin.
It was nothing he hadn't seen before, and you'd argue you've definitely been seen in more sexy looking pieces. Still, he looks at you like it's for the first time all over again. He sees the damp patch in your underwear, and he coos, thumbs running along the edge of your panties. "So patient aren't you? Look at you, I've barely touched you and you're soaked."
As if he wasn't hard as a rock from just looking at you.
Your underwear and bra are quick to join your clothes on the floor, Brendon still standing completely clothed as he runs his fingers over your pebbled nipples, relishing in the way you shiver.
It was a surreal feeling, being completely bare to the world as the man behind you hadn't removed a single piece of clothing himself. He keeps his eyes locked on you still through the mirror, taking in every little sigh and mewl that leaves your lips at his touches.
Your eyes close as he squeezes at your breasts, head falling back, and he tuts. As one of his hands begins to slide further down, another moves up. One rests on your throat, angling your head straight again, the other moving down until two fingers slide right through your slick. Your hips jerk instantly, and he keeps you against him with the grip on your throat.
He circles your clit, smiling as you continue to move. "There she is," He sounded almost amused, enjoying how worked up you had gotten from almost nothing. "I'll never get tired of this view, so fucking beautiful," His fingers rub some more as you moan, the digits slipping down through your slit until they stop where you want him the most. "Need more sweetheart?"
All you can muster is a nod, and he chuckles. "Yeah… I bet," Brendon pulls away completely as you whine loudly, his eyes rolling at you as you turn around to glare at him. Your legs feel like jelly and you haven't even cum yet, and you watch as he just begins reaching for his pants with the same fingers still covered in your wetness. He nods towards the shower. "In you go."
The scrubs did nothing to hide the tent beneath, his cock jostling around as he undid the knot keeping everything hidden.
When you make no attempt to move, he raises his eyebrow, looking between you and the shower, his hands stilling. He stops himself from chuckling again at your attempt to look pissed - hair messy, naked with your fists clenched.
"I'm being lenient because you've had a big day," He looks at your tits as you straighten up. Your name leaves his lips in a low warning. "So get in the shower."
Not wanting to push his buttons any further, you do as he says, and as your back turns from him to open the large shower door - he's reaching down to grab your asscheek roughly, enough for you to jump at the sudden touch. You ignore him, swatting his hand away as you enter the hot stream that had been waiting for you.
The second you stepped through the glass shower door and into the cascading torrent of hot water, the rest of the world dissolved. The heat hit your skin in a way that had you sighing loudly, the water melting away the chill of the night and washing over the tight muscles of your back and shoulders.
You close your eyes and tilt your head back directly under the spray, letting the water drench your hair, stream down your face, and soak into your skin.
For a few seconds, you keep under the water directly. You were so completely submerged in the physical relief that you almost forgot Brendon was still standing outside, peeling off his own clothes. Almost.
By the time you wipe the water from your eyes and blinked through the rising steam, the glass door glides open and shuts with a quiet click. Brendon steps into the shower, hands immediately reaching up to swipe away the wet strands of hair that had fallen in front of your eyes.
You just watch as water runs off his naked chest, and you look down, seeing his cock, hard and swinging. Your mouth opens, your own hand reaching down when he swats it away.
A curse leaves your lips, and he moves you aside, stepping forward to step under the direct flow of the water. A huff at the loss of heat and the scolding, you use the time to pick up your loofah, pumping a generous amount of body wash onto it. Before you can bring it to your chest, Brendon's heavy hand wraps gently around your wrist.
So you won't let me cum… You hog the water and now I can't wash myself?
"I've got it," He leaves no room for rebuttal, and you look up at him, breath catching at the intensity in his eyes. "Just be good for me, think you can manage that?"
"I've been good." You bite back, and he dips his head down, looking you closer in the eyes.
"What was that?" He's slipping the loofah from your fingers as he awaits an answer, gaze holding yours in a way that had him almost silently begging you to act like a brat. When you don't speak, he nods to himself. "Thought so."
He steps up right behind you, pushing you back towards the water. His chest brushes against your slick back, making a quiet gasp escape your lips at the feeling of him pressing against your lower half.
Slowly, meticulously, he begins to wash you. His movements were remarkably gentle for a man with such powerful hands.
He sweeps the soapy cloth over the curve of your neck, down the slope of your shoulders, and along the length of your arms, working in slow circles. Brendon makes a point of dragging over your breasts again, his free hand gripping at your stomach to ground you as you attempt to push against him.
"Cut it out," He warns against the shell of your ear, his warm breath mingling with the steam. "I'm trying to be sweet here and you're grinding up against me like you haven't been fucked in weeks."
"Because you're taking your time." You breath, hoping the quip will have him bending you over then and there. You lean back into his solid frame, head resting against his chest as his palm applies just enough firm pressure to work out the deep, throbbing ache in your back. "You want this too."
"I do, but I have all night," His hands move down to your hips, tracing the curve of your waist. He sweeps the soft lather over your stomach, down your outer thighs, everywhere but where you want him.
It was delicious, it was also torture. "I'm being patient, looking after my beautiful little wife and making sure she's taken care of, just like I said I would. You could learn a thing or two."
Every time the warm, soapy cloth drifted tantalisingly close to the aching, slick space between your thighs, where your cunt felt like it was practically throbbing for his touch, he deliberately alters his path.
His hands smooth over your hips, glide down your legs, or circle back up to your waist, worshipping every single inch of your skin with soap and warm water except the one spot you desperately craved his touch.
You let out a soft, needy whimper, arching your back slightly into his palm. "Brendon... please."
A low, dark chuckle vibrated against your spine, his mouth beginning to kiss up your back until his lips lightly graze the side of your neck. "God you are just so cute when you're like this," Another kiss to your throat. "I said I would take care of you and I meant it, I just need you more awake before I fuck you into the mattress."
You want to groan, call him a name and tell him to fuck you stupid now, but you hold back. Brendon always was a man of his word.
"We've both been running around all day," He continues, a faint smirk tugging at his lips as he rinsed the cloth under the cascading water. "I'm not rushing anything else tonight," When he feels you're completely cleaned, he nods towards the shower head again. "Go on, rinse off for me."
You do as he says, the water washing away all the white foam. Your eyes are closed again as you let everything wash away, and you feel Brendon step away from behind you. When your eyes open, you find him sitting on the wide stone ledge in the shower, his hair wet and free of gel, one hand on the ledge, the other stroking himself slowly from base to tip.
You could die then and there.
He's just watching as you run your hands over yourself, his thick legs spread apart as his breathing comes out a little rougher than before. His hooded gaze doesn't leave you for a second as you finish rinsing off, and you're about lower your hand to your cunt when he shakes his head.
Then, he lifts his right hand from the ledge, his fingers curling inward as he slowly, deliberately waves you over.
"Come here," He commands softly, his other hand still tugging at his cock as he calls for you. Brendon groans as he squeezes himself. "Right here sweetheart, leave the water on."
You don't hesitate. The pull in his voice was absolute and you step across the tile until you were standing right between his parted knees. Your mouth waters at the scene beneath you, the way his jaw clenches as he touches himself, his cock thick and leaking from the tip.
Up close, looking down at him seated on the stone, the sheer scale of him was dizzying. His wet chest heaved with slow, steady breaths, water droplets tracking down the sharp definition of his abdomen to the v line below.
Shaky hands reach out, your fingers sliding over his wet shoulders, expecting him to pull you face to face, expecting his lips to finally crash against yours.
Instead, Brendon lets himself rest against his lower belly, his own hands settling firmly on your waist. With effortless strength, he lifts you slightly and guides your hips around, turning you so your back was to his chest before he pulls you directly into his lap.
You let out a breathy, surprised sound as your thighs settled over his heavy, muscular legs. The heat of him was staggering. His chest was solid as it once more presses against your back, his broad knees framing you, boxing you in completely.
"Bren..." You ask in clear confusion, your head tilting back onto his shoulder. You felt the thick, throbbing length of him pressed right against the swell of your backside, slick with water. You shifted instinctively, trying to arch into him, desperate to close that final, agonising distance.
"Ah-ah," Brendon coos against your ear, his large hands clamping down gently over your hips, locking you firmly in place. "Stay still, I'm not fucking you in here."
"But I thought," You whimper, your hands reaching back to grip his heavy thighs, your short nails digging into his skin. "You were touching y-"
"That's the problem," He runs his nose through your hair. "You’re still thinking too much."
One of his hands slid up from your hip, spanning across your stomach and pulling you even more flush against his chest, while his other hand reached up to gather your wet hair, draping it over your left shoulder just like he had in front of the mirror.
His mouth found the tender, exposed curve where your neck meets your shoulder.
"Just sit here and let me hold you," He presses his open mouthed kisses there, taking a deep, slow breath of your clean, soap scented skin before dragging his teeth lightly over your pulse. A sharp, electric shock shot straight down between your legs, making your inner thighs tremble against his. "My pretty girl."
When the hand not on your hip slides lower, you're crying out almost instantly as his thick fingers run over your lower stomach and through your folds with agonising slowness.
You were so unbelievably wet, the teasing and constant touches leaving you aching for anything your husband would give you. The second his middle finger makes contact with your swollen centre, a sharp gasp leaves your throat, nails digging further into his thighs.
"Such a perfect little pussy," His words are rough as he speaks into your neck. "This wet from just my hands on you? My poor baby, were you this wet in the car?" You nod, biting at your lip as your hips jerk against his hand. He just laughs, one thick finger sliding down to tease at your entrance. "You want me here?"
His thumb starts rubbing at your clit as a second finger joins the other, and the two slide deep inside you with minimal resistance, and the moan that leaves your lips was enough for Brendon to beam. Your back arches against his chest, heels digging into the wet floor as you try to press yourself further into his hand.
"Bren - fuck, please." You plead, fingers gripping his muscular thighs so hard your knuckles turn white. "Please."
"Hold still," His chest heaves behind you as he curls his fingers, stretching you so deliciously, hitting that exact spot that makes your breath quicken. His mouth stays glued to your neck, kissing and biting - even sucking a small dark bruise into your skin, marking you as he drives you over the edge. You were so sensitive, so pent up from your shift, Brendon keeping you pinned to him as he drives you over the edge. "You're doing so good for me."
He doesn't rush, finding a rhythm that makes keeping your eyes open near impossible. His thumb works even slower in circles, his fingers continue to slide smoothly inside of you. Every curl sends shocks through you, and your hands reach up to grip the muscle of his arms. You shift in his lap, desperate for more, but Brendon's other arm remains locked around you, holding you pinned effortlessly.
He bites back his own grunts as you jolt against his dick, the reminder he was still pressed flush between your ass and his own stomach had him nearly cumming there and there. "You're already close aren't you?" He murmurs in an attempt to hide his own pleasure. "I'm almost tempted to make you beg for it, but you've been so good today haven’t you? Always are, just so fucking good for me.”
"Yes, shit - I've been good, Bren... please," You gasp, holding onto his bicep. "S-so close, feels so mm-."
Your head lulls back against his shoulder as he whispers your name, using the new angle to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth. His fingers hit that spot over and over, his thumb stopping their circles as he opts to using his palm. "Yeah?"
The sensation of his soft voice in your ear, the sensation coiling in your lower belly, his palm pressing against your clit as his fingers work in tandem. You couldn't breathe - you couldn't think, everything went quiet as your peak hit you full force.
Brendon's name leaves your lips in a cry, your thighs shaking as he keeps you steady, your walls clenching hard around his fingers, pulsing in waves.
"That's it, that's it baby," Brendon lets out a groan as you come undone, his fingers still moving until you were trembling in his arms. "Good fucking girl, let go for me," He holds you tightly through the lingering, sweet aftershocks, his mouth pressing more gentle kisses to your jaw, your cheek, anywhere he could reach comfortably until your ragged breathing began to slow. "There she is."
Slowly, carefully, he slides his slick fingers out of you, giving you one last soothing stroke before resting his large hand over your belly. You collapse back against him like a rag doll, entirely boneless, your head resting heavily on his shoulder.
He laughs as you put your full weight on him, and you watch as he brings his hand up to his mouth, sticking his two fingers between his lips to clean off your slick.
"Don't know why you're laughing," You manage to say, a smile on your own face. "I can feel how hard you are Brendon."
"Observant," The word is muffled as he pulls his fingers from his mouth, licking at his lips. “C'mon, I'm not even close to finished with you, smart ass."
A sound of protest leaves your mouth as he helps you up to your feet, and he pushes the shower door open, urging you out as he moves to turn the water off. Your legs feel like mush, skin hot as you stand on the bathmat.
The cold air has you shivering, but before you can reach for the towel, Brendon hoists you up and sets you down on the marble counter as a you mutter a quick oof.
You sit there, legs dangling over the edge, feeling tender, more awake than ever and warm to the bone. You watch as your husband grabs two thick towels off the heated rack. Without pausing to dry himself first, he throws one over his shoulder, using the other to start drying your skin. Still, even through the sweetness of the movement, you can't help but look between his legs, and you bite your lip.
"Stop looking at my dick," He says without even looking at you, his own gaze still laser focused on trailing the towel wherever water rest. Your legs, your belly and back, anywhere that needed drying. "I'm trying to save you from getting a chill here and you're looking at me like I'm a piece of meat."
Your eyebrow raises. "It's like… two inches from my face Bren."
He pauses, eyes now on yours as they stare blankly. "Don't ever use two inches in a sentence that involves my cock ever again," He brings the towel to your shoulders. "And it's not my fault my wife objectifies me every chance she gets, should put a leash on you."
Your mouth opens in mock betrayal. "Says the guy who had his fingers inside me not even two minutes ago."
"Yeah well, you're gonna have more inside you soon," Before you can offer a rebuttal, the towel is thrown over your head, his hands moving it roughly in a quick attempt to dry. "Oh would you look at that, peace and quiet."
You swat at what you hope was his chest, your vision lost as he drags the towel over your head one more time.
Only after you were completely dry did he quickly drag his towel over his own body, running it over his damp hair for barely a minute before he tosses it aside into the hamper. You just watch the entire time, the way his muscles flex, the way his eyes don't leave yours.
Before you could even think about standing again, Brendon steps between your knees, mirroring the way you had stood between his legs in the shower. His hands slid up your thighs, over your waist until they cup your face. His thumbs rest gently over your cheekbones, and he angles your head to look at him better.
Brendon leans in, closing the inch between you, and presses his mouth to yours. Slow, deep and undeniably him, he tilts your head back slightly as you mewl softly against him.
This is what you had been waiting for, this is what you had been craving. The sweet and subtle intimacy he loved giving you.
His lips part yours with a gentle pressure that had your breath hitch in your throat, and your hands reach up to clutch at his bare shoulders. His tongue slides against yours in a tender sweep that instantly reawakens the warm flutter in your cunt.
You let out a soft, breathy sigh into his mouth as you feel him smile, and he hums low in his chest. You can just taste the slight tanginess of your cum on his tongue.
He deepens the kiss for one lingering beat, nipping lightly at your lower lip before pulling back just an inch, his forehead resting against yours. He leans down, sliding one massive arm behind your back and the other under your thighs, and lifted you off the counter in one smooth, sweeping motion that has you squeal.
You instinctively wrap your arms around his neck, burying your face into the warm, clean crook of his neck as he carries you out of the hot bathroom and into the soft darkness of your bedroom.
The plush duvet meets your back as he lays you down in the centre of the bed, and his head tilts, looking down at you. Still, his cock looked like it had to be painful for him now, leaking precum from the reddened tip as it swung between his legs.
Even unbelievably hard, it was too heavy to be completely flush against his stomach and all it did was intimidate you even further, no matter how many times it had been inside you or your other holes.
You clench around nothing at the sight of him looking every bit of the apex predator everyone knew him to be, and his mind runs a mile a minute as he takes you in.
Your breathing was quickened, hair still a mess, fists bunching at the blanket beneath you as you wait in anticipation.
Had you been sore before this? You couldn't even remember now, all you could think of was him, him, him.
"I want nothing more than to eat your pussy right now," Brendon says unashamedly, breaking your thoughts. His eyes looking between your legs as you part them. He groans, the mattress dipping heavily under his weight as he climbs on the bed, trailing up your body like a shadow.
He settles between your open thighs, resting his broad palms on either side of your head as you look up at him, mouth slightly open. His frame hovers over you with that loving intensity that always made your heart rate spike.
"But I think we both know where I want to cum tonight, and if I eat you out right now, I will be cumming all over the bed," The admission makes you giggle, picturing him rutting against the mattress, and the very sound of your sweet laugh makes him grin as well. "That sounds funny to you huh?"
A nod. "A little."
"Can't help it, you just always taste so fucking good," He leans down, nose rubbing against yours as his arms tense. Your hands reach up to cup his jaw before your fingers tangle in the dark hair at the nape of his neck as he sighs. "S'okay, got all weekend to give you what you need, don't I sweet girl?" "Yes Brendon." You murmur, and a dark laugh rumbles deep from within his chest, the sound sending a thrill straight down your spine. He then lets out a soft amused breath, looking at you in both mock humour and something loving.
"Oh baby, I could say anything right now and you'd agree, going all dumb on me aren't you?" When you just smile at him, completely ignoring what he said and focusing on the way he cheeks dimpled when he grinned, you hum. "Thought so, that's alright, that's why I'm here aren't I? Getting you all fucked out so you've got nothing else to think about but me. No work, nothing. Just me."
"Just you." You echo him, and he looks up to the ceiling for a moment as he curses.
"I always love when I get you like this - hey, look at me," He gently pats your cheek, and he mutters an 'ah ah' when he feels you try to shift yourself higher up the bed. "Stop it."
When you move again, attempting to move your hips somewhere that'll get his attention, Brendon's hand moves down with quickened speed. His fingers clamp around your ankle, and with effortless strength, pulls you right back down the bed towards him, locking you flush against him.
"Where do you think you're going?" He asks mockingly, his large hand sliding up from your ankle to squeeze your calf, then the outside of your thigh, pinning your legs wide open for him. He stares down at you, his dark eyes tracking every shudder of your chest, the rise and fall of your tits, the breathless desperate look on your face.
"Look at you, do you have any idea how beautiful you look like this? Wanting me so bad you can barely speak, should take a picture of it, use it as a reminder when you get all smart on me," When you bite your lip in response, his lip quirks again. "…Of course you'd like that."
Wanting the teasing to be over with, you reach down, your fingers reaching for the throbbing length of him that presses against your inner thigh. His face scrunches in pleasure immediately at your soft touch, his body shuddering, and Brendon latches onto your wrist, shaking his head.
"Please Brendon," You pant, letting him go before he pins your arms to the side of your head. You groan, head thrashing against the bed. You wanted to touch him, you wanted to run your hands down his chest and his belly until they coaxed through the dark hair that rest at the base of what you wanted the most. "I need you inside me now, I don't care how, please just do something."
He smirks at your squirming body, smirks at the way your hips lift off the bed. The same smirk is wiped from his face as your pussy presses against him, and Bren let's out a heavy shuddering breath. Even he knew his own limits. His eyes narrow, all teasing vanishing in an instant, replaced by a raw, unadulterated hunger.
He watches you for a just a lingering second, eyes searching your face, trying to find any bit of hesitance that doesn't exist. And then he nods, letting go of your hands. As your thighs part even further, Brendon takes his cock in his hand, sliding the leaking tip through your folds, coating himself in your wetness. Each stroke had you sighing, hips rocking against him.
He lines himself up at your entrance, and you're looking down, eager to watch him disappear inside you when he says your name, startling you from the trance. "Eyes on me sweetheart." He says with a firm voice and you nod over and over.
He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he presses his hips forward, burying himself into your pussy in a single, fluid stroke. Your mouth opens, a loud breathless cry leaving your throat at the fullness.
It had only been a couple of days since Bren last fucked you, but he had a way of making it feel like it had been longer, the way your cunt ached for him and clenched around him like it was for the first time all over again. Every delicious inch, every vein, every stroke as he lets out a ragged, guttural groan, breaking his own rule when he buries his face into the crook of your neck.
"Fuck," The word drags out from his own mouth, his biceps tensing as he cages you in. "Perfect, so fucking perfect."
Your legs wrap around him, arms holding onto his sides as he begins to move again. His hips withdraw and push back into you, working himself up to a pace he knew you loved. You couldn't speak, your eyes focusing on the ceiling above as you just smiled, taking everything he gives you. He was pushing the air from your lungs with each thrust, and his back tensed with each smack of his skin against yours.
Brendon hikes one of your legs up further on him, letting himself get even deeper as your moan unbelievable louder. He ruts into you, trying to choose between nipping at your breasts as they bounce beneath him or biting at your throat. He does both, leaving multiple marks as his name is the only word you can muster.
You were wound so tight, even after the shower, that letting Brendon just have complete freedom to throw you around and take control had you feeling closer to cumming than ever.
It all feels like too much, even with him deep up inside your guts, you want him closer. You're so wet, the plap plap plap of his balls smacking against you has him making an almost depraved groan, and you clench around him again.
You could feel your high rapidly approaching, and Brendon's lip twitches as he feels you flutter around him more and more. Skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with the sound of your cries and Bren's grunts. He picks up almost instantly on the fact you were close, feeling his balls tighten after what felt like eternity of being delayed while he focused on you in the bathroom.
"B-Bren," You mewl, wrecked and whiny. Your pussy was gushing, and you feel him nod as he licks at your breast. "Fuck, f-fuck, I’m so close Bren."
"Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight around me," He punctuates each word with an even harder thrust, and your eyes roll back, the force knocking your breath from you again. "You want me to - fuck, you're squeezing me so tight sweetheart - you want me inside? Yeah? Want that?"
He always asks, even though you're on birth control, and you'd chuckle if he wasn't splitting you in half.
"Yes!" You nod, desperate for everything he was giving you. Your thighs wrap around him tighter, hands wounding in his hair as you bring his mouth near yours with a plea. "Please," He thrusts harder. "Oh god," Again. "Please."
A whimper, he fucks harder. His name on your tongue like it was a prayer, he presses himself so deep that your thighs are shaking beneath him. Brendon hangs his head as he feels himself unravelling, and he speeds up, feeling his balls tighten more and more.
"Gonna cum," He grunts, and before he can even ask, he feels your nails digging into him, making him hiss. "Fuck baby - yeah, just like that."
The last few sharp, rhythmic drives of his hips shatter what remained of your composure. You cry out his name into your bedroom, thankful the house was large enough to not worry about neighbours.
Your pussy clenches around him as your second climax of the night rips through you. Brendon lets out a husky, ragged groan against you, his eyes snapping shut as he thrusts deep one final time, burying himself to the hilt as he cums inside you, his spend coating your walls as he collapses on top of you. His hips move slowly, making sure your cunt milks him of every drop.
You wrap your arms around his sweaty, broad back, burying your face into his shoulder as both of your chests heave in unison. For a long, silent stretch, neither of you move, grounded entirely by the sticky heat of his skin against yours and his full solid weight on you.
"You okay?" Brendon mumbles, his voice rough and completely wrecked against your ear. He kisses your head tenderly, holding you tight for another beat before slowly, carefully withdrawing from your warmth. A soft whimpering sigh escapes you at the sudden emptiness. He looks down at you for an answer, and you nod, too fucked out for words.
Any other time, he'd want a proper response, but he accepts it with another kiss to your lips. Brendon rolls onto his side, reaching over to the nightstand to grab your water bottle. He flips the straw open, holding it straight to your lips, thumb gently smoothing over your warmed cheek.
"Drink," He commands softly, not leaving any room for anything other than a yes or an opened mouth. "Not too much now, don't want to make yourself sick."
If you had the energy, you'd poke fun at him for talking to you like you weren't also a doctor, but instead you obey, taking three long gulps of ice cold water, feeling the liquid soothe your dry throat. Satisfied, Bren pulls the bottle back, taking a quick sip himself before he props it back up on the nightstand.
The two of you lay for a bit longer in a comfortable silence, Brendon tracing his fingers up and down your stomach as you melt into the bed.
Eventually he leans back on one elbow, his dark eyes scanning down the length of the mattress. The sheets were completely tossed, dark wet patches pooling beneath your still damp hair, alongside the obvious, glistening mess the two of you had left behind in the middle of the bed.
He looks pleased as he watches his cum begin to leak from your cunt, and he stops himself from wanting to reach down and push it back in.
Brendon lets out a low, weary breath, a faint crease between his dark brows, his own hair a mess. "Gonna have to strip these tomorrow. Honestly, do you want to move to the spare room tonight? Saves the both of us sleeping in this." He nods his head towards the wet patch.
The whole bed was a wet patch.
A sudden, breathless laugh bubbles up from your chest, ringing out softly in the dark bedroom. Brendon looks back at you, tilting his head with a mild, confused smirk. "What's so funny?"
"Nothing," You shake your head, wiping a stray strand of hair from Brendon's forehead, still giggling softly into the pillow. "Just... Something Trinity said right before I walked out to the car tonight."
"Santos?" Brendon asked, a spark of recognition flashing in his dark eyes as he shifted onto his side more, resting his head on his hand. She wasn't exactly someone he wanted to be thinking about right now, not after being inside you not that long ago. "Speaking of, the only reason I even saw you walking across the lot tonight was because she was laughing at something, you didn't look that impressed."
"She was just being stupid, s'nothing," You're smiling at him, and he just raises an eyebrow, gesturing for you to go on. "Fine, Trin said I must have a magical pussy in order for you to deal with me."
Bren strokes your hip idly, his thumb tracing warm circles against your skin as he just half shrugs.
"Maybe she's not as stupid as I thought."
